Okay, I’m Sorry If This Is Lengthy, But I Was Reading Your Period Comfort Head Cannons For Wally (literal

group shot!!! 💖📷

Valentine's Day Headcanons

Wally Clark x Reader

Warnings: Slight ep.5 spoiler but not really, its the brief mention of a scene but not actually what happens. fluff

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This man would go all out for valentines day… well as out as he can while trapped in the school. 

I'm talking spending hours making a bouquet of paper flowers for you. Technically he could probably get some from the greenhouse but that's not as romantic as making them himself. 

Most of your gifts will be stolen from living students on valentines day. Okay just about all of them but still he makes it seem romantic.

Movie night, huge stuffed bear, and a shit ton of chocolate. It’s a perfect night. You don’t like chocolate? Don’t worry he's got eyes everywhere watching for someone to walk in with something that you like. Technically it's just him and Charly but he makes it seem all dramatic like he’s got every ghost looking out. 

Sweet little makeout session in the greenhouse while you ask him why he didn’t just get you normal flowers. He’d shut you up with another kiss because he ain’t got time for all your questions when he's trying to get freaky.  (Ignore me i'm losing my mind after the pool scene) 

I’ve said it once and I'll say it again, cuddles cuddles CUDDLES. He doesn't care when or where he always just wants to wrap you in his arms and smother you with love. Sweet gentle kisses and whispers of praise. (SOMEBODY SEDATE ME) 

You’d force him to watch A Walk to Remember and he’d cry like a baby. “And they say romance is dead.” Said through pitiful sobs. 

He’d make you slow dance with him. I mean SLOOOOOW. Like staring into your soul with the biggest smile imaginable while you two hold onto each other and barely move. More sweet kisses and gentle words as he rocks you back and forth. 

(Okay thats all. I swear I'm working on Sex, Drugs, Etc. I just needed a break from all the sadness. Anyways imma go convince my friend to be my valentine because he has no free will in our friendship. Hope you enjoy my descent into madness. 😀)

Personally I feel like this isn’t really how I see Wally’s personality but it was super good and super hot so it’s getting reblogged lol

Crybaby

NSFW

Summary: You are new to the afterlife and completely obsessed with Wally. What happens when he notices you staring at him all flustered?

Authors Note: We got approved for a season 3 babyyyyy! Hope you enjoy! -L

You had been going to sessions with Mr. Martin and crew for a few weeks. In those weeks you had made little to no progress. You couldn’t care less about an obituary or forgetting your past. You were busy ogling Wally any chance you got.

You were captivated by his big hands, his muscley thighs, his adorable smile, his ability to charm a brick wall, you could go on for ages. His entire being drew you in.

You were at a loss for words the day Wally pulled you aside to chat. He had usually always had at least one side kick with him if not more but today he walked away from them to catch you. “Hey, it’s Y/N right?” He shouted to get your attention. Your heart raced as you turned around. “Yea that’s me. You’re Wally right?” You asked as if he was a stranger and not something that lived in your brain.

His smile brightened at your voice. “Yea I’m Wally. Did anyone ever give you the full ghost tour?” He asked. You hadn’t really talked to any of the other ghost so you shook your head no. Wally wrapped an arm around your shoulders before guiding you through the school. He told you everything he knew.

You tried to absorb all the information you could but you were extremely distracted by the way he had you pulled into his side. The warmth that seeped through warming your skin. You felt like you fit perfectly against him.

He has shown you most of the school when he brought you to the auditorium. He mentioned the stage hand who died there before showing you the room under the stage. He told you how it had been a recent find of his. He was always looking for more.

Wally knew there was something different about you. He could feel your big doe eyes following his every move all the time. He thought it was adorable. The way your cheeks would heat anytime he caught you checking him out or when he’d catch you clenching your thighs while staring at his hands lost in thought.

He needed to know what would happen if he enticed you. What it would take to get you to let him make those doe eyes prickle with tears. Or to see how you would react to his hands holding those plush thighs apart.

Wally had noticed you on your first day. Had immediately felt your pull and attention on him. He was getting off on it. He’d stretch just far enough to flash his toned stomach and flex his hands when he saw you looking at them. He was feeding into your obsession. He was obsessed himself.

You walked away from him checking out the cozy room. You could feel his eyes following you as you moved about. Wally walked over to the couch and sat down legs spread in a dominant way. You turned around seeing how he sat as your mouth began to water at the thought of being between his legs.

“Come here.” His voice rough as he motioned with his finger where he wanted you. You shyly walked towards him positioning yourself to stand between his thighs. He smirked up at you before saying “I know you’ve been watching me Sweets.” His warm hand reached out brushing against your bare knee sending a cold chill up your spine.

You didn’t care that he noticed, you quirked your eyebrow up giving him a nonchalant shrug of your shoulders. His hands attached themselves right above the bend of your knee squeezing gently. He leans forward pressing a kiss to your thigh and mumbling “Don’t think I didn’t notice every time you’d squeeze these lovely thighs to give your sweet pussy some relief.” His tongue trailed half way up your thigh before blowing cold air on it causing a gasp to escape you.

Your mind was empty save for the sensation of him. He smirks up at your glossy eyes and dumbfounded look. He leans back on the couch before patting his lap. He lets out a chuckle as you clamber quickly onto him. Your knees resting on either side of his waist and hands resting on the top of your thighs awaiting your next instruction.

His gaze darkens at your obedience as he drags his rough hands up your thighs allowing your skirt to bunch up around your waist. You sigh softly loving his touch, your fingers twitch with anticipation at the thought of his skin under you. He lets out a raspy groan at the sight of the damp center of your lacy panties. He grunts out “Fuck you are so hot.” As his finger gently brushes against your clothed center. Your hips buck into his touch a sinful whimper leaving you as you grip his shoulders to steady yourself.

His eyes finally settle on your face gripping your chin making you look at him. He huffs out air before smashing his lips against yours. You kiss, tongues dancing and teeth nipping until you are out of breath. He grabs your hips dragging you closer so you feel his clothed cock settle against your throbbing center. You whine as he bucks his hips up softly giving you a lazy smirk before lifting you off his lap a pout gracing your face at the loss of sensation.

He sits you on your feet before his fingers dip into your panties pulling them off you before dragging his sweats and boxers off. He grabs your hips again pulling you back adjusting you till his cock rests between your wet folds. You cry out as his cock nudges your clit. He grabs your face roughly making you look at him before saying “I want you to grind your little clit on me until I can feel this sweet pussy dripping on me and then I’ll think about fucking you.” You nod dumbly up at him.

His hands rest back on your hips as you capture his lips against yours while you grind your pulsing clit on his thick cock. You shift your hips in a way that has his tip bumping your entrance pushing you closer to your climax. You grind harder as he pushes your shirt over your head and undoes your bra tossing it aside before latching his mouth on to your breast. His teeth graze your nipple causing your hips to stutter cumming on his cock.

You are so pleased with yourself until you look up. Wally looks livid. He wraps his hand around your throat tightly making you squeeze around nothing. “Did I fucking tell you that you could cum?” He voices raspy with anger. Your eyes fill with tears at the thought that he’s disappointed in you. Tears begin to fall as you shake your had no quickly.

“Awe.” He coos at you. “My little Crybaby.” He teases as his thumbs wipe your tears away. “I’m gonna fuck this sweet pussy even though you came without my permission but this time you better fucking ask.” He lifts you off him shoving your face down into the couch and lifting your hips so you are on your knees.

He smirks as you arch your back and spread your legs farther. His lips kiss your ass cheeks before pressing a quick kiss to your crying cunt. He hums as you cry out loving the taste of you. His hands grasp your hips pulling you back on to his cock. He watches as you take inch after inch small pants leaving your lips. Once he’s full inside of you he trails his hand up your spine before fisting your ponytail in his hand. He jerks you up the new angle making you moan out.

“What are you gonna do before you can come Sweets?” He whispers in your ear. Your mind short circuits at how deep he feels mixed with him pulling your hair. You forget how to speak just hanging there dumbly. He pulls out of you completely landing a harsh smack to your pussy. “Answer me now.” He grunts angrily. You stutter out “Ask for permission to cum.”

He thrusts into you bottoming out before he quickly slams in and out of you. His hand shoves your face into the couch to quiet your screams at his abuse of your pussy. “Fucking taking me so good, Crybaby. So fucking tight. Making a mess.” He snakes his hand around your hips to rub your clit in tight circles. You cry out so close to cumming as you muffledly beg into the couch to cum. “What was that? I didn’t hear you.” Wally teases meanly pounding into you harder and picking up his speed on your clit.

You try to get away from him and bat away his hand but he keeps at it until he feels you flutter around him. He lifts you so your back is against his chest before wrapping the hand not playing with your clit around your throat. “Let me hear my Crybaby beg.” He says roughly lips trailing across your cheek. “Please, please, please let me cum. I’ll be so good.” You rasp out as tears fall down your cheeks again. “Four more thrusts and you can cum.” Wally says against your neck. He does a singular quick thrust making your whine before he sinks his teeth in your shoulder drilling into you so fast you can even count.

You scream “WALLLLY.” As you squeeze him cumming around him causing his hips to stutter as he fills you full of his spend. “Fuck.” He grunts gently pulling out of you before pulling you into his chest. Your cheeks soaked with tears as you babble nonsense up at him. “My little Crybaby.” He says affectionately snuggling his head into your neck.

Cannot imagine a better scenario

okay but see my thing is imagine your school is haunted by a hot ghost and then two hot ghost hunters show up to make it all the more interesting

Wreck It Like A Rumor

summary: prompt fill. Wally saves you from a joke gone terribly wrong the night of the Homecoming dance. what unfolds after is a friendship you desperately cling to as you try to survive the rest of term... what you don't know is that Wally Clark is deader than a doornail until you learn it the hard way. (request)

pairing: Wally Clark x fem!reader

warnings: smut lite. AU - canon divergence. CWC (canon what canon). single mention of a mental health slur. attempted assault. protective behavior. angsty themes. hurt/comfort. bullying. HEA.

note: author hasn't watched S2. all knowledge of new content comes exclusively from GIFs on this platform. (i got tired of filtering Wally content. he's my babe. i am weak.)

bon reading, frens

___________________________🐦‍🔥

Wreck It Like A Rumor

They disguised themselves as friends.

You should've known when the one person out of the group you considered a sister—the girl you'd glommed onto in elementary, who'd been by your side through every shitty thing that'd unraveled your life at the time. You know, your real friend—started acting shifty.

Eyes down, nervous laugh, not giving you a straight answer when you asked her if she was okay.

"Help! Anyone, please! Let me out of here!"

You pound your fist against the door, tears streaming down your face. Mascara smudged, nail polish chipped, kicking and banging and screaming until your skin is red and blotchy.

It's Homecoming. You never went to the dances, tend to avoid a lot of high school social events like the plague since everyone in your grade (and others) treats you as if you're contagious.

But it's junior year, and your best friend begged you to join her as her ride or die since she wasn't super comfortable with her new group of friends yet.

You threw caution to the wind and said yes.

For Oli. Olivia Hazelwood. The awkward daughter of Split River's old-money elite couple, Henry and Marion Hazelwood. You and Oli were awkward together. Outsiders who found a home in each other. You shared everything with her and thought she did the same, but now you question how true that was.

Because, along with her new friends—who she insisted were your new friends, too—she'd locked you in the secret fallout shelter in the school basement.

Cruelty packaged as a practical joke.

You heard Travis cackle to the others before calling through the door, "Get comfortable, it'll be a while 'til the janitor comes to get you!"

It's fucking Friday. You don't know Mr. South's schedule—hell, you don't know if he even knows about the fallout shelter—but you assume he won't be back until Monday like the rest of the staff.

Someone will do a walk-through, you tell yourself, gasping for air as you pace around the space. It's dark, the only light coming from the weird dashboard on the clunky equipment lining one wall.

How Travis and the others found out about the fallout shelter isn't a mystery. You told them, stupidly, when you were trying to bond with Elitzia and Marybelle. Split River trivia you'd collected through hyperfixation research. Hours spent diving down rabbit holes after binging Fallout with Oli over a weekend.

Nuclear winter. Chernobyl. Bunkers. The Cold War.

God, why'd you say anything? Should've kept your mouth shut. Should've known that Travis and his friends weren't actually trying to buddy up, because you're still the school pariah.

After all, you gave Jake Tremblay crabs after you rejected him in 9th. You were a homewrecker and forced yourself on Matt Wilson when his girlfriend caught him shoving his unwanted hand up your skirt. You told Claire Zomer last year that you liked to wear diapers and be bottle-fed like a baby as a result of neglectful parents after you refused to do her English homework.

The mill churned out rumor after rumor, and though you tried to fight it at first, it became too much. Like squashing an ant hill. You stopped, people lost interest when you didn't react, but those rumors still circulate.

Sometimes, new ones join the rotation depending on who you piss off just trying to make it to the last bell.

Oli was the only person who stood by you until Elitzia extended her friendship.

Now you're alone. Stuck in the creepy fallout shelter in the dark. Suffocating on shadows as you double back to the door and start banging your palms against it again. Oli knows you're claustrophobic. She was there when you trusted Sarah Thompson in 5th Grade and climbed into her toy chest.

What is so other about you that makes people hate you so much?

You gulp in harsh breaths, sobbing out exhales, losing energy quickly as you smack and bang the door. You can't hear the music, but you know it's still loud, the dance in full swing two floors above.

"Please," You cough, shaking, "Please, let me out..."

‗•‗

Wally sighs. Tonight's been one giant letdown. He doesn't know why he got his hopes up, especially since it's been obvious from the get-go that Maddie isn't ready for the things Wally wants to try with her. Romance. Dates. Hand-holding and affection and inside jokes.

He understands. Of course he does. Maddie's new-dead. She was murdered. She and her best (and very alive) friend are trying to solve the case, to help her remember so she can find closure or whatever.

Why would she want to take a break from that and hang out at a dumb dance with Wally? Who's been trapped in limbo for the last forty years; same four walls, same seven faces to interact with. Same. Same. Same. Same. Fuck.

It's fine. It's totally fine.

As he lies on the grass, staring up at the stars, the quiet outside giving him space to sulk, he hears it. Bang. Help! Bang bang bang. Please!

It's faint, no louder than a breeze, but consistent. Wally gets to his feet and tries to follow the sound. Back into the school, down the steps, along the first-floor hallway to the basement door. It muffles for a moment when he goes the wrong way, toward the janitor's office, so he backtracks and hurries deeper into the bowels of the school.

Despite having the run of the place, no holds barred, he hasn't been this way before. Never saw a reason to go to the boiler room, not even after Maddie took a seat at the Afterlife Support Group.

The sound loudens, banging and muted pleading, someone clearly in distress. Wally slows his steps as he nears a door he's never seen before. It's old, white paint peeling, made of metal. It shakes when whoever's behind it starts slamming their fists again. Renewed vigor, higher-pitched agony, "Please!! Anyone!!?"

Wally scans the outside of the door for a latch or handle and notices the deadbolts attached to the top and bottom of the doorframe. Quickly, he undoes them and yanks the door open, stumbling back when a figure slumps out.

Small. Trembling. A girl whose makeup is stained with tearstreaks and whose eyes are bloodshot, her skin pale from fright. She's breathing heavy, sniffling, rubbing the back of her wrist under her nose as she gradually calms.

"Uh..."

And that's as much as Wally gets out before she's on her feet, arms around her middle, shoulders up. She takes one look at Wally, mumbles a wet thanks, and then charges through the boiler room, down the corridor, and out of the basement.

Wally's stunned. Because he knows for a fact that that girl is alive.

Not only did she look right at Wally, she spoke to him. Like, to his face. Eyeballs met eyeballs. For the first time in a long time, Wally was part of the living world again.

"No freaken way..."

‗•‗

You keep your head down as you walk toward your locker. Headphones on, blaring angry music to quell the crash and surge of emotion inside you. You're embarrassed, humiliated, hateful. Rightfully so, you think, because the last person in the world you trusted betrayed you in the worst way you can imagine.

Oli tried to apologize over the weekend. A novel of a text that repeated several times how sorry she is about what happened. How she didn't know that was the plan. I swear, I thought they were just going to close the door for a minute.

So why didn't you come back?

She never answered. Either ashamed of her non-actions or annoyed that you won't forgive her as easily as you used to, you don't care.

The guy who saved you—tall, handsome, dressed like a silverscreen leading man—looked just like someone that group kept in the middle of their circle-jerk. Which was why you didn't stick around to thank him properly. He was probably just a little less bad; has what amounts to a conscience for those assholes, and decided to cut the joke short out of guilt.

Definitely a senior, you figured, since you didn't recognize him from your class.

Makes things easier. You intend to steer clear of him just like you will the others. You've got enough on your plate, the newest rumor sticky-tacked to your locker when you finally arrive.

Crybaby got herself locked in a room and couldn't get out! Accentuated with photoshopped baby bottles and crying emojis.

It's stupid. Juvenile. But it burns. You tear the paper off your locker, crumple it up, and march to the trash to shove it through the lid. Even through your music, you can hear the chorus of laughter. Some of it nervous, as if going along with it to avoid the same attention Travis and his cronies give you. Some of it hearty and genuine.

You swallow your discomfort and go back to your locker, wrench the lock open, and almost violently swing the door right into someone's face. Thankfully, that someone catches it before it does any damage.

"Whoa there, Helen Sharp, I'm not here to steal your man." The guy chuckles, giving you what you assume is his most charming smile.

It rubs you the wrong way. You glare back, ignoring the comment as you begin to rifle through your things, exchanging last night's homework for the textbook and notes you need for first period. He clears his throat, keeps standing there awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck and watching you.

"So, you can't hear me," He mutters, and, weirdly, it doesn't sound like a snide question. Rather, his voice is heavily laced with disappointment.

You stop and straighten, staring right at him when you cock your head and say, "I can hear you just fine." Then, "You come to make me thank you again?" Just like Mike Bower earlier this semester, who pinned you to the vending machine after the cafeteria emptied, demanding you show him your gratitude for lending you a pencil during the History test.

The guy swallows and shakes his head, eyes wide and mouth agape. As if you speaking to him is the most astonishing thing that's ever happened to him.

Your glare intensifies.

‗•‗

Wally can't believe it. You can see him. You're talking to him.

Kind of.

You're mostly scowling at him, but that doesn't matter. He'll take what he can get. He knows you're likely still upset about Friday, how you got locked in the fallout shelter somehow. Which, the fallout shelter was a whole discovery on its own that helped unlock some of Maddie's memories over the weekend, so if anyone should be grateful, really, it's Wally.

"N-no," He stutters.

His shock swiftly melts into excitement, big grin sweeping his face, and he giddily follows you toward your first class after you slam your locker closed and start walking.

"So...are you okay? You didn't look so good, last time I saw you."

You heave a sigh, "I'm fine." And it sounds an awful lot like something you've been repeating to yourself until you believe it. Clearly, it isn't working.

"Right. Yeah. Of course you are." Wally nods sagely. "...What's your name?"

You come to an abrupt halt in the hallway and turn to face him, brows furrowed, giving him a slow once-over that makes his heart skip a beat. Now that he can see your face better, he swallows thickly. Jesus, you're beautiful. Even scowly and off-put. Pretty as a peace lily.

"Why?" You ask, and, wow, okay, has no one ever asked you for your name before?

Wally hesitates, not quite understanding why you're being so hostile until he hears it. A couple of students behind him, snickering to each other, commenting on how, the fucking weirdo's lost her mind. She's so fucked up.

Spinning on his heel, Wally faces the students, ready to put them in their place before he remembers that they can't see him...can they? No. They can't. They look right through him at you, snorting and shaking their heads in pity like you're some kind of headcase.

When he turns around again, you're gone.

‗•‗

It takes Wally a few days before he finds you again. Outside, sitting in a patch of sun, eating your bagged lunch alone as you lean against the side of the school. Without preamble, he plops down beside you.

He spent his time doing a little research. Between helping Maddie and Simon investigate, obviously, he's a good person who has his priorities straight. Still, you were always on his mind. The gorgeous living girl who can see him.

You ignore him, bite into your PB&J, and stare into the middle distance as if Wally doesn't exist. That's fine. He understands now. And, holy shit, the things he'd do if he had a body to do them in. He'd fuck every last one of your tormentors up. Break egos before breaking bones. Guy, girl, he doesn't discriminate; he hates what he's heard.

Can't be sure none of it is real, but from the way you shrink when he keeps his attention on you, he doesn't think any of it is.

"You okay?" He ventures again, voice low and kind.

You shrug. No snarky comment, no anger. Just...resignation.

"I, uh, heard what they say about you..."

You snort, "Great. You come to give me words of wisdom, oh wise one? It's just high school, it won't matter when you get out of here," You mock, clearly some bullshit you've been spoon fed before.

Wally shakes his head, "Nah. Nothing like that." He gives you a smile. Cheeky, "High school's all there is. It really does shape your whole life."

You choke on your next bite and then give him a look of horror. When you catch his impish smirk, your eyes narrow.

"You're an asshole."

"You're kind of a grump." Wally shoots back good-naturedly.

"I think I've earned it."

Wally's smile falters slightly, but he makes an effort to remain upbeat. Softly, sincerely, he says, "I'm sorry you have to go through all that."

"It is what it is." You respond, equally as soft, gaze on the ground.

You and Wally sit in silence for a moment. It doesn't feel awkward or tense the way Wally expected it to. Instead, it's peaceful. A welcome change from the mounting drama he's experiencing on Split River High's metaphysical side.

Eventually, you seem to relax. You and he exchange names. He doesn't give you his last name, not quite ready for that conversation, though he's sure you'll figure it out sooner rather than later. His letterman is a dead give away (no pun intended).

"Do you...have any friends?" He asks bluntly after talking around the point for a few minutes.

Tensing, you stop chewing the last bite of your sandwich, gaze distant as your face slackens in what Wally can only describe as hurt.

"I did. But then she helped her new friends lock me in a fallout shelter even though she knows I'm claustrophobic."

"Fuck..." Wally exhales sharply, "I'm sorry."

"You say that a lot," You accuse, slanting him another suspicious look. "Why are you sorry? Did you know that was the plan? Are you friends with Travis and Marybell and Elitzia?"

Wally tries to keep up with your questions. You must've been thinking those things based on how rapidly you asked them, and it takes Wally aback.

"No," He replies, "I don't know any of those people."

You relax again once you've stared into Wally's fucking skull to see if he's lying. Apparently, you can do that since you give a small nod and settle back against the wall.

"Thank you," You say after another minute of silence. "Really. For...getting me out of there."

"Yeah, of course," Wally says. "I might look like an asshole, but I'm not actually one."

You peek at him, a tiny smile forming on your lips that makes Wally's heart soar, "I'm starting to get that."

‗•‗

Your unconventional friendship with Wally grows from there.

When Wally isn't busy saving the day with Maddie and Charley and Rhonda, he spends his time haunting you. His own little joke, because it appears you haven't figured out how dead he is, and as more days pass, he's more reluctant to reveal that spooky truth.

In the span of weeks, you blossom like a flower for him. He learns how giggly you are when you aren't shielding yourself from the disgusting things your classmates sling at you. It's not often, but it's often enough that Wally never sees you as anything but reserved and quiet when you're between classes.

At this point, he's heard the slew of rumors about you. Gross and inflated, a game of broken telephone that chips away at you a little more every day.

Except when you're with Wally. It's as if his presence is helping you heal, and he can't keep the warm, fuzzy feelings from growing in his chest. Bigger and bigger with every encounter.

You've taken to studying in the library until the very last second you're allowed to stay. Tucked in the back, muffling laughter when Wally tells you about things that happened to him when he was alive. He omits details that might give away the era, but shares everything he can.

God, he loves the sound of your laughter. How your eyes sparkle when you're happy. How your cheeks flush when he sneaks in something flirtatious. How you bite your lip after you say something suggestive in return.

You're not exactly tactile, probably scarred from things that've happened in your past, things that've been said to you, or things that've been done to you. (Wally wants to punch everyone, teachers included.) It makes it easier to hide his deadness. However, it's getting to a point where Wally has a hard time remembering not to reach out and fail at tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear when you stare up at him with those sweet, joyful eyes.

There's always, at the very least, an inch of space between you and Wally. An inch he so desperately wishes he could eradicate. Either way, he can't break that barrier, the energy emitted from a living body preventing him from touching you, even if you did finally welcome it.

You bring him homemade cookies the day you reveal that your parents are rarely around. Break his heart, then heal it with chocolate chip, his favorite. He has to wait for you to turn away before he picks one up, so you don't see how the cookie never actually leaves the container.

When he bites into it, he moans, filthy, sexual, not even exaggerated because, "God damn girl, these are delicious."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," Wally takes another bite, moans again, eyes closed as he savors the taste, "Best I've ever had."

You blush, duck your head shyly, "Thanks, Wally." And, fuck, he wants to kiss you. All over your face. Cheeks, nose, forehead. Lips. Deep and slow as he cups your jaw, angles your head just right, pulls you into his lap and—

"Earth to Wally," Your voice breaks through the mist, "You still in there?" Then, to yourself, "What the hell did I put in these?"

Wally blinks himself back to the present, "Sorry, what'd you say?"

"I asked you if you wanted to try the oatmeal-peanut butter ones."

Very seriously, "Yes. And everything else you've made ever, if you don't mind."

He wants to offer to make you banana pancakes or a burrito or anything to show off his skills in the kitchen, but he isn't sure how the food he makes would translate in the living world. His stomach clenches, eyes sad, as he begins to think about all the things he can't do with you. All the things you don't know he can't do with you because he doesn't want to lose you when you learn the truth.

Maddie didn't lose Simon, a part of him thinks, but while that's true, Maddie and Simon are best friends. Have been best friends since fuck knows when. Simon was willing to throw himself behind Maddie being a ghost because of how close they are.

Wally isn't certain you'd react the same way.

‗•‗

Things between you and Wally are...amazing? No, that's too simple a word to describe how his friendship has basically turned your whole high school experience on its head.

He's quickly become the best part of your day. He makes you laugh, helps you with homework when he isn't distracting you from it. He's sweet and compassionate and thoughtful. He remembers everything you tell him, even the mundane, silly shit.

You've never experienced that before. Not even with Oli, who had a knack of steering every conversation back to herself. It wasn't in a rude or self-righteous way, honestly, it stemmed more from insecurity and external processing.

But, yeah, it got old sometimes, especially when you just needed someone to hear you. See you. Know you.

Things with Wally are so incredible that you're even able to ignore the newest rumor about you making the rounds. How you're crazy, talking to yourself like schizo, you need meds, why do they let her near us? Dude, she could be dangerous.

None of it matters anymore. Oli's been fully indoctrinated by her new friends, ignores or avoids you, unable to look you in the eye anymore since dying her hair to look like Chloe's and dressing herself like Kirsten.

Wally has your back. Comforts you with humor or listens when you need to vent. Mostly, it's just bliss. And it's alarming because you've never felt so close to someone like this. You've exposed yourself to him in ways you never let yourself before. Not with Oli, not with your parents, not with anyone.

But he draws it out of you, bit by bit, your personality slowly reestablishing itself after years of being smothered behind the walls you had to build to protect yourself.

He's safe.

And he's hot like burning. Like putting your hand over a lit element.

Another new feeling unlocked; you want to feel his hands on you, even for a moment. Want to feel his lips on yours. Want all of him so wholly and greedily it makes your head spin.

Yes. Everything with Wally is perfect.

Until, one day, he simply...disappears.

‗•‗

It's not Wally's fault. He doesn't mean to do it. He wouldn't have, he promises. Especially not to you. But, Wally has his turn getting stuck in the fallout shelter; Mr. Martin unmasks himself as a bad guy; and Maddie's body is alive out there being used by Janet.

Things go from moderately unhinged to fucking hectic overnight.

He stays away only to help Maddie. Finds out, shit, Yuri Vyarheychyk isn't actually a looper. Discovers a lot of things he never wanted to discover. Wally's lost and despondent, and can't seem to get his head above water long enough to seek you out and apologize for abandoning you for two weeks.

He's relieved when he finally catches sight of you again, a smile on his face as he watches you help put the gym together for his high school reunion.

Just as he's about to approach, he notices you go eerily still, staring at something he can't see from this angle. He steps a little closer, cautious, heart in his throat when he finally gets a glimpse.

"Oh, no."

‗•‗

You were roped into helping set up the space for the class of '84 reunion. You'd reacted vehemently when Travis made a joke at your expense during Math and Mr. Davis immediately issued you detention.

This is how you earn back his respect. Carrying stacks of chairs and fussing over an easel that's to support a picture of that guy the stadium is named after. You're feeling bitter, neglected, alone all over again since Wally hasn't surfaced, and the rumors are starting to pick at vulnerable flesh.

Then, Ms. Monroe clucks at you, hands you the blown-up photo to fit onto the easel. You don't notice at first, and then the shock swoops in and leaves you breathless. Gaping wide-eyed at the face staring back at you.

Wally's smile is exactly how it looks when you say something he calls 'cute'. Charming. Cheerful.

The world fades away, time stands still, and you almost buckle under the realization that you made up a whole person to keep you company. You really are fucking crazy, just like everyone said.

"Hey..." You hear Wally's voice, but it can't be real, pulled from some broken part of your brain that shattered after the fallout shelter.

Slowly, you pan to your right, Wally towering over you, as solid as he was the last time you saw him. You glance back at the photo, then to Wally, rinse, repeat until you have whiplash. A tiny, wrecked sound escapes you and your body shivers, the weight of what this means bubbling inside you like acid.

"Hey, no, it's okay," The figment of Wally Clark, class of '84, dead dead dead, tries to reassure you. "You're not crazy, babe, I'm right here. You can see me."

His words do nothing to calm you down. You need help. Professional help, hard meds, a straitjacket, and a padded room.

Another trembling whimper and you wheeze, "They were right... I'm... I'm insane."

"No!" Wally insists, stumbling after you as you force your feet to move and head for the door.

Ms. Monroe calls out, but you ignore her, not bothering to think up an excuse as you leave.

"Leave me alone," You beg the figment of Wally, covering your ears with your hands to block out his voice as he urges you to believe him, that he's real, he's a ghost, he's been here for forty years, babe, please, stop!

You don't stop. You start running. Out the door, into the parking lot, off school grounds. You run until you get home, where you lock yourself in—parents still in Dubai for one of your dad's conferences, the house empty and cold.

Sliding to the ground, back against the door, you tuck your knees to your chest and cry.

Alone. Again. Always.

‗•‗

Wally's heartbroken after you leave. Never had he ever thought you'd become that important to him until you made it abundantly clear you want nothing to do with him. Because you think he's a figment of your imagination. Some trauma response.

He tries twice to convince you he's real, but it doesn't work. You shrink further into yourself, pale and placid, not even challenging the remarks made behind your back like you'd started doing again.

Unfortunately, shit hits the fan and Wally can't make time, plowing through scars, saving Maddie from herself, encouraging her to run back into her body.

All throughout, he longs for you. Wishes he'd been upfront from the beginning. He'd just wanted to be selfish for a while. To keep you. His own little secret, beautiful and bold, his to indulge in and cherish and...love.

Fuck.

Now, he stands in front of a door, a thick, bright light burning on the other side of it as he holds his key. He stares at the door, feels the warmth beckoning him. There's nothing left for him here. He's done his time, languished within the school for too many years.

Wally takes a step forward.

‗•‗

Without Wally's presence to ground you, you start to unravel. Piece by piece, whittled away to nothing but anger and fear. Right now it's predominantly fear, in large extent due to the empty halls and lack of teachers. There's a commotion outside that drew everyone with any authority out there.

It's well past the last bell, and Travis was leaving the locker rooms when you were headed to the theater to grab a notebook you forgot on one of the seats during Drama. Apparently, despite being fucked in the head, you've been a lot more appealing lately.

"You got a great smile when you aren't being a bitch," Travis leers, crowding you against a wall.

He's big. Huge. Built like a brick shithouse even at seventeen. He's got more muscle on him than you could ever hope for, and the strength of the linebacker he is behind him.

"Get away from me," You demand through clenched teeth, hands shoving uselessly at his chest. He doesn't budge an inch.

"Nah, don't think so, freak." He smirks, massive hand around your throat. Not too tight, just enough to hold you there with the promise of pain if you try to struggle.

That's when you start screaming.

‗•‗

Wally's head shoots up, and he drops the football, takes several long strides toward the exit door. The sound gets louder, clearer, as he nears. It's coming from behind the door. And it's familiar. He knows that scream, heard it weeks ago. The night he rescued you from the fallout shelter.

Without a second thought, Wally kicks the exit door open and barrels through, tripping when gravity hits him for the first time in decades. He gulps in a gasp of air, the taste sharp and bleachy, filling his lungs. Chest expanding, bones and blood and flesh heavy in a way he doesn't remember his living body being.

"Help!" You scream again, the tail-end of the word muffled by the hand of who Wally recognizes as one of your antagonizers.

Travis has you on the floor, his knees on either side of your waist as he grapples to control your arms. Wally fights against gravity, skids forward and then, Stop! Stop it! he charges. Tackles Travis' weight off of you and to the ground.

His knuckles burn as he punches Travis' face in, his lungs burn as he sucks in more air than is probably necessary, his body no longer familiar with the function but quickly getting with the program.

Wally falls back when he's sure Travis isn't getting up. Alive. The guy's alive. Just wrecked and bloodied, groaning as he rolls onto his side and clutches his jaw.

"I've wanted to do that for so long," Wally pants, wiping the sweat from his upper lip.

"W-Wally?"

Your voice is so small, so uncertain, and it gets Wally's attention immediately. He's with you in a flash, hands on your face, holy fuck, he can touch you, and you're so warm, so solid, skin so soft, he doesn't know what sensation to focus on first.

"Y-you're real." You murmur, as shocked as Wally is. "You're..." You lift your hand and place it over his, the touch smarting the cuts he opened on Travis' nose.

"I was always real, baby." He says, chest still rising and falling rapidly, God, he can't take his hands off you.

It happens in the blink of an eye. He can't tell who moves first, who initiates, only that it's pure fucking bliss when he feels your lips against his for the first time. Soft and pillowy and yielding. You taste like Sprite and those chewy watermelons you like to snack on during study sessions.

Wally moans into the kiss, can't help himself, pulls you into him as much as he can just to revel in the feeling of your body against his. Your real, living body against his.

A groan behind you and him reminds Wally that Travis is still there, will likely be found soon, and whoever does the finding will have questions Wally can't answer right now. Possibly not ever.

"Come on, baby, we've gotta go," He says, intending to hide you somewhere else in the school so you and he can talk.

You apparently have other ideas, because you drag him behind you all the way to the bus stop. He tries to tell you, tries to get you to stop before—

"I can't leave school property!" He shouts.

You slow, letting go of his hand to walk a few steps backwards, eyebrow lifting as you stare at his feet.

"But...you are off school property."

When Wally looks down, his jaw drops. He scrambles in a half-circle to measure the distance between himself and the curb. Thoughts flood his brain: He has to tell Rhonda, to tell Charley and Yuri and Quinn. He has to find his friends and tell them about his...what? His aliveness? Is he alive?

"Come on," You urge, grabbing him by the hand again and hauling him away from the school. "We can't be here right now."

You're right, he knows that, but, holy shit! He's off school property. He's breathing oxygen. His heart is pumping, his muscles ache from the exertion of beating Travis to a pulp, his tongue feels too big for his mouth, and his eyes sting from lack of blinking.

Whatever Wally is, he's not a ghost anymore.

‗•‗

You take him back to your place. You don't exactly know where else to stash a forty-year-old ghost, which Wally insists he is and is basically proof of that himself. You looked him up after the reunion. When you weren't so overwhelmed, that is.

Number 57, Walter Clark, beloved son and friend. If he is a fake, the likeness is uncanny.

As soon as you and he are through the door, he surges, lifts you into his arms, laughing, unable to believe the changes he's already taken stock of. He twirls you around, holds you like something precious, and gazes at you with sweet, soulful eyes.

"I can touch you," He murmurs, as if that's the most important development. "I can actually feel you. God, baby, I can't stop smiling. And it hurts!" The last part makes you giggle because he says it with so much joy, it tickles the giddiness right out of you.

You sober, soften like butter in his arms as he holds you. "You can...touch me some more, if you want..."

There it is, the bravest thing you've ever done. Hanging in the air between you and Wally as he viscerally registers your offer.

When he finally gets it, his smile turns into a smirk. A cocky thing that makes your belly warm.

"Yeah?" He glances around, sees the couch, then looks back at you.

Wally carries you to the couch like you weigh nothing, easy, muscles bunching and releasing as he sits down and settles you in his lap. His hands roam under your shirt, his hot touch like a brand wherever he holds you, and, slowly, giving you time to reconsider, he leans in and captures your lips in a gentle, sweet kiss.

‗•‗

Wally doesn't have the capacity to process anything outside of this moment, outside of you, right now. He should probably take a minute to figure out what happened to him when he fell through the exit door, should strategize a game plan for his friends to follow, should do a lot of things, but he can't find it in him to stop.

Your weight in his lap is so much more intense now that he can feel it in a real, human body. Your little whimpers and soft mewls as his hands wander under your shirt—fuck, the feeling of your skin beneath his fingers, it's like a dream he never thought would come true.

He undresses you slowly, worshipping every piece of skin revealed with his mouth and hands. Little nips and flicks of tongue, tasting your skin, hearing your sounds, absorbing your warmth as you squirm against him.

"You like how I touch you, baby?" He asks, gazing up at you through his lashes as he gently, so gently, trails his fingertips down your side and to your ass where he grabs. "I wanna make you feel good." He grinds his hips up, cock harder than he's ever felt it, groaning when the friction sends shockwaves of pleasure through him. "You feel that, baby? You feel what you do to me?"

"Wally," You gasp, your head tipping back and eyes closing, savoring the sensation.

You help him out of his jacket, his shirt; grip his chain to draw him into another hot, hungry kiss that leaves him reeling and desperate for more. His fingers dig into your flesh as he bucks against you, can feel the heat of your pussy through his sweatpants and shorts.

Gone in seconds because he can't wait anymore. Has waited enough time to feel anything again, but this, with you, no. God help him, he doesn't have that kind of patience or resolve. He's not strong enough. Not with how you tremble in his arms when he smears two fingers through your folds, dips them in to tease you as he watches the expression of euphoria that twists your features into the most beautiful image he's ever seen.

"You're so wet for me, baby," He purrs, nipping that sensitive spot right below your ear. Fuck, you start to ride his fingers, greedy little thing, the slick squelch of your pussy fucking his index and middle finger echoing in his ears and fogging his brain.

"Wally, please," You beg so pretty, and that's it. Control gone.

He lines himself up and guides you down, Jesus, you take him so perfectly. Stuffed full, tight as a vise, gripping him inside you as he leads you up and down, up and down, getting him as deep as he can be inside you.

"That's it, baby, just like that. So good for me," He pants, feet planted, hips meeting yours, his hands tight on your ass as you move on him. A fucking goddess crafted by heaven just for him. "Fuck," He chokes, "Fuck, yeah," and bites your lower lip, soothes the sting with his tongue before delving it into your mouth.

It feels too quick, but he can't avoid it. It's been so long since anything felt like this. You're not any better, quivering under his hands, thighs spasming when he starts to fuck into you faster, harder, making you bounce on his cock to take what you need.

When you come, he cries out, eyes clenched shut, mouth open, stars exploding. His climax ripped from deep within his core. His cock pulses as he spills inside you, arms fastened around your body to pin you to his chest, kissing you with everything he has.

"God, baby, I love you," Maybe it's too soon to say it (definitely), but who the fuck cares? Give a no-longer-dead-guy a break. He doesn't know how long his earthliness will last. He can't afford to take chances.

And he hiccups an awed breath when you say, "I love you, too, Wally Clark."

You gaze at him in the afterglow, so soft and pliant and perfect he could burst. You and he stay on the couch for a while, basking in each other's presence, in the realness of it. Eventually, taking his hand, you lead him to your room, where he writes poems with his tongue in your pussy, where you spread yourself open and invite him in again and again and again until sunrise.

You give him the weekend.

He knows he has a responsibility to visit Maddie in the hospital and make sure she's where she should be. Must inform Rhonda and Charley and Yuri and Quinn and Janet (can he still see them?!) that he's somehow regained a pulse.

But that can wait until tomorrow.

It's Sunday night, and Wally has every intention of proving to you that you're not alone anymore. That you have him as long as you want to keep him. And that he'll stay, even if you don't.

"Not gonna happen, Wally, you're stuck with me," You tell him in no uncertain terms, snuggled into his chest.

Wally smiles so wide, his cheeks ache for days after.

🐦‍🔥___________fin.____________

also on AO3!

Order Up! MASTERLIST

if you liked this, you may also enjoy Best Friends Club.

smut. you've been Wally's best friend since elementary school. and he's had a thing for you the entire time. it would've stayed a secret if, after a shitty date with someone who wasn't him, things changed.

Nah fr tho

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

Boy Noise

summary: prompt fill. Wally's waited a whole week for you to notice he still exists and he's going crazy. finally, he manages to get your attention and you dote on your sweet boy the way he's been so desperate for you to. (request)

pairing: Wally Clark x masc!reader

warnings: smut. flashfic. sub!Wally Clark. brat. flirting for attention. blow jobs. Wally Clark has undisclosed mommy issues. dead dove.

bon reading, frens

___________________________🖇️

Boy Noise

He doesn't know why he does it.

Lie.

He does it because he's fucking desperate and you're over there watching with a simmering grin and sharp eyes, acting like Wally isn't going out of his fucking. mind. because you haven't touched him in a week.

And yeah, okay, it's no one's fault. You were stuck in practice after practice for soccer and Wally has that Art project he needs to finish, and schedules got too full too fast, but, come on, please. He hasn't been able to touch himself, his hand not good enough when he knows what the real thing feels like, and you're just smiling. Giving him that sedate up-and-down stare, licking your lips like he's a piece of meat you want to devour and, still, you just sit there, sprawled on Simon's couch, taking up more room than your frame should allow and not doing anything.

So, he flirts with Chloe, watching you watch him, hoping to instigate some kind of response. It wouldn't matter if you didn't look so good. Sleeves rolled up to accentuate your forearms, shirt tucked in, slim waist to round hips on display. A deity in painted-on black jeans and Wally's gold chain.

He hates you.

No he doesn't.

He wants you.

Now. Yesterday. Tomorrow. A week ago. Jesus, please. Do something!

Fuck, he's aching for it. Can feel his cock harden for every feline look you pin him with.

It's Maddie's birthday, he knows that's why you haven't made a move yet. You want to be present—told Wally to be present, to enjoy the celebration and it'll be worth it, sweet boy, I promise. But he's about a hair's breadth away from total atomic failure and can't get the memory of your hands on his body out of his mind for more than a second.

He tried so hard to be good. He really, really did. Sat on his hands and pretended everything was hunky dory until you showed up dressed like that, sauntered in like you owned the room, and gave him such a hot stare, Wally's blood is still on fire. And now most of it is in his cock as he sees you dancing to that song you blast in Wally's car, body moving like water; hips swaying, ass perfect.

Wally doesn't hate you, but you must hate him. He abandons Chloe without so much as a nice to see you, slinks into your space—where he belongs—and glides his hands down from your waist to your hips. You're not the only one dancing; everyone else (especially from Claire's adopted squad goals) is making a dancefloor out of the living room, the lights dim and the atmosphere high.

No one else is making this song their bitch, though. No one else is torturing Wally with their ass against his crotch and their nails grazing his neck. No one else is making him fucking wait for something he needs more than air, water, life itself. Please, please, do something!

Finally, you take pity on him, his hand in yours as you lead him to a bedroom upstairs and farthest away from the party. A guest room, Wally hopes, but a quick scan tells him it's Simon's room. You place your drink on Simon's desk and shove Wally down so he's sitting on the bed. Kick his legs apart and step between them, a sultry grin on your face.

Wally whimpers, his heart beating triple-time, head spinning already, yes. He leans back and props himself on his elbows, just watching you, licking his lips in anticipation. His eyes fall to half-mast as you bend over him, hands on either side of his hips, lips so close he can taste the Vanilla Coke on your breath. Your eyes bore into his, heavy and dark and full of promise, and you trail your fingers so lightly from his chest to the front of his tented jeans.

"Is this where you need me to touch you, baby?" You purr, holding his gaze. He nods, a little choked sound escaping as he rocks his hips up in a bid for friction you refuse to give him. "Think you can be quiet?"

Uhm, "Yeah," sure, Wally can try. But you can't blame him if he can't. It's been a week since he's been inside you. A week since he's felt your body on his, skin to skin, slick with sweat and spit and come.

"You want to taste me, baby? Or do you want me to take care of you first?"

Oh, such a tempting offer, and Wally suddenly doesn't know what he wants more. Needs more. He loves it when you fuck his face. Loves how you force him to give you what you need, using him until you scream in ecstasy. On the other hand, his dick's so hard he's sure one more soft touch will undo him, and he'd rather come in your mouth than in his jeans.

He swallows, pleading, "Can you suck me off?" Your grin turns sharp, and he adds, "I'll do whatever you want after, I promise, just please, I need it so bad. I need you to help me, please." He's babbling, begging, hand on your jaw and then sliding over your chest to your back then your ass. "I'm so hard, I can't think, p l e a s e." Wally hitches his hips up to emphasize the point.

"Whatever my boy wants," You soothe, making quick work of his fly and pulling his jeans and boxers down to his ankles as you sink to your knees.

He barely has a chance to react, mewling like a fucking slut when you get your mouth on him. He falls back, arm over his eyes, opposite hand on the back of your head, forcing his hips to stay still as you work him into your throat.

"Oh god, oh fuck, yes, ungh, thank you, thank you—" And you tap his hip, a signal that he can move as much as he needs to which he takes for the permission it is. He humps your face, fucks into your mouth in little motions, panting and whining and showering you with gratitude. You're so good to him, taking care of him like this, he has to tell you, "thank you!"

He comes with a spasm and a high, needy whine, back arching off the bed and his eyes rolling back. Fuck. Stars collide and angels sing and it feels like the first time he's ever experienced true pleasure although you and he have done this and so much more. He's just blissed the fuck out, melting into the mattress, blind eyes on the ceiling as he comes down.

Not that he can revel in the afterglow. He hears you peel out of your sin-tight jeans, feels and sees your underwear land on his face. Wally chuckles, delighted, and reaches for you, eager to show you exactly how grateful he is for you. He uses lips and tongue and careful brushstrokes of teeth to make you see God, and then asks in a breathy voice if he can do it again, "Just one more?" as if he's asking for another piece of Maddie's birthday cake.

And, Jesus, thank you, you oblige with a wicked smirk, eyes heavy, smoldering, yet razor-edged. This time he rolls you over and fits his shoulders between your thighs, uses his fingers in time with his mouth, moaning wantonly as he tastes you again. He loves this more than you'll ever know. But you stop him when he wraps a hand around himself, tries to use spit for lube, and insist, "Not so fast, baby," your chest rising and falling rapidly.

Wally whimpers, pouts, and then brightens when you flip him onto his back, sweetness hovering over his lips as you fold over him and take his cock in your mouth again.

An hour later, he's curled around you, his head on your chest, dozing and unaware. He thinks he hears Simon shriek and both feels and hears your cackle, but he could be dreaming. Shit, he hopes he's dreaming.

Whatever. Wally's too sated and happy to care. He knows you'll make everything better before Simon can banish Wally from all future gatherings or activities or the friend group altogether.

Because that's what you do. You make Wally's whole world better.

🖇️___________fin.____________

also on AO3!

Order Up! MASTERLIST

if you enjoyed this, you may also enjoy Alphabet Soup.

the journey of a clandestine love affair at several stages because Wally Clark craves what he can't have and refuses to keep his hands to himself. and you live for it. (Janet and Wally are dating to increase their social value. meanwhile, Wally wants to get closer to her step-sister. you.)

I am LOSING MY MIND this plot is so amazing I hope the writer continues the series forever 😭

Masterlist

October Sun

Wally Clark x fem!reader

you had a secret. one that you'd been sworn to keep since your first conscious thought. you hadn't planned on making your abilities known, but when devilishly handsome Wally Clark—died October 1983—accidentally reveals that your classmate and friend is among the community of ghosts haunting your high school, you throw caution to the wind. suddenly, you find yourself completely immersed in the mystery of Maddie's death while also at the mercy of a wayward lust connection between yourself and Wally, desperate to keep your head above water as your relationship to the spiritual world is tested.

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

below is the complete list of chapters of October Sun. you can also find all related content HERE as well as reformatted chapters on AO3.

~ 🧡👻

PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3 | PART 4 | PART 5

PART 6 | PART 7 | PART 8 | PART 9 | PART 10

PART 11 | PART 12 | PART 13 | PART 14 | PART 15

PART 16 | PART 17 | PART 18 | PART 19 | PART 20

PART 21 | PART 22 | PART 23 | PART 24 | PART 25

PART 26 | PART 27: SEASON FINALE

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Masterlist

October Moon

Wally Clark x fem!reader

following the events of October Sun, Xavier isn't speaking to you, Simon can see ghosts (all of them), Rhonda's suddenly open to Mr. Martin's guidance, and you and Wally don't know how to make heads or tails of any of it. The Something-Something of Dagda is still out there, you believe, and you're no closer to uncovering who the bad guy really is and where they stashed Maddie's body. if that's even what happened to it since now you know, terrifyingly, that bodies can be stolen and there's a woman still out there who knows how to do it.

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

below is the complete list of chapters of October Moon. you can also find all related content HERE as well as reformatted chapters on AO3.

~ 💜👻

PROLOGUE | PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3

PART 4 | PART 5 | PART 6 | PART 7 | PART 8

PART 9 | PART 10 | PART 11 | PART 12: SEASON FINALE

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Masterlist

October Betweens

Wally Clark x fem!reader | Ajay Khatwani x Mina Volkov | Wally Clark x Dawn Miller | Simon Elroy x Maddie Nears

a collection of scenes that were referenced within October Sun and October Moon, but ended up on the cutting room floor.

warnings: smut lite. (tags to be added as chapters are uploaded)

below is the complete list of chapters of October Betweens. you can also find all related content HERE as well as reformatted chapters on AO3.

~ 🧡👻

It's Just Biology, Wally | October Sun Canon Images |

work is getting in the way of my wally time 🙄