#zed necrodopolis x fem!reader

[exceptional-z]

zed necrodopolis x reader

this is an au where zombies were never allowed to go to human high school. so zed is aged up (though age is never mentioned so you can imagine whatever) but has never been on the other side of the barrier. i attempted not to use gendered language but i tend to write with fem!reader in mind.

also please ignore any inconsistent verb tenses. english is not my first language and verb tenses are literally the bane of my existence. + i wrote this in like an hour

your family didn’t have much money growing up, hence why you lived so close to the gate. real estate was cheap since no one wanted to live near the zombies. but it also meant you learnt how to save money in as many ways as you could.

seabrook was all about perfection. if a mattress was two years old, it was time to throw it out and buy a new one. if a bike had a single scratch, it was thrown into the dumpster. all of the old items deemed as ‘garbage’ were brought to a warehouse that was emptied around every two weeks. and this was your favourite place to be.

you sneak into the warehouse. it’s late at night and there’s never any security around. you’re immediately greeted with piles of furniture and clothing and trinkets that are too unique to fit into the seabrook aesthetic.

you start to rummage through with the plastic gloves you always wear just in case any bugs or mice decide that this is a perfect place to burrow. lost in thought, you don’t hear the creaky door open, but you do hear the sudden shout that erupted from behind you.

your heart nearly stops beating at the sudden noise and your head swivels around. the lighting isn’t great, and you can only make out the vague shape of the person blocking your only exit. he looks fairly lanky, and if you squint you could make out some of his features. he doesn’t look much older than you and he certainly doesn’t scream “imposing”. he’s taller than you, but maybe if you caught him off guard you could knock him out with one of the many heavy objects splayed around you.

“i was told no one ever came in here,” the boy says. fuck, his voice is attractive.

“they don’t. in the three years i’ve been doing this i’ve never run into anyone else.” you answer, obviously suspicious.

“i’m uh- i’m just looking for a gift for my little sister,” he explains, “it’s her birthday soon and she said she wanted a new bike but we can’t really afford it.”

you relax a little at his explanation, sharing that you’d gotten into the habit of coming here to rummage for things since your family also doesn’t have much money. “i could help you look if you’d like? and even if we can’t find a bike, there’s a ton of cool stuff you can find if you’re willing to dig.” you offer.

you can’t be sure, but you think he smiles as he answers. “i’ll take any help i can get. my friend eliza told me to try coming here to look, but honestly, i’m a bit overwhelmed.”

you talk and laugh together for what must be at least two hours. you don’t end up finding a bike, but you find an old cheerleader outfit that looks to be in perfect condition. you can’t imagine why anyone would throw it out unless it just didn’t fit anymore. the boy -who still doesn’t have a name- literally jumped up in joy when he saw you holding the skirt from the set, doing a little celebratory dance that should have been embarrassing but was somehow endearing. (that’s how you figured out his little sister was obsessed with cheer).

eventually you have to part ways; it’s getting into the early hours of the morning and you both need to be getting home. he’s halfway down the street when you realise you never shared names and you yell out, “wait!”

he stops and turns around, and you jog to catch up to him.

“what’s your name, stranger?” you ask, “just in case we run into each other again.”

he tells you his name is zed, and you tell him your name in return. for a few seconds the both of you just stand in the street, memorising each other’s faces until you look away, shaking off the thoughts of how attractive he is under the starlight.

(bonus: when zed gets home, all he can think about is you. he wonders if eliza would recognise your name, or if he would possibly run into you if he chose to go to school for once instead of always skipping. he wonders where you live in zombietown, since he doesn’t recognise you and is sure he would remember seeing someone as gorgeous are you. he spends the next few days wondering, and then is in for the shock of his life when he sees you through the fence that blocks off zombietown from seabrook and learns that you’re human.)

[cades-outsider]

Stupid Z-band

Zed Necrodopolis X fem reader

Warnings: Smut, feral zed, breeding kink (basically), creampie, unprotected sex, this is just filth and me living out my feral zed moment.

Summary: Zed keeps tampering with his z-band in order to win the football games so him and the rest of the zombies can be accepted into Seabrook. His z-band malfunctions unexpectedly after he wins yet another game, but this time, it isn't a frenzy for human brains, it's a frenzy for you.

Seabrook High School erupted in cheers as Zed, once again, won another football game. He had tampered with his z-band to do so, but he didn't think it was a big deal— even though his arm felt like it was going to burn off any moment. You were cheering proudly along the rest of the cheerleaders— for Zed.

  Bucky shot you dirty looks, as a way to tell you not to cheer for zed— but as always, you dismissed them. Zed was your boyfriend after all... although, no one else in Seabrook High knew that. It was still too dangerous to out your relationship, since most humans still hadn't really came to terms with accepting Zombies.

  You wanted to run up and kiss Zed, but ultimately knew that wasn't the best thing to do in front of all of Seabrook. As the minutes passed by and it became later, more people left the football field. The cheerleaders were the only people left on the field, putting your stuff in your duffle bag you watched as the rest of the cheer team eventually scattered off, leaving you alone.

  Meanwhile, Zed was in the locker rooms. He threw his helmet on the bench as he panted, his face and jersey were covered in dirt and sweat, as well as his green hair, which was messily stuck to his forehead, his pale skin sticky and hot.

  Zed wanted nothing more than to take off the clad football jersey, until his wrist started burning and his Z-band started beeping red, the bold words 'OFFLINE' flashed across the small screen of the band.

  Zeds veins immediately darkened and trailed up his arms, all the way to his face. He grew paler, and the veins in his face grew darker. His fists clenched in an effort to control himself as he started to pant, though a light growl erupted from his zombie and he quickly realized this was more than a frenzy.

  He felt hot and.... aroused...

  Zeds 'game' pants felt unbelievably tight and restricted, he needed you. So, he rushed out of the locker rooms and went to the last place he saw you, the football field. Which, was completely empty now... not like his zombie cared in the moment, he would take you in front all of Seabrook in this state.

  You were bent over slightly, zipping up your cheer bag when you heard feet to grass movement and a noise between a growl and a pant. You turned around and were immediately met with Zed, you smiled before you noticed the state he was in "Zed! I'm so proud- hey, are you okay?" You asked, your face twisting with worry and concern. Zed would've melted from how sweet you sounded, but right now he couldn't control this frenzy.

  When you were in his reach, he grabbed you, yanking you with him to the middle of the football field. You let out a yelp in surprise "Zed, what are you doing?" You gasped, your voice was small and meek, and for some reason that turned on his zombie more. He said nothing, he couldn't say anything but let out a series of strained growls as his chest heaved up and down from panting; it was as if he was in heat and your eyes widened when you notice the strain in his pants.

  One of his hands went to the back of your neck, wrapping his hands around your hair, in an attempt to expose your neck to him. When he realized that wasn't enough, he yanked your head back with the hand wrapped in your hair, not hard enough to hurt you but enough to make you squeak out a moan.

  Zed hurried his face into your neck, sucking and kissing at every spot he could, smelling your sweat vanilla perfume which caused the veins in his hands and face to grow darker. He nipped at your neck, not enough to actually bite you, but enough to mark you. Your hands gripped onto his chest as a way to steady yourself, and your touch set him off, he growled as he threw you on the grass of the football field, not wasting a second before he climbed on top of you.

  You weren't scared, you and Zed had done this many times but not when he was like this. He was feral and didn't give you a moment to breathe, but when he ripped your cheer top in half— exposing your bare chest, you finally remembered where you both were "wait, Zed what if we get-" You gasped, but were quickly cut off when he kissed and nipped at your boobs, forcing your thighs open with one hand and sitting him self in between them.

  You were panting now, looking at your zombie boyfriend as your hands went to touch him, but again, his zombie growled as you touched him, bringing him back to the main thing he needed you for. Zed loved you, and he was always so sweet during sex, he was almost never rough, but you couldn't help how soaked you were from this whole situation.

  Zed didn't even bother to take off your cheer skirt, he only ripped the center of it and your underwear in one clean tear, you gasped when you felt him lifting your skirt up so it bunched up on your hips, you were exposed to him and his face now rested in between your thighs. Everything happened so fast you barely had time to adjust to his mouth attaching to your clit. Your eyes rolled back and your hips jolted in surprise, you managed to rest on your elbows to look at him, his arms were tightly wrapped around your waist so that his hands rested on your stomach, you looked at his arms and moaned at the sight of his dark purple veins throbbing. Your eyes moved up to his face and before you could get a good look at his face he forced you back down with one of his hands that rested on your stomach.

  Zed ate you as if you were his last meal, his tongue circling your clit so effortlessly and his mouth slurping up your juices. The sounds were lewd and filthy, but it only seemed to turn his zombie on more. He ate you out as if it was for his pleasure, not staying long enough for you to cum. His zombie didn't know whether or not he wanted you like this or on all fours, and he growled impatiently as he finally decided to flip you. His zombie strength allowed him to flip you over with ease so that you were on all fours.

  You whined softly at the quick movement and turned back to look at him, your eyes widened once you realized his pale cock was now exposed, it seemed as if he was even bigger now that he 'zombied out'. He wasn't just bigger or paler, but the veins in his cock had grew darker as well and you moaned softly at the sight, but were quickly cut off when his hands grasped your hips and he forced your ass closer to him.

  Zed ran his cock back and forth between your folds, collecting your wetness just enough for him to slide into your pussy, but he didn't just go halfway in, he completely bottomed out and you let out a noise between a moan and a yelp as the tip of his cock reached the spot inside of you that made your toes curl.

  "Oh my god- Zed" You babbled out, head falling against the grass. He didn't allow you any time to adjust, but you were so soaked that the stretch didn't hurt. His zombie growled at your already fucked out tone, gripping your hips harshly as he set an unforgiving pace. The tip of his cock reached your sweet spot with every harsh thrust he gave you, you were so drunk on his cock that you didn't even care that you were in the middle of the football field.

  Zed was unable to say anything, only grunts and growls came from his lips while he panted and fucked you harshly. He couldn't stop, with each thrust he grew more animalistic and feral. His zombie wouldn't stop until he had you cumming on his cock and until he was spilling into you. The thought of him finally filling you up made his nails dig harder into your hips and his pace speed up.

  The side of your face was forced into the grass when he leaned over and pressed your head into it. Your mouth fell open as a series of moans fell past your lips. You cried out his name as he snapped his hips against yours, and you felt the coil in your lower stomach when the tip of his cock hit that place inside of you with each thrust. The hand that was on your head, which happened to be the one he had his z-band on, went to the side of you as he used his other hand to keep your hips in place.

  One of your hands gripped onto the arm he placed beside you, clawing at his arm for dear life as he fucked your brains out. Zed growled but didn't remove his arm from you, instead he fucked you even harder as he felt his release near. The need to cum inside of your pussy overwhelmed him and his zombie wasn't going to give out until he filled you up. He was so deep inside of you that you could've sworn you felt him in your stomach, and that thought alone made you cum. You cried out as your cum splashed against his cock, making him thrust even easier than before.

  Zed panted harder as his zombie kept him going, he wasn't tired by any means, but he needed to cum. So when you clenched around his cock from being so overstimulated he growled and finally spilled his cum deep inside you. You let out a gasp and your hand kept its hold on his hand that was on the ground next to your head, you whined as he didn't stop cumming. His hips had slowed and his cum dripped out of you while he was still inside of you. Your hand clawed at his z-band by accident, causing it to beep and turn green, the words 'ONLINE' finally popped up on the small screen.

  Zeds veins slowly returned to normal, but he was extremely tired and his whole body ached. He was still panting, but once his vision cleared and he noticed how fucked out you looked, he slowly pulled out of you, his cum leaking out of your pussy almost immediately and you whined. "Oh fuck, I'm so sorry baby" he repeated constantly, despite the hurt his body felt from his zombie taking over for so long.

  You let out a whine in response, not able to move and he quickly realized and lifted you up and into his lap after he put his pants back on. He covered your bare chest with the ripped cheer top and pulled your cheer skirt back down as his hand cleaned off your cheek and hair which was covered in grass. Despite how sore you already started to feel, you noticed the harsh color of red on his wrist, around his z-band. "Zed... that was amazing, but you've got to stop tampering with your z-band" You managed to say, your voice weak from all the moaning and crying out you did.

  Zed cracked a small smile when you confirmed that you were okay and you enjoyed it and he sighed when you mentioned him tampering with the z-band "I know.... Just... I have to win one last game and then I'll stop" He reassured you, and you hated the fact that he had to hurt himself just to be accepted into Seabrook. You nodded softly, "promise?" You said softly, looking into his brown eyes and he gently kissed your lips "I promise..."

[whoopsyeahokay]

Alphabet Soup

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~ 🩵👻

Alphabetical Masterlist:

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

Linear Masterlist:

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

[patrickispinky]

Sex, Drugs, Etc.

Warnings: Talk of drugs/Drug use. Possible smut in the future. SH. A lot of plot. EXTREME Canon divergence. Before Maddies time. Set in 2022

I got a lot of inspiration and motivation from @whoopsyeahokay series called October Sun if you haven't read it yet I recommend you do its amazing, you can find it on tumblr and Ao3. October Sun

(This is very self indulgent and based on things ive been through and how I could have very easily ended up as a ghost. This is NOT meant to romanticize addiction or mental illness. This is a judgment free zone so I want no bullying or hate on anyone. I'm not the best writer so be nice)

1.9k Words

Enjoy :)

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Two days, two fucking days you’ve been rotting and no ones come to find you. Well no one alive at least. 

It started off normal, nothing out of the ordinary. Just another boring school day with the same washed out boring people. Tired eyes and even more tired souls. So what changed? A little slip up on the same thing that had almost claimed your life many times over the years except this time no one was there to save you. 

You were 14 when you first learned the only way for your brain to stop spinning, trying to find a new way to obtain peace was with a very simple little thing. Weed, this wasn't what was deadly, no it was what started the cycle. First it was weed, then it was alcohol, then it was late night parties, until one day it fell into the palm of your hand. A simple little pill, how could it cause so much damage? Things were fine until one pill turned into two then two turned into three and then you ended up on the patio of a stranger's porch foaming out the mouth. 4 days in the hospital and 2 weeks in rehab was enough to scare you for a while, but not enough to make you forget about the relief that came with it. 

That's how you ended up here, sitting in a circle sharing stories about life and death, a group of highschool boys who had no idea you were even there, playing basketball behind you. Should have just gone to group like you were told to, at least then you would have been with people who understood addiction. Now judgmental eyes fall upon you because you caused your own death. As much as you wanted to find someone, something to blame you knew you couldn't, this was your fault. The spinning hasn't stopped. At least ghosts couldn't go through withdrawal, doesn’t change the fact that the empty feeling you tried so desperately to fill is more presint than ever.  

The sweet voice of Mr.Martin fills the room. Like white nose until you heard him call your name. Head shooting up to look up at him. “Have you started working on your obituary?” Ah yes, ghost homework. you would have never thought that you would have been asked to write your own obituary yet here we are. Not as easy as it sounds.

“I’ve got some ideas” Like when you got so drunk you threw up on your friends cat, or when you were so high that your brother convinced you the plane flying over your house was a UFO, fun memories. Apparently you were supposed to write about the good parts of your life but that's kinda hard when the only good memories you had were caused by what put you in this situation to begin with. 

“Take your time, if you need to im sure some of the others wouldn't mind telling you about what they wrote, for motivation.” You give a simple nod, wanting all the prying eyes around you to look away. And they do, except a certain pair that had been watching you since you got here. 

Wally Clark, a sweet boy, bright future, died to soon like everyone else in this fucked up version of your own personal hell. He asked too many questions, it wasn't a secret how you died, just something you didn't want to talk about.  He respected that, like most of the others, most. Doesn't stop him from prying, staring with curious eyes. 

“I think that's all for today,  don't forget tomorrow's movie night as always our newest member will be picking the movie.” You give an awkward smile before standing up and turning to leave along with the rest of the group. Heavy footsteps creeping up behind you and the sound of your name being called stops you as the tall boy catches up.

“So um do you need help with your obituary? not to brag but I think I did a pretty good job on mine.” Wally was quite attractive, tall, with big brown eyes, and slick back brown fluffy hair. No doubt having made girls fawn over him during his lifetime. You and him weren't exactly friends but the idea of having a little help writing… well, a self obituary wasn't bad. 

“Sure, we could go to the library.” An excited grin grew on Wallys face, not expecting you to say yes. 

“Yeah, yeah the library sounds great” It was kinda cute how he acted sometimes. Not like a typical jock, a pure golden retriever. 

“Cool” You stand there kinda awkwardly, hands in the pockets of your red zip up hoodie as you gave him an expecting look. 

“Oh like now?” He was somehow the most confident yet most awkward person in the world. “Um okay yeah that works” 

You tilt your head sideways towards the door leading out the gym, indicating for him to follow you out. Taking the lead and making your way out, opening the door for him. “Ladies first” He let out a small chuckle at your attempt at a joke, considering it was the first time you really talked to anyone since everything happened. It wasn't that you didn't like people, you just didn’t understand the point of friends. It might sound depressing but having a small group of people that you know will stick around is better than hanging around people that barely know you. Yet here you are, stuck with strangers for eternity or until you finally move on, however long that’ll take. 

The hallway was filled with loud teens, some rushing to their next class others going out the back door, more than likely skipping. “So how does this work?” You look over at him.

“What? The afterlife?” He looks at you, a little nervous. “I don’t think im the best person to explain it to you, that's more of Charley's thing.” Charley was sweet, the first person you met when you woke up. Some sort of after life guide. 

“No, a self obituary.” The words felt weird coming out your mouth. “I know I'm supposed to write about all the great things in life but I don't think huffing nitrous in my uncles bathroom on thanksgiving really counts as a good memory.” 

“Nitrous? like the shit in whipped cream?” He gave you a sideways look, a concerned but humored smile on his face. 

“Yes, the shit in whipped cream, I don't recommend. I passed out and almost had a seizure.” As we reach the library he opens the door, allowing you to go in first. 

“Okay, maybe don’t include that in your obituary, how about” He thought for a second. “Write about your friends and family, I'm sure you have some good memories with them.” 

You let out a frustrated sigh as you sat down at a table, Wally sitting down across from you as you take off your backpack, pulling a pencil and the folder Mr.Martin had given you. “That's too much work, do you think Mr.Martin would notice if I just copied yours?” Wally laughs a little, his straight white teeth showing.

“No, he’ll totally believe that you played football and lost your virginity in your moms car.” Now you’re the one laughing, his sentence coming out way too casually. 

“You lost your virginity in your moms car?” You take a few seconds to process before you look at him judgmentally. “You included how you lost your virginity?” Though the smiles’ still apparent on your face. 

“Happy memories, remember?” And there's the jock attitude you were waiting for, somehow a bit surprising but not unexpected. “You could just write your feelings.” You have a whole journal for that from when you got sober… soberish. 

“This may come as a shock to you but I'm not exactly a feelings person.” Not totally true, it was just easier to not feel anything at all, especially with the situation you're in right now. 

“Really? I couldn't tell” The sarcastic tone in his voice very apparent. “Alright fine, if you were happiest when you were high then it's worth writing.” 

“Great, so high stories, got it” Though it wasn't the best idea, you had to write something so Mr.Martin would get off your ass about it. Reminiscing was a slippery slope, you were holding up decently so far but contrary to what all the others think it hurt deep down. “How about the first time I tried molly?” Probably one of the best ‘happy pills’ you tried in your lifetime. 

“What was it like?” He clearly had no intentions of finding out first hand, just curious of the experience. 

“It made me really aware but like in a good way.” There was no real way to describe it without going into depth. “And kinda trippy I guess, does that make sense?” 

“Yeah, I guess.” He knew he could never truly understand, no one could unless they experienced it themselves. As you begin to jot down the memory Wally peaks over, looking at the page though it's not very useful due to the fact that he doesn't possess the skill to read upside down. 

“Nosey” You laugh a little at his attempt to get to know you better. “You know if you want to get to know me, maybe there are better ways to do it then helping me write my own obituary” Yep, still didn't sound right.  

“Oh um yeah, this is probably a really weird first hang out.” He laughs awkwardly at the realization that this is still new to you. It wasn't like he had never been around a new ghost before, he knew he was supposed to be slow, supportive, ease them into it but with the way you acted sometimes made him think you were more used to this than he was. In a way you were, death was something that you had imagined so many times so when it actually came the idea of being trapped wasn't one you hadn't thought of before. “How about after we're done with this I could take you down to the pool?” 

You smile, the sentiment was sweet. “Thanks, but I don't know how to swim.” You were never taught and it didn't seem important in life so you just never learned. The surprised look on Wallys face was priceless.

“How the hell are you 18 and don’t know how to swim?” It wasn't judgmental, just a little surprised, but the grin on his face indicated that he had an idea. 

“Oh god, what are you thinking about?” You knew what was coming, he wouldn't be him if he didn’t jump at the opportunity to help a new friend. Wally was very readable and you didn’t know if that was a good thing yet. 

“I could teach you.” And there it was, of course he wanted to teach you. “It could be fun, plus you don't have much else to do.” 

“You know what fuck it, you’re right there isnt shit else to do.” Especially with your body still laying cold in the old abandoned locker rooms aka ‘the brain cave’. 

“Great, you should keep writing, the faster you get it over with the less weird it feels.” And that's how it started, you were never the friend type but as much as you hated to say it you needed someone. Sure that someone is very attractive and the idea of seeing him in nothing but swim trunks was a nice image but who could blame you? The afterlife is lonely.

Pt.2

[naok-iyuu]

Love is about details - Zed Necrodopolis x fem!reader

Summary : On a Halloween night, you meet a boy that will soon become your best friend. Until feelings get in the way.

word count : 8.2k

My masterlist ! No major warnings, just reader having an existential crisis mid fic and Zed being a golden retriever.

(Autor's note) : I AM FINALLY ALIIIVVEEE !!! I am soo lazy, I've struggled so much to finish this one. And even when I get ideas, I always end up with those blank page syndrome or with too much drafts on my account.

I hope this fanfic will be liked by some of you, I don't really know where I was going at some point but I couldn't bring myself to delete and do something else ahah. I wanted to do a small fic... Well it ended up with 8k words. ENJOY!!

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You never believed in love at first sight. Hell you even thought it was the most stupid thing the world ever created to entertain Terrians. Maybe you could be really attracted to someone at first sight, because ‘gorgeous’, surely, would be the first word coming to your mind while crossing path someone like Joshua Bassett. But to truly fell in love, you should be able to remember their eye color and describe it as something precious. Or so you thought.

Your first encounter with the boy you would fell in love with was on Halloween. Your friend group thought it would be funny to cross Seabrook’s border to enter Zombietown, something about showing each other that you weren’t chicken-hearted. A stupid teenage idea.

You weren’t interested in those things, but you followed your bestfriend who was a total lab nerd that would smash the Seabrook barrier to see a real zombie outside of your school. Natural habitat analysis thingy going on in her head.

It didn’t last long though, each and every person looked every two seconds behind them and jumped at every street common noise their hears caught.

They finally all went running back to the so called ‘normal side’ when a zombie, woman, screamed at them from the other side of the road. The sound as surprised you so much that your body frooze instantly. Your heart started beating even faster when the door near you suddenly oppened rapidly, making you jump and gasp.

Your eyes met one of a boy, it was easy enought to discern the surprised and concerned look on his face, his gaze looking strangly at you. You were disguised as a zombie for Halloween, well, the kind of zombie filmakers showed in their movies. Torn clothes, messy hair, pale skin with a lot of scars. Not really looking like the young zombie you had in front of you. Green hair styled with skills you surely did not have, grunge clothes, but a nice call on the pale skin.

"What are you doing here ?" His words came out skeptical, for what on earth would a human be on the wrong side of the wall. Well, there was Halloween of course, but nobody ever had the courage to come here.

He had caught on your dressing up, you were a convincing enought zombie for normal people, but not for a zombie apparently. He could admit that your make up was impressive, those scars looked real.

"Hm… Well with Halloween going on, my friends came to scare themself."

His eyebrows raised when you answered him. He was more prepared to receive a scream followed by one of the biggest sprint he’ll ever see. He looked from left to right, but found nothing other than his old, moldy town. "Seems like they got scared, right ?"

His conclusion got a chuckle out of your lips and you nodded your head, looking in the direction your friends took a run for their life. In the back of your mind, you thought about the fact they totally forgot to look out for you. They would be hearing about it for at least the next 10 years. "Yeah, they completely took a run for it."

Your eyes met his again, the situation was quite awkward. For him taking in the sight of a human in front of his house, and for you, who, for the love of the sky above, couldn’t even move to end this nightmare. "I should… Probably get going."

Your eyes lost their way on the scenery around, thinking that you should go home before everyone calls the police to get you out. Your parents would lose their head if they knew something had happened to you. You finally found in you the energy to move a foot when his hesitant voice stopped you.

"Can I ask for your name ?"

You turned around, returning to the spot you were so eager to leave. It took you a few seconds again to gather your thoughts. He wasn’t the one responsible for the fact you were right in front of his door, just stairs away from him. Maybe you were just disturbed by how calm you actually were. You were going to blame the Halloween effect on this one, green haired people weren’t that weird and scary compared to some costume people came up with.

"Huh yeah. I am Y/n." A breeze stopped your own question to let your name simmer in the air. The fact being that you were two people trying to get each other names after a weird encounter and not a girl and a zombie in that very moment felt like something you shouldn’t be allowed to do. Zombies were still hated by your people, they haven’t stopped talking trash about them even when they got welcomed in your school. Change must be scary for humans.

"And you ?" His own mouth went dry, maybe from the exact same fact you realised or from his father's voice hurrying him inside. His words got stuck for a time more, remembering his own name and yours.

"Zed. I am Zed Necrodopolis." He nodded to himself, at least he didn’t mispelled it nor hesitated too much. Zed was friendly to everyone, even when he started his first year at Seabrook high. Yet, having an intruder in Zombie Town had taken him aback, that was quite the shocker. He tried to remember if he ever saw you at school. No, he surely hasn’t… has he ?

A wave of your hand paused his thoughts. He waved goodbye back, looking at your silhouette. Once you were far enough and his father's voice loud enough, he came back inside his sweet little home.

Another idea occurred, did you even know where you were going ?

. . .

The few other encounters were less awkward.

After a good scare endured by your friends who thought you had been devoured by a thousand zombies, deserved. You had to go back to school, tossing aside your friend questions about how the zombie you talked to looked like, smelled like, dressed up like. You couldn’t remember a single thing, just a bunch of green hair that could be seen all around the school now. Or maybe, you just didn’t really want to talk about it.

You crossed paths with him, between classes and lunches. Both too hesitant to talk and too distracted by your talkative friends. You had waved, waved, and waved again at each other. He noticed how you would only use your right hand to greet him, and you acknowledged how dark colors were the ones that suited him most. Your wavery earned a gasp from your bestfriend and a side angry eye from the zombie girl following Zed around.

. . .

Grabbing the library table, your friend looked at you with the biggest eyes possible. "It was Zed Necrodopolis ?" Her voice whispered in disbelief.

She had finally noticed your wavering habits with the zombie after seeing him near the lockers on your way to the library, when you already had done it 10 times today.

You frowned, moving slightly your head like something would jump on you if you moved too much. "You know him ?"

She shook her head with her mouth open in shock, her eyes rolled back in her head. "He’s the one zombie who got into the football team ! Do you live under a rock ?"

"Since you forgot me back in Zombietown, yes. I feel much more secure." You slid your joke with a thin smile and a raise of your features to make your point and annoy her.

She breathed a quiet laugh in your direction with a smile. She was ready to get back at you when a voice interrupted her.

"Hi, sorry to disturb you both, can we sit here ?"

You two looked up from your conversation, locking your eyes with the ones you couldn’t escape even if you tried. Schools aren’t that big after all. Zed was standing here, a zombie girl clearly angry and a taller zombie boy with the biggest smile right next to him.

Your mouth oppened and closed a few times, your words hiding themself in the back of your throat instead of helping you in creating a sentence. You turned to your best friend and saw her eyes popped out of her face, her mouth wide open enough to swallow at least 3 whole families of flies. Her eyes stared in your direction, her face not moving an inche from her surprised and excited features. You didn’t need to ask for her permission, she would beg you to say yes. Slightly nervous, you faced Zed again who was waiting for you with a gentle smile.

"Yeah of course." You slided your chair closer to your wide eyed friend next to you to let the three zombies sit on the three available chair.

When they sat down, silence followed. Zed, who sat on your other side, looked at you with shy eyes. Something that cringed the girl with a messy bun. He discretly waved hello to you, a ritual that seemed to please him more than you could imagine. You waved back discretly, the tiniest ‘hi’ falling from your lips to greet him. His eyes quickly caught the color of your pencil case, f/c. Somehow, he felt like he could have guessed this as your favorite color.

A sigh caught everyone attention and the green haired girl crossed her arms. "Why are we even here ?"

Zed was quick to quiet down any fight he thought could happen due to his friend being grumpy and the two humans girls feeling hurt by her words. "To say Hi." He caught both your attention, introducing his friends. "This is Eliza, don’t mind her she is getting used to human, still. And this is my buddy Bonzo."

Bonzo smile grew even bigger, showing all of his teeth as he raised his hand to say what seemed to be a ‘hello’ or a ‘nice to meet you’ in zombie. Phrased by some ‘zogzigzargzog’, or maybe it was ‘zigzagzargzogzarg’, you couldn’t remember.

"What did he said ?!" Your friend high pitched voice surprised everyone, she was quick to react to Bonzo words. Her hand was nearly breaking her pen by squeazing it too much, her other hand flipping pages of a new notebook you had never seen.

"That’s Lucile. Sorry about her she just really loves zombies for some reasons..." You tried to ease their surprise by introducing your highly excited best friend who seemed to live her biggest dream.

"That’s completely fine." Surprisingly, his words gently eased your mind. Maybe handling both girls wouldn’t be that hard. "He said ‘pleasure to meet you both’. "

You heard her excited gasp before she started writing what she heard. How could she even remember what the other boy said ?

"I only wrote what I heard but could you check ?" Her question was more of an affirmation as she slided her notebook right into Zed’s hands, passing it in front of you. He was careful not to disturb your work while grabbing the book.

His dark orbs looked at you with an amused grin before asking for a pencil, which Lucile gladly and almost throwed at him in a hurry. Getting a scared ‘Jesus !’ from you. "You heard it right, but if I may, here’s the zombie way of writing it."

When he handed it back to her, you were sure she was going to explode on the spot. "You guys have a whole different alphabet to speak zombie ?!"

Zed seemed proud of her reaction, he was cute. You could see in the corner of your eyes Eliza slowly relaxing herself. Maybe she had been worried that you would be as mean as the cheerleaders when they first arrived.

"And twenty-three different ways to write the word ‘brain’. " His head nooded to her in affirmation.

"Oh my god this is awesome ! If you guys can teach me all about it somedays, I want to know everything !"

"We’ll be glad, right ?" He turned to his friends. Bonzo cheered with his usual bright smile while Eliza shrugged her shoulders, mumbling a 'why not'.

You smiled at them, happy that everyone seemed to get quite along for a first encounter. You felt like you didn’t know how to act around Zed, for a fact, you didn’t know each other except for those stolen hi’s after all. You could say that socializing wasn’t really something you were good at.

Zed seemed to notice your shyness, maybe he could help you by showing his friendly side. "Your friend seems great. She’s funny."

You looked up to see his brown eyes looking at you. For some reasons, you were sure that that one sunray directed right to his left eye was there on purpose. "Yeah, she’s the best."

Zed had made the first step toward you, hoping to see bloom a friendship between the fake zombie girl he had seen on his doorstep and himself.

Mainly thanks to Lucile and her inconditional love for zombies, she got the three of them to stay at your table for an hour.

. . .

Day after day, you were gradually seen hanging out with Zed and his crew along with Lucile more and more. Forming a lovely mixed group of five.

You opened up slowly, and conversation started to feel more natural once you knew each zombie better. You didn’t need Zed’s help anymore to feel comfortable, your questionable jokes already sliding in each and every sentence you could form.

Bonzo and Eliza seemed to like you both, even if you couldn’t communicate with the taller boy. You still found ways to understand him and he did the same. Eliza and Lucile both fell for their nerd side, not looking like total polar opposite anymore. Eliza being a zombie was Lucile fuel for knowledge and Lucile being always impressed by Eliza knowledge and technology made her feel understood.

Fast enought, without anyone questioning or noticing it, every single second you could spend glued to Zed became your mission number one every day. You had your routines, your habits, and somehow in the mist of it all, the jocks found his way to be your new and unique routine.

The same could be said for him. Even if Zed would never be ruled by any routines, having you and Lucile gang up with Eliza and Bonzo went from something nice to his essential. Even when the group couldn’t be together, the boy always found his way to you and you to him. He somehow quickly noticed your love for quiet places and books, which made it easier to find you. You were, too, quick to find Zed everytime you were looking for him. His loud voice and love for football were easy enough to spot in every room he could be in.

Free hours in school were spend in his company, lunches were eaten right next to him just so you could mock his choice of food, and you surprised yourself with even seeing him on weekends. Zombies had won freedom for their own actions, seeing your friends was now a piece of cake. You started with simple hang outs with everyone to going to Zed’s house, him to yours, and even to include ice cream rituals in town. You could never be thankful enough for those, especially for the coach's peanut butter n’ bones ice cream.

Your parents never saw you out of the house this often, you could even say that your mom had started to grow a soft spot for the green haired jock. Something you would have gladly erased from your memories if not for those family meal where his name seemed to always end up in.

. . .

That’s why you never believed in love at first sight. For you, you had to know the person, hang out with them and remember everything special about them. You could never have fallen in love by just seeing Zed for the first time next to his crusty door. You believed that love was about details. And this belief would be the one hitting you full speed right in the guts.

. . .

"How can you say that zombies have different eye colors ? They are all bloody brown !" Lucile hands fell on her thighs, smacking them in the process with exasperation.

Your best friend sitting on your bed had talked about her zombie knowledge again for the past twenty minutes, a knowledge you had started to be really interested in recently. She’ll never mention it, but it surprised her when you suddenly asked about their language, culture and even tradition.

You knew a bunch, thanks to your zombies buddies, but Lucile was a goldmine of information. If you wanted to know anything without sounding too weird or suspicious, you knew she was your best option.

Today’s new debate started when Lucile talked about physical differences between zombies, noticing how all hairs weren't exactly the same shade of green. However, she had maintained her statement about their eyes being only a very dark brown.

"No they are not. There are different shades too." You contradicted her again, looking at her notes and judging some of them as enormous lies, just the hater you were.

"Okay, give me an exemple." She moved her hand to invite you to elaborate your point of view, obviously curious to know why you were so reactive to this fact and not any other ones.

"It’s true that Bonzo and Eliza have dark eyes, but Zed doesn’t."

"Oh he does."

"No he does not." You looked at the ceiling, starting to feel frustrated. You let Lucile’s zombies notebook fall on your bed right in front of you both. You chewed your bottom lip before speaking again, your eyes looking at every detail of your room and not at your best friend, who’s gaze didn’t leave you for a second. "Zed’s… Well his eyes are slightly the same color as milk chocolate, only a little darker I'll give you that. And when the sun hits them, they glow with this orangy brown color… Like those pictures you find when typing ‘autumn forest’ on google. Seriously, it’s funny when you think about it."

You looked at your fingers, not giving more thoughts to what you just said. Lucile though, looked at you like you were talking crazy. Her famous wide open mouth and her frowned eyebrows couldn’t believe what she just heard. She knew what you thought about boys or romance, luckily her brain was quick to connect the dots. You always talked about details, for you, love should be remembering their eye color and describing it as something precious. You once told her.

She silenced her gasp, finally understanding why you changed so much recently and why zombies suddenly got your interest when you couldn’t care less before. She never gave second thoughts about your relation with Zed, you both were really good friends who liked to hang out often, if not every single day. (Weird ) And friends who, she thought, were glued by the hips like twins would. But maybe this closeness, at a point in time, crossed a line even you haven’t noticed.

"Pause Y/n, Pause." The sudden seriousness in her tone made you perk up from your nail analysis. You had never seen a face like that on her. It made you overthink the words you have just spoken, could you had said something wrong ?

"Did you heard yourself ?"

"W-What ?"

"I am not angry, nor frustrated, nor scolding you." She tried to easy your mind. "I am only asking, did you heard yourself ?"

"What ? That Zed’s eyes looks like dumb autumn forest pictures ?"

She nodded slowly, biting both her lips in a thin line. "Can you now remind me what you always said about remembering someone’s eyes color."

You felt as if your brain spun on itself and gave your whole body a warning sign while ringing simultaneously the biggest bell that could exist. You gasped loudly, your hands flying fast to cover your mouth. "You are shitting me."

"YOU are shitting me ! Since when ?"

You stood up from your bed, realization striking you. You felt the air becoming colder in your lungs with your heart beating crazier than when it’s an exam day. Your hands felt cold, than hot, than cold, than hot again. You looked back at Lucile who was just as surprised as you, just less freaked out.

"I don’t know ! Oh god it’s bad." You were starting to feel too freaked out by this new revelation. Luckily, the scent of your room and being a calm person on a daily basis helped you step out of your mind roller coaster faster.

"I mean, you always go out together. Maybe that made it harder to notice."

Another, but tiniest, gasp escaped you. "We have an ice cream thingy tomorrow." Lucile could hear tiny ‘it’s bad’ coming from you and ‘oh god’ ‘s.

"I never undertood that ritual, every week ? Ice cream ?"

"You’re right, I am calling in sick. " You were ready to grab your phone when she snatched it away.

"First, we are going to talk about this, analyze things and won’t freak out, okay ? It is not as bad as it looks."

"I am not that freaked out, and yes it is bad. Not falling for your, other, best friend is like an unbreakable rule."

"So you are in love with Zed ?"

"I absolutely did not say that."

The girl frowned again, even with your calm demeanor you stayed in a total denial mindset. You always loved romance, but it seemed like it wasn’t the thing you were expecting to crash into your life right now. Or maybe your weren’t expecting to fall for Zed. She stretched out her hand for you to take, encouraging you to come back on the bed. You sighed, taking it before sitting back on your bed, a light sadness building in your chest.

"Can we talk about zombies culture instead ?"

"If you want, but before we’re going to dig into that little heart attack moment you just had."

"It’s just… Like I said, we’ve been like best friends lately and I just feel like I am betraying him." Your eyes met hers, a sad expression painting your features. "It’s like I am asking too much out of him. We’re friends, and now feelings get in the way and I’ll start acting weird because now I am aware of it. And what if I get even more into my head and he just feels weirded out, rejects me of some sort. I still want to hang out with him."

"Wow you got the time to think about all of that in just a minute ?" Her sentence teared the tiniest chuckle out of your lips. Lucile squeezed your hand, trying to keep you grounded in any ways she could. "I think you should be kinder to yourself. It happens to fall for friends, even if it changes things, ultimately. It is not a bad thing."

"Why him though … ?" Your question was more of a frustrated and sulking sentence to show how surprised you were.

She laughed. "I should ask you girl !"

And you followed her laughter. Maybe you got ahead of yourself and got slightly carried away by the new realisation, just maybe. You talked a bit more with Lucile, and you were thankful for her patience and the way she understood your point of view. Even if she thought that Zed looked like a very green and moldy potato, which made you laugh. She even teased you by saying how your mom would be happy to hear the news, making you grunt another slight laugh.

You knew the boy for nearly a year now, blossoming feelings shouldn’t be surprising when you knew deep down how good he looked. Getting to know each other and your souls clicking together like you just lost a thousand years finding the person that could make you spit out your whole stomach laughing along with flipping your whole mood upside down with just a word should have been a warning sign. You had fallen in love with Zed Nerodopolis.

. . .

The next day went smoothly, even if you had to mentally scold yourself every now and then because you kept looking at Zed for no reasons. You tried to brush your new feelings off, acting like usual with maybe less confidence.

He noticed, and you hopped it was just once. "Do I have some ice cream left on my face ?" A finger pointed toward his face, he stared at you.

"Nop. Not at all."

"Oh, I thought. Since you can’t stop staring." You caught on his teasing tone, his smile already trying to get under your skin just so you would say something back to him.

Usually, you would have laughed and made fun of him for suspecting you of staring. But now, all his sentences and smirks did were increasing your heartbeat and wished that your cheeks haven’t turned a deeper shade of red.

. . .

The next week at school, you thought you were doing a good job at hiding anything your heart was begging to let out. You denied with force the fact you avoided your usual safe spots to study or read, knowing full well Zed would be waiting or searching for you there. You couldn’t avoid him everywhere and everytime though, you both were too familiar with each other schedule and you could tell the boy sensed something different coming from you.

Trouble knocked at your door when Eliza found you in a room you wouldn’t usually want to be, the cheerleaders rest room. Bree offered you this refuge when Bucky and his henchmen weren’t around, nobody ever spilled the beans and you were grateful for that.

The door opened with a certain force and hurry, making you jump on your sit. Eliza stared right into your soul and a long silence followed before her voice came out of her throat.

"What is going on ?"

"What ?"

"Please don’t play dumb with me." She closed the door behind her, guarding the entrance to prevent any escape tricks from you. "Zed’s been whining all day long because you are avoiding him."

"I am not, we just saw each other." Lying wasn’t your best ability but you still tried to convince her of your enormous lie.

"According to him, he haven’t seen you since lunch." Her eyes were big, and it felt like your mom was giving you a life lesson. With this eye contact, you knew she wouldn’t be fooled by you. You always spend the next hour with Zed because of your free period in common. And for some reason, you could tell everyone noticed your change in character, even if you had tried to minimize it. "And we both know that you’ve been very discret and absent lately." And here it goes, you were doomed. "I’ll ask again, what is going on ?"

You growned in frustration and embarassement. "I don’t want to talk about it..." Running a hand over your face, you closed your laptop tossing it in your bag.

You didn’t see Eliza concerned look. "Is it something serious ? About your family or did something bad happened ?"

You were grateful for her concern, it showed you once more that the girl you first met in the library was now one of your friends.

"No, no. Nothing major. Just something really troublesome for me."

"And it has to do with Zed ?"

"H-How do you even get there when asking for my family seconds ago ?" You blushed once more, wishing you would have wore a turtleneck sweater to hide your face.

"I promise I won’t tell him, I just think we could all help you if we had some idea of what’s happening." Even trapped in the room you would have thought of a good hiding place, you knew Eliza was telling the truth and genuinely wanted to help you. You were thankful for Lucile too who haven’t said anything. With all the time she spends with the zombie girl, you always wondered if she could have let it slipped up accidentally.

You sighed, fighting your own hesitation about telling the truth or denying your crush for the rest of your life. Maybe it was time to take a step forward and get some advice from someone who knew Zed for a long time.

"I like him." You were quick to pronounce those words, afraid they would run away from you and make you lose your courage.

Eliza surprised face chased away the words she was about to say, ‘yeah, we know.’ The look on your face showed her it wasn’t the type of like you used to feel month before.

"Oh, like… Love like ?"

"I know I shouldn’t."

"I did not said that."

You pursed your lips, averting your eyes from hers. Somehow, telling Zed’s long time best friend your feelings for him was as hard, not really, as telling him. You were scared of Eliza already knowing the boy opinion on the question and that her words would come and cut every string you had tightly knotted.

"You’ve realised it last week ?" Your head nodding to her words confirmed her suspicions. After all, you’ve started making yourself more discreet a week ago. "And why not telling him ?"

"We’re best friend ! It will ruin our friendship for sure."

"And if it does not ? Maybe he feels something for you too." She didn’t want to talk for Zed, but she knew him. Even without telling her a word of his feelings, she noticed how he cared and looked out for you. If he wasn’t even the tiniest bit in love… Well screw him.

"He does not."

It felt like talking you out of your thoughts was out of the question. "If you say so, but I am warning you, he is behind the door and ready to follow you for the rest of the day."

You chuckled, shaking your head at the image of Zed almost going crazy behind the door. "I am ready for it captain."

Eliza sighed desperately at your words while you stood up, opening the door to reveal a Zed who haven't heard a thing from your girl talk.

"Oh my god finally ! I was starting to think that I should add you on my Christmas wish list to see you again." The zombie girl nearly got the time to step out of the room when the boy charged in to stand himself right in front of you.

"So I am a Christmas present now ? I knew you wanted me." His rolling eyes and frustrated features won a giggle out of you. At least your feelings didn’t wipe out your sense of humor.

"On a serious note, is everything okay ? » His tone instantly made your amused smile drop, you could see the worry in his eyes and what your avoidance made him experience. You felt like a fool.

"Yes, I promise. I just had a lot on my mind recently, but now I realise, nothing worth putting my friends aside."

Eliza stayed out of view but heard your words, it made a sweet smile grew on her lips.

"Of course it wasn’t worth, should I remember you that we are the best ?" He waited for you to confirm his words and your shaking, amused head gave him just that.

"Yes, I am sorry. Come here stinky dork." Your circled his body with your arms right below his chest to encourage him into a hug.

He chuckled at your attitude, something he had missed over the past days. His own arms came around your shoulders to pull your head into his chest, ever so careful to never squeeze you too hard.

Eliza cough made him turn his head and your own tried to look at the girl by sticking out your head from his warm hug.

"Don’t forget about the zombie party tonight." She raised her eyebrow at her zombie fella.

"Of course I won’t." His smile and nod was her cue to leave.

"You guys are having a party in Zombietown ?"

His gaze came right back to you. "Yes, I was going to invite you."

"And what made you wait that long ? " Your quirked eyebrow painted his face with false surprise, tease floating all around in the air. You freed yourself from his grasp, crossing your arms on your chest.

"Huh, I don’t know, maybe the fact that I couldn’t find you around school anymore ?"

"I deserve that one. But you could have texted me."

"I am a gentleman. If I ask a girl out, I at least put the tiniest bit of effort."

"That is the tiniest bit of effort for sure. Where are the flowers and the knee on the ground to beg me to accompany you ?"

He shook his head and his right arm came back on your shoulder to bring your body out of the room with him. "I am still pretty hurt by having been pushed away by my bestest friend, so no flowers and no chivalry demand for you. Maybe a next time. "

"So there will be a next time ?" Your sly smirk reminded him of why you both were impossible to put up with when together. The endless back and worth was inevitable. It almost looked like the other would lose the biggest battle of their life if they didn’t respond.

"You hope for a next time huh ? I got you girl." You called it quit on that one when you felt your heart scream, yet again, for the fourth time since the conversation started .

. . .

The day soon came to an end, and you heard your mother's voice calling you from downstairs.

"Comin’ !"

You applied another spray of perfume before going down the stairs at a rapid pace, the entrance hall already opened to let you take in the sight of a waiting Zed.

"Here you are honey." Your mother rested a hand on your shoulder when your body stopped next to her. She surely had been talking with Zed while you were in the bathroom. "I wish you both a good time, but be home before midnight, got it ?"

"No problem Mrs.L/n, I am sure we’ll be home before midnight since she gets sleepy pretty quickly." His eyes shared a reassuring look to your mother, but you knew better than to be fooled by a Necrodopolis. You could see under this sweet and gentleman smile of his that he was gently making fun of you.

"I am pretty sure I will not." You retorted, your head moving childishly.

Zed was amused by your usual picked on reaction and smiled even more. You didn’t noticed it, nor him, but your mother quickly looked at the both of you with a suspicious look. She was used to your forever gentle bickering with the zombie, but she could swore she felt something unusual.

"Even though, midnight it is." You mumbled a fake annoyed ‘Yes mom’ before taking your leave with the boy right next to you.

The walk until Zombietown was filled with lively conversations, yet again, reminding yourself not to look too closely or too often slipped your mind every single time.

"I can’t wait, zombies party really are the best."

"I am glad you think that. I am pretty sure the first time I brought you to one you almost got a heart attack."

He didn’t mean to fully tease you, but you took the bait anyway. "You know I can’t really handle a lot of people ! But now it’s okay, I am used to it." You tried not to sulk, even the slightest, but you still huffed like a sulking puppy.

He smiled, feeling his chest warm up in your presence each step he took. The week he spends, mostly, without you almost got him into a crazy teenage frenzy. He felt like he had lost his north star and that no path could ever bring him back to you. He had wondered, just for a second, if the feelings he felt for you could be painted by many other meanings. But as a best friend, he denied them and acted like nothing changed.

"We’re here, let’s go inside."

To be sure you wouldn’t get lost or trapped in a wave of young zombies, he took your hand in his, clearing a path for you while he had tucked you closer to him.

In the middle of it all, you could have swore your eyes caught a glimpse of Eliza bun. You were quickly diverted from that thought by Zed who tried to find a quieter spot for you to enjoy the party. The old building room was crowded, he opted for a spot near the huge escape door, enough for you to enjoy the musics and people energy without getting overwhelmed. However his attempt drowned as quickly as he got to the corner he wanted when you spotted Bonzo.

"Look it’s Bonzo mixing ! Let’s get closer !"

"Don’t you prefer to stay here ?" His hand prevented you from leaving without him.

You turned around, realizing he just did all this room search for you. You felt your heart flipping in your chest along with you cheeks turning slightly pink, that detail had completely gone over your head.

"For this once, I’ll take the zombie heat full speed ! Come on !"

You dragged the boy along with you while he murmured ‘Why don’t you take my heat full speed’ under his breath, a sentence you couldn’t possibly hear with all that noise. Once near the stage, the boy you were excited to see locked eyes with you and started waving at you two.

"Y/n’ska !" His voice got caught by his microphone making you laught. You raised your free hand as high as you could, waving it and cheering for him. He greeted you with a tumb up before turnig his attention back on his tech.

You turned your head to center your attention on Zed again, only to see his gaze already focused on you. For some reason, it felt like his eyes haven’t left you even when you had waved to Bonzo. Your lungs warned you of a lack of air before new notes of musics reached your ears. A gasp made you breath again and a look of excitement took over your features when your head turned in every direction to look at the old speakers.

"Oh my god it’s that song from Hotel Transylvania !" Your hand let go of Zed’s, only acknowledging the fact that you didn’t let go sooner now. "They usually don’t play that kind of songs." You offered him a confused look, only for his smile to grow wider. You remembered yourself vibing to the song before the lyrics laughed at you because you were, indeed, in love with a monster now.

"I may or may not gave some of your playlist to Bonzo." His voice perfectly covered the song, making you able to only hear him.

You felt the floor slip under your shoes even if your body didn’t move an inch. "Why would you do that ?"

"Because I know how much you love the songs you listen to on a daily basis. I just thought it would make you happy to hear them here too."

‘Cause I’m in love with a monster.

You bit your lower lips, your heart ready to explode. You were going to let ip slip up, the words threatened to blurp out.

Friends say I’m stupid and I’m out of my mind, but without you boy I’d be bored all the time.

"You dance ?" You offered him the same hand you had taken away from him.

"How could I say no."

Everyone danced around you and Zed and even if you weren’t that good of a dancer, you allowed yourself to bounce around like you would do in your room. Your partner successfully made you drop some coordinated moves along with him. For a few seconds, it didn’t felt like a huge and moldy old building filled with hormones and sweats. You were in your own little world where only your best friend was allowed to appear when he made you twirl and move along with him.

The song soon ended to reveal another one that you knew a little bit too well. You turned around once more to look at Bonzo vibing behind his soundboard. Zed took the chance to offer a thumb up to his bro who looked up for a second, he quickly hid his hand when you looked once again at him.

"You’re joking..." Your voice wasn’t audible with all the fuss, and he didn’t noticed your lips slightly moving with intoxicating emotions.

"What ? Told you we choose some of your favorite songs !"

He was doing it on purpose, he had to. His voice started to sing along with the song, both his hands now holding yours to make you dance out of you surprise.

A shaky sigh escaped from your mouth, you weren’t sure your body could follow more of his tricks and energy, nonetheless, you tried to dance a bit more.

‘You and me belong together all the time.’

Soon his energy got to you, and you couldn’t help but sing along as he made you twirl more and swing from left to right. You laughed a few times when his foot got tangled in the weird choreography of other people, making him move a bit less for a few seconds.

His body towered over you, and he leaned closer to sing along with your voice, "This love is all we need !" He seemed so happy, so caught up in what was hapenning. He enjoyed this moment with you, he even went as far as asking Bonzo to add songs you loved to the party. It was the details even you didn’t notice, how on the way here he had looked to see if you weren’t cold, how he had searched for a quiet place so you wouldn’t get overwhelmed. How he remembered and kept the playlist you showed him.

And from those little things, greater gesture from him came to your mind. You weren’t the only one paying attention to all the little things about him, he was paying attention to you too.

Screw your denial, you couldn’t take it anymore. You couldn’t hide nor lie a second more, your body wouldn’t allow it. « Gar gargiza ! »

Zed had stopped moving nearly at the same time as you, his eyes widened with his mouth slightly open in shock. He felt his mouth turning dry, yet, he swallowed what seemed litres of saliva. "What did you say ?" He had to make sure, he had to hear it again.

You bit your lower lip, frustrated and scared, your body slightly shaking. "Gar gargiza you dumbass !"

"You know what that means right ?"

"Oh my god I am going to kill you ! I love you Zed, and I am going crazy about it !"

As soon as the word left your lips, his arms quickly squeezed you in the biggest, neediest hug you had ever received. You squeezed him as hard as you could before he, as quickly, pushed you from him, his hands tightly holding your arms.

"Tell me I can kiss you." You eyes widened at his words, and the seconds you took to respond were enough to burn out his patience. "Please." He begged.

You felt an urge, the same one Zed’s was trying to suppress to give you space and time to think. Your hands reached to his neck, landing on his skin as you stood on you tiptoe in a quick motion. Your lips touched his. It was a rushed move that ended as soon as you tasted him. However, he didn’t want to let you go just yet. His own hands rapidly but gently grabbed the back of your head to stop you from moving too far away from him, and with a last glance at your sparkling eyes, he kissed you. This time longer, sweeter. He wanted to remember the taste of your fragile lips, he wanted to stay connected to you as long as he could. He was tender and soft against you, keeping you close yet never too strongly so you could stop him at any given moment.

He felt his last bit of control being sucked out of him when your lips moved against his. He parted from you, against his will, your eyes almost pulling him again in your touch. He looked all around him, and you wondered what was happening. Your brain had completely pushed the off button and you were barely emerging from your ecstasy when Zed hand tugged you across the room.

"W-Where are we going ?"

It took him only a few seconds to find the exit. "Sorry to drag you out, but I can’t stay in there."

You soon found yourself in a smaller room that still seemed pretty big for both of you. He turned around to face you, his hand pulling you against him as his forehead touched yours. "I love you Y/n, so so much. I don’t know why it even took so long for me to say it."

His words hit you like a truck, he had rushed you out but you now understood why. You too wanted a moment alone with him, to finally know what it feels to be loved by him. What it feels to be loved by you.

"Maybe the fact that I avoided you because I was scared of my own feelings." You breathed heavily because of the run the boy put you through, it was hard to follow mister long legs with your tiny ones.

He laughed at the inside joke you made, remembering how he had bugged you about that exact fact today. "You were ?"

"Didn’t want to lose my best friend." You confessed with teary shining eyes. Even if it wasn’t the case anymore, you could have lost him back there. His hands made their way to your cheeks, smoothing the skin under your eyes to chase any tears that threatened to pour.

"Me too." His voice admitted soon after you. "But look, now you have a lover who happens to be your best friend of all time."

You exhaled an amused breath. "Girlfriend boyfriend huh ?" You wanted to keep on saying those words, and you wanted him to keep on approving what you thought.

Luckily, Zed knew you like the back of his hand and was aware of the things going through your head. "Y/n L/n, my sweet and beautiful girlfriend." He won another shaky smile from you. "Come here gorgeous, I haven’t had enought of your kisses."

With the slightest force, he brought your face to his to smother your lips with a million kisses. It made you laugh against his skin, and he soon pampered kisses all over your face.

"S-Stop ahah !"

"Never."

Your hands grabbed his wrist to show your, non-existent, protest. When he attacked your lips again with quick kisses, your own opened to surprise him with a bigger and even more needy kiss. Your move worked as his face stepped back with a really surprised look.

"What was that ?"

"What was what ? " You played dumb, earning a childish smile from him.

"What was that big kiss just now ? Were you trying to bite me ?" He kissed the corner of your mouth, giggling with you.

You took him in your arms, resting your head on his chest. His breathing appeased your emotions and thoughts, and you sensed the same could be said for him as his head came to rest on yours.

"Can I sleep at you place tonight ?" His demand was quiet.

"You’ll have to ask my mom."

"She loves me, of course it's going to be yes."

You sighed, of course she would say yes to Zed, it was Zed."She spoils you too much... "

[zombieluvr101]

ACCIDENTALLY ON

PURPOSE

Fandom / Zombies

Paring / Zed Necrodopolis x Fem!Reader

Prompt / accidentally confessing feelings ; longing stares

Summary / a hot guy likes you fr‼️ DOESNT THAT SOUND GRAND?!

Word Count / 971

Gif by / @megedonnelly

Prompt / @luvfae

Seconds left on the clock. Which is counting down the last few seconds of the most important game of my life. This game determines if I have what it takes to play football at Mountain College.

“Alright team, we only have 25 seconds on the clock. Zed, if you make this, we win,” Coach says wearily as we are timed out.

Just hearing Coaches voice, I can tell he’s nervous. I mean, yeah I am too. This is my big game. If I don’t get into Mountain College I won’t be with Y/n.

Yeah, yeah, I know! Y/n isn’t even my girlfriend yet. But she’s so smart, and witty, and the most beautiful girl I’ve ever laid my eyes on.

Okay Zed! Focus.

“Alright Wynter, I need you too be open in the center field so Maximus can throw you the ball so you can try to make the touchdown,

but if that doesn’t work try and pass it to me,” I instruct.

We get into position, the whistle blows.

Our quarterback starts us off, “White 80, hut hut!”

Wynter catches the ball and makes her way over but get tackled in the process. But she was able to pass it to me. I turn to switch my Z-band.

Seven seconds left..

The ball brushes against my fingers. But I catch it.

Six seconds left…

I use all my speed to run to the end zone.

Five.

I duck and jump over the opposing teams players.

Four.. Three… Two….

One!

I land in the end zone on the very last second.

“And the Seabrooks Mighty Shrimp have done it again! They have won the last game of the season!”

The cheerleaders are doing their thang, while the crowd goes wild.

“Seabrook! Seabrook! Seabrook!!!”

My friends and family go out for celebratory frozen yogurt. Bonzo, Bree and I are sitting at a table together. And the Acy’s and the rest of the cheer squad are talking about whatever is amusing to them.

“Actually Bonzo.. I don’t have the answer to that,” Bree stated.

Just as I start my sentence, the door to the fro-yo spot jingles. And a pair of blue converse enter the establishment.

“Hey guys!” Y/n say with a cheerful tone.

“OrR!!” Bonzo greets. Meanwhile I can’t get a single word out of my mouth. She makes my brain mush.

“Congrats on your win Zed,” She says with a smile as she takes a seat next to me. All I can do is blink and stare.

“T- hank you,” I mumble in awe of her presence. Gosh I’m such an idiot. But overall she seem amused.

“Welp I’m gonna get my frozen yogurt..” Y/n says getting up from her seat.

“Oh here! Let me pay for it,” I suggest. I jumped out of my seat and grab her hand. Walking over to the register.

“You really don’t need to pay,” She reassures.

“No, no, no I got it Y/n,” I confirm.

Once we since sit back down, Bonzo and Bree have gone outside, leaving just us two to talk. And Y/n continues to eat her fro-yo. I find it funny that the most outgoing, and spirted person I know loves the most basic flavor there is. Vanilla.

I’ve had feelings for Y/n the moment I locked eyes with her on my very first day at Seabrook. I figured that she would be like everyone else and harass me for being me. But she was the opposite.

She treated me with such kindness. She would volunteer to help me with my work if it was something I haven’t learned at Zombie school.

Or if Eliza and Bonzo would pair up for a project and I didn’t have one, she would immediately sit next to me. Making her my partner for most of the projects we’ve done.

Snapping out of my daydream I look up at her again. But this time she has some vanilla yogurt on the right side of her mouth.

Out of instinct (and a very messy little sister) I go to wipe it off of her.

“Oh you have some—” I start.

The only thing is, she turned her head towards me a little more than expected. Making my thumb press against her lips.

Our eyes meet. I’m blown away. No air left. We don’t break apart. I keep my thumb on her lips, gently stroking it.

I can’t tell if I’m imagining it or not, but I see the same passion in her eyes. Just like when I’m looking in the mirror practicing what I’m going to say to her.

Moving my hand, I place my hand on her cheek.

“Thank you,” She says in a whisper. Not once looking away from my eyes.

“No prob,” I reply with a smile.

Gravity pulls us closer and closer.

“God she’s so beautiful—”

She laughs softly, “You think so?”

huh? OH.

“Did I say that out loud?”

She nods sweetly.

“Oh yeah, mhm yea— I 100% meant too. Like I kne- like I know that I did. I was just making sure that YOU— know that I did—” I stutter out, trying to keep my cool.

She interrupted, “Zed, I know what you mean, really.”

“It’s just that I really really like you. I have since freshman year. I don’t know why I haven’t told you. Well actually yes I do. You make me so nervous. Like everything you do makes me flustered,” I confess with speed.

I can tell my words are making her flustered. She looks down but I use two fingers to push her head back up.

“I — I like you too Zed,” She says in a shy tone.

My smile begins to get bigger, “Well you should let me take you out sometime.”

“I’d like that,”

Mind you, we were still holding hands.

end 🫶🏾

[p0guelife]

SOMEDAY

FANDOM. disney zombies

CHARACTER. addison wells x fem! zombie reader

PRONOUNS USED. she/her

SUMMARY. zombies have been allowed to attend seabrook high but are forced down into the dirty basement, away from everyone. zed necrodopolis wants to try out for the football team and talks his friend into going outside with him. turns out, it is the best decision y/n has ever made.

WORD COUNT. 1,633

GIF MADE BY. @megedonnelly

The town of Seabrook had always seemed like a tight knit community. The citizens did tend to know everyone around them as well as everything that went on. Each person in the community was different but they all shared a hatred for zombies and anyone who was not human. That’s how Y/N L/N grew up, the fear of someone harming her present in her everyday life. She dreamed for a bright and better future filled with love—but never had believed it would come true.

Sure, there were the occasional humans who were more understanding but that was pretty rare. She never thought that anyone would love her romantically due to her being a zombie but she hoped that would change once her first day at Seabrook High came around. The fact that her kind was able to attend was a huge step for them and she was proud to be one of the firsts. However, she still had that sense of fear and worry coursing through her.

The green haired girl snuck around with her best friend, Zed Necrodopolis. She was not sure how she’d let him talk her into leaving the basement with him. How had the two of them not gotten caught yet? She honestly didn’t know but didn’t want for them to. She couldn’t help but to look around at the stairs that were nearing. Y/N frowned when Zed’s taller frame stopped walking. “Is everything okay,” she asked simply.

He turned around with a smile on his lips. “I am going to try out for the football team. Do you want to come with me? I know you were interested too.”

Zed’s words were true—Y/N had wanted to be part of the football team rather than the cheer team. The zombie was just too scared to go through with it since they weren’t the most popular in the school. There were lots of people who were either afraid of them or wanted to potentially hurt them in some way. The girl thought about it before having a final answer. She shook her head, signaling that she didn’t want to follow.

Her best friend understood her worries but he tried to be more on the optimistic side of things. It’s the only attitude that would get zombies more accepted in society. “Alright, you don’t have to. I’ll let you know how it goes.”

With that, Zed made his way to the football field, which left Y/N in the hallway alone. He was excited for this so she didn’t try to stop him or anything. She soon heard the sounds of footsteps nearing so the girl turned to run in the opposite direction, not wanting to be seen. She needed somewhere to clear her mind—her internal wish finally coming true as she came across the “Zombie Safe Room.”

Y/N couldn’t help the eye roll that came but made her way into the room regardless of any negative thoughts she had about it. Did this count as a bad idea? Probably.

The green haired zombie walked around to take in her surroundings. Once she got to the other end of the room, she sat down on the ground. It wasn’t very comfortable but she thought it was better than being in that basement. “Why is it always us,” She quietly questioned herself aloud.

She allowed her thoughts to run wild inside of her brain which helped pass the time. She wasn’t sure how long she planned to be in there but she’d have to come out eventually. It wasn’t like she could hide away forever, at least not in the room she was in. Each of her thoughts were about her kind and their future. She was so deep and lost in her mind that she almost didn’t hear the sound of an alarm going off—it was the rogue zombie alarm.

Y/N sighed before standing up. “Zed, what did you do?”

She hesitantly started to move her body but stopped once she heard the door open and close again. Who was in there with her? She was curious…she just didn’t want to draw any attention to herself. The girl wasn’t really paying attention to her surroundings and it wasn’t long before she tripped over a book that was on the floor.

Her eyes widened and she heard the person gasp, it sounding like a girl.

“Who’s there,” The voice called out.

Y/N slowly stood up straight and took a deep breath. “H-Hello? I’m sorry if I scared you.” Her words held sincerity and she felt bad about tripping. Honestly, she felt like she should have looked around before doing anything.

“It’s alright, I just wasn’t expecting anyone to be in here. Hey, are you new here? I don’t recognize your voice.”

The zombie smiled to herself before giving a simple response. “Yes, it’s my first day.” The fifteen year old didn’t know what else to say if she was being honest. The girl could be a little awkward depending on the situation. It was something that her loved ones knew very well and they were used to it. Zed and Eliza were always teasing her about it, but she didn’t mind.

She hadn’t realized but her fingers had begun absentmindedly twisting through her hair. It was something that the zombie did a lot.

“I’m Addison.”

Hearing the words was comforting to Y/N as she could now place a name to the person in the room. She then moved a little closer to Addison in order to get a better look. As soon as she set her eyes on the human, her brain seemed to stop working. She thought that the blonde haired teen was beautiful, it being one of the first things that went through her head.

The green haired teen was able to gather her words. “My name is Y/N—it’s nice to meet you.”

She didn’t know where it came from but she felt a wave of confidence crash in her. Y/N’s body slowly moved closer to Addison and it wasn’t long before she was in front of her, a little ways back though. The zombie hoped it would be too dark for the human to see that she was a zombie but that was ruined once the alarm stopped and the lights soon turned on.

The sight of a zombie caused Addison’s eyes to widen and her body reacted almost immediately. She let out a shriek before she slapped Y/N’s cheek, not realizing what she was doing. It wasn’t until the zombie had grabbed her cheek in pain that the blonde’s brain understood what had happened. That was when she felt the immense guilt spark inside.

Addison frowned before apologizing, “I am so sorry—I have just always been taught that zombies are these monsters. You don’t seem like that though.”

Those words seemed to throw the zombie off at first but she couldn’t help the smile that slipped past her lips. She was interested in the human, that’s what she was sure of in that moment.

“I understand, there’s been a lot of negative things told about us but we just want to live in peace.” The fifteen year old had always wanted for that to happen; peace among the human and supernatural worlds was not a likely occurrence so her parents had kept expectations realistic.

Sometimes it felt like she was a mix of each of her friends; optimistic at times but also a believer in the realism. It was something she didn’t mind but the zombie did often enjoy Zed and his wanting to change things for all zombies. It was surely a goal to strive for!

The Wells girl nodded, confirming what Y/N had just told her. It was terrible that people were so quick to judge without knowing the person or group of people being judged. She knew what it felt like to not fit it—at least to feel like you didn’t fit in. The fact that she’d been taught to hide her hair and wear a wig, it was something she had tried getting used to but just couldn’t.

Addison went to speak but was interrupted by the safe room door opening; it was the Acey’s and her cousin Bucky. She glanced towards Y/N but didn’t have time to give her a saddened expression. The blonde did not want to stop talking to the other teen. Addi had honestly forgotten that they were at the High School for a couple of seconds. That’s how much she had enjoyed the girl’s being there with her.

The group of four walked closer to the two girls with looks of disgust present on each of their faces. It made Y/N feel like she had done something wrong even though she’d not. The feeling of hands pushing her back caused her to stumble and she noticed that it had been Bucky’s doing. The smell of hand sanitizer filled the room afterwards. It was as if the older male was afraid of getting a disease from her.

“What are you doing associating with a zombie?” Bucky’s obnoxious voice filled the silence but he didn’t give Addison any time to respond.

He snapped his fingers and the next thing the blonde knew, she was being carried away from the zombie teen by the Tracey and Stacey. The cheer captain gave Y/N one last dirty look before he and Lacey followed the others outside of the room.

A sigh was given but all the teen could think about was Addison; her smile, her eyes, her kindness. It was refreshing to the zombie girl and she could feel a familiar emotion swell inside of her—happiness. She wanted to get to know the blonde better…she had to. She had never met anyone like her before so it made sense.

Maybe they could be something, someday.

[heliads]

Disney Masterlist

Descendants

Ben Florian

Happily Ever Afters - Based on this request: “Ben x VK!Reader. Soulmate AU where the bad things you think about yourself are marked on your soulmate's skin. Reader only has 1-2 things because Ben has a good life. Ben has around half a dozen. During the lake scene they notice Ben is their soulmate and try but fail to hide it thinking he deserves better” Soulmates AU

Carlos de Vil Masterlist

Harry Hook

One Story Leads to Another - Based on this request: “AU where everyone is "chosen" to be parts of fairytales. Heroes get love ballads and villains get traditional villain songs. Reader and Harry are friends on the isle and get chosen for a story, and are both super excited because they think they'll both be villains together. So imagine their surprise when they get their first song together and it sounds an awful lot like a love song.” Imagine

So In Love That You Acted Insane - Based on this request: “Harry Hook x reader based on 'the way I loved you' by taylor swift. Childhood friends to lovers, to strangers to lovers again” Imagine

Jay

Reaching - Based on this request: “Jay x Fem! Reader. Jay coming behind reader holding her waist while reaching to get her something she was struggling to get off the top shelf” Imagine

How to Train Your Dragon

Hiccup Haddock III Masterlist

Teen Beach Movie

Butchy Masterlist

Seacat Masterlist

Z-O-M-B-I-E-S

Willa Lykensen

Family Woes - Based on this request: “Willa has a younger sister y/n. her and the wolf pack are overprotective and y/n can’t leave their sight. So y/n runs away and the pack finds her and they make up and live happily ever after” Oneshot

Wyatt Lykensen Masterlist

Zed Necrodopolis Masterlist

[blondsauduun-reads]

The Almighty Masterlist

Okay so like 99% of the fics are not mine, so I’ll credit the writer too (and you can go check their work out, because some of these are GOLDEN). And I will be linking my fav fics here because I’ve got 200 fics on here as of now (but all other fics are tagged with the character that they’re about so you can find them and read them).And they will be in chronological order of reblog, because I’m lazy, mostly. All these are character x reader/oc self-inserts.

If you read any of the fics below, make sure to like and reblog them and show the writer your support with a comment, doesn’t matter if it’s a simple I love this! Or something more elaborate and personal, it does make a difference.

Edit: since Reggie from JATP had officially a last name, the fics which I reblogged until the 9th of December will be tagged as jatp reggie, but all the ones I reblog from now on will be tagged as reggie peters.

TAGLIST HERE

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My requests are always open, but I only write with OCs (of the person who’s requested it) and X Reader. Fem!Reader, Male!Reader and Gender-Neutral/NB!Reader are all welcome. I don’t write non-con, p*dophilia or z*ophilia.

My Fics:

JATP - Reggie - We’re The Revolution That’s Been Singing In The Rain

JATP - Juke - Really Something

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EDIT: tumblr doesn’t allow more than 50 tags so the continuation of my recommendations will be linked

HERE. Or SCROLL DOWN to see the reblog directly <3

Personal Faves:

Special Mention to my bestie’s @heliads masterlist because all her work is amazing * edit. Somehow most of her links don’t work so if you want to read them just visit her masterlist linked above! She has it all perfectly organized and is great, definitely worth checking out!

MLWTWB - Alex Walter - Drunken Make Outs - @mattybstqrn

MLWTWB - Alex Walter - I’m Yours - @julieloves074

Stranger Things - Eddie Munson - she’s the devil in disguise - @letterstotheflre

Zombies - Zed Necrodopolis - Team Player - @heliads *see pink above for link

TW - Brett Talbot - The Bite - @heliads *see pink above for link

Marvel/TASM - Peter Parker - The Two Of Us - @/heliads *see pink above for link

MCU - Avengers - Kiddo - @redstarwriting

DC - Harley Quinn - Cherry Soda - @sapphicwhxre

HP - James Potter - Truth and Declare - by fave @heliads *see pink above for link

SaB - The Darkling - Time Can Heal (But This Won’t) - by bestie @heliads *see pink above for link

SaB - Jesper - Guns Blazing, Tides Rising (+part 2 +3 +4 +5) - @heliads *see pink above for link

TW - Brett Talbot - The Spring Break Lie - @heliads *see pink above for link

MCU - Bucky - First Glance - @royalwildswriting

SPN - Dean - The Hunter With The Dragon Tattoo - @watermelonlipstick

AiB - Arisu - Gaming - Part Two - @koreaweeb​ 

JATP - Juke - in his arms - @unsaidnessa

AiB - Chishiya - Marionette - @koreaweeb​ (there’s parts, this is the masterlist and this is my fav chapter and these are the reasons why)

AiB - Chishiya - Red Strings - @koreaweeb (second story to Marionette)

Hannibal - Will Graham - Lonely - @gunpowder-and-smoke​

Hannibal - Will Graham - Gradually - @darling-i-read-it​

Hannibal - Will Graham - Sparring - @darling-i-read-it​

Hannibal - Will Graham - Lost Time   - @darling-i-read-it

JATP - Luke - Shirtless - @littlemissaddict​

JATP - Reggie - About Love - @darlingsteveharrington

JATP - Reggie - Eyeliner - @julies-molina

JATP - Reggie - Little Miss Perfect - @unholyobsessions

JATP - Reggie - The Perfect Christmas - @calamitykaty

JATP - Reggie - Perfectly Entwined - @thefandomimaginesandwritingblog

JATP - Reggie - A Moment In Time - @calamitykaty

JATP – Reggie – Who Are You?  - @himoonlight (this is the first part and the other parts are here: 2 - 3 - 4

JATP – Julie Molina – My Captain - @n0wornever (there’s also a second part to this and its this )

JATP – Reggie – Second Chances  - @pythagothug (also multiple parts but are linked in the og post)

JATP – Reggie – Swedish Hologram Crush - @jaskiers-sweetkiss

JATP - Reggie – Dinner Gal  - @nooneactuallyasked (that’s part 1 there’s at least 4)

JATP – Reggie – Marker Messages - @carnationcreation

JATP - Reggie – The Four Times They Almost Got Caught (And The One Time They Were) - @carnationcreation

JATP - Reggie - Akai Ito  - @intoanothermind

JATP - Reggie – Embarrassing Encounters - @billboardofbrokendreams

JATP – Reggie – Unsteady Hands  - @sunsetgillespie (this is like, one of my most treasured fics of all time.)

Teen Wolf – Theo Raeken – Back From Hell  - @xplrreylo

JATP – Reggie – Leather Jacket  - @xplrreylo

Obey Me! – Mammon – Bangin’ Birthday  - @mammor0n

FBAWTFT – Newt Scamander – Not That Dress - @12tardis (there’s i think two more fics by this person, one with a jumper(? And one with a shirt(? Make sure to check ‘em out too!)

TO x SPN – Elijah Mikaelson – Funny-Man  - @zodiyack

TO - Klaus Mikaelson – Every King Needs An Heir  - @zodiyack (i think two parts?)

TVD – Kai Parker -  Lunchtime Sabotage - @zodiyack

TO - Kol Mikaelson – Trusting You To Trust Yourself  - @zodiyack

OBX - JJ Maybank – Study Sessions  - @ptersparkers (7 chapters of pure smut)

[whoopsyeahokay]

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.

bon reading, frens

___________________________💀

OCTOBER MOON pt.4

Wally stood by the punch bowl, goofing around with Rhonda and Charley as he waited for you to arrive. The gym had been transformed; dim lighting and disco balls, satellite radio to fill the air until the DJ started his set. People trickled in at a leisurely pace, most sticking to the walls or high tables while they waited for the night to start. That awkward period at every party when too few guests had arrived to feel the vibes yet.

Simon entering with an easel and a large framed picture of Maddie interrupted Wally's impression of Rhonda as Mr. Peanut. He perked up, metaphorical tail wagging, as his gaze slid back to the door. If Simon had arrived, that meant—

Charley whistled appreciatively beside Wally, pulling the sentiment right out of Wally's bones. The world moved in slow motion as soon as you crossed the balloon arch. Wally's gaze traveled from your feet, along the shape of your legs, up and up in a worshipful sweep, until he reached your eyes which were already on Wally. His heart thumped behind his ribs and a shaky breath blew out of him; for a moment his brain sputtered like an overheated engine, so much so that he was sure there was smoke spouting from his ears.

Rhonda's finger pushed into the underside of Wally's jaw, "You're gonna catch flies that way," she teased of his open mouth. "You going to say hello, Romeo?"

"Can't." Wally slurred. Realizing he was acting like an idiot, he shook himself out of his stupor and recomposed himself, fixed his suit jacket and his stance. "Not yet. We agreed to wait until after Mr. Hartman does opening remarks." He looked around, "There aren't enough people yet, anyway."

Wally's eyes tracked you as you proceeded to the small stage where the DJ set up on stage left, a couple of your friends already there. Hana and Lucas, Wally recognized. He wasn't sure what you were talking about, but it didn't seem relaxed and giggly. It was more directorial, you and Hana nodding when Lucas pointed behind him at a drum set that had been installed on the stage. Eli joined you, bobbed his head, proposed something you and Hana seemed to agree with, and then he marched away on a mission.

What was going on?

Thankfully, Wally found his chance to ask you, if impersonal and discrete, when you broke away from your friends and meandered to the refreshments table. Wally leaned against it, hands in his pockets, hoping he looked more debonair than blushing and bashful.

As you ladled some punch into a cup, "I have a surprise for you," you said under your breath, certain Wally would hear you.

Wally couldn't help himself, slanting into your space, so close to touching you, nose almost grazing your cheek as he inhaled your perfume. "Another one?"

You'd already skipped your last class to present him with the tuxedo he was currently wearing. Not a real one, it was a costume, but from Hana's boyfriend's school since none of the fancy dress options on the Split River costume rack had fit him well. You'd also DoorDashed another meal from Max's for Wally and Ajay. Never mind that you'd shown up as a vision in emerald green which Wally considered a breathtaking surprise just for him. What more could there be?

Flicking his gaze across the gym, he saw no one was looking and took the chance to smooth the backs of two fingers from your hip to your thigh. He smirked when he felt you shiver. "Is it a kiss? Because I could really use one of those," his lips at your ear. "Been thinking about it all day..."

"You got kisses all day." You pointed out, still quiet, daintily sipping your punch.

He let his fingers slip under the skirt of your dress, hand skimming your inner thigh. "You look beautiful," He said rather than address how—yeah, okay—you'd indulged him with kisses (and a lot more) all day. What could he say? He had an insatiable appetite when it came to you.

He heard your sweet, little gasp as he teased the tip of his thumb along the edge of what felt like a thin scrap of lace at your groin. His heart rate spiked, eyes went heavy, a twitch in his pants. Fuuuck. Naughty girl.

You turned your head, glancing around him to your friends who'd been joined by Xavier. "I'll find you after your surprise," you told him.

He let his hand drop, gave you a cocky smile, and watched you swan away, returning to your friends. Xavier, laden with two guitar cases, handed you one, said something, and then reached out to rest his hand lightly on your back. The glower that Wally sent him must've activated Xavier's Spidey Senses because Xavier quickly thought better of it, pale as he removed his hand like he'd been burned. Rather than direct you physically, Xavier simply instructed you to follow him to the side of the stage, sending Wally a tight smile of acknowledgment when he passed.

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. Adjusted microphones, tuned strings, shared a brief exchange with Principal Hartman. At 9:30PM on the dot, the lights above the stage went out. 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 were turned off. People crammed closer to the stage. 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 called 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 vibrate from the soles of his feet to his teeth. The cover was punky, heavy guitar and drums, a subtle growl under your vocals, and Wally desperately needed to hear that up close, in his ear, on his skin.

He let loose. Rocked out. Jumped and shimmied and belted the lyrics along with you and Xavier. Even Rhonda loosened up and moved to the rhythm. Charley was in the midst of an interpretive dance when Wally checked on him and, farther back, he saw Ajay and Katelynn air guitaring with passion.

You were born to be up there, a star, and Wally couldn't tear his eyes away from you. He'd never seen this side of you. Wild and engaged and alive. The connection between you and him swelled in his belly, a blunt pulse that drew him closer to the stage as he danced, sang, blinked up at you like you were Debbie Gibson herself.

The song ended and the crowd whooped and cheered as you and your friends exited the stage. 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 find you. Xavier and Lucas were packing their instruments in the corner, the case Xavier had handed you already closed and tucked away.

He did a tour of the gym, saw Simon and Maddie and Nicole. Hana, Mathilda, Eli. 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, still flushed and bright eyed, an affectionate smile on your face. He marveled when he felt the difference in your presence, how the air moved through you rather than around you. You were here, on his side of the veil, body cloistered somewhere he assumed was safe because you'd planned this. You'd intended to be with him, really with him for the whole night.

"Hey," You said, tender, shifting into Wally's space.

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 spend the night ignoring you, wouldn't it?" You said, flattening your hands on his chest. "Did you like your surprise?" At first, he thought you meant this; you as a ghost so he could be all over you without earning you off-put glances of concern. "The song," you clarified through a grin.

"How'd you know?"

You hummed, tilted your head from side to side, pretending to recall, "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, "You remember that?"

A shy one-shouldered shrug, "You're kind of the only thing I always pay attention to in school. Always have."

Wally's heart melted. His mind melted. His soul melted. 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 as if it was a slow dance, leaning down as you craned up.

"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 wished it could go on forever. 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. 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, gold 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 special for you. To say thank you."

Wally reached behind him to grab and turn the doorknob. He opened the door and then stepped aside for you to enter 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 romantic 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 to spend tonight with you, any way I could."

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 thoughtfulness. You added in a whisper, "You're perfect," your hand finding Wally's jaw. "But how did you get all this stuff?" You panned around, referring in particular to the air mattress.

Proud, boyish grin, Wally confessed, "Simon."

"Simon." You repeated, dubious. "Simon, Simon."

Wally's grin widened, "Simon."

Simon. Huh. You let that sit for a second, let it sink in, imaging how Wally had approached Simon without your knowledge to enlist his help to do all this. For you. Wally had asked Simon to get candles and fairy lights and—and sheets. Pillows. Duvet. A bed. That meant that Simon had an inkling as to what you and Wally got up to when you were alone. Not that things had gone that far (yet), but still.

You blushed crimson, face hot, lips pressed together in an embarrassed line. "Simon..."

Apparently, Wally found your reaction amusing, shaking with barely contained laughter, "I promise, it's not that big a deal." You pouted. He smiled. "So cute..." and he brought his face closer to yours, staring softly into your eyes, "Like I said, nothing has to happen, baby. I don't care. I just... I want to be with you tonight. And I want you to be comfortable."

The way Wally looked at you, like you were the most precious thing in his world, completely dissolved whatever hang ups you had. He brushed the backs of his fingers down your cheek, 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.

Everything stopped. Time itself felt drained from existence as you absorbed what he'd said. The sincerity and depth, the tiny shake beneath the sentiment as if he was afraid you wouldn't reciprocate. 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 honey-dense atmosphere, you returned, "I love you, Wally."

His eyes closed and you watched him take it in, treasure it, hold it for a peaceful lull before he opened his eyes again. His thumb rubbed across your lower lip, tugged it slightly, and the hand on your hip glided lower until he cupped a handful of your ass through your dress.

The air thickened and warmed as you and he stood like that, the connection between you and him steadily swelling, bursts of liquid fire in your belly that made you mewl without realizing.

"My beautiful girl," Wally whispered and grazed his lips against yours as the hand on your jaw slid back into your hair. His lips connected with yours, the kiss slow and deep and filled with desire. He took his time, drew it out, made you savor the feeling as he poured every ounce of his love for you into the kiss.

When he pulled away, "Come on, baby, I wanna hold you," he took your hand and led you to the bed. Stood in front of you as he slid his jacket off and tugged his bowtie loose, both carelessly crumpled on the floor.

You followed his lead and undid the straps of your heels. You didn't have as many layers as he did, only your dress and one piece under it, so while he toed off his glossy shoes and removed his button-up, you lowered yourself onto the bed. His gaze stayed on you, affectionate if somewhat heated around the edges.

He met you on the mattress in just his pants and tucked in close, pleased when you tangled your legs with his and burrowed into his chest, feeling safe and cared for in his arms.

"I swear, baby, nothing has to happen. I just wanna be here with you," He soothingly reminded you. You let the tension bleed from your muscles, believing his intentions were honest, and felt his mouth curve into a smile against your forehead. "There you go," He murmured, leaning back slightly to look down at you as his hand found the join of your neck and shoulder. "Can I kiss you?"

It was silly, you thought, that he felt the need to ask since you and he had spent hours making out and touching each other in more hungry, heated ways. Hell, earlier you'd practically made him come in his sweatpants, dry humping him in the Home Ec room. Yet, you understood why he was being so careful with you. Although he said there was no expectation, the privacy and romantic setting stirred up the idea that there was. No matter how much you trusted him, knew he was being completely honest, you couldn't control how it made you feel.

Quiet minutes passed and he simply held you, foreheads pressed together, his hand remaining where he'd placed it on your neck. Reassured by his patience, you finally answered, "Yes, Wally," nuzzled a bit closer, angled your head, your gaze snared on his lips, "Kiss me."

An inhale, two, and he obliged, closing the narrow space between you to kiss you softly. It was unhurried, deep, his tongue flicking against your bottom lip before taking it between his teeth then releasing it. You keened, pressed closer, shifted onto your back and pulled him with you so he hovered above you, his thigh between yours.

He broke the kiss to look into your eyes, large hand caressing your side through your dress, breath heavy. His hand moved up and up and over, gently fondling your breast over the satin. You sucked in a breath when he nudged his thigh against you, inadvertently pressing himself on your hip with a weak moan. He claimed your lips in a feverish kiss as he shifted to fit between your legs, hand traveling from your breast to your thigh, under your dress to your ass, his firm grip pulling your hips against his.

You whimpered mildly, desire swirling inside you and making your skin flushed and sensitive. Every touch felt a thousand times more acute, his fingers digging into your flesh, hard cock humping against you through his pants and your panties. Still, his movements were slow, controlled, like he was holding himself back so he didn't spook you.

A deep exhale and he said, "Can I see you, baby?" He shoved his hand between your back and the bed, and his fingers found the puller of your zipper.

You and he hadn't done this yet. The part where he'd seen you bare and on display. Everything up to this point had been strictly with clothes on due to the risk of possible interruption. He'd groped you under your shirt before, had slid his hands into your jeans to massage your ass while you rubbed yourself against him. Why did this feel so different? Vulnerable almost.

"It's okay if you don—"

"Yes." You blurted, cheeks pink and heart pounding and, god dammit, you wanted this. You wanted it more than you'd ever wanted anything. The connection between you and him curled tighter in your belly, washed outward through your limbs. "Yeah, Wally, I want you to."

You heard him swallow, heard the long exhale as you arched your back to make it easier for him to unzip your dress. The sound of the elements splitting down your back was loud in the quiet space and your breath quickened. His fingers were so gentle, tickled over every notch in your spine as he opened your dress. Wally's gaze was heavy as it held yours. He licked his lips and removed his hand once he finished, and waited for you to slide the spaghetti straps low enough for you to slip your arms through.

With the patience of God, Wally held himself back from ripping the dress off you completely. You could tell, felt it in the way his muscles bunched and released, but he remained still, allowing you to set the pace. Slowly, you dragged the bodice down your body so it scrunched at your waist, your chest fully on display for him to see. He inhaled sharply, gaze blown dark with want.

"Please, baby," He said, voice tight like he was fighting for self-control, "Can I touch you?"

Again, such a silly question in light of all the places he'd already touched you, including your chest. Only now, there was nothing hiding it. He ground his hips against yours. You wrapped your legs around him, pinning him to your body, meeting his movements with your own.

"Yes~." You keened, head falling back as you pushed your chest forward.

He moaned, deep and hungry, his hand trailing up your side and then over your breast, the touch reverent and soft. His hips never stopped, no pause, no stutter, his back curving and arching. Wally's large, hot hand caressed your breast, thumb rubbing your nipple, and his mouth broke away from yours to blaze a line of fire down your neck.

"You're so beautiful, baby," He murmured into your skin, "So fucking beautiful."

The sensation of being skin to skin was heady. It made your brain syrupy as you held him close, one hand in his hair, the other roaming down his back to his ass that you clenched your fingers into to drive his movements how you wanted them. He started to get more desperate, wanting as much contact with you as possible, his hands running over your skin and caressing every curve they encountered. You could feel his arousal between your thighs, pressing against you through your panties over and over again, the friction making your head spin.

"I want to make you feel good," He said, breathing deeply against your collar, lips and tongue and teeth leaving little red marks in their wake as he kissed lower and lower before sucking your nipple into his mouth. Wally groaned in satisfaction when you keened, chest pushing into the sensation. His hand continued to message your breast as he doled attention to your nipple, his hips moving a little faster, grinding his hard cock against you.

"Fuck, Wally..." You moaned. Your eyes rolled back, trying to keep up, the heat building and building inside you as the thick imprint of his cock rubbed against your clit through the fabric of his pants and your panties. "How—how far do you wanna go?"

"As far as you want, baby," He whispered as he nipped the delicate skin below your ear. "I'm yours, no matter what."

His words struck like a match. You shuddered a breath and then, "Everything," you panted, drawing him into another deep, searing kiss, "I want everything, Wally."

Again, Wally groaned, face pinched in desire, his hands everywhere. He nodded, "Want you so bad," and rose just enough to help you out of your dress. It was quick, as if he couldn't bare to be anywhere else but on you, even for the briefest moment. He tossed the dress off the bed, surging into you once more, kissing you harder and hotter and with more desperation. "Fuck, baby, you're so soft," He murmured as his hands explored every inch he could reach.

"Wally," You whimpered and tugged at his pants, frantic now, the heat of the connection soaring higher and higher, "I need to feel you, please."

Wally choked, "God," and swiftly divested his pants and boxers in one go, shoving them off and throwing them to join the pile of clothes on the floor. "Fuck," he moaned when he began to grind against you again, "Feels so good, baby, I—fuck." One of his hands skimmed across your hip and snuck between your body and his, fingers dancing over your thin, lace panties, down, down, to press into the wet stain over your pussy. With a rich, needy moan, he rubbed his fingers over you, finding your clit with expert precision, sharp little circles of pleasure that made stars explode behind your eyes and the ache of heat between your legs beat faster.

"You're so wet for me, baby," He rasped as he snuck his fingers into your panties and smeared them between your folds, eyes fluttering as he felt how wet you were. "I need to feel you," He panted, cock throbbing, practically begging, "let me feel you."

By then, you couldn't deny him anything, nodding in a state of pure, blissful need. He sat up to peel your panties off you, flung them over his shoulder as his gaze wandered over you. Wally took himself in hand, stroking over the tip once, twice; licked his lips and said in a voice thick with lust, "You're all mine, baby. I'm gonna make you feel so good."

Laying himself over you, hot, heavy cock pressed against you, he took your wrists and pinned them above your head, shifting to trap them in one hand. He leaned in to whisper, "Tell me, baby girl, I need to hear it," his breath tickling your ear, "Tell me your mine."

Keening, "Always," you arched your back and humped his cock, the sound lewd as you coated him in your wetness. "I'm yours, Wally, always."

That seemed to spur him on, hand tightening around your wrists, "Fuck," and you felt him adjust to take himself in hand and line himself up. He paused, staring down at you with dark, wanting eyes, "You want me, baby?" And he dragged the fat tip of his cock through your folds, punching another needy noise out of you.

"Yes!" You answered, rocking your hips forward, mouth falling open when you felt the head nudge inside you, just a fraction, just enough to send frissons of burning, liquid need shooting through you. "Fuck, Wally, please!"

Wicked and smug, Wally leaned over you again to whisper, "You're so pretty when you beg, baby," as he snapped his hips forward, not enough to push himself in more than another few shallow degrees. He wanted to prolong the anticipation, let it build until you were ready to split apart. He wanted you to beg. You dug your heels into his ass and forced him in another fraction.

"Wally, please, I need to feel you, please!" And that was exactly what he wanted to hear.

"So good for me, baby," He praised and rocked his hips forward, draping himself over you, pressed against you, skin to skin, sinking deeper inside of you with a deep moan. "God, baby, you feel so—ughn—so fucking good." His free hand held your thigh, holding you open for him. "Say it again, say you're mine. I wanna hear you."

You said it like a mantra, "Yours, Wally, I'm yours," and keened when he thrust himself as deep as he could get, his hips flush with yours. He was big, thick, and you felt stuffed full and ready to split in two. It was the most euphoric thing you'd ever experienced, the sensation unmatched, and you wanted more. "Please, Wally, move, I need to feel it. I need to feel you."

Wally cursed and captured your lips in a hungry, needy kiss, tongue licking against yours like he wanted to taste you. And then he started to move, slow at first to let you adjust, and then harder, faster, building the rhythm. When you began to move with him, body writhing beneath his, Wally groaned against your throat, teeth sinking into your flesh as he worried a mark into your skin. His mark. His claim.

"You're mine, baby," He panted, moving faster, blunt head pounding your sweet spot with every stroke. You cried out, eyes squeezed shut, mouth open, clenching around him as he brought you to the edge. "That's it, baby...so good...fuck, you feel so good."

"Wally, I—" You choked, whimpered, tugged on your wrists, but he didn't release you, "I'm close!"

He loosed a feral, greedy moan, "Yeah, baby, God, that's it, I wanna feel you come on my cock." Jesus Christ, his words alone should've been enough to propel you over the edge, dark and dirty and sandpaper rough. He continued to bite and suck bruises into your neck and collar between filthy utterances, "So fucking wet, so tight, God, baby you're gonna make me come so fast... I'm so close."

Whimpering, gasping, you felt that insidious pressure build inside you, deep within you, right in your core, a rubber band about to snap. "Wally, I'm gonna—"

Wally moaned, moved his hips faster, in and out, rubbing every nerve ending inside you as he thrust into you with abandon, "That's it baby, let go, let me feel you."

Two, three, four more quick, hard strokes and you launched over the edge, coming so hard your vision whited out and your body spasmed. You heard him cry out when you convulsed around him, squeezing tighter, gripping him inside you.

"Fuck, yes, baby, I'm gonna come," He panted, sweat on his brow, lips crashing into yours as he stiffened and then, "Oh God," his cock twitched and pulsed, groaning as he peaked and spilled inside you. In the same moment, he bit your neck, right over your pulse point, wrenching a pain-pleasured moan from your chest.

He collapsed on top of you, breathing labored, hand finally releasing your wrists while the other one slid down your body, the touch featherlight. And that's when it happened, in the caramel-soft afterglow, with Wally's brow against yours.

Images crowded your mind, visions, a thousand lives, a hundred-thousand, one after the other and all at once. Past. Present. Future. Some lived, some yet to unfold. His soulful eyes, his cheeky grin, his hands on your body, over and over and over across time. Birth and death and rebirth. Always drawn together, always finding each other no matter the circumstances. Older, younger, countless shapes and names and roots.

When the visions faded, you opened your eyes—when had you closed them?—and you saw Wally staring at you in awe. He'd seen the same thing, only most likely from his point of view. The connection between you and him expanded until it burst outward and then settled as if sated. The job was done. It could rest now.

"W-Wally?" You breathed, heart racing. Because you'd known him by so many other names, would know him by many more. "What...?"

He was trembling in your arms, eyes wide in wonderment, "I don't—" Know, don't understand, don't believe it. But both you and he did. You knew and understood and believed. Like the universe had peeled back it's mysteries and gave you an answer you'd been seeking since you'd arrived in this existence.

Soul-tie. The word echoed in your mind. And you'd had a vague knowledge of what that meant, though you'd never fully empathized with the concept. However, now, it was undeniable. You and Wally had always been, would always be. You belonged to him and he belonged to you.

The feeling soothed you as you allowed yourself to open your heart to it. Warm and gentle and perfect.

"I was gonna find you," Wally whispered, sweet brown eyes gazing into yours, "I was always gonna find you, no matter what."

There were no words you could speak that would encompass how good that felt to hear, but you tried anyway. "Always," you murmured, your hand cradling his jaw, "no matter what."

He kissed you, slow and soft, the love he put into it moving you so completely you felt you could cry. It was as if you'd missed him, like he'd been gone too long and you'd been yearning for him forever, waiting for him to return to you.

"I'm here, baby," He said like a promise. Like he could hear what you were thinking. "I've got you. I'm never letting you go."

You believed it with every fiber of your being because he never had. Time and time again, he'd never let you go.

💀___________________________

PART THREE - PART FIVE

also available on AO3!

MASTERLIST

[whoopsyeahokay]

Bubblegum

summary: Zed has a bad day and needs an outlet before he goes on a rampage. guess who has to save the town from a possible Zombie attack? yep. it's you or no one.

pairing: Zed Necrodopolis x fem!reader

warnings: smut. AU - canon doesn't exist here. zombies being zombies. biting. this is not your Disney's Zombie.

💌this is a little bday surprise for @therosietoesy 🩷 i'm still working on your request, my dove, fret not. i just wanted to actually gift you something 🥰

bonne fête, ma belle

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Bubblegum

The thing about Zombies, you learned, is that they need to bite. The Z-Bands keep a lot of things in check, basically slow-release sedation to tamp down those violent urges, but if their heartrates rise above a certain level, the technology is about as useful as a chocolate teapot.

And Zed's heartrate? Well, in the wake of the Prawn's devastating loss—that he shoulders the blame for—and another infestation of creepy creature that wants to whisk Addison away forever, Zed is on the brink of a total meltdown. To put it mildly.

His sockets are already black as the abyss when he finds you behind the school, snarling and spitting as he tries to ask for help, for an outlet; need you, now. He grabs your wrist as soon as you get to your feet and tugs you against him. Red lips curled back, yellowing teeth bared, the monster inside him clawing its way out faster than you'd ever seen.

You give him a pretty smile, "You wanna take this somewhere private, big guy?"

And, no, he fucking doesn't. Can't. Too consumed by thoughts of beating his fat cock into you until you scream. At this point, he can barely string together a sentence, words reduced to throaty animal noise. You giggle, sweet as sugar, and raise one hand to cradle his jaw and boldly sweep your thumb across his bottom lip.

"You're in bad shape, huh?" You comment, not surprised when he snaps his teeth at your thumb.

Breathing labored, eyes boring into you as you gaze so fondly up at him, "Want," he manages to growl. You don't consider it an attack when he grabs you roughly and pushes you against the wall, brittle nails digging into your flesh as he lifts you by the backs of your thighs. A long pause wherein he just pants against your neck and then, "Please."

Such a courteous beast.

His Z-band is practically wailing, the sound reminding you to cast that neat little spell you've been using since you and Zed started this thing.

You mutter the incantation between stinging kisses before he savagely shoves his tongue in your mouth, fucking it in and out as he tries to taste every tooth and ridge and soft piece of tissue. God, you live for these moments. When he's completely at the mercy of his darker side. The side he tries so hard to smother outside of Zombietown. The side you love.

Not to say you don't love the whole package. It's just that you're more exclusive with the monster than the man. Person Zed isn't as...upfront about what he wants with you. Less demanding, more cautious. Meanwhile, Zombie Zed is a lot more decisive and has sunk his teeth into your neck to claim you more times than you can count. Hence the rubber-skin spell. Keeps your skin intact and the Zombie cooties from spreading.

He finally releases your mouth, biting and kissing a trail from your jaw to your pulse point. He pins you to the wall with his hips as his hands claw under your shirt, fisting into the fabric before, without warning, he tears it open. Needy. Desperate. Fucking hungry for you in his ragelust.

You can feel him through his jeans, huge and growing as the Zombie takes over completely, and your mouth waters. This is going to hurt in the best way. He grinds himself against your pussy; sharp, vicious strokes a threat of what's to come, all the while panting and snarling into your skin as he chews chunks of flesh that don't tear away from your throat.

Witches and Zombies really do make the best match, you think greedily, equally as frenzied as you yank his shirt over his head. Then it's skin on skin, your bra in pieces at his feet; his big, calloused hand groping your tit just this side of painful. He grunts, hips moving harder, faster, blunt teeth grazing the soft underside of your chin.

"Want," He rasps again, long fingers teasing under your skirt and pressing insistently between your pussy lips through your panties. In a brief moment of clarity, Zed leans back, expression pleading, "Baby, let me—fuck, I can't—" And then it's gone, the green mist rushing back in, making his eyes wild and his movements stiff as rigor mortis.

You don't even have the chance to give him permission before his fingers dig under the edge of your panties and plunge into you, corkscrewing deep as he growls in delight at how wet you already are for him.

"Mine," Zed bites into your throat, and you don't disagree, moaning as his fingers snap in and out, drilling your sweet spot. "Only mine."

There's no point echoing his sentiment, Zed so far under that he doesn't actually care to hear your thoughts, just wants to make sure you're aware that you're owned. He removes his fingers long enough to rip a hole in your panties, then to get his fly undone—the button flying, zipper torn—and his jeans pulled down enough to free his dribbling cock.

His free hand clenches a chunk of your hair and he angles your head, presses his brow against yours, demanding, "Tell me." He teases the fat head between your lips, pushes in the barest fraction, and smirks when you keen.

For a second, you have no fucking idea what he's asking until you remember, "I want it, Zee."

"Again."

Louder, "I want it, please, Zee."

Zed leans in, nips your earlobe and breathes, "Good girl...perfect little prey for me..." and then, fuck, he spears inside you, the feeling like being split in two. He has one hand on your ass, the other tangled in your hair, his teeth deep in the join of your shoulder and neck.

Every thrust is brutal, punching sighs and whimpers from your chest. He doesn't care if it hurts. He needs this. Needs you like this. And you lose yourself in it as much as he does, your nails mauling welts across his back. The sensation coaxes him to move faster, harder, both hands on your hips now to guide you on his cock exactly how he wants. Your tits bounce as he fucks you with everything he has, your brain scrambled from the sheer fucking strength he has at his disposal.

"Close," He grunts. He sinks to his knees, keeps your back against the wall, and fucks up into you with abandon. His head thrown back, lips parted, eyes clamped shut in ecstasy. "Fuck, baby, gonna come."

He slams into you a few more times and then roars his release, biting into your neck with the intention of ripping flesh from bone. Zed stays like that, his cock pulsing inside you as he spills an ungodly amount of Zombie seed, so much that some oozes around his cock. He hitches his hips three, four, five more times before going still.

The wailing soundtrack of his Z-band finally stops. You don't actually need that to tell you he's slowly returning to normal. His muscles loosen marginally, his skin warms; popped veins shrink and his skin adopts a less sickly hue. Still grey, just less dead. It takes a minute for him to calm all the way down, and when he does, he removes his teeth from your neck and lifts his head.

You smile at him, gentle, fond, "Hey, big guy. You with me again?"

Zed swallows. Nods. His gaze falls between your joined bodies, and he licks his lips at the sight before glancing back up at you.

"Did I hurt you?" He has to know, his concern palpable.

"No." You promise, "You never actually do."

He doesn't look like he believes you, but he doesn't argue. Not today, anyway. You watch him take in your torn shirt and basically disintegrated panties and bra. With a cringe, he hands you his shirt.

"You know, one day I'm going to bill you for everything you've shredded," You say playfully in an effort to prove you're okay.

It works, "You'd think by now you'd start bringing an extra set of clothes with you." He teases back, smirking. It's the first time that he's acknowledged how he gets when the Zombie takes the wheel, and you almost miss it because you can't get your brain to get your mouth to work fast enough.

"You keep saying 'this is the last time, cutie, I swear'," You parody his voice as you roll your eyes. "So, why would I prep for something that isn't suppose to happen?"

And Zed looks utterly confused—still cockdeep inside you, mind you, hardly softened at all.

"I mean the last time I'll be rough. You know that I've claimed you, like, eight times," He says, again acknowledging for the first time what happens when his inner Zombie comes out.

You're almost stunned at how casual he's suddenly being about everything after months of ashamed side-eye and stilted aftercare.

"I think that's a pretty convincing argument to be prepared, babe." He tacks on, his expression telling you that you should've known.

Gaping at him, "Wait, I thought all of that was heat of the moment stuff?" You blink wide eyes at him, almost falling back on your ass when he dislodges you and helps you to your feet.

"Heat of the mo—You know I'm still me when I'm Zombied Out, right?"

Actually. No. You didn't know that. You assumed up to this point that Person Zed and Zombie Zed were completely separate entities with conflicting views on what they want from you.

Oops.

"So, when you say I'm yours...?" You ask slowly, not quite able to believe that this whole time you've possibly been Zombie married.

Zed scoffs, hooks an arm around your waist and pulls you into his body, his gaze turning dark and heated. "It means your mine, baby girl." And then, "Why the fuck do you think I come to you when I'm having a meltdown?"

"...because I don't scream in terror and run away?"

"You're an idiot." Zed snorts as he presses a soft kiss to your lips.

You shrug, "Apparently, I'm your idiot."

In playful retaliation, Zed nibbles your neck, bites and pulls the skin, chuckles, "Definitely mine." Then, dangerously, "but it looks like I gotta make sure you really understand what that means," he murmurs right as his Z-band beeps its first alert.

🫧___________fin.____________

also on AO3!

[whoopsyeahokay]

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 (not on you). miscommunication. public sex. egregious use of the word 'baby'.

bon reading, frens

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Alphabet Soup - M

M is for misunderstandings, and miscommunication, and misleading rumors that bring Wally to his knees while he's in his football kit, 20 minutes before the game. 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 Braden'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 it 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. Then 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 didn't really believe it did you? You just wanted to pick a fight...naughty girl." 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 up, hands on the wall, and a deep curve in your back. He takes a moment to admire you, his fingers digging into your lovehandles. Too bad he doesn't have time to tease you, tugs your panties down to your knees, his pants shoved down to his thighs, hissing when the cool air hits sensitive flesh.

"Gonna make a mess of you baby." He vows 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 or more, 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 trickles 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 to join his team with a deep, hungry kiss and a slap on the ass.

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

27-0.

Coach claps his back and demands that Wally do whatever pre-game ritual he did today for the rest of time 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!

alphabetical navigation:

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

linear navigation:

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

[whoopsyeahokay]

October Moon

THIS IS THE SECOND INSTALLMENT OF A 2 PART SERIES to understand the plot, you MUST read October Sun.

summary: in the aftermath of the theater of terrors, there'd been a single, short moment of silence when everyone had been too stunned to speak. too frightened confused sick horrified to say a word. and then everything had descended into chaos.

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 prologue

There was a single, short moment of silence before the commotion began. A moment of confusion and sick loss that weaved its way between and through everyone until it thinned into a desperate need to understand what they'd all just been through.

"He was so alone," Charley whimpered, pitiful, arms curled around his middle as he tried to forget the little boy who'd needed someone to stay with him so badly, "I didn't want to leave him..."

Rhonda scowled, "How could she not know!?" Spitting her anger through gritted teeth, gesturing widely as if the air was too close and she had to push it away.

Wally was frantic, hands moving as fast as his mouth, "I saw Maddie's dad—"

"What?" Weakly, tortured, "Where? Why did you get to see him and I didn't?" And Maddie began to tremble because she'd always known her father had died but she and her mother had never been given more than a feeble, 'it was an accident'.

An accident that had rendered her father unrecognizable and dead. An accident that had driven her mother to the bottom of too many bottles and away from her daughter. An accident Maddie had never believed because she'd known, she'd KNOWN, it was a lie. But rather than see him, she'd been stuck in a hospital room with a twelve-year-old girl and her great-aunt, forced to watch as Then Deputy Baxter held his hat to his chest and declared a little boy dead.

It wasn't fair and Wally held her even as he explained, "Janet was there," to Charley and Rhonda who stared at him in disbelief.

They all talked over each other, "What was she doing there?" - "Do you think Mr. Martin knows?" - "Maybe that's why he helped her move on; he knew she was dangerous!" - "He can't know, if he did, he wouldn't have let her near us."

Meanwhile, Ajay was urgently scouring the rows, under every seat, down every aisle, calling out Mina's name before disappearing at a run to the back of the stage, into the rafters, "Mina, Mina, Mina!" Over and over, heart in his throat, where was she, she never left the theater, where was she!?

But all of that faded into the background when you heard a weak, strained voice ask, "Why didn't you tell me?"

On your knees on the stage, staring blankly at the spot the farmhouse door had been, you tried to make your mouth work. There was no evidence of the supernatural wind; no smashed stage light, no cuts on your skin, nothing. Slowly, you panned to Xavier who stepped toward you, his face pained, his brow creased and eyes filled with so much sorrow it felt like a kick to the heart.

Meekly in return, you confessed, "That's not how it happened," as if that solved the problem. A band-aid over a bullet wound, as true as it was.

No, you'd snuck into one of those old heritage properties near the elementary school to get out of the rain. Aiden had wandered off when you'd tried calling Nanna to pick you up. He'd fallen down the steep steps and hit his head so hard on the stone wall that he'd bled out at the bottom of the stairs. You'd watched his spirit rise after tumbling down yourself.

It was in your statement to Xavier's father. That was how you'd remembered it, in vague flashes, for the past six years.

"I didn't......it wasn't like that." You repeated, forcing the words out around the lump in your throat. "I didn't remember..."

You couldn't even be sure Xavier was talking about Aiden and not about connectedness and how you didn't seem at all confused about a door that had appeared from the ether like a ghost. His face told you everything, though. It was indeed about Aiden.

Xavier collapsed to his knees in front of you, devastated, "How? How do you not remember that? How could you not tell me?" It wasn't harsh or mean or loud though part of you wished it was. It was a quiet expression of betrayal. And then, a breathy whisper, "He was my brother, too."

Maybe not biologically, but emotionally, spiritually, it was true. Xavier had held Aiden as a baby; had held Aiden's hand on his first day of kindergarten; had taught him big words to impress his teachers, and how to kick a ball into the net, and how to skateboard like a big boy, and how to—you shook, eyes welling with tears as Xavier continued to look at you like you'd just shattered his whole world.

"Xavier," Maddie said softly, her own voice rattled with grief, "It's not her fault."

Xavier exhaled deeply as he turned his head to Maddie, pressed his lips together, suddenly appearing anxious beneath the pain, "When did you get back?"

Maddie shot you a helpless look and you took the responsibility from her, saying in a wet tone, "She didn't, Zav."

Xavier was confused for a long minute, staring at Maddie as if he could piece her together like a puzzle.

He blinked several times, looked—really looked—at the students he didn't recognize, noticing their outdated apparel, their pale complexions, their...not-really-thereness. All at once, it struck him, a knife-twisting epiphany while your voice in his mind, carefree and purposefully teasing, told him and Mathilda about your hot football player ghost. He gazed at Wally Clark, the number 57 on the sleeve of his varsity jacket, and then swallowed.

Xavier's eyes closed almost as soon as his gaze returned to rest on you; his lips pressed together so you wouldn't see how the bottom one wobbled. His shoulders tensed, and, when he opened his eyes again, he couldn't stomach to look at you. In that moment, he understood like common sense exactly where he stood with you and it hurt.

"Zav," You whimpered, reaching for him, but he shifted away, shaking his head. "Zav, please," You attempted, shuffling forward on your knees. He stood, stumbled back a step and then grabbed his head, breathing heavy.

"No." He said, then louder, "No, no way." You clambered to your feet as he jumped off the stage. "It's too much," He said and you could tell he was fighting tears, "I can't do this."

He marched to the top of the center aisle as you called after him, pausing only for a second to glance back at you over his shoulder, his expression utterly destroyed, and then he opened the door and left.

You made to run after him, but Wally grabbed you, pulled you to his chest.

"Let him go, baby," he said, calm and soft, and when you struggled, wailing, folding forward, and falling to the ground, he went with you and cradled you in his arms. Let you cry out everything that had happened; with Aiden, with the farmhouse cellar, with the cult, and Amelia and Anabelle. All of it. Wally held you through it, shushing you, holding your head to his chest, rocking you, kissing your hair between variations of, "I've got you, baby, I'm right here."

As you began to recover, thick sniffs and small whimpers, you burrowed into the safety and comfort of Wally's arms, not wanting the others to see you like that. Unfortunately, you didn't have a choice. Your phone vibrated in the back pocket of your skirt. Wally shamelessly retrieved it, handing it off to Maddie without a word.

"Simon's here." She said, as somber and morose as the rest of them.

‗‗‗‗•‗‗‗‗

Nicole had been a saint. Picked Xavier up even though he'd been late, had allowed him to sit stoically in the car the whole drive. Until something that'd been nagging at her had finally prompted her to ask how he'd known about Claire's hot-and-cold behavior.

He'd been too...fuck, defeated? Hollowed out? Numb, really, to care that Nicole had deduced in his silence that he'd cheated on Maddie with Claire. Xavier had barely tried to defend himself. Stopped talking after a few words when it'd hit him that it hadn't fucking mattered.

After everything that'd happened in the theater, the shit he'd seen. The murder and then—Jesus Christ—the cover up, Xavier hadn't been able to muster a single fuck to give.

He was still disturbed by his dad's reaction to the evidence Xavier had found in his home office. A bagged and bloodied patch, black thread stitched into khaki spelling Maddie's last name. He thought he was going to be sick, lowering the window and sticking his head out for some air.

Nicole had ordered him to stay in the car while she searched the crowd at Horror Con for Maddie. Who she wouldn't find because Maddie was a ghost at school which meant she was dead. How long had you known?

He didn't want to talk about it with you. Didn't think he was capable of looking you in the eye right now after everything he'd experienced and learned. The sheer extent of the shit you'd been keeping from him for years. Who even were you? What even were you? A witch? A medium?

Did it matter? His mind asked and Xavier clenched his eyes shut, fists balled in his lap. Whatever you were, you'd hidden it from Xavier for over a decade of friendship. And it fucking hurt. You were the only person in the world he could trust, who he'd believed would be there for him through anything and everything.

Through his dad's profound betrayal... How was he going to get through that? He'd seen it with his own eyes. Austin Baxter, Deputy favored to take over Sheriff Stallow, forcing a dead and mangled Christopher Nears behind the wheel of his car and rolling it off the cliff into the quarry for pit workers to find the following morning.

Xavier's stomach rolled.

His dad hadn't said it, but the timing made sense. Xavier's mom probably found out and that's why she'd left. Why she'd abandoned Xavier, he didn't know, but that barely stung in the face of everything else.

What had caused Xavier the most distress during the encounter with his dad, though, had been the weird, flickering threads of light that kept appearing in the air. Faint and glowing. First red then spun black, then red again. Strung between Xavier and his dad as if it connected them.

He'd seen one between he and Nicole when he'd climbed into her car. A soft yellow that hadn't seemed established, so dim and loose. He'd nearly asked her to take him to the hospital for an MRI, but decided against it. Some instinct deep inside his soul told him it wasn't a tumor. That it was so much more than anything that could be explained by a body scan.

Xavier sat in the car for almost twenty minutes, his brain a maelstrom of anger and grief and hurt and anger again. He'd seen Maddie. She'd been there. Probably knew about Claire. Probably hated Xavier's guts. God, she'd probably told you about it, too, and now you didn't care if Xavier was upset or not because you hated him as much as he hated himself for what he'd done.

Unable to marinate in his thoughts any longer, Xavier ditched the car and charged into the crowd to find Nicole. He felt horrible that she was worrying herself sick trying to find someone who wouldn't be found. He knew she hated the horror stuff as much as Xavier did, yet she was in there, doing it scared because she loved Maddie more than Xavier had.

He grabbed a Pennywise mask off some rando on a bench and donned it, tried to blend in. He didn't want anyone from school to see him, they still wanted his blood for whatever had happened to Maddie. Murderer, they called him behind his back.

Maybe he was. God. Was it...his fault that Maddie was dead?

Those fucking threads kept blinking into and fading from existence, linking strangers to each other. Webs of relationships that made Xavier dizzy trying to follow them. He felt his chest tug and glanced down, saw that thin, pale yellow thread pulling ahead.

Taking a leap, he followed it until he saw Nicole.

He reached out, she shoved him away, terrified. Xavier ripped the mask off, having forgotten about it in his amazement over the delicate thread connecting him to Nicole.

"What the fuck are you doing!?" She demanded, visibly shaken.

"Looking for you." He said, stepping an inch closer, worried at how close to a mental breakdown Nicole seemed. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," She croaked between hard breaths.

Xavier gave her a concerned look, "Are you sure? Because you look a little shook up."

She didn't appreciate that, "Just go back to the car, Xavier."

It unraveled from there. The next thing he knew, she was yelling at him, accusing him of failing Maddie—"Yeah, it definitely has the whole 'someone who's supposed to look after you fails' thing going for it," you'd said—and he cast his gaze to the ground, ashamed and overwhelmed with guilt.

"She's nowhere, she's gone!" Nicole cried, movements frantic.

"I know that!" Xavier said before he realized. He did know. He knew where Maddie was—her ghost, at least—and he knew Nicole wouldn't find her at Horror Con, and he knew he was probably to blame for all of it. But...he still couldn't tell her everything. Fuck, she'd think he was crazy, anyway, so he exposed different vulnerable flesh and said, "You're right. I failed her."

It was an appeal for forgiveness.

"And if I could take back what I did, I—" He thought of Aiden. He thought of you. He thought of Claire and Maddie. "But I can't. I have to live with that." He looked Nicole in the eye, desperate, "So, if it makes you feel better to hit me, then please, swing away."

Xavier couldn't stop thinking about Aiden's little body being put in that ambulance. Blue lips and alabaster skin. Dead. And all the blood that'd covered Christopher Nears' body, all the blood that had gushed out of the hole that had once been his face, shoved behind the wheel of his car by Xavier's dad.

His voice cracked, "I just... I'm sorry."

Nicole turned, didn't say a word, and didn't protest when Xavier quietly followed her from person to person, showing them Maddie's photo until she burned herself out.

Sitting together at a picnic table, Nicole said, "I really thought she would be here."

"I know." Xavier sighed, eyes down, regretful and biting his tongue.

A long, tense silence and then Nicole croaked, "I think Simon might be right.

She didn't need to elaborate. Xavier knew that Simon thought Maddie was dead. Nicole had ranted to Xavier about it yesterday when they'd finalized plans to search Horror Con for Maddie. Before he knew the truth.

He didn't have it in him to break her heart and tell her that, yeah, Simon was right. Instead, he stared at that thin, warming thread, the color deepening into a soft orange from his chest to Nicole's. Xavier placed his hand palm-up in the space between him and Nicole on the bench, staring blankly ahead as he tried to suppress what he'd seen in the theater. How he felt about it. How he felt about you.

Moments later, without a word, Nicole placed her hand in his.

‗‗‗‗•‗‗‗‗

Derek Anderson hated this fucking town. He hated what he'd had to resort to. The man he'd become. The cards he'd been dealt. He was done.

He'd used his one phone call to beg forgiveness and ask for help from the one person he could trust with everything. Your Uncle Andrew. Derek's best friend since their early rowdy college days. Andrew was two years older than Derek, but had started college a year after. Had taken time off to backpack across South America and live like a nomad.

The guy was nuts, a free spirit, and exactly who Derek needed right then. He stared ahead, at the mirror he knew was a window, the deputies behind it discussing his fate. The state appointed attorney had been of little help, but had assured Derek would be released on bail within 24 hours.

Fuck.

What was he going to do now?

His whole career had been blown up in a matter of seconds because Simon Elroy was convinced Derek had murdered Madison Nears. He should've seen it coming. Had known the kid was hellbent on finding Maddie, and had already discovered the cash Derek had been hiding in his classroom.

Yeah, fine, he should've been more careful, but how the hell had Simon found it in the first place?

Derek dropped his head into his hands and tried to breathe slowly. A suggestion from Ms. Chung who'd been at the staff meeting when Simon had monologued Derek's guilt. She'd also been the only person to show him any sympathy, his other colleagues immediately putting distance between themselves and him, the new Split River scandal.

"Don't worry," Ms. Chung said, rubbing his back as Derek waited for the cops in Principal Hartman's office. "Everything will work itself out. Just be honest."

"That entails telling them that I did actually commit fraud." Derek chuckled, dry and flat, his world crumbling. "God, Meredith, what am I going to do?"

She didn't tell him. Didn't have any advice. Just another placating, "It'll be okay," that did nothing apart from make him more anxious.

The door to the interrogation room opened and Sheriff Baxter entered. Derek huffed a humorless snort, shaking his head in disbelief. A boy who'd been picked last in gym class had become the town's protector. A boy Derek had been guilty of bullying in elementary school, so the Sheriff got him back years later by marrying the woman Derek had seen a future with.

He'd never felt more fucked in his life.

"Your friend called the front desk," Sheriff Baxter began, taking the seat across from Derek. "He's arranged for his sister to stay with the old man tonight. Is there anyone else who could take him on, long term, you think?"

Derek shook his head. "No. No one. My aunt died a year ago, I don't have any siblings. He'd be left to the state."

"Alright," Sheriff Baxter said after a long lull, "Look, we're going to keep you for the next 24 hours while we investigate the accusation Simon Elroy brought against you." He paused, studied Derek as if waiting to see if he'd spit excuses or threats. Something vile that Derek wasn't feeling. When he didn't, Sheriff Baxter continued, "After that, there'll be a bail hearing and, if you post it, you'll be closely monitored pending a trial. Unless the school is virtuous enough to drop the charges."

Derek nodded, eyes on the metal table, heaving a sigh that made his bones ache. "Got it."

"Okay, then, let's get you settled in for the night." Sheriff Baxter stood, came around the table and hooked his hand under Derek's arm to pull him to his feet.

He was escorted to one of the private holding cells, uncuffed and locked in. A lumpy cot and thin, itchy blanket, flat pillow, and moonlight. He hated everything in that moment, but most of all himself.

Why had he done it? It hadn't even occurred to him to try something so misguided until he'd heard a story about how easy it'd been to get away with. You can do anything on a computer these days, and, why shouldn't I have trusted them, they were so nice!

That woman who'd known his dad back in the day and still visited every weekend. Darcy Behr. She'd been nattering his father's ear off over iced tea when she'd let slip about a scam she'd been naïve enough to fall for.

He shouldn't have done it. He shouldn't have glommed onto that of all things. He could've figured something out. Sold the furniture, his mother's jewelry, the fucking house. Instead, he'd resorted to fraud because it'd seemed so much simpler and less painful than parting with memories.

Derek sat on the cot and stared at the wall. If it weren't for his father, he would've gotten the fuck out of Split River years ago when he'd had the chance.

‗‗‗‗•‗‗‗‗

You and Simon had just retrieved Mr. Anderson's phone from the top of the lockers. It had been a joint effort, Simon lifting you, your ass pressed into his cheek while he grimaced toward the end of the hall, petrified that your, "dead boyfriend is going to kill me and then I'll be stuck here, too."

"He's not even here, Simon, calm down." You'd rolled your eyes as you'd grabbed the phone. Once he'd placed you on your feet, you'd handed the phone to Simon to hold on to.

Making your way out of the school, Simon asked, "Do you know what Xavier saw?"

You shook your head, "No," solemn, shrinking into yourself as you continued, "And I doubt I'll ever know. He's never going to talk to me again."

You felt Simon's arm drape supportively around your shoulders before he squeezed you into his side, smiling softly as he said, "He'll come around."

"Maybe," You said, not so sure. While Simon had taken the news of your abilities like it was just another day in the neighborhood, Xavier wasn't so quick to move on. He held grudges as if they were missions entrusted to him by the gods. He still didn't trust Hana enough to drink chocolate milk around her after she'd stolen one of his during recess in 1st Grade...

Simon moved the conversation along, "So, you think this Amelia person is still out there. What about that cult? Think she assembled a new team of yes-men to sacrifice?"

You pondered the question as Simon held the door open for you to walk outside. "Honestly, I'm not sure. I'll see what I can find about the Something-Something of Dagda when I get home." You turned your head to look at him, "I really hope that whatever reason she had to kill Aiden isn't connected to why Maddie's a ghost."

Simon nodded and then, quite absurdly, said, "And here I thought we were dealing with aliens."

You stopped walking, stunned into silence, mouth gaping as you absorbed his words. At last, after a second or two of staring at him like he'd grown a second head, you blurted, "Aliens?"

"Or mummies," Simon shrugged easily, snickering at you.

You couldn't help it. It began in fits and starts, and then a loud laugh bubbled out of you that was contagious, Simon snorting and laughing along with you. After everything that had happened in the theater, you hadn't been sure you'd ever be able to laugh again. It felt good. Liberating. Your spirit warmed and somewhat renewed in the wake of such a nightmare.

He opened the passenger side door of his car for you, but as he made his way around to the driver's side, you and he heard a frantic, "Simon!" followed by an equally as worked up, "Babe!"

Instantly, you spun around and Simon halted mid-step, both of you drawn away from the car as Maddie and Wally ran down the path from the school. You glanced at Simon and then shifted to meet Wally and Maddie in the bus shelter. Simon's brow furrowed as he waited for Maddie to explain.

All she managed between gasps was, "4-9-5-2-7-3."

It took a moment, but Simon got with the program quickly, pulling Mr. Anderson's phone out of his pocket. He punched in the numbers when Maddie repeated them more slowly. As he did, you unconsciously moved closer to Wally who strung his arm around your waist, stamping a sweet kiss to your hairline, his big hand engulfing your hip.

You snuggled into his side, weight leaned comfortably into him, and you felt him give your hip a little squeeze. When you looked up, he was already staring down at you, a soft smile on his face.

"Where does Mr. Martin think you are?" You wondered quietly, gazing up at Wally.

"I told him I was gonna make sure Maddie was okay. She bolted out of there and he was kinda worried." He explained into your hair as he pressed another kiss to your head.

You hummed and rested your head against his chest, happy to bask in his presence until "...You've reached Claire Zomer. Do me a fave and just text me, okay?"

Before anyone could react, you felt Wally tense. "Wait. Isn't that the chick Xavier was cheating on Maddie with?"

There was a pause. You looked at Maddie. Maddie looked at Simon. They both looked back at you. And you, so slowly, panned up to look at Wally.

"WHAT!?"

💀___________________________

OCTOBER SUN PT.27 - PART ONE

also available on AO3!

MASTERLIST

[whoopsyeahokay]

October Sun

summary: it had been settled. everything had gone to shit and then everyone had had front row seats to watch how that'd happened. back in the theater, no one had known what to say, how to describe what they'd seen, how to reconcile that whoever had been behind the circumstances haunting Split River High could've been anyone.

pairing: Wally Clark x fem!reader

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

bon reading, frens

___________________________💀

OCTOBER SUN pt.27

"Love this for me."

Charley scanned the area, confused, disoriented, nervous. We're not in Kansas anymore, Toto, he shuddered, wrapping his jacket tighter around himself as he began to trek in the direction he hoped would take him back to civilization.

This wasn't how he imagined finally being free from the school. Lost in the middle of nowhere, dense trees as far as the eye could see. There weren't many wooded areas around Split River. A couple of parcels here and there, wilderness parks, but not like this, and he had to wonder if the forest was actually native to the land.

Finally, he found a trodden path in the dirt and decided to follow it. What did he have to lose? There was no danger. He couldn't die twice. Food, sleep, shelter weren't required despite he and the others keeping up those habits in the afterlife at Mr. Martin's guidance. Still, what you'd mentioned on the rooftop the night before—about how your great-aunt or your mother could erase his soul from existence—made Charley paranoid.

What if he'd landed here just for an evil witch to use his ghost for some nefarious plan to make her young and beautiful again? He'd seen Hocus Pocus. And it didn't matter that he was technically too old for that spell to work. He was stuck at 17 until he moved on and he wasn't keen on having a wicked witch absorb him for the sake of vanity.

Which, okay, Charley reasoned, sounded ridiculous, but one couldn't blame him. After a tornado had manifested in the theater and he'd been transported to some creepy, dark forest alone; he wasn't going to criticize himself for the insane theories his brain churned out.

He followed the path until it brought him to a winding, unpaved road. Turning left, he trailed down the edge of it for what felt like hours. It'd started raining halfway through his journey to wherever the hell, and night had fallen before the road widened into a bare plot of land stretched in front of a dilapidated farmhouse, its shadow a fanged monster raking toward Charley's ankles.

"Oh, that's not freaky at all." Charley muttered, quickly glancing over his shoulder and debating whether or not to go back the way he'd come. The darkness blurring the unpaved road seemed to push toward him as if discouraging him from turning around. He groaned in despair, "I hate everything about this," wanting the universe to take pity on him and return him to—God help him—the safe and familiar halls of Split River High.

It was Movie Night, he winged internally, and Wally had agreed (with conditions) to watch Ghost—shut up—and Katelynn and Bernadette were in charge of snacks which meant there'd be a smorgasbord of good options because Mr. Martin always filled the table with carrot sticks and his homemade tuna salad ("Just like my mother's! Doesn't it taste like home?"—"Why is it in jell-o?"—the 50s were a heinous decade, Charley thought, green around the gills at the memory).

Today was supposed to be a good day. A day of progress. A day of togetherness. He and Rhonda and Wally, and now Maddie, a united front against the mystery of Maddie's.....well, not-death, Charley supposed, because you'd debunked that. But against the mystery of Maddie's situation, nonetheless.

Except he was here, wet and cold and lost; an Addams Family-esque farmhouse towering in front of him like a bad omen and no one to turn to for answers.

"It can't get worse," Charley sighed, about to ascend the first of the front steps.

As his foot set down on the wood, the screen door creaked and someone emerged, using their back to push the door open so they could exit. When they turned around, Charley nearly jumped for joy. He knew that face! That was your face! Your face... Charley reeled back. Your face was coated in blood. You were coated in blood. Hair, hands, jeans.

"What happened!?" He questioned, pitching toward you to scan you for injuries.

You didn't seem to be in any pain, not favoring a leg or curling over a gut wound. Beneath the thin red film on your face, Charley couldn't spot a gash, a cut, a scrape, nothing. He panned to the front door, speculating in startled flashes what lay beyond it. The color drained from his face as he thought about it and he decided, no thanks, he didn't want—didn't need—to know.

The most unnerving part, however, wasn't the Evil Dead amount of blood on you. It was how your eyes stared ahead, completely blank; the same dissociative gaze Charley had witnessed on Emilio's face in the wake of Charley's death. Like Emilio's mind had evaporated while his brain repressed every bad thing that'd ever happened just to keep him upright.

Charley wanted to ask if you were okay but the words lodged in his throat when he finally noticed that you had something—someone—bundled in your arms. Small, child-sized (probably because it was a child, Charley, he chided himself), wearing Spiderman rainboots and a Looney Tunes sweater. A queasy sensation flushed through him as he watched you fumble down the stairs, gaze fixed ahead, arms fastened around the little body.

When Charley shifted to follow you, the screen door creaked again then slammed closed. Another person hurried out, clomping down the steps to chase after you. Small. Child-sized. Spiderman rainboots and a Looney Tunes sweater. Charley's expression twisted with sorrow. He bit the inside of his lip as he turned and walked beside the little boy who contemplated his boots as he squelched through the mud.

"Where are we going?" The little boy asked you, stomping into and out of a puddle.

You answered, "I'm taking you home," your voice light as a feather and far, far away.

"Will mommy be mad at me?" The little boy paused, big green eyes on your back, worried that he'd be in trouble for...for what? Charley couldn't discern. For dying?

"No." You said, dragged your feet with effort, your Converse not made for soft, sinking ground. "She'll know what to do. She'll make it all better, Aiden, I swear." On the last word, your voice cracked, but your face didn't change, your gaze still distant.

Charley kept pace with the little boy, Aiden, until you came to the end of the unpaved road. You were shaking, probably freezing, soaked to the bone and in shock. The unpaved road intersected a tarred section of old, narrow highway, a rusted mailbox keeping vigil in the tall grass that lined the shoulder.

Part of the name was scraped away by time and weather. Still, Charley could make it out: Meheive. A name Charley had had hammered into his skull in Grade 7 History. The name of one of the three industry men who'd founded Split River in 1850.

"Oh," He commented mildly, "It gets freakier. Fantastic." Then, as he lifted his foot to continue after you, he simply couldn't. He tried again, again, again, walked in place as if on a treadmill while an invisible force kept him at bay. "Never mind," He gulped, "Now it's freakier." At least he wasn't being shot back to the cafeteria at speed, he mused glumly when he took the time to feel the identical vibrations he felt when he got too close to the barrier around the school.

Slanting his attention to the side, he saw Aiden standing alone, face pinched, lower lip trembling and eyes filled with tears. "Sissy May, wait... I can't follow you..." He stuttered several breaths, hands balled into fists at his sides. "Sissy May!"

You didn't turn around. "It'll be okay, Aiden. Mom will fix it. She'll know what to do." Charley heard you murmur, dreamlike, detached, as you began to walk along the shoulder of the highway, adjusting Aiden's weight in your arms. "She'll fix it..."

Charley came up beside Aiden, watching you blend into the dark the further away you got. Aiden sniffled, squeaked before he coughed out a sob. He craned his neck to look up at Charley in devastation. Briefly, Charley was surprised though that settled into sympathy the longer Aiden blinked those green eyes up at him.

"I don't want to be alone," Aiden whimpered and took Charley's hand, his grip limp, his fingers tiny.

There was nothing to say to that. Charley didn't want Aiden to be alone either, and if he had to stay with Aiden for eternity, he would. He knelt down and pulled Aiden into a hug, his voice wet as he said, "You aren't alone, buddy," the way he would've comforted his younger cousin, Luca.

Unfortunately, the moment the words slipped out of him, Charley was snatched away and dragged through the farmhouse door.

‗‗‗‗•‗‗‗‗

Where Charley couldn't follow, Ajay did. Down the shoulder of the unlit highway, stomach rolling as he observed how you swayed and stumbled as you pressed onward, Aiden's dead weight becoming more and more difficult to manage. A car had stopped, a woman had called out to you, and Ajay had heard her on the phone with the police, asking for help.

It was as if you hadn't heard her. Ajay doubted you had, the state you were in, mumbling gentle promises to your brother as you carried him home. "Mom will know what to do, Aiden..."

Twenty minutes came and went before an ambulance and two squad cars screeched to a halt meters in front of you, lights flashing, red blue, red blue, red blue.

When the EMTs tried to take Aiden from you, you put up a fight; kicked, gnashed, snarled, screamed. Not words, just noise, like a provoked animal. Deputy Baxter managed to get you in a submissive hold so an EMT could sedate you before he helped settle you into a stretcher. Strapped you in, just in case, the corners of his mouth severely turned down and his eyes shuttered to conceal the heartbreak Ajay had caught a glimmer of.

"Take them to St. Vincent's." Deputy Baxter instructed the ambulance driver. "I'll call their mother." He moved on to order the second unit that'd arrived with him to follow the ambulance, that he would check the road, "For anything that'll tell us what the hell happened here."

"Austin, are you sure you want to do it alone? If someone's responsible, they could still be out there. They could be armed." Deputy Hayes voiced her concern through the passenger-side window. She was new. Too new to understand that Sheriff Stallow had a protocol when it came to certain matters. Especially those involving your family and a handful of others.

A protocol that Deputy Baxter was responsible for overseeing himself. For a substantial fee, of course, pulled from a vault that had been collecting wealth since before Split River had been established.

Deputy Baxter shook his head and reassured, "I'm just going to see what I can find along the road. If anything comes up, I'll call it in." He straightened and peered down the highway in the direction you'd obviously come from, a deep-seated foreboding frosting beneath his skin.

He was at a crossroads, his gut told him. Something terrible waited for him in the dark and whatever choice he made to deal with it would change his life forever. Damned if he did, damned if he didn't. He just prayed to God that he'd still be able to be there for his own little boy in the after. That he'd have the chance to hug Xavier and tell him the world might not be safe, but his dad will always be there to protect him.

In the side mirror of his vehicle, Deputy Baxter stared at the retreating image of the ambulance and squad car as they blared down the highway toward the town. Once the sound of the sirens faded, he shifted the gear into drive, gravel crunching under the tires, and he drove to the only building in the area for miles.

Once Deputy Baxter was gone, Ajay vanished through the farmhouse door.

‗‗‗‗•‗‗‗‗

Question Five.

Does the Monster die?

‗‗‗‗•‗‗‗‗

Simon's eyes flew open and he jolted upright, waking abruptly in a cold sweat. The sky was dark outside his closed window, his room pitched black, and his mother was tugging at his shirt.

He barely registered her words, you told the police you'd return the phone tonight, get up, as she fussed over him, fuming, lecturing him in Tagalog as she switched on the overhead light and pinned him with a strict expression.

He scrubbed his face to wake himself up. Dragged his hands through his hair, eyes drifting to his closet. He could've sworn... Hadn't there been...? The door was open and, apart from the two rails of clothes and the shoe rack, it was empty.

"Hurry up, iho! Before your father gets home." His mother commanded before she turned on her heel and left the room.

In English, Simon responded, "I'm going, I'm going..." and rose from his bed. He felt weak, exhausted despite having apparently slept through the day. Again, his gaze settled on his closet as if the person who'd been crying in there had just tucked themselves in the corner and would pop out any second now that the coast was clear.

But nothing happened.

Taking a deep breath, Simon stood and treaded to his closet. Just to make sure; just to see if it had really all been a dream. There was nothing inside to indicate anyone had been hiding there. No displaced clothes to suggest Simon had shoved them aside to get a better look at the little boy who'd quivered beside the shoe rack. No puddle from the rain that had dripped from the little boy's hair and Spiderman rainboots. No scuff marks in the carpet. No mud. No little boy.

"She's gonna hurt him," The little boy wailed into Simon's hip. "She's gonna take him and she's gonna hurt Sissy!"

Simon tripped backward, away from the closet, breath suddenly ragged as the memory flooded his mind. Because it had to be that. A memory. He'd had vivid dreams before, but never like that. He could still feel the little boy's tight grip around his waist, could still feel the wet and cold of the little boy's body through his Looney Tunes sweater when Simon had instinctually returned the embrace.

"She wants t'take them!" The little boy sniffed thickly, "You gotta help! You can't let her!" And then he added as if he'd been reprimanded enough times by his mommy, imploring "Pleeease!"

"Who are you talking about?" Simon asked. Leaned back and crouched so he was eye-level with the little boy, his hands holding the little boy's boney shoulders, "Who's going to get hurt?"

Simon grabbed his sweater and his car keys, calling out, "I'll be back soon," to his mother who'd installed herself in front of Wheel of Fortune. He had to get to the school. He had to see Maddie. To tell her what he'd dreamt or prophesized or hallucinated because, guess what, he'd apparently graduated from unwitting medium to Nostradamus.

As he trotted down the front walkway, he checked his phone. 7 missed calls from Nicole. 2 missed calls from Mathilda. 3 texts from Nicole asking the same question—are you okay?—and a novel from Mathilda that detailed the lessons he'd missed and what he'd have to make up for over the weekend, but don't worry, I'll help you. And 1 text from you. Short and sweet, sent that morning just after Simon had returned home from the police station.

"We found something to get Mr. A. I'll meet you at the bus stop when you get here."

Simon hoped it wasn't too late. That you'd stayed behind to wait for him even though he hadn't answered you. Unlikely, but he tried to remain optimistic, even as he took a moment to collect himself once behind the wheel of his car. That dream...it lingered like a bruise.

The little boy's voice stuttered through rough breaths, "Sh-she said she needs to find M-Maddie, but Maddie's gone, and that she c-can't use Sissy without Maddie. She can't do it w-without trapping more people."

Simon started the car and pulled into the road.

"What do you mean, 'gone'? You mean because Maddie died?" Simon pushed, but the little boy wasn't listening, sobbing about 'him' and 'Sissy' and how they were in danger. Simon grabbed the little boy's face between his palms, soft but firm, and God, his cheeks were so cold. He looked the boy straight in the eye, "What can't 'she' do without trapping more people?"

He rolled down the window to let the fresh air soothe his anxiety.

Eventually, the little boy quieted though tears continued to stream down his face, "She can't have a new body." He said in a little voice. "Now she needs more people because Maddie got away."

And what the gentlest fuck did that mean?

Simon still didn't know who the 'Sissy' and 'him' were that the little boy had referred to. The little boy had been too distressed to divulge their names, talking as if Simon should already know everything. Just 'Sissy' and 'him'. 'Sissy' and 'him' and Maddie and someone named Janet.

Did Simon know a Janet? He wracked his brain, trying to summon the names of everyone in his class who could have a connection to Maddie's death. There was a Jessica and a Jennifer and a Jayden. No Janet.

Then there was the matter of 'she' wanting a new body. Because that was sane. And impossible. Right...? Fuck, what if Maddie's death had been some nutcase's idea of a ritual sacrifice. What if another teenage girl was about to be murdered because, lo and behold, magic isn't real and Maddie just died instead of ceding her body.

The devil on Simon's shoulder quipped, "But ghosts are real," which, fair. If ghosts were real, surely they weren't the only eldritch phenomenon to exist in the world.

Maybe there were cursed mummies or body snatching aliens out there scheming to take over America via its youth. No child left behind. Jesus Christ. Simon was spiraling, brain spitting random images of every creature feature he'd ever seen at him. Had the little boy been trying to warn Simon about mummies? Aliens? Was it aliens!?

As he stopped at a pedestrian crosswalk, he stared—definitely too intensely—at the young woman who passed in front of his car. Like he could see straight to her bones and determine whether or not she was really human. The woman picked up her pace, shoulders up, head down, and folded her leather jacket tighter around her.

Don't be suspicious, Simon, he admonished himself, ashamed of his behavior, eyes darting to his lap until the woman was safely on the other side of the road.

"What even is my life anymore?" He wallowed. Ghosts and Mystery Inc. side-quests and pinning crimes on teachers. He felt he'd lived a hundred lifetimes in the last week and was seriously considering becoming a hermit the minute Maddie moved on.

There wouldn't be much reason to stick around after that anyway...

‗‗‗‗•‗‗‗‗

Mina Volkov hadn't left the theater since 1987. She was a looper. She performed the same tasks every day, from morning to night to morning. She didn't sleep. She didn't eat—except for the paper bag lunch she'd brought with her the day she'd died. She didn't stray. Mina had to make sure that what had happened to her wouldn't happen to someone else.

There was safety in her loop. Not just for the living students she protected through her hard work, but for herself. Her loop allowed her mind to remain clear, focused entirely on the task at hand. She didn't have to think or reflect or question why her soul had lingered after being squashed by a stage light.

Rhonda had called it denial when she'd visited Mina a week after Mina's death. Rhonda had been sizing Mina up, prodding and poking to see how Mina would react.

Mina had simply gone about her safety checks and Rhonda had eventually gotten bored. And had never come back.

Sometimes, her loop veered off-course. Sometimes Mr. Martin came to check on her. Just to say hi. Never to invite her to those stupid meetings he hosted in the gym. The ones Ajay attended and would tell Mina about later when they picnicked on the stage or between kisses in the green room.

She liked Ajay. He was kind and thoughtful, and he respected her loop. He didn't complain when she prioritized double-checking the lighting cables and tightening ropes and cordage for the dropdown scenery. He'd simply sit and talk to her. Recite poetry or passages from books she never intended to read. Ajay was smart. Ajay was handsome. Ajay was...

Ajay was comatose. Slumped on the floor along with the others, his face, like theirs, twisted in anguish. Whatever measures Mina used to wake him up didn't work and she had no idea how to help. But she knew she needed to. Not because New Girl had brought Mina flowers. Or because Hawaiian Shirt Man had caused her so many headaches since the start of the school year and they'd found something to make him stop banging around under the stage. But because Ajay needed Mina to be brave.

He needed help and she was going to help him. Which meant Mina had to leave the theater. She had to find Mr. Martin.

Though Ajay often thought Mina didn't listen when he spoke, he was wrong. She held onto every word like a treasure that she'd tuck away in her heart and savor in the moments she was alone.

Mr. Martin took his privacy in the fallout shelter in the basement. Mina had been there before she'd died. Several times, in fact. It'd been an opening night ritual conducted an hour before curtain. The cast and crew piled downstairs and hid in the fallout shelter to pass around a spliff.

Mina hadn't been responsible back then, not like she was now. She'd partaken because she'd wanted to feel like part of the group when she'd so often felt like an outsider the actors and other crew members made fun of, "for being such an airhead, God, Mina, how many times do I have to repeat myself?"

Standing slowly, Mina regarded the theater door. Her heart slammed against her ribs, palms clammy as she tightened and loosened her fists. A comforting motion to calm her nerves as she stepped carefully to the door and placed her hand on the exit bar.

Mina hadn't left the theater since 1987. But today, she would.

For Ajay.

She spilled into the hall, the world spinning in her panic, and took off at speed to the other side of the school. Down two flights of stairs, through the door that led to the basement.

Most of the basement had been bricked off which had narrowed the hallway, making it feel like a catacomb. Poorly lit and spooky. The fallout shelter was at the far end, directly below the gym. Its door was open as Mr. Martin usually kept it. A practical solution given how regularly he had to come and go during office hours.

It hadn't been his idea originally. No. It'd been hers. The woman currently speaking through the janitor's mouth as she stared Mr. Martin down.

"I've canvased the area and several others every night since that traitorous little bitch escaped." Mr. South stated, "There's no sign of her."

Helplessly, Mr. Martin explained for the second time, "I don't know what you want me to do, Amelia. I've done everything you asked me. But my students need me to keep them present. I need to concentrate on that. I've already noticed a shift in the sentients since Maddie joined us."

Mr. South—Amelia—snarled, "I'm not asking you to participate in a search and seize, Everett. I simply want you to tell me where that conniving piece of shit would have gone! She confided in you, you told me that. So, tell. me. where she's most likely to go!"

Mr. Martin shook his head, a cowardly expression miring his face, "I've told you everything I know, Amelia, please. I've given you her notes, her journal. Every piece of information I had is already in your hands."

Quite unexpectedly, a frightened voice interrupted from the vault door, "Mr. Martin?"

Mr. Martin whipped his head to the side, his eyes going wide in panic when he saw Mina stood just over the threshold, inside the fallout shelter. What was she doing there?

She looked ashen. Scared. Shaking like a leaf in the wind. Her brown eyes slid away from Mr. Martin's face to rest on Mr. South for a second before returning to Mr. Martin.

Mr. Martin swallowed, opened his mouth to say something, anything to explain why he was mid-conversation with the living school janitor, when suddenly it didn't matter anymore.

Mr. Martin choked as he watched Mina glance down her body. Her chest seared like paper in a candle flame. She looked back up, fear contorting into betrayal, before she quietly burned away into oblivion.

Unable to reconcile what he'd witnessed, Mr. Martin merely stared at the spot Mina had just been standing, expression slack in horror. His chest rose and fell heavily, "Why?" he rasped, and it took every ounce of self-preservation not to lash out.

Behind him, Amelia lowered Mr. South's hand, scoffing, "Oh, don't look so sad, Everett. She didn't feel a thing," but Mr. Martin didn't believe it. Still, he was too intimidated to argue. He knew what Amelia was capable of.

Virtuously, Amelia commented, "You'll have to find me another to replace that one. So, two more, I suppose. I need someone to step in for Janet," A look of distaste, "Since it appears you truly are hopeless at managing things here on your own."

"I—" Can't, but he choked on the word, unwilling to say it aloud.

Amelia rounded on him, beautiful blue eyes flashing in anger, "I gave you everything you wanted, Everett," She reminded him, "And I can take it away like this." She snapped her fingers. "Do. Not. Test me." Amelia stepped closer in Mr. South's body, nose practically touching Mr. Martin's. "You will do as I ask or all your little lambs will be slaughtered and I'll leave you here to rot. Alone."

And then she turned on her heel, her demeanor shifting to breezy and aloof.

"Do it soon. I can't afford any delays." In Mr. South's lumbering body, she picked across the floor like a debutante, "Time is valuable, Everett, especially mine." Then she was out the door and around the corner to return Mr. South's body to the storage room Mr. South used as his office.

Alone in the fallout shelter, Mr. Martin buckled to his knees.

‗‗‗‗•‗‗‗‗

Operating with half his mind still on aliens and mummies, Simon waited in the bus shelter. He was grateful you hadn't left, had responded to the text he'd sent when he'd arrived at the school: "See you in 5," you'd told him. At the metal crack of the side entrance opening, Simon stood up from the bench and faced the school. He frowned when he saw who emerged.

Steps uneven, Xavier exited the school. He stopped when he noticed Simon, stood still like a deer in headlights. Damn, Xavier looked like his whole world had been turned upside down. More so than it already had been, that was. Pale and bug eyed and jittery. They watched each other for a moment. Simon nodded his head in greeting. Xavier didn't return the gesture. Instead, he gazed down at his chest and then followed a trail to Simon's.

With a frightened look, Xavier lifted the hood of his sweater and veered toward the parking lot, skulking off with his head down.

A minute or so later, the door opened again and this time it was you. And Maddie. Together. Followed by a tall guy in a varsity jacket, a girl in a newsboy cap, and a boy with frosted tips wearing a lot of denim. The trio of strangers stayed by the door to watch as you and Maddie—together—approached Simon.

When you and Maddie were within earshot, Simon said, "Okay. What the hell is this?" To Maddie specifically, "How can I see you right now?"

Maddie shrugged, glanced at you, but you just kept your eyes on the ground.

"Not sure." You murmured, voice like air. You at least had the decency to look apologetic when you finally brought your gaze up to meet Simon's.

"So you can see ghosts." Simon stated, irritated.

"So can you." You returned, but your heart wasn't in it. In fact, you seemed as rattled as Xavier had been when he'd come out of the school.

Although he wanted to chew you out for having lied to him, Simon wanted to make sure, "Are you alright?"

His demeanor softened as he took you in. Puffy eyes, flushed cheeks, red nose. You'd been crying. And Simon would never be angry enough to let that trump being there for a friend who needed him. He bundled you into a hug, one hand rubbing your back, and asked Maddie with his eyes what was wrong.

In his periphery, he saw Varsity straighten and move to take a step forward. His friends each grabbed an arm and appeared to shut whatever idea he'd had down because he shifted back before shaking them off.

Urgently, Maddie told Simon they'd discuss everything, "Later," and ushered him back into the bus shelter. He kept an arm slung around your shoulders, a shoulder to lean on, though had to release you when you decided to lean against the interior glass. Simon took what was becoming his usual seat on the concrete base and Maddie folded herself onto the bench.

When neither you nor Maddie spoke, Simon took the lead, "Mr. Anderson totally played us," he began, glancing between you and Maddie. "I mean, the cops are convinced I helped Maddie run away."

Maddie immediately defended, "Seriously? That's—"

"I know. They only let me come back here because I promised I'd get Anderson's phone and turn it in."

You cleared your throat, "Okay, well, before you do that..."

Maddie continued where you trailed off, "I think we might've found something that can help maybe keep the cops off your back." She fished something out of her back pocket and handed it to you which you, in turn, handed to Simon.

Stunned, Simon gawked at the piece of paper, eyes darting between it, you, and Maddie several times before finally resting on the paper. "We're just...not going to acknowledge how insane this is?" He sputtered, flapping the paper to indicate what he meant.

"Just go with it for now, Si." Maddie implored, "Let's take down Mr. Anderson first."

"Yeah," Simon agreed and examined the paper. It was a receipt for new band uniforms.

He pulled out his phone when Maddie informed him he'd have to call the company the receipt was from and punched in the number. As the line connected, Simon cast to the three people at the school entrance. "Quick question, and not to alarm anyone, but who are they?" He asked as he waited for someone to answer the phone.

You and Maddie looked to the three people then at each other, Simon, the three people, each other, and ended with open-mouthed stares at Simon.

"They're dead, aren't they?" Simon deadpanned. You and Maddie nodded. Simon kissed his teeth. "Of course they are."

‗‗‗‗•‗‗‗‗

After all was said and done, Simon had watched Wally—the tallest of the three ghosts Simon had seen outside—drape his varsity jacket over your shoulders and stamp a kiss to your head. Simon had seen Wally hold you protectively in the wake of Simon's impassioned announcement to the table of Split River High staff.

He'd heard Wally whisper comforting words and stroke your cheek with his thumb and, wow, you hadn't been joking about saving yourself for the hot ghost on campus.

It was a mindfuck, to be sure, but Simon adjusted. Or he was in shock. Toe-may-toe, toe-mah-toe.

Wally had mentioned to the group at large as they huddled in the hallway that he and Charley—denim on denim—had needed to go lest Mr. Martin—whoever that was—get suspicious of their absence at Movie Night. Which could've been dead dove, do not eat, or could've been ghost code for watching the living go to the bathroom.

"Dude, we don't do that." Wally had cringed, offended.

Charley had raised his brows in consideration, "Well, not all of us."

Afterward, you, Simon, and Maddie had holed away in a classroom to watch Mr. Anderson be escorted into the back of a squad car. In a line at the window. Discussing in solemn tones what you and Maddie had seen in the theater. How it related to Mr. Anderson. How whoever was behind Maddie's death—no, not-death, Simon emended, since you'd brought him up to speed. How whoever was behind Maddie's missing body could be literally anyone.

That was if Maddie's circumstances were related to the terrors you and she had experienced in the theater earlier.

"What do you think's gonna happen?" Maddie asked faintly as she watched the deputy close the back door of the squad car.

"He'll be questioned," Simon said. "Probably arrested."

Angry, Maddie replied, "But not for abduction. Not for bodily injury." A weighted pause. "I swear to God, if he did this to me over some stupid band uniforms..."

His voice tinged with hope, "Maybe he'll confess."

"Or," Maddie offered the alternative, "You'll hand that phone over to the cops and we'll never know who he was working with. Or why he said he gave me money... I'll never know what really happened to me."

Maddie turned. As soon as she settled against the windowsill, you shuffled closer to her and put a supportive arm around her shoulders. Fuck if that didn't make Simon's heart ache. He wanted so badly to be the one to do that for her. To be there for her. To comfort her.

"We'll figure it out, Mads." You reassured, though you still looked haunted. You glanced over your shoulder, watched the flashing lights until they faded and then sighed. "This is going to sound awful right now, but..."

"You don't think Mr. Anderson has anything to do with me. Do you." Maddie said, and closed her eyes against the fact that there was so much more at play now. After the theater, it seemed Maddie agreed.

You shook your head apologetically, "I don't."

"And that's not just because he's your uncle's friend?" Simon ventured, studying you closely.

You shook your head, "No. I swear, Simon, I really think Mr. Anderson and whatever's actually going on are two separate things."

Simon believed you.

"Whatever he's involved in, maybe it'll bring us one step closer to what actually happened. We can't rule it out." He implored as he gazed between you and Maddie.

It couldn't be for nothing that they stumbled upon Mr. Anderson's secret. He might not have been involved in hurting Maddie or relocating her body without her in it, but he'd given her money for something.

"At least for now," Maddie said, gazing up at Simon, "some of the heat will be off you."

Her words struck Simon's soul. After everything she'd been through, she cared about what happened to him, and it made him yearn to show her how much that meant to him. Seeing you in Wally's varsity jacket gave him an idea. Slowly, he peeled off his sweater and hung it over the back of a chair. It wasn't enough, but at least he could do this.

"What are you doing?" Maddie asked.

Voice rough with emotion, Simon said, "I was thinking... I can't hug you, but my sweater can."

You pushed away from the window and positioned yourself between Maddie and Simon, voice pitched just as low as Simon's as if not wanting to disturb the somber atmosphere that had befallen the classroom.

"I can do you one better." You said with a small smile and placed one hand on Maddie's shoulder. Your held out your other hand to Simon which he took, curious as to what you were going to do. It seemed Maddie knew because she came closer and then—God—she wrapped her arms around Simon and held him tight.

Without a second thought, Simon returned her embrace with his free arm, putting everything he had into it. All the grief, all the solace, all the love. He hiccupped a weak sound of overwhelm and pulled Maddie as close to himself as he could. She felt warm. Alive. Like she was right there in her body.

With wet eyes, Simon peeked up at you, "Thank you."

"You're my friend, Simon." You said easily, "I'd do anything for you in a heartbeat."

He dragged you into the hug; you and he and Maddie holding each other, leaning on each other, needing each other. And for that small segment of time, the weight of the world didn't feel so heavy.

‗‗‗‗•‗‗‗‗

Everette Martin had always needed to be needed. Something he'd been denied in life.

His parents had never supported him, teaching a job for women, not men. The school had let him go due to a rumor that another teacher circulated when she'd caught him outside of school and misunderstood that he'd been helping a student. His fiancé had turned her back on him because she couldn't 'see a future' with him anymore as a result.

All he'd ever wanted was for people to look to him for guidance, accept his help, rely on him. Life had been a disappointment.

In death, however, he thrived.

He loved his students like his own. He knew Amelia had her reasons for collecting them. She'd framed it as a gift. Allowed Mr. Martin to nurture them so long as he stuck to a short list of rules. Rules he agreed to because, if he didn't follow them, his students would inevitably leave him just as everyone else had.

Yes, Everett knew Amelia had something sinister up her sleeve, likely involving his students, but it'd already been 65 years and nothing had happened, so he assumed her plans didn't involve him or them. That she needed them simply to exist within the school to keep it sick. The presence of lingering death has that effect on a place, Amelia had chuckled prettily.

Amelia's powers were connected to the sickness in the land, and to maintain them, Everett had to maintain the status quo amongst the school's ghosts. A job he took seriously as well as reveled in.

He was so proud of them all, even the loopers. Such a contrast of personalities somehow finding common ground in the afterlife. It was marvelous to behold how they sparked friendships they probably wouldn't have had in life.

Especially Rhonda. Her death had turned her sour and Everett had had to be extra patient with her. At least she continued to join the Group sessions, and had made friends in Charley and Wally. Anything else, though, was a hard sell. She stubbornly refused to participate in activities unless they resulted in chaos and drama.

Which was why Everett was surprised when Rhonda marched into the gym and pulled up a seat.

It wasn't the first unusual thing Everett had noticed of his Group that night. He had the sense that something felt off. Ajay had been morose when he'd entered, but Bernadette and Katelynn had puppy piled him on the stack of gym mats and were comforting him with cuddles.

Always upbeat and charismatic Wally had been reserved until halfway through the film. Perhaps he was truly taken by Demi Moore's performance, though Everett suspected there was more to it.

Charley hadn't made any sarcastic comebacks to Everett's purposefully cheesy jokes about the film before he'd played it, either. Studying Charley and Wally, Everett had entertained the idea that the two had had a falling out. Teenagers were fickle beings. Even those in their forties and fifties.

Of course, Everett could be seeing things that weren't there. Reading too much into every small shift in behavior because he'd been on edge since Amelia's impromptu visit. A shiver ran through him, cold as ice, as he recalled what he'd witnessed and what he'd been ordered to do.

Banishing the memory, he forced a smile to his face, "Rhonda. You usually boycott movie night."

Rhonda stiffened in her seat, gaze fixed determinedly on the screen even if it seemed to go against every value she'd upheld up to that point.

"Is everything alright?" He probed when she didn't say anything.

Rhonda took her time to answer, but eventually, "I've been here for sixty years. Sixty graduations," She explained, jaw tense, as if her words were being forced out of her.

Rhonda rarely shared and, when she did, she'd smother the sentiment beneath myriad barbed wire remarks and threatening stares so no one examined what she'd revealed too closely.

As Rhonda disclosed what had motivated her to join Movie Night, Everett heard Amelia's voice in his head, "I need someone to step in for Janet."

"—I've made my peace with it because nothing changes...but now..." Everett listened, giving Rhonda his full, undivided attention. Rhonda didn't elaborate on how her views had shifted, rather redirecting to claim, "I know I'm not always a joiner but," her voice was raw, "I gotta get outta here."

She was outright doing her damnedest to hold back tears and it shook Everett to his core. The sight made Mina's image flash in his mind, the pain and fear in her eyes as she'd silently begged him to help her before being disintegrated into nothingness.

When Rhonda admitted, "I'm willing to try anything," Everett was brought back to the present, Mina fading from his mind.

What Rhonda said next made his smile falter, a pang of regret in his heart. He wasn't sure how he felt about 'replacing Janet'. He had a vague understanding of what Amelia had been doing with Janet and it unsettled him.

But, there was nothing else for it, his hand forced, because Amelia would find a way, with or without him, and without him could potentially be brutal.

It was easier when the participants were willing. But Rhonda needed to say it right. She needed to mean it without Everett's direct interference.

And, just like that, she did.

He ignored how his gut wrenched as he heard Rhonda speak into the ether, "So, whatever you did to help Janet, I want in."

He felt Rhonda's words vibrate through the veil. He forced another smile. However, turning back to the screen, his smile faded completely as Mina's final moments crowded his mind again. The fear. The helplessness. One of his students...gone.

His conscience kicked and screamed and berated him. Challenged him. Brought his face right up to the hundreds of mistakes he'd made leading up to Mina's permanent erasure from all planes of existence.

Everett had had no choice, a milder, more detached part of him reminded, and it was too late to undo what'd already been done. If he wished to continue guiding his students—teaching them, guiding them—he had to stay the course.

With that in mind, he offered Rhonda his bowl of popcorn and told her, "I'm glad to hear it."

💀___________fin.____________

PART TWENTY-SIX - OCTOBER MOON

also available on AO3!

MASTERLIST

[whoopsyeahokay]

October Sun

summary: Simon had wondered what any of it had meant. Maddie's death, why he'd been the only one who could see her. And then he'd learned that, perhaps, everything that had happened...it hadn't been about him or Maddie at all.

pairing: Wally Clark x fem!reader

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

bon reading, frens

___________________________💀

OCTOBER SUN pt.25

A roaring white noise erupted in the theater, smothering all other sounds. A TV static howl that seemed to come from within your own head, building and building until it was unbearable. You slapped your hands over your ears, gritted your teeth, pulse thundering almost as loud as the unnatural noise in your ears.

Muffled as if through cotton fluff, you heard someone yell, "What's happening!?" but no more than that, the voice swept away by the bellow. You lifted your head away from Xavier's shoulder and turned your body as much as you could within the tight band of his arms. Where the trapdoor should be, rising like a nightmare from its grave, the farmhouse door materialized in the middle of the stage. Your eyes widened in horror as the familiar screams from behind it began to gnash at the edges of the noise like teeth, "STOP! COME BACK! STOP! LET ME OUT!!"

You cast around, saw Maddie and Wally huddled together, Charlie tucked between two rows of seats, Ajay shielding Mina with his body, and Rhonda with her arms crossed in front of her face as the noise crashed through the theater like a physical force; a tempest of rage and violence that pierced the veil. The ground and walls shook, windows rattled, a stage light fell and smashed on the stage. The quake vibrated through your bones, motivated you to act, but you couldn't move. Xavier clung to you both protectively and in terror, his eyes pleading as he seemed to figure out what you planned to do. He trembled, fingertips bruising into your flesh through your sweater.

You'd never seen him so scared. Not once. Not ever.

Driven by adrenaline, "I'm sorry," you shoved Xavier off you, spun and rose in one fluid motion, and charged at speed down the center aisle toward the stage. The wind was sharp and stinging, pieces of glass and metal from the shattered stage light picked up and whipped about, but you didn't stop. Hurdled into it. Leapt onto the stage. Close, so close. Hand extended, fingers brushing the knob, about to brace against it to keep the monsters from escaping.

The door ruptured at its center, fragments of wood bursting outward and immediately captured by the storm. The force of the sudden explosion sent you sailing backward, followed by a tsunami of blinding, iridescent light that fell from the breach in the door and reached toward you. Cold. Clutching. You barely made out your name being shouted in varying degrees of desperate concern and fear. But it didn't matter. It didn't matter. Because as soon as you landed, hard—enough to knock the air from your lungs into your throat and choke you—the world shifted on its axis and went black.

‗‗‗‗•‗‗‗‗

Question 1.

Why did Frankenstein create the Monster?

‗‗‗‗•‗‗‗‗

Simon lay in bed and stared at the ceiling above him, cracked and pillowed, a yellow-brown rash bloomed in patterns that he tracked in meditative circles with his eyes. He needed to shower, he thought dully. He hadn't had time that morning before being chauffeured to the station for another damning interrogation by Deputies Hayes and Stewart.

"Where is she, Elroy? Where's Maddie?"

"I don't know."

"Don't lie to us, kid, it'll only make things worse for you."

"I'm not lying, I don't kn—"

"God dammit, quit playing dumb!"

"That's enough," Mrs. Grace had snapped before Stewart's jaw had shut with an audible click. "Without substantiated evidence, this is all hearsay. Simon has given you everything he knows in his statement. Unless you intend to further make fools of yourselves, we're leaving."

Simon needed to get up. Get up. Get up. Get. Up.

He didn't move. Couldn't; his limbs grafted to his sheets, muscles like stone, bones elastic. His back was sore, his skin ached and he wanted to move around, stretch the discomfort out of his body, but...he didn't. Instead, he kept staring at the ceiling as the morning looped in his mind. Questions and suppositions, two manilla folders, one map, and then a tense drive home where he'd felt little-boy scared of his parents—his father—for the first time in years, their disappointment and anger palpable in the tight confines of the car.

Simon had been shown Maddie's file. A couple of graphic photographs that looked staged for a prime-time procedural drama. His best friend's blood splattered on the boiler room wall, evidence of the pain and torture she'd incurred when she'd been killed. Murdered in the bowels of the school while Simon had been three floors up in homeroom, bored and bleary-eyed, dozing on his backpack, mentally preparing for a night at the APEX with a group he felt a little on the outskirts of.

"Fuck." He choked, eyes stinging, rubbing over them with his wrist.

The photographs were seared into his retinas; there even when he tried to distract himself or ignore them or pretend that Maddie was still within reach and not one resolution away from vanishing forever.

Blood. Her blood. From a swing so violent that it'd projected onto the wall when the weapon had been hitched for another strike. How many blows had been delivered before Maddie's eyes had dimmed and her breath had stopped? His stomach lurched, but still, Simon didn't move.

The deputies thought Maddie was out there. Not enough blood on the scene to warrant a murder investigation, Stewart had informed Simon as if suggesting that Simon and Maddie might've tried to fake her death so no one would look for her. It was half-assed and ridiculous. Even Hayes seemed to think so, though she wouldn't have admitted it aloud.

Desperate to repress the images, Simon tried to remember the other file he'd been shown. The deputies insisted the cases were linked: Maddie's "escape" and a string of break-ins that spanned two neighborhoods that would've been one if it weren't for a railway track splitting it down the middle like a stapled wound. Simon had recognized the first immediately. Riverden Heights. A low-income area that had been chosen by the town council for regentrification, spearheaded by none other than Claire Zomer's stepfather.

The other, Warren Meadow, had taken him a moment to recognize, but when he did, it'd been a feat to conceal his surprise. He'd been there the night he'd found Mr. Anderson's stash, sat on a swing in the play park behind the house you called home.

What did it mean?

As he pondered the possibilities, a crisp gust of wind coasted over him, disturbing the curtains and ruffling the posters on his walls. At last, he moved, prompted to investigate because he was sure he'd closed it. He swallowed thickly, tense, heartbeat ratcheting up a notch. Propped on a hand, he looked in confusion and dread at his, yeah, closed window.

A slow, eerie creak snapped his attention toward his closet, the door open a sliver when he knew that, too, had been closed. The darkness within seemed even blacker than was natural. Inexplicable. Otherworldly. A shiver ran down his spine. Similar to the feeling he'd had when he'd caught Maddie's reflection in the classroom window on Monday.

The floorboards squeaked when he stood. Simon took one cautious step after another, muscles flexed, not prepared at all for an attack but willing to be brave.

Two. Three. Four. Five steps. His chest was tight. Hands shaking. Breathing shallow. As he hooked his fingers on the door to open it further, it started. The sound was faint and he had to strain to hear it, but it was unmistakable. Wet and rattled, punctuated by thick sniffles.

Someone was crying.

Someone was crying in Simon's closet.

‗‗‗‗•‗‗‗‗

Rhonda remained couched, braced against the wild, unholy wind until, bit by bit, she realized it'd stopped. When she opened her eyes, she gasped in shock, collapsing forward onto her hands. The world around her had changed; the theater was replaced by a span of paved ground enclosed by a chain-link fence, painted games bright against the black asphalt. A tingle crept down from her scalp to her nape, goosebumps pebbled her arms, and she panned her head to glance over her shoulder.

Panicked, she spun, landed on her ass, shoving herself backward with her feet to put distance between herself and the eerily suspended door. The void at its center flickered. It felt like a black hole trying to drag her into oblivion.

Rhonda flipped over and pushed herself up. Ran. Ran harder and faster than she'd ever done in life or death. Down the side of the building she'd found herself behind to skid around the corner and come to an abrupt stop.

She turned this way and that, disoriented, chest rising and falling quickly as she tried to suck in enough air to keep her upright.

"What the hell is happening?" She wheezed, every alarm in her brain going off at once as she began to process her surroundings: Outdoors. Too dark for how early she felt it should be, the air thin and cold, biting, and the sky obscured by a dense layer of gunmetal grey clouds. It was raining in sheets so thick Rhonda could barely make out the line of British inspired maisonettes on the opposite side of the street. "Where—?"

She cut herself off when the wide, double-door entrance to the building opened, releasing a soft glow from within that illuminated the pathway ahead of it. Children in raincoats and rubber boots bounced down the front steps, giggling as they jumped and splashed through puddles on their way to join clusters of adults who waited under umbrellas on the sidewalk.

"No. Fucking. Way." Rhonda walked toward the pathway, jaw slack, gaze fixed on the words etched into the stonework. She nearly tripped over her own feet, only just managing to correct herself as she turned fully toward the building.

Anabelle Meheive Schoolhouse for Boys.

The brick and mortar was as old as Split River itself, named after one of the town founders' wives. The school had been reestablished as Anabelle Meheive Elementary in the early '40s, ten years before Rhonda's family had moved from rural town Romania to Wisconsin. Rhonda had still been curious then, unjaded and excited and eager to learn. Her fourth grade desk had been right there, beside that window. Where she'd daydreamed as she'd stared at the houses across the street and had wondered what it'd been like to live somewhere so unlike her own home in the low-income district that bordered the factories.

Pressure stuffed her nose, her vision blurred, and suddenly she was overwhelmed by the memory, instantly missing her parents, her sisters, her grandmother in a way she hadn't in countless years. Unfortunately, she didn't have more than a moment to grapple with it before her attention was forced back to the school's entrance.

Two figures emerged, one was small, obviously a child. A little boy, Rhonda discerned, with a Spiderman backpack and rainboots to match. The second was taller, slender, the hood of their sweater up so it concealed their face. They hauled the little boy by the hand as they complained, "Come on, stop messing around, I want to go home," as the little boy kept trying to gleefully splash his way through every puddle on his way to the front gate.

A spike of foreboding shot through Rhonda as she watched the pair.

She found herself trailing after them as they turned onto the sidewalk. That sense of unease continued to worsen, churning in her stomach like a bad premonition. Although it felt like every other bad gut feeling she'd experienced in her young life, it was somehow distinguished. And when the taller figure got so frustrated by the little boy that they pushed their hood off and threatened, "I'm so serious right now, I will leave you here and tell mom you ran away," Rhonda was once again stunned into stillness.

The taller figure was a girl, no older than eleven or twelve with features identical to ones Rhonda had seen mere moments before the theater had turned into a category 5 hurricane zone. Your hair was longer and your face was rounder, softer, yet you looked exactly as you had when Rhonda had joked about getting Wally a new wardrobe.

You began to tug the little boy along again, your foul temper tween-girl extreme to the extent Rhonda questioned whether or not it was really you. Regardless of whether or not it was, Rhonda decided, she needed help, needed an explanation. Where the fuck was she? When the fuck was she? How did she get here?

"Hey!" Rhonda yelled after you, "Wait!"

You didn't notice Rhonda. In fact, she was entirely nonexistent to you as you yanked and heaved Aiden every single step forward. He enjoyed being a pain in your ass, always elbowing his way into every sleepover, usurping attention, whining until you gave in and put on movies for babies because he didn't like what you and Xavier and Hana wanted to watch.

You'd already been grumpy when your mom had called to ask that you collect Aiden from school on your way home, consumed by thoughts of Xavier and Hana ditching you to hang out with another couple because, apparently, that's what boyfriends and girlfriends did.

Your face twisted in displeasure, jealousy seeping into your veins like toxic sludge as you barked again, "Aiden, come. on. Stop it!"

Xavier and Hana hadn't even kissed on the mouth yet, you grouched internally. Plus, they were still going to Dave & Buster's with Mrs. Baxter like all three of you did. As a group. Every Friday since 1st Grade. It wasn't fair that just because you didn't want to be kissed or have some gross boy who smelled like B.O. hold your hand like that, you weren't allowed to go too.

The rain came down harder, thunder rumbled overhead and lightning cracked across the sky. Aiden continued to resist, stomping in and out of the stream that flowed along the curb. Stupid mom being held up at work. Stupid Aurora being at university. Stupid Andrew for being away. And stupid, stupid Aiden, not listening to you when you were obviously in a bad mood.

"Aiden!" You yelled, tugging him back onto the sidewalk, "I said stop it!"

Your clothes were drenched, your limbs were frozen, and all you wanted to do was go home, rant to Nanna, and have her comfort you and tell you to forget Xavier and Hana and their dumb relationship had ever happened. Just as you were contemplating how upset your mom would be if you abandoned Aiden right then and there, you heard a car pull up behind you and a male voice call, "Hey, can I give you a ride?"

Rhonda stopped when she saw the car stop. More specifically, when she saw the face of the man behind the wheel. She didn't recognize him and he looked normal enough. Buzzed, military brown hair and a friendly smile and eyes that crinkled charmingly at the corners. Rhonda moved to peek into the open passenger window, squinting at him. Despite how normal he appeared, there was something inside her soul, a niggling feeling that made her gums itch, that told her that the man's aura was several shades of wrong.

Clumsily, she reared back and turned to urge you, "Don't go with him," as that prickly sense of unease increased, blaring like an air raid siren in her brain. Rhonda couldn't tell if you were familiar with the man and decided quickly that it didn't matter, "I know we aren't exactly besties," She said, standing directly in front of you now, "But you have to listen to me."

You looked right through her.

Leaning across the console was a man wearing a uniform like your dad's, his face familiar though you couldn't quite place it. Your grip tightened around Aiden's hand and you narrowed your eyes at him. A thousand and one speeches had been delivered throughout your life on the subject of which strangers are good and which are bad. And random men in cars were at the top of the bad list.

"You don't remember me?" The man chuckled and then explained, "We met at the barbeque on base. I'm Christopher." He raised an amused eyebrow, "You got me with your water gun a few times."

Rhonda's gaze ricocheted between you and Christopher as you hesitated, tilted your head, and chewed your lip, studying Christopher like a Wanted poster. That nagging feeling in Rhonda's gut swelled into a sick panic when the tension bled out of your shoulders, showing signs of finally recalling who Christopher was.

"Oh yeah," You grinned and stepped closer. Christopher was in the same unit as your dad. He'd been at the barbeque with his wife and daughter, the latter having hung out with you and Xavier all afternoon while the adults drank beer and got rowdy. "Xavier pushed you in the pool."

Christopher snorted and hung his head in mock shame, "That's me."

Rhonda shook her head, her mind screaming at her to stop you from going with him. That if you did, all the happiness and joy and pure, unconditional love in the world would be snuffed out as easily as the flame of a candle. Rhonda had felt similarly when Mr. Manfredo's demeanor had shifted in the split second before he'd revealed his true colors.

"Don't go with him," She repeated, trying and failing to grab your hand, shoulder, face, anything. But her hands kept missing, sliding away, your energy and hers two like poles that would never connect. "You need to listen to me!"

You smiled down at Aiden, "A ride would be great, right Aid?"

Aiden wasn't paying attention, staring off into space. He did that whenever you asked him to stop being annoying. Acted like he hadn't heard you or that you weren't there. Glaring at him, you repeated the question, only for Aiden to tug your hand so you had to bend to his level to hear him.

"What?" You demanded under your breath.

Aiden whispered, "I don't think we should go with him."

Relief flooded through Rhonda, however, it was short-lived.

You rolled your eyes, "Seriously, Aiden?" God, could he just not? For once, one time, could he be on your side instead of making everything difficult? You knew he was complaining just so he could keep splashing in the puddles, but you were over the wet and the rain and the cold.

Aiden stubbornly stared into space again—stared at Rhonda—and refused to budge until you poked him in the cheek. He reluctantly dragged his eyes to yours, looking up at you with a pout, "I don't want to, Sissy." Lip wobbly, brow furrowed. The same expression he pinched his face into when you refused to let him use your Switch.

You heaved a careworn sigh and put your hands on your knees as you spoke to him, forcing your voice to a sensitive register, "How about this: If you get in the car, I'll make you mac 'n' cheese with chicken nuggets when we get home. Alright?"

Rhonda lurched forward, "No no no!" She begged you to change your mind, to hear what Aiden was trying to tell you, her voice strangled, throat closing. "Don't!"

Aiden chewed his lip as he considered your proposal, eyes on the ground. At last, with an apologetic glance into the middle distance, he nodded. It was a small gesture, almost disappointed, and he mumbled, "Okay."

You grinned and hugged him, praising him for listening to you as you opened the car door and helped him into the backseat. Once he scooched over, you climbed in after him, thanked Christopher for his kindness, and made Aiden do the same.

"Thanks," Aiden muttered, staring at his lap, looking for all the world like he'd just been told he wasn't allowed dessert ever again.

Though she knew it was useless, Rhonda bodily flung herself at the car when you closed the door, banging and slapping the window with her palms until they stung bright red. "Don't! You have to get out! GET. OUT!"

You buckled your seatbelt, then Aiden's, and the car pulled away.

Rhonda stumbled into the street, shouting after you. Her hands gripped her head in panic, pulse racing. She watched the car stop at the corner and saw Aiden rise to peer out of the back window, chubby hand up as if he was waving goodbye. The emotion in his big, green eyes—

She inhaled sharply. Without any doubt, Rhonda understood that she'd just witnessed a child's future turn to ash. And she felt in her bones that Aiden knew it, too.

"Come back." She begged, tight and weak. Then, with everything she had in her, "COME BACK!"

As soon as the words were out of her mouth, an ominous creak drew her attention behind her. The farmhouse door. The deep, black void at its center. Eyes wide in fright, she shifted to run after the car but didn't get even a step before the blackness shot out, wrapped around her arms and legs, and wrenched her into its depths. The door slammed closed and disappeared.

In the backseat of the car, you asked Aiden, "What're you looking at?" when he continued to stare out of the rear window. You peeked over the seat in confusion, not seeing anything worth that much scrutiny.

Aiden slowly slid his gaze to meet yours and what you saw in them made your stomach twist, the look in them far too old for a six-year-old boy. Clearing your throat, you forced yourself to brush it off, fixing Aiden in his seat after he'd lowered himself to sit properly.

"Nothing," Aiden responded, tone solemn. He began to draw a little stick figure in the condensation on the window, and then an upright rectangle with curly cues coming out of it.

You watched him for a moment, suddenly feeling uneasy. "You sure?"

Aiden nodded.

You wouldn't have believed him anyway.

‗‗‗‗•‗‗‗‗

Question Two.

Does Frankenstein learn from his mistake in creating the Monster?

‗‗‗‗•‗‗‗‗

You roused in pained stages, groaning as you hoisted yourself onto your hands and knees. The world was spinning, vision cloudy for a moment before the room settled around you. The damp and dark didn't feel right against you, pushing in from all corners like pressure in the depths of the ocean. Heaving a breath, you wobbled to your feet, blinking rapidly as your eyes adjusted to the dim light.

Even in the thin light filtering through the high windows, you recognized that, wherever you were, it wasn't the theater.

"Wally?!" You called out, "Maddie!?"

No answer.

"...anyone?"

It took a minute for your eyes to adjust. The space was wide and empty, the ceiling low, walls exposed slabs of thick stone. A cellar, you realized, stepping carefully across the packed dirt floor. Faded Persian carpets had been placed down in the center; thinner, longer ones like runners led from the base of the polished wood steps to the back wall, the tail end of the last carpet disappearing beneath the stone.

"Where am I?" You wondered, glancing about.

A few items of furniture stood against the wall directly opposite the staircase. A tall, fat cabinet with glass windows that displayed a variety of trinkets that reminded you of curiosities Victorian nobles had collected to be admired by their unworldly peers. Beside it was a sarcophagus, Egyptian-inspired but certainly not original. It was far too dark, menacing, the face demonic with ruby eyes that seemed to burn from within.

You kept a wide berth around it, its aura unsettling. Like walking into a forest after nightfall with no flashlight.

On the other side of the cabinet were wrought iron hooks nailed into the stone, neat rows of ten across, seven down. Most of them were bare, though a few still held gruesomely painted masks in the Venetian style. Some with long, pointed noses; others more feminine.

"What the hell is this place?" You murmured to yourself as you reached out to run your fingers delicately down the smooth nose of one of the masks.

It felt familiar. The exposed beams, the packed dirt floor, the draft that chilled you to the bone. You followed the runners to the back wall, turned, looked out the window above you. Twisty, naked branches speared the sky, a large gap in the middle where...where the road... Oh, God.

Your breath caught and you began to feel queasy, bile burning the back of your throat. This wasn't just any cellar. It was the farmhouse cellar. The place you'd been when you learned exactly how many minutes it took for a human body to die.

The room swam as your vision blurred and all at once, you doubled over, retching into the dirt, swaying on weak legs when it was over. Breath after breath felt like ice as you tried to get air into your lungs, your heart to calm down, your head to stop spinning.

"It's not possible," You choked, collapsing against the wall, "I shouldn't be here, this isn't right." You sank to the floor, completely devoid of energy in the wake of your realization. As if the darkness had sucked it all out. You sat there for minutes that dragged into each other, hitched little inhales and drawn, stuttered exhales. "I want to go home," You whimpered, but there was no one around to hear you.

In that instant, voices rose and the floorboards above creaked under the weight of several people. Panicked, you shot to your feet, casting about for something to protect yourself. Nothing good had ever happened in this farmhouse, you knew, and you doubted that now would be any different.

There was nothing. And when you tried to open the cabinet, a taser-like shock jolted through your arm and knocked you backward onto the floor. You didn't have time to question it, the door above opening—that door, the door, the one that had haunted you for six years—and the voices getting closer.

"Surely, Lord McNair, you jest. A stablehand!" A woman's voice spoke, sounding giddy as much as disturbed. "How on earth did that happen?"

A deep, male voice answered, that of Lord McNair assumedly, "I haven't a clue, Liza." He sounded dismayed, "He took off with all the money and my daughter, the wretched bastard." A pause before he growled, "I tell you, never trust a Clark."

"Certainly not." Liza agreed. "I had two in my employ, sisters. Irish though they weren't Catholic, and I wish I had known such an important detail before I had Beaty hire the little rats. They stole the diamonds right off one of my necklaces. Had they the fear of God in them, they wouldn't have done so."

"And they were Clarks?" A new voice asked, another male, though thick with an accent you could only describe as South Asian.

Liza answered, "Indeed. You'll have to be careful during your visit, Your Excellency. The poor have become a problem in recent years, I'm afraid."

You listened with half an ear as you scouted for a place to tuck yourself into. The sarcophagus was latched and the effort it would take to break the lock off would be both too loud and too obvious. You searched along the walls, in the shadowy corners. The best place would've been under the stairs but a large cord of chopped wood had been piled in front of the space.

The footsteps got closer as the group descended, talking amongst themselves. Swallowing thickly, you pressed yourself against the side of the cabinet, crouched beneath the rows of hooks, hands over your mouth to muffle your harried breathing.

A strange sensation passed through the cellar as the group stepped one by one onto the carpet at the bottom of the stairs. The air stilled and the shadows seemed to part for the group as they moved across the space. A man held out his hand to help a woman down her final few steps and then escorted her with her arm through his. The next man did the same for the next woman, and then the third man for the third woman.

All were dressed elegantly, the men in tuxedos with white ties and polished boots, and the women in beaded dresses that fell past their knees, gloves to above their elbows, and furs around their shoulders.

"It's truly wonderful that you were able to attend at last, Your Excellency," A new voice said, female, heavily accented. Eastern European, you believed, "My husband and I have been eager to introduce you to the leader of tonight's gathering."

"I appreciate it immensely, Lady Rose," His Excellency replied, "I was delighted to have received the invitation."

The sound of the men and women nearing made your pulse rush like a roar in your ears. You squeezed your eyes shut, turned to tuck yourself as close as you could to the wall, back against the cabinet, pleading that you wouldn't be found.

Closer. Closer. The footsteps and voices were right above you now.

"Here you are, Raj" Lord McNair said pleasantly as he claimed one of the nosed masks and handed it to His Excellency. "Your lovely bride can help you attach it, I'm sure."

With big, terrified eyes, you watched Lord McNair remove another mask, one without a nose, and hand it to the woman beside His Excellency. And no one—your brow furrowed—seemed to notice you. Not even the slightest acknowledgment that you existed.

You didn't want to push your luck, staying put with your hand remaining clapped across your mouth. However, you couldn't stop yourself from glancing up at the faces of the group gathered in front of you, helping each other tie the ribbons of the masks at the backs of their heads.

His Excellency turned around after helping his bride with her mask and you almost collapsed in shock.

"Ajay!?" You said before thinking about the consequences. You rose quickly and stumbled forward, attempting to clasp your hands around his forearms as he fiddled with the ribbon on the nosed mask he held. "Ajay, where are we? What's happening?" But...your hands passed right through him, his image distorting, coming apart like whisps of smoke before letting in again. "A-Ajay?"

With a strained whine, you studied his face and the longer you stared, the less he looked like Ajay. The resemblance, as uncanny as it was, was only that. A resemblance. And, furthermore, Not-Ajay, it appeared, couldn't see you. Couldn't hear you. In fact, none of the men and women paid you any mind whatsoever. To them, you were as real as a ghost.

"Fuck." The word punched out of you as you staggered back. The faces that hadn't been covered were eerily identical to ones you knew until you stared too long. Rhonda. Ajay. Maddie. And then the resemblances faded and left behind just the most subtle of like features. "What's happening?"

You were going crazy. Trapped in a nightmare of your own making after you couldn't keep the farmhouse door closed. God only knew where the others were. If the light that had ripped out from behind the farmhouse door had trapped them too. If they were experiencing the same thing. Or worse.

"Come along, Liza dear, we're already behind schedule." Lord McNair remarked, holding out his arm for her to take. He led the group to the back of the cellar, following the line of carpets before he paused at the wall. Not knowing what else to do, you trailed after them, observant though feeling faint as you tried to accept that you might never make it out of whatever coma or conjuring the farmhouse door had unleashed.

If this was a nightmare, you thought, there was only one way out. You had to see it through to the end.

You saw Lord McNair produce a pen-shaped piece of silver from his pocket. Sleek, smooth, nondescript, and rather unremarkable until Lord McNair pushed it tip-first into a tiny hole in the mortar that you never would've noticed on your own. When it was halfway in, you heard a heavy clank of metal then stone scraped against stone. Your jaw dropped as part of the wall sunk inward and then moved aside, revealing a steep stairwell carved into the rock, lit by a line of low-burning torches.

The group herded into the stairwell, continuing their conversation, the men attentive to the women as they descended down down down into whatever was below the farmhouse cellar. The stairs were uneven, some tall, some short, and you briefly marveled at the ease the men and women ahead of you exhibited as they gracefully carried themselves to the bottom of the staircase.

You openly gaped at what lay beyond the staircase, taken aback by the sheer extravagance, so out of place for where you were. The narrow walls on either side of the staircase opened into a massive cavern that had been built and decorated to mimic a European palace. Italian marble floors, a grand fireplace with detailed carvings in the wood of the mantle, portraits of aristocratic men and women kitted in ceremonial costume.

Your attention lingered on the portraits. The subjects seemed to be related, some more distant than others, but they all shared the same piercing blue eyes and severe expressions. Ginger to auburn to mahogany hair. Sharp jaws and smooth skin. Not a wrinkle or blemish in sight.

The clothes were ceremonial as was usually the case when the rich were painted, but they were also...religious. In a way you had a difficult time putting your finger on. Not typical of the Abrahamic religions or Dharmic or Taoic. More Pagan. Celtic or Nordic, you weren't sure, but definitely Pagan.

The subjects wore cloaks and were ornamented with etched daggers and wooden laurels bent and shaped into antlers, and identical broaches pinned under the notches of their collars. Large, silver things with a symbol you'd seen in the pages of a book housed in your family's library. Three interlocking spirals. A triskele.

A tinkling sound, fine metal tapped on hollow crystal, echoed through the cavern, a man's voice calling out to announce, "Welcome all!"

You turned, gaze searching the crowd of what you guessed was about seventy people, one for every hook in the cellar above.

They stood in a semi-circle facing you though their focus was on the man who spoke. You couldn't see much of him since he had his back to you, poised proudly in front of the crowd. He was tall, broad-shouldered yet lithe, and had hair that had clearly once been blond though was turning grey.

"I am overjoyed that so many of you could join us on such a momentous occasion."

"Hear, hear!" The crowd exclaimed, lifting in unison their champagne coupes.

"My only regret is that my lovely wife seems to have gotten lost."

The crowd tittered at what you figured was meant to be a joke. Stepping closer, you tried to get a better look at the man, wanted to see if, like the men and women who you'd followed down here, he held any resemblance to someone you knew. Together, the crowd's focus shifted to something behind the man. He turned, a wide smile spreading across the part of his face that wasn't covered by his mask.

You went completely still as his eyes settled on you through the holes in his mask. They were striking; bright seafoam green that within them held a wisdom and respect that transcended time. You shivered as those eyes, far too old for the face they belonged to, burned through you, heart hammering behind your ribs.

Slowly, the man reached out his free hand, smile softening, and said, "Ah, there you are," in a quiet tone.

Private.

Just for you.

"We've been waiting."

💀___________________________

PART TWENTY-FOUR - PART TWENTY-SIX

also available on AO3!

MASTERLIST

[whoopsyeahokay]

October Sun

summary: things had gone from weird to worse in a matter of seconds. it'd seemed all your secrets had decided to reveal themselves to Wally without so much as considering how you'd feel about it. you'd guessed that was the price you'd had to pay for your choice to share yourself with a member of Split River High's Afterlife Support Group.

pairing: Wally Clark x fem!reader

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

bon reading, frens

___________________________💀

OCTOBER SUN pt.10

You were six, sitting on your sister Aurora's lap in a hospital room. Monitors beeped—long intervals, pitched notes—and, below that, your great-aunt's rattled breathing. Everything stank of disinfectant.

Ginny lay in the bed; pruned and pale, translucent skin hanging from her bones. She was just past seventy, but had aged several decades in the two weeks since the symptoms had started. Now, she looked like the skeletons your neighbors strung up for Halloween. Ghastly. Small.

Dead.

Mommy dozed in the armchair across from you, her head at an awkward angle, mouth ajar, one hand rested on her swollen belly. For days, she'd subsisted on nothing but good ol' fashioned Celtic stubbornness, running herself into the ground to undo whatever had put Ginny in the hospital. Nothing worked. Potions, pastes, blood spells, smudging rituals; it didn't matter what Mommy and Nanna did, Ginny's doctor insisted her condition was deteriorating.

It was so strange, you thought, that Ginny didn't just tell them herself. After all, she was able to stand in front of you without assistance and seemed much healthier than she had even moments ago.

She'd been asleep, silvery and thin and wheezy, and then her eyes had popped open and she'd gotten to her feet with the grace of a ballerina. Auburn hair in fluffy curls, pinned neatly away from her face; lips bright, Victory red, and skin peachy.

She was as pretty as a picture in a church bell skirt and smart, collared blouse, the colors much more suited to her than the starch white of the hospital gown. The pendant of her necklace was now one of a pair dangling from her earlobes, silver circles glinting in the sterile light.

"Are you better?" You asked her, marveling at her loveliness.

Ginny crouched to meet you at your level and placed her hand on yours, eyes as bright as sapphires in the sun. She smiled, "Don't you worry, pet," She gave you a kiss on the head, "I'll be back as soon as I can."

You nodded, solemn, and watched Ginny greet a young woman in similarly outdated dress as she entered the room. You didn't know who she was, and Aurora gave you a funny look when you asked:

"Where's Ginny going?"

She shushed you, murmuring, "What're you talking about?"

Annoyed, "She just left with a lady." You weren't 3, you knew what you saw. But Aurora gave you the same look she always did when she thought you were making up stories.

And then, something seemed to change Aurora's mind because she asked, "You saw Ginny leave the room?"

You nodded, "Yeah. With a lady I don't know."

"Probably another Traveler." Aurora commented, already depositing you on your feet so she could wake your mother. "It's easier for them to figure out what's wrong with Ginny if they don't have to deal with people."

But, "She's better, dummy," you said, craning your neck to look at the doorway. A man now stood there, dressed in clothes that reminded you of the TV show Aurora watched reruns of religiously. That 70s Show. He smiled kindly, tipped his head, and then wandered away. Him you recognized. Had seen him before around the house, though no one had ever spoken to him.

Aurora sighed the way she did whenever she thought you said something stupid and pinched your chin, forcing you to look at the bed.

You gasped, astonished that, there, under the layers of quilts your Nanna had brought, was Ginny; breath rattling, monitors beeping, white as a china doll and asleep.

That was when you not only learned that Traveling meant something different to your family, but that you could see ghosts.

‗‗‗‗•‗‗‗‗

One second you were clung to Wally like a limpet, the next you'd vanished into thin air. Snapped out of existence like you'd never been there at all. Frantic, Wally looked left, right, to the back of the stage, and then spun around to face the rows of seats.

His jaw dropped, blood draining from his face. You stood at the top of the center aisle, shirt no longer rucked up the way Wally had made it; hair as tidy as it had been before he'd run his fingers through it; skin no longer sporting the perfect blush he'd coaxed to the surface.

Even from where he stood, Wally could see that your eyes burned a nebula of colors, the way they had when Wally caught up to you outside the school earlier. As soon as he'd registered it—proof that something magical had just transpired—they dimmed to their normal hue, just as the man behind you, Mr. Anderson, Wally identified, demanded, "What are you doing in here?"

He seemed angry, more so than the time Wally had watched him chew out a group of boys in the locker room showers for smoking pot. Mr. Anderson grabbed you by the arm and hauled you out of the theater like you'd been trespassing.

Wally charged up the aisle, thoughts of how you could fucking teleport taking a back seat to the desire to shove Mr. Anderson to the ground for assuming he had the right to touch you like that. The connection between you and Wally bittered, shrieked, fear and fury swirling together to pump through Wally's veins.

Oh hell no.

"I'm sorry," You apologized. Mr. Anderson released you, causing you to stumble from the momentum he'd used to force you into the hallway. "I won't let it happen again."

In an ill-fated attempt to wedge himself between you and Mr. Anderson, Wally checked the man's shoulder with his own, but little happened. Mr. Anderson had repositioned himself, almost like he'd anticipated the action, and the intention waned into a light graze. One that had no impact on the man, but that caused Wally to trip into the wall.

Mr. Anderson escorted you through the school toward your locker, gravely explaining that you'd overstayed your welcome by an hour and a half; the Wednesday team practices and club activities already packed up and gone.

Glancing outside, Wally was shocked to see the sky was dark. Apparently, making out with you was the equivalent of pressing a giant PAUSE button on the fourth dimension. He was sure no more than twenty minutes had passed since you'd jumped into his arms and kissed him within an inch of his sanity.

Teleportation and time manipulation? Wally gaped, images of his favorite comic book heroes swarming his mind. Holy shit, you were an X-Man.

Needing to do something to ensure Mr. Anderson wouldn't try to grab you again, Wally inserted himself between you and him. A move that appeared to influence Mr. Anderson to maintain the space Wally enforced with his presence.

Good, Wally thought, cracking his knuckles, because while he had no problem trying to beat his way into the living world to knock a few of Mr. Anderson's teeth out, he knew that would take a lot more than noble intention to pull off.

He loathed feeling helpless. Back in the day, just hearing his name intimidated the idiots who thought to mess with him. Nowadays he couldn't do more than make a light flicker by concentrating really, really hard.

Don't be fooled: Dawn made it look easy, but it wasn't.

Finally reaching your locker, Mr. Anderson reiterated, "What were you doing in there?" His demeanor all wrong. Wally knew enough about the guy to know that, usually, he was kind of dorky. Relatable. However, something had obviously possessed him because he was acting like you'd discovered his hidden collection of porn mags.

Wally didn't like it. He wanted the man to fuck off and leave you alone. Retaining his position between you and Mr. Anderson, chin up, hands balled into fists at his sides, Wally willed Mr. Anderson away.

You began, "I was just—" when Wally gritted out, "You don't owe this dickhead an explanation, baby," gaze fixed on Mr. Anderson's face.

But you ignored him, "Mathilda asked me to look for something she'd forgotten in there earlier. She's in the Mean Girl's Musical?" You supplied, and, jeez, you were quick on your feet.

Mr. Anderson was unimpressed, "For two hours?"

"No! No. I was studying in the library when she texted me."

Wally began to wonder how many yarns you'd had to spin for it to come so easily.

He knew it was self-preservation. A lifetime of harboring a massive secret that, okay, might not get you carted off in a straitjacket these days, but definitely wouldn't make it easy for you to go through life normally. He'd seen people ostracized for less. Like Katelynn who, a week before her death, had been spurned by her Scene Kid friends because she'd admitted to being a fan of Hilary Duff.

"Do you have to get anything from the library, then?" Mr. Anderson wanted to know, the V between his brows deepening when his phone buzzed in his blazer pocket. The third time in the short minutes since he'd found you.

"No." You said, meek. Wally's blood boiled. "I swear, I won't let it happen again."

"See that it doesn't." Mr. Anderson warned. His phone buzzed again. "Get your things and go home."

"Yes, sir."

Mr. Anderson unpocketed and checked his phone as another call lit up the screen. Private, the caller ID declared.

"You'll have to use the main entrance." He said, already backing away, "Everything else is locked up." Then he leveled you with a dark look of authority, "I assume you can make your own way out?"

Wally could feel the tension radiating off you, could hear your heart stutter behind your ribs. His fingers twitched, itching to bust the man's head right off his shoulders. And, damn, when had he last felt so violent?

"Yeah, I..." You cleared your throat, "Yes."

Mr. Anderson retreated and took the next call that came through, his bark of, "Give me a minute," resonating through the empty hallway as he disappeared around the corner.

As soon as he was out of sight, Wally spun on his heel to face you. You shrunk against your locker, arms folded around your middle and eyes faraway, chewing the inside of your bottom lip as you lost yourself in thought.

Wally moved into your bubble, the connection between you and him calmed, and smoothed his hands down your waist; one into the back pocket of your jeans, the other gliding back up and into your hair.

He pulled you gently against him, tucked your head under his chin and asked, "You good, pretty girl?"

He felt you nod into his chest, "Yeah. That was just every shade of fucked up there is." You leaned away just enough to gaze up at Wally. "I've never seen him like that."

Wally pressed a kiss to the top of your head, "I hear you. He's usually super friendly." He tracked the back of his fingers down your cheek, "You should get your stuff, baby, I don't trust him not to freak out worse if he finds you still here."

"For real?" You sounded stunned, "Anderson?"

"Honestly? He was giving off really creepy vibes. You didn't do anything wrong and he acted like you'd cold-cocked his mama." Wally glared in the direction Mr. Anderson had gone, concluding, "Maybe he's the reason Maddie's blood was splattered all over the boiler room."

"Jesus, Wally, it wasn't a Fear Street massacre." You shunned the idea, disentangling yourself from him to open your locker. After a moment of reflection, "He wouldn't do that."

"How can you be sure? The dude's just your teacher. You don't know what shit he gets up to after school." Wally reasoned.

You chuckled, "He's my Uncle Andrew's best friend, actually. I don't know him super well or anything like that, but I doubt Andrew would've stuck by him if he was capable of murder."

Wally gaped, "Damn, your family's just everywhere, aren't they?"

"It's a small town, Wally. Everyone's family is everywhere."

As you grabbed your backpack and started to shove what you needed into it, Wally leaned on the locker beside yours, shrugging, "Either way, he was acting weird and clearly isn't acting like himself. And I can't stop him if he decides to come back with a machete, so please," he implored, "Get your stuff and let's go."

Thankfully, you took his advice without further argument. Pulled on your leather jacket, slung your backpack over one shoulder, and held your hand out for Wally to take as if it was something you did all the time.

Champagne-fizz burst in Wally's chest as he accepted the invitation, lacing your fingers together and setting a leisurely but purposeful pace toward the atrium.

"So," He began, "You lie like that often?"

Shame bled into your features as you cast your gaze to the ground. You didn't look at him when you said, "Only when I have to."

"Do you have to do it a lot?"

"More than I'd like, yeah." You shrugged, audibly unhappy about the fact. "Trust me, it's not that I want to. But my family has a strict No One Can Know policy when it comes to our..." You lifted your free hand and air-quoted, "gifts."

Wally bumped into your side sportively. He took a beat to consider his question before he asked it, unsure if he was ready to hear anything other than what he wanted to. "Do you feel like you have to lie to me?"

You stopped and drew Wally back the two steps he'd taken ahead.

Looking him square in the eye, you promised, "I'm not going to lie to you, Wally. About anything. Ever." Once he nodded to accept he understood, you moved along, "And anyway, you're now in on the one thing I have to lie about. So, unless I'm under a Fidelius Charm, I honestly don't have anything else to hide."

"A what charm?"

"Do we not have Harry Potter in the library?" You asked to no one in particular.

"Oh man, yeah. Rhonda got really into those books for awhile." Wally sloped toward you to stage-whisper, "She's a total nerd for them. Says she's a Slytherin." Wally straightened and snickered, "Whatever that means. She'd kill me if she ever found out I told you."

You drew an X over your heart, "I won't tell a soul," before you released Wally's hand to push the door to the atrium open.

As he followed you down the ramp toward the front entrance, Wally couldn't ignore the elephant in the room any longer, "When were you going to tell me you could teleport?"

It startled a laugh out of you, the kind that starts with a snort. A wave of fondness washed over Wally and he grinned stupidly at you, all teeth and soft eyes.

"I can't." You said. Rather, "I can, uhm, project...astrally. We call it Traveling."

Whoa. You were officially the coolest person Wally had ever known.

A barrage of questions threatened to spill out of him, ranging from reasonable to unhinged. And who could blame him? Normal people couldn't leave their bodies at will and surf the cosmos!

"Astral projection is real?" He asked in as even a tone as he could manage.

"Being a ghost is real." You countered bluntly.

And, "Touché." He conceded, "But you can't blame a guy for being surprised when something out of the Twilight Zone can happen in real life."

You seesawed your head, lips adopting a playful smile. God, you were beautiful. "Fair." You said, winking at Wally who was then forced to swallow the need to pick you up and pin you to the nearest wall with his mouth.

The air was crisp when you and he exited the school. He walked you to the picnic tables near the bus stop, resting on the end of a tabletop and pulling you between his legs. Like this, you were pressed flush against him, body fitted so perfectly into his.

The connection rumbled and flared, erupting volcano-hot, influencing Wally's actions. He slid his hands down from your waist to squeeze the pert swell of your ass, and dragged your hips against his.

You gasped, delicate, and let your head fall to the side to expose the column of your neck. Wally took advantage. Brushed his dry lips from your collar to the hinge of your jaw, little darts of tongue and drags of teeth.

"Fuck, baby, you don't know what you do to me," He groaned, his dick fattening in his sweatpants. And he sure as shit meant it. The connection between you and him was driving him crazy, keeping teenage boy hormones in check an impossible battle.

He rolled his hips, chasing the friction, using the leverage he had with his hands in your back pockets to drag you into his lap. He rearranged himself on the table, slid back to sit more comfortably, and encouraged you to rut against him.

Wally kissed you like it was the last time, like this was the only chance he'd ever have to do it. Slow, deep, slick. The sounds you made, fuck, wanton and needy; moans and gasps and punched-out sighs.

And then, because, of fucking course 'and then'—your phone buzzed right in Wally's palm. Long, sequential blitzes of vibration. A phone call.

You groaned in annoyance, taking your phone when Wally graciously handed it to you, and answered.

"Hey," You greeted, head on Wally's shoulder and body still.

His mama had raised a gentleman, he reminded himself and curled his long arms around you in a loose embrace, repeating football stats in his mind to cool his erection.

"Yeah," You were saying, "Yeah, I know, but I got caught up in the...Well, mom's a big girl, I'm sure she can find someone else to shake the floorboards this one time."

Wally tried to give you an inquiring look but the angle was too awkward, so instead he filed that tidbit away for later, above residual hauntings but below In Betweens. And, shit, that's right, you were both supposed to discuss Maddie, not dry hump on a picnic table. Oops.

You growled, climbing off of Wally altogether and hopping to the ground, pacing as you expressed with attitude, "Why don't you get your new husband to do it, or are we still keeping him in the dark about the family business?"

Wally barely made out the, "Could you stop being such a selfish little brat for o—" before you hung up on who Wally surmised was your sister. With your back to him, he couldn't tell how you felt about the exchange, but from the tension in your shoulders and how forcibly measured your breathing had become, he thought it was safe to assume not great.

"You guys don't get along?" He ventured.

On a last, heavy breath, you twirled back around, "Actually, we get along great." You sucked your teeth, "It's our mom's choice of occupation that puts us at each other's throats." Wally knew what was coming, couldn't soften the disappointment. "I gotta go." You regretted.

He plastered on a smirk, aiming for levity but sounding too dismayed to stick the landing, "You'd think the universe didn't want us to help Maddie."

In what Wally could only describe as a fit of absolutely fucking not, you strode right up to him, slung your arms around his neck and pulled him into a hot, middle-finger-to-the-sky kiss.

"Fuck the universe," You said when you parted, breathless, perfect, his, "I'll come in early tomorrow. Like, 7:30 early. Can you meet me in the parking lot?"

Repeating his words from earlier, "Anything for you, pretty girl," Wally vowed, grinning at the prospect of cuddling up somewhere intimate with you in the morning.

Although his thoughts weren't wholly innocent, he recognized within himself the genuine desire to do anything to be near you, for however long you'd give him. Whether that was two minutes or two hours, Wally would be grateful.

"Great," You smiled, bright against the dark autumn evening, "I'll see you then."

A final, sweet stamp of your lips to Wally's cheek and you went on your way, Wally having to watch as you stepped over the boundary of the school grounds and into a world where he couldn't follow.

"Can't wait," He uttered and the connection between you and him quieted completely.

💀___________________________

PART NINE - PART ELEVEN

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