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falloutkinkmeme_backup) wrote2018-10-20 09:59 pm
falloutkinkmeme_backup) wrote2018-10-20 09:59 pm
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Fallout Kink Meme Part IV: Closed to prompts, open for fills.
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Say They Fear Her (f!courier/siri) (dubcon, referenced noncon) (64a/?)
(Anonymous) 2016-05-20 03:06 pm (UTC)(link)Siri is on one knee next to Dredge, El passed off to Twist. She holds Dredge’s wrist in one hand, her elbow in the other.
“Stop squirming,” she growls. “You’re making it worse.”
“Look, Doc, I know we don’t get along but--” Dredge gasps as Siri twists her wrist out away from her body, pushes her elbow forward until the ball of her shoulder pops back into joint, and then crosses Dredge’s arm across her stomach as Dredge makes a soft noise.
“Better?” Siri asks.
“Yeah,” Dredge agrees weakly.
“I want you to avoid using this arm for at least a week, alright? I don’t want you to use it to hold El, to shoot, to use a machete, to eat. I’m going to rig up a sling for you, I expect to see you with it for seven days, are we clear?”
“Yeah,” Dredge agrees, shifts. Siri’s hands are still on her, but she doesn’t pull away.
“Alright,” Siri agrees, sits back on her heels to reach for her bag, pulls out a length of cloth, arranges it around Dredge’s neck and arm as Twist, Birdy, Photo and Drummer all watch.
Lucinda is the last one to come into camp, three coats bundled together over one shoulder, two guns slung over her other. Watch and Runner both lay their new guns down, in the lineup, as Lucinda tosses the two on the ground.
“Take what you want. The coats are good leather, they’ll keep for years. Take the guns too, if you want, we have rounds for all of them. Dredge, how are you?”
“Shoulder hurts like a motherfucker but the Doc popped it right back into place last night, no problem,” Dredge replies, grins wide. There are circles under her eyes, though, like she didn’t sleep. Lucinda nods, turns to Twist.
“No trouble last night?” she asks.
“None,” Twist agrees. “Don’t trust there won’t be some yet.”
Lucinda nods, turns back toward the guns.
“Watch, you had the sniper rifle, didn’t you?”
“Yeah,” Watch agrees, narrows her eyes, looks between Lucinda and the gun.
“It’s yours. Keep it. We’ll find you a suppressor, if you’re interested.”
“Never used something that strong, before,”Watch says, considers the rifle a moment longer.
Say They Fear Her (f!courier/siri) (dubcon, referenced noncon) (64b/?)
(Anonymous) 2016-05-20 03:07 pm (UTC)(link)“Uh, sure, ma’am,” Runner agrees. She steps closer, reaches down to take the gun.
“Dredge?” Lucinda asks. “Oughta upgrade from your shotgun.”
“Don’t feel like I really need one,” Dredge replies. “Ain’t like I been doing a whole lotta shooting.”
“I think things are about to change, on that front,” Lucinda says. She picks up one of the two remaining guns, hands it to Dredge--a hunting rifle, scoped, stock carved out of deep red wood and embellished with lacquered-on paintings. “Yours now.”
“Thanks,” Dredge replies, voice flat. She settles it across her lap, runs her good hand over the barrel, the action, the stock, traces the flower pattern. She’s not quite frowning. “I’m keeping the shotgun though,” she adds. Lucinda laughs.
Watch looks at her revolver, turns it one way, then the other, spins the cylinder.
“Hey, Birdy,” she says, slides back down off her rock to land next to her. “You want a gun?” She turns the revolver in her hand, offers it to Birdy grip-first. “You probably won’t ever need it, but at least you would have something in case you do.”
Birdy looks at the revolver, turns first one way, then the other, then carefully takes it.
“You’ll have to show me how to reload it and everything,” Birdy says.
“That’s easy enough, I can do that no problem.” Watch leans back against the rock, stretches her legs out. Birdy’s are longer, even though she’s younger. “I can show you later, if you want?”
“Sure!” Birdy agrees.
On the other end of camp, Runner presses her hunting rifle into Drummer’s hands.
“I don’t need two guns,” she says, and Drummer nods, doesn’t say anything. Stands, walks to the line of guns, line of coats, leaves her repeater next to the last gun, another hunting rifle. She hesitates a moment, glances at Lucinda--who is feeding her bird half-chewed jerky--before she takes one of the ranger’s coats, slides her arms into the sleeves. Buries her nose in the collar--reeks of sweat and dirt and mildew-- rolls her arms back and forth in the sleeves, feels the drag of the quilting across her skin. She turns around, goes back to sit next to Runner and Burn, pressed shoulder-to-shoulder on their sleeping bags.