fringe_kinkmeme

This is a kinkmeme. You may just be familiar with the concept.

If not: explicit, adult content; read at your own risk, and keep the kids -- wherever that arbitrary line is in your jurisdiction -- out. Also, please wear your seatbelt.

RULES

1. When prompting, use the comment field to jot down character, pairing, or moresome first, then the kink(s), then any other prompt elements; after a line break, you can elaborate via words, images, or links. Like so?

2. When responding, use the subject line for the original prompt (plus your title, if you have one).

3. All kinks are welcome -- sexual, emotional, conceptual, likewise all gen, het, slash, bitextual and other fic from crack to drama.

4. Anon is encouraged but up to you.

5. Mark all spoilers, mmkay?

6. Go for it!

REMINDERS

7. With a view to some prompts: Spell Check is your BFF. Don't make Alt!Astrid cry, please?

8. A kinkmeme's more than a promptmeme. Here's

eliade's non-definitive and non-exhaustive (but pretty illustrative) List of Fan-fiction Kinks, Tropes, Clichés, and Fetishes.

9. Could you -- in the subject line or the first line of the body of text -- draw attention to the fact there's rape or non-con, major character death, underage, and/or graphic violence in your response (which is the Archive Of Our Own (AO3) policy).

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

From:

purple_dragon24

Broken and Battered

McRaider

Summary: When Peter is nearly killed it leaves him reeling and his friends at a loss for how to help they're typically unbreakable friend.

Author's Note: I adore Peter, he and Walter are my two favorite characters by far, but I feel like we're just waiting for him to break one day. I would put this in early season 2. I might end up doing a sequel of how he feels after he finds out the truth. But for now let's just deal with this story.

Rated: R (the first chapter is NC-17 and may be triggery, you can read the full story without reading the first chapter, I specifically designed this that way for a reason.

Chapter One

Peter sat in the bar, he was antsy, this wasn't Boston's best part of town, and to top it off he hadn't heard from Tess since she'd text him earlier this morning, however she'd made it quite clear she wanted to meet him here by 9pm. Here he was, but she was nowhere in sight. He wasn't even sure why he was here, perhaps it was just the inability to say no to old girlfriends who refuse to get out of abusive relationships.

Sipping down his second tumbler of scotch he looked across at the others currently in the bar. It wasn't completely full, but there were definitely a few usual comers to the place. Deciding to try and give her a call he looked at his phone, no service. Sighing, he stood up and headed out towards the entrance. He dialed her phone number, but it rang busy.

Looking it is confused, he was so focused on that he never heard the footsteps behind. He felt something hard and cold pressed against his back. "Come with me, and no one else will get hurt, Bishop," Peter's stomach dropped at the sound of Big Eddie's voice.

He turned, agreeing to the terms with no real choice, the two made their way down the street. "I've got quite the night planned for you, Petey."

They made their way towards an apartment building, Peter tried not to panic, as they stepped inside, Peter snapped out with one of his elbows and landed it in the man's solar plexus. The gun went off with calculated precision and Peter felt pain shoot through his shoulder. He lay dazed and in agony bleeding on the floor of the empty apartment building, gripping his shoulder. "That was a stupid thing to do, Bishop," Peter screamed out as Big Eddie squeezed his shoulder, a moment later his world went black.

When Peter slowly came to, he groaned in pain, he took a moment, trying to remember what happened, only to realize his hands were tied behind his back, causing excruciating agony to shoot up and down his injured shoulder every few seconds. He was lying on a disgusting cot in some dingy apartment, the place smelled of things he didn't even like to think about...then suddenly he recalled earlier. Peter got the sinking suspicion he'd been conned into something which gave him an unsettling feeling, he felt his mind and gut churning at the thought of whatever was about to occur, no one knew where he was or what he was doing. He hadn't told anyone.

"Oh good, our little friend is awake," a voice sneered as it came close, suddenly three faces, one of which was Big Eddie came into view.

"Teach him a lesson he'll never forget boys about repaying his debts."

"Big Eddie! You don't have to do this," he started to fight, trying to push himself up, but on his stomach it was harder to get balance and push himself up and his bad shoulder would bear. He felt a chill go down his spine as Big Eddie walked out and the two remaining men eyed him like he was some piece of candy. "Let me go, I work with the FBI and I won't tell a soul," he vowed.

One man stepped up behind him and put a knife to his neck, "Don't worry sweethear' you won't say anything anyway."

He cried out as first man took his knife and began cutting his bad shoulder. White hot pain became blinding and it took all that Peter had left not to vomit or lose consciousness. His hair was fisted and two punches to his face and a few kicks to his midsection, Peter was certain he was going to die...then it got worse. He felt his pants being pulled down along with his underwear, "No point in shredding such a nice pair, after all we ain't gonna kill ya," that's what sent chills through Peter. He wasn't going to die, they were planning on leaving him torn to pieces but alive. Which meant if he told a soul they had something far worse planned for him.

"No, no!" he shouted as he tried to squirm, but no matter how hard he tried the hand pressed against the middle of his spine was enough to hold him in place. "No, don't do this!" Suddenly begging seemed like the worst of his problems.

"O'Malley, shut him up," the man leered.

Peter watched with horrified eyes as the man O'Malley unzipped his jeans and instantly Peter began to fight harder until the man grabbed his hair yanking Peter's head back so far he swore he heard a pop and pain echoing through his neck and back, then it was right there. He kept his mouth closed, determined not to let them win.

"Now, now, that ain't very nice, O'Malley here's spectin ya to perform boy," as if in demand and on cue Peter felt a single finger penetrate his ass and he screamed, instantly his mouth was filled with a cock. Peter choked and gagged. Panicked, he tried to breathe, he just couldn’t. His fingers fluttered uselessly against their binds, his shoulder pain dimming to the finger now trying to stretch his ass and the cock forcing his mouth wide. He struggled to maintain some semblance of control and finally managed to breathe through his nose. He felt the cock hit the back of his throat and he nearly vomited. Not that it would've mattered, he'd have aspirated there.

The other man, the nameless man was causing his own share of agony as he shoved his fingers in and out of Peter's ass. The two men were out of sync, forcing Peter to thrust down on one and then the other. He tried to scream and cry when he felt the head of the man's penis at his entrance.

"Hey Bishop I get the feeling based on how tight you are...that you're a virgin, at least in this area," the man laughed as he continued to thrust. "Do you know what the best part of this is, sure we'll beat you down, but knowing that all I have to do is make you come...that's what is gonna break you."

Peter couldn't even stop the tears that slid down his face and mixed with saliva, the man in front of him was dangerously close to coming based on his thrusting rhythm. Peter would've sobbed when he felt a hand grab his limp penis, but the cock in his mouth began pulsing seamen down his throat causing him to choke. He was forced to swallow it despite his efforts not to, finally the limp cock was pulled out of his mouth, only to have O'Malley begin pumping his cock again.

The man behind him shifted inside his ass and suddenly something was struck that despite the agony sent shivers through him and he saw his own cock growing hard, "No," he cried desperately trying to think of anything other than what was happening to him. But the same spot was hit over and over again. He hated the man for being right but Peter felt his world beginning to shatter.

"That's it, you like it don't you, pretty boy who can con anyone, can't con himself." Peter cried out as he felt hot liquid shoot into his ass, followed closely by his own body.

It continued like that until Peter lost track of time, they'd both gone a couple times and left him a trembling mess. "We left your cell phone over on the chair across the room. Oh, and Bishop," the leader knelt down in front of him, grabbing Peter's aching jaw and squeezing agonizingly hard, "You tell anyone about this and the next time I won't be so nice...might even have a go at that pretty little blonde of yours." They were gone and Peter felt everything he'd been keeping in the past several hours finally crash to head as he began to sob.

TBC

From:

purple_dragon24

Chapter Two
Walter was frantic, he'd spent the entire night up fretting, while Astrid watched him worry away the night. Walter was mumbling something around the lab while Astrid cleaned up some projects of his from the day prior, when her cell phone went off. Surprise etched on her face when she saw 'Peter' flash across the screen.
"Peter?" She questioned answering the phone, she was fully prepared to lay into him, and then he spoke.
"Astrid, I need help," he sounded winded, and in agony. Whatever he was doing and wherever he was, it wasn't good.
"Are you all right?" She could practically hear the hesitation, "Peter?"
"Please, I'm just outside Jackson Square...please," he whispered, he sounded frightened. Astrid couldn't ever really remember her friend sounding worried or frightened unless Walter was in danger. The Bishop men were very predictable in that sense, both men didn't seem to realize how badly the other worried.
"I can be there in twenty minutes, are you somewhere safe?" She knew the area was known for its bad tendencies, and prayed he was safe.
"Yeah. Please Astrid, hurry."
She wasn't sure what she heard in his voice that caused her to snap her phone shut, utter an excuse to Walter and race out the door, but for the first time Astrid was eternally grateful she was in fact a federal agent.
Peter's hands shook as he sat outside the building waiting for her car to pull up. He fit in, he was dirty and could've passed for homeless. Just based on where his body hurt he likely had some fair damage to his face, arms, ribs, stomach and legs. Not to mention the agony his ass was in, he didn't want to even think about that. He pushed the thought from his mind, resisting the tears and urging himself to put it in the past and slam up the walls.
He didn't know how long he'd spent crying, at some point he'd blacked out, because when he'd woken up it was light outside. He'd chosen Astrid for two reasons, first off, she was the least likely of the three friends to ask questions, and second off she was the most likely not to press going to the hospital.
Peter shuttered at the idea of Walter finding out. Somehow he didn't think the older scientist would be able to deal with this. No...Peter would cope on his own, just like he had for the past seventeen years. He was strong, he had to believe that. Despite murmuring it to himself repeatedly he still said a small prayer of thanks when Astrid's car pulled up and she got out, "Oh my god, Peter, you should've called for an ambulance," she reached out, but he instantly pulled away from her touch, surprising them both.
"I'm fine," he lied as he stood slowly on his shaking legs and forced himself towards the small car. It was impossible not to flop down inside the car and feel every single muscle in his body scream in agony.
As Astrid pulled away from the curb, she couldn't help look back at Peter, "What the hell happened, where have you been?" She was so overwhelmed by what she was seeing, that she didn't know where to start with the questions.
"Take me home, Astrid, please. Just...take me home."
She looked over at him while they were stopped at a light, "Peter, that didn't answer a single question. And I definitely don't think your house is the right answer."
Peter met her eyes and she saw something she'd never seen in his eyes before, hopelessness. It was as if she wasn't even looking into his eyes. "No hospitals, please. I called you...because I can trust you."
Astrid reached a hand out to his and was pleasantly surprised when he allowed her to grip his this time, "Of course you can trust me. But I'm begging you to let me get you checked out, wherever you've been, or whatever happened you don't look well. I'm just worried."
Peter forced a fake smile, before removing her hand from his, "No need to worry, I'm fine. Or will be, I just need a hot shower, and some sleep."
Astrid felt a sinking feeling that a shower and sleep were the last things Peter should be doing, but as a friend she couldn't force him to do something he didn't want to do. Plus, she'd learned by now that the Bishop men were very stubborn and not easily swayed to do anything they didn't want to do. "At least let me call your father so someone can stay with you."
"I'm fine, Astrid. Please, just tell Walter I'm home, got into a small bar fight. I'll be fine."
If this was a small bar fight she feared what a big one would be, all the same she forced down all her common sense that was screaming for a hospital, and headed towards the Bishop home instead. "Can I at least tell your father you're all right?"
Peter nodded, "Tell him I had a rough night and I'm sleeping it off. I'm fine Astrid."
She shook her head, "With all due respect, Peter, I've never seen you look further from fine than you do right now."
"Thanks," he grunted as they came to a stop in front of the house. Peter gingerly got himself out of the car and dug in his pockets for his key. Astrid watched him for a moment, the way he was gingerly babying one arm, the way his hands shook. She pulled out the extra set of keys, and pushed the door open for him.
"Do you need anything?" She questioned, praying he would ask her to take him to the hospital.
"No, thank you Astrid. I'll be fine," he lied as he stepped inside. "I'll see you tonight when you drop Walter off."
She nodded and turned around, heading back to her car. Peter closed and locked the door, his whole body ached, but what really hurt more than anything was how alone he suddenly felt. It felt as if all the world would never understand what had just happened. No one could help him, he couldn't risk any harm coming to Olivia, or Walter. No, he'd survive this all on his own...he just hoped it didn't kill him in the process.
Forcing himself off the door he headed upstairs slowly, even that made everything hurt worse, by the time he got to the stairs he was sweating and shaking from the pain and exertion it took. Gripping the wall as he made his way towards the bathroom made a panicked search for the first aid kit. The gunshot wound was bound to already be infected, just by how awful he felt. He had to get the bullet out and clean the wound the best he could. He wasn't sure what else he could do for any of his other injuries, but the crusted on blood and semen made him cringe. All he could hope for was to get the bullet out, take a shower and then stitch up the wound.
It took him much longer than it normally would to gather up everything he would need for the procedure, the unfortunate part was it was his left arm, which was his dominate hand, meaning none of this was going to be precise or clean. Sitting down on a stool in front of the mirror in the bathroom, he grabbed a bottle of whiskey and took a long deep swig out of it. Shaking his head to clear the slight fog that was beginning due to the pain he was in, he grabbed the towel he'd brought in and bit on it, then he picked up the tweezers and with a deep breath he began digging for the bullet. At first he was able to bite through the pain but the deeper he went the harder it became to bite down the screaming.
Finally he snapped and started wailing as he dug for the bullet, he was in agony and barely hanging onto his consciousness when he felt something hard deep within his muscles. He opened the tweezers ever so slightly, causing another flair of pain and gripped the slick bullet and he pulled. Seconds later he heard the clatter of the bullet in the sink, and a second later his eyes rolled back into his head and he lost the fight against darkness.