The Council Has Spoken 🙇🏼‍♀️ I Shall Be Writing Sub!Simon Elroy X Reader

don't stop (thinking about tomorrow)

wc: 2.3k

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

a/n at the end!

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

masterlist

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Is that who you’re talking about?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Holy shit? Wait! Hey, wait!” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You don’t want to lie. 

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, c’mon, really?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah, see you tomorrow.” 

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

Wally Clark is gonna be the death of you.  

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

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

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

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)

Read me losing my mind

Wally Clark x Afab! Reader

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

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

⚠️ Smut below the cut, beware ⚠️

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

October Moon

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

pairing: Wally Clark x fem!reader

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

bon reading, frens

___________________________💀

OCTOBER MOON pt.7

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ajay cackled.

‗‗‗‗•‗‗‗‗

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

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

Limon was gone.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Had they ever been?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‗‗‗‗•‗‗‗‗

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

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

He was worried.

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

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

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

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

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

"Why are you sorry?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Because Simon needs to make a call."

‗‗‗‗•‗‗‗‗

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He smiled back, "You forgot passionflower."

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

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

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

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

💀___________________________

PART SIX - PART EIGHT

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

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

Anxiety 2

summary: prompt fill. on the verge of an anxiety attack, Wally calls in reinforcements. you. the only person in the world who knows exactly what he needs. (request)

pairing: Wally Clark x fem!reader

warnings: fluff. smut lite. flashfic. sub-adjacent!Wally Clark. mild anxiety attack. Wally Clark is a whiny lil' babe when he's desperate.

bon reading, frens

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Anxiety 2

"Hey, pretty boy, you okay?"

Thank fuck you answer on the first ring because, no, Wally isn't okay. His skin is too tight, his lungs won't inflate, he has pins and needles in his blood, and he can't calm down long enough to make his room stop spinning.

"No." It's wrenched out of him.

He lies on his bed, arm over his eyes, trying to breathe. Football practice was hell today, coach giving him a hard time for mistakes another player made like it's Wally's job to shoulder everyone's shortcomings.

"I can't...baby, I need to see you, please," And he knows it's a bad time, but, please, he just needs to feel you long enough to settle his brain for a minute.

Wally hates Tuesdays as much as he does most weekdays. School doesn't help, but you have Art Club and then family dinner and then a whole routine you enjoy mapped out for every Tuesday for forever. Your time. Not for anyone else. And, he swears, he wouldn't interrupt unless it's important.

He hears fabric rustle on the other end of the line before your voice filters through the speaker, "You need me to talk you through it?"

"No." He says, scratchy.

"Do you need me to distract you with a story?"

And he fucking whimpers, because that's not the answer either.

"Do you want me to just stay on the line and you can vent?"

"No, baby, I—" Don't want to tell you how desperate he is for your presence. Needs it like the oxygen he can't seem to suck into his lungs. "Never mind."

You make a noise of disapproval, "Oh, no, Wally, you're not doing that." Then, "Can you do something for me?"

Wally nods although he knows you can't see him.

"Can you get up and go to the bathroom?"

He does, following the order without resistance. He likes it when you order him around, take control so he doesn't have to think. He pads into the bathroom and stands there until you give him the next instruction.

"Good boy," You coo, and it sounds like you're outside now. He can't be sure, doesn't entirely have the capacity to pay attention, so he simply idles with the phone to his ear. "Turn on the water, Wally, nice and warm how you like it."

Again, he does as you order. He knows where this is going. A hot shower to calm his muscles. He sets his phone on the counter and strips. Doesn't hang up, needs to know you're there when he's done, but steps under the spray when steam starts to billow up.

It takes ten minutes before he's able to get out without black spots clouding his vision. His body is relaxed, but his head is still screaming at him to do something, keep busy, figure it out, don't just stand there—

He towels himself off, glances at the screen, and sighs in relief when he sees the call is still connected. In movements loose from a good shower, he lopes back to his room and pulls on a pair of clean boxers. Keeps his words to himself, not ready to talk yet, but makes sure you know he's still there and still needs you.

Just as he reaches for his sweatpants, he hears a knock at the front door. Blinking, he picks up his phone from his dresser to check the time.

Your voice through the phone, "You gonna let me in, cutie?"

Instantly, the remaining tension in his body releases. He hurries down the stairs two at a time, unsafe and unconcerned because you're there. Coming to the rescue. Showing up for him despite the meal he knows you're supposed to have with your parents in half an hour.

He swings the door open and yanks you into his body, holds you tight against his chest with his face in your neck.

"Thank you," He murmurs, tight, a little froggy.

Taking charge, you push him back inside and close the door behind you, grabbing his hand in yours to lead him back upstairs to his bedroom. Without so much as a hello, you get to work, shoving him into his desk chair while you set about changing his sheets.

No words are exchanged the whole time. He waits for you to finish, watches through desperate, puppysoft eyes, knee bouncing, as you strip to your underwear and t-shirt, and fold back the newly made cover.

You turn, smiling sweetly, give him a wink that signals he can get himself all over you now. He doesn't hesitate, crowds against your back when you turn around to face the bed, about to crawl in. He grabs you by the hips, pulls your ass back into the cradle of his pelvis, and has his lips on your neck so fast, it's like your skin is magnetized and his mouth is made of nickel.

"Silly boy," You breathe, melting into him, tilting your head to give him more access. "You couldn't wait until I got you into bed?"

Wally shakes his head against your neck, "Mm-mm," and continues to dot kisses along the tendon, all the way up to just below your ear. "Missed you too much," Even though he saw you right before football practice.

"Come on," You say, "Get in."

And he does as he's told. Pauses to let you climb in first, shuffle over to what he's designated as your side, under the covers and holding them up to invite him in beside you. He shuffles right into your space, arm fastened around your waist, head pillowed on your chest, breathing easier than he has in hours now that he can smell you, feel you, hear your heartbeat under his ear.

Your hand finds his hair, still damp from the shower. Fingers comb his scalp while you press little kisses along his hairline, forehead, temple. The last bit of anxiety dissipates under your attention, and finally, Wally can relax.

"You okay?" You whisper, hand stroking his back now.

He nods against you, nudges your jaw with his nose, silently requesting a kiss which you give him with a tender smile.

"You wanna have a nap?"

Wally thinks about it, realizes that, no, he isn't ready to sleep. Even for a short span, his brain isn't quiet enough. There's still a thread of restlessness under his skin he can't quite shake loose. He pouts at you, shakes his head, looking for all the world like a lost little boy who needs taking care of.

A knowing smile spreads on your face. You lean down and kiss him. Gentle. Soft. Innocent if Wally didn't know you better.

"Get on your back, baby," You tell him, already shifting.

He goes, breath hitching, cheeks heating, anticipating where you're going to go with this. You push his legs apart and settle between them, a gleam in your eye that ushers an almost soundless gasp from his throat. Hooking your fingers into his boxers, you peel them off his long legs and get back into position.

"You need me to take care of you?" You ask, serene, as if asking whether or not he wants a foot rub and not his cock sucked. "You want me to make your brain quiet, pretty boy?"

Wally nods, one, two curt movements, lips parting around a whimper as his eyes fall to half-mast. He watches you lick your lips, bow forward so beautifully that he wishes he could bottle an image, and then he feels you.

A long, wet stripe of your tongue along his flaccid cock before you take it in hand and lazily begin to stroke, your eyes intense and holding his.

Conversationally, "You want me to choke on you, baby?"

And, fuck. God. His mind short-circuits, goes totally offline for a moment that he doesn't even realize he answers with a punched-out, "Please."

"Lie down, baby, let me take care of you."

Then it's all hot, wet, tight. Sloppy at first, how he likes it. You use a firm grip to stroke in countermotion of your mouth, your tongue teasing the slit and the underside of his cockhead.

"Oh, fuck," He pants, legs spreading wider, the meat of his palms digging into his sockets as he tries not to come in under a minute. He wants to enjoy this, honest, but, fuck, you do that thing with your fist at the tip while sucking his balls and he can't fucking see.

You chuckle, sultry and smooth, then descend again, taking him in your throat and swallowing around him, moaning, kneading his inner thighs and massaging his balls gently with your thumbs until he starts choking out weak little sounds of pleasure.

"Oh God," He gasps wetly, "I'm gonna come, baby, oh fuck!"

But you don't let him, sliding off and rising to your knees. He whines, partially in frustration, partially desperation; both soon quelled when he feels the humid heat of your pussy hovering above him. You line him up, tease him through your folds.

"Want you to finish inside me, baby," You command, and then drop. Taking him in one swift movement that knocks a grunt right from his belly.

He clamps his hands on your hips and groans as you start to ride him, fast, not for your pleasure but his, giving him everything because you're amazing, oh God, you're perfect, so perfect, he can't—Jesus, he can't—oh fuck!

Wally comes with a strained sob of ecstasy, fingers digging into your flesh, eyes clenched shut, and head tipped back; cock pulsing inside you as he releases.

In the soft afterglow, he goes completely pliant, arms falling to his sides. He blinks up at you in awe, sleepy suddenly, brain emitting nothing but static. He gives you a lopsided smile that you return with a kiss to the corner of his mouth. Pet his hair and roll to the side onto your back, encouraging him to cuddle into you like he was earlier.

Head on your chest again, he sighs in satisfaction, his leg hooked over your thighs as he clings to you like a limpet so you can't get away.

"Thank you, baby," He murmurs. "You're the best."

He hears you hum in acknowledgement. "You gonna nap for a bit now?"

He nods, trying to burrow deeper into your arms. The safest place in the world, he thinks, after how many times your embrace has saved him from himself.

"You want me to wake you up before I go?"

A noise of protest, his arm tightening around your waist.

You giggle, "You want me to sleep here tonight?"

He doesn't have to say anything for you to know his answer.

Not even a minute later, he's snoring softly, totally content and at peace with you in his bed.

🍋‍🟩___________fin.____________

Anxiety

also on AO3!

Order Up! MASTERLIST

if you enjoyed this, you may also enjoy Simp..

a silly little subby Wally drabble because our clingy boo is fun to write.

Alphabet Soup

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

pairing: grey!Wally Clark x fem!reader

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

bon reading, frens

___________________________🧿

Alphabet Soup - R

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

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

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

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

"Wally, god, fuck, Wally!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Right?

🧿___________________________

MASTERLIST

also available on AO3!

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

Alphabet Soup

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

pairing: grey!Wally Clark x fem!reader

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

bon reading, frens

___________________________🧿

Alphabet Soup - M

M is for misunderstandings, and miscommunication, and misleading rumors that bring Wally to his knees while he's still in his game day kit. Baby, I swear and I know it's fucked up, but you have to believe me because you DO. Whoever told you that he sexed Janet up at Brandon's Homecoming Game Eve party fucking lied. The notion makes Wally queasy and you're not listening, Jesus, baby, stop, just listen! But you're too busy hurting, putting distance between you and Wally like he's fucking contagious, and he doesn't know what else to do.

He grabs you by the shoulders, spins you around, and pins you against the wall with his body, arms fastened around you like boa constriction. You push and shove and loose a muffled scream against his chest. He doesn't budge. Kisses your head, temple, the curve of your jaw, "Stop, baby, please. Please, listen to me." A kiss to the corner of your mouth when you finally submit, pliant in his arms, huffing and hateful and oh so magnificent in your anger.

One hand glides down your spine, the other cradles your face, his eyes begging you to hear him out, "It's not true, sweet girl." He promises, "I wouldn't do that to you. I'd never do. that. to you." And he really fucking wouldn't. To Janet? Yeah, they aren't a thing; not how matters. But you? It would have to mean life or death, and even then...

You and he are behind the stadium, the back area used by concessions, recycle on one side, trash on the other, hidden from view. Wally lets go. You slump against the wall, expression closed and ears open. He can't play until you smile. Until he knows you're his again. And bench-rider Matt pops his head out of the security door to tell Wally t-minus too few minutes before he has to hit the field.

"Get lost."

"But—"

"Get fucking lost, Wilson!"

Matt gets fucking lost, off to assure Coach that his MVP will be ready for kickoff. Wally turns his attention right back to you, hands on your neck, thumbs stroking your cheeks, trying to make you look at him. When he kisses you, you fight back with teeth, but at least you respond. Fire and passion so strong that all of Wally's blood jets south and his vision is more inkspots than reality. He shackles one of your wrists in his big hand, then the other. Over your head on the wall as he fucks your mouth with his tongue.

"You gotta believe me, baby," He urges, voice rough and low, taking your wrists in one hand so he can grope under your Devils' blue dress with the other. God, you'd look good in his letterman. A package so pretty he'd have to unwrap you on sight. A smirk against your lips when his fingers rub your pussy through your panties from behind. Soaked. "You like it when I'm rough with you, don't you, baby girl?" He kisses you again. Hard. Nips your lip sharp enough to break the delicate skin.

The moan he swallows makes him throb.

"You wanted to pick a fight, didn't you?" He coos, rich and dark and so hard he thinks he might pass out. "You wanted to get me like this..." He grinds his hips against you, that just-right pressure making his eyes roll back. "Fuck, baby, all you had to do was ask." His fingers keep playing with your pussy, rubbing and teasing, sneaking under thin fabric to feel that sweet velvety heat he can't wait any longer to get around his cock.

In one coarse move, Wally turns you, bends you, ass in the air and a curve in your back, fingers digging into your lovehandles. He tugs your panties down to your knees, his pants shoved down to his thighs, hissing when the cool air hits his cock.

"Gonna make a mess of you baby." He promises and he does, fucks you hard and unforgiving against the stadium wall. Slams into you over and over, angling himself in a way he knows will hit your g-spot every time. On every beat of his hips, you choke, moan, whimper, beg for mercy, and he growls in response, moves faster, harder until, fuck, baby, I'm gonna—

Just as it starts, he pulls out, rubs his cockhead through your folds, paints your pussy lips with his come as he strokes himself stupid. But he's not done yet. Before you can breathe, he plunges the fingers of one hand inside you, the fingers of the other on your clit, furious and savage, "That's it, baby girl." He feels you clench, spasm, and then you shout his name as you squirt all over his hand.

Your panties are ruined, used to mop up the mess Wally made as it trickled down the inside of your legs. He smirks at you, hungry, the look in his eyes a guarantee that you're not sleeping at home tonight. You're not sleeping at all.

He takes your bunched up panties from you when you try to throw them in the dumpster, "Nuh-uh, sweet girl, these'll be my lucky charm," and he flagrantly shoves them inside his jockstrap, discreet under the cup, and leaves you with a smack on the ass to join his team.

It's the best damn game Wally has ever played.

27-0.

Coach slaps his back and demands that Wally ensure he does whatever pre-game ritual he did today and Wally's only too happy to oblige. His eyes find you easily in the stands, dress pulled down as far as you could get it, and a feral grin curls his lips. After all, if there's one thing you don't fuck with, it's athletic superstition.

🧿___________________________

MASTERLIST

also available on AO3!

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

The After Party

Sub!Simon Elroy x Gn!Reader

Warnings: Porn with the tiniest speck of plot, Obviously smut, Edging, Overstimulation, Dacryphilia.

Your hand was wrapped around the base of Simon's cock, moving with slow strokes that made his brain melt as desperate whines fell from his lips.

He was laid back on a bed that belonged to whoever's house you were in, while you sat on his thigh, having a perfect view of his face. You had dragged him to a random party, convincing him that it was gonna be fun. Dancing, karaoke, and a few drinks. That was all it was supposed to be.

But the way you bumped and grinded on him in front of everyone drove him crazy. The tightening in his pants becoming almost unbearable. His hands digging into your hips, dragging you off into a random room.

He couldn't help it, he needed you. The buzzing in his head from the few shots you convinced him to take made him not care where you were, the only thought occupying his mind was the way you made him feel with something as simple as your hand.

His tip had grown from a light brownish pink to a deep red, precum leaking from the angry head due to the amount of time you had brought him almost to his peak and denied him the pleasure of release.

"Baby" a deep whine left his lips. "Please" He reached out to grab your hand but you pushed him away, giving him a stern look as he let out a sob.

You lightly slapped his cock making him jump, another quiet sob racking his body.

"you wanna cum?" Fake sympathy laced your voice, a mocking pout forming on your lips. He nodded vigorously, body shaking slightly with the force of his movement. "Words." A rule you had made a while back, no words, no release.

"Yes! Yes, please" His words were jumbled, strewned together through ragged breaths and quiet cries. "Need it" The pout that decorated his face and his teary brown eyes are what made you give in.

Without a word you wrapped your hand around the base of his cock for the millionth time tonight and delivered hard fast strokes. Desperate cries left his lips, throwing his head back as he screwed his eyes shut.

Your free hand reached up, grabbing his jaw and angled it towards you. "No, look at me baby." Your voice was gentle. You saw his lip quiver, it took everything in him to force his eyes open. A far away fucked out look filling them.

You leaned in, giving a soft gentle kiss before pulling away, a huge smile on your face. "You're so fucking pretty when you cry." The praise is what pushed him over the edge. Thick, hot ropes of cum covering your hand as you worked him through his orgasm. His desperate cries, hopefully being covered by the music playing downstairs, filled the room.

After his body finally relaxed, limbs turning into jello beneath you, your hand unwrapped from around his cock, whipping it off on the strangers sheets.

You leaned your forehead against his, pecking his lips softly. "You did so good for me baby." You could still hear the music playing downstairs as Simon slowly drifted off to sleep.

October Moon

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

pairing: Wally Clark x fem!reader

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

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

bon reading, frens

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OCTOBER MOON pt.4

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

And if Simon was there, that meant—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What surprise?" He asked excitedly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Hey," You said, smiling sweetly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I really wanna kiss you." He murmured.

"I'm not stopping you."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‗‗‗‗🌶️‗‗‗‗

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You believed him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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PART THREE - PART FIVE

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

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