Hopes And Fears. (Wally Clark x Reader)
Summary: Y/N’s death is traumatic. So traumatic in fact, she can’t even look at Wally without reliving what happened to her.
Word Count: 3,073
Gif Not Mine. Requests are open!
Warnings: Violence, Swear Words, Hints Of Rape?
I’m not too sure how I feel about this to be honest but it’s my first fic since coming back and I would love to write for Wally more so please send requests! I might continue with this if people like it, I’m not sure yet though.
“Homecoming game tonight. Are you nervous?”
Closing my locker, I look to my left to see Abby, my best friend since elementary school. We’re inseparable. People find it odd that we look like we are complete opposites and yet we are the platonic loves of each other's lives. She’s a very loud and extroverted theater kid, I’m quiet, shy and introverted. Though in a weird turn of events, I became head cheerleader. Kind of ironic right?
“I’m not too worried. We’ve been rehearsing everyday, sometimes twice a day. I think we might actually have our best routine yet, I just hope we can pull it off.”
“You’ll be great, you always are. Besides I heard Spencer is going to ask you to be his date for homecoming.”
Abby’s words catch me off guard. Spencer is the Split River High quarterback. While typically the head cheerleader and quarterback are perfect for each other, I’m way below his level that the thought of us being together is ridiculous. I couldn’t even imagine it, that’s how ludicrous the idea of us is. Not that I would complain, Spencer is model level attractive, an academic genius and of course, insanely popular. Any girl would die to be his homecoming date. Me included.
“Don’t be stupid.” The blush on my cheeks is a vibrant red as I speak, leaning against my locker with my books clenched against my chest.
“I’m being serious. Some of the other football guys were talking about it in study hall. Apparently he’s got some sort of big surprise planned.”
Her grin is wide, clearly happy for me, though I can’t match it. I still don’t believe it, that sort of thing does not happen to girls like me. Guys aren’t interested in girls like me. That’s just the way high school works, maybe I’ll blossom when I head off to college at the end of this year but for now, guys keep their distance. My mom always told me that high school guys like girls that are easy and that because I know my worth, guys don’t even attempt it. I’ve always hated that idea though. If nothing else but for the slightly sexist and anti-feminist ideals that it pushes.
“Not to alarm you Y/N but he’s walking down the hallway.” Abby tells me, grabbing my forearm tightly, obviously excited. “I think he’s headed this way so that’s my cue. Have fun, text me all the details!”
With that she scurries away, flashing me a cheesy smile over her shoulder as she speeds down the hallway. Almost bumping into several other students as she does so. I laugh slightly, always entertained by her antics before hearing the metal of the locker next to me clang at the sound of somebody leaning against it.
“Mind if I steal you for a second Y/N?”
Spencer’s voice is charming and smooth, a relaxed smirk on his face as he stares down at me. His eyes are intoxicating and I feel as though I’m drowning in them. There’s no way Abby could be right. God, if she is I’ll never hear the end of it. Maybe I could live with that though, especially if it does result in Spencer potentially being my boyfriend.
“Sure, yeah, okay.”
Spencer’s smirk grows wider, and as he leans in to take my hand in his, I catch a whiff of his cologne. A dark musk that matches the darkness of his eyes and hair perfectly, it takes everything in me not to collapse right then and there. My senses are completely heightened and I can feel the roughness of his hand against my palm. The butterflies in my stomach make me feel as though I’m about to explode from my nerves and before I know it we’ve made our way to the old block of showers that were closed in 2004, following an incident involving an inappropriate relationship between a student and gym coach. New showers were remodeled and these were left to decay.
Spencer takes my books out of my hands, placing them on the bench that sits in the center of the room before turning to face me. His hand gently cups my cheek and although his smile is soft and loving. His eyes hold a mischievous glint. Without saying anything he leans down to kiss me, unprepared and a little shocked I step backwards.
“I didn’t know you wanted to kiss me. I didn’t even know you liked me.” I tell him, shuffling backwards again as he continues to approach me.
“Everybody likes you. I’ve just been wanting to save this for a special occasion, and what better time than homecoming?”
With my back pressed against the wall, a soft smile forms on my face as he cages me in. Though it doesn’t feel threatening, it feels new and exciting and my insides are on fire waiting to see what happens. I feel as though I finally understand what the cringey teen movies are talking about when they discuss sex and love and passion.
“I really like you Spencer.” I whisper, voice barely audible, gazing up at him through my lashes.
He laughs, pushing his hair out of his face before leaning down once again. This time his lips do touch mine and it’s nothing like I imagined. He’s rough, hands moving down to grab my breasts , almost painfully. The softness from before clearly disappeared. As much as it is a dream come true to be making out with the guy of my dreams, I’m still disappointed that this is how my first kiss turned out. His tongue forces its way into my mouth and its uncomfortable, I know this isn’t how it is supposed to go. As I try to pull away, to allow myself some air, his hand grips my throat, holding me in place. Continuing his almost aggressive movements.
“Yo Spence, did you get the bitch?”
Finally, he pulls away. I manage to take in some air despite his hand still wrapped around my neck. He’s looking over his shoulder, nodding his head. The rest of the football team stands in the doorway, menacing looks on their faces as they see me in such a vulnerable position. I hear the click of the door lock, and the butterflies in my stomach don’t feel so good anymore. The energy in the room shifts to one of darkness and evil, no trace of kindness and love.
Spencer looks at me, and for the first time in my life, I fear for my safety. This is not the same guy that I was obsessed with. There is no sign of human emotion on his face, no sympathy or pity. Gripping his hand to try and pry it away from my throat, I feel the tears begin to prick in the corners of my eyes and upon seeing my reaction, he smiles. My pain is his pleasure. Despite my attempts at removing his hand, his grip only gets tighter and I’m pushed further against the wall.
“Let’s have some fun boys.”
—-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
A dull ache radiates through my body, pushing through the pain, I force myself to stand up. Staring at the room around me, I wonder if I was dreaming. However, with no sign of my books on the bench, I take that as confirmation that what I experienced did truly happen. Blood splatters the walls and floor but with no sign of injury on my body, I refuse to believe it’s mine. Sure, what happened was bad, but not that bad.
Not wanting to stay in this room any longer, I quickly make my way to the exit, pushing open the door with more force than necessary causing it to slam against the outside wall. Making the shy looking boy who happens to be standing outside jump. I smile apologetically, about to make my way past him when I notice what he’s wearing. Clad in double denim with round glasses, he looks straight out of Friends.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t want to come in because I thought you might feel kind of exposed but I wanted to introduce myself.” He says quietly, holding out his hand for me to shake. “I’m Charlie.”
Shifting my gaze between his hand and his face, my mind can’t really comprehend what is happening. Why am I suddenly meeting someone new? By the old shower block of all places, especially after what has just happened to me. The confusion on my face must be obvious as he smiles before revoking his hand.
“You haven’t worked it out yet have you?” He asks, almost as though he doesn’t want to push me.
“You’re dead, cherry pop.”
Looking to my right, I spot a girl sat against the wall, blue lollipop between her lips that has stained them ever so slightly. Wearing a black turtleneck with a matching cap and pinstripe pants, she’s the kind of girl that would intimidate me had I seen her walking down the street. Who am I kidding? She still intimidates me.
“Rhonda, Mr Martin told us to be gentle with her!”
“I’m sorry, I actually have somewhere to be but you two look great.” I tell them, beginning to walk away and head towards the main school building.
“Did you not hear me? You’re dead, you don’t have anywhere to be.” The girl, I’m assuming Rhonda, shouts after me, causing me to stop in my tracks.
“Look I don’t know what sort of joke this is, but it’s not funny. Seriously, go find some other kid to pick on.”
As I walk into the school building, I begin my mission of searching for Abby, hoping I can find her in the auditorium or even the costume department. My search doesn’t take too long, as my assumptions proved correct. She is sitting on the stage, the theater club’s newest script in one hand and her phone in the other. Our text thread open on her screen, as I sit myself beside her, she doesn’t even acknowledge me, eyes flicking between her phone and the script.
“Abby, I need to tell you something but you have to swear you will not tell anyone.”
She completely ignores me, flipping the page of her script. Its as if I’m invisible to her, a joke that isn’t funny. Waving my hand in front of her face in an attempt to get her attention also proves futile as she doesn’t even look up. Glancing at her phone I notice she’s messaged me multiple times asking me of my whereabouts, telling me she’s seen Spencer but she didn’t see me with him, asking me if I am his homecoming date.
“Abby, seriously? This is important, your show can wait.”
“She can’t hear you.” Charlie says, him and Rhonda standing in front of me, arms resting on the edge of the stage. “Or see you, we’re invisible to them. Nothing you do is going to change that.”
“I don’t get it, why isn’t she answering me?” I ask, panic starting to set it as I grow more and more confused at my situation.
“Oh my god, do I really have to tell you again? Are you that fucking stupid? You’re dead. D-E-A-D. Deceased. Not living.” Rhonda speaks slowly, using a voice you would use for a child.
“I can’t be dead. There’s no way, it’s just not possible.”
“Yeah it takes some getting used to, but we’re all friends and you’ll come to terms with it soon enough. Mr Martin’s support group helps too.” Charlie tells me, smiling encouragingly as I watch Abby walk away with some of the other theater kids.
“Support group?” I ask, hopping off the stage to stand with the only two people that can see me.
“Come on, we’ll take you.” Rhonda states, almost as if it's more of a chore and not like she offered to take me.
—-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Sitting in a circle with the rest of the group, I can’t help my heart racing as I spot the football player sitting amongst everyone. He reminds me of Spencer and that’s what makes me nervous, or maybe it’s just the fact that he plays football. Either way I can’t help but feel on edge, hence why I placed myself in the furthest seat from him.
As I take in the rest of the room, I notice the basketball team playing further down the court. Not aware of the existence of the group of ghosts sat in a circle like they’re in an AA meeting. It feels so surreal, almost like an intricate nightmare that I will wake up from at any moment. Yet everything I’ve seen so far has been pretty real.
“We have a new student, would you like to introduce yourself?” The only teacher, who I am guessing is Mr Martin asks, as I feel all eyes divert their attention towards me.
The football player has a gentle aura around him, smiling at me as he waits for an answer to Mr Martin’s question. I look away quickly, unable to face the feelings of sickness in my stomach that I get when I look at him.
“I’m Y/N.”
The group mumbles a chorus of welcomes as I stare at the floor, still struggling to come to terms with the fact that I am actually dead.
“It’s hard at first, but I’m grateful that you decided to give the group a shot. It helps us all to move forward instead of focusing on our deaths and the past.” Mr Martin tells me, offering a look of sympathy. “Charlie, Rhonda, thank you for being Y/N’s guide, I’m sure it was very helpful.”
“So how did you die? In the old showers clearly, but that’s gotta be an interesting story right?” Rhonda asks, her eyes piercing into me as she places the lollipop back between her lips.
“Rhonda, you can’t just ask people that. Let her get used to us at least.”
His voice startles me, it’s as gentle as his aura. Soft and ever so charming. The protection in his tone is obvious as though he doesn’t wanna frighten me away and I glance at him for a moment. His football shirt sits perfectly against his toned chest and a gold chain hangs delicately from his neck. He’s beautiful. Truly beautiful.
“I’m Wally by the way, Wally Clark.” His voice is directed at me, staring at me intently.
At that moment, I can’t help but be transported back to before. Remembering my screams and pleads for them to stop. Praying someone would hear me and come to my rescue. They never did. They never stopped.
Jumping up from my chair, I feel myself getting worked up as I sprint out of the room. Terrified of reliving the past. Finding myself in an abandoned hallway, I slide against the wall until I’m sitting on the cold linoleum floor. Staring at the lockers as I try to calm my breathing.
“Hey, hey, are you okay?” Charlie asks, crouching in front of me with a concerned expression on his face. “Wally’s shitting himself thinking he did something wrong. I told him to hang back while I spoke to you.”
I let the tears fall down my face as I stare up at Charlie, feeling guilty that I’ve potentially upset an innocent boy because of my own trauma. I can’t go back to the group, I know I can’t. It would be in the best interests of every other ghost if I do my best to simply avoid Wally. That way nobody gets hurt.
“I’m sorry Charlie. I can’t do it, I can’t go back to the group. I can’t see him in that fucking uniform. I just can’t, I’m sorry.” My sobs are uncontrollable and I feel bad even just for putting Charlie through this when he’s known me for all of two hours.
“It’s okay, you’re okay. Is it the uniform, we can get him to change I’m sure, I know it’s not the best look but it is all he had since he died in his shoulder pads and all.”
I can’t help but let out a small laugh, wiping the tears from my face with the sleeves of my jumper. Charlie offers me his hand to help me stand up which I take graciously. He places a hand on my shoulder as a sign of encouragement, along with a gentle smile.
“I mean it Charlie. I can’t go back to the group. I don’t want to relive the memories.”
—-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
“She’s adamant she’s not coming back.” Charlie tells the group, all of them awaiting the answers he has for them as to why the new girl ran away. “I don’t think it’s anything personal Wally but she said she can’t see you in that uniform and I think she may have had something happen regarding the football players. I don't wanna speculate though.”
“So, what? Her footballer boyfriend cheated on her and now she can’t look at poor, innocent Wally because it reminds her of him?” Rhonda asks, unimpressed by the lack of answers Charlie has.
“No, I think it’s something more than that. Something deeper. I’m sure she’ll tell us when she’s ready but for now, I would stop wearing the uniform Wally.”
The footballer didn’t need to be told twice, he instantly pulls the shirt over his head leaving him in only a tight, white tank top. Charlie smiles in appreciation, while Rhonda scoffs slightly upon seeing his muscular arms.
“Okay, so I’ve ditched the uniform, should I apologize or what?” Wally asks, looking at the group to gauge their reactions.
“Maybe now isn’t a good time Wally.” Mr Martin states, trying to think rationally. “I’d give it a day or so.”
“Or maybe just leave her alone for a while. Let her come out of her shell a bit first.” Charlie interjects.
“Yeah, let's not hurt cherry pop’s feelings.” Rhonda replies sarcastically, staring directly at Charlie.
As the rest of the group session continues, Wally stays silent, playing with the football uniform in his hands as he attempts to figure out different ways to apologize. To help her feel more at home in her new life, and potentially help her overcome the trauma of her death. Despite not managing to come up with a good idea, he does decide one thing. He will do whatever it takes to make her feel safe and become her friend.
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Cosmicqueer
With symbol (left), Without symbol (right)
Cosmicqueer is a Queer Stance where one is highly opinionated, aka me. Similar to Critinclus and other such terms. I just wanted a term for my beliefs because I saw some stuff that REALLY annoyed me the other night so here we are.
Cosmisqueer is PRO:
Non-traumagenic systems (aka systems of any kind)
Any "contradictory" or complicated queer identity (within reason, such as Turigirls and Lesboys, Cis Nonbinary Woman/Men, Gaybians, Tulipians, AMAB Transmascs, AFAB Transfems, etc.)
Split Attraction Model, such as Mspec Gay, Mspec Lesbian, Alloaro, Alloace, Alloallo Apl, etc. (Essentially inclusive of any non-rose attraction terms such as Alterous, Queerplatonic, Exteramo, Familial, etc., provided one's form of attraction with those is non-normative.)
Aldernic and Altersex
Terms to describe complicated forms of oppression, such as Exorsexism, Treimisia, and Transandromisia. Cosmisqueer also stands to uplift discussions on general transmisia, transmisogyny, homomisia, amisia, etc. (I personally prefer to use the suffix of misia over phobia.)
Neurodivergent, Race, Nonhuman, etc. exclusive genders/orientations/terms
Nonhumans, Otherkin, Alterhumans, etc.
Reclamation of slurs
Informed Self diagnosis
Kink
Objectum, Conceptum
Polyamory, Non-partnering, any non monoamory identity.
Any non-normative being describing oneself as Queer. (Within reason, should only be done if it's an aspect that defines one's identity a decent amount imo.)
Comsicqueer does NOT support:
Radqueer or other similar queer stances
Safequeer
Transid/TransX (Diaracial, Transage, Transabled, etc.)
Pro-Contact or any not anti-contact stance for non-consensual paraphilias (The big 3, and others)
Terms related to the big 3, non-consensual paras, highly dubious concepts. (Minus MAD flags, depending on the nuance of the subject at hand.)
Pro-ship ideology, non-critical fiction stances.
Pro-Incest, Pro-S/H, Pro-ED.
Emojis I'd associate with Cosmicqueer are: ✨☄️🌈. (Sparkles, Comet, Rainbow.)
I already pretty much ID with a couple queer stances, I just wanted a stance where one's Queer, and feels the word Queer can apply to any non-normative identity relating to gender, orientation, presentation, etc. while feeling Queer is inherently connected to the kink community, and can apply to nonhumans, plurals/systems, non-monoamorous beings, etc. as long as their internal identity affects their external expression in any shape and form, being visibly or socially "non-normative." (Within reason, hence the exclusion of actual harmful identities, actions, stances, etc.)
Essentially using the old definition of Queer to cover "strange" and "odd" identity, and blurring the boundaries between the old use of the word Queer, and the current use of it. Essentially I dislike people reducing Queer to just gender identity and sexual orientation, when Queer has always covered much more than that.
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