Wreck It Like A Rumor
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
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Wreck It Like A Rumor
They disguised themselves as friends.
You should've known when the one person out of the group you considered a sister—the girl you'd glommed onto in elementary, who'd been by your side through every shitty thing that'd unraveled your life at the time. You know, you're real friend—started acting shifty.
Eyes down, nervous laugh, not giving you a straight answer when you asked her if she was okay.
"Help! Anyone, please! Let me out of here!"
You pound your fist against the door, tears streaming down your face. Mascara smudged, nail polish chipped, kicking and banging and screaming until you're skin is red and blotchy.
It's Homecoming. You never went to the dances, tend to avoid a lot of high school social events like the plague since everyone in your grade (and others) treats you as if you're contagious.
But it's junior year, and your best friend begged you to join her as her ride or die since she wasn't super comfortable with her new group of friends yet.
You threw caution to the wind and said yes.
For Oli. Olivia Hazelwood. The awkward daughter of Split River's old-money elite couple, Henry and Marion Hazelwood. You and Oli were awkward together. Outsiders who found a home in each other. You shared everything with her and thought she did the same, but now you questioned how true that was.
Because, along with her new friends—who she insisted were your new friends, too—she'd locked you in the secret fallout shelter in the school basement.
Cruelty packaged as a practical joke.
You heard Travis cackle to the others before calling through the door, "Get comfortable, it'll be a while 'til the janitor comes to get you!"
It's fucking Friday. You don't know Mr. South's schedule—hell, you don't know if he even knows about the fallout shelter—but you assume he won't be back until Monday like the rest of the staff.
Someone will do a walk-through, you tell yourself, gasping for air as you pace around the space. It's dark, the only light coming from the weird dashboard on the clunky equipment lining one wall.
How Travis and the others found out about the fallout shelter isn't a mystery. You told them, stupidly, when you were trying to bond with Elitzia and Marybelle. Split River trivia you'd collected through hyperfixation research. Hours spent diving down rabbit holes after binging Fallout with Oli over a weekend.
Nuclear winter. Chernobyl. Bunkers. The Cold War.
God, why'd you say anything? Should've kept your mouth shut. Should've known that Travis and his friends weren't actually trying to buddy up, because you're still the school pariah.
After all, you gave Jake Tremblay crabs after you rejected him in 9th. You were a homewrecker and forced yourself on Matt Wilson when his girlfriend caught him shoving his unwanted hand up your skirt. You told Claire Zomer last year that you liked to wear diapers and be bottle-fed like a baby as a result of neglectful parents after you refused to do her English homework.
The mill churned out rumor after rumor, and though you tried to fight it at first, it became too much. Like squashing an ant hill. Impossible to get every last ant. You stopped, people lost interest when you didn't react, but those rumors still circulate.
Sometimes, new ones join the rotation depending on who you piss off just trying to get to the last bell.
Oli was the only person who stood by you until Elitzia extended her friendship.
Now you're alone. Stuck in the creepy fallout shelter in the dark. Suffocating on shadows as you double back to the door and start banging your palms against it again. Oli knows you're claustrophobic. She was there when you trusted Sarah Thompson in 5th Grade and climbed into her toy chest.
What is so other about you that makes people hate you so much?
You gulp in harsh breaths, sobbing out exhales, losing energy quickly as you smack and bang the door. You can't hear the music, but you know it's still loud, the dance in full swing two floors above.
"Please," You cough, shaking, "Please, let me out..."
‗•‗
Wally sighs. Tonight's been one giant letdown. He doesn't know why he got his hopes up, especially since it's been obvious from the get-go that Maddie isn't ready for the things Wally wants to try with her. Romance. Dates. Hand-holding and affection and inside jokes.
He understands, of course he does. Maddie's new-dead. She was murdered. She and her best (and very alive) friend are trying to solve the case, to help her remember so she can find closure or whatever.
Why would she want to take a break from that and hang out at a dumb dance with Wally? Who's been trapped in limbo for the last forty years; same four walls, same seven faces to interact with. Same. Same. Same. Same. Fuck.
It's fine. It's totally fine.
As he lies on the grass, staring up at the stars, the quiet outside giving him space to sulk, he hears it. Bang. Help! Bang bang bang. Please!
It's faint, no louder than a breeze, but consistent. Wally gets to his feet and tries to follow the sound. Back into the school, down the steps, along the first-floor hallway to the basement door. It muffles for a moment when he goes the wrong way, toward the janitor's office, so he backtracks and hurries deeper into the bowels of the school.
Despite having the run of the place, no holds barred, he hasn't been this way before. Never saw a reason to go to the boiler room, not even after Maddie took a seat at the Afterlife Support Group.
The sound loudens, banging and muted pleading, someone clearly in distress. Wally slows his steps as he nears a door he's never seen before. It's old, white paint peeling, made of metal. It shakes when whoever's behind it starts slamming their fists again. Renewed vigor, higher-pitched agony, "Please!! Anyone!!?"
Wally scans the outside of the door for a latch or handle and notices the deadbolts attached to the top and bottom of the doorframe. Quickly, he undoes them and yanks the door open, stumbling back when a figure slumps out.
Small. Trembling. A girl whose makeup is stained with tearstreaks and whose eyes are bloodshot, her skin pale from fright. She's breathing heavy, sniffling, rubbing the back of her wrist under her nose as she gradually calms.
"Uh..."
And that's as much as Wally gets out before she's on her feet, arms around her middle, shoulders up. She takes one look at Wally, mumbles a wet thanks, and then charges through the boiler room, down the corridor, and out of the basement.
Wally's stunned. Because he knows for a fact that that girl is alive.
Not only did she look right at Wally, she spoke to him. Like, to his face. Eyeballs met eyeballs. For the first time in a long time, Wally was part of the living world again.
"No freaken way..."
‗•‗
You keep your head down as you walk toward your locker. Headphones on, blaring angry music to quell the crash and surge of emotion inside you. You're embarrassed, humiliated, hateful. Rightfully so, you think, because the last person in the world you trusted betrayed you in the worst way you can imagine.
Oli tried to apologize over the weekend. A novel of a text that repeated several times how sorry she is about what happened. How she didn't know that was the plan. I swear, I thought they were just going to close the door for a minute.
So why didn't you come back?
She never answered. Either ashamed of her non-actions or annoyed that you won't forgive her as easily as you used to, you don't care.
The guy who saved you—tall, handsome, dressed like a silverscreen leading man—looked just like someone that group kept in the middle of their circle-jerk. Which was why you didn't stick around to thank him properly. He was probably just a little less bad; had what amounted to a conscience for those assholes, and decided to cut the joke short out of guilt.
Definitely a senior, you figured, since you didn't recognize him from your class.
Who cares. You intend to steer clear of him just like you will the others. You've got enough on your plate, the newest rumor sticky-tacked to your locker when you finally get there.
Crybaby got herself locked in a room and couldn't get out! Accentuated with photoshopped baby bottles and crying emojis.
It's stupid. Juvenile. But it burns. You tear the paper off your locker, crumple it up, and march to the trash to shove it through the lid. Even through your music, you can hear the chorus of laughter. Some of it nervous, as if going along with it to avoid the same attention Travis and his cronies give you. Some of it hearty and genuine.
You swallow your discomfort and go back to your locker, wrench the lock open, and almost violently swing the door right into someone's face. Thankfully, that someone catches it before it does any damage.
"Whoa there, Helen Sharp, I'm not here to steal your man." The guy chuckles, giving you what you assume is his most charming smile.
It rubs you the wrong way. You glare back, ignoring the comment as you begin to rifle through your things, exchanging last night's homework for the textbook and notes you need for first period. He clears his throat, keeps standing there awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck and watching you.
"So, you can't hear me," He mutters, and, weirdly, it doesn't sound like a snide question. Rather, his voice is heavily laced with disappointment.
You stop and straighten, staring right at him when you cock your head and say, "I can hear you just fine." Then, "You come to make me thank you again?" Just like Mike Bower earlier this semester, who pinned you to the vending machine after the cafeteria emptied, demanding you show him your gratitude for lending you a pencil during the History test.
The guy swallows and shakes his head, eyes wide and mouth agape. As if you speaking to him is the most astonishing thing that's ever happened to him.
Your glare intensifies.
‗•‗
Wally can't believe it. You can see him. You're talking to him.
Kind of.
You're mostly scowling at him, but that doesn't matter. He'll take what he can get. He knows you're likely still upset about Friday, how you got locked into the fallout shelter somehow. Which, the fallout shelter was a whole discovery on its own that helped unlock some of Maddie's memories over the weekend, so if anyone should be grateful, really, it's Wally.
"N-no," He stutters.
His shock swiftly melts into excitement, big grin sweeping his face, and he giddily follows you toward your first class after you slam your locker closed and start walking.
"So...are you okay? You didn't look so good when I last saw you."
You heave a sigh, "I'm fine." And it sounds an awful lot like something you've been repeating to yourself until you believe it. Clearly, it isn't working.
"Right. Yeah. Of course you are." Wally nods sagely. "...What's your name?"
You come to an abrupt halt in the hallway and turn to face him, brows furrowed, giving him a slow once-over that makes his heart skip a beat. Now that he can see your face better, he swallows thickly. Jesus, you're beautiful. Even scowly and off-put. Pretty as a peace lily.
"Why?" You ask, and, wow, okay, has no one ever asked you for your name before?
Wally hesitates, not quite understanding why you're being so hostile until he hears it. A couple of students behind him, snickering to each other, commenting on how, the fucking weirdo's lost her mind. She's so fucked up.
Spinning on his heel, Wally faces the students, ready to put them in their place before he remembers that they can't see him...can they? No. They can't. They look right through him at you, snorting and shaking their heads in pity like you're some kind of headcase.
When he turns around again, you're gone.
‗•‗
It takes Wally a few days before he finds you again. Outside, sitting in a patch of sun, eating your bagged lunch alone as you lean against the side of the school. Without preamble, he plops down beside you.
He spent his time doing a little research. Between helping Maddie and Simon investigate, obviously, he's a good person who has his priorities straight. Still, you were always on his mind. The gorgeous living girl who can see him.
You ignore him, bite into your PB&J, and stare into the middle distance as if Wally doesn't exist. That's fine. He understands now. And, holy shit, the things he'd do if he had a body to do them in. He'd fuck every last one of your tormentors up. Break egos before breaking bones. Guy, girl, he doesn't discriminate; he hates what he's heard.
Can't be sure none of it is real, but from the way you shrink when he keeps his attention on you, he doesn't think any of it is.
"You okay?" He ventures again, voice low and kind.
You shrug. No snarky comment, no anger. Just...resignation.
"I, uh, heard what they say about you..."
You snort, "Great. You come to give me words of wisdom, oh wise one? It's just high school, it won't matter when you get out of here," You mock, clearly some bullshit you've been spoon fed before.
Wally shakes his head, "Nah. Nothing like that." He gives you a smile. Cheeky, "High school's all there is. It really does shape your whole life."
You choke on your next bite and then give him a look of horror. When you catch his impish smirk, your eyes narrow.
"You're an asshole."
"You're kind of a grump." Wally shoots back good-naturedly.
"I think I've earned it."
Wally's smile falters slightly, but he makes an effort to remain upbeat. Softly, sincerely, he says, "I'm sorry you have to go through all that."
"It is what it is." You respond, equally as soft, gaze on the ground.
You and Wally sit in silence for a moment. It doesn't feel awkward or tense the way Wally expected it to. Instead, it's peaceful. A welcome change from the mounting drama he's experiencing on Split River High's metaphysical side.
Eventually, you seem to relax. You and he exchange names. He doesn't give you his last name, not quite ready for that conversation, though he's sure you'll figure it out sooner rather than later. His letterman is a dead give away (no pun intended).
"Do you...have any friends?" He asks bluntly after talking around the point for a few minutes.
Tensing, you stop chewing the last bite of your sandwich, gaze distant as you face slackens in what Wally can only describe as hurt.
"I did. But then she helped her new friends lock me in a fallout shelter even though she knows I'm claustrophobic."
"Fuck..." Wally exhales sharply, "I'm sorry."
"You say that a lot," You accuse, slanting him another suspicious look. "Why are you sorry? Did you know that was the plan? Are you friends with Travis and Marybell and Elitzia?"
Wally tries to keep up with your questions. You must've been thinking those things based on how rapidly you asked them, and it takes Wally aback.
"No," He replies, "I don't know any of those people."
You relax again once you've stared into Wally's fucking skull to see if he's lying. Apparently, you can do that since you give a small nod and settle back against the wall.
"Thank you," You say after another minute of silence. "Really. For...getting me out of there."
"Yeah, of course," Wally says. "I might look like an asshole, but I'm not actually one."
You peek at him, a tiny smile forming on your lips that makes Wally's heart soar, "I'm starting to get that."
‗•‗
Your unconventional friendship with Wally grows from there.
When Wally isn't busy saving the day with Maddie and Charley and Rhonda, he spends his time haunting you. His own little joke, because it appears you haven't figured out how dead he is, and as more days pass, he's more reluctant to reveal that spooky truth.
In the span of weeks, you blossom like a flower for him. He learns how giggly you are when you aren't shielding yourself from the disgusting things your classmates sling at you. It's not often, but it's often enough that Wally never sees you as anything but reserved and quiet when you're between classes.
At this point, he's heard the slew of rumors about you. Gross and inflated, a game of broken telephone that chips away at you a little more every day.
Except when you're with Wally. It's as if his presence is helping you heal, and he can't keep the warm, fuzzy feelings from growing in his chest. Bigger and bigger with every encounter.
You've taken to studying in the library until the very last second you're allowed to stay. Tucked in the back, muffling laughter when Wally tells you about things that happened to him when he was alive. He omits details that might give away the era, but shares everything he can.
God, he loves the sound of your laughter. How your eyes sparkle when you're happy. How your cheeks flush when he sneaks in something flirtatious. How you bite your lip after you say something suggestive in return.
You're not exactly tactile, probably scarred from things that've happened in your past, things that've been said to you, or things that've been done to you. (Wally wants to punch everyone, teachers included.) It makes it easier to hide his deadness. However, it's getting to a point where Wally has a hard time remembering not to reach out and fail at tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear when you stare up at him with those sweet, joyful eyes.
There's always, at the very least, an inch of space between you and Wally. An inch he so desperately wishes he could eradicate. Either way, he can't break that barrier, the energy emitted from a living body preventing him from touching you, even if you did finally welcome it.
You bring him homemade cookies the day you reveal that your parents are rarely around. Break his heart, then heal it with chocolate chip, his favorite. He has to wait for you to turn away before he picks one up, so you don't see how the cookie never actually left the container.
When he bites into it, he moans, filthy, sexual, not even exaggerated because, "God damn girl, these are delicious."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah," Wally takes another bite, moans again, eyes closed as he savors the taste, "Best I've ever had."
You blush, duck your head shyly, "Thanks, Wally." And, fuck, he wants to kiss you. All over your face. Cheeks, nose, forehead. Lips. Deep and slow as he cups your jaw, angles your head just right, pulls you into his lap and—
"Earth to Wally," Your voice breaks through the mist, "You still in there?" Then, to yourself, "What the hell did I put in these?"
Wally blinks himself back to the present, "Sorry, what'd you say?"
"I asked you if you wanted to try the oatmeal peanut butter ones."
Very seriously, "Yes. And everything else you've made ever, if you don't mind."
He wants to offer to make you banana pancakes or a burrito or anything to show off his skills in the kitchen, but he isn't sure how the food he makes would translate in the living world. His stomach clenches, eyes sad, as he begins to think about all the things he can't do with you. All the things you don't know he can't do with you because he doesn't want to lose you when you learn the truth.
Maddie didn't lose Simon, a part of him thinks, but while that's true, Maddie and Simon are best friends. Have been best friends since fuck knows when. Simon was willing to throw himself behind Maddie being a ghost because of how close they are.
Wally isn't certain you'd react the same way.
‗•‗
Things between you and Wally are...amazing? No, that's too simple a word to describe how his friendship has basically turned your whole high school experience on its head.
He's quickly become the best part of your day. He makes you laugh, helps you with homework when he isn't distracting you from it. He's sweet and compassionate and thoughtful. He remembers everything you tell him, even the mundane, silly shit.
You've never experienced that before. Not even with Oli, who had a knack of steering every conversation back to herself. It wasn't in a rude or self-righteous way, honestly, it stemmed more from insecurity and external processing.
But, yeah, it got old sometimes, especially when you just needed someone to hear you. See you. Know you.
Things with Wally are so incredible that you're even able to ignore the newest rumor about you making the rounds. How you're crazy, talking to yourself like schizo, you need meds, why do they let her near us? Dude, she could be dangerous.
None of it matters anymore. Oli's been fully indoctrinated by her new friends, ignores or avoids you, unable to look you in the eye anymore since dying her hair to look like Chloe's and dressing herself like Kirsten.
Wally has your back. Comforts you with humor or listens when you need to vent. Mostly, it's just bliss. And it's alarming because you've never felt so close to someone like this. You've exposed yourself to him in ways you never let yourself before. Not with Oli, not with your parents, not with anyone.
But he draws it out of you, bit by bit, your personality slowly reestablishing itself after years of being smothered behind the walls you had to build to protect yourself.
He's safe.
And he's hot like burning. Like putting your hand over a lit element. Another new feeling unlocked; you want to feel his hands on you, even for a moment. Want to feel his lips on yours. Want all of him so wholly and greedily it makes your head spin.
Yes. Everything with Wally is perfect.
Until, one day, he simply...disappears.
‗•‗
It's not Wally's fault. He doesn't mean to do it. He wouldn't have, he promises. Especially not to you. But, Wally has his turn getting stuck in the fallout shelter; Mr. Martin unmasks himself as a bad guy; and Maddie's body is alive out there being used by Janet.
Things go from moderately unhinged to fucking hectic overnight.
He stays away only to help Maddie. Finds out, shit, Yuri Vyarheychyk isn't actually a looper, discovers a lot of things he never wanted to discover. Wally's lost and despondent, and can't seem to get his head above water long enough to seek you out and apologize for abandoning you for two weeks.
He's relieved when he finally catches sight of you again, a smile on his face as he watches you help put the gym together for his high school reunion.
Just as he's about to approach, he notices you go eerily still, staring at something he can't see from this angle. He steps a little closer, cautious, heart in his throat when he finally gets a glimpse.
"Oh, no."
‗•‗
You were roped into helping set up the space for the class of '84 reunion. You'd reacted vehemently when Travis made a joke at your expense during Math and Mr. Davis immediately issued you detention.
This is how you earn back his respect. Carrying stacks of chairs and fussing over an easel that's to support a picture of that guy who died on the field. You're feeling bitter, neglected, alone all over again since Wally hasn't surfaced, and the rumors are starting to pick at vulnerable flesh.
Then, Ms. Monroe clucks at you, hands you the blown-up photo to fit onto the easel. You don't notice at first, and then the shock swoops in and leaves you breathless. Gaping wide-eyed at the face staring back at you.
Wally's smile is exactly how it looks when you say something he calls 'cute'. Charming. Cheerful.
The world fades away, time stands still, and you almost buckle under the realization that you made up a whole person to keep you company. You really are fucking crazy, just like everyone said.
"Hey..." You hear Wally's voice, but it can't be real, pulled from some broken part of your brain that shattered after the fallout shelter.
Slowly, you pan to your right, Wally towering over you, as solid as he was the last time you saw him. You glance back at the photo, then to Wally, rinse, repeat until you have whiplash. A tiny, wrecked sound escapes you and your body shivers, the weight of what this means bubbling inside you like acid.
"Hey, no, it's okay," The figment of Wally Clark, class of '84, dead dead dead, tries to reassure you. "You're not crazy, babe, I'm right here. You can see me."
His words do nothing to calm you down. You need help. Professional help, hard meds, a straitjacket, and a padded room.
Another trembling whimper and you wheeze, "They were right... I'm... I'm insane."
"No!" Wally insists, stumbling after you as you force your feet to move and head for the door.
Ms. Monroe calls out, but you ignore her, not bothering to think up an excuse as you leave.
"Leave me alone," You beg the figment of Wally, covering your ears with your hands to block out his voice as he urges you to believe him, that he's real, he's a ghost, he's been here for forty years, babe, please, stop!
You don't stop. You start running. Out the door, into the parking lot, off school grounds. You run until you get home, where you lock yourself in—parents still in Dubai for one of your dad's conferences, the house empty and cold.
Sliding to the ground, back against the door, you tuck your knees to your chest and cry.
Alone. Again. Always.
‗•‗
Wally's heartbroken after you leave. Never had he ever thought you'd become that important to him until you made it abundantly clear you want nothing to do with him. Because you think he's a figment of your imagination. Some trauma response.
He tries twice to convince you he's real, but it doesn't work. You shrink further into yourself, pale and placid, not even challenging the remarks made behind your back like you'd started doing again.
Unfortunately, shit hits the fan and Wally can't make time, plowing through scars, saving Maddie from herself, encouraging her to run back into her body.
All throughout, he longs for you. Wishes he'd been upfront from the beginning. He'd just wanted to be selfish for a while. To keep you. His own little secret, beautiful and bold, his to indulge in and cherish and...love.
Fuck.
Now, he stands in front of a door, a thick, bright light burning on the other side of it as he holds his key. He stares at the door, feels the warmth beckoning him. There's nothing left for him here. He's done his time, languished within the school for too many years.
Wally takes a step forward.
‗•‗
Without Wally's presence to ground you, you start to unravel. Piece by piece, whittled away to nothing but anger and fear. Right now it's predominantly fear, in large extent due to the empty halls and lack of teachers. There's a commotion outside that drew everyone with any authority out there.
It's well past the last bell, and Travis was leaving the locker rooms when you were headed to the theater to grab a notebook you forgot on one of the seats during Drama. Apparently, despite being fucked in the head, you've been a lot more appealing lately. Smiling more.
"You got a great smile when you aren't being a bitch," Travis leers, crowding you against a wall.
He's big. Huge. Built like a brick shithouse even at seventeen. He's got more muscle on him than you could ever hope for, and the strength of the linebacker he is behind him.
"Get away from me," You demand through clenched teeth, hands shoving uselessly at his chest. He doesn't budge an inch.
"Nah, don't think so, freak." He smirks, massive hand around your throat. Not too tight, just enough to hold you there with the promise of pain if you try and struggle.
That's when you start screaming.
‗•‗
Wally's head shoots up, and he drops the football, takes several long strides toward the exit door. The sound gets louder, clearer, as he nears the door. It's coming from behind it. And it's familiar. He knows that scream, heard it weeks ago. The night he rescued you from the fallout shelter.
Without a second thought, Wally kicks the exit door open and barrels through, tripping when gravity hits him for the first time in decades. He gulps in a gasp of air, the taste sharp and bleachy, filling his lungs. Chest expanding, bones and blood and flesh heavy in a way he doesn't remember his living body being.
"Help!" You scream again, the tail-end of the word muffled by who Wally recognizes as one of your antagonizers' hands.
Travis has you on the floor, his knees on either side of your waist as he grapples to control your arms. Wally fights against gravity, skids forward and then, Stop! Stop it! he charges. Tackles Travis' weight off of you and to the ground.
His knuckles burn as he punches Travis' face in, his lungs burn as he sucks in more air than is probably necessary, his body no longer familiar with the function but quickly getting with the program.
Wally falls back when he's sure Travis isn't getting up. Alive. The guy's alive. Just wrecked and bloodied, groaning as he rolls onto his side and clutches his jaw.
"I've wanted to do that for so long," Wally pants, wiping the sweat from his upper lip.
"W-Wally?"
Your voice is so small, so uncertain, and it gets Wally's attention immediately. He's with you in a flash, hands on your face, holy fuck, he can touch you, and you're so warm, so solid, skin so soft, he doesn't know what sensation to focus on first.
"Y-you're real..." You murmur, as shocked as Wally is. "You're..." You lift your hand and place it over his, the touch smarting the cuts he opened on Travis' nose.
"I was always real, baby." He says, chest still rising and falling rapidly, God, he can't take his hands off you.
It happens in the blink of an eye. He can't tell who moved first, who initiated, only that it's pure fucking bliss when he feels your lips against his for the first time. Soft and pillowy and yielding. You taste like Coke and those chewy watermelons you like to snack on during study sessions.
Wally moans into the kiss, can't help himself, pulls you into him as much as he can just to bask in the feeling of your body against his. Your real, living body against his.
A groan behind you and him reminds Wally that Travis is still there, will likely be found soon, and whoever does the finding will have questions Wally can't answer right now. Possibly not ever.
"Come on, baby, we've gotta go," He says, intending to hide you somewhere else in the school so you and he can talk.
You apparently have other ideas, because you drag him behind you all the way to the bus stop. He tries to tell you, tries to get you to stop before—
"I can't leave school property!" He shouts.
You stop, letting go of his hand to walk a few steps backwards, eyebrow lifting as you stare at his feet.
"But...you are off school property."
When Wally looks down, his jaw drops. He scrambles in a half-circle to measure the distance between himself and the curb. Thoughts flood his brain: He has to tell Rhonda, to tell Charley and Yuri and Quinn. He has to find his friends and tell them about his...what? His aliveness? Is he alive?
"Come on," You urge, grabbing him by the hand again and dragging him away from the school. "We can't be here right now."
You're right, he knows that, but, holy shit! He's off school property. He's breathing oxygen. His heart is pumping, his muscles ache from the exertion of beating Travis to a pulp, his tongue feels too big for his mouth, and his eyes sting from lack of blinking.
Wally's...not a ghost anymore.
‗•‗
You take him back to your place. You don't exactly know where else to stash a forty-year-old ghost, which Wally insists he is and is basically proof of that himself. You looked him up after the reunion. When you weren't so overwhelmed, that is.
Number 57, Walter Clark, beloved son and friend. If he is a fake, the likeness is uncanny.
As soon as you and he are through the door, he surges, lifts you into his arms, laughing, unable to believe the changes he's already taken stock of. He twirls you around, holds you like something precious, and gazes at you with sweet, soulful eyes.
"I can touch you," He murmurs, as if that's the most important development. "I can actually feel you. God, baby, I can't stop smiling. And it hurts!" The last part makes you giggle because he says it with so much joy, it tickles the giddiness right out of you.
You sober, soften like butter in his arms as he holds you. "You can...touch me some more, if you want..."
There it is, the bravest thing you've ever done. Hanging in the air between you and Wally as he viscerally registers your offer.
When he finally gets it, his smile turns into a smirk. A cocky thing that makes your belly warm.
"Yeah?" He glances around, sees the couch, then looks back at you.
Wally carries you to the couch like you weigh nothing, easy, muscles bunching and releasing as he sits down and settles you in his lap. His hands roam under your shirt, his hot touch like a brand wherever he holds you, and, slowly, giving you time to reconsider, he leans in and captures your lips in a gentle, sweet kiss.
‗•‗
Wally doesn't have the capacity to process anything outside of this moment, outside of you, right now. He should probably take a minute to figure out what happened to him when he fell through the exit door, should strategize a game plan for his friends to follow, should do a lot of things, but he can't find it in him to stop.
Your weight in his lap is so much more intense now that he can feel it in a real, human body. Your little whimpers and soft mewls as his hands wander under your shirt—fuck, the feeling of your skin beneath his fingers, it's like a dream he never thought would come true.
He undresses you slowly, worshipping every piece of skin revealed with his mouth and hands. Little nips and flicks of tongue, tasting your skin, hearing your sounds, soaking in your warmth as you squirm against him.
"You like how I touch you, baby?" He asks, gazing up at you through his lashes as he gently, so gently, trails his fingertips down your side and to your ass where he grabs. "I wanna make you feel good." He grinds his hips up, cock harder than he's ever felt it, groaning when the friction sends shockwaves of pleasure through him. "You feel that, baby? You feel what you do to me?"
"Wally," You gasp, your head tipping back and eyes closing, savoring the sensation.
You help him out of his jacket, his shirt; grip his chain to draw him into another hot, hungry kiss that leaves him reeling and desperate for more. His fingers dig into your flesh as he bucks against you, can feel the heat of your pussy through his sweatpants and shorts.
Gone in seconds because he can't wait anymore. Has waited enough time to feel anything again, but this, with you, no. God help him, he doesn't have that kind of patience or resolve. He's not strong enough. Not with how you tremble in his arms when he smears two fingers through your folds, dips them in to tease you as he watches the expression of euphoria that twists your features into the most beautiful image he's ever seen.
"You're so wet for me, baby," He purrs, nipping that sensitive spot right below your ear. Fuck, you start to ride his fingers, greedy little thing, the slick squelch of you pussy fucking his index and middle finger echoing in his ears and fogging his brain.
"Wally, please," You beg so pretty, and that's it. Control gone.
He lines himself up and guides you down, Jesus, you take him so perfectly. Stuffed full, tight as a vise, gripping him inside you as he leads you up and down, up and down, getting him as deep as he can be inside you.
"That's it, baby, just like that. Such a good girl for me," He pants, feet planted, hips meeting yours, his hands tight on your ass as you move on him. A fucking goddess crafted by heaven just for him. "Fuck," He chokes, "Fuck, yeah," and bites your lower lip, soothes the sting with his tongue before delving it into your mouth.
It feels too quick, but he can't avoid it. It's been so long since anything felt like this. You're not any better, quivering under his hands, thighs spasming when he starts to fuck into you faster, harder, bouncing on his cock to take what you need.
When you come, he cries out, eyes clenched shut, mouth open, stars exploding. His climax ripped from deep within his core. His cock pulses as he spills inside you, arms fastened around your body to pin you to his chest, kissing you with everything he has.
"God, baby, I love you," Maybe it's too soon to say it (definitely), but who the fuck cares? Give a no-longer-dead-guy a break. He doesn't know how long his earthliness will last. He can't afford to take chances.
And he hiccups an awed breath when you say, "I love you, too, Wally Clark."
You gaze at him in the afterglow, so soft and pliant and perfect he could burst. You and he stay on the couch for a while, basking in each other's presence, in the realness of it. Eventually, taking his hand, you lead him to your room, where he writes poems with his tongue in your pussy, where you spread yourself open and invite him in again and again and again until sunrise.
You give him the weekend.
He knows he has a responsibility to visit Maddie in the hospital and make sure she's where she should be. Must inform Rhonda and Charley and Yuri and Quinn and Janet (can he still see them?!) that he's somehow regained a pulse.
But that can wait until tomorrow.
It's Sunday night, and Wally has every intention of proving to you that you're not alone anymore. That you have him as long as you want to keep him. And that he'll stay, even if you don't.
"Not gonna happen, Wally, you're stuck with me," You tell him in no uncertain terms, snuggled into his chest.
Wally smiles so wide, his cheeks ache for days after.
🐦🔥___________fin.____________
also on AO3!
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.
More Posts from Patrickispinky and Others
⚠️ School Spirits season finale spoilers ⚠️
Okay so like what the fuck? How they just gonna leave us on that not???
I don't think Simon got his body snatched... At least I hope not. Maybe he just like found a cheat code or sum (I'm grasping at straws here.) It doesn't make much sense regardless like how the fuck he get in there? The other ghosts had to get through all the scars just to get to Mr.Martins so how did Simon just magically pop in there?
Also Wally, I don't know how to feel. I really want him to have his happy ending and move on knowing he's loved but also I feel like he didn't go through the door. This is me mainly wanting to see more of him in season 3. If it drops and he's nowhere to be found imma actually die.
Can we talk about how he punched Mr.Manphrado though. Like damn daddy (kill me) And the way he turned to Rhonda and asked if she's okay 😩 Such a sweetie.
Mr.Andersons speech made me cry. He cares so much about being a teacher and I know it's not my sweet boy Simons fault but like- come on man they need to give that man his job back. Justice for Mr.Anderson 😤
Xavier??? He can see Maddies dad which means there's a huge chance Maddies gonna be able to see all the ghosts when she goes back to school. Also why the fuck are we just finding out Xavier can still see ghosts? He couldn't when he woke up the next day in the hospital so why now? This is some freaky shit.
The way i just wanted to body slam Maddie back into her body (with love) is actually killing me. Like girl if you dont- I get it she didn't want to leave her friends but seeing Simone panick cus Maddie's body was cold actually broke my heart.
Wally silently crying in the back while Maddie said goodbye to Rhonda and Charley is actually the most deviating thing I've ever seen. We didn't even get a kiss or an I love you, like just one hug and that was it??? Not good enough.
I've said this from the beginning, I've never been a big Maddie and Wally shipper but that was mostly because there wasn't enough tension between them in the first season now I understand the hype. I do wish there was more of a buildup starting in season 1 because it just felt one sided for a while but now it look like Maddie really likes him. (I'm still team Maddie and Simon for life)
I just can't cope knowing we're probably gonna have to wait another 2 years for a new season 😔 I feel empty, like actually. This is the supernatural finale all over again... Okay maybe not as bad cus at some point we're gonna get more but still I'm hurt.
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
___________________________💀
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.
🚨Take a moment to imagine your child or loved one. What would you do for them? How far would you go to protect them and shield them from pain, loss and despair🚨
I am Marwa, a mother of three girls, Belasan, Joan and Nada, ages 7 to 14. 🔊🔉🔈I will take a moment to share my story.📢📣
My children and I lived under bombardment and aggression. We had a safe home full of dreams and a bright future for my daughters.
But everything changed when the war on Gaza began. Our house, which we built with strength and effort before the war, was destroyed.
We lost our job, which was our only source of income. The journey of displacement and moving from one place to another began without the minimum necessities of life. We faced difficulties in providing healthy food and clean water. We lived in fear and terror. My daughters could no longer sleep from the intensity of fear.
My mother-in-law suffers from serious lung infections and chronic diseases, and we find it difficult to provide appropriate treatment for her, especially in the winter and the bitter cold. She is part of our family after losing her husband. We are now without shelter, moving from one place to another, and struggling to survive. Today we have no income, no life, and no work. We are determined to rebuild our dreams, secure our future, and rebuild our home. We cannot do this alone and we need your help in building our lives. Your support, no matter how small, can make a big difference. Thank you for helping us find hope on our journey.
Vatted by
@bilal-salah0
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.
October Moon
summary: information had finally started to come to light. things had been falling into place, for better or worse. you and Wally had had to keep keep going, no matter the cost, but at least you and he had had each other to lean on when you'd realized that not everything had been as it'd seemed.
pairing: Wally Clark x fem!reader
warnings: smutty smut smut. mad spoilers. and obvious Canon divergence. very involved, very dense plot.
bon reading, frens
___________________________💀
OCTOBER MOON pt.9
"She was such a quiet girl, you know..." Nanna said softly, holding Ginny's hand as she spoke. Her eyes were distant as she fell into the past, reliving memories of their childhood. Ginny was much older than Nanna. Nanna had been a surprise after their mother, your great-grandmother, had been told she wouldn't have been able to create—never mind carry—another baby. Nanna was the youngest of five; Albert, Violet-Anne, Arvin, Virginia-Amrose, and then surprise baby Abigail.
Your family didn't see much of Nanna and Ginny's siblings. There wasn't a specific reason for it that you knew of, just a lot of distance in between that had deterred your less familiar great-aunt and her brothers from reaching out. After the death of their parents to a house fire, the elder siblings had moved on from Split River and that had been that. They were probably dead—definitely Albert who'd had to have been well into triple digits if he was still alive.
"What changed?" You finally asked, gazing at Ginny as she slept, oxygen tube down her throat. That was the worst you'd ever seen her. Your eyes pricked and your stomach clenched, and you so badly yearned for her to wake up. To hug you, pet your hair, tell you that you were being ridiculous worrying over her.
Nanna chuckled, her thumb stroking the back of Ginny's hand, "The reason her lungs are so weak." She said, quiet, tired, "The fire."
"The fire made her more—" Blunt, dramatic, stubborn, batshit insane with a warm heart and a warmer smile. You settled for, "Loud?"
"It scared her. You come face to face with death like that, sweetpea, and it changes you. Either for good or for bad." Nanna cast you an amused smile, "I like to believe that's why you and Aiden were so mischievous. Obnoxious little munchkins, the both of you."
"What do you mean?" You asked around the lump in your throat, pictured Aiden at that farmhouse as he clutched Limon and ate stew made by the specter of a stranger.
Nanna gave you a surprised look, one that indicated you should've known what she meant. She told you anyway, "Aurora was an easy birth. Out in minutes. Pink and squalling like a banshee." She chuckled, shaking her head with a fond smile. "But you...you were impatient. Wanted to be in the world as soon as possible." She paused, patted your knee, "You came early. Such a small thing." Nanna's smile fell, "You weren't breathing. But," Her smile returned, "They saved you. You recovered quickly and I have a feeling my wily sister had something to do with it..." Nanna gave Ginny a playful look of bemusement, "You didn't have to suffer years of treatments like most unlucky infants."
Amelia's words rung in your head like the knell of a church bell: Death ushered them into the world and left a piece of himself within them. So...you'd been delivered with Death at your heels. Amelia had mentioned that that was how you could interact with the metaphysical world and those who inhabited it. Holy shit.
"And Aiden?"
Nanna sighed, "Poor little bug." She made the sign of the cross, something she only ever did when Aiden was mentioned. "I always wondered if he knew..." She shook her head as if to dispel the very thought and diverted, "He was blue as a violet. The cord had...had wrapped itself around his neck. He was dead for almost a minute before they revived him..." Nanna's eyes glistened. She gazed over her sister again, lips pinched in despair.
Death had had its arms open for Aiden since the day he was born, you mourned. You weren't surprised that Nanna thought it possible that Aiden knew, somehow, someway, that he wasn't destined for a long life. If anyone in the house would've known, it would've been her. She'd examined his palms the same as she'd done everyone else's...
"Did you know?" You had to ask, uncomfortable that you hadn't remembered until now exactly what your grandmother's connectedness was capable of. "That he wouldn't live long?"
Her face was grim as the reaper, eyes haunted, "I hoped against it. Reading the Awen isn't precise, sweetpea. And I prayed, in that instance, I was wrong."
But she hadn't been. You almost wanted to confess to her about Aiden and the farmhouse and the other ghosts. You didn't, of course, but you suddenly realized how ill-equipped you were to face everything alone. The responsibility of stopping Amelia, and retrieving Maddie's body, and freeing the ghosts. Freeing Wally. It was a vise that strangled your heart without remorse.
Nanna brought the conversation back to Ginny, faraway eyes and compassionate smile, "That fire might've weakened her body, but it strengthened her spirit." She ended wistfully, "Few realize that Death is also capable of giving gifts. It can be kind as it can be cruel."
It moved you, how much Nanna cared for Ginny. As much as they bickered, Nanna and Ginny were close. Two peas in a pod. Ginny had taken care of Nanna after their parents had died; she'd assumed the role of mother and father and sister in one fell swoop since none of their older siblings would do it.
They sounded like a selfish bunch and—as you stared at Ginny's ashen face—you thought fuck them for not being there. Fuck them for allowing the distance to matter. Fuck them for ignoring or avoiding or pretending your family didn't exist because they'd rather have let everything fall apart at a time they should've come together.
Minutes later, Nanna excused herself to fetch a cup of coffee from the hospital cafeteria, leaving with a kiss on your head and a squeeze of your shoulder. You took her place in the chair beside Ginny, held her hand in yours, and tried to tamp down the slurry of emotions that rose within you.
After a long moment of silence, you choked, "Everything's fucked up." A plea to someone who couldn't hear you. She couldn't travel, you imagined because her body and mind were too weak, but you desperately needed her right now. Or you needed to finally unload the burden of truth on someone you could trust because it had become too much. "There weren't stupid storms or squalls or whatever you and mom said there would be. But it feels worse. Like everything is out of control—"
A thick sniffle, a hiccup, "Maddie's a ghost and her body is missing. I think there's someone out there who wants to use the ghosts...use...shit, use Wally...to glue them in it," A thought you hadn't shared out loud until now because it scared you more than you wanted it to. Your voice broke when you continued, "I--I don't know what to do... I-I don't even know where to look. Or how to look. I need help, Ginny. Xavier and Simon are great and they want to help, they do, but they don't know this stuff and now I'm expected to be a walking encyclopedia and—" A self-deprecating snort, "Fuck. I barely know anything..."
The heart monitor beeped a steady rhythm. The ventilator whirred. Ginny remained a gaunt statue in repose.
You leaned over and pressed your forehead to the back of her hand, hot tears falling onto her cold skin, "Please wake up..."
‗‗‗‗•‗‗‗‗
Simon ran his thumb over the pendant, his other hand in Maddie's as she urged him to lure her mother to the school. Get her here, he heard Maddie plead, I always know when she's lying. But Simon's mind was elsewhere, his eyes flicking over the pendant's design, teeth clenched as he berated himself. He should've asked more questions when he'd—God dammit, the answers might've been right fucking there and he'd been too busy monitoring his pleases and thank yous.
He couldn't believe he hadn't recognized the pendant the night of the dance, strung around someone else's neck. One of a pair, your great-aunt had told him. Maddie had worn the necklace every day since he'd known her. A gift from her father she rarely, if ever, removed.
Without acknowledging Maddie's insistence to get Sandra in a room with her, Simon asked, "You said your dad gave this to you?"
Maddie's teeth clicked when she abruptly closed her mouth, visibly stunned that Simon would ask that now. A brief moment of contemplation and then, "Yeah. Right before he died."
"And you're sure about that?" Simon's eyes never left the pendant, but his grip on Maddie's hand tightened marginally, a gesture expressing that it was important, that he needed her to be precise.
"Yeah." One beat. Two. "I mean, not really. I got it in the mail. Mom said he sent it when he was still in Texas and that it had taken longer to get there than he did. He was back for a couple of weeks before..." Maddie trailed off. Simon could fill in the blanks. Christopher had been home for a couple of weeks before he'd killed himself while wearing your body like a meat puppet.
"In the mail?" Simon prompted as he released her hand to cup her jaw, gaze boring into hers. "And you're sure your dad was the one who sent it?"
Maddie swallowed. "Yeah. It was definitely him."
"You're sure?"
"Yes, Simon, I'm sure." Prickly, fierce. "My dad sent it. I know he sent it."
Simon pulled her closer to press their brows together, soothing her, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you, Mads, I just want to make sure that we have all the facts."
"Why?" Maddie asked and leaned back to examine him because he wasn't making sense.
Simon hesitated for a moment, unsure how to put into words the weird coincidence he was beginning to think wasn't a coincidence at all. "When I went to pick her up for the Homecoming dance... Maddie, her great-aunt had exactly the same pendant. Ginny said that it was one of a pair, earrings or something, but she lost the other one a while ago."
Maddie frowned and then her face went slack in shock, "You think her great-aunt might've been the one to give it to me?"
Simon shook his head, frustrated, confused, steadily more defeated as he realized he was so far out of his depth that he couldn't hold his head above water anymore, "I don't know." He slumped, rubbed his eyes, and gave Maddie a look of apology. "But we have to find out. Someone has to know."
"Si, I know my dad gave me that necklace. I can't explain it, it's just a—"
"Feeling?" Simon finished for her, weak smile curving his lips. "Yeah. I believe you, Maddie," He assured her, grasping both her hands in his as he bowed toward her to give her a soft, sweet kiss. "I'm not saying he didn't. But if it's the missing earring, maybe she gave it to him or maybe he took it. For a reason."
"What...what reason?" Maddie asked hesitantly, bits and pieces of information scattered in her mind like shattered glass.
"Ginny's in the hospital. And your dad's..." Dead, he refused to say, already guilty that he'd had to bring this up in the first place. "Your mom might know something. Like you said, you can tell when she's lying."
"Get her here." Maddie reiterated. "And we can figure out if—if my mom..."
Cutting her off, "Okay," Simon put the necklace back in the manila envelope, folded it, and shoved it in his back pocket before promising, "Okay, I'll figure something out."
Maddie sat silently for a long moment, gazing into the middle distance, so worn and small that Simon nearly choked on his heart looking at her. Sandra might not have been the best mom, but she was Maddie's and Maddie loved her. Simon couldn't imagine Sandra hurting Maddie, and yet... People turned into strangers when their souls were broken and they had enough booze in their veins to breathe fire.
He had no clue how the pieces fit together. If Sandra had the answers to all the questions Simon and Maddie had. Why Maddie was a ghost. Why Maddie's dad had gifted her a necklace with a pendant on it that belonged to your family. The two things were connected, Simon was sure, but he didn't know how.
As he stood, Maddie stopped him with a light touch to his hip, "Simon?" She rose to her feet and shuffled into his space, looped her arms around his neck and held him, "Yesterday, what you said about whether or not us figuring it out means me moving on—"
"Don't worry about that right now," Simon murmured into her hair. It was jarring, how she didn't smell like anything. Just clean air. He stammered, "I was being selfish."
Maddie tilted back a fraction and said firmly, "You're never selfish," which made Simon's heart skip a beat and break in a single moment.
"Maddie...if it was her," He started, nervous to voice his concern, his fear, though he had to understand, "Are you sure you wanna know?"
She didn't answer. Simply tucked her head into the crook of his neck and held him close.
‗‗‗‗•‗‗‗‗
The inevitable was already underway. There was nothing Mr. Martin could do about it, no way to postpone it or change the outcome. He couldn't sabotage Amelia's plan, it was impossible given her influence; a worm in his brain slithering between the ridges and festering his conscience. It was a failsafe, she'd explained. She'd been betrayed in the past and Mr. Martin had understood, had allowed her to cast her spell and shape him into whatever she needed him to be.
Still, the fact that the night was finally upon them, after decades of waiting, made him wonder if he'd been mistaken to have trusted her word.
If Janet had been right... No. Janet was wrong. Wrong. She was clever, sure—the ideal candidate to complete their circle—yet callow in more ways than was suited to what Amelia had required of her character. Rhonda was a decent if rough substitute. Too new. Too neglected. Mr. Martin wasn't allowed to divulge more than necessary to her, and that seemed to be the wrong approach since now Rhonda was just as riled up as the rest of them when he needed her to focus.
Dawn's ascension had happened while he'd been in the fallout shelter, thus he hadn't succumbed to it to the same degree his students had. Nevertheless, he'd felt it. Felt that peace. That warmth. That omniscient truth that he'd never felt before because crossing over was supposed to be impossible inside the barrier. In that one moment, everything he'd done to help Amelia seemed cursed. Which included his poor luck in inspiring Rhonda's full submission.
It didn't matter now, did it? That slimy part of his mind tried to justify in a voice that wasn't his. The gears had begun to turn, the machine already in motion. No one would be hurt. Not more than they'd already been, at least, and it was far too late to regret what he and Janet had done to bring everyone together. Moving forward was the only option and after all was said and done, he'd pay his penance.
Wally and Charley and Rhonda spoke over each other, a cacophony of questions with no answers. None that he was at liberty to give. He plucked a thread from his blazer, hands shaking because of what it signified that his clothes were deteriorating instead of resetting as they'd done since 1958.
"—the light at the same time as the goosebumps. Simultaneous goosebumps." Wally ranted between Charley's retelling of what they'd experienced. Mr. Martin's collar suddenly felt too tight.
Bernie and Katelynn agreed and confirmed and Mr. Martin wanted the ground to open and swallow him whole. He had to keep them in line. Just a few more hours. A few more hours and it would be over and he'd be free... The noise of their curiosity caused his mouth to dry, heartbeat too quicken, palms to get clammy. He had to have faith, but it was dwindling with every second he listened to his sentient students describe Dawn's ascension from their points of view.
Their eyes were on him, pinning him in place as he fidgeted. He strung together the right words in the wrong context, anything to supplicate them, but they continued to press like walls closing in. And then Mina's face, sad and scared, seared behind his eyes and he couldn't manage the pressure.
"After all these years, how can you still be so clueless?" Charley demanded and Mr. Martin absorbed it like he'd absorbed Amelia's outrage when Janet had vandalized a plan that had been decades in the making.
It had been such a struggle to attain the right pieces and set them on the board. Amelia had been righteous in her anger. A glorious, beautiful blaze of fury that had left Mr. Martin wounded and weak. All because of Janet who'd argued his ear off for weeks. Who'd rearranged the board under his nose in order to steal what didn't belong to her.
"What if looking back isn't a bad thing?" Charley hounded, "What if it's actually the key to get out of here!? Why shouldn't we at least try that?"
They weren't allowed. They weren't allowed to look back. Unlike treacherous Janet, Mr. Martin had obeyed the rule. He'd crafted so many lies, so many perfect explanations that Amelia had praised, yet, now, she didn't trust him fully despite his fealty. What would it take for her to forgive him!? WHAT WOULD IT TAKE!?
"Because it's painful to constantly be thinking about it!" Hearing his own words, Mr. Martin knew he would forever remain her devoted servant. In sickness and health, not even death could do them part. "Right!?"
There were still two pawns on the board. Two vessels. One for him. One for her. Let Janet die a second time in Maddie's body. By morning, Maddie's ghost wouldn't exist anymore to need it.
Just a few more hours, he told himself, and it would be over.
‗‗‗‗•‗‗‗‗
Wally kissed you like it was the last time. Slow, deep, explorative; memorizing every shape and taste of your mouth as he held you by the hips in his lap.
The school was empty aside from the teachers involved in the awards ceremony. Ajay had snuck you in before accompanying Maddie to the teacher's lounge for a coffee and a heart-to-heart. Wally had found her in the hallway after Group and she'd been in bad shape. He was grateful that Ajay had stepped in to be there for her while she waited for Simon to arrive with her mom so that Wally could soak in your presence privately.
You'd informed Maddie that Simon had had Nicole reach out to Sandra and ask if she wanted to accept the Fall English Award on Maddie's behalf. Sandra had apparently been reluctant, yet she'd agreed in the end. Initially, they'd wanted to uncover if Sandra knew about the origins of Maddie's necklace. The same necklace your great-aunt wore to repel ghosts that might try to snatch her body.
After you'd explained, "It was me," Maddie decided they'd change direction and would question whether or not Sandra had been involved in disappearing Maddie's body sans her ghost.
Wally couldn't believe he hadn't remembered immediately when Maddie had mentioned her necklace. He'd seen it. Not the necklace itself, but the moment Christopher had asked you to take it from his body's pocket and deliver it to Maddie on his behalf.
"Amelia must've stolen it like she stole Limon," You murmured, head tilted back against the wall, staring beyond the ceiling at your mental conspiracy board. The red yarn that connected one thing to another. "She used it so Christopher couldn't steal his body back...which is why—"
"He had to use yours to stop Amelia..." Maddie finished, glum and bereaved. "So, why give it to me?"
You rolled your head to the side and stared at her a moment before, "To protect you." When Maddie gave the impression she didn't understand how it would've done any such thing, you elaborated, "He probably didn't want the same thing to happen to you that happened to him." A long, pregnant beat. "He didn't want you to be used."
"I knew it was from him," Maddie stated as she curled over her knees. "There was a note. I remember now."
You held your hands up and wiggled your fingers to connote your ability to transfer things from the metaphysical world to the living world. "I don't remember getting it to you, though. I don't remember much after seeing Aiden..." A shaky breath and then nothing.
"Wally?" You asked, likely having noticed his mind had wandered. "You okay?"
Wally's grip tightened on your hips, then smoothed down to your thighs, back up under your skirt to drag you closer by the ass. He gave you a weary smile, about as much as he could muster. Between Mr. Martin's behavior in Group and Maddie's comment—"What would you do if the one person who was supposed to protect you was the one who hurt you?"—unleashing a repressed sense of betrayal toward his mama, Wally's strength of will had rapidly declined. He didn't think he could do this anymore.
Call him selfish, but he missed the simpler times. The times before Maddie and the mystery and the cloak and dagger he and the others were forced to come to grips with. There was peace in ignorance and he wanted to find it again, just for a second, just to regroup and start fresh and—
"Hey," Your hands on his jaw, angling his face toward yours, "You still with me, big guy?"
"Sorry baby," Wally said, low and solemn, "Too many thoughts."
You nodded, "Yeah. Me too. I can't believe I never noticed Maddie's necklace. I see it every day, you'd think I would've put two and two together as soon as I met her, yanno?"
Not exactly where Wally's mind was, but that was odd.
"You said you and Maddie weren't that close before now," Wally tried to reason so you wouldn't drive yourself crazy thinking about it. "Who really pays attention to that kind of thing?"
You raised a brow, "I noticed Nicole had the same spider ring as Maddie as soon as she started wearing it."
"Okay. Fair. But that spider ring didn't ward off evil spirits, right? Maybe it's a magic necklace thing." And then he put on an all-powerful, godly voice, "All who look upon this necklace shall forget its importance lest they be cursed!"
You giggled, a sound as beautiful as a summer breeze, and beamed at him. Jesus, he could live without food and water and anything else so long as he saw that smile every day for the rest of his existence. He lifted one hand to tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear, dipped in to brush his lips against yours, a smile of his own forming.
"Very impressive use of the word 'lest'," You teased, "I didn't know you had it in you."
"Hey, I was practically a straight A student, thanks."
"What I'm hearing is that you bullied nerds into giving you test answers."
Wally scoffed, "I didn't bully anyone! I used my popularity to charm certain academically gifted individuals into helping me along. It was give-give, baby, I swear." He grinned, both hands back on your ass, massaging your flesh.
"You may be onto something though, Wally." You said after a moment, "I wouldn't be surprised if Amelia glamoured the necklace so that no one would recognize it." A cheeky grin, "Lest her whole plan go up in smoke before she could finish it." You raised your hands and made a poof gesture.
Wally drew you closer by the back of your head, his gaze flickering over your face as his eyes went heavy and heated, "Have I ever told you how sexy your brain is, baby?"
"Once or twice," You smirked and brushed your lips against his, "But you're welcome to remind me."
A slow, thorough kiss before Wally said, "You have a very," kiss "very," kiss as his large hand pushed your closer so you were planted flush against him, "sexy brain."
‗‗‗‗•‗‗‗‗
Xavier was insubordinate on a good day, but the little nuisance had been more so in recent weeks. The Sheriff didn't like it. By then, Xavier didn't need to be cagey or deflective for the Sheriff to recognize when Xavier was hiding something. In fact, Xavier had been combative, had shown up of his own volition to once again challenge Mr. South's innocence. And hadn't that been the cherry on top of a taxing day...
It was hard enough keeping the deputies busy, their instincts firing on all cylinders, much to the Sheriff's chagrin. Which, fine, was why those people were hired—except Lou. Lou was impossible. A donut-munching waste of space with muttonchops to stand in for his backbone—but the Sheriff was at a pivotal point in tracking down and locating Madison Nears' runaway body and getting the plan back on the rails. He couldn't afford any more disruptions or screw-ups.
To think, they'd had weeks of wiggle room before that daft creature Amelia had coddled had run off in what was to be Anabelle's vessel. Weeks. The ritual wasn't to be performed until the winter solstice. Empty school. Parents of teenagers not entirely sure where they were at any given time because it was the holiday break and kids would be kids. Alas, Amelia had fucked up so royally in who she'd trusted that they didn't have a choice. It had to be tonight or they'd lose everything.
The Sheriff exited the evidence room, Xavier's energy lingering in the air after their confrontation. That had been a disaster just as everything else leading up to then had been. The Sheriff—Anabelle—had long since perfected how to handle that bucking bronco of a boy. had been raised by emotional distance and respect and he'd turned out beautifully. As had Amelia. Furthermore, it'd worked. He'd pried Xavier away from his values easily, had him right where he'd needed to be. Cutoff. Conflicted. Corrupted.
Only now, he seemed to have recovered. Quickly. Quicker than the Sheriff had ever seen anyone shed a hex. If there was time to hunt Xavier down and prise the truth from him, the Sheriff would, however, time was of the essence and Amelia had made fucking sure they didn't have enough of it to spare. To be so stupid as to let Janet Hamilton frame Amelia's most precious golem!?
May Dagda protect, because the Sheriff wasn't going to lose another precious rebirth due to things that could have, should have, been avoided.
He wanted very much to release Mr. South. His purpose was better served on the board. Unfortunately, the Sheriff couldn't afford anyone discovering the second set of prints on the crowbar. Pausing at reception, the Sheriff noted the address he'd scribbled down. Another possible lead. At his hip, out of sight of those milling about the station, he typed a text to Dave's phone. The address and a blunt reminder that Amelia had better not let her former shining star slip through her fingers again or Anabelle would snatch her precious vessel right from her spirit's embrace without remorse.
After all, daughters came and went, but youth was something worth holding on to.
‗‗‗‗•‗‗‗‗
"Are you finding anything?"
"Dude, this thing was old when I went here," Wally told Charley from his place at the microfilm reader.
The file room was dark, claustrophobic, filled with a lot of information yet very few answers. So far, anyway. You sat at the single tiny table, flipping through transcripts from 1960 while, at your feet, back against your leg, Ajay perused the stack of yearbook printouts from around the same era.
"Dawn found something yesterday when she looked into her past." Charley said, determined, "I mean, Janet must've done the same. So...maybe if we look into their pasts, too, we could find something that could explain all of this."
Ajay sighed, "Don't we already know?" When Charley snapped a pointed side-eye at him, Ajay flapped a hand, "I get why we're doing this. What, against all odds, made Janet and then Dawn special enough to clock out of this hellscape. But do we really think it's going to be written on paper?"
"Or microfilm." Wally inserted, peeking out from behind the machine.
"I think Charley's onto something, actually." You said as you scanned another transcript from 1960: Maria Volkov. "Maybe there was something special about their pasts that allowed them to move on easier." You glanced up, eyes finding Wally's, "I mean, you've all looked back before, right?"
"More or less," Ajay said, flipping through another yearbook. "Yet, here we still are."
"What year are you on?" Charley asked Wally as he carded through the accordion folder containing Dawn's student files.
Wally responded, "1959. I'm trying to move backwards, but I am not seeing Janet's name anywhere." He glanced between you and Charley. "She died in 1960, right?"
"Yeah," Charley confirmed though he was distracted.
"That's what we have in our files, too." You added and then sat up straight to stretch out the kinks that had settled between your vertebrae. "Apparently she fell down the stairs and broke her neck?"
Wally cringed, "Sounds shitty." He looked at Charley again, "Did you know that? Because I didn't know that."
"I'm beginning to think we've been discouraged from asking each other personal questions about our deaths for a reason," Ajay muttered so only you could hear.
You didn't know what to say apart from, "Me too, buddy."
From his perch on the picture files cabinet, Charley rummaged through more of Dawn's files, engrossed though managing to reply to Wally, "No, I didn't..." He exhaled sharply through his nose and finally looked up, "Nothing of much interest in Dawn's student file, either..." Awkwardly, tinged with a thread of guilt, he admitted, "I know we weren't super close, but I feel kinda awful that we didn't get to say goodbye to her."
You listened as Wally answered, both you and Ajay forgoing your research to hear Wally say, "I don't want it to happen that way for me." He caught your eye, let his gaze hold yours softly, "I didn't get a goodbye last time..." You stood, shuffled around Ajay and went to Wally, settling in his lap when he shifted to welcome you. "I do not wanna just disappear..."
You nestled into his body, kissed his temple before pressing your brow against it.
"Me either." Charley said quietly.
Though it was obvious he felt the same, Ajay didn't say anything. Simply allowed Wally and Charley's grief to be heard and sat with it.
Wally turned his head, his lips pressed to your neck, his hand squeezing your hip before he tucked his face into your shoulder for a minute. You felt him breathe in and out deeply, absorbing your presence, your scent a balm for his soul, and then he returned to the slide he'd just inserted under the lens of the microfilm machine. Beneath you, he tensed.
"Whoa. Whoa, wait. This is weird." You peeked up at the screen, adjusted as Wally leaned in to read the small print. At Charley's prompting, Wally read, "Split River High School has been chosen for a national pilot program to protect students and teachers from the threat of a nuclear strike."
Oh. Shit. Had you not told Wally about the fallout shelter below the school?
"A fallout shelter will be built below the east wing of the school," No. No you had not. All you'd mentioned was that Dave had been skulking around the basement and you'd followed him. "The same location where a fire destroyed the former chemistry lab on January 14th, 1958." You were a terrible girlfr—wait.
"Wait...1958?" Charley voiced so you didn't have to. "That must be Mr. Martin's fire. Does it mention him?" Charley moved closer, half-sat on the side of the desk and watching Wally scan the rest of the old article.
"I don't see..."
You pointed to the screen where you saw Mr. Martin's name, "There."
"Oh, yes," His hand snuck under your shirt, thumb stroked your skin in thanks as he began to read again, "Authorities determined the fire was accidental. Four people were killed in the fire that overtook the lab during a routine chemistry lesson. Beloved Chemistry teacher Mr. Everett Martin was one of the deceased—"
"Wait." Charley interrupted, confused, "Four people? He said he was the only casualty."
Ajay was on his feet now, positioned himself behind Wally, a hand on Wally's shoulder as he curved forward and reread what Wally had already dictated. "Four people?"
Wally's attention returned to the screen to pick up where he left off, "Uh, two other staff, secretary Melinda Fontaine and school nurse Karla-Anne Mayfair, who had tried to help contain the fire while students evacuated were killed in the blaze as well as one student, sophomore..." He stopped, causing you, Ajay, and Charley to squint at the screen.
"What? What's wrong?" Charley asked.
Wally picked his gaze from the screen and skirted it to Charley, "Janet Hamilton." A moment of tense silence, and then Wally, pinning you closer to his body to quell his anger, wanted to know, "Why did they both lie to us?"
You stared at the name Wally had pointed to. It didn't make sense. Even in your family's files, Janet was cited as dying in 1960... Only... She hadn't had a death date until Ginny had remembered something and had Nanna write it down. You slipped out of Wally's lap and went to the stack of yearbooks Ajay had been scouring through to find the right one. Bingo. 1958.
You opened it, flipped through the pages until, "My great-aunt was in that class." That was the fire that'd weakened her. You'd assumed it'd been the same fire that had killed your great-grandparents, but no. There was Ginny's young face, smiling shyly from the page beside someone named Gladys Jones.
"What does that have to do with Janet and Mr. Martin?" Ajay wondered as he, Wally, and Charley crowded around you.
You scrutinized every other student's face for clues, because stealing bodies was the work of expert connectedness. And though they became new people in new bodies, their connectedness had always and would always remain. If you were right...
"There were only two ghosts." You uttered, and you felt Wally's hand on your hip, a steadying force, as he pressed himself against your back. "If the symbols were already around the school to trap Mr. Martin and Janet—"
Somber, Wally asked the question on everyone's mind, "Then where did the other two go?"
💀___________________________
PART EIGHT - PART TEN
note: dun dun duuuun. next part should be out more quickly. this one just kept testing me. thank you so much for your patience, my loves 💖 we're down to the wire now and just two (or three, maybe, idk yet) parts away from the finale 🙌
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ABOUT THE TAGLIST: we're not about that life around here (•¯ ∀ ¯•) things got too outta hand and i'm still cleaning up the mess left behind by the demons i accidentally summoned trying to get the damn thing to work 🕳️👹......there's a dustpan over there if you feel like helping 🧹💨 or, if you just wanna stay up to date, please FOLLOW ME and TURN ON NOTIFICATIONS
Headcanons
Spider Socorro x Gn!Reader
Warnings: Fluff, Angst, Mention of death, Big spoilers, but like why are you reading this if you haven't watched the movie? 🤨
(I re-watched Avatar twow and now I have Spider on the brain. Let's just hope and pray that this doesn't drag me back into my Jack Champion phase.)
Muscles Muscles Muscles MUSCLES. Need I say more? Bros jacked, years of running around the forest like Tarzan have done him good.
If you're human he could probably lift you. Would insist on giving you piggy back rides, especially when climbing.
If you're Na'vi he would try and fail. This will be an everyday occurrence until he can finally lift your feet off the ground.
Make-out session in the lab.
Watching an old 3 hour long documentary on the origin of werewolves. This is also how you both learned what werewolves are.
Getting along with the Sully kids is a must. Most of the time spent with him is also spent with Kiri and Lo'ak.
Babys got trauma. You have to remind him that he shouldn't carry the guilt for his fathers actions. He would confide in you about how he saved Quaritch. Leaving you with mixed emotions.
He blames himself for Neteyams death. The moment replaying in his mind, reminding himself that if they hadn't come back to save him Neteyam would still be alive.
He doesn't like crying but sometimes he can't help it. You make him feel safe so curling up in your arms and letting it all out is a monthly occurrence.
(idk why this got so sad in the end, I just wanna give him a big hug. Also I am working on the Sub!Simon Elroy one-shot I swear)
My head aches as I look around at all the surprised faces staring down at me. I laugh a little until I see tears fill my teammates eyes, confused I look around seeing the surprise turn into horror and a gut wrenching scream. I didn't think it was that bad of a fall, what the fuck is happening? That's when I notice, they're not looking at me they're looking through me. I turn around and that's when I see it, my cold lifeless body laying on the ground with blood gushing from my skull.
Might write a wally x reader fic with this prompt idk yet
Spencer: I've been struggling with drug use after being kidnapped and nearly dying.
The team:
I feel like we're gonna get flashbacks to wallys death, him on the field looking scared might be when he realizes he's dead and him getting sprawled out on the field might be him getting sent back to where he died after trying to leave school grounds. I'm so excited.
the very MINUSCULE shots of Milo Manheim as Wally Clark in School Spirits Season 2 Teaser
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bi, I like horror and art, I write sometimes when I feel like it, she/her, 18
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