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spaceclefairy · 15 hours

Text

Only You

You don't expect the Ghoul to hang around, but he comes creepin' back in around sundown every night. You're glad you remembered the Rad-Away.

Act I | Act II | Act III | Ao3 Compilation

You're stuck in Filly for the next few days while you sort out the raider issue with your agency. You assume “sorting it out” involves the agency terminating the raiders with characteristic violence and aplomb, but you don’t ask questions when you don’t want to know the answer.

There’s not a lot of lodging in Filly. In fact, there’s not much of anything. Ramshackle trader stalls, a few real stores if you squint, a radroach-infested motel, and a bar that most of the town seemed to frequent once the hour struck late no matter the day. At least the bar has enough open rooms to let you rent one for a few nights.

You hadn't expected the Ghoul to stick around, but so far, he continues to show up. He disappears during the day, then returns long after dark and crawls into the small barroom bed with you. You don't ask him what he gets up to during the day (you don't want to know), but you assume he's taking care of smaller contracts while he's out.

You've been spending your days at the agency hub taking down telegrams for contracts and sending out bids. It's mind numbing work when you're used to dealing with bounty hunters all day, but you've got to do something while you wait for the agency to give you the okay to go back home. You need money, and you’ll probably go nuts if you don’t keep yourself busy.

At least you've got the chance to see some old acquaintances at the agency hub. A couple of former bounty hunters who'd come through your office were now agents at the hub. They're alright, as far as wastelanders go; you hang around with them when you take breaks.

Today’s smoke break has more or less turned into gossip time. You’re happy to listen in on any and all gossip (it’s part of your job, after all) - it’s less enjoyable when the questions turn to you.

One of them, a woman whose teeth were file-sharpened into fangs (creatively named Fang), lives above the bar down the hall from you. She's good natured, if quite terrifying. She leans against the crumbling concrete wall of the hub, taking a drag on a little paper cylinder that smells suspiciously like burning catnip. “I saw that ghoul you came into town with last night. Is he staying with you?”

You nod slowly. “Yeah.”

You’re not inclined to expound upon her question, but she lives down the hall from you. She’s obviously seen the Ghoul creeping into your room at night (he’s not exactly quiet, either), hence the question.

The other, an individual with - conversely - no teeth to speak of (again, creatively named Gums - fuckin’ wastelanders), chimes in. “You're staying with a ghoul?”

“Yeah-”

Fang interrupts you. “And not just a ghoul. The Ghoul.”

“The Ghoul? As in…” Gums raises a sparse, flakey eyebrow. You nod, and they whistle. “Nice. How'd you bag that?”

“Longtime client,” you reply simply. You don’t know Gums as well as you do Fang, but they seem harmless enough. “He got caught in the gunfight when the raiders showed up at my office.”

You neglect to tell them he'd started the gunfight. The less they know, the better.

“Not bad. You could do worse,” Fang observes. “Does his dick look like the rest of him?”

You nod. “Yep.”

Gums grins. “Cool.”

Your break turns into playing hooky the rest of the day, mostly because you don’t want to field any more questions from anyone who’d seen you walking around with the Ghoul. You make yourself scarce for the rest of the day, choosing to wander around town. You haven't been to Filly in years, not since you were a kid. It hasn't changed much. There's still the same derelict bars, saloons, and stores. There's more than one bounty agency here, too, though you don't know which ones. You're only concerned with yours.

Sundown slides over the town by the time you head back over to the bar for the night. Everyone’s locked down and boarded up their places of business, the street vendors have all scattered. You know that Filly after sundown is not a great place to be, but you can hold your own if the need arises.

You're in the mood for a drink tonight, and frankly, there's nothing else to do in Filly after dark that won’t get you shot. When you step into the dingy bar, you make your way up to the bartender and grab a beer. It’s watery and gross-looking, but it smells like beer and you can’t be picky out here in the wasteland.

When you turn around to find somewhere to sit, you spot the Ghoul watching you from a back corner of the bar. You're surprised he’s back by sundown - he’d been rolling in late into the night, long after the moon had risen into the sky. You take your beer and skirt around the chairs and tables littering the bar.

He cocks his head and watches you approach. He's got a half-full beer mug in one hand - evidence he's been back for a while. He doesn't give you a chance to grab another chair when you reach him. He wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you down into his lap.

If you didn't know how much booze it takes to affect a ghoul, you'd assume your Ghoul was drunk, but he's not. He just doesn't seem to care that the few patrons of the bar have their eyes trained on the two of you. Of all the things you expect him to be, possessive is not one - or maybe he is possessive, and this is his warning to the other patrons. You don't care which, and you’re not inclined to give it further thought. Rather, you're distracted by his hand squeezing the top of your thigh.

The Ghoul takes a drink of his beer and rests the glass on your knee. “Any word on the raiders?”

“Other than, it's being handled, no,” you reply. You force your brain to focus away from his hand on your thigh. You don’t want to admit to yourself that’s all it takes for him to get you going. “My agency isn't exactly forthcoming about what goes on behind the scenes.”

“No, they're quiet about how dangerous they are, and they like to keep it that way,” he agrees. He pauses, and grins slightly. “Kind of like you. You're a hell of shot with that rifle.”

Compliments from him are few and far-between - forward compliments at least. He’s far more show than tell. You’re… flattered, actually, that he’s paid attention to you beyond just physically. You know he has, but it’s nice to hear it.

Again, you suspect you may actually like the Ghoul.

“Can't be a bounty agent if you haven't been a bounty hunter before,” you shrug. “I've had plenty of practice.”

He takes a drink of his beer, and says, so, so quietly, “Ditch the agency and come with me. Be a bounty hunter again.”

You raise an eyebrow. He's not serious, surely.

“I like what I do now, Cooper,” you reply softly. “But my door's always open.”

He nods. “Fair enough.”

The Ghoul returns to people-watching in silence, sipping on his beer and continuously making you more and more nervous with his hand on your thigh. He's taken to rubbing circles into your thigh with his thumb, and he keeps getting closer and closer to the space between your legs. He's not being even remotely inconspicuous, either. More than one person in the bar has caught on to what’s going on in the back corner, if the odd looks you’re getting tell you anything.

You don't try to make him stop (you don’t think you’re capable of asking him to stop), but you do lean back against his shoulder and press your lips to his ear. “You're gonna do this here?”

He looks you dead in the eye. “I'll fuck you right here in this chair with every single person watchin’.”

Yeah, no, he's serious on that one. You can see it in his eyes. Actually, you can feel his dick pressed against the back of your leg, too.

You blink. “We should probably go upstairs now.”

He chugs the rest of his beer, then pats your leg, motioning for you to stand up. “Should have already gone upstairs.”

You don't disagree. In fact, you don't think you could have stood up any faster.

The Ghoul looks you up and down with that grin on his face before following you up the stairs. You don't quite make it back to your room before he’s grabbing at you by the waist and pulling you close. He traps you against the wall, body pressing down on you, completely irreverent of anyone walking down the hallway behind you. You grab his face and kiss him; his raw skin is chapped, but soft and cool against yours. The brim of his hat knocks against the top of your head, but you don’t care.

You scramble to find your door key in your back pocket and only just manage to get your hands on it. You can’t quite manage to get the key in the lock, so he takes a break from what he’s doing (grabbing your tits under your shirt) to take it from you and jam it into the door.

The Ghoul kicks the doors closed behind him with the heel of his boot. The force shakes dust from the walls and kicks dirt up from the floor. With a single-mindedness that takes your breath away, he backs you up to the tiny bed shoved up against the back wall and drops down to his knees.

He strips your pants and underwear down your legs, then prompts you to sit down with a hand on your stomach. As much as you like when he tries to have a little patience, you like it this way more - sloppy, breathless, a little desperate for you. A starving man eating his first meal in days.

With a tug, he drags your hips over to the edge of the bed and sets to work with his tongue. You prop yourself up on your elbows to watch and busy yourself picking open the buttons of your shirt with shaking fingers. You shrug out of your shirt, leaving yourself completely exposed. He hasn't even taken off his hat yet, but you take care of that for him and drop it onto your head.

The Ghoul looks up at you and pauses his ministrations, licking his lips in thought.

You shrug. “The hat was in the way.”

He doesn't respond, choosing to set his mouth back to better purposes, but he keeps his eyes trained up on your face while he sticks his tongue in your cunt. He's sloppy about it, spreading your lips with his gloved thumbs so he can get better access to you. You buck up against his face, and he doesn't stop you - no, he buries his tongue deeper between your legs and lets you ride his face, all the while still looking up at you with those bright hazel eyes.

Finally, it hits you, and you grin like you've won the damn lottery. “You like me wearing your hat, Cooper?”

He nips your inner thigh with his teeth, making you jump, and sets back to sucking your clit. You take that as a warning not to tease him, but it's so much more fun to know his mouth is too full of you to tease you back.

You don't stop teasing him, knowing full well it's just going to rile him up. “Why don't you come up here so I can ride your face properly, cowboy? I've got the hat to fit the part.”

The Ghoul has had enough of the gloves obstructing his ability to feel your skin. He stops long enough to strip them off, stick a finger in his mouth to coat it with his spit, and press his finger deep into your entrance. You choke on the fullness, the sensation rough but not unwelcome.

“Well, don't get quiet on me now,” he says.

You stutter, but he can absolutely understand you when you say, “I like riding your face when you're on your knees, too.”

He spreads you apart and licks you, slow and deep, chasing the path of his fingers. He watches you while he does it, eyes never leaving yours. “Is that right?”

You nod. “Sure is.”

You lean over where you sit, where he's still on his knees on the floor, and unbutton his shirt. You expect him to tell you to stop - there's more light in the room this time, after all - but he doesn't. He shrugs his duster and shirt down over his shoulders and lets them hit the floor. This time, you can really see what he looks like. Raw, pitted skin, mostly red but pink-white in places where old scars have healed over time and again, build slight but still muscular. He seems to be waiting for you to pull back, recoil away - stop in your tracks. You grab his face and kiss him, then pull him to his feet.

You pull him closer by his belt before that comes off, too. Boots and pants next, dropped carelessly to the floor. You take a minute to look and touch, run your hands over exposed skin, and he sighs softly at your touch.

“Look at you, Cooper,” you say. “Aren’t you a sight?”

“You are fuckin’ strange,” the Ghoul comments, but it’s with affection. His version of affection, anyway.

“Yeah,” you shoot back with a grin, “but I don't hear you complaining.”

You take his cock in hand and run your tongue along the vein underneath, making him twitch. You swallow him down, fisting what doesn’t fit in your mouth, until he’s threading his fingers through your hair and pulling you off of him.

The Ghoul deems that to be the extent of what he can take from you. You’re on your back with him crawling over you before your brain registers that he’s moved. He smashes his lips down over yours while his hands creep up along your sides. He wastes no time reaching between your legs and running the head of his cock along your slit. Not for the first time, you marvel at how much you prefer the roughness over his attempts to be patient.

You’ve teased him long enough, you decide, so you wrap your legs around his waist and arch up against him. “Come on, Coop -”

He obliges and thrusts into you, planting one hand next to your head for leverage. The other hand catches your chin and holds you steady while he fucks you. You meet his eyes, and the way he watches you - like it’s a privilege to touch you - makes you ache.

You nudge him with your hip until he rolls on his back. You slide him back inside, hissing at the returning fullness, and grind down on him with your hands on his chest. He wraps his hands around your thighs, squeezing so hard you're sure you'll find new bruises come morning.

You like watching him from up here. The way his jaw clenches, when his head lolls back in response to whatever you're doing, the way his mouth parts in a semi-attempt to say your name or give you direction - it captivates you. You like when he’s speechless - when he can’t pull himself together long enough to tease you.

The Ghoul can feel your hips stutter when you move, grinding down harder each time for any little extra bit of friction. His thumb finds you clit and presses circles into you relentlessly, letting you use the palm of his hand to find the friction you need.

“Go ahead,” he says, breathless, “come on my cock, babydoll.”

You do, with a hand on his chest and the other hand on his wrist, holding him close and steady. It rolls down your back, down your thighs, all the way out to your fingertips, like the wasteland air burning underneath your skin. Your nails bite into his wrist, and that makes him smile - a real grin, not the smug skeleton grin you’re used to getting from him. You return it.

When the Ghoul comes, he wraps an arm around your back to keep you steady and holds you flush against his chest. You sigh at the touch of his skin against yours, his chest pressed against yours, your nipples prickling against him. You take it as he comes, grinding down on him when he fills you up. You wrap your arms around his neck and bury your face into his shoulder, teeth grazing his raw skin.

The usual question of radaway? doesn't come this time. You’re not concerned, and neither is he; the dose you took that morning would still be enough.

The Ghoul scoops you up into his side when he’s come back to his senses and rolls you onto your back. You wrap your arms around him and trail a finger down the back of his neck, just barely scratching at his skin with your nails. He burrows his face into your soft chest (the lack of nose is helpful in this regard) and closes his eyes.

After a few minutes, you say, “You know, I’ve liked you since the first time you walked into my office.”

The Ghoul glances up at you before closing his eyes again. “Can’t imagine why.”

“You were all business,” you reply. “I respect that.”

The Ghoul is quiet for a while, long enough you think he’s gone to sleep, but he answers. “Weird way to tell someone you like ‘em.”

You snort. “I’m trying to be nice, dickhead.”

You can feel him grinning against your skin. “Well, baby, that’s on you.”

You shake your head and roll your eyes. “I’ll kick your ass out of this bed.”

“Sure you will,” he replies. “Just remember that when you roll over and grab me like you did this morning.”

#the ghoul x reader #the ghoul x fem!reader #fallout the ghoul #cooper howard x reader #cooper howard x fem!reader #fallout amazon #fallout tv series

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snitchcrimsonwrites · 2 days

Text

Maybe pt. 11

Pairing: Norm MacLean X Female Reader or OC if you squint

Former friends to a relationship?

Life is pretty easy in Vault 33 until you're trying to rekindle a former friendship and Raiders attack. Now, our main characters are trying to navigate newfound feelings, all while undercovering the mysteries of Vault 33. Stay tuned. Follows the main storyline of season 1; some events may be reordered for plot.

We continue our field trip to Vault 32 and then join our couple as they wrestle with big feelings and new revelations from exploring Vault 32.

Part 1 Here Part 6 Here Part 12 Here

Part 2 Here Part 7 Here

Part 3 Here Part 8 Here

Part 4 Here Part 9 Here

Part 5 Here Part 10 Here

The further you walked down the corridors, the more questions you had and the fewer answers you seemed to find. What truth had these people uncovered? Was it enough to justify the madness that clearly occurred here? The gruesome scenes of death, violence, and despair laid out before you were something you were taught to expect of the surface, not the supposed safety of the trio of Vaults. With every step, it became apparent that the real threat, at least to the dwellers of Vault 32, was within the Vault. We were supposed to be safe down here.

Your path down the hallway was continuously littered with overturned furniture and debris, creating a maze of obstacles, which Norm dotingly still offered to help you navigate. The three of you continued this way until you entered the waiting area before the Overseer's office. The space was darker than the hallway outside. Glows from hanging Pip-Boys cast an eerie light in the otherwise dark room. You paused, unable to stop yourself from staring at the bodies hanging from the ceiling; you wondered what had led these people to make such a drastic choice.

The main door to the Overseer's office was opened just enough for you to slide under on your stomach. You and Norm simultaneously dropped to the floor and began making your way through the gap. Chet made his disdain known with an "Oh, geez," but you urged him to press forward; he wouldn’t be left alone in any room in Vault 32. You crawled through a mess of scattered paperwork and broken glass on the floor, trying your best to avoid any more injuries. You emerge on the other side of the door in the Overseer’s office, identical in layout to one Overseer MacLean occupied in Vault 33, but this office had definitely seen better days. The Overseer’s office was in a state similar of neglect and disarray to the rest of the Vault, with overturned furniture, limited power, and blood spattered across the walls. You nearly jumped out of your skin when your eyes panned across Overseer’s desk in the middle of the room. Behind his desk, the rotting remains of the last Overseer, still at his post, bound in place by electrical cords.

"Okay, I think it's safe to say they went bananas," Chet remarked, his voice tinged with unease. Horrified but still focused on the main quest at hand, Norm said, "That doesn't explain how the raiders got in." He turned to you, pointing to equipment on the right wall. "Check the mainframe terminals and see what you can find.” He looped around to the Overseer's terminal behind the desk. “I’ll see what I can find on the Overseer’s terminal.”

The silence of the Vault was broken by the occasional clicking of the keyboards; Chet continued pacing around the room while you focused on the task. His Pip-Boy illuminated the office's far left wall, highlighting another set of words written in blood: "Death to Management." Seeing the phrase, he doubled down on his earlier statement. "These people were crazy. If any survivors were down here, they probably opened the door and welcomed the raiders right in."

You looked up from your attempts at unlocking the terminals to respond. "I don't know. These people were basically us at one point; I think something must have happened to make them go mad.”

“Seriously, what on Earth would make you- Chet stopped, not wanting to utter the next words- do any of this?” he finished, gesturing towards the scenes in the Vault.

Not having an answer, you continued plugging away at the keyboard, trying to figure out the series of access codes that would grant you entrance to the mainframe systems. As you typed, the terminal screen sputtered, struggling to run without power; any progress you had made was now reset. Frustrated, you said, "I'm not having much luck here."

Norm continued typing on the Overseer's terminal, seemingly having better luck. He scrolled through the logs, searching for clues about how the raiders had gotten into Vault 32. The computer commands appeared in green text across the screen: Accessing Vault Door Control Interlink. His nimble fingers moved quickly as he entered more commands, looking for the external vault door logs. His expression turned to surprise as he read the information on the screen. "It says it was opened from the outside."

You stopped and turned towards him. "How did they manage that?"

Chet added, "They would need a Pip-Boy to open the door."

Norm's face was pale as he answered. "They had one."

Chet's confusion was evident. "Whose?"

Norm's voice was barely a whisper. "My mom's."

On the screen, in highlighted green text, was the name MacLean, Rose. You all stood around Norm, too stunned to speak. The room seemed to close around you, the weight of the discovery pressing down heavily.

_________________________

The two of you entered his quarters and found a silent space on the couch. The stillness was almost suffocating, neither of you daring to break it. Your head was spinning with questions and theories. What exactly had happened in Vault 32 before the raiders arrived? And why did the MacLeans seem to be at the center? You had been unsure how to bring it up to Norm, curious why the raiders had targeted his father of all people, capturing him without any ransom or demands. It had seemed odd to you at the time, but you were sure now it had to be connected; you just couldn’t see the threads yet. And now, for his mom's Pip-Boy to be the one that allowed surface dwellers access to the vault, this couldn’t be a coincidence.

You pulled yourself from your thoughts and focused on the young man before you. He had to realize it, too. His family was connected to the events occurring in the vault. You took a deep breath and asked, "How are you doing, Norm?"

He stared at the floor, his shoulders slumped. "I don't know," he said quietly, his voice hollow. "I mean, I always knew my family was involved in the vault’s management, but this... This is something else entirely."

You nodded, unsure of what to say.

He looked up at you, his eyes filled with a mixture of confusion and pain. "Why would my mom's Pip-Boy be used to open the vault door? She’s been gone for years. And my dad... He never talked about any of this.”

You took his hand, squeezing it gently. "There has to be an explanation.”

Norm shook his head, frustration etched on his face. "But why? And why would my mom’s Pip-Boy be out there, in the hands of raiders, when she’s supposed to be dead and buried?"

You hesitated, your thoughts swirling, nervous to ask him the following question. "Norm, do you think your dad knew about this?”

He went silent, the question hanging heavily in the air. Finally, he spoke, his voice barely above a whisper. "I don’t know. I want to believe he wasn't involved in anything like this. But with everything we’ve found... I just don’t know anymore. I find it hard to believe he could be Overseer and not know."

You nodded, understanding his turmoil. “There’s a chance that’s true; we don’t have much information on Vaults 31 and 32.”

“That’s another concern I have. My dad is from 31, and I can barely remember him talking about it. No childhood memories, no friends or family he wished he could have kept in contact with. It’s like his life started in Vault 33 when he married my mom.”

“We’ll figure this out.”

Norm managed a small, grateful smile. “Thanks. (Y/N), would you mind staying the night? Being alone doesn't sound appealing."

You leaned closer, wrapping your arms around him. “I was planning on it.”

_______________________

The heaviness of the day’s discoveries followed you both into Norm’s quarters, but the familiar, comforting space offered a small measure of solace. The silence enveloped you as the door clicked shut behind you, starkly contrasting the chaotic thoughts whirling in your mind.

Norm sighed deeply and glanced around the room. “I guess we should get ready for bed,” he said softly, barely above a whisper.

You nodded in agreement as the exhaustion from the day hit you.

He paused, looking slightly embarrassed. “Um, I don’t have a spare toothbrush or anything...”

You smiled reassuringly. “It’s okay. I can make do for one night.”

Norm seemed relieved and moved towards the small bathroom he shared with Lucy, turning on the tap to splash his face with cool water. He rummaged through a drawer, pulling out a pair of soft, worn pajamas. “Here, they’re Lucy’s, but these should be comfortable. And no comment, please, about you sleeping in my sister’s pjs while we’re in my childhood bedroom; I’m aware of the implication. ”

“Thanks, and you said it, not me,” you said, laughing it off, taking the clothes from him. You stepped into the bathroom to change, noticing the ordinary domesticity of his space: the familiar scent of his soap, the neatly hung towels, the small potted plant on the windowsill, probably his sisters, too. It was comforting in its normalcy.

When you emerged, you found Norm holding out his spare toothbrush. “I remembered I had a new one. You can use it.”

“Perfect timing,” you joked, taking the toothbrush from him. You both stood side by side at the sink, silently brushing your teeth. The rhythmic motions and the minty taste of the toothpaste were soothing, grounding you in the present moment. When you were done, you rinsed and spit, wiping your mouth with a towel as Norm did the same.

“I’ll get the bed ready,” you said, moving towards the tiny bedroom area. You pulled back the covers, smoothing the sheets and fluffing the pillows. Norm joined you a moment later, pulling off his shirt and slipping into his Vault Tec-issued pajamas. You couldn’t help but stare, and when he caught you admiring him, you patted the bed, welcoming him to join you under the comforter. He climbed into bed beside you, the mattress creaking slightly under your shared weight.

Once settled, Norm reached over to turn off the bedside lamp, plunging the room into a soft, comforting darkness. You shifted closer to him, feeling the warmth of his body against yours. You wrapped an arm around him, pulling him close, and he rested his head on your chest this time; it was your turn to comfort him. For a while, neither of you spoke. Your fingers traced lazy patterns on Norm’s back as he closed his eyes. He lay there still listening to the steady rhythm of your heartbeat, still in somewhat disbelief you chose to be here with him.

“I’m glad you’re here,” Norm murmured into the darkness.

“Me too,” you whispered back.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Anything,” you responded back, curious about what the topic of his inquiry could be.

“Why me? I mean, you could have had anyone in the vault, and you picked the shortest guy in Vault 33?” he joked, but his tone was hesitant. He was interested but may be afraid of the answer he might get.

You chuckled softly, shifting slightly to look down at him. “You must be misremembering. I was clearly the weird book girl.”

Norm smiled, but there was a seriousness in his eyes. “No, really. I want to know.”

You took a deep breath, considering how to put your feelings into words. “Okay. I enjoy the way your mind works, Norm. I love trying to figure out what’s going on up there,” you said, gently tapping his forehead. “You’re direct and honest. Seriously, it’s a breath of fresh air in a place where people often hide behind politeness.”

Norm listened intently, his expression softening as you spoke.

“Not everyone gets to see it, but you’re fiercely loyal to those you care about. It was wrong, but you cared about me so much that you isolated yourself, thinking it was for my own good. That’s a rare kind of selflessness, even if it was uncharacteristically dumb and misguided.”

He laughed.

“There’s so much to like about you, Norman MacLean,” you continued, your voice filled with warmth and sincerity. Norm's eyes glistened in the dim light, clearly moved by your words. He pulled himself closer to you, his embrace tightening.

“But there’s more,” you added, a playful note in your voice. “I also love that you play into my judgments of other people. Not only the humor in it, but it’s like you validate my intuition. You help me see the good or bad in people without any pretenses.”

Norm raised an eyebrow, a small smile playing on his lips. “You mean I’m your secret weapon?”

“Exactly,” you laughed softly. “You’re like my compass. You help me navigate this place, and I trust your instincts. They’ve gotten us this far.”

He grinned, his humor breaking through. “So, you’re saying the shortest guy in Vault 33 has some hidden talents, huh?”

You laughed, the sound bright and genuine in the quiet room. “Absolutely. You’re my secret weapon, compass, and favorite person in this vault, shortness and all.”

“Hmm, sounds like you’ve fallen pretty hard for me,” he replied, his tone dripping with smugness. “Kinda hard not to,” you smiled, playing into it, pressing a gentle kiss to the crown of his head.

Norm lay silently for a moment, his thoughts clearly still racing. Then, with a sigh, he began to speak. “ Wanna hear my reasons?”

“Should I be nervous?” you joked. “I’ll be serious, I promise. It’s only fair.” He took a second to gather his thoughts and began again.

“First off, you’re not just the ‘weird book girl’ to me, I mean, you are. No normal person reads the entire Vault library for fun-”

“Hey!”

He continued as you squeezed him a little tighter. “But that’s uniquely you. I couldn’t imagine you any other way,” he began, his tone earnest. “And you’re beautiful,” he added softly, his gaze intense and genuine. You returned a soft blush as he looked up at you.

“I don’t think you’ve ever seen it in yourself. How stunning you are; I wish you could see yourself how I see you. And it’s not just your looks, though you are absolutely gorgeous. It’s how you carry yourself and how your eyes light up when you’re passionate about something. It makes me want to be around you all the time.”

He paused, searching for the right words. “And you’re kind. So incredibly kind and not the fake ‘Vault Tec approved’ kindness we learned here. Do you remember that time when we were kids, and I got in trouble for sneaking into the hydroponics lab?”

You nodded, recalling the memory. “Yeah, I remember. You were trying to get a closer look at the strawberries.”

He chuckled. “Yeah, that’s right. I wanted to see if they were as sweet as they looked. But I ended up knocking over a whole tray of seedlings. My dad was so pissed at me. I thought I was going to be punished for weeks.”

“You did get into a lot of trouble,” you agreed, remembering the tense atmosphere following the incident.

“But then you did something I’ll never forget,” Norm continued, his voice filled with admiration. “You came forward and told the Overseer that it was your fault. That you had dared me to go into the lab.”

You blinked, surprised by the memory. “I forgot about that.”

He nodded, his expression serious. “You took the blame for something you didn’t do. And because of that, my punishment was a lot lighter. I only had to do extra weekly chores instead of being grounded for a month.”

You shrugged modestly. “It was nothing.”

“But it wasn’t nothing,” Norm insisted. “You were always doing the kindest things like that for me. I have so many memories like that, which you probably don’t recall. You could have let me face the consequences alone, but you didn’t. You stood by me, even though it meant you got into trouble too.”

“I just didn’t want you to be miserable,” you said softly. You blushed, feeling a mixture of pride and humility. “I can’t believe you remember that.”

Norm’s hand found yours, his fingers intertwining with yours. “But more than all of that, you see me. The real me. You don’t just see the Black Sheep of Vault 33 or the son of the Overseer. You see past all of that and accept me for who I am, flaws and all.”

“I think I’m trying to say that I love you. And I think I’ve always loved you.”

“I love you too, Norm,” you said, wrapping your arms around him and locking him into a kiss.

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