Wally Clark X Reader - Blog Posts

You Belong with Me 💙🏈📖

Part 5

Wally Clark x fem reader Y/N

Summary:

You and Wally experience your first group with the other ghosts and get some answers to some questions you have until you are interrupted by people setting up for the homecoming dance.

“Ah you found us. Welcome to the Split River High afterlife support group. Have a seat and let’s get started.” Mr Martin said eagerly. You and Wally sit in the middle of the circle, Rhonda on one side, Janet the next side. “Ok so who would like to start- “Yeah I do” Wally says interrupting Mr Martin. “So, we are all dead, but we can still do things that we used to be able to do but people can’t see or hear us, and we can’t leave this place?” 

“Yes. We don’t exactly know why we are stuck here let’s just call it the “in between” but we are. I have been here for 25 years and still haven’t worked it out I’m afraid.” Mr Martin explains as you and Wally sit and stare blankly at him neither of you not knowing how to respond to that. You are about to ask another question when Janet chimes in “I’ve been here for 23 years, I fell down a flight of stairs and broke my neck. Mr Martin was already here.” Stunned is all you can think about. These people or should I say ghosts have been trapped in this school for 25 years not knowing why you can’t leave is crazy. “How did you die?” Rhonda asks looking directly at you. Before you can say anything another ghosts’ chimes in. “are you guys dating? You have the same jacket on and died the same day makes sense if you were together when you died.” The ghost next to Janet not revealing his name but you could tell he died during the drug phase of the 70s just by looking at him.

“Actually, Wally and I are best friends. Our moms are also best friends, and we were born five days apart. Wally gave me his old varsity jacket when the team upgraded in sophomore year, and I wear it to all of his games.” You say trying not to share too much about you and Wally’s friendship. “As for how we died, Wally got tackled really badly by the other team and his neck snapped and I got hit by a car that was speeding in the parking lot.” You share with the group. “Wait that’s how it happened? It happened so fast I didn’t even feel it. That must have been scary to watch.” Wally says to you softly trying not to show his emotions to the group. Just as you were about to respond you are interrupted again but this time not from another ghost it was a bunch of people entering the gym getting decorations hung and placed around. “What is happening?” you ask turning around and seeing more people file into the gym. “It was your homecoming yesterday, right? Well today is the dance.” Janet answers. “No fucking way they are still having the dance after we died. Did we mean nothing to people at this school?” Wally yells before walking off and starts yelling at everyone in the gym. “I’ll talk to him and try to get him to come- ““No need Y/N group will finish early; they might not be able to see us, but they will get in our way.” Mr Martin says as he interrupts you. 

Wally is pissed. He’s still trying to get someone, anyone’s attention but nothing. “Wally, hey its ok let’s go talk somewhere.” You say ever so gently trying not to anger him anymore. Without saying another word, you see tears stream down his face as you embrace in a hug. You and Wally walk down the halls away from the others to talk. “It might have been too late to cancel the dance, Wally. It cost a lot of money for the school, and it could have been just easier to continue on.” You say to Wally as he has finally calmed down. “Yeah, I guess so. Man, I’ve been such an emotion wreak lately, haven’t I? Talk about embarrassing.” Wally admits looking away. “Hey, look at me Wally.” You say touching his chin to lift his gaze from of the floor and on to you. “Don’t be sorry. We are going through a lot right now it’s understandable you will be emotional. I am too but we are not in this alone. We have the others who will help us. To answer the questions, we have. You aren’t alone Wally. You will never be.” You say as you embrace in a tight hug. As you do you feel the butterflies again in your stomach that are only there when he embraces you. This crush is going to get more complicated now, but you still can’t tell him yet. You don’t want to risk your friendship and he needs a friend now more than a new relationship. Besides you wonder, he might not love me back in that way. “You really know what to say when I’m like this don’t you Y/N I love you. What did I deserve to have a best friend like you?” He responds after you release from your hug. “I love you too Wally. I’m lucky to call you my best friend. Now come on let’s go find one of the other ghosts and we can ask as many questions you have.” You say as you take Wally’s hand and walk down the hall into the teachers’ lounge since that’s where you figured they like to hang out.

Part 4 Part 6

You Belong with Me 💙🏈📖

Part 4.

Wally Clark x fem reader Y/N

Summary:

Its your first full day in the spirit world or as Mr Martin calls it, the “in between” and Wally isn’t coping with your new life. And you attend your first Split River High afterlife support group wanting answers to the endless questions you have. 

The sun beamed through the library waking you up even though you didn’t sleep much as the events of yesterday replayed in your mind over and over again. You sit up and notice Wally wasn’t in the library. Concern washes over you not knowing where he went. You get up and do a quick scan of the library making sure he really wasn’t in the library. You exit and you can hear voices. Other ghosts.? You noticed walking passed the art room was a guy sitting at the pottery wheel never looking up once. “He’s a looper. Stuck in the same routine you did the day he died.” Rhonda said behind you causing you to jump. “Could you not do that? You scared me half to death.” You puff holding on to your chest. “You are already dead. Do I have to explain myself to you again? I thought you were the smart one.” Rhonda sasses back as she once again has a lollipop with her. “What’s a looper? Wait never mind have you seen Wally?” you say. “The meathead jock that died the same time as you? Yeah, I saw him on the field. He clearly not understanding he can’t leave this place.” Rhonda responds. Before you can say anything, she left. Clearly, she’s going to be a handful. 

Heading towards the field once more you see Wally scream as he’s clearly frustrated you see him run to leave and then just before your eyes crash right back on the field where he died. You walk over to him calmy and he lays on the ground still full of anger. You lay down next to him to try to calm him down. “Wally, I know this sucks but it’s going to be ok.” You say softly. He doesn’t respond just yells and then cries. Something you’ve only seen a handful of times. He was the type of guy not to share his emotions. “Shush its ok I’ve got you.” You say as you roll over to give him a hug. You and him just lay there not saying a word as emotions build up. You are patient and wait for him to be ready to talk about it. “I can’t believe this Y/N.” he finally speaks after laying there sobbing in your arms. “I know. We can get through this it will be ok.” You say back not actually believing in your own words. You have been this close to Wally before but this time it feels different. Butterflies swirl around on your stomach as you hold him. “Whatever this is Wally, we can figure it out together like we always do.” “Yeah, I guess you’re right. Thanks for always calming me down and always saying the right things, you are a great friend.” Wally says softly. There’s that word friend again I know that’s what you and him where, but you can’t help but feel a pang in your heart. Maybe he truly only sees you as a friend and nothing more. You and Wally remain on the grass of the field still holding each other not wanting to let go anytime soon. Well, that was true until you feel rain droplets fall on your soft skin. You both get up and make a run for it. You look at wally and he think it too. If you are well and truly dead, how can we feel things like rain? still hold objects like we did before? How are we hungry and tired too? None of it makes sense. But you know who the answers might have you are looking for. Mr Martin. You and Wally don’t say anything as you walk back to school. Both of you confused and wanting no needing answers. “The only one that can give us answers is that Mr Martin guy. He said something last night about group. Maybe we go there and try to figure out what the hell is going on.” You say as you notice that you and Wally are suddenly dry. You and Wally continue to walk around not seeing anyone you decide to go to the gym since you can’t think of anywhere else there would be a ghost meeting. And as soon as Wally opens the doors to the gym in the corner you see Mr Martin, Janet, Rhonda, and a bunch of other ghosts you haven’t seen before all sitting in a cir

Part 3 Part 5

You Belong with Me 💙🏈📖Masterlist

Below you will find the links to each part of the story that I have published so far 💙🏈📖

Shoutout to @whoopsyeahokay for telling me how to create a Masterlist with all the links ☺️

I wrote this in part 1 but I wanted to include it here as well. This story is Wally Clark x fem reader Y/N. It contains swearing and eventual smut which I will write at the top of the chapter so you are aware.

Story Summary: You and Wally, best friends since birth, you decide to confess your love at the 1983's homecoming game. After a tragic accident, you remain with Wally and other ghosts for eternity. 40 years later, you decide it’s time to finally admit your feelings until someone else asks him out.

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 Part 28 Part 29 Part 30: The Finale

You Belong with me 💙🏈📖

Wally clark x fem reader slow burn story

Summary:

After you witness Wally’s death you are confused, overwhelmed, and lost. And then tragedy strikes again. Then everything in your life as well as Wally’s changes and you met some new faces…

Part 3:

As you leave the field everything around you is a blur still in shock. Your mind is going a million miles a minute trying to come to terms of what just happened. You just want to go home and rot away listening to yours and Wally’s favourite song on your Walkman.

“Sweetie, could you go start the car? I need to head to the bathroom before we go home.” Mom says ever so softly knowing how fragile you are. Without saying anything you nod and grab mom’s keys, put on your Walkman and walk to the car park. You begin walking to the car music blaring through your headphones as you look down to adjust your Walkman in your pocket. Unbeknownst to you a car is speeding in the car park. A senior showing of his new car speeds in the parking lot and then BANG instantly collecting you. You get fling over the car and land directly on your head.

You slowly open your eyes and things are all a blur. All you see is the dark night sky and red and blue lights. You slowly get up; you see a big crowd in the parking lot all huddled in the middle and looking down at the ground almost as if they were looking for something.

“Y/N? Y/N” you hear your name being called in the distance. For a moment you thought it was Wally. You get up and walk over to the crowd of people and you try to make your way through. You squeeze past people, but they pretend you’re not even there. You make your way to the centre and see your mom screaming and crying and she’s holding something. You look closer and realise it you. Confusion instantly washes over you. How are you on the floor there when you were standing right here. “Mom, Mom I’m right here can’t you see me?” you say frantically. All the sudden the voice you heard before is right behind you. It was Wally. “Wally, what the fuck I just saw you die, how are you here?” “I don’t know. All I know is that I was playing the game then I woke up and I saw you and everyone over me in a circle. Then I saw 3 other people that I have never seen before talk to me and said I was dead.” Wally said still confused and worried. “Wait if your dead and my body’s over there and I’m here does that make me- “

“A ghost like me. Yeah.” Wally said as he cut you off. The world around you becomes a haze as you revel with the news that you are dead. That you now are a ghost and so is Wally and a bunch of other ghosts? “Huh what? I was just there listening to our song how could I be dead?” Another man with two girls walk to you and he extends his arms. “I know you two must have a lot of questions, come with us and we will talk about it.” The man in the suit that looked something your Uncle Henry would wear. “I know you guys must be scared; I was too when I first found out I died. Trust me it gets better.” The girl with red hair said as the other girl next to her with the paper boy hat didn’t say a word as she directs you and Wally back into the school.

You and Wally and the others walk into school as the man introduces himself. “Hello, Mr Martin. I like to formally welcome you both to your new life or should I say afterlife” Both stunned to what Mr Martin just said. “Hi, I’m Janet and this is Rhonda.” The girl with the red hair says as she holds her hand out to shake which both you and Wally do. “I suppose we don’t need to give you a tour since you went to this school” Mr Martin laughs clearly trying to break the silence. Neither you nor Wally laugh.

“Um yeah hi, nice to meet you all but what are we doing here? If we are dead, aren’t we I, don’t I know supposed to be you know in heaven?” You snap back at Mr Martin as Wally just stands there quietly. “That’s the thing with this school we have no idea why we are trapped here, we just are. If you try to leave the school grounds you get, put back to where you died.” Mr Martin explained ignoring your snappiness. “No, that ridiculous what do you mean we are stuck here?” Wally expressed as he pushes his hair back with one hand and the other on his hip. “It means quarterback if you try to leave school some force, we don’t know about pushes you back to the place you died” Rhonda snarled already bored of the conversation. She walks off down the hall towards the teachers’ lounge. “Ignore her, she gets a bit cranky when she has to explain what has happened to us to new people.” Janet says as she turns to you. “Wait others? There’s more ghosts?” you express. “Yeah, I know it’s a lot, but you will be ok.” Janet says as she starts to walk down the all the same direction Rhonda went.

You and Wally are confused as you look at each other in shock. This is really happening, you and he are dead, there are other ghosts that haunt your school, and you can’t leave the school grounds because some force will send you back to the spot you died. “Well, I’ll let you get settled, its already late and I have to prepare for our group session tomorrow” Mr Martin says and walks away before either of you could respond.

“This is bullshit, they can’t tell us what to do. I’m leaving this place. Are you with me?” Wally raises is voice with furry. “Wally, I think they were telling the truth that we can’t leave.” You respond calmly not wanting to start a fight between you too. “We need to figure that out ourselves. I don’t trust them, not just yet. Please Y/N, come with me.” He looks at you eager for you to respond. You not knowing what to do you agree with him. He’s right who’s to say they are telling the truth about all of this. You had to make sure of it yourselves. “Ok Wally, I’m with you. But maybe you should change into something else besides your football uniform” “I think I have some sweats and my varsity jacket in the boy’s locker room.” Wally says and you and he start walking in the direction of the boys’ lockers. You wait outside and wait for him to change. Once he’s finished you both decide to head to the main entrance of the school and try to leave whatever nightmare you both woke up in., he takes your hand as you reach the end of the school property. You both at the same time walk across and… bam you are by yourself starting up at the sky in the school parking lot. Great just great you thought they were telling the truth that means Wally is on the football field you get up and run towards the field and you see Wally was already running towards you. “Well, I guess they were right, we can’t leave. This is so fucked” Wally expressed as you finally met. “It’s ok Wally, I’m scared too but I think we have to learn to trust those guys. By the way they are dressed they look like they have been here for a while.” You respond back and worry washes over you still in shock and in disbelief that this is happening. “Ok your right. Let’s go back inside and find somewhere to rest because I sure as hell I’ve got a lot of questions for them.” Wally says in a calmer tone then before.

You both head back inside and then Wally remembers something. “Hey Y/N, you said before the homecoming game you wanted to tell me something, what was it?” “Oh, umm it doesn’t matter I was just going to ask if you wanted to go to the diner after the game for some ice-cream before we went back to your place.” You respond back. That was the quickest you’ve ever come up with a lie before because now is not the right time to tell him your feelings when you both are so vulnerable right now. He nods not saying anything as you continue to walk around the school trying to find somewhere to rest… wait do we even need to rest if we are dead? You keep that thought to yourself as you and wally head to the library remembering there’s couches there.

Part 2 Part 4

You Belong with me 💙🏈📖

Wally clark x fem reader slow burn story

Summary:

It was finally the big homecoming game, and you were about to tell your best friend that you are in love that is until tragedy strikes leaving you heartbroken

Part 2:

It was finally Saturday which means tonight’s the homecoming game and the day you tell wally you are in love with him. The day went by like a blur and you were getting ready for the big game but not before a phone call from Wally.

“Hey, Y/N you ready for the best homecoming game of your life!” Wally expressed basically screaming through the phone. “Geez Wally that was loud, and yeah it’s going to be a great game” you said shyly hoping Wally wouldn’t notice that your voice is begging to shake. “Sorry Darling, I just hope I will do my mom proud” he expressed as his tone changed. “Of course, she will be Wally. After the game I want to talk to you I have something kind of important I want to talk about” You replied. “Yeah, sure thing, meet in your spot?” Wally said a little curious to what you want to talk about. “Sure, Wally, I’ll see you there.” You responded as you hang up to phone stomach full of butterflies so nervous but knew you were ready to admit your feelings to him. You get dressed in black jeans, a blue sweater and one of Wally’s old lettermen jackets he gave to you and went downstairs to meet your mom and Sister to leave for the game.

You arrive at school and head to the football field and get your seats. You see Wally on the filed stretching, and you lock eyes. You feel the butterflies in your stomach ease as soon as you see him. You held up a thumbs up and mouth ‘You got this” and just like that the game starts. Yelling and screams surround you normally making you uncomfortable but you didn’t care you were there for Wally and that’s all that matters.

The first half of the game went quickly and its already half time the Devils are winning, and you can’t help but feel this overwhelming sense of happiness as you see Wally score a touchdown. The crowd is full loud and screaming with joy of such a great game, and you can’t help but to also join in too -something you never do but this time felt different-. As the cheerleaders finish their cheers the players head back on to the field.

“Clark has the ball and he’s running fast looks like he’s wanting to get his first touchdown of the game. He’s almost there and BAM down goes Clark, that tackle looked bad” The game announcer yells over the PA system as the crowd goes quiet. You start to immediately feel dread wash over you and you feel numb. “This isn’t looking good for Clark he’s not moving” The announcer continues but all you feel is worry as his team and coach surround him and you see the coach hold up the time out signal. More worry washes over you. You jump out of your seat and bolt onto the field not caring if you will get yelled at. You run like you’ve never run before until you reach him lying on the ground lifeless. “We need a medic stat” Coach yelled as the team all gasp and are in shock. You get on the ground, hands on his chest wanting to feel he’s breath. Nothing. “Wally, Wally can you hear me? I need you to wake up please wake up” You cry as tears stream down your face struggling to breath. You feel the medic lift you up to check on him. The medic looks him over and says “I’m sorry but he’s gone. His neck is snapped it would have been instant” Numb all you feel is numb as you watch Wally, your best friend maybe even the love of your life on the floor dead. You fall next to him again and scream out in pain. Sobbing and barely even breathing properly “I… I was going to tell him. Why did this have to happen why” You can’t keep it together his team and more people crowd around you. You feel your mom hug you from behind. “Oh, my sweetheart I’m so sorry.” You turn and give her a full hug and you look around wondering where his mom is. “Where is Wally’s mom?” you say confused as you thought she would be with you crying over him. “She’s over there talking to the medics and waiting for the cornier to come.” Mom replies softly. You look over and you see his mom in tears as she talks to the medics. Mom though hesitant tries to get you off the field “No mom, I don’t want to leave him please, let me stay with him until the cornier gets here.” You tremble as you take his hand still warm. Without saying anther word your mom gets up and leaves you there with him. You don’t even notice that the team is gone already. The game is over, and everyone is already making their way home. Still in shock over what happen in your head you tell yourself. “I can’t believe I never told you how I felt, I should have a lot sooner. The pain of losing you is consuming me. I don’t know how I will carry on my life without you by my side. I love you, Wally Clark.” More tears stream down your face and don’t even notice the cornier has arrived to take Wally. “Goodbye Wally” you say as you choke on your words never thought would have to those words ever. You walk to your mom still crying and numb.

Part 1 Part 3

You Belong With Me 💙🏈📖

It's here! My first ever fan fiction story is live! Part 1 is below and I really hope you enjoy it. Im also still learning stuff so bear with me as I figure it out :) Wally Clark x fem reader Y/N

NSFW: eventually there will be smut but i will share which part has it in advance. This is a slow burn story between Wally and Y/N like really slow but trust me it’s worth it 😉

Story Summary:

You and Wally, best friends since birth, you decide to confess your love at the 1983's homecoming game. After a tragic accident, you remain with Wally and other ghosts for eternity. 40 years later, you decide it’s time to finally admit your feelings until someone else asks him out.

Part 1 Summary:

You and Wally have been best friends since birth thanks to your moms also being best friends. You and Wally are experiencing senor year together talking about your future at collage and talking about the big upcoming homecoming game. After keeping a secret from him since Junior year, you decide to tell him after the game.

Part 1:

You and Wally have been best friends since birth. His mom and my mom are best friends, and we are even born 5 days apart. Wally had always been there for you even though he was sometimes annoying, but you wouldn’t have it any other way.

Fast forward a couple of years and we are in our senior year of High school and absolutely dreading collage. Not that you weren’t a good student or anything you were always top of the class. You knew what you wanted to do and that was to become the next best-selling Author. You had a passion for literature and been dreaming of becoming the next Angela Carter. You just dread change always have and always will. Wally on the other hand already had a scholarship for football his mom is so proud, but you could tell deep down that he was holding something back. Something he hasn’t even admitted to himself.

You were sitting on the bleachers reading your book and watching Wally and the football team practice for the big homecoming game on Saturday.

“Y/N did you see what I just did? That was gnarly!” Wally yelled as he came running over to you, all sweaty and gorgeous. Unbeknownst to Wally you have had feelings for him since Junior year of school, but you were too scared to tell him. “No Wally, sorry I was reading, but I’m sure it was good” you said as butterflies exploded in your stomach. You have no idea how you’ve kept yourself together around him for so long.

Wally sat in front of you in the bleachers to have a drink from your water bottle because you always carry one knowing he always forgets his. “Good? Y/N that was the best play the coach as seen! You have to take a break from reading and watch me, please?” He gave you that look, the same look that he’s always used to get you to do whatever he wants. “Ok fine. I can’t stay much longer it’s getting late; you know how my parents get when I’m late for dinner” you say putting your book in your bag. “CLARK! Get your butt back on the field” The football coach yelled at Wally landing all eyes on you. “I’ll see you later, ok” Wally said as he got back onto the field.

You sit back and begin reading again until you are distracted once again. “He’s never going to love you Y/N. The quarterback and a nerd that’s tragic. He will eventually drop you and want to hang out with me instead” Amy snares as her and her bitchy friends laugh clearly trying to hurt your feelings. “You know what Amy; I don’t need him to love me like that I know he does.” You reply back confidently. “Besides Wally doesn’t like girls with a big ego like yours.” As you get up to walk away you can hear Amy and her friends gasp at you and you can’t help but to let out a little giggle.

As you leave the bleachers you can see Wally at a distance and hold up your hand into a phone near your ear singling you will call him later. You see him nod and walk to your car. As soon as you get home you are interrupted by your little sister, Mary. “Did you finally tell Wally you are in love with him already? You guys will be like the ultimate power couple of all of Split River High!” You sigh “Mary geez can you talk quieter? I don’t want Mom and Dad to hear” You sling your bag on the bottom step of the staircase. “Oh sweetheart, we already know how you feel for him.” Your mom chimed in from the kitchen. “I the only one who doesn’t know is Wally himself” She added. Lovely just lovely, somehow everyone knows about my crush. “Wait. How do you know? Did you say something Mary?” You said annoyed at your sister. “Sweetie, it’s so obvious how you feel. Its cute. Two best friends since birth developing feelings and falling in love. Now that’s a romance story I would read!” Mom said giggling with Mary. “Ok cool I’m going to wash up and we won’t talk about this more” you slurred leaving the kitchen to head up to your room.

You thought as you entered your room. Maybe it was time to admit your feelings to Wally. He could feel the same was as you did. Or worse he doesn’t, and you ruin your only friendship you’ve ever had. The thing about yourself you liked to keep to yourself. Got all your schoolwork done and wouldn’t dare be seen at a party unless it was one that Wally through. You and him are the complete opposite in the social scene but you somehow worked not because you were desisted to be friends by our parents by because you and him got on so well. Screw it, I’m telling him after the homecoming game. You thought to yourself as you walked back downstairs for dinner.

Part 2

Head over heels lovesick puppy Wally is my fave oh my gosh 🤭🤭

Wally with a crush is the most adorable he can get. all goofy and giddy and totally, completely, utterly involved.

he can't think about anything else, obsessive with it, and does everything in his power to make the object of his affection feel special. like, he plans things and always shows up and is an absolute Acts of Service puppy who will offer to do anything and everything under the sun if you ask him to.

he gets all silly and cuddly and his eyes go all soft when he looks at you and it's precious, especially because he can't. hide. it. no matter how much he tries when he catches himself (which isn't often, because the boy is oblivious to anything that's not you-shaped when you're around).

and he takes all the teasing from his friends in stride, wears his love like a badge of honor, but is deeply mortified if you find out he has a crush on you before he musters the nerve to tell you himself... that's when he stammers excuses until you kiss him stupid 😭

after that...well...👀

Wally Clark Headcanons 3

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, you're 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 you're 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 questioned 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. Impossible to get every last ant. 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 get 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; had what amounted 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.

Who cares. 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 get there.

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 into 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 when I last 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 you 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 left 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 who died on the field. 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. Smiling more.

"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 and 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 the door. It's coming from behind it. 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 who Wally recognizes as one of your antagonizers' hands.

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 moved first, who initiated, 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 Coke 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 bask 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 stop, 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 dragging 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.

Wally'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, soaking in 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 you 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. Such a good girl 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, bouncing 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!

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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.

Sex, Drugs, Etc.

Pt.9

Warnings: Talk of drugs/Drug use. Possible smut in the future. A lot of plot. EXTREME Canon divergence. Before Maddies time. Set in 2022. Looping. Use of the Word 'Narcissistic' Hearing Voices. Giving up on Recovery. This is NOT meant to romanticize addiction or mental illness.

1.2k words

Pt.8

-

Winter break had hit. The school was quiet, empty, the only ones roaming the halls being the deceased and an occasional teacher or janitor. The void of students always got to Wally but the sight in front of him bothered him more.

You were laid out on the grass staring at the midnight sky in the same spot he had left you in 3 days ago. He, Charley, Rhonda, and Mr.Martin had all tried to talk to you but it was like you weren't really there. Equivalent to talking to the living.

Wally sighed as he laid down on the grass beside you. There were few stars in the sky, barely anything for you to be looking up at. The silence was deafening, nothing but the sound of the wind flowing through the trees and the occasional car passing in the distance.

None of them had ever witnessed a loop like this. Being coherent for days and then falling into a pit of nothingness. The band kids began their never ending routine only 10 minutes after they died and according to Rhonda no one knew when Yuri got trapped in his endless cycle of sitting at the pottery wheel, making the same pot day after day.

The guilt sat heavy on his chest. Mr.Martin told him over and over again that it wasn't his fault but the way you looked at him that day kept playing on repeat in his mind. The anger, the level of anger was sickening but there was something else there. Desperation, hurt, pleading, and he just walked away. You needed help and he just walked away.

He peeled his eyes away from the night sky to look at you, though he knew you wouldn't look back. "The school just got a shipment of new Frankenstein books. I saw you in the library a few times when you were alive. Thought you might want to know." His voice was gentle, almost like he was scared that if he spoke too loud it would pull him into your loop. Rhonda had told him to be careful, 'you wouldn't wake a sleepwalker, they might mistake you as part of their nightmare.' She was adamant about just leaving you alone but it didn't feel right. The thought of leaving you out in the cold again made him feel like an asshole even though he didn't really have a choice. 

"Remember the Titans was a good choice. Even though Charley's tired of it, I love it." He knew he was basically talking to himself but the slight hope that you could hear him, that his voice was aiding you through whatever nightmare you could be trapped in made it feel less awkward. "We had winter formals on Friday. I don't know if you like dances but it was really fun." Silence, absolute silence. He didn't know why he kept expecting you to just wake up, to say something or just move, even a little bit. It felt pointless. 

Wally turned to his side and propped his head up on his arm so he could get a better look at you. "What's going on in that head of yours pretty girl?" Pretty girl, even before you found yourself in absolute hell he used it for you. The nickname rolled off his tongue from all the times he called you it when you couldn't hear him. Kinda like now except this time he knew you might get to hear it. Soft and gentle against your ears. 

He laid there, admiring your features. There was a blank look on your face, but there was something behind the far away look in your eyes. The same pain he saw that day. "I don't know what's going on but we miss you. Even Rhonda, she won't admit it but no one else argues with her like you do." And there it was, the sign he had been looking for. Your eyes glossed over, water filling them but not spilling. You could hear him. 

He laid there, admiring your features. There was a blank look on your face, but there was something behind the far away look in your eyes. The same pain he saw that day. "I don't know what's going on but we miss you. Even Rhonda, she won't admit it but no one else argues with her like you do." And there it was, the sign he had been looking for. Your eyes glossed over, water filling them but not spilling. You could hear him.

Wally shot up, now sitting but never took his eyes off you. He didn't know what to do or say, just looked at you dumbfounded. "Um- uh" His attempt at words came out choked. "Hey?" He didn't know why it came out as a question, though he didn't know much of anything when it came down to this situation. 

You laid there, debating your next move. You knew what you were doing was wrong but you didn't have the strength to move, to say, or do anything. You had watched, listened, to everyone try to communicate with you, thinking you were trapped but in reality you just gave up. The thought of continuing on in that stupid loop of activities, pretending that every thing was fucking normal, made you want to die again.

You heard him say your name, softly, filled with worry and a little bit of hope. There was nothing you could do, if they knew that you actively chose to sit on the field for 4 days in the freezing cold just because you didn't want to be around them they'd hate you. So you stayed silent, but you knew this wasn't over, Wally knows you can hear him, he's not gonna give up until you crack underneath the weight of the guilt. 

You'd already accepted your fate, eternity in this spot, never moving, never speaking, just thinking. It's all you ever did anyways, so why not just cut out the middle man? You knew eventually something would happen and you'd have to get up, go back to that supply closet, but for now you're enjoying being alone most of the time. More importantly you're enjoying your time with Wally. It sound's fucked up, letting him think you're trapped just so you don't have to do the talking but sometimes being cared for out weighs the feeling of knowing how narcissistic what you're doing is.

In your peripheral you could see him sliding off his letterman jacket, exposing his arms to the freezing cold before you felt, and watched, him lay it on top of you. You tensed for a second, not long enough for him to notice. There's that beautiful fucking feeling, this whole situations fucked, you're fucked. He gave you his jacket and you're sitting here lying to him. Sometimes you try to trick your mind into believing you're a good person but nothing could fix this. 

Without a word he laid back down beside you, looking up at the sky. You couldn’t stop the pit from forming in your stomach. You felt sick, your own actions disgusting you. This is what you chose. At the time it sounded like solitude, a way to punish yourself because your mind told you thats what you deserved but now it just feels wrong. You’re not just hurting yourself, you’re hurting Wally. For some odd reason he cares about you and you’re hurting him. You forced yourself to lay still, to not burst into tears and apologize, it was too late, the only option was to keep pretending. 

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School Spirits Masterlist

Wally Clark

Period Comfort

Valentine's Day

Freaky Ahhhh Headcanons

Random freaky thoughts 🤔

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Period Sex

Getting his ass ate

Sex, Drugs, Ect. - series

Simon Elroy

Oral

Headcanons

The After Party

Rhonda Rosen

Headcanons

If I Open the Door To Heaven Or Hell 6/? [Wally Clark/Reader]

Summary: Wally's reunion brings past regrets and unwelcome visitors. Word Count: 2.7k Author's Note: So, I got sick and I got depressed and it took me a little while to get here, but thank you to everyone for being so patient with me waiting on the next update!

Read On AO3 // Fic Masterlist

The aftermath of visiting your scar still weighed heavily on your mind days later. Wally had done everything in his power to help you, but you knew there was only so much he could do for you. The only person who could help you come to terms with what you suffered was you.  

And you just weren’t ready yet. 

It didn't help that Mr. Martin had found a way to jump into a body and escape the school. Now, there was no way to know if he would ever be back or if he was going after Janet. Maddie was worried about her friends and if she would ever manage to get her body back. All of you were worried about Janet and Maddie, since Mr. Martin posed the greatest threat to both. Everyone had been trying to theorize what Mr. Martin wanted with the keys and the scars, but no one knew enough to try to fit all the puzzle pieces together yet.  

Now, you were sitting at a table that had been set out for Wally's reunion. He was so psyched about it that you hated you were having a hard time pulling yourself out of your misery. Even though Wally had assured you over and over and showed you just how much he cared about you, you still couldn't shake the insecurity you felt every time you saw Wally and Maddie interact. It also didn't help that your mind was consumed with what happened in your scar.  

The others had been careful around you. It wouldn't have been so weird if Rhonda hadn't been practically gentle with you. Rhonda was usually the type to not sugarcoat anything. The fact that she was trying to comfort you felt odd, but you didn't know how to tell Rhonda that she was freaking you out. She was a good friend, and you knew she would always have your back, but you didn't know how to handle a different side of her.  

You had also managed to catch the end of an argument between Wally and Rhonda not long after you sought out the others once you were ready to leave the tech booth. Charley had pulled you aside, asking if everything was alright. Quinn had surprised you with a hug and Maddie had wondered why you went into your scar. You couldn't tell her it was because of how jealous you got seeing her with Wally, so you only shrugged your shoulders and returned the nod of solidarity Yuri aimed at you. 

As you walked back towards Wally and Rhonda, you overheard what Rhonda was telling him.  

"--you have any idea how that feels? She went into her scar because you ran after Maddie." 

"I know, I know," Wally assured Rhonda. "Don't you think I feel terrible enough about that without you here busting my ass over it?" 

Rhonda pulled the ever-present lollipop out of her mouth and pointed it at Wally. "Just think about what you're doing next time. Maybe instead of running off and playing around in the pool with another girl, you bring your girlfriend with you." 

"Maddie and I were just blowing off steam," Wally defended himself. "I would never do anything to hurt Y/N." 

"And yet you did," Rhonda pointed out with an arched brow. She brushed past Wally, leaving you to finally finish approaching him.  

Wally's eyes lit up once he noticed you. "Hey, how about we get out of here, huh? I think we've earned some time just the two of us. They've had enough of us for now. I want you all to myself," he told you before he tugged you forward into a kiss.  

It didn't take you long to realize that Rhonda's words must have struck a chord, because he was practically glued to your side after she spoke to him.  

You thought maybe Rhonda was being a little too harsh on Wally. But once the adrenaline had faded, you found it hard to stay positive. Quinn said you were in a funk, but you just felt downright depressed. Reliving your death had been hard on you and you were having a difficult time shaking all the negative thoughts and feelings that had risen since confronting it.  

Now, you were sitting in the library where the reunion was being held and trying to find the energy to be excited for Wally.  

Rhonda and Quinn were off to the side, talking about something you couldn't overhear. Charley was sitting on the stairs leading up to where the DJ booth had been set up while Wally flipped through records that had been left in a crate. You didn't know where Yuri or Maddie were, but you figured they would show up eventually.  

You listened to the others talking, not really paying enough attention to discern what they were speaking about and even managed to bring up a reluctant smile hearing Wally sass Rhonda after mentioning something about a girdle.  

"Oh, shit!" You heard Wally exclaim, abruptly forcing you out of your thoughts as he pulled a record out of the crate. "No way," he breathed as he brought up the record to show it off. "David Bowie. Y'all! We are so back," he said before he bounded up the stairs towards the turntable.  

You met Rhonda's gaze and caught her rolling her eyes, but you noticed the hint of a smile on her lips. Even when she was annoyed with Wally, she couldn't quite resist his infectious enthusiasm.  

Wally put the record on, letting Bowie's 'Let's Dance' fill the room. Wally's routine was something you had grown accustomed to over the years. Usually, you joined in, finding joy in Wally's excitement and letting yourself get easily roped in to the dance. But this time, you just weren't feeling it and that only made you feel worse.  

Still, Wally tried, pointing at you and pretending to try to reel you in, but you stayed in your seat, refusing to move. You felt a pang of guilt when you noticed his obvious disappointment, but he turned towards Charley, silently respecting your wish to be left alone. It didn't take long before Charley was going through the moves Wally had coached you all through years before, a delighted grin on his face as he danced.  

While Wally worked through his routine, you noticed the way his attention kept straying back to you. It was like he was checking in on you and the thought brought a slight smile to your lips. Even when he was having the time of his life, he was still worried about you.  

You were content to sit at the table, your chin propped up on your hand while you watched him dance. You weren’t surprised that it was lifting your spirits to see Wally so in his element. You couldn't help but think that if he hadn't been thrown into football, then maybe he would have enjoyed being a theater kid.  

You watched Rhonda and then Quinn join the dance. Rhonda never missed a step, but while Quinn was new to the routine, her eagerness to be part of the group more than made up for it.  

Any sense of lingering despair was swept away when you watched the way Wally spun away from the group. He was still moving to the music, but he had deviated from his usual routine. He threw in a slide where he usually had a hip thrust and a shoulder shimmy where he would have moonwalked. He threw a smirk and a wink in your direction, and it was then you realized that this year Wally wasn't dancing for himself.  

He was dancing for you.  

That more than anything had you finally getting out of your seat. You caught the delighted grin on Wally's face before he reached a hand out towards you. You let yourself put your hand in his, letting out a surprised laugh when he immediately reeled you in only to spin you out again. He kept his grip on your hand tight, like he was worried you would try to leave, before he pulled you back towards him.  

His lips met yours, the kiss turning desperate and intense within a moment. All you could do was hold on, your fingers digging into his shoulders, as Wally poured everything he had into the kiss.  

It was fear and despair and joy and want. It swept you along with everything Wally had been trying to show you for days now.  

It was love.  

"Fuck," you gasped when you turned your head to the side to break the kiss.  

You felt his smirk against the side of your face. "Later," he promised, hiding a kiss against the skin beneath your ear.  

"That was awesome!" Quinn exclaimed, drawing your attention. "You do that every year?" She directed at Rhonda, a grin on her face.  

"Every year," Rhonda drawled, shooting a look at Wally that was equal parts annoyed and fond.  

"We should go again," Quinn decided, already bounding towards the DJ setup to restart the song.  

“Quinn,” Rhonda groaned, following her like she was thinking about stopping her.  

Later, you dressed up for Wally's big night and met him at the doors of the library.  

"Damn," Wally sighed, looking you up and down. "How'd I get so lucky?" 

You rolled your eyes, resisting the urge to tell him that if anyone was lucky, it was you. "Sap," you accused, because you didn't know how else to respond.  

Wally grinned at you and held his arm out, letting you hook your hand around his elbow. "Before I forget," he said, reaching out to open the door. "We're playing wingman for Charley." 

"Charley?" You asked, surprised that he was finally making his move. "Yuri?" You guessed, thinking of all the times Charley blushed around Yuri and how he couldn't keep his eyes off him.  

"Yup," Wally answered, leading you into the library. "Promised not to let him embarrass himself. So, I might need your help running interference later."  

"Got it," you agreed, offering him a tentative smile. Wally's dance and the promise of a date night had gone a long way towards lifting your mood, but you were still trying to shake the last vestiges of sadness that still clung to you.  

Wally leaned over to press a kiss to your temple before he led you into the library.  

You let Wally get you a glass of punch and watched him reunite with some of his former classmates. He looked so happy to be remembered by the class of '84 that you almost didn't realize anything was wrong at first. You had been in the middle of talking Charley up to Yuri, even though you were sure from the way Yuri looked at Charley that it was completely unnecessary.  

It took you entirely too long to realize what the two guys were saying about Wally. Wally's crestfallen expression was enough to get you at his side. You also didn't miss the way Charley was carefully not looking at Wally.  

"Look, it's alright," Charley told Wally when he tried to apologize. "It was forty years ago. You don't have to be sorry." 

"But--" Wally started, before Yuri placed a hand on Charley's shoulder.  

"How about a dance?" He asked, nodding towards the couples who had taken over the space in front of the stage. A slow song was playing and the couples were all swaying along to the melody.  

"Okay, yeah, I'd love that," Charley answered, handing you his drink before letting Yuri lead him towards the dance floor.  

Wally kept glancing at Charley and Yuri, as if he was worried something bad would happen. You knew that Wally had been a different person when he was alive. But the Wally you knew now wasn't anything like him. He had grown and started to accept that he didn't have to only see himself as the guy he was before he died. The fact he was obviously so torn up over his past actions was testament to that.  

You were briefly distracted by Mr. Anderson showing up to wreak havoc on a reunion full of people who couldn't even see him. When you glanced back at Charley and Yuri, it was to see Charley putting distance between them.  

You weren't sure why Charley looked so distressed, but when he pulled away from Yuri and walked away, you tried to find out what was wrong.  

"Hey," you called, turning to look at Charley as he passed you. "What's wrong?" 

"It's just...," he sighed before he shook his head and walked away. His jaw was clenched, and you noticed how tensed his shoulders were. Yuri looked just as lost as you felt when you glanced back at him.  

Wally watched Charley leave the library. He looked worried, but he stayed rooted to the spot, even though it was obvious he wanted to go after him.  

"Wally," you whispered, reaching out to put a hand on his shoulder.  

Wally turned to look at you. "Babe, I'm not like that anymore," he promised, gesturing towards the guys who were now commenting on the woman who was announcing something onstage. "I would never hurt Charley. I would never let anyone hurt him. I'd beat the shit out of them for laying a finger on him." 

"I know," you assured him, letting your hand find his to hold onto. "Charley knows that too." 

"But, I guess," Wally continued, glancing again at the guys who had brought up Wally's past. "I guess I was that guy. And that's how they remember me. I was no better than the people who hurt Charley." 

"You've changed," you reminded him. "You're one of the best people I've ever met and that's for a reason, Wally." 

Wally nodded his head, but he still looked like he was struggling with himself.  

"Go find Charley," you urged him. "I think you two need to talk this out." You knew that Charley would need a friend now more than anything and Wally needed to prove to himself that he could be that friend.  

Wally looked unsure and still didn't budge.  

"It'll be fine," you promised him. "Trust me," you added, pressing a kiss to his cheek.  

Wally nodded his head, offering you an unsure smile, before he left in search of Charley.  

"You're good for him," Yuri observed.  

You startled, glancing at him over your shoulder. "You're good for Charley," you shot back. "He just gets a little nervous. Give him time." 

Yuri nodded his head, looking thoughtful. "I've got time," he assured you before taking Charley's drink back from you.  

You watched Yuri take a sip of the drink. "You know if you ever hurt him, though, I'll kill you. Forget that, Wally will kill you." 

It wasn't much of a threat when you were all already dead. But Charley was your friend and you would do anything for him. He deserved happiness and if Yuri was the one who could provide it for him, then you wanted to make sure it stuck. 

"I know," Yuri claimed, "but he won't have to. I only want what's best for Charley."  

"Good," you told him. "Keep it that way."  

You were going to ask Yuri if he wanted to see how Wally and Charley were doing when your attention was caught by someone across the room. She was leaving the library, slipping out of the room with a quick look over her shoulder.  

 It took you a moment to recognize her, but when you did, you felt like the whole world had stopped. Suddenly, your hands were shaking and you felt like everything was collapsing around you. It had been years since you saw her, but you knew you would never forget that face. 

You felt your mind race in several different directions as you found yourself rushing to follow her. Yuri called your name, but you ignored him. You didn’t know why she was here, but all you could think about was figuring out the reason. You wanted her out, gone, but there wasn’t much you could do about that now that you were dead. 

As you left the library in pursuit of her, there were really only three questions you desperately needed answered on your mind. 

Why the hell would she come back?  

How could she show her face here after what she did?  

And lastly, did she feel any remorse for killing you?  

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Wally Clark x Gn!Reader

Warnings: Smut, Literally the whole plot is Wally gets his ass ate so do with that what you will. Readers a bit of an anxious bean. Unrealistic (because passion doesn't exist)

(Guys I've never written ass stuff 😭 I was trying to figure out what wording to use so it wouldn't sound repetitive. Sorry if it feels a little awkward.)

Wally’s never been shy when it comes to sex, always expressing his needs and deepest darkest desires but when you brought up a new topic, something he's never even thought about, it caught him off garde. You wanted to… Eat his ass? That was definitely a new one. 

It wasn't that he was opposed to the idea, it just wasn't expected. He couldn’t lie, the thought made him a little excited, your tongue working overtime, exploring places he never thought it would go. 

He watched you fiddle with the cuff of the sleeves of your (his) sweater, a nervous expression on your face as you awaited his answer. Your leg tapped in an anxious rhythm as you sat on the teachers lounge couch in front of him, his tall from standing over you. He sat down next to you, his hand sliding to your knee and rubbing slow circles into it with his thumb to calm you down. 

“I would let you do unimaginable things to me.” His voice came out smooth, not having to think about his words, saying them like a proven fact. Hopefully after tonight they will be.

"oh" You didn't know what to say, how to go about things. It was such a new topic, something you fantasized about but couldn't bring yourself to tell him about. Somehow, some way, you worked up the courage.

That's how you ended up here, Wally laid out in front of you, on his hands and knees, completely bare. Your fingers ran gently up the back of his thighs making him shiver slightly. Your inexperienced hands moved along his body clumsily, moving up to cup his ass cheeks. 

You heard Wally let out a nervous, anticipating, breath as you spread them open. With a shaky hand you let one of your fingers massage his puckered round of nerves. You heard him let out a quiet groan, letting you know that you're doing something right.

You bring your face down, gently licking his asshole, humming at the new, odd taste. Wally tensed as he took in a deep breath at the new sensation.

You took that as a sigh to keep going, tongue lapping until he turned into a pile of putty in front of you. Spit dripped all the way down and around to his balls. Your hand moved down, cupping them, making him let out a low groan.

It was filthy in the most beautiful way. Seeing Wally reduced to a groaning, moaning mess. His hands gripping the cushion under him for dear death. (I think I'm so funny)

Deep ragged breaths as you wrapped your hand around his shaft, gentle strokes to help bring him to the perfect place of ecstasy. Sweat dripped down the back of his knees, legs almost going numb.

You felt him tense up, taking a sharp breath before he let go. Thick, hot spurts of cum counting your hand and the couch. After a minute he sunk down, basking in the afterglow.

You crawled beside him, admiring his fucked out face as he wrapped his arm around you, pulling you into his side.

Tags of shame for the freaks that told me to write this: @whoopsyeahokay @strwbrry-phrog @schoolspiritsfan14 @preparedfruit

(but like not really a tag of shame because I love y'all 💞)

Masterlist

This will grow and include more fandoms and characters in the future.

School Spirits

Separate Masterlist

Includes Wally Clark, Rhonda Rosen, and Simon Elroy.

Prom Pact

Ben Plunkett

For the freaks

Study Date

Scream

Charlie Walker

NSFW Headcanons

Avatar

Spider Socorro

Headcanons

Zombies

Zed Necrodopolis

Freaky ahh headcanons

Characters that aren't on the list but I'd write for if requested:

Dan Copper

Ethan Landry

Billy Loomis

Brahms Heelshire

Thomas Hewitt

Jennifer Check

(My requests are open. I write for every character on here for Smut, Fluff, and Angst. Please note that I'm still trying to get the hang of writing and am better with headcanons. I have also never written for a male reader but I would be open to it. I do NOT write for actors or real life people only characters they play.)

Okay, I’m sorry if this is lengthy, but I was reading your period comfort head cannons for Wally (literal perfect timing since I just started😭)

I was wondering if you could write(and now hear me out) period sex with Alive!Wally Clark and Alive!Reader. Like readers hormones literally just raging and she’s super horny, Wally notices and is like hey you wanna? And readers like I’m on my period, and Wally’s just like “So”?

Long story short they freak it and Wally realizes how much more sensitive reader is, and how much faster she cums and just overstimulates the hell out of her.

Also sorry again this is so lengthy. I am horrendously down bad for this man😭😭 I need to be put down💀 Thank you for coming to my ted talk🩷(I love your page and all your writing)

Listen, listen, LISTEN I know it's short and took WAY to long but I tried. Its also written in headcannon style because I tried writing it normally but just couldn't get into the flow of it so I'm sorry but either way I hope you enjoy it nony.

Alive!Wally Clark x Alive!Afab!Reader

Warnings: Periods Sex, Blood, Oversimulation, Slight Dacryphilia, Wally being sickeningly sweet.

⚠ Smut below the cut ⚠

Wally would be the one to bring it up to you. Like I said before he didn’t know a lot about periods so when you first started talking to him about that stuff he took it upon himself to do research. One of the very interesting things he read about was ways to ease period cramps, one in particular caught his eyes, orgasms. 

He knew he’d have to be the one to suggest so the next time you were on your period he brought it up. He said it so casually, like it was just common scene. When you gave him an odd look and reminded him that you’re on your period he just kind laughed and said “That's like the whole point.” 

He’d put a towel down, tell you to relax, that there's nothing to be nervous about. Rubbing slow circles into your skin while he undresses you like a delicate gift made for his eyes only. 

Long slender fingers sliding inside you, crimson slowly coating them. He’d keep his free hand on your abdomen, massaging it with his thumb, while his head rests on your thigh, admiring the mess he's creating. He’d make you cum on his fingers first, watching your body tense up before relaxing in the afterglow of complete bliss. 

Then he’d get to the real show, slow gentle thrusts while he memorises every little face you make. Fingers moving in circles around your overly sensitive clit. Watching you cum over and over again to the point that tears are falling from your eyes. 

Gentle kisses while he tells you how beautiful you are. Soft whispers while he worships your body, absolutely adoring your oversensitivity. Wally always knew he loved pleasuring you but something about the way you face twisted in absolute bliss drove him insane. Trust and believe this might of been the first time he fucked you on your period but its not gonna be the last.

October Moon

summary: everybody had had secrets. some more than others. and it'd been time for those secrets to be unearthed. too bad for Xavier he hadn't been privy to any of them.

pairing: Wally Clark x fem!reader

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

bon reading, frens

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OCTOBER MOON pt.10

Aurora didn't know what she was doing. Read: She knew what she was doing, but hated herself a little for it and kept repeating in her head that she was going crazy. Nothing was wrong. It was a reaction to discovering Dave wasn't who she'd thought he was and now her brain had a hard time deciphering who was friend and who was foe.

Totally rational.

Despite how often she told herself this was confirmation bias or a side-effect of her paranoia, she couldn't shake the feeling that Austin Baxter was hiding something. How the hell had he known the missing ingredient in her tea?

She'd foregone drinking it after she'd remembered how nonchalantly he'd reminded her of the passionflower. Poured it down the drain and tossed the bag of ingredients in the trash. Aurora hadn't forgotten how you'd asked her not to drink it. How weird you'd been about the tea and Dave and, huh, Aurora wondered if you knew something she didn't. Say, about what was actually wrong with the tea or about Austin and his new gift of knowing things he reasonably shouldn't...

As she followed Austin's cruiser around the corner from a safe distance, she made a mental note to interrogate you about it later. For now, she passed the cruiser as it turned into an abandoned factory parking lot, pulling up down the street to stay out of sight. This was the stupidest thing she'd ever done. Seriously. Apart from marrying Dave, that was. She'd never been a Nancy Drew fan, wasn't about mysteries and sleuthing and stalking people for clues that probably didn't exist because there was nothing wrong.

"Whaaat~ the hell am I doing?"

Except her gut insisted there was something wrong.

Her intuition had crashed back in like a tidal wave after getting twenty-four hours out from under the tea's tranquilizing influence. She had brain fog for days, but was alert enough to crouch and dash across the barren stretch of unkempt tar after Austin, wearing Andrew's Black Sabbath sweater and a pair of black leggings. Seriously, what was she doing? She questioned herself again as she ducked and peeked around the corner of the building.

The building was dark inside and out, illuminated only by haphazardly installed emergency lighting, yet Austin didn't seem deterred. He disappeared through a side door that Aurora opened a crack and slipped through after counting to ten. Hoped that was enough time for Austin to put distance between himself and the door so Aurora would remain undetected.

As soon as she was inside, she felt it. Felt them. The cold air that displaced and resettled as bodies she couldn't see moved about. That icy chill and sense of desolation that clung to earthbound ghosts no matter their temperament. Only the emotion that lingered was more potent. Denser, somehow. The way she remembered it being whenever she felt Janet Hamilton or Rhonda Rosen back in high school. Established.

And, fuck, there were so much of it.

She heard footsteps echo further down the corridor and, as silently as she could, she followed the sound into a large, open space filled with machines that had been used to produce ammunition during the Second World War. There'd been another factory where Split River High now stood, thank you 8th Grade History, but it'd been reduced to brick and ash in 1952 after an explosion.

The factory she currently stood in had been shut down around the same time despite America's fascination with guns. It'd been cheaper to move production away from Split River, leaving the town's economy to steadily deteriorate over time. The one functioning factory that remained was owned by Molson Coors Beverage Company and even then, there'd been talk about relocating to another town closer to Milwaukee.

None of that explained why she felt about to two dozen ghosts haunting the space. Had they died homeless, escaping the winter? Frozen to death one night or one at a time? Perhaps that's why Austin was there, to do a walk-through and ensure there weren't any unwanted squatters. Or perhaps there'd been a sighting of Dave in the area.

No, her gut told her, that wasn't right. It astonished her how vibrant her empathy was after it'd been diluted for years. Weakened by that fucking tea she couldn't remember the reason behind. She hadn't been that stressed in New York. Certainly not to the level she'd needed sedatives to function. So, why the hell had she depended on it like oxygen for years!?

She peered around a machine and watched Austin trail down an aisle between conveyors, his head swiveling from side to side as if he was looking for something. Or at something, Aurora's mind quipped since, in the silence of the large space, his whispers were loud enough for her to hear. He was counting.

"...Thirteen. Fourteen. Fifteen..."

What the hell?

She wanted to slink further down the same aisle, however, in that moment, she heard Austin's footsteps double back.

Aurora made herself scarce, raced back to her car as quickly and quietly as she could. Slid behind the wheel and dropped her seat back until the cruiser had driven by. Readjusting her seat, Aurora decided, fuck it, she was already playing P.I., why not keeping going.

"What could possibly go wrong?" She murmured incredulously to herself, giving the factory one last glance before she started her car and drove after Austin.

‗‗‗‗•‗‗‗‗

After long seconds staring at the photograph of the class of '60, you breathed deeply and said, "There's a ledger. Only Ginny has access to it, but if I can find it, I can compare the names from the yearbook to the names under our Circle."

"What for?" Ajay asked as he folded his arms and leaned his shoulder against the wall, peered at you through an expression that conveyed how nervous he was to let you out of his sight now that things were coming to light.

You pulled your gaze from the photograph to look at him, "Anyone with connectedness is registered with a Circle. Even if you actively try to avoid it, your name will show up in the relevant ledger, complete with the bloodline and I swear to God, if you call it magic, Ajay—" You warned when his face did that thing that suggested he was about to call you out on it again.

He pressed his lips together and locked them with an invisible key.

Wally tightened his embrace around you, stating, "So, you think it was Anabelle and Amelia."

"Wouldn't more students have had to die if they did the ritual?" Charley asked, "There was only Janet and Mr. Martin. Plus the two students they stole the bodies from. That's four. And they didn't even use Janet and Mr. Martin." He glanced between everyone, trying to gauge whether anyone else was as lost as he was.

"Wouldn't have mattered if they'd had other ghosts." You murmured, deep in thought, before you took a grounding breath. "We also know that the symbols siphon in the energy from elsewhere. The farmhouse, for sure, but there must be other places."

God, you needed Ginny to wake up. Of everyone, Ginny would know if there'd been a cluster of ghosts in any particular place around town, including the school. While you weren't familiar with her and Nanna's upbringing, you could assume that they'd had to follow the same rules you did. That included vigilance and awareness of what ghosts residually haunted where.

In a low, wary voice, "Does anybody else feel like this town should be a lot less populated than it is?" Charley uttered, taking a step back to rest against the desk that held the microfilm reader.

Rather than answer his question with a resounding yes, "When we get you guys unstuck, we should all move. Just. Leave and never look back," you suggested, closing the yearbook and placing it back on top of the stack. "Everyone's leaving the state for college anyway."

"Ooo, we should go to the beach first." Charley smiled at Wally.

Wally shook his head, "Nah, first thing I'm doing is taking this beautiful thing—" Hand under your chin, he tilted your head back a fraction to kiss you quick and hard, "—somewhere with a massive bed. And room service."

You giggled and blushed at the same time Ajay snorted, "You're dead, bro, you can't get room service."

"Yeah, but she can," Wally grinned as he swept your hair back and stamped kisses across your brow. "You guys could use the spa or use another suite or something. Then we'll take a trip to the beach."

"I want somewhere walkable." Ajay outlined, clearly fantasizing about it. "I want to walk for hours in one direction without being knocked back to Autoshop. Then Mina and I can find our own accommodations." He smirked at Wally. "But, honestly, I just want to touch a fucking tree. Be somewhere that doesn't smell like mildew and bleach."

"Yesss." Wally and Charley agreed in unison.

As fun as it was to imagine, "Alright, boys, focus," you said, though you were smiling, "We need to find Amelia first and get her to remove the barrier before we start planning roadtrips."

"You saying there isn't something you've imagined yourself doing with your very own hottie ghost once you spring him from school property?" Ajay smirked.

You scoffed, "Oh, absolutely. I'm with Wally. I want a bed and room service and we're only leaving when he's made sure I can't walk straight."

Both Charley and Ajay cringed, unhappy at how easily you'd painted that picture for them. Wally, on the other hand, radiated joy as he turned you by your hips and lifted you under the thighs. Kissed the tip of your nose as he held you, his dark eyes sparkling.

"That's my girl," He beamed, but before he could add anything else, Ajay intervened, complaining in run-on sentences:

"Alright, yep, we get it, you guys love each other, it's gross and we hate it. Can we please investigate the fallout shelter before Charley and I throw up?"

"Or gouge our eyes out," Charley muttered as he grabbed his jacket and followed Ajay into the hall to wait for you and Wally. "Or our eardrums. Or both."

"Gory," You snickered.

Ajay deadpanned, "Necessary."

You rolled your eyes playfully, but acquiesced, taking Wally's hand in yours as had become the habit. You glanced between the boys and wondered aloud, "Should we get Rhonda? She's part of Team Parabnormal. She might wanna help."

It was Charley who answered with glum disposition, "She wasn't interested when I asked her earlier," his shoulders raised and eyes on the ground. He didn't say anything more, but you could tell he wanted to.

"She's been kissing Mr. Martin's ass lately," Wally explained what Charley must've been thinking, because Charley's head shot up and he nodded at you enthusiastically.

It seemed everyone was in agreement, Ajay in particular.

"I've been watching them. It's like a cult leader and his first student." He shuddered, "I'm getting real Marshall Applewhite vibes. Minus the potential for a suicide pact."

"Unless Mr. M is planning to obliterate us like Amelia wants to. In which case, total potential for a suicide pact." Wally's hand tightened around yours, his jaw set and eyes hard. "Maybe he's working with her. Amelia's inside man."

"Shit, bro," Ajay's eyebrows shot up, "Say you don't trust him without saying you don't trust him."

Wally didn't skip a beat, "I don't fucking trust him. Not anymore. Not after how he grilled Maddie about talking to the living." He looked at you, his eyes softening, "He looked right at you when you were doing that Mock Trial thing. I didn't like it," He returned his gaze to Ajay, "Something about it sets my teeth on edge, man."

"Someone's coming," Charley announced, and before you could react, Wally pulled you into his arms and hid you and himself behind end of a row of lockers, winking at Ajay and Charley as they continued down the hall to steer the person in another direction.

As you waited for the all-clear, you peeked up at Wally, felt it was time to admit, "So... I actually found the fallout shelter the night Dave was sneaking around."

Wally gaped, "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Honestly? I forgot. I was a lot more freaked out about telling you that Zav kissed me." And then, at the expression on Wally's face, "Don't look at me like that, Maddie was there, too. And Simon."

"Does Zav know?" Wally asked, lip curled in displeasure.

You pulled back slightly, brows knitted, "No. Why?"

"No reason."

But Wally appeared marginally less upset than he'd been seconds ago. Because of course he did. It was no secret how he felt about Xavier. That Wally despised someone you considered your platonic soulmate. A sentiment made worse after Xavier's rash decision to kiss you.

Wally flinched whenever Xavier's name was so much as hinted at, never mind mentioned and it fucking s u c k e d. These were two people you loved to your marrow; you wanted them to get along, had hoped that they'd eventually see eye-to-eye, but it didn't look like that was ever going to happen.

Xavier wasn't terrible; at least tried—with gritted teeth—to remain neutral where Wally was concerned. Wally, on the other hand, stubbornly refused to give Xavier the same respect.

Annoyed, "It's not a competition, you know," you muttered. You didn't pull away, couldn't, not from Wally, but this weird dick measuring contest had to stop.

"I know," Wally said as he gave you a funny look, as if his grip on you hadn't secured like Xavier had appeared to snatch you away.

"You sure about that? Because it feels like you're lying to me."

"Or," Wally countered, "Maybe I just forgot to mention it. Like you forgot to mention the fallout shelter."

And that time, you did pull away, wrenched right out of his arms. As you opened your mouth with a comeback, Ajay returned, cautious. He'd obviously heard what Wally had insinuated since he clarified that he, too, had known about the fallout shelter and hadn't disclosed it to anyone. For years.

"Buddy, calm down." He put a hand on Wally's shoulder, "It wasn't some big secret. If I'd known it was important, I would've brought it up sooner. How was anyone supposed to know?"

"Does it matter?" Wally soured. "You said that's where Mr. Martin hides out. Therefore it became important the second we suspected something was off with the guy." He took a breath, two, turned his head for a moment to get himself together before sighing and catching your gaze with his own again. Taking a step forward, he held out his hand, a somewhat pleading expression on his face, "Let's just go see what's there. We can talk about everything else after."

You wanted to protest. To ignore his hand, give him the cold shoulder and stomp by him just to make him regret pissing you off.

You couldn't bring yourself to do it. After a moment of letting him believe you'd refuse, you took his proffered hand. Allowed him to reel you in and tuck you into his side. He kissed your head, whispered an apology that sounded like a band-aid, and guided you down the hall to the stairwell with a hand on your hip.

"Trouble in paradise?" You heard Charley whisper to Ajay who responded with an equally as quiet, "The tea is hot..."

"What does that even mean?" Wally grumbled and squished you closer to him.

You couldn't contain it, you snorted, "I'm still mad at you, but...you're cute when you're clueless."

Wally scoffed, kissed his teeth, panned around so you wouldn't see the glimpse of affection in his eyes, but you caught it anyway. After a beat, he repeated:

"No, seriously, what does that mean? Are you talking about Aurora's tea or what?"

And you laughed along with Charley and Ajay, the latter of who patted Wally's shoulder and said, "You were getting so good at Gen Z slang, what happened?"

"A magical murder mystery!" Wally defended himself as he pouted adorably. "Why won't anyone tell me what it means?" And then, "Is it dirty?"

Traipsing ahead, "Nobody tell him," Charley commanded with a cheeky smirk, opened and held the door for you, Wally, and Ajay. "I want to see what he comes up with."

"You guys are the worst." Wally grumbled bitterly, "I'm totally not saving your asses when Amelia vanquishes your souls for her stupid ritual." Except he once again sealed you to his side, stamped a kiss to your temple and stage-whispered, "Not you, baby. I have a different punishment in mind for you."

He pinched your ass cheek so hard you squealed.

Together, "TMI!" and "Face!" Charley and Ajay scolded.

‗‗‗‗•‗‗‗‗

Xavier hadn't intended to enter 4916 Quebec Street. It was meant to be a simple, relatively safe stakeout, just as he'd promised you. But Nicole and Claire's bickering had driven Xavier to the edge. From the moment they'd crammed into his truck, it'd been nonstop. Catty jabs that hadn't quit until Xavier lost his shit, made an impassioned speech that he was, yeah, a little proud of, and abandoned the girls for the peaceful refuge of a so very creepy house.

He was going to regret his decision, he just knew it.

Claire remained in the truck while Nicole boldly trailed behind him into the darkened house, muttering under her breath about fair-weather friends who shouldn't help if all they wanted was a redemption arc.

"So what if she does?" Xavier asked, turning on his flashlight as Nicole did hers.

"She can't make up for everything she didn't do for years." Nicole insisted, paused halfway through the front door. "Claire abandoned Maddie. And now she thinks she can swoop in and save the day? I don't trust her."

Xavier see-sawed his head, "But...you trust me?"

He couldn't quite make out Nicole's face in the dark, yet Xavier could tell she was embarrassed. Maybe because he'd pointed out the hypocrisy, or maybe because she felt just as outside of the whole SimonandMaddie dynamic as Xavier always had and was desperate for someone to relate.

Either way, she surprised him by admitting, "Yeah. I do."

That. Felt really good to hear, actually. Xavier's chest swelled as he looked bashfully away. "Thanks."

They stepped further into the house, the wind whistling eerily through the cracks in the windows. This house was even creepier than the old farmhouse or the house on Lasher and 10th. There was an impression in the air that chilled Xavier to the bone. That same supernatural prickle he felt around the ghosts at school, only more persistent. He couldn't be sure, but it meant something.

Before he could announce that he had a really, really bad feeling about this, Nicole spoke.

"I just wanna state for the record, this is basically my worst nightmare come true."

Xavier briefly wondered if Nicole felt the same close, icy aura he did, but immediately brushed it aside to comfort her. Placed a hand on her shoulder and looked her in the eye.

"But I'm here," He said, "I got your back. Just look around and see if you can find anything." He continued at her lost expression, "Clothes, food. Stuff someone might have left if they were squatting here."

His leadership seemed to rouse her determination. They split up, Nicole doing a tour of the main floor while Xavier found the door to the basement. The chill thickened as he descended the stairs. God, he wished you were with him, but you'd told him in no uncertain terms that you intended to do research with Wally at the school.

Ugh. That guy.

Look, Xavier didn't hate Wally the way Wally seemed to hate him. He was honestly—really, truly—happy that you'd found your perfect person. Dead, sure, but Xavier could tell that you two had some kind of cosmic bond. A golden thread that tied you and Wally together. In fact, he could literally see it, not that he'd told you.

It was so new, in and out like bad reception; something he'd only noticed over the last couple of days. Different colors for different connections. He didn't know what they meant, or why, all of a sudden, he'd gone from simply seeing ghosts to being able to track who meant something to whom, but, hey, guess he was officially part of the family now, huh?

Yeah, he needed to talk to you about it. For sure.

And he would.

Just...not while a fucking semi-transparent hippie was standing in the middle of the empty basement, smiling at him like a long-lost friend. What freaked Xavier way the hell out wasn't so much the mysterious ghost staring at him. It was the thin, loose green thread that stretched from Xavier's heart to the ghost's, evaporating and coming together again and again like a tendril of smoke.

It clicked like common sense as soon as the ghost shifted forward.

"Holy shit, you're Dead Grandpa John." He wheezed, eyes the size of dinner plates.

"And you're my granddaughter's best friend." Dead Grandpa John—no, Xavier was not doing that—Grandpa John said. "The troublemaker. Always into mischief." He smiled wider, laughed as if he'd been there for every caper you and Xavier had pulled as kids. Jesus, he probably had been there, Xavier realized with a gulp.

"I didn't flood the bathroom, I swear, it was all her!" And he didn't know why he felt compelled to confess, but he did anyway, a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

Grandpa John raised a bushy brow.

Xavier instantly caved, "Okay, so it was my idea, but she helped..." and he stared shamefully at the floor.

And Maddie and Simon had really thought he was a good liar? Wow.

"I'm not here to judge you," Grandpa John assured and shifted closer. Unlike the ghosts at school, Grandpa John glided like water over rocks in a stream, despite how his feet did, in fact, move. One and then the other. Heel-toe, heel-toe. A person walking normally. Just...not quite touching the ground.

While Wally and Ajay appeared solid, as real as you or Claire or Nicole, Grandpa John was exactly the kind of image Xavier would've pictured if someone had told him to close his eyes and imagine a ghost. Silvery. See-through. Other. Unconsciously, Xavier took a step back, although part of him—a big part—already trusted Grandpa John as if he'd been aware of Grandpa John's existence the whole duration of his friendship with you.

"She was looking for you the other day," Xavier found himself saying, dropping the glare of his flashlight to the ground. "Have you been here the whole time?"

Grandpa John shook his head, "No." Then a strange look came over his face, "I'm here to apologize to you for what has to be done."

Xavier blinked in confusion, "What's that mean?"

"It means, this is going to hurt."

The next thing Xavier was conscious of, he was flat on his back. The ground was cold and everything hurt, his head especially throbbed. He heard the screech of tires against pavement, Nicole and Claire shouting, the noise distant as the world slowly faded to black.

💀___________________________

PART NINE - PART ELEVEN

note: not exactly where i'd planned to end this chapter, but it felt right 🤷‍♀️ who am i to argue with the characters? anyway, because of this, the next part is basically halfway written 🙌 hopefully i'll be able to deliver it a lot sooner, but no promises beautiful frens 😭

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ABOUT THE TAGLIST: we're not about that life around here (•¯ ∀ ¯•) things got too outta hand and i'm still cleaning up the mess left behind by the demons i accidentally summoned trying to get the damn thing to work 🕳️👹......there's a dustpan over there if you feel like helping 🧹💨 or, if you just wanna stay up to date, please FOLLOW ME and TURN ON NOTIFICATIONS

Cuddle Bug

summary: a flashfic exploration of Wally's inability to be anything but a plural image when you're within reach. aka: he's codependent as fuck and neither you nor he care.

pairing: Wally Clark x fem!reader

warnings: fluff. smut lite. AU - everyone is alive (zesty).

bon reading, frens

___________________________🍃

Wally Clark's love language is physical touch. No surprise there. The guy needs cuddles like flowers need sunlight to thrive. Always has. Being a ghost for 40 years exacerbated that need, and now that he's a real boy again, he can't help himself. Wally sits too close, hugs hello and goodbye, touches arms and knees when he's telling a story.

It's just that much more amped up when it comes to you.

He was affectionate before you and he became inseparable. Lightly grazed your hand when he walked beside you, found every excuse to tackle you when he tried to teach you football techniques. Ajay and Charley stood there like extra wheels even though it'd been Wally who'd rallied everyone to the field.

What? Your giggle's so damn cute! No way was Wally going to be able to focus on anything else!

Besides Charley's just as bad when Yuri's around, and Simon can't even function when Maddie gives him the eyes. So, everyone can suck it as far as Wally's concerned.

During group activities, Wally would find a way to sit next to you. Would squish his long limbs between you and Maddie and give you a bright, boyish grin. Sometimes he'd stare Xavier down until he got the hint and scooched closer to Nicole at the lunch table, leaving a gap that Wally could settle into beside you. His arm around your shoulders and his knee touching yours. Totally innocent.

Wally brought your favorite snacks to Game Night, established himself as your personal chauffeur despite the fact that you lived closer to Simon and Rhonda, and loyally helped you filter clothes when you and the girls went shopping. Yes. He'd made himself one of the girls just to spend time with you. Don't look at him like that; it worked, didn't it? 👀

Since accepting him as your boyfriend (he grins so big, his cheeks ache), Wally's dependence on your touch, warmth, shape against his, has increased a hundredfold.

You sit on the picnic table before the first bell, chatting to Maddie and Claire about something Wally isn't listening to, his arms around your waist, upper body slumped between your legs, head resting on your thigh as you rake your fingers through his thick hair. Oh, he could die all over again and be the happiest of ghosts just for this. Not that he wants to be a ghost again. Not unless you're with him this time. Which would require you to die, too, and that's a terrible thought and he's never going to tell you about it. But the sentiment remains. Wally doesn't want to do anything without you, ever.

He managed to convince the secretary to put him in all your classes, pouting and pleading his case that he'd been dead since 1983 and, "it's so traumatic coming back, she's the only thing I have that feels real...please?" A tactic that he should stop abusing, but it worked on all the teachers when he requested to be sat next to you. Every time a teacher caved, Wally would fold into the desk beside you, beaming like a winner. And who cares? Mina and Ajay, and Charley and Yuri pulled the same doe-eyed trick and got what they wanted, why couldn't Wally do the same?

On Fridays, everyone piles into Wally's high school best friend's living room—Rodney now Wally's legal guardian for reasons—to have movie marathons. There's trivia to guess the movie. Winner gets one veto and can insert their own choice, but there's three movies in total so pick wisely! They figured out awhile ago that Wally sometimes (always) lets you win trivia when it's his turn to play his lineup. You never veto anything, equally as eager to watch what he opts for. It drives Simon and Ajay insane.

He takes over a whole couch, the three-seater, sprawls long-ways and tucks you between his legs, your body draped over him like a blanket as he wraps his arms around you and doesn't let go for anything. He traces patterns on your back, cradles your head against his chest, soaks up the physical contact like a sponge after years of ghostly numbness.

In the school halls, Wally keeps his hand on your hip. He kisses your head and cheeks and jaw. Doesn't care who sees because you're his girl and he'll do what he wants, thank you. He's proud that you call him yours and wants to show off who his heart belongs to. This one! This one said yes!

You're in his lap more than your own seat when the group descends upon Max's Diner after football games (that, no, Wally doesn't participate in. That era is firmly in the past and he'll never don a jersey again; sorry mom, God bless, rest in peace). His hands are all over you as you engage Rhonda in conversation; on your thighs, waist, back, hips. Anywhere and everywhere that's still appropriate in public. His head under your chin, eyes closed as he listens to your heartbeat, strong and steady, the rhythm matching his.

Wally rolls over in his bed, crushes you beneath his weight as he plays dead—knock on wood that that won't happen again for many years—and tries to stifle his laughter when you struggle to reverse the position. Eventually, he showers your skin with kisses, nudges between your thighs and laces his fingers with yours, pressing his smile to yours before kissing you deeply.

The sex is amazing, but nothing beats the afterglow when he has you pliant and sweet, curled into him on your side, your face in his chest, his hand on your lower back, whispering how much he loves you as you doze. Call him codependent, but Wally doesn't want to spend even an hour without you. He isn't a lost puppy, knows how to behave like a man. He just spent too many years being forgotten that he still has trust issues.

And you don't mind. You welcome it, in fact, and that makes Wally feel safer than he ever has. It makes it easy to ignore the looks people give you and him when you agree to go somewhere, "only if Wally's invited, too" because you and he are a package deal. And he does the same for you. Obviously, not for the same reasons, you're perfectly fine being alone, it's just that Wally's not ready to experiment with your absence just yet. Maybe never will be.

Rodney's long since accepted that Wally's room has become your room. From married and childless to married with several formerly-dead teenagers and their SOs, Rodney and his wife have accepted their homebase status like champs. They treat you like family—you have a house key for the rare occasion Wally isn't with you after school—and acknowledge that Wally can't sleep without you without suffering.

He stays curled around you all night, kisses you awake, big hand trailing from your waist to your hip as he nips the top knot of your spine and grinds his morning wood against your ass. God, you get him hard so easily, Wally sometimes thinks he should get checked out. You hum then sigh then turn in his arms, hook a leg over his and press yourself against him in exactly the right way.

Through half-lidded eyes, Wally gazes at you. Licks his lips as he rocks his hips slowly and watches your expression go from sleepsoft to wanting. You like how that feels baby? You want it inside you? And he kisses you deep and thorough, rolls you onto your back to fit between your legs, groans when one of your hands squeezes his ass through his boxer-briefs.

He needs to be inside you yesterday, loves how you feel, tight and wet and hot around him. Soft touches turn hard, light sweeps of lips turn to teeth and tongue and fresh bruises on your neck. Wally loves to taste you first, to prolong his pleasure by giving you yours, his tongue delving into you and sucking your clit gently; deliriously slow because he can't get enough.

It's not until you're begging him so pretty for his cock that he finally lets himself fuck into you, so hard and sensitive his brain explodes upon fitting deep inside you on the first thrust. A refrain of fuck, yes and oh God baby, you feel so good fills the room—sorry Rodney—the headboard smacking against the wall in time with Wally's hips. Throughout, Wally holds you like something precious, kisses you like salvation, breathes you in like he can't live without you.

He makes sure you come first before he even thinks about letting go, the sensation of you shaking apart around him ripping his own release right from his core. Wally licks into your mouth, moans like a beast, and then, one two three more stunted thrusts and he goes still. Hazy eyes hold yours and you can see the depth of his emotion for you. At least, he hopes so. How he'll treasure you forever. He'll never love anyone as much as he loves you. That's a promise and a threat and he smiles a lazy smile at you as you begin to giggle.

"What's so funny, baby?" Wally nudges your cheek with his nose.

"Nothing, I promise, I'm just...really happy." You tell him and he moans in delight.

"You don't feel suffocated or claustrophobic like Rhonda said you would?" Wally asks, a little insecure. Okay, a lot insecure, even if he doesn't usually feel that way about how reliant he is on your proximity. You've never given him a reason to feel anything but safe and happy and loved, but still. Rhonda knows how to hit bone even when she means well.

You shift, forcing Wally to look at you, your hands cradling his jaw, "Never. I will never, ever want this, us, to be anything but exactly how it is. I love having you all over me."

"Yeah?"

"Yes." And you grin, a warm little thing, "I like sharing everything with you. It's nice. My very own witness to my life."

Wally kisses you again, another slow, deep, sentimental gesture; everything he feels poured into it, before he settles down on top of you, careful not to crush you, his head above your breasts and his eyes fluttering closed. Relaxed. Sated. Safe.

Wally Clark's love language is physical touch, and, in this second chance at life, he's profoundly grateful to have found someone fluent in it.

fin.

🍃___________________________

also on AO3!

If I Open the Door To Heaven Or Hell 5/? [Wally Clark/Reader]

Summary: Wally tries to break you out of your scar. Word Count: 2k Author's Note: This chapter is from Wally's POV.

Read On AO3 // Part One // Part Two // Part Three // Part Four //

Wally didn't know how they ended up here. One moment, he was joking around with Maddie, glad to finally get a smile on her face after she had been so hurt to hear Janet having successfully infiltrated her old life, and the next he was watching Y/N standing there in front of that damn door. He didn't know why she would stand where she had sworn never to go. But there she was in front of her scar with her jacket in hand ready to face her demons. 

He froze, prompting Maddie to stop at his side.  

"Y/N," he tried, hoping not to spook her into action. If he played this right, then maybe he could get her to back away from the door. "What are you doing?" 

Maddie shot him a confused look before finally looking down the hallway to see what had caught his attention. It didn't take her long to get it.  

"Is that--?" 

"It's her scar," Wally answered, not daring to take his eyes off Y/N.  

He noticed the way Y/N was tensed, ready to act, which meant he only had a moment to get to her. He took off running, making good use of all of the training he never wanted when he was alive but desperately needed now to sprint down the hallway.  

Y/N opened the door to her scar and stepped inside, the door shutting behind her. He hit the door only a moment after it closed. He tried the doorknob, but when the door opened, there was only an empty bathroom.  

"It doesn't work like that," Maddie informed him.  

"Well, something's got to work," he snapped, hitting his fist on the closed door. He rested his forehead against the door, wishing he had a solution.  

"Wally," Maddie started, before she stopped.  

"I just don't get it," he found himself saying. He tried the doorknob again, swinging open the door to an empty room. "I don't get it," he repeated before trying again and again to enter Y/N's scar and drag her out of there. "There's got to be a way to get to her." 

"Wally," Maddie said, placing a hand on his shoulder. "She's got to make it out on her own." 

"No," Wally denied, shaking his head. He kicked the door, wishing he could break it down. It would all just reset. He was useless in this situation. "When I was in my scar, she talked to me. She got me out of there. I was so...I was so," he tried again, but he couldn't get the words out. He was lost. Hurt. Terrified. But Y/N's voice had led him out of hell and right into her arms.  

"Look, maybe we should go get the others," Maddie suggested. "Maybe we can figure out why she went in there in the first place. Something must have happened." 

"You go," Wally urged, not taking his gaze off the door in front of him. Y/N was just on the other side. He swore he could feel her. But he couldn't get to her and he was so frustrated at the idea that he couldn't save her. "I'm not leaving her." 

Maddie stood there at his side for a moment before leaving him. Wally knew she was going to get the others, but he was glad she was gone. He didn't want anyone else around to witness his failure.  

Y/N was everything to him and now he couldn’t even save her. He knew what her scar held for her. His death had only been built on disappointment and the fear that he would never be able to shoulder the expectations others dropped on him. He had gone to his afterlife feeling like he wasn't enough.  

But Y/N had her life ripped away from her by someone who wasn't worth impressing at all. Y/N had died scared and alone, not surrounded by teammates and a crowd. No one had been there to watch her fall into the afterlife except for the person who gave her the push.  

He wouldn't have her go through that again. His scar had been bad enough, but hers was just downright cruel.  

He didn't understand why she would want to put herself in that situation again. He didn't get why she would want to relive her death. All he wanted to do was pull her into his arms and protect her from the pain.  

All he really wanted was her. Her laugh and the smile she gave him when she was proud of him. The way having her anywhere near him drove him absolutely crazy, because he just wanted to touch her. And when she didn't even notice he was watching her, the way she viewed the world around her. Even in death, she was curious and bright, lighting up the darkness he felt inside and banishing it with just a look at him.  

"Y/N," he tried again, resisting the urge to try to open the door again. "Can you hear me?"  

God, he hoped she could hear him. He didn't want her to be alone. Not now. Not ever again.  

He remembered when Y/N died. The way all the other students talked about it like it was such a tragedy even though they didn’t really know her. How the girl who had bullied Y/N to death was expelled. How he watched them march her out of the school and how much he hated her even then for damning someone else to an eternity at the school. He remembered the way the teachers referred to Y/N as 'that poor girl.' How her mother cried knowing that she would never see her daughter again. How her little brother stood there, confused about why his sister would never go home again.  

"Y/N, get out of there! Just come on. Please," he pleaded, hoping she could hear him. He put a hand on the door, trying to sense her on the other side.  

He remembered when no one came to remember her on the anniversary of her death. She faded away into anonymity. Just a story for anyone looking to spook a freshman about the bathroom on the second floor with the flickering lights. It was only a dying bulb, but that didn't stop a senior from using Y/N's death as a scare tactic.  

 She didn’t get a stadium named after her. She didn’t get people reminiscing over her achievements. All she got was an abandoned memorial sight and no one left to mourn her. 

She sat and waited and no one came for her. No family. No friends. But he was still there. He would have done anything to show her she wasn't alone. They were the same now. Left to forever roam the halls of Split River High in the hopes that maybe one day, something would change.  

He always assumed that something would be crossing over.  

He didn't realize that something would be Y/N.  

"I don't know why you wanted to do this, but please just come out." He stood there on the other side of the door, waiting for any sign from her. "I'm right here for you. I'm not going anywhere."  

As far as he was concerned, she was never going anywhere without him again. If this is what it led to, then he would stick as close to her as she would let him.  

He knew she didn't get really get how much she meant to him. Sometimes, he felt like he was being pulled in so many different directions. He had to help Maddie and he had to be there for Charley and he had to keep Rhonda from being too Rhonda.  

But Y/N had become his rock. His foundation. With her, he felt like he was whole again. Without her, he didn't know what he would do. She had a way of keeping him steady when he felt like he was going to fall. He hated the thought that maybe he hadn't done the same for her.  

"Please, babe," he breathed, both his hands on the door now with his forehead resting against the wood. "You don't need to do this. You don't need to relive it." 

He couldn't wait any longer. He had to do something now. So, he did the only thing he could think to do. He threw himself against the barrier keeping him from Y/N. He hit it and kicked it and slammed into it like it was an enemy he could try to defeat. He would fight his way to her if he had to.  

He didn't know what she was going through. The silence coming from the other side of the door only served to spur him on, because he wanted to hear her voice. He needed to know that she was okay. His scar had been so twisted and horrifying and he hated that she was going through the same thing.  

"Whatever's going on in there, it's not real. You are real." He needed her to know that she wasn't that person anymore. She wasn't whatever she would see in that bathroom. She was so much more. "You don't deserve whatever's happening," he added, hoping she knew it was the truth.  

More silence. More stillness.  

He tried opening the door again, but the scene was still the same.  

He hit the door again and again, not letting him think about the pain. "Babe? Babe!" He tried, wishing he could find a way to get through to her.  

He was going to make a last-ditch effort to rush the door. He took a few steps back, ready to try to break it down, when it suddenly opened. Y/N rushed out of the bathroom and slammed the door closed behind her.  

She was standing there, watching him with such a tormented expression that he felt like he was dying all over again. All he could think was that he had failed her. But he would never do that again.  

She suddenly ripped off her jacket and threw it back down the hallway. He only had a moment to realize what would happen before she was throwing herself at him. He fell to the floor, unprepared, and she went with him. She was clinging to him like she never wanted to let go and as far as he was concerned, she never had to.  

He managed to sit up, pulling her up with him. She had her face hidden in his neck and her arms were squeezing him so tight it was nearly painful. He didn't know if she would ever be ready to talk about what she just faced, but he would be there for her. He didn't plan on going anywhere. At least not without her.  

"I'm here," he assured her. "I'm not going anywhere. You're safe. You're out."  

He kept trying to soothe the pain she felt. It was all he could do. From the way she was holding onto him, he knew that more than anything, she just needed to know that she wasn't back in that bathroom, about to die all over again.  

He wasn't sure how long they sat like that before he caught movement at the end of the hallway. It was Maddie returning with Charley, Rhonda, and Quinn in tow. Y/N hadn't even noticed them, she was so lost in her grief and fear. He knew she wouldn't want an audience for what she was going through. It was bad enough they had witnessed this much.  

He waved them off, hoping they got the hint. Charley immediately started herding Maddie and Quinn away. Quinn shot a confused, inquisitive look back, but she kept walking. Rhonda lingered behind, watching the scene before her with a set to her jaw that told him she was oddly pissed off about something.  

He didn't know if it was because Wally wouldn't let her be there for her friend or she was mad that Y/N had gone into her scar. Either way, he shook his head, waiting for her to finally turn away before he gave Y/N all of his attention again.  

He didn't have all the answers. He didn't know what was running through her mind.  

But he did know one thing.  

He would wait for her.  

For whatever she needed from him, he would be there. And he wasn't going anywhere without her. 

Taglist: @preparedfruit @morstuavitamea-a @thatonegayloser616 @kmarie06 @girlthatislost

@peterpangirl21 @uk1y0 @i-mmunity @siriusxmunofficial @lov3bug

@morallygrayboys @loudtalehologram @hey-its-roseaurum @doves1120 @benjiiisstuff

Author's Note: Next up, Wally's reunion!

Fifty Seven

summary: prompt fill. between 1982 and 1983, Wally meets and falls completely head over heels for a girl who changes everything. his biggest fan, his greatest love. you. (request)

pairing: Wally Clark x fem!reader

warnings: fluff. AU - pre-canon. dorks falling in love. author doesn't know American football. total disregard for canon lore. HEA.

bon reading, frens

___________________________🏈

Fifty Seven

It was gradual, how things developed between you and Wally. Slow and peripheral at first. Then, like a confetti cannon—pop💥—instant, exciting; a pocket of fresh air in a dense smog. And it was all thanks to Wally's best friend, Rodney.

See, Wally was a baseball guy. Had planned to continue being a baseball guy through high school. He was an excellent pitcher with an impressive BA, and his mama had been over-the-top supportive for Wally to join the team—believed in him so much that she'd even strongarmed Coach Burns to let Wally try out for varsity.

But Rodney? Had wanted to join the football team. And Wally had wanted to do everything with his inseparable since birth best buddy, so he'd found himself donning a helmet and nailing technical drills like it was paint-by-numbers. Obviously, he'd made the team. Had started winning games, gained popularity and praise and attention from girls. Had fast become Coach's MVP only to, in sophomore year, be transferred to the varsity team. Go Devils!

That'd meant training longer, playing harder, and receiving interested elevator-looks from the hottest chicks in school. Seniors who'd graduated out of the awkwardness of puberty and had learned how to flaunt their curves. Don't worry, Rodney had been along for the ride, built like a brick shithouse and equally as formidable on the field, and he'd kept Wally humble.

Not that he'd needed to, because the thing about attention was the more Wally got, the less he was seen.

Yeah, he was the star receiver, the guy whose name everyone knew. But...that was about all they knew about him. People summed him up to the number on his jersey. Shallow. Detached. The girls he took on dates wanted the infamy of having made out with him—"he's such a fantabulous kisser,"—and the guys admired the hell out of him, clapped his back and handed him beers, but no one expressed an interest in peeling back flesh and bone to see what made Wally tick.

Wally wasn't lonely; he had Rodney and Don and Keith. BFFs since kindergarten who gave a real shit about him. It was just that, if people approached him to ask questions, he wanted it to feel less like an interview and more like a connection. Small talk was exhausting.

He'd been contemplating this when you'd first popped onto his radar. Shooting hoops in the gym at lunch to brood over his latest failed effort with a girl—Sarah Miller from History—when, oh shit, look out!, you'd walked through the door the second Wally had decided to unleash his frustration by whipping the ball at the wall. He'd overcompensated. The ball had curved to the left. Smack, you'd taken it square in the head.

Somehow, you hadn't been hurt, though the sound had convinced Wally you should've had a bruise blossoming on the area of impact. He'd run over, eyes wide in panic, visually checking you over to ensure he hadn't concussed you.

He'd rubbed the back of his neck nervously, "Are you okay?"

"Oh yeah," You'd grinned, friendly, not even a little bit upset, "Happens more than you think." Which would've raised flags if Wally hadn't been preoccupied by how your proximity smelled like summer.

After a moment of uncertainty, Wally had stuck out his hand and introduced himself, "I'm Wally Clark. I, uh... I'm better at football." He'd felt like in idiot five seconds later when you'd merrily declared:

"I know," still smiling like he hadn't just thoroughly embarrassed himself. "You always feint left." Then, in general consideration, "I'm surprised no one's figured that out yet."

Wally had stared at you in surprise, "I mean... I do what feels right in the moment."

You'd raised your hands, "I'm just saying, your recovery's weak on your left backfoot, so you might wanna switch it up soon."

Wally had crashed through a gamut of emotions in under a second, beginning with insecurity and ending in shockawe. Because you'd noticed something. And, okay, yes, it'd been jersey-number related, but it hadn't been how well he filled out his uniform.

"You come to the games?" He'd wondered as he'd valiantly ignored how his stomach had started to feel squirmy.

You'd nodded, "You're fun to watch." And you'd said it so...casually. Like it'd been part of the Split River High zeitgeist: The stadium became a sardine can because Number 57, Wally Clark, was fun to watch.

"So, I guess you're gonna be there tomorrow?" He'd asked, the seed of an unfamiliar sense of intrigue planted. He'd watched you tilt your head, watched your eyes light up when you'd smiled. Wally had felt his cheeks heat and his eyes go soppy in response.

"That's the plan, Stan," You'd gleefully confirmed.

That'd been where it'd all started.

You and he hadn't become friends or anything like that, but Wally had felt a connection. Like you and he had clicked. From then on, he'd sought you out in the crowd at every game. Where's Waldo between plays. You'd never been in the same place twice, and as soon as he'd find you, you'd hold up a poster-board boasting a glittery '57' in school blue, and cheer him on with gusto.

It'd swiftly become Wally's favorite part of playing football.

Tonight, Wally was mid-search, batting away Rodney's reminder that the team planned to hit Max's Diner after the game, win or lose, when Number 36, Matt Wilson, advised, "Dude, don't interrupt. It's like a good-luck ritual at this point."

Rodney frowned, "What're talking about?"

Even Wally broke his concentration and swiveled his head to look at Matt in confusion.

With a snort, Matt pointed out, "Clark always looks for the girl, finds her, then plays harder than ever and we win the game. He's been doing it for weeks." He shrugged, "I mean, whatever works, right?"

He did? Huh. He guessed he did...

"You got a girlfriend and didn't say anything?" Rodney accused, a little hurt. "Ouch."

"It's not like that," Wally assured him, though he felt his cheeks flush and his lips curve into a dopey smile.

Rodney studied Wally for a moment and then, "Alright, my man, what's her name?" A big, teasing grin on his face.

Wally opened his mouth to answer before he realized, shit, he actually had no idea. You hadn't given him your name the afternoon he'd accidentally pelted you with a basketball.

"You're not serious." Rodney said flatly, "you don't even know her name?" while Matt slapped his knee and crowed.

Wally was about to defend himself when, just over Rodney's shoulder, there you were, gaze already on him. His insides instantly went gooey, broad smile stretched across his face, and Rodney leveled him with an unimpressed look that Wally refused to acknowledge.

"For the love of God, ask for her name." Rodney commanded before he stuck his mouthguard between his teeth.

The whistle blew and the game continued.

The Devils won.

‗‗‗‗•‗‗‗‗

Taking Rodney's suggestion was somewhat harder than Wally had anticipated. He just couldn't bring himself to do it, nerves piqued whenever he caught sight of you in the hall. He wasn't a nervous guy—Wally was a big, brave boy, thank you very much—but something about you made him stutter and overthink and, aaah, what would he even say!? Hey, thanks for coming to watch me play after I hit you in the face. Also, what's your name, girl who I share a new, ongoing at-game tradition?

Lame.

He needed more information. ✨A r e a s o n✨. Some unavoidable situation wherein Wally had to go up to you that didn't insist upon itself. Or he could actually be a big, brave boy and just say hi as casually as you'd told Wally he was fun to watch.

Between the last game and the next, Wally began gathering facts from a distance (while Rodney's gaze burned a hole into the side of Wally's head).

He learned that you sat with a group of sophomores in the cafeteria, laughing along yet not interjecting, comfortable giving the stage to your friends. Being a year below him explained why Wally hadn't noticed you before, but since that fateful day in the gym, he hadn't been able to stop noticing you.

You were quiet, though not in a shy way. You often spent time in the library—or, rather, you were always in the library when Wally happened to be, nose in a book on the windowsill. You stepped aside to let people go through a door first, and smiled at everyone; and on Mondays and Thursdays your fingers and jeans were smeared with charcoal from your Art class.

Your clothes changed, but your shoes didn't. Beat up Converse you clearly loved to death. You carried around a Sony walkman like the one Keith had, headphones on in the mornings and around your neck in the afternoons. Wally wanted to know what music you listened to.

Truth be told, he wanted to know a lot of things. Like your favorite movie and what you did in your spare time. If you went to parties or preferred to stay home and play boardgames (he wouldn't mind trading a sticky ping-pong ball for a Monopoly shoe). Were you strictly a cassette girl or did you listen to vinyl, too? Bike or license? Star Trek or Star Wars? Tom or Jerry?

God, Wally had it bad. He wanted to know everything. Every detail.

And, finally, after several failed attempts to muster the courage to cold approach you, ✨a r e a s o n✨ fell into Wally's lap and he decided it was now or never.

Practice had just ended. He was loose and warm and in a good mood, and after saying goodbye to the guys on the field, he turned and saw you sitting alone on the bleachers. Headphones on like a headband, the earpieces behind your ears. You scribbled in a notebook, tongue peeking out of the corner of your mouth, clearly 100% focused on whatever you were working on.

Wally's eyes softened and his heartbeat sped up. You were adorable.

Clearing his throat to announce himself, he climbed the bleachers and shuffled across the middle bench to take a seat beside you.

"Hey," He smiled, broad and hopefully not too eager.

Your head lifted and you smiled back.

Wally melted inside.

"Hi, Wally Clark," You said as you closed your notebook and shifted to give him your full attention. "Not practicing your free throws today?" You teased with a glint in your eye.

Wally ducked his head as he chuckled, "Nah, not today. I decided to leave that to the professionals."

"Mm, yeah, that might be for the best," And then, fixing him with a cheeky grin, "You know, if dodgeball ever becomes a recognized sport, you should totally join a team."

Wally pressed his lips together, doing his best to hide how big his smile would be otherwise, before he glanced at you with a raised brow, "Oh. So, you're funny?"

You giggled like sweet melody, "Let's call it observant."

He released his smile, heart fluttering in his chest, eyes flickering across your face to take in every detail. There was something in him—a magnet behind his ribs—that drew Wally toward you. He couldn't explain it. Barely knew you enough to label it as more than attraction, but it was more. His gaze dipped to your lips, traced the shape of your smile, then skirted back up to meet your eyes.

"Alright, let's call it observant." He agreed, his smile somehow widening.

After a moment of comfortable silence, "Your feints are getting better," you commented, "I can't predict which way you're gonna go anymore."

And he positively preened; spine straight, chest puffed out, proud to have earned your admiration. Maybe that's what'd always been missing. He'd never had to work for it, everyone throwing themselves at his feet just for a split second of his attention. Wally had always been approached, never had to do the approaching.

Was that the thrill of the chase?

No. Of course not. You weren't the deer to his crosshairs. But he had to admit, it was nice that he could trust you weren't talking to him to get something out of it. Which is probably why, before he could stop himself, Wally blurted:

"Do you wanna hang out tomorrow?"

You seemed surprised, brows shooting up. Still, your smile remained and, with a chuckle, you nodded, "That would be nice." And then, eyes narrowing, "Nowhere that involves you having to throw things, though, right?"

Hand to his heart, "I'll save it for the field," Wally promised, suddenly feeling giddy and overwhelmed. He had to resist the urge to bite his lip in excitement. Raked his fingers through his hair and glanced bashfully away to compose himself.

"Very appreciated." You bumped your shoulder against his arm.

The brief contact ignited a thousand butterflies to take flight in his belly. He stood, gathered his sports bag and beamed down at you. You looked back, all cute and sweet and appearing nowhere near as affected as Wally felt which made him feel a little silly for the intensity of his body's reactions to you.

"How about the arcade...around 3?" He suggested, putting as much confidence behind his words as he could.

After a moment's thought, "Can we make it in the evening? Say around 6?" You asked.

"Yeah," Wally replied, "Yeah, we can make it 6." He took a couple of backward steps, "I can pick you up at your place."

You shook your head, "I'll meet you there."

"Great, it's a date," He nearly choked when he registered what he'd said, face absolutely flaming, though he didn't take it back. He almost tripped over his own feet as you didn't correct him.

Instead, all you said was, "Can't wait."

You didn't see it—God, he hoped you didn't see it—but as soon as he was off the bleachers and a good enough distance away, Wally fist pumped, practically vibrating out of his skin. Holy crap, he was going on a date with you! He was going to spend time with you, get to know you, connect with you the way he'd always wanted to connect with someone outside of Rodney, Don, and Keith.

It was only when he was in his car and on his way home to shower that he realized he still didn't know your name.

He could hear Rodney's eyeroll from there.

‗‗‗‗•‗‗‗‗

You'd noticed Wally from the start. It was difficult not to, the guy a high-rise human, towering over most of the student body. But, it wasn't just his physical presence. Nor was it how good he was at attracting attention on and off the field with his exuberance and abundance of energy.

It was the moments between the jokes he made with his friends. Between performing for the crowd when he led the Devils to victory. The somber, introspective moments he thought he had to himself. And he did, for the most part. You'd never meant to intrude. It just so happened that he often used the same spaces you did to find peace.

You weren't surprised that he hadn't noticed you before he'd lodged a basketball at your head. Few people did. Not bitterly; that was just simply how things had befallen you and you'd learned to adjust. In fact, you had approximately two people you considered close and had realized that was more than enough. Still, you enjoyed meeting people where you could. They were fascinating. And, these days, none were so fascinating as Wally Clark.

He had hands that swallowed whatever they held; a smile that brightened a room; and eyes that made your skin tingle, their gaze soulful and heavy whenever they landed on you at his games like a prize. You craved those eyes on you, a flower to sunlight, and were excited beyond measure that you'd have them all to yourself for a night.

When he'd asked you out, it'd taken everything in your power not to kick your feet and giggle in delight. Be cool, you'd told yourself, acting as though you hadn't been daydreaming about Wally Clark since you'd first heard his name in the halls. What you wouldn't have given to spend more of Saturday with him, but things were somewhat strange for you, and you'd had to shave the hours down.

As restrictive as it was, you were only able to go out when the town was sleepier. The streets less crowded, the energy laggard; the shadows darker and the moon visible. Unfortunately, you had hard rules to follow, though, after sundown, no one really paid attention to your whereabouts. You could sneak out unnoticed and do as you please so long as you were back before anyone knew you'd been gone.

It sucked, but it was what it was and there was nothing you could do about it, so you'd set the time for your date with Wally later and hoped you'd be satisfied with the hours you and he did get to be together.

When you arrived at the arcade, Wally was already there, leaning against the exterior wall, hands shoved in his pockets, his expression transforming from teen mag sultry to puppy bright when he caught sight of you. Don't squeal, don't squeal, don't squeal—you did great, kid—you waved sweetly and took measured steps toward him, matching his expression with a happy one of your own.

"Hey, you made it," Wally said as if he'd been worried you'd flake.

"Like I'd miss the chance to kick your ass at Space Invaders." You scoffed, hands on your hips as you pinned him with a challenging look.

Wally laughed and the sound when straight to your chest, settled between your ribs, and you knew your eyes were likely doing something dreamy and dazed. If he noticed, he didn't comment; held out his arm like a gentleman and escorted you inside.

You did, in fact, kick his ass at Space Invaders.

‗‗‗‗•‗‗‗‗

Whatever, you may have beaten him at Space Invaders, but Wally wiped the floor with you at Time Pilot. To further impress you with his skills, he won you a prize from the claw crane. Overlooking the fact that it'd taken several coins and a lot of cursing, Wally felt like the king of the world having handed over a plastic ball stuffed with enough raffle tickets that you could take home a plastic necklace.

He looked for any and every opportunity to touch you, graze the back of his hand across yours, then, bolder, squeezing you into his side as you and he moved between machines. Just as you were about to beat his score at Pac Man, he grabbed you around the waist and spun you away from the control panel, watching triumph when the monitor announced Game Over and Wally's score beat yours by more points than you could come back from.

You shrieked and giggled when he slung you over his shoulder to carry you to the new air hockey table. You sprung into his arms when he defended your honor at the foosball table against another pair of arcade goers. By the end of the night, he had your hand in his, fingers laced, as he walked you home.

It'd been the most fun he'd had in—God—forever. Yeah, he hung out with the guys, went camping and played videogames and did things. Always busy, always entertained. Or, rather, he did the entertaining. A constant performance to keep people interested. Tonight, with you, it'd been different. He was relaxed, completely at ease, feeling like himself for the first time in too many years. His chest felt lighter.

When you and he reached your house, not too far from the arcade, you stopped and positioned yourself to face him, beautiful smile on your face that softened the longer he looked at you. He didn't want tonight to end. Wished it could go on through tomorrow and the next day and the one after that.

"That was a lot of fun, Wally," You murmured as you stepped closer, bottom lip caught between your teeth in a way that made his heartrate spike and his head foggy.

He nodded, "Yeah," and lifted a hand to trail his fingertips along the slope of your jaw, "I wanna do it again, like, now."

You chuckled, and when did your lips get so close to his? "You just wanna try and beat my Donkey Kong score." You accused, breath hitching when the tip of his nose grazed your cheek.

Wally couldn't refute that, but didn't want to, his mind already on other things. Better things. Things like—his lips brushed yours, soft and gentle at first, testing the waters, and when you gasped so prettily, he pressed in. Kissed you slow, his hand climbing to rest on the back of your head to angle you just right. The kiss let in and took out, over and over, until Wally was breathless and dizzy.

He kept you there, one hand trailing down your side to your hip, the other tangling in your hair, for what felt like hours though it must've only been several minutes. He couldn't let go. Couldn't stop. The taste of your tongue against his the most incredible thing he'd ever experienced.

But, eventually, you had to pull away, "It's late."

He kissed you one more time for the road, watched you stealthily maneuver around the side of the house and disappear around the corner, probably to sneak back into your room before anyone realized you'd been gone. Something about the fact that you'd risked getting in trouble for thrilled Wally.

Once you were out of sight, Wally turned in the direction of home, an obvious bounce in his step as he replayed the night—the kiss, how your lips had yielded under his—on a loop.

Again, it wasn't until much later that he remembered he still hadn't asked for your name.

Fuck.

‗‗‗‗•‗‗‗‗

In typical 1980s fashion, this movie had a montage that Wally revisited almost obsessively. Sure, things had progressed rather quickly between you and him; one minute you were the stranger he viciously—but not on purpose!—attacked with a ball, and the next you were every thought, desire, emotion, response Wally was capable of.

After sundown, like hoodlums, he took you to the roller rink and skated on legs made of Jell-O because you insisted you needed his limbs to support your stilted efforts. Except, as soon as a single-digit child cried his frustration, there you were, a professional ballerina on wheels, teaching the child how to balance and move. You weren't even sheepish when you fessed up to the ruse.

"I like how it feels," You said simply, shrugged, and tucked yourself into Wally's side to prove the point, "You feel safe."

Yeah, Wally couldn't argue to save his life, addicted to how you felt in his arms as much as you seemed drawn to be there. You and he danced under the colored lights, spun and chased and discoed like divas, deliberately falling into each other at every chance. Wally didn't complain when you brought him to the ground with you after a miscalculated dip.

Days later, you and he jumped and screamed along to live music (the lyrics all totally wrong, but the melody right), crashing bodies pressing you together. Halfway through the concert, the surrounding mania receded as he rocked you gently, kissed you with meaning in the eye of a mosh pit; squawked when you poked his side to tickle him and then booked it through the crowd for an impromptu, wild game of hide-n-seek.

An empty movie theater for a screening of last year's horror films. Popcorn missiles thrown when he dared suggest the Halloween was better than My Bloody Valentine. Finger to his lips, his hand firm around yours, crouched as he led you into another theater after the first movie. Four altogether, most of them ignored in favor of making out in the back row until an usher kicked you and Wally out for inappropriate behavior.

Heads close, toes pointed toward opposite walls, listening to Nebraska in a patch of sun on Wally's bedroom floor after a grueling week of exams and Wally's mama nagging him to get fitted for new skates before hockey season. He turned his head, admired your profile, lashes fanned on the arches of peach-blushed cheeks. His heart fluttered and his eyes softened as he watched you doze to the music. Between Used Cars and Open All Night, Wally propped himself on an elbow and kissed you upside-down. Chuckled when you nipped his chin and retaliated by adjusting his position, pinning you beneath his body, and kissing you senseless.

Throughout it all, you never missed a game, football or hockey or lacrosse. You'd put an end to the scavenger hunt, now a pillar of motivation—front row, center—and waved that glittery poster with an enthusiasm that outshone his mama's. The new arrangement made it easier for Wally, sweaty and hot, to leap over the barrier and lift and twirl you after each victory. Or, alternatively, for you to hurdle into his arms to comfort and reassure him after each loss.

Over the summer, Wally reminisced fondly on his junior year and everything you and he had done together. He missed you, a deep ache in his heart while your family apparently traveled for the months between school years. You wrote letters and used payphones to speak to him every Wednesday and Saturday, and it helped sustain him until you returned, but, God, he couldn't wait to see you again. To have you cuddled against him on the couch or in his lap on the bleachers at lunch or under him in his bed.

He craved you like a bad habit. Your scent, your touch, your taste. The soft affection you and he traded; lips stamped to the shoulder, fingers carding through each other's hair. How Wally held you, arm banded around your chest, hand under your chin to angle your face up so he could kiss you from behind.

Soon, he reminded himself. Three more days and he'd have his girl at his side again.

His girl whose name continued to elude him.

‗‗‗‗•‗‗‗‗

The night of the '83 Homecoming game, Wally felt a dread unlike he'd ever felt before. A lump of lead in his stomach. He had you in his lap, light, gentle brushes of his lips memorized the shape of your neck and jaw, his arms tight around you, as you helped distract him from his uncharacteristic pre-game nerves.

"I'll be right there, Wally Clark," You promised with a sweet smile.

And you were. In the seat beside his mama when the crack of bone echoed across the stadium like thunder.

He spent the following weeks oscillating between grief and rage, too consumed by the confusion and fear and loss of his own death find the strength to seek you out. He didn't want to know how you handled it. Him. His no-longer-thereness. If you were as deeply sad as he was or if you could move on and make it through. Wally didn't think he could handle it if he saw you smile again despite him not being the one to coax that happiness out of you.

Eventually, though, he couldn't deny it anymore. Had to see you. That magnetic pull led him to find you outside, basking in the December sun, no jacket, laying across the middle bench on the bleachers that overlooked the field behind the school.

He climbed up and took a quiet seat beside you. You didn't look any different. Serene, in fact, as you lay there, your notebook rested on the bench above. Wally sighed heavily, traced the air around your cheek as breath choked and his heart shattered. He had so much he wanted to say to you, but didn't know where to begin—I miss you, I wish I didn't die, I need to hold you again. Sentiments that didn't make a difference anymore. He gazed at your notebook and wondered if you'd written anything about him.

And then, to his surprise:

"I was wondering how long it would take before you'd come find me."

His eyes whipped to you and he saw you staring up at him, neck craned back slightly and a warm grin on your face.

"Y-you can see me!?" Wally gaped as you sat up and scooched closer to him.

"Of course I can." You said so easily that Wally had to think for a second if he was supposed to understand how it was possible. No one else had been able to see him, hear him, feel him.

"...how?"

You giggled, the sound a boon to his despairing soul, "Being dead isn't so bad, you know. I mean, it sucks, but you get used to it pretty quick." Taking his hand in yours, fingers laced, "And, when the memory of you starts to fade, you can even leave the school, which is something to look forward to."

Wally stared at you, bewildered, lost, hopeful, elated, "You're dead?" One, two beats, "You were dead the whole time?"

You smiled and nodded, leaned away from him to hold out your other hand for him to shake. That's when he heard it for the first time, your name, the syllables like angelic melody to his ears. You added, "Class of '57. Nice to meet you."

Without hesitation, Wally scooped you into his arms and kissed you like he'd wanted to since he'd risen from his body. He soaked up all the comfort and reassurance and love you offered with your lips. The idea of eternity no longer seemed so permanent and awful with you in it.

You pulled away just enough to bump the tip of your nose against his, that smile he adored melting every worry and fear that'd followed him off the field.

"So, how do you wanna spend your afterlife, Wally Clark? We could play dodgeball now that you know you can't actually hurt me."

He felt a grin form, wide and joyful, and answered, "Whatever you want." After a soft lull that Wally used to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear before cupping your cheek, "I just wanna spend it with you." His girl, whose name he would treasure forever in his heart.

fin.

🏈___________________________

also on AO3!

Read me losing my mind

Wally Clark x Afab! Reader

Warnings: Smut. Riding. Public sex??? (It's in the art room) Unrealistic (cus passion doesn't really exist)

(this was just supposed to be another one of those posts where I just rambled about wally but somehow it instantly turned into a smut one-shot. Idk how it happened but here we are. I've never written smut except for small broken up little pieces from when I ramble so sorry if this is shitty)

⚠️ Smut below the cut, beware ⚠️

I physically can't exist any longer without having this man 😩😭😩 Like I'm screaming without the s I think I need to go back the therapy. Anyways anyone else been thinking about riding him???? No just me? Okay

On a real note imagine him gently guiding your hips while you rock back and forth on top of him. Loving dazed eyes while he admires you, worships you and your gentle rhythm. Not daring to break eye contact in fear that the feeling deep in his stomach will disappear, the feeling that keeps him grounded to you, stops him from floating away completely.

It was just supposed to be a relaxed day, hanging out in the art room while you both attempted to paint each other. That quickly changed when you planted a sweet kiss on his lips. That innocent little act turned heated in an instant. Blame Wally, he has no self control when it comes to you. His mind turning to mush the second your body grazes his, critical thinking skills going out the window.

Somehow you ended up on top of him, clothes thrown in a flurry. His hands dancing carefully on your body, skin to skin, lips to lips, heart to heart.

His hands slowly sliding down to where you needed him the most, teasing you but only for a moment before he allows you some relief. Fingers pressing against your clit, making slow agonizing circles that made you melt into his touch.

His kisses moving to your jaw then down your neck when he sucked at your pulse point , dragging a sweet sigh out of you that made him groan, sending vibrations onto the delicate skin of your throat.

Gently grinding on his fingers to attempt to cure the ache that's throbbing between your legs. The heat rising, making you feel like your body's on fire and the only cure is the gorgeous man with his hand massaging your sensitive clit.

"Come here baby" He pulls you so your chest is touching his, body's flush against each other. The tension in the room was thick as he grinded his cock against you. Sliding against you as he let your wetness coat him.

It happened slow, him gently guiding his tip into your entrance. Allowing you to sink down onto him at your own pace. Slow, gentle, rocking of your hips while you saver the moment.

Peace and quiet, just the soft sound you two make for each other. A moment just for you and him to bask in. Absolute bliss.

(okay I'm cutting it off there. I wrote this instead of studying for the 4 quizzes I have this week 🥲)

Edit: I should have studied.... I failed one of them 😐

don't stop (thinking about tomorrow)

wc: 2.3k

cw: live!reader who can see wally, fun little meet cute that freaks wally out, tw for two sentence mention of harry potter, set in 2023 but nothing with maddie happens, and as always i am writing with a plus size!reader in mind, but this one is gender neutral!reader as well so far

a/n at the end!

pt. 1 - pt. 2 - pt. 3 - pt. 4

masterlist

He was never supposed to find out that you can see him. 

You could see all of them - the beatnik with the sour expression plastered on her face, the sweetheart in the jean jacket, even the blonde dude who’s always at the pottery wheel during your second period ceramics class.

You’d spent the last four years perfecting walking right past them, not looking up, not laughing at the jock’s jokes when you’re seated near them in the library.

Your ‘gifts’ are too confusing to explain, and even if you attempted to confide in someone about them, you know it would be too hard to believe.

It freaked your parents out when you were little - your comments about how Grandma talked to you long after her passing, how you waved to people on the street that nobody else could see. They never took you to be tested -  worried too much that you’d get taken away or put in psychiatric holding. 

So if you came home looking tired and drained, or sometimes, a little scared, your parents understood. 

When you started high school, you hadn’t expected there to be so many dead people. It was so weird, seeing people your age walking around stuck in the clothes representative of their times. 

You’d told your mom about the kids as you distinguished them from the living ones -  sadness in her eyes growing when you’d mentioned the lanky one in 80s athletic gear. She’d gotten her own Split River yearbook from the shelf, flipped to the memorial page and pointed at Wally. 

“Is that who you’re talking about?” 

You’d nodded, confirming her suspicions. She’d been in his graduating class, though not in his social circles. He’d been your stereotypical jock when he was alive, for all the pros and cons of it. King of the ragers thrown after games, not always a bully, but often a bystander. Gone too soon, but quickly forgotten in the grand scheme of things. 

For your safety, you’d agreed that you wouldn’t ever speak to any of the ghosts. Your mom had clocked the dreamy glaze in your eyes while looking at Wally’s picture, and while she couldn’t stop you from talking to him, she’d told you what you already knew. It wasn’t smart, and it wouldn’t end well. 

In your mind, letting any of them know that you could see them would be more cruel than just letting them go about their usual business. Even if you made contact, spoke to them - hung out with them - you were leaving after graduation, and they’d be alone again, without any contact with the living world. It seemed unfair; pointless. 

It’s not Wally’s fault he’s so fucking pretty. 

He moves about the school the same way you do - not looking at or paying attention to the people around him - because he has no reason to believe he can be seen. It’s worked out entirely in your favor thus far, because you can stare at Wally Clark for small periods of time without him noticing. On the occasion that he turns his head in your direction, a shift of your eyes to the right or left has him believing you’re just staring off into space. 

He’s so nice to look at. His slightly curled waves of black hair, gold chain gleaming under fluorescent lighting. There’s depth to him, too. When he’s around his friends, he’s energetic - bouncy, cracking jokes and patting people on the back too hard. When he’s alone, though, he seems calmer. More reserved. 

You get bolder with it, the staring, lulled into a sense of safety because you’re just another face in the ever-rotating crowd of high schoolers that pass through Split River. He’d seen forty generations of kids move on at this point, stuck as a fresh 18 year old with dreams and aspirations he’ll never be able to achieve. 

It must suck, having to stay behind and watch as other seniors get a chance to do what he never did. You wish you could comfort him, maybe even help him find a way to move on. It’s harder for the people who die traumatically. 

So much unfinished business and pent up emotions make it difficult to find the peace needed to pass onto the next plane. It’s easy to tell -there’s always a certain aura around the sad ones. Like the air around them is heavier, darker. 

You’re not complaining, though, as fucked as that may sound. Especially not when you’re lounging under a tree near the football field, not so subtly watching as a shirtless Wally picks up replicated footballs and throws them aimlessly in different directions. If you hadn’t been daydreaming about being able to talk to him, you would’ve noticed the ball soaring towards you. 

You look up, just in time for the phantom ball to hit the ground next to you, bouncing to land at your feet. Absent-mindedly - and almost jokingly - you kick it away from you, suddenly aware the ball was solid against your foot. In the time it takes you to realize you just interacted with a phantom football, it's faded away into the ground, and its sender is staring at you wide-eyed. 

There’s a beat of stillness, soundtracked by the cicadas and other teens on the field before you begin to move. 

You scramble to throw your shit into your bag, and speed walk back inside. 

“Holy shit? Wait! Hey, wait!” 

He follows you, because of course he does, and you try your best to ignore the panic and guilt rising in your throat. You just keep walking, hoping that he’ll give up. He doesn’t. 

“Can you slow down please? I know you can see me!” 

Wally catches up to you, jogging a few paces ahead to try to cut you off. You’ve never been this close to him - you have no idea if he’ll pass through you the way you’ve seen the other ghosts pass through living people before or if you'll make contact like you did moments ago with the ball he had thrown. 

It blows your cover even more than kicking the ball away, but when Wally goes to stand in front of you, you attempt to veer out of his path. And then he grabs you. Or, he tries to, anyway. He’s not fully solid, not enough to place a firm hold on you, but enough for you to genuinely feel it. 

His hand does go through you, but there’s resistance to it. It makes you shiver, the ice cold sensation of his palm trying to hold your shoulder but not being able to fully grip it. 

“What the fuck?” He looks down at his hands, then back towards you. 

He’s caught off guard enough for you to truly get away this time. Rest of the school day be damned, you make a break for it and throw yourself into your car. 

The stale air does nothing to help your nerves, your shaking hand turning the ignition to blast AC at yourself. You lean forward, resting your head on the steering wheel and try to breathe through it. This is bad. Like, really fucking bad. 

You don’t know much about him, but you seriously doubt that this is the kind of thing he’d just let go. 

You’re in it now, for better or for worse. 

You can’t tell your mom. It’s selfish, and misguided, and you hadn’t even said anything to him, but it was something. It was yours, and you don’t want to share. It makes the guilt worse, and your drive home is spent in dissociated silence. 

When you get home, your mom is in the kitchen, bouncing around to 80s music and chopping onions. The slam of the front door alerts her to your presence, and she pauses her music, concern etched in her features. 

“Hey, sweetheart. Everything okay? You’re home early.” 

You don’t want to lie. 

“Yeah, I’m alright. Just got a headache, that’s all. Thought I should come home and take a nap.” 

-

Spending a few days at home would probably be for the best - it would give you time to come up with some sort of plan on what to say to Wally. You have no idea what the best course of action is. He knows you can see him now. You can’t take that back and make him forget it, and you don’t even know if you’d want to. 

Instead, you barrel into school the next day, head down and earphones blasting music. Your eyes don’t leave the linoleum floor except to put your bag in your locker. The grumble of frustration and annoyance that leaves your body when three Tears for Fears songs play in succession draws the attention of other students in the hallway, but you pay them no mind. 

You don’t even make it to third period before you see him. 

Sitting in the corner of ceramics class, shaky hands denting an already uneven vase, the slam of the classroom door makes you jump - effectively destroying the soft clay cradled in your palms. 

“There you are! Dude, I've been looking all over for you.” He sidles up to you, plops down in the seat directly to your right, the heat of his gaze burning into the side of your face and making your cheeks hot. You sigh, squishing the clay down and shaking your head. 

“That’s fine, you don’t have to talk. I can talk for both of us. I can just talk, and talk, and talk, and-” 

Your hand shoots into the air, a frantic “Can I use the restroom please?” leaving your throat. 

It’s your worst nightmare and a dream come true, being alone with Wally. He walks next to you in the hallway, and when you pass the bathroom he pauses. 

“You’re not going in? I thought you needed to go.” He’s teasing, you know he is, but you still huff at him. 

You keep your pace, calling out behind you, “No, Wally, I don’t need to use the bathroom.” 

You don’t turn around to see it, but you can hear the slightly shocked giggle that leaves him. 

“Oh, c’mon, really?” 

He catches up to you, and when you crane your head to the side to make eye contact, he sucks in a little breath. It’s the first time you’ve actually looked into his eyes. It throws you off kilter a bit, and you feel the need to make up the difference with a quip. 

“What, you’re Moaning Myrtle now? You feel like talking and hanging around in public restrooms?” 

The laugh that leaves him surprises you, Your eyebrows raise, not expecting him to understand the reference. 

“Ms. Williams plays the movies during finals week like every year,” he shrugs, “I’m dead, not blind.” 

You’d taken your things with you - skipping the rest of your class to spend time with him, to answer the questions you know he wants to ask. You go back to the football field, under the same tree you’d been under when you kicked the football away from you. 

He’s waiting for you to speak, to help him understand what’s going on, but the words are caught in your throat, cheeks hot and skin itchy. Your hands fidget, picking dried clay from under your fingernails and flicking it onto the grass nearby. 

You look at him, trying to decide where to start. 

“I’m not really supposed to talk to you.”

“Why not?” He laughs then, shakes his head a little. “It’s because I’m dead, right? Do you have a problem with dead people?”

“No, I-” You start on the defensive, but soften when you see Wally’s smirk. He’s a little shit, you should've known. You roll your eyes, “You’re not supposed to know I can see you for your own sake. What good would it do? Hanging out with me for the next three months until I graduate and you can never see me again? It’s unfair.”

He looks away from you for a second, sly smile wiped off of his face, replaced with a sadness you hadn’t seen from him before. You reach out, trying to make contact, and your hand just meets the air. When he’d tried to grab you yesterday, he was slightly more solid than he is now. You don’t know why. 

“Yeah it is unfair,” He turns to face you again, brown eyes glassy and tear rimmed, “but you can see me, and that’s the most exciting thing that’s happened to me since I’ve been here.” 

Something in your chest stirs, and you know there’s no universe in which you would’ve been able to stay away from him. You’re worlds apart, or planes apart, but it doesn't seem to matter as much as you used to think it did. 

“I think it’s the most exciting thing that’s ever happened to me, too.” 

You spend the rest of the school day - without being caught, thankfully - in deep conversation. The shrill ring of the bell signaling the end of the day cuts you off in the middle of a sentence, and you stand from your place on the grass, dusting yourself off and gathering your things. 

The silence between you is comfortable now, as he walks you to your car. He can’t step off the curb - he’d explained the boundaries of the school to you, that he’d be thrown back to the field if tried to leave. You hover together, not wanting to part. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow? We can hang out more, I have study hall during 5th period.” You tuck a stray hair behind your ear, and he follows the movement with his eyes. 

“Yeah, see you tomorrow.” 

You blast your 80s playlist on the way home, while you’re in the shower, while you’re doing homework. 

Wally Clark is gonna be the death of you.  

a/n: hiii i feel like this part was a little lackluster but !!!! i have a whole plan for what i want to do with this fic and i'm really excited about it. it should be four parts, but that's subject to change as i keep writing.

if you liked this and want to read more of my little stories, my masterlist is linked at the top! if you have ideas or just want to chat, my inbox is always open!

pls don't forget to like and reblog! love you mwah

Alphabet Soup

summary: prompt fill. 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.

pairing: grey!Wally Clark x fem!reader

warnings: smut. AU - modern setting. romanticized toxic behavior. cheating. egregious use of the word 'baby'.

bon reading, frens

___________________________🧿

Alphabet Soup - U

U is for uh-oh, oops, and oh no. Even if it isn't Wally's fault, having become more and more unhinged as things between you and him unfold into something so perfect and permanent, Wally thinks he's died and gone to heaven.

He's caught with his head buried between your thighs, his chin and mouth shiny with your juices. He licks his lips, unbothered, raises a brow at Janet as she stands there wearing the ugliest scowl Wally has ever seen on her face, her body vibrating with unfettered rage. He sits back, naked and on display, lazily stroking his cock with pride in his eyes.

"Get out," He tells her calmly, and she closes door behind her because what the fuck else is she going to do? Watch? Wally slants his head toward you, smirking, crawling up your body to kiss you with unbridled passion, grinding his cock between your wet folds to coax you back into the right headspace. "Don't worry, baby," He coos, "She's gone." Since you can't see from under the blindfold, your wrists bound to his headboard.

You whimper, clearly unnerved by Janet's intrusion despite not having seen or heard her, the bitch wielding feline grace when it suits her. She isn't supposed to be at Wally's house, in his apartment above his family's garage. Janet was in the throes of organizing prom with the rest of the committee and wasn't due to meet him until tomorrow morning for another rundown of their court dance. Smile, wave, make a dumb speech thanking everyone for their votes. Blah blah blah, Wally doesn't care.

He's been on her shitlist since last week, anyway, so what's another nail in the coffin? He actually feels relieved that Janet discovered you and him. It gets him hotter, harder, more desperate for you, because now he isn't shackled to late nights and impromptu weekends alone. Wally can have you whenever he fucking wants. Which has steadily turned into always over the course of the year.

And, wow, has it really been that long?

He knows Janet hasn't left, doesn't hear her car pull out of the drive, so he greedily, selfishly, shamelessly eats your cunt like a Michelin Star meal. Tongue probing your pussy as he moans at how good you taste, his eyes rolling back in his head from it, and the whole time you're keening and crying out and begging him not to stop, oh fuck Wally, I'm so close, please please. Don't worry, baby, he loves this probably more than you do.

When you come, shouting his name for Janet to hear what she never had a chance in hell to get from him, Wally fucks you like reckoning. Paints your chest and belly like a Jackson Pollock before he releases your wrists and soothes you with affection. As you doze, he tucks you in, kisses your hair, vows to be back in five minutes, dons a pair of low-slung sweats and a smug grin as he lopes out of the room, down the stairs, and meets Janet outside the door.

"Something I can do for you?" He asks, obviously unruffled which just drives Janet fucking nuts.

She wants an apology.

Wally laughs in her face, "For what? It's not like I'm really cheating on you."

She wants an explanation.

Wally snorts, "I don't owe you shit." He doesn't. Janet was never his girlfriend. She was never anything. A pest at most, an inconvenience at least.

"You don't get to have her." Janet seethes as if she has some kind of say in it.

Again, Wally laughs, shakes his head, tells her where to go as impolitely as he can. "She's already mine," He states, breezy, sucking the fingers he fucked you with to stress the point. Janet has a prima donna meltdown right there on his parents' lawn, stomps her foot and positions herself to slap him. He catches her wrist easily, stares her dead in the eyes, "You jealous, Janet?"

He fondles himself, pushes her arm away and grins, "Is this what you wanted?" Then he glances to his window, slides his gaze back to her, chuckling darkly, "Or is it her?" She doesn't answer, her face flaming, brows knitted, jaw clenched, "Is that why you wanted me to stay away from her? Because you wanted her all to yourself?"

"Shut the fuck up, Clark," Janet growls.

Wally knows it's not true; he's merely enjoying himself. He knows that Janet is actually just jealous of you, not because she wants to be with you but because she wants to be you. It's been obvious since Day One of their stupid arrangement. Everything Janet did was an underhanded plot to shrink you down as small as Janet feels.

"I'll show her the video." Janet threatens, voice low and menacing, full of umbrage. "She'll never look at you again."

In an instant, Wally's in her space, fire in his eyes, "I fucking dare you."

He hasn't exactly planned for this, but he's tired of worrying about it. If you walk away, you walk away—Wally's heart stutters—at least he has enough spank bank material to last decades. A blessing since he doesn't think he could get it up for anyone else ever. Thank Christ he saved every picture and video and voice note you've ever sent him.

"I'll make sure you lose Prom King," Janet sneers and, again, he snorts.

"I don't think I could care less," and, taking stock of himself, Wally finds that to be true. "It's just high school, Janet. Get a fucking hobby."

He hears the stairs creak, your honeyed voice from behind him wondering, "What's going on?" and he turns and saunters toward you without a second thought, bundles you into his arms, reveling at how you drown in his football jersey.

"You should go back inside, baby," He says even as he kisses you, soft, warm; hands groping your ass through the polyester. "Don't want my neighbors getting a peek at what's mine," he pecks the tip of your nose and gives you a humble smile that still feels a bit unnatural on his face.

It's then that Janet does the dumbest thing she could think of. She lunges at you while you're still in Wally's arms. A rapid badger fueled by envy. Wally pivots you to safety, blocks Janet's feeble attempts to get at you with his body. She loses steam pretty quickly when Wally doesn't budge.

Janet drives into the sunset with a promise to rat you out. To your mom first and then your dad. You look confused, "Why should I care?" You ask her retreating back, inviting her to go ahead because you've wanted everything out in the open since you and Wally started fucking that fateful afternoon after Janet's pool party.

Later, between dinner with his parents and Avengers: Infinity War on the projector in his apartment, Wally feels a weight lift off his shoulders. No more Janet. No more sneaking around. No more yearning and missed opportunities and bullshit. Just you. Just him. Together for real.

He combs his fingers through your hair as you lounge, draped along his front between his legs, head on his chest, breathing deep in sleep, and Wally realizes for the first time that, despite being free to do whatever he wants now, he still chooses you.

What the hell have you done to me, baby?

Still, his arms tighten around you and he doesn't let you go until it's time to get ready for school.

🧿___________________________

MASTERLIST

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Mr.Martin: let’s talk about your emotions

Rhonda: stabby

Mr.Martin: that’s not an emotion, an emotion is more of a feeling.

Rhonda: well, maybe, i’m feeling stabby.

Alphabet Soup

summary: prompt fill. 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.

pairing: grey!Wally Clark x fem!reader

warnings: smut. AU - modern setting. romanticized toxic behavior. cheating. egregious use of the word 'baby'.

bon reading, frens

___________________________🧿

Alphabet Soup - R

R is for Wally's ravenous appetite where you're concerned. The way you move like an art form on his cock as if it was made just for you. Maybe it was, Wally experiencing fucking rapture every time you ride him to the hardest release he's sure he's ever experienced. Your pussy unlocked the Pandora's Box of Wally's sexual exigency and he'd raze empires to covet it for himself.

His brain has surrendered all rationale when it comes to you. It doesn't matter if it's noon or midnight, Monday or Friday, he needs to be on you and in you like breathing. At first, it was his own little rebellion against Janet's exclusivity rule. The rule right above don't fuck my step-sister that Wally raffishly ignored after a two-week, Janet-imposed dry spell. He was pent up and ready to fuck anything on two legs, and then there you were, a remedy from above, sweet and supple and willing.

And now he can't go back. He tried somewhere near the start. Selfishly, perhaps a lot cowardly; a failed attempt to resist the hold you had on him. But it sucked on every level, and he couldn't get into it, couldn't come. Couldn't muster more than a halfhearted, "it's not doing anything for me, bye," before he left with enough frustration to reduce a forest to ash.

He wants to drown in your taste, your smell, your touch. How you sound—punched-out whimpers and choked moans when he bucks into you, fucking you within an inch of his sanity. You take his cock so good, pussy slick and squelching with every thrust, and he. did. that. Him. He reduced you to hedonist flesh and bone; a whining, writhing thing bouncing in his lap like religion. Chanting a refrain of his name like psalms at church.

"Wally, god, fuck, Wally!"

"Yeah, that's it baby, fuck yourself on daddy's cock..."

Fuck everything Wally used to believe in, you're all he needs to live. La petit mort over and over again until Wally's crosseyed and reborn, reeking of sex and sweat and whatever that perfume is that you wear. He blesses you with tongue and lips and teeth; christens you with his come in your hair, on your tits, down your thighs, fuck, yes, faster baby, I'm gonna come—

He doesn't understand how anything felt good before you. In retrospect, it was all so one-dimensional and bland. Monotonous greyscale punctuated by ritual orgasms. Now everything is a vibrant spectrum of color, a rainbow of sensation, and Wally seriously debates stealing you away to some remote location where nobody else could even entertain the idea of having you the way he has.

"You're all mine, baby," He whispers into your hair, hand stroking your back, relaxed in repose as you and he recover from another 200/10 fuckfest.

You hum, smile obvious in your voice, "You wanna keep me all to yourself?" And then, raising your head to give him a devious look, "Be careful, Wally, that sounds almost romantic. People might think you've gone soft."

"It's not soft, it's strategic," He denies, avoiding your gaze as he tries not to let your words sit too long in his head. "I wanna be able to have this—" He grips a handful of your ass "—wherever I want, whenever I want. Can't do that if some loser's tying you down."

Which, true, but that's not the real reason. Not that Wally will ever, ever confess it. Will take it to his grave because he doesn't do romance and relationships (unless they benefit him somehow).

You fall asleep and he climbs out your window, drives home in a daze with the lingering scent of your pussy and perfume for company. He's in over his head. He should end things here and now. Or tomorrow. Maybe after the game next week since he knows he'll have energy he needs to expend before he gets on the field.

Fine. A month. That's as long as he's willing to give. After that, he pulls the plug and everything goes back to normal.

Right?

🧿___________________________

MASTERLIST

also available on AO3!

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If I Open the Door To Heaven Or Hell 4/? [Wally Clark/Reader]

Summary: You confront your scar. Word Count: 2k Author's Note: This chapter contains bullying and how reader died as a result of that bullying. Read On AO3 // Part One // Part Two // Part Three

You hesitated once you stepped into the bathroom, keeping your back pressed to the closed door behind you. Everything was washed in a red glow that lent an eeriness to the scene before you.  

You gripped your jacket tight in your hands before slipping it on. You figured you didn't want to risk dropping it even if it would make things harder on you later. You took a deep breath and forced yourself forward.  

The smell of cigarette smoke stopped you in your tracks.  

"What are you doing in here, freak?"  

You closed your eyes, taking a moment to try to center yourself. You hadn't heard that voice since you were alive.  

"Well? You going to stand there all day with that stupid look on your face?" 

You shook your head, taking another step into the bathroom. It gave you a better view of her. The one who had killed you. The one who had ripped everything away from you, leaving you to haunt the school forever. 

You knew how this was all going to play out. The girl who had bullied you mercilessly for years would end up being your downfall. You should have never stepped foot in this bathroom.  

She was leaning against the wall by the window. She had managed to crack it open and was letting smoke drift outside. It did nothing to cover the smell.  

"God, look at you. What a fucking idiot," she sneered before tapping her cigarette against the windowsill.  

You could feel panic building inside you. Your hands were shaking and you felt like you were frozen to the spot.  

After you died, she had been expelled. You never had to see her again. But now here she was, ready to kill you all over again.  

"You're such a waste of space, you know that? It'd be better if you never existed."  

You didn't know how to react to the words. Those weren't the same ones she spat at you the day you died. She was going off-script, which terrified you even more. Anything could happen now. 

"You can't even speak, huh?" She asked, finally dropping her cigarette to the floor and crushing it beneath her boot heel. "Got nothing to say to me?" 

You didn't know how to speak. All you could think about was where this confrontation was heading and you didn't want to experience it all over again. You had been stupid to let your jealousy and insecurity drive you into this.  

She started approaching you and you felt like you were going to throw up.  

"Y/N!" You heard a faint voice call your name. "Can you hear me?" 

You briefly turned towards the bathroom door, shocked to hear the muffled voice of Wally. He sounded far away and not like he was right on the other side of the door. But you could still hear him.  

Turning your attention away from her had been a mistake. Before you knew it, there was a harsh grip on your arm and you were being backed up into the wall beside the sinks.  

"I think," she started before popping a piece of gum into her mouth. "That this place would be a lot better without you here." She reached out and gripped your face tight, leaving the sting of her nails biting into your skin. She smacked her gum and grinned at you. "You got anything to say to that, freak? Or are you just going to stare at me?" 

You wanted to say or do anything, but you felt like you were frozen with fear.  

"Y/N, get out of there! Just come on. Please," you heard Wally beg.  

"You paying attention to me?" She wondered, pulling her hand back and slapping you.  

It jarred you out of your daze, leaving you to bring a hand up to cover your cheek.  

"I don't know why you wanted to do this, but please just come out. I'm right here for you. I'm not going anywhere." 

"You're so pathetic. No one's ever going to want such a freak, you know that, right? You're gonna be alone forever." 

"Please, babe," Wally pleaded, his voice wavering. "You don't need to do this. You don't need to relive it." 

You couldn't help but think about how Wally only pulled out the 'babe' pet name when he was really stressed about something.  

Another slap before she gripped your chin again, forcing you to look at her.  

"I should have made you eat that cigarette. Got a light? Maybe I can put this one out on that stupid jacket you love so much." 

You could hear someone pounding on the door now. It sounded as if someone was throwing themselves against it, attempting to break it down. 

"Whatever's going on in there, it's not real. You are real. You don't deserve whatever's happening," Wally continued to try to get through to you. He was out there doing his damnedest to break into your scar just to save you. You didn't know how you could have ever thought that Wally didn't want you anymore.   

"Or maybe," she continued, voice low, "I can stick it in your eye. Maybe that way you won't have to see how much we all hate you." 

You felt stuck between her disdain and Wally's desperation. It wasn't until you noticed her reaching for her pocket and slipping out a cigarette that you knew things were about to get worse.  

Suddenly, all you wanted was Wally and the promise of safety he offered. You used her distraction of lighting up again to rush past her, making for the bathroom door.  

"Where the hell do you think you're going?" She growled before you felt a hand tuck into the back collar of your jacket and pull.  

You knew what happened next, but you still weren't prepared for the fall. It felt endless as you struggled to stay upright, helpless against the pull of gravity. And then your head connected with the edge of the sink and you were on the floor.  

You stared up at the ceiling in a daze, because you didn't make it this far the first time. It was over before you could even hit the tiles. This was new territory and you didn’t know how to continue from here.  

You managed to push yourself to your feet and glanced down.  

Your body was on the floor. You were staring up at the ceiling, but you weren't blinking. You weren't even moving. There was a pool of blood forming beneath your head and your neck was bent at an unnatural angle and you couldn't take it anymore.  

You felt like there was something sharp twisting in your gut. You had never thought about what you might have looked like on that bathroom floor. Dead. Unresponsive. Gone forever.  

"What are you doing in here, freak?" She asked again and when you looked up, she was back over by the window, smoking.  

You glanced down at the floor, but your body was still there. The scene had reset, but the reminder of how all of this played out was staring sightlessly up at you.  

"Babe? Babe!" Wally was calling, still trying to break down the door.  

You felt a sob catch in your throat before you were throwing yourself at the bathroom door. You were so sure she was chasing you, intent on dragging you back down into the depths of your personal hell, but you didn't dare look back. You managed to open the door and slam it closed behind you.  

Wally was standing just in front of you. You weren't sure what he saw on your face, but the way his expression twisted from concern to horror had you feeling like someone had reached right inside your chest and was trying to tear out your heart. You ripped your denim jacket off and flung it down the hallway, never wanting to see it again.  

You threw yourself at Wally, taking both of you down to the floor. Wally had managed to sit up and you clung to him like he was your own personal savior. Your face was pressed to the crook of his neck and your arms were wrapped tight around his waist.  

He brought a hand up and smoothed it down your back.  

"I'm here," he promised. "I'm not going anywhere. You're safe. You're out." 

You weren't sure how long you sat there on the floor with Wally. At some point, he had begun to gently rock the both of you from side to side, his touch attempting to calm you as he whispered soothing words in your ear. His lips were brushing the shell of your ear and his hands were running along your back and sides and any part of you he could reach like he was trying to convince himself you were really there.  

"It was horrible," you finally muttered into his skin. "I was so stupid." 

"You're not stupid," Wally argued. "But why did you do that? You know how terrified I was seeing you walk in there?" 

"So stupid," you repeated before finally pulling away enough to meet Wally's eyes. "I saw you and Maddie in the pool." 

Wally's brow furrowed in confusion. "And that made you want to visit your scar?" 

"I thought you and Maddie...," you trailed off, not knowing how to continue. "I was jealous," you finally confessed. "And hurt. And stupid," you reiterated.  

"Oh," Wally said before he seemed to realize what you weren't saying. "Oh," he breathed. "Maddie and I were just goofing off. She needed a friend and I was being a friend. I didn’t mean it any other way." 

"I think I get that now," you sheepishly admitted. Wally had been trying to break into your scar just to drag you out. He was holding on to you now like you were the most important person to him and he was afraid you were going to slip away again. He looked at you like you were his everything.  

"No, look," he insisted, bringing his hands up to frame your face in them. You nearly flinched, thinking about the last person who had held your face. She had only touched you with malice, but Wally’s touch only made you feel loved. "I'm sorry if I hurt you. I would never in a million years ever want that and what we have is nothing like what I've got going on with Maddie or any of the others. You're the only one I've been kissing," he promised, his lips ticking up in a grin.  

"Okay," you agreed with a small nod of your head. 

"And I never want you to ever have to go back in there," he continued, glancing briefly at the bathroom door just over your shoulder.  

“Even if it helps Maddie?” You couldn’t help but check.  

“Never again,” Wally insisted, shaking his head. “You don’t know what that did to me. Seeing you walk in there. God, babe, I was so scared.” 

Wally was looking at you like he thought you had died all over again. In some ways, you supposed that was true.  

"I'm never going back in there," you promised him, hoping it was true. "It was--," you stopped before starting again. "And she--," you cut yourself off again. "It hurt," you finally settled on. It had also put things into perspective for you.  

"It'll get better," Wally promised. "I'm here for you and our friends are here for you too. I'm not saying you won't ever think about it again, but I'll do my best to distract you." 

You let your forehead rest against Wally's, taking a moment to simply look at him. The whole night had been a real rollercoaster of emotion and now you felt exhausted. There was really only one thing you wanted at the moment and that was Wally.  

So, you moved to stand up, reaching down to help him to his feet.  

"Want to pay another visit to the tech booth?" You asked, hoping he knew what you were really asking.  

The tech booth offered privacy and a comfortable couch and a place to revisit better memories. All it needed now was you and Wally.  

Wally grinned before placing a brief kiss to your lips.  

"Hell yeah," he agreed, reaching down and taking your hand in his. "I go where you go. Let's get the hell out of here."  Taglist: @morallygrayboys @loudtalehologram @hey-its-roseaurum @doves1120 @benjiiiisstuff

Author's Note: So, the next chapter is already written! It's this chapter but from Wally's POV, because I wanted to show what he was going through during this. It'll be posted next Wednesday or Thursday! If you want to be tagged, just let me know!

Alphabet Soup

summary: prompt fill. 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.

pairing: grey!Wally Clark x fem!reader

warnings: smut. AU - modern setting. romanticized toxic behavior. cheating. possessive behavior. egregious use of the word 'baby'.

bon reading, frens

___________________________🧿

Alphabet Soup - I

I is for the intense, irresistible stare Wally immobilizes you with as soon as you arrive at the tailgate. It's a bunch of rich kid jocks trying to be country around a bonfire. Mediocre beer and shitty music, but it's a good time. Most of the senior class show up after 10PM, swarm to the Peddie's field like vermin to let loose and celebrate the end of midterms.

Couches have been pulled from the old barn, rugs laid down, truck beds converted into napping stations if anyone's brave enough to let their guard down around their idiot friends. Wally keeps his arm around Janet; laughs with his buddies, claps Damian on the back when he makes a lewd joke about Kristen's itty bitty titties. But his eyes? Are exclusively on you.

Instinct or infection, Wally doesn't know and doesn't care. His gaze is instantly drawn to you when you hop out of Xavier's truck, tight jeans and cowboy boots, a smile on your face that Wally wants to eat. Except it's directed at Xavier fucking Baxter. Wally doesn't give a fuck that the guy's dating Claire, he's staring at you like dinner and Wally wants to cut out Xavier's eyes with an icepick.

You can feel Wally's gaze on you like fingers on your skin. Crawling up your legs, lingering on your ass, your neck, your lips. Fuck, you're the only thing Wally wants to indulge in, but he's stuck under the weight of social obligation and can't sneak away just yet.

Wally spends the next forty minutes stalking you with his gaze, follows you to the cooler where you grab a beer before taking a seat on one of the couches, cozy between Xavier and Nicole. His fist clenches, but he manages to keep his ire under control, arm still around Janet, still joking with his friends about shit he has to inspire himself to care about.

His eyes track up your legs when you stand to dance with Charley and the only thing that prevents Wally from turning feral is that he knows you're not Charley's type. You discard your jacket and, fuck baby girl, the corset top you're wearing gives Wally ideas. He feels his cock twitch, his mouth water; spreads his legs a little wider, and cups himself through his jeans while you give him a show. Pretty as a peach in the firelight glow.

Suddenly Wally's ravenous.

His friends are drunk, Janet at that just-right stage of tipsy, that no one gives Wally a second glance when he stops inserting himself in the conversation, his eyes fixed on you, hand massaging his fattening cock in the shadow of Braden's truck. Yeah, baby, let me see you move. He licks his lips, lids heavy, cheeks hot from something that isn't the fire a few feet away. You send his imagination into overdrive, your body sin incarnate as you dance and sing along to the music.

At this point, he's blatantly fucking you with his eyes, having a tough time regulating his breathing, in out, in out, in out, God, he wants to touch you. Get his hands all over you, his cock inside you, make that body melt for him. In the final few seconds of the song, his eyes lock with yours and you send him a sweet, cherry-gloss smile. He excuses himself immediately, saunters around the formation of couches, gaze indicating to you exactly where his mind's at. Follow me, baby.

He disappears into the woods, waits, is pleased as punch when you slip away from your friends with some excuse Wally doesn't give a fuck to know so you can join him in the trees. Wordless, hand still teasing himself through his jeans, he invites you against him with a wolfish grin and a deep, heated kiss. Bodies flush, breaths heavy, his hands sliding into your back pockets to pin you to him.

"Jesus Christ," He pants, spins, presses you against the tree with intention. "You look so good, baby," He whispers into your neck, teeth grazing the skin, "Driving me crazy..."

The little sounds you make as he grinds himself against you send his brain into a tailspin, cock throbbing, and Wally's impatience wins. He fucks you on your hands and knees, hips hitting your ass with filthy smacks of skin against skin, loud in the quiet of the woods. Oh fuck, fuck, baby, you feel so good. Needed this all night. My good, sweet girl. You love how my cock feels inside you, don't you baby? And so on until he drives you over the edge, fucks you through your orgasm into his, in awe by the end from how fucking perfect you make him feel.

Nobody questions him when he takes Braden's truck and parks it further away. Not even Janet who he's pretty sure is on her knees at Travis' feet between two cars. Wally finds you again when everyone remaining is either too drunk or too high to be a concern in the morning. He curls around you in the truck bed, sleeps better than he has since the last time you and he slept together, and shows his appreciation when the sun's coming up with his lips on your clit and his fingers in your pussy.

His sweet, illicit Kryptonite, inching him closer and closer to insanity with every instant he spends with you.

🧿___________________________

MASTERLIST

also available on AO3!

A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z

Alphabet Soup

summary: prompt fill. 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.

pairing: grey!Wally Clark x fem!reader

warnings: smut. AU - modern setting. romanticized toxic behavior. cheating. egregious use of the word 'baby'.

bon reading, frens

___________________________🧿

Alphabet Soup - H

H is for hot, hypnotizing touches and hard kisses at a party Wally should be focused on hosting. But how can he think when you swan in wearing that fucking dress, hair styled just right for him fist into when he has you on your knees. Janet commanded that he not invite you, gave him a look and a threat, and he didn't listen because fuck her, it's his house, his party, and he'll invite whoever he wants to.

Your friends surround you like the Secret Service, Xavier and Maddie and Simon watchful and out of place amongst the hypersexual pop squad and their clingers-on. It's a smaller party, harder to get away with what Wally wants to do (that being tying you to his bed and wrecking you over and over again until sunup), but he steals moments here and there to make you aware of how fucking horny he is for you.

Halfway through the night, Janet's hammered to the degree she doesn't give a shit that you're there anymore, her arm around your shoulders, convinced she's the best thing to ever happen to you because she rescued you from social squalor. Now everyone who matters knows who you are, she beams, hugging you like a sister, thanks to me. Wally helps you help her up the stairs to his old room—the struggle real—Janet handsy in a way she never gets without her audience to perform for.

She grabs and gropes and pouts for Wally to cuddle, to kiss her, to touch her how she knows he fantasizes about touching you. And it's the closest you and he have come to being caught on Candid Camera, holy hell, but she passes out before he's forced to fess up.

Once he closes the door behind him, he hunts you down, finds you in the bathroom down the hall trying to dab out the Sour Puss and Blue Curaçao Janet spilled (accidentally-on-purpose) on your dress.

"Just take it off," Wally smirks, arms folded, leaning his shoulder on the doorframe, "We both know it's gonna end up on my floor anyway."

"Yeah? You're right." Your reflection flashes him a coy look. Slowly, you turn, prop against the sink, eyes heated, "No harm in giving everyone a show, right?" Your dress pools at your feet when you slip it off, leaving you in dark green satin that Wally's cock highly appreciates.

He kicks the door closed with his heel, on you in two long strides, grabbing your hair and forcing your head back so you have to look at him. "Naughty girl," He grips your ass with his other hand, "You know that's not what I meant." A bite to your neck, a lap of his tongue to soothe the sting, "No one else gets this, baby. You're all. mine."

Wally hoists you onto the sink, insinuates himself between your thighs as soon as his shoves his jeans to his knees. He humps himself against the imprint of your pussy through the satin, his brain fogging from the friction. Your eyes are hazy, lips parted on sweet sighs of need that he hastily swallows. The music downstairs might be loud, but eventually, someone's going to come looking and he can't have them hear you. Those sounds are as much his as the rest of you.

In less time than it took to put Janet to bed, Wally has you on his cock, bouncing like a beauty queen in his lap as he sits on his haunches, one arm behind him to hold himself up, the other tight around your waist. Fuck, he's never felt this hopeless for someone. This hungry and desperate and obsessed. His hips buck in tandem with yours, driving himself as deep as he can get, wanting every inch of you to be his, his, his, "That's it baby, ride daddy's cock just like that, fuck—"

When you and he rejoin the party, he's dressed you in one of his button-downs, belted around the waist with the tie he wore to his cousin's wedding. His scent all over you, his come inside you, and nobody notices a thing thanks to too many shots of Hennessey.

🧿___________________________

MASTERLIST

also available on AO3!

A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z

Random freaky thoughts 🤔

Wally Clark x Afab! Reader (it's kinda not an x reader but also is at the same time. I don't know how to explain it)

Warnings: Oral (both giving and receiving) thigh riding. Me rambling for no reason. I think that's it. This is just smut so yeah. You've been warned.

Enjoy my descent into madness :)

All I can't think about is this man's tongue 😩 like he'd be so naturally skilled with it. His hands pushing your thighs down to keep them open for him while his tongue laps at your clit. Not stopping until you're quite literally dripping down his chin.

Maybe I just have issues but thigh riding anyone???👀 His thighs just look so ridable. Please tell me I'm not alone in this 😭 He'd flex them to apply just the right amount of pressure to tease you. Not giving you enough to get you to that perfect place of ecstasy. Constantly keeping you on the edge until he's ready to take you. (I'm calling my therapist)

What MarV Allen say??? IMMA TAKE HER TO POUND TOWN, GOING ROUND AFTER ROUND!!! Yeah he lives by that even though he's probably never heard the song. I've said it once and I'll say it again RESETS!!! Aka infinite stamina. He can go forever if you let him.

This is just a random thought but he would laugh his ass off if you printed out 'tickets to pound town' Don't get me wrong he wouldn't pass up the opportunity but he would find it funny.

Give this man head I promise you won't be disappointed. He'd worship you, holding your hair back while he admires your face. Gently pushing your head down while he tells you how beautiful you are.

(okay I'm done. This is probably shitty cus I wrote it during a lecture. I'm running on 2 hours of sleep and an ice coffee that I only drank half of cus I put way to much almond milk in it. Sorry I'm rambling bye 👋)

Alphabet Soup

summary: prompt fill. 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.

pairing: grey!Wally Clark x fem!reader

warnings: smut. AU - modern setting. romanticized toxic behavior. cheating. egregious use of the word 'baby'.

bon reading, frens

___________________________🧿

Alphabet Soup - G

G is for all the good, great, god-praising methods Wally weaponizes to distract you from the details outside the arrangement between you and him. Like Janet, for example, and the arrangement Wally has with her. The one he insists isn't more than a mutual (non-physical, non-emotional) ploy to secure their positions as Split River High royalty. It's true, after all, that Wally couldn't give two fucks about her. But their gamble paid off and Wally's riding the gravy train through senior year, so it isn't something he can just end because it makes you grumpy to be a secret.

"C'mon, baby," He says, caging you in, big hands on either side of you on the kitchen counter. You reached for a glass and Wally took advantage while you didn't notice his proximity after demanding he never come near you again. His lips graze your neck, his breath ghosting your skin—a tingle up your spine—and he guides you to face him. "Don't push me away," He implores, featherlight fingers sneaking under the hem of your shirt, "You're the only good thing I have, baby. I need you."

Part of him hates how true that's starting to become. How he can't think of anything else except your laugh, your touch, your scent, your eyes, your lips, your perfect, sweet pussy. Wally's breath catches then stammers out, face so close to yours, a narrow thread between your body and his. His fingers breeze from your hips to the underside of your tits, his gaze holding yours like something precious.

"I'm never letting you go, baby," Brushes a strand of hair behind your ear, flicks his tongue against your bottom lip, "You're mine." And he's greedy as fuck with his things. Selfish. Possessive. Doesn't let anyone within a mile radius of what's his unless he's supervising. He takes your wrist and guides it to the front of his sweatpants, sets your palm firmly on the outline of his hardening cock, "You're the only thing that gets me like this..." His other hand trails down down down, fingertips brushing under the waistband of your sleep shorts as he releases and insists pressure against the back of your hand to grind himself in to.

You're as intoxicated by him as he is you, and Wally knows it. Sees it in how your pupils blow; hears it in how your breath catches; feels it in how fucking wet you are for him from a few delicate strokes of his fingers.

"That's my good girl," He praises, voice chocolatey and low, when you set the glass down and place your hands on his body. "Let daddy show you how good I treat what's mine..." Your whimper is like music to his ears.

Janet's at the nail salon, your mom and stepdad are out for the day, only due back for supper, and Wally was explicitly told to make himself at home while he waited for Janet to return. Something he intends to do with the added bonus of proving how important you've become to him.

Gluttonous, savage, he grabs you under the thighs and carries you to the kitchen table, sets you down only to spin you around and bend you over it. Dropping to his knees, Wally takes your shorts and panties with him before he eats you out from behind, hands groping your ass, tongue-fucking you until your juices dribble down his chin. And, God, there is nothing better than this.

After he fucks you until you're dizzy and spent; after Janet gets home and finds him innocently on the couch (alone) on his phone; after he spends the evening charming your mom and stepdad; after all that, he parks around the corner and texts you:

I miss your taste already, baby. You gonna spread those sexy legs of yours and give me more? xx

Break up with Janet and I'll think about it,,,

He doesn't text you back, doesn't bother since he's at your window in record time, face between your thighs, reminding you exactly what being a brat and getting fussy will get you.

And, shit, Wally smirks against your pussy, was that the game all along?

🧿___________________________

MASTERLIST

also available on AO3!

A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z

October Moon

summary: information had finally started to come to light. things had been falling into place, for better or worse. you and Wally had had to keep keep going, no matter the cost, but at least you and he had had each other to lean on when you'd realized that not everything had been as it'd seemed.

pairing: Wally Clark x fem!reader

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

bon reading, frens

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OCTOBER MOON pt.9

"She was such a quiet girl, you know..." Nanna said softly, holding Ginny's hand as she spoke. Her eyes were distant as she fell into the past, reliving memories of their childhood. Ginny was much older than Nanna. Nanna had been a surprise after their mother, your great-grandmother, had been told she wouldn't have been able to create—never mind carry—another baby. Nanna was the youngest of five; Albert, Violet-Anne, Arvin, Virginia-Amrose, and then surprise baby Abigail.

Your family didn't see much of Nanna and Ginny's siblings. There wasn't a specific reason for it that you knew of, just a lot of distance in between that had deterred your less familiar great-aunt and her brothers from reaching out. After the death of their parents to a house fire, the elder siblings had moved on from Split River and that had been that. They were probably dead—definitely Albert who'd had to have been well into triple digits if he was still alive.

"What changed?" You finally asked, gazing at Ginny as she slept, oxygen tube down her throat. That was the worst you'd ever seen her. Your eyes pricked and your stomach clenched, and you so badly yearned for her to wake up. To hug you, pet your hair, tell you that you were being ridiculous worrying over her.

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

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

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

"What do you mean?" You asked around the lump in your throat, pictured Aiden at that farmhouse as he clutched Limon and ate stew made by the specter of a stranger.

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

Amelia's words rung in your head like the knell of a church bell: Death ushered them into the world and left a piece of himself within them. So...you'd been delivered with Death at your heels. Amelia had mentioned that that was how you could interact with the metaphysical world and those who inhabited it. Holy shit.

"And Aiden?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

It moved you, how much Nanna cared for Ginny. As much as they bickered, Nanna and Ginny were close. Two peas in a pod. Ginny had taken care of Nanna after their parents had died; she'd assumed the role of mother and father and sister in one fell swoop since none of their older siblings would do it.

They sounded like a selfish bunch and—as you stared at Ginny's ashen face—you thought fuck them for not being there. Fuck them for allowing the distance to matter. Fuck them for ignoring or avoiding or pretending your family didn't exist because they'd rather have let everything fall apart at a time they should've come together.

Minutes later, Nanna excused herself to fetch a cup of coffee from the hospital cafeteria, leaving with a kiss on your head and a squeeze of your shoulder. You took her place in the chair beside Ginny, held her hand in yours, and tried to tamp down the slurry of emotions that rose within you.

After a long moment of silence, you choked, "Everything's fucked up." A plea to someone who couldn't hear you. She couldn't travel, you imagined because her body and mind were too weak, but you desperately needed her right now. Or you needed to finally unload the burden of truth on someone you could trust because it had become too much. "There weren't stupid storms or squalls or whatever you and mom said there would be. But it feels worse. Like everything is out of control—"

A thick sniffle, a hiccup, "Maddie's a ghost and her body is missing. I think there's someone out there who wants to use the ghosts...use...shit, use Wally...to glue them in it," A thought you hadn't shared out loud until now because it scared you more than you wanted it to. Your voice broke when you continued, "I--I don't know what to do... I-I don't even know where to look. Or how to look. I need help, Ginny. Xavier and Simon are great and they want to help, they do, but they don't know this stuff and now I'm expected to be a walking encyclopedia and—" A self-deprecating snort, "Fuck. I barely know anything..."

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

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

‗‗‗‗•‗‗‗‗

Simon ran his thumb over the pendant, his other hand in Maddie's as she urged him to lure her mother to the school. Get her here, he heard Maddie plead, I always know when she's lying. But Simon's mind was elsewhere, his eyes flicking over the pendant's design, teeth clenched as he berated himself. He should've asked more questions when he'd—God dammit, the answers might've been right fucking there and he'd been too busy monitoring his pleases and thank yous.

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

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

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

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

"Yeah." One beat. Two. "I mean, not really. I got it in the mail. Mom said he sent it when he was still in Texas and that it had taken longer to get there than he did. He was back for a couple of weeks before..." Maddie trailed off. Simon could fill in the blanks. Christopher had been home for a couple of weeks before he'd killed himself while wearing your body like a meat puppet.

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

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

"You're sure?"

"Yes, Simon, I'm sure." Prickly, fierce. "My dad sent it. I know he sent it."

Simon pulled her closer to press their brows together, soothing her, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you, Mads, I just want to make sure that we have all the facts."

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

Simon hesitated for a moment, unsure how to put into words the weird coincidence he was beginning to think wasn't a coincidence at all. "When I went to pick her up for the Homecoming dance... Maddie, her great-aunt had exactly the same pendant. Ginny said that it was one of a pair, earrings or something, but she lost the other one a while ago."

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

Simon shook his head, frustrated, confused, steadily more defeated as he realized he was so far out of his depth that he couldn't hold his head above water anymore, "I don't know." He slumped, rubbed his eyes, and gave Maddie a look of apology. "But we have to find out. Someone has to know."

"Si, I know my dad gave me that necklace. I can't explain it, it's just a—"

"Feeling?" Simon finished for her, weak smile curving his lips. "Yeah. I believe you, Maddie," He assured her, grasping both her hands in his as he bowed toward her to give her a soft, sweet kiss. "I'm not saying he didn't. But if it's the missing earring, maybe she gave it to him or maybe he took it. For a reason."

"What...what reason?" Maddie asked hesitantly, bits and pieces of information scattered in her mind like shattered glass.

"Ginny's in the hospital. And your dad's..." Dead, he refused to say, already guilty that he'd had to bring this up in the first place. "Your mom might know something. Like you said, you can tell when she's lying."

"Get her here." Maddie reiterated. "And we can figure out if—if my mom..."

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

Maddie sat silently for a long moment, gazing into the middle distance, so worn and small that Simon nearly choked on his heart looking at her. Sandra might not have been the best mom, but she was Maddie's and Maddie loved her. Simon couldn't imagine Sandra hurting Maddie, and yet... People turned into strangers when their souls were broken and they had enough booze in their veins to breathe fire.

He had no clue how the pieces fit together. If Sandra had the answers to all the questions Simon and Maddie had. Why Maddie was a ghost. Why Maddie's dad had gifted her a necklace with a pendant on it that belonged to your family. The two things were connected, Simon was sure, but he didn't know how.

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

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

Maddie tilted back a fraction and said firmly, "You're never selfish," which made Simon's heart skip a beat and break in a single moment.

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

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

‗‗‗‗•‗‗‗‗

The inevitable was already underway. There was nothing Mr. Martin could do about it, no way to postpone it or change the outcome. He couldn't sabotage Amelia's plan, it was impossible given her influence; a worm in his brain slithering between the ridges and festering his conscience. It was a failsafe, she'd explained. She'd been betrayed in the past and Mr. Martin had understood, had allowed her to cast her spell and shape him into whatever she needed him to be.

Still, the fact that the night was finally upon them, after decades of waiting, made him wonder if he'd been mistaken to have trusted her word.

If Janet had been right... No. Janet was wrong. Wrong. She was clever, sure—the ideal candidate to complete their circle—yet callow in more ways than was suited to what Amelia had required of her character. Rhonda was a decent if rough substitute. Too new. Too neglected. Mr. Martin wasn't allowed to divulge more than necessary to her, and that seemed to be the wrong approach since now Rhonda was just as riled up as the rest of them when he needed her to focus.

Dawn's ascension had happened while he'd been in the fallout shelter, thus he hadn't succumbed to it to the same degree his students had. Nevertheless, he'd felt it. Felt that peace. That warmth. That omniscient truth that he'd never felt before because crossing over was supposed to be impossible inside the barrier. In that one moment, everything he'd done to help Amelia seemed cursed. Which included his poor luck in inspiring Rhonda's full submission.

It didn't matter now, did it? That slimy part of his mind tried to justify in a voice that wasn't his. The gears had begun to turn, the machine already in motion. No one would be hurt. Not more than they'd already been, at least, and it was far too late to regret what he and Janet had done to bring everyone together. Moving forward was the only option and after all was said and done, he'd pay his penance.

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

"—the light at the same time as the goosebumps. Simultaneous goosebumps." Wally ranted between Charley's retelling of what they'd experienced. Mr. Martin's collar suddenly felt too tight.

Bernie and Katelynn agreed and confirmed and Mr. Martin wanted the ground to open and swallow him whole. He had to keep them in line. Just a few more hours. A few more hours and it would be over and he'd be free... The noise of their curiosity caused his mouth to dry, heartbeat too quicken, palms to get clammy. He had to have faith, but it was dwindling with every second he listened to his sentient students describe Dawn's ascension from their points of view.

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

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

It had been such a struggle to attain the right pieces and set them on the board. Amelia had been righteous in her anger. A glorious, beautiful blaze of fury that had left Mr. Martin wounded and weak. All because of Janet who'd argued his ear off for weeks. Who'd rearranged the board under his nose in order to steal what didn't belong to her.

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

They weren't allowed. They weren't allowed to look back. Unlike treacherous Janet, Mr. Martin had obeyed the rule. He'd crafted so many lies, so many perfect explanations that Amelia had praised, yet, now, she didn't trust him fully despite his fealty. What would it take for her to forgive him!? WHAT WOULD IT TAKE!?

"Because it's painful to constantly be thinking about it!" Hearing his own words, Mr. Martin knew he would forever remain her devoted servant. In sickness and health, not even death could do them part. "Right!?"

There were still two pawns on the board. Two vessels. One for him. One for her. Let Janet die a second time in Maddie's body. By morning, Maddie's ghost wouldn't exist anymore to need it.

Just a few more hours, he told himself, and it would be over.

‗‗‗‗•‗‗‗‗

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

The school was empty aside from the teachers involved in the awards ceremony. Ajay had snuck you in before accompanying Maddie to the teacher's lounge for a coffee and a heart-to-heart. Wally had found her in the hallway after Group and she'd been in bad shape. He was grateful that Ajay had stepped in to be there for her while she waited for Simon to arrive with her mom so that Wally could soak in your presence privately.

You'd informed Maddie that Simon had had Nicole reach out to Sandra and ask if she wanted to accept the Fall English Award on Maddie's behalf. Sandra had apparently been reluctant, yet she'd agreed in the end. Initially, they'd wanted to uncover if Sandra knew about the origins of Maddie's necklace. The same necklace your great-aunt wore to repel ghosts that might try to snatch her body.

After you'd explained, "It was me," Maddie decided they'd change direction and would question whether or not Sandra had been involved in disappearing Maddie's body sans her ghost.

Wally couldn't believe he hadn't remembered immediately when Maddie had mentioned her necklace. He'd seen it. Not the necklace itself, but the moment Christopher had asked you to take it from his body's pocket and deliver it to Maddie on his behalf.

"Amelia must've stolen it like she stole Limon," You murmured, head tilted back against the wall, staring beyond the ceiling at your mental conspiracy board. The red yarn that connected one thing to another. "She used it so Christopher couldn't steal his body back...which is why—"

"He had to use yours to stop Amelia..." Maddie finished, glum and bereaved. "So, why give it to me?"

You rolled your head to the side and stared at her a moment before, "To protect you." When Maddie gave the impression she didn't understand how it would've done any such thing, you elaborated, "He probably didn't want the same thing to happen to you that happened to him." A long, pregnant beat. "He didn't want you to be used."

"I knew it was from him," Maddie stated as she curled over her knees. "There was a note. I remember now."

You held your hands up and wiggled your fingers to connote your ability to transfer things from the metaphysical world to the living world. "I don't remember getting it to you, though. I don't remember much after seeing Aiden..." A shaky breath and then nothing.

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

Wally's grip tightened on your hips, then smoothed down to your thighs, back up under your skirt to drag you closer by the ass. He gave you a weary smile, about as much as he could muster. Between Mr. Martin's behavior in Group and Maddie's comment—"What would you do if the one person who was supposed to protect you was the one who hurt you?"—unleashing a repressed sense of betrayal toward his mama, Wally's strength of will had rapidly declined. He didn't think he could do this anymore.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You giggled, a sound as beautiful as a summer breeze, and beamed at him. Jesus, he could live without food and water and anything else so long as he saw that smile every day for the rest of his existence. He lifted one hand to tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear, dipped in to brush his lips against yours, a smile of his own forming.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‗‗‗‗•‗‗‗‗

Xavier was insubordinate on a good day, but the little nuisance had been more so in recent weeks. The Sheriff didn't like it. By then, Xavier didn't need to be cagey or deflective for the Sheriff to recognize when Xavier was hiding something. In fact, Xavier had been combative, had shown up of his own volition to once again challenge Mr. South's innocence. And hadn't that been the cherry on top of a taxing day...

It was hard enough keeping the deputies busy, their instincts firing on all cylinders, much to the Sheriff's chagrin. Which, fine, was why those people were hired—except Lou. Lou was impossible. A donut-munching waste of space with muttonchops to stand in for his backbone—but the Sheriff was at a pivotal point in tracking down and locating Madison Nears' runaway body and getting the plan back on the rails. He couldn't afford any more disruptions or screw-ups.

To think, they'd had weeks of wiggle room before that daft creature Amelia had coddled had run off in what was to be Anabelle's vessel. Weeks. The ritual wasn't to be performed until the winter solstice. Empty school. Parents of teenagers not entirely sure where they were at any given time because it was the holiday break and kids would be kids. Alas, Amelia had fucked up so royally in who she'd trusted that they didn't have a choice. It had to be tonight or they'd lose everything.

The Sheriff exited the evidence room, Xavier's energy lingering in the air after their confrontation. That had been a disaster just as everything else leading up to then had been. The Sheriff—Anabelle—had long since perfected how to handle that bucking bronco of a boy. had been raised by emotional distance and respect and he'd turned out beautifully. As had Amelia. Furthermore, it'd worked. He'd pried Xavier away from his values easily, had him right where he'd needed to be. Cutoff. Conflicted. Corrupted.

Only now, he seemed to have recovered. Quickly. Quicker than the Sheriff had ever seen anyone shed a hex. If there was time to hunt Xavier down and prise the truth from him, the Sheriff would, however, time was of the essence and Amelia had made fucking sure they didn't have enough of it to spare. To be so stupid as to let Janet Hamilton frame Amelia's most precious golem!?

May Dagda protect, because the Sheriff wasn't going to lose another precious rebirth due to things that could have, should have, been avoided.

He wanted very much to release Mr. South. His purpose was better served on the board. Unfortunately, the Sheriff couldn't afford anyone discovering the second set of prints on the crowbar. Pausing at reception, the Sheriff noted the address he'd scribbled down. Another possible lead. At his hip, out of sight of those milling about the station, he typed a text to Dave's phone. The address and a blunt reminder that Amelia had better not let her former shining star slip through her fingers again or Anabelle would snatch her precious vessel right from her spirit's embrace without remorse.

After all, daughters came and went, but youth was something worth holding on to.

‗‗‗‗•‗‗‗‗

"Are you finding anything?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Yeah," Charley confirmed though he was distracted.

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

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

"I'm beginning to think we've been discouraged from asking each other personal questions about our deaths for a reason," Ajay muttered so only you could hear.

You didn't know what to say apart from, "Me too, buddy."

From his perch on the picture files cabinet, Charley rummaged through more of Dawn's files, engrossed though managing to reply to Wally, "No, I didn't..." He exhaled sharply through his nose and finally looked up, "Nothing of much interest in Dawn's student file, either..." Awkwardly, tinged with a thread of guilt, he admitted, "I know we weren't super close, but I feel kinda awful that we didn't get to say goodbye to her."

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

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

"Me either." Charley said quietly.

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

Wally turned his head, his lips pressed to your neck, his hand squeezing your hip before he tucked his face into your shoulder for a minute. You felt him breathe in and out deeply, absorbing your presence, your scent a balm for his soul, and then he returned to the slide he'd just inserted under the lens of the microfilm machine. Beneath you, he tensed.

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

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

"A fallout shelter will be built below the east wing of the school," No. No you had not. All you'd mentioned was that Dave had been skulking around the basement and you'd followed him. "The same location where a fire destroyed the former chemistry lab on January 14th, 1958." You were a terrible girlfr—wait.

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

"I don't see..."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You opened it, flipped through the pages until, "My great-aunt was in that class." That was the fire that'd weakened her. You'd assumed it'd been the same fire that had killed your great-grandparents, but no. There was Ginny's young face, smiling shyly from the page beside someone named Gladys Jones.

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

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

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

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

💀___________________________

PART EIGHT - PART TEN

note: dun dun duuuun. next part should be out more quickly. this one just kept testing me. thank you so much for your patience, my loves 💖 we're down to the wire now and just two (or three, maybe, idk yet) parts away from the finale 🙌

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ABOUT THE TAGLIST: we're not about that life around here (•¯ ∀ ¯•) things got too outta hand and i'm still cleaning up the mess left behind by the demons i accidentally summoned trying to get the damn thing to work 🕳️👹......there's a dustpan over there if you feel like helping 🧹💨 or, if you just wanna stay up to date, please FOLLOW ME and TURN ON NOTIFICATIONS

Sex, Drugs, Etc.

pt.8

Warnings: Talk of drugs/Drug use. Possible smut in the future. A lot of plot. EXTREME Canon divergence. Before Maddies time. Set in 2022. Relapse. Huffing Bleach (Please don't do this). The 10,000 Mental Break Down. Hearing Voices. Giving up on Recovery. This is NOT meant to romanticize addiction or mental illness.

1.2k words

pt.7

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Deep, slow, squared breaths. A remedy you’d been taught to do over and over again. Forcing the air into your lungs so they wouldn’t have time to close up, bringing your mind back to the pool where you felt them explode. Inhaling the chemical scent that left an upset feeling in your stomach. It was suffocating but better than allowing the tightening to form, not allowing yourself to fall into that state of confusion, where nothing made sense and the world blurred. 1,2,3 more breaths. 

Head spinning….. Your head was spinning. This was different, it wasn’t from lack of air or the anguish in your body. It was from that deep sickening smell of cleaning supplies. Without thinking you grabbed the bleach, unscrewed the top, and brought the bottle to your nose. You took a deep inhale and let the smell fill your senses. It was brief but that feeling you’d been craving took over. A single moment of silence where it was just you and that bottle. 

Once the feeling passed you took another deep inhale. The few seconds where your mind went just slightly fuzzy made you feel like you were on top of the world. It wasn’t much but it was enough, then shame hit. “What the fuck am I doing?” It was quiet, whispered but held so much pain and guilt. 

This is probably the most pathetic site anyone could ever possibly see. You curled up with your knees to your chest, tear stained face and shaky hands as you put the bottle down. The image of Mags hearing the news of your death played on repeat in your brain. Face distorting in a way that made vial build in the back of your throat begging to escape. 

It’s all fucked, everything. She deserves to know what’s happening, that you didn’t mean to leave her behind. When's the last time you told her you love her? She has to know, she has to know that you love her no matter what. That even though you’re gone the memory of her in your mind isn’t. 

Perfectly cut images of her played in your mind like flipping through pages of a photo album. Her sweet smile and kick ass attitude that always gave you whiplash because she could go from 0-100 in less than a minute. Having her as your best friend was the best gift you’d ever been given and now it’s all over. Soon that friendship will die along with every memory of you.

You tried to wash the thought away. It bears too much pain but they don’t let you. Screams of how you’ll be nothing but what you became made your chest feel like it was being crushed. A ghost in life and death, that’s all you’ll ever be. 

You forced the tears to stop, face hurting and eyes swollen from how long you hid away in the closet, drawing in your own mess. With one last inhale of the strong chemical you stood up, not bothering to wipe away the water that stuck to your cheeks, knowing that by the time you open the door they’ll be gone like everything else behind the veil. You were right, one big loop. 

The strong fluorescent lights blinded you for a split second before your vision adjusted. Kids were leaving the school. Apparently it was already the end of the day. How long had you been in there? 

You started walking, now knowing where to, just needing to get away from the closet that holds the key to fulfilling your deepest darkest desires. You hated to admit it but you knew you’d be back, that’s a problem for future you. For now getting out of immediate danger was top priority. 

You absentmindedly let your legs guide you, taking you outside where you could finally breathe fresh air. No ambulances or police cars in sight, that's a good sign. You couldn’t handle the thought of having to watch your own body get carded away, covered by a white sheet. 

Maybe absentmindedly was a bad idea because they led you right to the football field. There he was, this is really starting to feel like an overplayed meet cute. Except nothing about this situation is cute. 

You try to back track before he could see you, legs turning to walk away but of course it’s too late. 

“Hey” You heard him yell from across the field. You stopped, closing your eyes tight as you cursed your stupid fucking legs for leading you straight to him. Reluctantly you turn back around, facing him as he speed walks towards you. “You okay?” He was slightly out of breath from walking fastly across the field. 

“Yeah, I'm great. Why wouldn’t I be?” You couldn’t stop the sarcasm that dripped from your voice. You knew it wasn’t his fault, just a simple little question people ask when things are out of place but no one ever answered truthfully. How could you be okay? You just watched the one person who’s been by your side through it all, who’s never once asked if you’re fucking okay because she knows your not, break down because of you and you couldn’t do anything about it. No you’re not fucking okay. 

“Really? Because you seem kinda mad.” Thanks captain obvious. You could tell he was trying to be playful with the way he spoke, it felt out of place but understandable. You just couldn’t help the anger it boiled in you. 

“Oh, I seem mad?” You knew it was wrong. He didn’t deserve this, none of your anger should be pointed towards him but you couldn’t stop the words from leaving your mouth, laced with venom. 

“Yeah, I'm not doing this.” And with that he gave you a tight lipped smile and walked away, leaving you there confused and upset. Granted it was deserved. 

You threw your arms in the air before you let them fall back down, hitting your thighs with a clap. “Thanks a fucking lot!” You couldn’t stop the frustrated tears that built up in your eyes. It all hurt, everything, just excruciating pain like being burned alive by your own swirl of emotions. “FUUUUCK!” You kicked the cone beside you, it didn’t do much but it felt right. Then you just felt weak and guilty. 

You sat on the grass, pulled your knees to your chest and cried. It was the only thing you could do. You felt powerless, like you had no control over anything. Have you ever? Shit you can’t even contain your own emotions. 

Choosing how to numb the pain of your swollen broken fingers was the first time you had power over yourself. Even then that turned into a downwards spiral that you got lost in. Powers motivation, something you don’t have. What's the point? You’re dead, all of the ‘healing’ and ‘fighting for those around you’ means nothing. You have nothing to get better for, so why try? 

Were you supposed to pull yourself off the ground and ask for help? There's no point, its over. Life, death, its all the same fucked up loop that left you lost. Self pity and breakdowns aren't going to fix anything, it just can’t be fixed. It’s over

It’s over

                                                                                      It’s over

                                                                       It’s over

                                                         t’s over 

                                                                       I

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r

Pt.9

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