#i'd like you all to know she referenced i kissed a girl earlier in the show too saying that it was queer history

[babychosen]

angela do you even know what you're doing to the gays

[ambrossart]

PAPER MEN

— CHAPTER 28

SUMMARY: All Evelyn Tozier wanted to do was make Derry High School a safer place for her kid brother. Well, somewhere between kissing Patrick Hockstetter and telling the principal to go f*** himself, things got a little off track. Now she’s stuck in the middle of a bizarre love triangle with two of Derry’s most troubled teens while her little brother and his friends hunt down a creepy, child-eating circus clown. This year, summer can’t come fast enough. PAIRINGS: Henry Bowers x Tozier!Sister; Patrick Hockstetter x Tozier!Sister WARNINGS: violence, profanity, sexual content, bullying, sexual assault, physical abuse, emotional abuse, all kinds of abuse, trauma, mental illness, implied/referenced self-harm, child death, angst, lots of angst, recreational drug use, underage drinking, underage sex, love triangles, toxic relationships, slow burn, slow build

WORD COUNT: 11,533

MASTERPOST

MASTERLIST

"See? Bitch!"

Christie's words sailed down the hallway and struck Evelyn on the back of the head, making her stop mid-stride. A gasp gathered in her chest as the hallway seemed to close in around her. Student faces blurred together. Sounds became muffled, all but the thunderous beating of her heart. I wasn't being a bitch, Evelyn thought, unaware of the students who gave her curious glances as they passed. I said hi, didn't I? What more do you want from me? Should I have gone up to you and shaken your hand? Said, "Oh my god, congratulations, I'm so thrilled for you two"? Because I am, I really am, I just...

(Bitch!)

Guilt and shame mixed uneasily in Evelyn's stomach. It made her feel nauseous. Made her want to walk back over to them and apologize profusely like an embarrassed little girl at a grown-up's dinner party. Oh please, oh please, don't be mad! I'm sorry if I came off a little rude earlier. I'm just having a bad day, that's all. Please don't take it personally, Christie. Pretty please? Pretty please with sugar on top? I'd really like for us to be friends.

Yes.

Friends. 

That's what I do. I make nice. I make friends. I make lemonade from lemons and turn rain clouds into rainbows. 

Well, I'm not in the mood for rainbows, Evelyn thought, and kept walking. Anger simmered inside her stomach now, and she made no effort to cool it down. I have enough lemonade, I have enough friends, and I'm not gonna apologize to Christie Gibson! Why should I? I didn't do anything wrong! She's the one who bombarded me in the hallway, smelling like Vic's bedroom, casually tossing around Mrs. Criss's first name like they're best friends. I've known Mrs. Criss my whole life, and she'd never let me call her 'Tabby'... not that I've ever really asked...

Sarah Tolleson, Evelyn's locker neighbor, said bye to Evelyn as she walked by. Evelyn, distracted as she was, said nothing back.

"Bitch," Sarah muttered under her breath. "Well, fuck you too, then."

Evelyn opened her locker, hung her backpack on the hook, and absentmindedly began gathering her textbooks one by one: English, psychology, world history...

So Christie wants to talk about Vic, huh? What could she possibly have to say to me about Vic? What, does she need gift ideas for Christmas? Buy him a bong or something, I don't know... Evelyn shoved her biology book into her bag and paused for a moment, lost in thought. She returned in a near-daze and, forgetting herself, pulled out the same book and put it back on the shelf. Oh, then she calls out to me in the hallway while she's with him, so I'd have to SEE them together. What the hell was that about, huh? Did she wanna gloat over her victory? Was she trying to get me to admit I'm jealous? Okay, fine, I'm jealous. I'm very, very jealous!

All Evelyn ever got from Victor Criss was cold distance and doors slammed in her face. Secret notes. Broken promises. He'd draw her in and then push her way. Get her hopes up only to smash them to itty bitty pieces. No matter how hard she tried, he refused to let her get close to him. And now, after wasting ten years of her life, she had to accept that this was as close as she was ever going to get: this friendship with a little asterisk next to it. They were friends, sure, but only when no one else was around. It wasn't fair.

Vic was with her—in front of everybody, and he didn't even seem embarrassed by it. How could he do that with her but not with me?

Probably for the same reason Christie Gibson won the student council vote.

Because Christie was cool and Evelyn wasn't. Christie listened to rock music, dyed her hair fun colors, and had a butterfly tattoo on her lower back. Evelyn wore knit sweaters and could hardly name a current song on the radio (she listened to Olivia Newton-John from time to time, but nobody would be very impressed by that). Yeah, Christie Gibson was the fun, laid-back rocker chick. She probably spent her nights going to parties and concerts. Evelyn, meanwhile, spent her nights studying and doing arts and crafts on her bedroom floor... making dozens of paper flowers for a sign that nobody cared about.

You know you're quite the artist.

Isn't that what Patrick Hockstetter had said? Yeah, he had. Last night, he was mesmerized by a tiny white daisy. It was such an insignificant little thing, yet he stared at it like it was something special, like Evelyn had somehow made a realdaisy bloom in the palm of her hand. It seemed strange for her to be thinking of that now.

Stranger still was the smile that came to her face when she did.

But then Evelyn thought of that shapeless violet, purple as the fading bruise on her neck, and her smile instantly vanished. She pushed the thought away and started unloading her backpack again.

Everyone thinks I'm annoying. Just Little Miss Busybody. I'm not cool like Christie Gibson. I'm not sexy like Manda Bosch. I'm just... just—

A long, slender finger poked Evelyn's shoulder twice, jolting her from her thoughts. She jumped away from it, startled. Her stack of books went leaning, leaning... leaning way too far! A dreadful moan sounded in her throat. She tried to correct the lean, failed, and clutched the two bottommost books to her chest while the rest went tumbling to the floor. Her disheartened sigh crashed against a boy's cry of panic:

"Oh, great," Evelyn said.

"Oh, God!" said the boy.

They dropped to their knees at the same time, hands bumping as they reached for Evelyn's psychology book. The boy made a whimpering noise and recoiled from her with a snap of his wrist. Evelyn followed his fleeing hand and saw it bury itself in a small nest of copper-red curls.

"I'm so sorry, Evelyn! I don't know what I was thinking, sneaking up on you like that. My mom always gets mad at me when I creep up on her in the kitchen, but I just can't help it. See, I used to make too much noise when I walked, and she would yell at me to stop dragging my feet, so I overcorrected and now I make too little noise. I didn't think that was possible, but someone how I managed. God, I'm so hopeless."

Evelyn blinked her eyes in disbelief. Soft blue eyes blinked back at her.

"Denny!"

Denny Booker responded with a frog-like croak, as if surprised by his own name. "Oh, uh... hi."

Overjoyed, Evelyn put down her books and wrapped her arms around Denny's scrawny shoulders, hugging him tightly just as she had in his kitchen the Wednesday before. Denny's face flushed with heat. As soon as their bodies made contact, his back went rigid as a plank and his skinny arms flattened against his sides.

"Sorry," Denny said once they parted. "I'm really bad at hugs, especially with, with girls. I just don't... see, I don't really know where to put my hands, if that makes sense. I'm always worried I'm gonna touch something I'm not supposed to."

Like what? Evelyn almost asked, bewildered, but she figured that would've only embarrassed him more.

Instead, she said, "It's fine, Denny. I'm just glad you're back. You are back, right?"

She stood, brushing loose specks of dirt off her stockings. Denny got up, too. He wore his backpack with both straps and kept fidgeting with the loose ends.

"Yeah... well, kinda. I just came today to drop off my homework assignments. Tomorrow's my first real day back. Oh, here, your books."

Denny bent down, picked up Evelyn's scattered books, and handed them to her with a sweet, unaffected smile. Evelyn thanked him sincerely and put them away in her locker.

"So—" Evelyn began.

"Hey, it's the Book Man!" 

They spotted Scott Kellerman at the other end of the hallway. He had been strolling through the freshmen locker area, thinking of fun, creative ways to kill a couple minutes. Now he was jogging toward them. Smiling, of course. Scott Kellerman was always smiling. He stopped briefly to give another one of his friends a high five. "Toodles, my good dude," Scott said to him. Then he rushed over to Denny and tackled him with a giant bear hug.

"What's up, buddy?" Grinning, Scott slapped his hands onto Denny's shoulders and gave him a brain-rattling shake that made Evelyn cringe and think, Oh, poor Denny. "Look at you, all rosy-cheeked and gorgeous! How you doin', man?"

"I'm, I'm good," Denny replied. "Hap-happy to be back."

"Shit, dude, you had us all freaked out in homeroom. People thought you were dying or something. As for me, I was getting ready to start sending around the ole donation jar like we did for J-Bird that one time. You remember that? 'Help, my brother needs a new kidney!' Nobody donated, though. Bummer. I guess they don't care about pot-bellied pigs in this town, not even a cute one like J-Bird."

"Oh..." Denny frowned. "Well, I'm sorry for scaring everyone."

Scott just laughed his usual carefree laugh. "Hey, no worries, dude. We're just glad to have you back. Wait, you are back, right?"

Denny nodded. "Tomorrow. I'll be back tomorrow."

"Sweetness!" Scott said, and laughed again. "Well, hey, I gotta go, man. Got a client waiting for me." He backed away from them while humming an upbeat tune he made up on the spot. "Adios, mis amigos. That's Spanish, if you didn't already know. My teacher taught it to me today. That's right, my dudes, I'm one step closer to being bilingual, baby!" He fired off two gunshots with his fingers before disappearing around the corner.

A moment of silence passed. Then Evelyn turned to Denny and said, "Did he just say he's meeting a client?"

"Oh right, yeah... Skelly's got a little side business."

"A side business? Wow!" Imagine that, Scott Kellerman was a fifteen-year-old entrepreneur. Evelyn was very impressed, and a little confused. "So does he, like, make stuff?"

"More like grows it."

To clarify what he meant, Denny pressed his thumb and index finger together and touched them briefly to his lips. Miss Quaver, the home economics teacher, came strutting out of her classroom. Denny panicked and pretended to have an itch on his face.

"Hello, children," Miss Quaver said to them with a smile. "Nice to see you back, Denny."

"Hi, Miss Quaver," Denny said, a faint blush tickling his cheeks.

When she was gone, he and Evelyn collapsed into a fit of giggles that left Evelyn in tears and Denny hacking up phlegm. This made Denny terribly embarrassed. He wiped his mouth with his sweater sleeve and apologized. Evelyn, who had been snorting like a pig, told him not to worry about it.

"Wow," she said afterward, while dabbing her eyes dry, "Skelly's a pot dealer. How did I not figure that out sooner?"

Denny cleared his throat one more time. "You're just wonderfully naive, I guess."

They shared another chuckle over that. Evelyn's shoulders bounced as she laughed. Denny, more careful this time, kept his hand cupped shyly over his mouth.

Then he said, "So, wait, why was Skelly dressed like a surfer?"

"Oh, because it's Groovy Monday," Evelyn told him. "Skelly's a Beach Boy. He had a surfboard, but he accidentally smacked Principal Hellyer with it, so it got taken away."

"Right," Denny said, unsurprised. "Yeah, I guess that explains your outfit, too."

"Yeah..."

Evelyn tucked her chin into her chest and shuffled back a step, wincing as she felt that familiar sting of self-consciousness. Oh, why had Denny returned to school on Decade Day of all days? If he had waited until tomorrow, he would have seen Evelyn dressed in comfy cotton pajamas instead of this hideously short dress that, apparently, made her look like a damn streetwalker. She braced herself for another searing hot stare, but from Denny Booker, all she felt was the most genuine warmth. His blue eyes were clear and kind.

"You look really nice," he said, and that was all. "Oh, I have your biology notes!"

He shrugged out of his backpack's right shoulder strap and pulled Evelyn's notebook out of the main zipper compartment. "You take really good notes," he said before handing it to her.

Evelyn flashed a modest smile. "Well, I do pride myself on my note-taking. Last year, I got these totally awesome gel pens that completely changed the way I..."

(It's a pen, Evelyn)

Her expression darkened. "Never mind," she said under her breath. Last year didn't matter anymore. "Anyway, I'm glad you found them useful."

She put her notebook away. When she turned back, Denny was rubbing the back of his neck and frowning.

"Hey," he went on quietly, "I want to apologize for the way I acted when you came to visit me last week. I'm honestly really embarrassed about the whole thing. You probably thought I was having a total meltdown or something."

Evelyn shook her head. "No, I didn't think that at all. And you don't have to apologize, Denny, not for any of it. You were going through a lot that day."

Denny gave a doubtful but grateful smile. "I found my dog, by the way."

"Really? That's great!"

"Yeah, we got a call from one of our neighbors this morning. He said Mandy Fazio found her sniffing around the junkyard last night and was wondering who she belonged to. I have no idea what she was doing all the way over there, but we took her to the vet, and she's perfectly fine, so... I dunno, I guess it was just one of those strange coincidences, just like you said."

"Yeah," Evelyn said.

A strange coincidence, indeed.

I questioned Patrick about this last night. Now, all of a sudden—

Denny's face paled, and he drew back with fright. "Uhh... I have to go now."

"Huh? Why, Denny? Is everything all right?"

"Yeah, I just, uhh..." Denny dragged his fingers through his curls. His hairline was damp with sweat, Evelyn saw, and now it was trickling down his forehead. "I just remembered that I need to pick up something from the office, and I... I need to head over there before, you know, before they close for the day. See you tomorrow, Evelyn."

He staggered backward, spun around, and sped off down the hallway... in the opposite direction of the office.

Weird, Evelyn thought, her chest tight with worry. I hope he'll be okay to return tomorrow.

She stared down the hallway for a moment longer, wondering what unseen terror had set Denny off this time. Her answer came in the form of slow, plodding footsteps. She turned around and saw Patrick Hockstetter walking up to her with a lazy, swaying stride.

"What's his problem?" he asked, seemingly unaware.

Seemingly.

Evelyn's eyes sharpened into a suspicious glare.

"What?" Patrick said, blinking at her with that same dumb, oblivious expression. Then, slowly, his lips curled into a wide, open-mouthed grin. "Wait, was that...?"

"Oh, stop it already, Patrick. As if you don't know."

He tossed his head to the side. "What was his name again?"

"You know his name, Patrick. I refuse to believe you have no idea who your fellow classmates are."

This was all just an act, and a bad one at that.

She grabbed her biology book, put it in her bag, and left it there this time. That's right, Evelyn finally had her head screwed on properly again. She wasn't floating through space or wading through a deep sea of sad thoughts. She was here, grounded firmly in reality... and keenly aware of how close Patrick had gotten. His warm breath fanned the side of her face.

"Believe what you want," Patrick said, "but as far as I'm concerned, you and I are the only two people in this school."

Evelyn turned to meet his empty, probing stare. When she did, a chill ran up her spine. Looking into Patrick's eyes was kind of like staring into a void. It was like leaning over the side of a ship and gazing into the deep, dark ocean below. Your survival instincts tell you to step back from the edge and walk away, but before you do, a small part of you wonders, What if I jumped? 

Evelyn was hearing that voice now, tempting and frightening all at the same time. She pulled away from it, away from him, and said, "No offense, Patrick, but that sounds kinda like a nightmare."

"Really?" he said. "I think it sounds pretty nice."

His eyes told her he wasn't kidding. But he had to be, didn't he?

Another shiver rolled through her. Evelyn put the question behind her and finished packing up her homework.

"So," Patrick went on, leaning against the locker beside her, "did he finally find his dog?"

Evelyn's eyes sharpened again. Strange coincidence, my ass. 

"Oh my god!" she said.

"What?" Patrick asked, looking at her with genuine surprise.

No.

Seemingly genuine.

Evelyn jabbed at his chest with an accusing finger. "Oh, you... you are so transparent!"

"What? I'm just making conversation."

"Yeah, sure you are, Patrick."

"I am," he insisted. Then his eyes flattened. "Wait a second, you still think I took that dog, don't you? Listen, Evelyn, before last night I didn't even know who that kid was, okay? I mean, jeez... you torture a few puppies and you're branded a dog killer for the rest of your life. Where's the justice in that?"

"Yes, Patrick, you're the true victim in all of this."

"Whatever," he said. "I'm sick of talking about this. Anyway, what are you doing after school?"

Evelyn gave him a tired look.

"What?" Patrick said. "We're friends, right? Friends hang out after school."

"Don't you have detention?"

"In theory," Patrick answered, "but realistically, it wouldn't be too hard for me to slip away for a few minutes... you know, if you wanted to find an empty classroom and let me fool around under that cute little skirt of yours." He eyed it with a lustful smirk, then started teasing the hem with his fingers. "By the way, have I told you how much I like this outfit? You should dress like this more often."

And with that, down went the judge's gavel.

It's official: I'm dressed like a whore.

"The stockings kinda ruin it, though," Patrick finished, observing them with a frown. Shamelessly, he tried to sneak a peek under her skirt. Evelyn swatted his hand away without looking.

"It was forty degrees out this morning, Patrick."

"Is that cold?" he asked, but he didn't wait for Evelyn's answer. "So you wanna hang out or not?"

"Can't. I'm grading quizzes for Mrs. Lafferty."

It was part of Henry's plea deal. In exchange for Mrs. Lafferty's support, Evelyn agreed to grade her quizzes for the rest of the semester. And how did Henry pay her back? The only way he knew how: with cruelty and malice. No good deed goes unpunished, right?

"Oh?" Patrick said, sounding very intrigued. "And will you be alone while you're grading these quizzes?"

"No, Mrs. Lafferty will be there. She has a student staying late to take a quiz."

"Well, I don't mind an audience... although it might make you a little uncomfortable."

Evelyn heaved a loud, frustrated sigh. "Okay, I'm leaving now," she said, and closed her locker. When she tried to walk away, Patrick gently grabbed her wrist.

"I'm kidding, I'm kidding," he said, chuckling. "What are you doing on Friday night?"

"Friday's the homecoming game, Patrick."

"Okay, that means nothing to me... but I'm assuming you're going?"

"Yes, Patrick, everyone's going."

"Oh, everyone's going, huh?" His grey-green eyes gleamed. "So if I go, I'll probably see you there."

"Probably."

"Cool." Patrick smiled, very pleased. "We can hang out then."

"I don't think that's a good idea, Patrick."

Evelyn pulled her hand out of his grasp. Patrick frowned as he watched it slip away.

"Why?" he asked in a sullen voice. "You ashamed to be seen with me at a school event? Afraid of what your friends in the student council will think? What Jake Newham will think?"

"Of course not," Evelyn said, but she realized that was a lie. She was ashamed to be seen with Patrick, deeply ashamed, and now she felt like a total hypocrite.

Evelyn grunted low in her throat, regretting this decision with every fiber of her being. "Okay, fine, we can hang out at the homecoming game, but—" She raised her finger and spoke in her stern babysitter voice, the one she pulled out when a stubborn child refused to obey her. So far, she had only used it once: when Max Kenton wouldn't stop pulling his sister's hair, that little shit. "Don't ever interrupt my lunch meetings again, Patrick. Okay? I use those meetings to conduct very important business. The last thing I need is you feeling me up under the table."

"I thought that was a bug," Patrick said with a cheeky little smirk. Evelyn put her hand on her hip and raised her eyebrows, another trick from the babysitter's handbook. Patrick threw his head back and let out a disgruntled moan. "Okay, fine, I won't bother you at lunch anymore."

"Thank you." Evelyn smiled, pivoted on her heel, and walked away with a confident strut. Halfway down the hall, she stopped. "Oh, and I'm reenacting the 'No Touch' rule."

Patrick's jaw clenched. "What?"

"We're friends, right?" Evelyn wore a charming yet taunting smile. "Friends don't touch each other like that."

"Well, maybe not your friends," Patrick said, but ultimately he gave in. "All right, Evelyn, you win, but the same clause applies as before. Fair enough?"

Evelyn pressed her lips together tightly, holding in a laugh. "Sure, Patrick. When I beg you to touch me, feel free to go crazy." She released the laugh once her back was turned. It burst out of her in a series of giggles that rang throughout the hallway like the delightful tinkling of bells.

Patrick listened to it, smiling. "I plan to," he said to himself. Then, before she got too far: "Oh, Evelyn, just one more thing."

She turned around, still giggling. "Hm?"

"I love how you said 'when' and not 'if.'"

Evelyn's laughter caught in her throat, almost choked her.

Patrick's smile grew. "See you tomorrow, Evelyn." He backed away, slipped around the corner, and was gone.

Evelyn stood paralyzed, speechless, her face getting redder and hotter by the second. "That's just... semantics!" she declared, her arms flopping helplessly at her sides.

God dammit, she thought. How the hell does he do that?

It's because he's so attractive, that's what it is. Puberty screwed me over real good, but it gave him a massive growth spurt that turned him into a fricken Adonis. How is that fair? I get a flat chest, no hips, and Patrick gets the chiseled bone structure of a male model. Okay, I'm exaggerating. He's not that good-looking... No, actually he is that good-looking, and it's really unfortunate. If he looked like he did in elementary school, I wouldn't be in this predicament. He's vile and repulsive, but then he smiles and acts so weirdly charming. Oh my god, I hate that I just used the word "charming." But he is. He's grotesquely charming, if that's even a thing. Like most of the time I wanna slap him in the face for the shit he says, but other times, I wanna grab him and...

No. 

Wait. 

Oh my god, he's doing it again! 

Last night, he confessed to murdering cute, fluffy puppies—and I love puppies!—but I'm not even thinking about that right now. No, I'm too busy thinking about his hand under my skirt. I swear to God, if he ever tries something like that again, I'm gonna punch him in the face. Right in the middle of the lunch room, too. Who does that? A sexual deviant, for one. That was practically assault! But I have to smile and go along with it. I have to give him what he wants; otherwise, this torture will never end. 

Problem is, I have no idea what he wants. It's not sex, that's for sure. No, he's just using that to distract me... but from what?

Her steps slowed in the middle of the hallway. While contemplating Patrick's motives, Evelyn was fiddling with her right pinky: tracing over it with her thumbnail, bending it, squeezing it until the tip turned reddish purple. Down the hall was Mrs. Lafferty's classroom. The door was propped open, waiting for her to go inside. All right, that's enough now, Evie. She snapped out of her daze, picked up the pace and

"Bye, Manda!"

"See you tomorrow!"

froze as a senior brushed past her right shoulder.

"Whoops, sorry," the girl said, and Evelyn got a big whiff of her spicy, exotic Yves Saint Laurent perfume. It was a woman's fragrance, strong and intimidating, and it masked the soft, sweet, candy-like scent of Evelyn's drugstore perfume. The smell overwhelmed her for a second. Made her nose wrinkle in a silly, childish way. She recovered quickly and spun around just in time to catch a glimpse of the girl's long, thick fishtail braid as she went around the corner. Wrapped around the tail end, winking in the light, was a metallic silver scrunchie.

Evelyn's breath hitched. "That's..." and her feet moved on their own.

Inside the senior locker area, Manda Bosch was humming U2's "With or Without You" while she strolled toward her locker with her books cradled in her arms. The heels of her boots thumped against the tile. Her wide, womanly hips swayed sensually inside a pair of high-waisted, loose-fitting jeans. A black long-sleeve shirt, which she wore tucked, hugged her upper body like a second skin, showing off her ample curves.

Evelyn, who had no curves, was sick with envy. She crossed her arms over her small breasts, feeling unsexy and unfeminine, and thought, If I looked like that, then maybe... 

No.

She inhaled sharply, her brown eyes glazed with panic and fear.

No, I shouldn't be here. This was a mistake! Why did I think seeing her would make this any easier? I was having a hard enough time accepting that Henry had sex with someone else, and now that "someone else" has a name and a body and... and I don't think I can handle seeing her face right now. If I see her face, then it becomes real and

A single tear rolled down her cheek, her lips, her chin.

I should go, she told herself, and stepped back. Mrs. Lafferty's waiting for me. I promised I'd grade her quizzes and...

She took one step forward, then another.

Manda Bosch was standing in front of her open locker now, still humming, occasionally singing under her breath: "With or without you… With or without you, oh..." The inside of her locker was decorated with pictures of her friends, her family, and her longtime boyfriend, Matt Aikman, a freshman at USM. Manda was pulling books off the shelf and putting them away in her backpack. While she did this, Evelyn couldn't stop staring at her hands. Manda Bosch had these long, red, perfectly pointed fingernails, and they had cut Henry's face.

At first, the sight of them filled Evelyn with intense, overprotective rage. She wanted to storm up to her and say, "How dare you put your hands on him?" But that feeling passed so quickly. It was there one minute, burning her from the inside, and the next it was gone. It had cooled and hardened into a giant lump that sat in the pit of her stomach, and now a cruel voice was whispering,

What else did she do with those hands?

No, Evelyn didn't want to think about that, not now, not ever, but her mind started conjuring up images on its own. Casting them onto a giant silver screen. Manda Bosch running her hands through Henry's dirty blond hair. Brushing the side of his face with her fingertips. Slipping her hands underneath his shirt and touching him lightly, caressing his stomach, his chest, sliding around to feel the strong muscles of his back.

Evelyn watched the whole film from beginning to end, unable to look away. She was trapped in the middle of a crowded auditorium, strapped to a cushioned red velvet chair, unaware of the surprise waiting for her. It was Friday night at the Aladdin, and everyone in the audience was being treated to a special double feature. Two films. One night only. Buy your tickets in advance, folks, because this is one event you don't wanna miss! The first picture was one of the year's most-anticipated blockbusters, and the next one, well... that one was a classic. Yeah, even an out-of-touch workaholic like Evelyn would recognize that title. In fact, was one of her favorite films. She watched it every night.

In her bedroom.

Alone.

While she sadly traced over the wrinkles in her floral quilt.

Excited applause sprang up around her. Then the lights dimmed and the opening credits began to roll. As soon as the first name appeared on screen, Evelyn's stomach churned with dread. No, she couldn't bear to sit through this movie again. Not again. Not ever again. She got up and fought her way to the aisle, trampling women's purses, tripping over outstretched legs. All the moviegoers lashed out angrily: Get down! Get down, you're blocking the screen! I paid good money to see this flick! She ducked as a box of popcorn came flying at her. It went over her shoulder and exploded against the screen like a spray of fireworks, but Evelyn did not look. No, she would not look. She put her head down and kept moving, eyes closed to the intimate scene that was playing in front of everyone, ears shut to the men who whooped and wolf-whistled, the women who voiced quiet murmurs of disgust. Blind and deaf to it all, she stumbled into the aisle and went running for the exit.

Mr. Foxworth smiled as she passed, his eyes glowing eerily in the light. Don't you wanna see the ending? he said. The ending's the best part.

Evelyn turned back to look at him, her expression a mixture of shock and horror, and then she saw...

("Hey, you okay?")

saw the screen flickering, stuck on a single image. It burned away as a hand reached out from the darkness and landed on her shoulder.

("Hey... Hey!")

"Hey, space cadet!"

Evelyn emerged from her thoughts groggily, blinking. It was Manda Bosch, staring at her with dark chocolate brown eyes, the kind of eyes a boy could get lost in... Henry probably had, too.

(What else did she do with those hands?)

Evelyn flinched with sudden awareness. She looked down at her shoulder, saw the girl's hand, and wrenched away from it. Warily, Manda Bosch withdrew her hand and apologized. There was a small wrinkle between her perfectly shaped brows now. Her lips, red and full, had gathered into a concerned pout that somehow made her even more beautiful.

Did he let you kiss him? Evelyn wondered, devastated.

"Do you need something?" Manda asked, tilting her head. Her voice was melodious and sweet despite her confusion, much sweeter than Evelyn expected.

"Uhh... no," Evelyn said. She drew back a step and crossed her arms in front of her. "Sorry..."

Manda smiled awkwardly. Even that was pretty. "Okay, well... take it easy, okay?"

She made a vague gesture with her hand, circled around Evelyn's right, and started humming again as she walked toward the senior exit. Evelyn cupped her elbows with her palms and withdrew into herself, feeling more like a child than ever. She wanted to go home. She wanted to go home, bury herself under the covers, and forget this day ever happened.

But then she heard Manda's voice again

"Hey," she said, leaning away from the door, "cute dress, by the way."

and that was more than she could take.

Smiling to herself, Manda pushed on the door and walked out. While she strolled through the senior parking lot and swung her keys, while she drove home and sang along to her favorite song on the radio, Evelyn collapsed onto the senior couch, dropped her head into her hands, and sobbed.

"Well, that test sucked."

"Yeah, I hate when they sneak in an extra essay question at the end. What kinda sick, sadistic shit is that? Like I'm stressed out enough, thank you very much, and now you expect me to write a perfectly structured, five-paragraph response to your vaguely worded question? Fuck off with that bullshit. In conclusion, you're a crazy Nazi bitch and your class sucks!" 

"Whoa, did you seriously write that? 'Cause you would totally be my hero if you did."

"God, I wish I did... I swear, every time I see that woman, I just wanna—Evelyn!"

Evelyn dried her eyes as Elizabeth Mueller entered the senior locker area with Desiree Van Blair and Peter Gordon.

Unlike most of the upperclassmen, Liz and Des had actually dressed up for spirit week. They figured, what the hell, right? It was their senior year and they wanted to have some fun before they graduated. Today, Liz was wearing a Twiggy-inspired green shift dress with an exaggerated collar, black fishnet tights, and a pair of Mary Janes. Des was wearing her Halloween costume from last year. She went as Holly Golightly from the 1961 romantic comedy Breakfast at Tiffany's, and she got really annoyed when the other students didn't understand the reference. "God, this town's a cultural wasteland. It's like living in the Bermuda Triangle or something. Nobody knows how to dress and everyone sucks."

Liz was currently gushing over Evelyn's outfit. She took the girl's hands and pulled her up from the couch to get a better look at her.

"Oh my god, you look absolutely perfect!" she said, squeezing Evelyn's face between her palms. Close as they were, it was obvious that Evelyn had been crying, but Liz was gracious enough to keep this knowledge to herself. She wiped away the last streak of wetness with her thumb and smiled. "You're the most precious thing I've ever seen in my life."

Evelyn smiled back timidly. "You don't think I look slutty?"

Liz gasped, outraged. "Oh, what bitch said that? Was it Jackie? 'Cause that sounds exactly like something Jackie would say."

Desiree spoke up from the couch. She was sitting on the arm and pretending to smoke from her long black cigarette holder. "Oh my god, Liz, did you see what she was wearing today? She thinks she's Jackie O."

Liz rolled her eyes. "More like Jackie O, could you be more fucking obnoxious? Wait, was that mean?"

"A little, but who cares? It was funny."

The girls tittered like wicked stepsisters and, for a moment, appeared every bit as mean as Greta Bowie and Liz's little sister, Sally. Evelyn stood between them, feeling uncomfortable, feeling like maybe it was time to leave. Liz noticed this and her face flushed with shame.

"Oh shit," she said. "Dammit, Des, we can't keep falling back into old habits like this! I don't wanna go to college with any negativity. I may not like Jackie personally, but that's no reason to cut her down for her unfortunate fashion choices... even though she's a fucking bitch and deserves it." Liz took a deep breath and carried on with a smile. "Anyway, come sit for a minute, Evelyn. Let's talk."

Evelyn's eyes drifted toward the hallway. "Oh, but I really should get going."

Mrs. Lafferty was already expecting her, and...

"Just for a minute," Liz said, and led her back to the couch. Evelyn followed the older girl obediently. They sat side by side, knee to knee. Liz laid her hands neatly on her lap and smiled prettily at her. "So, how's the situation?"

"The situation?"

"She means Hockstetter," Des explained bluntly, while Peter Gordon went to his locker and pretended not to listen. Evelyn suspected he was listening, though, because he kept peeking over his shoulder every now and then. This made Evelyn feel a little uneasy. She didn't want to talk about this around so many people. In fact, she didn't want to talk about it at all. Not with Liz. Not with anybody. She didn't think they would understand.

"We saw that stunt he pulled at lunch today," Des was saying now. "That was bold, even for him."

"Yeah," Liz agreed, "and we just wanted to make sure you're okay."

"Oh, I'm fine," Evelyn said, more abruptly than she'd intended. "Yeah, I've got the situation totally under control."

Liz's made-up doe eyes widened in surprise. "Oh..." she began in a chaste whisper, a faint blush warming her face. As her voice trailed off, her gaze fell slowly, softly, and landed gently as a feather upon Evelyn's neck. "Oh..." Liz said again. Her hand went to her mouth and her blush deepened.

By now, the hickey had faded enough that Evelyn could cover it pretty easily with makeup... or so she thought. Concealed or not, a well-trained eye could probably spot it with little effort. Desiree, who had already established herself as an expert on the subject, lowered her oversized sunglasses and peered down at her.

"Wow," she said with an impressed smirk. "Yeah, I'd say she definitely has it under control, Liz. Good girl. You ride that crazy train."

Liz swatted her friend away like a buzzing fly. Evelyn quickly covered up the mark with her hair.

"It's not what it looks like," she said. "Patrick just—"

"Hey, you don't have to explain yourself," Liz said with false sincerity. Evelyn would have thought it was genuine, but the shrewdness in her eyes gave it away. "We're not judging you or anything."

"Really?" Evelyn said. "Because it kinda seems like you are."

Her tone was sharp, and rightfully so.

"I don't know what you all expect me to do. Everyone keeps judging me for what I do or don't do with Patrick, but what nobody seems to understand is that I don't have a choice! Look, I didn't ask for this, okay? I don't know why Patrick's bothering me all of a sudden, but he is, and now there's nothing I can do about it. I mean, it's inevitable, right? That's what Marci seems to think, anyway, and honestly I'm starting to think she's right. So what am I supposed to do now, Liz? Huh? You were nice enough to warn me about him, but... now what?"

Liz Mueller recoiled as if slapped. All the color drained from her face.

"I don't know," she confessed quietly, suddenly afraid for her. "I'm sorry, I have no idea what you're supposed to do."

Silence prevailed for the next thirty seconds. Liz turned forward, dropped her chin into her chest, and stared guiltily at her manicured hands. Next to her, Desiree had removed her sunglasses and was gnawing anxiously on the plastic tip. Peter Gordon glanced over her shoulder and saw her doing this. He made a sickened face and whipped back around. Right now, he wanted to crawl inside his locker and close the door. He couldn't stand tense silences like this. They reminded him a little too much of home.

"Just... be careful, okay?" Liz finally said. "If things start to get weird, or you start to feel unsafe for whatever reason, make sure you tell someone. Tell your mom, your best friend, me, Marci, just... someone, okay? Most of the other girls wish they had. Shit, I know I did." She reached over and gave Evelyn's knee a comforting pat. "You're not alone in this, Evelyn. I know it might seem like you are, but you're not. We all know what you're going through."

Evelyn smiled gently, gratefully, but part of her wondered if any of them truly understood.

Time crawled forward. Evelyn looked up at the clock and saw that it was almost a quarter to four now. Mrs. Lafferty was probably getting angry with her. She was probably tapping her foot, glaring at the clock, and thinking, Well, is that little brat showing up or what? Evelyn felt guilty about that. She knew it wasn't polite to keep people waiting, and yet...

"Hey, do you guys know Manda Bosch?"

"Manda?" Liz and Des exchanged a furtive glance. "Sure. What about her?"

"There's just a rumor going around about her and a boy in my grade."

"Oh, right," Liz said, and for some reason, Des started to laugh. "I keep forgetting you sophomores are new to this. Look, you just have to learn to ignore her, okay? Manda does this kinda shit all the time, and I mean all the time. She parties way too hard, gets way too drunk, and then cheats on her boyfriend with some loser who won't refuse her. Then she sobers up the next morning, feels guilty, and cries rape to cover her own ass. It's really sad and pathetic, honestly, but I guess it works 'cause her boyfriend still hasn't dumped her even though he's way out of her league. I don't understand the appeal, personally. I mean, she must give really good head or something."

Evelyn squirmed at that remark. Behind her, Peter Gordon was coughing as if he'd swallowed something wrong.

"So you're saying she just made it up?" Evelyn asked, hopeful.

"Oh yeah, for sure. I mean, don't get me wrong, I'm all for supporting victims and everything, but Manda Bosch is not a victim. She's just a sloppy, sloppy drunk who will spread her legs for anyone. That sounded really mean, I know, but it's just a fact. She even came onto Pete once, practically right in front of me."

"And I ignored that siren's song," Peter interjected passionately. "I said to her, 'No, you foul temptress, you stay away! I have a beautiful girlfriend and I love her with all my heart.'"

Liz gave him a dubious look. "Yeah, like you're going anywhere." Then, to Evelyn: "See, Pete's not the cheating type. He knows he hit the jackpot with me and he's not about to squander his winnings on some dumb, drunk slut. Find yourself a guy like that, Evelyn, and all these rumors just become background noise."

"Okay," Evelyn said uneasily. This conversation had taken a few unexpected turns and she was struggling to keep up. "So it's definitely not true?"

"No..." Liz said, but her voice sounded strangely high-pitched all of a sudden. "Well, I mean, it's probably not true... Why? Who's the rumor about?"

"Umm, Henry Bowers," Evelyn answered anxiously, and flicked her eyes away. "I don't know if you know who that is."

"Yeah, all you sophomores kinda blur together... Oh, wait, he's the really angry one, right? The kid who always looks like he's gonna stab somebody?"

Evelyn gave a reluctant nod. It wasn't the kindest description, but it was probably the most accurate.

"Huh," Liz said. "Well, that changes things a bit."

Evelyn's stomach dropped. "You think it could be true?"

"Well, no, not necessarily. Hold on a sec." Liz craned her head around and called out to her boyfriend: "Hey, Pete, you used to hang out with that Bowers kid, didn't you?"

"Yeah, for a like a summer," Peter Gordon answered shortly. He wore the tight, apprehensive expression of a man who'd just been asked to take the stand and testify as an eyewitness in a murder trial. "That was a long time ago, Liz..."

Peter was fifteen then and feeling rebellious. His parents had recently split up, and he was going through a tough time. He thought it'd be kind of cathartic to shoot stuff, smash a couple windows, and shoplift dirty magazines. Petty crimes. Maybe a misdemeanor or two. He wasn't expecting it to get as intense as it did, and there were times when Henry Bowers honestly frightened him. He'd never seen so much hate in one person.

"Okay," Liz said, "but did he seem like a rapist to you?"

Evelyn winced at that word. How could everyone throw it around so casually?

"Racist? Yeah. Rapist? No, I wouldn't quite go that far... but again, that was a long time ago. Who knows what that kid's capable of now."

"Not that," Evelyn said. "No, Henry didn't rape anybody."

Liz shrugged. "Okay, well... there's your answer. They probably just had sex."

"Sex. Right."

Evelyn gulped down both words, closed her mouth, and nodded stiffly, feeling her blood thumping in her temples. Liz and Des studied her quietly, looked at each other, and quickly put together the rest of the puzzle. When they saw the completed picture, Des cringed and Liz's pretty pink lips parted with an inaudible gasp.

"Oh..." Liz whispered, looking down at Evelyn with a sympathetic frown. "Oh, sweetie, no..."

Then Des said, "I remember when I was going through my bad boy phase. God, was that a mistake."

Evelyn's face flamed with dull anger. "No, that's not—" but a gruff voice cut her off.

"What the hell are you doing here?"

Martin Davers had emerged from the hallway with a notebook wedged under his arm and a pencil tucked behind his ear. He opened his locker, tossed everything inside, and slammed the door closed. His biceps bulged under the tight fabric of his shirt. His eyes, a dark, stormy blue, narrowed into a fierce, territorial glare as he squared up to Evelyn like a menacing troll. Martin was six feet tall and heavily muscled. He used to be on the football team, but he got cut during his second year because he couldn't meet the minimum grade requirement. Now Martin was constantly looking for new ways to release all his pent-up aggression. Evelyn Tozier was his favorite target.

Liz rolled her eyes at Martin, unbothered. "Speaking of bad boys... What do you want, Martin?"

"I'm just wondering what a sophomore's doing in the senior locker area."

Evelyn flinched suddenly, forgetting where she was, and as she looked around now, all the furniture had grown shockingly large. She felt like she was sitting inside some silly funhouse where everything was comically oversized. All the lockers towered over her like skyscrapers. The couch seemed big enough to swallow her whole; Evelyn's feet could barely reach the edge. She sat upon the tattered cushion like a doll waiting for some little girl to come along and carry her off to tea time. Oh, yes, tea time. Tea time with March Hare and the Hatter. Evelyn was a child trapped in Wonderland, lost and scared, staring at the Cheshire Cat's mischievous grin.

"Look, she's with us, okay?" Liz Mueller made a dismissive motion with her hand, then turned back to Evelyn, who had shifted her weight forward in an early attempt to stand. The girl's face had gone terribly pale. "Oh, Evelyn, don't let him scare you off. Martin's just an asshole."

"No, it's okay," she said colorlessly. "I have to get going, anyway."

(I'm late for tea...)

Mrs. Lafferty was expecting her, and it would have been rude to keep her waiting any longer... yes, rude, that sounded right. It was Evelyn's good manners that compelled her to leave so quickly. It was good manners that made her press her thighs together and cross her arms over her chest. Good manners that had her staggering to her feet, mumbling goodbye to the floor, and walking away as fast as she could.

It had nothing to do with Martin's stare—that hot, searing stare that seemed to follow her down the hallway.

Evelyn started apologizing before she even entered the classroom.

"Sorry, I'm late, Mrs. Laff—" she began, but the rest of the words had tumbled inward and back down her throat. She stopped in the middle of the doorway, one foot in, one foot out, with her right arm bent at the elbow, beginning an apologetic wave. Evelyn never finished it, though. Much like her words, her hand had retreated into itself, curled into a loose fist, and fallen limp at her side. Her eyes widened with shock and disbelief. Her heart jogged in her chest. She drew in a breath and held it for a moment, forcing herself to calm down.

Before she arrived, the classroom had been quiet and empty apart from the two occupied desks. Mrs. Lafferty sat at hers with a cup of honeyed tea and was idly stirring it while she reviewed tomorrow's lesson plans. She looked up briefly when she heard Evelyn's voice. It was a very distinct voice, loud and clumsy as one might expect from a Tozier, but at least hers wasn't accompanied by crude humor and poorly performed (not to mention grossly offensive) accents. Yes, in that regard, her little brother was truly unique.

Mrs. Lafferty smiled at Evelyn. "Don't worry about it. You're in fine company. This one kept me waiting, too," she said, tipping her head toward the student sitting in the back. "He's lucky I didn't leave and just give him a zero, but I don't think I'll be getting a thank you for that, will I?"

Mrs. Lafferty was answered with silence. For once, Henry Bowers had nothing to say... not to her, anyway.

He had been hunching over his math quiz and glaring at question number four when he heard Evelyn's voice drift through the open door, her words amplified by the hollow silence that had fallen over the school. As soon as the sound hit Henry's ears, his back straightened and his heart started racing. It was an instinctual reaction, kind of like when Henry flinched whenever his dad reached for his belt. That one motion stirred up a decade's worth of painful memories and emotions and drove them straight to the surface like worms wiggling up from the dirt during a rainstorm. His dad didn't even need to beat him anymore (but he did anyway). He simply had to gesture toward his belt and Henry cowered back in submission. Yes, sir. No, sir. Straighten up and get back in line.

Of course, it was only kind of like that. There was no pain associated with the sound of Evelyn Tozier's voice (unless you counted the slight hangover-like headache that sometimes occurred halfway through a conversation with her). No with her voice, Henry felt only the most wonderful, comforting calm, bright with her laughter, warm with her smile, soft as the woven cotton blanket that he often found draped over him when he woke up in the middle of the night. Henry would sit up, look across the room, and see Evelyn passed out at her desk with her head nestled inside the crook of her arm. Usually, he would leave after that, but sometimes he would sit and observe her for a while, listening to her gentle snoring, watching her skin sparkle beneath the soft glow of her desk lamp, feeling his heart slowly thudding in his chest, getting stronger and stronger. Henry could have stayed like that forever.

Happy.

Peaceful.

Safe.

Evelyn Tozier was a sweet escape, and Henry craved her like a junkie needing a fix. It was a desperate, visceral desire that gripped him more firmly with each passing day. Growing. Intensifying. Evolving into a savage, carnal beast that was impossible to control.

When Henry heard her voice that afternoon, every nerve in his body came alive at once. He had to grip the edge of his desk because he didn't trust himself to stay in his chair. How could he when Evelyn was standing on the other side of that door? When that safe, peaceful, happy feeling was finally within reach? All Henry had to do was get up, run out that door and—

Evelyn appeared in the doorway, wearing that sunshine yellow dress with the flouncy little skirt that went whoosh-whoosh every time she moved her hips. The skirt that tempted him. Teased him. Taunted him. The skirt that Patrick Hockstetter's hand had crawled underneath like some filthy, disgusting insect... and she didn't push his hand away.

??WHY DIDN'T SHE PUSH HIS HAND AWAY??

(Because she's a whore, just like your mother)

No. No, she's not, Dad. She's nothing like—

(YOU ARGUING WITH ME NOW, BOY?)

Belt.

Flinch.

No, sir. 

Whore, sir. 

!!STRAIGHTEN UP AND GET BACK IN LINE!!

When Henry saw Evelyn in that yellow dress, his mind became a battlefield. All his thoughts were clashing against each other in bloody combat, and he didn't know which side was going to kill the others and claim him. He was being pulled in too many directions. Assaulted by too many urges. All the while, Evelyn stood there staring at him with that hopeful, frightened look, like she desperately wished he would speak to her, but she was also terrified of what he might say.

And that's when Henry realized he was frightened of himself, too.

If he ran to her now like he wanted to, he wasn't sure what would happen. In one thought, he was wrapping his arms around her and hugging her. In another, he was pushing her against the wall and smashing his mouth against her warm, soft lips. In another, he was squeezing his fingers around her neck and throttling her until all the light left her eyes.

Slapping her.

Beating her.

Bashing her head against the wall again and again and again.

(Because that's what you do with whores)

The thought rose up from nowhere. It had caught him off guard. Snuck up behind him and tried to seize control. Henry fought it back and it left easily enough, but he knew it wasn't gone for good. Eventually, it would come back even stronger. Maybe next time it would win. Maybe. Maybe—

"Head down, Mr. Bowers," Mrs. Lafferty said as she stood up from her desk. "You're here to take a quiz, not gawk at pretty girls."

"Fuck you, bitch," Henry muttered under his breath, relieved to hear his own voice again. Just his own voice again.

Mrs. Lafferty walked over to Evelyn, who had turned away and was now approaching a small table at the front of the classroom. Honestly, Henry was glad for the distance. The further away the better. For her sake. He put his head down and tried to focus on his quiz.

"You don't have to finish this all today, of course," Mrs. Lafferty was saying to Evelyn, "just the two morning classes should be enough. Whatever you have left, you can just leave in the pile there. I'll take the rest home with me tonight."

Evelyn nodded, pulled out the chair, and sat down. As soon as she did, she felt two eyes drilling through the back of her skull. Her heart bucked wildly. She looked over her shoulder and caught Henry's gaze for half a second, but then Mrs. Lafferty called her attention back and placed two red pens on the table. Upon withdrawing her hand, she said, "Oh, and Evelyn? No doodling on the quizzes, please."

Evelyn smiled back sheepishly. "Right, sorry... sometimes I get a little carried away."

After all, grading quizzes got awfully boring after a while. In that state, it was easy for her to accidentally turn a simple smiley face into a cat or a dog... or a cute, friendly little monkey swinging off the edge of the score. Evelyn was no artist, but she hoped her doodles gave the students a good chuckle when they got their quizzes back. Especially those who failed. For those unlucky few, Evelyn hoped her drawings helped soften the blow, if only just a little.

Mrs. Lafferty returned to her desk and reached for her tea. After taking a few slow sips, she lowered her cup and said with a forced smile, "By the way, Evelyn, I had a lovely little chat with your mother this morning."

"Oh?" Evelyn said, and that was where the conversation ended.

Judging by Mrs. Lafferty's expression, there had been nothing lovely about that chat, nothing at all.

Evelyn put her head down and quietly began her work: comparing each answer against the key, marking the wrong ones with her pen, counting up the marks, tallying up the final score, and printing it at the top of the page. Each score was accompanied by an encouraging message like GREAT JOB! WAY TO GO!! AWESOME EFFORT!!! Then she would place the paper in the completed pile and move on to the next one.

Behind her, Henry Bowers kept his head bent over his quiz the whole time, his expression frustrated and tense. Evelyn didn't look back at him either, not once, not even when the urge was so strong she thought she might go crazy. She couldn't bear to look at him now, conflicted as she was. It brought up too many questions... questions Evelyn wasn't sure she wanted the answers to.

Did you let her kiss you? she wondered as she stared down at the red pen. Because I never... 

"Head down, Mr. Bowers. I won't say it again."

Evelyn sucked in a quiet breath, held it, and slowly peeked over her left shoulder. Henry's head was down again, his hand furiously scribbling on the paper. Evelyn continued to hold her breath, continued to stare, until his eyes finally lifted off the page. Henry's writing hand slowed, then stopped. Evelyn's breath left her in a long, drawn-out sigh. Then Mrs. Lafferty got up from her desk, Henry dropped his head, and Evelyn turned back around.

"Evelyn, I need to go to the teacher's lounge for a few minutes," she said, but what she really meant was, I'm stepping outside for a smoke. "Henry, you have five minutes left. Leave your quiz on my desk when you're done."

Mrs. Lafferty's heels clicked delicately as she walked, the sound drifting further and further... further away. Then there was only silence.

Evelyn sat back and stared gloomily at the clock. It was four twenty-two now, but the time never registered in her head. She was too busy thinking, hoping, wishing those hands would unwind and go backward just this once. Take them back to that blissful Before: before Evelyn wore this stupid dress, before Henry had sex with Manda Bosch, before Patrick Hockstetter picked up Evelyn's clipboard, followed her into the hallway, and asked, Where have I seen you?, before the trunk, before the stolen shirts, before the long, lonely, miserable summer... before Evelyn crossed the line and messed everything up.

Can we just go back, please? she begged. Because every day after that has been a total nightmare. 

(and she had a terrible feeling it was only going to get worse)

Evelyn gave the clock one last pleading look, and the clock stared back in silent refusal. Its hands ticked, tocked, and crept forward.

(Tick)

(Tock)

(Tick)

(Tock)

Henry finished his quiz, dropped it off on the teacher's desk, and—

Evelyn stood up and said, "Can you please talk to me? Because I really don't understand what I did wrong."

Her plea was weak, desperate. Henry didn't even hear it. He went around her and started walking toward the door.

What the fuck?

"Henry!" she cried softly... in her Before voice.

Henry stopped as soon as he heard it, his whole body stiffening in recognition, and for a moment time seemed to stop.

(Tick—)

Finally, he spoke. "You know, I thought..." His voice emerged from deep in his throat, strangled with grief and despair. "I thought we were..."

"What?" Evelyn said. "What?"

JUST SAY IT!

Henry's jaw clenched tightly, and his lips drew back in a pained smile. "Fuck you, Evelyn," he said and went out.

(Tock)

Evelyn's mouth fell open in a stifled cry of disbelief. Hope left her eyes as defeat washed over her. Her legs went weak, gave out, and she collapsed back into her chair, numb, speechless. Above her, the clock watched with cold indifference. Its hands crawled forward... forward... forward.

(Tick)

(Tock)

(Tick)

(Tock)

Sometime later, while Evelyn was lackadaisically doodling on a student's quiz, she heard the slow, dragging thumps of Mrs. Lafferty's feet coming down the hallway.

"I've already finished the first two stacks," Evelyn reported half-heartedly, "and I'm halfway through the third."

She moved the quiz to the completed pile, turned around, and froze.

Martin Davers was leaning beside the door with his arms folded over his chest.

"That's a really nice dress," he said.

Evelyn rose from her chair slowly, her heart pumping loudly in her chest. "What do you want, Martin?"

"Nothing," he answered, his eyes calm and attentive. "I guess I just wanted to know why you're trying so hard to dress sexy all of a sudden." Martin seemed to ponder this soberly for a moment, his brow furrowed in mock perplexity. "'Cause from where I'm standing, it kinda looks like you're trying to advertise something. Is that right, Tozier? Are you open for business now?"

"Open for business?" Evelyn repeated. The phrase stunned her so completely that she almost laughed. "It's spirit week, Martin. I have to dress up."

"Oh, I see," Martin said, fascinated. "You had to dress in a skimpy skirt today. That was today's theme."

Evelyn's mouth opened and closed wordlessly.

"Wait, that wasn't today's theme?" Martin cocked his head to the side and frowned. "Well, then why are you wearing that dress, Evelyn?"

She stared at him, unable to speak. Why had she chosen this dress? Why this dress over all the others? Mrs. Criss had dozens of modest dresses that would have satisfied today's theme just as well. She had boxes and boxes of them. Evelyn tried them on. They had fit her perfectly, way better than this dress did. Why had she cast them aside?

"I was just following the theme," she said, her eyes vacant, glassy.

"You were just following the theme." He nodded. "Okay, Evelyn, answer me this: what was today's theme?"

Her stomach twisted. "Huh?"

"Go on, tell me. What was today's theme?"

His voice was shrill and full of scorn. Evelyn shut her mouth tightly, her bottom lip quivering, and shook her head as tears flooded her eyes.

"Please stop," she whispered.

"Well?"

"Stop."

"Tell me."

She swallowed hard and answered: "It was Groovy Monday."

"Right," he said, "it was Groovy Monday, not Skimpy Monday, not Slutty Monday. It was Groovy Monday. Thank you for clearing that up for me, Evelyn, because I was so confused for a second." He smiled at her, grateful. "Now, let's go back to my initial question: why are you trying so hard to dress sexy? Because that's an awfully short dress, Evelyn."

"It follows the dress code," she said, but then from the dark, shadowy part of her mind, she heard

(barely)

another voice that made her eyes widen with a horrific realization. This really was a terribly short dress. Yes. Yes, she saw that now. Not short enough to make her parents worry. Not short enough to violate the school's dress code.

(No more than four inches above the knee... Did you measure it, Evelyn?)

But just short enough to—

Martin wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. "Are you trying to get someone's attention, Evelyn? Show him what he's missing?"

"No," she answered in a shaky voice, but the other, faraway voice spoke the truth.

(Yes)

She had wanted to get someone's attention today, and she got it, oh yes, she got it. When Henry Bowers stormed up to her that morning, when he grabbed her arm and pulled her hard against him, when he glared down at her, stared at her lips with that feral, ferocious hunger, Evelyn felt her heart flutter with such excitement. For a minute, she thought he was actually going to kiss her. She wanted him to.

(If I had been wearing this dress that day, then maybe...)

Evelyn slapped her hand over her mouth, but still the voice persisted:

(Yes)

(Yes)

(Yes)

(and you got what you wanted, didn't you?)

(Yes)

(Yes)

(Yes)

Guilt crept into her heart and devoured her slowly, leaving her hollow and cold. "Look," she said huskily, blinking the wetness from her eyes, "Mrs. Lafferty's gonna be coming back in a minute, so..."

Martin clucked his tongue in dissent. "I think it might take her a little longer than that."

For a moment, Evelyn's gaze was blurry with tears. Then it cleared as strange, dizzying terror stole through her. It was almost like a bad dream. In a slow daze, she saw Martin walking toward the door. Saw him tuck his boot underneath the doorstop and kick it up with one flick of his ankle. The door moaned and swung slowly, so slowly, and closed with a whisper of a click. Evelyn's breath stopped. Her body froze with fear.

"What are you doing?" she asked in a small, trembling voice.

Martin answered her question with one of his own: "What were you doing in the senior locker area, Evelyn?"

"What?" The word came out dry and brittle, and it crumbled as it left her lips. "Nothing, I was just..."

Martin stepped toward her, his blue eyes glinting ominously in the light.

"You were just...?"

Adrenaline shot through her, sending Evelyn's heart into a mad gallop. She glanced at the door and made herself move. Martin closed the distance. She side-stepped, tried to duck around him, and he caught her brutally by the wrist. A scream fetched in her throat. Their eyes locked fiercely, and for one frightening moment, Evelyn saw the same savage hunger that had consumed Henry Bowers. Her heart stopped. Her mind exploded and went flying, crashing, tumbling down into deep blackness like a stone down a well, falling down to a cold, dark place, where a voice—that voice—was giggling.

(You got what you wanted, didn't you?)

Now her fear had collapsed into pure panic. She struggled against him, her breath coming in short, sharp gasps, and tried to wrestle her arm free. Martin overpowered her easily, flung her around, and slammed her down hard against the desk. Evelyn's body hit the wood with a dull thud. Her head jerked forward, snapped back, and spun dizzily. Clockwise. Her vision blurred and became ringed with darkness. She was falling, plunging down to that cold, dark, guilty place.

"What's wrong, Tozier?" Martin asked breathlessly. "Isn't this what you wanted?"

"Please stop!" she said, but her voice had slipped away from her and went up, up, up.

"You wanted attention, right? Wanted people to finally see you as a woman?"

"No! No!"

(YES!)

"Well, I see you, Tozier," Martin said. "Yeah, I see you crystal fucking clear."

Evelyn fell deeper and deeper, screaming without a sound, and slammed against something hard and cold. The bottom. She had finally hit the bottom. Her right cheek was pressed against the desk, and Martin's hand was on her head, holding her firmly in place. He didn't have to hold her down, though. Evelyn couldn't have moved even if she wanted to. She was too far gone, trapped in that cold, dark place, and now the guilt was creeping toward her on all fours, its eyes bright and hungry, desperate to feed. Evelyn lay on her stomach, paralyzed, watching it come closer and closer... closer and closer... until—

The knob turned and the door opened.

Henry Bowers stood on the other side, blinking in dazed bewilderment.

Martin threw him a vicious grin. "You want in on this, Bowers?" he asked while he pushed some of Evelyn's hair away from her face. "You can go first if you want."

Evelyn flinched away from Martin's hand and felt Henry's eyes land on her softly, gently, filling her heart with such sweet relief. For a moment, she thought she was weightless, flying, floating far away from that cold, dark guilty place, but then she saw something that turned her heart into stone, and she plummeted right back to the bottom.

Henry's eyes, those bright, beautiful blue eyes, had suddenly darkened into the most terrifying shade of black. Evelyn didn't even recognize them anymore.

Time crawled forward and stopped. The clock on the wall stopped ticking. Its hands screeched to a halt and stood at attention, waiting for their next command.

It came a second later, in a shocking act of betrayal.

"No," Henry said, "she's not worth it."

The door closed and time resumed with a violent lurch, knocking Evelyn backward, backward, backward. The clock on the wall started tocking and ticking, tocking and ticking: backward, backward, backward. Its hands went spinning, whirling, unwinding: backward, backward, backward. Counterclockwise. Taking them back. Taking them all the way back.

And now that voice was speaking to her again, speaking from that cold, dark place.

(You got what you wanted, didn't you?)

Yes, she answered. Yes, I did.

_____________________

PREV // CURRENT // NEXT

taglist: @secrethologramflower @rosepresley

[gay-cryptidz]

The Comfort Between Your Scars

Chapter 11

TW: referenced past character death

Without the board games and the movie to distract him, Noah became increasingly aware of the disconnect between him and the brothers, or, more specifically, Tommy. Him and Joel were already chatting away and bickering and so very comfortable with each other again the moment the girls had left.

Talking to strangers who knew nothing about Noah was easy, at least that way he could pretend to be someone he wasn't, hide behind a facade, show them exactly what he wanted them to see. Talking to Mari and Alex was even easier, he didn't need to worry about how to present himself or what to say around them at all.

It was the gray area in between that scared him.

He'd excused himself to go check on Jamie, who was sleeping soundly in Joel's bed, after zoning out and losing track of the conversation. After pausing to take another deep breath and placing a kiss on his little brother's forehead, he made his way back to the living room.

Joel and Tommy were on the sofa, filling three wine glasses. Maybe he'd feel a little less out of place with some liquid courage.

"How come I always end up being the one to sponsor our drinks? Seems to be a bit of a pattern by now", he joked.

"It's 'cause you're such a gentleman!", Joel grinned.

"Yeah, yeah. You owe me"

He sat down next to Joel, grabbing a glass and taking a big sip.

"Damn, it's not even that good. Should have taken the cheaper one, what a waste of, like, ten bucks", he chuckled.

"I see how it is, I'm not even worth the extra ten bucks to you"

Joel laughed when Noah gave him a light shove. They all sat in silence for a moment, assessing the taste of the not-worth-the-extra-ten-bucks wine, before agreeing it really wasn't that good, but it would do.

"So, Noah", Tommy started, "Tell me about yourself"

"Tell you what?", Noah snorted.

"Well, anything. I've heard bits and pieces from Joel and Mari but I haven't really had the chance to actually talk to you"

"Y'know, at least Joel worked hard for this information! He didn't know shit about me until after he heroically burst through a door to save me from a drunk guy I'd already beaten the shit out of. I mean, there was nothing more for him to do, but 'A' for effort!"

"Well, if the opportunity arises, I'll gladly try to save you by doing nothing", Tommy laughed.

"In all seriousness though, you know just about as much as you need to. Dad's gone, mom's out of the picture, when it got really bad, I took Jamie and Mari and left." It was almost the same shrugged-off recap Noah had given Joel a few weeks earlier. It was far from the full truth, of course, but he didn't exactly feel like recapping every traumatic memory of his life.

"Oh god, right, your dad... actually, sorry, you probably don't wanna talk about it. Mari told me earlier that he- well, she told me what happened"

'It's your fault'

Noah just shrugged and repeated his sentiment of 'not much to talk about'. Thankfully, Joel didn't ask and Tommy didn't push the topic.

'Are you happy now?'

Noah took another sip of wine, attempting to push the resurfacing images and sounds away. Joel and Tommy were miles away now.

'Even if you didn't mean to, you're the reason this happened'

Just calm down. Breathe.

'You're the reason I'm even in this situation'

Just say something, anything.

"I mean, I hardly remember him, really. Certainly didn't waste a second missing that asshole"

Tap, tap, tap on cold, hard tiles.

"Noah, we don't need to-"

"Messed up my mom pretty good, though. Well, I guess she was messed up already. Hates my guts, always did"

'It's your fault. Look at it, look what you did!'

"Hated his guts too, actually. So did I, for a while. I mean, things weren't exactly perfect but if he didn't- just, y'know, I was fine until-"

Stop talking. Just shut up. Say something about the weather or ask about work or-

Tap, tap, tap, never stopping. Glass of blood in his hands. Tap, tap, tap. Blood on his hands.

Tap, tap, tap on his shoulder and he snapped out of it.

"Hey, you alright?", Joel asked softly.

"Sorry, I really didn't mean to upset you or anything. Won't bring it up again." Tommy looked very lost all of a sudden.

Noah downed about half of his wine at once before saying anything.

"It's fine, just... been a long day"

Their faces were wrong. They didn't seem real. Just that little bit off.

"I'm just gonna go get some fresh air"

He didn't leave them time to respond, already halfway out the door. He should just go to bed. Everything, every activity, every conversation, seemed to eventually turn bitter today. Instead, he sat down on the steps and lit a cigarette.

This was a mistake. This whole thing. He never should have befriended Joel, never should have invited him to hang out in the break room, never should have agreed to go to this god damn birthday party.

It didn't take long for Joel to quietly sit down next to him, of course.

"I'm fine, just needed some fresh air"

He stared at his cigarette burning down ever so slowly as the seconds ticked away in his head.

"Well, it's just that you practically ran out of the room right after coming back so i felt like I should probably check and make sure"

Tap, tap, tap.

The soft glow seemed ever so welcoming. Deep breath, everything's fine. He rubbed his face, sighing.

"Sorry, just... a lot going on today. My brain gets a little weird. I guess it's always weird but you know"

"Anything I can do?"

"No, I don't think so"

After a few moments of silence, Noah could feel Joel's hand softly grazing his own on the cold stone between them. The gesture was careful, almost shy. He hesitated for just a second before offering his hand to Joel, who gently took it in his, entwining their fingers. Noah internally cursed at himself for the tingle it sent down his spine.

Do not fall for him. You don't do relationships. Stop being an idiot.

"The stars are nice today."

"Yeah."

<< Beginning | < Previous | Next > | Read on Ao3

[sayakxmi]

[Magi reread] Night 29: Slave

Gdi, I really want to rewatch the Magnostadt Arc, like, you don't get it. I'm in the MOOD. But I promised myself to go more-or-less chronological. Like, it's one thing to kinda jump from one thing to another in some arc, but I want to rewatch the entire thing, gdi, Saya, why do we do that to ourselves.

I'd say speedrun Morgiana Arc, but it's not that much of a speedrun, plus I have a few thoughts.

But before that, I thought randomly about the Night 17, which is an almost-month timeskip. The timeskip where Alibaba does something pretty important, and Morgiana has some character development after a lifetime of being a slave, you know, some dealing with trauma... It didn't really ring a bell until a few days ago, when I was like. Wait. It's a trend. And ya bet I'll comment on the timeskips. But, man, it's already appeared so early!

I had to share this thought, now to the actual chapter.

All I wanted to point out that when Morgiana sensed something coming closer, she instinctively stopped this little girl. Imo cool characterization moment. Seemingly gently.

Yknow, for a kid in this situation, you're being very calm, little girl.

Nadja's from Balbadd! Still pretty cool that there's some of that info sprinkled here and there. Also, didn't Nadja mean Hope?

I checked, it does!

Totally random thought, I wonder if Nadja's supposed to be, like, a symbol of little Morgiana, yknow? Kinda cuz I noticed her side ponytail. And if that's the case, then tbh that's pretty cool, because this arc becomes a symbol of Morgiana saving herself. When she was little, there was nobody else to help her, but she's capable of it now.

Like I've said earlier, it's a damn good arc, but it's very isolated from others. Don't misunderstand me, it references stuff that'll come up in other arcs, but this specific arc won't be referenced much if at all later on. Which is a shame.

Kinda made me think how slavery isn't a thing in Balbadd, so maybe that's why she wasn't as freaked out. She genuinely doesn't understand what it means until Morgiana starts explaining it.

I am both curious, and at the same time, I'm not sure I want to know what Morgiana is saying.

Also, listen, I know I have a tendency to see mah boy everywhere, but I'm kind of wondering if it's the Same Face Syndrome or maybe it's just, like, how Balbadd people look. Seriously, Nadja reminds me a lot about Alibaba, when it comes to her face. It's also kinda cool, in general, bc Hope is also something associated with Alibaba and his Household. As in, according to the wiki, the name of all the spells there are a corruption of Amal, meaning hope.

Whoops.

Another thing I thoght abt is how... desensitized Morgiana feels. Tbh, I'm gonna guess she's dissociating a bit here, to focus on the situation at hand rather than get overwhelmed, which does sound like a defence mechanism she would've created under Jamil.

Mood.

But hey, the intentions are there.

Sad as shit, no surprises. But the fact that Morgiana sees herself in Nadja kinda pushes my "Nadja symbolises little Morgiana" agenda.

She's doing her best.

Same as before, she's trying.

Aaaand fake smile falls.

The next page is really sweet, but, like.

Did she kiss her forehead? ;;

Cat-vibe.

Nadja's sick & Fatima decided to get rid of her & I'm fairly certain this is the exact same thing that happened in SnB, like, disposing of a sick slave.

Aaaand there goes Nadja's sickness, I guess.

I wish Morgiana had more opportunities to emote so fucking much.

.

Finally. I have enough space in the post for Morgiana flashbacks.

I wish Magi characters had more opportunities to face their traumas. And also for that not to be timeskipped.

C minor, put it in C minor-

[spencers-renaissance]

Fic Rec Bingo!!

So instead of Fic Rec Thursday, I thought I'd do something a little different this week and recommend 25 fics based on this bingo card (although it turned into 26, oops). I kept most of these as CM because that's my blog's focus, but due to the nature of the prompts, there are 5 Marvel (Irondad) ones & 1 Sherlock towards the end!

from @lightveils on twitter, but found posted on tumblr by @cywscross <3

1. A fic with a premise that shouldn't work but does

I never would've thought I'd enjoy a fic with Spencer as a little rebellious shit because it seems so ooc, but I loved this one!

las vegas kid by trashcanbarbie - 1.9k, 1ch, Gen/Aaron Hotchner & Spencer Reid, Gambling, Spencer Reid Needs a Hug, Young Spencer Reid, Teenage Rebellion, Protective Aaron hotchner, Pre-Canon, Father-Son Relationship, Teenage Spencer Reid

JJ raises her eyebrows, “so, you're trying to say counting cards isn't cheating?” “No,” he grins, boyish and charming, “it is.”

2. A fic you've reread several times

Discipline Changes by fullofcrazyness - 1.2k, 1ch, Aaron Hotchner/Spencer Reid, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Hurt/Comfort, Past Child Abuse, Spencer Reid Needs a Hug, Comforting Hotch

Jack stopped and looked at his dad, finally seeing that his dad wasn’t actually angry. Concerned and relieved, but not angry. He was about to say something when he saw someone in the doorway, white as a sheet. “Papa?”

3. A comfort fic

i'm always tired, but never of you by @iamrenstark - 2.2k, 1ch, Derek Morgan/Spencer Reid, Hurt Spencer Reid, Angst with a Happy Ending, Sad Derek, Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, Spencer Reid Needs a Hug, Derek Morgan Needs a Hug, Men Crying, Gunshot Wounds, Blood and Injury

When Spencer figured it out, he was stepping out of the elevator on the bottom floor of Quantico, and he went to tell Derek he loved him like he did every day, but he froze up, because he was afraid he wouldn't hear it back. (Or, Spencer thinks his boyfriend is falling out of love with him.)

4. A cathartic fic

Every Little Transgression by @58thacademic - 1.6k, 1ch, Gen, Angst with a Happy Ending, Sad Spencer Reid, Protective David Ross, Protective Derek Morgan, Mentioned Suicide Attempt, Spencer's Backstory, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-Con, Spencer Reid Needs a Hug, Episode: s03e16 Elephant's Memory

Ok so. Elephants memory was really good because we got Reid backstory. But I'm still annoyed that he didn't defend himself against Hotch. So this was born.

5. A fic you'd print and put on your bookshelf

One Call Away by GhostInTheBAU - 204k, 32ch, Aaron Hotchner/Spencer Reid, Dubious Consent, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Domestic Violence, Rape Recovery, Referenced Past Drug Use, PTSD, Hurt Spencer Reid, Protective Aaron Hotchner, Mutual Pining, Slow Burn, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff, Flashbacks, Healing, Nightmares, Suicidal Thoughts, Hurt/Comfort, Whump, Eventual Smut

When Reid's boyfriend attacks him, leaving him broken and bleeding, he calls the first person he thinks of for help. He calls the only person he really wants to see. He calls Hotch.

6. A fic you associate with a song

I associate this fic with The First Thing You See by Bruno Major. I think if you listen to the song, you'll easily see why <3

You Make Waking Up Worth It by @guccifloralsuits - 2.1k, 1ch, Derek Morgan/Spencer Reid, Fluff, Minor Angst, Established Relationship, Morning Routines, Hurt/Comfort, Good Things Happen Bingo

“Morning sweetheart,” Derek says, pausing briefly to ruffle his hand gently through Spencer’s hair. The genius nuzzles into the touch but doesn’t reply. It’s too early for conversation, Morgan knows. Pretty boy may get up earlier than he does, but it takes the younger a lot longer to really wake up.

7. A fic that inspires you

This fic could have been in so many categories because I adore it, but I wouldn't have started writing Rain is a Chance to be Touched without this fic so it definitely belongs here.

Forgive Me For All I Could Not Become by @degrassi-fanatic - 105k, 20ch, Aaron Hotchner/Spencer Reid, Canon Divergence, Getting Together, Angst, Case Fic, Confessions, Complicated Relationships, Near Death Experiences, Friends With Benefits, Smut, Miscommunication

In which Reid has always been good at hiding things. He hid his father's departure and his mother's illness from social services. He hid his addiction from his team. He hid his sexuality from the world. He hid his inappropriate feelings from his boss. That is until he's bleeding out in Hotch's arms, in an abandoned church, in Oklahoma. From there on out, Hotch and Reid learn to make a complete mess out of each other.

8. A fic that brought you on board a new ship

Even though it's unrequited, this was the first fic that really had me going !!! at Penemily <3

Another Wide-Eyed Girl by mallfacee - 2k, 1ch, Gen/Derek Morgan & Penelope Garcia, Penelope Garcia/Emily Prentiss (Unrequited), Coming Out, Internalised Homophobia, Derek Morgan is a Good Friend, Friendship, Gunshot Wounds, Episode: s03e08 Lucky

Derek Morgan is handsome and calls her “baby girl” and smiles at her like she’s the only girl in the room. Penelope Garcia knows she should be swooning and all she can think is that there must be something wrong with her not to react to a man like that giving her all this attention. Two years later she meets Emily Prentiss and understands.

9. A fic you wish could be a movie

Listen, I adore the soulmate trope, and an angsty moreid soulmate movie? Fucking sign me up right now

i need you now but i don't know you yet by @iamrenstark - 3.1k, 1ch, Derek Morgan/Spencer Reid, Hurt Spencer Reid, Hurt Derek Morgan, Mutual Pining, Soulmates, Hurt/Comfort, Buford Mention, Angst with a Happy Ending, Getting Together, Season 5

It goes like this; Spencer hasn't spoken to his soulmate since he was ten, didn't know their gender or their name or a single thing about them. Spencer's soulmate doesn't want him, and that's okay.

10. A fic that led to you making friends with the author

I'm doing two because fuck you that's why

This was one of the first fics I read of Adam's and I immediately fell in love with his writing! And I'm pretty sure that we ended up becoming friends after I rec'd it!!

Plum Sauce by @goldencatchflies - 1.5k, 1ch, Derek Morgan/Spencer Reid, First Kiss, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, Canon Divergence, Fluff, Jealousy, Platonic Morcia, Episode: s07e13 Snake Eyes

Garcia tells Spencer about what she thinks happened between her and Derek. He doesn’t seem too happy about it...

I read this from Syd and absolutely loved it, and like with Adam, we became friends from there! (I mean technically husband and wife, but, y'know. Semantics.)

You Belong With Me by @spencerspecifics - 11.4k, 1ch, Derek Morgan/Spencer Reid, Song Fic, Getting Together, Angst with a Happy Ending, Pining, Fluff

A fluffy Moreid fic based on You Belong With Me by: Taylor Swift

11. A fic you associate with a place

This reminds me of a chilled Sunday afternoon on my old sofa in my living room, with the fire on in the background. I read it all in one sitting and loved every word <3

Metanoia by @makaylajadewrites - 39k, 16ch, Derek Morgan/Spencer Reid, Canon Typical Violence, Implied Rape/Non-Con, Implied/Referenced Torture, Established Relationship, Near Death Experiences, Frostbite, Rape Recovery, Suicidal Thoughts, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Autistic Spencer Reid, Drug Use, Eventual Smut, Eventual Happy Ending

Oh, Derek… He couldn’t stand the thought of him bursting in with SWAT in tow, gun at the ready, only to descend those creaky stairs and find his naked, bleeding body, vacated of life, crumbled on a red-stained mattress. The realization that he was going to die at the end of this was catching up to him, but maybe it would be better that way.

In which an unfortunate resemblance to an unsub's victims puts Reid right on his radar.

12. A fic that made you gasp out loud

Gasp out loud might be a *bit* of an overreaction, but this one took me on a rollercoaster and I loved every second of it (all of bau-gremlin's fics will do that to you tbh)

The End by @bau-gremlin - 3.1k, 2ch, Aaron Hotchner/Spencer Reid, Graphic Violence, Stabbing, Blood and Injury, Temporary Character Death, Hurt Spencer Reid, Whump, Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt Aaron Hotchner, Sleepy Cuddles, Protective Spencer Reid

The famous interview with Chester Hardwick ... except Hotch and Reid get separated and Reid is left alone with Hardwick and a prison-made shiv.

13. A fic you found at the right time

You're Going to be Okay by fullofcrazyness - 2.6k, 1ch, Gen/Aaron Hotchner & Spencer Reid, Dark, Suicidal Thoughts, Depression, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Suicide Attempt, Sad Spencer Reid, Hurt Spencer Reid, Depression, Protective Aaron Hotchner, Hurt/Comfort, Happy Ending

Spencer was no stranger to depression. His father leaving him, his mother’s episodes, being twelve years old in a Las Vegas high school. All of those things made him very familiar with the illness. “I… I think I need some help.”

14. A fic that you would read a fic of

Chain Reaction by EloquentDossier - 42k, 16ch, Aaron Hotchner/Spencer Reid, Alternate Universe, Texting, Dialogue-Only, Text Fic, Self-Esteem Issues, Fluff, Angst, Implied/Referenced Past Drug Use, Canon Divergence, Pining, Oblivious Aaron Hotchner, Happy Ending

A dialogue-only AU in which Hotch texts what he thinks is Rossi's new number but is actually the slightly eccentric stranger whom Hotch knows only as "Spencer." What follows is something neither man could have ever quite expected.

15. A fic that made you laugh out loud

The Bet by @degrassi-fanatic - 1.6k, 2ch, Aaron Hotchner/Spencer Reid, Hijinks & Shenanigans, Bets & Wagers, Humour, Fluff, Canon Divergence

“Fifty bucks says Hotch writes you up and sends you to sexual harassment sensitivity training.” she declares as she stares him down. Without looking away from her, Reid takes out his own wallet and flips it open to pull out a fifty dollar before placing it down right next to Prentiss’s own money. “Fifty bucks says Hotch will go out with me.”

16. A fic that gave you butterflies

The healing and dynamics in this one is just.... off the charts :')

Who Spencer Reid Loves by @blueberriesandbubbles - 36k, 11ch, Derek Morgan/Spencer Reid, Rape/Non-Con Elements, Abusive Relationships, Domestic Violence, Abuse, Hurt Spencer Reid, Mutual Pining, Rape Recovery, Healing, Fluff

Derek Morgan has been in love with the resident genius as long as he's known him. When Spencer enters a relationship with a mystery man, Derek is unhappy. He is even more unhappy when he meets this man. Spencer starts acting different and Derek knows something is wrong and he has a feeling its connected to the man Reid is dating.

17. A fic that embodies something you value in life

The utter and total love and devotion in this fic just punches me right in the gut every time I reread it

A Little Fall of Rain by jack_hunter - 4.3k, 2ch, Aaron Hotchner/Spencer Reid, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Angst, Spencer Reid Whump, Autistic Spencer Reid, Major Character Injury, Secret Relationship, Team as Family, Dad Rossi

Morgan crept up behind the doctor and snatched the headphones off of his head, earning a yelp of a protest as he slipped them over his own ears. “Les Mis?” Morgan asked with a quizzical look, “didn’t peg you as the musical type, Pretty Boy.” Spencer snatched the headphones back. “I’ve always loved the theatre and I went to see Les Misérables with-... a friend last Friday.”

18. A favourite AU

The Curious Case of Dr. Reid by severaance - 37k, 10ch, Derek Morgan/Spencer Reid, Transgender Character, Fluff, Trans Spencer Reid, Light Angst, Getting Together, Developing Relationship, Smut, Insecurity, Happy Ending (Warning for Homophobic & Transphobic Slurs)

"And your names for the order, please?" The barista asked, eyes flickering expectantly between the two before her. "Spencer," she answered, although she was not talking to the barista. "I'm Spencer." The man before her had the same idea. "Derek."

19. A fic you stayed up too late to finish reading

I stayed up one night and read pretty much all the marvel fics this author has written, but this was the last one that I simply could not resist. The next day wasn't pretty :/

The more you say, the less I know by forthenightisdarkandfullofterror - 13.9k, 3ch, Gen/Irondad, Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Temporary Amnesia, Protective Pepper Potts, Not Endgame Compliant, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Blood and Violence, Hurt Peter Parker, Whump

Tony wakes up from snapping with amnesia and for the life of him can't remember the kid hanging around, claiming to be 'just an intern'. Feelings get hurt.

20. A fic that made you feel seen

heavy in my bones by hopeless_hope - 4.4k, 1ch, Gen/Irondad, Chronic Pain, Hurt/Comfort, Hurt Peter Parker, Whump, Father-Son Relationship, Dad Tony, Worried Tony Stark, Angst, Chronic Illness, 5+1 Things

Five times Peter lied to someone about his chronic pain, and one time he told the truth and got the help he needed.

21. A fic you love without knowing the source material

(I mean this is literally all marvel fics but I'll rec this one because I loved it so much)

the locker room by searchingforstars - 15.5k, 3ch, Gen/Irondad, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Non-Graphic Rape/Non-Con, Hurt Peter Parker, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Mental Health Issues, Misunderstandings, Arguing, Miscommunication, Crying, Whump, Angst with a Happy Ending, Rape Recovery

Peter's falling apart and he doesn't know how things will ever go back to normal again after Ryder.

22. A fic you've gushed about IRL

Genuinely, this fic is better than most published fiction I've read...

The Third Option by Uncertainty_Principle - 220k, 37ch, Gen/Irondad, Hurt/Comfort, Sexual Abuse, Emotional Abuse, Physical Abuse, Alternate Universe, Hurt Peter Parker, Foster Care, Identity Reveal, Slow Build, Disordered Eating, Homelessness

Ben and May divorced before Peter’s parents died, so when Ben is murdered Peter goes into foster care. It takes just a tiny taste of superpowers for Peter to decide he doesn’t want to put up with his horrible foster father anymore—the streets are infinitely more appealing. All he wants is to be Spider-Man anyway.

So he leaves. Simple.

Simple, that is, until Iron Man needs Spider-Man’s help. Peter isn’t about to turn down an opportunity to fight alongside Tony Freaking Stark, but he also isn’t going to let his hero know that his recruit is a fifteen-year-old homeless dropout. So they strike a deal. Peter will help Tony. In return, the mask stays on. And that’s when things get complicated.

23. A fic you still remember many years later

The Transport Series by ancientreader - 135k, 2 works, Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, Backstory, Canon Drug Use, Childhood Sexual Abuse, Physical Disability, AU, Important Character Death, First Time, Developing Relationship, Angst with a Happy Ending, BDSM, Humour, Fluff

How to become a consulting detective. // Jim's lessons are hard to unlearn.

24. A fic with a line or two that you've memorised by heart

"He has held up buildings and nuclear bombs and whole entire countries on his back. Peter’s body is the heaviest thing he’s ever held."

when my body won't hold me anymore (where will I go) by @madasthesea - 4.4k, 2ch, Gen/Irondad, Temporary Character Death, Angst, Grief/Mourning, Father-Son Relationship, Hurt Peter Parker, Crying, Forehead Kisses, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Medical Inaccuracies, Hugs, Platonic Cuddling

But he knows. He knows. He can feel it. Peter’s dead. Peter Parker watches as Tony carefully arranges his limbs on a cot. “Mr. Stark,” he tries for the dozenth time. No one hears him.

25. Free Space

And to round it off, we have to celebrate the fic that really and truly welcomed me into the CM fanfic world...

Chanel by @4x24 - 24k, 7ch, Derek Morgan/Spencer Reid, Getting Together, Spencer Wears Makeup, Friends to Lovers, Light Angst, Canon Compliant, Canon Typical VIolence, Humour, Fluffy Ending, Pining, Smut Heavy

Penelope mentions offhandedly one night that she thinks Spencer might look good in makeup. Spencer takes the suggestion to heart. Derek likes the new look - and Spencer - more than he probably should. (Season 4)