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rootedinrevisions · 17 hours ago

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What's Mine

SUMMARY: After months of secretly seeing each other, you and Tyler find yourselves caught between professional boundaries and personal desires. When a flirtatious rival pushes Tyler's jealousy to the surface, he claims you in a way that leaves no doubt about your relationship status-to you or anyone else.

A/N: sorry that these requests are taking so long! I appreciate everyone's patience as I try to juggle writing with Thank you to the person who sent the request for this one in. This one came from the prompt “I’m not the jealous type, but what’s mine is mine.” I've had this one mostly done for a while (like a week or so) but the scene at the end just wasn't coming together the way I wanted it to. But I think I'm finally happy with the final result. Hope you like it! xx

WARNINGS: 18+ MINORS DNI. Cursing (I assume, I'm not positive though). Smut (P in V, Unprotected)

WORD COUNT: 5.4k

TAG LIST: IN COMMENTS

If you would like to be added to any of my Tag Lists please feel free to comment, send an ask, or send a DM and I'll be happy to get you added! Below are the fandoms I currently write for.

Glen Powell: Himself (RPF), Characters He's Played

Twisters: Tyler Owens, Boone, Scott, Javi

Top Gun: Maverick: Rooster, Hangman, Bob

Marvel/MCU: Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers

WWE/Wrestling: Cody Rhodes, Corey Graves, Damian Priest, Drew McIntyre, Finn Balor, Jimmy Uso, Jey Uso, Kevin Owens, L.A. Knight, Pat McAfee, Roman Reigns, Seth Rollins (if there is someone you're thinking of from WWE and they aren't on the list feel free to ask! There are so many guys on the roster that these were the ones that came to mind.)

The bar was alive with energy, the hum of conversation and laughter mixing with the low strains of a country tune from the jukebox. Boone, Dani, Dexter, and Lily were engrossed in a heated pool game, their competitive banter rising above the noise. You and Tyler had claimed a small table near the edge of the room, tucked away just enough to let you watch the chaos unfold.

Tyler sat back in his chair, nursing a Budweiser. His long fingers tapped idly against the glass bottle, his eyes scanning the room with the kind of quiet intensity he always carried. You were close enough to feel his presence, that steady, grounding calm he exuded without even trying. But far enough apart to not draw suspicion from the rest of the team.

Your drink was nearly gone, and you stood, brushing your hand lightly over his shoulder. “I’m getting another. You want one?”

He glanced up at you, his lips quirking into a faint smile. “Nah, I’m good. Thanks, darlin’.”

You nodded and made your way toward the bar. It was busy, and a line was forming as people crowded to get the bartender’s attention. You leaned against the counter, letting out a soft sigh as you waited.

“Hell of a storm today, huh?”

The voice came from your right, smooth and friendly. You turned to find a man standing beside you, his elbow resting on the bar. He was tall, with a confident grin and a storm-chaser logo stitched onto his jacket—a rival team.

“Yeah,” you replied, keeping your tone polite but neutral. “Definitely one to remember.”

“Bet you’ve got some good footage from it,” he said, his grin widening as he leaned in slightly. “You’re with Owens’ team, right?”

You nodded, not bothering to hide the pride in your voice. “That’s right.”

“Lucky guy,” he said, his gaze lingering just a little too long. “I mean, you guys have a solid team. And... well, looks like you’re not just good at chasing storms.”

You raised an eyebrow, your smile tight. “Appreciate the compliment.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you caught movement—Tyler. He was still at the table, but his body language had shifted. His posture was no longer relaxed; he sat forward slightly, his fingers wrapped tightly around the neck of his beer bottle. His sharp green eyes were locked on you, his expression unreadable but intense.

The man at the bar didn’t seem to notice. He continued, his voice low and smooth. “If you ever get tired of running with Owens, maybe you should give our team a shot. We’ve always got room for someone like you.”

You let out a dry laugh. “Thanks but I’ll pass. I’m pretty happy where I am.”

The man didn’t back off, his grin turning slightly smug. “Well, if you ever change your mind—or just feel like grabbing a drink sometime—”

“Thanks, but no thanks,” you cut him off firmly, turning back to the bar as the bartender handed you your drink.

You glanced over your shoulder toward Tyler. He was still watching, his jaw tight, the muscle ticking in his cheek. His eyes flicked briefly to the man beside you before returning to yours. There was no mistaking the tension radiating from him.

You gave the man a polite nod before stepping away, leaving him at the bar as you made your way back to Tyler.

As you approached, Tyler’s gaze never left you. He set his beer down, his fingers drumming once against the table before he stood.

“Everything good?” he asked, his voice casual, but there was an edge to it—a quiet undertone that only you would catch.

“Fine,” you replied with a small smile, though you couldn’t resist teasing him just a little. “Why do you ask?”

He shrugged, his expression neutral, but his eyes gave him away. “No reason.”

You took a sip of your drink, watching him over the rim of the glass. His attention briefly flicked past you, toward the bar where the man still lingered. Tyler’s jaw tightened again, and he looked back at you, his gaze steady.

You raised an eyebrow, fighting the urge to smile. “You sure? Because you look like you’ve got something on your mind.”

Tyler didn’t answer right away. Instead, he stepped closer, his hand brushing lightly against your lower back as he leaned in. “Let’s dance,” he said, his voice low and firm.

You blinked, caught off guard by the sudden shift. “Dance?”

“Yeah,” he said, already guiding you toward the dance floor. His hand stayed on your back, the contact warm and steady as he maneuvered you through the crowd.

The dance floor was dimly lit, strings of lights crisscrossing overhead and casting a warm glow over the couples swaying to the music. The song was slow and soft, a welcome contrast to the energy of the bar. Tyler stopped just at the edge of the dance floor, turning to face you.

“Here?” you asked, feigning nonchalance even as your heart gave a little leap at the intent in his eyes.

“Here,” he confirmed, sliding his hands to your waist.

He pulled you closer, the motion smooth and confident, and suddenly the crowded bar felt a lot smaller. You placed your hands on his shoulders, your fingers brushing against the soft, worn fabric of his flannel. The scent of him—faint cologne, beer, and the outdoors—wrapped around you, grounding you in the moment.

The two of you moved together, the rhythm of the song dictating the slow, deliberate steps. Tyler’s grip on your waist tightened slightly, his thumb brushing against the hem of your shirt where it met your skin. His other hand rested lightly on your back, keeping you pressed against him.

But there was something in the way he held you tonight—something different. His movements were just a little firmer, his grip a little more possessive. You felt it in the tension radiating from him, in the way his eyes stayed locked on yours.

“You’re tense,” you teased, tilting your head to study him.

“I’m fine,” he said, his voice a little too even, his expression unreadable.

Your lips quirked into a small smile. “You sure? Because you’ve been glaring at the bar like it owes you money.”

That earned a soft huff of laughter from him, but he didn’t deny it. Instead, his gaze flicked past you, just for a moment. Curious, you glanced over your shoulder and spotted the storm chaser from earlier still lingering at the bar, his eyes darting toward you and Tyler on the dance floor. When you turned back to Tyler, his jaw was tight again, his green eyes darker than usual.

“Oh my God,” you said, the realization dawning. A grin spread across your face. “You’re jealous.”

His lips twitched, but he didn’t smile. “No, I’m not.”

“You so are,” you teased, leaning in just a little closer. “You’ve been staring him down ever since I got back.”

Tyler’s hand on your waist slid a fraction higher, pulling you tighter against him. His voice dropped, low and rough. “I’m not the jealous type,” he said, his eyes locking on yours, “but what’s mine is mine. And I didn’t like how he was looking at what’s mine.”

Your breath caught at the intensity in his tone, but you weren’t about to let him off the hook so easily. “What’s yours?” you asked, your voice light but laced with challenge. "Not sure I know what you mean."

He didn’t answer right away. Instead, his hand slid up your back, his other hand combing up and his thumb brushing along your jawline. The touch was intimate, deliberate. “You know exactly what I mean,” he murmured, his voice just loud enough for you to hear.

You smiled, though your heart was pounding. “Do I? Because last I checked, there’s no label on this... whatever this is. We’re just keeping things casual, remember?”

His eyes narrowed slightly, a flicker of amusement breaking through his tension. “You’re pushing your luck.”

“Am I?” you countered, tilting your head as if to test him. “Because I’m thinking maybe I’ll let him buy me my next drink. He seemed nice. Even offered to let me ride with him if I want.”

Tyler’s grip on you tightened, his jaw clenching visibly. “You better watch that mouth of yours,” he warned, his voice low and steady, “before it gets you into trouble.”

You couldn’t help the grin that spread across your face. Leaning in closer, you let your hand rest on his chest, your fingers brushing over the soft fabric of his flannel. The touch was casual enough to appear innocent, but the way his eyes darkened told you he didn’t take it that way.

“What kind of trouble?” you asked softly, your voice teasing but edged with genuine curiosity.

Tyler’s lips twitched into a small, almost dangerous smile. He leaned in, his breath warm against your ear. “If you keep running that little mouth of yours,” he said, his voice low and deliberate, “I’m gonna take you against the nearest surface I can find. And trust me, darlin’, I’ll make sure everyone—including him—knows exactly who you belong to. So unless you want us both taking a ride for indecent exposure tonight, I'd suggest you knock it off.”

A shiver ran down your spine, his words leaving you momentarily speechless. Before you could recover, the song shifted, transitioning into a faster tempo. Tyler pulled back, the satisfied glint in his eyes unmistakable as he saw the look on your face.

He grinned, spinning you out in a smooth twirl under his arm before pulling you back against him. His confidence was infuriatingly attractive, and you couldn’t help but smile despite yourself.

And then, without warning, he dipped you low, his hand steady at your back as he leaned in and kissed you. The kiss was firm and unapologetic, a silent claim that left no room for doubt to anyone looking.

When he pulled back, his hand still cradling your back, you blinked up at him, your breath uneven. His gaze softened slightly, a hint of a smirk playing on his lips.

“So,” he said, his voice quieter now but no less firm. “Are you done being a brat, or do I need to make things even more official?”

You laughed softly, your hand sliding up to the back of his neck. “I don’t know,” you teased, still catching your breath. “I kind of like seeing you jealous.”

Tyler’s hand stayed firmly on your back as he guided you off the dance floor, weaving through the clusters of people. You were still reeling from the kiss—your lips tingling, your heart racing. His confidence had left you breathless, but there was also something grounding about his presence, his solid grip on you as though letting go wasn’t an option.

As you reached your table at the edge of the bar, Tyler pulled you into a quieter corner where the music softened to background noise. His hand lingered on your waist, his thumb brushing idly over your hip as if staking his claim.

“Subtle,” you teased, leaning against the wall. “You think that was enough for him to get the message?”

Tyler’s lips twitched into a small smirk, his green eyes glittering with amusement. “Don't care. I wasn’t doing it for him,” he said, his tone low and deliberate.

For a moment, you forgot the noise of the bar, the crowd, and even the guy who had been flirting with you earlier. All you could focus on was Tyler—his steady gaze, the way his hand still rested on your hip, and the unspoken promise in the way he stood so close to you.

“So, what was that all about then?” you asked, tilting your head, your voice softer now.

Tyler leaned in slightly, his free hand bracing against the wall beside your head. The proximity was intoxicating, his warmth seeping into your skin.

“I told you,” he murmured. “What’s mine is mine. I don’t care who knows it.”

Your heart did a little flip at his words, but you weren’t ready to let him off the hook just yet. “But we're still not official, though,” you pointed out, your tone teasing.

Tyler exhaled a soft laugh, shaking his head. “You really don’t let up, do you?”

“Not when I want something,” you shot back, your eyes glinting with challenge.

Tyler pulled back just enough to meet your eyes, his hand resting on the side of your face as he caressed your jaw. “You want official? Fine,” he said, his lips curling into a smirk, but his eyes held something more—something tender.

Tyler leaned in, his forehead brushing yours as he lowered his voice to a near whisper. “Call me whatever you want—boyfriend, lover, or just Tyler—but as long as you call me yours, that’s all I care about.” His thumb traced the line of your lips, and the weight of his words settled around you like a promise.

Before you could respond, his lips were on yours again, fierce and tender all at once. He kissed you slowly, his mouth lingering over yours, as if sealing the words he’d just spoken with a kiss that spoke louder than anything else. His hand cradled your face, his thumb gently stroking your cheek as he pulled back just enough to look into your eyes.

Tyler’s lips pulled away from yours, but his forehead stayed pressed against yours as he looked into your eyes, that mischievous spark returning to his gaze. He traced his thumb gently over your cheek, as though savoring the moment.

“So,” he said, a teasing smirk curling at the corner of his mouth, “was that official enough for you, or are you gonna make me actually say it?”

You tilted your head, matching his grin, letting your fingers lightly graze the back of his neck as you gave him a playful challenge. “I think I kind of want to hear you say it,” you teased, your voice soft but laced with amusement.

Tyler sighed dramatically, his eyes rolling with mock exasperation, but it was clear he was enjoying this little moment just as much as you were. He leaned back slightly, a chuckle escaping him as he gave you a mock-serious look.

“Darlin’,” he began, his voice dripping with affection and a touch of humor. “Will you please be my girlfriend?”

You burst into laughter, the sound light and carefree, as Tyler grinned at you, clearly pleased with himself. His hands found your waist again, pulling you closer as his lips quirked upward.

“See?” he teased, his hands sliding down to rest on your hips. “I sounded ridiculous, didn't I?”

You smiled up at him, feeling the warmth of the moment settle in. "I don't know...I kind of liked it,” you replied, a hint of sweetness in your voice. “Thank you. I know you probably think it was stupid, but it was nice to hear.”

Tyler leaned in, brushing his lips over your forehead in a soft, affectionate kiss. “Darlin', I'll do whatever makes you happy. If that means saying it, then I'm happy to do it,” he murmured, his arms wrapping around you as he pulled you closer again.

Your chest tightened at the honesty in his tone, and for a moment, all the teasing and banter fell away. This was real—so much more real than you’d expected it to be when the two of you started this quiet, undefined thing.

The moment hung between you, charged and intimate, until the sound of laughter from your team broke the spell. You glanced over Tyler’s shoulder to see Dani and Boone watching you from the pool table, their expressions ranging from amused to downright smug.

“Looks like the cat’s out of the bag,” you said, your lips quirking into a small smile.

Tyler turned to follow your gaze, his hand dropping back to your waist. “Good,” he said simply. Then, louder, so the rest of the team could hear, he added, “Yeah, we’re together. Anyone got a problem with that?”

The table erupted into laughter and a chorus of good-natured teasing, but no one seemed surprised. Dani shot you a knowing look, and Boone raised his beer in a mock toast.

You rolled your eyes, laughing softly as you turned back to Tyler. “You're as subtle as a freight train,” you teased.

He grinned, leaning down to brush a kiss against your temple. “You love it,” he said, his voice low enough that only you could hear.

And he was right—you did.

As the night eased into a comfortable rhythm, the initial teasing about you and Tyler began to fade—well, mostly. The team had always been a tight-knit group, and now that the two of you were officially “out,” it seemed like fair game for them to poke fun.

Dani was the first to pounce, sidling up to your table after winning yet another round of pool. She leaned her cue against the wall and smirked. “So, is this why you always rode shotgun with Tyler on every drive?” she asked, waggling her eyebrows.

Boone joined in, raising his beer. “Oh, I get it now. ‘I’ll navigate.’ ‘I’m the best with maps.’ Sure, that’s why,” he said, making exaggerated air quotes.

Your face burned, but you couldn’t help laughing. “I am good with maps,” you said defensively, though the smile tugging at your lips betrayed you.

Dexter, usually the quiet one, chimed in with a rare grin. “Guess that explains all the ‘extra stops’ you two needed on those long drives. Thought it was weird how often you needed coffee breaks.”

You groaned, hiding your face behind your hands. “Oh my god, you guys are impossible.”

Tyler, on the other hand, was taking it all in stride. He leaned back in his chair, his arm draped casually around your shoulders, the very picture of smug confidence. “Jealousy’s a bad look on y’all,” he said, his lips twitching into a smirk.

Dani rolled her eyes. “Please. We’re not jealous. Just annoyed it took you this long to admit what we all already knew.”

Boone nodded in agreement. “Seriously, the way you two looked at each other—like a damn Nicholas Sparks movie. We were just waiting for the dramatic kiss in the rain.”

Tyler grinned, his fingers brushing lightly against your arm. “What can I say? I like to keep things interesting.”

You shot him a look, though you couldn’t hide your own smile. “Interesting is one word for it,” you muttered, leaning into his side despite yourself.

As the team’s attention shifted back to their game, you stole a moment to glance up at Tyler. His green eyes met yours, and for a second, the noise of the bar faded away. He gave you a small, almost private smile, the kind that made your heart skip a beat.

When it was finally time to call it a night, the group began gathering their things. Dani slung her bag over her shoulder and paused by the door, looking back at the two of you with a mischievous glint in her eye. “Hey, lovebirds,” she called out, her voice carrying over the music. “Try to keep it down tonight, okay? Some of us would like to actually get some sleep for once.”

Your cheeks went bright red as the rest of the team burst into laughter. “Dani!” you protested, your voice high with embarrassment as you hid your face in Tyler’s shoulder.

Tyler, however, was completely unfazed. In fact, he looked downright pleased with himself. He tightened his arm around you, giving the group a lazy grin. “No promises,” he said, his tone teasing but dripping with that cocky charm you both loved and hated.

The laughter grew louder as you groaned again, playfully smacking his chest. With his arm still wrapped around you, Tyler guided you out of the bar, his hand resting securely on your hip as you stepped into the cool night air. The laughter and teasing from your teammates still echoed in your ears, but you couldn’t stop smiling.

“Think they’ll ever let us live this down?” you asked, glancing up at him.

Tyler chuckled, his eyes sparkling in the dim light. “Not a chance,” he said, pulling you closer. “But as long as I’ve got you, I don’t really care.”

You smiled, resting your head against his shoulder as the two of you walked toward his truck.

The drive back to the motel was quiet, save for the hum of the engine and the occasional murmur of a country station playing on the radio. Tyler had one hand on the wheel, the other resting lazily on your knee, his thumb idly brushing over the fabric of your jeans. Every so often, he’d glance over at you, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth like he couldn��t help himself.

But your mind was racing, and as much as you wanted to let yourself get lost in the warmth of his touch, you couldn’t shake the doubt creeping in. Was what happened back at the bar real, or was it just Tyler getting caught up in the moment?

When you pulled into the motel parking lot, the tension was still simmering beneath your skin. Tyler parked the truck, turned off the engine, and hopped out, coming around to open your door like he always did. You followed him up the stairs to your room, his hand resting lightly on the small of your back.

The second the door clicked shut behind you, you turned to face him. “So…” you started, your voice careful, testing the waters.

Tyler paused, halfway through pulling his flannel shirt off. He tilted his head at you, a playful smirk teasing his lips. “So?” he repeated, his tone light.

You crossed your arms, shifting on your feet. “What happened back there… at the bar,” you said, avoiding his gaze. “Was that real? Or are you gonna wake up tomorrow and tell the team it was all some big joke? Just you messing around for some laughs?”

The question hung in the air, and for a moment, you regretted saying anything. But then Tyler stepped closer, his flannel discarded on the back of a chair, leaving him in just his plain white t-shirt that clung to his frame in all the right ways.

“Darlin’,” he said softly, his voice steady, “do I look like I’m joking to you?”

You glanced up at him, searching his face for any hint of hesitation. But all you saw was certainty.

“I meant every word I said tonight,” Tyler continued, his hands sliding to your waist, pulling you a step closer. “You’re mine. And I don’t care who knows it.”

Your heart skipped a beat at the intensity in his voice. “But… you said we needed to keep things low-key,” you reminded him, though your voice wavered.

“That was before,” he said simply, his thumb brushing along your side. “Before I realized how much I hated watchin’ someone else try to take what’s mine.”

The possessiveness in his voice sent a thrill down your spine, but it was the tenderness in his eyes that made you melt.

“Tyler…” you whispered, but whatever you were going to say next was lost as he leaned down, capturing your lips in a kiss that was anything but gentle.

It started slow, deliberate, like he was savoring the moment. But as you kissed him back, threading your fingers through his hair, it deepened, his grip on your waist tightening as if he couldn’t get close enough.

Tyler walked you backward until your legs hit the edge of the bed. His hands were everywhere—your waist, your hips, the curve of your jaw—each touch leaving a trail of heat in its wake. When he finally pulled back, his breathing was heavy, his forehead resting against yours.

“Does that feel like I’m jokin’?” he murmured, his voice rough and low.

You shook your head, your fingers still tangled in his hair. “No,” you whispered, your lips brushing against his.

He grinned, that familiar cocky charm flashing through for just a second. “Good,” he said, leaning down to kiss you again.

The kiss deepened as Tyler pressed you back onto the bed, his hands trailing down your sides with a possessiveness that sent shivers through you. His touch wasn’t rushed—no, Tyler Owens was deliberate, savoring every moment as though he had all the time in the world to prove his point.

When he pulled back, his lips were swollen, his hair slightly mussed from your fingers. The sight of him like this—raw, unguarded—made your heart race. He sat back on his knees, his hands moving to the hem of your shirt. He tugged it up and then peeled it up over your head, tossing it aside carelessly. His hands roamed your bare skin, his touch warm and grounding, but his eyes were what made you feel like you were the only person in the world.

“Look at you,” he murmured, his voice roughened by desire. His thumb traced along the edge of your bra, just barely brushing your skin. “All mine.”

His words sent heat coursing through you, and you couldn’t help but arch into his touch. Tyler leaned down, his lips brushing the column of your throat.

“Every inch of you,” he whispered, his breath warm against your skin, “belongs to me.”

He kissed his way down, his lips teasing, his hands skillfully finding the clasp of your bra and unhooking it with ease. As he slid the straps from your shoulders, his gaze was reverent, almost awed.

“My girl,” he said, his voice low. His hands moved to your waist again, hooking into the band of your jeans.

As the cool air hit your skin, you bit your lip, trying to stifle the sound that threatened to escape. Tyler noticed immediately, his sharp gaze flicking up to meet yours. His head tilted slightly, and his lips curled into a smirk that sent a wave of both heat and embarrassment through you.

“None of that,” he said, his voice firm but teasing. His thumb brushed your bottom lip, coaxing it free from your teeth. “They all know now, sweetheart. No need to hide.”

Your eyes widened, and you gave him a look that was part incredulous, part exasperated. “Tyler, we can’t …what if we get a noise complaint!”

He chuckled, the sound deep and rich as his hands slid down to rest on your hips, his thumbs tracing slow, maddening circles.

“I don’t care about a noise complaint,” he said, leaning down until his lips were barely an inch from yours. “The team knows. Hell, everyone at the bar knows. But now…” His smirk widened, his voice dropping to a gravelly whisper. “Now it’s time every chaser in this motel knows who you belong to.”

“Tyler,” you started, but before you could get another word out, his mouth was on yours again, silencing your protest. His kiss was commanding, his hands sliding over your body in a way that left no room for doubt about his intentions. He pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes blazing with something primal.

“Now,” he said, his hand moving to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing over your flushed skin. “Who do you belong to?”

You opened your mouth to answer, but before you could, he shifted, his lips finding that sensitive spot just below your ear. His tongue flicked against your skin, and the combination of his touch and his words sent a bolt of pleasure straight through you.

“Tyler,” you moaned, his name spilling from your lips before you could stop yourself.

He pulled back slightly, just enough to look at you, that infuriatingly smug smirk firmly in place. “That’s right, baby,” he said, his voice like a low growl. “Say it again.”

You glared at him, your face heating with both embarrassment and arousal, but the challenge in his eyes only spurred you on. “You,” you said breathlessly, your voice trembling with need. “I belong to you.”

His grin softened slightly, turning into something warmer, something that made your chest ache. He leaned down, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to your lips, and when he pulled back, his hand slid to the small of your back, holding you close.

“That’s my girl,” he murmured, and the possessiveness in his voice was tempered by an unmistakable tenderness.

As he kissed you again, deeper this time, your earlier doubts and insecurities melted away. Tyler wasn’t just claiming you—he was showing you, in every touch and every word, that he meant it.

Tyler’s hands moved over your body with a slow reverence, his touch igniting sparks wherever his fingertips lingered. The playful smirk that had been on his face earlier softened into something else—something deeper. His eyes locked on yours, his gaze steady and intense as if he wanted to commit every detail of this moment to memory.

He finished undressing you as he slid your panties agonizingly slow down your legs, letting them fall away as his hands brushed your hips. The air felt charged like you were both standing on the edge of something bigger than either of you could name.

“You’re beautiful,” he murmured, his voice husky but carrying a weight of sincerity that made your chest tighten.

Your hand found its way to his face, fingers brushing the sharp line of his jaw. “Tyler…” you whispered, but you couldn’t find the words to finish. The look in his eyes—unwavering and full of something unspoken—was undoing you.

He leaned in, pressing a kiss to your forehead, then your temple, and then the tip of your nose. Each kiss felt like a promise, slow and deliberate. His hands framed your face as he kissed you fully again, his lips moving against yours with a tenderness that took your breath away.

He shifted, guiding your body beneath his as he shed the last of his clothing, his movements unhurried but purposeful. The heat of his skin against yours was electric, but it was the way he looked at you—like you were the only thing in the world that mattered—that had your heart pounding.

Tyler paused for a moment, his weight braced above you, his forehead resting against yours. His hand brushed a strand of hair away from your face, his thumb grazing your cheek.

“I need you to know,” he said, his voice low but steady. “This isn’t just…” He hesitated, searching for the right words. “This isn’t just about wanting to fuck you. It’s more than that.”

Your breath hitched at his words, the raw vulnerability in them wrapping around you like a protective cocoon. You reached up, your hand tangling in his hair as you pulled him down into a kiss, your lips conveying everything you couldn’t put into words.

When he finally started to push inside you, the moment felt like time had stopped. His movements were slow, measured, as if he were afraid of rushing it. This wasn’t like the other times you’d been with Tyler before. Every time before had felt like it was just physical. Practically ripping clothes off of each other and hot and heated kisses him getting inside of you as fast as he could.

But this time…this time his touches were just a little softer. His kisses were just a little deeper. And the way he was holding you, like he was cherishing you made you swoon.

As he moved with you, his hands roamed your body. He murmured your name like a prayer, each syllable dripping with affection. And when your hand gripped his shoulder, your nails digging slightly into his skin, he leaned down to kiss you again, his lips lingering as if he couldn’t bear to pull away.

You couldn’t stop the small sounds that escaped your lips, your body responding to his in ways that felt like second nature. But it wasn’t just physical—there was something so much deeper in the way he held you, the way his hand laced with yours, fingers intertwining as though he needed to feel connected to every part of you.

It wasn’t long before the tension building between you both crested, your body trembling in his arms as your climax washed over you. Tyler held you close, whispering soothing words in your ear. When he followed moments later, his face buried in the crook of your neck, the quiet groan that escaped his lips sent another shiver down your spine.

For a long moment, neither of you moved, your breathing the only sound in the room. Tyler finally shifted, rolling to his side but pulling you with him so that you stayed nestled against his chest. His arms wrapped around you, holding you tightly as though letting go was not an option.

He pressed a kiss to your hair, his lips lingering there as he murmured, “I meant it, you know. You’re mine.”

You looked up at him, your hand resting against his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. “And you’re mine,” you said softly, the words feeling like a vow.

His lips curved into a soft smile, his thumb tracing lazy circles on your back. “Damn right, I am.”

As you lay there, tangled together in the quiet aftermath, the weight of the moment settled over you. This wasn’t just another night, another stolen moment of passion. This was the start of something new—something real.

And as Tyler held you close, his breathing evening out as sleep began to claim him, you couldn’t help but think that for the first time in a long time, everything felt exactly as it should.

#Tyler Owens #Tyler Owens x reader #Tyler Owens x you #Tyler Owens Fic #Tyler Owens Fanfic #Tyler Owens Fanfiction #Tyler Owens Smut

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rcmclachlan · 2 days ago

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WIP Wednesday

Tagged by the lovely @cliophilyra!

Here's a little snippet of the other fix-it fic I'm working on. Right now it's a race to see which one gets finished first.

He waits until the end of his shift before he gives the voicemail a listen, and as he pulls his bag out of his locker, he decides to listen to the last message Dr. Serletic's office left him a few months ago as an appetizer. "Mr. Buckley, this is Margot from Dr. Serletic's office. Young man, if you think I won't resort to showing up at your home or place of work to book an appointment, you're underestimating both the patience and the free time of this retiree. I don't care if it's a HIPAA violation: I will do whatever it takes to get you in our books, and I'll proudly say so on the stand in any court of law. No jury in this state would convict me. Also, thank you so much for the Christmas card—that Jee-Yun is a cutie pie. You're a sweetheart, and a brat. Call me back to set up an appointment or I'll make you regret it." After that one, he'd sent Margot a fruit basket and very pointedly didn't make an appointment. Once Hen caught wind of this little game, she deemed it a cruel waste of Dr. Serletic's and Margot's time and energy, and told him to cut the shit. The thing is, Buck would stop if he didn't think Margot got as much of a kick out of the chase as he does. He'd be willing to wager his entire savings on it being the highlight of her job. Grinning, he saves the voicemail like he's done so many times before and moves onto the new one. He can only imagine the grievous bodily harm Margot's going to lovingly threaten him with this time. "Mr. Buckley, my name is Yajaira Trujillo and I'm a nurse at Cedars-Sinai Hospital." He blinks at his locker. Yajaira? If Margot finally retired-retired, he's going to be devastated, especially since she didn't call and tell him where he could keep sending Christmas cards. He thought they'd had something. "I'm calling because Thomas Kinard was brought to Cedars in critical condition late this afternoon. He's currently in surgery now and should be in there for several more hours. I'm so sorry, there's only so much I'm allowed to tell you over the phone, but there were life-saving measures that had to be taken and couldn't have waited for your consent as Mr. Kinard's medical proxy. Mr. Kinard was admitted to the 4th floor of Saperstein Tower, which is located on the Plaza Pathway at 8700 Beverly Blvd. If you can't get to the hospital, please give me a call at 310-555-3277 or call the front desk and have them direct your call to the ICU. Again, my name is Yajaira Trujillo. I hope to hear from you or see you soon."

No pressure tags: @dadvans, @screamlet, @newtkelly, @beanarie, and @alchemistc

#bucktommy #who wants a second helping of PAIN with their turkey and stuffing?

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caffeinatedmunchkin · 2 days ago

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An Iron Hand in a Velvet Glove

Emmrich Volkarin x Fem!Rook ✦ Rating: M (MDNI!) ✦ 13k words

"Their corpse proved quite stubborn." He presented her an opportunity, and she grasped at it in desperation. "I'm surprised, you're so very good at taming stubborn." Her playful attempt at schmoozing won a stiff snort, and nothing more. "Oh..." Breathed with a coy lilt, she feigned innocence that could have been believable, if she were anyone else. "Are you still cross with me?" Stealing another gulp, he sneered against it's bite. The strength of which smoked his voice to a heady resonant. "Back during your apprenticeship, when you disobeyed one of your superiors, or spoke back at them out of turn; in what manner did they see fit to punish you?" A preemptive attack from which she was slow to recover. "I... got a good tongue lashing." Her words were tight from a throat that fought against their release. "A common occurrence, I might add." "Just as I suspected." After a breath, he then angled a brow down into his drink. "The correction of your behavior falls into my lap after all."

Banner credit

Crossposted to AO3!

I just want to take this opportunity to once again acknowledge and thank you for all the wonderful feedback I received on my first Emmrich piece. All of your praise, engagement, compliments, freak-outs - you name it - have been the single most gratifying, uplifting, validating and humbling experience I have EVER received in all my years of sharing what I’ve written. From the bottom of my little perfectionist heart, you are all in my cool book.

With that said, may I humbly offer this to all you incredibly sexy, gorgeous Emmrich babes to which I’m forever indebted. This one’s for you.

This is hands down the most stressed I’ve ever been to post something LOL

Writing this was a wild oscillation of; “I’m on to something here” and “this is straight trash”. So I either really popped off with this fic, OR, I lost my mind and it’s documented here for all to witness. Regardless, I REALLY hope you all enjoy! *blows kiss for all you lovelies* and to my one super sweet anon, this ones especially for you 😩 you kept the imposter syndrome caged so I could finish this.

Dusk settled over Treviso like a veil. The gradient of a setting sun against the encroach of twilight a dreamlike glow, it stretched across the skyline in a rosy, gossamer haze.

Despite the festering boils of blight, and roving Antaam units, the city was still almost serene. Crickets chirped and nightingales squawked. Music drifted from the odd window, cracked open to invite the warmth of the breeze. A strong city; one too proud to kneel. Too enamored with its culture to bend to the devastation.

Emmrich and Ariadne were dutifully at each others side, while Neve trailed behind to afford them privacy at what she thought was an adequate distance.

The three were on their way to report back to Teia and Viago; their beloved city, and her people, no longer unwitting victims of the Qamakmaster, or his modified poison. The younger Watcher insisted they traverse the more "scenic route" along the canal proper.

In this it's most desperate hour, much of it's familiarity withstood the test of its carnage; sprawls of ivy wove through panels of lattice work. Pockets of lamplight dotted the pathways, their warm flicker reflecting off the lazy churning of the waters they strode beside.

The younger mage coiled herself around his arm like a vine. Content to take in the sights alongside him in shared silence, their physical contact was non-negotiable. She didn't care much for discretion when it came to their burgeoning affair. There were high stakes and grave consequences greeting her at every turn, every decision consigned to her.

She possessed neither the patience nor energy to pander to self-control. Least of all during these scarce luxuries of calm; the lulls between urgency.

She needed Emmrich's closeness. His touch.

Though the elder mage was more reserved in his displays, he bore her attachment with pride.

Still not quite used to the notion that his affections were requited, he couldn't deny the swell of his heart with how candid she was with her own.

How could he protest, when such a pretty thing wanted to be seen cozied up to him? Hanging off his arm like he was some young, and virile stud?

No, Emmrich could deny her nothing. He was weak to her. And by the ingratiating little simpers she'd aim his way, he swore she could smell it.

At times it still caught him off guard, her wild attraction to him, her insistent fawning. The elven necromancer lunged at him like a little lioness in heat, regardless of when or where - or who might be unfortunate enough to happen upon them in the midst.

But it wasn't a habit he felt compelled to curve.

The others seemed largely unphased. Bellara thought their relationship held devastating romance, no doubt drawing on bits and pieces for inspiration to her new craft. Neve adored Ariadne, and Araidne her - the two kindred street rats. He surmised her blessing had more to do with seeing such a close friend so happy, than the bearing of her personal approval of him.

Lucanis was content to get in his subtle teases and knowing smirks whenever he was the first to breakfast in the early mornings. Slinking off with servings for two, looking more than a hint disheveled and stupefied. Taash pretended not to pay attention, though he sometimes caught them initiating a covert high-five when crossing paths with Ariadne.

That left Davrin and Harding as the outliers.

Nothing malicious, Harding would sometimes make remarks that at times seemed innocent, while others were more coy. They all made him squeamish, which he maintained his best to keep polite about.

Davrin's approach was more blunt, albeit good-natured. Chuckling at his own crude jokes; those to the effect of the poor young Watcher abandoned by her parents, and her subsequent daddy issues. And how 'good old Emmrich sidled up to scratch that itch.' All in good fun, they turned his complexion ashen, and rang in his ears all the same.

However none was a harsher spectator than himself.

He'd lay awake deep into the night, with her pert figure sprawled naked atop him. Her shorter limbs curled around his like another one of his jewels, while she slumbered.

His racing mind tormenting him, even in the safety of his post-coitus haze, by the disparity of their years. Or by the stomach-turning truth of their first meeting, one he kept close to the chest.

That this little body that writhed under him in worship to his prowess, that rode him to mutual release while screaming his praises, was the same one that fit in the palm of his hand those twenty odd years ago. An incongruity he could draw because he had done just that. Only once, but the memory was sharp. Punishing.

Every time he reminded himself of that fact, he felt even more ill than when Harding had, rather abruptly and in full company, asked if he was old enough to be Ariadne's father.

It would have made him a very young father to have sired a woman of her age, but that didn't exempt him from that candidacy, he'd have to concede.

Is what he said at first, and a touch too defensive.

Until he did the math, and the realization dawned that it was not only reasonable for a man of 27 to have a babe - the age that he was when he met her, a fresh infant - but that most 27 year old Neverran men did. Some even had several by then.

He hadn't smoked in quite some time, but after that self-confrontation his clammy fingers itched to feel the length of a cigarette dangle between them.

"A pity." He volunteered with a sigh, willing his tortured psyche to rest. The craving for that detestable vice he worked so hard to best now rearing once more. "to see such a place ravaged by the blight. Though I would be remiss not to commend the perseverance of it's romance, despite all it's had to endure. I can only imagine how magnificent the blooms here might have been before."

"I thought you might think so." She drew herself tighter into him, both arms winding around the one she leaned into. To his measured chuckle, she melted.

"Dear girl, do you mean to tell me my accompaniment was requested just so you could hear me wax poetic?" His smile soft and amused. "Do you find me so predictable?"

She gazed up at him from beneath the thick flutter of her lashes. "I had hoped the atmosphere might inspire some of that famed spontaneity from the trysts of your past you've seen fit to regale me."

His gait faltering, he peered down the bridge of his nose at her, gawping at the confession.

He was becoming more adept at swift recoveries from her flirtation. She was almost disappointed in how quick he rebounded from this attack.

"You little jezebel." His reprimand was steeped in such a deep sultriness it burned the tips of her ears, murmured low to keep his words between them. But not low enough. Neve shook her head with a wry grin.

"Why don't I catch back up with you two at The Diamond." Her gaze flicked over them with an impish gleam. "I think you know your way back from here."

Emmrich had forgotten himself, and Neve, swept up in the generous evocations from his little blonde temptress. A profuse apology - and a begged pardon - at the ready, Ariadne cut in on behalf of his mortification.

"Are you sure?" Her eagerness to having him all to herself betrayed by the smirk she fought and lost.

"If I know one thing well, it's to leave the party when I'm having the most fun." Neve waved her hand as she sauntered on ahead. Without looking back, she called to them from over her shoulder with a smile in her voice. "Behave yourselves."

The pair of Watchers paused in a testament of their resolve. Their combined focus trained to the ice mage, as she moved further along the cobblestone walk and rounded the corner of a building, disappearing from sight. Leaving them alone.

Ariadne was the first to strike; hard and fast. Winning a startled grunt from him to the sudden impact of her body colliding with his.

Her arms snaked around his neck, she pulled him down to bridge the gap in their heights. A necessity in capturing his lips, even as she perched on the tops of her toes. Latching her mouth to his, she kissed him deeply, and with hunger.

One might have suspected a long-awaited reunion between the two, if her fierceness was anything to go by. And the loud, exaggerated approval she moaned, as his fingers began their own storm of her figure.

A new fragrance decorated her pulse, one he knew she selected with him in mind. A suggestive mingling of praline and black peony, it pervaded his senses to disarmament. When he breathed, he could smell only her. When he swallowed, he could taste only her.

In one swift motion - careful not the break their frenzied necking - he hoisted her up in his arms, while her legs curled around his waist. Her ankles locked at the small of his back, the little necromancer wrapped herself around him as if she wanted to permeate his flesh. Unable to get close enough.

He walked her the few steps to the banister overlooking the canal below. Placing her atop the railing, his hands were freed to explore. His wide palms roamed her, their paths indicated by the soft jingle of his bracelets, as one settled against the small of her back, while the other trailed up to her neck.

Though he handled her as if she were as fragile as a pressed flower, the placement of his hands were overwhelming with how deliberate. He cradled her with possession.

Her thighs parted to allow his stance between them, tugging his lean torso closer to press up against. Lulling her head back to grant his tongue deeper access down her throat, one hand fisted in the cloth of his robes, while the other made a brazen cop of his length.

Palpating his shaft with intent, Emmrich rolled a grunt against her tongue, both exasperated and needy in equal measure.

"Ariadne- please." His lips numb from her fervor, the corner of them twitched in a smarmy grin at her impatience. "We've made enough of a spectacle as it is."

She gazed up at him like a wild thing; her eyes glossy and lips kiss-swollen, with a heaving chest to match. Looking over first one shoulder, and then the next, she found the streets were calm, and still. The only sound between them were the breaths they exchanged, and the gentle laps of the canal to its revetment.

"You're in luck. There's no one else here now. Only us." Leaning back in to mouth at the jut of his Adams apple, she then tilted back to nip him beneath the jaw. Smiling into his skin as it rumbled with a relenting chuckle.

Peppering a trail of light pecks up and over the cleft in his chin, she sought his mouth once more. "And I've-missed you-Emmrich." Her whispered declaration broken apart by lips that crashed ceaseless upon his.

"I'm-right here, my-darling. I haven't-gone away-" He managed to slip out sections at a time, in the breaks of her assault for breath.

He felt nimble fingers sweep across his shoulder blades, to knot in the draping along his upper back. Her free hand had found the close-cropped hairs at his nape, to comb her nails through the base of his scalp.

Stalling any reservations he might have held, he purred to her attention like a pacified panther. With his guard lowered, she pounced.

"I've missed you inside me." Her hips rocked against him in emphasis.

The little Watcher's words dropped his stomach to somewhere down around his knees. She abandoned his mouth altogether to nose at his pulse, humming in satisfaction at how it quickened beneath the press of her kiss.

The sharp cut of his jaw lured her next, nipping a path along the ridge of bone from chin to mandible. Relishing the deep groan she won for her efforts, and the musk of his aftershave; pine and cedar-wood heightened by the spice of Neroli. Even freshly groomed, stubble was quick to shadow his gaunt cheeks, and she adored the way it caught her lips, and snagged her flesh whenever he nuzzled into her.

"My dear, your enthusiasm flatters more than my words could ever hope to express; but we must exercise some restraint."

She giggled into the open-mouthed kiss that stretched her lips over his high cheekbone.

"Asking me to heel, are you?"

A challenge to his authority, he rose to the occasion with the grace of one who didn't have to force his hand. Submission had been freely given, in offering to receive his lead.

"Not asking, my pet." He increased the pressure of his palm slipped around her nape, scruffing her like an unruly kitten as he pried her off the side of his face to lock eyes. He tried not to dwell on how limp she went in his hold, or the salacious little mewl that squeaked past her lips. "Expecting."

She peered up at him as if in a daze. The hazelnut of her eyes nearly overtaken in full by her pupils, her ferality was softened by the thick lashes she fluttered up at him. His other hand rose to cup her jaw, dragging his thumb down over her bottom lip.

They parted for him in obedience, the pink of her tongue coming to flick over the tip of his digit in dizzying suggestion.

"One of these days, my love, I will be undone by you." He slid the gloved pad of his thumb over the muscle, through her teeth. Sealing her lips around him, she began to suckle whilst holding his eye-contact, his lids now just as heavy as her own.

The gentle pulling of her suction, and the swirl of her limber tongue, were sent straight down to the heavy twitching of his groin. His voice all the hoarser for it. "And it will come to the surprise of no one."

A smile spilled across her face. A retort no doubt at the ready, a distant, hostile shout in qunlat - that presented like an expletive - caused her words to die on her tongue.

They turned in unison to see three hulking Antaam charging their way, their painted faces screwed in rage.

Three warriors against the two necromancers, they untangled from one another's embrace. Offering his hand, Emmrich helped her down from the railing to her feet, as her much smaller one slid over it in acceptance of the gesture.

The roaring Qun's interference offered harsh sobriety, Emmrich's withdrawal from her body heat stung. Not at all dissimilar than if he had plunged himself in an ice bath.

Sharing a brief glance as the assailants advanced, the two Watchers split up to close in before they lost the chance.

The largest of the three, the surmised leader, honed in on Ariadne. Though there wasn't much assistance he could lend, his hands full with the other two.

He made sort work of the first; ensnaring him in vortex of the intolerable hisses and shrieks of damned souls. It pulled him to his knees while he held his ears to the tortured plight they now put upon him. With shut eyes and covered ears that wept crimson, Emmrich turned his attention to the second.

In a display far less flashy, he swept him up in a similar, vicious gust that sent him careening backwards into a far-off trellis, one he had been admiring mere moments ago. The collision saw it splinter into a cloud of wooden slats and mangled greenery. The warrior remained motionless, upended over the wreckage.

Having all but written off the first, he ignored his presence in favor of seeking out Ariadne. Availing himself to her aid had been his desire from the start.

Spinning on his heel he found her, standing above the leader who had begun the process of disintegration by way of concentrated necrosis. Sprawled at her feet, he clutched at his throat in a futile attempt to prevent his gasping breaths from continuing to siphon. The unassuming young Death Caller took a step back, prying her eyes away long enough to catch his.

The beginnings of a triumphant smile morphed into a flash of panic, as her gaze shifted from his face, to beyond his shoulder.

"Emmrich!"

Her warning had sufficed. Whipping his head around with plenty of time, and distance, between himself and the charging Qun, the chipped edge of his blade poised to embed itself in the senior Watchers chest. Stricken blind, it saw him swinging it with heightened aggression, and in a worrying lack of direction.

The situation corrected itself just as quick. One moment he had been staring down the jagged bite of battleaxe, and before he could react, she had taken his place. A violet ripple flickering in the Fade, she then materialized in front of him. Right in the buffer that separated him from hungry steel wielded by an angry, blinded Qun.

Insinuated between them as if to shield him with her smaller, delicate frame. Only by then the warrior had been much closer than before, shortening the distance with his lumbering flails.

Placing herself in much more danger than he himself had been.

An acidic eruption of necrosis sprang forth from her outstretched hands, and not a moment too soon. A plume of murk that enveloped him in unending smoke, the torrent bent to her whim and swirled at her command, as if it possessed sentience.

Curling around his being in gaseous rot, it dissolved his armor with the same ease it did his flesh. Rending him to the ground in a sloughed heap of bone glinting from beneath pulpy tissue.

She kept her eyes trained to the veritable sludge that up until recently resembled a fearsome biped, all the while his bore into the back of her head. Molten embers where placid pools used to be.

How could she be so cavalier in risking what was most precious to him?

The very thing that called the entirety of his pursuit of Lichdom into question; unable to conceive of the loss of her from the remainder of his days, much less having to bear her absence for all of eternity.

A gesture that could have endeared him, his innermost turmoil saw it twisted.

And as much as he didn't want to acknowledge it, it touched on the sensitivity of his age - the tenderest spot. All his frustrations and guilt as of late wove back to that resentful infestation of the self.

Did she think him feeble? Impotent?

It was a curious thing, he never considered himself old before her. Fresh into his fifties, he was just as fit and alert as ever. Even more so then some of the youngest men at the Necropolis.

Softness has gathered in areas where there hadn't been. Aches in his joints persisted for longer than before. The salt and pepper of his hair had since committed to it's silver luster, and his crows feet had decided to stay. Despite all physical signs of maturity, it hadn't stemmed the flow of admirers he'd attracted, both in and outside of his classroom.

Yet when Ariadne all but plopped herself into his lap, he felt geriatric.

A coy glint roused in the hazelnut of her eyes upon noting his bewilderment. Having misread his expression entirely.

"What would you do without me?"

The muscle of his jaw rippled as he clenched it. "An apt question indeed."

His terse grit startled her like a clap to the cheek, quirking her brows.

"What's wrong?"

"Your recklessness." He bit back, frustration narrowing his round eyes to accusatory slits. "Needless endangerment is not heroic, it is inane."

Emmrich had never snapped at her before. Once she thought on it, she realized she had never seen him lose his temper with anyone.

Grappling with a whirlwind of confusion, she latched on to one point of many that insulted her sensibilities. "Needless?" She parroted. "You were seconds from being cleaved in half! What would you have had me do, stand idle to your demise?"

He softened, but only some.

"Do you think, in such a scenario, that I'd prefer you, then, in my stead?"

Hip cocked, she folded her arms across her chest in defiance. "You were threatened, so I acted."

"Yes, you most certainly did." He conceded. "With breathtaking imprudence."

The scar striping her nose disappeared into the adorable, girlish crinkle at the bridge. "I'm no thing to be coddled."

"I'm not coddling, dearest." His anger ebbed into the tired patronizing of a professor lecturing a rebellious student. His inclusion of the pet name had her bristling. "Do you hold self preservation in such low regard?"

"I'll not apologize for wanting to protect you." Knowing full well her spite would only worsen things, she was too aggravated to ponder the decision. "You're very welcome, by the way."

"I'm quite able to fend for myself, my dear." For how dignified he maintained, his ruefulness was just as clear. Splintering his poise like veins through marble. "I've been doing so since well before you were even born."

That sent her eyes back into her skull. "Oh, Maker - anything to bring that up, I see."

"It bares repeating." He stiffened.

"Is that what this is about?" She scoffed, her tone raising to a chirp. "Is your ego so fragile that it's bruised just by coming to your defense?"

His hackles raised despite himself. For how soon he was to forget just how mouthy she was, her attitude was quicker to remind him. As did her penchant for needing the last word.

"This isn't about ego - I'd just simply ask that you abstain from rushing into danger headlong."

Enunciated with the air of someone unruffled, Emmrich had succeeded in snuffing out the spark of his anger before it spread, while hers only seemed to blaze in full swell.

"Are you quite finished berating me like I'm a child?"

"That," he plunged his voice into his chest, his admonition firm. "is contingent on whether or not you continue to behave like one."

Her pupils dialed to points that pierced him. Her pout pressed to thin line, she glared up at him with a suspiciously stilled tongue. He matched her, but with a significant discrepancy in vitriol.

"A necromancer so afeared of his very medium, it reduces him to petty insults."

A hideous thing to say. No sooner did the words escape her mouth, did the tension between them see fit to gag her, but it had come too little too late. Her venom singed him.

Holding her stare, he remained quiet, his uncertainty of how to proceed etched in the deepened lines of his face. All the while, remorse spilled through hers. Gradual and dreaded, like a wound as it bled through gauze.

A sigh then bruised his lungs. "So it would seem."

Her rationale pleaded with her to say something - anything - her owed apology notwithstanding. Her throat locked with a dry, acrid taste in her mouth to the mere thought.

The infestation of her foul mood first needed to be exterminated, before she'd be allowed to speak. Lest she do further damage.

"We've dallied for long enough." While chaste, his inflection had regained much as it's usual strength, and his expression matched his solemn posture. Though he couldn't hide the wistful glint from his eye. Not from her. "I believe it's time we were on our way."

The rest of their time together was condemned to contemplation, and unbearable silence.

By the time they reached The Cantori Diamond, Ariadne had simmered. More regretful of what she said in carelessness, than what had gotten her so hot in the first place.

She thought to try for reconciliation, but her pride - and shame - kept her preoccupied, as she relived their argument.

Her temper had flared, but she didn't mean to lash out so. Her confusion to his vulnerability certainly didn't excuse her indelicate handling of it.

Though Emmrich's state remained questionable.

His frustration with her had been much quicker to cool. A sudden spark of unchecked emotion before he smoothed himself back over, as if his careful disposition had never cracked in the first place. Yet he was still troubled. Still on edge.

Still dismayed by her accusation, and how rash her behavior.

The little elf stole sidelong glances at him on the occasion, brimming with the hope their banter had returned with every breath he took, or sighed.

But Emmrich opened his mouth to broach her not once. So neither did she.

Upon their return, they were greeted by Neve. Waiting for them outside on the balcony, poised with the anticipation of one who bore news.

Her keen observation noted the shift right away.

Mussed hair and disheveled armor, with more than enough guilt between them weighing their repentant expressions. Though she deduced it wasn't from unbridled passion at each other's hands; a suspicion that had everything to do with the space that split them down the middle, and kept them apart.

As they approached her, Emmrich maintained his separation. Holding hands - that never seemed able to resist the cheeky little blonde for any reasonable length of time - clasped behind his back. It raised her brow, but she refrained from commenting.

"Emmrich, Viago's waiting for you. A Crow took down an alleged associate of The Butcher's, and they're hoping you could lend your expertise in getting their dead to talk."

"Certainly." He obliged, at the ready to take his leave of the women, though not before lingering for a moment as he looked to Ariadne.

Expecting her to follow, the junior Watcher never refused an invitation to watch him work - least of all for the opportunity to observe corpse whispering. However she stood in place with no motion to join him, finding herself unable to meet his gaze. His chest caved in with a sigh.

"Until later then, darling?"

She merely hummed.

With the discomfort of that parting metastasized, she at last looked up in time to see his retreating form disappear inside. Shoulders sagging, she turned to Neve, whose manicured brow arched in suspicion.

The young mage looked spurned, as if she hadn't been the one to rebuff him. She cut in before the detective could begin her line of questioning.

"You've got the look of a bearer of bad news."

The taller mage tittered. "Only depending on how you look at it."

"Alright, let's hear it." She urged with a tired grimace.

"The Eluvian's acting out. Bell sent word she won't have it sorted before first light."

Ariadne expelled a lengthy breath. Hands on her hips, she shot her eyes upwards, seeking the strength of some unknown, higher-power. "Great."

Neve's simper threatened to become a full smile. "Aren't you going to ask me for the good news?"

"There's good news?"

"Teia's putting us up for the night." She revealed, implicit slyness alight in her hooded gaze. "I've heard tell that The Diamond's suites are something intimate."

The Watcher's heart fluttered at her friends insinuation, though reality was quick to temper that girlish rush of excitement. As if she'd been so fortunate to have forgotten about their spat so soon.

A turn events that would have been kismet, now it just seemed cruel.

"Oh..." Was all she gave. A weak, resigned mutter, it was a far cry from the reaction Neve presumed. "We could use some time away... that could be good for us."

"Alright you," she sighed, a warmth to her impending patronization. "Far be it from me to pry, but those were certainly not the faces I expected when you returned." Her shift from partner in crime, to sororal confidant complete, she gestured towards the balcony with one arm, while she encircled Ariadne with the other. "Want to talk about it?"

Ariadne stayed with Neve for a long while, probably too long. While she valued the slightly-less-than-impartial insight, she was stalling. Only leaving the comfort of her company after she was all but shooed away to go to Emmrich, and make amends.

Finding their room with relative ease, she had run into Viago on her way - without the professor- having deduced that he retired to their shared suite, and was awaiting her there.

Trying the door knob before knocking, she found it unlocked. A pit had sunken in her stomach at the confrontation that she wouldn't be able to avoid him for any longer, no matter how ardent her attempts.

The unlatched handle was an open invitation, one she now found herself hesitant to accept. Suffocated by the weight of indignity at once more receiving his severe disapproval, she only had herself to blame.

She let herself inside, creeping through the door with as muffled of footsteps as she could manage. Unsure why she even bothered to avoid attracting attention to herself, knowing her appearance was expected.

She found his regal figure stood before a large picture window adjacent from the doorway, bathed in the luminous glow of the moon as it spilled in through the panes. An arm bent at the small of his back, the other held a stout glass of deep burgundy liquid.

The room was every bit as romantic as Neve's implication. Rich sanguine textiles dressed sturdy, ebony wood furnishings, all carved with correlating floral motifs that were as intricate as they were subtle. A handful of lanterns had already been lit; just enough to keep him from the same shadows they whipped against the ceiling, and stretched across the walls. His back to her, she slipped the rest of the way inside.

Her concentration shattered into a wince, at how deafening the latch clicked into place behind her amidst his silence. Though to the announcement of her arrival, he didn't budge an inch.

She waited in the beat that followed, suspended in the moment like a withheld breath.

Unsure of where they now stood, she needed him to be the first to act. She needed him to lead. After an eternity made to stew, he then turned his head just as far as his shoulder, his silhouette heightened by candlelight.

"Darling." Was all she got by way of a greeting, or clue to his mood. His even tone addressed her like the whisper of fine silk shifting over steel.

Dignified and assertive as ever, it both lured her in, and hid away his inner machinations. Her eyes followed his hand as he brought the glass to his lips for a healthy sip.

"Were you able to learn anything?" She tested while remaining by the door, working her cadence into conversational neutrality. Steeling herself to the possibility of a long evening ahead; one cold and lonely.

"Unfortunately, nothing the Crows were not already aware of." He dismissed with a sigh, his attention coaxed back through the window to regard the smattering of stars that smeared the midnight sky, instead of her. "Their corpse proved quite stubborn."

He presented her an opportunity, and she grasped at it in desperation.

"I'm surprised, you're so very good at taming stubborn."

Her playful attempt at schmoozing won a stiff snort, and nothing more.

"Oh..." Breathed with a coy lilt, she feigned innocence that could have been believable, if she were anyone else. "Are you still cross with me?"

Stealing another gulp, he sneered against it's bite. The strength of which smoked his voice to a heady resonant.

"Back during your apprenticeship, when you disobeyed one of your superiors, or spoke back at them out of turn; in what manner did they see fit to punish you?"

Far from the course of conversation she anticipated, it had her reeling. A preemptive attack from which she was slow to recover.

"I... got a good tongue lashing." Her words were tight from a throat that fought against their release. "A common occurrence, I might add."

"Just as I suspected." After a breath, he then angled a brow down into his drink. "The correction of your behavior falls into my lap after all."

Every time she believed she had righted herself on even footing, he staggered her once more, each time quicker than the last.

He now had her pinned and wriggling from beneath his thumb. The obstreperous little necromancer who never knew when to quit.

Who acted out, and prodded boundaries - yearning to know where one ended, and the next began.

He was inundated all of a sudden with the memories of his colleagues, and from not long ago, bemoaning the unruly young apprentice. How stubborn, and non-compliant she portrayed. How impossible she was to reign in.

Emmrich now well understood what she needed. And his was just the firm hand for the undertaking.

She cocked her head at him with a wrinkled brow of her own. "Meaning...?"

To this, he turned to her. At last face to face, she fought the urge to squirm beneath the weight of his gaze. Shrinking away like a frisky cub who had nipped the ear of the panther one time too many.

"Tell me, my dear, do you recall during our first night together, you mused what discipline by my hand might have been like?"

The little elf blinked. Opening her mouth, only for it to fall shut, she then answered lamely. "Yes... I do."

Though his expression was serene, his tone lowered several octaves.

"That mouth of yours has landed you in quite the bind." Without breaking eye contact, he pushed away from the window and strode the short distance to the writing desk that sat between them. "One a miserly tongue lashing will not relieve you of."

Her lips quirked in the beginnings of a scoff, but before the sound could complete itself, Emmrich interjected. His brow lifted in infuriatingly dashing arrogance, his authoritative edge cut through her with a shiver as he made his first demand.

"Remove your clothing. All of it."

A smirk tugged at the corner of her mouth, but she crushed that threat upon recognizing his severity.

The young Watcher couldn't help but hang there with a dumb look on her face, only to be shaken from it by his gentle condescension. Ever patient, but grave in unambiguity. "Was there something of my instruction that necessitates reiteration?"

Speechless in reply, his expectant look goaded her to follow his orders.

However coltish her movements, and the beginnings of embarrassment heating her cheeks, she did as Emmrich said. Prying off her boots and shimmying out of the layers of leather and cotton that clung to her legs, all that was left was to shirk the bolero from her shoulders, and pull her collared blouse up and over her head.

A groan seethed from the pit of his chest at the sight of her body naked and flushed.

Teacup breasts that fit so nice in his hold, it was as if they budded to the exact specifications of his hands. The dusky peaks of her nipples hardened to their abrupt exposure. The temperature of the room mild, they stiffened to attention all the same. An achievement he prided himself on.

Her form so fresh and nubile, an ethereal daintiness afforded by her elven features made for an enticing complement to her other, fuller attributes. Decidedly all woman. A slim waist accentuated how wide her hips were by comparison, the observation incited reckless imagination.

Rousing fantasies from the most debauched of his recesses, the sort he'd otherwise be far too ashamed to acknowledge. The age that he was, and the gentleman's demeanor he paid strict adherence to.

His little Watcher wasn't shy. Even as early into their relationship as they were, he had seen her naked plenty. Yet this was uncharted territory; a new, untried side of Emmrich that both thrilled and intimidated her all at once.

Though she rushed to strip at his behest, her hands rose to cover what indecency she could think to shield. The first mistake of many he'd soon scold her for.

"Ah- drop them." His chin lifted, his one brow arched. "Now."

A whimper blossomed in her throat as she forced her hands to her sides. He flicked his gaze over her from head to toe, candid in his assessment of her presentation.

Her timid posture, her fidgeting. That untamed, seductive shimmer returned to her eye.

The appetitive press of her inner thighs against themselves. Done with her body stilled and expression reserved, in hopes he wouldn't catch her.

"Unlike my fellow colleagues, you'll find me to be far less tolerant of such poor deportment." He stood tall across from her, lengthening his gait to step out from behind the desk. "Might there be even the faintest desire to offer penitence, my girl? Are you willing to submit to me your due deference?"

The blush that began at her cheeks flooded throughout the entirety of her body. The skin of her arms and legs pebbled to his crooning, she felt the impulse to rub them from her limbs, but thought better of it.

Pinned in place by his gaze, every part of him seemed to hold her to some level of expectation. At that moment his eyes alone, bright with persuasion, forbade her from touching herself again without permission.

So she opted instead to nod, and he smiled.

"Come." His fingers thrummed the surface of the desk. "You're to lean across here. Hold yourself up by your elbows. Shoulders straight, and head forward."

His cool voice and composure made for an unfair advantage, one that snuffed her resistance like a candle's flame spluttering at the end of a spent wick.

She ambled to the ledge of the desk before bending herself over it, just as she was told. Her elbows met the the polished wood cold and rigid, while the height dug it's beveled edge just beneath her sternum.

Emmrich left her there, perched on the balls of her feet, as he circled her compromised position.

"Spare the rod, and spoil the child." He volunteered with a mournful sigh, as if a sympathetic father who wanted to spank their ill-behaved offspring about as much as the she wanted to receive the spanking.

Only Emmrich was eager to introduce her to such a lesson. As eager as she was to participate, if the full roseate flush that stained her was any indication. "While I feel compelled to disclaim that I do not condone any harm done to children, you are no child. And the principal rings true."

The air fought her distressed lungs. Her struggle only worsened, as he then set his gloves on the desk for her to see. While he remained behind her, she heard the discordant murmur of him reaching for the Fade, before a hush of fraught silence fell over them once more.

When his palm slid over the swell of her exposed bottom she gasped aloud; both at the sudden contact, and how his touch wasn't just warm - it was just shy of burning.

Startled more than uncomfortable, he had her eased into the increased heat before long. "W-what are you-?"

"Enhancing sensation." His explanation as blasé as if he were no more than reciting the dogma of autogenous liminality, he teased her flesh. "Heat promotes circulation, which in turn, will heighten your sensitivity."

His caress was a means to have her more suggestible to his discipline, though it demanded monumental restraint on his end to not insert his fingers inside her.

Her soft, needy sex mere inches from where his touch occupied. His attention on that area, and all his talk of punishment at last culminated in awareness to what the fog of her mind had prevented her from understanding.

"Are you... going to give me a spanking?" Escaping from her in jest, she couldn't help how her tone quavered beneath the weight of the words. A correct response, as he affirmed her suspicion.

"I am. Twenty times to be exact. Does that seem fair, my dear?"

"Only twenty?" Teased her simper apart, the goad of one who hadn't a clue what she was in for. Her underestimation of the kind professor woeful.

Emmrich gazed upon her petite frame bent in half before him with fondness, unperturbed by her attempted riling. Withdrawing his touch, satisfied with the rosy hue he had rubbed to the surface, his next command was as calm as it was cunning.

"You're going to reach out to the Fade for me. Once you have it, you'll want a firm hold."

He soon caught sight of a chartreuse glimmer curl and wisp itself around the joints of her wrists and fingers, as she flexed them against the wood. Slight and fluid manipulation, it then settled against her hands like a second skin, translucent in the moonlight.

She had professed many times how she was awed when watching him cast; an appreciation for their shared art that he found just as delightful in her demonstration.

Where he was precise and rhythmic, she was energetic, and inconstant. The unapologetic rawness, to his innate grace. "Very good. You're to hold that just as you are; you may release only when I permit you to do so."

His choice of phrasing went straight to her clit, as it pulsed in anticipation. The opulence of the room warped fuzzy and tilted to her bleary vision, her blood-pressure spiking to how stern his directive.

"Yes sir." She breathed, lifting higher on her toes, she gave a performative little sway of her hips.

It clenched his jaw until the joint creaked, though as far as she was concerned, he was otherwise unmoved by her bold provocation.

"With every strike, you will count out each one. Should you fail to maintain your cast, or lose count, we shall have to start again from the top." He cleared his throat upon concluding his recitation of her rules.

His voice had yet to pitch any higher than chest deep, and her heart threw itself at her ribs with every agonizing syllable. "Have I made myself perfectly clear?"

"Perfectly."

"Good."

His hands settling over her flesh had her breath catch, before it melted into the air in a sigh of relief. Emmrich smiled to himself, his ego fostered by how well she took to his touch. The slightest of his attention quelled her fire, rendering her meek and pliant.

His palms still hot, he stroked and massaged her in further preparation. Any time his finger-tips teased a suspicious descent between her thighs, her hips would rock in precious expectancy.

Finding the sense of security he lulled her to advantageous, his arm snapped forward, doling the first strike.

Nothing too severe, though it wasn't gentle - no where near as gentle as she assumed. A foolish assumption she amended on the spot. The slap of flesh echoing against her ear, she sucked in a stunned breath.

"One."

He had her full attention.

"That was very cute." Chuckled with playful condescension, her body betrayed her as it clenched in conditioned response to his voice. "A promising display of your cooperation, though we have yet to begun."

"W-what?"

"A necessary warm-up, dear girl." He collected his glass for one final sip of brandy, before discarding it back to the desk beside her. It thickened his voice to a confident drawl. "You'll know when I begin in earnest."

Thus began what felt like an hour long rehearsal of what was to come.

Emmrich paddled her with a firm hand, and varied positioning. He maintained a steady pressure, taking care between each one to soothe her stinging flesh by either a tickle, or purposeful effleurage strokes. Her grasp on the Fade came close to wavering, but never enough that he could see it's strength falter.

His insolent little mage harmonized their room with her yips, all the while he drip-fed careful praise to make certain her willfulness remained staunch.

"Such lovely little noises you make." His purr slunk between his lips to her twitching ears. It was all the preamble he spared before the transition from exercise to execution.

His first proper smack ripped the loudest gasp from her yet.

True to his word, she could sense the shift in his intentions by the weight and trajectory of his cupped palm alone. Her body sagged against the desk upon feeling him smooth over the faint pinch of toned flesh.

"O-one." She hushed, humility taking root.

"Good." He cooed. "Very good."

The next was a hair firmer, and her eyes widened as it sent her bobbing across the desk.

"Two." A more permanent blush swelled across her cheekbones, the dusty pink deepening to a vibrant rogue. Her fingers curled against the wood.

Emmrich ran a hand through his coif, fingers combing strands of hair that weren't mussed out of place to begin with. When he dropped his hand, it sailed upwards her rear for an underhanded strike.

Clapping her upside the gluteal crease, he swallowed thick beneath his collar at the way her peachy orbs jostled against the belt of his palm.

A strangled noise erupted from her, like a kitten whose tail he caught underfoot.

"Three-!"

"I must profess, darling, I expected you to put up much more of a fuss." He comforted the newest sting to prickle against her backside. "Surely I haven't silenced that smart mouth of yours already."

She was shocked by how well suited he was to playing the disciplinarian, and she was a fool to be.

Emmrich didn't have a cruel or haughty bone in his body, a fact that she would have attested to until that very moment. It wasn't born in the absence of kindness, so much as it came from his pedantic leaning.

He thrived on order, and protocol. Propriety. Steering her back in line came was as natural to him as regulating a classroom, or commanding the dead.

Now that she had been properly acquainted with this side of him, she couldn't help play the brat. Unable to resist the temptation of his masterful ploy.

"I think you're holding back because you're sweet on me." A lazy grin spread her cheeks, while she braced for the bruising she was all but begging for. "Those hands of yours should have me unable to sit for a week."

"Ah," he almost sounded pleased that her bite was returned, if only to excuse his dialed force. "There she is."

Four, five and six made her thighs begin to quiver. Smacking first up the back of her hindquarters, against their left side, and then the right. Thwack-thwack-thwack. A tingle roused beneath the burning skin, it reached the apex of her thighs, as she wept for him there.

Emmrich granted her a moment to catch her breath. Petting the sting, his praise un-spooled from the seat of his chest near vulpine in it's conceit. His croon cloying and velvet rich.

"You are doing very well, my little darling." Continuing to pet her, he eyed the glow emanating from her fists for any signs of weakness in her tether. "Though it comes as no surprise, I'm sure to you this has all felt little more than a tickle."

His next three blows were rapid fire, coming firmer than she was prepared for, and faster than she could count out in sync.

"Seven-e-eight-nine!" Each one echoed by her shrieks, jolting her higher on her toes while she scrambled further along the desk, as if to escape him.

Ariadne held tight to the Fade, willing her focus as it threatened to recede from her grasp with every hit. He leered down the prominent bridge of his nose at how she pressed her thighs together with a whimper, and shook his head.

"Ah-ah, there will be none of that." He inserted his foot between hers, nudging her legs apart. "Come now, widen your stance."

With much chagrin she allowed herself to be spread by him, as if she had much say in the matter. The senior Watcher was quick to correct her with the lashing that followed.

Proceeded by a rush of air, it was all the warning she was given before the punishment landed with a crack.

"AhH-! T-ten!"

The worst of it by far, and they were only half-way through.

Her flesh ached, the strength of which rivaled only by the emptiness her walls throbbed around. The wetness that webbed between her flushed lips maddened with discomfort, teasing her with a need for friction he kept her from chasing.

Eleven, twelve, and thirteen were slower than the last round, but made up for in their heft what they lacked in speed. The first of all of them to well tears along her lash line, each one threatened to reduce her to sniveling, as she fought to announce their respective number.

If at any point during the punishment a break was needed, it was then.

He spared her no such benevolence.

The length of his hand in full, the heel of his palm to the tips of his fingers, swept in hard to where the tops of her thighs met her glutes.

A sharp clap of flesh ripped its way through the stifling air. It shoved her across the desk, the glow from her hands flickering like a dying flame.

Fourteen. Fourteen! She hollered at herself, but her mouth was too preoccupied with gasping for breath to comply with that vocalization.

Fourteen dangled from the tip of her tongue, but her lips refused her will. She was so close to twenty. The tops of her thighs stinging, the reverberation of his whack throughout her body saw each and every inch of her pulled taut and humming.

"I'll issue one final warning." He intoned, encouraging her to keep count. "Use your words, darling."

"F-fourt… fourteen." Her voice was a strangled, weak thing. A flicker of her wildfire not yet extinguished, it goaded the low, mutter of "masal din'an." to seethe from her before she could even think to stifle it.

Aware that Emmrich most likely heard, a shred of hope blossomed in the shelter of assumption that he couldn't decipher the specific venom, obscured in the elvish.

Time ground to a halt. Everything seized in that moment, even her heart.

Then came the shuffling of feet as he positioned himself behind her, caging her against him as he planted one palm alongside her elbow, and then the other.

She braced herself as he swept in low, his mouth hovering beside her blushed ear. Her skin prickled in a wave down her body as that shelter cast her out into exposure, that faint gasp of hope shriveled and wilting.

In a startlingly fluent timbre, "ma nuvenin" was purred in response.

As you say.

The little elf shivered at the depth and severity of his enunciation. Eyes widening, heat flushed upwards from her neck in a vibrant bloom that stained the whole of her face. The arousal at hearing her language in his voice was almost enough to eclipse her dread that he knew exactly what vulgarity she had slung his way.

"Y-you-!"

Another whack doled to her tender flesh, though one that was sharp as it was stinging. Hollow. He didn't allow the meat of his palm to cup the swelling upon impact, nor did he soothe it with a lingering touch. He rebounded like snapped twine. It was a biting smack, one that had her suck at the air around her for strength.

"Fifteen!"

Before she could offer a weak excuse, he scolded her with tired disappointment. "Honestly, dear, you think me unacquainted with your tongue?"

He adored the sight of her flushed skin pebbling in the wake of this revelation. Though the exact verbiage a little muddled, he was able to parse the broad strokes. Recognizing her off-color assertions of his manhood in no uncertain terms.

"Quite the gamble, speaking to me in such a way. Perhaps I've been a touch too lenient?" He clicked his tongue, crooning with silken fluency. "Mala suledin nadas."

Now you must endure.

She craned her neck to steal a glance at him from over her shoulder.

Head held high and shoulders drawn back, not a hair of him was out of place. His leer shone with en-rapt attention - and a stray glint of gratification - one that had knotted her stomach when she caught it. He chided her all the same.

"Don't worry yourself with what's happening back here." His touch teased a path all the way up her spine to her nape, finding a hold in the ashen locks he wove his fingers through. His grip domineering, he squeezed the roots just enough, her scalp flaring in a sensual tingle as her gaped pout let slip a breathy moan.

He chuckled as he guided her head back to it's position by the reigns of her hair. "Keep your head straight and your eyes forward, dear girl. Your attention should be on your cast. Not on me."

Releasing her tresses, his splayed palm dragged back down the length of her body to flatten over her sacrum, pinning her still with even pressure. Switching to his non-dominant hand, he proved it no less proficient, as it whistled through the air before landing against her raw skin.

She didn't think a bare hand, one that fondled her so lovingly, could also raise welts on the very flesh it revered. The chafed skin of her backside served to oppose that mutual exclusivity.

"Sixteen!" Her voice cracked as she pushed it from her chest, wound tight against the blistering sting, and her tenuous grasp on the Fade.

Holding his hand in its place, the one that had just struck her returned, rewarding her with an affectionate graze to the irritation. "You're doing well, sweet girl. Very well indeed."

She opened her mouth to respond - with what, she herself wasn't even sure - before he came down on her once more, this time back against the top of her buttocks. Blossoming a dull, throbbing ache, it wrenched a pathetic sob, hitching her tally.

"S-sev..seven-seventeen." The light from her fists flickered like the flame of a torch whipped in the wind, warning abandonment. She curled her fingers in tighter, until her nails bite the flesh of her palms. Concentration battled her, as did her waning tenacity.

The heaviness of his hand seared across her rump in a ludic swipe. One that melted the beginnings of a harsh gasp into stretched moan.

"Eight-teen-,"

"That's a good girl, we're almost through." His approval at her endurance colored his baritone, soothing her with the tenderness of sincere praise. "You're doing so well for me, da'len." He hushed. "So obedient."

Little one.

She groaned at the familiar pet name, the elvish intonation deepening his voice to a silvery croon. Their power dynamic already tipped against her, this recent development plunged the scale to weigh heavily in his favor.

She could only imagine the humiliation if he let slip such a name to her around the others - he'd have her blushing as furiously as he did back when she was a school girl, buckling her knees in the same fell swoop.

If he only knew the hold he had on her back then.

"Oh, I haven't lost you, have I?" His attempted diversion successful, she hadn't noticed the rustling of his armor behind her, while he began to disrobe. Leisured, and only pieces at a time. The resolve of man well versed in the importance of pacing.

First the onyx outer layers, and gold plated adornments were placed on the desk beside her. Then a green blur in her peripheral, as his collared shirt joined the neat pile. Now bare from the waist up, it was a tactic to further her distraction. For even at the nineteenth, his next blow startled her. Her sore body jerking forward with a throaty groan.

"N-nineteen..."

Grasping the Fade now felt as though she were trying to pluck a sewing needle from the surface of melting ice with a gloved hand. It dimmed in pulsations like the twinkling of a lightning bug, before steadying itself back to his desired opacity. She expelled a breath she hadn't realized she was holding.

"There you are." He purred. "I was beginning to suspect your mind had wandered; we almost began again from the start."

The final blow plucked a yelp from her, frail as her spent lower half felt.

She was finished.

Ending on the same sweet spot of where her rear ended, and her thighs began, a numbness began to seep throughout the burning muscle in ecstasy. A kindness of her body, having turned the intensity of his pain to subdued pleasure. Admittedly not as delicious, but leagues more tolerable.

"Twenty."

"Yes, dear girl, I believe so." One palm swept an absent-minded path over the swell of her, now thoroughly raw and hot to the touch. "I wonder; was I successful in communicating the purpose of this lesson? Or does that darling petulance within you remain?"

"I... but you said-," her tongue stalled, as sluggish and unreliable in her mouth as it was when she was intoxicated. She huffed in frustration, and tried again. "I did as you said-,"

"An adequate performance, though not wholly satisfactory." He of course teased, but did so believably. "I question your interpretation of this exercise."

"I... I've been good." She croaked in embarrassment to how subdued he had her.

"Have you now?" He mused, his palm sweeping over her like his touch was a balm to the angry flesh. "Only one way to be certain."

He sank to his knees behind her, and swallowed hard at what he found.

He could see how swollen she had grown from his spanking. Burning bright pink, and drooling from between her quivering thighs.

"Oh just look at you." His warm breath misted against her as he rumbled in appreciation. Though he still kept firm to his stringency, his admiration was unmistakable. "I fear my punishment was enjoyed, and rather too much, you wicked little thing."

"I-I, I didn't... I-,"

"Shhh." Mouth snapped shut, her eyes misted despite herself, as he spread her apart in more thorough inspection. His fingers adroit and reverent, as if peeling apart the petals of a tulip in fresh bloom. Wet with early morning dew. "It's of no use to demur, my girl. I see well the mess I've made of you."

Any semblance of a reply she might have been able to articulate was strangled by the obscene moan that erupted up her throat.

Opting against prelude, Emmrich had darted between her shivering thighs to flatten his tongue against her slit. Opening her up to his eager mouth, the agile muscle flicked and slithered along her slick heat.

At his first taste of her piquant nectar, he groaned into her, feeling it's conduction along her aching sex as much as she heard it muffled from between her legs.

An imperceptible pressure bore down around the entirety of her body, squeezing a gasp from her burning lungs that choked it's way out. Ariadne felt his lips curl in a smug grin against her tender folds, before beginning to move them against her in the makings of a deep, impassioned kiss.

He worked her entrance to interrogation. Demanding her noises, and her trembles against his relentless mouth. Intent to find the obstinate little hellion he believed to still be lurking within.

"E-em... Emmrich-," her eyes watering, a mantra of his name poured listless for him. Hoping it served as just recompense.

He answered by creating a seal of his glistening lips around her cunt. Pulling hard, he grunted as she rocked back into his face, constricting in hollow pulsations against the tip of his tongue to encourage it's entry.

To surprise so great it collapsed her against the desk, he granted her request.

Palms snatched her thighs to hold her still, he probed the slick muscle in and out of her weeping center with lethal precision. His girth heavy between his thighs, it flicked against his trousers with impatience. His condition worsened with her every strained whimper, and disjointed stutter against his strong chin. That damnable scruff brushing her sensitive clit, the groomed whiskers of his mustache tickled her to similar unraveling.

Between the steady pressure of his shadowed jaw to rub her bud against, and his lips and tongue orchestrating a devoted composition, he had already dragged her before the crest of her release.

She had indeed done well for him, and to her efforts, a reward was owed.

Emmrich tipped his chin to allow his tongue access to her swollen pearl. Teasing it with feather light pressure in clockwise motion, he closed in tighter with every circle. Weaponizing the vibration of his hums in tandem with his ministrations, she came crashing down against his mouth with little more prodding.

The elf whined with such loud sincerity, he was certain the odd passersby as far as the very end of the walk outside their window, could have heard her without difficulty.

He lapped at her mussed petals, cleaning her up with paternal attentiveness as her full-body tremors relaxed to sporadic twitches. Next came his own maw, smeared and shining with her pearlescent remnants. Licking his lips while he rose to his feet, his sharp brow arched as he looked her over.

"Oh, aren't you a treasure." He murmured in reverential disbelief in catching sight of her persistent hold to the Fade, however weakened. "You may release, dearest, just as you may await me in bed."

Ariadne picked herself up from the desk, and lowered herself to her heels for the first time since the professors punishment.

The very professor who watched with open satisfaction as she limped across the floor, on thighs that still wobbled from his oral dissection.

Emmrich dropped his trousers where he stood, stepping out of them the moment she pulled herself onto the lavishly made bed. Electing to keep herself propped up for him on all fours, he hadn't expressed to her the position he wanted her in, she just knew. She could read it in way she felt his leer rake across her, dutiful in her presentation to him on her hands and knees.

He had never been so assertive with her before, least of all with such determination. His dexterous hands bruising in their strength. His height wielded to impose, like he had something to prove.

She hazarded a glance at him from over her shoulder.

A lean athleticism to his tapered physique, his regular, early morning cardio showed in the toned ripple that carved through the length of his abdominals.

Obliques tensed, his traps pulled taut his broad shoulders as he held himself erect before her admiration.

A dusting of silver hair between his pectorals, they mapped down his linea alba, coaxing her gaze down with it to arrive at the soft thatch beneath his naval. That handsome iron trail lead further, not that she required any additional incentive to seek what waited lower still.

His engorged length bobbed upwards in a slender curve towards his abdomen. A bead of precum at his tip, he quirked in gentle pulsations from between his thighs in wait.

He didn't permit her too much indulgence, beginning to make his way towards her with the sort of noble confidence only afforded to one who knew how he appealing we was to his lover. One who maintained exceptional care of himself, and knew his efforts were appreciated.

She wasn't left to her lonesome for long. Joining her at the edge of the bed, he grabbed her by the hip-bones to yank her up, and back to meet his groin. One foot planted on the floor, he drew his knee up on the the mattress. Dropping his pelvis to grant them the deeper angle they both knew they needed.

Grabbing himself roughly about his swollen base, his patience lasted only for as long as it took him to align himself with her soaked folds. Pushing through them with his tip, a whine dislodged from him with the guttural timbre of an animal claiming a compatible mate.

By the time Emmrich sank inside her, just to the point of where curve of his head blended with his shaft, he was completely gone. Head tipped back, a wet and strained noise of fervor sprang from the back of his throat.

Her tight velvet sheathed him one agonizing inch at a time. Even with her lubrication he still hurt her; unable to hold himself back once he felt that initial, hasty stretch of her walls. A growl seeped from his depths, knotted and yanking inward, as her muscle squeezed at him with her own greed.

He was able to will himself still for long enough to allow her time to adjust - a decent girth, he was longer than he was wide when swelled in full. A lot for her small frame to take, slotting himself to the hilt saw him bottom-out in the same motion. A gasp tugged itself from the tender depths of which his cockhead just battered.

The noises he made when he buried himself within her never failed to tighten her around him. Like a reflex, his groaned relief only worsened her need for her own.

This time had been different. He didn't experience relief. He didn't feel satiation from her plush heat kneading his heft. It only worsened his withdrawal. He wouldn't know contentedness until he split her open, and burrowed as far inside her as he could.

"You'll be the death of me, my girl. Gripping me like that," he sighed, relishing the way her core both fought his intrusion, and spasmed wider in frenetic accommodation. "Whimpering, as you are."

Long, spidery digits dug into the firm flesh of her hips for purchase. His chest felt tighter with every breath he relied on to steady himself, to keep from pistoning his hips too hard, too fast. Though her previous defiance tempted half his mind to handle her with such aggression.

Hoarse, full-body pants drooled from him like a sick hound as he began to work himself inside. Fluttering her delicate velvet as he stretched her down around his length, using her hips as both leverage for his slow, too-deep thrusts, and catharsis for what still swirled within him.

The lucidity he had been able to maintain all that time had dissolved just like that. The confines of her slobbering muscle pulsed around him with the suffocating tightness of a woman who sought revenge. Even with how thoroughly she had been broken in, her body reaped retaliation where it could.

It saw his initial thrusts ragged and uneven. The little elf had him sloppy.

"E-em-aHh-!" Ripped from her as he picked up his pace without warning. His taut musculature rigid as he leaned into his momentum, it didn't interfere with his perfect posture, even as he began to drill.

"You're infuriating. No one's ever gotten under my skin quite like you, little Death Caller." His divulgences near frenzied, he suddenly switched his hold on her to clip his hands around her upper arms.

Hoisting her up abruptly, he took from her the hold she had on the duvet. He was all that kept her from falling face first into the mattress. "You haunt my thoughts. I'm unable to rid myself of your smell - how insufferable you are, so arrogant and so effortless as you undo all that I am, all I have striven to become."

Any and all quips or pleas died against the back of her throat, strangled by the shrill yelps from the sheer pressure of his hips snapping against her. Pinching her with his grasp at the crease of her elbows. Locking her against him, while he rode her out with harsh bucks. A single strand of his hair broke free from the pomade that held it in place.

Her bottom still tender and throbbing, it didn't appeal to his mercy to lessen his attack. He was too enamored with how the swell of her fit with his groin, his slick length disappearing into her pretty pink folds with every snap.

Emmrich had always made love to her. Thorough, and meticulous and bursting with tender affection. This time wasn't like that. This was an assertion of his dominance. This was a reminder of her place.

This was a fuck. Pure, and plain as day.

His stamina was a thing to behold, but he had been stretched ever thin since their evening began. Bouncing her up and down his shaft made quick work of his strained resolve, the whispers of his climax pulled at him with neediness reminiscent of his young lover.

"Tell me, my pet." He huffed, his skin prickled at the tightening of his scrotum. Threatening the burst of his dam. "Where would you like me to-"

"In-side-me-!" The demand made breathless and choppy, his unrelenting force stilting each syllable.

He had only ever finished on her; the small of her back, the protrusion of her clavicle, one spur of the moment rendezvous that left him with the visual of him dripping down the quirk of her victorious pout. All at her behest, she had never asked this of him before, and he'd never dare suggest it.

Of course she'd ambush him at such a pregnable moment, when he felt more animal than man. Liable to unwise decisions in his haste to exorcise whatever had possessed him back at the canal.

He shut his eyes tight to her plea, as his stomach flipped over with blunt force. He knew better than to be so irresponsible, and yet-

"Ariadne." Grunted low in warning. "I'll not last much-longer-,"

He hadn't been with her long enough to gauge the risks, unfamiliar with both her cycle, and the strength of her fertility. He hadn't the time to weigh that potential cost, as her wanton mantra of please please please sent the necessary blood blow from his brain to the strain between his legs. As if he could erect harder than he already was.

"Please! Please inside me-please-,"

Her temptation was far greater than the meager shred of resolve he clung to. Her depths were so warm and snug, tugging him in deep and then deeper still. Fluttering around the heft of his cock in frantic coercion.

To feel him crowd against her womb. To leave her feeling full. Of him.

The pressure behind his eyes began to swell, prodding his paper-thin restraint. Pushing him to devolve to his most base biological motivators.

He might have been an older man, but he was still just a man, after all.

Without a hitch in his stride, he released one elbow at a time, snaking her around the abdomen with one wiry arm, he snatched her beneath the dainty cut of her jaw with his other hand.

Bending her head back, he curved over her like a viper. The extra height he had on her allowed him to look into her eyes, manhandling her like a rag doll as his thrusts increased momentum. Reaching new depths with his penetration, signaled by the crude joining of wet flesh. More loosened locks fell into his darkened eyes, further obscuring the man she knew.

Ariadne was mounted by beast who borrowed Emmrich's skin. His touch was known to her, his smell was right; but the force that pummeled her into submission she already surrendered long ago was a force she had yet to reckon with.

His rhythm faltered as she fluttered her lashes up at him, her feline gaze pleading, drunk on his speed and ferocity. Her throat purred beneath his palm with her strangled groans and whimpers, each one sent straight to the knot in his scrotum, uncomfortably tight and twitching.

The jut of his hips canting at a wicked pace, one that telegraphed his crescendo, every withdraw of his veined girth had her keening from the loss. Even from the fractions of a second it took before he thrust back in.

He was only vaguely aware of the depravity that sloshed out from over his neat lines. His crisp presentation crumbling, his mindful respectability now a memory. His view of her full hips unobstructed, her abused womanhood raw and stretched around the brunt of him was all he could subscribe to. The molten ache coiled in the seat of her pelvis cranked tighter and tighter with every nudge to her womb.

A shred of his pride remaining, it was enough. Enough to prevent him from spilling his less savory fantasies, as his tongue tangled a growled litany of English, elvish, and a language unfamiliar to her ear.

An indecipherable proclamation of just what her desire for unprotected copulation did to him, she caught it in fragments only.

Anvallenim, nadas, mamae, and his repeated use of da'len all struck at her with sinful awareness. Each word recognized twitched her ruined cunt around him. Filling in his gaps, enough to betray what he had so thinly veiled.

Somewhere through her mottled stupor she supposed that was by design. To impart his shameful urges without having to face the mortification of hearing himself voice them.

Her perfect gentleman, near unrecognizable with the sheer magnitude of his abandon.

His grunts of elvish and their implications proved to be what brought her to the edge, feeling her seize around him as she fluttered in her tell-tale crest. His tip continuing to jab the spongy patch inside of her his digits had finessed with ease. The way the tine of her right ear gave a little twitch, a call for assistance; all she needed now was a push.

"Come for me, da'len." His grandiloquent embellishment stripped, he commanded her stern and chest-deep. "Come for me."

That broke her.

And she had already been broken from the start.

A release heavy and throbbing, the coil in her stomach sprang loose, scorching her in undulation from the inside out. Fresh wetness dampened the corners of her squint, Emmrich continued to ride her through it. Massaging himself against the clenching ridges of muscle, that wrung him out with every contraction.

"This body of yours, your youth-," he huffed through grit teeth, feeling himself drift further away with every rut against her she had no choice but to take. Yielding to him like she never had before. "-leads my mind to wander to... dangerous places."

"I- l-like you- ...dangerous-," she managed to pant out in pieces. "Please Emmrich - claim me. I want you vulgar and selfish and messy and-,"

Flush against her prenatal chamber, he released.

Without the constraint of reason or dignity, he spent himself with a sharp grunt, his distinguished features screwed up in both elation and regret. His polish had tarnished and dulled, and all for her to witness.

Coating her depths with his seed, and the nagging horror that they could absolutely take root. Yet he could hardly keep his head level, let alone acknowledge such probability. Attempting too proved as successful as pinching a tendril of smoke between his fingertips. Dispersing into oblivion the moment he made contact.

The knots of semen worked their way through his girth, loosening the tension from his bowed shoulders and furrowed brow a little more with each spurt. To his flooding of her sex, she offered tender mewls of repose.

As the blinding ebbed to allow for his good sense's return, he shook like a wet hound. Stuck to her backside, Emmrich was ginger in his movements as he went to withdraw from her blessed center.

She whined in what presented like drunken protest, pawing weakly at him to keep him still, and sheathed to the root inside her. He shut his eyes as he felt the thick viscosity of his spend leak from where their sexes meshed, the sensation stirring lazy kicks of his half-hard cock against her tender walls.

Coiling his arms around her middle to lower her down into the mattress on her belly, he followed her; his softening member still nestled within her sticky heat, as he collapsed half on top of her. It almost could have been spooning, had he more cradled her than crushed her.

Not that she minded at all.

"Mm-mmrich?" Slurred by drowsiness and lousy with satisfaction, the lure of unconsciousness pulled her further and further away from him.

"Yes-," he swallowed his hoarseness, already beginning to rid the evidence of what he had transformed to during their union. "Yes, love?"

After a pause so long he thought her out cold, she then offered; "Your insults aren't petty." Her voice so small he almost didn't hear. A crooked grin curled his lips into her sweat-dampened hair. Her candied musk faint, but lingering.

"No?"

"They're first-rate." She sighed, as if given in grudging propitiation. "Peerless, as you are in all your fields of expertise."

I'm sorry.

Her stroked his thumb along her exposed scapula, seeking to tame her trembles. "An accomplished denigrator, and an old fool. You give me far too much credit, little love. Something I do not grant you near enough."

As am I.

Her breaths deepening, they shared the silence as she soon drifted away. With much care in his handling, he slid his arm beneath her and flipped them, drawing her to his chest where she belonged.

Sleep wouldn't call for him, not for some time. He was still too keyed up from what she had managed to rip from his depths. A mess she made, one she left for him to clean up.

He raked his knuckles up and down her spine, a motion that served to calm him, more than it was for her. When that no longer occupied him, his fingers crawled for her hair. Her bun had fallen out at some point during their tousle, but he couldn't recall when.

Emmrich stared up at the ceiling, his eye following how the sparse candlelight threw the shadow; flickering and twisting the source, it reminded him of how the Fade took to her. How she held it for him, even as he passed her through the maelstrom of release.

His yearning for a drag flared anew, it squirmed in his slender fingers. Aching for a cigarette, but one with the filter bitten clean off.

Tagging as per request: @goddessnyx216

#emmrook #brat tamer emmrich #brat tamer emmrich volkarin #emmrook smut #emmrich romance #emmrich volkarin #dragon age emmrich #emmrich the necromancer #emmrich dragon age #da4 emmrich #emmrich x rook #rook x emmrich #soft dom emmrich #soft dom emmrich volkarin #emmrich volkarin fanfiction #emmrich volkarin smut #emmrich volkarin fanfic

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akq96618 · 9 hours ago

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hello anon-

#gijinka #bakuage sentai boonboomger #boonboomger #boondorio boonderas #byoon diesel #my art #they're still a mechanical lifeform but more humanoid (?)#I want to make byundi always wear his helmet like celty from durarara but i wanna see his hair too #so visor it is #thank u for ur patience anon #i hope you like this!#ask akq #from byundi's hair i want to imply that Sakito just mimick his all back hairstyle thinking it was cool :3 #for bunbun's clothes i get the idea from the racing crew's shirts #rkgk

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technically-human · 24 hours ago

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I don't know the rules for art requests so I'm hoping if I do this wrong you'll just ignore this message. I really, really like your Dead Boy Detectives art and I've been following it since the first comic with the soul orbs. I also like your different AUs and crossovers.

Could you write/draw a comic where Doom Patrol Charles meets Reverse Verse Charles? I think that could be interesting because those are the two versions of Charles who admit they're in love with Edwin, but also those two are on opposite ends of the emotional stability scale. That's probably not a good word for it-- what I mean is that DP-Charles seems comfortable with himself while RV-Charles thinks he's an absolutely terrible person, and RV-Charles is kind of manipulative at times while DP-Charles seems to be aware of others' feelings and gives them space.

Also, I think RV-Edwin and DP-Edwin might enjoy sassing each other too much.

No rules, just a lot of patience! Reading your comments always makes me happy, so I made this little thing very quickly :) I'm sure there's a lot of fun interactions for them to have, but it might take me a while to come up with more stuff.

I don't think DP!Charles has advice for RV!Charles... after all, they're kind of in the same boat. But maybe he can teach him a thing or two about giving Edwin time and space? I would love the see everyone's thoughts, because this seems like it could be a fun dynamic.

Thank you for the request, and to everyone else who sent me one: I live in shame. I will get to them.

ko-fi

#ask ask ask #dead boy detectives #payneland #edwin x charles #reverse verse #dead patrol #i think these charles with get along better than with rv does with the original charles #all edwins are naturally suspicious of other edwins though #it's just the way things are #also something to be said about dp!charles being scared of water #and rv!charles being scared of fire #dunno what but something for sure #i really want to get these guys talking but i'm still not sure what i want them to say #also i have a few requests for the dp boys! it's not the same but take this in the meantime #joking about dp!charles' bat will never get old fight m #me*#i kinda wanted to have dp!edwin saying something like #of all the versions of us YOU avoided hell?#but it felt... kinda mean #well he is mean but that would get too serious too fast and this was meant to be a quick silly thing

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yandere-daydreams · 2 days ago

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Daytrip Illumi my beloved... and poor Darling. You capture how unnerving and unsettling he should be so well!

Illumi should be Strange and Uncanny even at his mildest(? not sure if an Illumi in love could be 'mild', but idk if it could be called volatile either. Darling was right, you can't ever tell with him); man was cosplaying Pinhead for a week. He could talk the whole time but just literally rattled at people. And poor Ghost, my stomach just dropped because everything so far was downright too tame and too thoughtful for a Yandere.

Aside from the porn, I was waiting for that drop. Darling really can't have nice things, can't she? Or rather, she can't have anything he's not able to take. Whether a Darling is defiant (Obedience Training, Ingress) or submissive (Daytrip) he's always going to pile on the trauma.

But the moment he started mouthing and groping at her in the car, I knew he was out of patience. Everything else that day was window dressing and foreplay, and the bit where she picks a cute, frilly, puff-sleeved dress really sold the toy and doll comparison later, she was so right at the observation that Illumi took her as a ballerina for his music box. In the end, the daytrip really wasn't for her to enjoy: he ripped up her dream dress, dashed her hope that her cat was doing well without her, and didn't get to eat anything at the picnic aside from the morsel he gave her. Girl couldn't even enjoy the scenery cause he blocked it off with himself. The end was so despondent in comparison to the beginning where she resolves to take any out that presents itself, falling asleep and giving into the dark (Illumi) swallowing her.

And meanwhile, Illumi's just had an epiphany on why his parents kept having kids even after the designated heir Killua. And also patting himself on the back cause he checked off all the boxes on his 'perfect romantic date to-do list', and gotten the *ideal* ending of having finally lost his v-card. 10/10, Great Day. Would do again sometime (but not too soon).

The juxtapostion between her opinion of how the daytrip went and his opinion of how it went must be... something. I almost don't want to know, and I don't know how to properly describe what this made me feel, but it's visceral.

i love it when you people treat my silly little fics like they need to be studied under a microscope,,,, i will be living on this ask for weeks thank you anon <3

illumi just makes me,,, yeah. i feel like there's so little you can do to actually fight against him (running's not an option when he has you under surveillance 24/7, fighting a seasoned hitman won't end well, etc.), but good behavior only makes him more likely to proceed with the awful things he would've done anyway, had you spent every minute from your inevitably kidnapping kicking, screaming, and cursing his name. he's got a running checklist of uncomfortable positions he'd like to see you in, and it's less a question of when you'll be ready for it and more what he'll have to do to make you compliant enough to be, if not a willing participant, than a docile one. i think he does care about your feelings and you loving him back, but your priorities are so drastically different that you two are never actually going to end up on the same page. in his mind, he's done his research (i.e. played roughly a hundred hours of the most popular dating sims he could get his hands on), been a good partner, and taken very good care of his beloved doll/pet/captive. in yours, you've been violated and abused by the man who both kidnapped you and admitted to killing your cat without blinking, and there's very little reconciliation from there.

#personal #anon ask

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beesmygod · 5 hours ago

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navel-gazey retrospective: man my pain is like truly almost entirely gone. i had allergy and effexor woes for like 2-3 years and then the last 2 years overlapped with the terrible mysterious joint disease+effexor tapering (AAH!!!! my back is only just starting to feel truly free!!!!!!) so its extremely welcome to only experience like a weird 1-2 pain scale achey hour or two a day at worst. it was so bad. i'm still not 100%, im still so tired all the time, but much, much better than i used to. things are looking up and im slowly getting back in the saddle. it's slower than i want, but it's at least trending upward.

sorry for being completely unhinged for several years. thank you for being patient with me if you could stomach it, because it is only in hindsight that i realize how caustic and vile it could be. i am pretty ashamed of my behavior during this time. knowing this can and will happen again if there's a pain flare/weird med issue is making me hyper-vigilant about my behavior to prevent this from just playing out over and over for the rest of my life, forever. im going to keep doing what im doing now, which i hope is unobtrusive and respectful. i was a miserable jerk and i am sorry i made it everyone else's problem.

sincerely, if it were not for several things i think i would have been completely fucked: medicaid, being able to do comics for a living, and adam. if not for the flexibility of the work i do, i would not be able to have taken all that time off to try to at least inch toward an understanding of what was going on with me and take long periods of time to recover from it. people were endlessly kind with me and the sporadic update schedule that crept up on me in the previous years and i appreciate it. my life was improved by your support directly and it continues to be improved by it. it helped a lot.

but i was only truly able to have that incredibly loose schedule because of adam, who worked his ass off not only at his job, but also by picking up my slack around the house (there was a point where moving dishes from the table to the kitchen became "impossible" ?? and i'd have to wait until morning to do it??), cooking dinner every night, helping with laundry, demonstrated endless patience and respect for me when i spent an extraordinary amount of time sitting on the couch staring at my phone, covered bills when i needed the months off, and really just stepped up and showed up when i know he's exhausted too. thanks adam love you...!

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man-i-love-fanfiction · 7 hours ago

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To Share the Space with Simple Living Things - Hozier x Fem!Florist!Reader

Chapter One: Blue Hydrangeas- Gratitude

Summary: Your job as a florist has been the highlight of your day for years. It becomes even more exciting when a certain new customer becomes a regular.

Word Count: 2286

Author's Note: Hey guys! My first multi-chapter fic, i'm so excited!!! i don't have a strict posting schedule, but I won't go more than two weeks without an update. please bear with me here because I have no idea what it's like to be a florist. I hope you all enjoy!!

p.s. special shoutout again to @deprivedmusicaljunkie for beta reading, i can't thank you enough!

fic below the cut :)

You were a part of the small minority of people who actually loved their job.

The concept of this was strange to most people — strangers making small talk, men asking introductory questions on dates, even your own parents. Maybe because it wasn’t exactly a career; more so a job that someone has as a way to make rent while getting their degree, which is how you originally began to work at Earth's Laughter Florists. College had been years ago for you now, and yet you stayed behind the counter, making bouquets for customers with a genuine smile on your face. It got to the point that when the old owner decided it was time to retire, she chose you to take over. Of course, you immediately accepted; this job was the best part of your day. While all of your friends were going insane with their office jobs, you… admittedly still went insane from time to time, just in a much prettier workplace.

You had even taken it upon yourself to learn flower language: different types of flowers having different symbolic meanings. It was almost like extra credit. It gave you a new challenge of arranging flowers while keeping both color and symbolism in mind, and helped you create bouquets and arrangements with more meaning. This, in turn, gave your customers a new incentive to buy different flowers for different occasions based on what they meant. More business for you, more smiles on people's faces, and more money in your pocket. Everyone wins.

Another benefit of the job — your favorite part — was that it gave you small glimpses into the lives of other people. Flowers had a multiplicity of sorts. They were so versatile that people bought from you for almost every occasion. Weddings, funerals, birthdays, dance recitals, you name it. It made you more appreciative of others. Every day was a new insight into whatever your customers had going on. And today was no exception.

You arrived an hour before the store opened, as usual. You went into the back and threw on your apron, adjusting your name tag. Thoughts of everything you had to do before opening ran through your head, and you quickly began to busy yourself with everything from giving some flowers new vases of water to following up on an order for a wedding. Your two coworkers came in around a half an hour after your arrival, donning their aprons, saying their hellos, and also beginning their day. When the time finally came, you flipped around the sign hanging from the door, telling everyone outside you were open. You stood behind the counter and waited.

And waited.

One of the only downsides of your job was that it required a lot of patience.

It's not like you were just staring at the clock, biding your time until a customer entered. You still had work to get done, mostly tying up loose ends from what you didn't finish before. Your coworkers were occupied with a tall order of arrangements, so they stuck to the back, with the occasional popping in to ask if you needed assistance. Politely, you declined.

Mundane was the word that kept repeating itself in your head as you did your odd jobs around the store. Not necessarily a bad thing. In fact, mundane meant nothing horrible was occurring (even though it meant nothing was occurring). Of course, mundane never does last long.

You had just finished creating an arrangement to put on display when your first customer of the day walked in.

The bell above the door rang, and you quickly walked back over to where you were supposed to be standing, not even bothering to see who had walked in until you were behind the counter.

The first thing you noticed was that he was taller than you had expected, with long brown curls that fell down to his shoulders. His outfit, a black turtleneck, a brown leather jacket, and black jeans, was the right mix of formal and casual; you could tell he had somewhere to be, but with people that wouldn't mind if he laughed a little too loudly.

To top it all off, he was handsome. You couldn't pull your gaze from him if you tried.

He walked forward, slowly looking around at all the flowers on display until his gaze locked onto you. He broke the silence between you.

“Hello. I need some flowers.”

You maintained your composure and brushed off your previous thoughts. You started your usual routine, asking him the same questions to get to know the situation (and him) better.

“What's the occasion?”

“It's my mum’s birthday.”

“Does she have a favorite flower?” You asked. He replied with no hesitation.

“She loves hydrangeas. Blue hydrangeas. She always has.”

His immediate answer brought a small smile to your face. You nodded intently and began to think of all the possible combinations of flowers that would work well.

“You're specific. I like that. That makes my job easier. Usually guys say something like ‘I don't know’ or ‘the purple ones’ or just ‘roses’. It's like some people don't even pay attention.”

“Well, that's all I know how to do.”

“A blessing and a curse, I imagine.”

“More of a blessing, believe it or not.”

“I have a similar blessing, though it seems to be laser-focused on plants of all things.” You joked. “Speaking of plants, let me start on your bouquet.”

You left your spot, walking over to the wall of flowers on display for you to pick from. You stopped and stood next to the man, fixated on the wall as you tried to decide what flowers would go well together, in meaning and in visuals. Mumbling, you thought out loud.

“Alright. For his mother. Blue hydrangeas… that's gratitude. What can go with that?”

The customer tilted his head in confusion, clearly having heard you.

“I don't mean to interrupt, but what's with blue hydrangeas and gratitude?” He asked. Your eyes widened, and you turned to face him as you started your explanation.

“Oh, it's flower language. I learned about it to help me make more symbolic bouquets. Back in the Victorian era, people would use bouquets of flowers to convey messages they couldn't say out loud. Most of the time it was a love confession, though you could also reject someone if you picked your flora wisely. Individual flowers have meanings, too. Blue hydrangeas, your mum's favorite, symbolize gratitude. There was even a change in the meaning based on which side the ribbon was on, or if they were given upside down, and…” You cut yourself off when you realized you’d been talking for much too long, your excited expression dropping. “I’m rambling about something you definitely don't care about. I’m sorry.”

He gave you a confused look, and a small laugh of disbelief escaped him.

“What? Don't apologize. That was fascinating. I don't know if I’ll ever see flowers the same way again. In a good way, of course”

The fact that he was actually invested in what you had to say pleasantly surprised you. People — not just customers, people you actually choose to surround yourself with — would often tune you out after the first two sentences.

You knew this man for two minutes and he was already raising your standards.

“Well then, I’m happy to give you a new perspective. I’ll get started on your arrangement.”

You stepped back to get a better look at the flowers lining the walls of the room. You already had a vague idea of what you wanted, you just needed to put it into action. Hydrangeas were grabbed first, and made the focal point of the bouquet immediately. Other flowers were picked up and put down, a trial-and-error of sorts until you found which ones truly matched.

Occasionally, you looked over your shoulder to find your customer still standing there, spectating you from a few feet away. He watched you with a certain gleam in his eye, one you would attribute to admiration if you didn't know any better.

Once your selections were made, you picked out a plastic sheet and took the flowers into the back, where there was a smaller room with a much larger table surface for a workspace. The wrapping was laid out, and meticulously, flowers were laid down. Rearranged. Shifted around. After a few small touches, everything was in the exact place you wanted it.

You finally finished up, wrapping the flowers in the silver plastic and tying it up with a blue ribbon. You went back behind the counter and held the bundle of flowers up, pointing at each one as you described the meaning of each specifically selected flower.

“There's the blue hydrangeas for gratitude, white roses for loyalty and beauty, and belladonna delphinium for protection and well-being. You're basically showering your mum with compliments with this thing.”

“It's gorgeous,” he replied, the look of astonishment from before lingering on his face.

“As nature tends to be.”

“I mean, you can't argue with that, but the way you’ve arranged them, it's… stunning. She’ll love it.”

His compliment surprised you; it wasn't too often you got such a compliment for a simple bouquet. It caused your heart to flutter in your chest in a way that definitely crossed the border of the employee-customer relationship you had going on. Frightening. Maybe if you kept acting unaffected, it would magically stop.

“Let me ring you up.”

There was no true cash register, and you instead relied on a pen, a yellow legal pad, and mental math for customers’ totals. It took a moment, but you calculated what he owed you.

“That'll be $54.”

He muttered in agreement, and you watched as he reached into his coat pocket. His hand stayed there, fiddling around. After a moment, he reached the opposite hand into the opposite pocket. He felt around for a second, pulling his hands out and placing them on his hips. His content expression was replaced by one that was much more panicked.

“Shit. Shit, shit, shit!”

Your brows furrowed in confusion.

“What’s the matter?”

“I…I forgot my wallet back at my house. Do you take any online payment?”

You shook your head.

“No, sorry. We're old school. That's alright though, I can put these to the side and you can run home and get your wallet.”

He let out a frustrated sigh in response, angry more at himself than anything else.

“That's the thing. I live thirty minutes from here and I’m meeting my mum in fifteen minutes, and I have specific instructions to be on time. I might just…”

He stopped his sentence, paused, and took a deep breath to calm himself.

“I’ll find something else. Thanks for all your help, though. You have a gift.”

You caught the sincerity behind his now bitter tone, and it made your heart ache. He turned to leave and took a few steps forward. You didn't process that you had said anything until his reaction.

“Wait.”

He immediately stopped in his tracks and turned around, and you realized your impulses led you to call out for him even though you had no plan whatsoever.

Biting at your lower lip, you thought of an idea. You genuinely wanted to help this man give his mother flowers… The fact you found him attractive was merely an added bonus. Besides, the pity you felt for him overrode that. Once the metaphorical light bulb lit above your head, you spoke again, leaning in closer and lowering your voice so only he could hear.

“Okay, I’m not supposed to do this, and this definitely isn't a good business practice, but I can tell you're not just doing this to steal flowers from me, so I’ll make an exception.”

He leaned in as well with a look of intrigue. You continued to explain.

“You can take the bouquet for now, and then within… I don't know, two days, you have to pay me back. I’d just need a name and phone number so I can contact you if you don't show up.”

You snatched one of your business cards from the display and flipped it over so the blank side faces upwards, leaving a pen in front of you so he could write. He picked up the ballpoint, seemingly scribbled for a moment, and then slid the card back over to you. Written in surprisingly beautiful handwriting, you read his name aloud.

“Andrew… Nice to meet you. I’m Y/N.”

“I know.”

This caught you off guard. For a second you wondered if maybe you did accidentally give a free bouquet to a shady guy.

“Excuse me?”

Andrew’s mouth went agape as he realized the connotation behind what he said, and he quickly muttered an explanation, flustered. “Oh my god! No. Not like that. You… your name tag.”

A sigh of relief escaped your lips, and you gave him a nod.

“Right. Forgot that was there for a second. Alright, take your bouquet. Happy birthday to your mother. And remember, two days.”

He gave you a gesture showing his gratitude, pressing his hands together.

“Thank you. So much. I don’t know how I’ll repay you.” He said, grabbing the bouquet.

“Hopefully with money in two days,” you joked.

He let out a laugh.

“Money would do the trick. I’ll see you soon.”

“See you soon.”

You watched as he left, the smile of your face growing as you noticed his appreciation of the flowers you had arranged by the doorway. He paused for a moment before opening the door and leaving, and you caught him humming a tune you'd never heard before.

You hoped he would come back much sooner rather than later.

#hozier #hozier x reader #andrew hozier byrne #hozier fanfic #hozier fanfiction #writing #fanfic #writeblr #writers on tumblr #divider #to share the space with simple living things

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littleakito · 6 hours ago

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omg hello!!! ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡ can I request any little kanade hcs!!! I loved your ena ones sooo much! Take your time and I hope you have a lovely day ahead ૮꒰ྀི∩´ ᵕ `∩꒱ྀིა

🎶﹐LiTTLE! KaNADE﹕✦

thank you so much for the request ★ !

🎧︰＞＜〔✦〕﹒ ⠀

1　 ﹒　Kanade is mainly a sleepy regressor, the fog in her mind when she’s lying down in bed often lures her enough to slide her thumb into her mouth and close her eyes. On top of this, she feels a bit more childlike after listening to a nice video game soundtrack and tends to babble along.

2　 ﹒　Honami, more often than not, has had her sleeves tugged at by the girl asking to have her hair tied up and out of her face. She can’t help the warm smile that melts onto her face at the request, and obliges almost immediately. Who can say no to that face, hm?

3　 ﹒　Kanade doesn’t quite know her age range, she simply notices that, at times, she feels a bit more childlike than usual. Sometimes, she feels like she wants to cling onto her friend’s sleeves and follow them around. Sometimes, she feels like she’s responsible enough to take care of herself (despite that itching feeling begging her to find someone’s warm hug.)

4　 ﹒　She has a few stuffed animals she’s named after her friends: a cat named Amia, a hedgehog named Enanan, and a bunny named Yuki. When little, she feels ashamed and upset if she doesn’t have all of them tucked in bed with her.

5　 ﹒　Mizuki is keen on painting her nails all sorts of pretty colours for her when she’s small, Kanade doesn’t quite have it in her to refuse, especially not when her big sister looks so happy…

🎧︰＞＜〔✦〕﹒ ⠀

Thank you for the request eheheh, I hope I did her justice! I’m not too familiar with N25, but getting requests like this really does help me try and write unfamiliar characters!

Also, sorry for the delay everyone! I’ve been on a trip up to Florida, getting dragged around by my grandparents hehe.. I’ll try and work on every request today! Thanks for your patience ໒꒰ ྀི ′̥̥̥ ᵔ ‵̥̥̥ ꒱ྀིა

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deathbxnny · 8 hours ago

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helloo, platonic capitano with a teen!reader who is one of dottores escaped test subjects?

Thank you for the interesting request Anon and I hope you'll like this!<33

Content: Teen reader, platonic relationships, mentions of vague child experimentation/abuse, sfw

Reader has no set pronouns.

((Not proofread))

Capitano first met you through his subordinates, who had dragged you to stand before him after catching you wandering close to their camp aimlessly. You were terrified of his soldiers and especially of him, not that he could blame you. And so, he approached you in a gentle and calm way, as he tried to piece together who exactly you were.

It didn't take him long to figure out that his "dearest" colleague had something to do with it. A man he didn't often enjoy interacting with whatsoever due to their opposing views on human lifes. He therefore decided to take you in, mainly because he took pity on you and was very much unwilling to hand you back over to the doctor.

It was hard to make you trust him at first, as his uniform and clear affiliation with the evil man scared you. But over time, and with a lot of patience he thankfully had, he was able to finally gain your approval as a caretaker and father figure right after. Capitano never in his life thought that he'd be taking care of a child one day, but fate was an odd thing, to say the least.

He did his best to be there for you and get you the help you need. He's unfortunately a very busy man, but that doesn't stop him from taking care of you anyway. If you're having nightmares or flashbacks from the past, he'll calmly console you and tell you that everything is alright. If you have physical pain due to the experiments you've undergone, then he'll have Snezhnaya's best doctors watch over and treat you.

Capitano keeps his past from you for the most part and never reveals his face either in fear of reversing the progress you've made. He never pushes you to do anything you don't want to either. There is a certain understanding between you two that makes everything peaceful.

Life may still be difficult for you even years after your abuse, but having him as a parental figure really healed a huge part of you nonetheless.

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact x you #genshin impact x gender neutral reader #genshin x reader #genshin x y/n #genshin x you #genshin #genshin capitano x reader #genshin capitano #capitano x you #capitano x reader #capitano

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pseudowho · 3 days ago

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Ahhhhhhhhh! You wrote the “sex-talk” fic of my dreams. I was so ill when I sent in that request/ramble/suggestion - I thought it was a DayQuil/NyQuil induced dream. If you didn’t receive any such request and it was a DayQuil/NyQuil induced dream - please kill me now and instead focus on the compliments below.

Your writing fills me with joy, laughter, and a lightness that is lacking currently in my day-to-day life. Thank you for sharing this! I cannot emphasize enough how much your stories, humor, candidness, and genuine humanity is appreciated here on Tumblr (especially by an oldie like me).

One day, when I’m not nervous or feel super creepy, I will send in messages under my username.

Oh my gosh, yesssss!!

When I was writing it, I thought "I'm sure someone requested this in an Ask, forever ago", but I tracked back and back and couldn't find it for the life of me. I only hoped that whoever requested it, would read it...and you have!

Thank you so much. I always intended to write your request, because as soon as you sent it I laughed, hard. Thank you for your patience, and your exquisite contribution to the Papamin by Haitch universe.

☝️ the whole class saying 'thank you'

And from me: thank you so much for loving my work. I try to make them as realistic as possible. The banter, the arguments, and adoration feeling raw is absolutely key to making stories hit home.

(for the latest Papamin, where Nanami Kento gives Yuuji 'the talk', please enjoy it here)

I was speaking to a beloved friend yesterday, and we agreed that it's the little things a character does, that really builds a picture of a life and who they are.

You're not creepy. You're lovely. I feel deeply privileged that you've taken time out of your day, just to send me kind words. So thank you. Feel free to freak out on main in my Inbox, on Anon or not.

Love,

-- Haitch xxx

#pseudowho #pseudowho answers you #jjk #haitch #kento nanami #nanami kento #jjk nanami #kento nanami x reader #kento nanami x you #nanami fluff #Papamin by Haitch #Papamin by pseudowho #yuji itadori #jjk itadori #jujutsu itadori #yuuji #megumi #nobara

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bcolfanfic · 2 days ago

Text

universal sound au•gender-integrated 100bg

house fire

authors note: hi! writing this kind of au is new for me so i hope its alright. massive s/o to ww2 rpf is fine discord server for being so lovely and encouraging <3 bare bones run down: halona is a ball turret gunner, elowyn is a pilot + lesbian who was involved with tatty back on base and has been projecting missing her onto halona :p and cj was a navigator.

cj is *not* dead, while all this is going on she's a train evading via the comet line. which of course crank nor anyone else has a way of knowing.

---

Crank took a breath in before he knocked on the library door, the quiet murmur of conversation coming through from the other side.

When a few seconds went by without any movement he opened the door himself. Brady was seated in the far corner, his back slightly hunched over a stack of papers that sprawled across the table. Halona was pressed shoulder to shoulder next to him, leaning into his space to tell him something he couldn't quite hear- but whatever it was made Brady laugh under his breath. He tilted his head to look at her, eyes soft.

Better Clark sent me than Elowyn, Crank thought to no one.

Brady reached toward Halona’s hair, his fingers ghosting near her face before Crank cleared his throat, loud and pointed. Both of them jolted like they’d been burned.

Turning his head towards him, Brady sucked in his bottom lip.

"Hm?"

"Colonel Clark wants to run us through some escape stuff,"

Halona gathered her things and stood with a soft, Thanks Crank as she brushed past without meeting his eyes. But Brady didn’t move. He just stared at the table in front of him, shoulders tight.

It chipped at his patience.

"Come on, lover boy," Crank muttered, turning back and giving the door frame a pat. "we’ve got more important things to do."

"You're acting like El." Brady finally said as he pushed in his chair and stood, budging past Crank- shoulder pushing against his side hard enough that he had feeling it was intentional.

Crank paused for a beat before he followed him, boots brushing against the dust collecting on the floor. "And how am I doin' that?" He called out after him, edge of his voice biting at Brady's heels.

He could sense him rolling his eyes without seeing his face, tone annoyed. "By acting like the sky's gonna fall if I look at Hallie one way or another."

Crank inhaled, flexing his fingers at his side, knuckles aching to be popped. It was more complicated than that- for Elowyn of all people especially. But the root of the way her eyes narrowed at the two of them made enough sense to him. Johnny had never been good at compartmentalizing. And distractions were a liability, now more than ever.

Halona was a good girl; he'd seen enough of her around CJ to know that. He had more faith in her to not get distracted than he did Brady.

It was only the secondary reason that he felt like he could understand the way Elowyn's face twisted every time Brady's hand lingered on her friend's back- and every time he designated himself the one to swipe at the grime that managed to collect itself on the edges of the band-aid patched over her eye.

It made him miss having someone- miss CJ- so much it made his chest ache.

"There’s a whole lot to do around here without you trippin’ over yourself about her. We’ve got more important things to worry about." He said with a gesture at nothing. "El's right about that much."

"El’s just pissy ‘cause she’s jealous." Brady cut in, words sounding somewhat practiced as his tone dropped. "Halona knows it, and so does everyone else with a brain in their skull."

"Doesn’t mean she’s wrong," Crank mumbled, jaw feeling tight as he pushed open the door to the bunk room. Brady was so close behind him he could feel his breath on his neck.

"Yeah and you'd be singing a real different tune if CJ was here." He said, loud as he pushed past him into the room.

Crank froze where he stood in the doorway, suddenly feeling lightheaded. The girls had known from the beginning, and he had a hunch Croz did too if for no other reason than navigator proximity.

But not anyone else, Brady least of all. When he blinked and found his bearings, there was a proud grin tugging at Johnny's mouth.

"The hell 's that supposed to mean?"

Brady didn't miss a beat, stepping back towards him. "You know what it means, you were screwing her." he said, edging on shouting. "And you," He continued, jabbing his finger almost right into his face "wouldn't be acting like we all oughta' take celibacy vows in here if she showed up tomorrow."

Crank’s face burned, and he could sense everyone's eyes on him even when he didn't find he had the gall to look back. Settling for the safest bet he looked away from Brady at where Elowyn was sitting on the edge of her bunk, gaze flicking between the two of them, impassive. Halona had sat herself down at by her feet, looking up at her with one side of her cheek sucked in. Elowyn leaned down to say something in her ear.

Brady scoffed, expectant, and Crank felt like his strings had been cut.

"You know what- go fuck yourself," he spat as he stepped to him, enough that Brady dropped his finger away. "Or go screw Hallie, don't need my bles-"

Before he could even finish the sentence, Brady lunged, his fist meeting Crank's jaw with a crack.

All the air was sucked out of the room at once and Crank staggered back, blood rushing to his mouth. He wiped his lips with the back of his hand, tasting copper as he stumbled to keep his footing. Who he was pretty sure was Bucky came over to haul him up by one arm, barking something at Brady that felt like white noise to his ears.

When he looked at Elowyn again her face had hardened, and it looked like she might say something, but the words never came.

"You think you got everything out of your system there boys?" Colonel Clark said as he walked out from where he'd been in the corner of the room, brows furrowed with his arms crossed over his chest. He clapped a hand on Brady's shoulder and motioned for him to go stand where he'd just come from- as far away from Crank as he was going to get in the small space.

Hearing Elowyn's voice, low and urgent pulled his attention back to her and when he looked over, she had shimmied out of her bunk to sit next to Halona on the floor. Halona looked back at him when he figured that she could sense his staring, lips pressed in a thin line- wet glint in her eye that wasn't bandaged.

Crank swallowed, guilt settling his gut like a stone. If CJ was here, he thought, she would've killed him for making Hallie cry. She'd about knocked a RAF prick on his ass over much less.

Every move he made feeling forced, mechanical, he made himself sit in the empty chair next to Buck at the table, furling and unfurling his fingers around nothing.

"Just this place talking." Buck had taken up saying to all of them.

Crank found himself wishing this place would just shut it if it didn't have a damn thing useful to say, or an MIA navigator to spit out through the fence.

#universal sound au #halona dove #elowyn kirkland #charles cruikshank #john brady #halona x brady #cj x crank #cj howard #mota #masters of the air

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ghoulfuckersincorporated · 3 days ago

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ive been thinking about your norm head cannons post ever since i first saw it. would you be so kind as to possibly gift a lad a longer post about norm w a plus/midsize partner 🛐 ofc you don't have to.

Shoot The Moon

Pairing: Norm MacLean x Plus/Midsize!Female Vault Dweller

Word Count: 30,213

Warnings: smut (18+), angst, pining, mild violence, discussion of arranged marriage, Norm MacLean's daddy issues, Hank MacLean is a piece of shit, neglectful parenting, love confessions, pregnancy talk, wet dreams, mild voyeurism, panty sniffing, masturbation (male), femdom, hand job, mentions of blow jobs, nipple play, cunnilingus, anilingus, hair pulling, scratching, praise kink, unprotected sex, unintentionally rough sex, mild cum play, creampie.

Notes: A hundred million thanks for the patience on this one, folks. It needed a little extra time to simmer, but I'm so happy with how it turned out. Honestly, this is one of my favorite things I've ever written. Can't apologize for the length; I know I originally described it as a "one-shot", but it's ended up more like "three one-shots crafted into a short story". It's a little slow burn in terms of the romance, but there's plenty of smut sprinkled throughout.

I guess you could technically consider this an AU or prequel work of sorts, as I've taken some liberties in establishing how Vault life works, etc. I hope y'all like it as much as I do! I'd love to write more for Norm in the future. His characterization took me a while to iron out, but I'm fond of my version of our petite heroine's even more petite brother.

Norman MacLean was painfully awoken by a throbbing headache as much as his usual alarm, a deep sigh escaping his lips.

It was an important day.

The entirety of Vault 33 had buzzed with excited energy for a full week now, an electricity that could be felt through the walls of his single's suite as he willed himself to rise from his warm bed. The lack of sunlight in the place he'd always called home made it incredibly easy to darken your room, which made getting decent quality sleep easier. However, it also made waking up in the morning a more significant chore than it needed to be, at least for the youngest member of the MacLean clan. His elder sister never seemed to have trouble getting herself out of bed in the mornings, but she never seemed to have trouble with a lot of a things that the smaller, younger man found himself struggling with.

The tile floor of the place was cold under his feet as he managed to rouse himself vertical, shocking him awake a few more degrees and sending him scrambling through his small dresser to yank out a clean Vault suit, along with a pair each of underwear and socks, which he yanked on as quickly as possible, nearly slipping and falling in his haste. He dragged out fastening his suit, yanking on and tying his boots after pulling them from their hiding place beneath his bed; he was in no hurry to report for duty as a member of the greeting committee.

Norm knew he wasn't greeting committee material; everyone else who would be in attendance knew it, as well, including his father, whose insistence was the only thing motivating him to be there in the first place. But he was the Overseer's son, a supposedly prominent member of their little ant colony, and people loved to talk, so here he was, forcing himself awake before he even had to report for work, all to welcome a bunch of people who wouldn't like him any more than the people he'd always lived around did. Fussing with his finicky hair in his bathroom mirror, fogged from the hot water in the basin beneath, he fretted over a toothpaste spot on his chest, hoping Betty or someone else wouldn't have a smart comment about it.

Moving into the small kitchen area to rummage for something to sate his early morning hunger, he moved up onto his tiptoes to grab a box of Sugar Bombs from the lowest shelf, easily jamming his fist into the box and eating a dry handful in silence. Checking the time on his Pip Boy, glowing at him from the kitchen table, he sighed as he clasped the thing in place around his forearm, casting one last glance around his place before heading out the door. His room was at the farthest end of the hall it sat in, somewhat isolated, so he had to give himself an extra minute or two to make it all the way downstairs to the place where you could access their sister Vaults.

He passed by the entrance to the kitchens as he wound his way down through the weaving corridors that made up Vault 33, a blast of warmth hitting him as someone exited and turned towards the dining hall, pushing a trolley stacked high with clean trays. A rather large part of him was grateful he no longer had to wake before the crack of dawn to drag himself into the oven-like cluster of rooms in order to wash mountains of dishes and vegetables, dice what felt like endless Cram, greasy and dense in his hands. The powdered egg and milk replacers also disgusted him to work with, but at least they had purpose, a key ingredient in almost anything people really enjoyed, baked goods especially. Besides, it wasn't nearly as bad as the InstaMash...he'd been neutral towards the potato flake slurry at best as a kid, but his time in the kitchen standing over giant, steaming pots of the stuff had made him truly hate it.

However, another, smaller part of him knew he disliked maintenance work just as much as he'd disliked working in the kitchen, just different aspects of it. The kitchen had been busy, gruelingly so on the wrong day, and everyone had always acted like he was in their way, but the work had been straightforward and regular.

Being switched into a maintenance position did allow him more freedom, true; he no longer even reported directly to anyone, simply worked, as one of several, through a provided list of tasks that never truly ended in order to keep the place clean and lit. However, much of the work was somewhat difficult for him, involved him climbing things he couldn't reach, struggling to complete tasks he wasn't quite made for.

At least no one was usually watching.

"Morning!" a cheery, familiar voice suddenly called from behind him.

"Morning." he replied, not looking over his shoulder, but pausing his steps just outside the entrance to the empty Overseer's office. His older sister trotted up alongside him enthusiastically, her high ponytail bouncing along with her steps.

"I won't ask if you're excited." she said facetiously.

"Well, I'm not not excited. I don't really care all that much. I just wish I didn't have to be there to greet them at the door. I don't have to work for, like, three more hours."

She chuckled at that as they descended a set of tightly wound steps, well beyond familiar with her brother's demeanor.

"Hopefully it won't take too long, then."

The two fell silent as they rounded the final corner, entering the small section of the end of the hall where the ad hoc welcome party had gathered: the Overseer, the members of the council, one or two older, more prominent citizens, and the MacLean children, all crammed together and ready to depart. Per usual, Norm was the only one who didn't seem explicitly enthusiastic, the space filled with early birds like his father and sister. The elder MacLean squeezed past Betty, who was deep in discussion with Woody about something unintelligible, and wrapped both of his children up into a quick hug.

"Good morning." he said. "Are we excited?"

"Of course." the siblings replied in unison, perfectly in sync, though one much more genuine than the other.

"Ooh, toothpaste." Hank sucked his teeth and gave the small white spot on Norm's chest a poke. "That's alright."

He immediately began wiping at the thing, trying his best to erase it further. Hank smiled in reply before turning to address the dozen or so other people milling around.

"Alright, everyone. We're about to make contact. Now, I know we all miss the folks we sent off last week, but let's keep room in our hearts to make new friends. I know things like this can be difficult sometimes, but they're all for the best. Please keep in mind that our new friends may be nervous to make such a big change. Be polite, be welcoming. Don't be nervous!"

There was a murmur of agreement from the small cluster of people before they all made their way deeper into the maintenance tunnels, funneling themselves into a thin line as they made their way closer to the antechamber where the Vaults connected. Lucy chatted excitedly with Betty and a few others, their voices echoing through the otherwise quiet corridor. As they descended a small flight of stairs, Woody accidentally bumped him, sending him stumbling precariously down the last step.

"Ah, sorry Norman. I didn't see you there." Woody said quietly, placing a quick hand on the smaller man's shoulder to help steady him.

"It's fine." he murmured back, righting himself to catch back up with the group.

They all convened in the boxy space, the only sound the hiss of some pipes as his father interacted with the control panel at the far end of the room. The indication light flipped to a bright green, and Hank resumed his place beside his children as they waited for the rather slow process to unfold. Something deep in Norm's chest was tight as the big, hermetically sealed door that separated Vault 33 from its attached counterparts let out a big sigh, rumbling and shifting as the mechanisms that held it taut against the concrete wall withdrew. He fidgeted with his hands in his place beside Lucy.

Slowly, painfully slowly, the larger cluster of people behind the door was revealed, staring back at them silently for a beat or two as the massive thing clunked its way into place.

"Welcome, everyone! Welcome!" the Overseer called, stepping forward to appraise the cluster of eyes staring back at him. An older woman, maybe a few years younger than Hank, stepped forward to the front, her face solemn, but not unkind. She introduced herself, but Norm failed to hear what she said, already turning his attention back to studying the cluster of vault-dwellers before him. He didn't see anything that caught his attention all that much, most of them too focused on the still-speaking pair to do anything interesting or revealing.

The group was largely young people, generally somewhere between sixteen and thirty if he had to guess. That wasn't surprising. That had been the deal, as he understood it; Vault 33 would send some of their glut of middle-aged men to the other Vault to help in beefing up their thinning security, and in exchange they would receive a number of younger people, mostly female, to beef up their thinning generational spread. Some of them clustered together, family members or already married couples, but around half the entire group seemed to be singles.

That'll be entertaining. he thought, watching as the unmarried members of the Vault council stared down their new compatriots.

However, when the older lady took a step back into her place with the crowd, she unveiled two younger women who he'd initially missed. The shorter of the pair cradled an open-top box of knickknacks in her arms, holding it tight to her chest anxiously, her dark hair tucked high and tight away from her face. She couldn't be more than seventeen or eighteen. Beside her, a taller woman, certainly not old enough to be her mother, but softly, wordlessly comforting her like one. He guessed an older sister, perhaps a cousin. Her face was hidden by the way her own hair hung loose in a dark curtain around it, but he was distracted for several long seconds by the obscured view of the rest of her. He wasn't the only one watching, though; there was a taller, broad man looming over her shoulder, but a few steps back; close enough to be familiar, but not close enough to be welcome, it seemed. Norm didn't have to look over to know that Lucy was likely staring at the guy as well.

The woman who'd stepped forward turned her head and muttered something to the two ladies. Maybe she was the mother.

"Well, I'd best let you all get settled in. It's a big day for everyone, a big day for our home! If anyone needs anything at all, you can ask any of the council members here, especially Betty. Everyone is excited to have you here, so don't hesitate." Hank said, gesturing to the older woman standing beside him. "You can also ask me, of course, or either of my children, Lucy and Norman."

Norm's eyes narrowed slightly at his given name, his best effort to not roll them skyward in front of everyone. He and his sister moved to stick to the wall as the group began to filter by, many of them greeting the two or shaking their hands as he tried his best to act enthused. The acting was a little less necessary when the woman who'd spoken made her way by, nodding politely to both he and his sister. Immediately, his eyes scanned the narrowing hall behind her to find her younger companions, and his heart sped up a bit when he found who he'd been looking for.

She had looked pretty, if mysteriously so, from a distance, but she was breathtaking up close. Younger than he'd initially thought, she didn't seem to be much older than Lucy, the girl beside her still fidgety and eyeing the floor as they walked along. The woman he was studying, however, lifted her head from her nervous companion as they passed by to smile kindly at he and Lucy, waving as they did. Her other hand rested comfortingly on the girl's arm; she stood head and shoulders over her, and thus over him. It took a great deal of effort to not let his gaze linger as she walked away.

Following shortly behind her was the tall guy who had been staring at her, still doing so as he went by, completely ignoring them as he did. The MacLean siblings exchanged a glance, but neither of them said anything as more people followed immediately behind.

For over an hour they were forced to hang around (though he doubted Lucy would see it that way), answering questions about facility locations, what sort of jobs were available, pointing people where they needed to go. He found the whole thing entirely draining, his energy generally uninviting; fortunately, his older sister was a nice balance to that, and drew people more towards herself. She knew he wouldn't be here if he'd had a choice.

Their presence also required participating in their father's anecdotes he saved for smaller groups of people, old jokes about Vault life and only-slightly-embarrassing family stories to endear people to him. To his credit, it worked like a charm. Fortunately, Lucy was front and center for these, and she was a natural in her role. She knew her lines like the back of her hand and her laughter was contagious, so she took the lead in being the poster child while Norm just sort of stood around in the background.

Eventually, most everyone had emptied out and they were able to begin the track back through the mildly claustrophobic pathways.

"I won't ask if you're excited." Norm teased as they made their way back towards 33 proper, a few stragglers exiting the tunnels ahead of them.

"Don't!" she scolded, but she smiled in a way that gave her away. She'd certainly had her eye on the tall guy who'd given them the cold shoulder, but he'd seen several guys among the crowd who fell right into her type, and he could feel the buzz coming off of her in waves as they slowly made their way back into the meeting hall.

For the last couple of years, his sister had had marriage pretty front and center on the brain. It made sense; she was social, loving, eager to show their father that she could be all the things that he wanted for her. She was far too good for any of the options she'd been presented with, however, and nothing had worked out for her thus far. Since they were children, Lucy had tried her best to be the perfect daughter, the perfect Vault girl, but at the end of the day, she asked too many questions, had too many opinions. The only person she'd ever even been close with was their cousin, and he knew personally that she rather regretted going down that particular road out of boredom.

He wasn't looking forward to having to hold Chet's hand through it when she finally did find someone.

Arranged marriages had once been a regular part of life in their trio of sister Vaults, families formed and fates decided based purely on numbers on a screen, predetermined factors that just-so-happened to line up. He understood the base logic behind the choice to set things up that way, the seemingly increased odds of successful reproduction between arranged partners desirable, especially in an endeavor held in such high esteem...if they were robots or livestock. For a project about preserving and reestablishing humanity on the surface, he felt there was a serious deficit of it in the way things worked sometimes.

Over recent generations, though, with the growing distance of time between them and the genesis of the Vault project, marrying for love had become much more common and accepted, to the point that arrangements were almost never even discussed anymore...that is, of course, unless you were an especially desirable (or undesirable) marriage candidate. Then, the old ways had a mysterious habit of re-materializing out of thin air. He found himself quite surprised that their father had never mentioned the idea of simply marrying Lucy to whoever fit her best, though, he also suspected that the match-ups they had on-hand were so undesirable that Hank had coordinated the entire personnel swap to "grease the wheels", so to speak.

But, of course, he'd never say out loud that he thought his father had brought in a whole new crop of young people just to help his sister find a husband.

The younger MacLean, on the other hand, secretly worried that he'd been placed into the latter category without his knowledge. His father spoke to Lucy about marriage often, discussing what sort of partner she should seek out for herself in order to have a successful family, describing the intricacies of marriage and mediating marital issues. He'd never mentioned it to Norm once, not really. For a long while, he'd chalked it up to his sister being the eldest, the first to "need" that sort of talk. However, as Norm crept into young adulthood, the subject was never really broached by his father. Increasingly, he felt his dad thought him incapable of getting someone to want to marry him, that being able to attract a long-term partner was just one of the many tools his son had missing from his belt.

Even more, he worried that his dad might be right.

"Well, I'm off. There's a leak somewhere that needs me, I'm sure." Lucy joked, interrupting his dour train of thought as they came to a stop at the intersection of a few walkways. "What're you up to today?"

"I'm supposed to keep around the dorms and stop them from being trashed by thirty-odd people moving in at once. So, naturally, I'm going to take a push broom through where all the new people are and be nosy."

His older sibling snorted, a typical response to his antics.

"Let me know if you find anything interesting." she replied before turning and making her way up the next flight of stairs, not leaving him any time to agree.

Norm kept his ungiven word, though, carefully noting anything that his older sister may have found interesting or prudent to know...chiefly, which of the young men she'd likely fancy were single and which of them had come already attached. He took his time sweeping through each hallway, making several rounds and gathering new information each time. Most of the apartment doors stood wide open, folks winding their way in and out of various rooms and making it somewhat difficult to determine who lived where. Many of his new neighbors seemed openly excited to be in their new home, but there was a palpable air of anxiety from many of them as the adrenaline began to wear off; he didn't judge them, as he figured he'd be more than a little nervous to be in their shoes.

As per usual, he disappeared effortlessly into the thrum of people carrying things, unpacking, exploring the facility, chatting all the while; not a single person acknowledged or spoke to him as he made his way back and forth along the winding corridors, not even the multiple Vault 33 natives he passed by who just so happened to be cutting through the area despite the fact that the dorms were quite out of the way. By the time he'd seen the fourth or fifth person, he rolled his eyes a bit; at least he wasn't being completely obvious.

Eventually, he noticed the older woman, whom he'd seen several times in various places, finally turn into a specific room instead of lingering outside observing, and after lagging behind for a moment he passed by the window, pleasantly surprised to find the curtains open as well. The younger girl was rifling through the cabinets in the kitchen area, everything about her reading much less tense than it had when he'd first seen her. Their guardian was out of view, but the bathroom curtain was drawn, and it relieved him somewhat, the absence of her watchful gaze allowing him to linger across the hall from the doorway and stare at the older of the two girls where she sat, cross-legged on the rug with her back to him. She'd piled her hair on top of her head in a messy bun, allowing him a peek at the soft skin of her elegant neck. For a minute, he completely abandoned the premise of sweeping, simply standing there, leaning on the broom in his grip and studying her as she fiddled with something, her head nodding along with a song he couldn't hear. Unfortunately, the curtain in front of her soon hissed back open, and he took off around the corner rather skittishly to avoid being perceived as a creep.

For quite a while, he took in the sights and nosed around, passing by a certain room more often than needed; the three women opened various boxes and bags, tucking away personal items and checking over the family-sized room they'd been assigned. It was one of the nicer units, same as the one he and Lucy had grown up in. Better rooms with more privacy were one of the benefits afforded to those who furthered the goals of the Vault, but Norm had lived in his own single room for several years and failed to see the appeal of rushing a relationship with a near-arbitrary candidate for bare-minimum material benefit.

There were peers of his, though, that had obviously decided that the deal was worth taking. They'd gush about the ways their lives would improve once they had families of their own, once they did their part for the Vault, for "America", something they didn't even necessarily have a true concept of, save for what they were taught as children, saw in movies, were told by elders who had been told by their elders, and so on. The whole thing lacked any real tangible qualities to it. He lacked enthusiasm for many things, but chief among them was an ideology that couldn't be explained better than pointing to a mural on the wall or simply claiming that "rebuilding is the whole point", whatever the hell that was supposed to mean. He'd never understood the desire to rebuild things just the way they had been before the bombs had dropped, before the war had changed everything forever. After all, what had really caused them to fall to begin with?

Something as massive as a world-ending war didn't happen in a vacuum. Maybe the real reasons behind it would be outside of his conception, issues of a bygone age that wouldn't translate intelligibly.

Wanting a family wasn't outside of his conception, though. As much as he had enjoyed the last several years of bachelorhood, virtually left to his own devices once Lucy had requested her own room, it felt increasingly empty. He'd told himself for a long time that he didn't have to get married or have children simply because that was "what you did when you became an adult" in the Vault. And that was true; he understood completely that he'd been raised in a way that shaped his views and desires as deeply as possible, and he understood that societal expectations weren't fatal to defy. But neither that knowledge nor all the intellectualizing of it he could muster could shake the feelings of loneliness and envy he felt as he watched more and more of his peers marry, saw them having and raising children and moving on with their lives. Even Chet, who was such a chicken around women that Norm was fairly certain he'd never actually been with one, was starting to talk about wanting to get married (maybe even to someone other than Lucy, which was the real surprise).

He had more trouble settling down that evening than usual, pelted with a million racing thoughts; his biggest distraction by far, though, was tracing the shape of a certain woman over and over in his mind, reliving the thrill he'd felt when she'd looked his way. When he'd woken with far more intense morning wood than usual the next day, he was chagrined, but not especially surprised; after all, she had been the very last thing he'd thought of before he'd fallen into deep unconsciousness. Taking care of the issue in a quick, sanitized fashion, he tried his best to not think of her, specifically. Unfortunately, his efforts didn't pay off as much as he'd hoped when he caught a glimpse of her standing in a long line outside of the Overseer's office, likely waiting for her new job assignment, and he was instantly so embarrassed that he turned around and completely rerouted, tripling the length of his walk to the maintenance section. Engrossed in conversation with the woman in line in front of her, she didn't seem to notice him, and for once, he was grateful for his social invisibility.

More significant shame started to settle in quickly when he was dreaming of her, though somewhat innocuously, almost every night after only a few weeks. Yes, he'd had crushes before, almost all of them on people he'd have no realistic chance with, but his brain had never chosen to fixate on a single woman before the way it had locked onto her. There was almost always some thought about her bouncing around in the back of his mind...or the front, depending on the moment. The amount of alone time he had when he was working was both a blessing and a curse, as occupying himself mentally was often his most arduous task, and the list of topics that interested him dwindled rapidly. It wasn't his fault she was new and genuinely fascinating, he told himself.

Soon, he was planning most of his day around getting chances to see her, gathering intel about her and her schedule in as innocuous ways as he could manage. She'd been assigned to the IT team, apparently more than competent in electronics repair and her ability to feel out issues with the Vault's internal electronics and communications systems. When he learned this, he'd made his way through the main IT office to sweep and dust, conveniently coming across the log of individual task assignments. The next day, he found himself on a ladder replacing light bulbs in the recreational wing when she came around the corner, components to fix one of the overhead projectors in hand.

"Morning!" she smiled as she passed by.

"Morning." he responded a moment too late, surprised she'd said anything. His heart raced so fast as she disappeared into the theater room that he had to climb down, nervous he'd manage to fall in his dizzy joy.

For quite a while, it seemed as if he wasn't the only person deeply affected by the influx of fresh faces. The "new toy" glamour was strong around all the recent arrivals, but she was high up on the list for discussion, in particular. Part of it was her height, naturally; she wasn't that tall, but she did stand at least eye-to-eye with a lot of the younger men, and it both scandalized and intrigued them, from how they spoke. Norm was grateful that he had long ago had to come to terms with those types of feelings. But she was also just captivatingly gorgeous, affable in a sincere way. Approachable, though that exact openness intimidated him more than he'd care to admit.

He hoarded information about her like it was his job, but you wouldn't have known it from speaking to him. When she came up in the conversations he found himself wrapped up in, chats with Lucy and Betty and his father, he put on the same air of polite, vaguely-masked disinterest that he usually wore. Though, when Chet asked about her, he admittedly stonewalled him a bit harder, pretending he barely knew who his cousin was asking about. The older the pair got, the more tired Norm grew of feeling like the slightly older man's only emotional support; he certainly wasn't going to spell out how to steal away a woman they both had their eye on. As far as he was concerned, Chet could find his own way.

For several weeks, he monopolized tasks around the dorm area, working later hours so he could be around when she walked through the halls to go home, sometimes accompanied by her sister or a friend. His own sister even joined the mix from time to time, eventually, though it was typical of her to sniff out others with an equal zest for life. He usually lingered out of the way despite how badly he wanted to actually talk to her, too afraid she would suddenly notice how often he was around. However, this particular habit came to a swift end when he rounded the corner towards her family suite one evening and found the older woman who lived with her camped outside, reading a book and leaning against the wall.

He'd learned that she was an aunt of the two younger ladies, one who had been unfortunate in that she was both responsible and unattached enough to be the person chosen to go with all the younger folks from 32 when they moved. Something told him that if he remained childless his whole life, he still wouldn't be burdened with an obligation like that; she made him feel skittish, her protective eye clearly set a little closer on him than he was used to, but he didn't exactly hold it against her.

Trying his best to keep his head low as he passed by her, eyes focused on where the long wooden handle of the push broom met the head, he nearly flinched when she spoke to him.

"Evening." she said, her own gaze not lifting from the pages that filled her hand.

"Hello." he replied diplomatically, giving her a polite nod.

"They've got you working awfully late, haven't they?"

He didn't respond to what she said, tripping over his own tongue as he continued to pass by. The only response that he could fumble for was a forced laugh, but the way she looked at him when she finally did told him quite loudly that she wasn't joking. Fumbling his way down the stairs, he ran the broom along the floor all the way back to maintenance in an effort to look busy as he tried to lower his heart rate. Lying on his couch in his silent apartment later, a weathered hacking manual cradled against his chest, he felt like he could turn himself inside out in pure mortification.

For a week or so, he avoided her as best as he could, convinced she would run screaming if she saw him, but he was too weak to stay away forever. After yet another slow day of dusting, floor polishing, and pushing a broom around the halls in hopes of catching a glimpse of her, Norm decided that he was in need of some genuine alone time somewhere where he wouldn't be bothered. As much as he enjoyed having his own room, he didn't enjoy being functionally unable to really lock the door.

The small utility closet was inconspicuous, tucked at the far end of one hall, away from the living quarters and around a corner almost no one ever took, save for the occasional person assigned to some of the maintenance tasks around the Vault. However, their hours were predictable, and the dinky little room had become somewhat of a place of refuge for him over the years, even before he'd been reassigned to maintenance himself. Since he was a boy, he'd steal away to this hidden place, spending as much time sat on an upturned bucket, studying various manuals and savoring the silence, as he thought he could get away with.

This day, however, it had only been a few minutes of peace before he could hear the telltale sound of someone fiddling with the lock. He'd taught himself how to re-seal it from inside, but it could still be picked from the outside by someone who knew how. Panicking for a moment, he sat frozen, gripping the systems terminal manual in his lap so tight he was afraid he'd rip the pages. There was nowhere to go, nowhere to hide. The only person who knew about his penchant for hiding away here was Lucy, and she wouldn't just barge in. She would linger down the hall, near the more common areas, waiting to see him emerge so she wouldn't draw attention.

Maybe he could lie and say he accidentally got locked inside.

However, his overthinking proved unnecessary when the door flung open and the very person whose visage he'd come here to escape stepped inside, her head peeking around the corner before she let the door close behind her. When she let out a deep sigh, leaning her forehead against the door, he realized she hadn't seen him tucked away in the corner, and he knew he needed to say something quickly.

"Uh, hey." he said lamely, slowly rising from his spot, setting the book aside.

She did jump, but when she turned and sees him, her reaction was more positive than he'd expected.

"Hi there." she replied, her eyes darting around somewhat awkwardly in what he guessed was embarrassment. "Sorry, I assumed this particular random broom closet would be unoccupied."

There was a bit of a pause as he took in what she'd said, leaving the two sort of shuffling back and forth as they stared at one another.

"Well, I guess you know what they say about assumptions." he joked, desperate to ease the weird vibe quickly filling the room. To his pleasant surprise, this earned a seemingly genuine chuckle from her, and the warm, sweet sound made him smile wider than he had in a long time.

"Well, my apologies. I can find another closet to hang out in." she smiled.

"Oh, please. Feel free to stay and take advantage of the luxurious accommodations as long as you'd like." he said, sweeping his hand in a grand gesture around the space, highlighting the stacks of boxes and shelves of janitorial supplies.

She outright laughed at that.

"You're the Overseer's son, right? Lucy's brother? I'm surprised I don't see you more."

There was a bitter taste in the back of his throat at her words, but he knew she was just making an observation to keep the conversation going,

"Yeah, Norm. I'm fairly practiced at blending into the background." he introduced, sticking his hand out in front of him rather awkwardly for her to shake. His palm felt a little clammy as she pressed her own against it, and he cringed internally at how damp it must have felt to her. She didn't react, however, keeping eye contact with him as they shook firmly.

"Norm." she repeated, and hearing her lips wrap around his name like they did made him shiver in a way he really hoped wasn't noticeable. She introduced herself, and he politely listened, rather expertly pretending that he hadn't had all the information she gave him for weeks. It would be difficult to not know of her purely due to her popularity as a topic of discussion, but he knew he would have been fascinated by her, regardless. Something about her, something beyond the physical beauty, was constantly drawing him to her, making her take over his thoughts since she'd arrived.

"So..." he asked. "Hiding from someone?"

She looked rather sheepish for a moment.

"Maybe a few someones. I've been pretty hard-pressed for peace and quiet since we all got here. I knew people would be excited to meet us, but I really wasn't expecting how much people would wanna talk to me, personally. I'm used to a little less public exposure than this."

I don't blame them. he thought. I want to be around you all the time, too, and I hardly know you.

"I mean, really, you're welcome to hang out in here. No one comes in here most of the time, save for once a week or so. I can leave if you wanna be alone." he offered, somewhat awkwardly making a move towards the door.

"Oh, no, please!" she insisted, her warm hand resting on his chest for a moment as she tried to stop him. His heart broke into a sprint. "I don't wanna kick you out of your spot. Maybe I could just sit in here with you for a few minutes?"

He was rather astonished by her offer, but certainly wasn't going to turn her down, gesturing to a stack of boxes to his right. She joined him quickly, still over a head taller than him even when she sat. He stole frequent looks up at her as she settled in, nosing through the little collection of things he'd hidden away.

"Terminal manuals?" she asked, thumbing through the tome he'd been reading when she'd arrived. "Trying to join the IT team?"

"Oh, no." he said. "It's more of a...hobby, I guess."

"Ahh. So you're teaching yourself to hack into things." she replied, her tone teasing as she cut her eyes at him. "I could teach you a thing or two."

"Careful, I'll take you up on that." he teased, feeling shockingly bold, and she giggled again.

For a long while, maybe an hour or so, the two sat in mostly silent company, browsing through the stack of manuals and supplemental readings that lived on the shelf they'd crowded around. Occasionally, she'd ask him an innocuous, simple question, or make a small joke. He ached to do the same, but held his tongue unless spoken to for fear of say something off-putting. The tight space of the utility closet was warm, full of the lingering tang of solder and old, crispy book pages.

Eventually, she stood and stretched, smiling at him before placing the book in her hand back on the shelf. She bent over the stack of boxes she'd been sitting on as she did, and he couldn't pull his eyes away from the shape of her ass jutting out at him. He dug his teeth into his cheek until it hurt to distract himself.

"Alright, I need to get back to the rewiring project I was working on." she said, stretching as she turned to face him. "Thanks for letting me hang out with you, Norm. Let's do it again soon."

"Yeah." he chuckled, trying to remain casual as his gut tightened at the sound of his name on her lips again. "Like I said, whenever."

He didn't really believe she meant what she said, but she did grin rather eagerly before disappearing out the door, leaving him alone in the silence once more. He waited a while longer before following.

That night, he dreamt of her yet again, but this time, he pushed things even further. He didn't try to, but nevertheless, she was there, hidden away in that closet with him again, her intoxicating smell filling the space completely, making his head swim even more than the surreal-feeling setting. Almost everything was eerily similar, only this time he didn't have to worry about being defeated by his own cowardice...

...and this time she was literally welcoming him with open arms, calling him to her eagerly with that bright smile plastered to her angelic face.

He knew she was only being friendly when she'd laughed at his jokes, that the smile she'd flashed him was probably one she used with everyone. But in that moment, it had felt like it was just for him, and the memory of it made him shudder strongly as he felt the pressure of her hands against his chest, tugging him closer by the breast pockets of his suit.

"Norm." she beckoned, and her seductive voice rang through his head. The dream was bordering on lucid; he knew this couldn't possibly be real, but wanted it to be so badly that he pushed forward, pressing his face into the flesh of her throat. It was warm and ghostly and tingled against him like television static, his brain apparently unable to even guess at how heavenly soft her real skin would be.

Endless praise poured from his mouth, breathless words of worship that didn't quite make it to his ears. When he made full contact with her, she was suddenly completely nude, stood there in all her full, soft glory, her loose hair framing her face beautifully as she wrapped her leg around his hip, pushing herself at him eagerly. She didn't say anything, but he could feel her pleading, begging, and he could feel himself overheating as he fumbled with his fly. She kissed him as his cock slid against her skin, and an almost inhuman growl left her as he found her opening and slipped inside, his hips moving quickly and harshly against hers...

Norm woke rather violently, the sudden, pooling warmth of his spend tainting his sheets ripping him from sleep. It took a moment for his head to clear, the fog of sleep making it difficult to determine if what he was experiencing in that moment was any more real than what he had been experiencing a moment ago. This, however, was much less pleasant. Stumbling a bit as he scrambled to his feet, he took in the mess all over him, all over the bed, a cold wave of shame washing over him as he made his way into the bathroom to retrieve a rag. Stripping naked, he shivered unpleasantly as the cool, wet cloth moved across his hot, sticky skin. His cock was still incredibly sensitive in the wake of his orgasm, and he glared at it as it continued to throb softly, not yet deflated.

The humiliation he felt at kneeling beside his bed, naked and tired and scrubbing a mess off of his sheets, was intense. Accompanying it, an overwhelming sense of guilt at fully reducing her to fodder for his sexual fantasies after talking to her exactly one time. He'd dreamt of her before, but this felt different, worse. He was no better than any of the other men in the Vault, he thought. Something of this nature hadn't happened to him since he was a teenager, and apparently all it took to reduce him to a hormonal mess once more was the presence of a nice, attractive woman who didn't completely ignore him.

In the aftermath of the frantic cleaning, he sat on the edge of the mattress, hiding his burning face in his hands as he tried his best to will away the second erection plaguing him. Several long, grating minutes passed, the young man too busy staring at the wet spot on his sheets and internally berating himself to even think of trying to get back to sleep. But eventually, his increasing fatigue and frustration came to a head, and he begrudgingly made his way to the shower, letting the hot water blast him with a deep sigh.

He wasted time for a few minutes, washing his hair unnecessarily before moving to soap his body, pointedly avoiding his aching cock, flushed red and angry at his neglect. If he was going to be a creep, he could at least practice a bit of self control. However, eventually the water began to cool, and he begrudgingly popped open the bottle of conditioner from the shelf beside him, dropping a generous glob in his hand.

He stroked himself quickly, harshly, trying to finish himself off as efficiently as possible, embarrassed at the way he couldn't keep the image of her out of his mind, no matter how hard he tried to think about anything else. The brief view he'd gotten of her ass bent over at the waist was drilled into his head, hips bucking hard into his own grip at the thought of sliding his cock into her from behind, burying his face in her soft hair as he pumped away at her, making her squirm and come apart around him. The thought made him explode, spattering cum across the shower floor and wall.

Resting his forehead against the warm tile, his hand splashed away the mess before fumbling for the nozzle, the spray gurgling to a halt and leaving him standing there, nude and dripping wet, alone with his thoughts. His plan had worked, at least somewhat; he felt nothing now but guilt, mild worry, and the chill of the increasingly cold shower stall. Wrapping himself in a towel and taking in his seemingly half-drowned form in the mirror, he resolved to continue essentially avoiding her. The way he saw it, he was doing her a favor, his ability to act acceptably around her feeling more and more nonexistent by the day.

Little did he know, his new acquaintance was formulating other plans.

The next day was a town hall day, and Norm had arrived just on time, skittering quietly into his chair after dragging his feet a little too long on the way in. His father lingered at the podium, giving his notes a last minute once-over and waiting for the stragglers to make their way to their spots. He slid in beside his sister, nodding to her and then up towards the podium. Hank flashed his children a quick, warm smile before scanning the rest of the room over.

Once the meeting began in earnest, Norm allowed his gaze to wander a bit, noticing a few swaps in how the new people were arranging themselves on "their" side of the hall, even noting some native Vault 33 members mixed in. Several pairs of folks were cuddled up awfully close, which he found remarkable, given the relatively brief time everyone had known one another.

He was distracted from his somewhat judgmental thoughts when he craned his neck and noticed that the person directly across the aisle from him had changed as well, her head already turned in his direction as she entered his line of vision. Instantly, his head snapped back forward, embarrassed at the accidental eye contact. He let a moment pass, staring hard at his father but not hearing any of his words, before peeking over once more; she was still looking his direction, a pleasant smile painting her face.

For most of the remainder of the meeting, he kept his eyes forward, chastising himself for being nosy. But out of the corner of his eye, he noticed that she seemed to keep peeking over at him, and eventually the curiosity got to him. When he allowed himself to fully turn his head and look over at the woman he'd been fixated on for weeks, she looked right back at him, still smiling. He was ready to write it off as some sort of coincidence; maybe she was looking at someone behind him, Lucy or another girlfriend. However, she held his gaze for a long second, one of the hands that rested on her lap lifting to waggle her fingers at him in a small wave.

Who, me?

Almost like she'd heard him, she raised her eyebrows and pointed her forehead at him, as if to confirm his curiosity. His cheeks felt instantly warm, a little smile jumping to his lips.

Slightly dazed, Norm turned his attention back to the stage for real, noticing that Betty had taken up at the podium to discuss some lesser business. He also noticed his dad lingering off to the side; he seemed to be looking straight at him for once, and it caught him off guard. Studying the older man, he watched as his gaze danced back and forth between him and the woman across the aisle from him, his face as unreadable as ever.

Once the meeting concluded, the immediate buzz of voices kicking in filled the meeting hall, several dozen people all trying to shuffle off to work or wherever they were supposed to be. He rose quickly, moving to head back to the menial task he'd been occupying himself with before he'd come down. However, he paused a moment when she leapt up and into his path.

"Hey, Norm!" she said sweetly, waving at him in full as she turned to make her way back down the aisle.

"Hi." he replied awkwardly, smiling as normally as possible at her as she went by.

There was a beat after she left, and already he could feel the growing energy beside him.

"What was that?" Lucy asked almost immediately, drilling into him with those massive eyes of hers.

He scowled as best as he could, crossing his arms.

"Nothing!" he insisted, but the way his sister looked at him didn't convey much faith in his answer. Fortunately, she kept her teasing nonverbal and simply pulled a face at him as he walked away.

Going about the rest of his day, he naturally found himself replaying their little interaction over and over in his head, so distracted by the constant rumination that he almost completely blew through the designated lunch period for all the working adults. Drawn out over a couple of hours, most folks who were able still came towards the beginning for the freshest serving of whatever was on offer for the day, leaving the dining hall comparatively empty for the rest of the time. Dinner was usually a private meal that people ate in their rooms, prepared for themselves and shared with their families, but lunch was treated more communally...by most people. There were the odd few less-than-social individuals, like Norm himself, who would sometimes secret things away to their rooms or another quiet spot to eat alone. But in the few years since he'd moved into his own room, he found that he often didn't feel like putting in the effort, often just choosing an out of the way table and powering down whatever he could get his hands on to fuel him for the rest of his shift with the least amount of fuss.

She was still front and center in his thoughts as he settled quickly into a seat, setting to stuffing the rather bland sandwich into his mouth as quickly as he could without feeling like a beast. Unfortunately, that choice ensured that his mouth was filled almost as full as comfortably possible when she suddenly appeared in his peripheral vision, carrying her own matching meal.

"Hi, Norm! Can I sit with you?" she asked, balancing what looked like some fruit juice in her other hand.

After briefly contemplating attempting to swallow down the whole bite in one go, he decided a nonverbal answer would be less humiliating than accidentally choking to death in front of her, so he nodded very carefully, scooting a few inches across the bench to make room for her. Between his diminutive build and the length of the table, it wasn't needed, but he didn't trust himself to encroach too far into her personal space.

"You don't normally eat this late." she mused pleasantly, casually, as if he was so used to her presence.

"Oh, no. I like to wait until the peak passes, but I usually come earlier than 'the last possible minute'." he replied after a moment, swallowing the last bit of matter in his mouth back nervously.

"I try, but a lot of the time I just get so wrapped up in whatever I'm doing that I lose track of time. Then I end up running down here to grab whatever's leftover." she said between bites. "Lunch isn't my favorite meal."

He chuckled at that, feeling himself relax incrementally.

"So, are you and your family adjusting alright?" he asked after another bite, testing out his rusty conversational skills.

"I think everyone has settled in pretty well. I was kinda worried about my sister when we first moved, but she's made a couple of friends and she likes her job in hydroponics. She loves plants. My aunt has always been a little hard to read, and she's got a real 'stiff upper lip' sort of mentality, but I think she likes it here fine. She's a lady of routine and she's had to make some adjustments." she replied, peeling an especially dry-looking bit of crust from the remainder of her sandwich. "It's sweet of you to ask."

"Ah." he blushed, fumbling for a follow-up. "Is it just the three of you? Do you have other siblings?"

"Yeah, two more younger ones. They're still in school, living with mom and dad and all that. Don't get me wrong, I miss them like crazy, but it's nice to have free time I didn't have before, since I used to watch them a lot." she responded, swallowing down the last of her beverage and setting the empty cup on her plate.

"I bet that would be nice. Must be weird to not be able to talk to them, though."

"I make sure to write them plenty of indoctrinating letters." she smiled.

"Better be careful with that. " he joked, eyes glued to the way her reddened tongue swept across her lower lip. "They'll put the kibosh on communication between Vaults."

"Eh, I'm sure I could figure out a way to write them, anyway." she shrugged with playful hubris, gathering her dishes close to her and sweeping the few crumbs from the tabletop onto it. "Well, I'd totally stay and chat more, but I'm in the middle of some voltage output testing downstairs."

He grinned sadly.

"Well, it was nice talking to you." he said.

"Let's continue the conversation tomorrow. What time do you usually come down to eat?" she asked, rising from her spot.

Rather astonished, he stammered out whatever time came to mind first and simply made an effort to show up at that time. True to her word, she appeared right on time the next day, waving at him as she entered the dining hall. She passed a table of previous 32 dwellers and greeted them as well on her way by, pointedly ignoring the presence of the bigger built guy who was always fixated on her. Her seemingly unwanted shadow had been assigned to security detail and apparently used the job's freedom of movement the same way Norm often did.

They stood in the short line together, both receiving a small serving of minced Cram loaf and a little InstaMash, by far one of his least favorite lunches in the rotation. She didn't seem to notice the eyes on both of them as they sat; that, or she didn't care that people were staring. The conversation didn't start up as quickly as it had the day before, but the silence between them wasn't uncomfortable as he picked at the offering in front of him. He recognized one or two bits of reconstituted vegetable in the pinkish mass of meat, though which kind, he couldn't tell. Mercifully, the half-sphere scoop of potato beside it had already grown relatively cold, reducing the prominence of the smell. He still found himself put off, though, glancing over at his companion where she sat, a few bites deep into the stuff.

"You like the InstaMash, huh?" he asked, and he almost immediately regretted it when her eyes cut towards him, quickly and harshly in a way that could only say one thing:

What the hell's that supposed to mean?

Norm blinked hard in momentary panic at his own faux pas, holding his hands up in as playful a defense as he could.

"I didn't mean it like that. My bad."

She stared at him a moment longer, her gaze softening but obviously still sizing him up.

"Mm?" she replied eventually, waiting for him to better explain himself, possibly before leaving, because he somehow couldn't manage to keep his foot out of his mouth for five minutes of social interaction with her.

"I just meant you like it enough to actually eat it, which is way more than most people around here like it."

"Oh." she said flatly, seeming momentarily flustered. "Well, we don't have this stuff back at 32. You don't like it?"

He was a bit taken aback by her statement, but tucked that information away to dwell on later.

"Nah, I don't even touch it anymore. Working in the kitchens really ruined it for me, not that I really enjoyed it all that much to begin with." he said, poking at the stuff with the very tip of his fork. "Ask Lucy how many times I wadded this stuff up like a snowball and threw it at her when we were kids."

She giggled at that around another bite.

"If you want mine, you can have it. It's probably pretty cold by now but it'll go in the trash otherwise." he offered.

That earned him a smaller, more intimate smile, and her voice was softer, quieter when she replied.

"Thanks. I can't eat too much at lunch, though, or it makes me sluggish the rest of my shift. Plus, these stupid suits already fit my body weird, so if my ass gets any bigger, the bottom might not fit right anymore. Last time I asked for bigger suits I got a twenty-minute lecture about health in the infirmary."

He blinked at her in reply, completely unsure what to say, sensing a playing field full of landmines as his brain churned away double-time in a fruitless attempt to formulate a response. Thankfully, she read the blank panic on his face and granted him the mercy of preemptively cutting his reply off.

"Sorry, I'm rambling." she blushed hard, suddenly looking anywhere but at him, and for a beat he saw the same awkward insecurity he often felt himself. It was strange to see on her, but it was revealing, and it made him feel a bit closer to her. "So, you said you used to work in the kitchens before?"

"Yeah, I did. Morning shift and everything." he said, breathing a little easier at the change of topic.

Is there even a proper way to say "your ass is perfect the way it is" without getting slapped?

"Hmm." she said, pulling a face that made him chuckle. "I hate waking up early. Did you like it?"

"No."

She laughed, and it was full and relaxed instead of the uncomfortable, terse sort of chuckle he usually got back when he was honest about things.

"Well, do you like maintenance better?"

"Uh...no." he smiled guiltily, taking the smallest bite of the Cram loaf he could pick up. "I can't reach a lot of the stuff I'm supposed to do without a ton of effort. I have to open a bunch of those hatch panels for inspections and I'm not quite, uh, strong enough." he said, feeling his face warm a bit at the admission. "It's..."

"Well, putting you there kinda seems like a slight, then, doesn't it?"

"Well, you said it, not me. To be fair to them, though, they've stuck me a lot of places and I've never liked any of them." he shrugged.

She gave him an interesting, but sort of unreadable look in reply.

"I don't think there's anything wrong with trying different things to help you discover what you like." she murmured, pulling a slight face as she took her first bite of the entree. "So many people around here dig themselves deep into situations they don't want and are too afraid to start over. I admire that you can admit when things aren't working out for you."

Her compliment landed a bit strangely, but he smiled anyway and choked down another bite of the stuff himself.

For the next several weeks, things went on just like that; they ran into each other during work often, usually stopping to chat for a bit, and most days they both appeared for lunch around the same time and sat together, mostly eating in companionable silence early on. He found that he really relished being in the company of someone who could appreciate that silence instead of constantly having to fill it with chatter. However, they were both persistent in at least occasionally chipping in some pleasant conversation, and soon they'd grown fairly talkative depending on the day.

One evening, he'd worked late and was making his way back to his room, rather down that he'd gotten caught up in something and had missed his chance to see her that afternoon. However, he was very pleasantly surprised to find her standing outside his door when he turned the corner.

"Hey!" she greeted, smiling widely at him as he approached. "I missed you at lunch today!"

"Oh, yeah. I got distracted and lost track of the time." he muttered, his heart fluttering at her enthusiasm.

Her grin morphed into a mask of slight guilt.

"I hate to ask you this, but could I bug you for a favor?"

"Sure." he replied, not allowing his hesitation to slip into his voice.

"Could I use your shower real quick? I have an IT society meeting in an hour or so and my sister is hogging the bathroom in our room." she asked, tagging onto the end a rushed "You don't have to, of course. I just thought I'd ask."

"Yes." he blurted instantly, fighting a sense of panic at how his cock began to stir at the image her question kicked up in his brain.

"Great. Thank you so much. I'm gonna run and get my stuff." she beamed before turning and disappearing again, leaving Norm scrambling to check over the little apartment for anything that needed to be tossed or hidden away before she came back. Fortunately, the only objectionable objects he found in his search were a pair of used underwear on the floor near the hamper and a conspicuous bottle of lotion a bit too close to the bedside.

She knocked when she returned, a rare quality in Vault 33. He welcomed her in, keeping his eyes glued to her face to avoid shaming himself.

"Thanks again." she said, cradling a towel, a clean suit, and a bottle of standard issue body wash in her arms.

"No problem. I remember what it's like to share a room with a sister who hogs the bathroom." he replied, lingering as she stripped out of her boots and socks and sat them by the table.

She smiled at that, working her hair up into a messy bun on the top of her head.

"I'm not mad at her. I remember what it's like to be eighteen." she replied, her hands moving to the collar of her suit and working the snaps open, fussing with the inner liner. "That said, I still need a shower before I have to sit shoulder-to-shoulder with someone else."

He didn't reply immediately, too captivated by the view of her slowly unzipping the suit all the way down, revealing the thin shirt she wore underneath. She didn't miss a beat, shucking the wadded-up suit down to her ankles, the blue material pooling around her feet as she stepped out of it. The younger man's thoughts almost instantly blanked out, drawn irresistibly to the new view of her bare, strong legs.

"I'll try to not make a mess." she winked playfully as she folded the soiled suit, placing it on the table as she stood there, cast in the yellow glow of the overhead light in nothing but her sleeveless undershirt and her panties. Norm's immediate instinct was to look away, but she reached out and gave him a little pat on the arm that drew his intense stare, following her along as she made her way towards the bathroom. Simultaneously cursing and grateful for the existence of the thin curtain, he watched as she drew it closed behind her. Well, mostly closed behind her; there was a generous margin of a few inches that remained uncovered at the far end, offering him a slight peek into the small room. He felt stuck, undulating between wanting to pick a seat that would allow him to sneak a glance at her and wanting to put his nose to the wall until she left. Striking an internal compromise, he took a careful seat on the couch where he couldn't see into the bathroom doorway...unless he craned his neck.

She was humming something tuneless as she lingered around the sink, likely assessing herself in the mirror. A second later, she passed by the opening, so fast he could hardly see that her back was bare, but that small peek at her previously unseen flesh instantly riled him, a heat blooming all across him as the quiet hiss of the shower head filled the place. The Overseer's son knew that he was being entirely improper, that he really shouldn't have agreed to let her do this in the first place if he couldn't control himself around her, but he couldn't turn his head away after that first glance, eyes glued to that sliver of openness. There was a sickening mix of anticipation and absolute dread that he might see something else churning deep in his core; when she turned back towards the door for another step and he could make out the side of the curve of her breast, the equilibrium was broken, and he was so awash in guilt that he was finally able to turn his head forward once more, physically nauseous at how badly he wanted her.

"Oh, shoot!" she called over the water. "I forgot a washcloth. Can I use one of yours?"

"Sure." he squeaked back, too afraid to turn his head towards the door.

For fifteen minutes or so, he sat there in limbo, trying his best to regulate his breathing and will his already throbbing cock to go down. He even turned on the television, an old western still in the tape deck from when Lucy had last come over to watch a movie. The entire film was burned clear as day into his memory, so he allowed his brain and gaze to glaze over, trying to think of anything but the naked, wet woman in the next room. Unfortunately, he failed miserably, and by the time the rainfall sound of the shower gurgled to a stop, he'd pulled a thick tome about electrical circuits into his lap to hide his shame.

He didn't rise to greet her when she exited the bathroom, tendrils of steam curling around the door frame and into the main living area. When she cut a path past the couch to say goodbye, the time for her meeting rapidly approaching, he found it hard to meet her gaze, afraid she'd sniff out what a debased freak he was. But she didn't seem to notice anything out of place, her arms wrapped around her dirty clothes, the damp washcloth sat on top.

"Thanks again! Bring you a clean one tomorrow." she promised, waving as she went by.

Feeling borderline rabid as she finally made her way out the door, his eyes were glued to her ass the moment she passed by enough to turn her back to him. The door hissed closed behind her, and he watched as her silhouette crossed the curtains, disappearing down the hall. Almost immediately, he chucked the heavy text out of his lap, the pressure on his groin offensive. The thing wobbled on the edge of the couch before clattering to the floor on its face, dog-earing a section of pages, and he let out a frustrated sigh. There was a sharp ache in his groin as he stood to collect it. He stood there, tingling with remorse and trying his best to mash and refold the pages into place with trembling hands, but he fumbled and failed, dropping the thing onto the small side table in pure frustration.

Resigning himself to his fate, he rubbed at his burning face as he made his own way into the bathroom, silently praying that he'd be able to look her in the face again after being so unhinged in her presence. The pair of them were only starting to become close, and he could feel himself actively trying his best to run her off. Pushing the curtain aside once more, he tried his best to avoid looking at himself in the mirror that sat a few inches too high above the sink. By the time he'd stripped completely, he still hadn't decided exactly how cold his shower was going to be, kicking his boots and dirty clothes into a pile in the corner near the doorway. Turning to pad across the cool tile, his rarely-exposed soles especially sensitive to the temperature, one foot suddenly landed on something thin and frictionless, sending his leg sliding out from under him.

"Oh my fucking god!" he growled, barely righting himself in time with a hand against the wall as he glared down to see which possession of his was about to be the direct target of his sexually frustrated ire. What he found, however, was a thin white slip of fabric too small to be anything of his. It appeared to be a pair of her panties.

The worn pair.

Though he'd assumed he'd long ago reached the zenith of his capacity for self-hatred, he somehow managed to drop a level deeper as he stooped to pick the things up, clenching them in his fist like they'd somehow manage to escape without missing a beat. Despite the loud, protesting voice in his brain, he couldn't hold himself back from doing what the basest part of him was demanding, lifting them to his nose and taking a deep huff. The intense ache of his neglected cock at the smell of her made him whimper pitifully, the actual shower forgotten entirely as he leaned back against the wall. His breaths were heavy, the strain only intensified by the humid air of the small space; even that was full of her scent, the familiar fragrance of the body wash in the air off by a degree in a way that could only be attributed to her. That intoxicating perfume, along with the sheer amount of blood rushing from his skull elsewhere, made his head spin, and his constantly-nagging erection twitched eagerly as he wrapped his free hand around it.

His previously overwhelming shame was shockingly absent as he began to pump himself in slow, firm strokes, breathing out her name sharply as his eyes clenched shut. The figure of her in her underwear loomed large in the forefront of his mind, the softness and curves and strength completely overpowering him and flooding his imagination with all the ways he wanted to feel her. He wanted to completely submit himself to whatever made her happy, spend all of his time and stored enthusiasm pleasing her, earning her affection and attention. The sound of the nearby shower dripping conjured images of bathing her, worshiping every single soapy inch of her with his hands and mouth, rutting his neglected cock against her leg until she allowed him to lead her to bed.

Thinking about her sinking herself down onto his cock, the resulting throb in his gut made him groan so loud he'd have been shocked if his neighbor couldn't hear through the vents. Desperate to prolong the toe-curling pleasure he felt as he continued to fuck his fist, he switched hands, wrapping the soiled fabric around his shaft and allowing the his non-dominant hand's lack of coordination to pull him back from the edge just a hair's breadth. However, a quick glance down at his own ignominy was the end of him, the embarrassment enough to viciously snatch back the small amount of headway he'd gained. As he shot all over the floor, squeezing the base of his cock hard as his hips rutted into his grip, her name tried to launch off of his tongue yet again but he refused to let it, swallowing it back in a pained gurgle.

Surprisingly, he was primarily fatigued as he released himself, a heavy shudder breaking up his spine as his the final shocks of his climax ran through him. It was only in that moment he realized just how tense he had been before, every muscle in his body aching and trembling with exhaustion. Letting out a deep sigh, he took in the mess before him, cradling the small garment in his hand and examining it for signs of his own mess.

He should have planned to tuck them into his pocket and return them to her; though it would have been a little awkward, it was almost certainly the correct thing to do. Instead, he hid them deep in his bedside table drawer and silently practiced what he would say to her if she asked about them. Returning to the scene of the crime, he yet again spent several minutes on his knees, scrubbing up his own sin off the floor with his dirty boxers before throwing himself into as hot a shower as he could stand. The heat of the water on his aching muscles was a welcome sensation, relaxing, and within a few minutes he was tiptoeing close to falling asleep, leaning against the shower wall.

Climbing into bed afterwards, his damp hair leaving a dark ring on his pillow, he stretched his arm across the empty expanse of bed next to him, and he felt lonelier than he had in a long time. Though he'd been eager to see her go so he could relieve himself, the place felt drab and empty without her.

His plan to avoid her in order to relieve himself of his obsession had been miserably unsuccessful, and he couldn't bring himself to reformulate. It wasn't difficult to see how kind and warm she was; that shone through to the very surface of her, and one could pick out that special glow from a mile away. It was one of the things he found most attractive about her (once he was able to pull his mind at least a few inches out of the filth-filled gutter). But there were so many more gorgeous aspects of her, mind and body, that he discovered with all the time they spent alone. She was also incredibly sharp-witted and funny, and though she often teased him, she was never truly mean. Playfully so, yes, and it thrilled him in a way he suspected she was aware of.

On top of everything, she was more thoughtful than he thought most people capable of. He never seemed to slip her mind like he so often did with others.

Eventually, they grew close enough that the days they couldn't eat lunch at the same time didn't hinder their time together. Instead, they would meet up in the evenings and chat while walking laps around the maintenance wing, which had initially been laps around the admin wing until a certain male transfer started working full shifts in the security office and staring them down through the window as they went by. Other days she would come to his room and they'd catch up sitting on his couch, the hum of the television in the background. One evening in particular, he'd been flitting back and forth across the little apartment, anxiously cleaning in anticipation of her visit.

"Hey." he greeted as she let herself in, dropping exhaustedly onto the couch.

She'd already tied the upper half of her suit around her waist, the thing unzipped to the navel and her hair piled on top of her head. The casual, comfortable look on her distracted him as he finished up putting yet another set of clean sheets on his mattress. Slyly, he nudged the soiled ones beneath the bed with the toe of his boot, tucking them as far back as he could and praying she wouldn't notice them.

He offered her a glass of water from the sink before joining her on the couch, passing the cup into her grip and noticing that her middle and ring fingers were wrapped up in gauze from the second knuckle down.

"Aw. What'd you do?" he asked, holding his hand out somewhat timidly and smiling when she slid her larger one into it.

"Oh, I burned myself on some live wiring like a dummy. It's not too bad. I just get my hands dirty so often and I didn't want it to get infected, so I covered it up." she said, letting him turn her injured appendage over.

"Poor thing." he hummed, stroking gently over her unwrapped knuckles with his thumb. For a split second, he was tempted to lift her hand to his mouth and give it a soft kiss. But the memory of the time he'd tried that sort of half-formed romantic gesture with Beth Cross, as well as the memory of her reaction, quickly flashed through his mind, and the urge died almost instantly. Instead, he lowered it back down to rest on her knee, but didn't pull his own away. She didn't move to reject his minuscule advance, and it made him feel ten feet tall.

For a while, they swapped stories about their days, hers much more interesting than his, though you wouldn't be able to tell by the way she responded. She talked excitedly about moving into her own room, something she'd requested when her sister had expressed a desire for more privacy. He was happy for her, but couldn't shake the strange feeling of worry that washed over him when he thought about her sleeping alone in a basically unlocked room. They held hands for what felt like a long, long time before she eventually excused herself to the bathroom. He watched her go, eyes glued to the way her ample hips and ass swayed with her walk, and let out a quietly frustrated sigh as that familiar sensation deep in his gut stirred up once more.

"I'm gonna go to the social tonight. Are you?" she asked suddenly as she reemerged, pulling her hair loose from the bun that had held it and fussing with the length.

The youngest MacLean tried his best to withhold the cringe that crept up his back at the mention of one of his least favorite aspects of Vault culture. The weekly socials had been going on since before he was born, and he'd hated them since before he was even made to go. When he was young, he'd hated being left to occupy himself in his family's room while his father and Lucy attended, but once he became of age, he realized he also hated attending himself.

The socials, they'd been taught, were intended to encourage community spirit and good feeling among neighbors, as well as to allow the hardworking folks of the Vault to blow off some steam. However, what they truly were was somewhere between an insanely awkward singles' mixer and a poor recreation of the high school dances he'd seen in movies. Older members attended to chaperon and collect bits of gossip, while younger members attended in hopes of hooking an attractive spouse...and to collect bits of gossip. Norm quite literally always ended up sat at a table in the back, alone, watching Lucy and Chet and all their other peers dance and laugh and flirt, and overall just soaking in the "ghost at the feast" feeling. It wasn't his favorite thing to do by any means.

Granted, it wasn't completely unenjoyable. Sometimes there was cake.

"Nah, I literally never go to those things." he replied as casually as he could manage, willing a change in topic as she flopped back down onto the couch.

"Well, I literally never see you there, so that makes sense." she teased, leaning close and carding her fingers through his hair, sending him shivering lightly at the way her short, manicured nails scratched lightly at his scalp. "You should come down, though. My sister's working, so she can't come along to keep me company. Besides, I wanna dance and I think if I keep bugging Lucy and Betty they'll get sick of me."

"You dance with Betty?" he asked, eyebrow raised.

She shrugged loosely, fully uncaring and smirking.

"She's really good! Betty's got a ton of energy for a lady her age." she said. "Plus, I can't dance with most of the guys because they instantly get super weird about it."

He didn't need to ask her for clarification, so he kept quiet, fidgeting a bit in his seat.

"Well, Lucy loves dancing and she loves making friends, so I doubt she'll get sick of you."

She chuckled briefly at that, but refused to let him evade her offer.

"Still. I'd really love it if you'd come."

It was clear that she was being serious, and it set him to fully squirming; he was unaccustomed to his presence being demanded out of desire and not obligation. Mercifully, she left it at that, excusing herself to finish up moving her things with a quick, gentle kiss to his cheek that stalled his breath in his chest. He sat in his room a while, bouncing between fiddling with his Pip-Boy and staring at the clock as the evening ticked by, bouncing his knee all the while, the time for the social drawing nearer and nearer.

There was no way he would manage to completely escape humiliation if he decided to go. Embarrassment seemed to find him easily, and he'd long accepted that as an unfortunate fact of his life. She would be pulled away, or get distracted and forget about him. Or worse, she would be with him all night and realize what a miserable bore he really was. What he had to decide was whether the likely humiliation was worth the time he might get to spend with her.

He stayed locked in indecision, frozen on the couch for far too long, and it wasn't until the social had already been going on for over half an hour that he decided to head down. The halls were largely abandoned, most people either filling the meeting hall in the admin wing or settling into their rooms for the evening, and the silence helped him calm himself as he made his way down.

This particular social was more heavily attended than he remembered them being, but with all the shuffling of personnel, he wasn't necessarily surprised...though, he wasn't exactly pleased, either. This many people meant an awful lot of watching eyes, ready to take in his failure to act like a regular person, ready to note his every little peculiarity to one another in hushed tones. It made him tense back up more than a bit as he descended the stairs, eyes scanning the clusters of folks talking and dancing, searching for her.

It took just long enough for the pit of self-doubt in his gut to start aching to find her, tucked over against the wall on the margins of the dance floor, chatting up another woman who he didn't properly recognize. Though her back was to him, he knew her shape and the shine of her hair instantly, and suddenly he didn't completely dread every moment of being there. He tried his best to weave through the crowd unnoticed, though several people made curious eye contact with him as he squeezed by, wedging himself between swaying bodies. One such body was her least favorite security officer, looming near the edge of the crowd; Norm hadn't noticed him until they'd already collided gently, the guy immediately turning his chin down towards him and glaring hard.

"Sorry." he muttered, pushing himself through the edge of the cluster and taking a moment to appreciate the free space, watching as she turned back towards the dance floor, towards him. Her face positively lit up when she saw him, her arm raising and waving at him excitedly as he closed the rest of the distance between them. Her suit was back fully in place, her hair still up, but slicked back.

"You came!" she said, her tone cheery. "I wasn't sure you would."

"Uh, yeah." he replied awkwardly, still feeling eyes on his back. "I would've felt bad if I didn't. You asked so nicely, after all."

She laughed at his non-joke, likely trying to help calm him as she took in his tense posture.

"Let's get some punch and sit down for a few minutes." she said.

The pair chatted a bit as they stood in the short line, their words mixing in with the murmur of a few dozen others.

"So..." he hesitated. "What's the deal with you and Lieutenant Hall Monitor, anyway?"

She snickered at the nickname as her eyes followed his tilting head, which made him relax one degree more. However, when the laughter faded away, she let out a sigh.

"Is he bothering you?"

"Nah, but I will say that I seem to annoy him more than usual."

There was a palpable kink in the energy between them for the briefest of seconds.

"It's not about you. We were supposed to get married last year, way before the transfer." she said, suddenly much quieter. "Obviously, we didn't end up going through with that."

"Oh."

"Don't get me wrong; there's a reason. It was the right thing for me. He's just...mean sometimes." she continued, to which he shook his head disapprovingly and tried to not cast a glance the guy's way. "It's awkward, you know? I was hoping I'd have a whole fresh start when I signed up to move here, but then he came along, too. I think he sees us as 'separated' and not 'over'. I was pretty pissed when I found out his transfer request was approved."

"I have to say, as someone who's been dumped before, sometimes you just have to take it on the chin." he replied, trying to inject some levity into the conversation and unable to avoid self-effacement.

"I have to save a little blame for his parents. And mine. Probably our council, too. " she sighed heavily, fiddling with her sleeve. "I got separate talks from all of them to basically tell me I didn't understand what I was doing when I called off the wedding. I'm sure he still thinks there's something up with me that I'll snap out of eventually because that's what they told him."

"That's...unhelpful."

"Yes. He was pretty upset when we broke up, though, so maybe it was an attempt at comfort. I'm not quite sure what the thought process was." she went on, very interested in the dirt under her nails. "We dated a long time, so it's a lot of history to walk away from. I get that. But we were kids when we started. I want different things now, and I had to make some changes before I got too far into a life I didn't want. Plus, I complained to my sister so much about him, and I was really afraid of what she'd take away as a lesson if I still married him."

"Ah. I understand." he said, keeping his tone casual despite all the new information turning over in his brain. He could sense unsteady ground here, and he felt guilty that he'd asked to begin with. "Well, I guess that explains why he tries to blow up my head with his mind every time we see one another now. I'm sympathetic, actually."

I'd kick myself every day if I managed to get that close to the finish line with you and still fuck it up somehow.

"Oh yeah? You want me to beat him up for you?" she offered conspiratorially, smiling again.

"I think I'll be okay." he chuckled, face hot yet again as she leaned just a bit closer. The rest of their quick wait was relatively quiet, the two of them sharing a glance that gave him goosebumps. They made their way past the big communal punch bowl and accepted cups from Reg and Betty; the older man sized them both up as they went by, but didn't comment on anything other than to say hello.

"It's good to see you participating for once, Norman." Betty said, and Norm smiled the least tight-lipped smile he could in response.

They settled at one of the empty bench tables that had been pushed to the far edges of the room, their backs to the wall as they sipped their beverages and watched everyone mingle. She seemed prone to the same sort of quiet observation he was.

"You know, I was thinking about those manuals you were reading when we first hung out." she said after a while, polishing off the red liquid in the paper cup she held. "I really could teach you about working with the terminal system if you're interested."

Embarrassed prickles broke out along his back and scalp at the warm, nostalgic feeling her bringing the incident up inspired.

"Oh, you don't have to do that." he said dismissively.

"I know. There's no rule that mandates it or anything, as far as I know." she replied, leaning on one arm and drawing herself closer to him until their legs were touching. "I'm offering explicitly because I want to. I like spending time with you."

His response caught in his throat at that, genuinely unsure how to respond to her confession. Suddenly, a new song came on over the jukebox speakers, mixed just a tad louder than the last, and her face lit up again, almost as brightly as it had when he'd entered the room.

"Oh, I absolutely love this song! Come dance with me!" she smiled, offering her hand.

"Ah, I really don't think I remember how." he chuckled awkwardly, voice slightly raised over the sound of the music. "It's been so long since I learned."

For years, Norm had been Lucy's compulsory dance partner. She'd forced him to practice every night for months until he knew all the steps to everything the first year she'd begun to attend, so he wasn't unskilled at it. But he loathed the attention he often drew from his lack of grace, hated the stories of past embarrassments that new embarrassments tended to trudge up.

"That's okay, honey! I'll lead." came her reply, his heart rate kicking up a gear at the affectionate pet name. And, true to her word, she whisked him up to his feet and tugged him a bit closer to the makeshift dance floor, lingering towards the back edge to give the two of them some space. He was even more aware of the height she had over him than normal as she stood close, guiding one of his hands to rest on her shoulder, clasping the other in hers. The soft swell of her breasts pressed lightly against his upper chest, and his whole face felt hot.

"You can lead once you get the steps back down, if you want." she murmured, seemingly mistaking his aroused distraction for embarrassment about being in the "woman's" position.

"It's fine. I seriously barely remember anything, so a little refresher would be great." he responded quickly, eager for anything else to focus on that wasn't the warmth and smell of her standing as near as she was. Fortunately, the song was jaunty, but not too fast, so they held one another loosely and trotted back and forth for most of it, the familiar pattern of steps and twirls coming back to him rather quickly. By the time the next song had begun, a bit faster, they were going along steadily, hardly missing a beat.

"You're really good!" she said, and he laughed her compliment off, working to keep his small steps in time with her larger ones. Slowly, they made their way a bit closer to the crowd, not fully folding in, but stepping nearer to joining in as they enjoyed the music. He could feel the attention they were attracting, but the way she let him cling to her made the anxiety it caused melt away.

Soon, another new song began, this one much slower and a bit sadder, but she still didn't pull away. There was a bit of a pause as she guided one of his hands down to her hip, her own coming to rest on his shoulder as she allowed him to take the lead. He wobbled a bit, his face warm, but she was patient and soon they were swaying along like it was the most natural thing in the world. As his confidence grew, he felt sure enough to guide the pair of them around a bit, twirling along with the bluesy rhythm.

As they turned, Norm could've sworn that he'd caught a glimpse of his father, leaning along the upper railing and looking down over them, but he was too caught up in the thrill of holding her like he was to bother looking back over his shoulder. He was too happy, too rarely comfortable in his body and the situation he found himself in to bother with anything else. Time was lost to him completely. When the very last song ended, she finally pulled away, but the hand that clasped his didn't, leaving them standing near the middle of the floor, fingers intertwined as the last few notes faded out.

"That was nice." he blurted, and she grinned down at him, giving his hand a little squeeze.

"It was. I'm really happy you came." she said. "Do you wanna see my new room? I managed to get all moved in before I came down here." she asked. "I don't have the route quite down-pat yet, but I'm pretty sure it's not all that far from yours."

"Sure. I'd like that." he said as they made their way over to the wall again, lingering as they waited for the bulk of the traffic to empty out of the hall. He tried his best to not fidget.

They walked in easy silence for the couple of minutes it took to make it back to the dormitory wing of the Vault. As they wound their way out of the administrative section, she allowed her path to cross slightly into his, her hip bouncing into him playfully. She took it as an opportunity to grab his hand back up into hers, and he grinned at her as she wound her fingers into his. When they began to walk along the rows and rows of doors, their pace slowed, attempting to draw out their journey just a bit longer. Eventually, she stopped in front of one that didn't stand out more than any other.

"Well, I'm pretty sure this is me. Ready for the grand reveal?"

He chuckled heartily as she stood aside, sweeping her arms in a grand gesture as the door lifted itself, revealing almost a carbon copy of the room he lived in, save for a few of her personal affects already sitting around. Playing along, he gave her an appreciative clap, pretending to appraise the place from her side. It made her giggle, and the sound tinkled embarrassingly down his spine.

"I'm glad you like it." she said, stepping almost as close as she had been when they were dancing. But there was no music now, no social cover for their encroaching proximity. She didn't seem to care, though, her head tilted down towards him; somehow, she managed to look down at him without making him feel small, and it made him even more drawn to her than before. In fact, it almost seemed like she was coming closer...

Norm didn't know how to react for the first heartbeat or two of her kissing him, his brain buffering hard in disbelief. Luckily, she'd come to be somewhat familiar with his artless tendencies, and lingered long enough for him to come fully back into his own body, eventually managing to kiss back. Hesitantly, he moved one hand up to rest back on her hip, pulling her a hair closer like he had before. This spurred her into bringing her hand up to rest along his cheek, and it idled there when she pulled back.

"Took you long enough, Norm." she said suddenly, and after a hard pause, they both broke into laughter that they tried in vain to keep quiet. His heart was flying, and there was a joy pulsing in his veins that he wasn't sure he'd ever felt before. They lingered in her doorway together, smiling shyly at one another.

"Alright, I'd better try and get settled down. I've gotta be up early yet again." she sighed, finally taking a step into the place before pirouetting back towards him. "I'd invite you in, but I didn't get a chance to try out the shower fully before I had to go down for the social, and I got pretty sweaty hauling my stuff down here."

"Uhh..." he replied dumbly, completely fumbling his chance to flirt back by offering to share the shower in his effort to swallow back his initial response. Somehow, he'd managed to keep his cool well enough through her literally kissing him, but the thought of her all sweaty was what started getting him hard.

"See you tomorrow? Maybe after you're off we could start on some of the stuff I wanted to teach you." she cut him off, a knowing glint in her eyes.

"Definitely." he mumbled out before they said goodbye. He let her door close in his face just so he could have the additional second in her presence it provided before looking both ways over his shoulder, trying to remember which way his room was in his fog of elation.

It was impossible for him to keep the big, cheesy grin off of his face as he walked, spreading so wide across his face that it almost made his cheeks ache, unaccustomed to the pressure. He was inefficient getting back where he was going, missing a turn or two in his distraction. As he rounded the corner towards his room, still high on the feeling of her pressing herself so close to him, he jumped in surprise as he nearly slammed directly into his father.

"Sorry, dad." he said. "I didn't see you coming."

"That's alright." Hank replied, smiling as his hand came to rest on his shoulder. "I wasn't expecting to see you at the social, you know. It was nice to see you making friends."

He smiled back, squirming a bit as he lifted his head to look up at him. No matter how old he got, Norm always felt a bit like a child in his father's presence.

"Yeah, I had fun. Guess all that dancing Lucy used to make me do paid off at least a little bit."

"I suppose so." he said simply. "I noticed you getting particularly close with one of our transfers. What's her name, again?"

He reminded the older man, every syllable rolling off of his tongue almost worshipfully.

"Oh, yes. The one from IT. She's very nice. I've heard wonderful things about her from Betty."

"Yeah, she's definitely right up Betty's alley." the younger man replied, nervousness churning in his stomach as he tried to find the courage to get out what he really wanted to say, eventually succeeding, though just barely.

"I, uh, think she likes me, actually." he said, fumbling just so with his words.

He'd somewhat expected appraisal from his father, maybe even some pride that his awkward, introverted son had put in some effort to socialize and had managed to eke out a mild win. But there was nothing in the Overseer's face, just the same vague smile that he usually wore.

"That's great, son. Sleep tight." he replied, lifting his hand to ruffle Norm's hair like he always had when he was a boy before continuing down the hall towards his own room.

The whole thing felt strange, but his lingering excitement from before couldn't be extinguished by that one interaction, and by the time he'd made it back to his room, he was back to obsessing over the feeling of her soft mouth on his. His father's reaction wasn't forgotten, but it ceased to matter for the moment. That night, he dreamt of following her into her room, kneeling before her and worshiping her with his mouth as she leaned against the wall, the air filled with the sounds of her pleasure as she moaned out his name.

He got his usual mid-morning start the next day, lingering around his apartment until the last moment in favor of an extended shower masturbation session. His dream was still fresh in his mind, and it was a much-needed relief of pressure. Feeling less tense than before as he made his way to the janitorial closet, he wondered, somewhat melancholic, how long into his day he would have to wait to see her.

Fortunately, or unfortunately, the closet door slid open to reveal her sitting on top of a crate of cleaning chemicals. His gut and back were instantly tense again at the sight of her soft, curvy body reclined there, fiddling with her Pip-Boy as she smirked at him.

"Hey there, handsome."

"Hi." he replied, more demure than he'd wanted. "Looking for something?"

"Actually, one of the things on my list today is to go up and inspect some of the fail-safe wiring around the external door. Pretty sure there are maintenance things up there too, right?" she asked, feigning innocence in a none-too-convincing way. "Wanna come with?"

He agreed eagerly, rifling through one of the tool boxes along the wall until he found a proper wrench, setting it delicately on top of a clipboard with some inspection forms clipped to it.

"Twins!" she said, holding up her own clipboard and digging a pair of pliers out of her pocket.

The younger man smiled at that, and the two of them were largely quiet as they made their way up to the top floor of the Vault proper. When they reached the doors to the elevator that rode all the way to the surface level, he hit the button and stood back to allow her to step in first. She leaned casually against the wall, the scant lighting throwing eerie shadows around her face.

"How'd you sleep?" he asked as the doors shut behind them.

"I slept great. Nice and quiet. Way too early of a start, though. You?"

"Good. Took me a while to get settled down." he replied diplomatically, holding his things to his chest and keeping his head high, feigning some dignity.

"Oh yeah? Lonely?" she teased as her eyes sparkled devilishly at him.

"Maybe a little." he admitted, turning his eyes forward once more and watching her reaction carefully in his peripheral vision; she leaned just a bit closer for the remainder of the slightly creaky ride up.

There was something about being on the uppermost level, being so near the outside, that sent an eerie tingle up his spine. The Vault already had a certain feeling of artificiality at times, like living in a dressed-up rat cage, and being so far removed from the living quarters only intensified it. The only sound here was the hum of fluorescent lights and the whirs and gurgles of the various HVAC and wastewater systems, echoing down into the deep pit that led back into the body of the place.

Very occasionally, a rumbling could be heard from just beyond the massive gear-shaped door, low and grating like a mournful moan. His father had once explained that it was likely sand or debris brushing past the outermost door, a sound intensified in its spookiness by the way the thick layers of steel and concrete warped it. However, his mind kicked up images of radiation-ravaged cannibals, trying their best to scrape and pound their way in, and, no matter how childish it felt, it made him shudder. He was glad he wasn't there alone.

"I heard one of the girls you came here with is pregnant, but I don't remember what her name is." he said as casually as he could manage, both fishing for info and trying to will his nervous mind to grab onto something, anything else.

"Oh, her." she replied, grasping for the name herself as they made their way along the metal walkway. "Yeah, I heard. I'm happy for her, I suppose. Seems fast to me, but I try not to get too involved in conversations like that, otherwise I start getting a huge inquisition about when I'm pushing one out myself."

Norm snorted hard at her candor, and the sound made her titter, echoing through the chamber-like room, mixed with their clinking footsteps as they made their way along the thin metal catwalk.

"I can't say I relate. Discussions about wanting a baby do not usually involve me." he said rather self-effacingly.

"Consider yourself lucky." she said, eyes scanning casually along the wiring that led up to the control panel nearest the big door. "The way they talk to me about my plans for a family gives me the major creeps. I've been tricked into many a 'basic quarterly checkup' over the last few years that ended with me in stirrups being grilled about when I'm going to start having kids."

"Quarterly checkup?" he asked, feeling his eyes bulge out of his head just a bit.

She rolled her own at that.

"I know. Believe me. But you know how it is! They start going on and on about the mission, and 'the future of America lies in a healthy Vault', and all that, and you quickly get to a point where you're willing to do basically anything to make it stop." she said with a sigh.

"Yeah, I guess I get that." he responded dumbly. "They do tend to lay it on thick when they want something from you."

"Do you wanna know what they've tried to convince me is a 'good' number of kids?" she asked conspiratorially, her voice almost a whisper as she turned to fully look him in the eye. She had such an intense gaze that it pinned him in place, silent, for a second too long.

"How many?" he stammered out.

"Six!" she said, her eyebrows so high in emphasis that they nearly disappeared into her hair line before continuing along the way.

"No fucking way." he spat in shock, freezing for a step or two behind her.

She laughed heartily, earnestly, even more beautiful.

"I know! And the craziest part is that they sort of act like six is the ground floor when they say it. I mean, we have a built-in village to help out around here, right?" she asked facetiously, approaching the control panel and running her eyes down the paper. "Wrong! My mother had four, beginning with me, and I basically raised the last one starting around twelve because my parents had two other children to focus on. Kids take a lot of work. I wouldn't have more than I knew I could handle."

He nodded along with her words in silent support, watching her movements. As she spoke, she checked a few things off of the list in her hands before setting it aside, perched precariously along the top edge of the panel, pulling a rag from her pocket and dusting the whole thing lightly. She then set to flipping up the few safety covers that blocked the major buttons and switches, letting her fingers linger along the ones that controlled the only thing that stood between them and the irradiated outside world.

"Do you ever think about leaving?" she asked suddenly, tone rather humdrum in her focus.

Norm wasn't exactly surprised to hear that she, like Lucy, had more curiosity about what it would be like to cut out than the average Vault dweller. She was too intelligent, too analytical to live the entirety of her life in a hole in the ground unquestioningly. However, she was also brave (and possibly foolhardy) enough to seriously consider what striking out and leaving would mean. Sure, Norm may have reserved a not-insignificant part of his brain for daydreaming about what it would be like to be somewhere he felt accepted, but he felt too afraid at the unknown of what lay beyond the door to truly consider it. Besides, he knew that even if he could muster up the gumption to decide to leave, he'd only be a burden on the survival of those around him.

"In theory." he replied after a pause.

She was quiet at that, the slightest hesitation separating his answer from her flipping the covers back into place.

"Can I bum your wrench?" she requested, her hand already outstretched. He placed the one from his pocket into her grip and watched with rapt attention as she easily popped the cover to the access panel on the side of the thing open, crouching down low to reach the bolts closest to the floor. The show of strength stirred something up in him, but he remained quiet as he watched her finish up her inspection, signing off on the form when she was done.

"Alright, everything looks good on my end. Wanna check out the maintenance terminal and get outta here?"

"Absolutely."

His skin crawled in unpleasant anticipation as they made their way back towards the elevators, stopping midway at the HVAC control panel that he was supposed to inspect. He dug the wrench out of his pocket, suddenly wishing she was otherwise occupied.

"I, uh, usually have some trouble opening it." he confessed, but her smile in reply helped soothe his embarrassment.

"Lemme see how you do it." she said.

Swallowing hard, he allowed her to watch him struggle to wrestle one of the bolts loose. When he moved the wrench to the next one, she placed her hand over his, adjusting his grip further away from the head.

"Try that."

Shockingly, the additional leverage helped greatly, and the thing slid loose much easier; he opened the last three in the same amount of time it had taken him to open the first, quietly proud of himself.

"Good job!" she praised, voice peaking high, correcting herself a bit when he tittered in reply. "Sorry, I'm doing the 'mommy voice' my siblings always complain about. I have terminal eldest sister syndrome."

"Well, I suppose that's bound to happen when you're one of four. Or six. Or whatever."

Again, she laughed heartily at his snark as he checked things off his own list.

"I dunno about six. I would like to have a baby, though." she said softly, suddenly studying the series of buttons on the side panel rather closely. "Someday, with the right person."

He nodded quietly, cheeks warm as his eyes flitted around the room. Typically, this was the moment he started to feel women really pull away, the moment when they started to really think about what they wanted for their future and remembered that it wasn't him. They'd sigh dreamily, fantasizing about their future families and staring off into space. However, when his gaze moved back to her, he found her staring straight into his eyes, like she was waiting for a response from him. It took him somewhat aback.

"How do you decide who the right person is?" he sort of stammered out.

She was thoughtfully quiet for a long moment.

"I think I'll just know, you know?"

"I can't lie, that's not a very satisfying answer." he half-joked.

His quip made her cackle for a moment, her weight swaying and leaning against the rail beside her.

"I know. I'm sorry." she laughed, wiping her eyes with the side of one hand. "Do you ever think about having any kids?"

"In theory." he chuckled.

"You're cute." she smirked, leaning in suddenly to plant a series of kisses along his jaw and mouth. The proximity instantly made his knees tremble, and for a brief moment, he stumbled back towards the edge himself.

Her arm wrapped around him protectively, yanking him against her side quickly, his boots squeaking across the catwalk.

"Careful, baby. You're just the right size to go flying under that railing if you try hard enough." she fussed, her grip on him surprisingly tight as she began to rise back to her feet, dragging him along with her.

"Sorry." he muttered, face hot once more in an equal mix of embarrassment and mesmerization.

"Let's get outta here."

The two rode back down in companionable silence, but when they reached the first floor of the actual Vault once more, she gave him a little kiss on the cheek, her eyes sparkling before the two went about the rest of their shifts solo. That night, she came to visit him in his room, a stack of different hacking and programming books tucked into her arms, and the two spent the evening talking about what he wanted to learn about the comms system...thoughts which were difficult to gather and articulate with the way she let her hand massage his thigh.

Lots of their alone time became tutoring time, something he enjoyed much more than he'd thought possible; she obviously enjoyed playing the teacher role, sharing her passion with him, and he loved seeing her flex her know-how. Sometimes she rewarded him for especially impressive performances with kisses, pressing closer than she ever had before, and it made him an ever more eager student.

Eventually, they worked their way up to messing around with real machines, and he was rather flattered when she dragged a unit in pretty bad disrepair all the way to her room so that they could work on it alone. For a few days, they reviewed the different parts, the basic build of the computer, and soon he was confident enough that he asked her to let him do some of the smaller repairs.

"This drive has to be replaced, but I've gotta finish rewiring some of the stuff around it real quick before we can. See?" she asked one evening, hovering close to him and pointing a flashlight into the dark guts of the thing. He nodded, half-confident that he knew what she meant, running a finger along the drive itself to feel where it slid into its place.

"Now, I've gotta turn off the power, so don't touch the--"

The rest of her warning went undelivered as the backs of his fingers brushed right along the frayed edge of one of the live wires, the feeling hot and sharp. He let out a pitiful little yelp as he yanked his hand back, clattering it along the plastic edge of the machine's casing, the burned spot flying to his mouth protectively.

"Aww, poor thing!" she said, reaching out to cut the power to the humming box before quickly moving into the bathroom to rummage around the first aid kit stuck to the wall. He pulled himself up onto his knees, cradling the hand that was paining him to his chest as hot embarrassment encased him.

"Lemme see." she said, cradling a cool rag, a roll of gauze, and a tin of burn ointment in her hand when she returned. She crouched down towards him, but he pulled back.

"It's fine."

She frowned at that, reaching out for his hand once more.

"Just let me look at it real quick." she insisted, her fingers touching his wrist.

"I said it's fine!" he said louder, pushing back and falling onto his rump once more as a result. The fall embarrassed him further, and a warm shock of anger passed through his gut. However, the heat of rage was quickly replaced by the heat of lust as she continued to clatter onto him, pinning his body with the weight of hers. Norm laid there, eyes wide and the rest of him frozen as she rested her ass flush against his hips, one hand wrapping around his other wrist and holding it in place as the other stuck out, empty and waiting to be given what she was demanding.

Slowly, he placed his stinging appendage into hers, and she smiled almost wickedly at his acquiescence.

"Good boy." she said, turning his palm towards the floor.

She might've said something else as a follow-up, but if she did, it was completely drowned out by the way those two words rang through his mind over and over again. He tried his best to focus on her first aid efforts, appraising the reddened back of his fingers, spreading and turning them gently in hers. Unfortunately for Norm, her soft, caring attentions only added more fuel to the fire that had already been smoldering in his gut from simply being in her presence. The problem only continued to increase as she wriggled ever-so-slightly in her move to reach for the supplies once more, the sweet curve of her full ass digging in right where he both wanted and did not need it. She briefly soothed him with the cold rag, and it was the only relief he was allowed. Before she'd even started to applying the little swatch of burn ointment to the reddened skin, he'd begun to grow hard, his eyes flitting to the ceiling in abashed panic.

Mercifully, she either didn't immediately notice his lack of control or was kind enough to ignore it, focusing on tending to the small burn he'd given himself. She didn't say much as she carefully cleaned the skin. At least, that's what it felt like she was doing; he didn't allow his gaze to leave the spot on the ceiling he was fixating on, willing his cock to go down before he both humiliated himself and disgusted her. But no matter how harshly he shamed himself, how hard he dug his teeth into the meat of his cheek and forced himself to think of unpleasant things, it was overridden by his physical excitement.

The way she never seemed to properly still didn't help at all.

"I don't think it really needs to be covered unless you want it to be." she said finally, delicately holding his hand and inspecting her own work absentmindedly. "What do you think?"

He struggled to formulate any sort of reply, but the way she was smirking ever-so-slightly at him when his eyes jumped to her face against his will told him that his silence was an adequate response.

"What's the matter, cutie? Cat got your tongue?" she asked, feigning innocence in that deliciously condescending way as her hand ran further behind her, down his flank and thigh until it found his growing erection, brushing it lightly. "Or is it this?"

"Uh." he let out a truncated groan at the sudden contact. "I'm sorry."

"What're you sorry for?"

Her question confused his scrambling brain, but the soft petting of her hand against him soothed him into placidity; clearly she wasn't offended, and he was content, though tense, to allow her to continue her experimental ministrations. Her face was almost eerily serene, watching him calmly as she teased him. Eventually, she paused the pets, feeling around until she was able to clench his lower zipper between her fingers, working the thing down until she was able to work her hand inside, gently fishing his cock out of his pants and stroking it in the relatively cool air. He was completely floored, convinced he was having an incredibly realistic wet dream, but the weight of her pressing him into the floor, the pressure of her hand around him was all too real.

"Pretty sure I never got the pair of panties I left here back. What'd you do with them?" she asked, her hand maintaining its cruelly slow pace and working him to full engorgement. He could've keeled over completely from sheer abashment in that moment, every nerve of his raw to the wind as she exposed him for what he really was. It had been so long since the incident that he'd assumed she'd forgotten about them. Subconsciously, his eyes flickered over to his bedside table, and her own gaze followed, a sadistic smile stretching across her features as she tightened her grip around him just slightly.

"You're lucky I can't get to them, or I'd shove them in your mouth." she whispered, leaning down so her lips brushed against his own with each syllable. "I bet you'd like that, though. Wouldn't you, you little perv?"

His stomach rolled and clenched as she built him up higher, her steady pace and commanding facade nearly smothering him with eroticism. Never even in his fantasies did he imagine her being like this with him, and he was instantly hooked. The tip of him, deep red in its engorgement, leaked generously, and he sprinted towards the finish as she let her hand pass over it.

"Fuck, fuck..." he whined, his hips bucking futilely under her weight, moving no further into her grip, gaining no additional friction along his aching length. "I'm so close."

"You'd better not." she said firmly, as if she were scolding him for trying to spoil his dinner with treats. Her tone made him groan, his entire face burning.

"Come on, honey. Don't you wanna be good for me?" she whispered, her lips brushing just right along the shell of his ear and sending shocks down his spine, already trembling from the loving way the pet name rolled off her tongue. He whimpered and cried out as he suddenly lost control, covering her hand in his cum as she continued to stimulate him through his overwhelmingly powerful orgasm.

"Tsk, tsk, tsk. I don't think I told you that you could do that, baby." she chastised, tightening her hand around him and stroking him faster, harder. The sensation against his sensitive cock was far too much, and he was quickly writhing and half-fighting back beneath her, his wide eyes filling with genuine tears as he pleaded for her forgiveness.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" he begged, both desperate for her to stop and still rutting against her completely against his will. That seemed to sate her, however, as she gave him a few more hard strokes and then stopped completely, holding him tight at the base for a few seconds longer before releasing him, still leaned over and hiding most of his body beneath hers.

"Did you like that?" she asked, nibbling along the shell of his ear. He nodded pitifully in reply, most of his energy focused on not shuddering his way into more trouble, already more spent than he could ever recall being before. Her hands had become softer, the clean one petting across his chest affectionately.

"You really are lucky that I'm in a good mood today. I can be way meaner than that when I put my mind to it. It doesn't hurt that you're adorable when you beg." she grinned, and he swallowed back a groan at the remark as she used the rag she'd cast off to the side to clean herself before mopping up the errant dribbles that had splattered across his suit. It was fairly unnecessary, but she still took her time cleaning him up, her free hand scratching and petting his back and nape comfortingly as she sat curled up beside him.

He avoided her gaze at first, quite ashamed that she'd managed to unearth this desire of his that had never properly seen the light of day. However, her tender touch was a pleasant balm after how raw he'd been, and after a few minutes he was able to steal a glance at her, moving one hand to rest on her knee. Naturally, she was already watching him; however, he managed to keep his eyes on her face, not flinching away.

"You liked it? For sure?" she asked, less flirtatious and more serious.

He laughed openly at that, the sound throaty and weak as he still struggled to revive himself.

"For sure." he replied, and it seemed to make her relax a bit more, abandoning the rag on the floor and bringing both hands up to cup his face, holding it delicately. Her thumbs rubbed softly along his temples, and he let his lids slide shut

"Boy, you sure seem like you're enjoying yourself." she laughed playfully, his weight lilting further and further towards her touch.

"Shut up." he muttered jokingly, squirming just a bit, but unable and unwilling to pull away.

"You're gonna kick yourself so hard when I tell you that I've been trying to do that to you for months. Gotta quit playing so hard to get, MacLean."

"I dunno if I'd call it 'playing hard to get'." he replied, cracking an eye open at her once more.

Another inscrutable look passed across her features at that, but he wasn't given much time to study it as she leaned in and gave him a series of light pecks across the mouth, drawing a smile from him.

"Do you want me to...?" he asked.

"Oh, I definitely do, but we have places to be, unfortunately." she said, nodding towards the clock ticking away on the wall.

"Ugh."

"I agree, trust me." she sighed, pulling herself up before offering him her hand. "I'll put it on your tab."

His legs were wobbly as he tried to fully right himself, still clenching her hand until he felt he could stand fully. Even then, he hesitated to let go. They left for the town hall separately, his companion slipping out into the hall with a secretive little smile at him as she let the door fall shut behind her. The meeting was nothing special, weekly updates and a few mundane announcements that flew in one ear and out another, all free space in his mind occupied by thoughts of her soft hands on him, the way she'd spoken to him and commanded control of his body like she had. Her presence right across the aisle didn't help.

But, of course, his brain couldn't allow him to simply soak in his pleasurable encounter with a pretty woman; there also had to be a healthy dose of self-doubt and retroactive embarrassment that leaked in, making him worry that he'd made himself look foolish, desperate in front of her. Or worse, that she was playing some sort of game with him, using him to entertain herself while she waited for a proper guy to come along. It wouldn't be the first time he'd entered into an entanglement of questionable intent.

He knew that if he fixed his mouth to claim out loud that any woman, ever, had used him for sex, he'd be laughed out of the Vault. However, that didn't mean it wasn't true.

Most of the women he'd hooked up with in the past were married at this point, or had transferred out to try and luck their way into a spouse after finding their options at home rather unsatisfactory, himself included. But he'd always been at least a little surprised at how easy it was for him to find women who wanted to sleep with him...just as long as he didn't get any ideas about things going anywhere, that is. People in the Vault were prone to boredom in their confinement, and casual sex was a fairly widely accepted way to combat it. But there were only so many potential partners of the desired gender for each person, and that fact bolstered Norm's desirability considerably. Sometimes having the right equipment and not being related to the person was enough for the moment.

Norm was not a breeder, though; that much had been made perfectly clear to him from the first time he'd ever had sex. And sure, the hard, logical part of his brain understood why the women who were willing to sleep with him weren't necessarily eager to settle down or reproduce with him; he wasn't exactly the sort of man that his female peers had been raised to see as desirable. Though he didn't find himself ugly by any means, he was small, not very strong, and not exactly enthusiastic about many of the things that the average young Vault dweller prioritized in their lives. He considered himself a decent lover (when given the time of day, of course), but being able to show someone a good time during the actual act didn't seem to count for as much as he'd thought it might.

It was because of this that his past encounters had often ended rather suddenly, girls pulling away awkwardly when he seemed to toe too close to orgasm during actual sex, or making excuses to leave once he'd already taken care of their needs. Both stung, wounded his already often well-flogged ego, but the latter bothered him a hair less, purely because he didn't enjoy the idea of anyone going all the way with him simply because they felt obligated. He wanted to be wanted, and being with her was the first time he'd truly felt it in his life. She never shied away from his kisses, never acted as if his touch bothered her. When they fooled around, he never felt the invisible wall between them that he always felt with others.

One one hand, he was somewhat grateful to know with certainty that she wasn't just using him for sex. On the other, he felt like he was dying to be inside her. They saw one another almost every night, had intimate physical contact more often than not, but it never went further than a one-sided slam hit to third base. Though he ached for more, he was grateful for what he was given.

Somewhat gradually, the pair of them were more and more open about their relationship. Their evening study sessions continued, her manual motivation continuing in regular intervals until he'd built up some tolerance. Eventually, her lessons became more orally based. The increasing physical intimacy between them showed in how close they often stood, sat. Granted, they'd never really made efforts to hide how close they were becoming, but they'd reached a point where they sometimes held hands when they walked in the hall, attended more socials than not to dance and hold one another close. She even grew comfortable enough to swap seats in the meeting hall, inserting herself in the seat between he and Lucy one morning and drawing even more stares than he'd anticipated. Even Hank seemed to be staring down intensely at the two as he delivered his usual announcements.

That day's meeting dragged on longer than usual, and by the time the two gave one another a quick peck goodbye on their way out the door to their daily assignments, he could swear all the eyes on his back had burned holes in his suit. She was lingering around in the guts of the place for the day, trying to sniff out any weaknesses in the backup life support system. For his part, Norm had to go up top alone, back to inspect the same panel she'd kissed him at before. He was much less excited to do so without her company.

The ride up the rickety elevator was much more nerve-wracking solo, every little sound and weird vibration making him nervous that the blasted thing was about to fall back down the shaft. His posture stiffened even further for a moment when the elevator doors clunked open and he could make out another person at the far end of the catwalk, right up against the door, standing tall with their back to him. He relaxed momentarily when his eyes focused in on the standard-issue blue of a Vault suit, that golden 33 emblazoned on the back, but he felt himself tense again when he realized who exactly he was approaching.

Lieutenant Hall Monitor seemed to be completing some sort of security checklist, a clipboard of his own clutched in hand as he swept his gaze back and forth across the enormous hatch. His aura had been more tense than usual as of late, but this was the first time the two men had been entirely alone.

The guy had never demonstrated before that he cared about Norm's existence, but the way he glared back at him as he tried his best to give him a polite, acknowledging nod communicated new developments on that front. The relative silence, save for the usual hum and whir of uncovered machinery, only fueled the tension. He tried to shake off the nasty look, stopping halfway along the narrowest part of the walkway to check the same HVAC control panel as usual. Crouching down to pop open the face plate, adjusting his grip on the wrench just like she'd shown him, he was making relatively quick work of the whole thing, rushing to get the hell out of dodge and away from the oppressive awkwardness of the situation. Lunch with her would be a welcome way to unpack this ugly incident.

Down the path, the other man finished up his own work, jotting a few things down before ending with a test of the klaxon and light system that was tied to the door. The yellow lights fluttered to life and flashed, the shrill cry of the sirens splitting the air and drowning out every other sound. Noting him making his way back, the younger MacLean slowed his hands, drawing out his work so that the two wouldn't have to share a ride down in the elevator. Security was supposed to wait around until the full test cycle had completed, but Norm didn't necessarily blame him for leaving, between the headache-inducing sirens and the rancid vibe of the room.

As the silent, larger man passed by, though, Norm felt him lean out and check his side, causing him to stumble sideways from his squatted position and very nearly fall, his head sailing beneath the lower hand rail and dangling for a paralyzing beat over the open concrete pit that made up the body of the rest of the Vault; the terrified scream he let out was drowned out entirely by the still roaring klaxon. The fall had to be well over a hundred feet, and peering downwards into it, truly seeing it, his fingers aching sharply as he maintained his grip on the rebar railing, his head spun violently. Flinging himself back with all the strength at his command, he landed rather painfully on his side and temple along the walkway, panting and trembling. The wrench he'd been reaching for tumbled over the edge, not making an audible sound as it sailed to the floor far beneath.

The guy never even stopped, never looked back over his shoulder at the contact. It was only when the elevator doors opened and he stepped inside that he turned and looked at Norm again, his eyes full of absolute hatred as he glared him down, pinning him to the ground with his gaze until the doors slid shut. The alarm stopped a moment later, but the his ears continued to ring, his whole body limp and unresponsive as he laid there, too shocked to move. He didn't feel like he lost consciousness, but seemingly a split second later, a soft, strong pair of hands was trying their best to shake him awake.

"Norm? Norm!"

Her voice was distorted as he came back to himself, his head throbbing painfully

"Sweetheart, what happened? I've been looking for you. Your poor face!" she fussed, touching gingerly around his brow and sending him flinching away.

"Sorry I missed lunch." he replied quietly.

"Come on."

She helped him to his feet and back towards the elevator, holding him up as his head spun. The ride down was silent, heavy, and she helped him slowly make his way to the infirmary. The nurse examined him, checked him for a concussion and deemed him well enough before giving him something for his pain and leaving them alone, the curtain around his bed in the corner drawn tight. He'd told her that he'd fallen doing some repair work and she didn't ask many questions. His companion was silent the whole time, never leaving his side and rarely releasing his hand, but clearly deep in worried thought. Once they'd been left alone a few minutes, she finally spoke up.

"What really happened?" she asked.

He told her as best as he could remember, not mincing words.

"I'm sorry. I won't let it happen again." was her only response except scooting her chair closer to the bedside, both of her hands clasping tightly around his left one. He didn't know what to say to that, still a bit dizzy and rapidly growing sleepy from whatever analgesic he'd been given, so his only response was a mild squeeze to her fingers. Tottering in and out of sleep on the cot, he was vaguely aware of some commotion in the front of the infirmary a while later; though he could barely make out a lot of what was said, some of it filtered though, mostly the few sentences exchanged between a familiar male voice and that of the frustrated nurse.

"You need to let me look at your nose. Please, sit down." she demanded after the scuffling sound of a chair or table skidding a few inches across the floor, the screech of which woke him for a split second.

"Don't touch me. They'll look at it at home. " came the reply, followed by more scuffling and some cursing.

Part of Norm's brain registered the commotion and tried to force him to rise, but he was barely able to squirm as he rapidly fell back into unconsciousness. When he finally felt steady and awake enough to lift his head, he was alone. Checking his Pip-Boy, he confirmed he'd been asleep a few hours, and his legs were wobbly as he tried to right himself. The halls were quiet, abandoned as they usually were in the evenings as people settled in with those they cared about the most. Even the infirmary was empty, the lights all turned off save for a lamp on the reception desk. Some of the furniture was a bit ajar, some bloody tissues filling the trash can nearest the door as he moved towards it. Turning into the hall, he had to pause for a minute to get his bearings and remember which direction the dormitory was.

When the door to her apartment slid open, he found her sat at the dining table, suit tied back around her waist once more and a tired expression on her face as her dominant hand rested in a bowl of ice water.

"Hi." she said, her smile a little less effervescent than usual as he approached. "I was just about to come check on you."

Moving to stand beside her, he took in just how swollen her entire hand was, her knuckles already heavily spotted with black and deep blue. There was an angry tightness in his chest at the sight. Seeing her injured spread a sour taste through his mouth, pulling it into a deeper frown.

"You didn't have to do that for me." he said flatly.

"It wasn't for you. It was for me."

Norm was silent for a beat, his only response.

"Well, that's a fib. It was a little for you, too." she said, her words tinted with guilt. "You don't have to worry, though. He's going back to 32. Honestly, he's probably already gone."

He didn't know what else to say. He'd hurried to her as soon as he'd woken up, but now he had difficulty even looking at her without the rotted core of self-hatred that sat deep inside him screaming out. Every thought of his was tainted with the poison of how worthless he felt compared to everything she could be giving up to be with him. He wasn't worth literally fighting over.

"I'm gonna go back to my room and lie down."

Her brow furrowed strongly at that, and she quickly stood, pulling her dripping, blotchy hand from the water.

"Oh. Okay, sweetie. I'll walk you there." she said, worry leaking its way further into her tone and gaze.

He allowed her that, though he knew he didn't deserve her company, feeling lowly and pitiful as they walked in silence a few halls down and over from hers. When they reached his door, he stopped outside and looked at her.

"Thanks for walking me. I'm gonna get some rest."

She looked disappointed that he was essentially telling her to leave, but, as always, she respected him, nodding softly as her hand reached out towards him.

"Okay. I'll check on you tomorrow. I hope you sleep okay." she said, smiling as best as she could for him.

With that, she turned and made her way back to the short stairs, hesitating for just a moment to cast a glance at him over her shoulder. It made his chest ache, but he held himself back from going to her. All he wanted in that moment was to hide away from the overwhelming embarrassment and shame that threatened to smother him from every angle.

Stripping naked and throwing himself into bed, he winced as he attempted to lie on his usual side and felt the ache of the bruising along his cheek and eye rest against the pillow. He tossed and turned, unable to find a comfortable position or ignore the nagging pain in his face. Though he'd slept a while in the infirmary, it hadn't been of quality, and he was quickly exhausted again, his brain demanding rest and his body too uncomfortable to provide it.

Eventually, he managed to fall into a fitful, light sleep, but his overworked brain immediately threw him into a mix of hardly strung together, stressful thoughts, the image of dangling over that pit running over and over again before his eyes and sending him flailing back awake in a panic. He was coated in flop sweat, his hair damp as he trembled hard. His heart raced.

He was petrified, and he was alone.

Curling back up painfully under the blanket, he toed the awful line between resting enough to experience some sort of recuperation and staying awake enough to stave off the nightmares. Intermittently, he let his mind wander to where he really wanted to be: cuddled up against her chest as she held him through this.

At one point, near dawn, he nearly broke, nearly drug himself back to her, the knowledge that she would let him in even if she'd been dead asleep a massive temptation. However, she deserved better than to see him the way he was in that moment. When a more appropriate hour finally, blessedly arrived, he barely took the time to dress himself before hustling out the door, desperate to see her, to apologize for pushing her away even a little because of his own fragile ego. He was ready to give her all of himself, including the parts he wasn't so proud of.

However, he didn't quite make it there, as the moment his door opened, he was greeted by the sight of his father, leaning somewhat casually against the wall and smiling as he nearly ran right into him.

"Morning, son. Let's have a little powwow in my office." he said, clapping his hand across his thin shoulder.

Norm didn't protest, simply allowed himself to be pulled along on an almost entirely silent walk to the administrative wing. Multiple people greeted the older man as they passed by, many bidding for more time with him later. One or two attempted to initiate longer conversation with him as the pair walked, and Hank expertly delayed them, sending them away satisfied with a smile. The entire time, he hardly cast a look at his son, simply kept that hand resting on shoulder to ensure he didn't disappear.

Eventually, the two entered the large suite of connected spaces that made up the Overseer's office. He was guided into the chair directly across from the big desk, feeling smaller by the moment as his father slid into his own chair a few feet away.

"How're you feeling?" he asked after a pause.

"My face hurts, honestly. I didn't sleep very well. Dreamt I was falling." his son replied honestly, every nerve in his body raw in more ways than one.

"Aww, poor thing." the Overseer replied, and it was almost, almost like he was mocking him. "Hopefully you'll mend up soon."

Norm didn't have a fast enough response to that, and he quickly moved on.

"Well, as I'm sure you've heard, one of our newest security officers has decided to transfer back to Vault 32."

"I did hear about that." he replied carefully.

That earned him a smile, a correct answer in the bag.

"You understand the importance of what we're doing here. I know how smart you are. It's important that we utilize everyone we have to the best of their ability here, right?"

He nodded along obediently, his heart rate slowly ticking upwards.

"Well, we can't afford to lose good personnel over interpersonal drama."

There was a hard silence after that, Norm's brain overheating as he tried to reason away the realization that was beginning to dawn on him. He'd been brought here for a very specific reason.

Good personnel?

"I don't understand. I'm the bad guy here because that jerkoff decided he wanted to run off back home?"

That caused the first crack in his father's pleasant facade, his smile falling for a solid second before returning, softer, less applied.

"It's important that we all work to get along here. You know that. I simply cannot have you starting drama and getting into fights over girls. It's really not becoming of a young man in your position." his father said, delivery not unlike when he had to chastise the whole Vault for something, sympathetic but deeply detached.

"Fights? Drama? Dad, he tried to kill me."

"Oh, Norm. Now you're being a little dramatic, no?" Hank replied, his eyes actually rolling skyward at his son's claim.

"Absolutely fucking not! He pushed me and I very nearly fell! Check the cameras!" Norm shot back, his voice shooting up an octave in pure, shocked outrage.

"First of all, watch your mouth. I know I taught you better than that." his dad glared for a moment. "Secondly, I already checked them. I'm sure it felt very scary in the moment, but he bumped you, you over-corrected, and you fell down. It really is that simple, bud. I know it's embarrassing, but no one almost died."

"Dad, I know this whole thing's been a lot, but I don't think I've done anything wrong. Us being together won't cause any more issues, I promise." he shot back, face growing hot at the desperation leeching its way in.

"The two of you just aren't a good fit, kiddo."

"I don't think that's true at all." he refuted, nearly begging.

"And I understand that you believe that. Sometimes its hard to see the truth when it comes to ourselves."

His words stung more than the young man had previously thought anything could.

"So...you expect me to go break up with my girlfriend because you don't think we're a 'good fit'? That's the purpose of this meeting?" he asked, not stammering in his flustered state for once in his life. He stared straight into his father's face, unblinking, bolder than he'd ever been as his panic began to morph into blanked out anger.

The smile that touched Hank's lips once more was the same one he'd seen a million times since childhood; the one that had greeted him each morning, soothed his many worries, warmed his bad days. The one that had comforted him when his mother had died. But for the first time, he could see it clearly, that glint of scorn in his father's eye, and it was directed right at him.

"I expect you to do what's best for everyone, and I know that I've raised you to know what that is." the elder man said, rising once again from his place behind his desk and moving to seemingly tower over him. His tone was hard, final. "The purpose of this meeting is for me to tell you that I believe you'll do the right thing."

The grip of his hand around the smaller man's upper arm was shockingly painful, and he swallowed back a sharp complaint as he was basically dragged to the exit of the Overseer's work quarters. None of what was happening felt real as he was thrust back out into the hall.

"Talk to you later, kiddo. I've got work to do."

And with that, Hank MacLean allowed his office door to slide shut in his son's face.

Norm stood there in complete shock for a moment, half-expecting to wake up from this incredibly unsettling dream he was having any moment. But he didn't have that sort of luck. His boots felt like they were full of lead as he made his way towards her apartment; it was as if he was marching to his demise, walking the plank with a sword right at his back, and for the first time in his life it seemed as if everyone he passed stared at him. He absentmindedly wondered just how much everyone else knew, but a deep part of him knew his rumination to be completely useless; naturally, everyone probably knew everything the moment it happened.

Hesitating for a full minute, he actually knocked on her door, which she clearly found odd by the confused expression she wore when the thing opened. She had her suit tied down around her waist and her hair tied up in her usual leisure time style. Seeing her effortless beauty broke his heart.

"Hey, what's up?" she asked, doing away with niceties as her heckles were clearly raised.

A second passed, then two, and he still couldn't force himself to speak.

"What's going on, Norm?" she asked, her voice full of worry.

The words wouldn't come, neither the ones he was supposed to say, nor the ones he truly wanted to. He tried his hardest to force them forward, to stop being so fucking scared, but it was as if his jaw was rusted shut. A light sweat glistened on his brow.

"Come in, hon." she said quietly, moving to his side and placing her hands softly on his shoulders, steering him in through the doorway and guiding him over towards the couch that was almost identical to his. She clasped his hands in hers and he tried to handle her bruised appendage carefully as they both sank down onto the broken-in cushions. She didn't prompt him to say or do anything else, patiently sitting in the somewhat tense silence as he tried to collect himself, and he stared hard right into the face of the woman who was trying to comfort him, the woman he loved. The one he'd been sent here to end things with because he simply did not deserve her. He felt as much as he took in the disquiet in her eyes, the concern for him and his wellbeing that he hadn't seen for even a moment from his own father.

She caught his gaze for a moment as it danced around the room in panic, and the worried look that painted her face sent his stomach dropping like a stone in guilt. It was all too much, and suddenly he was sobbing, his vision quickly blurred with tears and then completely obscured by his hands coming to cover his face in shame.

Of course he was crying. He couldn't grow enough of a spine to tell his father what he really thought, nor could he suck it up enough to just fall in line and do what he was told. Instead, he did nothing; his life felt like it was suddenly and totally falling apart around him, and all he could do was fucking cry.

"Hey." she murmured, almost immediately pulling her hands away so she would wrap her arms around him.

The plush mass of her breasts against his chest cushioned him as she patted at his back, the familiar smell of her encompassing him, his racing heart slowing just a touch. Norm shifted himself a bit, unconsciously leaning closer, drawn towards her warmth and almost maternal softness. As he moved, the building pressure in his gut was suddenly brought to his attention, and searing humiliation washed over him. The feeling didn't improve when she petted at the back of his head tenderly, pressing his face further into her neck. The heat from his cheeks must have been palpable to her, he thought, burning against her skin.

For an indeterminate number of minutes, she let him fuss and sniffle without a word, and eventually the world felt a little less like it was literally about to end, a small, hot coal of embarrassment firing up in his core. Displacing, he pressed a few soft kisses along her shoulder, and she hummed approvingly. His face was the perfect height to fit into the crook of her throat, and he drank in her smell greedily as his lips sealed themselves to the warm skin there. A surprised gasp left her, trailing off into an airy moan as his tongue began to massage the flesh in his mouth; the sound made his cock jump, and he was suddenly, intensely aware of just how hard he really was. With a finger under his chin, she guided his mouth up to hers and kissed him deeply. Their bodies were pressed as close as possible in their fight to claim one another's mouths, and his entire being felt hot with embarrassment at the way his erection was suddenly grinding into her stomach, but he couldn't pull himself away from her.

Besides, the way she led his hands to her breasts, squeezing them over the soft masses until he was mimicking her motions and moaning as he did, told him she didn't mind.

He was eternally grateful that he didn't have to wrestle with her upper vault suit, far too worked up to navigate the zippers and snaps. The white undershirt she wore was quickly rucked up; the exposed skin of her lower throat and chest drove him mad, her torso completely bare save for the beige-colored, standard brassiere she wore beneath. Lost in the fever pitch of their kisses, he felt bold enough to push the thing out of the way, crowding it up towards her collarbones along with her shirt hem. She cried out as the band caught over her peaked nipples, and the sound made him hum deeply in his throat, his head dropping heavily to her chest.

She had much larger areolas than he'd imagined she would, and something about that little surprise really turned him on, the darkened circles standing in delicate contrast against the rest of her chest. The skin was velvety against his tongue, and it made him greedy, sucking the entire tip of her breast into his mouth harshly. That earned a sharp whine from her, and it made him pull back just a hair's breadth. The sound she'd made was incredibly sexy, but he didn't relish the idea of hurting her.

Time as an overall concept was lost to Norm as he hovered over her, trying his best to not let his bony appendages dig into her soft body as he lathed her entire chest in attention, sucking and nipping and rubbing softly, the warm globes large enough to fill each of his hands entirely. She relaxed back onto the couch fully, elevated up against the arm just enough to watch as he bathed her with his mouth, cooing and scratching his scalp gently. The sensation of her nails on him made him throb even harder, and he moaned around the nipple in his mouth.

Eventually, though, her hands slipped down from his head and rubbed affectionately across his chest; it took him a surprisingly long time to fully process that she was working his suit open, struggling with the intricate inner snaps just like he would've. He tried his best to hold himself up enough that her hands could reach between them, but that was all the aid he was able to offer. Eventually, she succeeded, pulling the zipper down as far as his navel, reaching inside and running her nails along his chest, scraping between his pectorals through the sleeveless shirt he wore beneath.

Electricity running along his spine once more, he kicked his boots off, the heavy things clattering to the floor as he pulled himself down onto the dense rug as well, scooting towards the couch. He encouraged her to sit back up, his hands tugging at her waist until her tailbone rested along the edge of the frame, her thighs encasing his small frame. Lifting her leg with her help, he ran his lips along her inner thigh, drawing a licentious giggle from her as she squirmed at the ticklish sensation, wriggling her way down a bit further so she could lift her hips towards him, watching him closely as he continued to tease her.

Well, truth be told, it wasn't entirely teasing. Part of it was, sure; it was pretty addictive to be the person getting to touch and taste her, to be the one drawing the sounds she was making out of her. He'd been at her mercy so many times, and it was empowering to have turned the tables, at least for a moment. But, at the same time, part of his brain was also simply short-circuiting at being given the access to her body that he'd been literally dreaming about for months.

"Ah, fuck." she breathed as he let his lips ghost over her mound, over the incredibly damp gusset of her underwear, both of them shuddering. His head was already spinning as he was immersed deep in the familiar, concentrated musk of her, and he was unable to hold himself back much longer, fingers moving to pull the cloth to the side. Hesitating only a moment, letting his warm, harsh breath blow across her already swollen clit, her entire body was tense as he first let his tongue peek out to taste her.

Whimpers rang out from her as his tongue softly traced over her most sensitive place, lapping at her carefully as he spread her open a little more, slipping his tongue further into her folds. She gasped, her hips slowly beginning to rock. Her movement drove him crazy, and his self control teetered on the edge as a result.

Licking her greedily, desperate for more, he tried his best to tug her as close as he could get her. Fortunately, she registered this desperation, her free hand moving to press gently, but firmly, into the back of his head, smothering him just right between her thighs. Thanks to the taste of her, her reactions, and the increasing lack of oxygen, his erection was throbbing rapidly, trapped painfully between his suit leg and his thigh. The hand that wasn't occasionally playing with her clit moved to press at it, relieving some of the unbearable pressure that was building as he slowly stroked himself back and forth over the fabric. His partner was far too busy bucking her hips into his face to notice, the hand on the back of his head pressing him harder and harder to her cunt as she basically rode his nose, the tip and far end of the bridge slipping slickly back and forth across her swollen bud. He made absolutely no move to resist or readjust, only lapping at what he could reach as she rode closer and closer to her climax. His tongue slid back towards her puckered second hole, pulling a sharp giggle from her as he stroked the tip along the quivering ring of muscle.

During their past trysts, it had been rare for her to be the receiving partner. Whether that was because she didn't feel comfortable in that role, or because she felt very comfortable being the one in control, he had been unable to discern. She had occasionally rubbed herself along his thigh or crotch when they'd messed around, but he'd always perceived that as less of a way to make herself feel good and more of a way to tease him. Now, though, she eagerly welcomed whatever he was willing to offer her, both of them working in narrowly-focused tandem towards their shared goal.

"Just like that." she sighed, sharp and airy, tensing noticeably as he sealed his mouth over her and lapped at the same spot repeatedly with the tip of his tongue.

Norm tried his best to avoid speeding up or losing his rhythm in the wave of excitement he felt at knowing he was pleasing her, taking as deep a breath in as possible as she continued to smother him between her thighs. His cock ached almost oppressively as she bore down on him harder, harder, until suddenly she let out a quiet gasp, hips and abdominals twitching hard as the taste of her grew stronger in his mouth.

It seemed like she wriggled and whimpered for a long time, but the lack of oxygen to his brain may have simply made it feel that way. Every fiber of muscle in his body burned with the effort of keeping himself in his spot, continuing the same motions until she stopped him with a soft palm.

"Fuck, Norm." she sighed, smiling as her head fell lax behind her.

He snapped out of his place on the floor at that, like a well-trained dog given a clear command. He was almost aware enough to be embarrassed at the way he pounced on her, trying his best to not trample her completely as he pulled himself back up onto the couch, the frame giving out a little strained squeak at the sudden addition of his weight. Sealing his lips back to her throat, now slicked and salty with sweat, he guided her down onto her back, flat on the cushions, and she followed his lead, her still-watery eyes shining excitedly.

Norm wrestled his sleeves down, shucking his suit to the waist and cramming it down to his hips; her feet came up along his flanks and pushed the thing the rest of the way towards his ankles. As he kicked the mass of cloth to the ground, her fingers played along the waistband of his underwear, teasing ticklishly along until they slipped beneath, grasping his erection softly and making him moan rather loudly as his last garment was wrestled out of the way.

He was too aroused to be all that self-conscious about being completely naked in front of her, something that was not common practice for him. Instead, he was entirely focused on the breathtaking view before him, her plush body laid out before him, basically begging for him just like he'd dreamed about again and again. Goosebumps were still raised along her arms as she shifted a little, moving to pull off her own remaining bit of coverage. Something moved him to cover her hands with his own, and together they slid her panties down to her ankles, Norm working them the last few inches past her feet and dropping them to the floor.

"I want those ones back, perv." she teased, and he laughed earnestly as he lowered himself down to kiss her again.

"You're so beautiful." he whispered.

Both of them groaned when the tip of him first nestled up against her, the heat of her folds even more intense than he'd ever imagined. Letting himself indulge in a bit of his own teasing, he rocked his hips back and forth, allowing his cock to bump and nudge against her puffy clit. Unfortunately, he lacked the determination to draw out the turnabout he was attempting to give her, and quickly he was reaching between them to seek out her opening.

"Yes, yes, yes..." she breathed over and over like an elated prayer when he began to apply pressure with his hips in just the right place.

He wanted so badly to bury himself to the hilt inside her in one swift move, but he fought hard to resist the urge, pressing about halfway inside before pulling back, gently pistoning himself deeper until he was buried as far as her body would allow him to go. A deep, long-held breath escaped his lungs, his spinning head falling weakly towards her shoulder as he allowed them both a moment of adjustment; he was afraid of accidentally hurting her somehow in his excitement, but most of his worry stemmed from the fear of losing control long before he was ready and embarrassing himself. The latter possibility loomed larger over him than the former as her strong, pliable body wriggled beneath him.

She was almost eerily silent as he carefully shifted the bulk of his weight from knee to knee, but he found himself afraid to steal a glance at her face. His heart raced at the at the feeling of her around him, at the fear that any moment she'd come to her senses and reject him at last. But her softly calloused hands smoothed their way up the planes of his back, wrapping themselves up under his arms and coming to rest atop his narrow shoulders, holding him close against her. That little bit of affection was enough to ease his nerves, and he allowed his hips to move a little faster as a result.

"Mhm." she grunted as he slowly began to fuck her properly, keeping his face mostly hidden in the crook of her neck in trembling concentration. That one small sound spurred him on, hands moving to softly grope at her breasts and tummy, the plush flesh in his hands making him throb hard inside her. Soon, she was letting a whole litany of sighs and whimpers loose, each sound vibrating its way down his spine and leaving his grasp on his self-control tenuous. He tried in vain to pull back from her a bit, sucking in fresh air by the lungful, but he was already lost in her, melting at the way she clung back to him, fluttering around him and making him whine.

She nuzzled up under his chin in response, made him feel substantial and masculine and desired, and it only made it more difficult to govern himself, his grip digging so hard into the arm rest of the couch above her head that his fingers ached, using the leverage to fuck her as forcefully as his small frame would allow him to. The woman beneath him let out a guttural grunt at that, her hands flying to his back, nails digging into his sparse flesh in an attempt to steady herself. The stinging trail of pain that her touch left bloomed down his spine and only spurred him on harder, the hand that wasn't tearing into the couch arm moving between them to roll her throbbing clit between his fingers. Quickly, that stimulation had her huffing along with him, their bodies hot and sticky against one another.

"Shit, I'm--" he muttered as she arched her back high and hard.

"Yes!" she gasped, her hips grinding even more passionately against his and tightening the knot that was growing at his core. Mesmerized by her tear-filled eyes and pouty lips, he dropped his mouth back to hers and they kissed one another breathless. Just before he tipped over the edge into his orgasm, he yanked himself back, fisting his slick cock fast and hard until he exploded all over her, painting her soft tummy and inner thigh with spurt after spurt of his warmth. She whimpered at the feeling, fingers rubbing harsh circles around her clit until she was spasming hard.

The heat of her sweat-slicked, nude body encompassed his own as he laid himself softly against her in the afterglow, her rumpled hair soft against his face, his head tucked up underneath her chin. The small apartment was quiet for a long moment, both of them trembling as they tried to slow their heavy, rapid breaths. He braced himself for her to pull away, to cover herself and shut him out, but she didn't move outside of pulling herself into a sitting position beside him, his head on her shoulder.

"I really like you." he said suddenly, the words materializing almost out of nowhere.

"I really like you, too." she replied, running her hand softly, lovingly up and down his bare back.

For a few minutes, no one said anything more, both simultaneously enjoying the glow and worrying away about the still-concealed source of tension.

"So." she said eventually, playing distractedly with his dampened hair, "Are you gonna tell me what you came down here for?"

Despite the lingering heat between their bodies, Norm felt himself break into goosebumps at her query. He forced himself to look at her, steeling himself against the anguish that was still stirring, sour and potent, in his gut. There would be consequences for this, and he knew it.

"My dad pulled me into his office and advised me to tell you that we can't see each other anymore." he spat out so quickly that it was almost unintelligible.

For an extended moment, her only response was silence. She didn't even blink.

"What are you thinking about that advice?" she asked, her face unreadable. Though he sort of expected her to ask why, she did not. He didn't know how it made him feel.

"Well, 'advised' is doing a lot of work in that statement." he replied with some levity.

She laughed at that, seemingly despite herself.

"Norm." she said simply, her tone firm. She refused to let him joke his way out of discussing his feelings and it made him squirm in his place.

"I don't want to stop seeing you."

That made her smile, but he could still see something off in her gaze as she scooted a bit closer to him, their bare hips touching.

"I don't wanna stop seeing you, either." she sighed. "But honey, I don't wanna cause any problems between you and your dad. It'd tear me up."

"Eh, my dad is used to me not doing what he wants. One more disappointment won't be that much of a surprise." he replied, trying his best to make himself believe it, too. True, Hank had watched his son fail to meet his expectations his whole life, but he'd never been openly defied like this. The younger man had no basis to determine how his father might react.

"Well, good." she smiled, and it almost seemed as if she was buying his bluster. "I'm too stubborn to actually stop seeing you, anyway."

"Same."

Things fell into silence again after that, the two young people cuddled up close on the couch that had probably been used by ten different people, a slight chill setting in as the heat of their activity slowly began to wear off.

"Quite the mess you've made here." she mused eventually, her fingers sliding through the rivulets of him that cut across her belly and slid into the crease of her inner thigh. The sight made his gut tighten again instantly.

"Sorry about that." he mumbled sheepishly. "I didn't know if--"

"It's fine."

She cut him off with a sweet kiss, pulling him against her breast for a moment as she held him tight. His pulse raced at the affection, the intimacy she was willing to share with him, and it drove him to press back just as enthusiastically.

Of course, there was an ugly little nugget of worry, as well, one that soured his stomach as it turned over and over in his mind, distracting him as she massaged the base of his skull, her other hand clasping his. What if she was only choosing him because everyone else wanted her to do otherwise? What if she only liked him so much because he lacked every quality she'd been told was important? What if he was her big "screw you" to the rest of the Vault and their expectations?

It was something he might do, frankly, if he found himself in her position.

"I really am sorry about tearing your back up, honey." she murmured, pulling him a few degrees away from his worries and leaning close enough to peer over his shoulder at his nagging wounds, laying a kiss or two along his shoulder.

"Don't stress about it. I kind of liked it." he grinned, turning his head quickly to place a soft peck on her cheek in return, his whole body trembling a bit as he pulled away.

"Still, I'm sure they hurt." she smirked.

"Eh, not much. The ones on my ass sting a little..." he said, mostly joking.

"No! Did I really get you that bad? Let me look."

"Aht, aht, aht." he chided playfully, wrapping his arms around her waist to keep her in place. "Don't worry about it. I'm enjoying you where you are, if I'm honest."

That made her grin, wide and filthy and just a little silly, and she leaned down to press her swollen lips against his own, clamoring just a bit further into his lap. It started out sweet, simple pecks whose crisp sound split the air between them, but she quickly began to linger, their kisses growing longer and more deliberate. Soon, they were back to trying to consume one another, her hips grinding against against his sensitive nether regions as her legs framed him on either side.

He almost protested when she reached between them and gripped his half-soft cock, embarrassed at his flaccidity and the sound he made, but he was just hard enough that she was able to sink down on him almost completely. Another whimper escaped him at the feeling of her tight heat around his too-sensitive cock once more, and he buried his face in her chest in a desperate move to muffle it. She chuckled, hands cupping the back of his head with a light touch as she began to grind softly back and forth on top of him once again, the stimulation only making him swell more.

"You're gonna have to keep up with me, cutie." she murmured into his ear as her teeth slid along the shell, making him fully tremble and harden even further. He moaned loudly at the sensation, burying his face in her chest for another beat.

"I can certainly try." he huffed in joking reply, his own hips beginning to find a rhythm beneath her.

He'd been afraid that he'd been too hard on her with the pace and force of his thrusts when he'd been on top, but the way she fully slammed herself down onto him, making it difficult to properly fuck back up into her, dispelled those worries for the most part. She was putting on quite the show; whether for his benefit or purely for hers, he couldn't really tell, but he certainly wasn't going to waste what little brainpower he had access to pondering it too hard. Instead, he enjoyed watching her pinch and roll her nipples between her thumb and forefinger, alternating between each breast with one hand, the other preoccupied playing with her clit. Moaning low and quiet, she rocked harder and harder on top of him, quickly working herself into a whining lather. One particular pinch must've felt especially good, as she clenched around him hard and began to quiver, the hand that wasn't playing with her folds fisting hard in his hair.

With that, he followed her into that blinding haze, his hips trapped beneath hers as they bucked and jerked out completely out of his control, fingers digging little craters into her plush hips as he whimpered out his end. His second orgasm was somewhat weaker than the first, but it still reduced him to a limp mess as his head lulled back against the rounded couch back, his eyes trained on hers as she followed, her fingers playing fast and harsh against her slit as she tensed. The way her body tightened and gripped around him as she came made him cry out in overstimulation, and she let out a little chuckle as she leaned down to kiss him deeply, swapping the lingering taste of her back and forth along their tongues as he emptied himself completely inside of her.

The two paused, her sweaty forehead against his as they smirked serenely at one another.

"C'mere." she panted, digging her legs in behind him and flipping the both of them so she was on her back once more, holding him. Her strength made him blush, the heat running up into his scalp in little prickles. There was a lengthy silence as they laid there, wrapped up in one another's shaky, slick arms, him resting along her chest and soaking up her heat through every possible inch of his body, right down to the way he remained sat deeply into the silken clench of her still-fluttering cunt. Norm knew that there was no certainty in how tomorrow would go; the only certainty was in this moment, wrapped in her arms and buried inside her. The comfort he felt was too good to end, and he let himself go fully lax, his head coming to rest along her sternum, nestled in the warmth between her breasts as she wrapped her arms around his torso, letting her hands play softly in his hair as his eyelids slowly slid shut.

For a short while, he fell into inky, dreamless sleep, though a light one. There was no falling, no jolting back into cold, trembling consciousness with a racing heart. No tears. He could still hear the clock ticking along somewhere in the back of his mind, the white noise of the air filtration system. The rise and fall of her chest beneath him was steady and slow. Eventually, he heard her mumble something to him.

"I think you're falling asleep." she said.

"I think you're falling asleep." he shot back, jesting, voice thick with sleep as he forced himself to sit up most of the way. His vision was bleary for a moment as he took in her peaceful expression, the little red mark on her chin where it had been resting against the top of his head.

"Nah, I'm just thinking."

Hesitating for a beat, perfectly content to live the rest of his life settled between her thighs, he withdrew gently, swallowing back a grunt at the loss of the warm clench of her around him. His lover sighed, arching her back in a small stretch. Silently, he reached down with a steady hand to pet at her inner thigh, awkwardly but affectionately. Her hand rested carefully on top of his, her thumb stroking at his skin.

Norm's eyes danced all along her body, drinking in the beauty of her one more time before she inevitably put her clothes back on, before things grew more complicated and precarious. A jagged breath caught in his chest when his gaze landed between her legs, taking in the swollen folds peeking out at him, the glint that hinted at a hidden mess. Watching him, she parted her legs a few inches wider so he could look closer, her fingers moving to grip the flesh of her inner thigh. He sighed out a soft groan as a thin trickle of pearlescent stickiness ran from her opening, following the curve of her ass.

Frozen in place, he could feel his grip on her leg tightening as her fingers slid down further, slipping through the stickiness audibly. Her eyes didn't leave his as she curled those fingers inside of herself, pressing what he'd given her back where he'd laid it. His breathing ceased entirely for a moment as he watched her, head spinning at the implications of her actions. When she finished, she leaned forward to capture his lips in maybe the most tender kiss they'd ever shared.

"Wanna go talk to your dad?" she asked when she pulled away, wiping her soiled fingers across her stomach.

The familiar tug of cowardly panic in his chest was instantaneous, an icy stab straight behind his breastbone. But for once, his fear didn't consume him, freeze him uselessly as things unfolded around him. Something about her presence, the tender way she looked at him, held him, let him love her with no shame, quelled his worry into nothing but a quiet thrum in the background. The ache was present, but not enough to stop him from doing what he knew he had to. His hand didn't tremble as he offered it to her, helping her to her feet.

"Let's go."

#can you tell I've been thinking about heavy petting a lot lately?#norm maclean #norm maclean smut #norm maclean x reader #norm maclean x female vault dweller #fallout prime #fallout tv show #submission

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