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

He peeled himself off her and swung his fist back to punch the wall, not caring if he broke a few bones in the process. The pain was sharp enough to use an excuse for him to explain the beads that welled up in the corners of his eyes, his heavy breathing and the deep, burning ache that was left in his chest.

She just stood there, unmoving and with that blank look he thought she’d outgrown. The same pity she held in her eyes when he flunked the test back in Brotch’s class and when Officer Gomez told him off in the diner for trying to scare her into giving up her birthday present. It was the same look she’d saved for him and only him and one that she’d continue to use for the rest of their damned lives because she was too fucking cruel and he was so imperfect that she wanted nothing to do with him. He thought he would change her mind but it was already made up from the first day he saw her sipping at his shake with his mom and she didn’t even return his gaze from across the room.

“I’ve got to go, Butch.”

She left him standing there with a broken hand bleeding and him tasting salt. She went back into the room and headed straight for little Miss Amata, extending a hand and taking her into an embrace in the corner. The door closed right as he watched the genuine smile she had on her face and it was so goddamned sad he had to laugh it all away until he crumpled to the floor and was found by Stanley making his rounds.

She kept her distance after that. He thought he would too, but it wasn’t that easy. He’d see her around. Make a smartass comment to get her to respond. Sometimes she would, other times she caught on and left him hanging. Wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of any sort of reaction because she knew that only spurred him on. He could say all that he wanted about her but never ventured out to make any remarks about Amata because he knew she would’ve slugged him. And while the contact would’ve been nice, he had enough bruises from her to deal with.

The day her father left he rushed out of the room because of the radroaches, not expecting to find her. She didn’t even think twice before rushing to get rid of them.

In that moment he realized what his mom said when she mentioned that the girl wasn’t safe. Not with the way she could still look at him and do what he asked after all the hell he’d put her through. Yet he wouldn’t pull himself away from her because she was that one thing he couldn’t have and it made him feel good when he took that one step closer though it was usually followed with four giant leaps backward.

She left and the vault went to shit. Paul died. Wally ditched the gang. The Overseer went crazy. And she was out there somewhere looking for her dad. Amata mentioned she heard stories of her on the radio when she picked up signals after screwing with the transmissions to call out to her. He listened to them sometimes on his Pip-Boy when he was alone and closed his eyes, imagining the rawness she exuded when she went on her moral crusades in an attempt to tame the outside world.

As much as he fucking hated her sometimes he picked up something else too. Didn’t want to call it love because he didn’t need the added stress of that label on his mind. But if love was throwing his jacket at her and feeling something when she wrapped herself up in that faded leather he carried on his back all those years...

...sneaking onto her old terminal and reading her sappy writing and drinking his heartaches away...

...waiting expectantly for the day she’d come waltzing back in and marking off the days on the calendar......

...and watching after Amata so she’d still have a head when the message got through...

...then sure.

Why the hell not.

Not like he would ever get to her anyway.

--

And he's super lonely because of it.

He honestly just wants someone to love and show affection to (He's a cuddler!). But whenever he tries to woo someone, they take off screaming (or any number of fear reactions)...leaving the poor guy alone and depressed.

Cue one of the companions attempting to help him with his problem.

Bonus points if they actually succeed (with someone WILLING, no dubcon or anything).

I bet Lily wouldn't be afraid of him, hee hee

Sorry this is taking so long, anon admits she is having a hard time finding reliable sources of information that isn't grossly outdated or irrelevant... and this anon is ADDICTED to research. But the first half is written, so don't think I have given up on this!
I'll write this thing if it KILLS me.

He and Lucius then made a motion like they were leaning back while playing the guitar.

I totally lost it at this description XD

Awesome fill!

He wasn't even sure why he traipsed across the Wasteland with her and the good-for-nothing mutt. Rivet City had been a blast, if not a little dull. Out in the Wastes you actually had to look for booze, as if scavenging wasn't enough of a chore.

Butch berates himself every time Blair drags him across the Wastes, which is pretty goddamn often. It fuckin' sucks, being with D.C.'s hero. She's got friends everywhere - and most of them need her help. She'll get letters and radio broadcasts dedicated to her, asking for assistance in the little settlement of just-kidding-we-deserted-this-shithole or the small cave community of we're-fucking-brats-here-enjoy-some-shitastic-cave-fungus.

This week, Blair's dragged him out to the middle of goddamn nowhere, underneath the city in some dank, musty metro settlement. Butch isn't a pussy or anything; fuck no, so he's not scared of the dark underground. But he'd be lying if he said he wasn't scared shitless of the metro's freaky residents.

Sure, the doctor's brat has tons of friends across the Wastes, and that's all fine and dandy, but this time they're hanging with cannibals. Fuckin' cannibals!

As if that wasn't bad enough, the leader of the scary fucks is a guy. A guy Blair's particularly friendly with (maybe even fond of) and that doesn't sit well with the Butch-man. Not at fuckin' all. It's even worse that Vance, some handsome-ass bloodsucker, is showing interest in her. There's that sting of raging anger he's felt a million times before, always with the bastards that Blair gives her attention to.

"Blood-drinkin'cocksucker," Butch mutters into his glass of whiskey, sitting at the huge table in the center of their small community. Two pretty birds are eying him from across the room, ain't like he's stupid and can't tell, but he doesn't want shit to do with them. Butch is too busy watching Blair talk with their leader, laughing and acting girly and shit.

Hell if she actually is. Blair's the hottest, smartest, toughest, and roughest goddamn woman Butch has ever met. She's a great shot, has a sailor's mouth to rival his own, and dammit - he finds it all fucking sexy as hell.

No, she can't fool him, only because he knows her well, and that bothers him further. They've been through so much bullshit together, and she still doesn't flirt and tease with him the way she would with fuckin' Harkness, or goddamn Brock. He hates how she flirts with Billy Creel, that asshole, whenever they're in Megaton, or like now when she just brushes her palm against the cannibal bastard's elbow, leaning forward and laughing.

He goddamn hates it.

goodness freaking gracious
this is awesome

It's confusing as fuck for him, especially since he's been there the whole time - well, practically. However many of her adventures he hadn't been through she shares with him, either as they travel or when she's near exhaustion at night, getting ready to sleep.

He enjoys it, though he'd never fucking say that. Naw, that's for babies and shit, getting all emotional. It's not like he could understand her, anyway. She's so rough and tumble and has been through so much - and what has he done? Gotten his butt saved by a badass chick, drunk himself into a stupor daily at the Muddy Rudder until the same broad saved his ass (and liver) again? Pretty fuckin' short on accomplishments.

But still! Butch just can't wrap his head around why she wouldn't be trying to bone the hell out of him. Sure, he might be a little biased, but who the hell wouldn't wanna get with the Butch-man? He's not unattractive, he ain't some crazy Raider, and he can sure hold himself in a firefight, so what's the deal?

He's helped her take down Paradise Falls, helped her save the Rangers, rescued her from Raven Rock (with Fawkes' help, but whatever), and even waited for two goddamn weeks in the boring-ass Citadel, hoping she'd wake her ass up and climb out of the rotten self-hating hole she'd fallen into after her old man's death.

Butch's thoughts, unnecessarily angry and annoyed, are interrupted by Blair's loud giggle. He turns his head, trying to eavesdrop and be sneaky, just in time to catch her crazy-bright grin - directed not at him, but at fucking Mr. Flesh Eater, who looks just as dead as Butch feels at the moment.

"Can't believe you're makin' me hang with these dull-ass cannibals," he complains, wincing at the whiny and obnoxious tone his voice takes.

Gone is Blair's giggly persona, her innocent wide eyes, and pretty smirk. Instead, the fierce look is back in her irises, deep and foreboding, and the intimidating posture of a survivor settles back into her bones. She lands a loud slap on the back of his head, and Butch wouldn't have it any other way.

He grumbles and complains at the violence, what he's supposed to do. Blair smirks at him despite the abuse, so wide and honest that he can't help but grin back - just a little bit.

"Told you, they're not damn cannibals. We wouldn't be within a mile of this Ghoul-infested trap if they were."

She reaches down to her backpack, fishing out a bag of almost-congealed blood. Butch scoots away, doing nothing to hide the disgust on his face. Blair waves it closer anyway.

"They're like modern vampires, you get it?" she says, tucking away the medical supplement as quickly as she brought it out.

"Whatever, B, they still eat people. Y'know, technically."

"I wish," she says, and there's no hiding the lustful undertone. Butch doesn't have to look at her to realize she's ogling Vance. Something snaps, that green thread of envy that's keeping his sanity held together. He scoffs unkindly, and she twists around on the bench to raise an eyebrow.

"What's your problem, Butch?" Blair demands, and he throws his hands in the air, forgetting the glass in his hand. It shatters some distance away, against the cool metal walls of the metro. He sees red, and then green, like it's fucking Christmas in the Vault.

He's angry because she doesn't know what's upsetting him, and he's angry because a part of him realizes it's ridiculous to blame his anger on something she couldn't possibly figure out.

le whoops. forgot to title the last part as 2/3. Sorry.

- - -

"Nothing! No. Actually, you're my goddamn problem!" It's not true, but it'll get her out of his fucking face. He doesn't want to deal with her right now. The only way he can express himself right now is in pathetic jealousy, which will happen when hell freezes over, and anger. He goes for anger, because fuck, that's the option that's less emotionally taxing.

"Me?" It's slightly annoyed, a little skeptical, and the hint of amusement makes him angrier. Why can't she just understand how he feels? Why should he even tell her what's wrong? He doesn't fuckin' want to, he shouldn't have to. He feels mean today, what with her dancing around flirtatiously, showing him no attention. It's wrong, it's wrong, it's wrong, he thinks, but doesn't care enough to back up those thoughts.

Laced with anger and envy, he snaps out a few hurtful words followed by, "Yeah, you. Whiny, obnoxious son of a bitch that you are." and, because he can, and because it will upset her, and he needs her to be upset as he is:

"Fuckin' useless, like your goddamn old man."

There's a moment of startling, empty silence, and then, goddammit, pain. The punch catches him off guard. He knows he's struck a nerve, crippled one, probably - but he doesn't care. He just doesn't care anymore.

Butch goes down, hands and knees on the dirty ground, moving only to wipe the blood flowing from the corner of his mouth. He can feel Blair standing above him, can almost see her clenched fists and scrunched eyebrows. There's such an angry wave of heat coming from her general direction that he wouldn't be surprised if her pretty brown eyes were actually on fire.

"Fuck you, DeLoria." Blair whispers, quietly, voice cracking with pain on the last syllable.

Dammit. He doesn't even deserve to be called by his name, now?

He kneels there, staring at the small pool of blood that drips onto the floor in front of him. She leaves him, eventually, and the sure, determined footsteps fuckin' echo in his ears, pounding away at the envy that quickly fades into regret.

They've fought before, but never like this. Always fist-fights that ended playful by the time they'd each used up their energy and frustration - never verbal, never emotional. They'd forgive each other silently in one way or another, leaving the last Nuka Cola or buying extra the others' ammo of choice.

Butch figures there won't be any forgiveness this time. He's never brought up her old man, and he's certainly never made fun of her insecurities. He knows he's the only person she's confided those feelings to before. Butch doesn't gossip, even if he is an asshole, and he hasn't torn down anyone like that since he was sixteen.

That's a memory to keep him over night, he thinks, standing and heading up the stairs past the damn "vampires", up to the cots the group had given them for the week.

Before he knows it, he's asleep. Probably from exhaustion, maybe because there's nothing else to do.

Blair doesn't come to bed, and Butch knows that because she's loud and bitchy at night, and he always wakes up to bitch back. She's not around the next morning when he stumbles out of bed.

Vance won't tell him where she went, but Butch knows he won't be seeing the Lone Wanderer for a long time anyway.

Doesn't matter to him. She's got plenty of friends out there.

He sure as fuck doesn't need her. He can do it himself. His world, what's left of it, won't fall to pieces just because she's gone.

...Right?

Please, someone write this.

I don't think there's a SINGLE PROMPT asking for this pairing.

There's a lack of femslash on this kink meme, and there's a lack of F!LW/Nova fics... someone needs to fix this!

HOLY HOT SECONDED PROMPT, BATMAN

op here, waaa, fantastic!!

Lovin' this, anon!

OP here. Oh my god, I never thought ANYONE would fill this but...author!anon, it's so perfect. I love your LW and I love Butch and I love everything. You are amazing for making my kmeme dreams come true. <3

FLW helps Leo drop his chem habit; rewards him with sexytimes.

Like in the many options (and one of the more popular of all), the Courier (the female one at that) has Black Widow'd her ways into the Tops, and to Benny.

Operation Plan: Seduce the Ben-man, and eradicate him when he is most vulnerable; when asleep.

However, her only 'problem' is...

her youth.

The F!Courier is the fresh age of maybe 17-18. While this seems a little unlikely for her job of being a Courier, let's just say that the F!Courier is basically a fucking panther-agile and sufficient genius at her job, regardless of her profession.

(Besides, I can't really go under 17 anyways.)

And she's terribly, terribly inexperienced at the action of sex itself. Soooo, what do?

Maybe 'age' and 'in-experience', plus 'first time' might be the kinks? c: And the fact she might have her plan backfire?

When it was all said and done, she was still just a naive little girl. Sure, she had taken down House, all but annihilated Caesar's Legion, and had literally become the most well known gal in the Mojave, but beneath all the armor and guns, Benny could see a sweet, pristine little cherry, ripe for picking.
In all honesty, he hadn't expected her to forgive him for trying to bump her off- then again, he didn't think she would get dragged back out of the ground to hunt him down either. Of course, he wasn't going to complain, especially since she seemed to have taken a shine to him, and spent a good majority of her evenings in his suite, boozing it up, and learning how to play cards properly.

"Aw, come on pussycat, you ain't gonna back out now are ya?" Benny slung an arm over Mal's shoulders and pulled her close, holding up his personal deck of cards. They played often, and the Courier usually fared well enough, but Benny had been feeling antsy lately, and thought it was high time he raised the stakes. Of course, he had no intention of losing this particular game.
"I dunno Benny. Strip poker? This just seems like it'll end badly for me no matter how I play it." Her cheeks darkened slightly and she ducked away from his arm. "Besides, how can I trust you not to play me for a fool?" She cocked her hips and grimaced.
"Whad'ya mean doll? Didn't you bluff me out of 300 caps just last week? Are you saying you don't want the opportunity to make the Ben-man shed some layers? Or are you just not good enough to try?"
Mal sincerely doubted that she'd have to work very hard to get Benny to strip, but she was never one to run from a direct challenge. She snatched the cards from his hands and went about shuffling the deck. "I shuffle, you deal. And you better not try and pull a fast one, got it?" She sat on the floor in front of the low table and placed the deck in the center.
With a sly grin, Benny settled across from her and began to deal, expertly flicking his wrists.
He was good at this game.
He was better at cheating it.

(Sorry the first part is so short, but you know, intros and all that jazz.)

Every time I try to white out spoilers, I mess up, so I'm going to keep this vague. Which is fine, because the prompt is pretty open.

New Vegas. Big MT. X-8 Research facility. "What...? I feel like this has happened before. I feel awake for the first time. What is going on? What is this strange new world around me? What does it hold in store for a dreamer such as myself?"

When I say anything, I mean anything. I don't know why. I just have this deep love for the X-8 Robobrain and its single line.

I was hoping this would get filled! I loved it! Poor Butch. You really want him to figure out what he's doing wrong, but you know he probably never will without direct intervention. <3

Yay! I'm glad! Thank you for reading!

Focus intensely on this story.

thank you so much! I hope to, maybe- I feel like Caesar is an interesting character and I don't really do him justice...but this prompt compelled me haha.

As in, Freddie's dad. Because I'm pretty sick.
Can take place any time - either before she left the vault or when she returns for Trouble on the Homefront.
Maybe she harbors a crush on him throughout childhood and finally acts on it when she's of age?
Would prefer good!karma but neutral is cool too.

_{I just...am so glad these requests are anonymous...}

I'd love to see some fic in which Arcade has got hold of some fresh fruit and he really indulges himself while he eats it - slowly, juice running down hands/wrists and so on. Maybe someone else (Boone?) can't stop watching?

TIA

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

Re: FLW/Butch - Complex - [10/10]

M!Courier has Terrifying Prescence

Re: M!Courier has Terrifying Prescence

Re: m/m, thumb sucking

Re: The Bro's to End All Bro's (1b)

Re: F!LW/Butch - Bitter 1/?

Re: Courier/Benny/Yes Man

Re: F!LW/Butch - Bitter 1/?

Re: F!LW/Butch - Bitter 3/3

Re: M!Courier has Terrifying Prescence

F!LW/Nova

Re: Mouthy M!Courier/Arcade or Boone - Breath-play, choking

Re: Courier/Benny/Yes Man

Re: F!LW/Nova

Re: F!LW/Butch - Bitter 3/3

FLW/Leo Stahl

F!C/Benny - Black Widow, Young Widow

Re: F!Courier/Benny - Strip Poker

Anything with the X-8 Robobrain.

Re: F!LW/Butch - Bitter 3/3

Re: Happiness is a book. 2/2

Re: F!Courier/Benny - Strip Poker

Re: Headshot 6/6 (complete!) [ignore the ones beneath this, I messed up posting]

FLW/Officer Gomez

Arcade Gannon, eating fruit sexily