falloutkinkmeme_backup (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
falloutkinkmeme_backup) wrote2018-10-20 09:59 pm
falloutkinkmeme_backup) wrote2018-10-20 09:59 pm
Entry tags:
Fallout Kink Meme Part IV: Closed to prompts, open for fills.
Welcome to the Fallout Kink Meme, Part IV! Please assume the position.
- Fallout Kink Meme posting guidelines
- Read something? Love something? No matter how old the story is, please let our amazing authors and artists know that you enjoyed their work with a nice comment, and share the love by recommending your favorite fills!
Crossroads (6a/9)
(Anonymous) 2015-01-07 06:23 pm (UTC)(link)“Sure,” the hunter behind her said. “Your band is all geckos, huh? Can’t work together?”
“Walk right off a cliff,” she told him. The hunters carrying the other half of the carcass laughed.
“Hers is a fire gecko, anyway,” Ches said, arms wrapped around the hide. “Have you hunted one of them with a knife?”
“No, ‘cause I’m sane,” one of them said.
He stuck his tongue out at the Gabrel man. “And mine’s gonna be a night stalker, don’t care if it’s sane.”
The hunter laughed again. “Feisty! I’ll give you Santi people that.”
They navigated the hills with the halves of the bighorner hanging between them, spear poles bending under the weight. The sun was past peak, the air starting to cool. Adal squinted at the grass ahead of them. “Was there another party headed north?”
“No. Most all of us are hunting, but none this way,” Sen said, manning the other pole. He followed her gaze to where the grass had been trampled. “Noisy sort of trail for hunters. Real big group.”
They lay the carcass down, inspecting the ground. One of the newcomers plucked something from the trail. “None of ours use casings like this,” she said, and handed it to the Gabrel, who shook his head.
Adal took it from him, a plastic tube the size of her thumb. “Shotgun. Not ours, either,” she said, a cold fear settling in her guts. “Leave the meat. We have to get back.”
“What’s wrong?” The others were passing it between them, curious.
“You know the Red men? The Legion?” she said, turning back towards camp.
“They tried to take a town we were trading with. Sent them running,” he said, following as she started to run. “They’re not…?”
“Been trading shots for weeks,” Sen said, grim.
“Shut up and run!” Adal said. Her heart was in her throat, each stride seeming to take hours. Alam. Jeth. Peda. Santi. Everyone. She ran fast and reckless until her foot slid, making her slow. She lifted it to find blood, the sole sliced on some debris, unable to feel it in her panic. The others caught up, chivvying her on, and Ches even grabbed her hand to drag her forward. Each footfall sent a stab of pain through her. Each footfall had a name, chanted in a too-slow rhythm, a prayer to find them as she had left them. Alam. Jeth. Peda. Santi. Silva. Mear. Cala...
The wind shifted, tainted by smoke. They came to a halt, breathing hard. “Sen, with me. You two, sweep east, see what you can,” Adal said. “Ches, stay put. Don’t get into trouble.”
“I’m coming with you, ma,” he wheezed, doubled over, barely able to stand after pacing the adults.
“You are not, boy. This is no game.” He flinched at the tone of her voice. “No argument. You stay.” She waved to Sen, rifle low and ready, trying to slow her breathing. They ghosted through the tall grass, circling towards the camp. Sen nudged her arm, steering them towards an overlook.
Adal had to put a hand to her mouth. The camp had been at a crossroads on the Seventy, a few shacks still standing. They burned now, along with the tents. The pavement was red with blood, one of the pack brahmin laying in pieces. Bodies were scattered the road, many hacked apart, limbs strewn like leaves. The surviving Walker cowered in the center of the crossroads. They were ringed by men in red skirts, armored, some with elaborate plumed helmets. All bore weapons, bloody blades or guns that dwarfed those of the Walker. She watched as they wove through their prisoners, splitting and sorting them into men, women and children.
Sen had slid back from the ledge, hands pressed to his face, looking ready to vomit. “Sen.” Adal grabbed him by the shoulders and made him look up. “Sen. We have to do something. We have to fight them.”
He shook his head, rocking on his heels. “My sister,” he whispered. “My father. Dead. There, in the dirt…”
“But the rest are alive!” she hissed. ”They still need our help!”
“No, no…” he moaned, pulling his hood over his eyes, tears on his face.
She slapped him hard. “Do you want to watch?” she said, and he cringed. She pushed his rifle at his chest. “I’m going to help them. I don’t care if you—”
“Hold there,” said a voice behind them in the grass, the words clipped and sharp.
Crossroads (6b/9)
(Anonymous) 2015-01-07 06:24 pm (UTC)(link)“Move?” she asked, and he repeated, gesturing again and frowning. “Yes. I’ll move.” She shifted her weight to stand, and turned it into a lunge, punching him hard in the gut. He folded, and she grabbed his head, bashing his face on her knee. He fell, and she followed him down, clamping a hand over his mouth and drawing her knife over his throat. She held him there, muffling the gurgling, waiting for him to stop struggling. “They’ll have more patrolling,” she said to Sen, not bothering to wipe the blood from her. “We start with them. Knives if we can, guns if things go bad.”
He nodded, hands still over his mouth. She led him back towards the other hunters, trying to regroup and plan. If they could thin out the guards, start luring out the ones in the camp, there might be a chance. Get them to break up, give the rest of the Walker a chance to take arms.
One of the Legion men was staring towards the camp, watching the scene below. She dealt with him as she had the other, slowing his fall, grimacing at the flow of blood on her arms and hands. She heard a shout from uphill, one of the strangers leveling a gun at her. Adal sidestepped the first shot, taking aim herself and sending him reeling, and a round from Sen beside her took him down. There were more voices from the camp, one raised above the others, giving orders. She cried out as a bullet sank into her arm, moving away from the ledge.
There was a quick whistle ahead. One of the other hunters ducked back behind a rock, shooting a glance towards the road. Footsteps pounded up, an armored man charging towards her. He spotted Sen in the grass, and snapped off a blast with his shotgun before the hunter could move. He screamed, and the Red man shouted, calling his allies.
Adal tried to rush his side, but the gash in her foot slowed her. He turned to face her, the butt of his gun catching her chest and sending her sprawling. Her rifle fell out of reach, and she rolled up, slicing at his legs. He danced back, and she lunged again, the knife sinking through the thin leather of his armor and into his belly. She grabbed the shotgun and left him writhing, turning to face the others.
She fired the shotgun at her attacker, the kick of it unfamiliar, and scrambled to figure out how to cycle it. There was a lever under the stock like her own rifle, and she worked it frantically, staggering as a shot took her in the leg. She bit down on the pain and sighted on the next Legion man to try and approach. The other hunters were circling, flanking the newcomers and drawing them off. She managed to score one kill with the shotgun, another with the knife when one of the men charged, reckless.
They were too few, more Legion coming to aid. She did not see the other Walker fall, but their enemies turned to her. Adal tried to retreat, wound in her leg slowing her, terror blunting the pain as rounds bit into her shoulder, her legs. She stumbled on Sen’s body, and turned to run. Adal screamed as buckshot tore into her side, her pack taking the brunt but the pain pushing her past the breaking point. She rolled onto her back, still firing as they drew close. The shotgun ran dry, and she struggled to stand.
“Leave her alone!” a shrill voice shouted.
“Ches!” she screamed, whipping around to face him. “Run! Get out of here!”
He had her rifle on his shoulder, far too large and heavy. He fired wildly, the recoil nearly throwing it from his hands. One of the Legion men was laughing as he struggled with the stiff lever, walking up to him calmly. Adal surged up, teeth bared, lurching towards him with her knife. “Leave him! Leave him alone! Don’t—”
Ches swung it like a bludgeon, the stock cracking against the Red man’s knee. He fell, and another grabbed him, pressing the muzzle of his gun against his head. “Stop, woman,” he said. “Or the boy dies.”
Adal froze, swaying. One of the men grabbed her, twisting her arm behind her back and holding her own knife to her throat. “Take them to the road,” he said, voice cold.