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[just-a-torn-up-masterpiece]

i did a few emily doodles, these two made it out alive

[just-a-torn-up-masterpiece]

Too Close to Saying Goodbye

Summary: Tav gets injured fighting the Absolute, and its too close of a call for everyone but especially Karlach

Warnings: typical in game violence, somewhat graphic depictions of blood/injury, near death experience, angst(happy end!)

Authors note: my first time writing for BG3 and Karlach, so go easy on me please if its not the greatest

Word count: 1956

Karlach Masterlist BG3 Masterlist

What you currently stand in was once, no doubt, a beautiful open field near the forest. Now however, it has become a shell of its former self. The once green grass is now a dull brown, and it's marred by trails of upturned dirt that lead off into the distance towards a camp of Absolute forces that have clearly been stationed here a while.

   In the distance you notice a few pillars of smoke rising into the sky, showing you exactly where the enemy is camped down at. With the hours growing late, you assume the fires mean that they've decided to settle in for the evening. You wager this means only a few will be out and about on their regular patrols, which would be easy enough to deal with if needed, so it should be the most opportune time to take your companions closer in order to observe and see just what you're dealing with.

   This however, proves to be the wrong decision. For some reason, a small squad had been out on a patrol. And unfortunately for you, they had spotted you snooping nearly at once. There isn’t time for your party to hide or retreat, making a fight the only option. It truly isn't ideal with how they outnumber you, but you trust in the strength and strategy of your companions.

   As the battle commences everything seems to be going smoothly. You’ve watched all your friends land a multitude of blows against the enemy, even managing to down a handful of the cultists despite being outnumbered. But, as all things with your little group, nothing can ever be as easy as it initially seems.

   You had just managed to take down a rather large Orc, and were wrenching your blade free from his flesh when a Drow decided to take advantage of the situation and charged at you. You'd managed to spot him in your peripheral area in time to block the first blow with your bracers, but without a weapon you were not so lucky when the second blow came. And with a sickening squelch, the blade plunges into your shoulder.

   Your yell echoes across the area, and Karlachs eyes frantically begin searching for you. Relief floods her when she finds you, but that relief is short lived when she notices the precarious situation you're in. 

   “NO!” she shouts, quickly felling the cultist in front of her before dashing in your direction. The drow pulls his blade free, causing blood to start pouring from the wound in a manner that has panic flaring within her, especially when she watches your knees give out as you crumble to the ground.

   Worried that any time wasted fighting could prove fatal to you she summons all her strength and when she strikes, she easily cleaves the cultist responsible for your pain in two. His body falls to the ground not far from where you lay, and her bloodied ax clatters down next seconds before her arms are pulling you into her lap, “No, no, no. Tav!?”

   You hiss in pain as something presses against your wound, but recognizing the warmth that now encompasses you, you call out, “Karlach”

   “I’m here” she replies, pulling you even closer as tears cloud her vision, “I’ve got you”

   You smile, but it lacks your usual warmth and doesn't quite meet your eyes. This makes her stomach drop even further and her eyes frantically start searching the battle again, this time for signs of the raven haired Cleric, or even one of the druids. But to her frustration she can currently spot none of them.

   “I'm sorry” you mumble, effectively getting her gaze back on you, “I really did wanna explore the city with you….”

   She shakes her head, “Don't talk like that. We'll make it to Baldur's Gate. Together.”

   “Karlach…” 

    “I'm the one that's got limited time, remember, not you. So, you're gonna be just fine” She responds, clearly in denial of just how bad the situation is, “Just need some healing and rest. That's all”

   The smell of your blood being spilled had brought another of your companions to your side, and though he's used to the sight of the coppery smelling liquid, when he sees the sheer amount of yours that's soaking into the grass, even he became queasy 

   “Karlach, is Tav…are they…?”

   “Astarion, they need healing! Please get help!” she responds in such a panicked tone that he knows the situation is as serious as it seems, if not worse

   He sprints off in a blur to where he had last seen the Cleric, he'd be damned if he was going to fail you now. No, not after all you've done for him, or for the others. No, you were truly too good of a traveling companion and friend to die so soon, and like this. He’d get you help. You would be fine.

   As his footsteps fade into the sounds of the battle that still surrounds you, you become all too aware of just how bad the situation is. The dizziness and black edges to your vision tell you that you're losing too much blood far too quickly, and even if Astarion does find Shadowheart, with all the chaos going on there's no guarantee that she’ll even be in a position to come to aid you. 

   So despite the pain you're currently in, you're determined to offer some comfort to your beloved tiefling who cradles you in her embrace. You somehow manage to lift a hand to her cheek, and your thumb wipes at her tears, “You are truly incredible Karlach. How lucky I am….to have gotten to spend the time that I have with you….”

   “Please, just stay with me love. Help will be her, it will”

  You exhale shakily, “I’m not sure I can…

   The way your voice is so small, so unlike you, has her bottom lip trembling and her grip on you becomes impossibly tighter, “Please, you can’t go yet…”

   When Astarion spots Shadowheart a twinge of hope twists in his chest, and he wastes no time in running up to her and grabbing ahold of her forearm, “You're needed!”

   “I’m a bit preoccupied at the moment, in case that's gone without notice!” she reptiles, pulling her arm free to cast a firebolt at an advancing goblin

   “I don’t care how bloody busy you are! Tavs dying, damn it!!” he snaps, “Go tend to them and leave these bastards to me!”

   Her eyes widen for a brief second before determination takes over her features. She nods to the pale elf in understanding before darting off in the direction he had come from. Astarion swallows the lump of anxiety in his throat before turning to face the few goblins that she had been dealing with.

   By the time Shadowheart reaches you she's almost afraid that she's too late, but the slight raise of your chest calms her fears, if only temporarily. A blue-green glow encompasses her hands as she kneels next to you, opposite Karlach.

   “Tell me you can fix them Fringe, I can’t fucking lose them”

   The Cleric takes a deep breath as she looks down at your wound. Normally something this bad wouldn’t be a problem, it would exhaust her but she could manage. But after using up as much energy fighting the cultists as she has…she's worried she may not be able to fully mend you.

   “I…I can only try my best Karlach”

    Though she nods in an attempt to remain stoic, a small sob does escape her, and it successfully breaks the half elfs heart. Shadowheart focusses her all on your shoulder then, letting the mending magic flow from her hands and onto your shoulder. The wound begins to close up and your breathing remains steady, which are both good signs. All that's left to worry about is the bloodloss. 

   The feeling of your flesh stitching itself back together is definitely strange, but what's even stranger is how it doesn’t seem to be helping your faint feeling. Your lover must be able to sense your confusion, or at least the fact that something is still off.

   “What is it? What's wrong?”

   Your brows furrow and you choke on your words before going limp in her hold. Panic completely overtakes her then, “Tav?!”

   The sound of feet padding against the dirt nearby is the first thing that your senses register, the next thing is the small stuffed bear tucked under the arm that had been uninjured in battle. You smile softly before opening up your eyes, it takes a moment to adjust to the dimly lit surroundings but once your eyes adjust you can see the silhouettes of everyone sitting around the campfire in the distance. Well, everyone except Scratch and the Owlbear cub who are laying at your feet, standing guard. And Karlach of course, whose pacing was the source of the sound that had likely made you stir.

   “Karlach” you croke out, grabbing her attention immediately 

    She's beside you in a second, her warm hands gently cupping your face and caressing your healed injury, “Oh thank the Gods”

   “I think thanking Shadowheart may be more appropriate”

   A smirk crosses her features, “Oh believe me, I’ll get to that. But right now…Right no I just want to look at you. And hold you.”

   You nod your approval and she gently scoops you into her arms. You return her hug and feel your heart clench in your chest as she nuzzles against your neck, letting her tears land against your bare skin, “Oh, love…”

   She shakes slightly with a sob, “Don’t you ever do that again, you hear me? You had me scared, so fucking scared, soldier.”

   “I’m sorry love, I’ll be more careful in the future.”

   “Damn right you will be. You won’t be allowed to fight more than an arm's length away from me, and I mean that!” she clarifies, snaking her tail around your waist, “I can’t lose you. Not after everything.”

   You hum and run a hand through her hair, trying your best to ignore that pit in your stomach that tells you that all too soon you’ll be the one in her shoes. Begging her to stay, begging for more time and cursing the unfairness of it all.

   “I’m not going anywhere, not while I have you”

   After a few more seconds of soaking in your presence she pulls away to rest her forehead against yours, “We should go see the others, they we worried about you too”

   You lean forward and press your lips against hers briefly, “Alright, let's show them all I’m alright”

   She helps you get to your feet, but when she sees how wobbly you still are she opts to just carry you over to everyone, “Look who's awake!”

   Everyone's heads turn to look at the tiefling carrying you, and the look of relief on their faces as Karlach holds you brings a smile to your face. It truly warms your heart to see just how close this group of misfits has become.

   “Glad to see you're alright, I wouldn’t have known how to comfort any of these weirdos if you weren’t” Astarion quips, but you see the real amount of care and worry in his eyes

   “Well, I can’t leave you in that situation now, can I? Guess I’ll need to be more careful so I can stick around”

   “That would be preferred, yes” the Cleric agrees, offering you a small smile which you return

   Gale passes you and Karlach both bowls of stew, “I agree, we all would be quite lost without you to guide us. But let's stop being melancholy and enjoy this night together”

   You smile and glance back at your lover, “Yes, lets”

[just-a-torn-up-masterpiece]

this is me if u even care

[just-a-torn-up-masterpiece]

(3) locker room ✩‧₊˚ competing series

hockey coach!wanda x fem!ex figure skater reader

tw: SMUT MDNI, r has a v&breasts, top wanda, bottom r, service dom!wanda, r is a bit needy, wanda absolutely goes feral once given the green light, oral (r receiving), fingering (r receiving), wanda uses the shower head on r, sort of public sex (locker room shower), cum kink if you squint

a/n: not proofread. THE SMUT IS HERE LMAO. I was a bit too excited to write and publish this, I’ll come back and edit later. Anyways enjoy this filth.

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It was all a performance. Every shy touch pushing the narrative, cultivating confident hand placements. The hand on your shoulder would find itself on your waist, pulling you towards her.

The first time she kissed you she was nervous, her hands holding you close but still at a distance. Every one since then has been pushing you down a dangerous path. They all made you want more, you wanted to fall over the edge with her.

The desire was growing each day. When she kissed you goodnight. When she placed a hand on your inner thigh. When she ran her eyes over your body. It made your legs weak.

Earlier in the day, just as the sun was rising she had been at your apartment. It was an easy Saturday morning, resting in each other with the tv in the background. Light touches almost hovering over each other.

You felt like you were floating, goosebumps lining your body as her fingers drew chills.

She paid you no mind, whether intentional or not she was stirring your emotions. Her eyes were focused on the screen, an occasional whispered compliment on whatever the house designing show had to showcase. It was infuriating almost. Her lips would sometimes touch your neck, a gentle touch here and there. She had strung you up and left you there when she had to leave for an appointment.

You laid where you once were, unsure of what to do until her contact showed up on your phone. She sounded out of breath as she asked you to come to the arena. You clambered into your car, almost speeding down the roads.

You didn’t give much of a hint as to where she was, last thing mention on the phone was that she was in the gym. The problem was that it was empty save for one man on the stair climber. You passed by without a care, feet wondering into where the ground turned into tiles.

There were a multitude of lockers aligning the wall, which were all off except for one. One had a small sign, the red light giving away that it was occupied as opposed to the surrounding green LEDs.

You called out her name, walking towards the showers and not thinking to check behind you. There were enclosed spaces, each separated by a wall. You walked to one, feeling bored so you pull at the level until the water came pouring down. It was in way better condition than you originally assumed.

Wet footprints sounded behind you, slight nerves picking up in fear it might be another woman besides the one you came looking for. They were eased when she came into view, a towel in her hand.

“You got here quick. I was going to try and shower before,” she emphasizes her words by lifting her towel up. Your eyes follow the movement and how it extends her muscles.

You feel your heart pick up, the feeling she had started before coming back to life. You point behind you, nonsense coming from you, “I don’t mind waiting, I could take a shower as well. My water bill is expensive.”

“Okay,” she says and begins to set her stuff at the one right beside the one you were standing at. You shouldn’t be surprised, but you had wished she would make a move. That she would hint at wanting to join you, maybe showing interest in you sexually.

You breathe deep and undress where you are, closing the curtain just before doing so. You reach a hand out to set your clothes on an outside bench. The water was hot, the smoke rising and collecting on the surrounding black tiles. It was much nicer than the shower you had at home and it genuinely surprised you.

She realized before you, calling out and saying she had soap if you needed. Her tone was teasing, asking if you were here to take a dry shower. You called out for her to hand it to you. The curtain made its clinking sound, causing your heart to fall out of your chest. You flinch, freezing as you come face to face with her. Her completely clothed body contrasting yours.

Her eyes flicker between your face and bare skin. No words escape her, face neutral as she hands you the soap and leaves with a jerk to the curtain.

It made your heart jump out of your chest when a second later you hear her curse. She brushes past the curtains again, descending towards you. It was two steps before your back collides with the shower wall.

A protest is taken from you when her lips collide with yours. She spreads your hands out beside you, intertwining them and holding them. There’s a forceful pressure in how you’re held between her body and the wall behind you. A heat builds within you and around the two of you as you drown in each other.

Her lips find the sensitive spot on your neck, pulling a moan from you, “can’t resist, I can’t wait anymore.”

She slides your arms to wrap around her neck, “I need to hear you say you want this. I’ll drop everything if you’re not ready.”

You smile and nod as you vocalize your consent. She’s lifting your left leg with a hand dragging under your thigh and propping it on her waist.

“At any time you need to stop or you want to slow down, tell me please, okay?”

You mumble your confirmation, hands fiddling with her wet hair. She places gentle kisses down your body, starting under your jaw and trailing down towards your inner thigh.

Her attention is completely focused, eyes glazed over already. A whine is pulled from you the second her tongue is licking across your heart. She presses it harder onto your clit, morning when she feels you tug at her hair.

You have a hand in her hair, another pressing against your mouth. A hand on your hip holds you open, barely putting in any effort whenever your hips twitch or try and close around her head.

“You’re so pretty,” she mumbles into you.

She slides the first finger in, a shameful whine coming out from behind your hand. The water falls behind you two, the heat and pressure below pressure you to breathe deep.

When she feels you’re ready, she begins to fit another finger in. She doesn’t miss how you shiver when she angles her fingers.

“Like that, sweet thing?”

A string of yeses fill the room, your tone breathy and sweet. She’s driving them in harder, directing them right at the spot that has your legs quivering.

Her tongue presses against your clit, building pleasure between your legs. You whimper at the sudden bite to your inner thigh. It was then that she decided to slide a third finger.

“Wanda,” you breathe out, back arching to chase after what she had been building.

Her fingers twist, trusting against your upper wall just as she sucks on your thigh.

“Oh my—please.”

You’re tugging at her hair, gasps and incoherent mumbles tumbling out from your lips.

“You’re squeezing me so tight,” she sucks at your clit, grinning at how your body reacts, “gonna come?”

Too much time passes and she’s impatient. Wanda thrusts her fingers in harder, a complete contrast of how gentle her voice sounds.

“Love. Are you close?”

“Yes,” you whimper, “don’t stop.”

“Wouldn’t dream of doing so.“

With a final kiss to your clit you’re sent over the edge. You grip at the tile, nails digging into the grooves. Wanda removes her fingers instantly, almost frantic as she brings her mouth to your heat. She soaks up every shiver, tongue swiping until all she can taste is herself.

You mumble her name, “kiss me.”

She’s shooting up, meeting you halfway. A muffle moan sounding from her as soon as you do.

“Mm,” you smile into her lips, “you taste good.”

“It drives me crazy,” she admits and pulls you back into a passionate kiss. A hand comes and strokes at your back, calming you down. It was when you felt your mind begin to clear, the effects of the orgasm fading away when she had started biting around your neck.

“If you continue like that,” you begin, stopping to gasp when she actually bites on your shoulder.

“Or what,” she questions, her eyes look at to the shower head with a shit-eating smile. You follow where she looked and jerk her head back by her hair.

“Every minute I spend with you I swear you just want me to believe you’re a total goof.”

“Is pleasing my girlfriend so bad?

“That’s a shower head.”

“So? Give me a chance,” she gives the worst puppy dog eyes, and yet you still can’t turn her down.

Her hands pull it off of the holder, the smile never leaving her face. Your emotions were apparent on your face. She laughs and kisses you sweetly, “it won’t hurt if that’s what you’re expecting.”

“I don’t think that, I just think you’re crazy sometimes.”

She hums, ignoring you and opening your legs. The water pressure feels like you’re grinding down on a pillow.

“You make the cutest faces,” she murmurs quietly to herself. She tilts her wrist for it to angle just below your clit. The action has your nails tearing into her back.

“Feel good, hmm?”

“Yes, yes, yes,” you whine, head falling onto her shoulder, “keep it there, please, please.”

She shushes you, repeating how she’s going to take care of you. She changes the setting, eyes steady on you and each reaction she pulls from you.

“Gonna come already?”

“Keep it there,” you move your head to kiss her chin, “please Wanda.”

“I will,” she whispers, “I will.”

When she realizes you’re coming, she’s hanging the shower head back to not overstimulate you. You’re coming down your high, breathing deep into the space you’ve created between you and her.

“You’re so beautiful. I can’t help myself.”

You laugh breathlessly, head tilting back as she kissing around your chest and neck.

The sound filling her heart with joy. You stay cooped in each other’s hold, feeling comfortable not saying anything for a few minutes.

“Was it okay?”

“It was wonderful,” you kiss her nose, “thank you. I feel bad, you haven’t gotten off.”

“You don’t have to, watching you was enough.”

You push her back and stare at her, “did you really come from watching me?”

She pinches under your breasts, “no. I just got myself off when I was eating you out earlier. I wasn’t lying, seeing you come is enough.”

“Speaking of,” wanda grabs at your waist, “do you want to come again?”

You smack her hands away, a warning that if she doesn’t actually shower, you’ll shoo her off to another shower. She does so well for the first part, enjoying herself and being with you.

It was sweet how she checked in, hands gentle washing the soap into your hair. It was when she had to start washing your body that she became suspicious. What set you her was how she was taking too long to wash your breast.

She had stood behind you, hands running down the front of your body while she breathed deep into your ear about how she wanted to take you while someone was in a shower beside you. You realized then that your warning was fake. She too realized, another playful smile finding its way onto her face as she felt your body melt into hers again.

The water had become cold by the two of you came back to reality and finish “showering.”

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[just-a-torn-up-masterpiece]

(2) cheeks turning red ✩‧₊˚ competing series

hockey coach!wanda x fem!ex figure skater reader

tw: mentions of alcohol (neither r or wanda consume it), two brief mentions of toxic parents (r’s mom went to jail), wanda & r flirting lmao

a/n: not proofread, this is fresh outta the oven babes. Idk how I feel about this bc I feel I’m not good with writing fluff like this LMAO

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It was a call from your brother. On the other end of the phone, he was begging you to come over and entertain them at dinner.

“It’s good to see you,” your brother had said earnestly when you had walked up. He wrapped you in a hug, one you sunk into.

“Tyler is at a friend’s place. It’s good for him to get out, he’s been struggling with friends.”

“He’s been doing fine at practice?”

He shuts the door behind you, “I mean at school, he’s been complaining that they’re immature.”

His wife calls from further in the house, appearing from a corner to come and greet you. She’s always been welcoming, but the relationship between you still feels fresh. The table was already set, the dishes laid out on the table.

“How’s Tyler been at practice other than the friends he’s been making?”

“Oh he’s picking it up well,” you slide the chair closest to the window out to sit, “cocky as ever, but he’s doing well.”

“Good. What do you think of the coach?”

An uncomfortable look is shared between him and his wife, it makes you feel small. The look they shared felt usually like they knew something you didn’t, or that they had to walk on eggshells around you.

“She’s great,” you defuse the silence, “We don’t have to talk about any of that, I’m moving on.”

“Sweet, we just care to check in,” she finally steps into the conversation. You could tell your brother wanted to hash it out yet again, saying it’s because he cares but you’ve said the conversations make it worse. When your mind wants to forget about it, the constant back-track doesn’t help.

“Tyler’s coach and I are talking.”

The sentence had him stuttering, shock written on his face, “when? And how?”

His wife has a similar look on her face, but the small smile on her face eases the pressure in your chest.

“The situation’s a bit different from how you two met. A man hit on me, remember what I talked about last week? She scared him off, we introduced ourselves, and started saying hi whenever we saw each other.”

He points a finger at you, “that’s different. Do you like her?”

“She slipped her number in my coat pocket, I’d say we’re both interested.”

“It probably took you a day to realize it was there.”

You attempt to hide your smile but it’s futile, and the two laughs at the sight. He sighs and leans back in his seat, no longer hunching over the table, “I also wanted to ask how your job’s been going? You still with that company?”

“I’m staying with them unless they refuse to give me a raise, the amount they’re giving is barely enough to cover rent.”

He hums, “if you need anything, we’re here.”

You smile as a thank you and divert the conversation away from you by asking about their lives. They’re always eager to, their body language becoming more open and relaxed once they begin to. It could be a result of overthinking, but at times you feel most conversations surrounding you are negative. The one you just had about your nephew’s coach was the first time you collectively connected positively.

.˚₊┈୨♡୧┈₊˚.

Within a second of closing the door to your apartment, your phone lit up the dark room. It was hurting your eyes, but you had never really cared to check who the recipient was until this moment. It wasn’t formatted properly, the text sent in a rush. The text read, “call me when you can,” just with random spacing and two misspelled words.

You debated waiting in hopes to seem hard to get, but you couldn’t wait any longer without hearing her voice. So you pressed on her contact, pressing your phone to your ear and sliding your shoes off in the foyer.

“Is everything alright,” you began, a small amount of concern bleeding into how you spoke.

“It can be,” she says, the pause between her words almost suffocating, “you deserve a nice dinner, and I will take you to one if you so wish to. But I have a formal event later tonight and need a plus one, I-“

“I’ll go as your plus one.”

“Oh wonderful. Thank you, thank you. I’ll come to your place at 9.”

She ends the call right after and you’re thankful she did. You can feel your heart fall out from your chest with the pitiful ache forming. If it were to be nerves or excitement, neither you nor your mind fully understands the difference.

With the lights now turned on it causes you to squint due to the sudden onset of light. You stumble to find your bedroom to open your window and let fresh air in. The projected event later that night turned your stomach into knots and mind into a blank slate of irrational anxiety. It was sudden and unexpected, but it was welcomed. What wasn’t welcomed was the following emotions, like anxiety.

The sun had settled under the surface, turning your room orange. With the sun lowering it set your alarm off. The tv across from you shut off and you slid off your bed.

Each minute passed while you got ready, and so did an alarm. Rather it was better to have three annoying alarms remind you of how much time you had than to be rushing out late. You had to remind yourself of that when it went off while you were in the shower, scaring you.

The parking lot was empty save for four cars in their assigned spots. Wanda had called earlier with questions on where you lived and if she had to do anything to get through the complex’s gate. Five minutes later here she was driving towards you.

A shaking hand reached towards the car door, opening it. She continued to watch you as you shut the door, you knew based off of feeling her eyes on you. It made your mind blank.

“I want to thank you again,” she admits, looking to you occasionally as she drives towards her friend’s estate. “It was last minute. I forgot about it until I saw the reminder on my phone.”

You smile at her, “you’re fine. What’s the event for?”

“My friend from college is getting married, this is some sort of together party. It doesn’t make sense and that’s just because they’re wealthy.“

“Who’s the wealthy one?”

“In a way both of their families are, but the bride’s family has a stable job set out for her.”

“How’d you meet?”

She stops at a red light, the color highlighting a side of her face when she turns towards you.

“She was in a class of mine. Connected over a terrible professor. I’m still surprised he still teaches there when all he does is read off of a slide show.”

You roll your eyes dramatically, “figures.”

When she parks, it’s behind a car brand you know is high on the market. It’s fun to dress nice, but it’s another thing when it feels like you’re playing dress up.

Wanda comes to your door, opening it for you and smiling when you fall forward into her. Your foot had fell between the crack of grass and concrete, twisting it and causing you to lean further into her chest.

“I don’t know anyone here expect for my friend, so you have no reason to fear me walking away. I’m in the same boat as you,” she whispers while shutting the car door behind you. A hand stays on your back as you two walk towards the lit up building.

The only awkward part of the night was when she greeted her friend, causing you to stand beside her as she did so. You pay it no mind though, appreciating the way she introduced you into the conversation. You give an occasional response, smiling politely to pass the time until they bid their goodbyes.

“I feel miserable,” she begins, walking you further into the house, “I dragged you into this.”

“You didn’t drag me into anything. I choose to come.”

She looks relieved, her expression now at ease. Her fingers grasp a glass near her, bringing it toward you for you to take.

“I would like to know you more,” she says while taking one for herself, “did you do another sport besides ice skating?”

“I tried soccer, hated it.”

She leans into the counter, facing sideways as compared to you. Her tone easy when she speaks, “what happened?”

“I didn’t like the competitive nature.”

“Did you competitive ice skating? What’s different?”

“You’re actively going against another team. I enjoy being competitive, I don’t like working with a team against another team.”

She hums, shaking her head in disbelief, “I would be crazy to believe that. I need to play with a team.”

You mock her hum, “of course you would.”

A faux offended expression comes on her face, “what’s that supposed to mean? Thought you said I’m a great coach.”

“You are, you just fit the criteria to enjoy a sport where you ram into others and shove a small puck around.”

“Is that why you said I’m a great coach?”

“You won’t let that go, huh?”

She scoots closer, “not until you tell me why.”

You roll your eyes a second time, laughing and pushing her back. She shrugs, “when a pretty woman compliments your teaching style, it’s important to know why so I can continue.”

You look at her incredulously. Unconsciously all nerves you had before beginning to fade away as the night continues. She’s easy to talk to and tease, a contrast from you’re used to.

“You’re genuine.”

“In what, I need more. In how I shove your nephew around? In what?”

“You’re an absolute dork. I mean in how you treat the boys, you care about them. Like you cultivate relationships with them. Even mix of stern and supportive.”

“Some coach expert you are, who’re you comparing me to.”

You have a choice to opt out, but she has an air of freedom. A feeling that you want to fall into more, so you open up that space.

“My mom.”

“Oh,” she gets closer, making your heart race, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright, she’s in jail now. Long gone.”

“Shit wow, okay,” Wanda laughs, an endearing grin on her face, “you’re full of history.”

A couple of drinks and long conversations later, you begin to pull away from the party. The atmosphere was calm on the drive home. With the gentle hum of the AC and Wanda’s presence, it lured you to lean fully into the car door beside you.

“If you’d like to sleep, go ahead. It’s pretty late.”

You glance to the clock, finding the numbers 2:00 glaring back at you. A sigh comes from you, “no.”

“Okay,” she mumbles, her husky voice cracking at your resolve. You watch her side profile, a hand under your head.

“You have a slight accent,” you begin and she cuts you off, apologizing for whatever reason.

“What? I was going to say it’s attractive.”

She huffs, looking a bit shocked, “thank you. It might be because English isn’t my first language.”

“What is it,” you ask tiredly, resisting how your eyes are practicing closing.

“It’s Sokovian. And doll, sleep. I promise I don’t mind.”

You didn’t have the energy to respond, the last coming from you being a muffled him before you drifted off. Twenty or thirty minute could’ve passed, but you woke when you felt the car turn at the strange loop getting off the highway. A slight headache begin to appear as you slowly woke up.

“I was about wake you,” she laughs softly, “you seemed to know we’re almost back.”

You groan with a hand in your head, “I regret sleeping, my head hurts.”

“Poor baby, do you have medicine?”

You nod at her question, reaching below to grab at your stuff that had fallen by your feet. The complex’s lights come into view and you’re almost thankful to lay down in your actual bed. What a gift it is to be able to do so.

“Thank you,” you start, “I had a wonderful time. I’m so sorry for just knocking out there at the end.“

“No worries,” she parks the car out front and you can feel the nerves from before spark.

“I would like to see you again,” you say quietly, looking into her eyes, “if that’s okay.”

“Love to. I can get you after practice Tuesday.”

The shyness comes back, everything within you burning at the idea of seeing her again. Your lungs heave in air looking at her, and she knows with the way she begins to smirk weird.

“You’re a goof,” you say finally, moving to climb out of the car. She laughs and waves you off.

Once finally in bed, you weren’t able to sleep with the way you kept replaying the way she was looking at you. It was dangerous, each one pulling you further into her.

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[just-a-torn-up-masterpiece]

(1) running into you ✩‧₊˚ competing series

hockey coach!wanda x fem!ex figure skater reader

tw: creepy man hits on r, flirting (r and w), mentions to past injury (r), some mommy issues mentioned whoops, the nephew’s name is Tyler (💀)

a/n: not proofread oopsies. DON’T steal/repost my works. anyways enjoy this piece of shit. I’ll come back and edit this later.

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It’s a transition going from spending every minute in the rink to living vicariously through your nephew’s newfound interest in the ice. You’ve been taking him to lessons since his parents, your brother, has had to work every minute to make a decent living.

Seeing an ice rink after two years was strangely nostalgic. Spending every waking hour here until you’d gone and screwed your leg during practice.

You would’ve been better off without your coach at the time, your mom, yelling in your ear to get up. It’s in the past and you’re hoping it stays there.

Your nephew was about young teen, unfortunately a stereotypical teen boy who played sports. He was a good kid, but too confident for his own good and feeling the need to size up other players.

The coach of the team had been running them through drills. They were mainly on how to skate and learning specific techniques for hockey such as stopping quickly. He was picking it up quick, again too confident in his efforts but it did get him somewhere.

“Who’s yours?”

You faced the man beside you, “I’m sorry?”

He pointed, waving his finger around and it clicked for you. You waved him off, saying you were here for your nephew.

“Is he your sister’s? Your brother’s?”

“My brother’s. He’s thirteen.”

“And picking it up now? That’s a bit late.”

You laugh, “what?”

The man shrugs and leans back, “he may not be able to make varsity. I mean look.”

The frustration burned through you, feeling annoyed at his audacity. You begin to grab your stuff and move down the bleachers.

“These are kids, and they can do it as a social pastime. I did figure skating and I made it into the region competitions. I was thirteen.”

The man scoffs, “I’m talking about the young boy here and an actual sport, not twirling on the ice. I mean you didn’t go far if you’re here on a Monday night.”

With a shake of your head, you leave and officially move away to the other set of bleachers, closer to where the players got off the ice. It was surprising how aggressive some parents were with their kids doing a sport. It concerned you how concerned they were with their kid succeeding in a sport they once did.

You had sat near the railing towards the bottom, resting your head on it. There was an attempt made to forget your coursing adrenaline, watching your nephew work on sliding across the ice.

It was futile, especially with the way the man was holding his stare in your direction. Whatever his problem was, you wanted nothing to do with it. Men were weird, especially when they’re under some sort of influence.

The group huddled together in the rink, the words being spoken echoed throughout the room. The only word you understood was when they announced their team chant.

You waved back at your nephew when he skated by the window, mouthing something about, “watching him.” It was practice time, where they’re given ten minutes to skate around and practice what they learned.

He flailed around but he still got up proud, acting as if his stop and falling onto the ground was meant to happen. It was amusing, but entertaining and failed for you to realize the man was walking near you yet again.

“Hey ma’am, sorry for the inconvenience. I just thought you were quite beautiful.”

You cringe, “being mean is your flirting technique?”

“Usually chicks dig it.”

You nod and look back to your nephew but he’s relentless and doesn’t want to take no for an answer, even stepping closer to you.

“You alright here miss?”

A woman in skates appeared near you two. She was adjusting the heavy coat around her shoulders, moving to take it off with the obvious sweat on around her face and neck.

The man speaks for you, “we’re fine.”

She raises her eyebrow and tosses the coat onto the bleachers, eyes slowly looking to you for confirmation. You move away from the man and it was enough confirmation.

“Hey buddy, she’s not interested. There’s plenty of fish in the sea but a woman twenty years younger than you isn’t the move.”

With a patronizing smile and wave he began to yell at his son to leave. You thanked her, moving to do the same when she stopped you.

“Who’re you here for?”

“Tyler, what’re you here for?”

She looks confused for a moment, making a subtle gesture towards the skates on her feet, “I’m the coach.”

You swear you feel your confidence melt into a puddle. How long have you been taking him to practices and you’ve never cared to greet the coach?

“I’m terrible sorry,” you put your hand out to shake hers, “I should have introduced myself when I had begun to take him to practice. It’s nice to meet you.”

She smiles and pushes your hand away, “no need. How’re you feeling though, need someone to walk you to your car?”

“That’s quite alright, I believe I’ll be fine.”

Your nephew exits the rink then, coming to sit near you two and untie his skates. He either didn’t notice you two conversing or he didn’t care, because he had come barreling in. You take his helmet off, reminding him to not forget his bag in the locker room.

“You did a great job today, Tyler, how’re you feeling about your stops now?”

“I’m definitely better. I think I’m better than Micah too, he slides into the walls. Man has no clue on how to slide.”

She hums, “then I’ll see you tomorrow. Night.”

He waved and begins to walk behind the bleachers towards the locker room, and she looks back to you.

“I could stand at the door and make sure you two get to your car? I can see him standing at the tables looking this way. My word, is he drunk or something?”

You look and find him standing outside by himself and accept her assistance. It wasn’t that you necessarily trusted her, but she was more trustworthy than the other.

She grabs her coat and stuff on the seat, ready to go just as Tyler had ran out from the locker rooms. He smelt terrible and for some reason felt the need to stand where his sweat melted onto your skin.

“Maximoff what drills are we doing tomorrow?”

She looks relaxed, her eyes focused on him and tone kind while it feels your nerves are spiking when you see the man in your peripheral vision. He doesn’t seem to pay you any mind anymore, he looked distant while his son finished packing up.

“Okay, I’m heading off. Have a good night you two,” she looks to one more time, and you mouth your thanks. She jerks her car door open, throwing her stuff in and climbing in after.

“I love Maximoff. She’s a great coach, very professional if I could add.”

You shove him into the car, and start driving out of the parking lot. It’s fun to watch someone gain traction in a sport and see how much they enjoy learning the next steps to getting better.

“Are you staying for dinner tonight?”

“I am. Your parents aren’t getting back until later tonight, so I’m staying over tonight. Anything you want to do?”

He doesn’t seem very interested in anything you suggest, wanting to go to bed right after you both have dinner. And it’s understandable.

He had gone to bed four hours before his parents had finally begun to come home, your brother being the first home. He found you on the couch, “hey, how’re you?”

“It’s swell. I got hit on at the rink, but other than that it’s fine. Tyler’s asleep now.”

“You got hit on at the rink?”

“Opened with insults and everything.”

He empties his water bottle, his voice slightly muffled from where he was in the house, “are you okay with continuing to bring him to practice? I feel bad enough as it is. We can’t thank you enough.”

“No it’s fine. It was just sudden. I enjoy being able to see you all often,” you dangle your keys, “I’m going to head back to my apartment, I unfortunately have work tomorrow.”

“Sounds good. I’ll see you tomorrow, get home safe. Maybe tomorrow we can all eat dinner this weekend, we’d like to catch up”

“I’d love to. Sleep well, goodnight,” you wave before shutting the door behind you.

⋆ ˚｡⋆ ✧ ⋆ ˚｡⋆

“Tyler,” you say while finishing tying his skates, “I don’t want you to hang around Josh anymore okay? He’s a terrible influence.“

“But he’s the second best. At least he isn’t sliding into the walls.”

“I mean his personally is shit, just focus on learning the fundamentals and talk with the others.”

“Isn’t that a bad word—”

“Just get on the ice.”

He puts his hands up in offense and stumbles into the rink. You wipe your hands on your pants, “I swear—“

“That you do,” she comes beside you.

She sets her bags down beside you, leaning her shoulder against the wall. Your attention follows her fingers, a part of you hating the way she’s tying her skates. The other part got caught judging from the expression on her face.

“Are you judging how I tie my skates?”

You get slightly flustered, apologizing and fearing you’ve made her uncomfortable but all it does is grow the smile that was already there.

“Should be sorry unless you have a valid reason.”

“I figure skated,” you blurt and she looks amused.

“Do you still skate?”

“Not anymore after an injury my junior year.”

She looks earnest in her apology. In a response to not spiral you laugh it off.

“I bet it’s painful to realize you won’t be able to enjoy your passion again, but you’re here supporting him.”

“It’s not the end of the world, but it’s disappointing,” you laugh, “And of course, Tyler loves hockey. Especially when he has a coach like you.”

She leans to grab her coat, “what’s special about me?”

It’s something you’re still learning. That being how you have a knack for being flirty when you aren’t usually meaning to. In this moment though? You don’t mind.

You smile cruelly, “it’s 2:00.”

She checks her watch for confirmation and dramatically steps back onto the ice with a sigh. You feel your heart race from within your chest at the look she gave you after.

It felt like you were being called out. Her attention was on you before and after each practice. You enjoyed familiarizing yourself with your nephew’s coach (by familiarizing you mean flirting). It would make sense to leave everything where it was, but you didn’t want to.

You learned it was more than a simple surface friendship with your nephew’s coach when she slipped her number into your back pocket. And maybe the details on there that she wanted to take you out that Saturday at 8.

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[just-a-torn-up-masterpiece]

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Let’s spread the self-love 💗

emily, i’m sorry (emily prentiss x reader, fluff & angst)

i never thought you’d happen to me (emily prentiss x reader, fluff)

not strong enough (natasha romanoff x reader, fluff)

what our shadows hide (emily prentiss x reader, 3 part dark fic)

blasphéme (priest!wanda maximoff x reader, smut)

[just-a-torn-up-masterpiece]

🖍️for the ask game for the starving lesbians out here

Post Any sentence from your wip

this is from a natasha romanoff fic 🧍

She glanced in your direction and noticed the delicious sight, licking her lips at just the imaginings of your taste; you could be so delicious on her tongue, a forbidden thing she aches to taste. She thinks of it often, prying you open to reveal each inch of ripened flesh, devouring each drop and morsel as though it were her last.

[just-a-torn-up-masterpiece]

For The asks 🤡

How many Wips are you actively working on?

um :( i went through my google docs and found 17

and to make myself look even more unorganised i have a backlog of 83 requests in my inbox

i’ll get to them i swear 🙏🙏

[just-a-torn-up-masterpiece]

🦈 for the wip ask thing!!

Tell us the name of your/ one of your WIP(s)

i hardly ever name wips buuut i do have one called ‘baby, no attachments’ (inspired by casual by chappell roan my beloved)

[just-a-torn-up-masterpiece]

An ask game for writers to procrastinate working on you WIP(s)

I am also procrastinating actually writing. If you’ve multiple works in progress you can give a different answer every time!

🦈Tell us the name of your/ one of your WIP(s)

🍄Decriscribe your wip/one of your wips in the format of “___ + ___ =___”  

🌍What tags or warnings will your / one of your wip(s) need if you intend to share it?

🧭An alternative title to your/ one of your WIP(s)?

⚠️Which wip your most likely to finish or update next?

💾What is your document of your wip/ a wip called? (not the stories actual title but what you’ve saved it as)

🖍Post Any sentence from your wip

♻️A scrapped idea for your current WIP

🤔What’s a story you’d love to write but haven’t even started yet?

🤡How many Wips are you actively working on?

🛠Is there a scene or anything in the WIP you are struggling with right now?

❤️Not a question, just a second kudos to send.

Enjoy!

[just-a-torn-up-masterpiece]

💀

tagging anyone who wants to do this 🧍

i was tagged by the always lovely @galacticwildfire to post my lockscreen / last song played / last celebrity on my phone! Thanks Ro 💜

Is anyone surprised? Be honest.

no pressure tagging @dameronalone and @yoditorian and anyone else who might want to join in on the fun 🫶

[just-a-torn-up-masterpiece]

It’s okay to need help

Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Summary: Snapping at your wife was the last thing you wanted to do, but between the pressures of financial disputes you do. You both seek to make things right.

Warnings: arguments, slight angst, hurt/comfort, this was supposed to be way more angsty but I’m weak. Wife Wanda fluff

Word count: 1.1k

A/n: Honestly just a short little drabble and writing practice, I might do more writing prompts. This little thing took a toll on me and I’m suffering through writers block 😞 reblogs are SUPER appreciated please yall 🙏

Your eyes burned and you weren’t sure if it was from the dim kitchen lighting or the tears prickling inside you. 

Papers were messily scattered across the table, their contents a jumbled blur that you couldn’t bring yourself to focus on. Not while your mind was elsewhere—with Wanda.

Wanda who wasn’t sitting with you like she always was when going over expenses, stroking your shoulders to relieve some of the tension, laying her head to rest on you while her lips pressed delicately against your cheek. You missed your wife, by gods you did. But you were stubborn.

Instead of apologizing, you’d gaze over longingly hoping she’d somehow see you—read your mind and spare you just one look, but her attention remained focused on the television, curled into the couch; playing her comfort show. 

It drove you crazy how desperately you wanted her to see you, but you knew that wasn’t fair of you to ask.

Arguments with Wanda felt like the ground crumbling beneath your feet, threatening to swallow you whole at any moment. The sight of her tear-stained cheeks tore at your soul, and you hated the way it was your fault. Hurting her was a vow you promised never to make, but relationships wouldn’t be without their faults, no matter how hard one tried.

In those initial months of calling Wanda your wife, every moment felt like peaceful bliss, a love so pure you thought how could loving her possibly be a sin in God’s eyes? Then the bliss turned to ignorance, somewhere along the lines.

Fights became frequent, and crying did too. 

And hell, you figured maybe after marriage there wouldn’t be so many. For years, you shared a room in the compound, and you knew each other's routines by heart, you knew Wanda. But in the compound, there weren't any expenses, not like now, now that you were sitting at the kitchen island with an abundance of bills that only seemed to keep stacking up. And up. And up. 

Waves of stress fell on your shoulders as you stared, wondering how you got into this financial state. Never had you once felt as useless as you had now and it was only digging into you further, on the verge of crushing the sanctuary you had built with Wanda; that was threatening to crumble, and you knew you couldn’t do this anymore. Not when your heart ached so badly for your wife.

Setting aside your previous frustrations, you pushed your chair out and let the papers fall from your hands, figuring you’d deal with them later. You sucked in a breath, trying to regain some composure but with Wanda? Collecting yourself was pretty impossible. 

Crossing the living room you cautiously approached your wife, slowly sitting beside her but still she didn’t turn to acknowledge you. She lay with her back facing you, tucked into a small crimson blanket. 

You smiled fondly, recalling how you had gotten the blanket because it reminded you of her, one that she promptly stole, with the excuse of it smelling like you bringing her solace when you weren’t around. The sight of her like this shattered your heart. 

With a sigh, you inched closer until you were pressed against her back. When she didn’t tense, you wrapped your arm around her waist, pulling her close. Wanda sighed as you peppered kisses against her skin, first on her cheek and then her neck. The act wasn’t sexual of any kind, but loving lingering ones you knew she loved, needed, and craved after every argument.

Knowing that she preferred your touch, you gave yourself to her, smiling when her fingers interlaced with yours. She still needed you just as much as you needed her. 

A beat of silence passed as you relaxed further into each other, and your eyes momentarily strayed away from the TV to shift into a seated position. You knew you had to say something before things got harder. 

Before Wanda could question you spoke up: 

“I’m sorry Wanda, I never meant for things to get so…heated.” You murmured sincerely, running your fingers through the loose strands of her hair and Wanda sighed.  

Leaning against your side, Wanda mimicked your position, bringing her knees to her chest. 

She gave you a halfhearted smile. “I’m sorry too, I should’ve come to you first before calling Tony for money this month. I messed up.”

You denied it with your head, bringing her into a warm embrace, and kissing the crown of her head. “No no, you did nothing wrong. Your intentions were good and I shouldn’t have shouted that way. I just…it’s difficult for me, you know?” Your explanation came slowly, averting her gaze, and Wanda gripped your shirt tighter. “I don’t like asking for help.” 

The confession fell flat on your lips, leaving a bitter aftertaste in your mouth and you felt silly. But instead of ridicule, you were met with the soft touch of Wanda’s hands, cupping your cheeks as if to reassure your embarrassment. Her thumbs felt good on your skin and slowly coaxed you to look at her.  

You opened your mouth to speak but before you got the chance Wanda was bringing your lips together in a slow tender kiss and you sighed. No matter how long you lived you were certain of one thing: you’d never tire of the feeling of Wanda’s lips on yours. 

When the need for air became overwhelming, you reluctantly broke the kiss, shivering at her touch. Her forehead resting on yours, breath fanning your lips. 

“It’s okay to need help, detka, and we need help.” She affirmed, gently squeezing your hands while stealing kisses between each word till your frown disappeared. 

You rolled your eyes affectionately at her actions, not being able to frown anymore and finally pulling her into a longer kiss, something you both craved.

“I’ll talk to Tony tomorrow.” You tell her, and her lips purse in hesitation.

“Dorogaya…if you’re not ready—“

“I’m ready Wanda, I don’t want to be worrying about how much we spend anymore. I want to focus on more important things, like us. I mean you still want kids right?” You asked tentatively and Wanda stifled a laugh at how stiffened you were. 

“Yes Y/n, I still want kids with you.” Wanda chuckled softly, shaking her head. “But I’m serious, and kids are far from where we are now. Are you absolutely sure?” 

“I’m sure.” You nodded. 

Still, Wanda pulled away from you, studying your expression. When she found nothing, she softened, giving you a supportive nod and a big grin. Your smile widened, and you advanced on her the next second earning a squeal, peppering her face with kisses and laughing along with her.

All you could think of was how grateful you were to have a wife like her. 

Change was hard but with Wanda, the weight felt easier to carry, and with time you’d learn you wouldn’t have to bear that alone anymore. There were still things you had to fix and you wouldn’t rest until you made things right with your wife but for now, you had a phone call to make. Within weeks you’d be changing jobs and attitudes. Things wouldn’t always be an easy route but you’d sure as hell try harder. For her.

[just-a-torn-up-masterpiece]

typing “me n who?” knowing that i am difficult and unlovable

[just-a-torn-up-masterpiece]

hc! married life

lucy maclean x fem!reader

summary: meeting lucy + being married to her

warnings: lucy is a dork, established relationship, its 2296-2300ish, it takes place after fallout finale and things get better after it, nothing but fluff and a married couple doing cute shit, no nsfw but mentions of it, quick cannibalism mentions (uh…), wasteland and life outside the vault brief mentions, reader wasn't born in the vault, not proofread, silly plot

when you first met lucy, you found her in the old antique store. you were talking to the not so nice lady that owned the place when you saw her step inside with an inquisitive gaze, observing a bunch of what it looked like junk to you. it was almost hilarious seeing a young woman wearing that goofy ass blue and yellow jumpsuit.

you were leaning against the wall in the corner, listening to all of her chattering about vault-tec. it sounded like nothing but utterly tedious

"it would be safe to assume that you do business with criminals. not judging you. don’t imagine there’s that many other options up here." blissfully unaware of the death stare coming from that lady, she boldly muttered and it immediately made you step out of the corner you were hiding in to save her

"she doesn't mean that! she's new here, sorry." you jump in, forced to intervene, touching lucy's shoulder and giving them a light squeeze. she furrowed her brows in response with your disapproving glance. “wha- who are you? i was just talking about the equipments!”

pulling her away from the place, you hear the hoarse voice behind you saying "fucking vault dweellers."

it didn't take longer than a day for you two to be friends. sharing stupid stories from her vault, fun facts, and learning about each other's life and family was one of the things that you bonded over

while you two were outside once, walking together by the wrecked lanes of what los angeles used to be, and lucy began to talk about her life in the vault and you were more than impressed and in disbelief of how naive vault dweellers could be

"wait, what do you mean?" your face twists at the second you heard lucy saying that the guy she married was an outsider that was responsible for killing half of her vault. "how can you married someone you've never met?"

"well, you see, when you marry someone from another vault, usually it comes with benefits! we gave them seeds and parts for machinery and they offered us a breeder!" lucy explains it all like the good teacher she is, assertively nodding with shoulders back

you forced yourself to repress a laugh by looking the other way, and she immediately noticed and questioned you incredulously but you knew her too well already to notice that she wasn't mad. "what is it?!"

"you people marry strangers for seeds and to have kids? that sounds... miserable. what if they are awful people or outsiders like that guy?"

"okay, when you say it like that..." she loses her shoulders, brushing her confidence away, gulping and chuckling awkwardly. "but you are an outsider. and you aren't that bad."

"careful there. it makes you sound like you are very found of the outsider here, lucy maclean." you stare back at her and see a tender smirk peeking onto her lips. her body slightly leaning against yours, and a soft gaze that swiftly averted when you caught her. she didn't deny it though, you thought

it took her one kiss to invite you to live with her after your mission was done and you gladly accepted.

the invitation was up even after all the truth about her dad. after all the traumatic experience, on the way to your new home, you never left her alone not even for a second. you were always holding hands, sharing glances, leaning against each other and making her giggle as you were losing the track of how many times you kissed her face

in the vault, after everything was settled, you had all the time in the world to take care of her and learn about each other. you would spend hours running your fingers through her hair, listening to whatever she said and playing with her fingers while holding her hand. you would let her talk about all the memories with her family and carefully laugh along or comfort her when needed

you knew that you couldn't erase her bad memories from what had happened but you could create new ones and you focused on that

it was about time when she proposed to you, stuttering, crying and using a bunch of silly expressions like "holy moly" or "jeepers creepers"??!

don't get me started on the honeymoon. yes, you were living in a giant metal capsule but you could swear that as soon as you left the room after days, you were able to breathe fresh air.

lucy wasn’t exactly the easiest person to appease. especially not after finally seeing through the entire “breed” thing that everyone in the vault worshipped so much and experiencing what actually love could be. turns out that sex isn’t something people do just to have kids and “recolonize” the earth, after all

strongly believe that she would be such a loud and whiny girl when you touch her. even the slightest graze would make her legs tremble and she would go like 🥺

"wanna cook together?" "wanna go gardening?" "wanna watch a movie?" "hi, princess, wanna read something together?" "teach me your repair skills?" and her answer would always be "okey dokey" and a huge smile

your favorite part about gardening was to plant food and use it for dinner as you cooked together. and by that, it meant that you would cook while she was happily seating following you around with a cooking book giving you orders like a princess

in other times, you were proud to distract her on purpose by hugging her waist from behind, whispering sweet nothings into her ear. reasonable to assume that the entire room would smell like smoke as she cried at the sight of you on her knees and between her legs, eating her out

when it came to help around the vault, you were a great teacher along with your wife, making sure that all the facts were correct but in a less traumatizing way in order to not scare all the kids with “yeah, so basically all my family got killed by explosions but, hey, i’m here now!”

after a long day, watching movies was your favorite thing to do. one night, when discussing all the different genres of movies that lucy had never seen, you mentioned a specific one

“you know, my grandma used to tell me about this really weird show from the 2020’s where some creepy teenage girls ate each other after crashing into the wilderness.” and lucy’s face goes pale, looking like 😦

“golly gee… i hate it up there.”

[just-a-torn-up-masterpiece]

Vault Dweller's guide to perpetuating America:

Lucy Maclean x Fem!reader

Summary: Lucy is getting married and reader is forced to watch. but vault tech never planned for the inevitability of Sapphics…

Content: Fluff and angst, systematic homophobia, happy ending, no use of y/n

Authors note: Let me know if you want more of this or have any prompts to send it :)

Word count: 3.1K

Gay people were not a thing according to Vault Tech. They did not add to the breading pool, they did not fit into the nuclear future, they simply did not fit in the vault. Unlike sperm, cola, and corn, homosexuals did not play a key part in perpetuating the American dream. This was a good enough explanation for anyone willing to enquire (and enquire they had in the early years of Vault 33), but overall, as the years of confinement and isolation dragged on, and marriage for the sake of breading continued, homosexuality was quite simply... forgotten.

Rely on a schooling system created by greying, rich, white men to eradicate historical depictions of minorities. Education in the vaults was about the great west, cowboys, the splitting of the atom, the creation of the commonwealths, and the importance of capitalism; education was certainly not for understanding the distant Stonewall riots or the ancient tunes of "Freddy Mercury". heck! This was the new world! a once in a lifetime opportunity to reshape society! If Vault Tech could systematically remove a section of society that could not reproduce and thus could not recolonize the wasteland then they sure as hell would do just that.

Now let's be clear: Vault Tech loves and values all its customers! The fight against the Reds was the fight for American freedom, for the dream, for the nuclear family, for the blue, white, and red! America celebrates freedom for all! but even in the great year of 2077, scientists at Vault tech simply couldn't work in the variable of homosexuals into the Vault system. At least not into the control vaults. Systematic eradication is, by all means, easier than acceptance.

Vault 33! One vault in a triad with 31 and 32. A dedicated meritocracy built on the values of one's good deeds. Lucy Maclean prided herself on her merit and her ethics. She knew how to de-escalate a conflict, she knew how to stand up for her beliefs, and she knew the importance of kindness. She also knew her valuable role as a woman in the Vault 33 society.

As a woman, the daughter of the overseer, she would be a community leader, a history teacher, and maybe later in life, she would run for council. As a woman, she would also get married (preferably not to her cousin) and have little vault babies who would grow up, learn their own merit, and so on and so on. To say that Lucy was comfortable and fulfilled by this prediction of her life would be... a vast exaggeration.

Yes, she understood her importance as a potential mother! Yes, she loved and valued her community, her family, and her job. But something stopped her from becoming stagnant. Something about this perfect path she had been given just wasn't right for her. It grated at her relentlessly, a thorn in her side, a nagging hunch she couldn't shake. Surely it would change on the day of her wedding. She would meet her husband, kiss, make babies, have cake and everything would settle. The unease she felt would lessen and she would accept her designated role.

~

"I am so glad your marriage application was accepted! I just cannot wait for you to join us wives!" Steph squeaked, one hand cradling the ever-growing bump in her tummy while the other waved around to illustrate her excitement. Steph was the carbon copy of what Vault Tech stood for: she was a wife, a soon-to-be mother, smart and strong-willed. She was drop-dead gorgeous with well-maintained hygiene. when you thought of the "American dream" you thought of Stephanie Harper.

Lucy grinned back, fighting the urge to roll her eyes (eye rolling was rude and there were more effective ways to respectfully communicate your disdain).

"Oh golly! to think in a few short hours I’ll be on my way to furthering the vault's great aim!" She smiled for real this time because she knew her discomfort did not stem from contempt for motherhood.

"Oh, Lucy spare me the lewd details!" Steph giggled before winking.

"I know you don't mean that Steph. you and me both know you want as much detail as I can give." Lucy chuckled, picking at the canned tuna on her plate.

The dining area near the cornfield was particularly packed today; everyone wanted one last glimpse of Lucy Maclean before she was assigned to the ranks of wife. The stares and whispers were not unwelcome, however. They reminded her of the community that she was a part of the community she had been raised to help and to eventually add to.

"I hope he's handsome" Steph breathed, looking begrudgingly at her own husband who was standing awkwardly next to the Nuka-Cola machine with Chet. Lucy just swallowed hard and nodded. It was easier to think about the more fun parts of marriage than linger on the particulars of her mystery partner.

She was grateful for the marriage of course. It meant an excuse to cut things off with Chet who had been steadily grating on her nerves since she was 15 (he seemed to love her and no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't begin to think of him like that in return. his warm body was truly his only perk.) It was also a milestone for her, a badge of honor to her community service. This is what vault tech wanted! This is what America wanted!

Lucy pushed back from her chair, suddenly feeling nauseous. 

"Lucy, are you ok? you look a little pale dear?" Betty called from the seat next to her father. At the sound of her voice, the vault dwellers looked up to find Lucy standing awkwardly by her table.

"Oh! Yes, quite alright thank you!" she shrugged, teeth glinting with faux charm. "I just... I just wanted to have a nap before it gets too chaotic." lying was wrong. You were taught that very young in Vault 33. Lucy pushed down the stab of guilt before turning on her heels towards her family's shared apartment.

~

You watched her stand up from her table with a start that made you furrow your eyebrows and look away quickly. You would never admit to anyone that you had been staring at her, but you knew you had been. She was easy to stare at! She was a figure of authority, in a sweet and slightly clumsy way. Your excuse, should anyone catch you, was simply that you admired her can-do spirit! (that wasn't a lie though you couldn't label it as the truth either).

The other part of the truth was that you had been staring at her like a lost puppy since her marriage arrangement was announced. You and Lucy's friendship was... complicated. You had grown up together (as all vault children did), and your families were close (but not related as a "fun class DNA test" had proved during your school years). things got rocky as you got older though: Lucy was outgoing, confident, and stunning. All together just all the things you wished you were. That is, not to say you weren't pretty! In fact, you had received a few proposals in the past year (mostly from an anonymous admirer you knew was Davey, and a couple from Chet after he realized things with Lucy wouldn't work out). You and Lucy where still close, and to her, probably as uncomplicated at a friendship could get!

The complication was simply that to you it had become increasingly obvious that you were desperately in love with her.

You had noticed it first when you were about 14. Lucy was stunning, having never suffered the "awkward teenager" phase of adolescence, and was quickly discovering her hypnotic power over Chet. You weren't jealous of course! at least... not at first. But then it was more than Lucy's teasing flirtation: it was kissing, it was spending time with him more than usual. Suddenly you were jealous. Jealous in a way that couldn't be explained by the "Vault-Tech: Guild to female friendships" or "Vault-Tech: female adolescence in the Vault" or even by your mother's trusty copy of "surviving the teenage years: a manual sponsored by General atomics."

It got worse when you turned 17. Sex Education was vitally important in Vault education. it prevented the spread of disease, enabled knowledgeable future mothers and fathers, and fostered respect and dignity between men and women. It was in one of these detailed lessons that you caught yourself watching Lucy's expression: laughing at times, cringing at the birth diagrams, blushing at parts with a quick side eye to you. 

The realization hit you like a ton of bricks as your eyes fluttered to her lips and lingered there for a moment too long. It hit you again at 18 during your "prom" when Lucy danced with you slowly as the light from the 2.5D Telesonic projector scattered across her cheekbones and lit up her doe-eyes. you remember almost pushing her away from the force of it. The force of the feeling, the emotion, the unholy urge to press your lips to hers that caught you like a punch.

That night you had curled in a ball and prayed. you did not know who "god" was, but you'd heard about him in class before. You prayed to him to make you a boy, to change your emotions, to make things make sense again. Your mother had stroked your hair, not truly understanding your grief but accepting it and holding it for you like only a mother can.

In your world of perfect underground utopia, the truest sorrow you had ever felt was the realization that you loved Lucy Maclean.

~

It took you a split second to stand up and follow Lucy out of the atrium. A second in which your mind reeled and hesitated sickeningly before you shut it up. Lucy was your friend, and she needed you now. Your footsteps echoed down the hall as you took the familiar path along the "street" toward Lucy's home. The door was only just sliding shut as you reached it and you rushed to duck under.

Lucy was where you expected her to be: knees to her chest, curled up on the sofa. Her hands were clenched in front of her, and her eyes were set at some point just beyond the "radiation king" television set that was blasting its usual nature documentary. She didn't look up as you entered, but the slight dip in her shoulders told you that she knew you were there.

"Lucy?" you called quietly, kneeling on the rug near her. she turned to you slowly and smiled politely as she was raised to.

"hey" she muttered, clearly trying to keep her tone cheerful.

you fixed her a look before sitting softly next to her on the sofa. She remained in her tight ball.

"pre-wedding nerves?" you asked, ignoring the lump that formed just next to your heart at the thought of Lucy's marriage. You watched her expression for confirmation, but it never came. Instead, she furrowed her brows and looked back at the nothing behind the TV.

"I'm sure everyone gets nervous before their wedding Lucy. Steph could tell you a million stories of her 'pre-wedding wobbles'" you chuckled, remembering Stephs wedding day not long ago.

"Its... it's not that." Lucy finally responded, tightening her grip around her legs.

"Then wha-"

"What if I don't want this... Like I thought I did" she blurted, the words mushing together as she fought to get them out of her mouth. You pursed your lips, desperate for her to continue. After a moment of silence, she started again, quieter and more measured.

"I feel so... Wrong. and I don't know-" she cut herself off, swallowed, and began again, "I don't want what Steph has anymore." 

"What? the wedding? I'm sure your father would agree to a smaller celebration if you told him! I think he just likes to make a fuss of you."

Lucy shook her head. Finally, she let her legs fall away from her chest as she turned to face you with a dramatic sigh.

"I've always been so certain. and now... well I am certain but just not of the things I should be." She shut her eyes, needing to get away from your face for a moment. The lessons flashed in front of her eyes in quick succession: reclamation day, the purpose of the vaults, reproduction, male anatomy, romance, how to be a wife, the American dream. It flashed and flashed and then sank into her gut like an over-set Jello cake. 

You watched her face shift from carefully masked to strangely tortured and back again before she opened her eyes once more. how you missed those eyes in that moment you couldn't see them.

She reached forward and held your hand, her finders dusting over yours curiously as if she was handling some strange new specimen. she'd held your hand before, countless times in the 20 years you'd known each other; and yet her fingers felt tentative in a way they hadn't before.

"Lucy... it's ok to be scared, it's ok to feel unsure. heck, you know I spend most of my time feeling unsure." you cast her a weak smile, "I know you, and I know you will be an amazing bride to whoever you marry. You'll be a perfect wife; you’ll be an amazing mother and one day I know you'll make an amazing overseer as well. And Lucy? even if it feels hard, you know I'll always be here." You had long ago settled into your role of best friend, nothing more. You would be there, and you would love her (in a way approved by social expectations).

Lucy stayed quiet for a long time, still slowly tracing over your fingers with her own. It had clocked for her the moment you had entered the room after her dramatic exit from the atrium. she wasn't unsure, she wasn't uncertain. I fact, she felt as though she had never been more certain in her whole life.

Maybe it had started when she was 12, when you had helped her take her first ever stimpack: holding the needle steady, wiping her eyes with your own hand and giving her a little Vault-Boy band-aid to cover the little hole. 

Maybe it had started when she was 15 and getting a steady stream of attention from boys (mostly Chet) and could only watch your disdained reaction to her suitors. Even then she had a hunch that she cared more about your opinion on her "boyfriends" than the boys themselves.

Maybe it was when she was 18, pulling you through a maintenance tunnel by your hand with a high-pitched giggle and a determination to find a good meeting place for when you no longer had school to attend. She remembers your initial reluctance, followed by rebellious cheek that pushed you both further into the guts of the vault than you had planned on. She remembers the oil that had got on your face that she insisted on wiping away herself.

She tore her eyes away from your hands and stared at you with all the intensity and authority that the overseer’s daughter should possess.

"I’m not scared. and golly I feel about as far from unsure as a girl can be." her hands tightened around yours. "This vault... we are told what we do and what we feel. heck, they even tell us who we should marry! Maybe I'm being silly but that doesn't fit into the 'American dream' they are always yammering on about!" her voice rose had she got more passionate. you watched her with a mix of shock and awe (an emotion you often felt yourself feeling when you were around her)

"I've always nodded along to what they've told us! who am I to doubt the rules?" she continued, her eyes never leaving yours, "but this marriage... I don't want that!" she concluded with a huff, finally blinking and pursing her lips as if she'd suddenly gotten shy.

It was your turn to reach out to her now, freeing one of your hands from her grip and placing it softly on her shoulder. you put on a calm expression, but your heart betrayed you: beating rapidly as if trying to escape its spot behind your ribs.

"What is it you want if not the marriage?" you whispered, feeling the moments fragility.

a beat.

Lucy sighed, stealing herself. her eyes were no longer full of angry passion, but rather softer, watery. her expression seemed to mirror the way you knew you were looking at her.

"I think- no, I know... Gosh, I want you so badly" she breathed. 

Another war could have started and ended, and you wouldn't have noticed. The air stilled despite the constant circulation of the vents and the clock on the wall must have stopped ticking. Silence, a long silence that must have only spanned a fraction of a second.

Her words, like the flash of light as a fission reaction begins, followed by a lull followed by...

You launched forward before Lucy could hesitate, before you could leave her hanging, before she could dare think that you didn't want her back. her lips touched yours and it reminded you of the desperate prayers you used to send to the man called "god" (you thanked him now that he never changed you). There were no fireworks like the books said, no large, forced explosion, no splitting of an atom. Instead, it felt... inevitable, like the slow decay of an element, like aging gracefully, like coming home.

Her lips slotted against yours perfectly, softly and she gasped as she kissed you back. you kissed not for the purpose of "perpetuating America" or building the next generation of vault dwellers, but simply because you wanted to. 

She pulled back after a while, bleary eyes and pink-cheeked with a grin that made your heart grow.

"I did... know we could..." she let out before laughing, one hand covering her mouth while the other found its way to the side of your face where it lingered. You laughed too, sides splitting and eyes watering.

"Who the hell cares" you spluttered between laughs, leaning into Lucys hand.

"If it wasn't clear... I want you to. in a um... kissing way"

"Oh really? I wouldn't have guessed" she drawled playfully, "well then... I think we have a wedding to wreck."

"What will you tell them?"

She shrugged and scooched a little closer. "That's a future Lucy problem. Current Lucy is preoccupied..." She smiled at you in a manner that was really more of a smirk.

You had barely enough time to squeak out a rather excited "Okey Dokey" before it was her turn to shut you up with a kiss.

[just-a-torn-up-masterpiece]