#internalised homophobia /

[clocainiac]

‘PUT ON THE RED LIGHT’

(extremely angsty greasybrakes, where greaseball yearns for cb but has so much internalised homophobia he wants to rip his own heart out and jump off a cliff, and dinahs there too! yes i cried while making this… i genuinely think this is one of my best works)

The yard was rowdy tonight. Still booming from the previous race of the day, good times were being celebrated all over. Soon the sun dipped low, bathing everything in a bleeding gold that seeped into the cracks and crevices of the yard like an old wound.

Greaseball stood at the far edge of the yard, one arm braced against the steel support of a lamppost, the other holding a battered oil can he hadn’t touched in twenty minutes.

He’d told Dinah he needed air.

He hadn’t told her where he was going, he hadn’t needed to; Dinah never questioned where he went. She thought she knew, thought he was just blowing off steam or punching someone, it was always a gamble when it came to Greaseball’s anger and who he would take it out on.

But she never guessed he came here.

That he always came here.

To watch him.

The Red Caboose was just beyond the track, his silhouette against the grass, backlit by the yard lights. He was leaning on the barrier, one skate tucked under the other, arms crossed lazily over his chest as he smoked.

Greaseball hated how natural he looked like that, How damn casual he always was, like the whole world didn’t touch him the way it touched everyone else. Like he never had to pretend.

Greaseball took a long, hard breath and let it out through his nose. His jaw was clenched so tight it ached. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t right. And he sure as hell wasn’t going to start anything, not tonight.

But then CB shifted, just a little, flicking his cigarette away with little care to its landing. And he looked straight at him. Greaseball’s stomach lurched, twisting uncomfortably with tender hatred.

For a split second, he saw it in the Caboose’s eyes. That damned glint. Like CB knew exactly what he was thinking, like he’s always known, like he enjoyed knowing.

Greaseball turned away so fast he almost knocked over the oil can. ‘He shouldn’t have come’, was his mantra as he raced home. Dinah was waiting for him when he got back, like always.

“You went off again,” she scolded softly. “Just a heads up if you’re going to leave would be nice.” Greaseball rubbed the back of his neck and muttered something about needing to calm down after racing. Dinah wasn’t stupid, she knew he was lying but she was torn between not wanting to find out the truth and losing her already wavering trust in him for good.

“Are you mad at me, Sugar?”

He hated how her voice could do that. She always sounded honey sweet but had an undertone of warning, like syrup covering something rotten. The guilt wriggled inside, making everything feel uncomfortable and queasy.

“No,” he said quickly. Too quickly. “Just tired.”

“Are you sure?” She asked, placing a perfectly manicured hand on his arm. “‘Cause if there’s something wrong, I wanna fix it. You know I only want the best for us.”

Greaseball didn’t move. He let her rest her head against him, let her thread her fingers through his. He felt hollow. This was so wrong, Dinah was a sweet, strong girl who deserved an Engine that would worship that ground she walked on. Not Greaseball, who was so scummy he still pined over a shitty sleaze bag while having everything he ever wanted.

It wasn’t always like this; lies, shame, embarrassment.

There was a time when he and CB were just two roughhousing teens, shooting banter and racing down the yard together fuelled off impulse and rebellion. They fought, scraped, bled together, drank together. Slept under the same covers when the night was cold, and they would somehow always manage to wake up fully entwined, faces only a whisper apart.

They were just boys who didn’t know what they wanted, but something shifted.

CB had figured it out first.

And Greaseball hadn’t.

Couldn’t.

Wouldn’t.

Because what did that mean? If he liked how CB grinned at him when they were pressed up too close for a brawl? If he flushed when that damned Caboose’s voice lowered as they leaned in? If he could relive the moments where CB was beneath him?

What did it make him, less of a man? Not a true Engine?

It made his skin crawl.

The worst part? CB never said a damn thing.

Because everytime Greaseball looked at CB, he saw it. The knowing. The soft, unbearable ache of someone who had long since accepted what Greaseball couldn’t even say out loud.

Greaseball hated him for that. Hated how free he looked, how whole, how confident.

So he dated Dinah, proved something to the yard and to himself.

He’d grab her in front of everyone, make her squeal, flash that cocky grin he wore like armour. Let the Coaches whisper about how strong he was, how masculine.

All the while, CB would be nearby watching. A crooked smirk slapped on his face, like he was watching a train wreck in slow motion, like he pitied him.

Greaseball had never wanted to taste him so bad.

It got worse when CB started his crashing.

His so called ‘accidents’ that left him with eye popping cash. One crash in particular shook Greaseball, the Engine who was in front of CB was too rash. A loose coupling later, CB got thrown off the rails. It wasn’t fatal, not even close, but CB got sidelined. Greaseball felt sick for weeks after that.

It wasn’t the crash that shook Greaseball, it was what happened in CB’s shed, while he was still recovering.

“You shouldn’t be here,” were the first words CB uttered.

“You look like hell,” Greaseball responded skating in the shed like he owned it. In some ways he did with how often he slept round there.

CB snorted, “You should see the Engine.”

Greaseball looked like he hadn’t slept in days, shadows carved under his eyes, jaw too tight.

“Why’d you come?” CB asked, voice low.

“I-I don’t know…”

“Bullshit.” CB said bluntly, “I just thought you would be able to admit it by now.”

CB stared at Greaseball, like he was looking through in him. “Does Dinah know you’re here?”

“No, she’s asleep, didn’t feel a need to wake her.”

“Right.”

The tension was strong, choking even. Every breath strangling the room even more. There wasn’t much more to say, so they used their bodies to speak to eachother for the rest of the night. The last thing CB said before Greaseball left always stuck.

“Do you remember when you first kissed me? It was like you wanted to eat me whole, but then you punched a wall and told me it didn’t mean anything. You’ve always felt too much and you think that makes you less of a man.”

They never spoke about that night again.

But that didn’t stop their continuous meetings.

Greaseball would unconsciously follow the trail that led him to the Caboose again and again.

“You gonna keep staring?” CB asked one night, voice dry after taking a drag of his cigarette. “Or you gonna finally admit what we both know?”

Greaseball clenched his fists, “Don’t.”

CB raised a brow, “Don’t what?”

“I said don’t, you don’t get to act like this is my fault.”

“I’m not the one lying to everybody.”

Greaseball laughed bitter, “You think it’s that easy? That I can just be like you?”

CB stayed where he was, “I think you want to.”

“I can’t,” the words were being ripping out of him by CB’s claws. “I’ve got Dinah, i’ve got a reputation-”

“I didn’t say you couldn’t, I said you wanted too.”

Shit, by now Greaseball should’ve known. CB was always good at finding loopholes.

More races started to pop up, Dinah was desperate to join them, always begging Greaseball to take her along. He always agreed, barely remembering what he said half the time.

She always looked so pleased after a win, looping her arms around Greaseball’s neck like she belonged there. She didn’t. Greaseball knew who did, but he never dared to say it or even think it.

Every night, when the lights were low and Dinah was snuggled up on his chest. He imagined it was CB instead, his hands on his jaw, small but sneaky. In his dreams, CB never spoke, only took. He would always wake up with wet cheeks, and his fists desperately grabbing the closest thing to him.

After the championships when Rusty finally won, everything got so much worse.

There CB was again, this time the cigarette was tucked behind his ear. “Hey,” Greaseball said before he could stop himself.

CB looked at him long and level, “You still with her?”

“…Yeah”

“Then you’ve got nothing to say to me.”

Greaseballs throat closed up.

The yard never knew.

Dinah never asked.

But he never stopped staring for a certain shade of red.

(ITS DONE MWAHAHA, i hope you’re as sad as me, and for proof that i actually cried during this

@dove-bunny-love this is what my moots have to deal with, i’m so sorry buddy)

[loveisanimaginarydagger3000]

Good Luck, Babe! (8)- You'd Have To Stop The World

Wanda Maximoff X Reader 18+

Inspired by the song 'Good Luck, Babe!' by Chappell Roan

Summary: Returning to Westview after twelve years away causes you to look back on your secret love affair with Wanda, to remember the intimate moments you shared together before her refusal to accept her true self drove the two of you apart, leaving you to pick up the pieces of your broken heart alone.

What happens when you reunite with the woman you've been trying so hard to forget, forced to watch her suffer in an unhappy marriage that was slowly drowning her, still too scared to confront her true feelings?

Chapter 8- 8.6k Words

Good Luck, Babe! Masterlist

Chapter 1 | Chapter 7

A/N: Hey… So it’s been a while, huh? I’m sorry! Life has been super hectic these last few months and my mental health has been all over the place (which I have finally got a therapist to help me with!) So between two jobs, being in full time education and being depressed, it’s been pretty hard to consistently write or stay motivated but I’m sorta back? Only very briefly as it’s the holidays and my exams once again start again at the end of January and don’t finish pretty much till June. My plan for this fic is that this is the official final chapter of the story but I’m planning a sort of epilogue/extra chapter that I’ll add more info about in the end notes. Once again, I’m so sorry for leaving you all on a cliff-hanger (that was pretty evil of me)

But hopefully this makes it up to you <3 I love you all!

—

An empty feeling consumed your chest with every heavy step you took to the avenue your house was on, your hand gripping the dog lead harder than necessary as your eyes inevitably spotted the familiar red car that had pulled up into the drive next to yours, a gnawing feeling picking away at your mind. It had been just over a couple agonising weeks since the…incident with Wanda, a little while since you felt your heart crack once more, crumbling into hundreds of pieces that you felt would never be able to be put back together again, the constant replaying of the event in your mind further ensuring you wouldn’t heal from the memory. The agony that expressed itself in her choked sobs and broken, tearful gaze haunted you, it wedged an unfathomable ache in your soul that seemed unescapable, everything seeming to remind you of the woman you so desperately needed to remove from your thoughts.

You sighed in an irritated manner as you sensed where your thoughts were heading as you approached yours, and consequently, Wanda’s house, your head shaking subtly to try and rid you of the sight of her green gazing into yours, every swirl of her enticing green losing that glimmer of happiness you adored so much as you murmured the words ‘I can’t’. It was draining, constantly being reminded of how your love was never meant to be, how things would never end up like the stories you’d dream of, willing the characters who were clearly destined to be together to push past that final barrier that was blocking their happiness, you just wanted it to stop. You needed it to stop.

Before you could drift further down that detrimental path, the sound of two energetic boys calling your name gripped your attention, a smile genuinely gracing your lips at their emphatic tones, their contagious smiles and laughter meeting your ears as you passed the bottom of their drive. You avoided looking further up the path as they approached you, not wanting to feel another wave of conflict course through you, your gaze staying focussed on the way Billy instantly ran towards Lucky, deciding he wanted to say hi to the bundle of fluff he loved so much.

“Y/n!” Tommy called excitedly, his tone hopeful as he continued, his little form standing in front of you, looking up at you with a cheerful and innocent smile, his enthusiasm to speak to you causing the corner of your lips to tug that little bit wider. “Can we please come over to play today?” He pleaded, eager to come over and show you how he had improved his kickups, now able to do fifteen in a row, as it had been a while since you allowed them over, not wanting to endure the unnecessary contact with Wanda.

At his hopeful and bright tone, you felt your heart melt at his and his brother’s actions, Billy fussing over Lucky who sat by him, the dog growing extremely fond of the brown haired boy as he enjoyed his company when they’d come over. It was natural for the two of them to occupy each other, Billy’s hand running through golden fur as he would read a comic whilst Tommy and yourself caused chaos, a small tug pulling on the strings of your heart as you didn’t want to deny the twins of the fun they had in your garden, but a harsher, more prominent tug reminded you of their mother, feeling her intense green gaze at you.

To say things were tense between you would be an understatement, Wanda’s entire being longing for you, to talk to you and try and clear things up, express the emotions she had spent years burying as she couldn’t physically hold it in any longer, but it was clear you didn’t want to even try, deciding the only way you were going to be able to move on was by leaving the other woman behind. You needed to move on, to forget the way she sparked joy into your life and in doing so, you reluctantly ignored her, deciding that it would somehow be easier for you to simply avoid her than face her and your thoughts once more.

Without even looking up, you could tell she had that pleading glint in her eyes, hoping you’d spare her even a mere glance as you crouched to the boy’s level, letting your hand ruffle Tommy’s hair in that teasing and playful manner that always made him giggle, an apologetic smile gracing your features.

“I’m sorry but I’ve got more boring adult stuff to do tonight,” you murmur softly, your face signalling your sorrow for disappointing them as you witness the excitement slowly crumble away from the twins, Tommy’s shoulders slumping a little.

“But you had that last week,” he argued, your gaze drifting to Billy who was smiling down at Lucky, the dog tilting its head back to stare up at the boy with his tongue sticking out, the golden retriever’s usual goofy manner making him laugh.

“I know, I’m sorry,” your tone comforting as you fix his hair briefly after messing it up. “Blame my boss for giving me homework,” you tease, the boy’s eyes almost widening in fear at the idea of still being given homework in adulthood, amusing you briefly before you continue, wanting to cheer them both up a little. “I promise you can come over soon, I miss beating you at football,” you playfully murmur, pushing his shoulder teasingly as a glint of determination appears in Tommy’s eyes, a small laugh escaping Billy as he knew you always somehow lost the football matches, potentially due to letting the smaller boys win but not telling them that. “Now go on to your parents, I’ve got to go and be an adult now,” you joked, as you stood back up, making a show of getting up, pretending as though you were that old it hurt your knees and back, further amusing them and bringing smiles back onto their faces.

“Bye Lucky,” Billy said with more enthusiasm before muttering a short goodbye to you, making you shake your head playfully as it was clear how much more he loved the dog than you, something you could understand as Lucky was such a good companion.

Your eyes followed the way Tommy ran after his brother after saying bye to you, something you regretted almost instantly as you saw Wanda greet them, her hand cradling each of their heads in a motherly manner before letting them run off inside, her head turning to look at you, as though she felt your eyes on her.

The brief eye contact made you freeze momentarily, conflicted at how to feel as the world around you seemed to fade away, the only things you were able to focus on being the way your heart started to pound in your chest and her intense green seeming to grip your attention. Staring into her gaze that held a glint of pain but also hope made you wonder whether Wanda felt this immense guilt you did when she avoided you when you first came back, your heart feeling as though it was being split into two. Despite everything, you wanted to comfort her, no matter what could happen between you both you always longed to protect and care for her and it always hurt, especially as you knew you were the reason she was hurting now, the situation between you two forever resembling two stars that never wanted to align. On the other hand, you knew you didn’t have it in you to soothe her pain, deciding to try and savour the last remnants of your heart, finding it would somehow be easier to push her away than deal with the whirlwind of emotions that threatened to overpower you.

“Y/n please can we-” Wanda tried, desperation clearly lacing her tone as she took a pleading step forwards, wanting to, needing to talk to you, to try and clear the air and help navigate the feelings that were slowly suffocating her, trapping her in a place of despair.

Before she could finish her sentence, you sighed, shoulders slumping visibly for her to see, her brows drawing together as a pained expression took over her face as you stayed silent, merely offering her one last apologetic and equally broken look before turning away, walking towards your house and leaving her alone once more, a prominent ache forming in her chest.

“Please,” she whispered more to herself as you hesitated by your door, lowering your head whilst you paused before twisting your key in the lock, shutting yourself away from the other woman as her boys called for her, a despondent feeling consuming her whilst she had to force a smile to her lips, trying to put the mask back on for her family.

***

The sound of distant chatter met Wanda’s ears as she manoeuvred around the kitchen, starting to prepare dinner for everyone whilst her mind wandered elsewhere, inevitably drifting to thoughts involving you.

It was maddening to the other woman, the way you managed to consume her thoughts so regularly, how it seemed the world would have to stop for the longing in her heart for you to diminish, every fibre in her being longing for you, your presence, your laughter, simply you. You were the only thing that made her feel as though she was alive, that there was a purpose as to why her heart was beating in her chest, fluttering and melting at your actions. She hated how so many years had to pass for her to realise that she should never have tried to deny her feelings for you, to stop the love that wanted to bloom in her chest as she would gaze at you in your truck, a genuine look of happiness etched onto her features as she got lost in the moment, unbothered by the rest of the world and what she thought she had to be. She just wanted to be herself and in your presence was the only place she ever felt like she was safe enough. Even when you sat with her on your sofa that devastating night she felt safe, she felt more passion and affection in those sparing moments than over the years without you, an emptiness that brewed inside her craving your care to reminded her of how colourful life could be, like it was when you were both young, naïve and free adults with only one thought in your minds, each other.

It was apparent things would never change as you still consumed each other's thoughts, the love being replaced by haunting memories however, Wanda’s lips trembling slightly as she tried to get a grip on the emotions threatening to drown her, to force her into a spiral she didn’t want to experience. The years of pretending, lying to and berating herself fuelled her pain as she desperately tried to not let those thoughts control her once again, unable to survive in that mindset any longer, just wanting to accept that she was still normal, even if her heart wanted someone different, someone that she was told was wrong and corrupt. She wasn’t a freak, she wasn’t, she was just a victim of love was what Wanda repeated in her head, only reminding her of more confusing thoughts swarming around her head.

She loved you, she could finally say it to herself, but it was clear it wouldn’t matter as you avoided her, reluctant to cause any more pain as your feelings seemed to pass by each other at the wrong time, never quite clicking. It caused a different kind of hollow emptiness to settle in her chest, her mind dragging her down a painful trail of thoughts as she replayed that night in her mind, clinging onto anything that could offer some sort of relief to the agonising pain digging into her heart.

Cruelly, her thoughts remember the feeling of your delicate touch burning into her skin as you cupped her cheek, offering some sort of comfort to her after rejection and heartache flooded through her, gripping her heart in a manner that stripped her breath away, scared at the overwhelming feeling of pain. She could almost feel the lump that had formed in her throat, the way her lips trembled, tears spilling from her eyes as she sank into your body, desperately trying to relish in your comfort but succumbing to the agony that ripped through her chest, her soul.

The memory made her want to break down into tears once again, to let the avalanche of anxiety crash through her, knocking her over every time she managed to try and get back up but a small glimmer of hope floated through her mind, offering her a life line to cling onto.

She vividly remembers the way both of you leaned in, that intoxicating look in your eyes as you let your gaze drift to her lips, a longing look evident in them which only made it even more confusing for Wanda. She could see it in you, she was sure of it, you still loved her even after anything, it was something that tormented you forever as you said, confessing to her that you ‘had always been’ in love with her. You wanted it to work, even now. Why couldn’t things just work out? She was ready to tell you everything, to accept who she was but it wouldn’t matter, even if it was clear both of you felt the same way, your souls drawn together, it never seemed right.

Why couldn’t she just accept herself sooner? Why didn’t she realise loving you was worth any risk? Why was everything so confusing? She just wants to be able to think straight.

“Mom?” Tommy called suddenly, snapping Wanda out of her thoughts as she lifted her hand to wipe the stray tear that had spilt down her cheek, using all her courage to force a smile onto her face for the boys to see as they trudged into the kitchen, bored expressions on their faces. “Can you come and play with us please? Dad said he had a work call to take again,” he grumbles as both Billy and Tommy slump onto the stools by the kitchen island, their heads in their hands as they stare at the back of their mother, oblivious to the conflict swarming around her head.

At his words, anger seeped into Wanda’s mind as she let out a sigh, not wanting even more emotions to rage in her head at her husband's incompetence and inability to actually be a father for once, more memories from that night and the past few days filling her mind. After that argument that left her crying outside, Wanda had finally reached her tipping point, her heart unable to take anymore misery from the man, to waste any more years of her life pretending that she loved him, that she even cared for him. There was nothing left to savour between them and the last few days had only cemented the idea in her head to leave, to try and find someone else that would love her or show her some sort of affection, someone like you- No, not you, you were making that clear.

“I’m sorry but I’m a little busy Dorogoy, I’m trying to make Paprikash for dinner,” Wanda softly replies, making sure neither of the boys could sense the irritation that had brewed in her, their faces brightening at the mention of one of their favourite dishes though. Turning around to face them, she saw the disappointment briefly in their eyes from the usual dismissal from Vision, her heart clenching a little as they desperately wanted to play with someone, some joy filling them at the idea of food though, an idea entering Wanda’s mind. “Do you two want to help me make it?” She asked them, a gentle and motherly smile gracing her lips as they nodded eagerly, excited to try something new as they jumped off the seats to stand by her side, love blooming in her chest. Despite her negative feelings towards their father, the one thing she’d forever be grateful to him about was the two boys they brought into the world, her hands going to Billy’s shoulders as she instructed him on what to do, Tommy waiting to be told his job, both of them bickering on who was sous chef number one and who was sous chef number two.

Their playful chatter quickly filled the room, drowning Wanda’s incessant thoughts out of her mind as she supervised and made most of the dinner, letting the boys do simple tasks such as washing the vegetables and eventually trusting them to chop them, keeping her eyes on Tommy specifically though as he easily got distracted, the older woman not wanting him to accidentally hurt himself. It was almost as though all the emotions that were weighing her down were about to be forgotten, her boy’s making things more bearable, reminding her to enjoy the moment with them whilst a genuine smile stretched across her lips as the twins glanced up at her with a sheepish look, having knocked something off the countertop. Flour sprinkled across the floor at their mistake, simply earning a raised eyebrow from Wanda, their mother not even needing words to tell the twins it was their responsibility to clean the mess up when the sound of Vision’s laughter started echoing through to the kitchen, bringing a frown to Wanda’s face as well as the twins, the two of them looking up at her expectantly.

“Keep your eyes on the timer for me please,” she murmurs to the boys who had started to grab something to clean the floor with, their faces pulling into a brief confused look, “Shout me when there’s two minutes left, I’ll be back in a couple of minutes.”

Once the two of them nodded, she made her way into the living room to find their father, a sudden blinding rage consuming at the sight of him laid back in the armchair chatting on his phone, his smile wide as he chuckled to the person on the other end of the call, seemingly unaware of how selfish his actions were.

“God Tony, you should have seen the way Banner’s face dropped when I told him he inputted the numbers wrong,” Vision huffed out, amused at what had happened at work, his blue eyes flickering over at the movement in the corner of his eyes, drifting up Wanda’s body before meeting her green and the unimpressed and irritated look in them, a sigh escaping him which only amplified the annoyance building in her. “I’ll call you back Tony,” he muttered, having enough decency to end his conversation after meeting the look in his wife’s eyes.

“How was your work call?” Wanda coldly asked, her arms crossing over her chest as her head tilted slightly, looking down on the man who simply moved his hand to his temple, contemplating his answers as he let out a huff.

“Wanda, I’ve had a long week let’s not-” He tries, as he always does, but Wanda refuses to accept his blatant excuses, cutting him off.

“You have a ‘long week’ every week,” she dismisses, unbothered if she came across as careless or inconsiderate as she had finally had enough of his bullshit, needing to call him out and let it sit with him. “The boys were so excited to actually spend some time with you earlier, to play with their father but let me guess, talking to Tony and others was more important to you?” She states rather bluntly, his fingers moving to the bridge of his nose as he reluctantly listens to her. “Do you have any idea how much it upsets them?” Wanda asks, this time with a softer tone, trying to express the sadness it causes in their children at his constant false promises.

“Does it upset them? Or are they just upset that they haven’t gone over to Y/n’s house instead?” He questions, taking Wanda aback at the mention of you, all the thoughts from earlier flooding through her mind along with a new trail of thoughts at the annoyance in his tone. “Why can’t they just go over to her house? It’s better for everyone, they can have fun with her and I can have some quiet for once,” he mutters, earning a scoff from Wanda, her head shaking as she bites on her tongue, not wanting to start a screaming match with him tonight.

How did it ever come to this?

Before she can say a snarky remark or a bitter comment, they both hear Billy come into the living room to find Wanda, a confused and worried look appearing in his eyes making Wanda’s heart clench, her body instantly moving to comfort the boy, giving him a reassuring look before ushering him back into the kitchen, turning back to face her husband one last time, letting her thoughts clear before saying one last thing to him.

“Don’t be surprised at what happens next,” is all she says, defeated as she stares at him, trying to remember how part of her did love him at one point, only briefly as her heart only ever truly belonged to you before she turns away from him, making her way towards where her boys were, fingers finding her phone in her pocket, needing to search through her contacts for an old friend, ready to make her decision final.

It was over between them.

***

Grabbing the essentials for Lucky, you tossed the bag full of the necessities into the back of your truck, chuckling under your breath at the sight of the bundle of fluff sitting next to your feet, eager to come with you on your small journey as his tail wagged, tongue comically hanging out of his mouth.

The sun made his golden fur appear all the more angelic and adorable as you whistled for him to jump into the front seat of the vehicle, the window rolled down all the way as you quickly ran back up to check the front door was securely locked, ready to drive over to the lake to clear your mind from the thoughts that had been gnawing away at you over the last few days specifically.

You were just about to climb into the driver’s seat when you heard your name called by a familiar yet unfamiliar voice, a baffled look appearing on your face as you turned around to face the female voice, recognition appearing on your face along with confusion.

“Jen?” You eventually managed out as you stood by your car in a puzzled manner, a sense of happiness filling you at seeing an old friend from school, remembering all the crazy and entertaining science lessons the two of you shared next to each other, briefly remembering the way you nearly set part of the science lab on fire accidentally. It was still her fault in your opinion, but you weren't going to bring that up now after so many years.

“Y/n? Oh my god it really is you,” Jennifer Walter chuckled out as she approached you, walking over from Wanda’s house which you immediately noticed, not mentioning it though as you decided it wasn’t your business, despite how much it intrigued you.

“Yeah, wow it’s been a long time,” you sigh out, a little unsure of what to say as it was so surprising to see her, “What are you doing here? Wait, no, sorry, how are you first?” Your politeness earnt a smile in response as you leaned against your truck to talk to her casually, Lucky moving over to the driver’s seat and poking his head out near yours, further amusing you both.

“Good, I’ve just finished talking to Wanda about a…work thing,” she started, piquing your interest as you acted as though the words didn’t affect you that much, “So I’m currently back on business.” You nodded along to her words, listening attentively, “I need to go and check in to the hotel now though so is there any chance we could meet up another time and catch up?” Her tone was a little flustered as she looked at her watch, realising the time making you chuckle as she always seemed to be so busy, a look of concentration etched onto her face as she worked out her timings for her plans, running a little behind.

“Yeah, that’d be lovely, you still have my number right? Just message me and we’ll sort something out,” you reply, watching as she smiles gratefully at you, taking a step back as she needed to be leaving, having a work call to take at her hotel.

“Perfect! It was really nice to see you again,” She rushes out before ushering a quick goodbye at the sight of her taxi pulling up, your hand raising to wave her goodbye as you turn to get into your truck, now ready to leave to venture to the lake. Before you left though, you couldn’t help but let your gaze wander over to the Maximoff house, trying to wrack your brain as to what career Jennifer would likely have gone into and figure out what they were doing, a strange, undecipherable feeling wrapping around your heart tightly. Shaking your head slightly, you tried to rid the thoughts from your mind, deciding you needed to stop thinking about her to move on, your mind focussing on reversing out of the drive and the adorable look on Lucky’s face.

***

The gentle sound of paws on the wooden surface of the dock caught your attention as you stared ahead at the vast stretch of water, the way the soft blue from the sky reflected delicately in each ripple of the lake, the gentle hues of green from surrounding bushes also adding to the picturesque setting you relaxed in, Lucky joining your side. Water dripped from his darkened fur, the golden tufts on his chin soaking wet as he held the tennis ball in his mouth next to you, tail wagging with enthusiasm as he impatiently waited for you to throw it again, his calm but also joyful demeanour always comforting to you.

With a smile on your face, you pushed yourself up onto your feet to throw the ball properly for the dog, taking the soaking ball and using all your strength to toss it as far into the lake as you could, watching as he leapt off the dock and splashed into the water, paddling over to chase the desired item.

Flopping back down onto the wood, you let your eyes flutter shut, trying to listen to the peaceful atmosphere and the world of nature around you, birds occasionally chirping, the splashing from Lucky, and the wind gently rustling the bushes around you to distract your thoughts but it was inevitable that enticing green would consume your mind.

Everything simply hurt. You felt broken once again, your heart felt as though it was bleeding anguish into your veins with everything you did, every choice you made as it never seemed to be the right one, it always ended up in pain and suffering that somehow seemed to have layers, finding new ways to torment you.

There was the initial pain from that night which plagued your mind, an incomprehensible amount of guilt flooding through you for destroying you both in ways you couldn’t describe, for being scared. You tried to justify your reasons, to convince yourself that you were protecting yourself for once, for trying to do something that would help you rather than others as you never seemed to care enough about yourself, a flaw that always came back to terrorise you. You were tired of always being the fool, the one who always ended up being broken or knocked down, so you tried to spare yourself the misery but it seemed that no matter what you would end up suffering, life forever playing a cruel joke on you.

You hated how pain also bloomed slowly, like a rose unfolding its petals, taking over your consciousness one thorn at a time as other agonising thoughts pestered you, making you question everything. You resented the guilt for hurting her, for supposedly being there to comfort her and making things worse, for avoiding her and leaving her to imagine the worst like you did when you returned. You loathed how yet, after everything, you still had hope for something, anything with her.

An annoyed sigh spilt from your lips as your hands moved to your eyes, anxiety trickling down your spine at your stupidity as your thoughts wandered down the wrong path, unable to stop yourself. That was your issue when it involved Wanda, no matter what you couldn’t stop your love for her, it was inescapable, you couldn’t get away from the memory of you both leaning in, her eyes conveying something different, something more. It was a look you had wanted to see every time she was with you, every time you spent intimately together in your truck, on this very dock, in the lake swimming with each other and pulling one another closer, it was all you ever wanted, to be looked at with love, and you threw it all away because your heart was too weak.

No, you didn’t throw anything away, there was nothing there. You had to believe this, believe that there was no chance of anything as you couldn’t carry on living like this, tortured by love for eternity. You were wrong, you had to be, you had to move on, that’s why you pulled back. It was the right thing to do, even if it hurt her, the two of you had to stop whatever this was between you, you had to let go.

Tears pricked in the corner of your eyes as you desperately tried to build the courage up once again to let her go, to spend the time restitching your heart together at the gaping wound that would be left there, but you struggled to do so, drained from all the conflicting and confusing thoughts that had gnawed away at your sanity already.

Why couldn’t it just stop?

Almost on cue to save you from your inner turmoil, Lucky reappeared at your side with the tennis ball, the item plopping to the wood and rolling towards you as the dog panted, almost smiling at you and oblivious to how much comfort he provided you with, your fingers threading through his wet fur. You were just about to murmur something to the dog playfully, a weak smile growing on your lips as your thoughts still pressed heavily on your mind, when a sudden bark left his lips, his head snapping over to the side, causing your eyes to follow his alert gaze.

Nerves instantly consumed your body at the sight of a familiar figure at the end of the path, Wanda’s face twisting into shock and confusion whilst her body halted, a tension immediately filling the air as you both held the gaze, unsure of what to do.

Wanda had only come here to clear her mind after speaking to Jennifer regarding her situation with Vision, usually coming up to the Lake to either remember the happy memories that filled her mind and warmed her heart of your time together or to simply lose herself in the tranquillity of nature, not wanting to think. She didn’t expect to see you or that conflicted look engraved on her face that pulled on the strings of her heart, her face softening as neither of you wanted to make the first move.

When it became too much, your eyes getting lost in the swirls of green you’d forever remember, you turned your head away rather abruptly to break the gaze, moving your hand to cover your face for a moment, desperately trying to gather yourself together.

What was she doing here? You couldn’t take it. You didn’t want to end up getting hurt again, to feel your heart break anymore. You wouldn’t survive. You needed to get out of there.

Pushing yourself to your feet a little unsteadily, your fingers twitched subconsciously by your side as you felt anxiety and panic clawing its way up your throat in a manner you hated, your mind filling with claustrophobic thoughts as you called for Lucky to follow you, wanting to escape. You felt vulnerable under her gaze like this, something you struggled with as this was why you constantly cared for others more than yourself, you couldn’t face your own feelings, you couldn’t face reality and truly let the sorrows of your life sink in, pulling you under.

At the distress on your face, Wanda wanted to comfort you, to pull you into her arms and let the warmth of your connection settle you both but she knew that wasn’t the right thing to do, her own heart splitting into two as she couldn’t decide what to do. This was her chance, her chance to tell you everything, to confess, but the look on your face implied that you couldn’t handle it, your body gradually getting closer to hers, to pass her by, to leave her alone again. It was in the brief eye contact that you made as you somehow managed to keep moving without breaking down that Wanda saw a glint of something in your eyes, dread consuming her at the broken expression on your face as you looked at her, conveying without words that this would be the last time you saw her. It flooded memories of the day you left her the first time, that same glimmer appearing in your eyes making Wanda react, her hand reaching out for yours, not quite letting you let go just yet.

“Y/n wait, please,” she pleaded, desperation dripping from her shaky tone, the feeling of her finger tips wrapping around your arm sending sparks through your body, almost making you gasp at the intensity of it. “Please can we talk?” She tries, but all you can do is stare at where she holds you, another memory flooding your mind.

“Wanda wait,” you rush out as the other woman walks towards the end of the dock, ready to get into your truck for you to take her home, the stars shining bright above you both, the moon reflecting off the lake. The two of you had spent all day together, getting lost in the moment, unable to stop laughing and feel that gentle warmth envelope your chest in that tender manner every time you locked eyes, a nervousness building in you for the whole day as you planned to confess everything to her. 

Your hand reached out to hers, gently grasping her wrist, halting her and encouraging her to turn around to face you, her green filled with confusion but also curiosity, her smile casual and affectionate as you search for words.

“I…You make me feel…um,” you stammer out, unsure of how to phrase it as the countless scenarios that played in your head started to merge together, causing you to feel lost as you tried to navigate your heart, gazing into her eyes and letting her soothe you, taking a deep breath. Her brows furrow at your words, the gentle glow of the moon illuminating her features, giving her this angelic and radiant look as you lost yourself in her beauty, awestruck by her and unable to form any words. Instead of stumbling over your words again, you try a different approach, slowly moving your hand up to her face to tuck a stray strand of her hair behind her ear, a blush forming on her cheeks as she hesitates, your movements slowing as you gauge her reaction.

When she doesn’t pull away or give you any indication to stop, you step closer to her, giving her all the time she needed to tell you to stop, to not cross that line but she doesn’t, letting you lean in closer to her till your lips ghost one another, needing that last little bit of encouragement to kiss her for the first time.

If only you had known that kiss meant something different to her.

“I can’t,” is all you can croak out, voice raw with emotion and it shocked Wanda to see you so vulnerable, usually able to be the more composed one out of the two of you, signalling to her how heartbroken you truly were, her green expressing the guilt and regret filling her for being part of your pain. “It’s just going to hurt me, I-I can’t take it anymore,” you continue, regrettably meeting her gaze and conveying all of your emotions in a single look, almost stealing Wanda’s breath away at the intensity of it.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” she whispers, voice delicate but wavering at the emotions flooding through her, her mouth opening and closing as she hesitates, trying to read your expression as you simply gaze at her. “I don’t,” she reiterates, trying to reassure you as you pull your hand away from her, teetering on the edge of making the decision to walk away, to leave her in the past for good. “I just…” she starts, trailing off as she lets her gaze flicker down to how your feet shuffle slightly, seeming to want to move, prompting her to confess, needing to tell you at least once, even if it was too late. “I love you.”

The world around you faded away instantly at her words, leaving you to focus solely on her, the way hope but also desperation filled her features, an anxious look glimmering in them as she waited to you react but you couldn’t, you just froze to the spot, unable to make sense of the whirlwind of emotions that crashed through you, clouding your judgement.

You were supposed to be walking away from her, letting her go and moving on. You were supposed to be accepting that it was over, not letting yourself cling onto false hope, to let yourself believe again. It hadn’t ended well before, who’s to say it would work this time? Yet you still couldn’t will yourself to leave, unable to resist her as you had craved to hear those words spill from her lips for most of your life, the words replaying in your mind like a drug.

“I love you, I always have,” Wanda continues, sensing your confliction as you still, eyes flickering away from her momentarily before back to her green, looking for the honesty and sincerity lacing each delicate swirl you fell for in the first place, “I’m sorry it took me so long to say. I…I was just scared to say it, to admit it to myself that I was but I can’t keep pretending that you don’t mean everything to me. It’s always been you, I’m sorry for never seeing that.”

At her confession, you think your heart has actually physically split into two, a broken sigh escaping you as the overwhelming feelings crash down on you like a tidal wave, sweeping you under and submerging you into despair and desperation, confused about everything that was happening inside your chest and head.

Love and happiness consumed part of you, wrapping tenderly around your heart that pounded in your chest, trying to soothe you as the words gradually settled in your mind, sinking in and amplifying the hope that was building within you at every second that passed by. Your eyes held her nervous gaze, meeting the honesty, care and affection that overflowed from her green, desperately trying to convey every single ounce of love she had for you, a love that defies descriptions at how intense it was. She loved you, it was something you had waited over a decade to hear, to ring around in your head as relief tried to bloom through you, to console you and help a smile stretch across your lips but a shadow of fear crept over your mind, clouding your judgement momentarily.

Doubts picked away at every single thought you had, over analysing her words as fear ran down your spine uncomfortably, briefly appearing in your eyes making the other woman’s brows furrow, confused as to how hope swiftly diminished in your gaze, turning to something more haunting. How did you know she was telling the truth? That she wouldn’t run away as soon as those thoughts came back to terrorise her, to destroy her. You didn’t want to be something disposable again, you wanted to be the person she came home to, the person who made her feel as though the world would fade away whilst you were together, to make happiness flood through with merely a glance, you wanted to be her lover.

At your silence, dread starts to amplify the uneasy feeling in Wanda as she pressingly tries to figure out your thoughts, to untangle the onslaught of emotions flashing across your features.

“Please say something,” she begs, the fear in her voice evident as she desperately hopes that you would say something, anything to her. She didn’t care if you screamed at her, broke her heart again and confirmed that she was too late, she just wanted something, the lack of response somehow worse than anything else.

“How…How do I know you aren’t going to change your mind?” Eventually, the words leave your lips, tone hesitant and broken as you want her to answer you honestly, needing her response to help you make your final decision of whether you were going to leave. You were giving her one last chance, unable to deny her as always.

“I won’t,” she replies without hesitation, getting her determination and point across as she reaches her hand out for yours subconsciously, wanting to assure you she meant everything she was saying, the words coming from the deepest parts of her. “I’m never going to make that mistake again,” she continues, searching your gaze as you listen attentively. “I’m.. I’m divorcing Vision,” she sighs out, your eyes widening momentarily, the words filling you with a sudden hope, part of you actually believing that this could be the moment where you finally click, your feelings not clashing but finally becoming in tune with one another. “I never wanted to be with him, I just thought it’s what I had to do, what everyone wanted from me,” she whispers out, finally getting it off her chest, causing your features to soften as you knew how far her internalised homophobia festered, so hearing her actually say the words ignited something in you, the fear dissipating from your veins. She’d finally admitted it.

“Do you remember Jennifer Walter?” She asks, wanting to give you proof that her decision was made, that she wasn’t going to turn her back on you anymore. At her words, your brows instantly furrow, confused as to why she had named your old friend, letting her continue as you manage to nod in response, “She’s a lawyer now, she’s helping me get the divorce started,” the words making the earlier meeting with Jennifer make sense, realisation etched onto your features as green continue to gaze at you, one of her hands sliding into yours, the touch electric as both of you seem to instantly relax a little at the contact, warmth spreading through your hands.

“That’s why she was at your house,” you murmur out to simply voice your thoughts, the pads of your fingers brushing one another tenderly, the feeling natural despite how long it had been, your gaze flickering down to the sight, savouring the peace it brought you before lifting your gaze back up to see her nod her head. The confirmation seems to trigger something in you, the fact she was actually changing, actively trying to become the person she had always wanted to be, brewed something deep inside you, easing your nerves slightly which was mirrored in the way you searched her green. The fact you don’t reject her touches gives Wanda hope along with the glint in your eyes, the nerves seeming to settle as an intimate atmosphere wraps around the two of you like an embrace, twelve years of longing expressed in simple looks.

“I know I don’t deserve it but please give me one last chance,” she pleads, your fingers interlocking, mirroring how your souls seemed to entwine, a small sigh leaving you after, despite all the thoughts begging you to leave, you knew you were still going to follow your heart. It always belonged to her. “I want to try properly this time, I want to make this work. I want us to work,” she murmurs and you can feel yourself being freed from most of your insecurities and the fear holding you back, a soft smile gradually stretching across your lips as relief consumes you entirely.

“Promise me you wont hurt me again,” you whisper softly, lifting your free hand to cup her cheek, her eyes glossing over in consolation as she melts into your touch, her heart pounding wildly in her chest.

“I promise, I never wanted to hurt you, I just… It took me too long to realise you were all I ever wanted, the only person I wanted to love,” Wanda confesses, cherishing the way your hand feels against her skin, the sheer amount of comfort it provided to you both, the warmth that flooded through you both at the electric touch, the fact that such a simple action could arise such emotions stirring something in her. This was all she ever wanted, to feel loved, to feel loved by you again. “I want to make up for everything, to love you the way I've always dreamed of loving you. Please tell me I’m not too late.”

“You certainly took your time,” you whispered in a slight tease, attempting to ease the moment as it was emotionally intense, a small chuckle escaping her, making you remember how much you had missed that noise as it blessed your ears, your finger delicately brushing over her red tinted cheek, admiring the woman. “My heart has always been yours Wanda, I’ve never stopped loving you,” you confess in an intimate murmur, a sudden happiness enveloping you as you smile at her, realising that finally you had both confessed your feelings, the yearning you had both endured building up for this exact moment, clouding your mind with the thought of her.

Your eyes flickered down to her lips, her eyes mimicking the action and gazing longingly at yours, the feeling of your fingers caressing her skin intoxicating, the way your gaze flicker up to have one last intimate gaze addictive, you couldn’t get enough of each other. Without even realising it, the two of you leaned in closer, your head tilting marginally as your lips ghost hers, ready to slot over them and let years of passion consume you both, memories of the many kisses you had shared filtering through your mind as you try to savour the moment.

Inevitably, your lips met into a tender, loving and passionate kiss, the action saying more than a thousand words but most importantly the three that mattered- I love you. It was breath taking, the intimacy of the kiss as your lips pressed against once another, igniting sparks within each other as the melody of your love played a song of tenderness and affection in your hearts, letting peace wash over you both. It was a kiss that felt like more than simply mending your broken bond, an embrace that healed and reconciled the two of you, it was the start of something new, something to base a new relationship off and cherish as you looked to the future, wanting to tackle it together.

“I love you,” Wanda whispered against your lips at the two of you parted, foreheads leaning against each other as you felt her gentle breaths tickle your face, your eyes fluttered shut as you took in everything you could about the moment, her hand in yours, body pressed against you, lips brushing yours as she uttered the words that filled your mind.

“Say it again,” you sigh out, wanting to and needing to hear her say it again, and again, and again as you were addicted to the sound of those words spilling from her lips, almost as much as you were intoxicated by the way her lips perfectly met yours.

“I. Love. You,” she punctuated every word with a kiss that somehow was filled with more care, more affection as she continued to pour everything she felt towards you into the intimate moment, drowning you both in happiness as your souls intertwined, your bodied forever pulled to one another. “It’s always been you, only you,” Wanda murmurs as you both pull back once more, your eyes gently fluttering open to meet her enticing gaze, the shades of green almost making you fall for her all over again.

Smiles tugged at both of your lips as you lost yourselves in each other, your features softening before you press a kiss to her forehead, letting everything finally sink in your mind whilst you embraced like lovers.

You knew that your love wasn’t easy, it hadn't been so far and there were bound to be times when it was rough again, but it was a battle you were ready to fight for, even if it was against the world. Distance, time and the fears you both shared had already halted your story together but you fought bravely, tirelessly for it because you knew that your love was worth every struggle.

It always would be.

She always would be.

—

I want to apologise once more for the delay in getting this chapter out but I hope it was worth it as they finally got their happy ending <3 

I hope you have enjoyed their story as much as I have and I really hope this ending was alright for everyone as I really struggled with it (both planning and writing)

I want to thank you all for your support on this fic and my others as I can’t express how much you all mean to me, especially this year as it has personally been so difficult for me. I will forever be grateful to you all and I hope you know it!

This is sadly the end of the official story but my plan is to write an epilogue style final chapter which would involve smut (as I know that’s what most people want) but it’s up to you guys on which you’d rather it be!

1- A smut chapter of their first time after getting back together.

2- A smut chapter a few months after Wanda has finally divorced Vision and the Reader and Wanda both live together now (I’ll send the twins to Pietro’s don’t worry)

Please leave any thoughts/comments/votes <3

Ao3- LoveIsAnImaginaryDagger

Wattpad- LovePersevering2

Tumblr- LoveIsAnImaginaryDagger3000

[i-am-the-oyster]

Some not at all lighthearted thoughts about Maxwell's Silver Hammer

I've been thinking a lot about Maxwell's Silver Hammer, Joe Orton, and 'original sin'.

Orton was killed by his (male) partner with a hammer on the 9th of August 1967. He had written a script for a potential Beatles movie (it was returned without comment) earlier that year. He was due to meet with Richard Lester on the morning of his death, to discuss filming a revised version of the script, with Mick Jagger as a possible lead.

18 days later, on the 27th of August, Brian Epstein was found dead.

Less than six months later, in Rishikesh, Paul started working on Maxwell's Silver Hammer. On the face of it, one of Paul's 'story songs'. On closer inspection though there's reason to suspect it's more symbolic and less allegorical. The timeline is off: Maxwell starts in college, then goes back to school, then suddenly finds himself in a court. The second and third verses are dream-like in their unrealism.

The other three Beatles' frustration with the recording of the song is well known, but John also said it was their first attempt at writing a song about Instant Karma.

From this site:

Former Apple employee Tony King expands on the song's meaning a little further in Steve Turner's book “A Hard Day's Write,” by relating a conversation he had with John Lennon concerning his song “Instant Karma.” “John told me that 'Maxwell's Silver Hammer' was about the law of karma. We were talking one day about 'Instant Karma' because something had happened where he's been clobbered and he'd said that this was an example of instant karma. I asked him whether he believed that theory. He said that he did and that 'Maxwell's Silver Hammer' was the first song that they'd made about that. He said that the idea behind the song was that the minute you do something that's not right, Maxwell's silver hammer will come down on your head.”

Paul tends to speak of the hammer metaphor more like random negative events, rather than some kind of deserved retribution, but he did talk about the breakup like this:

That whole period weighed on me to such an extent that I even began to think it was all tied in with the idea of original sin

So I was already thinking something along the lines of: what if John and Paul had come to some terrible conclusion about "sinful" gay activity attracting divine retribution. They decide they need to find "the right woman" to settle down with, and resist these "sinful" urges. Paul deals with this, in part, by writing a freaky song partially inspired by Orton's murder, where he giggles at the mention of the word 'behind' (in every take, apparently). He also allegedly obsesses over the recording of the song.

So when I saw this section of John's lyrics sheet for Now and Then I gasped:

Remember when we thought our life <love> had ended the gods had been offended

Yeah.

[prismatic-sun]

My copy of the Sally Face: Strange Nightmares board game finally got here yesterday so I needed to draw some Salvis angst 🖤

[pricesgirl]

Cherry flavoured

C.W: Substance use/addiction, implied suicidality, homophobia, (flashbacks are in italics)

��─────────────── ୨୧ ────────────────

Chapter 2

Blue eyes, blue hair—it’s all too fucking familiar.

Chloe Elizabeth Price.

She looks the same, but so, so different.

Older. Rougher around the edges. There’s something hardened in her that wasn’t there before, like life didn’t just knock her down; it dragged her through gravel, tore her up, and left her bleeding in the sun.

And she’s seeing me—me—of all people, hunched over in a dirty handshake with Nathan fucking Prescott. The human oil spill, born with a rotting silver spoon burning his tongue.

Her stare slices into me, hotter than the noon sun baking the cracked asphalt beneath our feet. I want to say something—explain, apologize, fucking beg—but my mouth’s a graveyard. Words crumble before they can crawl out.

Nathan’s already shoving the little baggie into my hand like he’s handing over a fucking party favor, grinning like he just sold me my own death.

He said it would chill me out—help me sleep like the dead—and fuck, that sounds goddamn heavenly right now.

"Y/N,—what the fuck, Nathan?" Chloe’s voice snaps across the lot, rough, furious, sounding like the kind of storm you don’t walk away from.

I flinch, stuffing the baggie deep into my pocket like that could undo it, like that could erase the ugly truth of it. Nathan smirks, acting above it all, like he didn’t just get caught handing me salvation in a ziplock.

"Relax, Price," he sneers. "It's just a little green. No big deal."

Wrong thing to say.

In two strides, Chloe’s on him, shoving him backward so hard his heels scrape against the concrete.

Nathan stumbles, looking just about as threatening as a wet noodle, but his hand twitches at his belt like he’s packing, like the little rich boy’s gonna whip out Daddy’s gun if he feels cornered.

"Back. The. Fuck. Off." Chloe spits, voice raw.

Nathan freezes. His smirk falters, like it slips off his face before he even realizes it.

For a second, he just stands there—caught off guard, eyes darting between us I know he’s not used to being told no. Not like that. His jaw twitches. 

There’s something ugly behind his eyes, something he doesn’t know what to do with now that she’s turned the volume all the way up.

Then he mutters something under his breath—cowardly and low—and turns away. Slithers off into the sun-glare like roadkill with a trust fund.

And then it’s just me and Chloe, and silence falls between us thick enough to choke on.

Her eyes flick to mine���blue, furious, betrayed.

"You serious right now, Y/N?"

Her voice cracks at the edges, not from anger—hurt. The worst fucking part.

I open my mouth, but there’s no excuse that doesn’t make me look worse. So I just stand there, pathetic, shaking, wanting to tear my own skin off.

"I just needed to sleep," I croak, and it sounds so fucking small.

Chloe laughs—a short, sharp bark of disbelief. "So you buy your sleep from Prescott now? Jesus Christ Y/N"

I hate the way she says my name, like it’s dirty in her mouth. Just another thing in Arcadia Bay that's gone sour.

Her face twists—anger, disgust, something else fighting behind her eyes—and for a second, I think she’s about to really lay into me.

Say something brutal. Final.

Instead, she exhales, long and shaky, dragging a hand through her tangled blue hair.

"...Fuck," she mutters, more to herself than me. Her shoulders sag, like some invisible weight finally caught up with her.

"I’m being an asshole," Chloe says, voice rough. "You’re—you’re not Prescott. You’re not fucking him. You're... you."

She scrubs a hand down her face, grimacing like she hates even hearing herself out loud.

A thick, stale kinda silence settles again. I shift my weight from foot to foot, feeling the little baggie burn a hole in my pocket, heavy and shameful.

Chloe looks at me, really looks this time—less furious, more raw. Like she’s trying to pick up all the pieces without slicing her hands open.

"Can I...?" she starts, voice cautious, almost gentle. She jerks her chin toward my pocket. "Let me see it."

For a second, I hesitate. Embarassment crawls up my spine like a thousand tiny needles.

But something in Chloe’s face—something tired and too damn human—makes me move. Slowly, awkwardly, I fish the baggie out and hand it over.

She plucks it from my fingers without touching me, holds it up to the sun, squinting at the contents.

It’s not much. Just a scraggly little dime bag. Smells like cut grass and desperation.

But Chloe frowns. Hard. She tilts the bag studying it closer. Her shoulders stiffen. Her mouth tightens into a thin, ugly line.

"This isn’t just weed.”

My stomach drops clean through the pavement.

"No—no, it’s just—" I start, desperate, stupid.

Chloe's already shaking her head, scoffing bitterly under her breath.

"You see this shit?" she snarls, jabbing a finger at the dusty, crystalline dust sprinkled between the leaves. "This is laced."

Laced.

The word slams into me like a punch to the throat.

I stare at the bag, really look this time, and yeah—there’s something wrong. A shimmer where there shouldn’t be. Tiny chemical flecks clinging to the buds like glitter at a funeral.

"You smoke this,you don’t just sleep like the dead, Y/N. You become the fucking dead."

The ground tilts.

The sun presses too hard against my skin.

I think I’m gonna be sick.

"I—" My voice snags on the way out. "I didn’t know."

"God, Y/N," she mutters. "You think Prescott gives a shit if you don’t wake up?"

"He said it would help," I whisper. It sounds so fucking pathetic. I hate myself for it. 

"Just—sleep. That’s all I wanted."

──────────────── ୨୧ ────────────────

Chloe

The truck engine’s spluttering like it’s about to fucking die under me—knowing my luck it just might.

Arcadia Bay peels past the windows—dead fields, busted fences, the same shitholes and nothingness as always.

Y/N’s curled up in the passenger seat, arms hugged tight around herself like she’s trying to hold the broken pieces in. Her head’s against the window. Her mouth moves sometimes, little twitches like she’s dreaming about arguing with someone. 

Or maybe with herself.

It’s 1000000% herself.

I tighten my grip on the wheel until the fake leather cracks under my fingers.

It shouldn't matter. It's been fucking years.

People change, right? Grow up. Grow out of being scared. Grow out of being cruel.

But no matter how many times I tell myself that, the memory still comes back sharp and bright, like it’s carved into my fucking skull.

-

It was hot that night—sweaty-back, jeans-sticking-to-your-ass kinda hot. The sun hadn’t dipped yet, just hovered there like it was showing off, smearing the sky with all those cliché-ass colors: pink, gold, orange.

Fucking picturesque. The kinda shit you’d see plastered on a postcard.

“Arcadia Bay: Come see the sunsets.”

Y/N looked so fucking pretty under the sky, she was sprawled on the roof of my truck, head tilted back, eyes squeezed shut as she laughed at something I said.

It was one of those real laughs, too—not the fake-ass ones she tossed around like candy for teachers and parents and that friend group she lowkey hated. 

This one came from her chest, her whole body shaking with it, like the universe had granted her five seconds of freedom.

It brought a flush to her cheeks, pink with summer heat and beer and something I let myself mistake for want.

God, it felt so fucking real.

And I was such a fucking fool.

She sat up to grab another beer from the six pack I’d swiped from David’s precious stash and I just—

I kissed her.

Didn’t think. Didn’t breathe. Just moved.

Her lips tasted like that cheap-ass cherry lip gloss she always wore. The kind with the glitter in it that made your mouth sticky.

It was a crap product—the color never stayed, but the flavor sank deep into the cracks of her lips.

Sweet, synthetic, familiar. Every sleepover and summer night and almost-moment we ever had blending into one fucking thing—cherry. 

She gasped, but there was no hesitation. Her lips pressed into mine, soft and tentative at first, then more urgent, like she was tasting what we both knew was always there.

But then, just like that, she was scrambling. She shoved me away, her hands pushing against my chest like I’d burned her.

“Chloe, what the fuck is wrong with you?” she spat, her voice sharp, jagged, trying to cut the moment out of her skin.

"I—I'm sorry, I didn't mean to—"

I reached for her, but she jerked back, eyes wide, like I was some kind of fucking monster.

"Don’t. Ever. Do that again." Her voice cracked like a whip—loud and final, but there was a wobble. She was confused, but so, so angry, like I’d spat in her face instead of kissing her. Like I was filth.

“I’m not one of your perverted friends, Chloe.”

I sat there, dumb, stunned, the sky behind her all pretty and pastel like it was mocking me. Like the universe had dressed up to watch me get wrecked.

“Jesus—you think just because I hang out with you, I’m into that shit? You really thought I was gay?”

I didn’t say anything. I couldn’t. My throat felt like it had been scraped raw, words caught somewhere in my ribs, refusing to move. I felt too much—too everything—like my skin didn’t fit right anymore.

“You’re a joke,” she muttered, grabbing her jacket. “It’s no wonder people talk about you the way they do.”

Fuck me, that hit harder than any slap.

I think she knew it too, because she looked at me after that—really looked—and something in her expression flickered. Just for a second.

But she didn’t take it back.

She just climbed down from the truck, dusted off her jeans like touching me had dirtied her somehow, and walked away.

Didn’t say goodbye. Didn’t look back.

Just left me sitting there under that stupid cotton-candy sky, heart bleeding out onto the roof of my own goddamn truck.

-

God, I fucking hate cherry. 

She still wears it. I can tell—faint whiffs of that sickly-sweet crap clinging to her breath when she mumbles in her sleep. It used to make my heart race. Now it just makes my stomach fucking churrn.

The tires crunch up the gravel as I pull into the driveway, killing the engine with a sharp twist that jerks the whole truck forward.

She jolts awake, sitting upright like she’s been shot, disoriented as hell, blinking against the orange spill of dying sunlight across the front yard. 

There’s sweat clinging to her neck, darkening the lace of her shirt. Her fingers twitch, brushing at the sleep crusted in the corner of her eyes.

For one horrible second, she looks—safe again.

Not the girl who spat bile at me with cherry-glossed lips, not the girl who turned me into something dirty with one sentence.

Just Y/N. Exhausted, hollowed out.

“What—where—” she mumbles, voice thick with sleep.

“My place,” I say flatly, yanking the keys out of the ignition. “Congratulations. You survived the ride.”

She blinks at me, confused, then takes in her surroundings. Her shoulders slump when she recognizes the cracked siding of my house. The silence that follows feels loaded.

Neither of us wants to be the one to crack it open.

I slam my door shut, harder than necessary, and stalk around to the passenger side. She flinches when I pull it open, like I might start yelling. God, maybe I should.

Instead, I just stare at her. “You coming?”

She nods, slow and ashamed, and slides out of the truck.

That damn cherry follows her like a ghost.

──────────────── ୨୧ ────────────────

Y/N

The house looks more or less the same—cream paneling bleached to a brittle yellow by too many summers, windows sagging in their frames like tired eyes. 

The screens hum low with the wings of trapped flies, their bodies outlined in dust, like they’ve been trying to escape for years.

I follow Chloe up the steps, heart thudding with every creak beneath my feet. It’s like walking into a time capsule—one I never thought I’d see again.

The door still sticks. Of course it does. She throws her shoulder into it like she’s done a hundred times before, muttering, “fucking thing,” like the wood itself owes her an apology.

I almost smile. Almost.

“Mom’s still at work,” she says, kicking the door shut behind us with the heel of her boot. “And Step-dick’s probably off harassing teenagers again.”

“Again, huh?”

She just snorts, not slowing down, already halfway up the stairs. “Yeah. He gets hella creative with his little power trips these days.”

There’s a bitterness in her voice that cuts deep, but it's not directed at me—not right now. It's all for him. I can hear it in the way her feet hit the stairs harder than necessary, each step an unspoken frustration.

I just stand there, arms at my sides, feeling like a fucking idiot.

“You coming up, or you just gonna stand there?”

It’s tossed over her shoulder, half-dare, half-command. Still got that bite.

I blink, realizing I haven’t moved, like my body is waiting for permission. I force my legs to obey.

The stairs groan beneath me, each one louder than the last, like the house itself wants to make sure I remember.

I trail after her like I did when we were kids—back when Chloe Price was the sun and I was just some dumb planet caught in her gravity, content to orbit forever.

-

Her room’s hardly changed either.

That same old American flag still hangs above her bed—creased, a little dustier now, but unmistakably her dad’s. A ghost of William Price in frayed fabric, watching over everything.

The posters littering her walls are louder than I remember. 

Some have changed—she’s swapped out unicorns and glitter for crude sketches, band logos scrawled in permanent marker, half-naked women with joints between their maroon-painted lips, middle fingers raised like a silent anthem to whatever god she’s still pissed at.

“My room looks a bit different to when you last saw it,” she says, as casual as if we’re just catching up over coffee.

Yeah. No shit.

My eyes snag on something that throws me for a loop—a bass guitar, propped against her nightstand.

The strap’s sagging, like it’s seen more emotional breakdowns than gigs. There’s a chip in the body, like it’s taken a hit for her, probably more than once.

I swallow.

Her desk used to be cluttered with the makeup we’d sneak from Joyce’s bathroom, daring each other to try eyeliner with trembling hands and candy-pink cheeks. Now it’s scattered with empty lighters, blistered guitar picks, no makeup in sight.

I doubt she even wears lip gloss anymore.

-

“Hold still.”

“I am still, you’re the one with shaky hands,” Chloe mutters, even as she flinches slightly.

“Just shut up and stay still.”

“Yes, boss.”

She closes her eyes, and I try to focus—steady the line, make it clean. We’ve done this a hundred times, but tonight something’s off. My hands won’t listen. 

Everything feels tight—my throat, my chest, the grip I’ve got on the eyeliner we nicked from her mom’s drawer. 

“You done?”

I don’t answer. I’m staring at her mouth.

The way her lips move—how they curl when she’s about to laugh, how they twist around every crude comment. How she says the worst shit and still somehow makes it sound kind of sweet. 

They’re... really pretty.

Soft, even.

My breath catches like I’ve swallowed it wrong.

Shit.

I jerk my eyes away, heart thudding loud in my chest, fake-busy twisting the eyeliner shut. My stomach flips. I feel... wrong. Dirty, almost. Like I crossed some invisible line I didn’t even mean to step near.

Chloe’s a girl—she’s my best friend. I’m not like that.

“Hello?” she says, eyes open now, brow raised. “You good?”

I fumble the eyeliner, fingers suddenly useless, jamming the cap on too hard. It slips, clatters to the floor between us. I nod too quickly, too hard, like that’ll erase whatever just happened. Heat crawls up the back of my neck, flooding my ears.

“You sure?” she asks, and her voice is soft—way too soft. Gentle in a way that makes it worse. “You look a bit... warm.”

“Yeah... yeah, it's just a bit hot in here, that's all.”

 I’m such a fucking liar.

My legs move before my brain catches up. I’m already halfway to the door, pretending I’ve got somewhere to be, something to do, literally anything to get out of her damn room.

“I should go,” I mumble, not meeting her eyes. “My mom’ll freak if I’m late.”

“Y/N—”

“I’m fine,” I say, too fast, too loud. “Really. I’ll see you later, and you might wanna get a fan.”

──────────────── ୨୧ ────────────────

authors note: hiii, i had a lot of fun writing this chapter (as much as it was also kinda heartbreaking) but hopefully this will make the reconciliation even better :3

please like and reblog <3

[losver07]

ok so the way i see remus is every time he doesn't understand something, he reads about it all that he can. lycanthropy? you know he's gone over every single text imaginable on the topic. a spell he doesn't get? read read read and practice practice practice. but. but imagine him not understanding his sexuality and realising something in him is different. imagine him getting his hands on a sexology book in the seventies and reading all sorts of horrible things about himself and thinking they must be true because it's "science".

imagine being socially marginated for being a werewolf and when you finally think you have found your people, discovering that there's more reasons for them to think you are sick and not want to be with you.

imagine hiding secret after secret about your identity and not being able to express yourself freely around others, even though you have to hear their opinions. also, imagine knowing most of said opinions are wrong and disrespectful, but not being able to say so because you can't let people know who you really are by defending ideas that are seen as "bad" or "wrong". which they are not, by the way. but it's the seventies. and you have to hide yourself.

anyway :(

[leafbowl]

Dick Grayson was okay with loving a boy if it didn't mean loving Wally West.

Wally West was okay with loving Dick Grayson if it didn't mean loving a boy.

Dick found out at a very young age that he wasn't straight. His mother and father didn't care about sexuality and let Dick express himself however he saw fit as long as he wasn't hurting himself or others. And, come on, Brucie Wayne? He's slept with almost all of Gotham and countless others, man, woman or otherwise.

Dick was pansexual. He didn't mind what his partners were as long as they cared for him and he cared for them. The first person Dick ever loved was a woman. Barbara Gordon. He dated her, and then his friend and fellow Titan Koriand'r (aka Starfire). He was well into his twenties when he realised his love for his best friend. A love he realised was so gut wrenchingly painful. Why? Why did he have to love Wally West? The speedster that was his best friend, had been since they were children. He hated it. Every moment was agony. After figuring it out, everytime Dick looked at Wally, at his best friend, his lungs felt fragile, his chest threatening to cave in if he took another breath.

Kori and Barbara were there for him, and then so was Roy. Roy Harper, one of his other best friends. Someone who he turned to when he was upset. Someone he slept with because he was in pain. Someone who did not fault him for his moment of weakness. Roy didn't hate Dick after they slept together, didn't yell when Dick admitted to why he had initiated it after so long being friends. Roy just held his friend while Dick cried, promising him that he was alright, that he did nothing wrong. He had to talk to Wally. Roy told him he had to talk to Wally.

Wally found out he loved Dick Grayson the moment they met. But no, he didn't love Dick like that. No, because he wasn't gay. He wasn't. God, what his parents would do if they found out, what his dad would do. He knew his Uncle Barry and Aunt Iris wouldn't care if he was (he wasn't, he wasn't, he swears) but his dad... Wally's father was not a nice man. If Wally told him (he wouldn't because he wasn’t and he didn’t like Dick like that or any boy like that. He liked girls. He promised) then he would hit. He'd get angry and he'd hit Wally. Maybe hit him so bad he had to go to the hospital although his fast metabolism is useful for multiple reasons (he doesn't particularly think that it's good for hiding child abuse is a good reason but it's a reason nonetheless).

Wally didn't like Dick like that, no, but if Dick were a girl then... maybe Wally wouldn't spend nights awake, dread swirling in his stomach. If Dick was a girl then maybe Wally wouldn't suppress the butterflies in his stomach whenever he trained with his best friend, maybe he wouldn't pretend and tell himself they were something else. If Dick were a girl then maybe Wally would love him- would be okay with loving him. But Dick was not a girl. He wasn't a girl so Wally didn't love him. He didn't want to kiss him. He didn't want to hold him and have him tell Wally he loved him the way he did with Barbara. God, it killed Wally to see them together. Maybe he liked Barbara... Maybe he wanted a relationship that badly. Yeah. That was it. He wasn't gay.

But maybe if he was and that hurt got too much and he was worried, it was his obligation to make sure he was alright. Flash couldn't break down in the middle of a fight because there was something wrong with him. He went to one of his best friends. Roy was welcoming when Wally showed up on his doorstep out of nowhere. Lian was at school. It was just the two of them. Roy made tea. Wally told him he thought something was wrong with him. Roy became worried. Then it just all came out. Wally broke down. He cried and he sobbed, all of that internalized homophobia being expressed to Roy, who pulled Wally into his arms and let the man rant about how he thought something was wrong with him. Roy listened as Wally promised over and over again that- I'm not gay. Roy, I- I can't be. I'm not. I don't like him like that. I don't. He's not- I'm not gay.

Roy was there for Wally as he always was. He patted the man's hair and told him in the softest way possible that it was okay. It took much more than that and much longer than that for Wally to be able to admit it but Roy was okay with their progress- he was proud of how far Wally had come. Especially when Wally told his aunt and uncle. Wally had started crying, clutching onto Roy's hand so tightly his knuckles went white. Roy didn't mind, only squeezed back to assure Wally that he was there, that there was nothing wrong and that he was so proud. Barry had hugged him so tightly when the words finally came out of Wally's mouth. Iris cried. They both assured Wally that they loved him very much and would never ever stop.

After convincing Barry and Iris Wally wasn't dating Roy (they were still skeptical, even by the end of it), they asked if he was dating anyone. If he liked anyone. Wally froze and Roy worried that all of his progress would disappear. Roy hadn't mentioned Dick but Iris and Barry were looking with such comfortable expressions and when Wally's shoulders smoothed out and he said he thinked he liked someone, Roy was so so fucking proud. Iris and Barry could both tell they weren't supposed to press so they didn't.

Shortly after, Roy went to have coffee with Dick. Shortly after that, Roy subtly tried to convince Wally to talk to Dick. Roy figured that if Wally were prepared to have that conversation, when Dick brought it up, he wouldn't freeze up and run. Roy really hoped he wouldn't.

He didn't. Roy was Wally's best man at their wedding.

[plumspider]

Okay i saw this on TikTok and omg how can you interpret a character so badly, how can you watch this show and think of Mickey as some ‘angry gay dude’ who distracts everyone from Ian’s actual storyline.

He has such an insane backstory and is such a deep character who goes through so much development and even though he doesn’t have much screen time compared to everyone else his story still matters so much and he totally helps Ian so much.

He is SUCH a complex character and idk how people can’t see that:

He had a father who beat the shit out of him his whole life and called him a pussy for having feelings and then tried to kill him because he was gay - all of which MASSIVELY affected the rest of his life because he struggled to open up to people and communicate his feelings and struggled to deal with his anger issues and the repercussions from his previous life and beliefs that were forced on him by his dad.

The same father got a hooker to rape him at gun point to “fuck the faggot out of him” after finding him with his boyfriend and pistol whipping them.

He ended up with a kid conceived through rape (not her fault either) that he had to care and help provide for while also caring for his boyfriend who just got diagnosed with bipolar and was going through all sorts of shit at 17/18 years old.

He was forced into marrying a woman - the same woman who was made to rape him and is the mother to his child, who he doesn’t like being around and for a good reason (who would want to have to see the face of the person who did that to you/was in that situation with you every day - even if it wasn’t her fault).

He wasn’t in control of his own life because his dad would KILL him if he let himself be gay and he knew that.

His dad beat him to the point where he had such bad internalised homophobia that he’d beat up other people for being gay (knowing that that’s what would happen to him if he ever came out).

His mum left him (or died or whatever we think happened to her) and his siblings with a RASICT, HOMPHOBIC, PEDO (those scenes with Mandy and Debbie), RAPIST, SEXIST and all the other -ists dad.

His dad got put (back) in jail for breaking his parole (he was out for 4 hours) trying to kill Mickey and Ian after Mick came out to him in The Alibi.

Within one and a bit seasons (when he was only around 18 years old) he went from sneaking around with his boyfriend who he pretended not to like because if he did he’d be gay and that’s wrong, to being forced into a marriage with a woman and a child which he didn’t want or consent to and got beat the shit out of for coming out, living and supporting his wife, child and his bf who was either manic or depressed or in the psych ward while HIS DAD was in jail FOR TRYING TO KILL HIM.

Feel free to add to my rant proving that Mickey is so insanely complex and amazing.

[professorcalculusstanaccount]

What does the reconciliation between Haddock and Tintin look like? Up to the gallery there's a lot of implied sentiment. Do they ever talk about it? Does Tintin ever ask for advice / talk about his feelings for Chang with Haddock and Nash??

they haven't discussed things openly but have sort of gone back to being friends again, with lingering thoughts going on in the background. They both have an idea that they're queer but haven't come out explicitly.

haddock's british and tintin's belgian, would they ever sit down and just talk about feelings?

this follows on from this! chang has asked tintin to go dancing with him after tintin finally escapes the cave

[lizbetlovesbyler]

the duffer brothers have been guarding mikes character and his perspective for the past 2 seasons

ergot there’s something worth guarding, something about him were not supposed to know yet…

and he’s a main focus in season five

[hypoclericalcunt]

Comp het and internalised homophobia is very real. I knew that people could be gay, i had many queer friends, i would always think of myself as an ally, I always thought women were hot, it was always i support gay people, people can be gay, women are hot, but IM not gay. Definitely. Very straight. This is why I sympathise with Mike so much, I am so fucking gay, and it's not even the 80s so there's not as much homophobia as there used to be. My own friends had randomly asked me if I was gay I was like WHAT ? NO ! i used to have a MASSIVE crush on a friend of mine and she herself was bi and STILL i thought I was straight. lt feels so good to be true to myself and stop pushing that part of me away, I live in a conservative place with a conservative family, but my brother is a huge liberal, and STILL i felt unsafe. I knew about byler, I knew about MIKE'S comp het plot, and STILL I was like, he's gay, but IM not. No way.

Anyway I made this post because Mike's storyline means so much to me and to so many others. This is another reason why byler becoming canon would be huge and help SO many people.

[emstarmoons]

my annotations for atyd sirius’ perspective ❤️

[theangelofbrahma]

declaring 'i hear the beads clicking at night, angelo' as the most devastating tv quote for all religiously traumatised queer folk out there

[pricesgirl]

Dreams from bunker hill

Lightcannon

C.W religious trauma, homophobia, suicidal ideation, sexual content, substance use

Luxanna Crownguard is the golden girl of her town—headmaster’s daughter, student council president, and walking embodiment of everything pure, godly, and correct.

Jinx is an omen. Everything wrong dressed in a plaid skirt and combat boots.

When their worlds collide—when light and chaos brush fingers—something begins to unravel. Lux starts to question the weight of perfection, the price of silence, and the darkness that grows in the corners of sanctified places.

Jinx can’t help but pry at the cracks in Lux’s polished smile, curious to see what’s underneath.

In a town that worships appearances, their connection is a quiet heresy.

Playlist

Chapter one

[a-study-in-bullshit]

"i wish you were a girl"

"fuck a girl then"

[nando161mando]

how to know you've internalized capitalism