Masterlist

Not sleeping all night just so I can read each part was worth it

October Sun

summary: Xavier had been tormented by many things since Maddie's disappearance, Simon's distrust and hostility at the top of the list. but there'd been other things that'd kept him up at night as well, and for a much longer time. I know we don't talk about it, he'd said, but maybe we should...

pairing: Wally Clark x fem!reader

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

bon reading, frens

___________________________💀

OCTOBER SUN pt.20

Xavier stood in front of the closed door, wary, unsure if he was allowed to open it. He knew what was behind it, knew you were in there because you hadn't been in your room when he'd gone to check on you after he'd heard the pipes shudder and the water stop.

He'd spent the last thirty minutes with Abigail—your grandmother—in the kitchen, their conversation skirting around the topic of your panic attack as if admitting what had caused it would conjure another episode. Abigail had fed him cookies and chocolate milk like he was still the little boy she'd been introduced to years ago, all scraped knees and peach-fuzz hair, adult teeth too big for his smile.

A massive tupperware of spaghetti and meatballs waited for him on the bench in the foyer where he'd kicked off his shoes and hung his jacket upon entering the house. Abigail always fretted over him. Hugged him and held him like her own. Xavier adored her. Adored your whole family, really; profoundly grateful to be accepted as part of it. Especially after his own had dissolved into something he couldn't hold together no matter how much he'd tried.

Still, being accepted into your family didn't mean Xavier had access to every corner and cranny. Some things were off-limits, private, For Our Eyes Only, and the room he lingered outside of was one of them. But, fuck it, he'd already missed his Bio test; had skipped last period to get you home safe, and he needed to make sure you were okay before he left.

With a grounding breath, Xavier summoned the courage and opened the door.

The room was daytime-dark, curtains drawn, the stars tacked on the ceiling glowing an eerie, phosphorous green. He could easily make out the child-height furniture. The shelves of picture books and action figures. Spiderman sheets, sleeves of Pokémon cards, and a stack of VHS tapes Aurora had insisted on playing whenever she'd been forced to babysit—"This sucks, Rory, we want Netflix!"—"Shut up. This is so much better!"

The air smelt stale, stuffy, and there was a thick film of dust on every surface but the bed. A shrine untouched in the years between Then and Now.

Xavier's eyes fell to where you sat on the floor, knees up, head tipped back to rest on the low, single bed. He wanted to turn around. Leave. Being there felt intrusive. But, you didn't yell at him. Didn't tell him to fuck off. Didn't throw something at his head. You barely acknowledged him apart from patting the ground beside you in behest.

He dropped down easily; accepted your weight when you slumped into his side, head on his shoulder, damp hair soaking a wet patch into the collar of his shirt. He rested his elbows on his knees, hand clasped around opposite wrist, and pressed his cheek into the top of your head. Glancing down the length of you, he noticed the stuffed lion in your arms. A long, gangly thing with a round face and button eyes, features sewn in black thread on a corduroy canvas.

Aidan had toted that thing around like a limb, Xavier remembered.

It hurt everywhere to think of the little boy who'd inserted himself into the sleepovers and hangouts you'd had in elementary school. Afternoons and evenings spent shooing him away only to give in within minutes because neither you nor Xavier or Hana had the heart to say no to him.

"Sissy~, I want to play, too!"

A lump formed in Xavier's throat, pressure behind his eyes that he ignored to ask, "Are you okay?" He kept his voice just above a whisper, the way people spoke in church. Afraid to disturb the spectral peace that pervaded the room.

After several beats, you finally admitted, "I don't think so," and held the lion tighter.

Xavier didn't know how to respond, the agreement you'd both made six years ago—no questions asked—weighing his conscience down. He wanted to respect the promise. Had always respected it just as you had done for him. However, things felt too heavy not to at least broach the subject.

On a shaky exhale, Xavier ventured, "I know we don't talk about it, but...maybe we should."

"Zav..."

"No, listen, you freaked the fuck out back there and it scared the shit out of me. I haven't seen you that bad in years." He nudged you off his shoulder with a minute shrug, shifting to prop his head against the bed. You studied him, thick lashes starred from your shower, and eyes glassy. The misery miring your expression was visible enough through the dark that Xavier felt guilty for saying anything. He said anyway, "Please don't shut me out."

His mother had very little interest in him; his dad treated him like an unbroken animal. And Maddie...he'd fucked that up so much that, even if she came back, he wouldn't be able to look her in the eye. And yes, yeah, he'd done it to himself, okay? He knew that. He'd always made sure not to let himself get too comfortable. Kept people at arm's length because, if he didn't, it would hurt so much worse when they eventually left.

But you were different. You'd been there since he'd pushed Harrison Levi out of the sandbox in kindergarten and split the kid's eyebrow open. The only one in the class who hadn't been afraid of Xavier after that, and had shared your crayons and glue during crafts period.

Xavier needed you like a lifeline, the one person in the whole damn world who saw him for who he was and hadn't left him in the past. You'd stayed through the angst of his parents' separation; through a childhood filled with inappropriate humor and distasteful comments. Through above-average forgetfulness and outbursts he couldn't control.

He felt the warmth of your breath on his cheeks, smelt peppermint toothpaste and vanilla shampoo; faces close, sides pressed together in a soft line. An intimate bubble of privacy and safety.

"I saw Ms. Chung in the hallway before class." You said at last, as if that explained everything, and okay, sure, Xavier could work with that.

Kind of. "Who?"

"The grief counselor that Principal Hartman brought in on Monday." You elaborated. "She, uhm...She was the counselor I saw after..."

Xavier understood what you couldn't say. Nodded and smiled gratefully at you for having shared that much. He filled in some blanks himself, "And, I guess, this whole thing with Maddie is hitting pretty close to home, huh?"

You snorted, "Yeah, it definitely has the whole 'someone you think you can trust ends up betraying you' thing going for it."

Xavier's blood ran cold.

It would occur to him later that he didn't fully understand how your comment related to your trauma. It was the one police file his dad had ensured Xavier couldn't get his hands on and snoop through.

For now, he was blindsided by fear. Because who the fuck else had Maddie been meant to trust and was instead betrayed by? Sandra, perhaps, but you didn't know that. Did you? Had you also been to see her? No, that would be weird as hell. You and Maddie were friends-by-extension. Xavier didn't think you even knew where Maddie lived. Thus, as far as Xavier knew, he was the only one who fit the profile, which meant that, oh God no, you knew about Claire and this was the moment you banished Xavier from your life forever. He wasn't ready. He wasn't ready to be entirely alone, not yet, please, not yet—

"What does that mean?" He fished, tone even, though inwardly he was losing his shit.

Your focus went distant as you seemed to think carefully about what you wanted to say. With his heart in his throat, Xavier listened as you told him, "Simon and I think Mr. Anderson had something to do with Maddie's disappearance."

And he almost cried in relief. Until a certain part of your statement sunk in.

"You and Simon?"

You leaned back, looking at Xavier like you were mentally fitting him for a dunce cap. "Really? That's what you're concerned about? Zav, you went on an adventure with his only other best friend yesterday. He didn't have anyone else to talk to, so yeah, I'm happy to help him follow whatever leads he finds."

"At least Nicole doesn't hate me." Xavier hissed, "Simon dead-ass accused me of hurting Maddie in front of everyone."

"Okay, a) I made sure to get it through his skull that you're innocent. And, b) Simon doesn't hate you." You stopped, appearing somewhat hesitant to continue before you went on in sympathy, "He's just obviously in love with Maddie and you're the guy she chose instead."

As if Xavier hadn't been painfully aware of Simon's big, fat crush on Maddie since the fledgling days of their relationship. Simon had been a looming presence; had viscerally attempted to hold back glaring daggers at Xavier across the lunch table or over your and Mathilda's heads at shows, or movies, or tailgates.

"We're all trying to figure out where Maddie is." You said, bringing the situation to order. "And it seems like we've all been doing a better job than the cops because you and Nicole found boot prints and a ticket, and Simon found a stash of cash in Mr. Anderson's classroom. Plus, after talking about it last night—"

"You saw Simon last night?"

You talked over Xavier, the volume of your voice rising marginally, "—he and I think he's hiding something in the theater, too."

Xavier hung his head, cracked his neck, and rolled his shoulders, trying to calm the wave of conflicting emotion cresting inside him. You were his best friend. Yet, you'd buddied off with Simon Creepy Possessive Elroy to—

"Wait. Anderson has money in his classroom?"

You rolled your eyes, sporting a sardonic smile, "Yes, Officer Baxter, welcome back to the point. You done being weird?"

"I'm sorry, okay?" Xavier apologized sincerely, ducking to catch your eye. He swiveled to rest his side against the bed and face you more easily. "That was a lot of information to digest. I didn't mean to get weird about you and Simon being close all of a sudden."

You playfully shoved a hand into Xavier's face, "Aw, Zav, don't worry, I'm still all yours," and winked before dissolving into a merry cackle.

Xavier reached across the narrow space between you both and slung an arm around your neck, dragging you close to ruffle your hair. It didn't have the same effect as when your hair was dry, tangling and teasing it into an 80s starburst, but it was close enough. You squealed and giggled, laid Aidan's lion on the bed, and then wrestled Xavier off you. In retaliation, he banded his arms around your torso and pulled you into his chest, fingers dancing along your sides.

It was fun, silly, something neither of you had been in what Xavier felt had been forever. Your laughter brightened the room, pushed the melancholy shadows into the corners, and made way for a cheerful lightness that hadn't existed in the space for too long.

"You're an ass." You wheezed, squirming out of Xavier's grasp and settling back against the bed, one leg held close and chin propped on your knee.

"Yeah, but you love me," Xavier teased.

He was loathe to ruin the moment—you beaming at him with dimpled cheeks and crinkled eyes—but his phone started to buzz in his front pocket. He dug it out, saw who was calling and glanced at you for confirmation that he should answer.

At your nod, he accepted the call, "Hey Tilda, sorry for not calling before, but—"

"SIMON, DON'T SAY A FUCKING WORD UNTIL MY MOM GETS THERE!" Mathilda shrieked on the other end of the line and then, into the phone, "What the fuck, Xavier, I tried calling you three times already!"

She had? Xavier hadn't felt his phone vibrate before then...Of course, when he was hyper-focused on something, everything else fell away, muffled by the void until he poked his head out of whatever rabbit hole he'd tumbled down. And, when it came to taking care of you, nothing else penetrated until he'd exhausted himself putting a smile back on your face.

Something he'd just succeeding in doing, damn it.

You pounced forward, grabbing Xavier's phone out of his hand and putting the call on speaker, "What's going on?"

"The cops just dragged Simon out of the school." Mathilda relayed, harried, clearly on the move. "I called my mom, but she won't be in town for another hour!" You and Xavier shared a look before Mathilda pulled attention back to what was unfolding on her end, "They're putting him in the back seat! That's bad, right!? XAVIER!? Is that bad!? What the heLL IS GOING ON!?"

"It's fine, Tilda," Xavier reassured firmly, eyes fixed on yours. "Unless he's in handcuffs, they aren't arresting him. They probably just want his statement on the record."

"His statement for what?" Mathilda sounded ready to go to battle, "They already asked us about Friday!"

Oh shit, you mouthed, the money.

Xavier muted the call to ask you, "Would Simon call the cops on Anderson?"

"I mean, he stole the man's phone. If he found something, he definitely wouldn't wait."

"Simon stole his phone?" Xavier almost clutched his proverbial pearls like a maiden aunt. The unhinged act of devotion to Maddie made him reconsider what it meant to care.

Simon was on the warpath, no fucks left to give, ready and willing to throw himself on the sword if necessary. Was that the kind of love Xavier had been meant to summon for Maddie? He had a lot of big feelings for her, most of them overshadowed by guilt now that she'd taken off without a backward glance, but none of them had inspired him to burn the world down in pursuit of her. There were—maybe—only two people he'd ever felt that kind of feral protectiveness over, and one of them was dead. The other...

He glanced up at you carefully, saw the distress in your eyes as you worried over Simon. "If they're taking him in," Xavier said, putting a hand on your knee for comfort, "they didn't find the money in Anderson's class."

"Then Anderson moved it." You choked. "Simon wasn't lying, Zav. If you'd seen how Mr. Anderson was acting last night, you'd know it was true, too."

"Hello!? Are you still there? Xavier!"

Xavier unmuted the call, both you and he chiming, "Yep, here!"

"Can't you call your dad?" Mathilda demanded and Xavier could picture her perfectly with her hand on her hip, brows furrowed, eyes ablaze, about to scold him like a mother hen. "He's the Sheriff! He could make them let Simon go!"

"Not necessarily, Tils. What if Simon knows something we don't?"

"Like what? He was at the APEX with us last week when Maddie took off. I saw him with my own eyeballs, Bax, he didn't know anything." Mathilda argued.

"Guess she's not pissed at him anymore," You commented quietly, more to a general audience than Xavier specifically.

"Alright, how's this. I'll go see what I can get out of my dad. You've already called your mom, she's on her way," He stated in a measured cadence, "There's nothing else we can do."

Begrudgingly, Mathilda agreed, closing the call with a semi-threatening, "Call me immediately, babes! I want to know why you weren't in Bio," directed to you, and then, "Love you both~!"

"I wasn't in Bio, either," Xavier grumbled, pouting at the white call-ended screen, "I don't count?"

You didn't indulge him, instead asking, "What should I do?"

"What should you do about what?"

"Tilly called her mom, you're going to sniff around your dad's office. What should I do? I can head back to the school and see if there's anything in the theater."

Immediately Xavier was on edge. The idea of you going back to the school and getting caught—possibly by Mr. Anderson who was, if as guilty as you inferred, absolutely going to be on alert now that the police had been called—didn't sit well with him. Not after what had happened to you earlier.

"No." He said, authoritative, stiff, "That's...no."

"I have to do something. What if Mr. Anderson hurt Maddie, huh? What if that money ties him to her somehow? And now he's going to get away with it because the police are focused on Simon."

Xavier grabbed you by the back of the head, angled your face so you had to look at him when he told you in no uncertain terms, "You're not going back there, kiddo. Not without me, okay? You've been through enough today, you need to rest."

"But—"

"How about this," He reasoned and dropped his hand to your shoulder, "We go in tomorrow morning before class and take a look around. Together."

You deflated, "And what about Simon?"

"There's literally nothing we can do about that right now, okay?"

An unhappy silence followed as you chewed over the alternatives Xavier offered. He was gearing up to sling you over his shoulder, carry you back to your bedroom, and lock you in your closet until he came to get you in the morning. Completely dismissing that you had a whole family who would hear you trying to escape and then very likely sneak you into the school themselves just for shits and giggles.

Color him surprised when you actually seemed to acquiesce.

"Fine." You said, audibly pissed that you were being benched, but, hey, Xavier was being sensible for once, the least you could do was humor him for one night. "But you'd better be here at dawn, Xavier."

Xavier traced an X over his heart, "I promise."

‗‗‗‗•‗‗‗‗

Of course, Xavier really should've had you promise to do as he'd said because, as soon as the coast was clear, you snuck out of the house, once again donning Uncle Andrew's hoodie and your mom's black jeans...

💀___________________________

PART NINETEEN

note: all i kept picturing is this teeny-tiny madwoman glaring ferociously at the squad car as she drives after it to keep an eye on Simon. a crazy, over-protective witch just yelling profanities out of her window at the cops the whole way to the station. Mathilda is a delight.

Wally Clark Headcanons

Our babe loves to have his hair played with. It's one of the only things that truly relaxes him. Initially, he asks you to run your fingers through his hair just when he's extra stressed. Too much going on. Can't sleep, brain too busy, please help.

But then it becomes routine. Whenever you're lying together on the couch, watching a movie, he'll scooch over and lay his head in your lap, give you a sweet smile and then melt when you start to comb through his hair. He always falls asleep. Always.

Cuddled with you in bed, right before lights out, he'll nudge you with his nose; blink big eyes at you and ask, "head pats?" And how the hell can you say no? Have you seen those sweet brown cow-eyes!? That little pout!? You oblige instantly.

Still, there comes a day when you're maybe wondering if he's taking advantage. You're grumpy and overstimulated and annoyed, and he never asks anymore, just assumes you'll do The Thing if he gets in your space and presents his hair.

So, when it comes time for bed and he gently snuggles up, arm over your waist, head on your chest, expecting you to do what you always do...you decide not to. And he notices instantly. He gazes up at you, "head pats?" with those eyes. You don't move. Wally nuzzles his head against you, a tiny whine, and then, finally, a mousy little, "please?"

If you don't go gooey at that and give that boy his head scratches, you don't have a heart. Pointe finale.

Yall l can't physically write anything serious rn so be prepared for some crack fics.

Y'all it's 1 in the morning and I have class tomorrow I need to go to bed but now I'm crying. Dawg keeps breaking my heart 💔😭

October Sun

summary: after you'd sent Xavier a text that told him not to meet you, you'd ventured to the school at dawn, alone, bouquet in hand as promised.

pairing: Wally Clark x fem!reader

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

🚨💀⚠️thank you for bearing with me, guys. this is entirely new material. PART 24/25/26 have been combined here to create a massive fluffing installment (6509 words 😮‍💨). i'd suggest rereading at least the latter half of PART 23 beforehand if you need a refresh of the point in time we're returning to. please pretend that the old parts never happened. erase them from your memories 🕰️👁️‍🗨️💤🌀

bon reading, frens

___________________________💀

OCTOBER SUN pt.24

It was barely 6AM. You'd hardly slept after Dave had returned you to the house. He'd watched you climb the stairs to the second floor, ever the persistent warden, before you'd heard him slink down to the basement he and Aurora had converted into their private apartment. Besides the numerous big reveals that had unfolded last night—Ajay's odd friendship with your sister, Simon's warped inverse of your ability, Maddie's soul penetrating the field of your cosmic artery, the soul-tie you and Wally somehow shared—besides all of that, something, a feeling of profound unrest, had kept you up. Had you staring at the green stars on Aiden's ceiling until your alarm began to chime.

Sharing a soul-tie with Wally should've been the thing that terrified you most amongst all that'd transpired. It was unheard of, curious, downright impossible in nature. Soul-ties were as fragile as they were strong and required both souls to be alive, together in the same lifetime in the world of the living, to exist. That Wally was extremely not alive should've made you question the validity of the connection you and he had. Especially given there was evidence of magical tampering on school grounds, a spiteful, bitter essence sickened into the ether that surrounded the campus.

And yet, that nor the symbol etched into the tree, that bastardized amalgamation of runic lines, hadn't been what you'd kept ruminating about from the moment you'd laid down until dawn. No, it'd been Dave. Something about how he'd come out of the trees, so steady and sure-footed; how his eyes had held your gaze as he'd marched toward you.

You pressed your fingers into your eyes and groaned. There was no use thinking about it further. Not now. You had a bouquet to put together and two friends to save. Dave's feline equilibrium had to wait. With a grunt you rolled out of Aiden's little-kid bed and shuffled into your room, not daring to check your appearance in the mirror. You could feel the bags under your eyes. Heavy and dark like someone had injected squid ink beneath the delicate skin.

Showering was a groggy, clumsy affair, appendages weak and a step behind your brain's transmissions. You did what you could to make yourself presentable, hoped to conceal the fatigue behind a cute outfit: A thin, loose, autumn-orange destination sweater tucked partially into a slim, black denim skirt with opaque black tights underneath. You applied makeup where you needed it to hide the sleep deprivation and called it at that, unable to muster the strength for much else. It was going to be a long, long, l o n g day.

But worth it, you reminded yourself firmly in a voice not unlike Wally's, because you were going to find a way to help Simon and once Simon was helped, you'd both find a way to get Maddie back on the right side of the veil.

A sweep of berry-tinted lipgloss and you dragged yourself outside into your Nanna's garden, brandishing a pair of pruning shears from the mud room you'd passed through on your way out. You clipped a variety of flowers and piled them on the bouquet paper you'd liberated from the stash Nanna (and now Aurora) kept at the house. Once accomplished, it was time to head out and you sighed in regret that you'd texted Xavier to sleep in, telling him you wanted to be alone that morning to center yourself before having to face your classmates after yesterday's ordeal.

It wasn't entirely false. It couldn't have been. You didn't lie to Xavier as a personal commandment. But it wasn't entirely the truth either and you felt queasy from it. Still, you sucked in a deep breath and forced yourself to move forward. Nanna was in the kitchen when you walked in with the bouquet, sitting at the table as she waited for the kettle to boil. You could smell the floral tea blend Nanna, Aurora, and Dave drank. Even dry the scent was potent, overwhelming the herb and warm spice aroma the kitchen usually held. You nearly gagged as you passed the open teapot, the concoction inside like a punch to the nose when you got too close.

"Good morning, Maypie." She smiled warmly, patting the table in front of the seat beside her. The nickname irritated you, too close to the one you'd scolded Xavier for using yesterday, but it was Nanna and you couldn't find it in yourself to say something.

Instead, "Morning, Nanna," you greeted with a yawn, setting the bouquet on the counter as you traipsed toward the sink to fill a glass of water. "Can't sit. Gotta get to school."

Nanna hummed in acknowledgment and you could tell she was checking the time on the stove before she turned to face you in her chair. "Awfully early, isn't it?"

"So early," You agreed with a sob of disdain as you brought the glass to your lips for a sip of cold water. Your skin began to feel warm and wherever you rested your gaze seemed irrationally farther than where it should be. Shaking your head to dispel what you assumed was a lack of sleep, you took a deep drink from your glass.

Nanna tilted her head and raised a snowy brow at something near your elbow, "And who are those for?"

For a brief moment, you didn't grasp the question, casting about to understand. When your eyes landed on the bouquet beside the sink, you blinked slowly at it, lids like lead. The floral aroma itched your nostrils, traveled into your skull, a thick fog dampening your mental processing.

Sedate, you panned your head and stared properly at the bouquet, told Nanna, "It's for Maddie," confused as to why you'd believed you shouldn't. That desperate, nagging feeling you'd had earlier when thinking of last night—last night?—growled in warning in the back of your mind, but it was so far away you easily ignored it.

"Oh, how lovely," Nanna replied, standing to put her hands on your shoulders and rub your arms kindly, "I'm sure she'll appreciate the gesture when she comes home."

"Who will appreciate what gesture?" Ginny croaked from the doorway, slugging into the kitchen in a silk robe and thick, knitted socks up to her knees. You knew she wore them to keep in place the gauze she slathered in anti-aging creams and wore overnight. Grumpy and rumpled, she questioned, "Who're the flowers for?"

You huffed a laugh as you watched her pull out a chair and drop into the seat, seeming as ill-suited to the morning as you.

"They're for Maddie," Nanna explained and, immediately, Ginny straightened, her glazed eyes turning sharp as they landed on you.

"She's back?" She asked.

You shook your head, "No," and you were tired, so tired, and couldn't quite seem to formulate the words to explain why you were taking flowers to school for Maddie who hadn't actually returned from wherever she'd run off to in order to accept them.

"Is it a shrine thing?" Ginny asked.

A feeling of awareness clawed through the mist that had filled your head. You felt an insidious tickle in the back of your nose, gasped a breath, and then released a cathartic blast of a sneeze, expelling that horrible, heady floral scent.

You blinked several times as you recovered your wits, glancing at the bouquet and then between Nanna and Ginny, at last able to think clearly, "Something like that. We're just trying to stay positive. Principal Hartman said he'd pass along whatever we bring in to Maddie's mom." And there you were, feeling like yourself again, able to map out a plausible lie to keep Wally (and, by extension, Maddie-as-a-ghost) safe from whatever Ginny or your mother could do if they discovered you were conspiring with the school's dead.

Ginny returned to a slouch, propping her head on her fist, "That's nice of you." She looked halfway back to sleep when you gave her a kiss goodbye, patting your thigh limply and muttering a slurred farewell. As you shrugged into your leather jacket, you heard Ginny scoff at Nanna, barking, "Don't you bring that nasty stuff near me, I don't know how you drink it," and couldn't help but snort because, truly, not even a man dying of thirst would accept a cup of it.

"I'm taking mom's car." You announced, peeking back into the kitchen. Your mother was on what constituted for her as a work trip; taking money to perform a ceremony that had no bearing on the ghosts—if they hadn't already crossed over as many of them had—at all. The concept was as stupid as it was a scam and you were revolted that someone in your family, who you'd once respected, was capable of performing such a farce.

Fucking. Ghost weddings.

You pressed your lips in a line in an effort to control the disgusted expression you knew you'd make upon thinking about it. Without looking at you, Nanna and Ginny gave their assent and carried on bickering after wishing you a pleasant day.

‗‗‗‗•‗‗‗‗

"So," Maddie said in a neutral tone which set Wally's teeth on edge, "How long have you guys really known each other?"

It was just him and her outside, lingering by the door waiting for you and Xavier to arrive. Wally leaned while Maddie sat on an empty bike rack adjacent to the entrance, looking out over the parking lot like watchmen on duty. The others were inside; Ajay had vowed to coax Mina down from the rafters while Charlie and Rhonda had simply wanted to observe how that interaction went after learning Ajay and Mina were entangled in their own version of a relationship. Strange and unconventional and, apparently, wholesome though Wally had no idea what that meant coming from Ajay.

"I was wondering when you were gonna ask me." Wally said, ducking his head sheepishly and rubbing the back of his neck. He lifted his gaze to Maddie, "Not long. Since Field Day."

Maddie's brows raised, but she remained composed. After a few moments of silence, Maddie spoke again, a smile in her voice, "She talked about you a lot."

Wally swallowed, his heart fluttering at the information, unable to repress the feeling of giddiness that fizzled through him. Regardless, he tried to play it cool, "Yeah?"

"Yeah. She always said her 'ghost was so hot' and that she was 'saving herself for her ghost'." She paused, chewed her lip, and stared down at her lap as she thought about what to say next. "Looking back, I guess she thought she could hide in plain sight." And then, with a snort, "And it worked. None of us believed her for a second. It never even crossed my mind that it could be true until I got here."

Wally nudged her side in a friendly motion. "Was she right?" He snickered, teasing, "Am I hot?"

Maddie shoved his head down playfully with a laugh, "You're an idiot." Another comfortable beat. She hummed quietly before she revealed in a gentle tone, "You two are cute together. If it means anything."

"It does," Wally said and it was true. It was more reassuring than it should've been to have someone on the outside see what he saw. Cemented it somehow.

Another few minutes passed before a car pulled into the parking lot. Maddie jumped down from her perch, face screwed up in confusion, "Wasn't she bringing Xavier?"

Wally could see the tension she'd been holding in her shoulders slowly diminish as you parked and climbed out. Alone. He and Maddie made their way over to greet you, twin smiles of relief on their faces. Wally hadn't been keen to see that dickbag anytime soon. It was better for everyone that you'd decided to leave him behind.

"Hey guys," You said, eyes automatically finding Wally's, his heart beating that much harder in his chest. You seemed to read the unspoken question and informed, "I thought we'd get more accomplished if Xavier wasn't here."

Maddie nodded, "Smart," visibly grateful for your forethought.

Wally treaded around the front of the car you'd driven and scooped you up into a solid hold, one arm under your thighs while the other clamped at a diagonal on your back, his hand tangling in your hair. Looking at you closely, he could see the exhaustion beneath the surface and felt a pang of guilt for agreeing with everyone (including you) that you should come as early as permissible by school standards.

"Hey, baby," He uttered, pressed your foreheads together with a lopsided, affectionate grin, and hinted greedily for a kiss that you supplied without complaint. He almost groaned as your lips yielded under his, the simple touch striking a match low in his belly. Fuck, he wanted you. Like, always. Was hardwired at this point to get aroused whenever you were within arm's length. It was driving him half insane that he couldn't climb into the back of the car with you, have you straddle his lap, and show you how affected he was by you.

"Rhonda's right," Maddie commented from the sidelines, referencing something Rhonda had said the previous night after you'd left with your brother-in-law. "You guys are gross."

You pulled away from Wally with a cackle, prompting him to place you back on your feet, and said, "Oh, like you and Zav aren't just as bad."

Twirling around and bending (very nicely) into the backseat of the car to collect your things, you didn't see the look that flashed across Maddie's face, one of hurt and betrayal and anger, but Wally did and it made him want to grab you by the shoulders, and shake you until you stopped thinking the world of Xavier Baxter. He wouldn't dare do that, of course, you were too precious, and he couldn't imagine doing anything to frighten you like that. On the contrary, he'd proudly do things to Xavier that would earn Wally a spot on a Most Wanted list if he'd still been alive.

He pushed those thoughts down when you straightened, lifting a lush, full bouquet into your arms which you handed over to Maddie in a way that signaled to Wally you and she were used to each other's mannerisms and motions. Again, you reached into the car, grabbed your backpack, and hoisted it out of the backseat. Wally noticed that it seemed to be holding more weight than normal and took it from you, slinging it over his shoulder with a broad grin.

"Such a gentleman," You teased, though Wally could see how much you enjoyed the gesture by the way you pinked up so sweetly. He slung his arm around your waist and pulled you into his side as you and he walked, stamping a kiss to your hair and openly breathing in the scent of musky vanilla and coconut.

"Wait." Maddie said, just as you and Wally were about to reach the door. You and he paused, turning to look at Maddie as she regarded the bouquet in her hands and then the backpack on Wally's shoulder, an intense cast to her features. "How..." She squinted at you, "Where are the originals?" Scanned back to the car, then you, then the bouquet.

"Originals?" You asked, completely lost, though Wally recognized what Maddie meant. It hadn't occurred to him how unfeasible it was that he still had the notes you'd given him stashed away in his private, just-for-him corner of the school; none of the resets between now and then had vanished them as resets were wont to do.

"Yeah, the originals." Maddie repeated.

Wally stepped in, taking over the explanation since Maddie appeared to struggle with how to phrase that every object they, as ghosts, picked up was just a clone of one that stayed anchored in the living world. He did his best to describe it, beckoning both you and Maddie to follow him so he could show you an example with a piece of chalk in an unlocked classroom. He lifted it, of course wielding the copy while the original remained in place, untouched, not even a sign that it'd been tampered with.

You cocked your head, lifting the original and handing it to Maddie who took it without issue. Experimenting, Maddie placed it back on the chalk ledge, left it there for multiple seconds, and then instructed Wally to, "Pick it up now."

Wally did.

As in he actually did. Picked up the original, no immense, herculean emphasis of energy required (and that very, very rarely worked, normally resulting in a brief flicker of an already on-its-way-out lightbulb). How had Wally not noticed before?

"Gnarly," Wally laughed, tossing the chalk in the air and catching it. "Do you think the living see it floating if I'm holding it?" He began to zoom it around like a toy airplane. "I wonder if it works the other way."

"What do you mean?" You asked.

"Like, things that we brought with us into the afterlife," Maddie clarified, "Do you think you could make them real on your side?"

You shrugged and admitted, "I didn't even know I could do this until you guys pointed it out." And then you sighed and rubbed your temples, "Another thing to add to the laundry list of stuff I have to look in to." You looked at Maddie, "I'd probably need someone who can't see you guys to confirm whether or not it works both ways."

Wally strode over to you, putting the chalk back down on the ledge as he went. He adjusted the weight of your backpack on his shoulder so he could cradle your face in both of his big palms. "One thing at a time, baby," He said, brushing a strand of your hair behind your ear, "Let's check off giving Mina the flowers and then go from there, okay?"

You slumped, thankful, and slanted into him so that your forehead was pressed to the center of his chest, "That sounds like a good plan."

Together, you, Wally, and Maddie strolled to the theater, passing Mr. South who welcomed you with a friendly wave and a short hello. His eyes seemed to migrate this way and that as he watched you walk by, Maddie close to your side, Wally a half-step behind and falling father back as he studied Mr. South. Vaguely, he heard the man mutter, "Mm, I love the smell of dahlias," but that was about as much fuss as he expressed. Nothing to indicate Mr. South saw a puppeted bouquet or levitating backpack drifting down the hall of their own volition.

Wally caught up to you and Maddie quickly, his hand finding the small of your back on instinct. Rhonda and Charlie were already outside the theater when you, Maddie, and Wally arrived, Charlie rising from where he'd been seated on the floor as Rhonda pushed herself off the wall, today's lollipop stuffed into her cheek.

"Well, Ajay got her down," She announced, rolling her eyes, "But she refuses to talk to us. She won't even answer Ajay if he asks because she knows the questions aren't his." Rhonda offered belligerently and shook her head, "And I thought Janet was a diva."

Charley shook his head, "I'm sorry, but that," He hooked his thumb over his shoulder to stipulate Mina's behavior, "isn't anywhere near as bad as Janet was. At least Mina was polite when she told us where to go."

Rhonda conceded with a bob of her head, pursed lips, and raised brows. Upon noticing the flowers, she remarked, "Huh, you came through, strawberry pie," her tone impressed, "Next time you should bring lover boy a new wardrobe," a smirk at Wally and a coy look at you, "He looks pretty good in jeans."

Wally cleared his throat and squeezed you to him tightly, his gaze soft and imploring as he said, "Ignore her, you don't have to bring me anything," then to Rhonda, "She's not our personal gofer."

Rhonda raised her hands in surrender, glimpsing at Charley in amusement, "No need to blow your jets, superstar, it was just a suggestion."

Charley added, "And a joke," as he gave Rhonda a sardonic side-eye. "So, should we get this over with? See if our Split River Phantom has anything useful to share?"

You patted Wally's chest to signal for your backpack which he handed over with a pout, disliking the idea of you hauling it around when you were so tired.

"You guys go do that. I'm going to steal Ajay and see if we can figure out what these symbols mean." You looked at Maddie, "If you guys find anything, let me know."

"How?" Maddie wondered. It wasn't as if she still had a means of communication in the afterlife; the decoy phone had been with Xavier when she'd been thrown from her body, and, as far as Wally knew, her real phone was in pieces. Even if she did have a phone...would it have worked? Wally had heard Dawn brag about her 'socials', but she wasn't actually capturing or uploading selfies...was she?

Before he could fall too far down that rabbit hole, he felt your hand grasp his, fingers twined, skin smooth under his thumb. You grinned at Maddie, "That's the best part," you brought your and Wally's joined hands up, "If Ajay and I don't get back before you're done, just manipulate the connection. Wally and I—"

"Don't know if it'll work!" He interrupted, worried that you might've forgotten that all those times he'd felt your emotions like his own or found you in crowded spaces had happened before last night.

It seemed you had because you blinked those darling Bambi eyes up at him, visibly uncertain. Wally saw the instant you realized your mistake, could see the gears turning as you backtracked and reassembled your speech. It didn't take long, maybe a second or two, and then you picked up where you'd left off, saying, "—but it should make it so he can find me."

Rhonda twirled her lollipop, whistled in surprise, "Magic is in.sane."

"It's not magic," You stated mildly, "It's connectedness. I promise there is a difference." You listed into Wally's side, turned your head to hide a yawn, and then seemed to try to shake yourself awake.

In response, Wally, cupped the back of your head and kissed your hair, rubbing his hand up and down your arm while holding you closer. "You gonna be okay?" He asked, concerned that you might not be able to stay upright much longer.

"I'll be fine," You said, however, the assurance you'd meant to offer was dimmed by another yawn you couldn't suppress.

It was then that Ajay appeared. He held the door to the theater open for Charley, Rhonda, and Maddie who waved their see-you-laters to you. Wally released you in measured degrees, careful and considerate, so you wouldn't fall into the space he left behind.

"I'm coming to find you as soon as we get something, okay, baby?"

You nod, a forced smile on your face that makes Wally want to carry you home and tuck you into your bed. Innocently. Innocently. But he can't help himself, dipping in to capture your lips in a gentle kiss that still somehow makes his breath catch and his heart pound and his desire coil tight in his belly.

"Okay, we get it, you're hot for each other, can we go now?" Ajay's voice cuts through the muggy atmosphere that now permeated between you and Wally, Ajay's exasperation crystal clear and pitched shrill as a school bell.

Wally untangled himself from you, hated having to do it, but understood that it needed to be done in order for both you and him to focus on what was important. That was finding clues or proof that Mr. Anderson was involved in Maddie's circumstances and pointing the police away from Simon. Right. Wally was an independent, capable guy who could do what it took to help. He just didn't want to do it without you plastered to him in some way.

"That face is exactly why you two can't be around each other right now." Ajay stated flatly, all but shoving Wally aside and ushering you back down the hall.

With a chuckle, Wally called after you, "I'll see you later, baby!"

"If either of you say 'I'll miss you', I'm boycotting this relationship until I can cross over." Ajay declared, not allowing you to stop and respond.

‗‗‗‗•‗‗‗‗

Xavier sat behind the wheel of his truck, nervous, jittery; inching toward full-blown paranoia after having stopped at your house to pick you up. He'd received your message earlier, the one that gently told him to stay home and sleep in since you weren't going to crusade after evidence against Mr. Anderson until a more appropriate hour.

But he hadn't been able to get back to sleep, had instead sat in bed contemplating how fucked up everything would inevitably get. And he was scared. Your newfound friendship with Simon made Xavier's veins clog with cold, slimy fear. He had no idea if Maddie had read the message he'd accidentally sent her ("The coast is clear, I'm alone. Wanna see you, babe, so hurry up."). Had no idea if she'd told Simon about Xavier and Claire. Simon hadn't outright accused Xavier of cheating on Maddie—not to Xavier's face, anyway—but, if Simon did know, it was only a matter of time before it came up and Xavier lost you forever.

Fueled by anxiety and desperation, Xavier had dressed and left the house in a flurry, drove over and at the speed limit in frenzied intervals as he'd forgotten and remembered it by turns. He'd arrived at your place faster than ever before only to discover that, according to Abigail, you'd left about forty-five minutes earlier. Granted, you hadn't explicitly said you'd want to spend the morning by yourself at home, but Xavier couldn't shake the feeling that something was utterly and profoundly wrong.

Why go to the school alone? Why leave him out of it? An agitated growl ruptured from his throat as he smacked the steering wheel, tears springing to his eyes unbidden. He pulled in huge gulps of air to stop himself from tipping into a panicked breakdown, begged the universe or God or whatever was out there that he was overthinking it, that you weren't slipping away from him and everything was okay, it was all going to be okay.

Except it wasn't okay. He'd fucked up and fucked around and made you participate by sending texts about band practices that'd never been scheduled, lies about how you'd needed help around the house and Xavier was family so he'd been obligated to assist. Jesus Christ, what had he done? He couldn't breathe, a balloon in his chest that expanded the closer he got to the school. When he pulled in and saw your mother's car, he was already one foot into a mental crisis.

He parked beside your mother's car and sat for a moment, filtering through a litany of excuses and reasons and apologies to retch at your feet in libation. Xavier couldn't. lose. you. Not you. The only person left in his life who fucking mattered. Hurt and anger and grief and hopelessness funneled into him, a tornado of self-deprecation howling insults that ricocheted inside his skull, the torment building and building and—

"FUCK." He belted, smashing the steering wheel over and over again until his body collapsed forward and he heaved a thick, wet sob.

‗‗‗‗•‗‗‗‗

The other vertices in the barrier projected outward from symbols that varied slightly from the first you'd found. Two were etched in stone, one in a tree planted on the same alignment as the other, and the last had been burned so thoroughly into the dirt that you couldn't dig under it or dig it up.

"Can we call it magic now?" Ajay folded his arms and thinned his lips in a dour line as he watched you dog-dig at the dirt from a new angle. "Because this feels like magic."

You huffed and let yourself fall back on your bum, mopping the sweat from your brow with the sleeve of your sweater. "I mean, it's harnessed energy," you countered, still reluctant to call it something so fantastical when you had dirt caked under your fingernails and math class in twenty minutes. Those mundane, ultra-ordinary truths made it difficult to reconcile the existence of something Harry Potter fought a war with.

Ajay wasn't having it, "Girl, just say it. It's magic."

A squawky noise of denial later and you snapped a picture of the symbol on your phone, finally standing and returning to your backpack which you'd left at Ajay's feet. You dug out the notebook you'd used to scribble down the Futhark alphabet last night before tiptoeing back into Aiden's room and compared the symbol in the dirt to the runes on the page.

"It's like the others," You observed, "It has all the binding elements, except this one also has an extra line here..." You indicated, chewed your lip in thought, frustrated when nothing jumped out at you. Whoever had created these symbols and performed the ritual that accompanied them had either not known anything about the Futhark runes or they'd known too much. Which meant that you had no way of decoding the bastardized symbols by yourself. At least, not without major effort.

"An extra line?" Ajay echoed, "To make us extra trapped?"

You slanted him an unimpressed look, "No, Sassy McQueen...but also kind of yes."

Ajay flashed a victorious grin then crouched to look over your shoulder at your notebook. "Why would someone want to trap ghosts here?"

"Maybe they didn't." You considered as you brainstormed aloud, "Maybe they wanted to trap something and didn't realize the effect their spell—"

"Which is magic."

"—Nghyah," You declined and then continued, "The effect their spell would have on the different realms within the parcel they created."

"I know English isn't my first language, but I can tell that wouldn't make sense to anyone."

You rolled your eyes, clapping your notebook closed and filing it away in your backpack. "Think of the spell like a box. Whoever cast it brought that box down on this specific location, trapping everything in this location in it. But it only affects things outside of the physical world because it's not a physical box."

"...Have you ever seen the Witches of Eastwick?"

"Have you?"

You straightened, curving your back to loosen the stiffness that had collected in your spine. Ajay took responsibility of your backpack and together you and he walked back toward the school.

After a short silence, Ajay spoke, "You know, Wally mentioned a cult that used to practice around here. He's really into that spooky-ooky, creepy shit." He emphasized with spirit fingers.

You stopped and stared after Ajay, eyes round and mouth ajar, "Wally? Golden retriever, football bro, Wally?"

Ajay turned to walk backward, smiling, "Oh yeah. He was into it before he died, too. A real savant of the deranged history of Split River." He pondered you for a moment and then muttered, "You know you two are allowed to talk when you're alone, right?"

Kissing your teeth, you resumed your stride, waving Ajay off, "In our defense, we haven't actually had a lot of time to be alone since we started talking."

Ajay snorted, but merrily settled his pace to match yours, his gait slower and longer, "He was alive during the rise of the Satanic Panic. If I'm remembering right, he told me about a cult called the Something-Something of Dagda."

"Very helpful."

"They were established before Milwaukee was founded and then faded out of history for awhile."

You sighed drearily, having heard similar tales through the family grapevine as well as your own special-interest research, "Let me guess, the Something-Something of Dagda made a comeback in the '20s when it was fashionable to be associated with the occult?"

Ajay nodded, "I think that's what Wally said. Apparently, they crawled back into the shadows, never to be heard from again, just before the Second World War."

"Typical," You chuckled, shaking your head, "You join a resurrectionist cult and then leave when—"

"How do you know it was resurrectionist?"

"I'm assuming." You confessed, "Dagda is a Celtic god whose staff can resurrect or kill whoever he clubs with it." When Ajay acknowledged your answer with a low oh, you expanded on your previous point, "I guess the members didn't like that their sons didn't all come home in one piece." To put it crudely. Unfortunately, that was the reality of many cults borne from the spiritualism boom in the 1920s. People either got bored or got bitter when their prophet couldn't stand and deliver in the face of a catastrophic global event.

You and Ajay entered the theater from the side door to avoid the students who began to flood the halls as the morning trundled toward the first bell. You found Maddie rising like the second coming out of the center of the stage, followed closely by Wally and then Rhonda, Charley, and lastly, Mina who turned and closed the trap door behind her.

"You find anything?" You inquired as Wally neared you, eagerness writ all over his features.

"Yeah!" Wally grinned, planting himself in front of you to band his arms around your waist, "You?"

"The symbols are definitely based on the Futhark alphabet and they're all designed to keep energies in." You said, snuggling into his front, happy to let him take your weight. He shifted you around so you and he could walk toward the stage, everyone gathered around a spot at the end of the center aisle. Rhonda and Charley sat on the edge, Ajay joined Mina who leaned beside Charley's legs, and Maddie stood with her back to the door, facing everyone.

As soon as you were within reach, she held out a piece of paper, informing you that, "It's a receipt for new band uniforms signed by Mr. Anderson." You scanned the paper, trying to absorb where it fit in the puzzle, but your brain was rapidly losing steam. Seeing your fatigue, Maddie interpreted it on your behalf, "I think he's been stealing money from Booster Club. He's got a whole operation under the stage to replace the old patches with the new ones."

All you could think to respond with was, "Holy shit."

"It doesn't prove he had anything to do with what happened to me," Maddie went on, "But I think it'll at least help Simon."

"Maddie this is awesome!" You beamed and surged forward to hug her. With your arm still around her shoulders, you and she looked over the receipt again, "Is that how much you figure was in the closet?"

"I'd say it for sure is." She answered, her gaze turning a trepidatious sort of hopeful, "It's Friday, so there's a staff meeting tonight. If we give this to Simon, he can prove that Mr. Anderson is guilty of something and then we can try to figure out where my body is. Together."

"Together." You repeated with a grin because, God dammit, finally, you felt like progress was being made. While not the kind of progress you'd hoped for, it was something, and now that you knew Simon could see Maddie, you didn't have to swerve around landmines in conversation to hide your abilities.

It was one step closer to bringing Maddie home.

‗‗‗‗•‗‗‗‗

Xavier hated himself more than he had before his breakdown, having succumbed to the siren call of his vape in the dissociative aftermath. He skulked into the school, shoulders up and hands stuffed in his pockets in an effort to make himself invisible. He wasn't going to his first class, wasn't entirely aware of where he was going, but he followed his feet nonetheless. Since the blissful first hit, his mind had quieted some, though his nerves were still ragged, eyes puffy and bloodshot, hair rumpled, a scab on his lip where he'd bitten it too hard to redirect the emotional pain he'd inflicted on himself.

He was distantly surprised to find himself standing in front of the theater when he eventually lifted his gaze from the ground. Without giving it too much thought, he reached out and opened the door, stepping into the shadowy space beyond. For a moment, a cotton-candy static fuzzed across his brain and made it hard to process whether or not what his eyes saw was real.

It couldn't be, could it?

At the end of the center aisle, you stood, body wilted from exhaustion. Around you were incoherent silhouettes that phased in and out of focus, nothing substantial to them, just distorted shadows that seemed out of place against the direction of what muted light filtered into the theater. What made his breath catch and the balloon in his chest swell bigger wasn't you, standing in the dark, or the uncanny shadows, it was—

"Maddie," He croaked, voice reedy and tight, "You came back."

The fuzziness in his head was instantly replaced by fear when his gaze slid to you, an expression on your face—wide eyes, parted lips, furrowed brows—that Xavier readily interpreted as betrayal. The darkness crowded against him, the rampage of wailing curses picked up within him again, screaming at him for how worthless and stupid and vile he was to do what he'd done.

"I-I'm so sorry," He choked out, pushing the words past the balloon that had expanded from his chest into his throat. Maddie's expression didn't change, something akin to alarm or hate or defeat or all three, he didn't know because his vision was beginning to cloud. "I'm so, so sorry." And then he stumbled sideways, falling into one of the empty seats, curling himself into a ball as if he could make himself disappear. Everything would be better, so much better, if he could just...stop being.

Xavier didn't realize he was crying until he felt your hands on him, pushing his arms away from his head, forcing him to kneel on the ground with you.

"Zav? What's happening? Are you okay? Zav!"

Your words sounded spoken through water and he couldn't get his head above the surface, couldn't breathe, couldn't answer, his body wracked violently with stinging sobs as he kept trying to apologize. He grappled at your back, pinned you against him, a buoy to keep him afloat as the waves crashed over him and threatened to pull him down into the cavernous abyss below.

"I'm sorry, please, don't leave me, I'm so sorry," He begged you, but couldn't hear himself, so he repeated them louder and louder until his throat scraped.

This is the moment, a facsimile of Maddie's voice told him, this is the moment you lose everyone.

And then another voice, unfamiliar, louder than Xavier's, louder than Maddie's began to roar:

💀___________________________

PART TWENTY-THREE

note: i am of the belief that Mr. South is spooky in his own right and doesn't need Reader to expose him to the supernatural. agree with me or not, his ominous words to Simon at the beginning of the season set me on a path that i can't ignore 🤭

i really hope you guys are okay with how i'm reworking this. i know i gave away a pretty major spoiler, and i regret that so much because i dearly want you all to enjoy this, but it had to be done. otherwise i was more than likely going to throw in the towel. rest assured, there is SO MUCH more to unfold.

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ABOUT THE TAGLIST: y'all know, it ain't a thing around here anymore due to the overuse of ritual magic, some demon-summoning, and an unfortunate sacrifice that resulted in more technical issues than tumblr could handle 🔮🗡️

Stfu I'm reading fanfics about little subby bitch boys

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 👋)

The End

Wally Clark x Reader

Two people died on September 23rd, 1983. One laid out on a football field before hundreds of people, and the other left behind on the cold floor of the boy's locker room.

Word Count: 1.7k

Tags: Sexual assault, semi-graphic depictions of SA, including: almost direct aftermath, reader is naked in the beginning, mentions of blood, and implied loss of virginity via SA, flashback to SA; death, reader's death is overlooked, ANGST

Characters: Wally Clark, Reader, Dalton (OC)

Read it on AO3!

A/N: The Doors title. Hey ya'll. I cannot believe the love I've been getting on this page, and it's driving me past my writer's block more than anything. With school starting, I can feel the academic anxiety kicking in, but I use my writing as a coping method when I can. This story has very intense topics (as stated in the tags) and is not meant to idealize any topics in any way. This was inspired by @general-fanfiction's Hopes and Fears series (GO READ IT RN), and @whoopsyeahokay's October Sun series (ALSO GO READ IT RN). If this story is well received, or I just feel the urge to, I'll probably turn it into a series (bc this sucks as a one-shot). As always, please heed the warnings, and read only if you're comfortable.

Wally Clark Masterlist | School Spirits Masterlist | Main Page Masterlist

Blood was everywhere.

It slid down your legs and dribbled onto the cold floor of the locker room. Every inch of your skin felt like it was too tight for your bones, and all you wanted to do was reach down your throat and rip out your heart.

Copper flooded your mouth. The tang brushed against the back of your chattering teeth, and all you could think about was how you wanted to crawl to the nearby shower and let it run until one of the coaches found you and dragged you out.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this.

Move. You told yourself. All of your limbs ached. Nothing felt real.

You didn’t want this to be real.

It was supposed to be kind. Gentle. An act out of pure love.

Standing up proved to be hard, and it was like no one was able to hear you screaming out for help. Filtered out by the people flooding the halls, hustling to the big homecoming game going on that night.

The tiled walls provided little help as you brought yourself to a standing position, walking slowly as you felt your feet brush against the pile of your shoes, pants, and underwear on the floor. The touch stopped your heart, breaking a new tier of hate and regret across your body.

He said he loved me.

You turned on the shower, cranking the knob to the hottest setting, knowing that the water wouldn’t get anywhere near warm. Water slid harshly over your body, and you felt it pelt against spots of dried blood on your thighs.

You wished you never come to this stupid football game.

You wished you weren’t as ignorant, or as gullible, or as love-blind as you had been in the past three months.

You wished you never met him.

His face felt bitter and sharp in your head, poking and prodding, as if trying to stick the memory of his hands on you for eternity.

Time passed irregularly, no one came in or out of the locker room, and you were sure that the football game had to have reached its end by all of the cheering and yelling you heard outside.

After using all of the hot water in the gym wing, you slowly walked to the lines of lockers, trying even glimpsing in the direction of your clothes. tried to open every locker until one popped open, revealing a pair of grey sweatpants, a sweatshirt, a muscle tank, blue gym shorts, and a matching varsity jacket with #57 stitched on the arm.

You grabbed the matching sweatsuit, balling it in your arms and silently apologizing to the boy you’d never return the clothing to.

He probably won’t even notice, you told yourself.

You turned the corner around a line of lockers and you could swear you were going crazy. A bare foot poked out from behind the last line of lockers, limply tilted against your pile of clothes, painted a chipped wine red.

You blinked hard, looking down at your own chipped wine-red toes, and you clutched the clothing you stole to your naked body. The cotton was soft compared to the cold tile bracing against your feet, and you brought your eyes to look back to the pile of clothing on the floor.

Bile pooled at the back of your mouth as you hesitantly stepped closer to the foot that hadn’t disappeared. You’re going crazy, you told yourself, but the more and more you stared at the limp, pale body - your limp, pale body - whose features were more of a brutal mass than a face, the less it was going away.

You barely made it past the urinals and into an open stall before you dry-heaved into a toilet.

You were dead.

You couldn’t be.

As you zipped up the stolen hoodie and sweatpants, you tried to remember it all. Kissing under the bleachers before the game, him asking you to come with him while he grabbed something from his gym locker.

Every agonizing second you asked him to stop, to stop pressing you into the lockers because one of the locks was digging into your back; his decrepit hands sliding at your waistline, pushing and prodding past the fabric of your clothes.

Nothing would come up from your stomach.

Could ghosts vomit? You asked yourself, slowly standing to your feet and walking back over to your dead body.

Conversations started to flood the hallway, every muscle in your body coming briefly to attention before you flew out the door and screamed into the rushing crowd of students.

“Hello?” You called out, reaching your arm into the crowd, only to watch it get run through like something out of Star Wars.

Your body became hot, and even though you knew deep down that no one could see you, you pushed your tears back down your choking throat and felt your cheeks heat up with shame.

You walked into the crowd, who was thinning out the further you got from the hallway. Your body tensed for a moment, seeing the lights of police cars and ambulances pulling up to the school. Expecting to see the paramedics rushing toward your body, you waited for them to split the crowd, to start heading toward the school, but they were bolting the other way.

Straight toward the football field.

This school has to be fucking cursed.

One of the players was splayed out on the field, his head gently being lifted as paramedics were tugging his helmet off his head. The football team from whatever school yours was playing against was sitting on the bench, whispering and pointing to another one of their players who was talking to a police officer further down the field.

57.

The number sewn on the jacket hanging among the clothes you stole stood out against the dark blue of the player’s helmet. People gasped and a woman cried out as the paramedic set the helmet aside, revealing the face of the school’s resident golden boy; a dark bruise crawled up his neck, and his mouth guard slid between his lips as his limp head hung unnaturally over his shoulder.

You walked closer, straight through the forming line of police officers, and looked into the field. At the edge of the bleachers, waving his arms around and yelling into a silent group of people, stood Wally Clark.

Wally Clark is dead.

Just like I am.

You took off running, the activity coming easier to you when you were alive.

Alive.

“Wally!” You called out, and the football player snapped his body to your voice, his eyes wide and seeming relieved that someone was talking to him.

You stopped, resting your hands on your hips as he hopped down from the bleachers.

“What’s happening? Why- why is no one talking to me? What did I do?” He asked, skipping the formalities. He came to stand on the field before you, the football gear he was wearing sending a rush of debilitating shame through your body.

You faltered for a moment, his face flashing in your eyes before you rubbed your face back to reality.

“You didn’t do anything, Wally.” You managed to push out, pushing your eyes anywhere but on him.

“Then what is happening? I feel like I’m going crazy, one minute I’m running with the ball, and boom- I’m at the bleachers, trying to get my mother to talk to me and she won’t even look up at me. I know she’s pissed at me about going on the bench, but I mean I got back in the game, and now I’m guessing coach is pissed at me on insisting to get back in and-”

“You’re dead.” You cut off his rambling, forcing yourself to meet his face without looking away after a second, “I mean, I think we’re both dead.”

First, he smiled. Like what you said was some kind of joke. After you said nothing, he started toward the sidewalk, where his mother was now alongside a stretcher being lifted into an ambulance. You could see the tears on her face from where you were, each step you followed Wally, the easier it was to see her sorrow.

Then, as he was following his mother, he suddenly was gone, like he was plucked off the Earth by God himself.

That was until you turned to see him standing on the football field, right where his body was previously lying, tugging at the roots of his hair.

You hovered your foot, leveraging that if you stood on the sidewalk, you would be slingshotted back to the men’s locker room.

You decided to trust your gut and instead talked to Wally.

“I can’t be dead, I mean, that would mean you’re dead, and I literally saw you in the hallway this morning,” Wally said as he paced in a small area before you, “and I know for sure that I saw you because you were hanging around Dalton’s locker, which was weird because everyone on the team thought he had some college girl or something he was hanging out with-”

You didn’t register some of the words he was saying, instead you tried to control your thoughts from ripping you back to your last moments on earth at his name.

“-I mean, do you even know how crazy this sounds?”

You took in a shaky breath, wiping your hands over your face to poorly conceal any emotions that unwillingly spread onto your features, “Yeah, but that’s the thing, Wally. I am dead.”

Saying you were dead for the first time out loud was a lot heavier than you thought it would be.

You’re pretty sure that if the insanity of Wally being killed hadn’t overridden your brain, you would be somewhere huddled up and screaming for some greater power to give you eternal rest.

“What? That’s not possible, I mean, the people you were here with would’ve noticed you were gone. Dalton would’ve noticed you were gone.”

You didn’t want to give his name as much power as you did, but your body tightened up hearing it. You didn’t correct him, instead opting to stare at the dark woods on the far end of the field, your eyes burning once more.

“Y/N,” you were a little surprised that he knew your name, and even more when he stood in front of you with the most gentle expression you’d ever seen, “what happened after school? How did you die?”

Reblog if you think asexuality is a legitimate sexuality.

I'm trying to prove something.

October Moon

summary: So, Claire had been working with Mr. Anderson, you and Xavier hadn't been speaking, the Homecoming dance had been on the horizon, and no one had been any closer to getting answers. But, hell, you and Wally had made progress in...other ways.

pairing: Wally Clark x fem!reader

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

bon reading, frens

___________________________💀

OCTOBER MOON pt.1

Aurora chatted merrily at you as she drove you to school, the radio playing Top 40 hits between the DJs' try-hard youthful banter and super exciting, don't miss out contests to win tickets to things you couldn't summon an interest in. Which was apparently suspect, because Aurora kept shooting you looks of sisterly concern.

As she turned into the school parking lot, she lowered the volume and said, "You know the answer to that question," as if she'd peeled back your layers and uncovered your growing treasury of secrets. She pulled into the drop-off zone, put the car in park, and turned to you, "Are you and Baxy still fighting?"

Yes.

And no.

Band practice on Saturday had been tense and awkward, but you and Xavier had made it through without Hana or Lucas or Eli commenting on it. Of course, they'd probably been pretending with everything in them that nothing was wrong for the sake of the upcoming performance. Whatever. You hadn't had to spin another tale of deceit and Xavier hadn't had to confess to cheating on Maddie to your face, so win-win.

Neither of you had even attempted to speak since, barely making eye contact when you happened to be in the same space. Mathilda had informed you that Xavier had been spending his free time with Sandra Nears, which had caught you off guard, because what? Why?

"Sort of," You finally said, tilting your head back against your seat and closing your eyes. "We're not fighting but we're not talking," you summed up as you rolled your head to the side to look at Aurora. From the corner of your eye, you saw Ajay step tentatively up to the driver's side. Hands in his pockets, gaze soft, peering at Aurora like a long-lost friend who needed to remember what it felt like to be known by someone.

And, as it had been every day since Aurora had started driving you to school, she simply sniffed the air, frowned in thought, and then shooed you out of the car with a final statement. Today's was, "You guys will be fine. Things feel a lot bigger at your age than they are. Trust me."

"Thanks for the pep talk, Rory, you nailed it." You muttered, climbing out and giving Ajay an apologetic look. Part of you understood why Aurora couldn't acknowledge that she sensed Ajay. The "Golden Rule" and a lifetime of family gospel. But. But...there was a twist in your gut as you watched her drive away, the stink of her tea clung to your hair and clothes after you'd had to sit in it for the fifteen-minute drive. Something wasn't right.

What else is new? You thought. The sheer amount of holy fuck that had cascaded into your life over the last two weeks had numbed you to anything that should be a shock or surprise. A literal alien could pop up and declare that it'd burgled Maddie's body to blend into the human ecosystem. It could return it and then rocket back to outer space to report its findings to the Mother Ship, and you? Wouldn't be fazed. Thanks so much for stopping by, dust your hands off, onto the next thing.

Or maybe you were strung out on that awful tea stench and needed to diffuse it with real coffee and one of Wally's deep, handsy, distracting kisses that you'd been indulging in all week. The connection between you and him had remained rampant and alive in the wake of last week's mass hysteria. You could feel it even now, tugging you toward the back of the school, eager and impatient to find Wally.

"She didn't say anything, did she?" Ajay's voice interrupted your pining, solemn as he stared after the car.

You didn't reply for a moment, pondering the lips-sealed angle Aurora could be taking with Ajay's presence. "She probably doesn't want to say anything. Our family takes keeping secrets very seriously," you offered, yet that didn't sit right with you.

Ajay glimpsed down at you, "Even from each other?"

No. Not usually. Although no one discussed the ghosts at Split River High (or anywhere else around town), it was more out of mutual understanding than considered outright taboo. In the past, you'd shared a few crush-riddled anecdotes with Aurora about tricks you'd seen Wally do on the field that would've landed a living person in the ER. Those days felt like forever ago. She'd still been based in New York, pursuing a career in public relations. You'd called her every week to fill her in on the shenanigans you'd seen the ghosts commit and she'd giggled along and teased you for the obvious heart-eyes you'd had (have) for the Devils' Number 57.

A year later, she'd moved home, Dave in tow, and things had shifted. Your mother's business had expanded, Uncle Andrew had relocated to an apartment in Milwaukee—only home every other weekend—and no one talked about connectedness or magic or ghosts unless it absolutely had to be discussed. Usually to the tune of, "don't let them know you can see."

You sighed and rocked sideways, knocking your shoulder into Ajay's arm. "She remembers you," you assured him, grinning, "She brought home Bollywood Grill on Tuesday."

"That's not offensive," Ajay rolled his eyes though he snickered, clearly amused by the thought that Aurora's cravings were dictated by the smell she associated with him.

"I'm just saying, she obviously sensed you."

Ajay hummed, stood for a moment longer, and then, "It doesn't feel like it did," he conveyed. "The air is thicker around her." When you gave him a confused look, he shrugged, "I don't know how to explain it better than that."

"Fair enough," You supposed.

As you and Ajay turned toward the school, Simon jogged up to meet you, nodding his head cordially at Ajay before telling you, "I followed Claire home yesterday—"

"Terrifying."

"—and she stopped at Mr. Anderson's again. She waited outside his place for twenty minutes before she gave up. He never came out."

Ajay chewed his lip before asking, "Do we still think they're part of a newly reestablished Something-Something of Dagda?"

"You mean The Emerald Order," You supplied, snorting.

In the subsequent days after the nightmare in the theater, you'd managed to gather scraps of information about the cult. Archived forums online and newspaper clippings at the town library. There wasn't much apart from one headline, "Scandal at Maheive Manor". Several wealthy and influential men and women had disappeared during a party they'd all supposedly attended in 1925. It wasn't until 1926 that the bodies had been discovered, one at a time, over the span of a month. The blame had been laid at the feet of three former Maheive estate staff who'd pled their innocence right until the firing squad had pulled their triggers.

You glanced between Ajay and Simon, "I think it's too soon to say for sure. Amelia and Anabelle had a lot of help to get them to the final ritual. If Amelia's still around, she'll need more than a high school cheerleader and her English teacher to get things moving."

Simon see-sawed his head as he contemplated your statement. "Don't forget Claire has her little army of Chanels. And her step-dad definitely has the money to bankroll a shadowy organization like the Something-Something."

"Emerald Order," You corrected, and then, "You think Claire is smart enough or convincing enough to singlehandedly assemble that many people?" You asked.

"If they're gullible, sure." Simon said.

Ajay, pointed out, "And wasn't Alastair able to singlehandedly do that? That's what Amelia and Anabelle used him for. Claire herself might not have the right connections, but her parents probably do. Claire could just be the next tool in Amelia's culty kit of malice."

Simon smirked at Ajay, "Poetic."

Grateful, "I try."

You and Simon parted ways at your lockers with a promise to catch up at lunch. Ajay lingered for a moment longer, mind as distant as his gaze.

"Still no sign of Mina?" You asked quietly. Despite everyone assuring you that last Friday's events weren't your fault, you carried the guilt of it all the same. Those had been your memories, Aiden had been your brother. And if Mina, like the others, had been subject to a piece of your past so terrible it'd spooked her, you couldn't see how it wasn't your fault she'd gone into hiding.

"Not even a glimpse," Ajay reported, mouth weighed down at the corners, "I've looked everywhere...it's like she vanished."

A hand on his shoulder, "We'll find her," you promised.

Ajay pressed a tight smile to his lips and nodded in thanks, but you could tell that, as much as he wanted to, he didn't believe it. Eventually, he cleared his throat and changed the subject altogether, informing you, "Wally's outside. He's doing drills."

You chuckled, "Ah, yes, the big game's tonight."

"You'd better be there," Ajay warned with a slight glimmer in his eye, "He wants his girl to see him bring the Bandits to victory." For the last part, Ajay impersonated a hyped sports commentator and then a roaring crowd, shaking his fists in the air like he'd just won the Super Bowl.

You guaranteed, "I wouldn't miss it for the world," because you wouldn't. A kid at Christmas, Wally had been amped since Monday, pulling you onto the field after school to show you how to toss the ball well enough for him to practice catching. It was fun, although you refused to admit it. Every time you stubbornly announced, "Sports are sooo dumb," he could read through you and would tackle you (gently, playfully) and tickle you until you submitted. Laying under him, giggling, before he'd stop, breathless, grinning, and gaze into your eyes, lean down, brush his lips to yours—

The fact was you were looking forward to it. To the game, to the celebration, to the dance; it would be a welcome reprieve from the stress and uncertainty you'd found yourself up against recently.

"Tell him to be in the gym in half an hour," Ajay said as he gave you a quick side hug, dutifully checking to make sure the coast was clear. He then sauntered off to join his fellow Group members to prepare for Wally's big night.

‗‗‗‗•‗‗‗‗

Wally was halfway through a set of burpees when the connection between you and him exploded in his chest, causing him to almost fall flat on his face. Thankfully, he caught himself and snapped to his feet, wiped his forehead with a towel that he draped over his shoulder, and turned to watch you walk onto the field.

Fuck. You looked good. You always looked good, but today you looked particularly edible. Short skirt, curve-hugging top, hair tied up to show off the soft curve of your neck. He licked his lips and openly stared as your hips swayed with every step. Wally was keyed up, he knew, because of the big game, but so much of it was also the time he'd finally been able to spend with you without constant interruptions and impending doom.

"Hey pretty girl," He said as you got close enough for him to hook his arm around your waist and yank you into him. His eyes went heavy and dark, his hand sliding down your back to the curve just above your ass, "You come to see me workout?"

You blushed so pretty, pink cheeked and Bambi eyed. "I came to tell you that you have thirty minutes before you gotta be in the gym," You replied, a sweet little smile on your lips that Wally wanted to bite. "You're getting your sweat all over me," You complained, scrunching your nose up at him.

Wally leaned in close, nipped your earlobe, his voice low and husky, "Don't pretend you don't like it, baby." His hand slipped lower to sneak under your skirt while his lips grazed the soft skin on your neck. He heard you gasp, your body arching into his, and he grinned victoriously.

"Don't start something you can't finish, Clark," You advised in a light, breezy tone, leaning back to look him in the eye. "I have class in ten minutes."

Wally pouted, "I don't even get a kiss?"

You laughed, head thrown back, beautiful, "Fine, one kiss, but then you'd better freshen up and make an appearance. I hear there's a banner you're responsible for."

"There is a banner," Wally agreed with pride. "And balloons." He narrowed his eyes in thought, "And I'm thinking of a crown of sparklers."

"Because that's safe," You scoffed playfully.

Wally shrugged, "Can't get more dead." And then he dipped his head and captured your lips with his, the connection between you like fireworks behind his ribs. He kissed you until you and he were breathless, rested his forehead against yours, willing his body to cooperate and calm the fuck down otherwise he didn't know what he'd do. Well, that was a lie. He totally did. He'd pin you to the grass and remind you of the effect you had on him. Twice. "Fuck, baby," He murmured before he licked into your mouth and kissed you hungrily, hands gliding over your waist and hips and lower.

You broke the kiss with a whimper that went straight to his cock, petitioning, "Class. Test. Seven minutes." The connection flared as if it refused to believe that that was a good reason to stop things from progressing.

Unfortunately for the connection, Wally was raised a gentleman and offered, "I'll walk you to class, pretty girl," letting you go with a pinch to your ass cheek and a boyish grin.

"You wanna carry my books, too?"

"And see your teacher freak out when they appear out of thin air?" Wally chuckled, "Absolutely."

He didn't do that. He knew better than to mess with the status quo. But he still enjoyed the banter between you and him as he walked you to the third floor.

"You're coming tonight, right?" He asked just as you and he neared your math class.

You stopped and turned to him, "Of course I am. And, I have a surprise for you. So you have to meet me before you get on the field, big guy."

Wally perked up, "A surprise?" And then he recalled the surprise you'd brought him and Charley yesterday. "Is it Max's?" He asked, excited. Max's Diner had been his favorite spot when he'd been alive. An old-school greasy spoon even in the '80s. Wally's parents had worked there when they'd been teenagers; it had been how they'd met. The diner held a special place in Wally's heart and he'd almost cried when you'd presented him with his go-to order: Double cheese burger, extra pickles, extra fries, and a large coke.

"Not quite," You said with a wince, "but I think you'll like it just as much..."

"Then I can't wait, baby," Wally said, glancing up and down the hall before leaning in to press his lips to yours once more. It was turning into an addiction. And since he was going to get caught up in game prep and might not see you for the remainder of the day, he took his time, impressing everything he felt into that kiss and smiling when he heard you release a pleasured sigh.

"You suck," You pouted when he finally released you, "I'm going to fail and it'll be your fault."

Wally smirked, admittedly proud of himself, yet he maintained, "You'll be fine, you've got this. We went over everything three times yesterday and you got everything right."

God, there was that blush he was starting to love so much, "You are a good tutor. Even if you can be distracting."

"Get in there and kill it, baby," He encouraged, winked, watched as you disappeared into the classroom, and then he turned to head to the gym as instructed, fantasizing about what your surprise later could be. However, as the connection between you and him dimmed, his senses rushing back in beyond how you felt and tasted and...smelled—he caught a whiff of something off-putting and familiar.

Pinching his shirt, he brought the fabric to his nose and sniffed.

Heady.

Floral.

Like licking soap.

Without a second thought, Wally spun around and rushed into the classroom. The teacher was already behind his desk correcting another class's papers, the room study hall hushed as everyone read over their test sheets. Wally hurried to the back of the class where you were sat, hunched over your sheet with the eraser end of your pencil between your teeth.

The connection between you and Wally sparked to life again and caused you to glance up before he even reached your seat. Your eyes widened when you saw him approach in a panic, but you otherwise remained still, as if nothing out of the ordinary was going on. He crouched beside your desk, careful not to touch you, gaze supplicating.

"Why do you smell like that?" Wally asked in a whisper though no one else could hear him.

He watched you surreptitiously sniff your hair, make a face of revulsion, and then write in the corner of your test sheet, Aurora's tea which you erased as soon as you knew Wally had read it.

Wally swallowed, nervous, and looked back at you, "I smelled that in the cellar the night Aiden died." He explained, "It was on your breath. And in one of the glass things I picked up."

You stared at him, dumbfounded, for a split second before taking a deep breath and raising your hand. Wally had no clue what you were thinking as you slid out of your desk, leaning most of your weight on your other hand that held that back of your chair.

"Mr. Davis?" You said, and Wally was shocked at how weak you sounded, like you were—oh. "Mr. Davis, I don't feel well, may I please be excused?"

Mr. Davis stood and scrutinized you, brow deeply furrowed, "Are you sure this can't wait?"

You shook your head, took one, two small steps and then, whoops, fell forward. Or, your body did. Your ghost remained upright, freaking out at Wally, "You're sure that was the same smell?"

Wally nodded, his eyes on your unconscious form on the floor. "Did that hurt?" He had to wonder.

"Probably. I won't feel it until—"

And there you went, back into your body as soon as Mr. Davis' hands were on you to check you over. The class was in chaos, students shifting and hovering over your limp form. Mr. Davis instructed someone to fetch the school nurse and three students took it upon themselves to do the honors. By gentle degrees, your eyes fluttered open and you came to, looking for all the world like you'd genuinely fainted due to some unknown affliction. A sad Victorian child, pale and weak.

Oh, you were good, Wally mused, pressing his lips together to keep from laughing.

You sat up, blinked at Mr. Davis, and again asked to be excused. The school nurse dashed in and fussed over you for a moment until she discerned you could stand on your own two feet, "No need to call an ambulance," she said when you'd answered a series of questions she'd posed. "Probably dehydration or stress."

To be on the safe side, Mr. Davis dismissed you. Wally accompanied you to the nurse's office where you were given a glass of water and orders to lay down on the sofa for ten minutes. Wally sat on the ground, back against the bottom of the sofa, shaking his head at your sad panda-like reflexes.

"You just dropped like a sack of potatoes, baby, what were you thinking?"

Peeking out from beneath the cold compress the nurse had handed you, you noticed the nurse had left the room to speak to someone in the hall. Free to answer, you justified, "I was thinking that someone told me they smelled my sister's gross tea the night my little brother was killed by a woman wearing my friend's dad's body." You sat up to give Wally a significant look, "What else was I supposed to do without possibly failing that test?"

Wally conceded that that had been the best way to leave and avoid a bad grade or accusations of cheating. "Next time, maybe don't do something that'll leave a bruise," Wally said softly, reaching up and brushing the backs of his fingers down your cheek where a red mark was blossoming into a bruise from the angle at which you'd hit the floor.

"No promises," You grinned.

Ten minutes later, the nurse cleared you and gave you a note to give to the secretary to dismiss you for the rest of the day should you feel you needed it. Wally wished you could use it just to spend that freedom with him instead, but you reminded him that Mr. Martin would be heavily involved in the rest of Wally's day and that might not go down so well.

Hey, Mr. M, this is one of now three living people who can see us that we lied to you about. Also there's a cult and, oh, hey, did you know Janet was evil or did she move on by complete coincidence right when things got crazy?

Wally agreed, "Yeah, let's not do that." He led you into an empty classroom where you and he could discuss what the hell that smell meant, if it meant anything, which...it had to, right? He was quickly learning everything was connected in some random way, no matter how absurd.

"You're sure it's the same smell?" You wanted to know, leaning against the wall, thumb nail between your teeth.

Wally leaned in close and breathed in your hair, "Yeah, exactly the same. It smelled a lot stronger in the science glass than it does on you now, but it's identical." He confirmed.

A few beats as the gears turned in your head, "My Nana drinks that tea, too. So does Dave. And, honestly, I haven't noticed anything different about anyone. They're all still them." You said, appearing to have trouble connecting the right dots.

"It could mean nothing," Wally rationalized, "Maybe there's an ingredient missing that was in the stuff I smelled versus what's in your sister's tea, who knows."

He saw you process that and then something seemed to come to you, "When I was in that...memory or whatever, the kids Amelia and the others transferred into...they smelled kind of like it." Your gaze caught Wally's, brows knitted in worry, "It wasn't exactly the same but it was close enough. Really flowery. Like—"

"Licking soap?" Wally finished. "It might be related."

"Or it might not." You groaned, pressing your fingertips into your eyes. "Why do I feel like we have all the pieces, but we're putting together two puzzles that might not have anything to do with each other?"

Stepping into your space, Wally took your hands in his and lowered them, kissing your forehead before resting his against it. "We're getting there, baby. We'll figure it all out."

"I hope so," You murmured and Wally could tell you were overwhelmed. "Do you remember any of the ingredients you saw on the shelf?"

"Yeah, a lot of them." He leaned back and searched your expression. "Want me to write them down for you?"

You nodded, "Yes please."

With a gentle smile and soft eyes, "I got you, baby girl," Wally assured. "I'll give it Maddie to give to you." At your adorably lost face, Wally said, "Like you said, Mr. Martin is gonna be heading my hype committee and will probably want me around for my input all day. Maddie, on the other hand, has a habit of disappearing at random."

You chuckled, "Gotchya," and drew Wally into a short, but very hot kiss. One that got Wally's everything running. He moaned against your lips, hands trailing down your hips to your thighs then under your skirt, pressing you more firmly against him.

"You gotta stop doing that," He said with a heavy exhale.

"Doing what?"

Wally nipped your lower lip, flicked his tongue to soothe the sting and kissed you dirty and deep before telling you, "Making my god damn brain melt."

You giggled and told him in no uncertain terms, "Definitely no promises..."

💀___________________________

PROLOGUE - PART TWO

note: no note, just desperate and feverish writing! love you guys!

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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.

Wally Clark Headcanons - 3

(request)

Wally is obsessed with you. Probably to the extent he should seek help, but he doesn't care. He's happy. More than happy, in fact. He's in love.

He could spend every second of every minute of every day in your company and never get tired of it. Never need space or moments alone or time apart. Wally doesn't want that. Call him codependent, he doesn't give a fuck, he's so into you it borders on insane.

Which is why, when you and he do have to separate—aka: surgically fucking removing him from your presence—he's like a puppy left alone at home. Watching the door, pacing the house, counting down along with the clock until you come back. Chin on paws, soulful eyes begging the universe to bring you back now, please.

He watches TV, throws some hoops, showers, eats; manic and anxious and needy. And, yeah, Wally's totally capable of doing his own thing. He has the other ghosts to chill with; has pastimes Mr. Martin had encouraged over the decades Wally's been dead. He did stuff without you before you came along, and could do that stuff again.

But going back to anything after experiencing how vibrant his world is with you in it...nothing holds a candle. It's all boring and cheap and unappealing. So, he pouts, bounces his knee, annoys the crap out of Rhonda who's trying to read a book while Wally stares at the same word in his for the next forty-five minutes.

You and Maddie spent the day searching for clues in Maddie's murder case, a girls' day spent stalking Claire without Wally because Maddie was opening up to you more without anyone else around, and you wanted to help.

Wally's sweet, beautiful saint.

He makes a grumpy little noise that Rhonda rolls her eyes at.

Finally, finally, the library door opens. No time to say hello, already hoisted into Wally's arms after he torpedoes straight for you the instant you step inside. He cradles you close, kisses your face, hair, neck, giddy that you're back.

"How was it? Did you find anything? Did you miss me? I missed you."

Babbling and eager and wanting to hear your voice. You giggle (which he likes more), and he smiles back at you, big and excited, though his eyes are soft.

"It's been, like, an hour, Wally." You remind him, and he huffs.

"Longest hour of my life." He complains, to which Rhonda seconds under her breath.

He sneers at her, but his expression melts into complete adoration when you pull his attention back to you.

"How about we go relax for a bit, huh? The faculty lounge is empty..." You suggest and he's already moving, not letting you down, just carrying you like a toddler down the hall and through the door to the faculty lounge.

Wally loves cuddling with you. Doesn't even need things to go further to feel satisfied. You sit with your back against the armrest. Wally fits himself between your legs and rests his head on your chest, nuzzling into you and humming contentedly.

This is what he was made for, he believes wholeheartedly. To be yours. Built by the universe just for you because he can't imagine being anything else. He's been his own person for enough years; he's fine. Been there. Done that.

Now and well into beyond—for the rest of fucking time—all Wally wants is to be a piece of you.

And you absolutely let him soak you in whenever he wants because he's been through hell and needs unconditional love like fish need water.

Look at that face. I dare you to say no.