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MY SHAYLAAAA - Blog Posts
my glorious blue-eyed king it's fine, plot moment or not. you are my human and i will never find another like you. it ain't the looks or the powers, it's just you.
With love, always and forever.
So teensy
Emptiness Machine
Starscream X Reader (Mech Pilot AU)
Author notes: thanks again for being patient with me. Still going through it but here is the chapter I was most excited for 🙊 (also I don’t know how actual welding works just go with it.) enjoy!
Chapter 11
The setting sun cast long eerie shadows before Starscream moved visibly again. You had settled yourself about ten yards away from his kneeling form. He just sat there motionless. Every once in a while you’d see a wing twitch, hear a muffled murmur from him. Other than these small signs of life, he was utterly still, seemingly made of stone. You hadn’t announced yourself and it was easy enough to sneak up close to him when he first landed. You’d had ample time to study his frame. From the looks of it, he’d suffered a great deal. Could have been from the battle, but after he ran off into the smoke you hadn’t seen him again. You wondered who, besides Optimus, had the strength to deal such wounds.
A wound in his side was covered by a familiar energon patch. It’s light pulsing indicated it was still working on drawing the nanites closer to the injury. This meant the patch had been applied not too long ago. His wing hung at an odd angle at his back. Your optics focused on the crude welding job and you winced. It looked as if someone had done it with a non dominant hand. Were the Decepticon medics that terrible at welding jobs? You look down at your own chest plate and the welds, still fresh, that adorned it. No they were neat and clean. This looked as if he’d done it himself. Though that would be foolish wouldn’t it? Isn’t that dangerous?
The more you looked at him, the more you wondered what the hell happened to him. There was scraped paint along several dents that looked like it could have come from the hallways of the Nemesis. You leaned forward a bit trying to see better.
A quick slip of your servo on the damp trunk of a tree suddenly unbalanced you. The sudden movement made a sickening crunch that echoed off the clear water. The next few clicks reminded you exactly why Starscream was second in command of the entire Decepticon army. As soon as the sound reached his audials, he’d spun around and taken several steps in your direction. His posture was that of a mech who was immediately ready to take on a serious threat. Frame stiff and weapons powering up as he raised them. The dual null ray blasters mounted on his forearms were trained in the direction of the sound. His optics narrowed as he scanned the thick vegetation that hid your crouching form.
“Show yourself!” He spat, stalking forward a few paces.
You don’t make a move but instead call out to him from your prone position. “You look worse for ware. The Autobots give you a run for your money?”
Recognition flashed in his optics and his blasters lowered just a fraction. He hadn’t quite pinned down exactly where you were yet. In the waning light you could make out the faint glow of his biolights. Yours would soon make you visible amongst the foliage. It was better to stand up now and reveal yourself before he had a chance to find you. You moved, rustling the fallen leaves beneath you. There was a risk associated with trusting him not to blow your helm off. With the care he and the communications officer had shown you, there was a sense that he would hear you out.
“Listen. I’m going to stand up now. You know I don’t possess weapons on my frame. I’m unarmed.” You say clear enough to be heard.
Rolling from your back onto your belly, you slowly get to your peds. Palms out to show you don’t have anything with which to fight back. His optics found and trained you with a cold stare.
“Is it a habit of yours to patrol unarmed? Those damn fools can’t even train a proper army.” He grumbled almost quiet enough that you didn’t hear.
He vented in exasperation, though he didn’t lower his weapons as you stepped out from behind the foliage that had previously hidden you. You shook a ped to get rid of the loose leaves that covered it. The damp smell of moss and loam covered your frame and you were suddenly glad for the fact that your mech was an earthier color. Disguising the smears of earth from your clumsiness earlier. Your optics fell on his damaged wing once more. It trembled slightly as he tried to hold it at the same height as his uninjured one.
“Did one of us do that to you?” You asked, gesturing with your chin towards his injured wing.
“As if an Autobot could inflict such injures on me.” He scoffed and flicked his uninjured wing in annoyance.
Though he quickly realized his error in ruling out the Autobots as the source of his injures. That left only one mech who could have inflicted those injuries. You slowly reach up to flick your visor out of the way, exposing your golden optics. The battle mask you usually wore retracted, allowing him to see the serious expression on your faceplate. His optics widened ever so slightly. He didn’t know what to expect when he saw what was under that mask but it wasn’t something that was as close to a real Cybertronian femme as he had seen in eons.
Cybertronian femmes were rare during the war, most of them fled off world and met horrible fates or disappeared without a trace. The rest joined the Autobot cause, with a few frighteningly unstable exceptions. His gaze lingered on the frown that was set in the malleable metal mesh of your faceplate. How the humans were able to come up with technology like this was beyond him. Though it sent an uncomfortable shiver up his spinal strut. It was unnerving. He started when you finally spoke again.
“Then it must have been Megatron. I’m not deaf. I heard him threaten you.” Speaking so boldly was also a risk but you had to know. Something about the way he held himself. The way he had tried to get you away from that awful scientist back on the Nemesis. You felt like you owed him your life. An uncomfortable feeling when it came from the enemy.
His lip twitched and he refused to answer. Instead choosing to deflect the question with one of his own. “What the scrap are you doing out here in the woods alone. You were in bad shape when I last saw you.” His voice was harsh and there was a staticky edge to it. Perhaps a nervous tell.
“I could ask the same of you. I thought Decepticons didn’t venture to the surface. Something about it being ‘contaminated by the native life’ or something.” You almost smiled at the affronted look he gave you.
As if he, the second in command of the Decepticon army would be scared of a few squishy humans. Slowly, you reach into a compartment on your side that contained a field medical kit. Inside you knew you had at least a couple of welding rods and a field welding torch.
“If you want, I could help you with the welding on your wing. You are still leaking energon. It couldn’t have felt good to fly like that.”
Extending your servo with the tools, you try to look as sympathetic as possible. “You helped me. I’m still functioning because of you and I owe you for that.” You splay your free servo over the chest of your mech. Over the tiny body hidden inside.
He looked at you with a mix of disgust and offense at the mere thought of your human made servos on his wing. He sputtered trying to get the words out for a moment. His vocalizer betraying him. You held up a hand and that silenced him surprisingly. “Please let me do this. We’d be even. They have no idea you tried to help me.”
Starscream’s curiosity was the only thing that made him slowly close his intake and nod. His denta set as he slowly lowered his weapons. He knew he wouldn’t be able to make the flight back to the nemesis without help. This was the first time in quite awhile anyone had asked to help him outright. It had been even longer since he allowed anyone to help him without lashing out. You smile and gesture for him to follow you to a fallen tree not too far along the edge of the water. There was just enough daylight left that you could probably get most of the welding done before the sun set.
“No tricks human. Even with that machine you are soft. I won’t hesitate to offline a femme.” He growled as he begrudgingly settled himself down on the tree.
You notice him watching your every move, frame tense as if he expected you to take that torch and use it for more sinister purposes. You vent softly and move around behind him to look at his wing. This close to him, you feel a staticky tingle that runs through seemingly every energon line of your frame. You shudder. You could feel his agitation, fear, and apprehension. But there was a hint of something else there. A feeling you couldn’t quite place. Something akin to curiosity. You shake your helm and try to focus on assessing the damage.
There were a few gaps in his weld lines that still leaked a bit of energon. You knew the mesh beneath contains many pain receptors. It was shredded at the joint and the tender mesh exposed. You cringed as you ran your optics over the crumpled mess. Of course he’d tried to fix it himself if Megatron was the one who did this to him. He’d probably done it to humiliate him. Reaching out a careful servo you go to brush a digit along one of the weld lines. As soon as your digit makes contact he flinches. His other wing twitching and you feel a wave of embarrassment and rage through his EM field.
“I don’t have all night Autobot are you going to get on with it or not!” He snapped trying to hide the fact that he’d had such a dramatic reaction to the contact.
You bite back a stinging retort and reach into the container at your side for a welding rod. You realize with a feeling of dread that you don’t have any nerve dampeners on you. Nothing like an EM pulse emitter that could nullify the pain being caused by the fresh welds. You chew your lip for a moment and speak. “I don’t have anything to help with the pain. Will you be alright?”
He doesn’t respond. Only nodding, giving you to go ahead to continue. You take a deep vent in. If he had done this earlier on his own, he must not have had anything to numb the pain then either. Bracing yourself with one ped on the ground and the other against the fallen tree, you place one servo between his wings and use the other to unset the welds he’d placed. Flicking down your visor against the blinding torch, you set to work. Once you began, he made no sound to indicate he was in pain.
Only the groan of strained metal could be heard as he clenched his fists against the white hot flame of the torch. You worked quickly, wanting this to be over just as much as he probably did. After unsetting the welds, you worked quickly to right them once again. This time taking care to align the joint properly and seal any severed lines. His uninjured wing trembled a couple times but otherwise he remained still.
Once you had finished you stood upright and flicked your visor back up to look at your work. It wasn’t as good as a medic could have done but you were the best in your class at field medicine. These welds would hold and his wing was on straight this time. You cross your arms over your chassis, proud of your work. “All finished. And the sun hasn’t even set yet.”
Pastel pinks and oranges had begun to fill the watercolor sky. Still he didn’t move. You cocked your head to the side suddenly concerned. Reaching out a servo you rest it in the middle of his back between his wings and feel him lean ever so slightly into that touch before he catches himself. Flinching abruptly away he stands and whirls on you. “You’ve already touched me enough insect. I’m fine.”
His EM field flared with that unidentifiable emotion once again. You stepped back palms up to show you didn’t mean to overstep. “Sorry didn’t mean to.” You mumble not knowing what exactly you were apologizing for. You had comforted Bee in a similar way once when he was seriously injured after a fight. The little scout seemed grateful for the gesture and you thought he might need something like that as well. Clearly not. You huffed out an annoyed vent. So much for him being grateful. At least you had made it through the entire process without him using those twin null rays to blast you back to the state you were born in.
He wouldn’t look you in the optics. His pride probably so thoroughly squashed for the day that he couldn’t possibly take another embarrassment.
“There. We are even.” Were the only words he spoke as he whirled around and stalked off. Transforming and taking off over the lake a few paces down. He wasn’t trailing that awful black smoke anymore and his wing seemed to be holding. You hadn’t realized just how stiff you’d been holding your posture as you finally relax. His alt mode disappeared on the horizon, not knowing just how close he had come to discovering the Autobot base.
can we get general pete x reader hcs 🙏🙏
Pete Headcanons || Pete D.
Pete is a little freak (we are all aware of this). Which is why I think he is the type of person to watch you while you sleep, maybe even take a photo or two.
You once caught him doing this and he still completely denies doing it, attempting to gaslight you but failing miserably.
If you beg him enough he'll let you borrow his sweater (warning it will smell musty).
Gets you matching horror t-shirts but plays it off as "it was cheaper to get two instead of one".
Will draw penises literally anywhere. Your bedroom walls, your arms, your paper, your face.
Pete wants to show you that he loves you but doesn't wanna come off as soft or gay so he's mean to you but he'll be a little nicer to you than he is with the guys, just a little.
➥ hi guys so like I know its been a while but I swear I'll start writing more!! *I say as they drag me to my padded room*
Unrelated to OBX
Sorry to all my wrestling fans out there, like so sorry. I don't write for them, on this blog, but I do enjoy content about them.
My advice, get them out while you still can.
Those fics sitting in your drafts. Post them. Get it out and grieve.
And a moment of silence for the love and respect that is not reciprocated through these thoughts and actions.
Authors continue, discontinue, I support YOU and YOUR work, not the politics bullshit.
Stay strong.
Dad!Ren and his daughter Shayla (My OC fankid!!!)
FINALLY, after some hard work i represent to you.. My OC Shayla! Shayla is based on the official cutiesigh artwork with AU Dad!Ren. This post will have all the basic info about her so far + some headcanons about Ren's family life and his relationship with Shayla. So it's going to be a kinda? long post! I've put a lot of work and love into these arts. Enjoy :3
Redacted holding Shayla!! and their very different reactions
They're just having a bit of a nap on the sofa after Shayla painted Ren's face... and Shayla is drooling on dad's soft chest😭 (kind of inspired?? by this post!)
Her reference:
BASIC INFO
Clarification: in my AU, where there is Shayla, Redacted doesn't pretend to be Ren, but acts naturally! But I use both names in the text
Shayla is a kind, naive, sincere, energetic and cheerful girl who is always looking for adventure. But often, due to her age, her trusting nature and her curiosity, she doesn't always understand the risks and ends up in various messes. The girl is very friendly to everyone she meets! She believes that the world is a kind and beautiful place! Some kids think that Shayla is strange and weird (at least because of her "weird" family), which is why she gets mocked, but she doesn't read social cues (she's kinda autistic coded).
Likes: creative activities (drawing, needlework, sewing (not very wearable yet), making different outfits, daddy's jewelry, laughing, getting up early, climbing trees.
Dislikes: being controlled and restricted, rudeness, social games (she doesn't understand them).
She is the only and most wanted child for Ren and Angel, they had her when they were 30-35 years old. They love her very much!! Thanks to Ren, the family is very wealthy! Redacted spoils her a lot, fulfills all her wishes (well, as much as possible, since it's all after Angel, of course). In Shayla's family, both parents work, but Ren does it from home like he used to. So while Angel is at work, Redacted spends most of his time with their daughter. He picks her up from school, takes her to classes, goes for walks with her + does the housework, cooks, etc (basically he's a stay-at-home dad, because I don't think he needs to spend half a day on hacking; a couple of three hours is enough). With the birth of Shayla, Ren has begun to keep an eye not only on Angel, but also on their daughter, though not as closely. Thanks to this, he manages to get the girl out of trouble in time, but he often arrives at the very last moment.
Shayla is very attached to her father, she thinks he is the coolest dad in the world!!! She loves spending time with him, as well as his dark style and tattoos! She is a daddy's girl :))
While Angel is undoubtedly still Ren's top priority, Redacted genuinely loves his daughter both as an affirmation/continuation of their love with Angel AND for who she is. Her cheerful nature often lifts his spirits. Now, he has another person in his life who helps him see the world through a different, less apathetic and indifferent lens. Ren sees how naive and kind his daughter is and protects her to keep that light in her. And when Shayla comes up with questionable ideas… He supports her! He even suggests something himself😭 BUT even he has limits. He will not do anything that might harm her.
(pretty much everything canon about how Sai describes Dad!Ren)
RANDOM FACTS AND HEADCANONS:
I named her after that meme OOHH MY SHAYLAAA😭 (I didn't have a name for her at first, so I just called her that in my mind for a while. It was actually quite funny to me… but eventually it started to grow on me, ngl, so I kept it)
You know those stories where a kid goes into their mom's makeup bag, purse, or closet and tries on something? In this case, mom is Ren💀 Shayla loves to find all kinds of alt stuff from Redacted, ask what it is, and then try it on herself! Redacted gave her some - a spiked bracelet and a silver chain!
Ren agrees to paint Shayla's nails. She wears all the colors of the rainbow, but she likes to keep all her nails black on one hand, though!
Thanks to the creative atmosphere in the family and Redacted's alternative style, Shayla will be a goth in the future! She's also going to become an alt-clothing designer.
She is wearing three of the five gold hairpins that Ren used to wear! When Redacted and Angel got married, he started wearing only two hairpins - a symbol of their relationship. Years later, when Shayla was born and grew up, the rest of the hairpins were inherited to her, and she wears them with great pride, just like the rest of her dad's jewelry.
Shayla also has her dad's features. She has pale, dry skin and black hair. However, her eyes are a unique combination of Ren's color (blue) + my Angel's (red) = creating a beautiful purple color for her.(I know that's not how gynetics works lmaoo I just think it's cute!!!)
aaaand also, @yzumimenu drew some amazing fanart of Shayla, LOOK AT HER!!!!!!!!!!!!!! AND TY SO MUCH AGAIN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
For the non dominant hand doodles!! Snotlout with baby fireworms (i dare you to draw the helmet)
(Good luck my friend you can do it!!!! We believe in you!!!!)
how dare u make me draw the helmet 😭/lh
tysm for requests everyone <3 I feel like I have improved in drawing with my non dominant hand because of you!
I’m a really big fan of the headcanon that Snotlout has a soft spot for baby dragons. Like man is guarded and angry a lot of the time but put him next to a baby dragon and he’s instantly concerned/fussing over it 🥹🫶
Psychic kids who could kick your spoons and bend your asses!!
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close ups
WHAT DO YOU MEAN THIS IS THE TONED DOWN VERSION?!🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺😭😭😭😭😭😭
SOURCE
🥺
Hiei : I hate kazuma and I don’t care if he dies
Also Hiei the rest of the arc:
October Moon
summary: it had been game night. Xavier had told Simon who'd told you about Maddie's backpack. A weird and unfortunate game of telephone that your friendship had dissolved into. regardless, you'd had a surprise for Wally and you'd wanted to make sure to execute it, so whatever grievances you and Xavier had had, those had been shoved aside for the night...until you'd received a damning message that had brought to light why Mr. Anderson had called Claire.
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.2
Xavier stared at his phone, thumb hovering over the Send button, rereading his message for the fifth time. He hadn't spoken to you since last Friday. Not more than a handful of blunt words, anyway. He knew you knew about him and Claire. He hadn't needed Simon's confirmation that you'd been told; he could see it in your eyes, in the way you held yourself around him, the defiance in your stance and the disenchantment around your mouth.
In his heart, he'd forgiven you for keeping him in the dark about your abilities. Your family's abilities. Now his abilities. And while it ached to have been lied to, he understood why you'd done it. That it hadn't been entirely your choice. That, if you hadn't had the pressure of generations on your shoulders, you would've told Xavier in a heartbeat. He trusted that that was the truth because, despite everything, he knew you. It didn't completely soothe the rejection he felt, but it made it less sharp.
Rather, he hadn't reached out because he was afraid. Of your anger, of your hate, of your disappointment. Of you icing him out until you and he were strangers. He couldn't face that. Kept it Schrodinger's Box so he'd never have to know if you forgave him or not. However, right now, things were getting bigger than he could manage and he needed someone on his side. Simon barely tolerated him. Maddie... Jesus, he hadn't been able to stomach looking at her, never mind confiding in her. He sort of had Nicole now, a budding friendship built on being shoved to the outside and left to fend for themselves while their closest people banded together to save the world. Nevertheless, Nicole wasn't you. Who he'd always counted on. No questions asked.
With a shaky hand and a deep, worn-out exhale, Xavier pressed Send.
"Cops found Maddie's backpack. I'm going to the house. Corner of 10th and Lasher. Meet me at 6."
After a few short seconds of deliberation:
"I'm sorry."
‗‗‗‗•‗‗‗‗
You sat on the workbench while Nanna cut, assembled, and pinned the boutonniere you intended to present to Wally before the homecoming game. It was perhaps a silly gesture, but one you felt strongly about making. Cute and romantic and so unlike you that you barely recognized who you were when you were in lo—involved. Granted, you'd never been in a relationship (was it a relationship?) before so how were you to know you'd be the gushy, head-in-the-clouds, affectionate type?
Nanna hummed as she worked, timeworn hands expertly fitting the olive branch and white lily together around a flush of black baby's breath. Nanna had opened and run the flower shop Aurora had inherited ownership of upon returning to Split River. A charming, cozy place squished between Jerry's Wine & Spirits and an upscale pet store. The perfect resource for whatever dried ingredients went into the tea Nanna had iced and sipped occasionally as she worked.
You stared at the half-full mason jar, observing it as if it were a bomb to dismantle. Questions crowded your mind: Was it the same tea you'd been drugged with? Was it related to what you'd smelled on the three teenagers in the cavern before Amelia's ritual? Wally was of the opinion that Aurora's tea was connected to the cult, at the very least, though you found it difficult to believe. You studied Nanna, tried to find a trace of peculiarity in her behavior, but nothing stood out.
"You're thinking awfully loud, sweetpea," Nanna commented gayly, grey eyes sparkling as she put the finishing touches to the boutonniere and laid it carefully in a plastic container.
Without preamble, "Why do you drink that stuff?" you blurted, gaze flickering between Nanna and her tea.
Guzzling tea in your household wasn't uncommon. The kitchen and bathroom cabinets were crammed with a variety of bygone natural remedies that included stocks of loose tea blends. Getting a cold? Don't take Tylenol, drink milk thistle. Can't sleep? Passionflower and lavender. Stomach flu? Ginger and peppermint broth. Hell, when you'd sprained your ankle running track last year, you'd been smeared in turmeric and arnica paste. Your ankle had been stained yellow for days after.
Nanna cocked her head like you'd asked something outrageous, several speechless blinks and then, "It tastes good." Simple, easy. Strange because the tea sure smelt like a biological weapon and not what one would dip one's biscuits in. "Your sister introduced it to me when she came back from New York." She did? That didn't correlate with the image you'd always had of Aurora when she'd been in New York. The corporate baddie whose entire mood had relied on the quality of espresso in her latte. When she'd switched to tea, you'd assumed it was the other way around. That Nanna had led Aurora to the worst kind of river. "Aurora raved about it whenever she made some, and one day I was curious enough to try it."
"You sure she didn't brainwash you into liking it?" Your face twisted in disgust, "It stinks."
Nanna chuckled, "It doesn't taste like it smells, sweetpea, it's very refreshing." She lifted her mason jar and tilted it at you, "Would you like to taste?"
You reared back like you'd been threatened with a fist, "Blech, no thanks. I'd rather drink toxic sludge."
"You're as dramatic as your mother," Nanna said, taking a sip. She put the mason jar down and handed you the plastic container with the boutonniere in it. "You never told me who this was for."
"A boy." You grinned as you hopped off the workbench. In the same instant, your phone buzzed in your pocket.
"A boy we know?" Nanna pried, her expression glowing with mischief and meddling.
You scanned the text notification, unable to disguise your shock when you read who it was from. Xavier. Who'd been actively avoiding you and his newfound ghost-detecting abilities all week. Your heart jumped to your throat and your belly tightened as a wave of anxiety rippled through you.
Nanna retrieved your attention by setting a chilled hand on your forearm. "Is that him now?"
"Uh...no." You looked up and smiled at her, "No, it's just Xavier."
"Oh good," Nanna said gladly, "You've patched things up, have you?"
Not wanting to open that box when you now had approximately no minutes to leave the house, "Getting there," you offered and angled yourself toward the door. Gesturing gently with the boutonniere, "Thanks, Nanna," you said and stepped across the mudroom.
"You still haven't told me who the boy is," Nanna reminded you, tone as puckish as her grin.
"Right, yeah, it's..." You floundered internally for a second and then tossed in the air the first name that came to mind, "Simon. Elroy. You haven't met him."
Shit.
"Well, I can't wait to meet him tomorrow." Nanna said kindly as she began to tidy her workbench.
"He hasn't said yes yet," You peeped, gulping, because now you had to drag Simon into a ruse and convince him to meet you at your house before the dance.
Nanna flapped her hand, "He will. If you think he's worth giving that—" the boutonniere "—to, then he must be smart enough to know how lucky he is."
You melted at Nanna's flattering remark, warmed to your toes that your grandmother thought so highly of you. Naturally, grandmothers were inclined to dote on and adore their grandchildren no matter what, but it felt wonderful regardless. Nanna was the woman in your life who celebrated every single one of your accomplishments, no matter how small. She comforted you when you were upset, encouraged you when you were nervous, praised you when you were insecure. The wind in your sails since your mother had grown distant, comparatively detached, in the years that had followed Aiden's death.
Sometimes you wondered if your mother blamed you as you blamed yourself.
"Thanks, Nanna," You said again, pink cheeked and pleased. When you turned to leave the mudroom, you almost bumped into Ginny. Mercifully, her tiny frame was a lot more dense than it appeared, even at 80-something, so you weren't at risk of pulverizing her on impact. "Sorry, Ginny," You apologized, shamefaced.
Ginny scoffed, "It'd better take more than a knock from you to kill me, chicken. These old bones still have a lot left to do on this earth."
"Good. Because I don't want you going anywhere until I'm in my eighties." You giggled, giving her a short hug and smacking a kiss to her saggy cheek. You noticed she wasn't done up in her usual regalia—strings of costume jewelry and feathered robes. Today, she was dressed down in a plain frock, her only necklace the small silver pendant she always wore, "To ward off evil." One day it was going to be yours, Ginny had promised as she'd disregarded Aurora's accusations of favoritism. Ginny's cryptic response to that had been, "You don't need it, little lamb. Your sister will."
To this day, you had no idea why you'd need it or if it actually warded off evil like Ginny claimed, though you did enjoy rubbing it in Aurora's face that you were clearly Ginny's favorite grand-niece.
"She's got a new boyfriend," Nanna piped up from behind you, shades of glee in the lilt of her voice. "We'll get to meet him tomorrow night."
Ginny gave you wide eyes and a toothy smile, "Oh, is that so?"
"I'm leaving now," You announced, plucked your way around Ginny, and proceeded to ignore the hoots and coos that followed you out of the house.
‗‗‗‗•‗‗‗‗
Mr. Martin spotted Maddie as she entered the stadium, pensive, withdrawn, an impression he'd come to recognize as meaning she'd unearthed another possible clue in the mystery of how she'd ended on the wrong side of the veil. Something he didn't need right now with Amelia breathing down his neck.
His attention diverted upward to Charley, bunched in a seat and scribbling away in a notebook, his face drawn in straight lines of concentration. A new graft Mr. Martin hadn't authorized. Not that his students needed his approval to pick up new hobbies, of course. But he'd never seen Charley so intent, so determined. Writing the hours from end to end like he was composing the next hit teenage opera.
Things were getting out of hand. His students straying from the perfectly planted path he'd composed over the decades to keep them close. Keep them grounded (in more ways than one). If they drifted too far into death, too far from the thin boundary between the world of the living and the world of the dead—Mr. Martin didn't want to think about what would happen, Mina's final moments blinking in and out of focus behind his eyes like fragments of a bad dream.
Ajay, Bernadette, and Katelynn were in the midst of discussing their ideas for a post-game celebration, seeking Mr. Martin's input. They wanted to show Wally some extra love on his "death date"—that the date changed every year notwithstanding—as was customary, and Mr. Martin was glad at least those three had remained on the straight and narrow and continued to defer to him for guidance.
Briefly, he panned to the field, observed for a moment how Wally had passed Maddie something while they sat against the goal post. The distance was too wide for him to see what it was, but it further made him feel like he needed to double down and shepherd Maddie into the fold. Before Amelia cottoned onto the fact that Maddie was still defiantly marching to the beat of her own cursed drum.
When he'd had to report to Amelia what had happened to Maddie's body—to Amelia's prospective vessel—he'd been delivered a monologue about how critical it was to keep Maddie's memory scrambled. If she were to remember the one thing that had kept her safe all those years, she'd be impossible to wrangle. And that meant Amelia would fulfill every dark promise she'd made to Mr. Martin before and after he became a permanent fixture in Split River High.
Mr. Martin came back to the present when Katelynn said his name, her tone indicating it wasn't the first time she'd tried to get his attention. He apologized and asked politely for her to repeat, listening with half an ear as he nodded along, yes, Wally should have a cake; yes, we can certainly bake one in time; and no, the crown of sparklers is still vetoed.
In his mind, however, he was developing a plan to steer everyone back under the right influence. He needed to correct their course. He needed to figure out what was going on with Charley and Wally and Maddie.
He needed to talk to Rhonda.
‗‗‗‗•‗‗‗‗
Sloped against the side of his truck, Xavier scrolled restlessly through his phone while he waited for you to show up. If you'd show up. You hadn't texted back and it was already 6:03PM. He was steadily losing faith that things between you and him could be repaired. Fuck. He needed you. He needed his best friend. He needed time to back the hell up so he could undo every mistake he'd made so you'd be there for him like he desperately needed you to be.
He shoved his phone into his pocket and sighed, mentally preparing to break into a deserted house, play hide and seek with whoever had stolen Maddie's backpack, and persuade them to tell Xavier where Maddie's body was stashed. Alone. Jesus Christ. As he straightened, squared his shoulders and took a step forward, he caught movement in the corner of his eye.
Down the street, at the corner, in the pool of lamplight, you stood, gaze doubtful as you stared at Xavier. You were dressed in customary breaking and entering black. A jumper dress and tights, turtleneck that definitely wasn't yours, and combat boots. Totally committed to the part. God. He couldn't believe you were there. You'd come. You'd shown up for him like you always had. No questions asked. Even after a week of radio silence and cold shoulders and outrage.
Xavier felt a pressure behind his eyes as he stared back at you, positioning himself to face you fully, arms outstretched, ready to catch you when you began to sprint toward him. You and he collided, his arms closed around your waist and his face in your throat, shaking from the force of the emotions that swirled through him.
"You came," He whispered against your skin, breathing in the comforting scent of your shampoo and the DIY detergent your mother preferred.
"Always, Zav," You soothed, arms slung around his shoulders.
His body shook as he hugged you, the immense relief he felt opening the floodgates to everything he'd been holding on to all week. "I can't do this without you," He confessed, voice tight as a rubber band about to snap. And that encompassed so many truths. He couldn't laugh or breathe or live if he lost you. You and he had been through too many losses, changes, heartbreaks, wins together. There was no world in which Xavier could sustainably exist if you weren't in it with him. "I love you," He said weakly. Nothing new, you and he had shared the sentiment plenty of times, but it still carried weight.
"I love you, too," You replied, slightly turning your head inward as you pulled back.
Xavier happened to simultaneously shift his face toward yours, accidental, a reaction to your movement, and then, time slowed. The world retreated. His breath left him in a shaky gasp. One of his hands instinctually moved to your cheek, fingers barely tracing a bruise he wanted to know the origins of. And then his lips gently, so very, very gently, brushed yours. He heard you inhale, sharp and subtle, and that was all it took for impulse to drive him.
His lips crashed against yours, one arm tight around you, the hand of the other splayed on your cheek, thumb pressed close to the corner of your mouth. Sweet liquid heat curled low in his belly and he released a low sigh of pleasure. He'd never imagined this, had never entertained the idea nor held space for it, yet, in that moment, he couldn't recall quite why. It felt so good.
The kiss couldn't have lasted more than a second before he felt you break away, your fingertips replacing your lips as you shook your head. Your eyes were somehow both caring and regretful, filled with a love that Xavier had to acknowledge wasn't the kind that invoked the sort of insatiable desire he craved. It was milder, sweeter; affection in lieu of attraction, and he immediately cooled.
He didn't jump back or apologize or hate himself and the world. There was no pang of rejection. Just plain, honest understanding. Xavier lowered his hand and loosened his grip on you, a tiny smile of acceptance.
"Sorry," You lamented, but Xavier insisted it was fine. Because it was. Like, actually was and not in the way that people insisted when they were anything but.
"Thanks for coming," He said, easing a breadth of space between you and him.
You rolled your eyes, "Like I'd let you go into a freaky abandoned house where a possible body snatcher may be lurking all by yourself." And then you snickered, "As if I'd miss you screaming like a girl if the floor creaks."
"Ha-ha," Xavier sneered waggishly, "You're such a good friend."
"I know." You grinned. As Xavier took the lead, he heard you ask, "Why'd you do it?"
He didn't need you to elaborate, that telepathy bred from a lifetime of familiarity doing the heavy lifting. He admitted, "I don't know." When you didn't say anything, Xavier expounded, "I mean it, I have no idea why I even started things with Claire, never mind why I kept it going." He glanced back at you, taking his phone from his pocket and turning on the flashlight before climbing the front steps. "It felt like I was in a fugue that I only came out of when Maddie went missing." Another glance back at you, this time with the caveat, "Don't tell me it was in the weed, kiddo, I didn't smoke that much."
In response, you locked your lips with an invisible key that you subsequently tossed over your shoulder. "I wouldn't dare."
Xavier tested the handle on the front door, surprised and grateful to find it twisted to the left without resistance. Whoever was using the place must have decided it was easier to leave the door unlocked than slip back inside through a window whenever they left. Faster and less conspicuous, certainly. He entered first, held a hand up to signal for you to wait while he sussed out whether it was safe or not.
In the meantime, you inquired, "You didn't by any chance happen to drink a lot of bad smelling tea while you were cheating on Maddie with the cheer captain, did you?"
The question, to Xavier's mind, was completely random and, frankly, ridiculous. "Tea? When have you ever seen me drink tea?"
"Whenever you get a cold and Nanna insists on nursing you back to health."
"I think we both know that doesn't count." Xavier reckoned, treading slowly and carefully down the hall, which, okay, he was starting to think the whole stealth operation thing wasn't necessary if you and he were talking at a conversational volume anyway.
"When you went through your Jimi Hendrix phase and drank a bajillion cups of apple cinnamon black tea with—"
"—milk and two sugars, yeah, okay, I get it. The answer is still no. I didn't become acutely British one night and then fuck Claire."
"Ew."
"You asked."
You took to the other side of what would've been the living room to look for clues, "Still. Ew."
Someone was definitely living there. Though the house smelt overall stale and mildewy, the place was tidy. Ish. The makeshift bed against the living room wall was made. The messiest thing about the room was the scattering of old mail. When you suggested splitting up, Xavier vigorously quashed the idea, taking your hand just to keep you from wandering off out of spite.
"Is it because I'm a woman?" You griped.
Xavier raised his eyebrows at you, asserting, "No. It's because you have a bruise on your cheek and I don't know if you got it from walking into a door or into someone's fist. Which, please tell me it's the former so I don't have to beat the shit out of someone."
You chuckled, "Technically the former. I projected out of my body to make it look like I fainted. I needed to get out of math class."
About to open another door, Xavier stalled, "You did what." He said, monotone, nearly dropping his phone in disbelief because, surely, he'd misheard you.
"Astral projected. I, uh, ahem, I can do that, too." Suddenly shy, you tipped your gaze down and pressed your lips together.
"Oh. Yeah. No. That's...what."
You tugged his hand, made him look at you when you said, "No one besides Wally knows. So...please don't tell anyone. The fewer people who know, the better."
Xavier wanted to retort, something snappy and sarcastic, but he picked up on the note of earnest pleading in your voice. Instead, he nodded, squeezed your hand, and promised, "I won't." Then, "Your family doesn't know?"
"Nope. I never told them."
"Why not?"
You hesitated. Xavier could tell it was more to choose your words than because you didn't want to explain. Eventually, "I found out when Aiden died. I wasn't able to do it before that. I wanted to tell my mom, but she was a mess after, and Ginny and Nanna were busy taking care of her and me, and it just...the more time passed the less I wanted to talk about it." A pause thick with memory. "When mom was actually getting back out into the world, it felt kinda wrong to bring up anything to do with that day, you know? I didn't want to trigger her and make her backslide into depression again. So, I pretended the ability didn't exist."
Xavier regarded you with sympathetic eyes, "Thanks for telling me." Ignoring the part where your dead boyfriend knew, Xavier felt like you'd let him in again, that you trusted him to carry your secrets with you, and he didn't want to take it for granted. Just then, he heard creaks from the back of the house. "Stay here, don't move," he commanded and advanced to the back room. Opened the door. Stepped inside. Caught a shadow at the window that propelled him forward.
"Hey!" He called, racing to the window. The jump was too high for his comfort, brain calculating the distance between the window and the operating table he'd definitely find himself on if he attempted to pursue the person. As he watched the person disappear behind another house, he smacked the wall, "Fuck!" feeling like a coward. He wanted to be better. To help. To get Maddie her body back.
To be forgiven.
"Hey, did you find them?" You stepped up to the window and peered outside.
Xavier nodded, "Yeah, but they took off."
You must have identified what Xavier was ruminating in his expression because the next thing he knew, he was bundled in a hug and reassured, "I'm glad you're okay. They could've been dangerous."
He returned the hug, not having considered that possibility.
"Let's look around and see if we can find anything useful." You suggested, "And then I need you to drive me to the stadium. I have a sexy football star ghost to ask to the dance."
Xavier smirked, slinging your earlier statement back at you, "Ew."
"Shut up, you're the cheating manwhore."
"Still. Ew."
‗‗‗‗•‗‗‗‗
Wally waited outside the locker rooms for you, geared up and ready to go. His blood was pumping, adrenaline coursing through his veins. Tonight was his night. He was going to make his mamma proud.
Less than five minutes later, he saw you turn the corner and scurry to him, grabbing his hand to pull him into a secluded area just inside a door to the stairwell. The connection between you and him roared to life and he followed its call, crowding you against the wall and kissing you senseless.
When you and he parted for air, he gazed down at you, heated and hungry, "Hey, baby."
You smiled back, "Hey yourself." With a hand to his chest, you pushed him back a step, your other hand hidden behind your back. "I have something for you."
He raised a brow in intrigue, broad grin on his face, "Oh yeah?" He tried to shift closer, but the look you gave him forced his legs still. "What is it?"
Slowly, you brought your hand out from behind your back and presented him with a clear plastic container. He took it, examined what was inside briefly before snapping his head up.
"Wally Clark, will you go to the homecoming dance with me?" You proposed, big, gorgeous smile all for him.
He glanced down at the boutonniere again and then up to you, his heart quickening for a reason entirely separate to the excitement of tonight's events. His soul soared. He'd never been asked. Okay, back when he'd been alive, it wasn't exactly acceptable for the girl to ask the guy, and he had asked his then-girlfriend, Jenny Johnson, to the dance. Went ahead and had died under the enormous bulk of an Outlaws linebacker. Thereafter had attended stag in the company of his fellow ghosts, most of whom hadn't been enthusiastic about dressing up and dancing to cheesy music.
But...here you were.
'Yes' wasn't going to cut it. Wally wanted you to know how much it meant to him that you'd asked. How elated he was, how thoroughly in fucking love with you he was. And, holy shit, he was, wasn't he? He loved you. A joyous laugh bubbled out of him from the depths of his being and he closed the distance between you, hovering over your frame that seemed so small in comparison to his. In measure increments, he bowed his head, free hand smoothing down your waist to your hip, and he grazed his lips against yours. A lingering tease before he pressed in firmly and gave you his answer.
He heard you whimper, the sound making his head spin, and he felt your fingers at the nape of his neck, tickling the short hairs, sending frissons of want and need down his back. When you pulled away, biting your lip, gaze caught on his mouth—fuck, he had to close his eyes just to maintain some semblance of self-control.
"Is that a yes?" You asked, voice sultry and low.
Wally grinned. Unequivocally, wholly, utterly, "Yes."
‗‗‗‗•‗‗‗‗
At halftime, Xavier humbly handed out the fliers Sandra had printed off. He hated himself a little bit for it since he could see Maddie sitting at a table with your dead boyfriend, as Simon had dubbed him, having what appeared to be a deep and meaningful conversation.
Although he wasn't shackled to the same commitment to secrecy as you were, he couldn't imagine it going very well if he sat Sandra down and told her the truth. That her daughter was half-ghost and some sick individual was out there doing God knew what to Maddie's body. Oh, but don't worry, Maddie isn't alone, there's a bunch of dead kids to keep her company, can you believe that?
No. No one outside your family would believe that. Except Simon, but he was paddling the same shit canoe as Xavier so that rendered him irrelevant.
Xavier glanced at the table again, watching Maddie and Wally laugh and talk and eat. Since ghosts ate apparently. Like people. With heartbeats and working digestive systems. Did ghosts need to eat? Did ghosts use the bathroom?
"What're you doing?" Simon's voice jolted Xavier back to earth.
Xavier ticked his attention to Simon, suffering for what to say. "Nothing," was a shit answer, and he could tell Simon didn't believe it, but there it was.
"You've been staring at them for five minutes." Simon informed, unimpressed. "Did your humanity finally come back online and now you're feeling guilty?"
Xavier clenched his jaw, "You don't have to be such a dick all the time, you know. I'm here. I'm trying to help."
"Yeah," Simon scoffed, "I bet. As if your guilty conscience isn't the reason you've been at Sandra's beck and call all week. Did you tell her you betrayed her daughter?"
"Actually, yeah, I did." Xavier stared Simon dead in the eye, "We covered that in our first conversation."
Simon seemed shocked to hear that, gaping for a beat before covering it up with a stony cast. "It learned how to be honest. I'm impressed. Maybe you will become a real boy after all."
"Fuck you," Xavier snapped, giving Simon his back so he could focus on emptying his stack of fliers.
He didn't hear anything for long enough that he assumed Simon had walked away, but, to his complete surprise, "Are you guys talking again?" Xavier pitched Simon an inquisitive glance. "You know what I'm talking about," Simon said, "For some reason she actually considers you a friend. And I consider her a friend. So, I wanna know. Have you apologized to her yet?"
Sucking in a deep breath, Xavier opted to take the olive branch Simon was offering, as thorny and shriveled as it was. "Yeah, we're good." Remembering the kiss (his kiss, he rectified, taking responsibility for his actions), he slipped another peek at Wally. Too bad for him, Simon was perceptive.
"It's weird, right? Dating a dead guy."
"If she's happy, I'm happy." Xavier said sincerely.
"Great. So why do you keep looking at Wally like he's your middle school bully come back to haunt you." Simon viscerally thought about what he'd said, "Is that a pun?"
Xavier snorted, "I don't think so." And then, bravely, wanting to impart an olive branch of his own. Stupidly. He disclosed, "I kissed her."
Nothing. No comeback, no quip, no insults. Nada. Xavier turned to Simon only to find him trembling with suppressed laughter, back of his wrist over his mouth.
Finally, "Oooh~ ho ho, her dead boyfriend is so going to kill you." Simon glanced at Wally and then back at Xavier, "Please don't let it happen when I'm not around, I really wanna watch."
"You're such an asshole." Xavier grumbled, practically shoving a flier at a passerby.
"You know, I'm surprised she let you," Simon mused.
Conversationally, "She didn't. She stopped it."
"That's my girl."
"She's not your anything," Xavier let him know.
Simon shrugged, casual and delighted, "Doesn't matter. She's definitely his," He nodded to Wally, "And he's going to break you in half."
Xavier swallowed, sizing Wally up and internally agreeing with Simon that, yep, that guy could definitely beat the crap out of Xavier if he wanted to. "But he can't." Xavier said, more a prayer than a statement. "He can't touch me, right, Simon?" Simon didn't respond. "Simon? He can't, right?" Xavier spun around and saw Simon heading back to the bin of fliers, "Simon!?"
Simon threw his head back and cackled.
‗‗‗‗•‗‗‗‗
You said goodbye to your friends after the game, everyone, including yourself, in high spirits despite the Bandits losing. It had been a close game, fun to watch though you maintained you weren't into sports.
Wally was easy to find, propped against the wall near the exit, one foot up, hands in his pockets, already staring at you with soulful eyes and a soft smile. Your belly clenched and your skin flushed under his appraisal, butterflies swarming inside you.
The crowd was distracted and dense enough that you threw caution to the wind and tucked yourself against him when you reached him. You felt him tense, but it wasn't even a second before you felt his arms wrap around you and his nose in your hair.
"Did you have fun, pretty girl?" He asked. His tone was oddly serene for someone who'd been vibrating out of his skin earlier. He didn't sound exhausted or depressed or anything else you'd expect from someone who'd, a) seen their parent who couldn't see him back, and, b) had watched the same game that'd killed him. Rather, he sounded...at peace, if a little apprehensive around the edges.
You peeked up at him as you soaked up the heat of his body like a needy sponge, "Are you okay?"
Again, that soft smile, tinged very faintly by nerves. Maybe because you were being too forward with your abilities in a public setting? You studied him and found that, no, that wasn't it.
He licked his lips nervously, said, "I need to tell you something. But I'm scared it'll change the way you look at me."
"Nothing could do that," You reassured him, encouraging him to say what he wanted to say.
Wally appeared to think about it, deliberating, but eventually revealed, "I don't like football."
It was your astonishment that kept you from responding right away. Not astonishment for what he said, but how he said it. Like it was a weight off his shoulders. A burden he'd been carrying for too long at last lifted. You tilted your head, eyes on his, and smiled, overjoyed that he'd shared something that was clearly so personal, so vulnerable, with you.
"Me neither." You said and the smile that spread on his face made your knees weak.
You and Wally stayed like that for as long as you were able before he couldn't put off joining the others anymore. You and he parted with a kiss, as was becoming customary, and you walked back into the school. As you wandered down the hall toward the front of the building, you noticed something out of the ordinary. To be more precise, someone.
"What's he doing here?" You muttered to yourself, following Ken Doll Dave around the corner, away from the front of the building and toward the basement door. You maintained a decent distance, made sure your footsteps were silent on the linoleum, and crept along behind him, catching the door before it could close with a shatter.
Down the stairs, along the narrow corridor....you heard voices coming from behind a door you hadn't known existed. The door was open and when you took a gander, you placed who the voices belonged to. You checked both ways down the corridor, but Dave was long gone. Whatever reason he had to skulk around a high school basement would have to wait.
"What're you guys doing?" You asked Simon and Maddie when you entered the subbasement area and stepped further into the room. Casting about, you realized it wasn't just another storage space. It was a full-on, military-grade, nuclear bunker like one would see in the movies, complete with decades-old tinned food, a pristinely made cot, and a system of outdated machinery. "Whaaat the hell is this?"
"Mr. South said it's been here since the Cold War." Simon told you, "That it hasn't been used in decades."
"And he just let you in here?" You wondered, running your fingers across the dusty machinery.
Simon gave you a toothy smile, "He likes me."
Before you could snark back, "Where do you think that goes?" Maddie brought your attention to a panel in the wall.
You and Simon approached with caution, Simon saying, "No idea, but," he pushed the panel open along the small pair of rails set into the wall, "I'm guessing this is how Claire dragged your body out of here."
The dust on the floor below the space had been disturbed, supporting Simon's theory about Claire, and while you'd been reluctant to jump on the Claire is the new cult train, you couldn't refute the physical evidence. You bent down, inspected the floor beside Simon's shoe, and came back up with something between your thumb and forefinger.
Shuddering, you showed Simon and Maddie, "I think you might be right, Si."
Yet, Simon didn't gloat, too disturbed by the sight of the bloody fingernail you'd just found in the scuff marks on the floor.
‗‗‗‗•‗‗‗‗
Deep inside the tunnel, Janet crawled back toward the exit, sleeves of her hoodie pulled down over her hands to avoid potentially losing another nail. That'd been close. Too close. She'd barely sealed the door before those two interlopers had entered the fallout shelter.
After her hideout had been discovered, she'd meant to sneak into the school undetected and stay the night in one of the many secret spaces she'd used for privacy as a ghost. But she'd seen that man again. The one who she knew Amelia had enlisted to find her. As she pushed open the gate at the other end of the tunnel, the muscles in her arm protested, pained and stiff. She groaned, rolling onto the ground below, tripping and scraping her palm on the gravel.
"Fuck!"
Time was running out, she needed to get that book and she needed it now. But the walls were closing in around her. She had nowhere to hide. Nowhere to go to finish what she'd started. Gathering what little strength she had, she made the decision.
It was time to cut and run.
💀___________________________
PART ONE - PART THREE
fun fact: Eli is the guy who, in episode 5, tries to sit with Maddie and Simon at the lunch table and pops tater tots in his mouth until Simon wordlessly banishes him. On his way to another table, he stops Reader as she goes to sit with Simon and Maddie, telling her, "Don't even bother, Simon's being fucking weird."
note: smut in the next one, stay tuned! also, i couldn't take away from Maddie and Wally's sweet moment at halftime. like, it's too meaningful and i refuse to mess with it. so they still have it. but, you know, as homies instead of love interests. i'd toyed with the idea of Reader conveying a message from Wally to his mom at the game, but felt that didn't serve anything beyond insinuating Reader into everything and that's just not a road i wanna go down...
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ABOUT THE TAGLIST: we're not about that life around here (•¯ ∀ ¯•) things got too outta hand and i'm still cleaning up the mess left behind by the demons i accidentally summoned trying to get the damn thing to work 🕳️👹......there's a dustpan over there if you feel like helping 🧹💨 or, if you just wanna stay up to date, please FOLLOW ME and TURN ON NOTIFICATIONS.
