falloutkinkmeme_backup | Fallout Kink Meme Part IV: Closed to prompts, open for fills.

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Fallout Kink Meme Part IV: Closed to prompts, open for fills.

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I wake up on a bed. It's lumpy and I can feel dirt and grime under my hands and neck, but it's definitely a bed. I open my eyes, and see that I'm inside...something. Somewhere. There are other beds all around me, so maybe communal barracks? The guy from before is sitting near my bed on a chair, and this time, I try not to freak the fuck out on him.

But when I say this guy doesn't have a face, I mean, like, he doesn't have a face. I can see his eyes and he seems to have...an eyelid and no, there's no nose and I can see the muscles in his jaw moving as he smiles at me. Like, I can see them tense and tighten because there is no skin covering them. I have no idea what I've walked into here. I have no idea if this is okay. I realise, for the first time, that I could have just walked into a settlement of cannibals here and not realised it at all.

I take a shaky breath, and sit up.

He looks friendly, does the faceless man. He's got a duster on and a big star pinned to his jacket, the kind that they wore in the Old West to mark out the Sheriff. He's smiling, and he's holding his hands up, and I guess if he wanted to eat me or kill me he would have done it when I was unconscious, instead of putting me to bed and sitting patiently waiting for me to wake up.

I exhale, and think maybe I'm ready to deal with this.

"I just got out of a vault," is what my brain decides to run with as an opener. My voice is somewhere between crackly and squeaky, and I touch my throat. I hadn't realised how thirsty I was.

The faceless guy's smile stays in place. "Figured as much," he says, with a meaningful glance at my jumpsuit. "I'm guessing that's why you seem so shocked right now. Can't imagine they have many ghouls down in those places."

"Ghoul?" Even as I say it, I figure out it's the name for whatever this man is. But the name and the person before me don't connect up, so I let him keep smiling understandingly, and carry on.

"I'm Lucas Simms," he says. "Let me tell you a little bit about the Capitol Wasteland."

*

Alright then.

So, ghouls.

Huh.

Who’d have thunk?

*
Oh wow okay that water is really irradiated. Blegh. Ugh.

God, this is really...the world. This is America, isn’t it?

This is what’s left.

*
I never realised...I never thought...

Life in the vault – the whole vault itself – it’s just been...my whole life. Manufactured, structured. And out here, there’s dirt and sky and night time and sunlight and everyone looks so thin.

And these guys...

These are the ones the radiation helps.

What’s it like out there?

*

Okay, okay, so call me sheltered, but it’s a lot to take in, you know? Lucas is gone and I’m pretty beat. My Pip-Boy’s telling me it’s only something like 2pm outside but it feels like I’ve been awake all night. I guess, not counting my prima donna fainting spell, I kinda have. Since Amata woke me up, things have been...

Yeah.

I’m just sitting here looking at my hands. I know what ghouls are, now, and I know how many of them there are. I keep wondering if, you know, if that’s going to be. In a month. In a year. If my skin’s gonna come off and my hair’s gonna fall out and...am I going to ghoulify?

Look, call me a bigot, whatever (yeah, Lucas explained that little unsavoury part of the wastes, too) but I don’t want to...change like that. I like my skin. I’ve had it all my life. It’s this crazy shit spinning through my head, because every time I think how much I don’t want to start turning into a ghoul, I start thinking about how probably Lucas didn’t exactly have his heart set on it, either. Or anyone.

He told me he had always wanted a kid. A son. Ghouls are infertile.

He told me he would have named him Hardin.

This is a pretty shitty world, and I don’t know why I think I expected anything different.

That’s the thing, I guess. I didn’t expect anything.

I never expected to have to find out.

*

A full hour of sloth and existential angst later and I think I’m about ready to move. Looking at the kind of clothes Lucas had on, my shrimpy little vault suit doesn’t seem like the best attire to go traipsing about in. Maybe there’s a shop in town?

...I don’t have any money. Great.

Well, opportunities don’t come to those who sit on their asses and contemplate the theory of going outside. I get up, head outside, and pretty much head butt the chest of a man coming in the opposite direction.

I blurt out “ow!” because apparently I’m a precious little cherub who can’t take a bump to the head in stoic silence. The guy steps back a little, his hands coming up to steady my shoulders. I don’t know if I see his face or his hands, first, but it’s enough – this guy has skin. He’s human. He’s like me.

“Careful there, lass,” he says, his words rolling out in a pleasant accent I’ve never heard. “Don’t want to wind up knocking yourself out again!”

Oh so apparently news travels fast in Megaton. But I like that he says knock yourself out like I didn’t just swoon into the radioactive dust. It means either Lucas is telling the story that way to save me face (good) or this guy is pleasant enough to overlook that and treat me like I’m not a freak (still good).

“I’m Carla,” I say, sticking out my hand. “I just got out of a vault.”

I decide right then that until I find my feet, that’s going to be my standard greeting. Let people know what kind of idiot they’re up against.

The guy takes my hand. He’s big, broad. Looks older than my dad, with a white beard and his hair all slicked-back. His grip’s firm and reassuring, and he smiles. “Colin. I work at the saloon.” He gestures vaguely behind him, and I nod enthusiastically. Colin. Human. Good.

“Thought I’d come by and see how you were doing,” he continues. He leans forward conspiratorially, and adds, “thought ya might like to see a familiar face, if you know what I mean.”

“Yes,” I say, with no little relief. I’m so glad. Him saying that, it kind of makes me feel less...weird? I mean, about not being totally...comfortable with the idea of ghouls. Yet. “Yeah. I walked into Mr Simms and just...” I wave my hand ineffectually. He gets it, I’m sure.

His smile widens. He’s friendly, he’s nice. And something about his accent is just really comforting. I keep getting the weirdest feeling I’ve heard it before, too, like when I was a kid. Maybe on an old holotape or something. His grip on my hand changes and he holds it like he’s guiding me, and says, “Fancy letting an old man like me show you round the place?”

“Sure,” I say. Lucas had offered, but amidst the whole ‘most of humanity are now skinless mutants who live for centuries and treat irradiated ponds like hot tubs’ speech I guess the idea kind of got buried. Colin releases my hand and leads my outside and away from the barracks, into the afternoon light of Megaton.

My second look at the city is even more impressive than the first. Now that I can see how different things are, the idea of this place being built from nothing is even more incredible. Colin begins to point out the sights, and that’s when I notice the bomb.

I guess I must have been stuttering some kind of question at him because he says, “Ah. Yes. You’ve noticed our town’s attraction, then.”

“That’s a bomb,” I croak, eventually. “Is it...active?” He nods. I feel sick.

“Keeps us safe,” Colin says. I’m about to tell him I’m really not seeing it, but he carries on. “Not many people out to raid you when there’s that sitting in the middle of your yard.”

“Yeah, they’ll just sit back and let the bomb do its work!”

I must be getting a bit loud, because Colin tugs my sleeve and begins to mutter into my ear. It sound like nonsense at first, but then I realise that he’s serious about there being a cult in town that worships the bomb. It starts to make more sense to me when I realise that, oh, wait, this town is filled with people for whom radiation is a pleasant glow. As long as it doesn’t explode...

Yeah, I don’t really feel better.

But Colin is already pulling me on, pointing out houses and waving at people he seems to know. Most of them are ghouls. In the whole tour, I see two, maybe three human being. The rest of the town has changed. By the time we stop outside the saloon, I’ve seen more internal anatomy than I thought I’d ever see short of taking up my dad’s work, and learnt that if I need caps “Moira pays fair” but will “probably send me to a gruesome and untimely death”. I’ve also learnt “never ask Nathan to tell you more about the Enclave”, but that was a lesson taught the hard way.

“And here we are,” Colin says, running the last two words together, like 'wehar'. “Home sweet home.”

“You live here as well?” I ask him.

Something in his face turns a little bitter. “Where else?” he asks. Yeah, there’s definitely something angry and cold in his tone.

“What do you mean –“

He cuts me off. “I’ll take you in to meet the boss and a few of the locals. Just...don’t piss him off, okay? He seems friendly, but...” He puts a hand on my shoulder, heavy with warning. “Just trust me okay, lass?”

I nod. “I won’t piss your boss off, Colin," I promise.

He grins. “Good girl. Shall we?”

And with that, he pushes the door to the saloon open.

You know, it's kind of an interesting thought that Gob might be the oppressor for once- given that this is an AU and all, I'm kind of excited to see Colin be a good guy for once. I mean, he's not exactly a villian in FO3, but he is a tremendous asshole. Great work and cool characterizations, a!a.

This is great. You've got such a good handle on all the companions, I can't even.

A!A here :D I've got some fun line-walking planned out for Gob and Moriarty. Moriarty's assholeness and Gob's niceness will still be there, but I'll definitely be exploring what the change in position does!

Glad you enjoyed <3

I really love how well you managed to get a snapshot of all the companions in such a short amount of words. Fics like these are rare, and I'm glad I came across this one.

There is nothing I don't love about this, author!anon. Joshua, Sarah, the fact that Sarah's even in this (she gets so little love and I saw that she was in this and flipped out), the characterization, the tone, the writing style, the biblical quote at the end...it was just beautiful, and perfect, and I loved reading it so much. Thank you.

“No,” spat Moore, “They’re socialists.”

I lol'd, author!anon. I lol'd a lot.

It's interesting so far. I hope you keep going with it!

I need this like air. Completely and totally seconded.

Thirded because this can't be anything but a good idea.

I have a courier who is just like this. I'll see what I can do OP!

Chars: Flak/Shrapnel
Kinks: Mutual masturbation
Summary: Two guys tugging it together.
===========

It had been a long day. Five caravans, tree scavengers, and a lunatic little girl selling energy weapons worth half of Rivet City itself. It had been a long night, too, with three beers each in the Rudder, talking about the events of the day, and it was around midnight when they switched off the light in their cabin and went to sleep.
Or tried to, at least. Some of the pictures the day had left them with were hard to get rid of, and most of those concerned the Vault girl. Both men found it hard to come to rest, and each heard in the rustling of the other’s blanket that the other was no better off than himself.

“Where’dya think she got all those Enclave guns from?”, Shrapnel finally asked into the darkness.
The only answer he got was a non-committing grunt from the other cot, indicating Flak neither knew nor cared about the answer to that question.
To be honest, it wasn’t really the guns she had put onto the counter that had caught Shrapnel’s attention – both their attention, in fact – but the half-way unzipped leather jacket revealing a low cut tank top revealing a very nice view that had done it. “She sure has a nice ass, though.”
“Hm.” It still sounded as if Flak couldn’t be bothered, and in the dark silence around them, Shrapnel dreamily thought about the view of her ascending the stairs in tight, black leather pants. His hand found the way behind the waistband of his boxers without him consciously sending it there.
“You think she’d ever do one of us?”
This time, Flak snorted. His voice was a low rumble as he replied. “What else are you dreaming of, lunkhead? Don’t know how old she is, buddy, but she’s most likely half our age.”

Moving his hand up from his balls to close it around his half-hard dick, Shrapnel adjusted his position and sighed. “Well, a man can dream...”
On the other cot, Flak adjusted his position as well. “Yeah, but dream is about the only thing we can do. Not likely she would touch one of us with a ten foot pole.”
“You had to bring up the subject of poles, didn’t you.”
Flak emitted a low, dirty chuckle. “Sorry, buddy. It’s hard not to think of poles when thinking about that sweet little as of hers in black leather pants.”
This time, both of them chuckled.

After a moment of silence, Flak’s breathing picked up a little speed and he exhaled a heavy breath. “I just hope she doesn’t pick up on us.”
“On what? On us jerking off while thinking about her ass?”
“On how we’re crushing on that girl as if we were teenage boys.” He shifted his back and adjusted his grip on himself. “Not only her ass. The girl herself. There’s a lot of fine ass around that doesn’t keep us awake at nights.”
“True.” Shrapnel slowed down a little and closed his eyes. “And I don’t think about painting Angie’s lips white, for that matter.”
Flak emitted a low, half-desperate groan. “You just had to say that, didn’t you.”
For a few moments none of them said a word, but both their breathing picked up speed.

“That goddamn leather armour”, Shrapnel breathed heavily after a while. “Just imagine that zipper going down all the way.”
Flak’s only answer was a low growling sound.
“And that top going all the way up.”
“Thanks, buddy, I’ve got enough to do dealing with my own dirty fantasies without you making it worse.” He was breathing hard and fast now.
Shrapnel chuckled breathlessly. “How could I possibly make it worse? Weren’t you thinking about her jugs?”
“No”, was the reply through gritted teeth. “I was lost in the image of getting a firm grip with each hand on each of her ass cheeks.”
“Oh god.”
“Huh.”
“Think she’s a squealer or a screamer?”, Shrapnel asked with a heavy huff of breath.
“I’d make her scream, buddy”, Flak replied raggedly. “I’d totally make her scream.”

The image of the Vault girl naked on her knees was what brought them both over the edge. Shrapnel came into his hand with a deep, husky moan and on the other side of the cabin, Flak did the same with a suffocated grunt a moment later. Both men lay still, catching back their breath, when after a moment, Shrapnel let go of his dick and chuckled.
“First.”
Flak snorted. “Bloody dipshit.”

The LW teaches Butch how to hunt for food, snipe raiders, set traps, stay hidden in dangerous situations, and other survival skills.

Butch initially thinks this is a waste of time. After the LW dies at Project Purity and Butch is on his own (maybe on his own adventures from bar to bar?), he finally realizes how valuable those skills were. . .

Reading this fill makes me so happy.

Butch takes up needlepoint.

Can lead to sexytimes.

Awwww heck yeah, this is exactly what I wanted. Thank you A!A, this is great!

what a refreshing concept! can't say I've seen a FO AU like this. liking it so far, A!A~

Oh yes, oh good! Love the format you've chosen, it gives it a good AU feel which really emphasizes the LW's bewildering predicament. I'm really loving it!

I always thought he might have a cleanliness fetish.
That's why he had to destroy Nipton. It was just too dirty.

They are wearing combat armour and if you click on them they say "Yeah, that's right, come over to papa. Why don't we meet later for a drink?"
(They also say "I'm here to kick ass and chew bubblegum. Lucky for you I've got one stick left." :)

Characters: M!Courier, Boxcars, Sunny Smiles and a few other Goodsprings settlers
Tags: I can’t really say...
Summary: The courier, a big and good-natured guy, takes pity on Boxcars in Nipton and gets him to safety. Having narrowly escaped a nasty death, Boxcars realises his life could do with a little improvement.
Title stolen from a movie.
================

Jake had thought the smell of burning corpses and death outside was the worst thing he had ever smelled. Opening the door to what had been the trading post proved him wrong on that, though. The stink of unwashed body, urine and blood almost made him retch.
After the moment his eyes had needed to adjust to the dim light, he spotted the man sitting doubled over on a chair at the far end of the room. He cautiously took a few steps toward him, thinking that maybe he was dead already, when he spotted the mangled, broken legs. At that precise moment, the man on the chair lifted his head and his eyes, burning with pain, thirst and hunger, came to rest on the courier.

“Are you fucking kidding me?”
Jake had no idea what to reply. The powder ganger, on the other hand, went on, talking himself into a rage.
“First I get my legs smashed, and then in walks the powder ganger's grim fucking reaper? What the fuck have you got against us man? Jesus fucking Christ, if you want me dead just gimme 15 Med-X and I'll fucking O.D. for ya, okay? Fuck!”
Crossing his arms very slowly, Jake took a small step back. “Look, pal, it wasn’t me who smashed your legs, okay? And I’ve got nothing against you, apart from the fact that you guys try to kill me whenever you lay eyes on me. It was the people of Goodsprings, okay? They saved my sorry arse when I was about to kick the bucket, and asked me for help. So I helped. I don’t really care about you assholes one way or the other!”
“Yeah, whatever. Are you gonna put me out of my misery or do I have to starve in this stinking shithole?”

Jake stared down at the injured, crippled man and thoughtfully pursed his lips. “I don’t have that much Med-X on me, pal. In fact, I have no meds save two stimpacks. You want me to put a bullet between your eyes, or...?”
The powder ganger narrowed his eyes and his jaw worked for a few silent moments. “Or what?”, he finally asked.
“Or I could try and get you to Goodsprings. Doc Mitchell fixed me up when I had a bullet in my conk. He might be able to fix your legs.”
The powder ganger distrustfully narrowed his eyes. “Why the fuck would you do that?”
“I don’t like killing people.”
“What kind of bullshit is that?”
“Take it or leave it.” Jake took another step back and produced a pack of smokes. Having lit the cigarette, he leaned against the doorframe, then drew his 9mm pistol that he tossed to the wounded powder ganger. Without another word he left the building again, the stench was getting a bit much.

When, after about ten minutes, he still hadn’t heard a shot, he walked past the house opposite behind which a few old cars were rusting away under the merciless Mojave sun. It needed no more than three strong kicks to break a door off a pick-up truck, and dragging that along behind him, Jake made his way back to the shop.

When he opened the door and peeked inside, the powder ganger was still staring at the gun in his hand. Upon noticing the door open he looked up, a hardly identifiable expression on his face.
“You think the doc there would fix me up? Why would he want to do that?”
“If I ask him, he might. He’s one of the good guys, you know.”
“Same as you?”
Jake took a drag of his smoke and shrugged. “That’s what I like to think, at least.”
A few moments of heavy silence hung in the air.
“I thought I didn’t care.” The wounded man looked at the gun in his hands and shrugged. “But I guess all I am is a fucking, stinking coward. I don’t wanna die like this.”
Jake nodded and walked up to the chair, trying to ignore the smell.
“Yeah, I know I stink. I couldn’t...”
“Shut up.” Jake, a broad-shouldered, heavy-boned man of six foot five, took one of the powder ganger’s arms and effortlessly heaved him up across his shoulders, carefully holding on to his hip to avoid touching the mangled legs. Despite his care, the wounded man hissed in pain. “Sorry, pal.”

Once outside, Jake cautiously lowered his load down onto the car door and tied him down with a length of rope from his pack. “This isn’t gonna be pleasant, but I can’t carry you all the way to Goodsprings.”
“I got you.” Despite his dark skin, the powder ganger was already white-faced from the pain of being manhandled like this. “I ain’t gonna complain about someone trying to save my sorry ass.”
Jake wordlessly tied another length of rope to the door and, after slinging this around his shoulder, set off down the road, back towards Goodsprings, dragging the makeshift travois behind him.

They needed frequent breaks as the jostling and bouncing on the rough, cracked tarmac caused the wounded powder ganger simply too much pain. By the time they passed Primm, the man on the travois was drenched in sweat and trembling with exhaustion.
“Not much farther now”, Jake told him, and looking at the wounded man, realised he was close to dying. “Hey.”
The powder ganger managed to open his eyes. They were grey and glassy.
“You got a name, pal?”
“They called me... Boxcars.”
“Huh. And what’s your real name?”
The other man seemed to be near-delirious, for he just blinked a few times as if the question was utterly confusing to him. Jake left it at that for now and picked up the reins of the travois again. The man he wanted to save might not make it, but he’d be damned if he didn’t try.

When Jake finally reached Goodsprings with his load, the man on the travois was unconscious, his breathing shallow and irregular, his face the colour of a week-old corpse. The first person to spot them was Sunny, and she hurried to Jake’s side to help him, concern written all over her. When she noticed the wounded man’s outfit, however, she narrowed her eyes and crossed her arms.
“I don’t believe this. A powder ganger?”
Jake stopped and wiped the sweat from his forehead. “A wounded man, Sunny. He had his legs smashed by the Legion and they left him to croak it in his own blood and filth.”
“But...”
“You think I should’ve killed him.”
Sunny pressed her lips together. “He’s...” She broke off and shook her head. “He would’ve killed you had he had the chance.”
“Probably.” Jake arched his aching back. “But I don’t kill a defenceless, helpless, wounded man.”
Taking a deep breath, Sunny looked at the wounded man again, and swept her eyes over his legs again. “It doesn’t look good.”
“No.” Jake picked up the ropes again. “But I can’t let him die like this.”
A small smile flitted over Sunny’s face. “No. You’re a good man, you know that?”
Jake shrugged. “I guess so. Give me a hand?”

Sunny took another deep breath, then she took one of the ropes and helped Jake drag the travois up the last, steep ascend up to Doc Mitchell’s house. Needless to say, the Doc was rather surprised at seeing Jake with a wounded man knock on his door, but even when being told it was a powder ganger, Mitchell didn’t move a muscle in his face.
“A wounded man is a wounded man”, he said after Jake had lowered Boxcars onto the stretcher in the clinic. “And I’m a doctor. That’s all I’ve got to say.”

It took three weeks for the injured powder ganger to be able to leave the bed for the first time. Jake was there, too, he felt a responsibility for the man whose life he had saved. It was clear that he would never walk again as he used to be able to, the damage to his legs had been severe and he had spent several days in that house before help had reached him. He would walk with a limp for the rest of his life.

“But at least I am still alive”, he said to Jake as they stood on the Doc’s veranda, sharing a smoke. “But... you know, what the fuck am I gonna do now?”
“Good question.” Jake leaned his back against the wall. “There’s powder ganger camps all over the place, though.”
Boxcars was silent for a very long time.
“Assholes left me there to die. None of them moved a fucking finger for me”, he finally said. “Served them right they all were killed.”
“And where does that leave you?”
“Fuck if I know.”

After a few moments of silence, the saw Sunny come down the path, coming from the hills. Her rifle was slung across her back and the zipper of her jacket was undone, and in all, with two golden gecko skins slung across her shoulder, she seemed content with herself and her life.
Jake watched her with mild interest, while Boxcars stared open-mouthed at the woman walking down the path, his face empty and his eyes wide. “Jesus”, he finally whispered. “Who’s the chick? She’s got some of the finest ass I’ve ever seen in my life.”
“That’s Sunny Smiles, and if I was you, I wouldn’t say that again anywhere near her where she can hear it. Otherwise, you’d never have a reason to think about girls in that way ever again.”
Cigarette halfway to his mouth, Boxcars froze and followed Sunny with his eyes. “Yeah...” Then he snapped his mouth shut and stared at his feet before taking another drag. “Guess she’d rather have left me for the coyotes, what with me being a powder ganger.”
“Well.” Jake tapped off his ash. “I guess so.”

Sunny passed them by and Jake gave her a nod that she returned. Boxcars didn’t look up, and she pointedly ignored him. First when she had walked past them completely did Boxcars look up again.
After a few more steps, however, one of the gecko skins slipped without her noticing at first. It hit the ground behind her, and as she turned around to pick it up, Boxcars had limped to her side and icked it up. He held it out to her, and she grabbed it from his hand as if it would be soiled by his sheer presence. Their eyes met for a moment.
“Fuck off”, Sunny suddenly said and spun around, making her way down the hill with hasty, angry steps. Boxcars stared after her with sagging shoulders.

“Should’ve killed me”, he said to Jake when he had limped back to the veranda again.
Jake watched Sunny vanish into her house and said nothing, but he exhaled a long, thoughtful cloud as he cast the man beside him a look from the corners of his eyes that he failed to notice.

A few days later, Sunny found Jake sitting in the saloon with a beer and a smoke, and he walked over to her bearing two bottles when he had seen her enter, as if he had been waiting for her.
“Hi.” Sunny accepted the beer he was offering her. “What can I do for you?”
“For me, nothing.” Jake offered her a smoke, too, that she declined. “What if there was someone who had it bad for you?”
Sunny narrowed her eyes. “I guess that someone is no one I’d willingly look at.”
Jake shrugged. “He ain’t that bad.”
“He’s a powder ganger!”
“He was. He doesn’t want to go on like this, that’s what he said. He just doesn’t know what to do about it.”
“Maybe he should’ve thought about this before he turned into a thug.”
“Damnit, Sunny.” Jake looked down at her. “Don’t you believe in giving someone a second chance?”
She faltered and put her beer down. “I do. But do I have to fuck him because of it?”
“No.” Jake tapped off his ash. “You don’t have to do anything. Just stop treating him as if he is still something he’d rather not be anymore.”
Sunny looked at the table top and sighed. “Oh well, I guess I’ll try to be fair.”
“That’s all I ask of you.”

x-x-x-x-x-x-x

When Jake returned to Goodsprings a few months later, accompanied by a half-robotic dog and a red-haired woman with freckles, the Vault suit exchanged for a combat armour and the baseball bat for a sledgehammer that would take two ordinary men to lift, he ran into a somewhat familiar situation. A group of men were gathered in front of the saloon, armed and hostile, although no shots seemed to have fallen yet, facing a few people of Goodsprings who were armed as well.
In their middle stood Boxcars, the former powder ganger, arms crossed and face tight.

“What’s going on here?”, Jake asked when he reached the congregation.
“None of your fucking business, asshole”, one of the men facing the settlers snapped. He was wearing powder ganger armour, so did the rest. “Fuck off with your abomination and your whore and leave us to our business.”
Jake simply looked up at Trudy who gripped her rifle tighter. Next to her was Sunny, and she looked as ready to charge as Cheyenne at her feet, excluding the raised hackles and flattened ears.
“They’ve got something we want”, the powder ganger said before Trudy could answer. “Him.”
All eyes came to rest on Boxcars.
“You’re a fucking powder ganger, you stay a fucking powder ganger.” Another of the would-be attackers fell in. “We don’t tolerate deserters!”
Jake looked at Boxcars who swallowed. “I’d go, man. But they won’t let me.”
“They’ll kill him!”, Trudy said.
“Yeah, but if I don’t go, they kill all of us!”
“Come on old lady.” One of the powder gangers spat out beside him. “We just want him.”
“Over my dead body”, Sunny hissed.

Jake took a step forward and faced the powder gangers. “This town is under my protection. Know who I am?”
“I don’t fucking care who you are. You could be Caesar himself for all I care, asshole.”
“I’m the Courier. And now fuck off before I make you.”
A few of the more sensible among the powder gangers backed off a bit. Their leader, however, just pulled his gun.
With a sigh, Jake slung the sledgehammer from his back. The robotic dog emitted a low, somewhat metallic growl. “Last chance.”
“Fuck off.”
Jake sighed again. “Rex, get him.”

With a speed that should be physically impossible the dog had launched itself at the leader and torn out his throat before Jake had finished his sentence completely, and within seconds, the two men standing next to him had their skulls caved in by a blow of his sledgehammer. The red-haired woman joined the fight with a battered shotgun but a deadly aim, and before the powder gangers could rally themselves, the settlers joined in. Everything was over very quickly after that.

Once the dust had settled, Jake slung the super sledge onto his back again and looked at Boxcars. “I take it you moved in here?”
The former powder ganger flashed him a hesitating, lopsided grin. “Yeah, man... seriously, I owe you one.”
Jake produced a pack of cigarettes, popped one between his lips and lit it with a grin. “Yeah. If ever I need someone to drag me through the Mojave ‘cause my legs are bust I’ll give you a shout.”
Then he gave him a friendly slap between the shoulder blades that made the smaller man stumble.

Before Boxcars could say anything, Sunny had caught up with them after having checked Cheyenne for injuries. “Oh god, Mitch, I thought they’d kill you! Are you all right?” She fell around his neck and with a self-conscious grin, Boxcars closed his arms around her.
Jake felt his eyebrows rise into his hairline, and his grin widened considerably. “I see you made yourself at home.”
Sunny turned around again to face him, but without letting go. “Thanks, Jake. Really, I mean... not only for today. You know?”
“I know.” Jake smiled at the two. “Mitch, huh?”
“Yeah” Boxcars... no, Mitch fondly ran a hand down Sunny’s back. “It’s my name, you know, before...”
Jake nodded. “Sure. What about a drink? I promised Cass I’d show her the grave I was dug out of and the people who patched me up.”
“Sounds great.”

Jake showed Cass into the Saloon, followed by Mitch and Sunny walking arm in arm. His limp was hardly noticeable any more.

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Page 146 of 257

Fallout Kink Meme Part IV: Closed to prompts, open for fills.

Skinless 1b/?

Skinless 1c/?

Skinless 1d/?

Re: Skinless 1d/?

Re: Companions, 'Sleep Tight' 1/1

Re: Skinless 1d/?

Re: Companions, 'Sleep Tight' 1/1

Re: Joshua Graham + Pretty Sarah, 'The Skin We Live In' 2/2

Re: Scorpion Honey, 4c/?

Re: Veronica/Sarah Lyons - flirting

Re: F!Courier/F!Prostitute

Re: F!Courier/Lucius (Punching and dancing leads to good times)

Midnight 1/1

LW teaches Butch how to survive in the Wasteland

Re: Baby Is What He Calls Me 6/?

What am I gonna do here, work on my needlepoint or somethin'?

Re: Midnight 1/1 OP

Re: Skinless 1d/?

Re: Skinless 1d/?

Re: Vulpes...the housewife

Re: f!Chosen One/Buster's Guards 3some

Re: Boxcars/Anyone: Enemy mine 1/4

Enemy mine 2/4

Enemy mine 3/4

Enemy mine 4/4