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patrickispinky · 1 month ago

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Intimacy with Strangers

summary: prompt fill. you know Wally. like, you know him inside and out. he's an open book, easy to read, wears his heart on his sleeve, and rambles anecdotes at you so often there's no way he's hiding pieces of himself from you or anyone else...right? (request)

pairing: Wally Clark x fem!reader

warnings: smut. oneshot. PWP. crushes to lovers. pre-established ghostliness. Wally is a different person when he's horny.

bon reading, frens

___________________________🔵

Intimacy with Strangers

Wally's giving you those eyes again. You know the ones. Honeysoft and dark, like you're a present he's been looking forward to unwrapping. Licks his lips, gaze heavy, cheeks slightly flushed; leaned against the wall all casual and lazy, but you can see the tension in his body.

You're not oblivious. In the last month, you've sensed a shift in the dynamic between you and Wally.

It started with a dress. Specifically, the dress you wore to the Homecoming Dance. Strappy and satin and revealing, pulled off the Mean Girls Musical costume rack.

Not your normal aesthetic, but you figured you'd been dead long enough and it was time to try something new. The classmates whose opinions you used to take to heart couldn't see you anymore, and you knew your fellow ghosts couldn't care less if you decided to attend the dance in the buff.

Well, except one ghost who, since that night, hasn't stopped giving you those fucking eyes. Jesus. Your heart is about to burst out of your chest, the heat in your belly coiled tight enough to make you squirm in your seat as Wally watches you. Bold. Open. Unconcerned about who might catch him staring while everyone argues over what to watch for Movie Night.

The Wally you know, the one who helped you transition from living-breathing-person to haunting the hallways of your high school, is goofy, charmingly awkward; a real puppy of a person with enough buoyant energy to light a continent for years. Always checking to make sure you saw his sick moves on the field whenever he strongarms the ghostly guys (and Bernie) into a game of Shirts and Skins. Puffing his chest out, lopsided grin wide, proud when you send him a thumbs-up from the bleachers.

A boy with an obvious crush that neither you nor he addresses because you and he don't want to disrupt the status quo.

Yeah, sure, Yuri and Charley are an item, and Rhonda and Quinn send each other heart eyes regularly. Ghosts couple up from time to time, it's normal, everyone has needs, etcetera etcetera. But you haven't been in the metaphysical world as long as they have (2024, RIP), and you don't want to risk the uncomfortable after if things between you and Wally go south.

Or so you've been telling yourself since joining him in the afterlife.

Only now...

Fuck. Now you can't stop thinking about what it might feel like to have his big hands on your waist, your hips, your ass. Fantasies fueled by those intense looks you catch him giving you every time you waltz into his radius.

He'd be sweet, you think. As silly and unserious as he is outside of the bedroom. Maybe—probably—careful and curious and frequently checking in, does that feel good, baby? Big, cow eyes gazing up at you to gauge your reactions as he explores your body with soft, reverent touches.

Those eyes tell a different story, though, but you can't reconcile that Wally would be any other way than how he always is, regardless of the situation.

Right? Right.

...

...right?

"You're thinking awfully loud," You feel more than hear Wally whisper, his breath tickling the sensitive skin of your neck, lips brushing your pulse point, and, holy hell, when did he get so close?

You don't realize you stopped searching for a movie, stopped moving altogether, your fingers poised on one of the DVDs—Friday Night Lights—until Wally's front presses against your back. Then you seem to come to, blinking away the fog that descended when you started imagining how good he might make you feel away from the others, behind closed doors.

His hands rest on your hips, thumbs stroking bare skin beneath the hem of your top, dry lips grazing the slope of your neck.

"What're you thinking about?" He asks and his fingers dig into your flesh a little harder, pulling your ass into the cradle of his hips. "You can tell me, baby, I won't say anything."

You would tell him if you could find your voice, but it's stuck at the back of your throat, replaced with a little keen you've never heard yourself make. A soft, kitteny sound that makes Wally's breath audibly catch.

No one can see you, hidden between the aisles in the library, Charley and Rhonda arguing on the couch while Yuri and Ajay insert passive commentary here and there. Quinn and Dawn and Janet left awhile ago to put together the snack table.

So, it's just you and Wally and his big hands on your hips, and his breath on your neck and his widening smirk—so unlike the boyish smile he always sports—gently teasing across your skin.

"You finally ready to admit there's something between us?" He says, somewhat playful, entirely dark. And, fuck, his rich as sin voice sends shockwaves of heat through your veins.

It's all you can do to stay upright, unconsciously leaning back into his chest, your head tilting to the side to give him more access.

"...is there?" You breathe, eyes falling closed as he presses hot kisses up your neck to that sensitive spot behind your ear. "Something between us, I mean." And you definitely didn't need to clarify, but what he's doing with his lips and teeth is making you a little bit stupid.

Wally chuckles, delivers a light nip, then a soft kiss, and murmurs, "You know there is, baby." His hands grip you harder and suddenly you feel him, his cock hard against your ass, "If you tell me there isn't, I'll stop..." He promises and, God no, that's the last thing you want.

...

Right!?

"Don't you fucking dare," You hiss, choking back a moan when his hands glide up up up, under your top to fondle your tits, thumbs rubbing circles over your nipples.

"Fuuuck," Wally breathes out hot against your skin, rocks his hips forward, pressing his cock into your ass, "I've wanted to touch you like this for months, baby. Thought about it every day." A bite to your pulse point, one big hand teasing down your stomach to slip into the waistband of your shorts, fingertips barely brushing over your clit. "You feel that?" He grinds his cock against you over and over in little, insistent motions, "You feel what you do to me, baby? How much you make me fucking want you?"

This isn't the Wally you know. At all. This Wally is so far removed from That Wally, you're sure you're dealing with some kind of mirror dimension version of him. Because who is this!? Hot and in control, his words filthy and laced with deep, dark desire. His touch deliberate, making your pussy ache for him before he's even really done anything.

"Wally," You gasp, arching your back and pressing your hips forward, desperate for his fingers. The world around you starts to slip away until you hear Charley bark a comment about sports movies being the worst, come on, guys. And then it hits you, where you are, how exposed, how anyone could hear you and Wally and know exactly what's happening. "Wait," You murmur, stilling his hand, "Wait, we can't do this he—"

"Shh, it's okay, baby," Wally insists, teeth against the join of your neck and shoulder, "You just have to be good for me, can you do that?" Oh fuck. Oh God. Who is this!? The hand he doesn't have in your shorts grips your hip, drags your ass against his cock as he humps against you. "Just be quiet for me, baby, let me make you feel good." And then, a whisper in your ear, "Please."

Like he's asking. Like he isn't going to do what he wants anyway, his long fingers already stroking through your pussy lips and teasing into you to the first knuckle.

You shiver, swallow a moan, eyes clenched shut, trying desperately not to make a sound, but, fuck, you want to. Can barely hold it in. The way he sinks his fingers deeper, licks and bites your neck, all while muttering filth and praise into your skin.

"God, you're so wet, baby. You need me so bad, don't you?"

Another little keen, wrenched from your throat, and suddenly you're dizzy, incapable of thinking beyond how he touches you.

"I wanna taste you, pretty girl. I need it, been craving it for so long, fuck."

Wally pulls his hand out of your shorts and deftly undoes the fly. Expert, quick, like he's practiced a thousand times. You don't let yourself think about how he got so good at this—you kind of can't care because, Jesus, he's dropped to his knees, dragged your shorts and panties down your legs. With a hand at the middle of your back, he guides you to bend forward.

"Wally—" You start to protest again when Yuri laughs at something Ajay says, the sound striking through the muggy heat fogging your brain.

But it's too late, his mouth on your pussy from behind, tongue probing with a shallow lick that turns into a full, deep, hungry kiss. Your legs almost buckle right then, your forehead hitting the tightly packed collection of DVDs in front of you, hands clenched on the shelf to keep you upright.

"Christ, baby, you're so sweet." Wally moans, low and quiet. "You taste so good." And he surges back in, fingers digging into your hips, pulling you back against his face, his tongue swirling inside you.

He slowly moves one hand forward, fingertips grazing your clit, your mind exploding in a haze of white light as he begins to press in heady little circles.

"Tell me how I make you feel, baby." He commands in a whisper, lips forming the words against your pussy. "I wanna hear you." And then he moves in again, making out with your pussy like a man starved. Feasting, sucking and licking and slurping your juices, and you're so fucking wet, pussy pulsing, breathing ragged, you can't speak, can't fathom having to put your thoughts to words.

You manage, "Don't stop."

A smouldering, smug chuckle, and a stinging nip to your ass cheek, "Never, baby girl."

He eats you out until your thighs start to shake and you can't hold yourself up anymore. Then he's on his feet, you hear the rustle of fabric, feel his blunt cockhead prodding your entrance. You see stars when he tugs you upright by the hair—gentle, considerate, but demanding—and confesses, "I've wanted to fuck you like this since I met you."

One hard stroke and he stuffs you full, his cock splitting you in two. Your eyes roll back, lips parting on a tight sigh, but Wally doesn't give you a chance to savor the feeling. Fingernails branding crescents into your flesh, he pulls out halfway and then slams back in, the sound wet and lewd and so fucking loud there's no way nobody heard it. That telltale squelch that makes Wally moan.

"God, you're so fucking tight, baby," He groans, pulling out, slamming back in, grinding to get deeper, cockhead nudging your sweet spot over and over before he repeats the motion. He switches between slow drags and rough thrusts, draping himself over your back and placing one of his hands over yours, lacing his fingers with yours. "You're all I've ever wanted," He says like he's wanted to tell you for a long time but never allowed himself. "You're so perfect, baby, fuck, you take me so good—"

And he doesn't let you respond, fucking into you with abandon, huffing into your neck, hand leaving yours to smooth up your chest, rest on your throat and tilt your head back.

"Wanna feel you come around me, baby. Wanna feel you fucking gush all over me."

A desperate—way too fucking loud—mewl is pulled out of you by his words, his voice, his fucking cock beating into you over and over, hitting your g-spot with the force of a fucking train, the right kind of dull hurt that makes you weak for more. Your legs shake, your belly gets tight, tingling white-hot heat ready to snap inside you.

"Wally, oh fuck, don't stop, please—"

He growls low against your pulse point and promises, "I'm not gonna stop, baby. Let me feel it, come on," and moves his hips faster, fat cock rubbing every hot, sensitive nerve inside you, again and again and again, until, finally, fucking yes, God, yes, Wally—

You tense, go still, and he pounds your g-spot so perfectly, gets you to that insidious edge, and then over it. With a weak, wet moan, you come around him, pussy clenching, gripping him tight, making him curse.

"That's it, fuck." He chokes out. His cock twitches inside you and you know, you can feel it, he's going to come. "Oh, fuck, baby, tell me you want it." He commands, holding himself right at the edge. He repeats, "Tell me."

"Please, Wally," You breathe, pussy still throbbing, so fucking sensitive, and you don't know how much more you can take, the line between pleasure and overstimulation way too thin. "Please~"

You can practically hear his smirk, "Yeah. That's my girl. Gonna give you everything, baby." He snatches your hips back as he thrusts forward, the snap of skin-on-skin piercing the air, punctuated by hard pants and, finally, one long, satisfied groan when Wally holds you still, cock pulsing inside you as he comes, humping into you in tiny motions.

He collapses against your back, his smirk melting into a smile, and stamps sweet, tender kisses across your shoulder, hands smoothing up and down your thighs, hips, waist.

"You're amazing, baby," He whispers, mouth following the shape of your jaw to your ear, "So fucking perfect for me, aren't you?"

It takes you a moment to answer, head spinning, legs like rubber, but eventually you find the energy to speak, "Why didn't you ever say anything?"

"I didn't wanna push you away," He says, carefully extricating himself from you, and, God, you hate how empty you suddenly feel.

The mix of his spend and yours leaks down the inside of your thighs, and you feel his fingers smear through it, sure that if you looked, he'd be staring at the mess he made of you with the same pride he shows when he scores a touchdown.

"And this wasn't pushing?" You don't mean it, tone light and playful, finally glancing over your shoulder to look at him. You were right, he's got that familiar expression on his face, self-satisfied and pleased.

He snaps his eyes to yours, gives you a slow, easy grin, and asks, "Are you complaining?"

"No. I'm not complaining," You snort and roll your eyes, shaking your head, "but why now?"

Wally steps back as you turn around, stripping out of his shirt and, without any concern whatsoever, mops up the mess on your thighs as he responds, "Honestly? I was going crazy." He drops his now soiled shirt and pulls you into him, hands on your ass. His eyes are all soft and warm and affectionate, cheeks still a little flushed. Fucking gorgeous, you can't deny it. "Being around you every day..." One hand rises, the backs of his fingers grazing your cheek, "Wanting you so bad like that... I thought I was going to explode, baby, you have no idea."

You can't help the way you melt at the admission and offer him a smile, "Yeah? I was driving you to the brink?"

"If I had to wait any longer, you would've needed to lock me up in a padded room." He jokes back, all boyish and goofy. And this? This is the Wally you recognize. The one you've known since your death.

Before you can stop yourself, you blurt, "Who the hell was that before?"

Wally's brows knit, a confused puppy of a look, "Huh?"

"My guy, you went from being silly and arguing with everyone about Rollerball to fucking me in a library with our friends on the other side of this shelf." You point out, arching a brow, still unable to sort out in your mind how this adorable, sugary-sweet puppyboy mighty-morphed into Who's Your Daddy in the blink of an eye.

Grin returning, though this one a lot more smug, Wally leans in and nips your bottom lip, pulls back slightly, and then presses in, harder, deeper, stealing the breath from your lungs, only answering the question when your vision goes spotty.

"A guy can't be more than one thing?" He asks as he brushes the tip of his nose against yours, so innocently affectionate that you're not entirely sure this isn't some split personality business.

"Of course you can be more than one thing, it's just... I have never seen you be that thing."

He shrugs a shoulder, "Because you never let me show you before."

And. Fair enough.

After he helps you put yourself back together. After you and he emerge from behind the shelf and find everyone missing, a note on the table claiming you and Wally suck and need to get a room next time—we feel violated, fuck you both, you're uninvited from Movie Night. After you groan in shame and he cackles in delight.

After all that, sat on the stainless steel counter in the school kitchen, nibbling on a stale cookie that Wally hands you to snack on while he throws together sloppy joes, you wonder aloud:

"How many versions of you are there?"

Wally pauses what he's doing to pin you with a sharp, simmering look, his smile dangerous and sexy and, oh fuck, girl, what did you let yourself get into?

"There's a lot you don't know about me, baby," He practically purrs, strutting into your space like he owns the world and fitting himself between your legs; yanks you forward so your hips are pressed firmly against his. Lips grazing along the shell of your ear, he murmurs, "You really wanna find out?"

With a resounding fuck yes, Wally lets the food burn and spends the next hour reintroducing you to that primal, hungry side of him that he revealed in the library. A total stranger who makes you beg for more, harder, faster—coaxes reactions out of you that you never thought you were capable of.

And, damn, if you're not entirely committed to getting to know this new side of Wally until he's as familiar as that goofy, awkwardly charming, puppy of a person you thought you had figured out.

🔵___________fin.____________

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if you enjoyed this, you may also enjoy Hot For You.

Wally is horny as fuck and can't keep his hands out of his pants. who are you not to help a friend in need?

#milo manheim #wally clark #school spirits #school spirits season 2 #milo manheim fanfiction #wally clark fanfiction #wally clark smut #fem!reader #wally clark x fem!reader #Intimacy with Strangers #Order Up!

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patrickispinky · 1 month ago

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⚠MAJOR HUNGER GAMES SPOILERS⚠

Bro I'm rewatching the hunger games movies and why did I never notice that Finnicks death mirrors Catos 😭 pls tell me I'm not the only one who didn't notice it I feel stupid

#the hunger games #hunger games #cato hunger games #finnick odair #finnick hunger games

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patrickispinky · 1 month ago

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IM OFFICIALLY 19 BITCHES!!! 🥳🥳🥳 all the sexy studs needa give me a little kissy kiss as a present

#happy my birthday

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patrickispinky · 1 month ago

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Headcanons

Joe Singh x Gn!Reader

Warnings: tooth rotting fluff, a mix of general and dating/married headcanons

(A/n: I physically can't bro this man has been occupying my brain space since I watched the new season.)

This man is the sweetest, most passionate person to ever walk this planet.

I recently found out that his and Padmas actors are siblings in real life so now I've made the executive decision that it's canon that Joe and Padma are siblings. I don't give a fuck if it's not in the show. This is my imaginary world and their siblings.

After hearing Ginny call him baby girl it's now your job to call him it every day and never explain what it actually means.

You know how Joe's always listening to every ones conversations at Blue Farm? You two would 💯 eavesdrop on everyone and laugh or talk shit about it later.

Gives you the most precious puppy dog eyes when he wants something.

You and Georgia gossip about him all the time. Normally it's in front of him and he's just like "you know I can hear you right" and y'all are just like "yeah" and then he sighs in defeat and pours you both more wine.

You two are Ginny and Austins honorary god parents.

He refuses to let you cook by yourself. If you really like to cook then the two of you will do it together.

Hes a cuddler. Probably the little spoon and he has no shame in it.

He absolutely worships the ground you walk on. This man is a simp through and through and he'll admit it.

Let's go into the world of marriage. He's not the type of man to tear up on y'all's wedding day, no, he full blown sobbed. I'm talking messy, disgusting, tears.

Same with when he (or you) proposed. The idea of you loving him enough to want to be with him for the rest of your life blows his mind.

Immediately told everyone he knew that you two were getting married.

After you got married he took every opportunity to call you his wife/husband/spouse. You no longer had a name for like 6 whole months.

#joe singh #joe singh x reader #ginny and georgia #joe ginny and georgia #ginny and georgia headcanons #x reader #ginny and georgia x reader

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patrickispinky · 1 month ago

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I will never forgive you bitches for making 'back to friends' sombrs most popular song instead of 'savior' I bawl my eyes out to it on a daily basis. GO LISTEN TO IT RIGHT MF NOW (p.s I'm not hating on back to friends its still a good song)

#sombr #music #its in my daily rotation

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patrickispinky · 1 month ago

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Dont mind me just writing my funky little fics while world war three starts 😊

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patrickispinky · 1 month ago

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patrickispinky · 1 month ago

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Sex, Drugs, Etc.

Pt.10

Warnings: Talk of drugs/Drug use. Possible smut in the future. A lot of plot. EXTREME Canon divergence. Before Maddies time. Set in 2022. Graphic description of drug use. Depressive episodes. Allusion to alcohol abuse. Allusion to self harm.

(A/n: Were gonna ignore how long this took me to finish.)

1.1k words

Pt.9

You could hear the pattering of rain hitting the ground outside. The scent of wet grass filled your nose, creating an odd sense of comfort. Your legs hung off the side of the bed as you laid on it horizontally. Some cartoon playing on your laptop that you couldn’t bring yourself to pay attention to. Hell you could barely bring yourself to put it on earlier but the worried looks from your brother every time he checked on you started to weigh too heavy on your chest. At least now it looked like you weren't just drawing in your own head.

Every single one of your bones ached from the sickening stillness. Only moving occasionally to inhale fruit flavored vapor from the man made device you depended on to save your last bit of sanity. Everything felt dull, like the life had been sucked out of you, leaving you as nothing but a ghost.

Two broken in half chopsticks were tied to the front and back of your right ring and middle finger with duct tape. Your knuckles were busted and almost your entire hand was bruised. Your brother had helped patch you up the week prior after many failed attempts to try to get you to go to the hospital.

Your phone rang for the millionth time, the name ‘Mad Mags’ popping up on the screen. She was worried, you could tell from the back to back calls. Bubba probably told her what was going on, she’d always been one to worry.

Guilt hung heavy in your chest, you knew she understood but knowing she's thinking about you, just wanting you to get better, hurt. You’d give anything to be different, to not feel this way. You didn’t understand it, why your brain was wired this way, why everyone else functioned perfectly fine but you were falling apart bit by bit and everytime you just had to pick up the pieces and try to mush them back together until you couldn’t recognize yourself anymore because everythings out of place.

Nothing even feels real anymore. Iifes just a game and you were never taught the rules. No one gave you a cheat code to make this shit easier, to give you the slightest chance of winning. You were doomed by the narrative.

You look over at your side table, opening up the top drawer. You moved the notebooks and pens scattered to get to the only thing that helped. A pint of vodka, weed, and your fist ever vice, a razor blade but there was something else there, something that you were supposed to throw away, a little pill. Josh had told you it was a percocet, either way what did it matter? You’re in your room alone. What's the worst that can happen? You’re either gonna get really high or black out. Win win situation.

Your shaky hands grab the pill and the vodka, popping it in your mouth before you could give yourself time to think and back out then you took a swig of vodka, feeling the intense burn hit your tonsils as it washed the pill down. Now the only thing left was to wait and see what happens.

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

The school bell rang, it was the first day back from winter break. You were honestly glad, your spot on the field was starting to feel lonely, especially because Wally didn’t come visit you last night. It’s honestly kinda pathetic how much you enjoy that boy's company. He’s a total stranger yet he feels familiar.

You could hear faint footsteps in the distance. You looked over to see a boy you knew, Axle, you’d bought some stuff from him a few times. He was walking towards you before he stopped, seemingly waiting for someone. You didn’t have to be a genius to figure out what's about to happen.

You saw another boy walking over to him and without a second thought you got up. The other boy had something in his hand, as you got closer you noticed it was money so you ran. Standing right beside them as Axle went to make the play, as soon as you saw him grab the baggie out his pocket you grabbed it.

You examined the baggie as both boys walked away. 5 pills, looked like Molly. You slipped the baggie in your pocket and looked around to make sure no one saw you, well at least to make sure no one dead saw you. No one was even around so without a second thought you started running toward the school. You had one mission, get a card out of someone's wallet.

Nothing else mattered in that moment, you just needed the pain to stop.

You bolted to calculus, practically slamming the door open. Mags was sitting by the widow in the middle row, she always kept a minnie backpack on her with all her personal belongings. You reached under her chair, grabbing her Juicy Couture bag you bought her one year for her birthday. You opened it, unzipping the little pocket that contained her wallet. You reached in, grabbing her license.

“Sorry Mags.” You slipped the card into your back pocket, giving her a failed attempt at a side hug before leaving.

You walked to the teachers lounge, knowing it would be empty by now. The door was always unlocked. You took the bag out of your pocket, gabbing one pill and placing it on the table with all the papers and pens. You used the card to crush the pill and made three even lines. You leaned down, covering one nostril as you used the other one to inhale each line. The sweet powdery taste filled your mouth almost instantly.

You walked over to the couch and plopped down. Within minutes you felt lighter. All of a sudden this deep dark hell you’ve been living in felt normal. No voices or pain, just absolute peace. For the first time in a long time everything felt like it was gonna be okay.

Charley had just got back from group, deciding to grab a snack from the teacher's lounge. What he didn’t expect to see was you. He hadn’t even opened the door, he saw you through the window, sprawled out on the couch.

“What the hell?” He eyed you for a few minutes before turning and walking to the library where Wally and Rhonda were arguing over a bag of chips. “Guys!” Charley sounded kinda panicked, his town making the twos heads snap up. “She’s awake.” They all looked at each other, a mix of shock and confusion.

“Where is she?” Wally stood up.

“Teachers lounge.” Without another word Wally bolted. He needed answers

Unofficial tag list: @gabbyygoo @badbishsblog @dolliestgrl

#school spirits #wally clark #milo manheim #wally clark x reader #wally clark fanfiction #wally clark smut #fanfiction #milo manheim fanfiction #fem!reader #wally clark x fem!reader #wally clark imagine #imagine #sex drugs etc

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patrickispinky · 2 months ago

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Hoping and praying that I can finish the Mr.Martin fic I've had in my drafts for like 2 months tonight so that I can say I'm one of the very few bitches out there that has written smut for him

#school spirits #mr. martin #everett martin

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patrickispinky · 2 months ago

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Headcanons for the cinnamon roll

Charley Baker

Warnings: Fluff, angst, general headcanons, slight spoilers for season 3, and as always me yapping.

(A/n: Someone on wattpad asked me to do Charley headcanons so here we are. For future reference if anyone wants to request for Charley I will only write him with a Male, Gn, or non-binary reader. Also for the sake of how I have everything set up we're just gonna say Charley's last name is Baker since someone on Reddit said so. HAPPY PRIDE MONTH BITCHES!!! 🥳🥳🥳)

Charley is a very complex person. He feels a lot in every aspect of his life and death.

This sweet boy thinks constantly and doesn't know how to stop. I feel like he definitely has anxiety but he covers it up with jokes and witty remarks.

Sometimes he just needs to be held and reminded that's he's loved and told that all the bad things he thinks about himself in his head aren't true.

Words of affirmation is his love language. He's very particular about physical affection and has to be in the mood to cuddle.

Very protective over his glasses. NO ONES allowed to touch them.

Doesn't like people playing with his hair.

Him and Rhonda sit in the corner and talk shit all the time.

He's a romantic, a walk to remember is his all time favorite movie and he cries every time.

Wally forces him to play football with him. Charley has no idea how to play even after all these years.

He helped Wally make the dance number that him and the ghostly gang danced to at Wallys highschool reunion.

Smokes with Yiri in the art room all the time.

He has a love for theater but never actually sighed up because he had stage fright. (He's a theater gay because I say so)

Makes so many jokes about Mina being the famous theater ghost.

Random but his favorite fruit is mangos. Don't ask this is just canon to me.

Rhondas his favorite person in the world because she may be judgy but she knows not to call out his insecurities.

I feel like he has a younger sister or something.

#school spirits #charley school spirits #Charley baker #school spirits imagine #headcanons #school spirits headcanons #Charley headcanons

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patrickispinky · 2 months ago

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Cannonball

summary: prompt fill. it's the worst day of the year, and you need a distraction. too bad the one person you rely on to be there for you has vanished into the ether, leaving you alone with your thoughts. or has he? (request)

pairing: Wally Clark x fem!reader

warnings: fluff. oneshot. established relationship. cuties in love.

bon reading, frens

___________________________🟪

Cannonball

July. Your least favorite time of the year.

Without the regular activity within the school, there's nothing to distract you from the reality that you're deader than a doornail and your body is still buried under a tree a few feet over the Split River High boundary line.

Killed in 1910. Before the church was demolished to build the school. A parish shepherded by the loathsome Father Bloom, who had an eye for naïve, young girls dedicated to God.

You were one of six who'd been killed at his hands; the first victim. The only one whose body had never been found, and the only one whose ghost had remained stuck in the metaphysical world.

At first, you were convinced that your soul wasn't pure enough to ascend to Heaven, unlike Theresa, and Louise, Victoria, Catherine, and Heather. The girls whose ghosts crossed over within days of their murders.

As time went on, the parish and cemetery were relocated, the church demolished, the school erected in its stead. The boundary line expanded, and other ghosts joined you in the afterlife. You couldn't believe Janet Hamilton wasn't pure enough to go through the pearly gates, curious and kind and Christian.

It was because of her that you realized there was no rhyme or reason for it; some ghosts just got left behind. With Mr. Martin's help, you were able to release the guilt and confusion that had clung to you since Father Bloom had cut you open and bled you out.

Not entirely, but enough that you no longer feel that you were denied your ticket to Heaven because you'd broken your mother's priceless Capodimonte and had blamed it on your little brother.

Father Bloom's actions weren't driven by an angry God to punish you. He was responsible all by himself, and now he's burning in Hell for it.

Or so you hope.

Damn it, you're doing it again. Thinking about the past when you should focus on the here and now. And you want to, but your emotional support Wally was nowhere to be found before or after breakfast.

Normally, he's stuck to you like Velcro, especially around the anniversary of your death. Convincing you with conversation and cuddles that things aren't so bad; that he's grateful he died too, because he got to meet you (such a sap, you think with a little smile); that you and he should do this or that to distract you from the slow crest of intrusive thoughts that plague you as the 13th looms closer.

"And how is this supposed to make me feel better?" You asked, raising a brow at Wally as he grinned back at you, cow eyes twinkling.

"Come on, just trust me, close your eyes and describe it." He insisted as he took your hand in his and squeezed.

You sighed, rolled your eyes, but did as instructed. After a deep breath, you began, "If I could, I'd go back to the beach with my family. Build sandcastles like Les—" Your little brother "—and I used to." A smile crept across your face as you remembered how those days felt. And then you chuckled, "My mother would be scandalized by the swimsuits now. She didn't even like the one I wore then and it was practically a dress."

You peeked one eye open and caught Wally giving you the softest look you'd ever seen on his face. "Yeah? You thinkin' an itty bitty bikini?"

Both eyes opened, a playful smirk, "No, but apparently you are," you teased, warmed through when Wally ducked his head and bit his lip, trying to hide that he was picturing you in so little.

He'd given you your first kiss that day.

Wally had been a surprise, no doubt about it. Someone you were reluctant to let your guard down around at first. Bold and brazen and cocky. Big personality with big ambitions that never diminished, regardless of the barrier that kept everyone within a certain radius of the school.

He was loud, pushy. Overtly flirtatious in a way that encouraged you to avoid him at all costs. And then, one July, he found you curled up on the couch in the Faculty Lounge, staring into the distance, chin on your knees and arms tight around your legs.

Three failed jokes later, Wally realized you weren't okay and he just...sat with you. Nattered on about whatever popped into his head—mostly things about his cousin Dennis and the trouble they'd give Wally's mother. He didn't stop talking, and you finally started listening, pulled into one anecdote after another until, at last, you snorted. Which turned into a choked little giggle. Which blossomed into a full-blown belly laugh when Wally described how Dennis had been more mud than boy by the end of his tale.

"Feel better?" He asked, voice low and earnest.

You thought about it for a moment before, "a little," you said, and gave Wally a grateful smile. "Thank you."

"Any time," He said with a shrug, so casual and easy, his gaze flickering across your face as if he was studying you for a test.

Wally's the reason you make it through July without going into that horrible state of suspension. Barely existing, staring into space as your brain replays your life over and over. Picks apart all the things that went wrong and how you could've avoided them. Days turn into weeks turn into months without moving an inch, the world outside your head muted completely until something happens to snap you out of it.

It hasn't happened since 1958, when you were yanked out of the stupor by the fire that claimed Mr. Martin and Janet's lives. But it can, is the point. And Wally knows that, so where is he?

You must've made a face or something, because Rhonda stops mid-sentence and looks down at you.

"If you want me to stop, you just have to say so." She says, expression quickly hardening.

"No!" You respond quickly, "No, please, keep going. I was just...getting in my head again." A sheepish smile, "Sorry..."

Rhonda doesn't exactly soften, but her features loosen somewhat, and she picks up where she left off.

You're truly grateful to have her company after you couldn't find Wally (or Charley, or Janet, or Ajay, or Katelynn, or—) before or after breakfast. Where the hell was everyone?

It doesn't matter, you suppose, settling back in to listen as Rhonda recites chapter 12 of a modern book that recently resurged in popularity amongst the student body, particularly the girls.

Sparkly vampires and werewolves and toxic relationship dynamics aren't usually your thing, but why not? Rhonda does the voices, and you enjoy how she pauses to rant about something totally inept every few pages.

A gentle breeze casts across your skin as you soak in the summer sun; the deranged and silly antics of the characters make you giggle even when the scene is supposed to be serious. It's as nice a distraction as any.

...

But...

It's just that this moment would be even better with Wally there. Cuddled up in his arms, your head tucked under his chin, his big hands caressing your back or waist or thighs—safe and secure and close—while he inserts his own crude jokes every few lines because he can't help himself.

"Aaand you're gone again." Rhonda's voice penetrates your spiraling thoughts.

You blink rapidly, once again forcing yourself back to the present to offer her an apologetic smile, "Sorry, sorry, just...thinking about...stuff."

Rhonda arches a brow, "Stuff as in the anniversary of your death? Or stuff as in why your boyfriend isn't the one reading to you about dumb vampires?"

"Both." You say after a moment, sitting up to stare out over the field. Another short lull, and then, "He's been weird the last couple of days. I can tell he's hiding something, but every time I tried to confront him, he got all squeaky and just...took off." You look at Rhonda, chewing your lip, "You don't think he's trying to break up with me, do you?"

Rhonda clearly isn't expecting you to ask that, because her eyes widen and her jaw drops for a split second before she schools her expression, "God no. That idiot loves you more than anything." She snorts, "So much that he sacrifices his jelly donuts for you."

You blush, eyes all soft and smile warm, "Yeah, he does, doesn't he?" And your heart pitter-patters at the memory of Wally holding the box of donuts out to you without so much as a second thought, encouraging you to take the last jelly donut with a lopsided grin.

When you look at Rhonda again, her face is pinched in displeasure.

"If you could not make that face while I'm around, I'd appreciate it," She grumbles, rolling her eyes, but you know her well enough by now that she doesn't mean it. That, despite how often she complains about the lovesick expressions you and Wally exchange, Rhonda fully supports you and him and your unconventional, in-death love story.

"I'd say sorry, but it'd be a lie," You snicker, bumping Rhonda's shoulder with your own. "Seriously, though, what's up with everyone?" You look at the sky as you try to put into words what you've observed from everyone lately. "Charley's acting odd, too. And Janet. And Ajay. It's like they all have some big secret and they won't tell me. Did something happen?"

"Not that I know of," Rhonda answers before sticking her lollipop in her mouth, offering you her usual disinterest when it comes to the actions and behaviors of her fellow ghosts. "Who cares, anyway? No one is going anywhere. If they are hiding something, it'll come out eventually."

"Yeah..." A heavy sigh, shoulders sagging, "I guess you're right."

‗•‗

An hour later and Rhonda has moved on to the second book in the series. You've been dozing in her lap, her fingers in your hair to keep you mellow since your mind kept wandering to Wally and your death and back again.

It isn't enough, though. You're getting restless, antsy, bored with the events unfolding in gloomy Forks, Washington. Bored with the sunshine and the breeze. You need to move.

Just as you open your mouth to suggest heading inside, you hear the low rumble of an engine and the sound of tires in the grass.

"Jesus, finally," Rhonda says under her breath, unmistakably relieved.

Suspicious, you sit up and narrow your eyes at her, "Finally, what?" You ask, but your attention is drawn to the golf cart making its way toward you. Specifically, to the driver.

Wally grins through the windshield, all teeth and crinkled eyes, so bright it's infectious, and you can't keep yourself from mirroring his good mood. Standing, you step down the rows between you and the ground, and meet him as he pulls the golf cart to a jerky stop.

"Hey, pretty girl," He greets, hopping out and jogging around the front of the golf cart to sweep you into his arms. "I missed you."

"And whose fault is that?" You quip, though you're smiling, "You could've joined us out here if you hadn't been avoiding me."

Alarmed, Wally pulls you into a hug, long arms fastened around you, his voice against your cheek as he presses kisses to your face. "Babe, I wasn't avoiding you, I promise. I just had some...things to take care of."

You lean back, eyes narrowed, "Things?"

"Things." He returns and now he's grinning, big and proud and...suspicious, you think.

"What things?"

He teeter-totters his head, beaming, and says as nonchalantly as Wally is capable of, "It may or may not be a surprise." And he looks so proud, a kid watching their mom put on the fridge their interpretation of a lion drawn in messy crayon.

Your eyes widen, "Surprise?" and you glance over your shoulder at Rhonda, who has since descended the bleachers to settle herself in the back of the golf cart, regarding you and Wally with her usual apathy.

Things click into place; Wally's uncharacteristic secretiveness, Charley's weird deflections, Janet's scared mouse routine, Ajay's... Okay, honestly, Ajay's hard to read on a good day, so you can't be one-hundred percent sure he's been in on the whole thing, but you figure he must have been, being Wally's best buddy.

"Surprise?" You repeat when Rhonda blatantly ignores the question, your gaze returning to Wally's.

He nods enthusiastically, "Surprise." That's it, that's all he says, giving nothing away. "Come on, I can't wait for you to see it!"

Suddenly, you're being bundled into the passenger seat, kissed on the forehead, hand scooped into Wally's as soon as he's settled behind the wheel. He steps on the gas, the golf cart bouncing and swaying its way back toward the school. In particular, the back end of the school, where the new natatorium is.

As soon as he's put the golf cart in park, Wally's up and out and around to your side, yanking you from the golf cart and then behind him as he trots into the building, his excitement palpable. You can barely keep up, his legs that much longer than yours, and you hear Rhonda snort behind you.

"Did you know about this?" You ask over your shoulder.

She simply shrugs, her grin concealed around her lollipop, but the twinkle in her eyes tells you everything you need to know.

You'd demand more from her, except that Wally's pulled you through the door, the scent of chlorine hitting you in the face like a punch and drawing your attention ahead of you where...

Oh...wow...

Your mouth falls open, eyes round in awe. The space has been completely transformed. Sand, likely from the baseball diamond, has been piled around the edge of the pool. There are three sets of stacked gym mats, draped in towels under canopies made from repurposed volleyball nets that remind you of beach cabanas.

The water is purple, your favorite color, and you're sure that's all Janet's doing because there's no way the kitchen had enough purple food coloring to dye a whole swimming pool, and chemical reactions are Janet's favorite hobby.

There's a massive banner strung across the back wall announcing Happy Death Day in purple glitter and paint, balloons and fairy lights and streamers decorating the space around it.

A table bursting with snacks sits below the banner, filled with what you recognize as Charley's famous chocolate chip cookies, Janet's delicate finger sandwiches, Bernie's shrimp jambalaya, and, oooh yesss, Mr. Martin's old-fashioned, classic burgers. There are also bowls of chips and chocolate and chewy candies boosted from the vending machines, pitchers of soda and iced tea and lemonade.

It's... "Amazing," You choke around the lump in your throat.

Charley puffs out his chest while Janet's eyes skirt to the ground bashfully. Mr. Martin and Ajay exchange job-well-done nods. And Wally... Wally puts his arm around your waist, hand engulfing your hip, and tucks you into his side.

"We know how much today sucks," He begins, low and sympathetic, "So we wanted to make it a little better."

"We got the idea from Harry Potter," Janet grins, so sweet and innocent that you can't help but laugh at her enthusiasm. Although she decided to sit the Twilight Saga out, she was wholeheartedly into Harry Potter when you and Rhonda read the series.

"So... I'm Nearly Headless Nick now, huh?" You joke, looking between your friends.

"Babe, we all are, don't even try." Wally shakes his head, serious for about three seconds before a smile blossoms across his face. "Do you like it?"

You don't even have to think. "I love it," You answer, and you can't avoid how your eyes sting and your heart swells, because everything about July is suddenly bearable in a way it has never been in over 100 years.

Wally presses a kiss to your hair, the moment soft, tender, quiet, until he unceremoniously shoves Rhonda into the pool, Rhonda squawking in shock and betrayal before she hits the water.

‗•‗

The day is magical. The laughter loud, the food delicious, the atmosphere jubilant and jolly. Pool games and lounging in the floating donuts, sipping non-alcoholic Minute Maid margaritas.

You haven't thought about your death once from the time Wally dragged you into the natatorium until now, too preoccupied by your friends' shenanigans.

Currently, it's a cannonball contest that Ajay is winning. No surprise there, the judge being Mina, who—shock and awe—climbed down from the rafters to participate in the day's activities.

Dawn is also in attendance, teaching Charley how to summon chakras...or something. Something mystical or holistic or pagan. All you know is there's a lit candle between them, and Charley's face is twisted in utter concentration.

Halfway through the celebration, Mr. Martin takes the time to set up the projector screen above the bleachers with Ajay's help. The shutters are drawn, the space dark apart from the glow of the fairy lights, and you and Wally cuddle up in one of the makeshift cabanas, Rhonda on his left, Janet on your right.

You nuzzle into Wally's chest, plant a kiss over his heart, and sink into his side.

July. Your least favorite time of the year.

Except it doesn't feel so bad right now. You're not unaffected. The ache of your death still sits like a pit in your stomach. It's just not as big. Unable to grow as it usually does against the power of what your friends have done to help get you through the worst anniversary of your existence.

"You good, baby?" Wally whispers, hand stroking your back, before he tightens his hold on you and squeezes your hip, lips pressed into your hair.

Peeking up at him, you smile. A real one, wide and warm and genuine, "Yeah. I am, actually."

And you revel in the fact that, for the first July 13th ever, you mean it.

🟪___________fin.____________

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