Wally Clark Headcanons - Blog Posts

You can’t convince me this boy wouldn’t be the sweetest, most attentive boyfriend. So, here’s some headcanons:

Wally is a sucker for seeing his partner wearing his jacket. He’s not the possessive type, but there’s just something about seeing his embroidered name on his partner’s chest that makes his heart race.

He’s the touchy type for sure. Most of the time, he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it. It’s so second nature. A hand on their waist, their shoulder, stuck into their back pocket. Wally absolutely would casually pull his partner down to sit in his lap during a conversation, even in a group.

He’s the most thorough kisser. Wally’s giving the full experience. Those damn hands can’t help but wander — resting on cheeks, running through hair, using belt loops and hips to pull his partner in closer. If it’s up to him, there won’t be an ounce of room between the two of them. He’s not messy about it, either. He’s licking into their mouth and biting their lip, but god is he soft about it. Sweet and soft, like he just can’t get enough of the way they taste.

He looooves to share a snack. Doesn’t matter what it is, how much he himself loves or wants it. There’s always extra for his partner, usually offered before they can ask for some. Even if they beat him to it, he’s handing it over without a second thought.

You want a Wally puddle? Call him handsome. Call him strong. Call him your hero. Tell him he’s funny. That poor boy will be at the mercy of his partner so fast.

(Part Two here!)

‘EVERY BREATH YOU TAKE,

- EVIL!WALLY CLARK X READER -

⋆ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 ; yandere/evil hcs w wally clark.

⋆ tags/warnings. wally clark x female reader. obsessive behavior. toxic white man !!

♫ “Oh, can't you see, you belong to me? How my poor heart aches, with every step you take?” ♫ Every Breath You Take by The Police

𝐖𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐘 𝐂𝐋𝐀𝐑𝐊

You think you can get away? Sorry sweetheart, not an option.

Jumping straight into this, he will kill you. Find a way to orchestrate it. Manipulate Mr. Martin somehow, set it all up. You’re coming with him. Forever.

He’s been watching you from the get go. Even before he killed you, he studies you like his life depends on it. Rhonda and Charley can ask him why he’s standing in the hallways. He’ll come up with BS excuses- they don’t deserve to know you. Not yet.

He watches your friends with contempt. He’d kill them too if it wouldn’t be so damn awkward, running into them for all eternity. Yuck! The thought makes him sick.

Once your dead- he comforts you. He’s the only person to get to hold you. If anyone tries to talk to you to help you figure out what happened, he’s sending them a charming (a bit scary) smile, and saying “I’ll take over from here.”

He’s sneaking an arm around you. He makes big shows in the ghost circle when your present; pretending to care about helping you find out what killed you. Defending you from Mr. Martin or Rhonda.

He needs to be seen as your hero.

And you’ll be none the wiser.

“Wear my letterman jacket, yeah? For good luck?”

also makes you wear the necklace.

He just wants everyone to know who you belong too.

He’ll dig up CD’s in the school library for you two to have little dates. Listen to the 80’s music in a corner at night. Make you watch all his favorite original horror movies, just so he can see your innocent little face terrified. And then he can wrap an arm around you-

“Hey hey hey, I’ll protect you.”

Truly believes he’s given you everything the two of you could ever want. An eternity together.

If you don’t want to be his prom date, you don’t have the option. His eye will twitch- and with a smile, he’ll say he understands through gritted teeth.

But oh, oh, oh, poor Charley. Wally Clark is a jock- and classic one at that. His highschool bully roots will come through eventually.

He’ll have Charley pushed against a locker, threatening to kill him a second time if he doesn’t convince you to go.

You’re his girl. His only hope to find happiness in this shithole of a school.

“You- you love me, right?”

He asks, his eyes a bit too focused on his jersey number he doodled on the back of your hand.

If you say yes, he’ll practically wag his tail and put an arm around you possessivley.

If you stutter, he’ll nod with a shy laugh- a quick “i’m jus’ kidding,” muttered.

But…on the inside? He’s thinking what more he can do to worship you. To make you realize he’s your knight in shining armor, your best player.

He’s an optimist. And a patient man.

He’ll wait for you to come to your senses.

Head over heels lovesick puppy Wally is my fave oh my gosh 🤭🤭

Wally with a crush is the most adorable he can get. all goofy and giddy and totally, completely, utterly involved.

he can't think about anything else, obsessive with it, and does everything in his power to make the object of his affection feel special. like, he plans things and always shows up and is an absolute Acts of Service puppy who will offer to do anything and everything under the sun if you ask him to.

he gets all silly and cuddly and his eyes go all soft when he looks at you and it's precious, especially because he can't. hide. it. no matter how much he tries when he catches himself (which isn't often, because the boy is oblivious to anything that's not you-shaped when you're around).

and he takes all the teasing from his friends in stride, wears his love like a badge of honor, but is deeply mortified if you find out he has a crush on you before he musters the nerve to tell you himself... that's when he stammers excuses until you kiss him stupid 😭

after that...well...👀

Wally Clark Headcanons 3

Wally Clark Headcanons - 3

(request)

Wally is obsessed with you. Probably to the extent he should seek help, but he doesn't care. He's happy. More than happy, in fact. He's in love.

He could spend every second of every minute of every day in your company and never get tired of it. Never need space or moments alone or time apart. Wally doesn't want that. Call him codependent, he doesn't give a fuck, he's so into you it borders on insane.

Which is why, when you and he do have to separate—aka: surgically fucking removing him from your presence—he's like a puppy left alone at home. Watching the door, pacing the house, counting down along with the clock until you come back. Chin on paws, soulful eyes begging the universe to bring you back now, please.

He watches TV, throws some hoops, showers, eats; manic and anxious and needy. And, yeah, Wally's totally capable of doing his own thing. He has the other ghosts to chill with; has pastimes Mr. Martin had encouraged over the decades Wally's been dead. He did stuff without you before you came along, and could do that stuff again.

But going back to anything after experiencing how vibrant his world is with you in it...nothing holds a candle. It's all boring and cheap and unappealing. So, he pouts, bounces his knee, annoys the crap out of Rhonda who's trying to read a book while Wally stares at the same word in his for the next forty-five minutes.

You and Maddie spent the day searching for clues in Maddie's murder case, a girls' day spent stalking Claire without Wally because Maddie was opening up to you more without anyone else around, and you wanted to help.

Wally's sweet, beautiful saint.

He makes a grumpy little noise that Rhonda rolls her eyes at.

Finally, finally, the library door opens. No time to say hello, already hoisted into Wally's arms after he torpedoes straight for you the instant you step inside. He cradles you close, kisses your face, hair, neck, giddy that you're back.

"How was it? Did you find anything? Did you miss me? I missed you."

Babbling and eager and wanting to hear your voice. You giggle (which he likes more), and he smiles back at you, big and excited, though his eyes are soft.

"It's been, like, an hour, Wally." You remind him, and he huffs.

"Longest hour of my life." He complains, to which Rhonda seconds under her breath.

He sneers at her, but his expression melts into complete adoration when you pull his attention back to you.

"How about we go relax for a bit, huh? The faculty lounge is empty..." You suggest and he's already moving, not letting you down, just carrying you like a toddler down the hall and through the door to the faculty lounge.

Wally loves cuddling with you. Doesn't even need things to go further to feel satisfied. You sit with your back against the armrest. Wally fits himself between your legs and rests his head on your chest, nuzzling into you and humming contentedly.

This is what he was made for, he believes wholeheartedly. To be yours. Built by the universe just for you because he can't imagine being anything else. He's been his own person for enough years; he's fine. Been there. Done that.

Now and well into beyond—for the rest of fucking time—all Wally wants is to be a piece of you.

And you absolutely let him soak you in whenever he wants because he's been through hell and needs unconditional love like fish need water.

Look at that face. I dare you to say no.

Wally Clark Headcanons

Our babe loves to have his hair played with. It's one of the only things that truly relaxes him. Initially, he asks you to run your fingers through his hair just when he's extra stressed. Too much going on. Can't sleep, brain too busy, please help.

But then it becomes routine. Whenever you're lying together on the couch, watching a movie, he'll scooch over and lay his head in your lap, give you a sweet smile and then melt when you start to comb through his hair. He always falls asleep. Always.

Cuddled with you in bed, right before lights out, he'll nudge you with his nose; blink big eyes at you and ask, "head pats?" And how the hell can you say no? Have you seen those sweet brown cow-eyes!? That little pout!? You oblige instantly.

Still, there comes a day when you're maybe wondering if he's taking advantage. You're grumpy and overstimulated and annoyed, and he never asks anymore, just assumes you'll do The Thing if he gets in your space and presents his hair.

So, when it comes time for bed and he gently snuggles up, arm over your waist, head on your chest, expecting you to do what you always do...you decide not to. And he notices instantly. He gazes up at you, "head pats?" with those eyes. You don't move. Wally nuzzles his head against you, a tiny whine, and then, finally, a mousy little, "please?"

If you don't go gooey at that and give that boy his head scratches, you don't have a heart. Pointe finale.