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!
Say They Fear Her (f!courier/siri) (dubcon, referenced noncon) (56c/?)
(Anonymous) 2016-05-06 02:01 pm (UTC)(link)“No blood. Got it.”
Birdy trots out of the house, holding her sleeping bag out in front of herself, at arm’s length. Powder dusts out of it, when she shakes it opening-down. She turns her eyes on Runner and Drummer, who both shrug.
“It’s itching powder,” Birdy says, turns to Siri, drops her sleeping bag and sticks out one leg, covered in rising, reddening welts. “They put itching powder in my sleeping--” Birdy turns and sneezes into her elbow, three times in rapid succession.
“Bless you,” Twist offers.
Birdy gives her a thumbs up, keeps her nose buried in her elbow as she starts to sneeze again.
“What did you put in the powder?” Siri sighs, turn to Runner and Drummer, narrows her eyes until she decides Runner is the more likely culprit.
“Broc flowers, jalapeño seeds, and, uh.” She slides down in her seat, looks at Siri from between her knees. “Dried cazador gland.”
Siri sighs again, louder.
“Watch, you and Birdy go to wash up, Runner, you have the ingredients for an antivenom if it’s needed, correct?”
“Yeah,” Runner mumbles. “I’ll get ‘em to you.”
“New rule, no bloody pranks, and nothing that might actually poison someone.” Siri runs her hand down her face and stares at the sleeping bag crumpled on the ground.
The team nods, and Watch trots off with Birdy, toward the well in the center of town, buckets in hand.
“Pretty sure this breaks the ‘no bloody pranks’ rule,” Twist murmurs.
“At worst it’ll bruise her a bit,” Birdy replies, scratches at the side of her arm. “And besides, look at what they did.” She holds up her arms, still covered in a rash.
Twist grunts, settles her elbows on her thighs.
“Tonight? Or just when we find ‘em?”
“Tonight or tomorrow,” Birdy agrees.
“Got it. Off to bed, for now, wake me up if we get a chance.” Twist stands, stretches, and heads in toward her own sleeping bag.
Birdy stays up, rocks her baby until she sees Drummer trot past, out toward the outhouses a ways from town. She’s up in a flash, runs inside to wake up Twist, who rolls to her feet almost immediately.