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) (95a/109b)
(Anonymous) 2016-09-01 12:04 am (UTC)(link)“It’s been a long time, Lucia,” Cloelius says, grins wide and easy.
“I’m on my way to work,” she says, doesn't look at him, doesn't look at anything.
“Why are you back?” he asks, steps forward, turns as she does so he stands at her side. He drapes his arm across her shoulders and she fights to keep from going stiff under him.
“Because my last job ran out,” she says, voice neutral.
“Did you fuck it up?” he asks, starts walking without removing his arm, steers her into the nearest house, his house.
“No,” Lucinda replies.
“Good,” he says. “Because you owe me, and if you fucked it up you owe me even bigger.”
“I don’t owe you anything,” Lucinda says. Cloelius kicks the door shut behind them, and it thunks shut. Lucinda tries to focus on her knives--bowie strapped to her leg under her boot, pocket knife tucked into her bra. Still tries not to recoil from the arm over her shoulders.
“I’d say you do.” He stops, turns, puts his hands on both of Lucinda's shoulders, looks her in the eye. Keeps his mouth and eyes soft, his eyebrows raised, looks like a disappointed father when he speaks. He stinks like sweat, like he hasn’t bathed in too many days. If they weren’t having this conversation, if it was five years ago, maybe she wouldn’t mind. Now it just sticks in the back of her throat. “I got you that job, and you owe me for that.”
“I didn't ask for the job,” Lucinda replies, looks him in the eye. Can he feel the hatred? Has he heard the rumors? Does he believe the rumors?
“Sure you did. I thought you hated this place and your husband.”
“But I didn't ask for you to get me sent away.” She takes a step back, finally, shakes him off, bares her teeth, and crosses her arms over her chest. She inclines her chin, looks down her nose at him even though he's taller. One of the floorboards gives under her toe, how long until it gives permanently and he goes through the floor? It’s what he deserves, after this. “I didn't ask you to do anything for me, so I don’t owe you anything in return.”
“I gave you that opportunity because I thought you wanted it.” He takes a step closer, pulls himself to his full height, and Lucinda takes another step back. Something animal and loud blares a warning in the back of her skull, and she can feel her face twitch before she goes still again “I thought you said you wanted out of this dog-stench hole of a city, and away from your dog-stench husband and too many people crammed in your house and away from everything here. I gave you a way out.” He steps closer, and Lucinda steps back again, finds herself pinned against the counter without enough space between them for comfort, can feel the same animal fear burning its way up her throat, clawing out through her hands so she wants to gouge at his yes, kick him in the balls, start running until she’s free of this city again.
“I owe you nothing,” she snarls, instead of giving in to the impulse. “I’d owe you if I asked, but you gave it as a gift. I don't owe you for something I didn't ask for.”
Say They Fear Her (f!courier/siri) (dubcon, referenced noncon) (95b/109b)
(Anonymous) 2016-09-01 12:06 am (UTC)(link)“Drag your own name through the mud?” Lucinda replies, voice quiet. Is that a threat to him? It would be a threat to anyone else, but he’s already leveraged it as a threat against her. “Cloelius, who decided to use another man’s property without permission.”
“Oh, no.” he leans in. “I know you fucked others. Holy shit, with a little work I could probably dig up a whole list.” He steps back, then, half-sits on the table and crosses his arms over his chest. “I bet everyone would believe me, too.”
“They probably would,” Lucinda agrees. What does she lose, if he drags her name through the mud? The Legion already wants her on a cross, wants her team dead, wants everyone to see what happens when a woman steps out of line. Called her Minerva on the coin, drag who she really is through the muck, crucify her, destroy the coins and--print someone else on them. Strix, probably, since he was there too, the pure and incorruptible man to her eminently corruptible woman.
“I can pull some strings,” he says. His shoulders loosen up, and she can see the play for what it is. How he looks is all relative to how he did look. “I can keep you out of prison and off a cross.”
“I don’t owe you anything and I don't want to owe you anything.” She knows herself, though, is already planning what she would do, what she could do with further freedom, knows that she could get--
No.
She needs to leave here, needs to get back to the rest of the team, get them on their way so they can get as far as they can before this comes back around to them too.
“You're an ungrateful little--”
“Don’t insult me,” she snaps, considers for half a moment before she steps into his space, instead of shrinking--curls her hands into fists at her aides, squares her shoulders, tilted her chin up. Makes herself bigger, more, the way Old Vulture taught her after teaching her to shrink. “I’m not the one who’s stuck in this dog-shit town even with connections high up in the chain of command, am I?”
“Well you are now,” he snaps, mirrors her own posture back--fists curled, shoulders square, but his bottom lip stuck out in that almost-pout, face crumpled like a child who just had their favorite toy taken away. Can she keep him on the defensive? Even if she can, she's going to be late for work. Anatolia will understand, though.
“How long do you think they can hold me?” she asks, lowers her voice. He’s never seen her do this, never seen her get mean. He still thinks she's going to roll over and beg for him. “If the NCR rangers can't hold me, what makes you think this dog-shit town can?”
“We want you deader than the NCR does,” he snorts. “And were better at killing.”
They do, and they are, and she knows both as facts.
“And you think that will keep me here?” she asks. She leaves it at that, steps around him, and the table, and walks towards the door.
He watches her go.
She's one turn from the slaughterhouse, smell of meat and blood in the air, when she recognizes Strix.
He still has the dog, lying obediently at his feet, watching the street. She doesn't even react when Lucinda turns around the corner. Lucinda gives no indication of recognition either, doesn't want to disturb dog or handler and have to wriggle her way out of this conversation too.
She ducks into a back alley, decides to take the long way around.