#this spider bite!!!! is a hole in my leg now!!!!! what the hell man

[mobtism]

god i am just so thankful im going out w/ my coworkers tomorrow. i think i'd lose it otherwise

[l1tw1ck]

The Fall of Spider-Man

bottom!ftm Miguel x top!masc!villain reader

🕷️ Word Count: 1,897 🕷️

AFAB Language Used

CW: Non-Con, Kidnapping, Lingerie, Fingering, Squirting, Cunnilingus, Overstimulation, Crying, Corruption, Creampie, Nipple Play, Pregnancy Mention, Stockholm Syndrome (Kinda?)

Miguel’s eyes shoot open. He immediately analyzes his surroundings. He’s tied up and on the floor. He can't see anything but he can tell he’s wearing lingerie. He feels sick. His first instinct is to try and get out of his restraints but no matter how hard he tries, nothing happens. He’s powerless. How? Why? When? Where the hell is he? He looks around the dark room, stopping to look at a door. There's light coming from behind it and he can hear movements. Footsteps. Getting closer and closer.

“You’re awake! Good morning, Miguel.” You smile, turning the lights on before walking towards him. “How are you feeling?”

“Who are you?” He asks.

You give him your name. “The person who's going to defeat Spider-Man once and for all.” You grin. “Although my methods are a bit unconventional.” You chuckle.

Miguel keeps his mouth shut, waiting to hear what you have to say next. Your confidence scares him. It's not like he's never met a confident villain before, it's honestly less likely to meet an insecure one, but your confidence is scary. You know something he doesn't. He knows you're dangerous. He always chooses to fight but everything inside him is screaming to run away. It's not like he has the choice now though.

“Pretty soon, you’ll be my beautiful husband and the father of our children.” You kiss his forehead. His heart drops. “But first, I’m gonna have some fun with you.” You kneel down and caress his cheek. He grimaces in disgust. “Let me give you the play by play.” You push his lacy red panties aside. “First, I’m gonna play with this pretty pussy of yours and give it a lot of love.” You rub his clit. “Then, once I’m done, I’m gonna slide my cock inside of you. I’ll make sure to go real slow, make you feel every inch of my cock.” You bring your fingers down to his entrance and push two of them in.

“Yo- you're sick.” He spits on you.

You wipe your cheek. “I didn't give you permission to speak, or spit.” You slap his cunt, earning a moan from him. “Watch yourself, Miguel.”

He looks at you angrily but doesn't say anything, too ashamed of the sound he just made and too afraid of the consequences to do so. You push your fingers in and out of his cunt, giving Miguel unwelcomed pleasure. “You like that?” You smirk, moving faster. He bites his lip to silence his moans. “I know you do. Even if you try to deny it, your body doesn't lie.”

He hates this so much.

“And then, I’ll pick up the pace. I’ll fuck you rough and hard. So rough that you won't be able to think. So hard that you’ll cry.” You push your fingers all the way in and thumb his clit, moving your fingers inside of him absentmindedly. He tries to fight against the pleasure but it's no use. He’s going to come.

“I’d love to see you cry.” You grin. He’s not going to cry. He might do a plethora of shameful things tonight but one thing he isn't going to do is cry. He refuses to. “I know you think it's impossible but it's not. And I can't wait to see you break.” You punctuate your last word with a hit to his g-spot. Miguel gasps, hips raising in the air as he squirts. Miguel looks down at himself in shame, cheeks burning hotter than a flame. He’s never done that before. He hates that you're the reason it happened. “Oh Miguel…” You let out a sharp breath.

You move in between his legs and dig into his wet cunt, slurping up his slick before tonguing his sensitive hole. Miguel squirms around in protest. Why does this feel so good? He wants to curse you out but he's worried about what you’ll do if he acts out. He feels terrible and so fucking good at the same time. He wants to kill you but he also doesn't want you to stop. He rolls his eyes back and squirts again, feeling extremely exhausted.

You pull away and stand up, stripping down to nothing. Miguel looks at your cock in horror. That's not going to fit! He desperately tries to get away but he can't do much in the position he's in.

“You’re really boosting my ego, Miguel.” You chuckle, kneeling back down and grabbing his waist. You pull him close to you so his thighs are on yours and your shaft is right against his cunt. “I’m going to enjoy this.” You look at him like the 5 star meal he is. You move him so that his pussy is sliding up and down your length, bringing the both of you pleasure.

He bares his fangs, showing you how angry he is without speaking. “Aw, you don't like this?” You frown, faking sympathy. “Or is it that you want something else?” You grin. “You want me to fuck you, is that it? You want me to finally fuck you?”

Miguel shakes his head rapidly. You move him backwards, just enough for you to be able to make an easier entrance. You point your tip against his clit, smearing pre cum over it and sliding down in between his folds. You tease him with your entrance, you're gently thrusting into him but only the tip is entering him. He can't stand the feeling. You eventually stop and slowly push your cock inside of him. You weren't exaggerating when you said he’d feel every inch of you. You’re practically tearing him apart with the way you’re stretching him out. You bite your lip, thoroughly enjoying his pussy. “I think I’m in heaven.”

If you’re in heaven, then Miguel’s in hell. You slowly slide in and out of him, reveling in his wet warmth. “That's right baby, sit back and take it like the pretty little slut you are.” You place your hand over the bulge of your cock on his stomach, enjoying the way it feels as you move and how sexy he looks with his tummy bulging. “You’re doing so good for me, you know that? Doing so well…”

He doesn't want to be good for you. He doesn't want you to enjoy this. If he wasn't afraid of the consequences he’d curse you out. You rub his clit gently, causing his breathing to turn shallow. “I wanna feel you come..” You mutter. “Come for me, baby.”

He grits his teeth, trying to stop himself from giving you what you want but it's too difficult. He can't hold back. It all feels too good, his pussy feels way too good, he can't do anything to prevent this. He shuts his eyes and comes, walls fluttering around your length. “You’re such a good boy, Miguel. You may be prickly but at least you know how to follow orders.” You caress his cheek. He turns away from your touch. “Even after all that…you're still trying to keep up this facade?” You pull away and turn him onto his stomach. “You won't be able to pretend any longer, Miguel.” You raise his ass in the air and plunge your length fully into him. He gasps. Miguel doesn't even get a minute to adjust to the new position thanks to you suddenly pounding into him. He rolls his eyes back, letting out uncontrollable moans as you fuck the shame out of him. He can barely think over the explicit sounds of your hips snapping against his ass and the loud wet sounds of your cock sliding in and out of his sensitive pussy. You're going too fast for him to even try and act like he doesn't like it. He’s always had a thing for being treated roughly and you're fulfilling his need for it. You pull on his hair, causing him to let out an almost scream-like moan as he squirts.

“Fu- fuck-” He feels tears welling up in his eyes as you continue fucking him through his orgasm.

“‘M gonna give you the child you always wanted, Miguel.” You fuck him even rougher than before, chasing your orgasm. Tears flow rapidly from Miguel’s eyes, as if there was a blockage that contained all his tears and prevented him from crying all these years. He sobs, crying loudly as you overwhelm him with pleasure. It feels good but it's too much, he can't handle it. He loves it but he needs it to stop. “Ah, I love hearing you cry..” You slow down your thrusts and dump your load inside of him. Miguel uses this break to finally catch his breath and calm down.

“Aw, was it too much for you, baby?” You coo, rubbing your hand down his back.

Miguel nods. “Ple- please..” He whimpers.

You pull out and turn him around. You pick him up and sink him down on your cock. You place your hands on his waist and kiss his cheek. “You’re so pretty when you cry, you know that?” You caress his face gently. He sniffles, not sure how to feel about that. You press your lips against his, kissing him slowly and sensually. Miguel reciprocates the kiss, following your tongue movements and subconsciously grinding down on your cock. He feels a little less stimulated than before. He feels like he's about to have an orgasm that’ll never come and somehow it feels good. He doesn't know how he feels about you now but you make him feel good, and thanks to the current state of mind he's in now, that's all that matters.

You pull away from the kiss and pepper kisses down his throat and to his chest. You undo the clip in the middle of his bra, causing the two cups to separate and reveal his breasts. You latch onto his nipple, sucking it gently while your hand goes to pull and twist on the other one. Miguel whimpers in pleasure. His nipples are so sensitive, he’ll definitely come from this. “mmh..” Miguel grinds down harder as he orgasms, his pussy clenching and unclenching around your length. You pull away from his nipple, your saliva dripping down the brown bud.

He still despises you but he knows he'll be stuck with you from now on. He’ll eventually learn to love you.

Miguel turns on the radio as he starts cooking breakfast. The reporter talks about all the crime going on in the city and he doesn't seem to care, even though he’s back to normal and completely autonomous, he has no intention of going out to fight. He wants to stay home with you. The Spider Society’s been trying to contact him but he's ignored all their calls. He only leaves the house for dates and groceries, why would he go anywhere without you? He loves you so much, he wants to stay by your side as much as he can. Nobody seems to understand it but he doesn't care to explain it to them. Peter B. and Jessica have been trying to convince Miguel to come back and many spider people have tried to kill you but to no avail. He doesn't want to come back, especially not when they're trying to kill his beloved. He’s perfectly content with where he is now and he can't wait to have his first child with you.

[mossyscavern]

That could’ve gone better

_______________________

‘Ok. Just stay cool and be careful. Mami made me this for them.’

Miles thought, tightly gripping both the asopao de pollo and the Puerto Rican style tamales, Pasteles. Miles has been waiting for this day for so long.

Ever since he got together with Pavitr Prabhakar and Gayatri Singh, he has been jumping through dimensions every Saturday.

He wanted to stay all weekend… but him and his mami have a telenovelas day every Sunday. He wanted to invite them over but… Gayatri is kind of stuck in her dimension.

Unless they managed to sneak a day pass to earth 50101 than the options are out the window.

Miles waits on the subway with the food on his lap, held tightly in his hands, his knee bouncing anxiously as he looks around, his spider-sense went off a little while ago.

He assumes it’s his stress induced anxiety that triggers it, but he doesn’t see any dangers around-. “AAH!!”

“Woah! Ok, fair response… I mean, I am covered in spots.”

Miles can only stare in wide eye. The spot. The spot. The villain that almost ended the multiverse… is right there. Miles prays he doesn’t recognise him.

“Hey, is this seat taken? Normally I’d summon a hole but uh… I don’t have many spots left.” He explained, pointing at the lack of spots.

“…n-no, go ahead man.” Miles says, moving to the left. “Thanks!” Spot says, sitting down next to miles, turning his head left to right.

Miles leg bounced even faster this time. It was so weird, sitting next to the man who says he’s spider-man’s nemesis. “Hey, that smells good! What is it?”

“H-huh? Oh I-it’s uh… p-Pasteles and asopao de pollo.” Miles answers, biting his lip while he repeatedly thinks. ‘Please don’t recognise me, please don’t recognise me, please, please, please!’

“… I get the second one but… pastel..les?”

“Uh- boricua tamales.”

“… oh! Puerto Rican? Similar to my nemesis.”

Welp, miles had a good life, goodbye spider society, goodbye to his parents and goodbye to the two loves of his life-. “Well, hope the conversation helped.”

“… what?” Miles says to the villains, confused as hell. “Ok, my actual goal was to help you feel less anxious, bouncing your leg like that doesn’t help anybody.” … now that he mentioned it, miles leg did stop bouncing in one place.

So talking with the spot did help. “I- thank you… cow.. man?” Miles asked, hoping the funny name lets him not put a target on his back. “Haha, it’s the spot, actually.”

*time skip*

“And that’s what happened, crazy right?” He asked, taking a bite out of one of his mami’s Pasteles while gayatri and Pavitr stare with wide eyes.

“You did a pretty nice save though.” Gayatri says, patting miles hair down, his head on her lap. “I thought it was stupid.” Miles pouted, upset he didn’t say anything cool.

“Hey, at least you still got here.” Pavitr says, placing down the bowl of asopao de pollo and leaned down, he pecked miles on the nose before his lips meet miles.

“Boys. Save some for me.” She says, kissing pavitr on the lips before kissing miles. “Gaya! Mmh!” Miles tries before getting caught off again by gayatri deepening the kiss. “Don’t get too greedy there, gayatri.” Pav reminded.

“I can’t help it, he’s adorable.”

“I’m not adorable.” Miles argued. Both gayatri and Pavitr arched their brow at him. “What?! I’m not!”

_______________________

… I just wanted to add the spot (dr Ohnn) here.

Like… yeah he’s evil. But still! I had to add him, besides.. gotta love the villains bonding moment with heroes who are in civvy clothes and not realise it’s your nemesis.

… this was supposed to be made in disability pride month, but I was WAY beyond late… sorry!

[redrobin-detective]

Half of

Danny Fenton was half ghost. Or something.

No one was quite sure what that meant exactly or if it was even true. A ghost in a pure white suit had announced it during an attack on the town until he was beaten and silenced by Phantom. It’s been three days since then and the nerd hasn’t been at school. Not that Dash was looking for him or anything.

Dash worried, for just a second, that something bad happened to him. The Guys in White creeps had been asking questions around school the last few days. There’d been a noticeable lack in ghost attacks around town, maybe another ghost got to him? What about his ghost obsessed parents? Surely they wouldn’t have done anything to their own kid...

“Think Danny will be in school today?” Kwan whispered nervously, leaning in close to Dash’s side. Talking too loudly about the elephant, or ghost he guesses, in the room got people very forcefully interviewed by the government. 

“Why the hell would I know?” Dash grumbled, shaking his friend off to shove his hands deep into the pockets of his letterman jacket. “No one knows what’s going on, Manson and Foley haven’t shown up either.”

“I hope they’re ok,” Kwan said quietly, looking down at the floor. 

“Why do you care?” Dash grumbled, harsher than he meant to.

“You and everyone ditched me for Danny when Paulina was dating him, remember? Sam and Tucker were real pals and Danny, well he’s weird but not really that bad.” Kwan said bitterly before his eyebrows twisted in confusion. “That was actually pretty out of character for Paulina to date him now that I think about it, maybe he was, like, using ghost magic to control her?”

“That’s stu-” Dash was interrupted by the usually noise of Casper High going dead silent. He and Kwan shrugged at each other. He saw Star down the hallway, staring at something. He caught her eye and mouthed What is it at her. Her eyes slid back over to the hall before mouthing Fenton back. 

“Shit,” Dash couldn’t help but mutter under his breath, “Fenton’s here.” He glanced over at Kwan, trying to hide his nervousness. “Guess we’ll find out if he’s some sort of ghost freak after all.”

Kwan eyed him for a second, “you know if Danny really is half of a ghost then maybe you’ll want to quit it with the names.” The warning bell rang for first period. “You guys have homeroom together with Lancer, right? Just, I don’t know, don’t make him mad or anything.”

“Man, don’t even joke,” Dash said with a strained smile. “It’s Fenton, what’s the nerd gonna do?”

XxX

Fenton always sat in the back right of the class so seeing him there wasn’t that strange. What was strange was that he was there before the bell rang, not looking sweaty or exhausted or beaten up. Seeing him sitting there with an almost bored expression, casually leaning one arm over the back of his chair. It was eerie, seeing Fenton try to act normal. Dash felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on his head as he stiffly walked by the nerd he usually smacked when he walked by. He thought he felt Fenton’s icy eyes following him as he passed. Dash made sure he didn’t scurry like a wimp to his seat but it was a close thing.

“Class, please stop staring at Mr. Fenton and let us begin,” Lancer sighed, unsuccessfully trying to start the class.

“Do you know the ghost boy?” Paulina asked, slamming her palms on her desk and ignoring their teacher. “Because if you’ve been holding out on me-”

“I mean everyone in Amity Park knows him,” Fenton shrugged. He’d been so chill this morning, like the whole thing wasn’t bothering him. It only made Dash more antsy. He bounced his leg under the desk.

“Can you do anything cool? Like fly or shoot lasers from your eyes?” Mikey asked, leaning forward with curiosity.

“I can do lots of cool things,” Fenton sniffed. “I know a lot about the space program and local astronomy. I draw sometimes and I’m think I’m pretty good. I also have super flexible joints so I can do this.” He grinned a little as everyone squealed when he bent his thumb back so far it nearly touched his wrist. “Of course,” his grin turned into an eye roll, “no one really cares about that only my supposed superpowers.”

“What is a half of, exactly? What that ghost called you?” Dash found himself asking. He almost didn’t want to be heard but Fenton turned to look at him anyways. 

“What do you think it means?” Fenton questioned back. Though he had a teasing smirk, his eyes looked dull and dead. Dash couldn’t look at them and ducked his head. 

“Alright, alright, enough with the questions. The Fenton’s gave Danny a clean bill of health and allowed him to rejoin class so that’s all you kids need to know. Now, back to what we were actually talking about.” Class continued as expected but everyone still snuck glances at Fenton. He’s not sure what they were all waiting for, him to suddenly turn green or sprout horn or whatever. But Fenton just sat there, still as anything, trying to act normal and it just didn’t fit him right and it was all just. Wrong.

XxX

Dash was relieved Fenton wasn’t in his second or third period classes but they did have the same lunchtime. For the first time since he was skinny, bucktoothed 6th grader, Dash wanted to hide away and eat his lunch in private. But Fenton wasn’t the only one trying to keep up appearances.

“Alright, what has everyone got,” Paulina was whispering to the table by the time Dash was sitting down. “The day is halfway over, someone had to have seen him doing something ghostly.”

“I mean we don’t know how long he’s been like this,” Star commented, flipping her hair as pretense to sneak a glance at the loser trio near the back entrance of the cafeteria. “He could’ve been hiding his for a while.”

“Fenton’s always been weird,” Dale commented with a sneer, stabbing at his beefaroni. “Since day one, he’s been jumpy and clumsy and goes through weird mood swings.”

“Maybe he’s never been normal,” Kwan said with a little frown. Now Dash knows this wasn’t true. He was the only one at the table who’d gone to the same middle school as Fenton. The nerd had talked too much about space and was always tripping over something but he’d been like all the other annoying brats in middle school. Dale was onto something, Fenton had changed once high school hit which means whatever is up with him as been going on for a while. Years. 

He suddenly felt eyes on him, a cold, crawling feeling that made his breath catch in his throat. Dash squeezed his eyes shut and breathed a silent sigh of relief as the eyes turned from him. They didn’t return but Dash found he couldn’t eat after that.

XxX

“Dude, did you hear about Fenton?” Victor said in an excited but still hushed whisper as Dash was leaving fifth period. 

“No, what did he do?” Dash asked with dread.

“He had gym last period and apparently he’s been faking his loser weakness. He crawled up the rope climb like a goddamned spider monkey and then slid himself back down. Don’t know how he didn’t have intense rope burn from that. He also beat Charlie, Katie and Veronica on the sprinting portion. Must be those ghosty genes.”

“Fenton did all that?” Dash asked, he bit the inside of his cheek. Hard.

“Yeah it was crazy, I thought Tetslaf was gonna pass out,” Victor laughed. “Maybe we should get him to try out for the football team, he’d be a great running back or-”

“Come on, Vic,” Dash laughed but the sound came out wrong. “Why would we want Fenton on our team? He’s, he’s Fenton! Just a skinny, weird little wimp.” Vic side-eyed him a bit before clapping Dash on the back.

“World’s changing, Dash. First ghosts, now half ghosts, it’s all wrong but you just gotta roll with it. All I know is I have 2 years left in this hell hole before I leave this miserable place for Chicago and never look back. I recommend you do the same, after all,” Vic grinned again but it was sharper. “Fenton’s always been your personal punching bag, not every day you learn your victim has superpowers.”

“We don’t know what the hell is up with Fenton,” Dash defended. Vic just shrugged.

“Yeah but he’s always been a freak now we know he ain’t human. Who knows what else he’s hiding?” Vic said with a smug smile before wandering off, giving a halfhearted wave over his shoulder as he left.

Dash stood in the hallway, trying to get himself under control until the warning and late bell rang. Only then, when he was certain he wouldn’t run into Fenton, did he head to class. 

XxX

“Should we follow him, see where he goes?” Paulina said, biting onto one of her nails in nervous excitement. Paulie was gorgeous and overall pretty cool but her thing with ghosts sometimes tired Dash out. Now more than ever. 

“Come on, that’s like stalking,” Kwan scolded. “Even if that wasn’t illegal or whatever it’s just not cool. They had a rough day today, leave ‘em alone.” That icy chill returned and Dash looked out of the corner of his eye to see Fenton and his cronies walking out of the school. 

Truthfully, Dash didn’t think Fenton had that bad of a day. Yeah people were asking questions but he’d side stepped them all, gave non-answers. Other people talked about Fenton’s supposed strength in gym but there’d been conflicting reports, some said he flew up the rope climb, others said he levitated doing his push ups. Dash really didn’t know what to believe. Fenton was just acting, well, like Fenton. He paused for a second, stopped walking before catching up with the group.

Maybe... maybe Dash was getting caught up over nothing. There really was no proof Fenton was this ‘half of’ other than what one dumb ghost said. He thought back to Fenton’s grin during first period; stupid nerd was probably milking his 15 minutes of fame and bully free time. His earlier fear and uncertainty burst into flames until a familiar anger was burning in his gut. Now this he knew what to do with.

“Yeah, well his day is about to get rougher,” Dash heard himself say as he stomped off to where Fenton was smiling tiredly at something Manson was saying. “Hey Fentonio! Think you’re pretty cool with every paying attention to you but I-”

Fenton gasped suddenly, like a hiccup only his breath misted out in front of him cold as a winter’s day. Dash stopped midsentence watching as Fenton’s whole face twisted. His earlier weary but tolerant annoyance that he’d been projecting all day was stripped away. He glared at Dash with an expression that was hard as ice and full of an exhaustion and bitterness he couldn’t begin to understand.

“As payment for being forcibly outed,” Fenton spoke up loudly enough that most of the school yard could hear him. “I was promised a week.” His eyes slowly but methodically scanned the crowd who had frozen in place at his authoritative tone. “Where I didn’t have to deal with ghosts, so I want to know... Who is trespassing on my haunt.”

Fenton’s mouth opened impossibly wide revealing what seemed like rows of sharped teeth. He curled his fingers into claws and, looking closer, his fingernails had indeed become real claws, as sharp and deadly as his teeth. His eyes blazed an impossible, ectoplasmic green and his dark hair developed streaks of white. He was terrifying, monstrous, but he was still Fenton. That feeling that had been eating at dash all day came back full force. Not the realization that Fenton had powers or whatever but that he had been hiding it in plain sight through ghost attacks and bullies and failing grades. This had always been Fenton, they just hadn’t seen. Until now that is.

And now the script had flipped and Dash didn’t know how this Ghost Fenton, who still was the same Fenton Dash had wedgied last Wednesday, fit. A green blob ghost materialized over by stairs, quivering and wailing in some ghost language. It turned and fled, presumably in the direction of the Fenton Portal to escape Fenton’s wrath. Fenton’s glowing eyes tracked it for a moment before he straightened up from his hunched posture and... was human again.

He brushed his hands through his black hair, lazily blinked blue eyes and, when he smiled, his teeth were normal. But Dash had seen, they all had. He’d let them see but to what end, he had no idea. Fenton turned to look at him with a raised eyebrow and another small smirk, just as tired as earlier.

“Sorry about that Dash, I take my vacation time very seriously. You were saying?” Fenton said with a smug lilt but his eyes were still dead and there was a bit of fear in them now. Despite his powers, he still gripped his backpack tightly.

“When your dumb little vacation’s up, Fentionail,” Dash said with a shaky voice. “It’s-it’s back to business, okay? Punches and wedgies and locker shoving. You,” he voice cracked a bit and he fought it down. “It’ll ramp up now that I know you can take it.” Fenton blinked, once then twice before he smiled. This time it wasn’t annoyed or scary or fearful but like the dumb grins he usually gave his dumb friends. 

“Yeah okay, we’ll start back up next week. The usual time?” Dash nodded, not knowing what else to say. “Alright, see you around.” He turned to walk away before pausing and turning back. “Actually you should be careful on who you shove into lockers, it can get hard to breathe in there and not everyone can phase out of them. You never know who’ll turn up dead,” he grinned and his eyes flashed green again, “if only half.”

That said, he and his friends walked away, ignoring the stares of the entire school on them. “Oh and it’s halfa, not half of,” Fenton called out over his shoulder. “I’m not half of anything, I’m just a whole me even if the details get a bit complicated.”

“Bye Danny, see you tomorrow,” Kwan called after with a grimace. No one else said anything for a minute until Dash found the strength to move his legs from where they’d been planted. He clenched his fists to hide his shaking and continued his walk home. Everyone else slowly did the same, talking quietly among themselves.

“What the hell was that?” Dale asked in a nervous high pitched voice. “What the hell did I just see?”

“Fenton being a weirdo but that’s nothing new,” Dash shrugged with a confidence he didn’t have yet. But if Fenton could show up to school after being outed and then willingly show them his inhumanity, then Dash needed to up his game. Couldn’t let the nerd be cool or anything. “So what if he glows or whatever, he’s still Fenton. Look I gotta get home, it’s Pookie’s feeding time and he is NOT going to believe the day I had.

[wornoutmouse]

Fun fact: demon slayer starts in 1912 and ends in 1927(or at least that's when the Tashio era ends). Using that math Tanjiro (as long as he kept his health good) would very well be alive today at the ripe age of like 78 if my math is correct since he started as 13 in the series. (My math probably wrong asf)

Power imbalance, power bottom reader, knife play,  blood but not blood play...

He hated you.

Your very being irked him more than anything he'd ever experienced in all his centuries of living. You were clumsy, boisterous, and played that arrogant music all throughout your home while walking around half naked. Well in Muzan's opinion you were half naked, he couldn't even begin to describe his disbelief at the trend of exposing skin. 

It didn't help that you had that insignificant filth running through your veins. At first he was unsure, after all this was a completely different country than Japan, not to mention your darker skin and coiled hair. But no, he could smell and recognise the Kamado blood running through your veins just as strongly as it had run through all your ancestors. 

Completely undiluted. 

At the very beginning when you first moved in, you  came to his home. Knocking aggressively on his front door already getting off to the wrong start. When he opened it, you slipped past him and walked into his living room barely even saying hello as you put poorly decorated sugar cookies on his obsidian coffee table. "This is a nice place you got here Mj." 

Muzan's eyes twitched, that joke had long since gotten old since he moved to America. 

Now that you were closer he could definitely smell, the century old stench of rivaling bloodlust simmered just below your onyx skin. At any moment he expected you to attack him in some way or form. "Anyways I'm here to say hello neighbor, my name is Y/n and I'm your new best friend!"

Your happy attitude also agitated him to no end. Even though the knowledge of demons had dwindled down to only a few select families, even basic humans were wary of him as their baser instincts made them aware of his dangerous origins. This fact had long since forced Muzan to only prey on the elderly to survive. You had stayed a bit longer babbling about some nonsense that Muzan never acknowledged as he watched you from a good distance.

"You know you really got to add more to your wardrobe than 1963 suits." You walked from the back of his home, an area that he didn't even notice you wandered to. Finally getting bored, you open his door bidding your farewells. 

Just before leaving you stop and with a cheeky grin say, "If you ever need anything just come on over. We Kamado's are known for our kindness." 

Since then he'd been on edge around you. The point of relocating was for him to keep a low profile but now it seems he'd have to come face to face with an old nemesis reborn. 

Muzan snapped out of his thoughts with a flinch as he pierced his hand with his nail. He watches the dark blood well up from the wound and drip down his wrist. In the end this world had long since lost its hostility dwindling the average human incapable of basic combat. Giving you were no doubt a great descendant, Muzan failed to see you as a true threat.  

But one can never be too sure

🥢🥢🥢🥢🥢🥢🥢🥢🥢🥢🥢🥢🥢🥢🥢🥢🥢

You heard a knock on your door, soft and hesitant. "I don't think I'm expecting company." You checked your watch and peered out of a nearby window. It was at least 8 at night, you were braless wearing sweats with a red T-Shirt and on your way to bed.  In the back of your mind you visualize your two grand-uncles Inosuke and Zenitsu coming over to make you spectate their fights. For two old dudes they still had enough strength in them to do hip breaking nonsense.

You open the door shocked to see your next door neighbor standing before you. For once he wasn't wearing a suit that cost more than your house. His attire was still expensively dressed but in a more casual sense, that being a black dress shirt and slacks. His sleeves were rolled up displaying his pale skin. "Can I come in?" A dazzling smile you had never seen before practically blinds you as he walks past you into your home.

When Muzan walks in his eyes immediately dart to the clear as day Nichirin Blade sword displayed recklessly on your living room wall above your couch. "You like it?" A hand on his shoulder makes him jump, "Got it from my grandpa, he says it's really special but I feel like he's exaggerating. You know how old people are." Muzan shakes out of his stupor. "I don't quite understand what you mean by that, however I do know that it's much more wise to listen to your elders than ignoring…..It could save your life."

Muzan replicates you and puts a hand on your shoulder gently squeezing. This was it, he'd go in for the kill and it would be over, the amount of blood he'd pump into you would be enough to watch you meet a satisfying end of combustion completely untraceable if the police were to get involved. How he wishes he'd be there when your poor grandfather walks along your remains splattered on every surface in your living room. Unable to do a thing as he's finally in his last stretch of life. 

The beauty.

Muzan's finger only twitches in the slightest before pain sparks from his own neck. "The thought of you coming into my own home unprovoked and at night no less, was the most obvious sign one could ask more." You had his hand gripped so tight your veins popped while your other hand held a small pocket knife that burned  brighter than any Nichirin sword he'd ever encountered. He didn't understand, he was quick enough to kill even the best of the ancient Hiroshima. So how did a little foreign girl like you get the upper hand?

It was embarrassing and almost laughable if any of his pillars were alive to tell the tale.

You press the blade harder before bringing your other hand to caress Muzan's cheek,  "Did you think I'd be just an ignorant descendant of an infamous hero?" You clicked your teeth disappointingly. "How naive, you've really become lazy after all these millennia huh?" You walk forward, pushing Muzan back with seductive strength. He allows you to push him into your couch,  I say allow because at any time he could have stopped you.  

Muzan is most definitely not holding me at gunpoint right now. 

The knife never wavers even as you climb into Muzan's lap, pressing it even closer against his jugular. "You do know getting beheaded will not kill me, and I doubt this petty little kitchen knife will get the job done in the first place." Your lips draw into a smirk and you press the knife closer as you trail it down his chest, "That may be true but it's gonna take one hell of a time for you to grow back." Your hand jerks down, popping his shirt buttons open.

Muzan watches with interest, your eyes light up as more skin becomes exposed. The tones of your dark skin contrast strikingly as you caress his pectoral with the tips of your fingers. "For a 1,000 year old grandpa you look decent." Still threatening his life with your blade, you kiss him. It's deep and carnal. Your lustful desires being made known as you grind in his lap. The flesh of your ass snuggly hotdogs the forming outline of his cock. "I've always wanted to be with a demon. You've had to of become a real freak after living this long!"

When you pull away Muzan's thin lips are pink and a bit swollen. He is out of breath despite needing none, "You have a lot of nerve for a mere human." With your free hand you loosen the belt of his slacks, only standing to pull them off, pleased when Muzan voluntarily raises his hips to aid you. 

Don't get him wrong, he was still planning on killing you and ending your wretched bloodline once and for all, he just needed his mind to clear itself. Your scent, your confidence, strung him along like a puppet. His hands grip onto your ass cheeks like a lifeline. Molding them between his fingers, even giving them a shake through your sweats. His nails elongate and puncture the thick fabric as if it was nothing more than a spider web. 

Your sweats are tugged off completely leaving your lower half nude. Muzan moves his hands to hold your ass again but your blade politely makes itself known. You are out of breath and clearly flustered. "Watch yourself, demon, I'm the one calling the shots, don't forget that." Muzan bites his tongue with sharp glare. He raises his hands in surrender, "Of course." 

Muzan can feel your wetness against his leg and it's driving him insane. "Hey…" red eyes refocus on yours, "You ain't got any diseases do you? And you can't get me pregnant right?" Muzan smirks hands enclosing around your ass despite your protest. "I can, however it will cost a lot more than doing it once." The odds didn't seem in your favor but you were in no position to stand down and grab a condom and Muzan knew it.

You curve the blade towards his chin, "If you are lying and give me some ancient unknown disease or I find out you have superman sperm, I will kill you." Muzan links his lips, "Wasn't that the plan from the beginning or have you had a moment of level headedness?" Your wrist is quick and precise, cutting a thin slash along his jawline., not enough to scar and it barely even bled, but the threat was clear.

You grab Muzan's dick and use your thumb to attack the underside with fast strokes. Said man doesn't react outwardly, the only sign being his eyelids lowering by a fraction. "Were you always this well endowed or did you adjust this part too?" Muzan was not amused by your insinuation. Deciding to once again display the true power imbalance this situation had, he loops his arms underneath your large thighs and lifts you just enough to thrust his cock against your hole. 

From there he let's go, making you plop down on his length, making you yelp and allowing him to lean back with a relaxed sigh. You were so warm and tight. Now even though I explained what had happened with great detail,  keep in mind that in reality it all happened within a fraction of a second. 

Your large and in charge persona was cracking.  You gripped Muzan's sides tightly as your pussy spasmed around his girth. "F-Fuck it's too….." you trail off not wanting to give Muzan the credit he was truly due. 

It takes a few moments for you to get your bearings all the while Muzan and his dangerous jaw swayed in the crevice of your neck. A viper playing with its prey. The blade is back against his neck once again making his cock twitch. If he were human this would be a dangerous feat.  Your grip never slacked nor lessened against his neck, slicing into a growing wound that dropped dark blood down his chest and to his abdomen. 

His dick stretched your pussy and made it weap on each downstroke. Muzan's hands grip onto the cheeks of your ass with gritted teeth.  Your insides gripped him ever so slightly.  Sucking him back in as if he belonged there.  He felt used and it felt good.  His black ringlets stuck to his face from sweat and his red eyes grew in intensity. 

He couldn't see much of your body, hell he could barely even touch. In the back of his mind humorous thoughts such as how he knew Tanjiro would lose his sanity if he knew his granddaughter was being bedded by the man he despised. But the more you bounced, the more you squeezed, the deeper you cut into his neck proved that you were truly the one in charge. 

"Oh God you're so deep!" Your deep almond eyes shut themselves with pleasure. Muzan could feel your legs shaking with exertion at the same rhythm your pussy twitched. His balls felt tight after having no action in over a dozen years. "F-Faster." He has no care for your blade, only wanting to cum and feel the sweet ecstasy he knew your creamed pussy would provide. "Come on human, go faster." Muzan locks lips with you, gaze hardened and intent on proving some sort of point.

Tossing the knife you wrap your arms around his neck pulling his head closer. Red eyes target brown ones as his hands take a stronger grip on your ass. He uses his strength to bounce you. The sound of his balls slapping against the curve of your ass is just as disgusting as it is sexy. Your nipples rub against his through your tank-top making you both moan. The feeling blood stains your shirt making you shiver from the cool wetness

The couch you rest on bangs against the wall behind you the faster you both go. Muzan's feet are planted firmly in the ground, his fangs further elongated. He looks feral and it is in this moment where you get a glimpse of the horror many people felt when he took their lives. "Focus little Kamado, you wouldn't want to disappoint me now would you?" 

Muzan's hips meet yours, spreading the tempo. Your juices coat his lap before finally you tense up completely into a cramp inducing stance as Muzan impaled you on his cock one last time. "Ahh.." Muzan empties himself within you with a relieved sigh. 

Maybe the Kamado bloodline could go on.

[oneofthosesimps]

The Animal in Him

pairing: levi x fem!reader I nsfw

word count: 1986

summary: after erwin stares at you all day, levi's dark side takes over

warnings: anal, rough sex, dirtytalk, swearing, public sex, exposure/ humiliation, sub x dom

authors note: short stories suit me better, i think. and this time i really felt it again. besides, i wanted to try something anal, because it seems to me that this is rather rare among fanfictions (for whatever reason). if you like it, i might do part II, because i've already started <3

all credits to the artist of this pic

(unfortunately, i don't know who it's from. if anyone can help me further, feel free to write me)

-----

The sky is red orange, the sun is low and casts its last rays over the hills. Your hair shines as it falls down your back and individual strands wrap around your face over your shoulder. How beautiful it must look outside, you think to yourself, as your hands claw into the straw beneath you. A warm breeze comes in from outside, swirls around you, and continues to make its way down the hallway behind you. Far away you hear birds singing their songs as the sound of flesh hitting flesh almost drowns out the rest. The hand in your hair gets harder, gripping tighter, pulling at your scalp. You give in to the tugging, your head falling back into your neck, and a long moan escapes you. You hear the click of hooves and a horse snorting, disturbed by your sounds.

"Shut your mouth," it hisses behind you and your head is pulled back even further so you can see the wooden ceiling above you. Of course, you don't see a single spider web.

You moan louder and your legs begin to wobble beneath you. The hand loosens and joins the other one gripping your hip. Strong hands dig into the skin beneath them and you gasp.

"Everyone hears you, you little slut. Didn't I tell you to keep your mouth shut?".

"I-I'm sorry, sir."

At that word, his hands grip harder, leaving marks on your skin, clawing into your flesh. The thick cock inside you bores deeper into your creamy cunt, the angle changing slightly as it presses forward on your G-spot with each thrust. You drop your head forward, peering at the bale of straw below you with your image wobbling. Your half-open blouse shows just enough. Your bra sits uncomfortably under your breasts, pushing them up as they jiggle from front to back.

Your pussy feels drained, sore, as Levi thrusts indispensably into it. His eyebrows are drawn together, his teeth slightly bared as his dark gaze keeps wandering from his cock inside you, to your ass, to your back, to your face he can barely see, and back again. His brain tries to memorize every single spot on you and preserve that scene like a brand. Beads of sweat form on his forehead.

The knot in your belly tightens and more juice flows out of your core, making you even wetter. The next thrust hits differently, better, deeper. You moan loudly again, which is shattered by a slap to your ass. "Fuck, pet," he growls. His big hands grip your shoulders and he pulls you toward him, stopping his thrusts. His hot breath hits your neck, enveloping you. His hands drop to your breasts, trapping them. Your hard nipples stick forward and he pulls on them, almost painfully. Your eyes roll into your skull.

"What can your brain actually remember?" he hisses. "You can't keep your mouth shut. You can't stay standing on your own legs so I can fuck you. Hell, you can't even hold back in front of other men." The pain in your nipples intensifies as he pulls harder on them and you bite your lower lip. You squeeze your eyes shut and taste blood.

"I'm going to show Erwin what's mine, shit," he growls again. "If I catch him touching you one more time - no, if I catch him looking at you one more time, I'm going to break his bones." You whimper beneath him before he pulls his hands away and places them on your hips, but doesn't continue. The feeling of not having come, floods through you. It's no longer enough just to have his cock inside you. You want, no, need to come. You squirm slightly in his arms, trying to push his cock deeper inside you, more pressure. "Please, more, sir", you beg.

A deep, dark sound comes from his throat. His cock twitches inside you and he hears you sigh out. His gaze falls outside, out of the stable into the distance to the headquarters building. You follow him in confusion, seeing a few cadets walking around, lunch seems to be over. If you could see his face, you would notice through his half-closed eyes that there is no more of the silver left in his eyes. His pupils are blown, his look as dark as night.

"You know what, pet, you want to be heard all the time because you can't keep your damn mouth shut. Now you have the opportunity to give everyone a show." With his cock still buried deep inside, he drags you to your to the open stall door, out of your safe corner. The air is a little cooler now, circling around your nipples, which are hard again. You try to pull your blouse closed with your hands, but Levi pushes them aside, opens it again. "Oi, you don't want to do that".

"L-levi, no, please don't, it's not the same," you stammer.

"Ohh, it's not the same, she says. Stop whining."

You shiver a little and his body heat comes to you. You press against him tighter, hoping that no one around you will accidentally lay their eyes on you. You're aware that you're far away and probably no one could see anything, but the excitement inside you is rising anyway.

"I have another, better idea," he murmurs in your ear before pulling his cock out of you. You mewl at the loss of something inside you and are about to turn around when Levi takes your hips in his hands again and holds you tight.

"Bend over and spread your ass." Renewed confusion reflects on your face and Levi clicks his tongue in annoyance. He presses his hand into the small of your back and bends your torso forward. Your hands settle on your ass cheeks, spreading them for him, and he enjoys the sight.

"You know, pet," he murmurs as his hands caress your skin, "Erwin's gaze has been on your ass most of the time today. A thought popped into my head. I wonder what it feels like."

Your eyes widen as his glans touches your little hole. Your legs start to shake at the touch and your hands dig into your flesh. You look back over your shoulder at him. He rubs his cock back and forth, spreading your and his juice as a lubricant. In addition, he collects his saliva and spits on your most intimate place. His gaze falls on your face and he holds your gaze as he gently pushes and his tip enters you. You wince your face, but not in pain. This is different, the feeling is hard to describe. Your asshole is way, way too tight for him. Every single ring of your muscle is sucking him into you step by step, taking him captive. Levi's expression was indescribable. He had never felt anything like this before. You had always been tight, but this is a different act. A moan escapes him and you look at him. His eyes are closed and his lips are slightly parted. Your cheeks turn a deep red and he pushes further, your eyes twisting and you hold onto the frame of the door.

Reaching the end, he pauses for a moment, waiting for you to accept him a bit and for your body to get used to him before he slowly pulls his cock out again and repeats the motion. His body is screaming at him to be faster, to fuck you hard, to stretch your hole, but he wants to at least give you a few thrusts. Again, you feel every muscle accepting him, but this time much more easily. This repeats a few times before the first harder thrust comes. You finally groan out and that breaks the ice.

Levi increases his speed, the thrusts get harder, he literally fucks you away from him. His hands grip your waist to hold you back in place.

"I can see why Erwin keeps looking at your ass all the time," he growls. "He's probably dreaming about taking you like this. Any man would dream of fucking that hole if they knew how good it felt." At these words you moan loudly, your words lost in the surroundings and your anal muscle twitches. His moans get louder and he clenches his teeth. Around you, you hear the snorting of a horse again and you blush again as you think about what you are doing right now in this place. Never again would you have another connection with the stable.

"Fuck, pet, more of that. You are so infinitely tight." Levi's hand in the small of your back pushes you down harder and your ass comes further towards him. In the distance you can see more of your comrades and wonder all the way inside if they can hear and see you. What would you do if they could? The better question should be what would Levi do?

This sex is very different from others. The knot in your stomach isn't forming, there's no orgasm in sight, but the feeling was still one of the most pleasurable you've ever felt in your life. And Levi's reaction makes it all worth it either way. He looks like he's floating in heaven. His eyes fall on his cock in your asshole and he almost comes. He gives himself two slow thrusts, memorizing the image of your hole swallowing him before pulling his cock out. He has to pull himself together, he wants to enjoy this longer after all. At the sight of your little hole pulsing and trying to grasp the emptiness, the knot almost explodes again and the air in his lungs is forced out of him. He is speechless. He won't be able to stand another minute. He had never seen anything so erotic. Your face covered with a blush looks at him and his heart skips a beat. He now regrets using your hole for the first time here in the open. No one but him will ever see you like this, he swears to himself. What was he thinking, fucking you here? You deserved more. Never again, he tells himself, before thrusting into you again with one smooth thrust and fucking you like a madman. Your moans become uncontrolled, louder. He has only one thought: to fill you. To fill your asshole with his juice. To show Erwin that you belong to him, will belong to him forever. God, he loves you so incredibly. He loves your cunt as it milks him. He loves your asshole as it sucks around him.

Another thrust, another thrust, another thrust. The knot in his belly loosens, his juice squirts into you, filling you to the top. It's too much, which is why it's being pushed out the sides of his shaft as he tries to survive his orgasm. It almost knocks him out, the world spinning, coming apart at the seams. He clings to you for a constant point and you moan with him at the sounds he makes.

When he regains consciousness, he looks into your eyes, which sparkle at him, and he pulls out of you. Again, your asshole twitches at the loss and he would love to start all over again. Your body relaxes a bit and your back aches from the bad posture. It's already dawning on you how your butt will feel tomorrow.

"I'm sorry you didn't come," he murmurs, pulling you into his arms. His lips meet your forehead and he pulls your blouse down over your breasts. You snuggle up to him and enjoy his tender touch. He looks past you at the wet spot you just left on the floor - a mixture of your juice and his sperm. The animal in him takes hold again and overcomes him. His lips meet your ear, "I'll take you inside now, and then we'll repeat."

[wifekasa]

hello! i really enjoy ur content and i read that ur requests are open, so is it okay if i can request something where levi and the reader had an argument, and the rest of the scouts are very aware of it because of the very cold and scary aura coming from them, and so the squad tries various ways to set them up so they can make up with another? thank you!!😁

a/n: ahh first of all thank you! second off, i love this idea omg 🙏 also the reader is another captain!!

levi x reader

“don’t die on me.”

cw: swearing, one kiss scene, mentions of death (barely)

The scouts immediately knew something was wrong when you entered the dining area. It was like there was a dark aura floating around your body that caused everyone within a 4 foot vicinity of you to scatter away like startled birds. Your eyebrows were furrowed and your back was hunched. You stalked into the room and sank down beside Hange who seemed rather unfazed by your cold attitude.

“Oi. Y/N. What’s up with the murderous look in your eye? I think you made the scouts shit themselves.” They chuckled, biting into their bread and looking at you with a hint of amusement twinkling in their eyes.

You lip twitched downward as you scoffed, “Ask shorty.”

Hange made a noise of surprise that you ignored, turning back to your food. You were not in the mood to be pestered. Picking at your food with distain, you tuned out the rest of the room. Due to this, you missed the short raven-haired man walking into the room with the same cold presence that you were amitting. You felt his eyes burning holes into your head but refused to look up, you didn’t wanna give that bastard the time of day.

Levi scoffed when you ignored him, grabbing his plate and settling down at the opposite end of your table. Hange nearly rolled their eyes at the pettiness the two of you were displaying.

Clearing their throat, the titan enthusiast spoke up, “Trouble in paradise?”

“Shut up.” You both countered in sync, still refusing to acknowledge eachother.

The two of you were too stubborn to admit that you were wrong. Maybe neither of you were in the wrong but after the shouting match that took place last night, you didn’t feel like immediately making amends. You had tried to express to Levi how scared you were that he was going to die on one of these missions, however your tone was quite harsh and Levi misread it. He took it as you not having faith in his abilities which was a punch to the gut for the stubborn Captain. He in return, argued that you were running the same risk on missions and since you weren’t nearly as strong as him, you had an even higher risk of getting hurt. Frustrated that he insulted your abilities and didn’t see your point, you stormed out of his office, slamming the door behind you.

The two of you hadn’t spoken since the blowup last night and it was now mid-afternoon the next day. You were in charge of training the scouts this afternoon and due to the anger boiling up inside of you, you put them through a particularly rigorous training course. All of them were clutching their sides and panting heavily when you finally dismissed them.

“Is it just me or does Captain Y/N seem a little harsh today?” Connie spoke up as he downed a glass of water.

“Yeah, that training course kicked my ass. I think they had a fight with Levi, I heard some of the soldiers talking about it.” Jean replied.

Sasha was quiet for a minute before she finally spoke up, “I have an idea!” She exclaimed with a mischievous glint in her eye.

“That’s not good.” Armin commented quietly.

Later that night, Sasha had cornered you and told you there was scary noises coming from a broom closet and had asked for help checking it out. You reluctantly agreed, only because it was getting late and you wanted to get to bed. The two of you went to the closet, footsteps echoing across the quiet halls.

Entering the small room, you spoke, “Hmm. Sasha there’s nothing in here, are you sure-.” You got cut off due to the door being slammed in your face and locked shut.

Jiggling the handle aggressively, you yelled, “Sasha Braus I swear to god, if you don’t let me out of here it’s no bread for a week!”

Sasha gulped but stayed strong, hoping Armin was on his way with Levi. Ten minutes later, Armin showed up... without Levi. Sasha’s eyes nearly popped out of her head, “Armin, where the hell is Levi?!”

Armin scratched the back of his neck, “He wouldn’t come. Said I should ‘get some balls and go look at the noise by myself’.”

Sasha sheepishly opened the door to a very angry Captain, crying as you yelled and told her she wasn’t getting bread for a week. You’d almost felt bad if it weren’t for the fact that several spiders decided to crawl up your leg while you were trapped inside the miserable closest.

The next day, you were in an even worse mood because of the broom closet accident. So, the scouts went back to planning the reunion of their two grumpy captains.

The new plan consisted of getting the two of you within ten feet of each other, which proved difficult. Eren and Jean would both ask for combat training from the two of you and hoped that maybe being close to each other would spark a conversation between you two.

However, the plan backfired when seeing eachother made the two of you even angrier so you both fought the boys aggressively which resulted in Jean and Eren laying on their asses as the two of you stalked off in seperate directions.

You were quite grumpy at this point, snapping at the smallest things and taking things out on the wrong people. You knew it was wrong but you couldn’t help it; it felt like everyone was trying to piss you off.

By now, Hange had grown tired of you and Levi’s negative energy and the beat-up scouts. So finally, they decided to step in.

They found you in your office working on paperwork and quickly grabbed your hand, rudely dragging you away from your work.

“What the hell Hange!” You exclaimed, trying to turn back to your work but Hange had a suprisingly strong grip.

“Sorry! But I need to show you this thing I’ve been working on. It’s urgent!” They explained as they pulled you through the halls. They stopped in front of a random room, opening the door and shoving you in.

“Oi, four eyes, where is the ‘urgent thing’ you needed to show me?” You gasped as you realized Levi was in the room that Hange had just thrown you into.

Levi’s eyes widened when he noticed you in the room and he started shaking his head, “Don’t you dare Hange-.”

SLAM.

Hange locked the door, leaving the two of you sitting alone in your tension. The silence was heavy as you avoided eye contact, plotting the many ways you could get back at the scientist for this later. You were so caught up in your own thoughts you didn’t even realize Levi was staring at you till he spoke up.

“Do you ever plan to let us talk this out or are you just gonna be an angry brat for the rest of your life?” His tone was cold.

Your eyes snapped up to meet his grey ones, searching them for any emotion but you were met with nothing, his walls were up. “What is there to talk about? You made it clear how you feel.”

“How I feel?” He questioned.

“That I’m not strong enough for you. Maybe I’m not humanity’s strongest but I’m talented and that deserves to be recognized. I’m not gonna let you shit on my talent just because I hurt your ego. Which by the way, I don’t even know why you thought I was attacking your skills. I just want you to be safe and I don’t know why you can’t just- MHPM.” Your rant was cut off midway by the feeling of warm lips against yours.

You froze for a moment before returning the kiss, running your hands up into his hair and opening your mouth to deepen the kiss. Levi’s hands snaked around you waist, pulling you tight against his chest. This continued for a few more seconds before you pulled away, cheeks flushed and lips swollen.

Levi spoke up, “I know you’re a talented soldier, it’s something I really respect about you. I shouldn’t have phrased it the way I did, I just... I don’t want to lose you. So, I want you to be the best because then, my chances of loosing you are less.” You looked at him in shock.

His grey eyes showed love and ... fear. The fear of loosing you like he’d lost so many. Your chest tightened at the sight. Tears pricked in your eyes as you pulled him into another hug.

“You don’t have to worry about me, okay? I’m gonna fight with everything I got to make sure I come home to you. You just make sure you do the same, don’t go dying on me.” Your speech was slightly muffled by his shirt but he nodded nonetheless.

“Yay! The lovebirds finally made up! Good! I was worried you were gonna kill the scouts.” Hange laughed from the other side of the now opened door.

a/n: this ain’t the greatest but i wrote it at midnight so yk 😐👋

[graceful-starker]

The Art Of Seduction (Alternate Ending)

Summary: I wanted a dark spin off of what actually happens in my fit, so here ya nasties go.

Warnings: rape/dub-con, dark characters, self harm.

(You can read the actual chapter this is based on or: Basically, Peter was about to tell Tony that he loves him, but Harley interrupted. Harley told Peter Tony would never love him, Peter got butthurt. Harley took advantage of the situation and tried to seduce Tony. They start having sex, and Peter interrupts them, they all have Feelings™ and Peter runs away. That’s where this picks up).

~

Harley breaks into Peter’s room, absolutely seething as he takes in the boy sobbing on his bed. “Parker,” he growls lowly.

Peter stiffens, turning over to look at Harley. “You win, okay!” Peter yells, tears clouding his vision. “You win. You were right. He doesn’t love me, he doesn’t want me. You win. Just--just go away. You win.”

Harley growls again, slamming the door shut behind him. “Stop throwing yourself a fucking pity party.” Harley goes over to the bed, pulling Peter up by his shirt onto his feet.

Peter sobs again, not even putting up a fight. He doesn’t feel like stopping Harley from doing whatever he’s about to do. He almost wants to hurt. “Harley, stop...”

Harley doesn’t listen. He kisses Peter roughly, biting and sucking and clashing their teeth together. Everything that his kiss with Tony wasn’t.

“Stop-” Peter sobs into Harley’s mouth, confused on top of heart broken. He doesn’t understand what’s going on.

“No,” Harley growls back, pushing Peter onto the bed. Peter looks up at Harley with tear-filled eyes, and it pisses the southern boy off even more. He rips Peter’s shirt off over his head, before wrestling Peter’s jeans off as well.

“Stop!” Peter cries out, moving a hand to grab onto Harley’s wrist. “What the hell are you doing? Go fuck Tony!”

Harley slaps Peter’s hand away, and the slightly younger boy gasps in surprise. Harley yanks off Peter’s boxers, moving Peter’s legs to be folded up near his chest. He uses one arm to hold Peter’s legs up there, and spits on his other hand. He rubs the spit over Peter’s hole, before spitting again and pressing two fingers over Peter’s hole.

“Stop,” Peter says again, but doesn’t physically try to stop Harley again. “Stop, I’ve never--I’ve never-”

Harley pauses at this. “You’ve never bottomed before?”

“I was...” Peter feels a new round of tears fall down his cheeks, and he goes limp in Harley’s hold. He doesn’t want to fight it anymore. He’s so tired. “I was saving myself for Tony.”

Harley snorts meanly, pushing a finger in without waiting for any further word from Peter. “Well, you don’t have to now, do you?” he asks sarcastically. He doesn’t technically lie; he isn’t outright saying Tony doesn’t want Peter, so it isn’t a lie.

Peter closes his eyes and swallows a sob, letting the sorrow overwhelm him. Yeah, he definitely wants to be hurt now. What’s the point of stopping Harley? He isn’t going to be wanted by Tony either way, so what’s the point? At least someone wants him.

Harley ignores Peter’s tears, pushing in a second finger without any extra spit or time to aid it.

Peter’s breath hitches as he feels something sting, and he assumes this is what tearing feels like. “Stop, it hurts,” Peter protests weakly. screwing his eyes shut.

Harley ignores him, assuming that Peter would physically stop him if he actually didn’t want this. It isn’t like Harley, some kid straight out of high school, could physically over power Spider-Man. He spreads his fingers apart, moving them in and out quickly.

Once he pulls his fingers out, he can see that Peter is, in fact, bleeding. But he doesn’t care. He’s heart broken and pissed off and Peter ruined everything and he just wants to take the pain he’s feeling inside out on Peter.

Peter sobs as he feels Harley’s tip press against his rim, reaching down and trying to keep Harley’s hips away. “Please, Harley,” he whispers, shaking his head. “Please don’t. You already won.”

It’s almost enough to make Harley back off all together. But instead- “Actually?” he asks, loosening his grip on Peter’s legs. “I’ll stop if you really want me to stop, but if this is just you being petty...”

Peter sobs brokenly, pushing Harley away again. He rolls over onto his stomach, hugging his pillow and pushing his ass up. This is not how Peter wanted to lose his virginity. He never pictured it being with someone who hates him. Someone who’s completely dressed, with their cock hanging out of their zipper. He never thought he would be crying, and he never thought his consent would be questionable.

But Harley said he would stop if Peter really wanted him to, so that counts for something, right?

Harley spreads Peter’s cheeks, lining his cock up again. “Are you sure?” Harley growls impatiently, almost skipping the second check in altogether.

“Yes,” Peter mumbles into the pillow, clenching his eyes tightly shut.

It hurts more than he was expecting.

Peter feels like his hole is being lit on fire. Harley’s cock splits him open, sending jolts of pain up his spine. Harley rocks into him at a steady pace, sending Peter up and down the bed roughly.

The only sound is the bed creaking with the rocking, Harley’s clothed hips slamming into Peter’s, and Peter’s soft crying.

He hugs his pillow tightly, staring forward at the headboard as it gets closer and farther away. But every time he thinks about how Tony looked while kissing Harley, the image is fucked out of him.

It’s worth it.

He thinks he prefers the physical pain. Physical pain stops, and Peter heals fast. “Don’t stop,” Peter chokes when Harley’s hips start to falter, signifying that he’s close.

“Yeah?” Harley breathes, snapping his hips faster into Peter. “You like that, you fucking slut? Like the way I use you? At least you’re being useful for once, instead of fucking everything up, right?”

Peter sobs brokenly and nods, hiding his face more in the pillows. “Yeah, like it,” he agrees. He likes the distraction.

“Gonna make me cum,” Harley growls, going even harder than he was before.

Peter pushes his hips to meet Harley’s, whimpering at the pain. “Please don’t stop,” Peter begs.

It doesn’t work, of course. Harley finishes, burying his cock as deep as he can. Once he’s emptied his balls, he pulls out and watches the pinkish cum drip out of Peter’s abused asshole.

Peter sobs once the pain eases, reaching behind him with one hand and pushing three fingers in. It spreads him even more than before, reopening the small tears and creating new ones.

Harley laughs at him, smacking Peter’s hand away and shoving his own fingers inside. It makes Peter wince and cry harder, pushing his hips back to meet the intrusion. “Fucking slut,” Harley accuses, slapping Peter’s asscheek. “So desperate for something inside your slutty little hole, aren’t you? You get your first cock and you already are addicted.”

Peter sobs brokenly. The pain is doing what Peter wants, though; he isn’t thinking about Tony. He isn’t thinking about how sad he is.

“Yes,” Peter mumbles. “Yes.”

~

Peter makes his way into Tony’s lab, staring at the floor. He can’t make eye contact with the older man; he just can’t. He feels so heartbroken, and so guilty for what he did with Harley. Harley and Tony are obviously together now; Peter saw them, after all. But then he went and let Harley fuck him. More than once. The past week, the week after he caught Harley and Tony, Peter has done nothing except stay in his room and, when Harley shows up, have sex.

And it’s so stupid, to feel like he’s betraying Tony. Tony doesn’t want him, doesn’t love him. But Tony does love Harley, and Harley and Peter are still fucking, and that-that does feel like betrayal.

But he finally came out of his room, and came down to the lab; he can’t hide from his feelings forever.

“Peter,” Tony breathes, feeling like he’s in a dream. He wasn’t sure he would ever see the kid again. He wouldn’t blame Peter for not wanting to come back.

Peter swallows thickly, still unable to look up. “So...I had this idea for my web formula,” Peter says. He hates himself for not being able to keep the heart break out of his voice.

“I’m sorry, Peter. I’m so sorry, you--you have no idea. I...I don’t have an excuse, kid. I was just...I wasn’t sure if you actually wanted me, but Harley--I was sure he wanted me. And I was--I was scared, and I did something selfish, and I’m sorry.” His voice is begging Peter to look up, begging to be forgiven.

Peter finally does look up, trying and failing to keep the tears away. “What?” he whispers, looking just to the left of Tony’s eyes.

Tony swallows thickly, taking another step towards Peter. “Kid...I lo...I love you, Peter. I have since...since forever. And I’m sorry that I-that I threw that chance away for something I wasn’t even sure I wanted, and I...I’m sorry, Peter. I really am.” Tony steps into Peter’s space, hesitantly reaching out to take the boy’s hand.

“You...” Peter can finally meet Tony’s eyes, chest rapidly moving. “You love me?”

Tony nods, throat feeling thick. “I do, kid. I really do. I’m sorry.”

“What about...what about Harley?” Peter looks back down, feeling guilty. 

“I...I shouldn’t have ever done that. Please Peter, please take me--not back, but you know. Please.” Tony pulls the boy closer, hugging him. 

Peter sobs, clinging to the older man. “You won’t fuck him anymore?”

Tony shakes his head, hugging Peter as tight as he can. “Never. I swear.”

Peter shakes as he takes the promise in, before pulling back only enough to kiss the older man. 

Tony fucked up, and Peter fucked up after that. They can pretend they’re even, and pretend nothing ever happened. They can start over. 

Peter could be happy. 

~

Harley slams Peter’s door open and then slams it back closed, locking the door behind him. “You’re with Tony,” he says in disbelief. 

Peter looks up, a smitten smile on his face. “He does want me. You were wrong.”

“But he-” Harley shakes his head. 

“He said you were a mistake,” Peter says gleefully. 

Harley’s heart breaks all over again, and he starts to breathe heavily. “Take it back. He didn’t say that.”

Peter shrugs happily, feeling like he’s taking revenge on the boy for making him feel like shit all week. “He did.”

Harley shoves Peter into angry tears filling his eyes. “Shut up.”

“Get off of me,” Peter spits. “I can’t fuck you anymore, I’m with Tony.”

Harley almost breaks. But then-

Harley laughs, almost maniacally, an evil grin splitting his face open. “Oh, Petey...”

Peter gulps, unnerved. “What the fuck?”

Harley laughs again, leaning in and whispering into the younger boy’s ear. “You used to fuck me.”

“Used to. Now I’m with Tony.” Peter squirms. 

Harley tsks, as if Peter said something wrong. “Oh, but sweet Peter, you’re still going to sleep with me.”

“No I’m-”

“Or I’ll tell Tony you cheated on him with me,” he finishes, pulling back to watch as the horror of the realization kicks in. “Oh Tony, it was just so awful! He’s so much stronger than me, I was so scared! I begged him to stop, I really did! But he wouldn’t listen. He just kept going, until all I could do was cry for help as he raped me and-”

“Stop,” Peter whispers, horrified. “Stop. I would never rape anyone, he knows that!”

“Hm,” Harley says, as if he’s thinking about it. He cocks his head to the side, unable to stop himself from smiling. “Maybe. Or maybe you were so jealous, so angry, that you snapped. Maybe the fact that he fucked me before he fucked you bothered you so much, you fucked the memory of his tongue inside me right-”

“Stop!” Peter cries, tears filling his eyes. “Don’t. Don’t! That’s awful, don’t say those things!”

Harley turns Peter around, so his face is in the wall. “So what’s it going to be, Parker? Are you a rapist? Or are you going to spread ‘em and let me show you who the real boss is?” He growls the last few words, and punctuates his sentence by grinding into Peter’s ass. 

Peter shakes violently, fear of both options colluding his mind and judgement. “Please don’t,” he begs softly, eyes closing. 

Harley grins, pulling Peter’s pants down. “Bit onto something, darlin’. Because I’’m going to hurt you as bad as you and Tony hurt me.” 

The promise is the last thing that Peter hears, before Harley is shoving in dry and without prep. 

[fanficshiddles]

Loki’s Scream House, One Shot

Casey goes to Loki’s Scream House, not expecting to actually scream. But Loki likes to play and torture. 

Warnings: Rape/non-con, forced orgasms, douching, enema, pain, trapping, restraints, double penetration.

- Casey was so annoyed that her friends had all bailed on her. On Halloween, no less.

They said they’d heard rumours about Loki’s Scream house being far too scary, so had cancelled on her. Instead deciding to go to a party instead.

‘Bunch of chickens.’ Casey muttered as she made her way up the hill to where the Scream house sat. She would go to this haunted house and then turn up at the party, telling them all about her scary experience.

She snorted to herself at the thought. How scary could a haunted house be? Apparently this one was aptly named and would make her scream. But she doubted that.

As she got closer, she could indeed hear screaming from inside. But she was almost certain it was fake, she didn’t see any cars around. She doubted there was even anyone else inside. But since she had already bought a ticket, she wasn’t letting ten quid go to waste. She at least wanted to get her money’s worth with a laugh at how bad it was.

Upon reaching the door, she went to knock but the door slowly swung open. Revealing a tall man in an all-black suit. Matching his long black hair. His face was quite pale, but he had striking features. The smirk that crossed his face was slightly terrifying. But Casey smiled.

‘Welcome, to my Scream house.’ His smirk grew even larger as he put his arms out to the side and motioned for her to come in.

She stepped inside, looking around her. It was more like an abandoned house than a haunted one.

‘So… what’s the deal?’ Casey asked, stopping a few feet from Loki.

‘You know the deal. You bought a ticket for a tour around my Scream house. If you don’t scream, you get a refund. Well, I say tour. It’s more a walk around, I shall not be guiding you. Feel free to check out all the rooms. But do not, and I repeat, do NOT go into the basement. It is off limits.’ He said firmly.

Casey raised an eyebrow. ‘Okayyy…’

‘Enjoy!’ Loki bowed and then suddenly disappeared in a green haze and the door behind her slammed shut, making her jump slightly.

‘Must be on some sort of timer. It’s all just magic tricks.’ She said to herself.

Deciding to get this over with, she went down the corridor and into the first room she came across. It was a normal living room. But as she stepped inside, a web came down over her and a huge mechanical spider came flying out of the wall towards her, before then disappearing back inside. It did make her squeal, so she would give him that one. But it wasn’t a scream.

Fighting the web off, she looked around the room and wandered over to the fire place. There was a large cauldron on the fire, something was bubbling inside. She peeked in and saw some bones in there and a skull floated to the top. She rolled her eyes and moved on to another room.

She found all the rooms to be rather boring. She jumped once or twice, but it was nothing spectacular. Fake mechanical robots as witches and werewolves, vampires and ghouls.

Casey made her way to the last room, but it was just as dull. When she exited it, she was faced with the door that led down to the basement. But it was locked when she tried the handle.

Curiosity took over her though, so she had a quick search for the key. It was in the most obvious of places for hiding a key, on top of the door frame.

‘Typical.’ She huffed as she put it in the lock and turned.

She knew Loki had warned her not to go down there, but it’s like when you see a wet paint sign. You can’t help but touch it to see if it’s actually wet.

It was dark as she made her way down the steps, but once she reached the bottom automatic lights came on. There was another door just a few feet on front of her. There was no lock on it, so she was able to just push it open. But once she stepped inside, before she even had a chance to take in the room, the large door swung shut behind her.

She turned around and tried to open it again, but it was locked. She frantically looked around for a key but there wasn’t even a door handle.

‘What the fuck?’ She panicked, eyes wide. But then she noticed a small screen to the left of the door. She tried pushing on it, and to her relief it came to life.

But her heart sank when she read what it said.

Complete all tasks to unlock the door.

Power wash – not completed

Clean out – not completed

Rope walk – not completed

Stuffed – not completed

‘What the actual fuck?’ She gasped, eyes wide.

That’s when she turned around to see what she was dealing with.

There was a brick wall opposite her, but there was nothing else there. It just seemed like an empty room. But she heard a beeping noise before Loki’s voice filled the room.

‘Naught girl, disobeying my orders.’ But he sounded delighted at the fact. ‘Unfortunately for you, you’ve stumbled into my unfinished play room. You see, I built this for an ex to have some fun in. She enjoyed some challenges. But there were a few… teething issues that I have yet to fix. There is no escaping the room, unless you follow through the entire programme. You need to start by removing all your clothes and going over to the brick wall.’

‘What the hell? Get me out of here! You perv, I’m not doing that!’ Casey stared banging on the door.

‘You can tire yourself out as much as you wish, pet. But until you do as you’re told and complete each task, you will be stuck there. As much as I would like to come and let you out, I can’t. There is no other way. And I did warn you not to enter.’

Casey checked every nook and cranny for a way out, but there was nothing. She tried pressing more buttons on the screen but nothing worked.

Loki watched in amusement from his room, the camera directly at her. It would follow her every movement and she had no idea it was there.

He smirked when he saw she finally gave in. Two hours later. Knowing and accepting there was just one way out.

Casey whined in defeat. She started to remove her clothes, feeling extremely vulnerable. Even more so when she heard his voice again.

‘That’s a good girl. The sooner you get through the tasks, the sooner you will be out of here.’

‘You creep! You’re watching?’ She gasped, trying to hide her breasts.

Loki chuckled. ‘I am. How else am I supposed to make sure you’re safe?’

Casey gritted her teeth but carried on with removing her knickers. She shivered slightly as the floor was stone cold.

‘Now, get over to the wall so we can begin.’ Loki purred.

Casey closed her eyes and tried not to cry. She had to remain calm and composed to get through this. Then as soon as she was out, she was calling the police on his freaky ass for sure. She wasn’t going to let this sick freak get away with it.

She walked hesitantly over to the wall. As soon as she was within two feet of it, holes in the wall suddenly opened up and four mechanical arms came flying out. Before she could react, they grabbed her wrists and ankles, holding her just above the floor in a spread-eagle position. She cried out and tried to struggle, but the arms were too strong.

‘Beautiful. As I said before, I wouldn’t bother trying to fight it, pet. You will only tire yourself out.’

Casey whimpered as she heard another bit on the wall opening up. But she relaxed a tiny bit when she saw it was a shower head. She was super confused.

‘Ah, power wash. The first task for you to endure.’ Loki hummed.

He watched in absolute delight from the comfort of his room. A glass of wine at hand and some grapes. His belt was unbuckled and his zipper open, because he knew it wouldn’t be long before he would need easy access.

Casey’s moment of relaxation was over very quickly. There was a whirring noise and suddenly the shower head started spraying water. But the force was very strong, more than the average shower head.

It hit her stomach first. The water was warm though, which she was glad of. It soaked her entire body first, then focused in on her breasts. But that wasn’t the worst part.

The shower head moved down between her legs and aimed directly up against her cunt. She cried out as the pressure hit her so forcefully, she thought she was going to pass out. It moved in a little closer, making her howl as it then hit her clit. Which she was ashamed to realise was throbbing in pleasure.

Her head flew backwards as she tightened her hands into fists and cried out as she came hard. It wasn’t a nice orgasm though, it was a forced one. So quick, she hadn’t been able to fully enjoy it. To her horror, the shower head remained in place, aiming directly at her sensitive little clit. Forcing her into another painful orgasm.

‘Ooo, so delightful to watch, pet. I think you enjoyed that much more than you are willing to admit.’ He growled.

After twenty minutes, but felt like a life-time to Casey, the shower head stopped and she was lowered to the ground. Her legs were like jelly and she fell to her knees as the mechanical arms were retracted into the wall.

She crawled away from the wall, near the door. Panting and exhausted already. She heard a pinging noise and looked up at the screen by the door.

Complete all tasks to unlock the door.

Power wash – completed

Clean out – not completed

Rope walk – not completed

Stuffed – not completed

‘Well done for completing the first task. I wonder how you will fair with the second.’

Casey took a while to get her breath back. Then Loki coaxed her to go back to the wall for the second one. She dreaded to think what it was going to be.

Her body was still a bit weak, but she managed to get to her feet and walked over to the wall again. The same parts in the wall opened up and the same mechanical arms came out and restrained her in a spread-eagle position once more.

‘This is my favourite task, I must say.’ Loki’s sinful voice said across the speaker, making Casey bite her tongue to refrain from saying anything smart. Considering the position she was in, she knew it was best to keep quiet.

This time, instead of a shower head coming out of the wall, two lubricated tubes came out. What was contained within them Casey had no idea. But she knew she was about to find out pretty soon.

She started whining when the tubes moved down between her legs. One positioned at her pussy, the other at her anus. And they seemed to just hover there for a moment, as if dragging out her expected torture.

Loki smirked and started stroking his cock languidly. He flicked his wrist and moaned as the tubes thrust into both of Casey’s holes.

Casey bit down on her tongue hard to keep herself from screaming as she was violated in both holes. The lube made them slip in easier and the tubes weren’t too wide, but it was still uncomfortable. Especially the one in her anus, she had never put anything up there before.

But it got a lot worse for the poor girl.

Water started shooting into her, from both tubes.

‘Oh no… NO! PLEASE NO! STOP!’ She started crying out, but all she heard was Loki chuckling in return.

The enema in her ass felt so uncomfortable as she was filled with the warm water. It made her feel so heavy and bloated. The douching felt the same, very uncomfortable. The water kept pumping into her from both tubes until she felt like she was going to explode.

Suddenly the tubes popped out of her and she gasped as the water rushed out of her. Giving her such a strange feeling, a rather erotic feeling. But she pushed that thought out of her mind, she wasn’t going to give Loki the satisfaction.

But the tubes were replaced, not just twice but three times. Making sure she was thoroughly cleaned out.

‘Excellent, that’s you sparkling clean. Inside and out.’ Loki chuckled.

He wiped his own cum up with a tissue, he never did last long when watching a clean out.

Casey was once again released from the mechanical arms. She managed to stumble back over towards the door. Looking at the screen when it pinged.

Complete all tasks to unlock the door.

Power wash – completed

Clean out – completed

Rope walk – not completed

Stuffed – not completed

‘Oh god. What the hell is rope walk?’ She asked, looking around the room.

‘You will find out soon enough.’ Loki purred.

Casey just wanted this to be over with now. So she went back over to the wall, wanting it to hurry up. Expecting the same arms to appear, she was surprised when this time it was different.

One large hole opened up and a huge mechanical arm with one clamp came out. It reached straight for her and snapped around her middle, locking her in tightly with her arms trapped down at her sides. She squeaked and tried to kick out as it lifted her up in the air.

The floor then changed and there was a long treadmill appeared beneath her. Then a long rope was pulled from one side of the room to the other, going above the treadmill. But there were many knots along the rope.

‘What the…’ Casey trailed off when she was lowered down onto the rope. She cried out and tried going up on her tiptoes to avoid it. But the rope was just the right height, snugly fitting between her pussy lips and directly on her clit. She was on her tiptoes already and it was painful, so she knew if she let her feet go flat that would be the end of her.

‘I suggest you start walking, pet.’ Loki demanded.

‘Wh… what the hell? No way!’ She cried out, knowing those knots would be painful on her. Hell, even just the rope alone would be.

‘Don’t say I didn’t warn you. You have to reach the other end to complete this task. If you don’t get moving, the treadmill will start. Making it so much more difficult for yourself.’

Loki was hard and throbbing once more. This task was always a delight to watch too, so much fun seeing his victims in pain.

Casey knew he wouldn’t be lying. So to try and get it over with, she started walking forward. But the drag of the rope on her clit burned and was so painful. When she reached the first knot, she struggled. It was quite a large knot and when she tried to pass it, it hit her clit and made her cry out in pain.

‘I can’t do it!’ She cried out, tears spilling down her cheeks.

‘You will be stuck forever on there if you don’t. The tasks don’t stop, another fault I need to fix.’

She soon learned how difficult it could get. The treadmill beneath her started to move very slowly in the opposite direction to where she was wanting to go, so she had no option but to walk. Not only making her tire quicker, but the movement was hurting.

To keep up and get past the knot, she had to walk even quicker on her tiptoes to beat the treadmill. She closed her eyes and took a big deep breath, then just went for it and forced herself to walk forward as quickly and forcefully as possible, getting over the knot with a scream.

Loki was jerking another one off rapidly as he watched her force herself across the rope. Crying and screaming in pain, especially when she came to another knot. But she was getting on far too easily, so to make it difficult and more of a challenge, he spun his finger around.

To Casey’s horror, the treadmill started to speed up a bit more. She couldn’t keep up, and was dragged backwards on the rope. The treadmill forced her back over a few knots, her screams of pain echoed around the room each time.

‘NO, YOU BASTARD!’ She howled loudly.

Loki laughed wickedly as he had another orgasm, making a mess of himself again.

It took three hours, three hours of absolute agony and torture before Casey managed to get across the other side of the rope. She was completely exhausted, broken. Her poor clit was battered and bruised. She was sure there were no nerve endings left.

She had never felt more relieved as she was in that moment when she was lifted from the rope and the treadmill. She collapsed in the middle of the room, unable to move. Her body so tired, she passed out from sheer exhaustion.

-

When she came to four hours later, she sobbed as she realised she was still in that room. It hadn’t been a nightmare.

But there was a tiny glimmer of hope when she looked at the screen.

Complete all tasks to unlock the door.

Power wash – completed

Clean out – completed

Rope walk – completed

Stuffed – not completed

One more to go. She dreaded to think what it was, but surely it wouldn’t be worse than what she had just endured. It couldn’t be.

‘Glad to see you are awake, pet. One more task to go.’

‘Ok… Let’s get it over with.’ She made her way over to the wall.

Again, mechanical arms came out. This time the floor opened up to reveal a large metal table that came up and she was laid upon. The mechanical arms were replaced by leather straps. But her feet were raised up and spread wide apart, her bum just over the edge of the table.

She closed her eyes and waited, while nothing happened. Part of her thought maybe the next machine was broken, whatever it would be. How Loki had made all of these tasks, she had no idea. He must be some evil genius or something.

Fear ran through her veins when she heard heavy footsteps walking towards her. She looked down, but her head was quickly forced back down when a large strap came up from the table and wrapped around her neck, holding her down.

She was trembling badly when Loki approached her between her legs. She was startled when she felt his cool hands stroke her thighs. She could just see Loki in her view, looming over her.

‘Well, well, well. Ready for the final task, are we?’ He grinned.

‘I… I thought you couldn’t get in?’ She whimpered.

Loki chuckled and leaned down, biting into her inner thigh that made her cry out. ‘I am the god of lies, pet. And I can get in wherever I want to. Including your lovely body that has been prepared so nicely for me and my friend.’

That made her eyes widen. His friend? What?

She wasn’t left wondering for long. Another being walked over to her, but she was shocked and confused to see it was another Loki.

‘What… What the heck is going on?’

‘Shhh. Just enjoy the last ride. I know I certainly will.’ He said wickedly as he then prised her bum cheeks wide apart, revealing her puckered asshole to him. Without any warning or preparation, he rammed his cock into her, making her scream.

‘Ohh and look at that. You’ve screamed. Not for the first time either.’ He laughed as he started thrusting into her.

The second Loki walked up to her head, he stroked her cheek softly at first. Then he waved his hand over the table and had part of it disappear so her head was over the edge. He moved in and pinched her nose, forcing her mouth to open. He then forced his cock into her mouth and down her throat as far as he could, releasing her nose so she could breathe through that instead. She had no option but to do so.

The original Loki that was plundering her ass, had a large dildo form in his hand. It was a clone of his own cock. He winked at her, his hips still moving at a ruthless pace, and he pressed the dildo into her. Moving it in time with his own thrusting in her ass.

Casey was sobbing around the cock in her mouth, drooling everywhere. She couldn’t take it, feeling so full from being filled in every hole.

But what made her feel worse, was she was starting to enjoy it. Her body was starting to respond well to the violation, no matter how much she cried.

From the width of the dildo in her pussy, it was rubbing against her clit with each and every thrust. At least the nerves weren’t completely damaged, she thought. That was a plus. She just had to keep calm and ride this out, then she would be free.

Loki grunted and groaned above her, both of them did. And Casey moaned around his cock as she came, squeezing the dildo in her pussy. Loki could feel that too. He thrust into her once more, both of them did. Then he came, in every hole. Even the dildo came too, how that happened she had no idea.

But she started to feel really full again, like she had with the clean out task. But at least this time she felt fluttery and high, having came too. And at the relief of knowing it was finally over…

‘Ohhhhh now, pet. That was so much fun, I must say.’ Loki chuckled. The dildo and second Loki vanished right on front of her eyes.

Casey still had no idea how he did that. But she knew it must’ve been trickery of some sorts.

The ping from the screen made her turn her head to take a look.

Complete all tasks to unlock the door.

Power wash – completed

Clean out – completed

Rope walk – completed

Stuffed – completed

She almost cried in relief when the door swung open.

Loki stepped back and watched as she slid off the table when the restraints let her go. She was like a baby deer taking her first steps as she rushed towards the door, grabbing her clothes on the way. Loki’s cum was leaking down her thighs and she still had plenty dribbling down her chin.

Without looking back, she stumbled up the steps and down the corridor towards the front door. It was open and she was about there when it slammed shut and Loki smoothly slid into her view on front of her. Fully clothed in his suit, not looking ruffled up at all.

‘Well, did you enjoy my Scream house?’ He smirked, folding his arms over his chest.

‘No! It was disgusting!’ She snarled at him, using her clothes to shield herself as best she could. She hadn’t even put them on yet, she just wanted out of there.

Loki chuckled, his eyes were twinkling mischievously. ‘You screamed. So no refund.’

‘Stuff your refund!’ She snapped and pushed past him, hauling the door open.

‘Oh I know. But it means I win and get my reward for you screaming.’

She paused with a foot out the door. She looked over her shoulder, shaking slightly. ‘What?’

Loki raised his eyebrows as he put his hands behind his back, looking innocent. ‘Oh dear. Did you not read the small print before accepting the terms and conditions when you booked your ticket?’

The look on her face told him that answer.

‘I suggest you take a look, pet. Before you do anything stupid.’

Casey ran out of the house and down the hill to safety. Once she was sure she was far enough away from that mad man, she stopped and put on her clothes. She pulled her phone out and was about to dial for the police, when she decided for some reason to quickly check her email confirmation.

She almost puked when she read what she had actually agreed to.

If you don’t scream in my Scream house, you get a full refund. However, if you scream, you waive all rights to contacting the police for anything that goes on within my house. You also agree to return to me every Halloween. Or I reserve the rights to come after you for a breach of terms and conditions.

Happy spooking!

[boxboysandotherwhump]

Turmoil

Thank you @finder-of-rings for looking over this :3

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Chapter 7

CW: murder, injuries, first aid,

The spear’s bloody tip just barely wavered in Gideon’s trembling hands as the head-hunter hit the ground right next to the wheezing girl.

His eyes were bottomless pits, fury and surprise fighting to break the surface.

His legs twitched, blood gushing from the deep cuts on his ankles with every jerk of useless limbs where Gideon’s spear had sliced right through the tendon at his heel.

“The hell you think you’re doing, boy?!”

“I-" Gideon stopped short, self-assurance wavering for the first time since he had set foot in this village.  

What was he doing here?

Sneaking away from school, wandering around empty streets in a village he had even less of a place in than the hallways of his family's mansion.

At the end he'd just listened to the little girl he’d run into, crying about monsters in the forest and on her way to alarm the village. What else was he gonna do? Nothing?! 

He had followed the trail of tears and squashed mushroom pulp, painting a path of luminescent droplets onto the dark earth, like a string of starlight carrying him to a battlefield of death, a spider's corpse and mutants and monsters, and they weren’t the same at all this time.

Were they?

Sahar’s big green eyes watched the blood drip from Gideon’s spear, while long clawed fingertips tapped against the ground in tandem with its falling droplets. Their slow rhythmic sound carried over the clearing, like stones scraping gently against one another.

Hard bloodied earth met even harder bloodied skin.

“Damn it, boy! I asked you a question.”

Breaking out of his stupor, Gideon’s attention snapped from Sahar's mutilated form to the furious head-hunter, who had crawled a few feet away and struggled to sit up. His small dark eyes stared daggers at Gideon, as if he wanted to break his skull open and examine its contents.

“I’m going to find and kill every single mutant. Bah! A big mouth full of empty words. You ain’t nothing but a coward. Pathetic.”

Rage buzzed through Gideon at the words, growing louder and louder, a building crescendo of cicada cries at night. His palms prickled as they closed tighter around the metal spear.

“I’m not!” He swirled around, spear raised and eyes burning. Fixed on Sahar's mutated arm. “I made a promise, and I never break my word.”

 The ghost of a grin danced around the man’s lips. Silent and unnoticed. Gideon stepped closer, gravel crunching under the soles of his boots.

This was it, his first step to the realization of his dream. His first step towards revenge against this world.

A soft groan spilled from the mutant's chapped lips. his face contorted in pain as he turned to look up, past the spear's bloody blade. Green eyes bored into Gideon's brown, deep into his thundering heart.

Gideon’s next step was a stumbling one. Faltering, catching in a tripwire net of doubts. He stared down at the other boy, his blotchy, red, tear-crusted face.

Sahar, whispered a voice deep inside him. His name’s Sahar.

Gideon shook his head as if he willed the voice to fall out of his ears like water after a cold dive.

No. No. No .No. No!

Mutants were soulless monsters. Nothing more but vermin. They were-

Sahar’s mouth twitched around the faintest of smiles.

His voice was quiet and so sandpaper-rough that Gideon wondered how it could still hold such gentleness. “Tha- tha- thanks for… for saving… her.”

Gideon’s spear dropped. Disbelief filled his wide brown eyes, threatening to spill out.

Something cracked, deep in his chest, broke through his ribcage, forcing its way out. Something he would much rather keep locked tightly away.

It was at this moment that Gideon realized he wasn’t a killer. He was just a boy, with hands that wanted to hold and help and heal the very thing he had yearned to kill.

Like countless times before, he followed the intuition buried deep in his bones. His heart and head still waged a war inside him as Gideon sank to his knees next to Sahar.

Shaking hands unclasped the thick leather strap from the spear's quiver, gently eased Sahar onto his knees, resting his wounded arm there. He wrapped the strap around the blistering hot, hardened flesh as tightly as he could, drawing an agonized groan out of the other boy.

“Be more careful with him.” Charlotte’s voice was a hiss, so close to his ear that he nearly jumped, accidentally jostling Sahar’s injured arm. Fresh bruises bloomed around her neck, and her words carried the slightest wheeze with them.

She still swayed a little, leaning on the axe for support as sharp blue eyes watched his every move. Only snapping up at the sound of the head-hunter’s hands scraping over the ground, trying to reach for his knife. 

She picked up the axe, face frosting over.

Sahar mewled softly when she stepped away, head craning in her direction. Charlotte did not turn around as she declared: “If you hurt him, I will kill you.”

Don’t worry. I won’t.

Calm brown eyes met panicked hazy green.

“It’s alright.” Gideon’s voice came out strangely strangled. Barely more than a scratchy rushed exhalation. “Nothing’ll happen. It’s alright, now.”

Thick red blood gushed from the bite wound, soaking into the lily-white trousers of his academy uniform, staining the warm brown skin underneath.

“It’s alright. You’ll be alright, ‘kay?”

Sahar's head moved, giving the tiniest nod.

Gideon’s lips split into a soft smile.

The blossom of this tender moment got nipped by the man’s panicked scream before it could fully bloom.

Charlotte loomed over him, feet pressing down his arms and axe held high.

“Hey-... hey wait. We can talk about this. Let’s talk about this, okay?” The man’s high pitched plea sent a shiver down Gideon’s spine. All the self-assured cockiness had vanished from his voice, stolen away by the inevitability of death.

Charlotte’s voice however, didn’t waver.

“I won’t risk anyone finding out about Sahar’s little secret. No one from this village and certainly not anyone from whatever hell hole you crawled out of.”

“C’mon girl, I promise I-“

“So you see,” Charlotte cut him off sharply. “It’s nothing personal. Really.”

Gideon turned away, then, trying to forget the axe's red and blue stained blade glinting in the eerie clearing's glow, and stared at Sahar's face instead. Concentrating on the wrinkle of his brows, how the long lashes of his tightly shut eyes stuck to his cheeks in wet triangles. He watched harsh breaths burst from slightly parted lips. Inhaled the faint eucalyptus smell coming from the other boy.

A spot on Sahar’s lower lip had split open.

The breaking of bone thundered through the silent forest. Steel parted skull. Bone crunched and soft tissue split with a sickening sound, over and over and over again.

Was there blood welling up deep in the little cut on Sahar’s lip? It was suddenly so hard to tell. Sahar’s face, the leather strap wrapped tightly around his arm, Gideon’s own hands… everything blurred together.

His world had become utterly unrecognizable. 

A grey blouse fluttered into his field of vision, and pale blood-splattered hands wrapped it carefully around Sahar’s shoulders, covering up his arm.

“The children must have alerted everyone by now, so let’s get Sahar out of here. The farm is not far. If anyone asks why he attacked us, it’s because he mistook me for a mutant. Got it?”

Gideon couldn’t help but stare at her hands, their heavy trembling the only thing betraying Charlotte's true feelings, the storm  forced underneath the calm.

“Gideon. Do you understand?” Her eyes narrowed and there was blood in her curls. Red crisscrossed the wrinkled skin of her birthmark, the smooth planes of her fair skinned left cheek, the bridge of her nose. “If you back out- if you betray him-“

Swallowing hard, Gideon shook his head. “I won’t.”

Her eyes searched his, and he was glad that she left the axe in the remnants of the intruder’s skull several feet away.

Gideon’s hands shook, too, as he helped her drag Sahar upright. He mewled, barely audible where he was pressed to Gideon’s shoulder.

“I promise. His secret’s safe with me."

Three silhouettes vanished between thick flower stems and giant mushrooms into the wood's darkness. Leaving the slain spider and its mutilated master behind in the clearing's luminescent glow.

[imagine-loki]

Loki's Scream House (READ THE WARNINGS) trigger warning- Rape

TITLE: Loki’s Scream House CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: One shot AUTHOR: fanficshiddles ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine going to ‘Loki’s Scream house’ on Halloween RATING: M NOTES: Very late Halloween one shot! 

WARNINGS: Rape/Non-con, forced orgasms, trapping, douching, enema, pain play, Loki’s a sadist! 

Casey was so annoyed that her friends had all bailed on her. On Halloween, no less.

They said they’d heard rumours about Loki’s Scream house being far too scary, so had cancelled on her. Instead deciding to go to a party instead.

‘Bunch of chickens.’ Casey muttered as she made her way up the hill to where the Scream house sat. She would go to this haunted house and then turn up at the party, telling them all about her scary experience.

She snorted to herself at the thought. How scary could a haunted house be? Apparently this one was aptly named and would make her scream. But she doubted that.

As she got closer, she could indeed hear screaming from inside. But she was almost certain it was fake, she didn’t see any cars around. She doubted there was even anyone else inside. But since she had already bought a ticket, she wasn’t letting ten quid go to waste. She at least wanted to get her money’s worth with a laugh at how bad it was.

Upon reaching the door, she went to knock but the door slowly swung open. Revealing a tall man in an all-black suit. Matching his long black hair. His face was quite pale, but he had striking features. The smirk that crossed his face was slightly terrifying. But Casey smiled.

‘Welcome, to my Scream house.’ His smirk grew even larger as he put his arms out to the side and motioned for her to come in.

She stepped inside, looking around her. It was more like an abandoned house than a haunted one.

‘So… what’s the deal?’ Casey asked, stopping a few feet from Loki.

‘You know the deal. You bought a ticket for a tour around my Scream house. If you don’t scream, you get a refund. Well, I say tour. It’s more a walk around, I shall not be guiding you. Feel free to check out all the rooms. But do not, and I repeat, do NOT go into the basement. It is off limits.’ He said firmly.

Casey raised an eyebrow. ‘Okayyy…’

‘Enjoy!’ Loki bowed and then suddenly disappeared in a green haze and the door behind her slammed shut, making her jump slightly.

‘Must be on some sort of timer. It’s all just magic tricks.’ She said to herself.

Deciding to get this over with, she went down the corridor and into the first room she came across. It was a normal living room. But as she stepped inside, a web came down over her and a huge mechanical spider came flying out of the wall towards her, before then disappearing back inside. It did make her squeal, so she would give him that one. But it wasn’t a scream.

Fighting the web off, she looked around the room and wandered over to the fire place. There was a large cauldron on the fire, something was bubbling inside. She peeked in and saw some bones in there and a skull floated to the top. She rolled her eyes and moved on to another room.

She found all the rooms to be rather boring. She jumped once or twice, but it was nothing spectacular. Fake mechanical robots as witches and werewolves, vampires and ghouls.

Casey made her way to the last room, but it was just as dull. When she exited it, she was faced with the door that led down to the basement. But it was locked when she tried the handle.

Curiosity took over her though, so she had a quick search for the key. It was in the most obvious of places for hiding a key, on top of the door frame.

‘Typical.’ She huffed as she put it in the lock and turned.

She knew Loki had warned her not to go down there, but it’s like when you see a wet paint sign. You can’t help but touch it to see if it’s actually wet.

It was dark as she made her way down the steps, but once she reached the bottom automatic lights came on. There was another door just a few feet on front of her. There was no lock on it, so she was able to just push it open. But once she stepped inside, before she even had a chance to take in the room, the large door swung shut behind her.

She turned around and tried to open it again, but it was locked. She frantically looked around for a key but there wasn’t even a door handle.

‘What the fuck?’ She panicked, eyes wide. But then she noticed a small screen to the left of the door. She tried pushing on it, and to her relief it came to life.

But her heart sank when she read what it said.

Complete all tasks to unlock the door.

Power wash – not completed

Clean out – not completed

Rope walk – not completed

Stuffed – not completed

‘What the actual fuck?’ She gasped, eyes wide.

That’s when she turned around to see what she was dealing with.

There was a brick wall opposite her, but there was nothing else there. It just seemed like an empty room. But she heard a beeping noise before Loki’s voice filled the room.

‘Naught girl, disobeying my orders.’ But he sounded delighted at the fact. ‘Unfortunately for you, you’ve stumbled into my unfinished play room. You see, I built this for an ex to have some fun in. She enjoyed some challenges. But there were a few… teething issues that I have yet to fix. There is no escaping the room, unless you follow through the entire programme. You need to start by removing all your clothes and going over to the brick wall.’

‘What the hell? Get me out of here! You perv, I’m not doing that!’ Casey stared banging on the door.

‘You can tire yourself out as much as you wish, pet. But until you do as you’re told and complete each task, you will be stuck there. As much as I would like to come and let you out, I can’t. There is no other way. And I did warn you not to enter.’

Casey checked every nook and cranny for a way out, but there was nothing. She tried pressing more buttons on the screen but nothing worked.

Loki watched in amusement from his room, the camera directly at her. It would follow her every movement and she had no idea it was there.

He smirked when he saw she finally gave in. Two hours later. Knowing and accepting there was just one way out.

Casey whined in defeat. She started to remove her clothes, feeling extremely vulnerable. Even more so when she heard his voice again.

‘That’s a good girl. The sooner you get through the tasks, the sooner you will be out of here.’

‘You creep! You’re watching?’ She gasped, trying to hide her breasts.

Loki chuckled. ‘I am. How else am I supposed to make sure you’re safe?’

Casey gritted her teeth but carried on with removing her knickers. She shivered slightly as the floor was stone cold.

‘Now, get over to the wall so we can begin.’ Loki purred.

Casey closed her eyes and tried not to cry. She had to remain calm and composed to get through this. Then as soon as she was out, she was calling the police on his freaky ass for sure. She wasn’t going to let this sick freak get away with it.

She walked hesitantly over to the wall. As soon as she was within two feet of it, holes in the wall suddenly opened up and four mechanical arms came flying out. Before she could react, they grabbed her wrists and ankles, holding her just above the floor in a spread-eagle position. She cried out and tried to struggle, but the arms were too strong.

‘Beautiful. As I said before, I wouldn’t bother trying to fight it, pet. You will only tire yourself out.’

Casey whimpered as she heard another bit on the wall opening up. But she relaxed a tiny bit when she saw it was a shower head. She was super confused.

‘Ah, power wash. The first task for you to endure.’ Loki hummed.

He watched in absolute delight from the comfort of his room. A glass of wine at hand and some grapes. His belt was unbuckled and his zipper open, because he knew it wouldn’t be long before he would need easy access.

Casey’s moment of relaxation was over very quickly. There was a whirring noise and suddenly the shower head started spraying water. But the force was very strong, more than the average shower head.

It hit her stomach first. The water was warm though, which she was glad of. It soaked her entire body first, then focused in on her breasts. But that wasn’t the worst part.

The shower head moved down between her legs and aimed directly up against her cunt. She cried out as the pressure hit her so forcefully, she thought she was going to pass out. It moved in a little closer, making her howl as it then hit her clit. Which she was ashamed to realise was throbbing in pleasure.

Her head flew backwards as she tightened her hands into fists and cried out as she came hard. It wasn’t a nice orgasm though, it was a forced one. So quick, she hadn’t been able to fully enjoy it. To her horror, the shower head remained in place, aiming directly at her sensitive little clit. Forcing her into another painful orgasm.

‘Ooo, so delightful to watch, pet. I think you enjoyed that much more than you are willing to admit.’ He growled.

After twenty minutes, but felt like a life-time to Casey, the shower head stopped and she was lowered to the ground. Her legs were like jelly and she fell to her knees as the mechanical arms were retracted into the wall.

She crawled away from the wall, near the door. Panting and exhausted already. She heard a pinging noise and looked up at the screen by the door.

Complete all tasks to unlock the door.

Power wash – completed

Clean out – not completed

Rope walk – not completed

Stuffed – not completed

‘Well done for completing the first task. I wonder how you will fair with the second.’

Casey took a while to get her breath back. Then Loki coaxed her to go back to the wall for the second one. She dreaded to think what it was going to be.

Her body was still a bit weak, but she managed to get to her feet and walked over to the wall again. The same parts in the wall opened up and the same mechanical arms came out and restrained her in a spread-eagle position once more.

‘This is my favourite task, I must say.’ Loki’s sinful voice said across the speaker, making Casey bite her tongue to refrain from saying anything smart. Considering the position she was in, she knew it was best to keep quiet.

This time, instead of a shower head coming out of the wall, two lubricated tubes came out. What was contained within them Casey had no idea. But she knew she was about to find out pretty soon.

She started whining when the tubes moved down between her legs. One positioned at her pussy, the other at her anus. And they seemed to just hover there for a moment, as if dragging out her expected torture.

Loki smirked and started stroking his cock languidly. He flicked his wrist and moaned as the tubes thrust into both of Casey’s holes.

Casey bit down on her tongue hard to keep herself from screaming as she was violated in both holes. The lube made them slip in easier and the tubes weren’t too wide, but it was still uncomfortable. Especially the one in her anus, she had never put anything up there before.

But it got a lot worse for the poor girl.

Water started shooting into her, from both tubes.

‘Oh no… NO! PLEASE NO! STOP!’ She started crying out, but all she heard was Loki chuckling in return.

The enema in her ass felt so uncomfortable as she was filled with the warm water. It made her feel so heavy and bloated. The douching felt the same, very uncomfortable. The water kept pumping into her from both tubes until she felt like she was going to explode.

Suddenly the tubes popped out of her and she gasped as the water rushed out of her. Giving her such a strange feeling, a rather erotic feeling. But she pushed that thought out of her mind, she wasn’t going to give Loki the satisfaction.

But the tubes were replaced, not just twice but three times. Making sure she was thoroughly cleaned out.

‘Excellent, that’s you sparkling clean. Inside and out.’ Loki chuckled.

He wiped his own cum up with a tissue, he never did last long when watching a clean out.

Casey was once again released from the mechanical arms. She managed to stumble back over towards the door. Looking at the screen when it pinged.

Complete all tasks to unlock the door.

Power wash – completed

Clean out – completed

Rope walk – not completed

Stuffed – not completed

‘Oh god. What the hell is rope walk?’ She asked, looking around the room.

‘You will find out soon enough.’ Loki purred.

Casey just wanted this to be over with now. So she went back over to the wall, wanting it to hurry up. Expecting the same arms to appear, she was surprised when this time it was different.

One large hole opened up and a huge mechanical arm with one clamp came out. It reached straight for her and snapped around her middle, locking her in tightly with her arms trapped down at her sides. She squeaked and tried to kick out as it lifted her up in the air.

The floor then changed and there was a long treadmill appeared beneath her. Then a long rope was pulled from one side of the room to the other, going above the treadmill. But there were many knots along the rope.

‘What the…’ Casey trailed off when she was lowered down onto the rope. She cried out and tried going up on her tiptoes to avoid it. But the rope was just the right height, snugly fitting between her pussy lips and directly on her clit. She was on her tiptoes already and it was painful, so she knew if she let her feet go flat that would be the end of her.

‘I suggest you start walking, pet.’ Loki demanded.

‘Wh… what the hell? No way!’ She cried out, knowing those knots would be painful on her. Hell, even just the rope alone would be.

‘Don’t say I didn’t warn you. You have to reach the other end to complete this task. If you don’t get moving, the treadmill will start. Making it so much more difficult for yourself.’

Loki was hard and throbbing once more. This task was always a delight to watch too, so much fun seeing his victims in pain.

Casey knew he wouldn’t be lying. So to try and get it over with, she started walking forward. But the drag of the rope on her clit burned and was so painful. When she reached the first knot, she struggled. It was quite a large knot and when she tried to pass it, it hit her clit and made her cry out in pain.

‘I can’t do it!’ She cried out, tears spilling down her cheeks.

‘You will be stuck forever on there if you don’t. The tasks don’t stop, another fault I need to fix.’

She soon learned how difficult it could get. The treadmill beneath her started to move very slowly in the opposite direction to where she was wanting to go, so she had no option but to walk. Not only making her tire quicker, but the movement was hurting.

To keep up and get past the knot, she had to walk even quicker on her tiptoes to beat the treadmill. She closed her eyes and took a big deep breath, then just went for it and forced herself to walk forward as quickly and forcefully as possible, getting over the knot with a scream.

Loki was jerking another one off rapidly as he watched her force herself across the rope. Crying and screaming in pain, especially when she came to another knot. But she was getting on far too easily, so to make it difficult and more of a challenge, he spun his finger around.

To Casey’s horror, the treadmill started to speed up a bit more. She couldn’t keep up, and was dragged backwards on the rope. The treadmill forced her back over a few knots, her screams of pain echoed around the room each time.

‘NO, YOU BASTARD!’ She howled loudly.

Loki laughed wickedly as he had another orgasm, making a mess of himself again.

It took three hours, three hours of absolute agony and torture before Casey managed to get across the other side of the rope. She was completely exhausted, broken. Her poor clit was battered and bruised. She was sure there were no nerve endings left.

She had never felt more relieved as she was in that moment when she was lifted from the rope and the treadmill. She collapsed in the middle of the room, unable to move. Her body so tired, she passed out from sheer exhaustion.

-

When she came to four hours later, she sobbed as she realised she was still in that room. It hadn’t been a nightmare.

But there was a tiny glimmer of hope when she looked at the screen.

Complete all tasks to unlock the door.

Power wash – completed

Clean out – completed

Rope walk – completed

Stuffed – not completed

One more to go. She dreaded to think what it was, but surely it wouldn’t be worse than what she had just endured. It couldn’t be.

‘Glad to see you are awake, pet. One more task to go.’

‘Ok… Let’s get it over with.’ She made her way over to the wall.

Again, mechanical arms came out. This time the floor opened up to reveal a large metal table that came up and she was laid upon. The mechanical arms were replaced by leather straps. But her feet were raised up and spread wide apart, her bum just over the edge of the table.

She closed her eyes and waited, while nothing happened. Part of her thought maybe the next machine was broken, whatever it would be. How Loki had made all of these tasks, she had no idea. He must be some evil genius or something.

Fear ran through her veins when she heard heavy footsteps walking towards her. She looked down, but her head was quickly forced back down when a large strap came up from the table and wrapped around her neck, holding her down.

She was trembling badly when Loki approached her between her legs. She was startled when she felt his cool hands stroke her thighs. She could just see Loki in her view, looming over her.

‘Well, well, well. Ready for the final task, are we?’ He grinned.

‘I… I thought you couldn’t get in?’ She whimpered.

Loki chuckled and leaned down, biting into her inner thigh that made her cry out. ‘I am the god of lies, pet. And I can get in wherever I want to. Including your lovely body that has been prepared so nicely for me and my friend.’

That made her eyes widen. His friend? What?

She wasn’t left wondering for long. Another being walked over to her, but she was shocked and confused to see it was another Loki.

‘What… What the heck is going on?’

‘Shhh. Just enjoy the last ride. I know I certainly will.’ He said wickedly as he then prised her bum cheeks wide apart, revealing her puckered asshole to him. Without any warning or preparation, he rammed his cock into her, making her scream.

‘Ohh and look at that. You’ve screamed. Not for the first time either.’ He laughed as he started thrusting into her.

The second Loki walked up to her head, he stroked her cheek softly at first. Then he waved his hand over the table and had part of it disappear so her head was over the edge. He moved in and pinched her nose, forcing her mouth to open. He then forced his cock into her mouth and down her throat as far as he could, releasing her nose so she could breathe through that instead. She had no option but to do so.

The original Loki that was plundering her ass, had a large dildo form in his hand. It was a clone of his own cock. He winked at her, his hips still moving at a ruthless pace, and he pressed the dildo into her. Moving it in time with his own thrusting in her ass.

Casey was sobbing around the cock in her mouth, drooling everywhere. She couldn’t take it, feeling so full from being filled in every hole.

But what made her feel worse, was she was starting to enjoy it. Her body was starting to respond well to the violation, no matter how much she cried.

From the width of the dildo in her pussy, it was rubbing against her clit with each and every thrust. At least the nerves weren’t completely damaged, she thought. That was a plus. She just had to keep calm and ride this out, then she would be free.

Loki grunted and groaned above her, both of them did. And Casey moaned around his cock as she came, squeezing the dildo in her pussy. Loki could feel that too. He thrust into her once more, both of them did. Then he came, in every hole. Even the dildo came too, how that happened she had no idea.

But she started to feel really full again, like she had with the clean out task. But at least this time she felt fluttery and high, having came too. And at the relief of knowing it was finally over…

‘Ohhhhh now, pet. That was so much fun, I must say.’ Loki chuckled. The dildo and second Loki vanished right on front of her eyes.

Casey still had no idea how he did that. But she knew it must’ve been trickery of some sorts.

The ping from the screen made her turn her head to take a look.

Complete all tasks to unlock the door.

Power wash – completed

Clean out – completed

Rope walk – completed

Stuffed – completed

She almost cried in relief when the door swung open.

Loki stepped back and watched as she slid off the table when the restraints let her go. She was like a baby deer taking her first steps as she rushed towards the door, grabbing her clothes on the way. Loki’s cum was leaking down her thighs and she still had plenty dribbling down her chin.

Without looking back, she stumbled up the steps and down the corridor towards the front door. It was open and she was about there when it slammed shut and Loki smoothly slid into her view on front of her. Fully clothed in his suit, not looking ruffled up at all.

‘Well, did you enjoy my Scream house?’ He smirked, folding his arms over his chest.

‘No! It was disgusting!’ She snarled at him, using her clothes to shield herself as best she could. She hadn’t even put them on yet, she just wanted out of there.

Loki chuckled, his eyes were twinkling mischievously. ‘You screamed. So no refund.’

‘Stuff your refund!’ She snapped and pushed past him, hauling the door open.

‘Oh I know. But it means I win and get my reward for you screaming.’

She paused with a foot out the door. She looked over her shoulder, shaking slightly. ‘What?’

Loki raised his eyebrows as he put his hands behind his back, looking innocent. ‘Oh dear. Did you not read the small print before accepting the terms and conditions when you booked your ticket?’

The look on her face told him that answer.

‘I suggest you take a look, pet. Before you do anything stupid.’

Casey ran out of the house and down the hill to safety. Once she was sure she was far enough away from that mad man, she stopped and put on her clothes. She pulled her phone out and was about to dial for the police, when she decided for some reason to quickly check her email confirmation.

She almost puked when she read what she had actually agreed to.

If you don’t scream in my Scream house, you get a full refund. However, if you scream, you waive all rights to contacting the police for anything that goes on within my house. You also agree to return to me every Halloween. Or I reserve the rights to come after you for a breach of terms and conditions.

Happy spooking!

[polaroid15]

Febuwhump day 3 - Imprisonment

Hey everyone! Here’s day 3! This is one of my favourites, so I really hope you enjoy! <3 <3

Summary: 

“What do I need to do?” 

“It’s simple, really,” the man replies. He steps closer to Peter, gaze hardening. “Though I set up the board, the game is in your hands, Stark. Find the boy before it’s too late, and collect your prize.”

Another pause.

“How much time do I have?”

“Well, until he bleeds out.”

---Or, Peter is kidnapped by a crazy guy in a clown mask. Typical.---

Read this chapter and previous ones on Ao3 at: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29138196/chapters/71656323

---

   The room is freezing. 

   Waking up is horrible, the cold seeming to penetrate every cell in his body before his eyes even have their chance to open. When by some miracle they do, he’s met with a dark and unfamiliar room. A basement, by the looks of it, stripped down to its cement foundation. 

   It’s January, a very unfortunate time to be kidnapped and brought to an undeveloped basement, Peter thinks. Why his captor couldn’t have waited to kidnap him in a warmer month is beyond his delirious thought process, or why they hadn’t at least let him keep his jacket. Hell, they even took his shoes, which is beyond rude. Every time he breathes a thin vapor rises up to bite at his eyes. 

   Or maybe the sting is just tears. 

   He tries to move, to warm up his shaking body, but it’s practically impossible in his current situation, tied and gagged tightly in every possible way to a thick wooden chair. They must’ve pumped his veins with something to keep him docile, because no matter how much he squirms, he remains stuck. 

   He chokes on a breath behind the gag, panicked, and pulls harder. 

   But he can barely hold up his head, let alone break free. 

   Oh man. 

   Peter lays his head back against the chair and floats for a minute, trying to calm his heart. Tony will come for him. 

   He always does. 

   It’s uncomfortable and lonely, but Peter refuses to be scared. He bites hard on the gag between his teeth to keep them from chattering and stares at the closed door he faces, waiting for his attacker to show themself. 

   The waiting is the worst part, he decides, and shivers again. 

   He thinks of Tony again, wondering if the man knows about his absence as he wiggles his wrists around the tightly knotted rope keeping his hands trapped together behind him. It burns and aches but combats the cold, so he continues to struggle with as much vigor as his weakened body can handle. 

   His mind searches desperately for the explanation of his current predicament, the memory connecting him to this awful place, but it evades him like smoke. 

    A violent shiver rips through his body. He can feel it from the tips of his toes to the crown of his head. God he hates winter. If someone didn’t come for him soon, he’d be nothing more than a Peter popsicle. 

   Before the imagery of the thought can really sink in, the door opens so suddenly that Peter’s shivering stops short for him to jump. Hot adrenaline courses through his veins and causes tears spring up into his eyes at the contrast of it all. The person who enters is tall and broad, their face obscured by a graphic clown mask. A new kind of shiver runs down Peter’s spine like an electrical current and he tips his chin up in defiance, growling unintelligible words at his kidnapper through the thick cloth pulled between his lips. 

   “Hello, Peter.” 

   There must be some form of speech disguiser built into the mask, because the voice that greets him is choppy and mechanical. It fills the empty space between them and Peter narrows his eyes into slits, forcing his heart to keep its normal tempo. 

   Don’t show that you’re scared. Don’t show that you’re scared-

   “I do hope you’re comfortable,” the man says, the silicon skin of the clown twisted up into a manic smile. “I can’t wait for the fun we’ll have.” 

   Peter mumbles into his gag again, feeling powerless without his voice. He twists his wrists again violently, the adrenaline giving him some strength, but it’s not nearly enough. 

   He’s trapped. 

   “Now, now, I know what you must be thinking. What is a boy like me doing in a place like this? Let me assure you, Mr. Parker, that this is no random circumstance. I have been watching you for quite some time.” 

   Even if Peter could talk, he’d be speechless. Fear rushes through him with the force of a tidal wave, stinging at his eyes and rising acid in his throat. The man tilts his crazed, masked head to the side as if in intrigue and lets out a high pitched mechanical laugh. Despite his stubborn resolve, Peter flinches. 

   “Tony Stark doesn’t have many people in his inner circle,” the man continues gleefully, “and I have come to find that you are one of them! A weak, defenseless teenager. The opportunity was simply too wonderful to pass up on!” 

   Not Spider-Man, then. 

   Good. 

   “Tell me, Peter. What will it take to bring our so-called superhero to his knees?” The man steps closer, smelling like cigarette smoke and leather. “How many fingers?” 

   Peter gasps into the gag as the man’s gloved hands curl around his throat, closing tight. “My, my Peter,” the man laughs, stroking his thumb across Peter’s jugular. “Your heart is beating fast. Are you afraid?” 

   Slowly, Peter shakes his head. The grip on his throat tightens and the man’s face swoops down towards him until they’re only inches apart. When he speaks again, it’s only a whisper. “I don’t believe you.” 

   With that, his captor releases his hold, shoving Peter’s head back violently. It takes every ounce of self control not to show his discomfort and he settles once more to glaring at the masked man with as much malice as he can muster. 

   “Shall we give your beloved hero a call?” 

   Uncaring for Peter’s response, the man pulls out a dull black flip phone from his pocket. He must have Tony’s number memorized because he types it in with ease. Peter wonders how he found it. 

   It rings three times, and even though his captor is standing a couple feet away, Peter hears Tony’s voice fill the receiver with perfect clarity. 

   “This is Stark.” 

   As if hardly believing his luck, the clown man raises an animated fist into the air and cackles out a high pitched laugh. It would’ve been funny in a different circumstance. When the laugh dies and the man collects himself, he brings the phone close to the mask where his lips are hidden behind, savouring every word. “Hello Stark.” 

   A long pause meets the greeting. Peter can picture Tony in his mind’s eye, weighing his options with a weary annoyance. Finally, his voice carries through the receiver. “Look, frankly I don't have the time for this. Either tell me what you want or find another billionaire to piss off.”

   “Very well.” The mechanical voice continues to grate under Peter’s skin, unnerving him to the bone. It’s almost worse than the cold. “I’ll keep it short and sweet. For if anyone is to know the true value of time, it’s me. And, of course, our darling mutual friend Peter.” 

   “Peter?” Even if Tony were trying to mask his surprise, it’s failing. Peter grinds his nails into the soft skin on his hand he can reach, feeling a vicious swipe of guilt run through him in icy fragments. “How do you-” 

   “Know him?” The man finishes. His crazed eyes turn to Peter from behind the mask, attaching to his frame with a repulsing intensity. “We’ve been able to spend a lot of quality time together, Peter and I. I see why you love him.”

   The next time Tony speaks, it's in anger. Peter flinches at the sound and tries to control his breathing. “If you lay one single hand on that boy I swear to God I’ll skin you alive.” 

   “Tut, tut. I would speak more kindly to me if I were you.” 

   A measured breath, the softening of tone. 

   “Fine. What do I need to do?” 

   “Simple, really,” the man replies. He steps closer to Peter, gaze hardening. “Though I set up the board, the game is in your hands, Stark. Find the boy before it’s too late, and collect your prize.” 

   Another pause. 

   “How much time do I have?” 

   “Until he bleeds out.” 

   Without further warning, the man pulls out a handgun, aims it at Peter, and pulls the trigger. At first, Peter thinks the man missed. Then, as the ringing echo of the shot fades from his ears, he feels the pain in one giant tidal wave of agony and screams. 

   Even with the gag, the sound is piercing. The man laughs robotically and claps his hands in quick succession. The shot had hit him in the top of his right thigh, the blood warm and slick as it gushes from the wound. He refuses to look at it, keeping his wobbly vision trained stubbornly at his attacker. 

   “Well this has been great fun, Stark, but sadly it’s time for me to go,” he says, returning his ear to the phone. “I would hurry if I were you.” 

   Before he leaves, the man walks up beside Peter once more, phone still connected and in hand. He strokes Peter’s hair, the plastic smile unfailing, and hooks his fingers around Peter’s gag. With a surprising gentleness, he pulls it loose, then settles the phone against Peter’s shoulder where he pins it there with his head. 

   “I hope he hears you take your last breath,” the man says. “Goodbye, Peter Parker.” 

   Peter’s chest is heaving. Before his captor leaves, he snakes his hand down to Peter’s thigh, fingers hovering over the rapidly bleeding wound. He pushes them down into the bullet hole and Peter screams again, ripping his throat raw. All he sees is white, and though his lucidity ebbs like the tide, he focuses everything on keeping the phone pressed against his shoulder. Static runs through the device, but if it forms any words, it's simply beyond his comprehension. 

   When his vision clears, the man in the clown mask is gone. 

   And he’s alone. 

   “Peter?”  

   Gasps turn into sobs. Peter can’t help it. 

   He’s finished with being strong. 

   “T-Tony. Tony!” 

   There’s a heavy exhale of pent up air on the other end of the line and Peter tries his hardest to focus on it, on anything to distract himself from the absolute burning torture in his leg. 

   “You’re- you’re okay kiddo. You’re going to be fine. I’m on my way to get you right now okay?”    

   “It- it hurts-” 

   “I know bud, I know. You’ve been so brave. I just need you to hang on a little longer.” 

   Peter throws his head back against his chair, blinking out stars as unwanted tears leak out of the corners of his eyes like hot wax. The ceiling spins harshly when he looks at it, so he closes his eyes and tries to keep his sobs from erupting. 

   “Parker!” 

   “Wha?” For a moment, Peter thinks he’s being saved. He lifts his head, careful to keep the phone in place. But when his eyes adjust to the spinning room, it’s empty. 

   “You checked out there for a minute,” Tony says. Again, Peter hears the fear lacing his mentor’s tone. It should make him feel scared, he thinks, but it doesn’t. Not really. 

   “S’ry.” 

   “It’s okay. You’re fine. I’m almost there, okay?” 

   “M’kay.” 

   “I’m not getting any reports for Karen,” Tony says, his voice more gentle than Peter’s ever heard it. “Are you in your suit bud?” 

   “No.” 

   “Can you reach the wound? Put pressure on it?”   

   More tears fall out of Peter’s eyes. He wishes they would stop. “N-no. My hands are- are tied.” 

   “Okay,” Tony says again, voice even. “Just hang on. Stay awake. Five minutes, I promise.” 

   “Mmm.” 

   “How was school today Pete?” Tony asks urgently. “Tell me all about it.” 

   Surprised, Peter tries to remember. If Tony’s asking, it must be important. Searching for the memories feels equivalent to walking through quicksand or punching through a brick wall. 

   “Peter?” 

   “Um. Had a chemistry test. Was good.” 

   “That’s great,” Tony says. “What else?” 

   The burning pain in Peter’s leg has faded significantly, replaced by a blissful numbness. He knows it’s bad but is too relieved to dwell on it, sinking into the reprieve with open arms. Distantly, he can hear his blood dripping against the floor, can feel it soaking into his socks. His head wobbles and barely catches the phone in time before it slips.

   It’s almost peaceful, he thinks. 

   “Ben was shot,” Peter says dizzily. “‘S how he died.” 

   Tony’s breaths are short and laboured in Peter’s ear. “Peter Benjamin Parker-” 

   “‘M not scared anymore.” 

   “I’m two minutes out. Stay awake. God please stay awake!” 

   Peter hums, and despite the clear instruction, feels his eyelids flutter. He wishes he could see Tony’s face once more, to tell him in person what he means to him, but the idea floats away from him like smoke. 

   “T-tony?” 

   “Yeah kid?” 

   “I-I-” but there’s no conclusion, no final words. With a sickening twist of vertigo, Peter feels the phone slide from its secure spot in the crook of his neck. It hits the cement, splashing up hot blood, and lays on its side. Peter watches it in detached surprise, feeling the last of his resolve crumbling. 

   Goodbye. 

   If Tony is still speaking through the device, Peter can no longer hear it, his senses muted and dull. He remembers how Ben’s eyes had looked right before he died, wonders if it’s how he looks now. 

   It’s his last thought before the darkness takes him. 

---

   Peter wakes up in someone’s arms. 

   At first, he thinks he’s reunited with his Uncle. Wherever he is, he’s safe and warm. He doesn’t feel any pain. In fact, he doesn’t feel anything at all, his existence a dramatic blur. 

  “Peter?” 

  He must’ve moved. The person holding him shifts to acknowledge his wakefulness, the voice soft and hopeful. 

   It’s not Ben, Peter realizes with some disappointment, though someone similar. Someone safe. 

   “Hey, hey. It’s okay, buddy. You’re okay now.” 

   He must be crying, because he feels calloused fingers wipe away moisture from his cheeks.

   It clicks. 

   “Tony?” 

   “Oh thank God.” 

   Yep, it’s Tony. 

   Peter smiles, understanding. 

   He can sleep peacefully now.

[sirensmojo]

Scar - Geralt Of Rivia x Reader

Summary: You’re a creature chased by Geralt Of Rivia for a week now, but he couldn’t find you. What he doesn’t know is that you were spying on him since the beginning, when another creature attacks him you stand by his side which causes you to stick with him until he decides if he should follow his feelings and keep you alive, or do the job and kill you.

Warnings: fluff, mystical creature, fights, magic, terror & horror

Word Count: 2,757

 Masterlist

Geralt set a camp in a forest, the same he was told not to cross as humans never came back alive from, but he doesn’t have anything to risk. He isn’t a human, maybe this forest was for mystical creatures only. At first, everything went well. The sun was still up, stick to a blue sky sprinkles by the tips of highs bushy and leafy trees. It was boiling hot, he took off his armor, and his body flopped in a vivid sleep near his horse. It founds him well as it has been, three days in a row of sleepless nights.

Swiftly, his body stiffs, eyes snapped open, looking far away, when they finally lock on something unusual. He gets up on his feet and waits, quietly, his eyes following each shadow it can find.

It is when he glimpses of it, in the distance. His head tilted, eyes squinted, a mere inhuman shadow, only visible from where he stands. The beam lights were stopped by the trunks of trees here and there, making it impossible to keep an eye on the form. It was almost as if the thing vanished from one tree to another, Geralt was confused, his brow narrowed at the vision of horror that played before him. One minute it was there, near a bush, the other, right behind a high branch. Nearly human, but not human enough to make him feel comfortable or make sense of it. A grunt escapes his dry, plump lips as the taste in the air changes, Geralt was cold, all of a sudden. He is not yet sure of what presented in front of him, but until then, his sword will stay on the ground.

A high-pitched tone shrill springs out the dark, an animal he concluded. But what sort of animal does this noise? Add to that the pace of the shadows getting quicker and nearer, a peculiar form lurking in the trees. The leery breath of the man started to thicken as his lips parted. If he doesn’t feel at the mercy of anything dangerous, why can’t he control his breath? Or his pounding heart? At each sound, even the slightest, he can’t help but gaze in that direction. His golden eyes flickered from a point to another by the time he notices the settings have changed.

The leaves had left the trees to encounter the ground that it’s covered in white thick peach fuzz. He put one knee on the soil with a hand-dipped in the white sea. It was indeed snowing. An umpteenth grunt slips out his throat, blowing his warm breath in the cold dark. Moreover, his eyes don’t accommodate to the darkness nicely. Not enough to be able to discern reality and imaginations, not sufficiently to put words and reasonable thoughts on what this animal was, not enough to ease his, now, edgy self. Why the beast doesn’t attack? Or was it even a beast? The Witcher came to that conclusion because the feeling in the air has been always more dense and thick, when there’s a mystic creature in the areas, he senses it. Now all he could sense was leather and woods, for some reason. He pinches his nose, quite annoyed by his helplessness, closes his eyes for a demi-second and inhales deeply, which lead to some unwanted noise caused by his half blocked nostril due to the low temperatures.

“Fuck” He whispers.

Not a single sound reaches his ear after that breath, not a single shadow seen. When his eyes open, his whole body is on alert. His arms tense, his torso stiffens, whereas his legs were hammered in the dense white veil covering the spot. Something was approaching. It even passed by him in a fury. His blood boils in his veins. Even so, he feels like each cell weighted ten times its weight in silver. Geralt heard a last shrill noise nearby by the time he fought with the last drops of strength flowing into his body and reach out for his sword. As he struggles to lift it, a jaw closes on his shoulder. He winces in pain, spitting a deep growl towards the shadows. Gauging by how fast the pain spreads locally, the mouth of the creature must be his main weapon. When it backs off after its first bite, the Witcher figured out the thing will not kill him straight, it isn’t hungry or extra. It utterly wanted to play with his prey, him. He felt like his hands paralyzed, but also shook the most, he’s unsure if it was caused by the frozen or by the bite. His black eyes sprang out, revived thanks to the ache emanating from his dysfunctional shoulder, as it gives him a full ability to discern what attacked him.

It looks like a woman with large spider-like legs coming out of its back. Its body resembles a grisly exoskeleton more than the pulpy features of the human woman he spent the last night with, indeed. That thought, making the Witcher smile.

Despite the new ache focus blooming all over his body, the man was still standing on his feet, springing his sword at the neck of the still unknown yet hideous creature when it jumps back at him. The man heard a terrible screeching sound as the creature crawl about a large boulder. Behind him, rustling bushes and a thud, as if something has slid and then dropped down from the trees behind. Yet still, he can’t look back or the spider-looking thing will take enjoyment in biting again, and he knew well he would not survive another bite. He was encircled by weasel creatures that let him an interval to swallow that today is the day he’ll surely die, in the gelid forest, where hours ago it felt as hot as burning coals. The blood dripping from his huge wound was abnormally overflowing, damping his whole white tunic. On top of that, his death comes in the middle of nowhere, far from his pathetic life.

Perhaps in the next world he have peace of mind?

He can’t even comfort his spirit with this thought because as wicked, cold, and evil as this place seems, he preferred to rest under its ground for the rest of life rather than facing the endless void he thought was waiting for him behind the veil.Although the beast was aggressive and agile, the Witcher still tries to aim its back with clean and neat sword movements. Even with one arm left, the battle was not yet determined, but the white-haired man stays confident, patiently looking for an opening. On which occasion he knows he will not hold back his blow.

***

There is blood pooling at your feet and welling up from your throat. There are thousands of bodies around you, all with these same holes burned in their jaws. You woke up abruptly, with the boorish stench of rotting corpses winding each portion of your body as if you weltered in a bath of death. Besides the smell, the knife in your stomach that you see is a dull pain. 

You scratched your lids and opened your eyes again. “Holy crap on a cracker,” you whistle. And fear clouds your every thought, every movement and action from now on. Your heart beating in your chest warning you, he got enough of these for a lifetime or so. All you can think at this moment is how this foulness occurred. Because you are sure you don’t remember the hammered knife in your guts, nor falling asleep in the waters. Your voice instinctively tries to reach out for a name, “Geralt!” you continuously weep, tired of seeing blood and wounds every so often. Where did you go? He asks himself. Usually, he would think you just wanted to go back to your life, but something in his guts told him this isn’t right. Suddenly, out of nowhere, he heard your voice calling for him. He sprints through the forest, lungs burning as he calls you back. The more his breathing grew louder, the more he knew he was near. He can’t hear his desperate breaths, can’t even hear the pounding of his own heart. All he could hear was the soft melody drifting across the wind before him.

“Y/n,” Geralt muttered near your head. You try to lift your hand to his face, but instead, he grabs it and passes it around his neck, helping you to stand. “You turd!” You whisper, almost out of breath. The golden-eyed man looked over your face and grunts, as a sign you got his attention. “Can’t you see the knife?” you teased with a breezy voice. You wonder if you were still dreaming or if all of this was real. Thus, when the pain in your belly starts to prickle. “Just put it out,” you spat some blood. “I’m bringing you somewhere safe,” he riposted. But by the flimsy laugh leaving your weak body, he rolled his eyes and dropped you carefully at the feet of an old tree. His gaze was sinking so deep into you it almost ripped out your soul.

You wanted to say something, but the overflowing blood of your injury got in your head, making you feel dizzy. The face of Geralt is blurry, so is the forest, and again your eyes shut to join a dimension that you swear is your personal hell. There is blood running down the corner of your mouth. You’re invited to look down by the putrid odor, noticing the dead pile of carcasses on which you sat. You began to yell. “Oh, no-no-no. Please no, don’t tell me that… Oh gods, no,” your voice resonated like an echo. Each of your words coming back at the place that sets them free.

You knit your brows as your orbs open. “You finally up?” the deep and raspy voice of the Witcher resonating in your ears. “I haven’t slept in days… Anytime I close my eyes, I feel it reaching out to grab me,” you spitted curtly. The long-haired man, standing and turning his back at you, only grunt as an approval. ”‘Feeling what?’ I heard you asking,” you add. “Did I?” Geralt looks over his shoulders, squinted towards you. You nodded, ready to spread out another layer of drama at the top of your current situation. “Those blackened claws… They’re coming for me. I am the blackened claws,” your solemn tone caught the attention of the Witcher, that slid to sit on the log beside you, holding you a flask of water. He exhaled deeply, avoiding your eyes.

“All I know about you is that you miraculously healed from a knife in the guts. I didn’t see any claws, even less blackened,” the man sings, proud of himself. You choked on your drink and hassle to pat your stomach, even ripping your cloth to the side to be able to corroborate his words.  “What the goose?” You sputtered, the tip of your finger seeking your wound in vain. Your eyes wide, you lift your gaze to the sour complexion of the man. “The goo- what?” he repeats, one eyebrow lift to you, which you ignore. “What else has happened?” you reluctantly ask, not sure you wanted to know other eerie things you may have missed about yourself. “Well,” he tilted his head in a chuckle, a smirk graces his face. “It’s that��bad?” you cut him off brows narrowed as your gazes lock. Geralt tensed his jaw, a grunt slips its way out, seeing the worry in your eyes. “Can you stand?” he asks your way. You slowly let go of the soil in your hands and lift them to the sides of your body, then you push on your legs, and, as if it was the first time, you throw Geralt your warmest smile, glad. He stands up on his feet and slips on the cloak he just grabbed. You confusedly looked at him. The weather was so hot and humid. You wondered why he needed this cloak. “Come, on,” Geralt cheerfully purrs, motioning that you follow. You executed, quietly walking beside him. When Geralt stops, your two looks drop at the same thing, your feet. Your narrowed eyes describe plainly the conundrum displaying in your head. You kneel and spread your fingers above the white veil before you clench your fingers in a fist, imprisoning the substance in it. You stand back up, still looking at your fist as you open it. Geralt observed the scene with cautious eyes, he surmised you had something to do with the snow, but not quite sure if so, why you were mesmerized by it as if it was the first time you touch it. “Is this familiar to you?” he motions his hand toward the areas.

Indeed, it is familiar. The day before, you saved his life while he was fighting with a deadly injury here.

Geralt hears rustling bushes behind him, followed by a thud. You, now, stand near the scene you were observing from above. Eyes flickering between the watcher and the Cipher, he was staring at, crouching in the shadows. You thought you had each of those bastard creatures. Apparently, one remains. “On your knees,” you commended. Hearing your sassy tone, Geralt looked over his shoulder, and what a surprise he has. Two creatures for the price of one. Solely, you were not the same species that assaulted him. Your eyes constantly drip a yellow ooze, your paces utterly silent as you neared him.

A loud and shrill, high-pitched cry comes from behind a boulder as the wind comes in blasts followed by hailstorms, and thundershower. This tempestuous weather buried a sweltering atmosphere, seizing Geralt by the throat. Him, that refused to kneel before you find himself forced to. The wind is sweeping every greenery leftovers, and rain is draining down any hope of survival.

In the distance, the Witcher shields his eyes with his hand against any projectile and watched as you and the Cipher jumped high in the air with stabbing shrieks and subsequently collide in a mystical twirling of both magic energies. He cringes as the yellow ooze drips from your eyes into the bite holes in the jaw of your victim, infecting her. In a rush of gloom, everything stops. The rain freezes in midair, and the wind hushes. The mist vanishes behind the trees, the dusty sky, making room in an azure and bright one.

Even the heat, passionate mild settles back as if nothing has happened, the only evidence of the previous chaos being the spruce firing body on the ground. “You should fetch more woods that is dry if you don’t want this flames to die” You solemnly let out towards Geralt. “Bloody hell, that rhymes,” you heatedly cheer yourself up. Though the warmth mastered the air again, the snow still envelops each section of the brush like a soft thick blanket of ice and drifting snow. It is an eerily beautiful sight the golden-eyed man is lucky to witness. Geralt lids fluttered in incomprehension for a brief instant, he suddenly stands back up and hassled his hand to his wound shoulder, only to find nothing. The injury completely healed, single marks of sharpening teeth as scars left in there. “How?” he grumbles.

“I can put it back if you want?” you suggest, lifting your eyes brows. Geralt that was still searching for his nonexistent wound stops on track and glared at you, a grunt emanating from the deepest of his throat. “What?” you shrug. “I can slap you… with a wet fish,” you added, gauging his reaction. “Maybe it wasn’t me,” you shrug to him, not knowing what else to say. “Don’t it help your memories flow back into your mind?” asked Geralt as both of you stood near the gathering ashes of bones who initially was the Cipher you killed.You shook your head and mutter. “No, it’s still as dry as a bad piece of lettuce” Geralt glances at you as soon as the words left your mouth. “Hmm,” he grunts.”But Y/n, it is your doing,” he maintains, your weird comparisons comforted him most in his assumption.

[whumphoarder]

Who Needs Disney When You Have Russell Crowe?

Summary: When Peter’s ear infection gets a little out of hand, Tony and Morgan have slightly different ideas of how to help.

Word count: 1,874

Genre: Sickfic, domestic fluff, Whump Lite™

A/N: Thanks to @xxx-cat-xxx for beta-reading and ideas <3

Link to read on Ao3

Peter wakes to the sound of quiet whimpering.

It takes a few seconds for his groggy brain to register where he is, but the warm glow of the bunny-shaped night light on the opposite wall illuminating the Arendelle toy castle and the pile of stuffed animals on the floor gives it away. He’s in Morgan’s room. Morgan, who insisted on getting a bunk bed for her sixth birthday so that she and Peter could have sleepovers whenever he came to visit.

Morgan, who is clearly in the midst of a nightmare.

“Mo...” Peter whispers hoarsely. There are a few more quiet, pained whimpers. “Mo,” he tries again, louder. His left ear is throbbing and it’s ridiculously stuffy in this room—he’s actually sweating. Kicking the tangled bed covers off of himself, he lifts a hand to tap the wooden bed frame over his head. She stirs. “Morgan, wake u-up.” His voice cracks on the last word.

Morgan sits up in her bunk. “Yeah?” she asks drowsily. She leans over the edge of bed to look at him, strands of her long hair falling in her face. “What is it?”

She doesn’t seem particularly upset, which Peter finds strange. “Did… did you have a b-bad dream?” he asks.

In the dim light of the room, he can just make out her curious expression. “I don’t think so.” She swings her legs over the side of the bed and shimmies backwards down the ladder. “Did you?”

“Wh-What?” His ear is ringing, the pain feeling almost bone-deep. There’s another whimper, barely audible.

“You’re crying,” she says simply, perching herself on the edge of his bed. Her brow knits together. “Are you sad?”

Peter wipes the back of his hand roughly across his face and finds it’s wet with tears. It takes a second for his addled brain to realize that she’s right, and then an instant wave of self-consciousness washes over him as he looks into the eyes of the frowning six-year-old. “No, sorry, ‘m fine.” He pushes himself up on his elbows, hurriedly brushing the tears away.

Morgan’s eyes go wide. “You’re bleeding!” she gasps.

“Huh?” Peter follows her horrified gaze down to the pillow he’s been using. It’s covered in something dark and sticky. Alarmed, he lifts a shaky hand to his throbbing ear and feels more liquid trickling down. “Oh – um – wow, uh...”

“I’m getting Daddy!” Morgan declares, jumping up from the mattress and spinning on her heel. “Hang on!”

“Wait, no, don’t freak him—”

But she’s already out of the room.

“...out.” With a small groan, Peter carefully sits the rest of the way up and flips the lamp on. The pastel lilac pillowcase is stained with a mixture of blood and yellowish fluid. Grimacing, he grabs some tissues from the box on Morgan’s dresser and dabs them carefully at his dripping ear, hissing sharply at the stabbing pain it causes.

Within a minute, Morgan is back, dragging the hand of a disheveled but surprisingly alert-looking Tony in after her. “See? He’s crying and bleeding out of his ears!” she blurts.

“Just one ear,” Peter corrects, lowering the tissue down to look at the fresh blood and pus on it. “Gross...”

Tony rolls his eyes. “Oh, well in that case I’ll just go back to bed—you’re perfectly fine.” He moves over to the bed, Morgan following close behind. “Anything you wanna share with the class? You take any good hits to the noggin’ recently? Blow something up?”

Peter shakes his head as much as he dares, which only increases the ringing sensation. “No, nothing like that,” he mutters. He wishes this was something cool and Spider-Man related, but he’s pretty sure it’s just his patented Parker Luck™. “Ear started hurting a couple days ago,” he admits. “Thought it would go away.”

Tony pulls out his phone and flips on the flashlight. “Can I see it?”

“Yeah,” Peter says, wincing. He bites his lower lip and does his best to keep as still as possible as Tony peers into his ear with the light.

“What does it look like?” Morgan asks curiously.

“Ugly as hell...” Tony mutters. He flicks the light off and turns to Peter. “Pretty sure you ruptured your eardrum, kiddo.”

“Ah.” The pain seems to ramp up with the confirmation. That checks out. Certainly feels like someone just bored a hole through his ear. He can feel the fluid dripping out down his cheek.

Tony must notice it too because he grimaces and pulls a couple more tissues out of the box to hand him. “You know, if you weren’t feeling well, you could have told us that when you got here,” he points out. “Instead of waiting until”—he glances at his lock screen—“3:37 in the morning.”

Peter manages a small smirk. “Gotta keep you on your toes. You know, now that you’re retired and all...”

Looking very unamused, Tony extends a hand and helps pull Peter up to standing. The movement only increases the throbbing in his ear and Peter squeezes his eyes shut tightly against a wave of dizziness.

“Alright?” Tony checks, still gripping his arm tightly.

“Yeah,” Peter breathes, the ringing growing louder. “Sorry. Just... really hurts.”

“He can have some of my medicine,” Morgan offers in a slightly hushed voice. “The one Mommy gives me when my ears hurt.”

Tony lets out a short laugh. “That’s nice of you, sweetie, but I don’t think grape-flavored Children’s Motrin is gonna cut it here.” He gestures up to the top bunk. “Why don’t you hop back up there and try to sleep some more while I go get Peter fixed up?”

Morgan sticks her lip out in a pout. “But I’m not tired now.”

Instant guilt comes over Peter at having woken her up, but Tony doesn’t miss a beat.

“Nope, you are, you just forgot,” he says knowingly. He lets go of Peter’s arm for a second to scoop the now quietly giggling six-year-old up and deposit her on the top bunk. “Count some sheep, kid,” he advises, flipping off the lamp and snagging Peter’s ruined pillow to toss in the laundry.

With Morgan situated, Tony guides Peter out of the bedroom and down the stairs. He leaves Peter to clean up in the bathroom before heading to the kitchen in search of some kind of painkiller that might work on an enhanced metabolism.

Eventually, Tony returns with a bottle of Tylenol-Codeine, a glass of water, and an apologetic look. “It’s the strongest stuff we’ve got here. Might take the edge off at least.”

Peter murmurs his thanks and takes the pills, mostly to humor him. They both know it’s a lost cause. He can burn through a dose of morphine in less than ten minutes; there’s no way over-the-counter meds are going to do anything.

“First thing in the morning, I’ll take you to see Bruce,” Tony promises. “We’ll get you on some antibiotics and something better for the pain.”

Peter just hums in response.

Tony sighs. “We can try a heating pad,” he suggests. “That helps Morgan sometimes.”

“Sure.” Peter shrugs, listless. He’ll do anything at this point to make his ear stop aching.

Tony locates the heating pad and gets Peter set up on the chaise section of the couch under a blanket with the heating pad resting on the pillow under his ear. It helps marginally, which is slightly more than Peter can say for the pills.

“Sorry, kiddo. If only you’d known me in the nineties,” Tony says with a sad chuckle. “Could’ve tried all kinds of stuff on you.”

Peter lets out a short, empty laugh. “Yeah, too bad. Sure May would’ve loved that…”

Tony settles down onto the other end of the couch and flips on the TV for distraction. After a bit of channel flipping, he picks a period war drama about a badass sea captain fighting during the Napoleonic Wars, starring Russell Crowe.

(It was that or “My Strange Addiction” on TLC, and neither of them felt like watching a woman eat a couch).

Peter doesn’t exactly sleep, but he closes his eyes and drifts in and out while the movie plays low in the background. He’s kind of queasy—probably a combination of the otherwise useless drugs and the low grade fever he’s pretty sure he’s got going—but it’s nothing too awful. At least the sounds of cannons firing and battles being waged on screen drown out the incessant ringing in his head.

He isn’t sure how much time passes before a new voice joins the mix in a stage-whisper:

“Are they gonna cut his arm off?”

Peter’s eyes snap open. He sees Tony dozing on the other end of the sofa, so he sits up a little straighter and turns around to look at the staircase behind him. Sure enough, Morgan is sitting on the fourth step from the bottom, just high enough to see over the couch to the TV.

“I thought you went back to bed,” Peter whispers.

Morgan shrugs. “Counting sheep is boring.” She stands up and tiptoes down the rest of the stairs and into the living room. “Are they gonna cut his arm off?” she repeats.

Peter looks back at the movie. The ship’s doctor is in the midst of a rather intense amputation scene on a young boy’s infected arm. “Yeah, looks like it,” he says through a wince. He should probably change the channel to something more child-friendly, but Tony’s got the remote balanced on his knee and he’s all the way on the other end of the sofa. Oh well.

Morgan nods at the screen, looking impressed. Then she looks back to Peter. “Does your ear still hurt a lot?”

“Nah, it’s not so bad,” Peter lies. “No need to cut it off or anything.” He scoots over on the cushion a bit. “You wanna sit here with me?”

“Yeah.” She nods and hops up onto the couch beside him, snuggling against his right side. “Did Daddy give you medicine?” she inquires.

“Yeah, he did,” Peter assures.

She nods approvingly. “And did he give you the heater thingy?”

Peter lifts the heating pad up slightly for her to see. “Yep.”

“Good.” She nods again. “And cuddles?”

“Eh…” His gaze drifting to his quietly snoring mentor, Peter smirks a bit. “I think I’m getting too old for those.”

“Everybody needs cuddles,” she says knowingly. Scooting a little closer to him, she wraps her arms around his waist. “See?”

A small smile creeps across Peter’s lips. “Yeah, I see.”

They sit there for a moment, Peter doing his best to focus on the steady pressure of the six-year-old’s gentle squeeze rather than the thumping in his head. It’s almost peaceful.

“Either that, or you need a stick,” Morgan pipes up, breaking the spell.

Peter’s brow furrows. “A stick?”

“To bite down on,” she explains, pointing at the TV. “Like the boy in the movie.”

Peter blinks, then shifts his gaze sideways to the little girl watching nineteenth-century field surgery technique with genuine interest.

“It’s so he doesn’t scream,” she informs.

Peter holds out his hand. “Just give me the remote, Mo.”

X

Link to all my fics

If you enjoyed this story, you might also like: Adventures at the Stark Lake House

[jcqlnyng]

Constellations | Kurapika

Fandom: Hunter x Hunter 

Pairing: Kurapika/Reader

Word Count: 6587

Summary: You are a member of the Phantom Troupe cursed with the grief of losing your close friend Paku. You vow to avenge Paku, but your pursuit for her murder’s blood causes your life to change forever. 

Warnings: Fight scenes, somewhat explicit language

A/n: This was originally a fic written for my friend who absolutely adores Kurapika. I ended up being proud of what I wrote and I wanted to post it here. Enjoy!

“Do you trust me?”

Pakunoda’s face was stoic as ever as she raised her pistol to you. A sad smile spread over her face as she pulled the trigger. 

Six bullets and Paku was gone. Memories began to flood your brain like a river. Flashes of red eyes, chains, and blond hair fill your mind. You feel Paku’s powerful memories fill your entire body, rushing through your veins like molten gold.

You run to her, tears beginning to sting your eyes as you fell to the ground, reaching for her lifeless head and holding it close. Sobbing into Paku’s hair, you hear the silent shuffling of the other Troupe members walk towards her body. Shizuku hesitantly presses two fingers to Pakunoda’s neck hoping to feel a pulse. 

“She’s dead” Shizuku confirms in a solemn voice. 

As Phinks begins to recount Paku’s last memories to the Troupe, you stay frozen to the ground, unable to let go of your dead friend. Your memories of Paku cloud your vision. She was your first friend on the Phantom Troupe when you joined one year ago. Paku was always there for you, when Franklin would ignore you, when Phinks would push you around, when Feitan would make fun of you, and even when Hisoka would make passes at you. You breathed her in, hugging her body tight hoping that maybe, if you held her close enough, cried enough, told her you miss her enough, that she would come back to life. If you could, you would have taken that chain for her. 

Her intoxicating scent fills your brain, the same expensive perfume she always wore burned its way into your mind; the imprint of an unspoken promise that you will never forget Pakunoda. 

“I will avenge Paku. Whoever did this to her will never touch my friends again” you whisper quickly, eyes burning with hatred. His blond hair. His red eyes. His chains. He was going to regret ever touching Paku. 

Feitan clears his voice to speak. He shakes his black hair out of his eyes. 

“There’s no point in waiting. We have to capture the chain user. He already killed Uvo and Paku. The Spider must not lose more legs…”

An uneasy shift falls over the Phantom Troupe. Ever since Chrollo gave every member a prophecy, those whose prophecies promised death were hesitant to take on any tasks.

“…Whoever captures the chain user will get ten million of my personal Jenny”

At the sound of the prize money, the eyes of the Troupe members began to light up.

“Fucking thieves” you grumble under your breath as you gently place down Paku’s head and begin to leave for the entrance. 

“Where would you be going y/n?” Hisoka sneered in your direction. 

His disgusting yellow eyes pierced yours as if he was peering into your soul. Since you have joined the Troupe, Hisoka never liked you. He was the coldest out of all the members but also the most power-hungry. With Chrollo missing and Paku and Uvo dead, nobody in the Troupe knew why he was still around.

“I’m going to get that prize money” you replied coldly, sheathing your dagger and turning away. 

There was no point in expressing your friendship with Paku to Hisoka. He was just a heartless, power-hungry, freak.

As you stepped out of the Troupe base in YorkNew, you were hit by the cold wind waking you up to what happened.

Paku’s scent fills your brain again as you sank to the ground, tears filling your eyes again. You were going to avenge Paku if it was the last thing you ever do. 

~~~

It has been three days since Paku’s death and you have yet to take a break from searching for the chain user. With Paku’s memory bomb, you now knew what he looked like and that he worked with the Nostrade family. It would be impossible for you not to find him. 

Today was the final day of the auction and the Nostrade family was expected to attend the final auction. This could be your last opportunity to find the chain user. 

You would catch the chain user if it was the last thing you did.

As you walk through the outskirts of YorkNew you begin to feel uneasy in the dark, empty streets. You were completely concealed with Zetsu, nobody could find you, but you still felt as if you were being watched. 

Picking up your pace, you begin to jog towards the city, the lights of midtown YorkNew drawing nearer with every step. The streets were completely silent with only the sound of your steps filling your ears. However, with every step, you feel your stalker grow closer, burning a hole with their eyes into your back. With a hand on the hilt of your dagger, you quickly spin around, hoping to catch your stalker dead in their path, but there was nobody behind you. Listening for footsteps, you scan the alleys around you. 

“Could it be the chain user?” You thought to yourself.

Your hand tightens around your dagger, not fully unsheathing it yet. Whoever was following you was well concealed, however, they must be immensely strong if they could sense you despite you using Zetsu.

Suddenly from behind you, you begin to hear a low growl and footsteps approaching you. You turn your head back as you realize who your stalker is.

A Shadow Beast.

“A Phantom Troupe member I see,” the Beast growled at you. “Strange to see one alone,” he said, licking his lips revealing his razor-sharp teeth. 

“Who are you,” you reply, calmly turning around and slanting your eyes towards the strange man. 

“Ah, what a shame you don’t know me. I’m Rabid Dog. I was sent by the Ten Dons to kill Phantom Troupe members.”

Never letting go of your dagger, you sense his bloodlust envelop the two of you. 

“Attacking me would be futile. I have fought people stronger than you,” you say in a low voice, hoping he leaves you alone. 

Rabid Dog had the strongest Nen of any Shadow Beast member you have ever met. The past three days have drained all your energy and it could take all your energy to fight Rabid Dog. 

Rabid Dog laughed maniacally as he entered a fighting stance.

“Not if I kill you first,” he says as his eyes began to glow red, lunging towards you. 

Shocked by how fast he was, you were too slow to counter him, allowing him to land a hit on your face. You stagger backward, feeling your cheek grow hot and your metallic blood pool in your mouth. Never taking your eyes off Rabid Dog, you unsheathed your gold dagger, and almost as fast as the speed of light, you dart behind him, stabbing your dagger into his side. 

Realizing what happened, Rabid Dog grabs your wrist jolting your body forward from behind him. He licked his teeth before biting down on your shoulder. With his claws, he slashed your legs, leaving bloody gashes on your thighs and calves. As you stumbled backward, you felt your world spin, your head growing light as blood rushed out of your shoulder and legs. You slanted your eyes towards him as you pressed a button on the bottom of your dagger’s hilt. In one mechanic motion, the blade of your dagger extended, turning it into a sword.  

Your aura erupted into a flame around you, shades of red, orange, and yellow flicking around your body. As you turned your head towards him, your eyes began to glow golden, the same golden hue of your sword. In your left hand, a fire grew from your palm in the same colors as your aura. Your power taunted Rabid Dog to approach you, inviting him to his death. 

Rabid Dog stepped back examining the ground before you as he watched your Nen engulf him and you. Never having seen someone as powerful as you, Rabid Dog was unsure of what to do, any move he made was certain death. 

In one final attempt, Rabid Dog lunged full speed at you, hoping to land a fatal hit. Before he could touch you, you bright your sword down on him in one fell swoop, stabbing him through the back and out his other side. With all your power, you emitted your final attack on Rabid Dog, incinerating him in one final show of light, leaving him dead on the empty street. 

Delirious from using all your power, your aura shrinks back into you. Pulling your bloodied sword out of Rabid Dog’s back and retracting it back into a dagger, you begin to break into a run, running away from the dead body in the street. Your shoulder and legs, still bleeding from Rabid Dog’s potentially fatal bite, grow heavy, your mind grows dizzy. Your legs were on autopilot, one moving right after the other, but they began to fail slowly as well. You could only run a couple of blocks before falling to the ground, your eyes blurring the city around you. The last thing you heard was your dagger falling to the ground in a loud clang. 

~~~

You wake up to a sharp pain from your right shoulder and legs. Opening your eyes, you had no idea where you were. Your wounds were bandaged, but you could still see maroon stains seeping through the bandage. You winced as you propped yourself up on the mattress, shifting your weight onto your left shoulder. 

“Where the hell am I…” you wonder to yourself. This was nowhere you have ever been before.

As your eyes adjusted to the darkness, you glanced around to attempt and piece together where you were. It looked as if you were in a large circus tent. From the corner of your eye, you could see abandoned arcade machines and what used to be a concession stand with a big, plastic clown head on a sign that read “Snacks.”

This was the stuff of nightmares. You knew you had to get out of this strange place. 

You picked yourself up off the mattress and reached for your dagger, but when your hand met your scabbard, it was empty. You jolted upwards, eyes full of panic; that dagger was your only weapon. Without it, you would be forced to fight with only your Nen. You reached under the mattress hoping that your dagger fell underneath, but all you could feel was the cold linoleum the mattress laid on. 

“Looking for this?” 

You spin around, searching for who spoke. From the darkness, you see a blond-haired man with piercing red eyes approaching you. 

It was the chain user. 

His blond hair was swept messily and his eyes were crazed as if he hadn’t slept in days. He wore a fitted black suit with the tie slightly unraveled around his neck. His left hand was tucked into his pocket and in his right hand held his dagger and his chains. He twirled your dagger in his hand nonchalantly, never looking away from you. 

With every step he took towards you, your heart beat faster, unsure of what he would do next. You began to move back, backing up towards the wall. 

“Who are you” you muster with your strongest voice. “What is your name?”

You were backed against a wall; there was no escaping the chain user. The chain user put an arm next to your side, trapping you from leaving. 

“Kurapika. I am the last of the Kurta clan. Your Troupe killed my family.”

Kurapika’s eyes bore into your soul; his red eyes flickered with bloodlust as he contemplated what he was going to do with you. You had no way to escape him. 

“What clan? I’ve never heard of the Kurta.” The Troupe did not commonly discuss missions they did in the past. There have done far too much evil in the world. “I only joined the Troupe a year ago.”

Kurapika slanted his eyes towards you, his body leaning closer down to yours, only an inch separating you. 

“Don’t lie to me,” he breathed down your neck.

His words sent a shiver through your spine. Kurapika held so much power and you were scared of what he could do to you. You knew what he was capable of, after what he did to Paku…

“I swear I’m not lying. I only joined the Troupe a year ago. I joined to earn money for my family back home. I only just met the full Troupe this August for the auction.” Your words shakily fell out of your mouth. If you lied to Kurapika, he could easily kill you.

Kurapika’s eyes softened as he examined you. He knew you were telling the truth. He stepped back, the redness in his eyes disappearing. In one swift motion, he held your dagger up to you. You winced, thinking he was going to stab you, but his eyes beckoned for you to take your dagger back. Trembling, you reached up to grab your dagger. You quickly sheathed your dagger and looked back up to Kurapika. His blond hair covering his face made it impossible for you to read his expression. There was no way to know what he was thinking. 

“Why did you bring me here? What is this place?”

Kurapika let out a sigh, “I didn’t find or bring you here. Hisoka did.”

You stepped back. Hisoka? You barely talked to him. Was he friends with Kurapika? Your mind was racing with questions to ask.

Kurapika continued, “Hisoka and I have been working together. He tells me where members of the Troupe are and I help him separate Chrollo from the rest of the Troupe so he can fight him; however, that has been impossible since Chrollo lost his Nen and disappeared.”

“That still doesn’t explain where I am or why I’m here or even why I have these stupid bandages,” you shot back at him. 

He raised an eyebrow, taken aback by your sudden tone. 

Nonchalantly he replied, “We are in the abandoned amusement park in YorkNew. I requested for Hisoka to bring you here after he found you in the street; however he never explained to me that you were a new member…” Kurapika thought before continuing, “And to answer your question, I bandaged your shoulder. I thought I was going to be fighting you and I prefer to have my opponents fighting me with all their power.” 

Kurapika turned to walk away, putting both of his hands into his pockets. “I suppose since you did not participate in the massacre of my clan, I will not kill you, but you must stay here. I can’t have you telling other Spiders about me.”

All this information made you confused. Kurapika was not a murderer and you still had no idea as to why the Troupe murdered his clan. 

With the courage you had left in you, you mustered a small reply back to Kurapika. “Thank you. I am sorry about your clan.”

Looking behind his shoulder, he said calmly, “Don’t apologize. You didn’t kill them.”

Then he was off. Kurapika closed the door to the amusement arcade and you were alone. 

~~~

You don’t know how many hours it has been since you spoke to Kurapika. After he told you what happened your mind became dizzy again, forcing you to lie back down on the mattress shivering from the cold and lightheaded from your injury. You woke up to the opening of the abandoned arcade door. Kurapika stepped in confidently with two plates of food in his hand. Embarrassed he had to see you in such a weak state, you hurried to sit up, but as you propped yourself up, you placed all your weight on your injured shoulder. Seeing your wince from your injury, Kurapika hurried over and knelt to you, placing the food next to him. 

“You shouldn’t be so careless. Your shoulder seems to have been infected with a poison of some sort. Whoever bit you must have had venom in their fangs,” Kurapika said hurriedly as he supported your back, allowing you to rest your right shoulder. 

That explained the excruciating pain from your shoulder. Any other bite wouldn’t have been so tolling on you. 

“Do you know when my shoulder will be healed?” You asked as you shifted your body, allowing Kurapika to sit next to you on the mattress. 

“It would normally take a month to fully heal, but I have been trained to deal with injuries of all kinds, so I could probably fix you up in two weeks or so. I already cleaned up your other wounds, so those will probably heal in a week or so. The gashes on your legs might take longer, however,” Kurapika replied handing you the food he made. 

Seemingly as if he could read your confused mind, Kurapika said “Traditional Kurta bao. The recipe has been passed down through my family.”

You nodded quickly before taking a bite, impressed by his cooking skills. 

“Did you make this?” you said with a mouth full of food. 

“Well since I am the only one left of the Kurta, yes y/n,” Kurapika chuckled lightly.

You felt your face grow hot with embarrassment. Of course, he made the food. Who else could have? To hide your face, you stuffed your mouth with more food, hoping you wouldn’t say anything else equally as embarrassing. 

“You were out for an entire day you know?” Kurapika said casually. 

You felt yourself choke on your food. A whole day? You had completely missed the auction. Well… that wasn’t exactly necessary anymore since you had found Kurapika, but you felt uncomfortable with the fact of betraying him to the Troupe. 

But Paku…

“Quite annoying for me since I had to lift your body to change out your bandages,” Kurapika continued. “I’m sure your shoulder feels much better though, I used some of my Nen on it hoping to extract the venom—“

“Did you kill Paku?”

Your words surprised him. You felt Kurapika tense up next to you. He hadn’t expected you to have known Pakunoda.

“Yes, but I only did it because she killed my family. I used Judgement Chain on her, placing a curse on her that would kill her instantly if she used her Nen.”

Judgment Chain… You remembered that from Paku’s memories. 

“Who did she kill?” You asked hesitantly, hoping Kurapika wouldn’t grow hostile. 

To your surprise, Kurapika replied casually, “nobody in my immediate family but she killed a couple of my relatives, my uncles, aunts, and cousins to be specific.”

You never thought of Paku as a killer, but you didn’t expect anything less from one of the founding members of the Phantom Troupe. 

“I’m supposed to kill you, you know,” you said quickly, hoping Kurapika wouldn’t hear. 

Kurapika looked at you, “Yes I am aware, Hisoka told me about the ten million Jenny prize to capture me. But I would assume since you questioned about Paku, you were more interested in revenge rather than money.”

You were shocked at how well Kurapika could read you. It was almost as if he knew you without knowing you for more than two days. 

Kurapika let out a sigh. “Well. Are you going to kill me?”

His question shocked your entire body. You hadn’t thought about this after he told you about what Paku did to his family. You only feel anger towards him because he killed your friend, but your friend murdered his family. If it were your family that Paku murdered, you would want to kill her as well. 

“I don’t think you,” you replied slowly, thinking about the words that left your lips. “I don’t think there is a point to do so. She killed your family. It would be irrational for you not to want to avenge your clan.”

Shocked at your sensibility, Kurapika’s eyes widened at you. You felt his eyes stare at you, unsure of what he would say next. Kurapika did not expect to be this civil with a Spider. 

“Could you more about your clan?”

Kurapika quickly shifted his eyes away from you and looked down at his plate. Sighing softly, he set his plate down and looked towards the arcade tent ceiling with a nostalgic look sprawled across his face. You watched Kurapika as the memories of his past flooded back into his mind in a wave of longing and bittersweetness. Finally, Kurapika took a deep breath. 

“Alright y/n—“

~~~

After two weeks, you grew amicable with Kurapika. Instead of the stone-cold murderer of Paku you originally thought he was, he was instead a kind, intelligent, and caring person. Every morning he would wake you up with food he made and change your bandages. He would carefully unwrap each bandage and clean the wounds with a tonic. At every wince of your shoulder, he would place a hand on the small of your back, whispering words to calm your body as he continued to work at your injuries. You still felt flustered allowing him to tend to you in this way, but you secretly enjoyed how attentive he was to you, how closely he paid attention to your wounds, and the way his Nen would work its way through your shoulder, slowly taking out the poison drop by drop. 

You suspected he secretly enjoyed taking care of you as well.

Every morning, as he cleaned your wounds and you would eat, you would make casual conversation with him. You would ask him about his job with the Nostrades and he would ask you about your family at home. Although he was initially hesitant to share information about his job as he didn’t want to put the Nostrades in danger, he slowly began to open up to you after realizing you were of no threat to him. You quickly opened up to Kurapika as you already knew he was not interested in hurting you to using you to bait the Troupe

Kurapika would often have to do work for the Nostrades in the morning and afternoon, but he would always return to you. While he was gone, you were allowed to explore the amusement park, but your injuries usually made it difficult to be active without growing tired quickly. Sometimes when Kurapika would return later, he would return with food from his day out or with tea he made for you. You could talk for hours with him about the smallest things and you would always stay up late with him before he would pull away to sleep and prepare for the next day. By the end of the second week, you couldn’t help but grow a fondness towards Kurapika. 

You think he might be growing quite fond of you as well. 

One evening when Kurapika arrived back exceptionally late, he walked into the arcade holding a large thermos of tea. 

“Do you have cups to go with that?” You laughed lightly at him. 

Smiling softly, he reached his hand down towards you, inviting you to stand up. Your leg wounds have stopped bleeding and walking around has been much easier with Kurapika’s constant care. You grab his hand, standing up whilst supporting your weight by linking your arm with his. Without saying a word, he guided you to the door, holding it open for you as you stepped outside. It was a clear night with a spattering of stars against the dark indigo of the sky. Kurapika, still linked to your arm led you to the exit of the amusement park and towards a path to a hill behind the park. With a hand on your back, he patiently helped you up the hill, chuckling lightly when you would get frustrated with your legs. 

Finally, at the top of the hill, you saw a small blanket with a basket on top of it, keeping the blanket from drifting away. A breeze engulfed you as you lowered yourself onto the blanket, leaving you shivering. Noticing how cold you were, Kurapika reached behind the basket for a rolled-up blanket and draped it over both of your shoulders, warming both of you. 

“This seems like an impractical place to drink tea,” you joked quietly, smiling towards him.

“Sometimes the impractical is the most exciting,” he replied in an equally as soft voice. 

As the night grew colder, Kurapika pulled you in closer, letting you rest your head on his shoulder as he rested his head on top of yours. Kurapika pointed out the constellations to you as you drank your tea quietly whilst eating the bao he prepared. 

“What’s that constellation?” You interrupted, pointing towards the brightest star in front of you. 

“You’re going to have to be more specific than that,” Kurapika laughed softly, looking into your eyes. 

“You know the one, the one that looks like an upside-down stick figure.”

Glancing upwards, Kurapika squinted towards the direction you pointed at. A soft smile spread across his face as he recognized the stars. 

“That one is Andromeda, the chained maiden, she was supposed to be a sacrifice to save her mother and family, but the hero Perseus saved her and wed her…” Kurapika said dreamily.

You were drawing circles on Kurapika’s leg with your finger as you listened. The night was completely silent except for the occasional car horn from YorkNew. As Kurapika told the myth of Andromeda and her lover Perseus, you watched the city lights, shining just as bright as the stars above. 

“Andromeda and Perseus later founded the kingdom of Mycenae and after her death, Athena immortalized their love in the stars,” Kurapika finished, taking a sip from the thermos. 

You nestled your head deeper into the crook of Kurapika’s neck, acknowledging that he finished the myth. 

Noticing your gaze towards the city, “I love you so concentrated, your face turns so serious” Kurapika joked, shifting the blanket more to your side. 

Your heart tripped over those three words, forgetting the words that followed. Your heart rate increased, unsure of how to reply to Kurapika. Those three words left you utterly speechless. Your brain scrambled and isolated those three words from the rest of his sentence. Those three words left you defenseless. 

Kurapika noticing your sudden stiffness to his words, looked down at you, hoping to read your emotions from your face. Feeling his eyes on you, you looked up at him, catching his eyes. His normally dark grey eyes were light and soft, filled with a dreamlike look in them. You were an inch, maybe less, from his face. You could feel him breathing and he could sense your racing heartbeat. His eyes peered into yours, trying to figure out what you were going to do next, you did the same. Time seemed to slow down as your heads drew closer. 

“Sorry,” you said quickly as your turned your head down, a flush spreading across your face. 

Kurapika turned his face down too, confused at what, or what didn’t happen. To break the silence, Kurapika cleared his throat. 

“Well, we should probably go back now. It’s getting late,” Kurapika said in a low voice, masking any emotion. 

You nodded at him, picking up the blanket he let slip down his shoulders. As you placed the folded-up blankets and empty plates back into the picnic blanket, Kurapika reached down to help you stand up. With your arm around his, you walked back with him to the abandoned amusement park in silence.

“Fuck. What did I do?” You thought to yourself as he helped you down the hill, holding the picnic basket for you. 

You cursed yourself for being injured, this was embarrassing for you. You wished you weren’t so awkward around Kurapika. You wished you could stop messing up around him. 

As you reached the bottom of the hill with your hand still around Kurapika’s arm, you couldn’t but feel dejected about what you were too scared to do on the hill. You have been suppressing your feelings for him for a week. You could sense that he felt the same way, but neither of you wanted to act first. When Kurapika turned the corner to the entrance, he suddenly grew stiff. Confused, you looked up to see two dark figures in front of the park entrance. Your grip on Kurapika tightened as his brow furrowed and he took his hand out of his pocket in preparation to use his chains. 

“Are you lost,” Kurapika yelled from where he and you stood. 

From the distance you were standing, you could hear two low maniacal laughs erupt from the people standing in your way. Kurapika pointed his chains at the intruders. 

“I suggest you leave before you regret your decisions,” Kurapika warned, his aura growing around him. 

The taller figure stepped forward and opened his mouth to speak. “We aren’t here for you, we are here for y/n,” he said, pointing towards you. “I am Worm and this is Porcupine. Y/n here killed our partner Rabid Dog and it would be foolish for us to let that go unpunished.”

Porcupine and Worm sharpened their glare towards you and you immediately start to feel your aura grow in anticipation for a fight. 

“We will not leave until y/n is dead, so I suggest you stand aside as to not get dragged into the fight,” Porcupine said, directing his words towards Kurapika. 

Kurapika stayed firm and his eyes began to grow dark, ready to fight the two Shadow Beasts before him. Seeing as Kurapika would not move, Porcupine and Worm glanced towards each other and nodded. 

“Suit yourself,” Worm said just as he dove headfirst into the ground.

“Y/n run.” Kurapika directed. “Your legs will carry you far enough.”

Your eyes filled with panic, you could not let Kurapika fight on his own. Despite him being extremely powerful, you could not let Kurapika be outnumbered. You ignored him and continued to look at the ground in front of you, looking for any sign of Worm. 

“I will not let you fight them alone. I will be fine,” you mustered in your strongest voice.

Suddenly, Worm erupted from the ground, landing a punch on Kurapika’s jaw, sending him backward. 

Worm let out a disgusting laugh, “You should have left when you had the chance.”

Worm dove down into the ground again, but this time, burrowed out behind Kurapika, landing a hit to the back of his neck. If Kurapika were any normal human, this would have been a fatal shot, but Kurapika was not a normal human. Worm’s hit only enraged Kurapika more. Focusing towards Worm and activating his Nen, Kurapika’s chains extended from his hand, entangling Worm. Unsure of what to do next, Worm wiggled in the chain, extending his arms to attack Kurapika from afar. Kurapika blocked Worm’s hits while tightening his chain, choking Worm. While Kurapika was distracted with Worm, Porcupine shot his quills towards Kurapika, piercing Kurapika’s left arm. 

Unsure of what to do, you begin to run towards Porcupine, grabbing your dagger and activating it into a sword. Before Porcupine could notice, you cut off all his hair, leaving Porcupine with only a short stubble of hair. 

“What a foolish move. You should know that as a manipulator, I can always grow my hair back,” Porcupine said slowly.

You stepped back as Porcupine’s aura began to cover himself and in a dramatic show of power, Porcupine’s quills grew back harder and sharper. You lunged again at Porcupine, hoping to land a hit on Porcupine’s stomach, but right as your sword was about to pierce his skin, he shifted his quills to cover his stomach, acting as a shield to protect himself from your attacks. Porcupine, watching Worm struggle to escape from chain jail, shot his hair once more towards Kurapika, landing more on Kurapika’s back. Blood from the puncture wounds began to dot the sleeves and back of Kurapika’s clothing. Still focusing on his Nen, Kurapika continued to restrict Worm from leaving the chains, squeezing Worm slowly to death. 

Impulsively, you run towards Kurapika and Worm with your sword up, weaving through the quills with your speed. Worm, distracted by Kurapika, did not notice you sneak up behind him and stab your sword through Worm’s head, leaving him dead. Kurapika, impressed by your speed turned his attention towards Porcupine, sending his chains to wrap around Porcupine; however after Kurapika’s chains engulfed Porcupine, the pieces of Worm’s body began to move. 

“Worms can move even after they are severed into pieces,” Kurapika breathes under his breath, frustrated with the fight. 

Bloodied and bruised from Porcupine’s quills, Kurapika was limited in what he could do, he was forced to fight defensively. 

You feel the severed pieces of Worm begin to crawl up your leg as you stood in place, trying to figure out what to do next. Despite being chained, Porcupine continued to shoot his spines towards you and Kurapika. You dodged the quills, easily but Kurapika was receiving the brunt of the fight. In what seemed like hours, you watched as Kurapika’s aura grow smaller as Kurapika was losing blood from Porcupine’s quills. In a moment of desperation, you activate your Nen to form a fire around your body, lighting up your sword and body. With a flame in your hand, you directed the beams to incinerate the pieces of Worm on the ground and your leg. Being covered by Nen, your body was fireproof, but Worm’s fragile, Nen-less body was unable to defend itself. You watched as the pieces of Worm began to shrivel up and dissipate into ashes, floating off into the air. Your hands grew hot with the flames beginning to form in both palms. You dropped your sword, not needing to use it to fight anymore. 

“Run,” you whisper under your breath to Kurapika as you directed your attention to Porcupine. If he got caught in your flames, he would burn to death as well. 

Noticing the fires beginning to form at the corner of your eyes, he extended his chain, allowing him to run away whilst still constricting Porcupine from moving. You walked slowly towards Porcupine, his eyes full of fear of what you could do. You put your hands together, combining the two flares in your palms. Porcupine began to shoot his quills towards you, but before the quills could come into contact with your skin, the fire surrounding your body burned them, turning the quills into the same ash you turned Worm into. The same ash you will turn Porcupine into. 

“Ashes to ashes, dust to dust,” you say in a low voice as you neared Porcupine, the Nen around your body growing bigger, eyes bright gold glowing in the night. “We warned you to turn back before you would regret it.”

Once the final word left your mouth, you emitted the fires from your hands in one beam towards Porcupine. The flames burned through Porcupine’s quills like a fire through a sheet of paper. Porcupine’s skin was incinerated into dark charcoal, and soon his body began to dissolve into ashes and dust flowing away into the night sky, leaving nothing but a pile of chains as a reminder of the body that used to stand there. 

~~~

It had been three days since the fight outside the amusement park and although you left relatively unscathed, Kurapika had puncture wounds all over his body, causing him to lose a lot of blood. You spent the next couple of days nursing him back to full health, paying just as much attention to him as he did to you when you were hurt. You started to think your entire relationship was built upon saving the other person from dying from injuries. 

After your fight, your shoulder healed at a much faster rate, possibly from the fire burning all the poison away. While you tended at Kurapika you began to notice another power you had from your Nen. Healing. A juxtaposition to your destructive fire powers. You suspect you might have learned your healing powers from Kurapika when he used to use it to heal you. When healing, your flames materialized into a soft warmth over Kurapika’s body, lightly burning off any bacteria or dirt that accumulated on the puncture wounds, allowing the wounds to heal faster. Kurapika was impressed with your growing power, never looking away from you when you used your Nen on him. By the night of the second day, Kurapika was well enough to stand on his feet and walk thanks to your Nen and care. 

~~~

“Watch your step,” you laughed at Kurapika, watching him stumble over the unpaved path. 

Grumbling under his breath, not liking to be helpless, he asked, “where are you taking me anyways.”

You grinned softly towards him, shaking your head “no” as to remind him that it was a secret. Nodding lightly in slight annoyance, Kurapika continued walking up the dimly lit path. When the two of you reached the top of the path, Kurapika turned towards you, recognizing the location. 

“It’s the hill you took me to,” you whispered, trying to hide your blushing face. 

You felt Kurapika’s arms wrap around your side as he drew you closer. You walked with him holding your waist to the blanket you set down and food you prepared for him. Letting him go, you let him sit down and grab the second blanket from inside the blanket, enveloping around the two of you. Opening up the basket, further, Kurapika’s eyes lit up, seeing what you prepared for him. 

“How did you learn to make these?” He said, holding up the Kurta bao you spent all day trying to perfect. 

“It took a lot of trial and error, but I mostly just guessed and based on how you made yours,” you beamed back at him, hoping he enjoys the food you made. 

Kurapika took a bite, pleasantly surprised with how it tasted.

“Well obviously you have a long way to you,” he joked, smiling towards you, “but for the most part, it’s very good. Good job.”

At his words, you nestled yourself closer to his body, watching him finish the last of the food. 

“The sky is quite clear isn’t it?” You ask him, breaking the silence. 

“Yes it is, you can almost see all the stars again,” he says, looking up and pointing to a couple of constellations. 

As he began talking about the Greeks and their myths in the stars, your eyes began to grow heavy, heart content, and safe with the man next to you. You must’ve fallen asleep at some point as you woke up to Kurapika running his hands down your side reassuringly. Embarrassed by your fatigue, you looked back up at Kurapika, reading the expression on his face as he looked intently towards the YorkNew lights. 

“What are you thinking about?” You ask, hoping to understand the man before you.

Without a warning, he leans downs towards you and lands a soft kiss on your mouth, filling you with warmth and melting your insides. 

“That,” he said, pulling away slightly. 

Embarrassed yet again, you started to flush, trying to stop your stupid grin from covering your entire face. 

Watching the redness spread across your face and laughing softly, he leaned down again, molding his lips into yours in a gentle embrace. He snaked his arms around your body, holding you tighter. With the glow of YorkNew illuminating your faces, you felt completely, and perfectly, and incandescently happy. 

[hypnoticwinter]

Down the Rabbit Hole part 11

The drive is short and bumpy. The two men sitting next to me are relatively motionless, only moving when the vehicle jostles them. The vehicle itself is loud and powerful-sounding; a diesel engine, I reckon, just listening to the throaty growl of it.

Gravity puts its hand on my chest and gently presses me back into the seat and I realize we’re angling up an incline. We must be driving out of the cratered aperture of the Pit. There are twists and turns but the driver takes it slow and we eventually level out, and then the vehicle is stopping and one of the men next to me gets out and they shove in someone else roughly, almost knocking me over. The man on my other side catches me and pushes me back upright and then I’m knocking shoulders with whoever they pushed in. “Peter?” I whisper as the car starts back up, and I feel him turn his head towards me.

“Shh,” he says, but I can tell it’s him, and for a moment I feel reassured, and then I realize that if he got caught as well I have no support on the outside, hell, nobody even knows I’m in here, and my stomach drops further.

“What about Bao?” I whisper.

The man to my left tells me to shut up at the same time Peter does and I sink back in the seat, the edge of the handcuffs grinding painfully into the little nub of bone at the edge of my wrist, feeling appropriately chastened.

With my head in a hood like this all I can see is Rey getting splattered against the white concrete of the Pit’s floor. I see it over and over again, on repeat in the darkness behind my eyelids, in the darkness of the hood when I open my eyes to try and get at least a little visual input to focus on. The fabric is too opaque, I can’t see anything, I can’t even tell whether I opened my eyes or not.

I realize, as I feel a drop of salty liquid edging at the corner of my mouth, that I’m crying.

The vehicle rumbles along for another ten minutes before rattling to a stop, and then the men pile us out and, one hand on my shoulder and the other in the small of my back, push us forward and into some sort of building. We pass through hallways and corridors and then we’re pushed down into chairs. I can still sense Peter next to me, sitting down just like I am, and I can hear the clink of his cuffs same as mine as the men uncuff us and then recuff us with our hands in front of our bodies. Small mercies, I think. My shoulders had been starting to get tired.

“Peter?” I whisper.

“I’m here,” he says.

“Oh, thank god,” I mutter. If I’d been alone it would have been ten times worse.

“Be cool,” he tells me.

“I’m sorry,” I tell him.

“Shh,” he says again, and I roll my eyes beneath the hood.

“Look, I didn’t –“ I start, but he shushes me harder.

I can feel myself starting to get angry but then I bite it back down. I’m really not in a position to talk; arguably this is all my fault. If I’d just left Rey, just let him crawl to the orifice, he’d be the only one in trouble, we probably could have gotten back through the pipe and left by the time they’d seen him. But I hadn’t had the heart to –

“Take their hoods off,” someone says, and then somebody’s hands are at my neck and I feel a tiny choke of fear before they grab ahold of the hood and roll it off me and I have to screw my eyes shut against the bright light assaulting them. I manage to crack one eye open into a squint and see a grimy interrogation room straight out of Law and Order or something. Bright ceiling lamp, check; metal table, check; massive mirror along one wall, probably two-way, check; grubby balding man with several days’ worth of stubble sitting across from us, arms folded, check.

Next to me Peter is blinking away the stabbing light of the overhead lamp but I’m too busy staring at the man across from us. “Hey, wait a minute,” I say. “I know you.”

He colors brightly. “Ah yes,” he says. “The reporter. Who knew you’d be the person involved in smuggling people into the Pit.”

Peter looks over at me. “Shut up,” he says very seriously.

“I think she wants to talk,” the man says. “Why don’t you keep talking?”

“Are you a cop?” I ask him.

“No,” he says. Next to me Peter laughs.

“They wouldn’t let cops in here,” he tells me.

“So what authority do you have to hold us here?” I ask the man. He barks out a short, humorless laugh.

“You two do realize how much trouble you’re in, don’t you?”

“I assume you’re about to tell us anyway,” I grumble.

“You’ve broken into a high-security Federal installation,” he says. “I don’t know how you did it but trust me, we’ll find out. The penalties for what you’ve done are –“

“Yeah,” I say. “I know. I did the research. Five hundred dollar fine and felony trespassing. You want to hand us over to the cops now?”

“Roan,” Peter groans.

“There’s also the small issue of the man you got killed,” he says, inclining his head towards me. My mouth drops open.

“Excuse me,” I start. “I was not the person who shot him.”

“Roan,” Peter says again, “shut up.”

I whip my head around to stare at him but he stares back, unafraid, eyes narrowed, and I feel myself falter for a moment. “Could you be a little more helpful?” I ask him. “All I’m trying to –“

“You won’t be able to talk your way out of this,” Peter tells me.

I screw my mouth shut and look away from him. The man across the table from us leans back in his chair and crosses his arms. “How did you two get in?” he asks.

My cheeks are still burning and my stomach is a queasy hell of apprehension and fear and anger. I don’t trust myself to answer so I don’t say anything. Peter is equally silent. The man gives us a moment or two then sighs. “It’ll be a lot easier for you if you just tell us,” he says. Peter looks over at me.

“Don’t say anything,” he warns me again, and I roll my eyes at him.

“Yeah, I know,” I snap. “I’m not stupid.”

“Oh really?” he asks, giving me a sardonic little grin. I can feel my blood starting to boil. Then he turns and deliberately looks away from me and I nearly snap, nearly, except somehow I manage to bite it back down. The man across from us is watching the exchange like it was a soap opera.

“So,” he says after a moment, “I take it getting somebody killed wasn’t part of the plan?”

We are silent.

“What were you trying to do?” he asks me. “Surely you knew that if you tried to go down the main orifice you’d be spotted.”

“I was –“ I start, and then cut myself off.

“Go on.”

“I wasn’t going to say anything.”

“Mm,” the man says, a little noncommittal grunt.

The door slams open and we all jump. A short, willowy woman in a jumpsuit walks in, eyes fixed on the man across from us as though she were a shark and he a tuna. She has a white padded patch strapped across one eye and beneath it I can see mottled, scarred flesh, but her other eye is broad and green and fiery, set in her cheek like a jewel.

“Mister Farquhar,” she says. “Get out.”

Farquhar swallows, but stands his ground. “I wasn’t aware you were still on the base.”

She stares at him for a moment. “Farquhar,” she says, “you blithering idiot, I live on the base. You really thought they wouldn’t wake me up for what happened tonight?”

“I just thought –“

“No, you didn’t think at all. Why are you here? Why are you trying to do Security’s job?”

He puffs his chest up a little but the effect is underwhelming. “I was in charge tonight, I was under the impression that as the overnight Director –“

“Just because you run the overnight shift in the admin building doesn’t give you blanket oversight over everything in this damn complex. Now get the hell out of my interrogation room and let me do my damn job.”

At this the woman glances over at us, her good eye raking me like a laser, and then her gaze fixes on Peter and for a moment, just a moment, I see something resembling shock lurking in her face, but her composure returns so quickly it leaves me wondering if I even saw it.

My eyes narrow. It can’t be – can it?

Farquhar is still standing there, his arms crossed over his gut. “Since when do you perform interrogations personally?”

“When somebody fucking dies, Farquhar,” the woman says, rounding on him. She has to look up at him but he still takes a step back. “Now are you going to get out of here or am I going to have to have you thrown out?”

“Jesus Christ,” he mutters. He shuffles towards the door. “I’m going to file a complaint!” he calls from down the hallway.

The woman shakes her head. I glance over at Peter; he’s watching her like his eyes have never seen anything else.

She closes the door and then looks over at the mirror on the opposite wall. “Turn the camera and microphone off,” she says, “and then get out.”

A moment passes, and then the speaker on the wall crackles to life. “Uh, ma’am,” a voice says, “I don’t think the regulations –“

“I wrote the regulations. Just do it.”

The speaker clicks off and then the tiny red light beneath the camera next to it slowly fades. The woman waits another minute or so and then turns to us, her eye fixed on Peter. Her expression is so mixed I can’t even begin to decipher it.

“Hello, Peter,” she says.

“Hello, Mak,” he says.

 * * *

 “This is a fine fucking mess you’ve put me in,” she tells Peter, her legs resting crossed up on the table, head resting on one fist, balled against her cheekbone.

“I didn’t mean to,” he says. She rolls her eyes.

She’s prettier than I thought she’d be, even with her eye. It must be horrible, I think to myself, eyeing the edges of the scar where it pokes out from beneath the patch like a spider just a little too large for the rock it’s hiding beneath.

“What,” she says, “so just because you didn’t mean to get anybody killed I have to stick my neck out another couple of inches for you? I told you you had to stop! I told you what would happen if you got caught again! What, did you think I was joking? And who the hell is she?”

I’d zoned out a little bit; Makado has a tiny curl of an accent wrapping itself around her words like a snake, and I had been trying to identify it, but as she turns her baleful eye in my direction I find the trepidation sinking back into my bones like a lightning bolt. Whatever she’d been like before, whatever ended up happening to her, Makado had clearly changed.

“Her name is Roan,” Peter says, glancing over at me. “She’s –“

“Your girlfriend?” Makado finishes, disdainfully, curling her lip at him.

“No!” we both blurt out, nearly at the same time. We look at each other for another moment before I answer.

“No, I’m not his girlfriend,” I tell Makado. “I’m a reporter.”

Evidently this was the wrong thing to say, because she throws her hands in the air helplessly and laughs at Peter. “Really?” she asks him. “A reporter? Christ, I wish she was your girlfriend. It’d –“

“Look, I know I can’t use any of the information I’ve gathered,” I tell her. “I’m not going to put it out there. That wasn’t my intention.”

“Right,” Makado says, clearly not believing me. “What do you know, anyway? What’s he told you?”

“Pretty much everything that happened that night,” Peter says. “Except how we got out the second time.”

“Everything?” Makado asks, and to my great surprise I see a faint, faint blush coloring the caramel skin beneath the freckles on her cheeks. Peter is smiling lightly.

“Yeah,” he says. “She’s just curious.”

“You realize,” Makado says, her eye flicking between us, “that things that are secrets are usually that way for a reason?”

Peter spreads his hands, or tries to; the handcuffs stop them. He glances down at them, then up at Makado, and she grins at him. “No chance,” she tells him.

“Why the hell were your people so edgy tonight?” he asks. “You didn’t have to shoot that guy.”

“Let’s just say you picked a bad night to do this.”

“Do you want to explain or are you going to just be cryptic?”

“If I told you,” she says, trailing off, drawing an exaggerated finger across her neck. She turns in her chair, kicks her legs off of the table. “You,” she says, pointing to me. “Your name is…Rowan?”

“Roan,” I say. “Like the horse.”

“Huh,” Makado says. “That’s a new one. Look, why are you here? Why are you tangled up with this guy?” she asks, nodding to Peter. “And why the hell were you helping that stiff to the orifice?”

“She didn’t know he was going to try and jump,” Peter says.

“I thought he just wanted to look at it,” I say lamely, and Peter sighs next to me.

“I told you,” he says. “I told you not to go onto the plate no matter what.”

“He broke his fucking leg,” I snap. “He kept trying to walk on it. He was going to crawl on his hands and fucking knees over there. I had to help him.”

Peter lapses into a silence. “Well,” Makado says after a moment. “At least one of you has a conscience.”

“Oh, shut up,” Peter growls. “Don’t fucking snipe at me, Mak, you’re just as complicit in this as I am. As we are,” he says, nodding towards me.

I am very glad that the look Makado is giving Peter is not directed at me. “Are you threatening me?” she says softly, her voice icy. Peter looks away.

“No,” he says.

“Tell me how you’re getting in,” she says. Peter blows out a big breath.

“So that’s it?” he asks. “No more plausible deniability, no more –“

“I told you last month when we caught you,” she snaps, “that you had to stop. That I couldn’t protect you any more. The first couple of times it was fine. Just a harmless washed-up fucking dickhead ranger brain-fucked from the goddam Pit using some secret way inside only he knew. That story doesn’t hold up if it keeps happening! I told you that the next time you came in here I’d have to call the FBI like I’m goddam supposed to. Do you really think people aren’t breathing down my neck too? Do you think I just have carte blanche to run things how I want to in here?”

“I know you don’t,” Peter says.

“Please tell me why you came in here. Give me something. Give me some reason to believe that if I get you out of this, if I save your ass for the hundredth time, you aren’t going to be back in this same goddam room next month.”

“They book a month out,” Peter says helplessly. “I had a girl come in from fucking China for this. Even if I had the heart to tell her no and send her back I don’t have the damn money to buy her a return ticket. I closed everything down the minute I got home a month ago.”

The look on Makado’s face is so painful. She stares at Peter for a moment before she brings her hand to her face, massages the bridge of her nose. I notice that she stays very carefully on the right side of her face, away from the pale, sallow skin near her eyepatch on the left side.

“It’s my fault,” I say after a moment. “I ran into Peter a few nights ago when he was taking some people in. We got to talking and he told me almost the whole story of what happened that night, in 2007 I mean. I asked him if he could take me in too and he agreed. That’s all. It would have been fine if I hadn’t have been there.”

“What’s your angle?” Makado asks again. “Are you writing a story on the Pit?”

“I thought I was going to but after everything I’ve heard, not any more.”

Her eye flicks over to Peter. “Have you been telling secrets?” she asks.

“I may have told her a few things that the official report…neglected.”

“God, you never do things by half, do you?”

“Have you called the feds yet?”

“No,” she says. “But somebody died. They are going to find out. I can’t cover something like that up.”

“Mm,” Peter grunts. “Alright. There’s a guy from the cult in Bronchial right now, probably heading over to the Domes or down to the Cord. I’ll go in, grab him, bring him back out, there’s your scapegoat.”

Makado slaps the table with her hand. “Enough. No scapegoats. You aren’t a fucking cowboy. I will try and cover for you but this is the absolute last time. You have worn out all of your fucking goodwill, Pete, and that’s me that’s saying that.”

“What are you going to tell the feds, then?”

“I don’t know,” she growls. “I’ll think of something.”

“Can somebody please explain to me,” I say softly, “why it is so goddam important that these people get inside the Pit to fucking die there?”

Makado and Peter both look at me, and I stare back at them. “I’m serious,” I say. “You told me,” I nod to Peter, “that there’s a point of no return, but surely there has to be some kind of alternative to fucking killing them. And clearly you,” I point to Makado, “were at least willing to turn a blind eye to this. Um, no pun intended. Sorry.”

Makado looks at Peter. “How much do you trust this woman?”

“She’s solid,” Peter nods, glancing at me. “Her heart’s in the right place.”

Something about him saying that makes my stomach soar and I have to stop my lip from curling at myself a moment later. It wouldn’t do. Easy girl.

“Did you tell her - ?”

“No,” Peter says. “Of course not.”

“Tell me what?” I ask. Makado sighs.

“What I’m about to tell you, you can’t tell anybody else. Ever. People have died for less.”

“People have been killed for less,” Peter corrects her, and Makado rolls her eye again.

“Fucking whatever, Pete. Look. Roan. Are you in or out? You want to hear this or not?”

What the hell, I think to myself. “Peter’s right,” I say, staring at Makado, meeting that burning gaze. “I’m solid. I know I can’t use this in a story. Now it’s personal curiosity. I want to know.”

“Alright,” Makado says. She licks her lips. “So Peter probably told you that once you’re…afflicted with this obsession with the Pit, it progresses until you reach a point where if you can’t get to the Pit to get inside it, it’s physically painful, and a lot of people, if prevented from going to the Pit, end up killing themselves. Right?”

“Right,” I say.

“That isn’t entirely true. That happens to some people, but for a solid portion, you lose your willpower to end your own life after a certain point. There’s a stage afterwards.”

I can feel a knot forming in the pit of my stomach. “What happens?”

“The compulsion becomes virulently contagious,” Peter says. “It isn’t a normal disease so it doesn’t have a normal vector of transmission; we don’t know how it does it exactly, but it uses emotion. Feeling strong emotion yourself, like fear or anger, if you’re afflicted, can plant the seed of the compulsion in people near you, and then they go through the same process, and…”

I look at Makado. She nods. “The only way to wipe it out,” she says, nodding to Peter, “is an experimental type of drug called an anabiotic. Dulls your personality, inhibits emotional response. Keep that state up for long enough, that can kill the – disease, or whatever it is.”

“The catch is,” Peter says, “that if you keep that state up for long enough, like, say, if you’re attempting to cure the - the whatever it is - it can also become permanent.”

“Jesus,” I breathe.

“The only good thing,” Makado says briskly, “is that all the cases follow a similar pattern – they all originated from the night of the 2007 disaster. There aren’t any new cases, just new transmissions. You clean them all up, it goes away.”

“In theory,” Peter says.

“In theory,” Makado agrees. “But so far that theory has proven correct.”

“God,” I say. “So in a major city –“

“In a city like New York or Boston, something of that population density, you can imagine how devastating that could be. Think of how many times you feel emotions each day,” Peter says. “Each time, you could be infecting dozens of people and not even know it.”

“Luckily,” Makado adds, “it’s difficult to get to that point. It takes time, a couple of months at least, for things to get that bad, and before you reach that stage the compulsion gets so strong that most people who’re able to do make it down here and try to get to the Pit. The issue is the people without means to do so, but generally they end up either killing themselves or isolating themselves anyway as a result of the personality distortions a compulsion of that strength causes, so they’re easy to identify. There haven’t been any major outbreaks, not in a large city, but you can imagine how concerned the government is about the threat of it.”

“I don’t get it,” I say. “Why are you letting them in?”

“Because I was one of the lucky ones,” Peter says. “I had a mild case and my personality returned after treatment. That isn’t the usual outcome.”

“But couldn’t you…I don’t know. There has to be some other way.”

“They don’t infect others if they die in the Pit,” Makado says softly. She’s inspecting her gloved hands, her long slender fingers clenching and unclenching. “We don’t know why, we don’t know how it works, but if they’re inside the Pit when they get to that point, it’s just a death. Heart attack, stroke, blood clot, aneurysm, whatever does it, they just die. That’s all.”

I shake my head. “Jesus Christ,” I murmur. “How is that possible? How does that make any sense?”

“We don’t know,” she sighs. “There’s…difficulty studying it. It’s better to just keep it under wraps. Can you imagine what, say, Iran or North Korea would do with an individual like that? You could wipe out a country in a matter of months, and nobody would know what the hell was going on. And it would spread…”

“Or the US,” Peter says, and Makado nods.

“Yes,” she agrees. “Or the US. It’s better to just keep it secret, not let them know all the details. One of the scientists here, Dr. Frost, she’s the one who figured all this out. We’ve just been…trying to contain it.”

“But now that’s done for,” Peter groans. “There isn’t any other option now.”

I frown. “What do you mean? What other option?”

“That’s enough storytime for one night,” Makado says swiftly. I narrow my eyes but she stares me down and eventually I shake my head, look away. I know I was lucky hearing as much as I did. Best not to push it.

“So now what? Now you’ll stop letting people in?” I ask. Peter shrugs.

“Things Will Change,” he intones. It makes me suck my breath in.

“Christ,” I say. “I’m sorry, I fucked everything up, I didn’t know –“

“It isn’t your fault,” Makado says softly. “You were in the wrong place at the wrong time. I think it shows a lot of character that you’d help that man, even knowing that you’d get caught.”

“Thanks,” I murmur.

“You can send me down,” Peter says, “but get Roan out of it. I’ll take the blame.”

“Nobody’s taking blame,” Makado growls. “I need you. I still have a little jurisdiction. I’ll talk to some people, see if I can get this calmed down. I can’t let either of you go yet but there are rooms here, you’ll be comfortable.”

She rises swiftly and opens the door, nodding to someone outside. Two men in uniforms enter the room, tall and rugged and strong-looking. “Take them to the dorms and put them in that converted trailer outside of C, in separate rooms, and lock them in, but no cuffs or restraints. Tell Melendez to call me once you’ve done that, I’ll get him to put a guard on it.”

On the way out, after they uncuff us, Peter tries to say something to Makado but she shakes her head at him and the words die in his throat. Then it’s another ride in the back of a Humvee, this time thankfully without the hoods on, and then they usher us into what is essentially a semi-truck trailer, except the inside is done up with very, very bare living quarters, and push us into different rooms. They lock the doors behind us and though Peter could maybe break them down if he tried, where would we go? There’s a guard on the trailer and even if we did get out and subdue him, we’re still in the middle of the base.

Once I’ve shrugged out of my jeans and panties and kicked them aside, grimacing at myself as I do, the acrid stench of dried urine stabbing at my nose, I reach over and knock on the wall and after a moment Peter knocks back. I think about trying to yell through it to talk to him but I’m too tired for that kind of nonsense.

The mattress is stiff and the sheets rough and scratchy but I manage to fall asleep almost as soon as my head hits the pillow, and no dreams trouble me.

 * * *

 I wake to the squeak of the door’s hinges, but not sharply; the awareness of the noise flutters downwards into my sleeping mind and slowly, gently, drags me out and into the day. I crack one eye open and see Makado there, looking much more cleaned-up, in a pencil skirt and a sharp jacket, holding a tray with parts for a continental breakfast on it. I sit up and yawn, clear the sleep from my eyes. “Well,” I say, my voice still a little creaky, “does the head of security usually serve breakfast in bed to the prisoners?”

Makado laughs, setting the tray down on the small folding table in the corner. “Not usually,” she admits. “I wanted to talk to you.”

“Well, I’m a captive audience. Ha ha.”

She grimaces at me. “I should have you locked up for that one. Oh wait.”

She gestures to the chair and I gesture to my pants in the corner. She goes to pick them up and then stops. “Uh,” she says. “You do know there’s a commode like, right there?” she points.

I can feel myself blushing. “Actually, uh… when you guys shot Rey last night… it was so close to me, and you know, the bullets were going right past me…”

Makado has the decency to look embarrassed.

“Oh,” she says. “Um. Give me one second.”

Makado leaves then and I get up, wrap the sheet around me like a towel, and start in on breakfast. She’d brought a couple of different boxes of tiny one-cup servings of cereal and a little plastic cup of milk, as well as a bagel and a banana, and as soon as the first spoonful of Raisin Bran hit my tongue I realized how hungry I was.

Makado returns while I’m halfway through the banana and tosses me a jumpsuit. “Hope it’s your size,” she says. “We have spares but people who aren’t yoked as hell tend to lose out.”

I thank her, set it on the bed. After a moment Makado leans up against the wall, crosses her arms. She has a thoughtful quirk to her lips and I cock my head at her. “Don’t think you can butter me up with just breakfast,” I warn her. “It’ll take a lot more than that.”

“I’m not buttering you up. I just want to talk.”

“Then talk.”

“Well,” Makado says, peering at her nails. “I’ll be able to get you out of here tonight. To leave and never return, hopefully.”

“And Peter?”

“Peter won’t be leaving with you.”

“So that’s it, huh?”

“What’s it?”

“After all that happened,” I say, “whatever kind of relationship you two must have had, whatever happened that night – it all leads up to this? You hand Peter over to the FBI and wash your hands?”

“I’m not handing him over to the FBI,” Makado snaps. “And don’t presume you know what kind of relationship we have just because he told you –“

“Then what’s going to happen to him?”

“I have a job for him.”

“A job?”

“Yeah. A job. He has a unique skillset,” Makado shrugs. “And we need more rangers at the moment. One and done. And then he stops fucking letting people in here.”

I think about that for a moment. “Alright, let me help, then.”

She stares at me. “This is not a negotiation,” she says softly. “You don’t get to make demands –“

“I’m not making demands. I have skillsets too. You need reports written? You want someone there to take pictures? I can work a camera, a big one, news quality. Video or stills, I can do ‘em both. I used to work for KGIM down in Dallas.”

“Jesus Christ,” Makado says. “I’m not hiring you. You’re lucky you’re getting out of here without any charges.”

“Goddam it,” I mutter. “Look, I’m sorry,” I tell her. “I don’t want this story to end like this. I don’t want to have to walk out of here knowing that I never got to the bottom of it. I know I can’t fucking write about it, I can’t do anything with it, but it’s going to eat me alive if I never know what really happened.”

“Would it really be so bad to just let it go? Go back to whatever you were doing before?”

“I wasn’t –“ I start, but then I stop. “Yes,” I say, in a small voice, knowing I sound like a child. “It would. It’d kill me.”

Makado shakes her head. “I can’t figure you out. I find it very, very hard to believe you aren’t writing a story on this.”

“If there is one, it’s in my head. I’m not an idiot, I don’t want to get disappeared.”

“I don’t know what you think the story of this place is, but it’s probably a lot better in your imagination. You ought to write a book. It’d probably sell.”

“It wouldn’t be true.”

“So the truth is what matters?”

“Yeah. Most of the time.”

Makado laughs, a hollow little rattle. “I wish I had your optimism.”

I look at her. “What happened down there? With the amalgam?”

She yawns. “I lost my eye. Then I got out. Then I lived happily ever after. Now I’m here dealing with you.”

“Peter is a much better storyteller than you are.”

She really laughs, then, and for a moment, just a moment, I think I catch a glimpse of the Makado Peter told me about, the one he fell in love with. Then she’s gone again and this hard woman is back again, staring at me calculatingly. I shake my head, rest it on my hand. “What happened?” I ask her. “Wouldn’t it feel better to tell somebody?”

Makado reaches up and in one deft motion removes her eyepatch, and my mouth falls open. It is so, so much worse than I had imagined; in some abstract sense I had extrapolated from the frail, mottled skin peeking out from beneath the patch, I had assumed a shape and size and sense of the flesh beneath. I had guessed that it was due to violence, due to the amalgam, but the pale white bone glaring at me from the graceful round rim of her empty eye-socket, the way the thin cords of her remaining flesh hang and stretch and look as though they surely will snap is much, much worse than anything I could have come up with on my own. The rest of her skin surrounding the top third or so of her cheek is healthy and normal, but the rim around it is white as snow, and pockmarked with acid burns, and then it inclines downwards like a great scoop was taken out of her face and left the bone from her eyesocket to her brow exposed. It looks completely healed, as though it had been meant to grow that way from the beginning; nothing raw or pink or infected-looking about it.

“It’s not pretty, is it?” she asks, and the way the muscles make that dead flesh shudder forces a wince out of me.

“What happened?” I ask again. Makado turns away for a moment, and when she turns back the eyepatch is back in place. It does a remarkable job of covering it, but now that I know what horribleness is lurking under there I don’t think I’m ever going to be able to forget it.

“The amalgam got me,” she says simply. “And it started to absorb me.”

She sits down heavily in the chair opposite mine and I notice a ring of mottled tissue around her wrist, extending down into the glove on her left hand, a scattering of marks like the aftermath of acid droplets cast over her arms, irregular clusters of them, five, six, seven, eight of them on the left, one, two, three on the right. She follows my gaze.

“I was very lucky,” she says. “I didn’t have any real permanent damage. Except for the eye, of course, but you can live without an eye. You become part of an amalgam, you don’t come back from that. Or if you do, it isn’t really living any more.”

She inclines her wrist upwards, looks at her watch. “Alright,” she says. “I’ve got time. You want to hear the rest of the story?”

Continue with Part 12

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