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falloutkinkmeme_backup ([personal profile] falloutkinkmeme_backup) wrote2018-10-20 09:59 pm

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

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Criminal 4a/?

(Anonymous) 2012-07-28 11:21 pm (UTC)(link)
A!A note: I'm really, really in love with all of the anon's reading this story and giving me such amazing feedback. It really means a lot to this A!A, and I can't tell you how great it is to read all the new comments!



Kate pinches her cigarette tightly between her lips, eyes crossing to focus on pouring vodka into the water bottle emptied previously. She can feel the group waiting on her, impatient and wondering why she hasn’t got her father’s steady hands.

Give us some of the booze, Katie, Jesus.

Fact is, she does have dad’s precision—she just wants to see Christine cringe as she sloshes Daddy Kendall’s favorite breakfast drink over her fingers and lets it pool onto the floor beneath her.

“Katie, you don’t need that much.” Amata frowns at her as the party talk begins to pick back up, discussing jobs, relationships: bullshit. “Remember last time? How sick you were for so long? You have to be careful—,”

Kate takes a deep breath of cherry-flavored nicotine, setting down the vodka with blatant aggression. The sound of the bottle hitting the crate Kate sits on makes everyone jump, makes them look to Kate without doubt.

Outbursts are getting expected now, then…? She sighs in disappointment.

Kate meets Christine’s glare with an unflinching smile. “Whoops.”

“Are you listening?”

“’Course Amata, my world revolves around you.” Kate blows a smoke ring into Amata’s eyes with a sugary smile, drinking in her friend’s discomfort with something close to a self-satisfied leer. She takes a heavy swig of the burning liquid. “I need it tonight, I really do. Need to talk to him.”

Amata’s eyes narrow a fraction before she looks around the room, making sure no one is paying attention to the pair. No one does anymore, Kate wants to point out—not after they realized that Poindexter rides high on insults and jeers, and especially not after Poindexter broke Paul Hannon’s arm with a lead pipe after he called Amata fat at her seventeenth birthday party.

Kate told dad it happened when he got his arm stuck in one of the vault-ventilation fans. Paul never contradicted her.

It’s Amata’s eighteenth today, just a few weeks after her own. The official business was done already as far as Kate was concerned—she and dad had a sufficiently awkward dinner with Amata and Mr. Almodovar earlier in the evening, and shortly after daddy-overseer went to sleep, Amata met with the rest of the class of ’76 in the storage room.

Kate hated how fucked up it was to have all these sweaty, horny teenagers standing around waiting for her to put the key-code into the storage room door so they can get high on air fresheners and cheap pre-war cigarettes.

See, only she and Paul knew the codes to the vault out of the whole class, and Paulie-boy was with Butch and the rest, lurking the halls and being fashionably late.

“You can’t keep doing this to yourself Katie.” Amata looks experimentally at Kate, following her large eyes to the door that hisses open for three leather clad figures. “You know he doesn’t really care, right?”

Kate’s eyes lift to Amata’s casually, though the challenge that radiates there shuts her friend up quicker than she can bother to blink.

Okay, sorry.” Amata sighs. She pauses, looking up as the room’s conversation fluctuates in enthusiasm for the new arrivals, greetings and scoffs alike are exchanged.

Butch’s eyes go straight for Kate, of course.

Amata rolls her eyes. “Look, I don’t know why you two are on speaking terms again, but I know it can’t be good. You can’t let him manipulate you again, Katie, I mean it. Not after last time.”

“Huh?” Kate blinks as she is forced back into the conversation by Butch’s lapse in attention for her. She turns her eyes, intensely blue against the backdrop of grey vault walls, on Amata’s somber expression. “Oh. Fuck Butch.”

Amata’s brow rises in such a precisely doubtful way that Kate can feel an itch in her palm to slap her friend as hard as she can—

No. Never with Amata; not with Amata or Dad. Never.

“I mean it, sweet-cheeks.” Kate mumbles around her cigarette, cocking her head to the side as her eyes follow Butch’s movements through the party with unwavering exactness. “No one manipulates me.”

Criminal 4b/?

(Anonymous) 2012-07-28 11:31 pm (UTC)(link)
Kate waits until Butch will look at her once more, for he always does. Typical. He’s such a fucking dope that he just can’t help but do it when he’s hanging around Christine, glancing up from his heated flirtation to watch her reaction.

Kate doesn’t give him one, just keeps her head weighted to one side as she blows smoke rings in his direction lazily.

Only when he leers at her does she rise from a familiar crate, giving it a knowing smirk over her shoulder, before she saunters towards the Tunnel Snakes.

“Hey Junior!” Kate’s tongue darts out to lick her lip habitually at the sight of Paul’s stiffening spine—damned if she can’t just smell the fear coming off him. “How’s the old branch? Still in a bit of a bind, I see.”

Hannon turns from Butch and Wally to glare down at Kate, a wary swallow working his throat at the sight of the sparkle in her eye.

He gives her a shrug, looking down meekly at his wrapped arm. “’S fine, Katie. What’d you care?”

“Oh, you know… Daddy said that arm would always be a bit stiff.” She sighs casually, taking a drag before blowing the acrid smoke in Paul’s face. “I was just wondering how you jerk off with a shit arm.”

“God, Kate!” Christine gasps, drawing the lazily amused stare of Kate straight on her. “Could you be more disgusting?”

“Could, probably.” She flashes Kendall a sour sneer, flicking cigarette ashes at the girl.

“What do you want, Poindexter?” Wally interjects, obviously thinking that if he defends Kendall’s honor he’ll get his willy wet. Actually, he probably would, knowing dear Christine.

“Butch.” Kate answers bluntly, making Wally blink. She turns her gaze onto the aforementioned, flashing him the loaded smile she knows drives him up the wall. “I got a secret for you, DeLoria.”

“Screw you.” Wally spits, shouldering in front of Christine to tower over Kate threateningly. “Ain’t you got Freddie the Freak to keep your secrets company?”

Kate’s eyes light up as they meet Butch’s once again, her skin rippling in a pleasured shiver at the way his jaw tightens in anger. “Say, I guess you’re right Wally! Maybe I should go tell him… What do you think Butchie?”

Butch flicks his cigarette to the floor, mashing it irritably with his boot before yanking Kate roughly by the arm towards the empty back generator room, leaving the rest of the room to watch their disappearing backs in tense silence.

Re: Criminal 4b/?

(Anonymous) 2012-07-29 02:13 pm (UTC)(link)
:D :D :D :D :D
*dances with excitement as she does with every update*

Re: Criminal 4b/?

(Anonymous) 2012-08-01 12:37 pm (UTC)(link)
This is one of the best fics ever! Please don't stop!