You Can’t Convince Me This Boy Wouldn’t Be The Sweetest, Most Attentive Boyfriend. So, Here’s Some

work is getting in the way of my wally time 🙄

Cannot imagine a better scenario

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

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

Crybaby

NSFW

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Peggy

18+ MDNI

CW: pegging, sub Wally, safe word (mentioned but not used), mommy kink, cum eating/tasting

Summary: You try something new with Wally.

Wally trusted you immensely and knew that you would never judge him, but he was scared shitless to ask you this one thing. It sent him in a spiral and was eating him alive, keeping this inside. He tried his best to keep his presence around you normal like he usually is that nothing was bothering him at all. Although that was easier said than done. He knew you probably noticed that something was up with him. You were so perspective of him.

All he had to do was ask, but the thought of doing just that created anxiety in him. He thought of every scenario where it would go wrong from breaking up with him to downright flat out laughing at him. So he just swallowed his pride and kept it in the dark recess of his brain. Until it resurfaced to the front of his mind when he was dropping you off at your place. You noticed that he was tense and seemed off. “Walls, my love, are you okay?” You gently asked. In his head, he was spiraling and couldn't find the words to say what he wanted. “ You know you can tell me anything, right?” You told him, and his heart shattered. He heard the hurt in your tone. God, he needed to do this to get this out there so you don't think of the worse. He turned to you and grabbed your hand to steal his nerves. “You promise that you won't judge me?” He asked, which caused you to raise your brow at him. “I'm serious hun.” He said in all seriousness. “You know I would never, dear.” You said while squeezing his hand. He took a deep breath and finally said what he needed to say “Willyoupegme?” expect it came out in a rush, and you had no clue what he said. “Come again?” You said. Heat flooded his cheeks, and he was dying on repeating himself, but he had because you have no idea what he asked. “I said," Will you peg me? “ He replied and immediately closed his eyes, not wanting to see your reaction.

Laughter filled the truck, and he snapped his head over to you, wondering what was so funny. He just bared his soul to you, and you had the nerve to laugh at him. “Wanna share with the class what's so funny.” He sassed. Rolling your eyes at him and reaching out to hold his hand again. “ Of course I will.” You said, and his eyes widened a bit. He wasn't expecting that answer from you. “Is that what you were losing your mind about?” you asked. He just nodded in response. “You never have to feel nervous to ask me anything, dear.” You told him, and again, he nodded.

It's been a week since he asked you to peg him, and he was a little bit worried that he scared you off with his ask. It was Friday, and he was coming over to your place for movie night since it was your turn to host. It was 7pm by the time he arrived at your house and he knocked on the door. He was doing everything to regulate his breathing and clear his head. You finally opened the door, and Wally’s brain short circuited. You were in the skimpiest pair of PJ’s that you own. He swallowed hard and followed you inside. God, you look so perfect, he thought, and he felt like a live wire. You had everything set up for movie night in your living room with the giant flat scene TV. He made his way to the couch to settle in for the night. You asked him what he wanted to watch, and he didn't care. You browsed through different streaming services until you found something interesting to watch. You pressed play and let the movie begin.

Wally pulled you into his lap and wrapped his arms around you while you both watched the movie. You were adjusting yourself on his lap, not knowing your ass was brushing against his dick. It kept happening, and he thought you had to know what you were doing to him. He gripped your hips to stop you, “Knock it off.” He rasped. You paused your actions. Once the movie finished and the credits started rolling, you stood up and yanked him off the couch, pulling him along to your bedroom.

As soon as you passed the threshold of your room, he knew that the atmosphere had changed. He sat on your bed awaiting your next move. Each and every movement was calculated. You went into your closet to collect a box that would show who's actually in charge for the evening. With the box in hand and heading towards the bathroom to change. You called over your shoulder to him, “ Get undress & look pretty for me.” With that you shut the door and Wally moved as quickly as humanly possible to rid himself of his clothes. After he finished, he sat back on the bed awaiting your arrival from the bathroom.

After what seems like eons to him, you eventually emerge from the bathroom. Wally scanned your body from head to toe, analyzing you. It wasn't until his eyes landed on the harness that you were wearing and his eyes continued traveling down your body until he noticed the pale flesh-color cock attached to the harness. He swallowed hard and was gawking at it. “Like what you see?” You cockily replied. Wally nodded his head and couldn't tear his gaze away. You walked up to him and your hand slid in his hair, yanking his head to look at you. “I need words, Walter.” You spoke harshly. His eyes grew in size at the way you spoke to him and he stuttered over his words, “Y-y-yes, ma'am.” He replied. “Good boy.” You said and released your grip from his hair.

“Here's how tonight is going to go.” You spoke, “Anytime I ask you a question you will reply with words? If you can't, one tap to my thigh signifies yes and double means no. If at any point you feel uncomfortable with what is going on, you say your safe word and we will stop no matter what.” “Got that?” you asked and he replied yes. “Before we get started what's your safe word?” “Football.” He replied. “Good boy.” You praised him and he whined at that. You chuckled and placed a chaste kiss on his lips.

You both maneuvered into a comfortable position. His legs were spread open so that you could lay easily between them. You leaned down to grab the lube bottle, flicking the cap open and squirting lube onto your fingers and his asshole tossing the bottle on the bed. “Ready?” You asked him, and he whispered a yes. As carefully and gently as you could, started to insert one finger in his hole to stretch him out. You wanted to prep him before giving him the strap. When one finger was inside him, you stopped and checked in with him, “How are you feeling, dear?” You asked. Wally exhaled and said “I'm doing good.” You smiled at him and placed a kiss on his hip. Slowly, you began to move your finger and kept your eyes on Wally, watching for any signs.

Wally was loving this. It was so much better than he was expecting. “More, please.” He whined out. You chuckled at him, “Okay hun.” You said and inserted a second finger. He threw back his head and let out a long moan. God he was loving this. You were beginning to pick up your pace and stretching him out even more. “Don't stop.” He begged. You gave him a wicked smile and wouldn't dream of stopping. As you continued your pace, you wrapped your other hand around his cock and began stroking it. His body flinched from the unexpected. Your hand around him started to match the pace of your fingers in his ass. Both moving in tandem and Wally was losing his fucking mind. His body was on fire and it felt so god damn good. Pants and moans started to fill the room and the smell of sweat was as well. He couldn't take it anymore the absolute pleasure you were giving him. “I'm going to cum.” He told you and you started to speed up your actions. Wally couldn't hold in his moans anymore and without any shame in the world he let himself enjoy this. His hips started to roll matching your rhythm. “I'm cumm-” He stopped mid speaking, head thrown back and a loud moan ripped from his throat. His cum coated your fingers. You carefully pulled out your fingers and crawled up to him. He was breathing hard and arms covering his eyes. He removed his arms from his eyes and glanced up at you. “I'm so proud of you, my best boy.” You said. Another whine escaped his lips and a blush rushed his face. While locking eyes with each other, you lifted your cum covered fingers in your mouth enjoying the taste. Wally moaned seeing how fucking hot that was.

“Are you good to continue?” You asked him, and he said “Yeah, I'm good.” You reached over to grab the lube and squeezed a good amount in your hand to lube up the strap. Wally watched in a daze and couldn't wait. Once satisfied with how lubed up the cock was you were ready for your next move. You placed the tip at Wally's hole. You checked in one last time and he was ready. Exhaling you started pushing into him. He groaned and your eyes snapped up at him looking at him with worry in your eyes and you seized your movements. He quickly spoke out “Whatever you do, please don't stop.” His hand was fumbling around looking for yours and once he found yours he interlocked your fingers. And with that you kept going until you were fully at the hilt of the cock. You stayed there for a moment to let Wally recuperate. Both of you were breathing hard. After stilling for a moment, you asked “Are you ready?” Wally couldn't speak, so he let a single tap to your thigh and you instantly adjusted yourself. Slowly you rolled your hips, thrusting in and out of him. His breathing started to pick up immensely. Quickly you found a good rhythm and pace. You kept at it for a while and Wally felt like he was on top of the world. He was getting close to cumming again and was getting ready to say so, but he stopped short when you suddenly pulled out of him.

He groaned at the suddenness and his eyes snapped out filled with so much confusion. He was about to voice himself but you interrupted him. “Turn over and get on all fours.” He hesitated for a bit until you captured his face in your hands. “Baby.” You cooed. He just pouted. “You trust me, right.” He nodded and moved himself to the new position. You thrusted back into him and lurched forward. You got back into the groove of things to get him back to that release. Moans and groans from the both of you filled the air and Wally was approaching his release again. “I'm getting close.” He said. You nodded and started to pick up your pace. It was a lot harsher than before and Wally was enjoying it so much. “Mommy, I'm so fucking close.” He cried. You paused for a millisecond and were surprised with the name that fell from his lips. Not that you minded and Wally didn't seem to notice what he said.

You kept on track with what you were doing and Wally moaned out loud “Fuck, Mommy.” and he came so fucking hard. It coated his abs and your sheets. You kept going at it to chase your own release from the strap which you purchased with the clit stimulation piece. You were so close yourself, picking up your pace to fall over the edge. Wally was whining from overstimulating. “I know baby, I know. Be mommy's good boy.” You said. Your hand flew to his hair and you tugged on it harshly with a hard thrust. Thus triggering your own release which had a scream and moan ripped from your lips. Wally let out a cry and collapsed from holding himself up.

Loud heavy breathing from the both of you echoed around the room. You collapsed on Wally's back, trying your best to collect yourself. Once you felt your breathing even out a bit, you carefully pulled out of Wally and unhooked the strap throwing it across the room not giving a fuck where it landed. You moved back towards Wally who was still recovering. You laid down next to him and carefully pulled him in your arms. You maneuvered him to lay down with you and rested his head on your chest. He wrapped his arms around you and he shut his eyes. You just held him, running your nails over his body letting him recover and catch his breath. Humming filled the atmosphere and he recognized it to be his favorite song. Warmth filled his entire body, he has never felt love and care like this before.

He opened his eyes and gazed up at you. You looked back at him with a smile on your lips. “Hi baby.” You whispered and Wally blushed hard, sure you've called him that before but right now in this very moment it felt different. “Hi.” he said his voice was hoarse. “How are you feeling?” You asked. “Good, so good.” He replied. You placed a kiss on his forehead. “I'm glad to hear that my good boy.” You said. Wally blushed so hard and hid his face in your chest letting out a whine. You just laughed and held him closer to you, placing dozens of kisses to his head.

The two of you just stayed like that for the rest of the night.

If you enjoyed this, then check out

Just wanna hear you scream

Summary: Wally brings your fantasy to life.

Simp.

summary: prompt fill. a silly little subby Wally drabble because our clingy boo is fun to write. (request)

pairing: Wally Clark x masc!reader

warnings: smut. sub!Wally Clark. flashfic. crying after climax. Wally Clark has undisclosed mommy issues. same 'verse as Boy Noise.

bon reading, frens

___________________________🖇️

Simp.

"So good, baby," You praise, "Keep going. You wanna make me come, don't you?" Fuck, yes, Wally does. It's all he wants in the whole world. "Just like that. Such a good boy for me."

And the words go straight to his cock. Flush through him like the heat of the sun, burning in his belly.

You're at his house, dragged there after school because today was a shitty day and he was vibrating with restless energy. He needed you so badly and you never made him suffer.

You lounge in his dad's armchair like a king, one leg hooked over Wally's shoulder, the foot of the other propped on the seat of the armchair, spread wide to accommodate him as he whimpers and whines and probes his tongue as deep as he can get it, kissing your pussy in a filthy wet rhythm.

He hears the clink of your glass on the side table, gives a little moan when you plant the heel of your foot on his shoulder and push, dislodging him. Wally makes an unhappy sound, pouts up at you with big, pleading puppy eyes, but you only smirk in return.

"Stand up," You command. And he does. No resistance, just obedience.

He gets to his feet and takes in the image you make, sitting there mostly naked, your button-down open to reveal your naked body, tie loose and still around your collar. You lick your teeth, grinning like a lion that's about to eat its first meal.

"Strip." You say, tone making Wally's belly squirm.

Again, he does as bidden without question. Tries to do it slow, give you a sultry performance how you sometimes want him to, but apparently not today.

"I don't want a show, baby," You tell him, husky and rich, eyes dark with fever, "Get naked. I want you to make me come on your cock."

Wally's out of his jeans and t-shirt faster than lightning. You stand in a single, sultry motion, lead him by his cock to the armchair and push him down. He spreads his legs wide, arms clasped around you as you as you crawl into his lap.

You take another long sip of his dad's whiskey, the ice tinkling when you place the glass down again, and then, quick and hard, you drop down on him. Take him as easy as a breath after the long minutes he spent pleasuring you with lips and gentle teeth and sloppy tongue.

He's fucking needy now.

You don't move. Not right away. Giving him a chance to adjust, to breathe, to center himself before, "You're gonna be a good boy for me, aren't you?"

Jesus, he will, he promises. He'll do anything for you, he just wants so badly to make you happy. Tell him how to make you happy, please, fuck, please.

Wally whines, hands loose on your hips, desperate for you to let him show you how good he can be as you take control. It's slow at first, driving him crazy, the heat inside him fogging up his brain, his body tense with desire and need.

"Please," He begs when you begin to ride him a little faster, just enough to get him to the edge before you stop. Shit. No, please, no, he needs to come so bad. Has needed to come since you got him on his knees and grabbed the back of his head, brought his face to your pussy and told him to eat up, sweet boy.

It's intense, everything he feels for you, with you, from you. His body shakes as you start again. Slow. Too slow. And then harder, sharper rolls of your hips until, yes yes yes like that, you start moving in earnest, taking him over and over, deep and tight and hot.

"Please," He gasps, whimpers, eyes clenched shut, hands squeezing your hips, "Please, I need to come."

"Not yet, baby boy." You say, somehow stern despite how you're panting. "Let me come first and then you can have your turn. I know you can wait." He can hear the feline grin on your face, can feel your heavy eyes on him, "You're my good boy, aren't you?"

"Yes!" He sobs, the pleasure and frustration making him that much more sensitive, "I'll be good for you, so good, I promise!"

You lean over, still bouncing on him, his cock throbbing inside you as he tries so hard to keep himself in check. "So perfect for me, baby," You reassure him, "Such a perfect boy for me."

Wally spent years trying to be everything his mama wanted him to be. The man, the myth, the legend. In control always. Perfect son. Perfect player. Perfect student, friend, partner, upcoming pilar of the community.

And he did it. Everything she asked, Wally did, getting him nowhere and nothing except more pressure and expectation and criticism.

Maybe that's why he's like this. He's not a psychologist, but it makes sense. How much he fucking needs you to take control and tell him what to do so he doesn't have to think. At least you give him the chance to be good, instructing him from point A to Z, no judgment, just praise. Your sweet, perfect boy; all yours, only yours—

"Please," He whimpers, every touch electric. "Please, Mommy, I need to come," He begs and the title is new, coming from deep within him, ushered from some part of his soul he's kept tightly sealed until now, but he couldn't give less of a shit. Especially with how you moan and squeeze around his cock like a vise.

"Yeah?" You purr, still so together. So in charge.

He gasps, shivers, head falling back.

"Look at me, baby," You order, and Wally listens. Mouth parted as he pants, eyes half-lidded and soft, "Are you close?"

"Yes, yes, please," He can't take much more, not even if you ask him to. And he doesn't want to disappoint you, doesn't want to come before you do. Desperate to be everything you say he is.

You move faster, harder, more frenzied, back arching, tits in his face, moaning when you come. Jesus, fuck, the feeling of you coming around him makes him dizzy, he can't hold back, begging over and over because it's too much stimulation, too good, too right, oh God.

"Please," He practically sobs, "Oh, oh, please!"

You lean in, nip his ear and then command, "Come for me, baby boy. Be good and let go."

Just like that, Wally submits to it and comes harder than he can remember doing before. His whole body tenses and then releases, shuddering as he sobs in relief, fucking up into you as he spills inside you with the force of a fucking train.

"That's it, baby, give me everything," You groan, and it just prolongs his climax.

You're so good to him. So understanding and kind and generous and Wally can't help it. He doesn't mean to, hates himself a little for it, but his eyes sting and his breath catches and he clamps his arms around you as he body shakes.

He's crying. He's never cried during or after sex before now. It's just...there's so much inside him, emotion and feeling, and he has to let it out or he'll burst. Small whimpers and needy whines, tiny little sounds of love and pleasure and thankfulness. He feels so fucking clingy, desperate to hold onto you so you won't slip away and leave him alone to fend off the world by himself.

With fingers in his hair, you draw his head into the crook of your neck, other hand stroking his back as you shush him sweetly.

"I've got you, my good, good boy. You did so well. You made me feel so good."

And he sniffles, nods, holds you as close to himself as he can until the moment passes and he's calm. Vulnerable. Embarrassed. Cheeks bright pink and lower lip between his teeth because you force him to look at you.

"How do you feel?" You ask in such a kind, affectionate tone that Wally feels—

"Better." He admits. And then, quieter, "Safe." In a way he's never felt until you came into his life like a beacon of hope.

A slow smile forms on your lips and you kiss his forehead, "Good. That's all I want, baby."

Wally sniffles again, clears his throat, asks timidly, "Did you like it?"

And you pet his hair, hold his jaw, and say with certainty, "I loved it, baby boy. I always love it."

Warmth blossoms in Wally's chest. He grins up at you, proud of himself.

🖇️___________fin.____________

also on AO3!

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if you enjoyed this, you may also enjoy Boyfriend Wally Clark (NSFW).

a smutty flashfic Wally Clark headcanon outlining who he is as a boyfriend.

Wally Clark Headcanons - 3

(request)

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

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

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

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

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

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

Wally's sweet, beautiful saint.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

If he looked at me like that I would absolutely FOLD

Wreck It Like A Rumor

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

pairing: Wally Clark x fem!reader

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

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

bon reading, frens

___________________________🐦‍🔥

Wreck It Like A Rumor

They disguised themselves as friends.

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

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

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

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

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

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

You threw caution to the wind and said yes.

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

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

Cruelty packaged as a practical joke.

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

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

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

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

Nuclear winter. Chernobyl. Bunkers. The Cold War.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‗•‗

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

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

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

It's fine. It's totally fine.

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Uh..."

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

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

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

"No freaken way..."

‗•‗

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

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

So why didn't you come back?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your glare intensifies.

‗•‗

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

Kind of.

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

"N-no," He stutters.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

When he turns around again, you're gone.

‗•‗

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You're an asshole."

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

"I think I've earned it."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‗•‗

Your unconventional friendship with Wally grows from there.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Yeah?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‗•‗

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He's safe.

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

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

Yes. Everything with Wally is perfect.

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

‗•‗

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

Things go from moderately unhinged to fucking hectic overnight.

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

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

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

"Oh, no."

‗•‗

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Alone. Again. Always.

‗•‗

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

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

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

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

Fuck.

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

Wally takes a step forward.

‗•‗

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

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

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

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

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

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

That's when you start screaming.

‗•‗

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"W-Wally?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‗•‗

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‗•‗

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You give him the weekend.

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

But that can wait until tomorrow.

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

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

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

🐦‍🔥___________fin.____________

also on AO3!

Order Up! MASTERLIST

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

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

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

Masterlist

October Sun

Wally Clark x fem!reader

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

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

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

~ 🧡👻

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

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

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

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

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

PART 26 | PART 27: SEASON FINALE

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Masterlist

October Moon

Wally Clark x fem!reader

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

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

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

~ 💜👻

PROLOGUE | PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3

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

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

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Masterlist

October Betweens

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

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

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

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

~ 🧡👻

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

Charley: I just want to say I’m part of the LGBTQ community and this is my best friend Wally. He’s an ally. Talk Wally!

Wally: Ally! ✊🥂