Latest Posts by patrickispinky - Page 4

Alphabet Soup

summary: prompt fill. the journey of a clandestine love affair at several stages because Wally Clark craves what he can't have and refuses to keep his hands to himself. and you live for it.

pairing: grey!Wally Clark x fem!reader

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

bon reading, frens

___________________________🧿

Alphabet Soup - F

F is for how Wally shamelessly flirts with you. A fun way to make a boring Friday afternoon more interesting. He has to be here, some Booster Club bullshit to raise money for new cheer uniforms since Janet and her drones strongarmed the principal into bringing the squad into 2024. As the diligent, doting boyfriend, Wally finagled his teammates into helping. A car wash, guys and girls in bathing suits, flexing and feeding into fantasies that shouldn't be given a platform. You know, the kind of shit that shouldn't fly but does because Janet has Claire, and Claire always gets her way if she flashes enough of her family's money around.

And chaste little cherub that you are, you and your friends are there to help, manning the cash box and filling buckets of soapy water when Janet snaps her fingers. Whatever, it gives Wally something to look at between scrubbing down cougars' mom-vans and pretending to give a shit when Janet sprays herself with the hose. A drowned rat with a fake tan, fake teeth, fake tits, bought and paid for by Corporate Mogul Daddy.

God, Wally wants to go back in time and punch himself for agreeing to her dumb social-climb agenda. He was willing at the time. Why not? He has an ego, likes attention, and being king of Split River High comes with fantastic perks.

One, for example, being that he can get some dipshit bench-rider to take over for him for a few minutes while he follows you into the building.

You stand at the vending machine, perusing the options, hands in the back pockets of jean shorts Wally would kill a man to see you bend over in. A Cheshire smile and devious eyes, he stalks up to you and leans against the vending machine, dripping sweat and soapy water from the last car.

"Let me guess," He starts, smooth, grinning at you like you're something he wants to catch with his teeth, "your heart says Doritos, but your brain is telling you to get a granola bar."

You give him a once-over, slow, appraising, from feet to face, "My heart never says Doritos. But nice try." Your smile is easy and innocent, "You wanna try again?"

Wally smirks, leans in real close, fingers brushing your thigh along the hem of your shorts. Heat spears through him when your cheeks pink, perfect lips parting on a shivery gasp. Such a fucking sweet little thing. "What happens if I guess right?" He murmurs, the tip of his nose grazing your temple as he whispers in your ear.

Recovering admirably, you offer, "Maybe I'll be nice enough to share with you."

"And if I don't like your choice?" He smooths his hand around your thigh, settles below the curve of your ass, thumb stroking under the hem of your shorts. "What then, baby?" He feels himself twitch in his swim trunks, God, you smell good. Like coconut-vanilla and that kid shampoo he saw in the bathroom you share with Janet.

You pan your head in tiny fractions, slow-motion sensual, lips so close to his that he's breathing your air. "I guess you'll have to settle for good sportsmanship," a honeyed smirk, twinkling eyes on Wally's lips for a moment before they meet his gaze.

Wally groans, grin widening, grabbing a fistful of your ass and dragging you flush against him to make you feel the effect you have on him. "That's just mean, baby" and he murmurs, dark and heated, grinding his hips forward, "you saying you'd leave me like this?"

Without missing a beat, you rest your hands on his bare chest, rising on your toes to hover your lips over his, "Didn't your mother ever teach you that you're responsible for the messes you make?"

"Nah," Wally's grin sharpens, flicking his tongue against your bottom lip, "My mama taught me to ask for help when I need it." He grabs your ass with both hands, maneuvers to pin you against the side of the vending machine so he can lift you and grind his hard cock between your thighs. "And I really," thrust "really" thrust "need it."

Wally relieves the bench-rider twenty minutes later, a skip in his step and a ring of cherry lip gloss around the base of his cock. It isn't until he winks at you over his sunglasses that you remember why you went to the vending machine in the first place.

🧿___________________________

MASTERLIST

also available on AO3!

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

Alphabet Soup

summary: prompt fill. the journey of a clandestine love affair at several stages because Wally Clark craves what he can't have and refuses to keep his hands to himself. and you live for it.

pairing: grey!Wally Clark x fem!reader

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

bon reading, frens

___________________________🧿

Alphabet Soup - S

S is for the soft in-betweens. The silly, sweet, soppy moments Wally didn't expect to yearn for. Yet, here he is, coveting them like silver from the stars, stockpiling them in his heart beside childhood memories and first loves. Or, who he assumes are first loves, but the more time he spends with you, the less he's sure he ever experienced that.

Shit.

What he does know is that Janet is at Claire's lake house with the rest of the squad, a weekend away—no boys allowed, except Gabe because he makes the best blended margaritas—and Wally has the house to himself. His parents are in Michigan visiting Aunt Tal and your dad is busy with some lame staff retreat leaving you and Wally with nothing else to do but each other.

It's sybaritic, sexy, sensual, fucking supreme. First, he lures you into the house with the promise of snacks and a movie. Lowkey, innocent. He knows you know it's a scheme. Can see it in the way you stretch to expose a strip of belly and hipbone, the way you take your sweater off because it's, "too hot in here, Wally." Sure it is. And the seducer becomes the seducee because the next thing he knows you're on him, a strip-tease, a lap dance that leaves him panting, kissing him with intention. And, hell yeah, he likes this side of you. Bold. Bratty. Taking what you want when he doesn't give it to you at your pace.

He fingers you on the couch, eats you out on the coffee table, fucks your mouth at the island while the pizza burns in the oven and the smoke alarm shrieks. He can't get enough. Will never get enough. Shower. Bed. The jacuzzi tub in his parents' master suite after splitting a bottle of something worth more than his life. "God, baby, you need my cock so bad, don't you?"

It's after you and he break his fucking bed during Round Double Digits that Wally feels the shift.

You're lightheaded, wobbly-limbed and sticky from lube and come and salted-caramel drizzle, reaching for whatever article of clothing is nearest—Wally's shirt that falls to your thighs—and you say with uncertainty, "I need something to eat, if that's okay?" Like Wally wouldn't take care of you unless it's to make your body sing for him.

He's on his feet in seconds, boxers on, scooping you into his arms as you giggle and squeal in delight. He carries you toddler-style down the stairs to the kitchen, places you on the counter, and searches the fridge for something to throw together. You joke as he cooks, talking about this and that, and Wally laughs, responds, engages. You stimulate his brain, challenge him, tease him, and then he feels it. A tiny thing at first, warm, subtle, but it swells into holy shit, she's perfect so fast it makes his head spin.

You're witty and smart and confident. Wally never let himself notice that before, and now he can't un-notice it. He wants to learn more, know more, gobble up every piece of you he can until he's satisfied.

You eat his food, compliment him, snuggle into his side for the movie he puts on to fall asleep to, his hand stroking your hair, back, side as his eyes droop. He doesn't mean to do it, is hardly aware of himself, but he nuzzles into your hair and kisses your forehead. Softhearted and tender. Like a boyfriend.

Half-asleep, you sigh contentedly and burrow closer, but now Wally's wide awake. Staring at the ceiling, freaking the fuck out because this wasn't supposed to turn into something more than an easygoing, no-strings way to blow off steam.

Double shit.

🧿___________________________

MASTERLIST

also available on AO3!

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

✨ GET TO KNOW YOUR MUTUALS ✨

tagged by the greatest writer I know @whoopsyeahokay

What's the origin of your blog title?

I technically don't have a blog title. It's just Patrick which isn't my real name I just really love spongebob and think Patrick is the realest character out there.

My user name patrickispinky is also because of spongebob. I was originally gonna go with patrickstar but it was already taken and so was patrickispink so I just added a y at the end.

OTP(s) + shipname:

okay I'm ngl I had no clue what opt meant so I had to look it up and Google said it means 'one true paring' Honesty I'm not too big on ships but if I had to pick one I would go with Nick and Charlie from heartstopper. Idk there ship name so like niclie or charlick.

Favorite color:

Right now my favorite color is lilac but I also really love earthy greens.

Song stuck in your head:

A pearl - mitski

Weirdest habit/trait:

Okay this is gonna sound really weird but I have a jar full of sequins that I pulled off of different things. I had a pillow covered in them that I just ripped them off of and put in a jar, same with this stuffed animal I had. I can't explain why I just had the urge one day and did it. Now anytime I have anything with sequins on it I just rip them off.

Hobbies:

Reading, writing, crying for no reason, listening to true crime podcasts, and arts and crafts.

If you work, what's your profession?

Right now I work part time at a local coffee shop but I'm in college studying in the medical field to hopefully one day be a nurse.

If you could have any job you wish, what would it be?

If you asked me I would just say a nurse but on a deeper level I'd say an actress and a poet. I love the idea of just being able to play out a character with passion and I've always written poetry to help me in dark times.

Something you're good at:

I thought about this question for longer than i'd like to admit and the only answer I can come up with is working. I'm a hard worker and when I don't have school work or work work I don't feel right.

Something you collect:

Jewelry, books, candles, and sequins apparently.

Something you forget:

I have to have alarms on my phone to remind me to drink water or I'd just live off of coffee and red bull.

What's your love language:

Gift giving and physical affection but only physical affection from certain people. Sometimes when the wrong person touches me it makes my skin crawl for no reason I can't explain it.

Favorite movie/show:

Right now it's School spirits 100% but my comfort shows/movies are criminal minds, the umbrella academy, spongebob, heartstopper, and family guy.

Favorite food:

Boiling hot potato soup and buttery bread.

Favorite animal:

capybaras, they are adorable.

What were you like as a child:

I think I was pretty quiet and shy but when it came to the right people I was fucking weird as shit.

Favorite subject at school:

English literature and art.

Least favorite subject:

Anything math related.

What's your best character trait?

I think I'm pretty fast thinking.

What's your worst character trait?

I don't exactly like people which sounds odd because I'm literally studying to be someone who helps people but sometimes they repulse me.

If you could change any detail of your life right now, what would it be?

I'd choose to live somewhere with free healthcare. Them bitches cut me off 🥲

If you could travel in time, who would you like to meet?

Jeffrey Dahmer, before you say anything I'm just curious. I'd want to have a one on one conversation about why. I've always wondered what could go through a person's head to make them think they can just eat people.

no pressure tag: @gabbyygoo (Honestly that's it I don't have any more mutuals other than whoopsy who's already tagged at the top)

Alphabet Soup

summary: prompt fill. the journey of a clandestine love affair at several stages because Wally Clark craves what he can't have and refuses to keep his hands to himself. and you live for it.

pairing: grey!Wally Clark x fem!reader

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

bon reading, frens

___________________________🧿

Alphabet Soup - K

K is for the kisses Wally drew a hard line in the sand against. Told himself he wouldn't hand them out like conversation hearts because this wasn't that. Kisses were too intimate. Too loving. Too sentimental. Too, too, too. And he managed to avoid them the first few times he had you alone.

He kissed your neck, shoulders, tits, thighs. Anywhere and everywhere else. He wasn't an unaffectionate monster, he deigned to give you a peck on the cheek after he ate you out on Janet's birthday. But he wanted to save his kisses for that special connection. That right person.

Hell, he doesn't kiss Janet. Not really. Not unless it's for their audience. Sweet dry stamps on the lips with smiles. Fast as the flash of a camera. Romance wasn't part of the deal and Wally respects that to his soul because the thought of kissing Janet for real makes him hate his reflection.

But, in the bed of his friend's truck at the lookout with you beneath him, he gets ideas. Lips candy pink and pouty, eyes glazed as honeycomb, a delectable feast in the afterglow. And what the fuck, why's his heart running a fucking marathon in his chest?

You stare up at him, gaze flickering between his eyes then skating down to his lips where it lingers. He feels himself lowering his head, hovering closer, breathing shallow and deep by turns. Licks his lips, tongue grazing yours, and, shit, you taste like the cherry pie he bought you at Daisy's on the way up.

Just once, he told himself. Then twice. Then one more time for the road, except he couldn't stop thinking about it until he crowded you under the bleachers at lunch the next day when he was supposed to be running drills. He stole four, five, six more before the bell. Frosted cherry and something else. Something distinctly you.

Now he's hooked and doesn't know what to do as you enter Janet's bedroom to announce dinner. It's Wednesday, the evening Wally dedicated to run lines and rehearse blocking for their next performance after the game tomorrow. Head cheerleader leaps into the arms of the Devils' star running back. The crowd oohs and aahs as envy bleeds from the stands. Their social net worth skyrockets.

Wally can't peel his eyes away from your lips.

Janet says something sharp and you say something snarky, and Wally watches your mouth shape the vowels like ambrosia. How your teeth press an indent into your bottom lip that Wally wants to trace with his tongue to stop yourself from lodging something catty at Janet's next hostile remark.

Wally suffers through the meal, your mom and stepdad making idle conversation and dumb jokes as he hides his semi under a cloth napkin, staring at you as you suck whipped cream off your thumb at dessert. Fucking. Tease. He knows you're not doing it on purpose—he doesn't think so, anyway. You're not calculated like Janet is—but it fucks him all the way up and he can't stand without embarrassing himself for another ten minutes after you're excused.

It's 10PM when he says goodbye to Janet. Your mom and stepdad are already asleep, door to the third floor shut, and your room is right there. He plays it cool, raps once, doesn't even let you answer before he opens the door and slides in, closing it behind him quietly. You sit up, and—damn you—put the lollipop down on the plastic, eyes asking a question Wally answers by closing the distance and tackling you to your bed.

"Do you have any. fucking. idea..." He licks into your mouth, groaning when he tastes spun sugar and vanilla cola, kisses you like he needs it to live, and gropes your ass as he leans up and settles you in his lap. It should worry him that he doesn't even want to fuck. He just wants to kiss you over and over again, drink you up until there's nothing left and he's free of whatever spell you put on him.

He pulls back, chest heaving, eyes blown, frowning when you chuckle.

"You said you were never gonna kiss me," You remind him, such a cruel little minx. "But that's all you've done for three days."

And he wants to pin you down and fuck that smug tone out of your voice. Later. Right now, just one more taste. One more kiss. One more and another and another—shit.

Lids heavy, eyes dark, panting, "I lied," he admits although it wasn't a lie when he took kisses off the table. "Fuck, baby, what've you done to me?" He murmurs, more to himself than to you, but you grin victoriously all the same.

He finally pins you down. Finally fucks that smug tone out of your voice. At least, he thinks so. He doesn't actually give you a chance to speak, his lips on yours until you get too sleepy to tease him again.

🧿___________________________

MASTERLIST

also available on AO3!

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

Rhonda: The great thing about apologies is that you don’t have to mean them

Rhonda: You know, I lie and tell Charley I’m sorry all the time

Charley: *glares at her*

Rhonda: I’m sorry

Rhonda: See?

Freaky Ahhhh Headcanons

Wally Clark x AFAB!Reader

Warings: This is just pure smut. Oral (both giving and receiving) Overstimulation. Face sitting. Public Exhibition. Slight Dacryphilia. Kinda Rough. I think that's it.

-

This man is a Freak with a capital F. Jaw dropping, eyes rolling back, sheet grabbing, pantie dropping, pussy dripping freak. 

Munch Munch Munch, idc if it's an outdated term it’s the only way i can describe him. He’d have you on your back or stomach for hours while he lays between your legs. He won't stop until you’re begging and crying for mercy. (I need a lobotomy)

With that being said he would beg you to sit on his face. He doesn't care how light or heavy you are, he needs your full weight pressed against him while he eats you out from below. He’d make a complete mess of you. Have you doubled over, body limp as you try to pull your hips away only for him to pull you back down begging to make you cum just one more time. 

He’s a romantic but the poor guys been dead for 40 years and there aren't a lot of options in the school so forgive him if he's a little selfish at first. He’d absolutely destroy you, a rough brutal pace while he whispers sweet nothings in your ear. 

On that note he's very vocal. Loves telling you how beautiful you are especially when you’re on your knees for him. “Fuck baby, you look so beautiful taking me down your throat like that.” Said as he wipes away the tears gently running down your face. (Again SOMEBODY SEDATE ME)  

After your first time together he wouldn't know how to keep his hands off you. The memory of you beneath him constantly playing on repeat in his mind. 

He loves the idea of showing you off and since the living cant see either of you he uses it to his advantage. He will fuck you anywhere and everywhere. Over a desk in the middle of an active class? Why the hell not? In the pool while the swim teams practicing? He's diving right in. Teachers lounge while the sad sacks sit around drinking coffee? Absolutely. 

Lets not forget about the resets. The body never changes aka infinite energy. Round after round after round. 

(Okay I’m done. I wrote this at work so sorry if it's shitty. Honestly I think I'm losing my mind. Like actually clinically insane. I think it’s time I call my therapist. Happy valentines day 😚 💞)

October Moon

summary: three hours prior, Simon had told Maddie he'd loved her. That she hadn't needed to say it back. And he'd been sure that'd been fine...until that strange, hedonist ghost connection you'd told him you'd shared with Wally had returned with a vengeance, effecting not just you and Wally, but everyone within its radius.

pairing: Wally Clark x fem!reader

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

🎀🌶️💌 a sprinkle of smut and love for Valentine's Day. unplanned, but perfect timing 😘

bon reading, frens

___________________________💀

OCTOBER MOON pt.8

Grandpa John had always been around. A permanent fixture in your household since his death in 1974. The year your Uncle Andrew was born. He'd died in New York but had made his way back. His choice to remain an earthly ghost meant he'd had to travel as those in the living world did. Trains, planes, and automobiles. That was how it was when a soul kept a foothold in the world, so close to the veil that they never fully transitioned from life to death.

He was waiting for Nanna, you'd assumed. You didn't actually know, forbidden from talking to Grandpa John despite the fact that everyone in your family had connectedness and were aware of his presence. Although he'd been Nanna's husband, he'd spent a lot of time haunting Ginny, following her when she'd traveled even when she'd failed to acknowledge him. Or maybe she'd been breaking the rule she'd been sworn to uphold behind everyone's backs.

You'd certainly done it. And when nothing had happened—no swarms or squalls in sight—you'd kept doing it to the point you'd found your fated in his afterlife and had done a lot more than talk to him.

The rule was stupid. Possibly implemented after another family under your Ciorcal had misused their connectedness. You could imagine it: Some family of bank robbers manipulating ghosts to open bank vaults in the metaphysical world so the robbers could fill duffel bags with stacks of cash in the living world. If you were able to bring the two worlds together, surely someone else could, too.

Regardless, this wasn't the same scenario and you needed to talk to Grandpa John, so when Simon mentioned a ghost who resembled Magnum P.I., you knew you had to track him down.

"Where?" You demanded, already shifting toward the low grounds of the school where the fence met the woods.

"No, no way," Simon urged, planting himself between you and the path you wanted to take. "We have bigger things to worry about."

"Like my mom." Maddie murmured, huddled close to Charley, her face crumpled in an expression of pure anguish.

"Or why we didn't feel warm and tingly when Janet crossed over," Charley added.

A sharp exhale, "Dead Grandpa John might know something," you implored, gazing up at Wally as he stepped into your space and strung his arm around you. He shook his head, had already protested the idea because he couldn't follow you past the fence, and beseeched that you'd done enough sleuthing for one night. "But if he saw who took Limon, we'd have Amelia's real face!" You were frustrated, scared, a n g r y. She'd been in your house for fuck's sake! Didn't they care!?

Wally pulled you closer, banded his other arm around you, and held you. You wanted to shove him, kick him, snarl, scratch, lash out. But the longer he held you, the more his embrace soothed the impulse. Releasing a taxed sigh, your body went limp in his arms.

"He said he couldn't say anything, anyway," Simon said softly, his tone bordering on regretful. "He was talking in metaphors."

You felt Wally make some kind of motion before he asked, "Just...give us a second?" of Simon and the others. They must've agreed since, the next thing you knew, Wally had maneuvered you around the corner of the school building for privacy. Alone, he lifted you into his arms, turned and slid down the wall so he was sat on the ground with you in his lap. He tucked your hair behind your ear and kissed your head, temple, cheek, lips. "Do you always call him 'Dead Grandpa John'?" He grinned when he pulled back to look at you.

Your snort bled into a chuckle, "We actually do, yeah."

"So you guys know you're not talking about Alive Grandpa John who exists, right?"

You shook your head, gazing at Wally with a weak but there smile. "Not even."

Wally laughed, light and fond, and nodded, "I bet he loves that."

"Hey, we're not allowed to talk to him, but he's more than welcome to talk to us. He could've said something." You challenged. And then it struck you, what Wally was doing. His carefree smile, his humor, his kisses and touch...oh. He was trying to make you feel better. You blushed, somewhat ashamed of your earlier aggressiveness, eyes downcast and lips pursed.

"What's that look for, pretty girl?" Wally asked as he hooked a finger under your chin and guided your face up, thumb smudging across your bottom lip and then lingering at the corner of your mouth.

"I'm sorry," You murmured, "I just... Seeing Aiden tonight. Knowing he's...he's still there, stuck in a loop and so far away from home. God, it would kill my mom if she found out. And Amelia being in my house?" You choked, swallowed, tucked your face into his neck, and curled your fingers in his shirt, "Wally, I'm scared."

"Me too, baby," Wally cradled the back of your head, "And you wonder why I don't want you running into the dark, creepy woods at night with just Simon and a shovel?" He huffed, "Amelia could be anywhere right now."

"She could be anyone."

"Exactly," Wally's voice dropped, low and serious as he said, "If anything happened to you and I couldn't get to you... Baby, I'd lose it, I'd—"

You could tell he was spiraling, too many bad thoughts crowding his mind. So you did what you hoped would relieve his anxiety. You took his face in your hands and kissed him. Slow. Deep. Meaningful as he held you, his big hands on your thighs, a little whimper from his throat, his bent legs falling open so you were forced to push forward and press your hips against his. Your weight rested fully in his lap and you felt a twitch in his sweatpants, right where you suddenly ached for him.

"Wally..." You said like a secret under your breath. "We should..."

Should. Do...what?

It descended by gradual degrees. That thick, viscous haze you remembered had distorted your mind the first time Wally had kissed you. The world around you and him dimmed, faded, pushed back into the margins as you pressed into the cradle of his pelvis. A gratified sigh, lips connecting and letting out, over and over, soft kisses that turned blazing as it continued.

"Just a little longer, baby," Wally grabbed your ass and guided you against him, kissed you with rising hunger, "I missed you." He rocked his hips into yours from below, the evidence of his arousal stiff and hardening further in his sweatpants. "I've got all this...this energy in me since Dawn crossed over," he whined before he devoured your lips in another deep kiss. "I can't—please baby, I need to get it out of me."

You knew why. An energy shed. When ghosts crossed over—or ascended, rather—they sheared everything that held them to the earth. Bodies and the space those occupied; consciousness as human beings understood it; all barriers surrendered for their spirit to return to the cosmic nebula they'd dawned from.

Dawn's ascension had occurred in what essentially amounted to a box where her earthly energy couldn't spread farther than the boundaries of the school. Being in such close proximity must have made that euphoric and peaceful release that much more potent. Wally needed an outlet. And, like a contact high, you were rapidly succumbing to the same need. You were hardly aware of your body moving on his, rubbing yourself against him through your layers and his.

"Please, baby," He repeated, "I want you so bad." One hand clenched your thigh while the other curled into your hair and angled your head, held it still so he could kiss you with mounting passion, "Please, just let me feel you. I need to feel you."

You whimpered, moaned, humped forward, and watched his face contort in pleasure as you ground against him. He matched your movements in that slow, sedate tempo, the anticipation and need swelling between you, around you, inside you.

"Wally," You whimpered as you felt his hand move from your thigh to the front of your jeans, expert fingers deftly undoing the button and dragging the zipper down.

"Don't stop, baby," Wally groaned, both hands sneaking into the back of your jeans, beneath your panties, to grab your ass skin-to-skin, "Fuck, it feels good." He licked into your mouth, ravenous, hot, all teeth and tongue as he consumed every sweet, eager noise you made. His cock was thick and completely hard, the friction maddening even through the thin denim of your jeans. Desire lit up and ignited inside you with every touch, kiss, sound he delivered.

When he pulled back, his eyes were lustblown and heavy, "I wanna taste you, baby." His nails lightly dragged up your ass cheeks to your hips. You nodded. Maybe. You weren't sure, everything deliciously muzzy, but you could think enough that you knew you wanted this. Wally smiled a lopsided, cocky thing that sent hot shivers through your nervous system. "Get on your hands and knees for me, pretty girl." A command more than a request in a voice like gravel.

Without hesitation, you did as he asked. Slithered out of his lap to position yourself with your ass in the air, legs spread, hips swaying as you wordlessly beckoned him to you. A fucking cat in heat, you'd never felt this kind of languid, cottoncandy desire before. Vaguely, you wondered if this was what it felt like to get high. Acutely sensitive and remarkably unaware of anything beyond your little pocket of flesh and bone.

Your wayward thoughts were steered to Wally when his fingers slipped under the waist of your jeans to drag them down below the swell of your ass. You heard him moan, felt him press his clothed cock between your cheeks, and hump once, twice, before he shifted.

"Oh fuck!" You cried out, probably definitely too loud, but it didn't matter, nothing mattered, because Wally's tongue was sweeping through your folds from behind before it fucked into you. His big hands squeezed your ass, face pressed between your ass cheeks, and he groaned in blissful satisfaction as if you were the best thing he'd ever tasted.

"So fucking sweet, baby," He said, and, glancing at him over your shoulder, you saw him lick his lips, his chin already glistening. He winked at you, smug grin on his face, and then sunk down to repeat the action. One finger dipped inside your pussy just to slick it up before it found your clit and rubbed in a firm circle. Your breath stuttered, brain turned to pudding, and, holy fuck, if he stopped you'd kill him.

Wally ate you out like he was going for gold, silver, bronze; every place, every medal, with gusto. And just when you were about to see God, "Gonna fuck you so hard, baby," Wally came up for air, shoved his sweatpants down, and drove into you in one fluid motion. Hard. The slap of skin on skin bouncing off the wall and ricocheting into the night. "F u u u c k."

You fell forward onto your elbows, cheek in the grass, body rocking from every beastial thrust. The noises his cock punched out of you were unlike any you'd heard yourself make, and what the hell was that? You didn't know you were capable of that pitch, that high note; so desperate and needy and completely fucking shameless in your lust for Wally as he pounded into you over and over, blunt cockhead beating your g-spot like a drum.

"Oh God, W-Wally!" You choked, gasped, whimpered in that order, forcing yourself onto your hands and slamming back just as good as you he gave you. So close, so fucking close, just a little more, God, please— "Oh fuck, Wally, don't stop!"

Grabbing you by your throat, Wally drew you upright, his cock still buried deep, and pressed your back to his front. His teeth found your neck; nipped, sucked, licked, his thumb pushed between your lips for you to suck. He moaned like rapture, pace faster, more feverish, as his other hand gripped your hip hard enough to bruise.

He was swiftly losing control, you could feel it, his hips stuttering, but he didn't stop, "Gonna come for me, baby girl?" And, shit, oh, oh—two, three, four more hard, brutal thrusts, his fat cock beating the ecstasy into your bloodstream—you came with a force that left you reeling. Waves crashed, galaxies lived and died, and you nearly blacked out.

The instant you clenched around him, Wally roared, primal, from the depths of his chest, nails biting your hip painfully as he fucked his climax into you. His fingers twitched around your throat, his eyes rolled back in his head, and he panted a mantra of your name punctuated by long groans. When he stilled, you and he collapsed forward into the grass. He caught himself before squishing you under his weight, his hand quickly adjusting from your throat to your stomach as he kept you against him and rolled to the side.

"Holy shit," He breathed, sweatpants still around his thighs, softening, wet cock cooling in the open air.

The feeling rose from your belly to your chest and then outward. It started with a giggle that grew into a laugh which Wally doubled with his own. You flopped onto your back, turned your head to stare at him as you and he came down from whatever high had picked up and carried you and him away.

"Energy sheds are fucking. awesome." You decided with a wide grin, taking a moment to tug your panties and jeans back into place.

"Is that what that was?" Wally asked as he, too, put himself to rights. He sat up first, gathered you into his arms, between his legs, and sat back against the wall. "An energy shed?"

You nodded, snuggled into him, and stamped a kiss to his collar, "It's a side-effect of ascending. Or crossing over, as you call it." You explained, "You don't take everything with you when you ascend and what stays behind is dispersed. Usually, it has a lot more room, but I guess, with the Something-Something's barrier in place, Dawn's energy couldn't thin out." You grinned up at him as he blinked down at you in amazement.

"Jesus, it felt like I took a dozen hits of Molly..." Wally's head fell back against the wall, mouth slightly parted, brow glistening with a sheen of sweat. "Is it always like that?"

"It's not supposed to be that intense. Like I said, the shed's usually spread a lot thinner. People within a certain radius would feel a sense of peace and pure happiness. Concentrated like it is here? I guess it's a helluva drug." You speculated.

Wally swooped down to kiss you, affectionate and slow, and when he pulled back, "I'm still horny," he chuckled, "How long does it last?"

"I have no idea," You said honestly, a big smile on your face as you planned to spend the night with your devilishly sexy ghost boyfriend. That was until you remembered why you were there in the first place. Reality crashed over you like a bucket of ice water, "Oh my God, they probably heard everything!"

Wally shifted to peek around the corner, "Uh... I don't think they did." He said, "No one's there..."

"Yeah, probably because they heard. everything." You bemoaned into your hands, cheeks flushed for the worst reason.

"Babe, I'm sure it's fine," Wally kissed your temple, then your cheek, then your cheek again and again, an onslaught of playful kisses that tickled a giggle from you. "C'mon, sweet girl," Wally hoisted you easily to your feet as he rose from the ground, hugged you close before he led you toward the side entrance, "Let's go find the others."

‗‗‗‗•‗‗‗‗

Simon stared ahead, mortified. Or, really, he should've felt mortified, but he couldn't bring himself to. Maddie was breathing heavily, her cheeks a gorgeous cherry red, eyes glazed, lips kiss-swollen. Her jeans and underwear still dangled off a leg hung over the teacher's desk. Simon's jeans, however, were securely on though open, his come splashed in streaks and dribbles on the yellowed linoleum he'd knelt on while he'd eaten Maddie out. Whatever the fuck that unprecedented interlude of lustfucknow had been, it'd passed, and in the aftermath Simon wasn't sure what to do or say or think.

Eventually, "Wow," Maddie exhaled, tipping back to lay across the desk. "Simon..."

Simon grit his teeth, winced, eyes squeezed shut as he mentally prepared for Maddie to freak out and tell him never to talk to her again. "Yeah...?"

Instead, "When did you learn how to do that?" she surprised him.

Simon blushed crimson and whipped his head toward her. He was on the ground, back against the wall, tucked beneath the blackboard with his knees up, hand over opposite wrist. He studied her expression as she finally maneuvered off the desk on wobbly legs and began to dress herself.

"It's not like I had practice," He confessed, unsure if sharing was caring in this situation. He did anyway, "I just...listened." To her sounds; the whimpers and sighs and perfect, songbird moans of ecstasy he'd seduced from her with his fingers and mouth. Fuck, that'd been everything Simon had ever wanted. He'd yearned for the chance to give Maddie that kind of pleasure for longer than he would admit. Only, now that he'd had it, he wasn't sure how to process it.

Once dressed, Maddie plopped down beside him, rested her head on his shoulder, and looped her arms through his as she spoke, "You are a very good listener."

He couldn't help it, Simon snorted and hung his head, smiled in relief, "Thanks, that means a lot." After a few moments of oddly comfortable silence, he asked, "Do we know what that was?" Too afraid to question whether or not there was a chance it would happen again.

"I bet she knows." Maddie said as she glanced up at Simon, "We should probably go find her and Wally."

Her head was still on his shoulder, the way she'd rested it angled her face exactly right for Simon to gently lean down and press his lips to hers. Soft. Hesitant. And then firmer, harder, his body turning, one arm snaking around Maddie's shoulders while the hand of the other cupped her jaw.

"We should really go..." She whispered, but she didn't move.

Simon agreed, "Yeah," and didn't release her, both coming together again in a slow, deep kiss.

A sharp knock on the door pulled them apart, Wally's voice calling through, "You guys have pants on or should we come back later?"

They heard you yelp and demand, "What do you mean do they have pants on!?" And then, clearly not having seen who Wally saw, "WHO doesn't have pants on!?"

Before Wally answered for them, Simon called back, "We're coming!" to which he heard Wally snicker and gloat, I bet you are. Simon glowered at the door. Maddie laughed, fuller and freer than he'd heard since she'd been kicked into the metaphysical world. He hadn't even come to terms with the fact that, because soul-ties were a thing and now he and Maddie were part of your weird, cosmic family, Simon could hug, touch, kiss Maddie's ghost. It was surreal. Incredible. A little terrifying.

Maddie stood first and held a hand out to him, yanking him to his feet when he took it. He did up his fly and smoothed his hair back before taking her hand. They stood, staring at each other, Maddie's eyes openly admiring Simon in a way that made his heart race and his skin prickle. Wow. He felt complete, whole, at the peak of happiness, and he never wanted it to end.

Hand in hand, he walked her to the classroom door. Simon was both giddy and grateful that she didn't tug away or demand he let go of her even after he opened the door and stepped into the hall to meet you and Wally—equally as disheveled, he noted. Grass stains on the knees of your jeans and his sweatpants; your hair sex-mussed and his smile far too satisfied to be from anything else. Simon glanced back at Maddie who adjusted their position, led his hand to her waist, and curled into his side. Like a lover. She looked beautiful and pleasured and a little sugarglazed after three orgasms and Simon couldn't help himself. He preened. And then got down to business.

"Talk." Simon said, giving you a significant look.

Your response, "We're high on ascension," explained nothing, yet Simon understood. Because Maddie had told him about Dawn and had managed to explain enough about what she'd been experiencing right before Simon had picked her up and pinned her to the desk.

Everyone was floating on some sort of post-Dawn's-crossing-over buzz as if they'd collectively inhaled an aphrodisiac. When he took stock of himself, he realized he still felt it. That liquid hot desire coursing through him, less intense but there. He could read the signs of that intoxication all over you and Wally. He'd seen it on Charley's face before Charley had muttered something about the Art room. And Ajay, who'd loped off to the theater. And Rhonda, who'd grouchily stomped in the direction of the library before she'd called back to inform, I'm going to find Bernie, whoever that was.

Jesus, they'd been drugged.

"Are we gonna regret this later?" Simon had to ask, worrying his bottom lip, unable to peel his eyes from the floor.

You must've picked up on what he couldn't say since, addressing Maddie, you said, "It's not like drinking too much. I'd say it's more like an anti-depressant. The good feelings already inside you have space to grow and you can't ignore them." You continued to explain what ascension actually was and then added, "I mean, you don't feel like fucking me, do you?" Also directed to Maddie.

The silence that followed made Simon's head whip up and his jaw drop. Thankfully, Maddie seemed to simply be considering the question and doing an internal scan, because she eventually shook her head.

"As cute as I think you are, I'm not coded like that."

"Same, babes," followed by, "Whether or not you guys regret it will have to be a conversation you have," you shrugged as Wally crowded closer to you, clearly not having appreciated the idea of sharing you if Maddie had said yes. If you'd even go for it, of course. Which planted quite the image in Simon's mind and, oh God, when would this stuff work itself out of his system, please and thank you?

"Where are the others?" You wondered, dragging Simon back down to earth.

He cleared his throat, blinking and shaking his head to drive away the cotton slog that kept creeping in. "Charley went to the Art room, Rhonda...went in the direction of the library—" Wally choked "—and Ajay said something about the theater."

Everyone sobered when Simon mentioned Ajay; downcast eyes and tight expressions of regret. Mina's absence meant Ajay didn't have someone to share that pure, radiant delirium with. Or maybe he'd found her, Mina drawn out of hiding by lust.

"We should split up and find the others. We need to figure out what our next moves are."

"No offense," Simon began, casting Maddie a bashful look, "But I don't think I have it in me to come up with next moves right now. I'm still...kind of..."

"Horny?" Wally supplied, grinning like a goof.

Simon didn't say anything, but he didn't have to.

Your determination was admirable. "Alright, what if we split up, and Maddie and I go together?"

Together, "No!" Simon and Wally rejected the idea immediately.

You rolled your eyes, "Guys, my brother is trapped in an abandoned house, Maddie's mom might be responsible for why she's a ghost, Amelia knows where I live, fuck knows where Dave is and what he knows, and if I'm not back at Xavier's before midnight, Sheriff Baxter is going to raid every building in Split River. We need to focus."

"She says like she isn't fondling her dead boyfriend," Simon commented, brow raised and eyes fixed on where your hand was on Wally's ass.

"Oh, shut up, I can still prioritize." You defended, glowering at Simon even as your cheeks pinked adorably.

"She's right," Maddie said and gave Simon a pleading look that he couldn't argue with if he wanted to. "I need to find out what happened to me. And if..." She swallowed, "and if my mom is the one who hurt me. She was here that day. I don't remember everything, but she was drunk and we argued. It was really bad..." Trailing off, Maddie stared at her boots, body trembling slightly under Simon's hand.

He brought her closer, kissed her hair and wrapped his arms around her to encase her in a comforting embrace. "Alright, let's go get the others and come up with what we wanna do next." He deferred to you for first steps.

"You said Charley's in the Art room? You guys go get him. Wally and I will grab Rhonda from the library, and then Ajay from the theater. We'll meet back at the fence. Good?"

"Good." Wally, Maddie, and Simon echoed.

You beamed, "Good. And no delays!"

Simon studied you for a moment, mouth twisting into an amused smirk, "You're still fondling your dead boyfriend."

You repeated his words in a mocking cadence and simply dragged Wally down the hall, leaving Maddie and Simon to laugh at your and Wally's backs.

‗‗‗‗•‗‗‗‗

Wally was riding high on ascension, whistling a tune he hadn't heard in years (Everybody Wants to Rule the World, and he didn't care what Charley said, it was a hit), literally skipping and jiving down the hallway toward the library. He serenaded you with the lyrics as he pulled you into a loose and silly Two Step; twirled you, lifted you, kissed you breathless because he couldn't imagine doing anything else ever again.

When you and he reached the book return bins, Dawn's piece of the metaphysical school, the flicker of a flashlight caught Wally's attention. Instantly, he scooped you up and placed you on top of the bins, made sure you were safe and hidden before he approached the mouth of the hallway. On that same wave of whimsy, Wally finger snapped like a Greaser in a musical toward Security Guard Al, belting the chorus right into the man's face as Al halted his trek around the corner.

Al stood for a moment, staring directly through Wally to the other end of the hall, and then, repelled by Wally's ghostly energy, went right on his way. Back toward the office where he'd fish another donut out of the box the secretary had left him and watch the second half of the movie he'd been playing before his start-of-shift rounds.

Wally grinned, pleased as punch, and returned to you, arms outstretched to pluck you from the top of the bins. He didn't put you down, though. Rather, he had you wrap your legs around his waist so he could spin you around and then press you against the wall. You laughed, partly at his antics, but mostly from the tingly remnants of Dawn's undiluted ascension. You slipped out of Wally's hold, feet on the ground, back against the wall, and gazed up at him.

In return, Wally towered over you, one arm propped on the wall above your head, opposite hand lifting to trail his fingers down the slope of your jaw, thumbprint grazing your lips. God, he loved you so much he was crazed from it. He had to tell you. A million times would never express it enough, but he wanted you to hear it, feel it, feel him.

"I love you, baby." Wally murmured as he leaned in and brushed his lips across yours. A barely-there tease that he let linger for a moment before he pressed in, hard and wanting. He hoisted you into his arms again, one hand on the curve of your ass, his hardening cock humping against your pussy through your jeans and his sweatpants. "Fuck, baby, I can't—this stuff is insane," He groaned after he nipped your earlobe. "I need you again, baby, please. I can't think."

"Yeah," You breathed, grinding back against him, "Yeah, okay. We can be quick, right?"

Wrong.

But Wally didn't want to say anything that would deter you from being carried to the boy's locker room—just down the nearby stairs and to the right—and fucked against the tiles under a warm shower. It was a fantasy Wally suddenly had to play out. He'd die all over again if he didn't. And you didn't want him to die again, did you?

"Do you, baby?"

You laughed, "No, Wally, I don't want you to die again."

He grinned into the skin of your neck, sucking a bruise over your pulse point, "Good girl."

Wally didn't care that the library—and Rhonda and Bernie—were right there. He needed you naked and soapy and on his cock five minutes ago. The journey to the locker room was interrupted by various breaks to pin you to walls and ravish you with kisses and desperate touches, Wally's hands groping everywhere he could reach. When he finally got you into the locker room, his cock was throbbing, a stain of precum blossoming through the fabric of his sweatpants.

You and he stripped in a frenzy, playful and carefree. You threw your jeans at his head, he grabbed you around the waist when you tried to dodge him, both you and he laughing like there wasn't a resurrectionist cult out to manipulate ghosts and perform deadly rituals. Wally manhandled you into the showers, your knees hooked over his arms, his cock driving into you from below as he held you easily against the tiles. He could see it in you, that his strength turned you on.

"You like it when I have you like this, baby?" He whispered darkly in your ear, one, two, three powerful thrusts before you answered with a beautiful keen and your pussy gripped his cock tighter. "Fuck, that's it baby. You take me so good, don't you?"

"Y-yes," You mewled, a sound that went straight to Wally's cock. "God, Wally, harder, please, I need it harder..."

And, Jesus Christ, that made whatever remained of his control snap. He granted your wish, hips snapping in sharper strokes as he brought you down on his cock harder. He could do this all night. All day. Forever. He wanted this forever. He wanted you forever.

Forever, fuck, please, let me have her forever, Wally begged whatever higher power would listen, fucking into you with abandon, a slave to his lust. You began to tremble into his arms, crying out on every hard upstroke until he felt you squeeze around him. And then, God, yes, and then his own release hit him like a fucking train.

After, he sunk to his knees, adjusted his arms so he could hold you properly. Wally panted into your throat as warm water streamed over you and him, steam clouding the air, the perfect cocoon to escape in and pretend the world didn't exist. Just for another minute. Just one...

However, it was several minutes (an hour) later when anyone showed up to the fence. Maddie and Simon were more disheveled. Rhonda was brazenly wearing Bernie's top and nothing else. Charley's neck was a Jackson Pollock of love bites. And Ajay was doing his best not to look anyone in the eye.

You and Wally were the last to arrive.

Oops.

‗‗‗‗•‗‗‗‗

In the woods just outside of town, Dave paced a trench in the loam, hands waving frantically as he ranted, "That manifesting little bitch!"

Leaned casually against the side of Dave's car, arms folded, unimpressed, Sheriff Baxter scoffed, "You think it's her fault your plan isn't coming together?" He pushed off the car and straightened, cracked his neck, eyes narrowing dangerously, "Have I taught you nothing? I told you it was better done in one shot, yet you insisted to do it this way and now look where we are!"

Dave whirled around and marched toward Sheriff Baxter, "We tried doing it the old way, remember? It failed! One more disaster in this shit town and we'd be found out."

"Such a childish thing to say. Who would ever believe it?" Sheriff Baxter leveled Dave with a hard look. "Magic doesn't exist outside of movies and fairytales these days. We could've done it and moved on by now."

"You weren't arguing when I suggested it, mother." Dave growled, "In fact, you supported it fully, if I recall. All because you refused to seek out new land."

"Don't put this on me, Amelia." Sheriff Baxter stood taller, his expression menacing. Dave shrunk, cowed, and obediently stepped back. "We're running out of time. That little shit you foolishly trusted has taken my vessel and now the ghost I warned you to demolish is speaking the others into ascension. We either do this now or we fade into nothing. Do you understand?"

Dave didn't take his eyes off the ground, "Yes mother."

"I suppose I have to step in and clean up your mess. Again."

"I can—"

With fire in his eyes, Sheriff Baxter snapped, "You have made it abundantly clear that you absolutely CAN. NOT." A tense pause. "You have until tomorrow night to find the girl. If you don't, I am leaving you to this world, Amelia. Your vessel is mine and your soul will be no more than a hole in the Awen."

Dave gasped, visibly terrified. There was no doubt in his mind that his future depended entirely on finding Janet Hamilton in Maddie Nears' withering body. If he didn't, his fate would be worse than ceasing to exist. Amelia's soul would be so thoroughly obliterated, it would be as if she had never existed at all.

💀___________________________

PART SEVEN - PART NINE

note: happy Valentine's Day, my beauties 💐 i hope you enjoyed this installment. i'm starting to crave the second season, but i'm still on best behavior. haven't even had a peek *wails in starvation* i really wanna get the next couple of installments out so i can change that, so let's pray that i can bring everything together sooner rather than later... seriously. pray for me 🥹

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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.

Valentine's Day Headcanons

Wally Clark x Reader

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Charlie Walker NSFW Headcanons

(So ummm I found this in my drafts and felt like it should see the light of day 😭 I don't remember writing this but I had a HUUUUGE Rory Culkin phase. Honesty it could have been way worse but the writings not terrible I just don't remember being such a little freak... thats a lie I 100% remember but I'm ashamed. 🥲)

Warnings: Smut obviously. an obsessive use of the word mommy. charlie being a subby little bitch boy. overstimulation. edging. dacryphilia. I think that's it.

Smut below the cut, beware.

He whimpers

I mean so much, all night it's just him whimpering and begging for his mommy

“Mommy please touch me, I need you”

Biggest munch ever, he gets so pussy drunk to it's not even funny

He's a crier

You can’t convince me otherwise, we will ball his eyes out after he cums. Especially if you edge him and finally let him cum. He’ll even thank you after with tears rolling down his face. 

“Thank you mommy, thank you so much” 

I just know this man is a perv. He steals your panties and thinks you don’t notice but it's kinda obvious when he leaves them in his room just out in the open. 

He really likes being overstimulated 

Just the thought that you love him so much that you would spend hours making him cum over and over again drives him crazy. He would also cry during this. Both from pleasure and pain, poor boy doesn't want you to stop but his body needs a break. 

“please don’t stop, I need it so bad”

As you can tell he has a mommy kink

I don’t really have an explanation for this but I feel like he just loves it. The word comes out so naturally that it just feels right to call you his mommy.

Period Comfort Headcanons

Alive!Wally Clark x Alive!Reader (Modern AU)

Warings: Not much just basic period stuff and a lot of fluff.

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This sweet sweet boy would probably be confused on what to do. He's not completely lost, he knows the basics like pads, tampons, mood swings, cramps, and cravings but that's where his knowledge ends. 

I feel like he's the type to freak out. Like genuine visible terrier when you tell him. Would cry if you told him how a period actually works. “Your fucking uterine lining sheds?!” Said as tears build in his eyes. 

For the love of everything do NOT send this man to the store to get you menstrual products. He will call you 50 million times to make sure he gets the right thing and will still come home with the complete opposite of what you asked for. It’s not his fault he's not used to this stuff. 

He’d also call his mom for help. She’d be the one to tell him about pain killers and heating pads. She’d make you boiling hot soup or hot cocoa to help with the pain. 

Snack galore. Will 100% go out at 3 in the morning to buy you a McFlurry. He hates seeing you in pain so if he can do anything to help he will and if that means sacrificing his sleep he doesn't care. 

Cuddles cuddles CUDDLES. This man is a living (just pretend) breathing furnace. Forget a heating pad, just have him lay on top of you. He’d keep his hand on your abdomen at all times.

He’d make you a little basket filled with snacks and products. (Once he finally learns what you use) He’d even write you a little card that says ‘I’m sorry your body’s torturing you.’ 

Would wear matching pjs and do skin care with you while you two watch a movie. He’d do this regardless of if you're on your period or not but especially when you're on your period. 

I know for a fact this man doesn't know how to cook but he’d try for you. When he inevitably burns the food he just buys take out. It’s the thought that counts. 

All in all he's trying and once he figures it out he's amazing. Just be patient with him because he’d feel so bad for you. 

(Okay thats all, sorry if it's shit. I was gonna do valentine day headcanons but according to my app i start my period tomorrow and need to cope 🥲)

Alphabet Soup

summary: prompt fill. the journey of a clandestine love affair at several stages because Wally Clark craves what he can't have and refuses to keep his hands to himself. and you live for it.

pairing: Wally Clark x fem!reader

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

bon reading, frens

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Alphabet Soup - D

D is for Wally's dirty, depraved, debaucherous mouth. The things that spill out of him when you and he are alone together; when he's two knuckles deep and has you mewling in pleasure, begging him to fuck you like an animal as he deliberately ignores you.

"Not yet, baby," He takes your nipple between his teeth, flicking the tip of his tongue against it, "I wanna play with you first."

He should make this quick, but it's been three days since he's tasted you and he's jonesing for a fix. Janet's downstairs with Claire and Chloe, talking cheer routines and new uniforms. They don't know Wally climbed the trellis into Janet's room, fell through the window, and snuck across the hall. As far as anyone knows, you're alone, a virgin saint surrounded by homework while you watch Gilmore Girls for the fortieth time.

"God, baby, you're so wet for me. Did you miss me? Did you miss the way my cock fills you up?" Wally whispers dark and husky in your ear, a second finger joining the first, tips nudging your sweet spot. He moans when you bear down, back arching, pretty lips parted on a blissed sigh. "Fuuuuck~, that's it, baby girl, show me how good I make you feel. Show me how much you like it when I play with you."

The way your body responds to his touch drives him wild. Your legs spread wider, your hips rolling as you fuck his fingers, your nails digging into his skin, and Jesus, he's never seen anything as beautiful as you. Flushed, wanton, made just for him.

"You're a needy little thing, aren't you baby..." Wally growls low in your ear, words hot and breathless, his other hand cupping and caressing your tit, "So soft and perfect for me, fuck." He removes his fingers and the frustrated keen you release makes him throb in his too-tight jeans. In a move that impresses even himself, he strips out of his remaining layers and positions himself between your legs, grinds his hard cock against your pussy as he grabs your hand, laces his fingers through yours, and pins it above your head.

His other hand trails down your side to your thigh, hikes it up so your leg is wrapped around him. Wally's words are a promise and a threat, "I'm gonna have you baby... I'm going to make you mine..." And you whimper so sweetly, a heavenly chord that drives Wally insane as the heat between you and him builds to an inferno. "My beautiful girl," He pants, thrusting into you before you're ready, his eyes rolling back as your hot, velvety pussy surrounds him.

There's nothing in the world he needs more than this. More than you. The thought should scare him—he's getting too attached—but he's too consumed by lust and sensation to care. How you chant and mew his name, how you cling to him as he fucks you. Slow at first, taking his time, and then faster, harder, sharper, more desperate. He bites and licks and sucks your throat, wants so badly to leave his mark, but he can't. Won't. Not yet. Maybe not ever. (Maybe in round two or three or tomorrow morning.)

"You like that, baby?" He pants, heat coiling in his belly. "You like how my cock feels inside you?" A kiss, a bite, his tongue licking into your mouth as you keen and meet his thrusts. You're so tight around him, he's going to lose his mind.

When he comes, it's with your name on his tongue, in his head, in his fucking soul, though he refuses to acknowledge it. He doesn't comment when you burrow into his side, warm and soft in the afterglow, your breath on his skin like serenity. He strokes your hair, closes his eyes; inhales, and smiles proudly at the musk of you and him and sex all over you.

"My pretty baby doll," He murmurs against your lips when he claims them in a deep, hungry kiss moments later. "My perfect girl," which makes you blush, sex drunk and pliant in his arms, "I wanna feel you ride my face, baby, do you want that?" He coaxes, rolling over you, hands everywhere, lips everywhere, gaze heavy-lidded and dark.

"Janet's gonna come up any minute," You warn him and he chuckles.

"Like I give a fuck," A teasing stroke of his fingers through your folds, soaked, slick, messy from his come and yours. He doesn't tell you he locked the door. Doesn't tell you Janet thinks Wally's at Braden's house anyway and won't suspect a thing. Doesn't point out how he turned up the volume on your TV to muffle the sounds he pulls out of you.

Five minutes after he convinces you, you're humping against his mouth as he tongue-fucks you to a blackout release.

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MASTERLIST

also available on AO3!

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

Reader: I'm seeing someone.

Simon: As in dating or as in dead people?

Reader: Yes

(October Moon by @whoopsyeahokay incorrect quote because I thought it fit too well)

Wally: Back in my day there was so much toilet paper and so many eggs that we gathered at night and threw them at the houses of our enemies

Charley: Would you slap your best friend for a thousand bucks?

Rhonda: I would slap Wally for free.

Wally, tearing up: I’m your best friend??

Alphabet Soup

NSFW alphabet challenge (request) pairing: grey!Wally Clark x fem!reader premise: the journey of a clandestine love affair at several stages because Wally Clark craves what he can't have and refuses to keep his hands to himself. and you live for it. (Janet and Wally are dating to increase their social value. Meanwhile, Wally wants to get closer to her step-sister. You.) warnings: smut. AU - modern setting. romanticized toxic behavior. cheating (not on you). egregious use of the word 'baby'. all oneshots for this collection will be linked as they come out.

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A is for the addiction Wally develops once he sets his sights on you. He's feral with it. Can't get enough of your skin under his fingertips; your shapes fitted against his; the sounds you make when he takes you apart with his teeth and his tongue and his dirty fucken mouth. So different from the public persona he sheds the second you're behind closed doors.

B is for bad ideas. Like the one that crept in behind his eyelids the instant he noticed you, cute and soft and sweet as a kitten. God, he wanted to do something about it right there. In front of the roomful of people between you, no fucks given. Wally's impulsive on a good day and reckless on a bad day, and you inspire too many fantasies that he can't not want to live out.

C is for competency, control; the single-minded intensity Wally has for every task. How he moves with a perfect combination of aggression and grace on the field, catching the ball from the QB. Touchdown. How he folds over the hood of your car and fiddles with cables and tightens bolts and fixes the rattle in the engine. How he holds his own desire at bay to bring you to the edge, over and over and over again until you sob. How he makes you come as soon as he slides home, grinds in, measured and slow, making it last as long as he wants before taking pity on you and fucking you into the mattress.

D is for Wally's dirty mouth. The things he rasps at you as he takes you apart with his fingers, his mouth, his cock. "You feel so good, baby,"—"fuck, I love the way you taste,"—"I want you to come on my tongue,"—"that's it, fuck, yeah, don't stop, baby, just like that, so good for me, such a good girl..." His fingers dig into your hips as he guides you in his lap, up-down-grind-repeat; his lips on your throat, teeth in your skin, marking you up so everyone knows you belong to someone. Belong to him.

E is for the effort Wally finds himself making to see you smile. It's stupid, he thinks, because it's not like he loves you. He's horny and putting out isn't part of the deal he and Janet made at the end of Junior year. But then he sees some jackass try to touch you, making jokes Wally doesn't find funny, drawling that he'll treat you special and make you see God as you shove and kick at him. Then you start crying and Wally sees red. Steps in. Pummels the guy's nose into his skull so hard, Wally's knuckles are scraped and bloody when he caresses your face and kisses your forehead. Promises to drive you home from the party. "Fuck that guy, baby girl, he won't touch you again."

F is for the way Wally shamelessly flirts with you. The back-and-forth you and he have when surrounded by people. Dark and husky, leaning in close with his back to Janet who's too busy with her drones to care what Wally's up to. You're fierce and funny and you flirt right back once you're comfortable enough, but Wally's had a lot of practice and knows how you get you hot with the right inflections. Eyes dark and heavy, lips brushing your ear, breath ghosting your skin while his fingers trail over your hip, "I bet you'd look better on your knees for me, baby."

G is for the God-given talent Wally has. You know the one. That one he weaponizes when he wants you to stop being stubborn, be a good girl, behave. He spreads your legs, kisses down your body, then delivers his bribe; tongue-deep inside you, making out with your pussy it's like a gourmet dessert de la crème. He could spend hours there if you let him, moaning when you grind your pretty pink kitty against him, so close, Wally, oh God—it's all he needs to sustain himself.

H is for how Wally holds you down against the mattress; up against the wall; in his lap as he sits back on his haunches, one arm banded around your waist, the other braced behind him as he rolls his hips up, sharp thrusts and deep grinds into you, "That's it, baby, keep bouncing on daddy's cock...just like that...fuck." His big hand clasps your thigh when he flips you onto your back, pushing it up as far as your flexibility will allow, spreading you open for him, wanting to get as deep as he can, wanting to make you scream his name and forget your own.

I is for the intensity of Wally's stare as he watches you from across the room, his eyes tracking you as you laugh with your friends. He strips you in his mind, licks his lips as you expose your thigh when you cross your legs. A flash of pink lace, the panties Wally asked you to wear, that make his jeans tight and his lids heavy. He cups himself through the denim, casual, sprawled on the opposite couch, gaze smoothing up your legs to your hips to your collar, fucking you with his eyes until you notice and give your friends an excuse to follow Wally to the bathroom.

J is for the jealousy Wally has to keep tightly contained in his bones whenever he sees another guy approach you. Like Jacob from Pre Cal, who flirts with you as if he doesn't know you belong to someone else. Wally is too obvious, he's aware, glaring daggers at the retinue of possible others who dare step into your space. Careful, collected, Wally has to smile like he doesn't notice them as he struts over and positions himself at your back, hands on your hips to drag you against him, ass fitted into the cradle of his pelvis. He watches in satisfaction as the dipshits take their leave with their tails between their legs.

K is for how Wally kisses you. The variety of ways. Pushy and ruthless when he's agitated; too much energy and no outlet. Or soft and slow when he just wakes up, liquid smile and heavy eyes, hand cupping your jaw like you're something precious. He nips and tugs your lips with his teeth when a teammate makes a comment just this side of not fucking funny, Gary and Wally isn't allowed to do anything about it. Sometimes, his kisses are sharp, honed, exactly what you want to feel so he can get what he wants. Always, his kisses are stolen. Behind locked doors, in dark corners, wherever he can snatch them from you without getting caught.

L is for the feeling Wally is terrified to label. The one that blooms in his chest whenever you touch him, smile at him, say his name, move, breathe, exist. Shit. It's warm and tingly and drives him to distraction because this is just a fun way to pass the time, to make things more interesting; he can't want you like that... But he does.

M is for the mess Wally makes of you when he fucks you in an alley or an empty classroom or behind the stadium. Thick cock slamming into you until you come at least twice, your panties around your ankles, his jeans at his thighs, pounding into you as he grips your hips so hard you bruise. He pulls out just enough to paint your pussy with his come, smearing it through your wetness with the tip of his cock, letting his spend and your juices trickle down your leg. And when you're forced to wipe yourself off with your ruined panties, he pockets them before you can throw them away, smug and satisfied.

N is for the fact that there's nothing Wally won't try with you, do for you, take from you. He wants everything you have to give. Is determined to taste every inch of you, from top to bottom, back to front, he doesn't care, he wants it all. He's never been this consumed by someone, thinks it'll fade the more he fucks it out of his system. It doesn't work. There's always a next time, and a next, and a next. And every time he leaves wanting more.

O is for Wally's inability to be subtle when you're around. Overt, obvious, open stares of lust when you walk into a room regardless of who else is in it. His heartbeat quickens, his breathing shallows, and he feels like a mutt in rut. All dark eyes and desirous smirks, hands grazing your body when you get close enough. He thinks he's slick, secretive, getting away with murder. But the truth is, he couldn't hide how he feels about you if someone put a gun to his head.

P is for the pleasure Wally takes in pampering you. He's a gentleman like that. What makes you happy makes him happy and, fuck, he loves to dote on you. From opening car doors to surprising you with your favorite Starbucks order. Showering you in presents he thinks you'll fill out perfectly for him. His pretty little passenger princess; a precious paper doll that he dresses up like a gift just to unwrap immediately with greedy fingers.

Q is for the question Wally wants to ask but can't. The one that makes things official. That ties him to commitment and expectation. Ignoring that you're the only place he's getting his dick wet, he's not ready for that. Until he catches himself smiling—soft and fond and affectionate—when you send a text that has nothing to do with where you want him to fuck you next. And, ah hell, maybe he does want to ask. Too bad he doesn't have the nerve.

R is for how riveted, rapturous, fucking obsessed Wally is when you ride him. No matter what he claims—"your turn to do all the work, baby"—he can't hold back, always fucks up into you, flushed, panting, hands clenching your hips and stroking your thighs and squeezing your ass. He watches your body, sweet liquid movements as you ride his cock like a goddess, and comes faster than he otherwise would. But that's fine because Wally has the refractory period of a fucking nympho.

S is for those soft, sweet, silly moments that you share. The ones he coaxes out of you during the domestic lulls between fucks. He invited you over for the weekend, Janet at some friend's lake house and Wally's parents visiting his aunt one state over. Perfect timing. And it is all hard thrusts and pinned wrists and love bites on your thighs, but then it's jokes over pancakes. Forehead kisses as he holds you in the shower. Hand-holding while you walk to the gas station for snacks, his thumb sweeping the back of your hand like he loves you. Sentimental.

T is for the toys Wally loves to tease you with. He's not afraid to introduce other means of stimulation into the mix. He'll do anything if it makes you shake apart for him; if it'll make you whimper and beg for more before you plead for him to stop, too much, Wally, it's too much, I can't as he presses the vibrator against your clit. He never listens, too enraptured by the expression of pleasure on your face, the way your body responds for him, fuck, yes, "that's it, baby, come for me again, show daddy how good you feel."

U is for how uncharacteristic, unpredictable, underutilized Wally's control has become since he started this with you. He was the image of dark and dominant behind closed doors, but, three months in, he can't keep himself in check. If he has you—against a wall, in the backseat of his car, in bed, in the shower, in. on. against—his control snaps as soon as you make a single sound of wanting pleasure. He goes feral for those noises. They're his complete undoing. And he'd surrender everything you asked for just to hear them one more time.

V is for the voice notes you and Wally swap when you and he aren't together. When he hasn't had a chance to sneak away from Janet or football practice or homework in too long and he's desperate for release. He strokes himself to the tempo of your whimpers and sighs, fucks his fist when he gets to the edge before slowing down and switching voice to video. He loves to show you what you do to him, how heavy and flushed and thirsty he is for you. "Your pussy sounds so nice and wet...now show me how you want me to fuck you, baby."

W is for every whim and want Wally indulges. Of yours. Of his. Mostly of his. Gluttonous and gourmand. You want to taste caramel on his cock? Go for it, baby. He wants to get messy with whipped cream? Okay, daddy. He wants to tease you with vibrating panties while you're trying to eat at that new place on Lasher? Okay, daddy. He wants to tie you up and spank you because you came before he said you could? Fuck, yes, daddy! ... Good girl.

X marks the spot Wally hammers into at exactly the right angle when he's feeling generous. And he always feels generous with you. He's addicted to the way you look when you come. Because he did that. He made that happen. It's empowering and euphoric and he can't get enough even though he should've by now.

Y is a word followed by 'not'. A question you ask when Wally hoists you into his arms and pins you to the wall with his hips after one of the leads in the school play asks you out. He grinds against you, cock throbbing, head angry, and reminds you who you belong to; why you can't say yes to Alex Greenberg even though it's all pot kettle black. Still, as he tears your panties at the seam and fucks you with abandon, desperate and aggressive, he makes a convincing argument.

Z is for how it ends. With her, not with you, because Wally's too far into the addiction and wouldn't last a day without getting his fix. He needs you. Wants you. Fucking shit, he loves you. So it's goodbye Queen Bee Janet and hello to her silly, sexy bombshell of a step-sister. Wally has no regrets, his hand on your ass as he walks you into Homecoming, fist-bumping his friends and saluting the principal. He loses his crown and doesn't care at all, too wrapped up in you to notice. Hands on your hips, brow against his, fitted perfectly against him like a puzzle piece.

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above and below are the links to the complete collection of Alphabet Soup. you can also find all related content HERE as well as reformatted chapters on AO3.

~ 🩵👻

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

Boyfriend Wally Clark (NSFW)

Wally Clark x fem!reader

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Wally is exactly the type of romantic who sweeps you off your feet. He's goofy, charming, affectionate. Always finding ways to touch you when you and he are with your friends. Holds you close and keeps you in his arms, on his lap, against his body on the couch that you and he usurp for yourselves at Movie Night. He's all about forehead kisses and laced fingers and cradling your cheek as he tells you how much he loves you. Brushes your hair out of your eyes and smiles at you like you're the only person in the world he can see.

Wally is exactly the type who soaks up compliments like a sponge, has both an ego and an insecurity that needs attention. He revels in your praise and devotion. He's attentive and loyal, there when you need him at the drop of a hat. Pulling up in his Mustang, ready to dote on his passenger princess, hand on your thigh as he drives one-handed, fingers digging into your flesh while he watches the road. He's into sweet gestures and reassurances. Respect. Thoughtful gifts just because and more thoughtful actions when you're not feeling well.

But Wally is also the type to whisper dark promises in your ear when you and he are surrounded by people in the hall, pressing against your back as you rummage through your locker, his hand roaming under your shirt to smooth up your stomach, fingertips teasing the edge of your bra. He wields his self-control like a weapon off the field as much as on it, grinding his hard cock into your palm through his jeans, his hand tight around your wrist—"Do you like what you do to me, baby?"—after he drags you into an empty classroom because he spent lunch watching Jackass Jake Tremblay flirt with you for your vote. "You like how hard I get just for you?"

Wally is also the type to get possessive, hard bites on your neck, sucking a necklace of bruises into your collar that you can't hide under your shirt. He wants everyone to know you're his. He makes you remember with his fingers in your pussy, dragging them in and out as he nips your ear, "No one else gets to touch you like this. No one else can see you like this." And you whimper and beg, writhing beneath him, legs spread wide to accommodate him. He eats you out, lips and tongue and light grazes of teeth, staring at you through his lashes, memorizing every sound you make as he edges you for longer than you can handle, fucks you with his tongue, tastes you like a feast made just for him.

Wally is exactly the type to fuck you until you scream. He starts slow when you're already on the brink, cock thick and heavy, teasing himself against you as he kisses your breasts, sucks your nipples, one hand on your throat—a reminder, a promise—while he strokes himself with the other, flushed tip against your entrance. "You need me right here, don't you baby?" And then he rocks into you in one deep, grinding motion, stuffing you so full you might burst. "I'm gonna fuck you 'til you scream my name, baby girl." It's rough, hard, he grips your thigh tight enough to bruise as he bites your bottom lip, licks into your mouth, makes you squeeze around him. "So tight, baby, so good for me. You want me to make you come? You think you earned it?"

Wally is definitely the type who fucks like an animal after he sees another guy talk to you, but he's also the type who gets off on making you wait for that sweet release when it suits him. But even he has his limits, begins to pant and groan, hips moving faster, hands around your wrists where they're pinned above your head, his other hand between his body and yours, spit-wet thumb rubbing your clit as he watches your face, wants to see the moment you fall apart for him and when you do, "Good girl, baby, fuck, that's it, let me feel it, baby, make me come" and you convulse around him, your pussy gripping him so tight as you come that it milks his climax from him. He moans, lips crashing against yours.

Wally is exactly the type to cuddle after sex. Gentle touches and soft kisses and loving words, fingertips grazing your cheek as he stares into your eyes in the afterglow. "I love you, baby," in a low, husky voice, forehead pressed to yours, his hand gliding down your body to your side, waist, hip, ass. He pulls you tight against him, already half-hard again, because, Jesus Christ, he's insatiable when it comes to you.

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Sex, Drugs, Etc.

Pt.6

Warnings: Talk of drugs/Drug use. Possible smut in the future. SH. A lot of plot. EXTREME Canon divergence. Before Maddies time. Set in 2022. Broken Fingers. Blood. Emotional Numbness. Hearing Voices. Self Depreciation. Description of a Dead Body. This is NOT meant to romanticize addiction or mental illness.

2.2k words

pt.5

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You were shaking, not from the cold but from the sheer amount of anger that consumed you. Another bottle, another job lost, another eviction threat. Hell you’ve barely eaten in the past few days because there's not much to eat. He promised, he promised he was gonna do better.

It was late and cold. You didn’t grab a jacket before leaving the house because all you wanted to do was get away. The sound of cars speeding by you as you walked on the sidewalk weren't enough to drown out your own thoughts. It doesn't make sense, how can he say he loves you but hurt you over and over again? That's not love, you couldn’t bring yourself to call it out for what it was. 

Hot streams of angry tears pooled down your face as you walked, almost ran. To where? No one knows, just however far your feet will take you. Hopefully away from that fucked up place you call come. The tremors got worse, almost like your emotions were trying to burst out of and cause chaos for miles. Buildings burning, taking innocent screaming strangers with them so they can feel the same thing you have all your life. Pure boiling hot rage that never goes away. 

For as long as you can remember you’ve always been like this. Random outbursts and fights at school. One time you got in trouble for randomly punching a kid because he wouldn’t shut the fuck up at 8 in the morning. It’s overwhelming, all consuming, back and forth from anger to complete numbness on repeat. 

He didn’t do anything to make it any better. All of the cuts, fist shaped holes in the walls around your house, a god damn suicide attempt, and you’re still not even close to a top priority to him. A fathers supposed to protect, not leave you with more emotional scars than you can count. He doesn’t even see that he’s hurting you. Why aren't you good enough to change for? All you ask is that he at least tries but he can’t even do that. 

Why aren't you enough to try for? Are you just that fucking worthless that your own father wont even fight for you? He’s not worth your tears or your time but you still give it to him every time. It’s your fault, you don’t do enough to help him. He’s suffering and it's your fault. 

You let out a frustrated noise as you stopped walking, turning to the street lamp beside you, you pulled your arm back and balled your fist, pushing your arm forward and allowed your fist to make contact with the rusted metal. It sent a vibrating force through your entire right arm but you didn’t stop, over, and over, and over again you took your anger out on the innocent non suspecting source of light. 

You didn’t stop until your hand was numb, knuckles busted and dripping with blood. Broken sobs escaped you as you allowed your body to sink onto the pavement, back resting against the cold concrete. You probably look crazy to any passerbyers but they can fuck off, this is your story not theirs. 

Your everything felt numb, emotional and physical, it was all numb. It was like reality no longer existed, time warping into nothingness. For that moment it was just you in the world, everything else becoming nothing but shapes and blobs of color. You were alone and it bordered on the edge between being peaceful and being lonely. 

You don’t know how long you laid there for. Somehow it felt like hours but also only a few minutes. When you got up you felt lighter, like all the emotions that were once weighing you down dissolved with every punch. Your hand was shaking and you realized you couldn’t move your fingers. They began to hurt as you tried to bend them. 

“Fuck” Good going, you broke your fucking fingers. How the hell were you going to explain this one? You begin your journey back home, praying that your dad would be asleep by now, not wanting to explain the blood dripping from your knuckles and listen to him complain through slurred words. You’d figure out how to hide the fact that your ring and middle fingers are unusable when you get there. 

(“1 fish, 2 fish, this flashbacks been too long bitch” - My Brother, 2024) 

Emotional numbness is such a weird thing. Going from explosive to nothingness in such a short span of time seems inhuman. If you really think about it, what does human mean? Were all souls walking around in a vessel of flesh. No different from animals, so why split us by species? We all live and die in the end, so what's the point? 

Hell life and death are barely different. You thought it would be different. Movie ghosts really tricked you into believing the afterlife had something to offer, but it’s all the fucking same. You can’t escape yourself in life or death. You’re scared, a word you didn’t use often but it's the only thing that can describe this. You’re no different than the band kids that go in the same damn circles over and over again trying to perfect their performance. A loop, a truly fucking terrifying loop. 

If someone were to ask you in life if you were afraid of death you would have said no, you’re afraid of the effect it will have on the people around you but now you’d just scream and beg for a way out. But on a deeper level you’d say that the familiarity in death was somehow comforting. It sounds weird but it reminds you that you’re still you. Both good and bad, letting that go would slice away the last little bit of sanity you have left. 

The bell had already rang 3 times as kids came in and out of the bathroom but you couldn’t bring yourself to move. Instead you allowed yourself time to think, your brain finally getting a chance to speak over all the intruders that tried to silence it. You know it’s only temporary but for now you’re enjoying it. It had been a while since it was just you and your unhazy mind. It’s like talking to an old friend, catching up on all the new life updates… well death updates. 

The kids whispered about you, well what they found of you. Officially dead, officially becoming a whisper in the halls. You thought it would hurt more, but it was kinda funny. No one paid attention to you in life but now that you’re gone all of a sudden you’re the talk of the school, such bullshit. 

It wasn’t until Rhonda walked in, a sucker in her mouth as always that you finally pulled yourself out of the back of your own mind. Where the hell does she get those things? 

“Hey pill popper.” She spouted that nickname with the same unimpressed look as always. You hated to admit it but you found it kinda funny. Pill popper, creative. 

“Hey Wednesday.” Not your best work but it was fitting for her. 

“Why are you on the floor?” You could tell she doesn't really care. Just wanting to get this conversation over with. 

“It’s comfy.” It’s not, the coldness of the hard floor was already making you sore but you know it won’t last. Your body will reset itself as soon as you stand up.

“Gross.” You let out a small chuckle. One thing you like about Rhonda is her bluntness. She doesn't sugar coat shit. She told you a lot about death when you first got here, though you were still in denial about it all she made it make more sense. “Charley told me to come get you.” Her face never changed, dead inside and out. 

“Group?” You knew you’d have to go eventually. The idea of sitting in a circle reinforces the fact that life and death are the same. You would have ended up in the same situation regardless. 

“Yup.” She put the lolly pop back in her mouth before walking away without another word. 

Great, group time. That also means seeing Wally again. He probably thinks you’re a complete weirdo. Oh well, you can't avoid him forever so might as well get it over with. It’s odd, you had a complete melt down earlier about what he thought of you and now you couldn’t care less. Emotions, what an odd thing. 

You pushed yourself off the ground, the soreness that was there seconds ago fading away in an instant. The walk to the gym was short, the halls being crowded but manageable. The familiar sound of sneakers squeaking against the floor filled your eras, only this time it was several pairs. The same group of boys, playing the same game, in the same gym, where the same ghost class is held. This was starting to feel like the real loop. 

Wally was already sitting in his usual spot when he noticed you, waiving with a smile. What's with this guy? His friendly demeanor seems nice but something about it makes you feel unnerved. You don’t deserve his kindness. 

As you sit down in your chair, right beside Wally, Mr.Martin offers you a kind greeting.

“Ah, hey.” Your name rolled off his tongue in a gentle bright manner, happy to see you. “So glad to see you.” You didn’t respond, just gave him an awkward tight lipped smile. You didn’t pay attention to what was going on around you, just stared at your hands, picking at the skin that covers them. The old scars we faded, some bigger than the others. You used to pick at them until they’d bleed. The beautiful crimson reminding you that as much as you think you’ve changed you haven't. At the end of the day you still hurt yourself unconsciously. 

You felt a hand creep over to yours, pulling them apart so your nails couldn’t cause anymore damage. You didn’t have to look up to know who they belong to. Instead you kept your gaze down and slipped your hands into your pocket and watched the boy's hand slip away from you. 

You felt stupid for enjoying the warmth he provided, even though it was only for a second it felt nice. It’s something you don’t know if you’re ever going to get again, the warmth of someone else. Like cuddling during movie nights with the one girl who had stuck beside you through it all, had held you when you’d cry, had pulled your hair back when you got to drunk and needed to hug a strangers toilet bowl, had been there with your dad to pick you up from rehab, had mapped out tattoos to cover your scars. You’ll never get that warmth again.

You heard Mr.Martin say your name, and judging by his voice it wasn't the first time he said it before you finally noticed. You looked up at him, you didn’t bother hiding the look on your face. Probably confused, upset, scared, every emotion you could name. “Huh?”

“I asked how you’re feeling” His face was warm as ever, somehow making you feel out of place in the conversion. 

“Fine, perfectly fine.” You’re far from it and you know he can tell. Everyone can and you can’t be bothered to hide it. You couldn’t feel emotions but they were still there, unconnected, just floating around, confused, not knowing where to go. 

The look on his face didn’t change but you can tell he doesn’t believe you. “You can talk to us, we’ve all been in your position before.” That stupid line, Wally had said something similar but it's not true. They’ve died but they don’t understand. Being dead isn’t the issue, being you is.

“I’ve never been in that position.” Rhonda spoke up, examining her lollipop like it's the most interesting thing in the world. “We all saw her body, disgusting.” Okay maybe Rhonda was a little too honest sometimes. 

“Rhonda” Mr.Martin shot her a warning look.

“Definitely not my best look.” Somehow even after they found your body school went on. Is that normal? Have so many kids died here that they don’t even bother to shut it down for even a day? Everyone’s acting normal, but the whispers of the kids in the bathroom you spent hours in stuck with you. 

Rhonda put her sucker back in her mouth, arms crossed over her chest as always. Mr.Martin decided to continue group without any more questions about you, understanding that you’re not ready for the whole death talk. He was saying something about group activities but you tuned it out, had your body really looked that bad? The last time you saw it, it was fresh, but the smell that it conducted in the locker room lingered. You couldn't bring yourself to look at it earlier but now you’re beginning to regret that decision. That was your last chance to see that part of you that you walked through life in. Now it's gone forever, never coming back so you can say goodbye. 

It stung, not ever being able to actually say goodbye. All you could do was hope and pray that Mags would be at school eventually. She had missed the last few days, probably making some bullshit excuse to her mom about why she couldn’t come to school. Part of you hopes she never shows up, the thought of seeing her but not being able to touch her makes you want to scream. Her warmth, something you’ll never be able to feel again. 

A silent tear rolled down your face that you quickly wiped away. Emotions are such a weird thing, they switch on and off without warning, leaving you stranded with a shit ton of baggage you don’t want.

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I don't have a tag list but @gabbyygoo asked to be tagged in the next post so here you go love. Hope you enjoy it :)

pt.7

I fear I've been hit with a mild version of the writers curse. Its not to bad but um my dad got arrested 😅 This shouldn't put to much of a strain on my writing and I already have part 6 of Sex, Drugs, Ect. almost finished. I'm just very confused rn. Anyways yeah, life's weird.

October Moon

summary: after the anti-séance, Wally had tried to find Maddie. she'd mentioned the possibility of having had to meet Simon, a suggestion Rhonda had thought was worth following-up on. only, their search for her had been interrupted by something none of them had ever experience...but should have.

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.7

Maddie had excused herself after the anti-séance. Wally couldn't blame her for needing to be alone. It'd been intense and had left everyone shaken, especially given how summery, cheerful Dawn had reacted to memories of the day she'd died.

In the aftermath, Wally couldn't have been the only person sitting in regret. He'd never bothered to ask Dawn how she'd ended up on the wrong side of the Split River High veil. No one had. Not a single one of them had extended the courtesy of curiosity to learn anything about her beyond what she radiated. A spacey, Flower Power darling with well-meaning intentions and a naive, almost childlike approach to everything.

If Wally was being honest, the anger burning in Dawn's eyes after the anti-seance had scared him. In the forty years he'd spent with her, she'd never once expressed a negative emotion. Not ONCE. Wally had had a misguided fling with her a few months after his death. He'd flirted his way into her pants like a sleaze because he'd been restless and horny and, yeah, pissed since Jenny had started her healing journey in Gary's bed arms. Back then, Wally had had an ego that'd needed to be stroked and Dawn had been willing.

She'd been a fun diversion. Really fun. The kind of fun Wally had expected less than he'd expected her anger. Dawn had been chatty, but up for anything if it felt good. She hadn't cared that Wally hadn't wanted to cuddle in the afterglow. She hadn't cared when he'd ignored between trysts. And then, when the desire to medicate his grief with sex had faded, she hadn't been upset or wounded when he'd ended things. In fact, she'd smiled and shrugged and had babbled something about having already known they hadn't been compatible because he was a Libra and she was a Pie Piece. Or something.

Point being that Dawn hadn't held any of it against him. Had instead encouraged Wally to get it out of his system so he could move forward in the afterlife. Her whole thing was peace and harmony and staring at the fluorescent light above the book return bins like a sunflower under the sun. But the memory of her death had done something to her. Had shaken loose the feelings she must've repressed because afterward, she'd been...hateful. Revenge on her tongue as she'd spat how, "It should've been them. Not me."

"That was a waste of time," Rhonda said and Wally recognized that she was trying to lighten the mood in her moody, Wednesday Addams way. "Should we try something else?"

She stood at the coffee machine in the teacher's lounge where she, Wally, and Charley had congregated to decompress. Ajay was nearby on the couch, reading a book you'd brought him about ghosts. It was mainstream, you'd warned, but as close to accurate as was allowed to be published for the 'unconnected' masses. Ajay had expressed to you and Wally that he wanted to do more research into what it actually meant to be dead. Wally sensed that Ajay had begun to lose faith in Mr. Martin's guidance what with Mina still being AWOL, and that was how he'd chosen to cope.

Vaguely, Wally wondered if Ajay was taking his own path to crossing over. He'd let slip that it was a theory he'd considered. That Mina, like Janet, had crossed over while everyone had been trapped in past.

Wally chewed the inside of his cheek as he thought about it. Something about Mina's absence was starting to bother him. How could she have moved on when the farmhouse door had unleashed hell? Weren't moments of crossing over meant to be peaceful? And, if she hadn't crossed over (which Wally suspected she hadn't), the girl never left the theater. She was a looper. That's what Mina did: Looped. Day in and day out, she secured the stage from the rafters and barked at anyone who dared visit her before they took the safety course.

"You good, Moose?" Rhonda asked as she took the seat beside him at the kitchenette table. Charley was on the counter, legs dangling, heels knocking the cupboard below. "You look out of it."

Wally kept his voice low so Ajay wouldn't hear him, "Mina. She's still missing, but she's a looper who doesn't leave the theater. And Dawn? After that anti-séance, she looked like she was ready to go to war. Dawn, hippie, flower power fucking Dawn." Wally's head dropped into his hands, "Everything's backwards and it's freaking me out."

"For real, me too." Charley seconded, sliding off the counter to join Wally and Rhonda at the table. "Has anyone else noticed that since Maddie got here, Mr. Martin's been..." He glanced at the ceiling as he searched for his words, "Pushier than normal?"

Wally nodded, "Yeah. He's acting like she's his daughter getting into drugs or something." A delinquent throwing her life away for the dopamine thrill of doing what she was told not to. Wally wondered if Mr. Martin saw her that way, a train of thought that inspired him to ask, "Did Mr. Martin have kids?"

Rhonda shook her head, "Not that I know of. If he did, he never said so."

"Does it matter?" Charley asked. "Even if he did, he's never acted that way with us, and Rhonda's way more likely to fall into the 'wrong crowd'."

"Gee, thanks skuzz bucket," Rhonda jeered, taking a loud sip of her coffee to express how she felt about Charley's assumption.

Charley rolled his eyes, "I'm just saying, why Maddie?"

"Maybe he knows more than he's letting on." Wally suggested. Rhonda and Charley shared a look of doubt. "Did you hear how he got when Maddie brought up not remembering how she died? Or...didn't die, but Mr. M doesn't know that, right? He was pressing her about influencing the living."

Rhonda stared into her coffee as Charley spoke, "It's possible. If he does, why doesn't he just say something?"

"He doesn't know," Rhonda stated, still not looking directly at either Charley or Wally. "Charley's right, he'd say something if he did."

"You know that for sure, Deadly?" Wally pressed with distrust. "Or is that what he told you to say?"

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?" Rhonda put her coffee down and pushed her chair back, hands planted on the table, leaned toward Wally, a hawkish scowl on her face.

Wally didn't bat an eye, "It means that you've been following his orders like a German shepherd since that shit went down in the theater."

"How about I'm done being stuck in a place where you can get trapped in someone's fucked up past. I don't care what it looks like, I want to get out of here." Rhonda snarled, pushing off the table and crossing her arms defensively, "Janet might've been a bitch to Mr. Martin most of the time, but she still listened to him. So what if I'm doing the same? That doesn't mean I'm keeping his secrets." Lip curled and hip cocked, "Any other theories, Dick Tracy?"

Sighing, Wally held up his hands and, "I'm sorry," he said, ashamed, "all this stuff is getting me. I didn't mean to take it out on you, Rhonda."

Rhonda scoffed, but it lacked claws, "Whatever."

Wally stood and moved around the table to wrap her in a hug. She didn't return it, stiffened and complained, though didn't knee him in the balls which made him grin. "Forgive me?"

"Get off me and I'll think about it." Rhonda grumbled.

From behind them, Charley proposed, "We should make pizzas and watch anything but Rudy—" Wally perked up, "—or Ghost—" Ah, dang, "in the faculty lounge. Maybe what we really need after that failure of a séance experiment is to forget it ever happened."

That sounded like the best idea, in Wally's opinion. A night to press pause on all the crazy. To relax and unwind like they used to.

"We should find Maddie. She probably needs it more than we do." He said, releasing Rhonda to grab his jacket and pull it on. "She didn't look too good after the anti-séance."

"Your girlfriend won't get jealous that you wanna spend so much time with her friend?" Rhonda teased, that wicked twinkle back in her eye.

Wally threw her a weary look, "No, because she has nothing to worry about. I'm a one-woman man, Deadly. I've only got eyes for her." The smile he sported was dreamy as he thought about you. Pretty and perfect and making everything he'd ever wanted seem possible.

From the couch in the main area, "face!" Ajay called, not once looking away from the page he was on.

Though tired of being told off whenever he made what everyone referred to as 'heart eyes' while having thoughts of you, Wally straightened his expression into something neutral without comment.

Okay, he took that back, he had one comment, "You suck and you're not invited to pizza night."

Ajay cackled.

‗‗‗‗•‗‗‗‗

Using your key to unlock the door, you ran into the house, Xavier close behind you. Up the stairs, down the hall, to the door with the dinosaur stickers on it as waist height. Suddenly nervous, you hesitated and glanced at Xavier. He looked back, hand on your shoulder, a tentative smile on his face like he wanted to support you but was equally as afraid of what you and he would find.

A deep breath. You turned the handle and opened the door. Xavier flicked on the light after you stepped into Aiden's bedroom. The toys were untouched on their shelves, tiny shoes lined up by the closet, the wicker laundry hamper still half full. You'd made the bed after spending the night in there weeks ago. Military corners, smooth surface, pillows stacked.

Limon was gone.

"Dave?" Xavier asked, voice barely above a whisper, his breath caught in his lungs.

You were too unnerved to answer as you slowly approached the bed. Sinking to your knees, you checked under it, checked around it, checked the nightstand and the shelves and there was no sign of Aiden's stuffed lion.

Xavier asked again, "He must've taken it. Or Amelia as Dave must've taken it. Right?"

Your breathing was steadily getting too quick, your blood pumping harder, head feeling dizzy. "That's impossible," you wheezed, "Even if Amelia was in Dave, her ghost would be repelled at the door by the wards."

"The what?" Xavier's brow was furrowed. He joined you as you sunk down on the bed. "What're you talking about?"

"Ginny put wards around the house to keep bad spirits out. It's a traveler thing. A failsafe. To protect everyone but especially herself. She-she started astral projecting in her sleep after Aiden died. Mom got depressed, I apparently buried the memories so deep, I rewrote them, Andrew moved out...and Ginny started sleep-traveling." You looked at Xavier, voice a terrified rasp, "Amelia shouldn't be able to get past the wards, Zav."

Xavier contemplated what you said and then, after a lull fraught with unease, "What about in her own body?"

The idea that Amelia had been in your house, knew the layout, took something that didn't belong to her and delivered it to your brother's ghost that she'd trapped for her own sick purposes—Jesus Christ. You began to shake, tears streaming down your face. The house wasn't safe anymore. Your family wasn't safe.

Had they ever been?

Amelia had somehow discovered Alistair had reincarnated in Aiden and had...had fucking disposed of him like a lamb for slaughter just to ensure she wouldn't be discovered. That suggested she'd been around your family enough to recognize her long-lost lover in Aiden's eyes. She could have known them. Been the mailman or the cable guy, a neighbor, a friend.

You gasped, inhaling after too many seconds of forgetting to breathe, and then doubled over and released a noise of anguish. Instantly, Xavier hauled you into his arms and held you, both you and him tilting too far off the bed at that angle that he settled on the floor with you. He murmured words of comfort, lost beneath the white noise flooding your brain.

"If she knows where you live, we need to get you out of here," Xavier urged once you'd calmed enough to hear him. "She might come back, especially if she saw you after she pushed Quinn."

Trembling, you wiped your eyes and nodded, allowed Xavier you get you to your feet and help you downstairs.

"I can't stay with you forever, Zav." You reminded him when you and he reached the bottom of the stairs. Your mother would see through any excuse you gave her if you attempted to prolong your stay at the Baxter house, and you could tell Xavier knew that, too.

"Not forever, but at least for tonight. Andrew's coming back tomorrow, right?"

Softly, "Yeah," and the thought of your uncle's presence made you feel less like you needed to escape Split River altogether. You wouldn't run, you'd never leave Maddie and Simon and Xavier to handle Amelia alone, but the pit in your stomach was growing and you couldn't ignore the itch in your feet.

"And he's in the know. You can tell him about Amelia. He'll keep you safe. And when Ginny's better, she'll keep you safe, too." Xavier embraced you all over again, squeezing you so tight you could feel the anxiety he was trying to hide thrum through his body. He pulled back, hands on your shoulders, holding your gaze, "Dad will likely have someone watching your house if they don't find Dave by then."

"That makes me feel a lot better," You admitted. While Andrew was physically capable and Ginny's connectedness was strong, you worried that Amelia was stronger. A cop car stationed in front of the house was more likely to deter her from coming after you while you were home. That was...until they caught Dave.

Never in your life did you imagine you'd pray for someone never to be found, but right then, you prayed harder than you'd ever done before.

‗‗‗‗•‗‗‗‗

Wally rounded the corner and called out, "Maddie?" And then, "I wanna make sure she's okay," Wally insisted when he heard Rhonda groan. Locating Maddie had started as an effort to include her in their pizza night plans, but after awhile Wally's mindset had shifted it to a search party.

They hadn't had any luck finding Maddie in her usual spots. Of course, the spots they'd come to know as her 'usual' had been the only places where Simon could see her before he'd gained fully realized ghost powers. Unfortunately, Wally didn't have much else to go on, so he led Rhonda and Charley back to the faculty lounge. Neither Rhonda nor Charley thought Maddie was in danger or distress, believed Wally was being paranoid, but Wally didn't care.

He was worried.

"Let's check the faculty lounge," Rhonda said with boredom.

Charley added sarcastically, "She didn't say she needed a nap," as if he'd seen her at some point between the anti-séance and now.

"Maybe she went to speak with Simon," Rhonda suggested, and, truthfully, that made the most sense.

However, wasn't Simon supposed to be on the alert for word from you and Xavier; ready to go at a moment's notice should you and Xavier need help at the old farmhouse? That'd been the deal you'd assured Wally of. Simon was backup. Backup that Wally trusted a fuck ton more than Xavier.

He must've made a face, because Rhonda said, "Sorry."

"Why are you sorry?"

"You winced when I brought up Simon." She explained. "Jealous that Maddie's living person is here when yours is on an adventure with her best guy friend?"

Wally had to bite his tongue as he deflected, "This is not me wincing, this is my happy face." He forced a smile and felt how unnatural it probably looked.

Confirming it, "Could've fooled me," Rhonda said, eyebrows raised.

After peeking into the faculty lounge and seeing only Ajay sprawled on the couch, Wally turned and sighed, "Look, I know going to that place has to be hard. And possibly dangerous. I'm actually glad Xavier when with her, okay?"

Rhonda smirked and glimpsed at Charley before teasing, "I believe you, but if that is your happy face, remind me to hide when you're really happy."

Wally opened his mouth to retort only to be cut off by Charley who questioned, "Hey, has anyone seen Dawn since the séance?"

It took a second for the relevance of Charley's question to sink in. Wally looked at the empty space above the book return bins where Dawn normally roosted when there was nothing else to do. Once more, Wally felt a pang of guilt. He'd been so busy tracking down Maddie, he hadn't even considered asking Dawn to join them for pizza night.

"She's not there." Charley sounded concerned.

"Weird," Wally said, looking up and down the hall, "She's usually there."

A strange noise came from the light above their heads, the click of the ballast, before the light flickered as if the bulb was about to die. The buzz of electricity through the circuit grew louder and was joined by a high-pitched tinnitus ring. Instantaneously, Wally felt his skin prickle and a warmth fill his belly and flush outward. A sense of anticipation built within him, the happy kind, the kind children on birthdays and Christmas. Then, slowly, though he knew his feet were still firmly planted on the ground, if he closed his eyes, he'd have sworn he was floating.

"What the hell is that?" He wanted to know as it didn't feel like anything he'd felt before, alive or dead.

The light above flickered—on off, on off—stopped, and the light swelled brighter and bigger until it completely enveloped them. A cloud of every happiness Wally had ever experienced cradling him as it expanded to overtake the hallway. For a brief and beautiful moment, Wally felt light. No jealousy, no worry, no breath, no pulse. Just serenity and a sense of loss. It was blissful rather than painful, however, like a sweet and cherished goodbye.

And then it was over. Air rushed back into Wally's lungs and the light blinked back to normal.

A lull of silence punctured by, "Did anybody else just feel that?" Charley asked as he checked himself over.

"Goosebumps," Wally affirmed, "Yeah." His body felt heavy, cumbersome, foreign after the light had made him weightless. He took a moment to collect his thoughts, his mind spinning record laps in his skull, and, in gentle increments, he couldn't deny it, his heart insisting he was right. "Do we think that Dawn just—?"

"Dawn just crossed over." Charley confirmed Wally's hunch. "Yeah. Yeah I do."

Wally swallowed thickly, "Holy crap," his brain jumbled, dots connecting faster than he could follow the pattern. He didn't even realize he was speaking when he asked, "Does anybody remember this happening when Janet left?"

Rhonda stared at him, her expression hard, "Nope."

Ajay opened the door to the faculty lounge, stunned and wobbly, "What the hell just happened?"

Wally didn't give Ajay a chance to catch up and recover, "What does the book say about crossing over?"

Ajay gaped, stammered, "I-I knew it. I felt it like she was saying goodbye... Oh my God." Wally repeated the question as he turned to face Ajay fully, brain finally back in the game. Ajay hurried to the couch where he'd left the book and grabbed it. He scanned the glossary, the index, the table of contents. "There's nothing here about it."

In that case, "If Maddie's with Simon, we need to find them. Now." Wally asserted.

"Why?" Charley wondered, though he seemed ready to follow Wally's lead wherever it took them.

"Because Simon needs to make a call."

‗‗‗‗•‗‗‗‗

Aurora walked into the back room and turned on the lights. She hadn't been sleeping, everything too fucked up for her to rest. Dave, her Dave, the man she'd fallen in love with and married, had tried to kill a teenager. She didn't understand and the confusion had kept her awake for too many hours in a row.

She hadn't thought to grab the tea on her way out of the house on Friday. Nor had Nanna. Everything too chaotic and messy as they shoved clothes into bags and called an ambulance for Ginny. Thankfully, she had a stock of dried ingredients at the flower shop. Although Noah had insisted she not leave his house after dark, she couldn't bear another sleepless night. Her mind couldn't take it. Aurora was manic and paranoid and needed sleep. One night. A handful of hours. She didn't care. Anything would be better than nothing.

She almost screamed when the bell above the door jingled, her heart in her throat as she spun around wielding the food shovel like a hammer.

"Jesus, you scared the shit out of me," She panted when she saw who it was.

Noah Baxter moved into the light and gave her a pointed look, "I told you not to leave the house after sundown."

Aurora grimaced, "I know, I'm sorry. I couldn't sleep..."

"So you came to arrange flowers?" He asked with a smirk as he approached. He looked over the jars she'd pulled off the shelf behind the cashier's desk and raised an eyebrow.

"It's for tea," Aurora said, placing the food shovel on the counter and reaching for the next jar. "It helps you sleep."

Noah patted her back and nodded, his voice sympathetic, "Whatever you need, sweetie. Just be quick."

He waited and watched as she shoveled small scoops of each ingredient into an empty ziploc she'd brought from his house. Lavender. Ashwagandha. Verbena. Valerian. She replaced the jars carefully and tidied up, heart still beating wildly in her chest from the scare Noah had given her.

"I'm ready," She said once she was done, offering him a placid smile.

He smiled back, "You forgot passionflower."

Aurora blinked. Had she? She opened the bag and sniffed, noted that the smell wasn't quite what it should be. Without addressing it, she simply turned and plucked the jar of dried passionflower and uncapped it; sprinkled the right amount into the baggie.

"Thanks." She said, truly grateful, and returned the jar to the shelf.

They left together, Noah at her side as she locked up, his eyes scanning the area for anything suspicious. Like her husband, she thought, hand shaking as put her keys in her purse.

It wouldn't be until much later that she'd question how Noah could've known what ingredient she'd missed.

💀___________________________

PART SIX - PART EIGHT

note: dun dun duuuunnn!! 👀 next one should be out tomorrow 🫶

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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.

I love that my post with the most notes is a criminal minds incorrect quote that took 5 seconds of thought. 😭 personally I think my buzzfeed unsolved one about Emily was funnier but go off I guess.

Derek: are you the big spoon or the little spoon?

Emily: i'm the knife

Jj: *from across the room* she's the little spoon

October Moon

summary: things had begun to escalate after Quinn Wu had been pushed from the roof by none other than your brother-in-law. revelations had been made and everyone had been prepared to get down to business.

pairing: Wally Clark x fem!reader

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

bon reading, frens

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OCTOBER MOON pt.6

The Ciorcal. A council that oversaw a clutch of families whose blood was infused with connectedness. There were many throughout the world, the number of families under each Ciorcal's governance limited to ensure the rules could be effectively enforced. Ciorcals weren't all powerful or meddling. Nothing like the Volturi in Twilight or the Ministry of Magic in Harry Potter. More like a rural Board of Revision who stepped in to make decisions when families couldn't agree on courses of action. Very mundane stuff that often involved pots upon pots of coffee during deliberations, and a lot of paperwork. Often, hearings took time to schedule since most councilmembers had real lives with real jobs and real social demands.

You'd never met them. You didn't know who your family had to report to if an issue arose with someone's connectedness. Only the matriarch had the privilege of reaching out to them in times of need.

The matriarch in your family was, of course, Ginny. And Ginny didn't seem pleased to have had to call one of the councilmen ('Godfrey', you'd heard her bark when he'd rambled on for too long about his grandkid's ballet recital) simply because Andrew had found a totem linked to a homicide that'd taken place in Mississippi in 2010.

The right thing to do, you thought, was to hand it over to police so they could test it for DNA or whatever. Only, there was nothing special about the totem to indicate that it'd had anything to do with anything apart from having been donated. They were normal-looking sneakers. Not even a pair that the victim had been reported as having worn. And Andrew had happened upon them at a Goodwill while browsing for costume pieces with his girlfriend. There was nothing Andrew could say that would sound plausible enough to avoid becoming the next prime suspect.

Ginny pinched the bridge of her nose, groaned, and then said harshly, "I understand that Marjorie has apples to harvest, Godfrey, but we need to———interrupt me again and I swear to every God and Goddess you can name I will choke you with your ridiculous bolo. I dare you to test me."

You tried not to laugh, pressed your lips together and grabbed Nanna's hand. You were both sat in the living room hunched over a puzzle, a relaxing pastime Nanna shared with you when you were stressed. And, oh boy, were you stressed. It was your sophomore year; you felt awkward and ugly and you had nothing to wear to Homecoming. And, although you knew it was stupid, Wallace J. Clark had started haunting you for real and you maybe-sort of wanted to impress him. Even if you couldn't have sought out, talked to, or acknowledged him in any way.

Ginny's agitated growl brought you back to the present. She tossed the cordless landline phone onto the couch and collapsed beside it, head on the backrest, fingers massaging her temples.

"All good, sister?" Nanna asked with a small smile, examining the puzzle pieces.

Ginny rolled her head to the side to scowl at her, "They're all idiots and I want a new Circle. In fact, I demand it. Who do I bring this up with!?"

Nanna's eyes glittered, "I think we'd have to move, if that's the case."

"Oh, hooey, we could petition to have them replaced, I'm sure."

"Really?" You wondered and glanced between Nanna and Ginny, "You can do that?"

Ginny returned to rubbing her temples, "Even if we can't, I will!" She exclaimed, truly frustrated. "Bloody sheep shaggi—"

"And~ that's enough puzzle time for one day," Nanna interrupted as she rose from her chair, encouraging you to follow her, "Let's get started on supper, sweetpea."

"I want steak!" Ginny called after you and Nanna, "With garlic mash! After putting up with slow-talker Godfrey, I've earned it!" And then, to herself, "It takes that man a thousand years to get to the point. I'm seventy-nine, for Chrissakes, I don't have time for that."

Nanna sing-songed back, "You'll get what you're given!"

"It's not too early to pass the baton onto you, you know." Ginny said like a threat, giving Nanna's back a pointed look. Apparently, dealing with the Ciorcal was a responsibility nobody wanted.

Nanna paused briefly and pulled her bottom lip between her teeth, "Garlic mash, you said?"

Ginny grinned victoriously.

‗‗‗‗•‗‗‗‗

You were snuggled against Wally, back to front, between his legs on the floor at the back of the library. It was still too early on a Monday morning to worry about being caught. Charley sat in front of you and Wally, cross-legged with his back against Civil War history books. Ajay was sprawled across the windowsill. He listened as he gazed outside forlornly, still nursing Mina's ongoing absence.

Maddie leaned against Wally, her head on his shoulder, arms around her knees, clearly battling with too many thoughts. Lastly, Xavier stood at the end of the aisle, wary and alert and watching the door for anyone who wasn't on Team Parabnormal, as he'd called it. A loyal guardian.

He hadn't left your side all weekend, even when, on Saturday, you'd snuck onto school grounds to see Wally under Security Guard Barry's nose. Xavier had respectfully waited with Ajay while you and Wally had taken advantage of the makeshift bed that hadn't yet been dismantled. It'd been the distraction you'd needed after having witnessed Quinn Wu's almost lethal drop, and though Xavier hadn't been too keen for it, he'd driven Aurora's car and had diligently pretended he hadn't been chauffeuring you to a sex date with your boyfriend who'd been dead for forty years.

Xavier was a good friend. A good person. The only person you could trust with everything without having to explain in depth.

After Aurora had arrived at the school to collect you on Friday, she'd informed you that Ginny had had another episode. That Nanna had had to stay behind to wait for an ambulance because Ginny hadn't opened her eyes when they'd tried to rouse her after you'd called. She'd had episodes often throughout your life, but this seemed to be the worst of them. It reminded you that she wasn't as youthful and vivacious as she seemed. That she was a woman in her eighties with a body that no longer performed the way it used to.

Xavier had had Claire drop him off at your house before Aurora had left, wanted to be there should Dave have returned. He hadn't, but that Xavier had stepped up to protect your grandmother and great-aunt solidified for you that Xavier wasn't what Maddie and Simon believed, regardless of his prior misbehavior. He'd taken a taxi to the hospital with Nanna and had stayed until you and Aurora had arrived to relieve him.

For her part, Aurora had been a shell of herself when she'd found you after the dance. On the phone, you'd had to tell her why Sheriff Baxter had insisted she and Nanna and Ginny leave the house if Dave hadn't shown up. Shock, Nanna had whispered when you and Aurora had been sat in Ginny's hospital room, Aurora staring into space while you spoke quietly to Nanna. Currently, Aurora rotted in the bed of the Baxter's guest room, head under a pillow as if she could have blocked out the world.

They hadn't found Dave. Dave who might not have been innocent, but who hadn't been present when his body had pushed Quinn off the roof. Though his eyes had still been hazel, you'd known that it'd been Amelia looking through them. His situation wasn't like Christopher Nears whose ghost had been expelled from his body and trapped. No, Dave had been a—

"Golem?" Charley asked, head cocked like a confused puppy, "Like the clay monster things?"

"Yes and no," You offered, "It does usually mean clay monster things, but my family uses it to describe someone whose body is animated by energy that's not theirs."

Charley raised an eyebrow and, "So, a possession," he stated skeptically.

"Hard no," You said and held up your hand as you listed, "First, only a traveler can use a golem. Second, golems are temporary and the host's ghost is dormant in their body while their body is being used. Third, to be used as a golem, you have to have either full-blown connectedness, like me, or you have to have the potential to have it.

"Possession, on the other hand, can happen to anyone and the possessor has to be dead. A ghost with no body." Maddie's face pinched as she tried to understand. You elaborated, "Also, the host is aware of the ghost. Generally, the ghost is a super pissed off person who died traumatically. Hence why there's always records of lashing out and cursing and all that stuff."

"Got it. Golems, temporary. Possessions, a lot of projectile vomiting?" Charley added with a question mark.

You winced and tipped your head from side to side, "Either one can make you sick, actually. Think of it like an infection. The longer it sticks around, the harder your body tries to reject it. Either the body wins...or it doesn't."

"Jesus," Wally said under his breath, "This shit is wild."

Xavier interjected, "Can we please go back to the part where you said to be a golem you have to have magic?"

"It's not magic," You deadpanned.

"Don't really care." Xavier dismissed, and then, "You're telling me Dave has or could have magic?"

The corners of your mouth dropped severely, "Yeah. I know. Trust me."

"You had latent magic," Maddie mentioned to Xavier, "Same with Simon." She panned to you for support, "Right? That's why they can see us."

"It's still not magic, but I'd say yes." After a moment of reflection, you urged Maddie, "Trust me, though, if you knew Dave, you'd understand why it's so..."

"Fucking. Dave." Xavier finished on your behalf. You gestured to him, that.

Charley brought everyone's attention back on task when he asked, "Guys, if Amelia's already possessing people—"

"Borrowing," You inserted the correct terminology.

"Borrowing?" Charley blinked several times, "Okaaay. So, if Amelia is borrowing people...that means she has to have a body around here, right?" You nodded. "One she obviously wants to get rid of or she wouldn't be creeping around. And her whole thing is stealing bodies." Again, you nodded. "So, why doesn't she just...keep one of the bodies she borrowed?"

To be honest, "I don't think she can," you said, then chewed your lip in thought. "You could technically push someone's soul out of their body. Amelia did it to Christopher, right?" Maddie bowed her head, "But if it's for long-term use, you risk the body rejecting you since it isn't yours. Like an organ. Unless the chemistry matches, there's no guarantee a ghost can just keep the body. Which means, if they're in there too long and they're not a match, the body starts going through the stages of decomp. A lot slower than an actual dead body. But still...same-same."

The ghosts looked between themselves, Charley's features conveying to you that that usurping someone's body was something he'd never thought of trying.

"We're not assholes," Ajay reminded him, having read Charley's expression for what it was. "Although it would be nice to leave the school. Even for a day."

"We're. not. assholes," Wally doubled-down as he stroked your hip with his thumb, almost as if he was reassuring you that no one in his haunt was going to do something like shove a living person out of their body for a field trip.

You smiled up at him before informing everyone, "Besides, if you're inexperienced, you'd need a big source of energy to ensure you could successfully hold onto a body. Which brings me back to why Amelia can't just keep one of her golems. In that memory I got trapped in, Alastair said something about how the death of those cult members was what glued his and Anabelle's and Amelia's souls into their new bodies. I think Amelia would need to get a bunch of........." You trailed off, the realization dawning in fazed degrees. "Oh my god..."

There was an extended silence until, from the windowsill, "That's why we're trapped here," Ajay uttered, looking at the group. "Amelia's using us the same way she used the dead cult members, isn't she?"

Wally tensed, his body rigid behind you, thumb stilled on your hip, "What does that mean?"

"It means the symbols that I found were probably made by the Something-Something to trap their energy resource." Ajay's gaze was heavy as he clarified, "Us."

Charley glanced between you and Ajay before fixing on you, "But you said there were, like, fifty or sixty of them. Including us, we're only twenty here. Nineteen now that Janet crossed over."

"I don't think Janet was supposed to cross over," You said quietly, the gears in your head turning, "Maybe that's why Amelia tried to kill Quinn. To...to replace her."

Maddie pointed out, "Even if she succeeded, that still doesn't bring the total anywhere near fifty or sixty, though. If Amelia needs more than us..."

"If," Ajay said as he hopped down from the windowsill. "She could've perfected the ritual. It's just her now, right?"

"That we can confirm, yeah." Then you speculated, "Anabelle could be out there, too. Which, being Amelia's mom, I bet she is." Everyone sat in troubled silence for a moment before you suggested in a timid voice, "Maybe this isn't the only place she's hording ghosts." You glanced at Xavier, "I think it's..." A deep, shaky breath before you restarted, "I think I need to go back to the farmhouse."

Wally's arms tightened around you protectively, "Not on your own, baby," and pressed a kiss to your head, letting his lips rest there for a few seconds as he breathed you in.

Xavier said, "I agree with Grease Lightning, kiddo, you're not going alone," a short pause as he schemed, and then, "We can go tonight. My dad's working a double so he won't notice if we're not home."

"You're still staying at his house?" Wally asked, shifting to look at you and you could sense the jealousy he was trying so hard to conceal.

"Until tomorrow," You confirmed, "The locksmith's been booked solid since the break-ins started and couldn't get to us until tomorrow morning."

He pressed his brow to your head, "I wish I could go with you."

"You~ have an important job to do here," You reminded him, smiling softly and reaching up to run your fingers through his hair, "You guys are going to help Maddie get her memory back and then we'll be able to figure out what happened and if her disappearance has anything to do with Amelia."

Wally nodded into your hair, but his arms tightened further.

"I promise to cooperate," Maddie said with humor, having noticed Wally's reluctance to accept that you were going on a road trip with Xavier who she suspected had done something besides cheat on her to upset Wally. "I'll go along with whatever weird, kooky thing you guys wanna try." She lifted her hand, scout's honor, "No complaining."

"That's an offer we can't refuse," Charley chuckled and tapped Wally's foot with his toe, "Whaddya think, buddy?"

Reluctant, "Yeah. Yeah, that sounds awesome." He stamped another kiss to your head. Tentatively, eyes soft, he asked, "Do you think Aiden'll still be there?"

The question made Maddie flinch, because if Aiden's ghost had remained in the farmhouse, it was likely that Christopher's had also. Measuring your words, "I'm not sure. Honestly, I don't even know how I'm going to find the place. My memory is all fucked. I still remember it being in town."

Charley volunteered, "I saw Meheive on the mailbox, if that helps," his voice just as hushed and cautious.

"We'll start there." At least you knew what you'd be busy with at lunch. You mapped out the rest of your day, already itching to run to the computer lab and write your name on Mr. Balkin's log because those spaces filled up fast. "I'll see what I can find and then text you," you told Xavier, getting to your feet.

Everyone stood, ready to leave, except Ajay who returned to roost on the windowsill. When Wally inquired about Group, Ajay brushed it off, stating he wasn't in the mood; believed Mr. Martin wouldn't have any advice beyond what he'd already given Ajay on the Mina front.

Wally patted Ajay's shoulder and then returned to you. Leaned down and kissed you slowly, sweetly, pulling back to whisper, "I love you, baby."

"I love you, too." You replied, closing your eyes when you felt him kiss your forehead. "I'll see you at lunch."

At Wally's agreement, everyone but Ajay exited the library; you and Xavier went left, the ghosts went right toward the gym. You had a Mock Trial to prepare for as liaison for the school newspaper, and Xavier had Bio homework to catch up on so, at the end of the hall, you and he parted ways.

However, not before Xavier reassured with a joking grin, "I'll be there, kiddo. If things go sideways, at least we'll go down together."

You rolled your eyes, "Such a glass-half-full thing to say, Zav."

"You know me, always looking for the silver lining!"

"Idiot," You smacked his arm lightly and he feigned agony, wincing and rubbing his arm like you'd nearly amputated it.

"So cruel when all I wanna do is help," He moaned with an exaggerated pout.

Refusing to indulge him, you turned to head to your locker and grab what you needed for the Mock Trial, "You're a menace~!"

"You love me anyway~!"

Begrudgingly, you had to admit that, yeah, you did...

He was still a dickhead, though.

‗‗‗‗•‗‗‗‗

Wally had never seen that side of Mr. Martin. Jaw tense, features screwed up in vexation; his feathers ruffled in a way that they had never gotten before. Normally, Mr. Martin was a pillar of even tones and encouragement. The man who'd gracefully assumed the role of leader for their patchwork haunt. He was the glue, the calk, the cement that kept everyone together.

Until Maddie threatened to leave Group to find clues to clear Mr. South's name. The session had already been going off the rails at thunderous speed since Charley had kept probing Maddie for answers. Wally knew it was Charley's manner of trying to unlock her memories, but it only served to get under Mr. Martin's skin and put the man on edge. And, weirdly, spouting Mr. Martin's passive mumbo jumbo, Rhonda seemed to be on his side. She'd never bought into Mr. Martin's advice, as well-meaning as it was, yet, recently, she'd been following him around like a lost duckling and regurgitating his words like they were revelation.

What the hell was going on?

Wally was startled from his thoughts when Mr. Martin said, "Whether your memory returns or not, you're not in a position to help the accused, Maddie." At which Wally and Charley shared a nervous look. "We have no influence over what happens in that world."

Wally flicked his gaze to the back of your head, visible above the back of the first spectators' bench.

"Do we?" Mr. Martin prodded Maddie in a pointed tone. When she didn't answer, he repeated, "Do we have any sway over a living person?" And the expression on Mr. Martin's face might've been docile, but there was something beneath it. Something that made Wally uneasy. "Is there something we're not sharing with the group?"

One more there-and-gone glance at you, and Wally interjected, "Uh, speaking of repressed memories..." He leaned down to grab the psychology textbook he'd boosted from the library.

"We're not," Mr. Martin insisted.

Wally ignored him, desperate to take the heat off him, Maddie, and Charley, "Well, we can, so I will." Wally presented the textbook and assured Maddie that, "We're gonna help you get through this, Maddie, okay?" A hand on her back, his eyes sincere. "We're all going to figure it out." And he believed it was true. Between you and Simon and Xavier; and he, Charley, Ajay, and, hopefully, Rhonda, the odds were in their favor. They'd help Maddie remember and she'd be able to tell you what'd happened to her so you, Simon, and Xavier could go and valiantly retrieve her body like the knights in shining armor you and they were. Wally had faith in that.

"Thank you, Wally," Maddie answered.

What remained of the Group session was rocky and, either defeated or unsettled, Mr. Martin dismissed everyone earlier than he usually did. Before vacating the circle, Wally leaned in to ask Maddie, "Quick question," his voice low to avoid being overheard. She sat back down and waited for him to speak, "The day you ended up here...you didn't by any chance drink tea that probably tastes like soap, did you?"

A hundred questions passed over Maddie's expression as she thought about how to respond. Wally knew it was totally random, but figured it couldn't have hurt to ask. If that tea had drugged you and possibly made fifty to sixty wealthy socialites attend to the whims of a crazy woman, it very well could've been what'd caused Maddie to forget why she'd been in the boiler room in the first place.

Eventually, "No," she answered, and she sounded worried about Wally's mental health. "You think her sister snuck into the school to drug me with her favorite herbal sedative?"

"I just wanted to make sure," Wally defended, "And I'm not saying it was my girl's sister. Amelia could've golem'd—"

"Borrowed," Charley chirped as he came to stand in front of them.

Wally backtracked, "Amelia could've borrowed someone's body and slipped it into your drink at lunch or something."

"She could've spiked my odorless, colorless water with something that smells like a thousand grandmothers' perfumes without me noticing?" Now Maddie was grinning, cheeky, a glint in her eye.

Wally groaned, "If you're going to make fun of me for trying to help, I'm gonna find something else to do with my time." His gaze unintentionally slipped to you.

Maddie raised an eyebrow, followed his line of sight and then smirked, "You mean someone."

"Shut up." To get out of the hot seat, Wally stood and collected his backpack. Together with Rhonda, Wally was pleased to note, they left the gym. As they moved down the hall, "I have an idea," Wally announced, "but I need you to bear with me, okay?"

"Alright," Maddie said, followed by a semi-curious, semi-concerned, "Why?"

"Hey, you agreed to do whatever weird, kooky thing we wanted to try, right?" Wally grinned, "And I wanna start with those triggers I told you about. First up," he turned toward the cafeteria and, without comment, everyone trailed after him, "Do you remember what your last meal was?"

Maddie's nose scrunched as she tried to recall. "Whatever they served in the caf," she said, albeit unsure.

"Great, we just have to check their menu rotation and we'll go from there." Wally was excited for his experiment. His blood pumped and his brain buzzed similar to how he felt on game days. Jittery, but good jittery. Like he was on his way to do something with purpose.

Charley made a face of disgust, saucily recommending, "If it's whatever they try to pass off as fish, we're skipping it."

"We don't have to eat it." Rhonda said, linking her arm with his. Charley beamed at her as if she'd told him Mr. Figueroa could see Charley and wanted a word.

Beside Wally, Maddie snapped, "Thanks. Guys. Love the solidarity."

"Oh-ho-ho no," Wally shook his head as he draped his arm across her shoulders and gave her a friendly squeeze, "This isn't about solidarity. We're here to support you and to try to trigger your memories."

"And torture you with the school's trash fish." Charley added gleefully.

Maddie shot him a glare, shoulders drawing inward and mouth twisting in displeasure, "I think I'm good, actually. I don't need to remember anything."

Wally chuckled, "Too late for take-backs, Maddie."

"It's never too late," Maddie disagreed, "I take it back. I'm taking it back now."

Wally waltzed ahead and opened the cafeteria door, merrily saying, "You'll be fine. It's not like you can kill a ghost, right?"

The look Maddie leveled him with would've withered a lesser man.

‗‗‗‗•‗‗‗‗

Xavier drove in the direction of the old Meheive estate, the truck quiet except for the low drone of the radio. He'd dropped Claire off at her house after the confrontation with his father in the 7-Eleven, and picked you up outside his house. Nanna had returned to the hospital to sit at Ginny's side. Your mother, Alice, was conducting a reiki session at her friend's studio downtown. Aurora had relocated from the guest room to the den where she'd curled up to distract herself with reruns of shit reality television. No one knew you and Xavier were gone.

He'd filled you in on the lunchbreak escapade to the station; how he and Simon had found a clue that pointed to Nicole. As skeptical as Xavier was, you'd altogether refuted the idea that she could be responsible for Maddie's abduction. However...it made a twisted sort of sense to Xavier.

Simon had described the root of the resentment Nicole could've possibly harbored toward Maddie. Toward Simon. And Xavier saw how that could've led to a tragic outburst that had resulted in Maddie's current predicament. Plus, if it had been Nicole, that could've explained why Maddie's body was still alive somewhere. Maybe Nicole hadn't meant for things to escalate how they had and, heart heavy with guilt, Nicole had undertaken being Maddie's warped Florence Nightingale.

"Maybe..." You allowed, but, "It still doesn't feel right."

"Does any of this?" Xavier returned with a rueful smile.

You snorted, "True."

Twenty minutes later and Xavier turned onto a gated dirt road. The gate itself was dilapidated, yawned open, its iron panels slanted away from the frame as if trying to free themselves from their hinges. Xavier drove carefully down the dirt road, no lights to guide him apart from his high beams. The setting felt spooky, Xavier's blood curdling as he maneuvered around fallen branches and deep pits in the dirt. No lights. Just dark and trees and whatever hid within them.

One would think the town would've maintained the property. A heritage sight owned by the family of one of Split River's founders. Apparently, no one had had the incentive since, when Xavier drove to the crest of the horseshoe driveway, the house itself was completely run down. It had the essence of grandeur in its woodwork and architecture, but he could tell it had long since been abandoned to the elements.

He saw the ghosts at school, therefore knew that building was haunted, but it didn't feel it. The Maheive estate, however...it emanated profound melancholy, enough that it urged Xavier to turn around and put as much distance as he could between it and him.

Fighting his instincts, Xavier glanced at you when he parked, reached over and took your hand to give it a squeeze.

"You ready?" He asked softly.

You didn't respond. Simply inhaled a rattled breath and returned the squeeze before opening the truck door to climb out. You waited at the nose of the truck for him and, just as he reached you, his vision shifted. Or perhaps it was the world around him, because the house had suddenly changed. He rubbed the meat of his palms into his sockets and looked again, but the house remained pristine. Turrets proud and mended, shingles restored, paintwork smooth and intact.

"What the hell?" Xavier muttered, astonished.

Without looking at him, "Even homes have ghosts if they had enough life made in them," you said, then smiled sadly, "This is how the house is perceived in the world of the dead."

"So, why don't I see the school any differently?"

"It's still alive." You shrugged like that made an iota of sense. Xavier went with it, though, not sure if he wanted another magic lesson. Your voice in his head chided him that it's not magic, but Xavier was having a harder and harder time believing that. A ghost house sounded like something a wizard would say. And wizards? Notorious for wielding magic.

"So, is this how I'm going to see every abandoned building from now on?"

You seemed to consider that for a moment and then, "I think it depends on the building." You turned your head to gaze at Xavier and instructed, "Just look closer."

Xavier peered at the house, but he didn't know what he was supposed to have been looking for—wait. There. Beneath the reminiscence was the decayed reality. Two images overlayed to create a new composite. A house trapped between life and death.

"This is both very cool and very terrifying," Xavier commented.

He trailed behind you as you made your way up the front stairs, minding your steps. Carelessly trod over the fallen screen door that was also in perfect condition on its hinges. Watching you pull it open while not pulling it open was a trip that made Xavier a little queasy. The unnaturalness of it disagreed with his brain.

You hesitated with your hand on the main door's polished-tarnished handle. Understanding, Xavier took over—it was unlocked—and put a hand on your back to guide you inside when he pushed the door inward. He felt a chill zip through his skeleton, the hairs on the back of his neck standing as he stepped over the threshold. The air felt thin and cold. Inside, the house was stately, something one would see in a British period drama. Beautifully woven rugs and old-fashioned wallpaper; portraits and paintings in goldleaf frames; candlelight in the hall and carbon arc in the rooms.

Xavier's mouth hung open as he took it all in. "This is insane," he said as the urge to snoop rose within him.

What? It wasn't every day he'd have the chance to explore a ghost house from eighteen-dickity-six. While he could see the weathered and decrepit interior beneath the ghostly mirage, the mirage itself was still marvelous to behold.

As he'd done at the place on 10th and Lasher, Xavier clasped your hand. For support. For safety. For comfort. For all of the above. And right then, a bell rang. The clangy, old-fashioned kind with a clapper and string. The sound came from the back and, cautiously, Xavier led you further into the house, down the hall, into what had been yet still was a small kitchen. You and he froze when a woman trotted away from the dinner bell screwed into the wall, to the oven where she stirred something in a stock pot.

Xavier's heart slammed behind his ribs and his grip on your hand tightened. Spooked, he shot you a look, except you weren't paying attention. Not to him. Not to the woman. No. Rather, your eyes were cemented to a door at the back of the room. Jesus, was that the cellar door? Xavier's question was almost immediately answered when it opened and two people emerged. A man in military garb. And a young boy clutching a stuffed lion.

"Oh my God." Xavier croaked, breath caught in his throat. His stomach lurched as Aiden skipped to the oven and grinned up at the woman. Behind Aiden, the man—Christopher, Xavier speculated—called Aiden's name and gestured for Aiden to, "go sit at the table, champ."

Your hand shook in Xavier's and he could hear you taking gasping, little inhales that hiccupped when Aiden stopped in his journey to the next room. He turned his head and looked right at you, a toothy smile then sweeping his mouth.

"Sissy May!" He squealed and ran to you.

Xavier choked, swallowed, released your hand as you knelt to Aiden's level. Your eyes were glistening with unshed tears, smile forced as you greeted your brother for the first time in six years. Dear Aiden, who'd been in that house since his death, unbeknownst to his family that had grieved him.

Aiden appeared exactly as Xavier remembered him. Small and excitable, a kid with more energy than he knew what to do with. His crooked grin and brilliant green eyes that gazed at you with unconditional love. Xavier wasn't as strong as you; collapsed to his knees as he heard Aiden ask innocently if you and Zavvy had come for supper.

"We're having Martha's stew again and it's very good." He informed you, so matter-of-fact and polite, like Alice was around to observe his behavior.

Xavier recalled how similar he and Aiden had been, Aiden's restlessness mirroring what Xavier had been like as a boy. Alice had often been at wit's end just as Xavier's mother had. Which is likely why Xavier had felt a connection with Aiden unlike anyone else. A protectiveness and loyalty that had led him to including Aiden in everything Xavier did with you.

"We-we can't, Aiden," You apologized, voice rough as you spoke, "Maybe next time."

Aiden pouted at his rainboots. "You never wanna hang out with me."

Xavier felt hot tears roll down his cheeks. He placed his hand between your shoulder blades, a gentle reminder that he was there if you needed him.

You laughed, thick and wet, blinking up at the ceiling to control your own tears. A sniff and then, "You know, that's honestly the only thing I've wanted do for a long time...is hang out with you."

"Then why can't you stay?" Aiden grumbled, petulant, pulling the same guilt-trippy stunt he'd pulled countless times when you'd decreed that he hadn't been allowed to join the slumber parties you and Xavier had had as kids. Aiden's face remained downturned, but his eyes watched you through his lashes.

Frankly, Xavier wanted to know as well. He was happy to sit at a table and eat ghost food if it meant spending time with a child he'd considered his brother. Even for one night. Just one night.

"It's late," You explained, and to Xavier's ears it sounded as if you were struggling to get the words out, "And we have to be home before we get in trouble, but," you paused, whimpered, "I promise to come back, okay?" With that resilience and acceptance only children have, Aiden agreed and smiled again. "Can I..." you sniffled, "Can I have a hug before I go, Addy?"

"What's the magic word~." Aiden sang and his eyes sparkled with mischief.

You laughed through your tears, "Pleeeease can I have a hug?"

Instantly, Aiden crashed forward into your arms, tucked his head into your throat and let you embrace him. Xavier placed a hand on Aiden's back, a sob punching out of his chest when he made contact. He wrapped an arm around you, the other around Aiden, and held you both close. His body trembled. His teeth clenched. And he cried as soundlessly as he could so as not to disturb the moment. It wasn't long enough, the hug, but it healed something in Xavier's heart.

Christopher called Aiden's name from the other room and Aiden squirmed out of your and Xavier's embrace.

"I have to go," He said like a little gentleman, so articulate, and, "Love you, Sissy," he planted a sloppy kiss on your cheek. He did the same to Xavier, "Bye, Zavvy," before he cheerfully turned and speed walked through the entry to the adjoining room, stuffed lion crushed to his chest.

You and Xavier helped each other stand and, without having to direct him, Xavier crossed the kitchen and peeked through the entry way into what he discovered was a well dressed formal dining room. You pressed into his side to see for yourself that there were more ghosts around the enormous table apart from Aiden, Christopher, and the mystery woman Xavier assumed was Martha.

Men and women, young and old; a few teenagers no younger than fifteen. The ghosts' clothes spanned the decades from what Xavier guessed was the 1940s onward. As he stood in the entry, clearly visible, overtly analyzing them, he was surprised to realize that none of them seemed to notice. It was like you and Xavier didn't exist to them, Aiden included.

"It's a loop," You murmured, voice cracking, "Right now, we're not even here."

"But he just spoke to us," Xavier said.

You snorted, the sound weak and lacking humor, "They can come out of it from time to time, but as soon as they reenter the loop, they forget." After a pregnant pause, "How many do you count?" you whispered as your eyes flicked from one figure to the next.

Xavier tallied, "Twelve."

"Me too."

As soon as you spoke, Xavier felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. Reluctantly, he backed away from the entry, away from Aiden who was slurping his stew, his spoon absurdly large in his tiny hand. The text was from Simon, an update informing Xavier and, by extension, you, that Nicole hadn't hurt Maddie. That she'd taken a misconceived route to buy herself a ticket to Chicago.

Xavier had to peel you away from the entry, had to hold you close as you seemed to turn hollow in the wake of witnessing your little brother forget you were there, his consciousness overwritten by the loop that'd seized he and Christopher for six years.

"Come on, kiddo," Xavier said calmly, "We got what we needed. We should go."

"There might be others," You advised, but you didn't argue when Xavier opened the passenger side door of his truck for you.

"There might be," He agreed, staring at the house, "but it's almost 9PM and we don't want to get caught, right?" He offered you a weak smile, accepting the hug you drew him into and rubbing your back soothingly. He kissed your head and helped get you settled in your seat before moving to the driver's side.

Revisiting that place had taken a toll on you—and, if he was being honest with himself, him—and Xavier wanted to get you away from there. He could tell you were sinking deeper and deeper into the memory of when you'd last been there, your gaze distant and glossy. Your curled up in your seat, slanted against the inside of the door. Xavier reached over the console and lifted your hand. An anchor. To remind you of what was real, where you were, who you were with.

Just as he was about to pull onto the freeway from the dirt road, you mumbled, "We need to stop at my house," your tone as fragile as it was firm

Xavier asked anyway, "What for?"

"Zav," and, slowly, you turned your head. Xavier was struck by how sick and shaken you looked. However, with what you said next, Xavier understood why, "Aiden didn't have Limon when he died..."

💀___________________________

PART FIVE - PART SEVEN

note: we begin our mad dash to the finish line anew 💣 i took @patrickispinky's advice and got some very much needed rest over the weekend, but i'm greased up and ready to smash this out ⌛

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

Sex, Drugs, Ect.

pt.5

Warnings: Talk of drugs/Drug use. Possible smut in the future. A lot of plot. EXTREME Canon divergence. Before Maddies time. Set in 2022. Hearing Voices. Talk of a Dead Body. Self Deprecation. Angst. Arguing.

2k words

pt.4

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The sight of the tall jock made guilt creep up on you. Asshole, you’d baled on him yesterday with no explanation. He hates you, he was the first person here to actually try and make you feel comfortable and you tossed him to the side, for what? A fucking book. 

“Hey” You were sapped out of your thoughts by the boy, he was walking over to you and… Smiling. Why was he smiling? He didn't owe you a smile, hell if anything you owed him an apology. “What's wrong?” Oh god he wasn't making this any better, he looks worried. You’re making him worry because you’ve decided to randomly wear your heart on your sleeve, fucking selfish. 

“Nothing, um-” Might as well tell him what happened, he’s gonna find out eventually, everyone is. “Some girls found my body.” 

“Oh shit” It was clear he didn’t know what to say to that. It was easier to comfort someone when you’d actually been given the chance to know even a little bit about them other than their obsessive drug use. 

“Yeah” You didn’t really know what to say either, leaving an awkward silence. “So um basketball?” Really, basketball. That's the best save you could come up with? Small talk definitely wasn't your specialty. 

“Uh yeah.” He let out a small chuckle. “I practice every Monday through Thursday morning. Even though I don’t change, it still helps to pretend to stay in shape. Makes things feel more normal.” Was he trying to offer you advice? 

“Cool” You gave him a tight lipped smile. Nothing felt normal, waking up, going to bed, hell even the halls felt weird. Haunted, not just by you but by all the other students that had lost their lives here. How the hell was this school still open? You didn’t know the statistics for school deaths but you’re pretty sure this isn't normal. 

“You wanna give it a go?” He gestures back to the gym or as he would probably call it ‘the court’.

“Basketball?” There was clearly a bit of a shocked look on your face. “Oh no i don't play.” Sweaty bodies bumping into each other while passing around a ball sounds like literal hell. Still not as bad as being stuck in high school forever but definitely not a pastime activity. 

“Oh come on. It’ll be fun, I swear.” Why's he being so nice? He doesn't even know you. What the fuck does he want? 

“I don't know if it's really a good idea.” You gave him a tight lipped smile. “I'm not exactly what you would call coordinated.” 

“You don't have to be coordinated, just throw the ball around.” You couldn’t tell if he was trying to get you to loosen up or if he was just lonely, needing someone other than Charley to practice with. 

“I’m not the greatest with balls.” You cracked a fake smile. If he wanted you to act like everything was normal what better way to do it than with dirty humor. Now that was a specialty. The slightly stunned look on his face almost made you genuinely laugh. It was only there for a split second before he let out an awkward laugh. You couldn’t tell if you were making this better or worse, either way you were already here, talking to a dead guy. One of the most normal things that's happened in the last few days. 

“A smile looks good on you.” The past few days have been filled with nothing but self  loath and deflection. Not allowing your brain to process your situation. You know you’re dead, you know how but not why. That's the clarity you've been running on. But hey, at least he couldn’t see through the plastered on smile you’d spent years perfecting, right? 

“She only comes around every once in a while when I'm in a good mood.” Again with the lies. Tell him it's fake, tell him it's all a performance for everyone's entertainment. 

“Maybe I should try to put you in a good mood more often.” Before you could reply he threw the ball towards you, out of instinct you caught it with two hands, an unimpressed look on your face as his smile grew. “See? You’re a natural.” 

You forced out a small laugh. “A natural or traumatized?” 

“Bad dodgeball experiences?” 

“Older brother.” He let out a hum of recognition. You threw the ball back to him and watched him catch it with precision. “You haven’t lived until you've had a box of cereal fly past your head. Had to learn how to catch.” He gave you a bit of a side eye. “Sorry, was ‘lived’ a bad choice of words?” 

“Nah, but why a cereal box?” The smile on his face was real. It made you feel guilty for having to fake yours. You’d been needing so desperately to just be around someone and now you are but you still feel empty. Why isn't it enough? Fucking greedy.

“I don't know, guessing it was the first thing he saw.” The memory was oddly comforting. You still remember the confusion you felt when a box of cereal just barely missed you before smacking against the wall of your kitchen. It broke out into a shadow boxing match. 

“I never got that experience, only child.” There was a mixed look on his face. Almost sad but the smile was still there. 

“Consider yourself lucky. Me and him would beat the shit out of each other, steal each other's snacks, and I would steal all his hoodies.”

He laughs. “Sounds about rights.” Your conversation was interrupted by the sound of sirens  approaching. Both your heads turn to wear there coming from, though it was useless, you were both staring at a wall. 

“Fuck.” This is it, everyone’s gonna know. Nothings ever going to be the same. You’re officially dead. 

“You probably shouldn't go out there.” You didn’t look at him but in your peripheral you saw him turn back to you, concern and sympathy written all over his face. It doesn't make sense, he has no reason to feel bad for you. So why does he?

“I wasn't planning on it.” It’s your fault, you’re the reason you’re here and now you’re making some poor sweet boy feel bad for you. You don’t deserve his empathy. Even in death you’re fucking selfish, just get over yourself and suck it up. “Shut up.” 

“Excuse me?” It took you a second to process what just happened. You finally look back at him but he’s not mad, he’s smiling and a little confused. You know there's sheer terror all over your face. You can’t remember the last time you’d accidentally talked to them out loud in front of someone. This really isn't helping the asshole allegations. 

“Nothing.” The fake smile on your face is completely gone. How do you explain that without looking like an asshole or a lunatic? Fucking stupid. 

“It’s fine, I just wasn’t expecting it.” He's laughing, whys he laughing? Is your insanity funny to him? You’re suffering and he's laughing. Who cares? He’s not offended so just take it as a win. At least you didn’t slip up in front of some one like Rhonda, she would have chewed your head off. 

“Uh-” Change the subject. Something, anything. Fuck just pull together something. The familiar tightening began to form in your chest. Fuck Fuck Fuck. Without a word you ran to the door, pushing it open full with all the strength you could muster. What the fuck was that? He probably thinks you’re crazy. You just had to go and ruin a moment of peace by opening your big fucking mouth. You could hear the sound of his hurried footsteps following you into the almost empty halls. 

“Hey, wait up.” He was approaching fast and you couldn’t bring yourself to run away from him. Your legs felt numb, you didn’t understand why. What the fucks happening? It’s not the first time you’d slipped up in front of someone but this felt different. This is a stranger you’re being forced to spend the rest of your existence with. There's no escape, no wear to run. That little group is all you have now and you already fucked up. 

You felt his hand touch your solder but didn’t stop speed walking. He kept up a steady pace as he began to walk beside you. “What happened?” You stayed silent, knowing if you spoke it would come out wrong. “Come on, it's okay.” Okay? Nothing about anything is okay. It’s all fucked, your entire existence is fucked. “It’s not a big deal.” Your movements came to a halt. “It is a big deal Wally!” It came out angry, not angry at him but at yourself. When the hell did you get so soft? You let it slip out so easily without a second thought. Such an amateur move. 

He looked taken aback by your tone. “Okay, I don’t know why you’re mad but I'm sorry.” He thinks he did something wrong because of you, because you couldn't control your anger. You could feel the guilt grow on your face, features distorting with your fucked up emotions. 

“No, no, don't apologize. You did nothing wrong.” Stupid, so fucking stupid. You just couldn't stop yourself, could you? It’s not that hard to keep your mouth shut and be normal. 

“I don’t know exactly what's going on in that head of yours but you can talk to me. You can talk to any of us, we’ve all been there.” He tried to give you a comforting smile but it just made you want to break down in tears. What did you do to deserve this kindness? 

“That's really sweet Wally, but I have to go.” You pointed behind you down the hall. Truth be told all you want to do is curl into a ball and forget the world around you. There's probably a gurney dragging your dead body out of the locker rooms right now. Soon you will just be a memory to those you care about. An example for your future nieces and nephews about the dangers of drugs. A whisper in the halls. A ghost. 

“Okay, but um, movie night?” He had a hopeful look on his face. You didn’t understand why everyone was so adamant about you being involved in group activities. 

“Yeah, I'll be there. You can pick out the movie, I know I'm supposed to but I'd prefer if you just did it.” Great, now you have to drag yourself to group later too. 

“Perfect, see you later I guess.” He clearly wanted to say something. 

“Yeah.” You gave him an awkward tight lipped smile. As you turn to walk away you can still feel his eyes burning into the back of your head until you hit the corner, finally away from his watchful eyes. 

There’s a bathroom on this hall that you run to, needing somewhere to be alone with your thoughts. It’s funny, you were praying to be around someone earlier so you wouldn’t be able to think so much yet here you are. Hiding away, alone again. 

You paced around, still trying to wrap your head around everything. Your brain never even gave you a chance to process. You’re dead, what the fuck does that even mean? You were basically a zombie before that fateful day in the locker room, so why does it matter? Invisible or not you still have no purpose. Nothings changed, you’re still you. Still you, those words would normally comfort someone in your position but they made you want to vomit, to scream, cry, break everything in sight. Being you isn't a good thing. You’re broken, a mess, lost…. So what the fuck does being dead even mean? 

You let out a frustrated cry as you tuned, delivering an angry punch to the wall beside you. For a split second you couldn’t move your fingers, presumably breaking them before they reset. It didn't even hurt, you were shaking with anger and fear, to the point where you couldn’t feel anything else. 

Nothing made sense, it was all just distorted in your mind as you let your back hit the wall, sliding down on it so you could sit on the floor. Two broken fingers got you into this mess in the first place. Funny how history repeats itself.

Pt.6

Masterlist

Sex, Drugs, Etc.

Warnings: Talk of drugs/Drug use. Possible smut in the future. SH. A lot of plot. EXTREME Canon divergence. Before Maddies time. Set in 2022 - early 2023. Sleep Paralysis. Panic attack. Blood. Hearing voices. Disassociation. Suicide. Drowning. Rehab. Overdose. Vomit. Dead Body. Death. Self Depreciation. Angst. Relapse. Self Hate. Huffing Chemicals. Reader is Bipolar Coded Though Its Not Explicitly Stated. This is NOT meant to romanticize addiction or mental illness.

(The trigger warnings will grow as the story goes on. This story is dark and has a lot of mature topics. There will be specific warnings before every chapter. Please read responsibly. If you have any questions feel free to ask. :)

Title: Sex, Drugs, Ect.

Status: Ongoing

Parts: 9

Words: 18,192

Paring: Wally Clark x Fem!Reader (No use of Y/N)

You can also find this fic on Wattpad or AO3

{ Part one } { Part two } { Part three } { Part four } { Part five } { Part six } { Part seven } { Part eight } { Part nine }

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School Spirits Masterlist

General Masterlist

October Moon

summary: Janet had stolen Amelia's chosen vessel. Mina had been killed a second time which had meant there'd been a space to fill. as a result, Mr. Martin had been tasked with carrying out Amelia's mission to complete her set before time had run out. unfortunately, Amelia hadn't taken into consideration that the ghosts had been their own people, with minds of their own, moving to their own rhythms.

pairing: Wally Clark x fem!reader

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

bon reading, frens

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OCTOBER MOON pt.5

It was difficult to manipulate the living as a ghost. It took time, patience, a remarkable amount of foresight. Early on, Amelia had taught Mr. Martin what strings to pull, what seeds to plant, how to displace and harness the aura of a living person to influence their emotions and behaviors. Needless to say, it was a strenuous task and results often took months if not decades to come to fruition. So many moving parts, so many things out of his control.

The trick was to isolate the person. The more lonely, the more depressed, the easier it was to mold their aura into something Mr. Martin could use. Which was why, if things needed to be done quickly, he'd choose someone whose spirit was already broken.

That being said, he hadn't chosen the person Amelia had decided to replace Mina with. And there weren't enough hours in the day that he and they shared space when he could sew threads of hurt and betrayal through their aura.

This wasn't going to work and he knew it. But he couldn't argue with Amelia. Especially now, when they were so far past the deadline and time was running out. She was restless, furious, desperate. She could tell someone was too close to discovering her, no longer under her thrall, and she needed to vanish which she couldn't do without a new vessel. Without hers and Mr. Martin's.

This wasn't going to work. And he prepared to do his part anyway. Another ghost would be among them soon and it was his obligation, his duty, to get to them before they understood what had happened to them. Keep them close. Keep them in line. Keep them looped. He couldn't afford another sentient ghost to oversee when his Group had begun to lose their way. Their influence would be damning.

"If they accept, Everett, if they look back and surrender, everything ends."

This wasn't going to work. But, silencing his conscience, Mr. Martin prayed it would.

‗‗‗‗•‗‗‗‗

You and Wally had spent the remainder of the dance tangled together on the makeshift bed in the greenhouse. It had been surreal in substantial part due to the revelation of how you and he were connected. Bigger and more profound than a soul-tie. You were a fated pair. The rarest of couplings formed within the heart of Awen—the universe, the force that birthed and connected all things. A love story destined to be lived in life, death, and beyond.

Neither you nor he felt the need to discuss it, the truth settled into the fabric of your soul and his as if it had always been there.

When you'd finally emerged from the greenhouse, hair mussed and dressed wrinkled, you were lighter than you'd been in years. Free. Happy. Loved. It made you giddy, a skip in your step as Wally took your hand to walk to back to Xavier's truck. You had to collect Hana and Eli, and load the instruments into the truck bed to return to Hana and Lucas' garage.

Before Wally lifted you onto the tailgate, he kissed you, slow and deep and sensual, licked into your mouth and made you whimper when he dragged your bottom lip through his teeth. You crept back into your body, emerging from beneath the thick blankets with staticky hair and flushed cheeks. You could feel the chill in the air again and were thankful that you'd layered several blankets above and below you to keep your body toasty while your ghost had spent the night with Wally. In fact, you were a bit overheated, the chill welcome on your skin as you climbed out of the truck bed.

You got behind the wheel, Wally folding into the passenger's seat, and started the ignition, backing up easily since the parking lot was practically deserted at the late hour. You were going to drive to the front where Principal Hartman had instructed you and the others to load the instruments, but Wally waved that off.

"Go around to the side entrance, baby, it'll be easier."

"I think it's locked," You said, trying to recall what Mr. Hartman's reasoning had been as to why you and the others couldn't use it.

From the corner of your eye, you saw Wally give you a significant look, "Good thing you have a dead boyfriend who can open it for you."

Which, fair. Your abilities allowed you to bring together physical manifestations from both the world of the living and the dead. If Wally unlocked door for you in the world of the dead, you'd be able to open it in the world of the living.

Your heart fluttered when he used the word 'boyfriend', cheeks pinking sweetly. You liked how that sounded. So, respecting your boyfriend's suggestion, you pulled around to the side of the school and parked close to the wall just ahead of the door. Wally got out and told you he'd be back in a minute, citing that he'd needed to retrieve the key from Mr. South's office.

"Why?" You asked, frowning. "You're a ghost, you can just open the door if you want to."

Wally shook his head, "Nah, baby. If it's locked on your side, it's locked on ours."

That...didn't sound right. You'd seen Grandpa John flounce through many a locked door in the house and elsewhere. He'd even once raided Ginny's padlocked liquor cabinet (Andrew had been a rebellious teenager and she'd never trusted her nephew around her booze again despite his being a teetotaler since university). Ghosts didn't have to adhere to the same laws as living people. It didn't make sense.

Regardless, you didn't feel it was the right time to kick that hornet's nest. It was late, you were tired, and Hana and Eli were relying on you to drive them home. Thus, you diligently waited in the truck until you heard the metal clack of the door being pushed open. Wally grinned at you, stood back and let you enter, smacking your ass playfully as you walked by.

"I'm gonna go find Maddie." He'd seen her on his way to the basement, apparently, and she'd looked like she'd needed the company. "I'll be back before you leave." One last kiss and off he went, strutting down the hall to where he must've last seen Maddie.

You entered the gym, waved to Simon as he sat popping balloons. Hana and Eli stood beside the disassembled drum kit, chatting, and were relieved to finally see you when you approached them.

"I seriously thought you left already," Hana bemoaned, shouldering Lucas' bass and grabbing her keyboard. "I was going to kill you."

"Not today, Satan," You joked back as you gathered your guitar and Xavier's. "I parked at the side entrance, so we don't have far to go."

Eli looked surprised, "I thought it was gonna be locked, no? That's what Hartman said, isn't it?" He glanced at Hana for confirmation.

Hana made a face—the shits I give—and said, "If it's faster, I don't care."

Between the three of you, you were able to carry enough that you'd only need to make one more trip in and out. You didn't even see Principal Hartman in the gym, so you felt confident that he'd never discover you'd broken a rule. As you trudged under the weight of the instruments, you saw Maddie and Wally strolling toward the gym, Maddie appearing lost in thought and Wally silently dependable at her side, there if she wanted to talk.

He shot you a charming smile and a wink as you walked across the hallway intersection and you blew him a kiss behind Hana and Eli's backs. Wally caught it with his and held it to his heart, cheesy and adorable. Beside him Maddie rolled her eyes, but her smile was sweet.

Eli held the door open for you with his foot, Hana ahead of you both, gently setting down her load and unlatching the tailgate. You shuffled into the space beside her and shifted the guitar cases off your shoulder, leaning them against the side of the truck. Behind you, Eli had deposited what he'd carried on the ground and had already disappeared to go fetch his second and final haul.

And that's when—BANG!

At first, you didn't know what'd happened; it'd been so fast. A falling shadow, the truck bed dropped—the sound of a short, sharp explosion, the ground shook—then bounced back, and dust clouded the air above the truck bed.

When it registered, Hana was already screaming.

There was a body in the truck bed, limbs akimbo, face obscured. Heart in your throat, trembling, you slowly panned up to see where the person had fallen from. Your breath caught and you froze, eyes widening in horror. Someone leaned over the edge of the roof, their gaze locking with yours. You recognized the face those eyes peered through immediately, though his features didn't sit as they should beneath the expression on his face.

Oh God.

You felt hands on your upper arms trying to tug you away from the scene, Simon's voice repeating, "Don't look, come on, come here," but he sounded distant as the ringing in your ears got louder. You released a frightened, dry whimper, almost resisting Simon's attempt to help you. Your muscles were stiff, your lower lip trembled. You couldn't breathe.

No. No.

Dave's face peeked over the edge of the roof, but it was Amelia's eyes that watched you.

💀___________________________

PART FOUR - PART SIX

note: much love, besties! this was short 'n' sweet, but we're quickly coming to the end 😭

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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.

No spoilers but I just watched ep 1 and holy shit nothing could have prepared me for that. What the actual fuck just happened I'm boutta crash out.

October Moon

summary: you and Wally had had an incredible night at the homecoming dance, and he'd managed to surprise you with something you'd never expected.

pairing: Wally Clark x fem!reader

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

🌶️🌶️🌶️ for over 93,000 words, you've been patient. today, i stand and deliver, fam. here is what you've all been waiting for.

bon reading, frens

___________________________💀

OCTOBER MOON pt.4

Wally stood by the punch bowl, goofing around with Rhonda and Charley as he waited for you to arrive. The gym felt like a different world; dim lighting and disco balls, old pop music playing low as people started to trickle in. He saw Simon enter with an easel and a large framed picture of Maddie.

And if Simon was there, that meant—

"Wow." Charley stated as he stepped up beside Wally, taking the sentiment right out of Wally's mouth.

Everything moved in slow motion, the music faded, the world slipped away as you entered through the balloon arch. A vision in emerald satin. Wally's heart thrummed, his breath caught, and, for a moment, he forgot every thought he'd ever had.

"You good, superstar?" Rhonda teased. Stared up a Wally with an amused smirk on her face.

Wally couldn't respond, Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed. He wanted to rush over there, pick you up, never let you go. But his feet didn't move. Couldn't. Not until after, you'd said. After what, Wally could only guess, but you'd assured him he'd know. You did catch his eye and smile, waved discretely, then made your way to the small stage that had been set up for the DJ.

Wally's eyes tracked you, unable to look away even for a second. He stared longingly at you as your friends arrived and surrounded you, discussed something with you, you and them glancing at the door as if waiting for someone. To Wally's surprise and delight, you excused yourself and speed walked to the refreshments table, ladling a cup of punch right beside Wally.

"Hey, big guy," You said quietly, turning slightly to smile up at him.

Wally smiled back, eyes softening, "Hey, pretty girl." He leaned down to whisper in your ear, "When do I get to give you a proper hello?"

You blushed, impossibly cute, "After your surprise." Simple as that, although Wally was stunned to hear you had another surprise planned. Already today, you'd skipped your last class to bring him his suit since nothing in the costume closet had fit; you'd DoorDashed another meal from Max's for Wally and Ajay; you'd shown up looking like a masterpiece come to life. What more could you have planned?

"What surprise?" He asked excitedly.

You daintily sipped your punch and then, "It wouldn't be a surprise if I told you, would it?" And you swanned away, rejoining who Wally recognized as Hana, Lucas, and Eli. To his consternation, Xavier cut across the gym, laden with two guitar cases, and met you at the stage. He handed you one while speaking to Eli with a smile. Almost human, Wally grumbled to himself.

Over the span of the next few minutes, you and your friends climbed onto the stage and started connecting instruments to cables that hooked into amps. Adjust microphones, tuned strings, shared a brief exchange with Principal Hartman. At 9:30PM on the dot, the lights above the stage darkened. A spotlight shone on the ground in front of the stage and Principal Hartman stepped into it.

He welcomed everyone to 2023 Homecoming, excited to celebrate another school year. When Wally cast about, he noticed the gym was filling up quickly, the empty dancefloor flooding with students jazzed up in their best eveningwear. No one could compete with you, in Wally's opinion, but it was fun to see the sparkly dresses and pressed suits.

Wally's attention snapped back to the stage when Principal Hartman announced a live performance to kick the night off. The gym lights went out, people crammed closer to the stage when Principal Hartman moved to the wall to stand with the other staff chaperones, and then the stage lit up. Xavier was behind the middle microphone, you to his right, Lucas to his left. Behind you, Hana stood at a keyboard, and at the drums, Eli tapped his sticks.

Xavier began to sing as he strummed the first chords of a song Wally had loved since it was released. Take Me Home Tonight by Eddie Money. A cassette Wally had stashed to this day in his little box of ghostly treasures.

"Isn't that your favorite song?" Rhonda said over the intro.

Speechless, Wally nodded, too smitten with how your fingers moved over the strings of your guitar, the sound of your voice as you sang with Xavier who, Wally begrudgingly admitted, sounded incredible. The audience began to dance, clapping along, and Wally didn't want to be left out. He squirmed his way through the packed bodies, Rhonda and Charley in tow, and let the music wash over him.

He rocked out like he'd never rocked out before. Jumped. Sang. His body loose and his mind free. Even Rhonda got into it. Moving in tandem with Wally as he bounced and swayed. You were born to be up there and Wally couldn't take his eyes off you, your smile big and bright, vocals kindling through Wally's veins. Fuck, he wanted you. Badly. Right then and there.

The song ended, the crowd whistled and cheered as the DJ took over and began his set with another upbeat '80s classic for a smooth transition. Wally immediately searched you out, but he couldn't seem to find you. Xavier was packing his guitar in the corner beside the stage, the case you'd walked in with already closed and tucked away.

He did a tour of the gym, saw Simon and Maddie and Nicole. Hana, Mathilda, Lucas. Claire and her minion squad. Where had you gone? Many unsuccessful minutes later, Wally stood in the center of the dance floor, eyes peeled, examining every cluster of people for you. And then, just as he was about to give up, he felt a tap on his shoulder blade.

When he turned to see who it was, his jaw dropped. There you were. He felt the difference instantly, how the air moved through you rather than around you.

"Hey," You said, smiling sweetly.

Not wanting you to slip away, Wally pulled you close, hand to your cheek, arm around your waist, "Hey, baby girl." He chuckled, overjoyed, "You really meant it when you asked me to be your date, huh?"

"It would be kinda shitty of me to ask and then not spend the night with you, wouldn't it?" You said, flattening your hands on his chest. "Did you like your surprise?"

Did he ever. "How'd you know?"

You grinned, "Sophomore year. You rambled through my whole Geography class, remember?"

Laughing, Wally nodded, "Yeah. I mean, I don't remember what I talked about, but I remember doing that." He sobered, a tender smile curved his lips, "You remember that?"

A shy one- shouldered shrug, "You're kind of the one thing I've always paid attention to in school."

Wally's heart exploded. His mind exploded. His soul exploded. The music shifted from country pop to fast-paced electro house that encouraged more people to the dance floor, you and he surrounded yet the moment still felt intimate. He held you, swayed gently, leaning in as you angled your head.

"I really wanna kiss you." He murmured.

"I'm not stopping you."

He didn't wait, capturing your lips in a soft, slow kiss; the kind that coaxed those noises out of you that he craved. The hand around your waist traveled to your hip and brought you closer, as close as he could get you without absorbing you into his skin. Wally never wanted to let you go.

The realization struck him like a lightning bolt to the brain. Yeah, he loved you, but this was bigger than that. Heavier. He wanted you hold you while you slept, eat every meal with you, explore the world with you, have adventures. Accumulate a lifetime of memories, wild and mundane alike. He wanted to...to grow old with you.

His heart twinged, however, that didn't deter him. He'd make the most of whatever time you and he had together, regardless of how long that might be. You'd figure out the symbols, you'd lift the barrier, he'd haunt you like a dedicated boyfriend should haunt the love of his life. He didn't care if you grew old, aged into wrinkles and white hair. He was never—never—going to let you go.

The night was spectacular and Wally didn't want it to end. He had your full attention. You'd even brushed off Simon and Xavier when they'd asked for your input on Operation Claire—what appeared to Wally to be a cringeworthy experience for all involved. The DJ played an awesome selection of songs that Wally taught you, Ajay, and Charley the lyrics to.

Maddie came and went, as did Rhonda since she'd agreed to keep Bernadette and Katelynn distracted so they wouldn't look too closely at Wally's date. Though, how could they not? You were stunning. And goofy, and silly. And talented, as proven when you performed some of the choreography you'd learned in your 10 & Under dance class.

When the mass on the dancefloor began to dwindle due to the DJs choice in oldies music, Wally figured it was as good a time as any to reveal that he'd assembled a surprise of his own for you. Another '80s pop ballad and the dancefloor would be deserted entirely, and Wally didn't want to risk outing you to Katelynn and Bernadette.

He seized the opportunity to whisper in your ear as you were fetching another cup of punch, still breathless and flushed from the line dance you'd tried and failed to execute how it was supposed to be done. Wally brushed a strand of hair over your shoulder, slanted close so his lips hovered by your ear.

"It's my turn to surprise you, baby." He felt you shiver, his lips grazing down your neck, arm curling around your waist. "Come on."

Several feet away, loitering beside a patently bored Claire, Xavier watched you and Wally leave the gym hand in hand. Xavier cast a glance to Simon, who shot Wally a thumbs up when Wally glanced at Simon over his shoulder.

Behind Claire's back, Xavier bobbed his head at Simon, silently asking what was up. Simon returned the gesture with a slight and slow shake of his head, the sentiment plain, "Please do not ask me to spell it out for you."

Xavier frowned, returned his gaze to the now empty doorway, then back at Simon, suspicious.

‗‗‗‗🌶️‗‗‗‗

His fingers laced with yours, Wally led you through the school, out the back, and across the courtyard to the greenhouses. While most of the row was dark, warm, dim light spilled out of the greenhouse at the end. You had no clue what Wally's surprise could be, but you didn't think it involved potting plants given how nervous he seemed to get the closer you got to the last greenhouse.

He stopped in front of the door, turned, drew you against him and held your jaw in his large palm as he said, "Baby, I—I don't want you to think I'm expecting anything, okay?" His gaze was imploring and he waited for you to nod your understanding before he continued, "You've been amazing, getting me—us—things from the outside even though you've been busy trying to get to the bottom of everything. And, I just... I wanted to do something nice for you."

Wally reached behind him to grab and turn the doorknob. He opened the door and then stepped aside for you to go through first.

You couldn't believe your eyes. The long tables had been pushed against the glass walls, plants across their surfaces and beneath curtaining the space from the outside and giving it a sense of privacy. Above, strings of fairy lights had been threaded across the ceiling and trickled down the walls like a tent made of fireflies. In the center, to your utter astonishment, was a sheeted and covered air mattress laid upon a pallet to keep it off the floor. Candles flickered from various spots around the greenhouse and soft music filtered from an old stereo in the corner. Wally had even wheeled in and set up the outdated school TV, your favorite silver screen classic muted on the fishbowl screen.

"Wally..." You didn't know what to say. The atmosphere was intimate and magical, and no one had ever done anything like this for you before. "...how did...?"

Wally planted himself behind you, arms wrapping around your waist as he pressed his front to your back, mouth finding that sweet spot on your neck that made you keen when he bit it.

"You like it?" He asked nervously as the tip of his nose trailed up your cheek. He kissed your temple, "I didn't know you were gonna do your out-of-body thing and I wanted tonight to be special."

You turned in his arms and gazed up at him like he'd hung the moon, "It's perfect." The connection between you and him simmered, a low, intoxicating heat that preened at Wally's romantic gesture. You added in a whisper, "You're perfect," your hand finding Wally's jaw.

The way Wally looked at you, like you were the most precious thing in his world, made you melt. He brushed the backs of his fingers down your cheek, his face hovering close to yours, humid breath fanning your lips and chin. His other hand rested on your hip and he used his firm grip to drag you flush against him, his eyes never leaving yours.

"I love you," He said, so quietly you almost didn't hear it.

You gasped a weak breath, your blood pumping faster, pulse racing in your ears. The moment felt too much like a fairytale to be real.

Just as quiet, not wanting to ruin the intimate atmosphere, you returned, "I love you, Wally."

His eyes closed and you watched him absorb the sentiment, treasure it, hold it for a peaceful lull before he opened his eyes again and traced your features with his gaze, committing your face to memory. His thumb rubbed across your lower lip, tugged it slightly, and the hand on your hip glided lower until he held a handful of your ass through your dress.

The air warmed and grew thicker as you and he stood like that, the connection between you and him steadily swelling, little shocks of fire in your belly that made you mewl without realizing.

"Baby," Wally gasped and grazed his lips against yours as the hand on your jaw slid back into your hair and grabbed. His lips connected with yours, the kiss slow and deep and filled with desire. He moaned, an almost frustrated sound, as he spun you and pushed you against the door. "Fuck, baby," He exhaled, voice husky and dark, "you don't know how bad I want you."

His words evoked a meek, needy whimper from you, but you couldn't respond, his mouth back on yours, his hands moving down your sides to your hips to your thighs where he clenched his fingers into your flesh and lifted you. He pinned you to the door with his hips and released your lips to kiss down your throat, nipping and tonguing your skin, sucking a mark at the juncture of your shoulder and neck.

That sweet, caramel heat smoldered inside you, deep at your core. You threw your head back, arms tight around his shoulders, arching your back when he ground his hips into yours so you could feel the effect you had on him.

"Do you feel that, baby?" He asked as he ground into you again, setting a steady rhythm, "You feel how hard I get for you?" And Jesus Christ, you were going to lose your mind. His voice was sandpaper rough, movements punctuated by choked moans and heavy breaths. A hand slip under your dress to grab your ass, the other crawling up your back to find the zipper.

"Wally..." You whined, hips rolling against his, and the need inside you was fast becoming dizzying.

You both heard and felt the zipper split down your spine as he dragged it open with a wanting groan.

"Let me see you, baby." He said. The hand now at your low back raised to fist into your hair, angling your head so you had to look at him, "Show me." And, as soft as it was given, you recognized it was a command.

He held you up as you pulled the thin straps of your dress down and slipped your arms out of them to bunch the bodice around your waist, chest exposed for him. A thick swallow and a desperate groan, and then his hand snuck from your hair to your breast, his fingertips featherlight as he explored the roundness of it. He rubbed over your nipple, licking his lips, grinding his hard cock against your core a little harder as his need for you built.

Lips by your ear, "I wanna see more, baby girl," greedy and sinful. "I wanna see all of you." In a show of strength, he turned and carried you to the bed, lowering to his knee and tipping forward to lay you down gently. He discarded his jacket, yanked off his bowtie and then fell over you when you spread your legs wider for him to fit between.

"I wanna see you too," You breathed and managed the first four buttons before you got frustrated. He chuckled, rich and wicked, pulled the dress shirt over his head and tossed it aside. As soon as it was off, he was on you, your bare chest pressed to his, the sensation stoking the flames within you higher and higher.

Shoes were kicked off, your dress removed, his pants undone, between feverish kisses. His touch left blazing fire in its wake, his hand climbing from your knee to your inner thigh, thumb teasing under the edge of your panties. "I need to touch you," he said, "Let me. Please."

All you could do was nod, consumed by a lust you never knew existed within you. He watched your face as he traced the waistband of your panties, his weight on one arm so he could hover over you. His eyes were heavy lidded and blown, lips slightly parted, gaze intense. Torturously slow, his fingers dipped under the elastic and brushed across your lips, middle finger rubbing between them.

"Fuck, baby, you're so wet for me." He crooked his finger and pushed inside. Just a little, just enough to make fireworks burst under your skin. As he pressed deeper, his eyes never left your face. "Do you want this?" He murmured, not even letting you answer before he took your lips in another hungry kiss. "Do you want to feel me, baby?"

"God, Wally," You whimpered, "please."

He moaned, lifting himself up to sit back on his haunches between your thighs. Carefully, he peeled your panties off your legs, then took what felt like an obscenely drawn out minute to admire you. You felt vulnerable, exposed, yet that didn't bother you as you thought it should. Instead, it made you ache for more.

"So beautiful," He said and rose to his knees to push his pants and boxers halfway down his thighs. He took himself in hand, stroked once, twice, eyes never leaving yours. "I'm gonna make you feel so good, baby, I promise."

You believed him.

Unexpectedly, he shifted back, and when he lay down again, his face was eye-level with your pussy. "Just relax baby, let me take care of you," was all the warning he gave. He licked into you, lips and tongue moving against and inside you as he kissed into your core, moaning as if you were the sweetest thing he'd ever had. "You taste so good," He groaned and surged in for more, a starving man at a feast.

You arched and writhed, hips humping against his mouth as he ate you out, your hand on the back of his head, "Fuck! Yes!"

Right as you got close, he pulled back and rearranged himself so he was draped over you, kissing you hard and hungry and hot. You could taste yourself on his tongue, tangy sweet, and keened, a sound that went straight to Wally's cock.

"Need you so bad," He groaned, grinding himself against you, cock sliding between your lower lips as he got himself nice and slick with your juices. "Please," He panted, "I need to feel you around me, baby, please."

At that stage, you couldn't deny him anything, offering your agreement by wrapping your legs around his waist. He shoved his hand between your bodies and lined himself up, nudging the tip against you, teasing himself, and then, "Wally!" he began to press himself into you in measured increments.

You felt like you were about to split in two, his cock thick and long, sinking deeper inside you with every slow thrust.

Once fully seated, he slid his arms between your back and the mattress and then, once again, lifted you so you were in his lap, your legs tightening around his waist. The position forced him deeper, rubbing every sensitive nerve ending inside you.

"That's it baby. Fuck, you feel so good."

Instinctually, you began to roll your hips, short snaps and long drags that made Wally moan. He moved with you, matching your tempo, driving himself into you over and over, sounds of pleasure spilling from you both as your movements and his quickened. You bounced in his lap, your punched out whimpers of need filling the air. The blunt tip of his cock met your sweet spot with military precision, again, again, again, until stars exploded behind your eyes and you cried out.

"I wanna see you come for me, baby," Wally told you, nipping and biting the skin of your neck. "Let me see you come."

You rode him faster, harder, his fat cock sending you closer and closer to the edge until, "Wally, I—I'm gonna—"

He groaned in desire, "That's it baby, come for me, let me see it."

One, two, three more hard, sharp stabs of his hips and you plummeted over the edge, choking on his name as the inferno within you burst and released. You trembled through it, convulsing around him, squeezing so tight as he kept moving inside you that—

"Oh, God, baby, I'm gonna come, I—" And he stiffened, his hips snapping in aborted motions, claiming your lips in a fierce and possessive kiss as you felt him throb his climax inside you.

It started when you found your peak, but detonated when he did. Visions of a thousand lives behind your eyes happening all at once. His smile, his hands, his eyes, a thousand times over. Sometimes old, sometimes young, always bonded, connected, drawn together across centuries. Over and over, past, present, future.

The visions vanished almost as soon as they'd appeared, and when you came to, your back was on the mattress and Wally was over you, in your arms, his wide, shocked eyes staring into yours.

💀___________________________

PART THREE - PART FIVE

note: note: the song Xavier, Reader and the band perform is Take Me Home Tonight (Cover) by Every Avenue. because it's Wally's favorite song.

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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.

October Moon

summary: it had been game night. Xavier had told Simon who'd told you about Maddie's backpack. A weird and unfortunate game of telephone that your friendship had dissolved into. regardless, you'd had a surprise for Wally and you'd wanted to make sure to execute it, so whatever grievances you and Xavier had had, those had been shoved aside for the night...until you'd received a damning message that had brought to light why Mr. Anderson had called Claire.

pairing: Wally Clark x fem!reader

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

bon reading, frens

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OCTOBER MOON pt.2

Xavier stared at his phone, thumb hovering over the Send button, rereading his message for the fifth time. He hadn't spoken to you since last Friday. Not more than a handful of blunt words, anyway. He knew you knew about him and Claire. He hadn't needed Simon's confirmation that you'd been told; he could see it in your eyes, in the way you held yourself around him, the defiance in your stance and the disenchantment around your mouth.

In his heart, he'd forgiven you for keeping him in the dark about your abilities. Your family's abilities. Now his abilities. And while it ached to have been lied to, he understood why you'd done it. That it hadn't been entirely your choice. That, if you hadn't had the pressure of generations on your shoulders, you would've told Xavier in a heartbeat. He trusted that that was the truth because, despite everything, he knew you. It didn't completely soothe the rejection he felt, but it made it less sharp.

Rather, he hadn't reached out because he was afraid. Of your anger, of your hate, of your disappointment. Of you icing him out until you and he were strangers. He couldn't face that. Kept it Schrodinger's Box so he'd never have to know if you forgave him or not. However, right now, things were getting bigger than he could manage and he needed someone on his side. Simon barely tolerated him. Maddie... Jesus, he hadn't been able to stomach looking at her, never mind confiding in her. He sort of had Nicole now, a budding friendship built on being shoved to the outside and left to fend for themselves while their closest people banded together to save the world. Nevertheless, Nicole wasn't you. Who he'd always counted on. No questions asked.

With a shaky hand and a deep, worn-out exhale, Xavier pressed Send.

"Cops found Maddie's backpack. I'm going to the house. Corner of 10th and Lasher. Meet me at 6."

After a few short seconds of deliberation:

"I'm sorry."

‗‗‗‗•‗‗‗‗

You sat on the workbench while Nanna cut, assembled, and pinned the boutonniere you intended to present to Wally before the homecoming game. It was perhaps a silly gesture, but one you felt strongly about making. Cute and romantic and so unlike you that you barely recognized who you were when you were in lo—involved. Granted, you'd never been in a relationship (was it a relationship?) before so how were you to know you'd be the gushy, head-in-the-clouds, affectionate type?

Nanna hummed as she worked, timeworn hands expertly fitting the olive branch and white lily together around a flush of black baby's breath. Nanna had opened and run the flower shop Aurora had inherited ownership of upon returning to Split River. A charming, cozy place squished between Jerry's Wine & Spirits and an upscale pet store. The perfect resource for whatever dried ingredients went into the tea Nanna had iced and sipped occasionally as she worked.

You stared at the half-full mason jar, observing it as if it were a bomb to dismantle. Questions crowded your mind: Was it the same tea you'd been drugged with? Was it related to what you'd smelled on the three teenagers in the cavern before Amelia's ritual? Wally was of the opinion that Aurora's tea was connected to the cult, at the very least, though you found it difficult to believe. You studied Nanna, tried to find a trace of peculiarity in her behavior, but nothing stood out.

"You're thinking awfully loud, sweetpea," Nanna commented gayly, grey eyes sparkling as she put the finishing touches to the boutonniere and laid it carefully in a plastic container.

Without preamble, "Why do you drink that stuff?" you blurted, gaze flickering between Nanna and her tea.

Guzzling tea in your household wasn't uncommon. The kitchen and bathroom cabinets were crammed with a variety of bygone natural remedies that included stocks of loose tea blends. Getting a cold? Don't take Tylenol, drink milk thistle. Can't sleep? Passionflower and lavender. Stomach flu? Ginger and peppermint broth. Hell, when you'd sprained your ankle running track last year, you'd been smeared in turmeric and arnica paste. Your ankle had been stained yellow for days after.

Nanna cocked her head like you'd asked something outrageous, several speechless blinks and then, "It tastes good." Simple, easy. Strange because the tea sure smelt like a biological weapon and not what one would dip one's biscuits in. "Your sister introduced it to me when she came back from New York." She did? That didn't correlate with the image you'd always had of Aurora when she'd been in New York. The corporate baddie whose entire mood had relied on the quality of espresso in her latte. When she'd switched to tea, you'd assumed it was the other way around. That Nanna had led Aurora to the worst kind of river. "Aurora raved about it whenever she made some, and one day I was curious enough to try it."

"You sure she didn't brainwash you into liking it?" Your face twisted in disgust, "It stinks."

Nanna chuckled, "It doesn't taste like it smells, sweetpea, it's very refreshing." She lifted her mason jar and tilted it at you, "Would you like to taste?"

You reared back like you'd been threatened with a fist, "Blech, no thanks. I'd rather drink toxic sludge."

"You're as dramatic as your mother," Nanna said, taking a sip. She put the mason jar down and handed you the plastic container with the boutonniere in it. "You never told me who this was for."

"A boy." You grinned as you hopped off the workbench. In the same instant, your phone buzzed in your pocket.

"A boy we know?" Nanna pried, her expression glowing with mischief and meddling.

You scanned the text notification, unable to disguise your shock when you read who it was from. Xavier. Who'd been actively avoiding you and his newfound ghost-detecting abilities all week. Your heart jumped to your throat and your belly tightened as a wave of anxiety rippled through you.

Nanna retrieved your attention by setting a chilled hand on your forearm. "Is that him now?"

"Uh...no." You looked up and smiled at her, "No, it's just Xavier."

"Oh good," Nanna said gladly, "You've patched things up, have you?"

Not wanting to open that box when you now had approximately no minutes to leave the house, "Getting there," you offered and angled yourself toward the door. Gesturing gently with the boutonniere, "Thanks, Nanna," you said and stepped across the mudroom.

"You still haven't told me who the boy is," Nanna reminded you, tone as puckish as her grin.

"Right, yeah, it's..." You floundered internally for a second and then tossed in the air the first name that came to mind, "Simon. Elroy. You haven't met him."

Shit.

"Well, I can't wait to meet him tomorrow." Nanna said kindly as she began to tidy her workbench.

"He hasn't said yes yet," You peeped, gulping, because now you had to drag Simon into a ruse and convince him to meet you at your house before the dance.

Nanna flapped her hand, "He will. If you think he's worth giving that—" the boutonniere "—to, then he must be smart enough to know how lucky he is."

You melted at Nanna's flattering remark, warmed to your toes that your grandmother thought so highly of you. Naturally, grandmothers were inclined to dote on and adore their grandchildren no matter what, but it felt wonderful regardless. Nanna was the woman in your life who celebrated every single one of your accomplishments, no matter how small. She comforted you when you were upset, encouraged you when you were nervous, praised you when you were insecure. The wind in your sails since your mother had grown distant, comparatively detached, in the years that had followed Aiden's death.

Sometimes you wondered if your mother blamed you as you blamed yourself.

"Thanks, Nanna," You said again, pink cheeked and pleased. When you turned to leave the mudroom, you almost bumped into Ginny. Mercifully, her tiny frame was a lot more dense than it appeared, even at 80-something, so you weren't at risk of pulverizing her on impact. "Sorry, Ginny," You apologized, shamefaced.

Ginny scoffed, "It'd better take more than a knock from you to kill me, chicken. These old bones still have a lot left to do on this earth."

"Good. Because I don't want you going anywhere until I'm in my eighties." You giggled, giving her a short hug and smacking a kiss to her saggy cheek. You noticed she wasn't done up in her usual regalia—strings of costume jewelry and feathered robes. Today, she was dressed down in a plain frock, her only necklace the small silver pendant she always wore, "To ward off evil." One day it was going to be yours, Ginny had promised as she'd disregarded Aurora's accusations of favoritism. Ginny's cryptic response to that had been, "You don't need it, little lamb. Your sister will."

To this day, you had no idea why you'd need it or if it actually warded off evil like Ginny claimed, though you did enjoy rubbing it in Aurora's face that you were clearly Ginny's favorite grand-niece.

"She's got a new boyfriend," Nanna piped up from behind you, shades of glee in the lilt of her voice. "We'll get to meet him tomorrow night."

Ginny gave you wide eyes and a toothy smile, "Oh, is that so?"

"I'm leaving now," You announced, plucked your way around Ginny, and proceeded to ignore the hoots and coos that followed you out of the house.

‗‗‗‗•‗‗‗‗

Mr. Martin spotted Maddie as she entered the stadium, pensive, withdrawn, an impression he'd come to recognize as meaning she'd unearthed another possible clue in the mystery of how she'd ended on the wrong side of the veil. Something he didn't need right now with Amelia breathing down his neck.

His attention diverted upward to Charley, bunched in a seat and scribbling away in a notebook, his face drawn in straight lines of concentration. A new graft Mr. Martin hadn't authorized. Not that his students needed his approval to pick up new hobbies, of course. But he'd never seen Charley so intent, so determined. Writing the hours from end to end like he was composing the next hit teenage opera.

Things were getting out of hand. His students straying from the perfectly planted path he'd composed over the decades to keep them close. Keep them grounded (in more ways than one). If they drifted too far into death, too far from the thin boundary between the world of the living and the world of the dead—Mr. Martin didn't want to think about what would happen, Mina's final moments blinking in and out of focus behind his eyes like fragments of a bad dream.

Ajay, Bernadette, and Katelynn were in the midst of discussing their ideas for a post-game celebration, seeking Mr. Martin's input. They wanted to show Wally some extra love on his "death date"—that the date changed every year notwithstanding—as was customary, and Mr. Martin was glad at least those three had remained on the straight and narrow and continued to defer to him for guidance.

Briefly, he panned to the field, observed for a moment how Wally had passed Maddie something while they sat against the goal post. The distance was too wide for him to see what it was, but it further made him feel like he needed to double down and shepherd Maddie into the fold. Before Amelia cottoned onto the fact that Maddie was still defiantly marching to the beat of her own cursed drum.

When he'd had to report to Amelia what had happened to Maddie's body—to Amelia's prospective vessel—he'd been delivered a monologue about how critical it was to keep Maddie's memory scrambled. If she were to remember the one thing that had kept her safe all those years, she'd be impossible to wrangle. And that meant Amelia would fulfill every dark promise she'd made to Mr. Martin before and after he became a permanent fixture in Split River High.

Mr. Martin came back to the present when Katelynn said his name, her tone indicating it wasn't the first time she'd tried to get his attention. He apologized and asked politely for her to repeat, listening with half an ear as he nodded along, yes, Wally should have a cake; yes, we can certainly bake one in time; and no, the crown of sparklers is still vetoed.

In his mind, however, he was developing a plan to steer everyone back under the right influence. He needed to correct their course. He needed to figure out what was going on with Charley and Wally and Maddie.

He needed to talk to Rhonda.

‗‗‗‗•‗‗‗‗

Sloped against the side of his truck, Xavier scrolled restlessly through his phone while he waited for you to show up. If you'd show up. You hadn't texted back and it was already 6:03PM. He was steadily losing faith that things between you and him could be repaired. Fuck. He needed you. He needed his best friend. He needed time to back the hell up so he could undo every mistake he'd made so you'd be there for him like he desperately needed you to be.

He shoved his phone into his pocket and sighed, mentally preparing to break into a deserted house, play hide and seek with whoever had stolen Maddie's backpack, and persuade them to tell Xavier where Maddie's body was stashed. Alone. Jesus Christ. As he straightened, squared his shoulders and took a step forward, he caught movement in the corner of his eye.

Down the street, at the corner, in the pool of lamplight, you stood, gaze doubtful as you stared at Xavier. You were dressed in customary breaking and entering black. A jumper dress and tights, turtleneck that definitely wasn't yours, and combat boots. Totally committed to the part. God. He couldn't believe you were there. You'd come. You'd shown up for him like you always had. No questions asked. Even after a week of radio silence and cold shoulders and outrage.

Xavier felt a pressure behind his eyes as he stared back at you, positioning himself to face you fully, arms outstretched, ready to catch you when you began to sprint toward him. You and he collided, his arms closed around your waist and his face in your throat, shaking from the force of the emotions that swirled through him.

"You came," He whispered against your skin, breathing in the comforting scent of your shampoo and the DIY detergent your mother preferred.

"Always, Zav," You soothed, arms slung around his shoulders.

His body shook as he hugged you, the immense relief he felt opening the floodgates to everything he'd been holding on to all week. "I can't do this without you," He confessed, voice tight as a rubber band about to snap. And that encompassed so many truths. He couldn't laugh or breathe or live if he lost you. You and he had been through too many losses, changes, heartbreaks, wins together. There was no world in which Xavier could sustainably exist if you weren't in it with him. "I love you," He said weakly. Nothing new, you and he had shared the sentiment plenty of times, but it still carried weight.

"I love you, too," You replied, slightly turning your head inward as you pulled back.

Xavier happened to simultaneously shift his face toward yours, accidental, a reaction to your movement, and then, time slowed. The world retreated. His breath left him in a shaky gasp. One of his hands instinctually moved to your cheek, fingers barely tracing a bruise he wanted to know the origins of. And then his lips gently, so very, very gently, brushed yours. He heard you inhale, sharp and subtle, and that was all it took for impulse to drive him.

His lips crashed against yours, one arm tight around you, the hand of the other splayed on your cheek, thumb pressed close to the corner of your mouth. Sweet liquid heat curled low in his belly and he released a low sigh of pleasure. He'd never imagined this, had never entertained the idea nor held space for it, yet, in that moment, he couldn't recall quite why. It felt so good.

The kiss couldn't have lasted more than a second before he felt you break away, your fingertips replacing your lips as you shook your head. Your eyes were somehow both caring and regretful, filled with a love that Xavier had to acknowledge wasn't the kind that invoked the sort of insatiable desire he craved. It was milder, sweeter; affection in lieu of attraction, and he immediately cooled.

He didn't jump back or apologize or hate himself and the world. There was no pang of rejection. Just plain, honest understanding. Xavier lowered his hand and loosened his grip on you, a tiny smile of acceptance.

"Sorry," You lamented, but Xavier insisted it was fine. Because it was. Like, actually was and not in the way that people insisted when they were anything but.

"Thanks for coming," He said, easing a breadth of space between you and him.

You rolled your eyes, "Like I'd let you go into a freaky abandoned house where a possible body snatcher may be lurking all by yourself." And then you snickered, "As if I'd miss you screaming like a girl if the floor creaks."

"Ha-ha," Xavier sneered waggishly, "You're such a good friend."

"I know." You grinned. As Xavier took the lead, he heard you ask, "Why'd you do it?"

He didn't need you to elaborate, that telepathy bred from a lifetime of familiarity doing the heavy lifting. He admitted, "I don't know." When you didn't say anything, Xavier expounded, "I mean it, I have no idea why I even started things with Claire, never mind why I kept it going." He glanced back at you, taking his phone from his pocket and turning on the flashlight before climbing the front steps. "It felt like I was in a fugue that I only came out of when Maddie went missing." Another glance back at you, this time with the caveat, "Don't tell me it was in the weed, kiddo, I didn't smoke that much."

In response, you locked your lips with an invisible key that you subsequently tossed over your shoulder. "I wouldn't dare."

Xavier tested the handle on the front door, surprised and grateful to find it twisted to the left without resistance. Whoever was using the place must have decided it was easier to leave the door unlocked than slip back inside through a window whenever they left. Faster and less conspicuous, certainly. He entered first, held a hand up to signal for you to wait while he sussed out whether it was safe or not.

In the meantime, you inquired, "You didn't by any chance happen to drink a lot of bad smelling tea while you were cheating on Maddie with the cheer captain, did you?"

The question, to Xavier's mind, was completely random and, frankly, ridiculous. "Tea? When have you ever seen me drink tea?"

"Whenever you get a cold and Nanna insists on nursing you back to health."

"I think we both know that doesn't count." Xavier reckoned, treading slowly and carefully down the hall, which, okay, he was starting to think the whole stealth operation thing wasn't necessary if you and he were talking at a conversational volume anyway.

"When you went through your Jimi Hendrix phase and drank a bajillion cups of apple cinnamon black tea with—"

"—milk and two sugars, yeah, okay, I get it. The answer is still no. I didn't become acutely British one night and then fuck Claire."

"Ew."

"You asked."

You took to the other side of what would've been the living room to look for clues, "Still. Ew."

Someone was definitely living there. Though the house smelt overall stale and mildewy, the place was tidy. Ish. The makeshift bed against the living room wall was made. The messiest thing about the room was the scattering of old mail. When you suggested splitting up, Xavier vigorously quashed the idea, taking your hand just to keep you from wandering off out of spite.

"Is it because I'm a woman?" You griped.

Xavier raised his eyebrows at you, asserting, "No. It's because you have a bruise on your cheek and I don't know if you got it from walking into a door or into someone's fist. Which, please tell me it's the former so I don't have to beat the shit out of someone."

You chuckled, "Technically the former. I projected out of my body to make it look like I fainted. I needed to get out of math class."

About to open another door, Xavier stalled, "You did what." He said, monotone, nearly dropping his phone in disbelief because, surely, he'd misheard you.

"Astral projected. I, uh, ahem, I can do that, too." Suddenly shy, you tipped your gaze down and pressed your lips together.

"Oh. Yeah. No. That's...what."

You tugged his hand, made him look at you when you said, "No one besides Wally knows. So...please don't tell anyone. The fewer people who know, the better."

Xavier wanted to retort, something snappy and sarcastic, but he picked up on the note of earnest pleading in your voice. Instead, he nodded, squeezed your hand, and promised, "I won't." Then, "Your family doesn't know?"

"Nope. I never told them."

"Why not?"

You hesitated. Xavier could tell it was more to choose your words than because you didn't want to explain. Eventually, "I found out when Aiden died. I wasn't able to do it before that. I wanted to tell my mom, but she was a mess after, and Ginny and Nanna were busy taking care of her and me, and it just...the more time passed the less I wanted to talk about it." A pause thick with memory. "When mom was actually getting back out into the world, it felt kinda wrong to bring up anything to do with that day, you know? I didn't want to trigger her and make her backslide into depression again. So, I pretended the ability didn't exist."

Xavier regarded you with sympathetic eyes, "Thanks for telling me." Ignoring the part where your dead boyfriend knew, Xavier felt like you'd let him in again, that you trusted him to carry your secrets with you, and he didn't want to take it for granted. Just then, he heard creaks from the back of the house. "Stay here, don't move," he commanded and advanced to the back room. Opened the door. Stepped inside. Caught a shadow at the window that propelled him forward.

"Hey!" He called, racing to the window. The jump was too high for his comfort, brain calculating the distance between the window and the operating table he'd definitely find himself on if he attempted to pursue the person. As he watched the person disappear behind another house, he smacked the wall, "Fuck!" feeling like a coward. He wanted to be better. To help. To get Maddie her body back.

To be forgiven.

"Hey, did you find them?" You stepped up to the window and peered outside.

Xavier nodded, "Yeah, but they took off."

You must have identified what Xavier was ruminating in his expression because the next thing he knew, he was bundled in a hug and reassured, "I'm glad you're okay. They could've been dangerous."

He returned the hug, not having considered that possibility.

"Let's look around and see if we can find anything useful." You suggested, "And then I need you to drive me to the stadium. I have a sexy football star ghost to ask to the dance."

Xavier smirked, slinging your earlier statement back at you, "Ew."

"Shut up, you're the cheating manwhore."

"Still. Ew."

‗‗‗‗•‗‗‗‗

Wally waited outside the locker rooms for you, geared up and ready to go. His blood was pumping, adrenaline coursing through his veins. Tonight was his night. He was going to make his mamma proud.

Less than five minutes later, he saw you turn the corner and scurry to him, grabbing his hand to pull him into a secluded area just inside a door to the stairwell. The connection between you and him roared to life and he followed its call, crowding you against the wall and kissing you senseless.

When you and he parted for air, he gazed down at you, heated and hungry, "Hey, baby."

You smiled back, "Hey yourself." With a hand to his chest, you pushed him back a step, your other hand hidden behind your back. "I have something for you."

He raised a brow in intrigue, broad grin on his face, "Oh yeah?" He tried to shift closer, but the look you gave him forced his legs still. "What is it?"

Slowly, you brought your hand out from behind your back and presented him with a clear plastic container. He took it, examined what was inside briefly before snapping his head up.

"Wally Clark, will you go to the homecoming dance with me?" You proposed, big, gorgeous smile all for him.

He glanced down at the boutonniere again and then up to you, his heart quickening for a reason entirely separate to the excitement of tonight's events. His soul soared. He'd never been asked. Okay, back when he'd been alive, it wasn't exactly acceptable for the girl to ask the guy, and he had asked his then-girlfriend, Jenny Johnson, to the dance. Went ahead and had died under the enormous bulk of an Outlaws linebacker. Thereafter had attended stag in the company of his fellow ghosts, most of whom hadn't been enthusiastic about dressing up and dancing to cheesy music.

But...here you were.

'Yes' wasn't going to cut it. Wally wanted you to know how much it meant to him that you'd asked. How elated he was, how thoroughly in fucking love with you he was. And, holy shit, he was, wasn't he? He loved you. A joyous laugh bubbled out of him from the depths of his being and he closed the distance between you, hovering over your frame that seemed so small in comparison to his. In measure increments, he bowed his head, free hand smoothing down your waist to your hip, and he grazed his lips against yours. A lingering tease before he pressed in firmly and gave you his answer.

He heard you whimper, the sound making his head spin, and he felt your fingers at the nape of his neck, tickling the short hairs, sending frissons of want and need down his back. When you pulled away, biting your lip, gaze caught on his mouth—fuck, he had to close his eyes just to maintain some semblance of self-control.

"Is that a yes?" You asked, voice sultry and low.

Wally grinned. Unequivocally, wholly, utterly, "Yes."

‗‗‗‗•‗‗‗‗

At halftime, Xavier humbly handed out the fliers Sandra had printed off. He hated himself a little bit for it since he could see Maddie sitting at a table with your dead boyfriend, as Simon had dubbed him, having what appeared to be a deep and meaningful conversation.

Although he wasn't shackled to the same commitment to secrecy as you were, he couldn't imagine it going very well if he sat Sandra down and told her the truth. That her daughter was half-ghost and some sick individual was out there doing God knew what to Maddie's body. Oh, but don't worry, Maddie isn't alone, there's a bunch of dead kids to keep her company, can you believe that?

No. No one outside your family would believe that. Except Simon, but he was paddling the same shit canoe as Xavier so that rendered him irrelevant.

Xavier glanced at the table again, watching Maddie and Wally laugh and talk and eat. Since ghosts ate apparently. Like people. With heartbeats and working digestive systems. Did ghosts need to eat? Did ghosts use the bathroom?

"What're you doing?" Simon's voice jolted Xavier back to earth.

Xavier ticked his attention to Simon, suffering for what to say. "Nothing," was a shit answer, and he could tell Simon didn't believe it, but there it was.

"You've been staring at them for five minutes." Simon informed, unimpressed. "Did your humanity finally come back online and now you're feeling guilty?"

Xavier clenched his jaw, "You don't have to be such a dick all the time, you know. I'm here. I'm trying to help."

"Yeah," Simon scoffed, "I bet. As if your guilty conscience isn't the reason you've been at Sandra's beck and call all week. Did you tell her you betrayed her daughter?"

"Actually, yeah, I did." Xavier stared Simon dead in the eye, "We covered that in our first conversation."

Simon seemed shocked to hear that, gaping for a beat before covering it up with a stony cast. "It learned how to be honest. I'm impressed. Maybe you will become a real boy after all."

"Fuck you," Xavier snapped, giving Simon his back so he could focus on emptying his stack of fliers.

He didn't hear anything for long enough that he assumed Simon had walked away, but, to his complete surprise, "Are you guys talking again?" Xavier pitched Simon an inquisitive glance. "You know what I'm talking about," Simon said, "For some reason she actually considers you a friend. And I consider her a friend. So, I wanna know. Have you apologized to her yet?"

Sucking in a deep breath, Xavier opted to take the olive branch Simon was offering, as thorny and shriveled as it was. "Yeah, we're good." Remembering the kiss (his kiss, he rectified, taking responsibility for his actions), he slipped another peek at Wally. Too bad for him, Simon was perceptive.

"It's weird, right? Dating a dead guy."

"If she's happy, I'm happy." Xavier said sincerely.

"Great. So why do you keep looking at Wally like he's your middle school bully come back to haunt you." Simon viscerally thought about what he'd said, "Is that a pun?"

Xavier snorted, "I don't think so." And then, bravely, wanting to impart an olive branch of his own. Stupidly. He disclosed, "I kissed her."

Nothing. No comeback, no quip, no insults. Nada. Xavier turned to Simon only to find him trembling with suppressed laughter, back of his wrist over his mouth.

Finally, "Oooh~ ho ho, her dead boyfriend is so going to kill you." Simon glanced at Wally and then back at Xavier, "Please don't let it happen when I'm not around, I really wanna watch."

"You're such an asshole." Xavier grumbled, practically shoving a flier at a passerby.

"You know, I'm surprised she let you," Simon mused.

Conversationally, "She didn't. She stopped it."

"That's my girl."

"She's not your anything," Xavier let him know.

Simon shrugged, casual and delighted, "Doesn't matter. She's definitely his," He nodded to Wally, "And he's going to break you in half."

Xavier swallowed, sizing Wally up and internally agreeing with Simon that, yep, that guy could definitely beat the crap out of Xavier if he wanted to. "But he can't." Xavier said, more a prayer than a statement. "He can't touch me, right, Simon?" Simon didn't respond. "Simon? He can't, right?" Xavier spun around and saw Simon heading back to the bin of fliers, "Simon!?"

Simon threw his head back and cackled.

‗‗‗‗•‗‗‗‗

You said goodbye to your friends after the game, everyone, including yourself, in high spirits despite the Bandits losing. It had been a close game, fun to watch though you maintained you weren't into sports.

Wally was easy to find, propped against the wall near the exit, one foot up, hands in his pockets, already staring at you with soulful eyes and a soft smile. Your belly clenched and your skin flushed under his appraisal, butterflies swarming inside you.

The crowd was distracted and dense enough that you threw caution to the wind and tucked yourself against him when you reached him. You felt him tense, but it wasn't even a second before you felt his arms wrap around you and his nose in your hair.

"Did you have fun, pretty girl?" He asked. His tone was oddly serene for someone who'd been vibrating out of his skin earlier. He didn't sound exhausted or depressed or anything else you'd expect from someone who'd, a) seen their parent who couldn't see him back, and, b) had watched the same game that'd killed him. Rather, he sounded...at peace, if a little apprehensive around the edges.

You peeked up at him as you soaked up the heat of his body like a needy sponge, "Are you okay?"

Again, that soft smile, tinged very faintly by nerves. Maybe because you were being too forward with your abilities in a public setting? You studied him and found that, no, that wasn't it.

He licked his lips nervously, said, "I need to tell you something. But I'm scared it'll change the way you look at me."

"Nothing could do that," You reassured him, encouraging him to say what he wanted to say.

Wally appeared to think about it, deliberating, but eventually revealed, "I don't like football."

It was your astonishment that kept you from responding right away. Not astonishment for what he said, but how he said it. Like it was a weight off his shoulders. A burden he'd been carrying for too long at last lifted. You tilted your head, eyes on his, and smiled, overjoyed that he'd shared something that was clearly so personal, so vulnerable, with you.

"Me neither." You said and the smile that spread on his face made your knees weak.

You and Wally stayed like that for as long as you were able before he couldn't put off joining the others anymore. You and he parted with a kiss, as was becoming customary, and you walked back into the school. As you wandered down the hall toward the front of the building, you noticed something out of the ordinary. To be more precise, someone.

"What's he doing here?" You muttered to yourself, following Ken Doll Dave around the corner, away from the front of the building and toward the basement door. You maintained a decent distance, made sure your footsteps were silent on the linoleum, and crept along behind him, catching the door before it could close with a shatter.

Down the stairs, along the narrow corridor....you heard voices coming from behind a door you hadn't known existed. The door was open and when you took a gander, you placed who the voices belonged to. You checked both ways down the corridor, but Dave was long gone. Whatever reason he had to skulk around a high school basement would have to wait.

"What're you guys doing?" You asked Simon and Maddie when you entered the subbasement area and stepped further into the room. Casting about, you realized it wasn't just another storage space. It was a full-on, military-grade, nuclear bunker like one would see in the movies, complete with decades-old tinned food, a pristinely made cot, and a system of outdated machinery. "Whaaat the hell is this?"

"Mr. South said it's been here since the Cold War." Simon told you, "That it hasn't been used in decades."

"And he just let you in here?" You wondered, running your fingers across the dusty machinery.

Simon gave you a toothy smile, "He likes me."

Before you could snark back, "Where do you think that goes?" Maddie brought your attention to a panel in the wall.

You and Simon approached with caution, Simon saying, "No idea, but," he pushed the panel open along the small pair of rails set into the wall, "I'm guessing this is how Claire dragged your body out of here."

The dust on the floor below the space had been disturbed, supporting Simon's theory about Claire, and while you'd been reluctant to jump on the Claire is the new cult train, you couldn't refute the physical evidence. You bent down, inspected the floor beside Simon's shoe, and came back up with something between your thumb and forefinger.

Shuddering, you showed Simon and Maddie, "I think you might be right, Si."

Yet, Simon didn't gloat, too disturbed by the sight of the bloody fingernail you'd just found in the scuff marks on the floor.

‗‗‗‗•‗‗‗‗

Deep inside the tunnel, Janet crawled back toward the exit, sleeves of her hoodie pulled down over her hands to avoid potentially losing another nail. That'd been close. Too close. She'd barely sealed the door before those two interlopers had entered the fallout shelter.

After her hideout had been discovered, she'd meant to sneak into the school undetected and stay the night in one of the many secret spaces she'd used for privacy as a ghost. But she'd seen that man again. The one who she knew Amelia had enlisted to find her. As she pushed open the gate at the other end of the tunnel, the muscles in her arm protested, pained and stiff. She groaned, rolling onto the ground below, tripping and scraping her palm on the gravel.

"Fuck!"

Time was running out, she needed to get that book and she needed it now. But the walls were closing in around her. She had nowhere to hide. Nowhere to go to finish what she'd started. Gathering what little strength she had, she made the decision.

It was time to cut and run.

💀___________________________

PART ONE - PART THREE

fun fact: Eli is the guy who, in episode 5, tries to sit with Maddie and Simon at the lunch table and pops tater tots in his mouth until Simon wordlessly banishes him. On his way to another table, he stops Reader as she goes to sit with Simon and Maddie, telling her, "Don't even bother, Simon's being fucking weird."

note: smut in the next one, stay tuned! also, i couldn't take away from Maddie and Wally's sweet moment at halftime. like, it's too meaningful and i refuse to mess with it. so they still have it. but, you know, as homies instead of love interests. i'd toyed with the idea of Reader conveying a message from Wally to his mom at the game, but felt that didn't serve anything beyond insinuating Reader into everything and that's just not a road i wanna go down...

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

Hi I just wanted to say I really love your writing and your wonderful

Currently ugly crying 😭 okay okay I know that's dramatic but my heart is literally melting. I use writing as a coping mechanism so knowing that there's someone out there thats read it and thought "that's pretty good" is just so comforting.

I love you sweet sweet nony and I hope you never step on a Lego, burn your mouth on food, accidentally bite your lip really hard, or stub your toe ever again.

Anyways I'm going back to my secluded corner to write part 5 :)

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.

Sex, Drugs, Etc.

Pt.4

Warnings: Talk of drugs/Drug use. A lot of plot. EXTREME Canon divergence. Before Maddies time. Set in 2022. Long Flash Back. Rehab. Mention of Overdose. Blood. Hearing Voices. Disassociation. Vomit. Dead Body. This is NOT meant to romanticize addiction or mental illness.

3k words

Pt.3

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The ticking of the clock and the tapping of your knee was all you could hear as you waited for the nurses to arrive. It was a small empty waiting room, the smell of disinfectant filled your senses. It felt familiar, almost like you belonged here. It wasn’t the first time you’d been in a room like this, same reason, different intentions. 

A young nurse with a bright smile walked into the room, it was forced, you could tell by the bags under her eyes she was just as exhausted as you were. I mean who could blame her? Working all night, hearing the same stories just in different fonts, smelling coffee breath from all her colleagues, sounds like hell. “Okay, so I'm gonna have to take a picture of you for our records then I'm gonna get you situated in a room. How does that sound?” She talked all bubbly but there was an edge hidden beneath it. 

“Perfect” You didn’t bother trying to make your voice sound happy to match her fake energy. Your hands were in the pockets of your burgundy hoodie, the strings already took out. You sifted back and forth, swinging your elbows nervously.  It was 5 in the morning, the EMT’s had to come from the district you were being placed in so it took them 4 hours to get there then 4 hours to transfer you. You sat in that hospital bed for 4 days just to end up in another hospital, except this one was worse, you had to actually talk to people and pretend like it was making you better. 

“Great, I just need you to stand still for me.” You didn’t protest, you made sure you were standing right in front of her as she lifted her camera and clicked the button on the top. There was a flash that burned your eyes slightly but you kept a straight face, just wanting to curl up in a bed, even if it wasn't your own. The smile on her face didn’t falter as she let the camera rest by the strap hanging on the back of her neck. “This is just gonna be used to identify you, mainly so we can keep track of your medicine.” What she really meant was that it was so you couldn’t lie about your name at the medicine counter and get someone else's. 

“So you gonna pat me down or something?” The memory of that little 12 year old you used to be getting stripped down to her underwear as a lady with a thick African accent counted the cuts that adored her arms and thighs with a judgmental look makes you want to curl in on yourself. 

“I am gonna have to have you strip down to your underwear, I’ll try to make it quick. I know it's not exactly fun.”  That stupid fucking bright smile still present, but something lies underneath it, almost like sympathy. 

“Great” The frustration was evident in your voice. The woman's smile grows more apologetic as she turners to close the door to the small waiting room. 

“I'm just gonna have you slide off your hoodie, shirt, and pants. I’ll just need to search the pockets and see if you have any cuts or bruises.” You don’t wait for further instructions, wanting to get it over with,you unzip your hoodie, placing it in the chair you were sitting in before the nurse walked in. Next was your black cropped t-shirt, you repeated the same process before sliding off your black plain slides, leaving your exposed mismatched socks to be seen fully. While you were sliding your blue nickelodeon pajama pants she reached over, checking the pockets of your discarded hoodie. You put your pants with the rest of your clothes once she was finished checking your hoodie. 

“The pants don’t have pockets.” You gave her an awkward smile, arms crossed over your chest attempting to cover your exposed cleavage, your breast only being covered by a gray sports bra. 

“I'm gonna take your word for it.” She was looking at your eyes, clearly trying to make you feel more comfortable. “Do you have any cuts or bruises that you’re aware of?” 

“Just scars.” All the damage you used to put on yourself became internal over the years. 

“Okay, I’m just gonna need you to pull your bra and shake it.” You let out a sigh but didn’t protest, your arms unfolding and grabbing the bottom of your bra, giving it a shake before letting it go with a snap. She gave another apologetic smile, sympathy dripping from her. “Alright, you can get dressed then I'll take you to your room.” You gave her a nod before you grabbed your clothes, slipping them back on. Once your hoodie was zipped back up you crossed your arms over your chest once again. Thinking it would  somehow make the exposure you felt moments ago disappear. 

“So, um, when am I gonna get my stuff back?” When you first walked in they took the bag your dad had brought to the hospital when he found out they were sending you away, claiming they needed to make sure there was nothing dangerous in it. 

“You should get them back by tomorrow morning, if not then you'll have them by lunch.” She spoke as she opened the door, walking out with you following behind her. There was nothing special, just a hallway, then you reached an entertainment room with a front desk. “We do vitals at 4 but you missed them so we're just gonna go off of what the hospital in SplitRiver gave us. We do them twice a day, one at 4 and then one at 12 right after lunch.” She began walking you down a hallway. “This is where all the girls sleep, we do two to a room so you already have a roommate.” She stopped in front of a room, the door fully opened. It was dark but you could see two beds, the one on the far end, next to the window, already being occupied. “This is gonna be your room. There is a bathroom and a shelving unit for you to put all your stuff. Your bed should already be made and ready for you.” The smile still on her face but faded, possibly from exhaustion, the same exhaustion you felt. “We’ll wake you up in a few hours for breakfast then you’ll go about your day with the rest of the girls. The morning shift should take it from there but I think it's about time you get some sleep.” 

“That sounds great.” You couldn't force yourself to smile, your brain fuzzy and numb. Every noise around you being silenced by the ringing in your ears. You couldn't tell if it was from the remaining withdrawal or the fact that you haven't slept in days. The sound of the woman standing beside you's voice drew you back into reality. 

“You all set?” That fucking smile started to feel taunting. Why the fuck was she still smiling? 

“Yup.” You didn’t want to walk into your new room for the next- well you didn’t know how long yet, but the idea of walking into it felt like signing yourself off, surrendering to your fate. 

“Perfect” Yeah you're definitely not imagining it, her smile seems less friendly now. She gestured with her hands for you to walk into your room, but she didn’t understand, she got to go home at the end of the day to her own bed in her own home. You’re stuck, and that STUPID FUCKING SMILE IS STILL THERE! God how could she not see that she's expecting you to walk into your own prison cell, what a selfish bitc- “Are you okay?” That anger must have been present on your face based on the look she was giving you.

“Yeah, I'm fine.” But you weren't, you weren't fine. You were put in a place of impending safety with no escape. A place with fake smiles and exhausted faces, a place where you had to force yourself to be fine. But you couldn’t tell her that so you just stepped into your room, knowing that now you were just another number, that your free trial was over and you’re just another patient to deal with. She gave you one last polite smile, probably to comfort you, but it didn’t work, if anything it made you want to scream till your vocal cords snapped and your throat filled with blood. 

You could feel the tears forming in your eyes but you choked them down, not wanting to break just yet. Walking to your bed, ignoring the sleeping girl in the other one, you touched the thin blanket that laid on top of the mattress. Though you weren't sure you could call it a mattress, more like a yoga mat, regardless you climbed into bed, pulling the blanket on top of you as you laid your head on your pillow that had a weird plastic material protecting the soft cushioning that was hidden inside it. You let your eyes drift closed knowing no sleep would come, despite being exhausted your brain was still too wired to sleep. So you just laid there, imagining you were at home, playing Rocket League with your brother while he chewed pizza way too loudly. The closest thing to a happy place your brain could muster up. 

(“1 fish, 2 fish, this flashbacks been too long bitch” - My Brother, 2024) 

It felt like a million tiny needles were stabbing you in the lungs. Your surroundings are blurred and there's a heavy pounding in your head that makes you want to rip your brain out and throw it against a wall. You couldn’t make out where you were, your senses being fried as a state of confusion took over. 

“What the fuck?” Your voice was groggy and broken from being waterboarded. The wateriness in your eyes began to clear as you sat up, wincing as a pain shot through your whole body. The room looked familiar, no not just familiar you’d been here before. The same worn down walls, cracking ceiling, and water damaged floor. The same place you took your last breath 4 days ago, or at least you think it was 4. The days had already blurred together. 

It looked the same as it did when Charley had guided you out, telling you about how the rest of your existence is gonna be spent on the school grounds. The only difference was that there was now a smell, a disgusting rotting smell. It wasn’t too strong but definitely noticeable and you knew it could only be one thing. No one had found your body yet, the last bit of you that clung to the living world was stuck, slowly rotting right next to you. 

You debated looking over, not needing to see what you looked like with all the life sucked away from you again, the image was already burned into the back of your brain. The memory of it made your stomach turn, vial pooling but you knew it wouldn’t come up. You spent 30 minutes dry heaving the first time you saw yourself, still warm, vomit and blood covering your chin, only it wasn't yours, it was the lifeless body’s you once belonged to. 

You didn’t want to stay there any longer so you tried to stand up, eyes averted from the sickening sight but as you tried to stand your body went limp, another pain shooting through you. You felt almost like you were in shock, something you were used to by now after several near death experiences and well… dying.  

Nothing really felt real. Your therapist used to call it disassociation, something you’d do when a situation was too stressful. It felt like the right word to describe this. You weren't in your body, literally and figuratively. Like you were watching your movements from above, desperate not to look at what lies beside you, a reminder of where you were, what you’d become, and worst of all a reminder that no one knew you were gone. They just let you rot, but could you blame them? I mean look at you, a fucking mess. You can't even stand up. Just get up, GET THE FUCK UP!

That's when the tears fell, sucking you back into reality with a dreadful pit in your stomach. Why were you crying so much? You never cry. Why can’t you just be stronger? Be the girl you used to be, before death, before drugs, the girl who stayed up late comforting her dad when he was drunk and confused, the girl who convinced herself she could win in a fight against a bear, the girl who prided herself on being the bullies bully. You needed that girl right now, but she had died a long time ago, long before the girl you became had. So all there was left to do was cry. Cry and sit in self pity for allowing yourself to become this, for not being stronger, for not being someone that young girl would be proud of. Why the fuck did you do this to yourself? And why the fuck are you just sitting there? Get up and do something. 

What could you do? You were alone, something you used to love but this was different. You were never really alone, there was always someone you could run to when it became too much. Now it was just you, you were the only person who knew where it all started, why you’re the way you are, alone. The familiar stabbing pain comes back, your organs feel like they are gonna rip out of your body as you bleed out, leaving another body with the one you had already abandoned. 

Get up, get up you have no reason to cry. You did this to yourself, get the fuck up you selfish bitch. “I'M TRYING!” Oh god it felt good, it felt good to scream and cry. To silence the voices with your own noise, why should they be the only ones that get a say? It’s your brain that they constantly control and the only bit of sanity that you had already slipped away with your life. So why weren’t you allowed to cry? 

That's when you heard footsteps and giggling. Your dazed state not being able to process the sight of people, alive people. Sadly they weren't able to process the sight in front of them either, and that's when it happened, two high pitched girlish screams that fully snapped you out of it. They’d found you, the cold, lifeless, smelly version of you.  

It all felt too real, like you were being saved. Though you knew that wasn't true, you were still trapped but some part of you could finally escape this hell hole even if that meant leaving the only conscious bit of you behind. Closer I guess you could call it, finally knowing that someone knew you were gone. In some selfish way you wanted to be missed, see if anything changed now that they knew, they knew you weren't coming back. 

The girls stood there, shocked, staring at the horror. Part of you felt bad for them, they didn’t deserve this, but it was better than someone you know having to find you. That guilt alone would have haunted you for the rest of your existence. You wanted to reach out, tell them you were okay even though you weren't, but you couldn't, so you were forced to watch as these innocent girls ran out the door. You got up, chasing after them, ignoring the remaining pain in your limbs. One of the girls, she had short blond hair, doubled over, was vomiting onto the pavement as the other one, with curly brown hair, dry heaved. 

The sight alone made you want to do the same but you knew it would do no good. You had learned that seeing a dead body in fucked up movies you spent way to much time on and seeing a dead body in person were two different things. No movement, no breathing, just cold dead eyes that stare into your soul, daring you to look straight into them. 

You could hear the sound of frantic footsteps drawing close, probably someone who had heard the girls scream. You look over to see a boy with short brown hair and big brown tired but panicked eyes. He looked familiar, and maybe a year younger than you. He ran to the blond girl, concern filling his eyes. 

“Maddie, are you okay?” Maddie? So that was the blonde girl's name. She looked up at him, whipping puke off her chin as the other girl looks over. 

“Go get Mr.Mandela.” Her voice sounded harsh and scared. 

“What? Why? What's going on?” Poor boy was lost and concerned. There was a slight look of disgust on his face as he took an inhale of breath. “And what's that smell?” 

“Don’t worry about it, just go.” The brown haired girl spoke up.  

“Okay, okay, fine.” You watched as the boy ran off, you knew what was gonna happen next and didn’t want to be around to witness it. Reluctantly you left the two girls, thought it didn’t feel right. You wanted to apologize, their minds forever scarred by you. Even if you didn’t want to admit it, it’s you. This is your fault. 

You walked to the school, even if you didn’t really know anybody being around people would help you keep whatever bit of consciousness you had left in you. You directly avoided going near the principal's office, knowing that's where the boy would be, frantically trying to explain what was going on even though he had no idea what the girls actually saw. Hopefully he never would. 

The halls were filled, most likely kids heading to the first class of the day. Ducking and weaving through kids, making it your life mission to never know what happens when you come in direct contact with the living, you walked to the gym. It's the only place you could think of. You weren't exactly an expert on where the dead hang out. You pushed the door open and heard the sound of sneakers squeaking, only it didn’t sound like a group of people, just one. Just your luck, it's the boy you blew off. 

(evil cliffhanger with wally making his 2 second appearance)

Pt.5