i would love to see daniel making what he feels like is a mistake with wren (similar to how he fucked up with wren getting attacked by the local wildlife in the beginning of the story). like he pushes wren too far without realizing it, or hurts him in a way he didn't intend to (like rope failure during suspension bondage). love to see wren suffering and i also love to see daniel feeling guilty so like. best of both worlds lol
“Uh, could you… check the ropes again? Something’s weird about the balance.”
“I know what I’m doing, sweetheart.”
“But-”
“Just trust me. Besides, just a few more pictures and we’ll be done, okay?”
Daniel snaps a picture. One of the knots in the elaborate ropework keeping Wren suspended snaps too.
It happens in a blink of an eye. Wren becomes certain that something is wrong with Daniel’s handiwork, that it wasn’t just his imagination, and in the next moment his body jolts downwards. If that was the end of it, it wouldn’t be bad - he’d just be a bit startled, he’d get to savor Daniel being proven wrong, but, unfortunately, he mostly did know what he was doing.
Wren’s right arm was still secured with rope, and when he shifted, it stayed in exactly the same position.
He sees stars. His scream of agony comes out as a strained gasp. His shoulder is on fire.
Daniel curses, sets his camera aside and rushes to start painstakingly undoing the knots while Wren hyperventilates, eyes wide, forehead lined with cold sweat.
"I told you!" he chokes out, close to sobbing. "I fucking told you and you didn't- Why the fuck didn't you believe me?!"
Daniel doesn't answer, focused on untying the ropes; Wren's shaky breathing is the only sound. When he's finally freed, the pain only gets worse when his shoulder shifts, and he can't stop tears from falling from his eyes. It hurts so much, a completely new pain. Daniel cradles him in his arms, petting his hair, and the look of remorse on his face is nowhere near as satisfying as it would be if Wren could think more clearly.
"I'm sorry," Daniel says, carefully laying his hand on Wren's injured shoulder, making him tense up and gasp. "Next time I'll make sure the ropes are secure."
"Next time?!" Wren cries. “My shoulder is-”
"I know, I know. And… I need to set it, so be still. Just trust me."
"Again?! You just fucking showed me why-"
Once again, he doesn't get to finish his sentence - with practiced confidence Daniel grabs his arm, lifts it up, and pulls, and Wren howls in agony feeling it pop back into place.
“Okay, okay, it’s okay now,” Daniel whispers, holding Wren close as he struggles to breathe. “You can rest.” He sighs, then the corners of his mouth rise in a playful smirk. “First that animal, now this. I guess I’ll just ask Berkeley to bring me some new rope next time so there’s no more accidents, hm? I really am sorry, though. I’ve learned my lesson.”
“You didn’t learn shit,” Wren rasps, somehow mustering enough strength and clarity to glare at Daniel, who, much to his fury, laughs.
“See how quickly you bounce back? You’re stronger than you realize, sweetheart.”
Wren presses his lips tightly together and shakes his head. He’s not strong enough to fight back in a way that matters, not strong enough to escape. At the moment his strength seems completely meaningless to him, and he’s so tired of staying strong this way when Daniel only seems to find delight in it.
if wren started begging for something during a torture session (a small break bc he feels like he's gonna be sick, or some water) would daniel grant that to him? or would it be situationally dependent?
I know you were probably expecting a straightforward answer, but your ask made a WIP happen, so here it is.
It’s nothing out of the ordinary for him, but that morning he felt terrible in a different way. He felt ill; weak and slightly dizzy, shivering despite it not being cold in the house. He didn’t tell Daniel, even though he wanted nothing more than to be given medication, hot tea, and some peace and quiet. No, telling Daniel would also mean him being overly caring and doting, which was the last thing Wren wanted to deal with.
So he didn’t say anything, and then he learned that Daniel was in the mood for some handiwork with his favorite knife.
Shit.
He still didn’t say a word when Daniel closed handcuffs on his wrists and attached them to a chain connected to a hook in the ceiling, forcing him to keep his arms outstretched and stand on his tiptoes. He didn’t say a word when Daniel put a blindfold on his eyes and earplugs in his ears. He just shuddered and gritted his teeth when the knife pierced his arm and was dragged downwards.
Just get through this, he thinks to himself while Daniel makes small, precise cuts around his shoulder blades in a pattern that only makes sense to him and his artistic vision. It’s not the first time.
But it’s the first time when he feels this awful during torture, and the position he’s in doesn’t help. His body is under so much strain, stretched out uncomfortably, he can barely stay upright, his arms hurt, his head hurts, everything hurts, and Daniel’s only adding more pain. He still feels dizzy despite the darkness - or maybe because of it - his face is covered in cold sweat, he starts feeling slightly nauseous. The blindfold is soaked with tears of frustration, he can hear his heartbeat way too clearly, it’s the only sound he hears, he feels horrible, he wants out, he wants this to end, he can’t handle this after all, but that means…
“Stop,” he mumbles weakly, shaking his head and whining when the pain from the cuts seems to intensify now that he’s not fully preoccupied with his illness. Talking with the earplugs in is an unpleasant, almost surreal experience, and he can only hope he’s actually saying something, that his voice isn't too weak. "Please stop."
But this is Daniel, so Wren can imagine him laughing at his begging, making a stupid comment promising that this will be over soon, sweetheart, but this isn't about that. He whimpers when the knife cuts into his back again.
"I'm serious, stop, I-I think I'm gonna be sick, I just need a break."
The knife disappears, and Wren swallows desperately, struggling to take a deep breath.
He flinches when he feels Daniel grip his arm - thankfully an undamaged part of it - and a moment later his wrists are released. Daniel catches him before he can collapse, unable to stay upright after the punishing position.
The earplugs are removed, and the blindfold follows. Wren winces and blinks, and when his eyes get used to something other than darkness, he sees Daniel's face, with worry written all over it.
"Are you still feeling sick?" he asks, and Wren nods.
Daniel wraps Wren's arm around himself to support him and leads him to the bathroom, where the nausea gets overwhelming. Daniel holds his hair back for him, not saying a word for now.
Wren closes his eyes, exhausted, and fuck does everything hurt, but mostly his arms and back now that he's moving again. He's trembling, getting up feels like an impossible task, and he's still crying, from pain and from his awful state, and he's not even mad at himself for it.
"Better now?"
"I think so," he mutters. Daniel lets go of his hair.
"I'll get you some water."
Wren nods, keeping his eyes closed, not daring to move an inch for fear of his body igniting with pain again and the room spinning.
Anxiety creeps up on him; nothing like this has ever happened before, and he doesn’t know what to expect from Daniel.
He comes back and hands Wren a glass of water, then sits down next to him, looking at him with a puzzled expression.
"What happened?" he asks.
"I think I'm sick." Wren stares down at the water, every breath causing his fresh wounds to shift and hurt even more. "I feel like shit, and… you just saw for yourself, I guess." He sighs. “So just get the session over with before it gets worse.”
Daniel firmly shakes his head, frowning.
“No. You need to rest. I’ll take care of your wounds and then you can lie down.” He pets Wren’s hair. “We can continue some other time.”
Wren huffs, shaking his head in disbelief.
“You do realize how fucked up that sounds, right?”
Daniel just chuckles in response. He does know. It changes nothing.
The knife will return in a few days, and yet Wren can’t help but be relieved as Daniel cleans and dresses his wounds, then gives him a shirt and carries him to the living room.
“I can carry you to the bedroom, if you’d like. Unless you prefer the couch.”
“Couch,” Wren mutters. The bed is more comfortable and the bedroom would offer more peace and quiet, provided Daniel leaves him alone, but he wants to stay out of there as much as he can, and the couch is too small for Daniel to lie down next to him.
As much as he hates the couch, he can’t deny that it’s comfortable, and in his exhaustion he practically melts into it. Daniel even brings him a blanket, which Wren curls up under, pulling it up to his neck.
“I’ll bring you some pills,” Daniel says, pressing his palm to Wren’s forehead; he clicks his tongue when he confirms that it’s unnaturally warm, and brushes Wren’s hair away from his face, making him wince. “Do you need anything else, sweetheart?”
“Rest,” Wren sighs, struggling to keep his eyes open. Now that he’s stopped ignoring it, his illness has decided to hit him with everything it’s got.
“Okay. I’ll fetch the pills and you can sleep after you’ve taken them, alright? Try to stay awake.”
“Mhm.”
Daniel leaves, and Wren wraps the blanket tighter around himself, blinking slowly, trying to fight his exhaustion off for a bit longer. Daniel is just as doting as he’d feared he would be, but… aside from his usual sweethearting it feels good to be taken care of, and to be listened to. The wounds still sting, a reminder of the torture he’d gone through and will go through again soon, but he can’t bring himself to care. He waits for his captor and torturer to come back with the medicine, and he has to remind himself not to thank him for this bare minimum of kindness, more than most of what he’s gotten throughout his life.
He wishes it wasn’t like this, moments of kindness and loving care juxtaposed with pain and tears and coercion; he knows how much Daniel enjoys doing this, being the sole source of both suffering and comfort.
He’s aware of so many mechanisms of his captivity, yet he’s powerless to fight them, forced to accept them, and all he can hope for is that all these processes won’t shape him into something else, whatever Daniel, whose smile is unnervingly genuine and fond when he enters the living room, wants him to be.
“Sleep well, sweetheart," Daniel says softly once Wren's washed the pills down with water. "I hope you’ll feel better when you wake up.”
“So you can torture me more?” Wren mutters, closing his eyes.
Daniel’s lighthearted laughter keeps ringing in his ears long after he's fallen asleep.
do you have a post describing what sv-240 characters look like? or any picrews or art of them?
Sure! I found an old post with picrews of four of the SV-240 characters here, but i'm gonna add more about the main trio under the cut
Wren:
art 1 art 2
Picrews are very hit or miss for Wren, some don't have the right hair for him, some don't have heterochromia, so picrew 1 has accurate heterochromia, picrew 2 has accurate hair.
He's 5'8, thin and athletic, used to do swimming, has since mostly switched to running. He loses some of his muscle while on SV-240, but builds it back up once Daniel lets him start exercising again. Enjoys casual clothes, mostly flannel, on SV-240 wears plain T-shirts and sweatpants or jeans.
Daniel:
He's 6' and athletic, has several scars, described here. Wears military-style clothes and heavy boots.
Berkeley:
6'1, used to be a sprinter. Signature outfit is blue hoodie, bleached jeans and red sneakers. Has a silver three-strand necklace he likes to wear.
wasn't sure since it didn't seem like you'd written anything in a bit and i didn't want to just put you on the spot! so we've seen wren experience panic/triggering from pre daniel trauma and daniel's reactions to that. i'd be interested to see daniel's reaction to wren getting triggered/having a panic attack/flashbacks from something daniel has done to him (whipping, breaking his fingers, stabbing through his hands)
Took me a while (what else is new), but here you go!
Wren has gone through so much pain since he was captured; torture has become just a fact in his life, something Daniel loves too much to let it go.
The regular torture methods he has gotten used to. They hurt regardless, but he's used to the sight of the whip or Daniel's favorite knife, and the way they bite into his flesh.
But then there are the others, the ones that have only happened once, in circumstances he'd rather not relive. The more time passes, the fuzzier the memories become - but the memory of the pain becomes exaggerated, and when he catches himself thinking back to it against his will, all he remembers is agony.
But all of that is behind him, hopefully. He's learned to block it from his memory - until now.
"Give me a break."
It's just a movie. They're sitting on the couch, Daniel's arm wrapped around Wren, holding him close, and they're watching a movie together. It means over an hour of relative silence between the two of them, since Wren's not in the mood for commenting on what's happening on the screen. He was relieved to hear that this was the plan for the day, that Daniel wanted to relax too.
Then he hears the words. They're just words, just that one common word that he's heard again and again here, but this is different, and it takes him back, like he's been punched in the face and sent flying backwards into the past, but then ended up here again, on the couch, in Daniel's casual embrace.
"You're breaking my heart."
His hands are trembling, fingers stiff; he's scared to move them, expecting agony accompanying a nauseating crack. He can hear it so clearly, one after another, and he can hear something else, laughter, so much laughter, Daniel's and Berkeley's, laughing at him as he sobbed into the couch, unable to resist while his fingers were getting broken one by one.
He jolts in place when someone grabs his hand, he can already feel the pain even though nothing has happened yet, tears gather in his eyes and trickle down his face, and he can barely breathe.
"No!" he cries out, wrenching his hand free and backing away, scrambling to the end of the couch, his breathing quick and shallow. Breaking echoes in his head, the word said in Berkeley's voice and the sickening sound reverberating from his fingers, which hurt so much.
"Hey."
Daniel's voice. It's different, there's genuine worry where there used to be sadistic satisfaction, and yet it's nowhere near soothing, it never is. He shakes his head, curling up, holding his hands close to his chest.
"Sweetheart, what's wrong?" Daniel frowns, moving closer and reaching towards Wren, not stopping when he flinches away.
"N-no," Wren chokes out when Daniel grabs his arm, but he can't free himself, it wouldn't change anything, he was only punished even more harshly for trying to run. "Stay away, d-don't-"
"I'm not doing anything. Did the movie remind you of something? Whatever it was, it's okay now. You're here, and you're safe with me."
"You did that to me!" Wren curls up more to protect his hands, terror only increased by hopelessness, because if Daniel really wants to repeat that torture, there's nothing that can change his mind.
"Did what?" Daniel tightens his grip on Wren's arm, looking him up and down, and realization finally seems to dawn on him when he notices the way Wren's hiding his hands from him. "Oh. You mean breaking your fingers?"
Wren shivers and doesn't respond, but Daniel doesn't seem to need his confirmation.
"Oh, sweetheart…" Wren can't back off any further and has no choice but to let Daniel pull him closer and wrap one arm around him again; Daniel doesn't let go when he feels Wren tense up, his breathing still strained. "That was ages ago, and I promise it was a one-time thing. I'll never do that to you again."
Wren exhales, doing his best to calm down, but Daniel being so close is anything but calming, and then he whimpers and tries to pull back when Daniel gently takes his hands.
"No…"
"Shh. It's okay. I won't hurt you like that again." Daniel squeezes his hands and smiles.
"You're still hurting me," Wren whispers, his voice shaky.
"I know, but there are things I won't do, again or at all. That is one of them."
And yet Wren's breath catches in his throat when Daniel takes hold of his fingers and curls them slightly.
"Relax, sweetheart. I won't do anything."
"Then let go."
"Just trust me." Daniel leans his head against Wren's. "We'll finish the movie some other time, okay? Or we can watch something else. For now just try to calm down."
It's hard when Daniel continues playing with Wren's fingers, squeezing his hands from time to time, knowing well that it’s counterproductive to his goal of making Wren calm down, but choosing to do it anyway. Not hurting him, just reminding him that he can, at any moment, whenever he pleases, while Wren can do nothing but follow his suggestion and do his best not to reminisce about that nightmare any longer.
Happy birthday, Castys and Berkeley! What better way to celebrate than to torment them in a collab between me and @brutal-nemesis?
contents: slavery whump, collared and leashed, restraints, mildly creepy/intimate and possessive whumper, violence, choking, verbal abuse, lots and lots of guilt.
~~~
Most of the time visiting Daniel was something Berkeley looked forward to. It was a chance to unwind, forget about routine, mess with Rackham, eat some great food and just hang out with his old friend. Those visits were always a bright point in his plans, no matter how tired he was.
This time was different.
At first it was the usual, a fond greeting, then he helped Daniel carry all the supply crates inside. He immediately had to open one of them and rummage through it, feeling his heartbeat in his throat.
"What got you so down?" Daniel asked, narrowing his eyes.
"Just tired." Berkeley shrugged, avoiding looking at the two other men in the room, both quiet, kneeling on the floor. He finally found what he was looking for - he took out a nice box, the kind used for gifting jewelry, and a small paper bag. He handed both to Daniel, who was smiling. Berkeley forced himself to smile back.
"You can nap on the couch if you're tired," Daniel said, setting the bag aside for the time being and closing his fingers on the cover of the box, not opening it just yet.
"It's fine."
Daniel did a double take at him, but dropped the subject, instead focusing on the box. With a genuine grin of someone who had just received their dream gift he opened it and took out the contents - a red leather collar with a custom lock, one that prevented the person wearing it from taking it off on their own. The room had been silent before, but somehow now it got even quieter, and Berkeley couldn't stop himself from glancing to the side.
He could immediately tell that Castys hadn't known about Daniel's idea beforehand, and it didn't take a genius to figure out that the gift wasn't meant for Wren. Castys’s eyes were wide, his lips pressed together to form a thin line, all traces of the initial smile he’d given Berkeley gone. His hands shook slightly as he wrung them in his lap, breaths slow as he stared at the collar for a few more seconds before finally speaking.
“O-oh, hun, you really shouldn’t have.” He tried to keep his voice level as he slowly leaned back, glancing over his shoulder.
Daniel rolled his eyes, but seemed to be in too good a mood to punish Castys for addressing him this way.
"Well, even if I can't permanently brand you, you still need something that makes it clear that I own you now." He approached Castys as Berkeley and Wren watched his every move, a silent audience. He smiled and held the collar right in front of Castys's face, holding the small metal tag still between his fingers to give him a good look at the words engraved on it in a simple font.
Property of Daniel Rooney.
“Isn’t that…lovely. A-although, honestly, is it really necessary?” Castys asked as he slowly crawled backwards. “I mean, I’m here, and, like, I think we all know it, it’s just us, it’s pretty obvious that you, um, that I’m your-your,” he gulped, “precious little immortal boy. So I think I’ll pass, but thank you for your generous offer.” He gave Daniel a sheepish smile, some part of him clearly aware that this was happening no matter how he protested.
Daniel smiled to himself, then walked over to Wren and put his hand on his head, making him flinch. For a moment, nothing was certain - was he actually going to let his idea go? Was it just a prank on the two of them? Wren frowned and hunched his shoulders, as if to protect his neck if Daniel decided to put the collar on him.
"Before you joined us, it was just me and Wren, and it was even more obvious that he was mine. And yet he has his own reminder that I own him. Can't see why it should be different for you, vermin. But since I don't think you're going to just let me put this on you…"
His movements were too fast to even react to - he kicked Castys under the ribs, pushing until he fell onto his back, then stood over him, straddling his waist. Wren swallowed and averted his gaze. Berkeley jolted in place and opened his mouth to say something, anything, subconsciously taking a half-step forward, but then fell silent, knowing there was nothing he could say without making Daniel turn against him. Unlike Wren, he kept his gaze fixed on Castys, trying to convey a plea - don't make him angry, just go along with it - with just his eyes, or, hell, maybe even telepathy.
Castys gave Wren a concerned glance as he struggled uselessly against Daniel, his arms pinned to his sides by the man’s legs. He looked up at him for the briefest second before turning away and meeting Berkeley’s eyes. Something in them made Berkeley forget how old Castys actually was, and for a moment he just looked like a scared kid, which made this all that much harder to watch.
Castys winced as Daniel pulled the leather around under the back of his neck, fists clenched at his sides. He wasn’t looking at Berkeley anymore, wasn’t looking at anyone, just staring ashamedly at the corner of the ceiling, gulping as Daniel threaded the end of the collar through the buckle and started to pull it tight. His mouth opened slightly, as if he was going to beg for Daniel to stop, but it turned into a gasp as the latch of the buckle slotted into the last hole in the leather, cinching the collar snugly around his neck. Smiling, Daniel ran a hand down the side of Castys’s face as the boy beneath him shuddered, his embarrassment all too obvious even from where Berkeley was standing. Daniel’s hand moved lower, settling around Castys’s throat, his thumb stroking the collar’s tag as he took a moment to savor the view.
“I knew being collared would suit you,” he said, voice low, but still feeling loud like a cannon shot in the absolute silence. “Red was a good choice, Berkeley. Such a universal color, isn’t it?”
Satisfied with his work, he straightened and stepped to the side, but Castys didn’t move from his spot, still lying on his back, staring up with empty eyes, his usually active hands just barely twitching. Daniel didn’t mind it in the slightest; with a light step he walked over to where he had left the paper bag, and picked it up, then reached inside and pulled out the second part of Berkeley’s gift.
Berkeley looked away, lips pressed tightly together, his face red from… he didn’t even know what. Embarrassment, maybe - but he had no right to be embarrassed.
Daniel was holding a leash, made of red leather as well, matching the collar. It wasn’t particularly long and couldn’t be extended, but that didn’t matter when it wasn’t supposed to give much freedom of movement.
Castys was sitting bolt upright now, his gaze fixed on the leash as he slowly shook his head. His fingers reached up to the collar, feeling for the lack of a ring that he knew was there, fiddling with the lock, the buckle, scrambling to pull it away from his neck as Daniel stalked closer. “You-you can’t be fucking serious with that thing, I’m not gonna let you-”
“I think we both know that this is going to happen regardless of whether you ‘let’ me or not,” Daniel said calmly, crouching down in front of Castys. For a moment there was silence, tension in the air so thick Berkeley forgot how to breathe, and then Daniel pounced. He grabbed Castys’s wrists in one hand, wrenching them up as he knocked the boy onto his back once more, pinning his wrists above his head with one hand while attaching the leash with the other. Once it was on, he pulled it taut, not moving from his position above Castys, who was staring back at him this time, fire in his eyes as his fists clenched above him.
“Still so feisty,” Daniel chuckled, cocking his head to the side, clearly considering something. “Not complaining, but I know you’re going to try and get your collar off as soon as I let go of you, and we just can’t let that happen, can we?” He lifted his head to look at Berkeley, and nodded. “Can you fetch me some handcuffs? There should be a pair on the shelf.”
Berkeley shuddered, but remained frozen in place, his eyes going wide. His gaze moved from Daniel’s face to Castys’s, and despair twisted his features. He couldn’t do it.
“Handcuffs, please,” Daniel repeated with emphasis, straightening once again and nudging Castys’s side with the tip of his boot, a gentle encouragement to get him to roll over onto his stomach. Unsurprisingly he didn’t get a reaction, so the nudge turned into a kick and a push that knocked the air out of Castys’s lungs, and with the help of a sharp yank of the leash Daniel managed to roll him over and immediately pinned him to the floor with a boot to his back. “Stop struggling,” he ordered as Castys squirmed beneath him, giving the leash another pull, but this time he didn’t let it go lax, instead keeping it tense, the collar digging into Castys’s throat, nearly choking him. Berkeley couldn’t breathe either, and it was clear he was in no state to grab the handcuffs and add to Castys’s already horrible situation.
“I’ll get them,” Wren choked out, scrambling to his feet. Daniel rolled his eyes, but nodded, and he ran up to the bookshelf and took the handcuffs that he was so familiar with, cold, thin, made of metal.
“Hold this for me,” Daniel said, holding out the leash after grabbing the restraints.
Wren swallowed, glancing at Castys, then at Berkeley, before accepting the leash with a heavy heart. He didn’t have a choice - and at least he could loosen the grip to allow Castys to breathe freely again while Daniel wrenched his arms behind his back and cuffed them.
“There. Now we're all set." Daniel took the leash back from Wren and grinned. "Come on, vermin. Let's test it out."
That was all the warning Castys got before Daniel pulled hard, and since he couldn't prop himself up on his hands, there was no way for him to relieve the increased pressure of the collar on his neck, choking him. Castys gritted his teeth between gasps, frantically trying to get his legs under him to relieve the pressure. To Berkeley’s relief, he managed to get on his knees and stand up from there, coughing as air filled his lungs again. There was still plenty of defiance in his eyes, and he almost looked like he was going to say something, but he kept quiet, either because speaking was too difficult or out of fear of being muzzled.
Daniel smiled at him, pleased, and tugged again to force Castys to take a few steps towards him.
"Perfect," he said. "Collars and leashes aren't my MO, but it feels right to use them on a feral thing like you. I can see the appeal," he laughed, shooting a glance at Berkeley as if expecting him to join.
He didn't. He stood, still frozen in place, his fists clenched, and stared. It wasn't the first time he'd seen someone treated like this, and he'd even had to collar someone before, at the buyer's request, but this was Castys, his friend, being dragged around on a leash like a feral animal.
He forced himself to smile and nod at Daniel, even though it required inhuman effort. He'd already been acting suspicious, unwilling to help, and he couldn't allow himself to make it even clearer to Daniel that he didn't approve of how he was treating Castys.
Seeming to think Berkeley’s reaction was good enough, Daniel turned his attention back to Castys. “Mmm, I think I liked you down on the ground better, after all.” He started pulling the leash downwards, not letting up until Castys knelt, who rolled his eyes and looked decidedly at the wall as he did so. “Ah, ah,” Daniel said, tilting Castys’s chin up towards him, “eyes on me, vermin.” Castys looked back at him with annoyance, but it only made Daniel’s smile widen. “You’ve been rather obedient since I collared you, you know. It’s a nice change of pace.”
“Congratulations,” Castys huffed. “Want a certificate?”
His snark was promptly ignored.
“Even then, you could do better since it still seems you don’t know your place.” Daniel dropped the leash, stepping down on it before Castys could make a move to grab it and slowly dragging his foot back, forcing Castys to bow his head and lean forward. Before he got very far, though, Castys flopped over onto his side, grinning up at Daniel.
“On the ground. Got it.” He gave him a thumbs-up as best as he could from behind his back. Daniel, unamused, swiftly kicked Castys in the stomach, and Berkeley couldn’t help but flinch.
Without a word Daniel pulled Castys up to his feet again - only to give the leash a sharp yank forward and kick Castys's leg from under him at the same time, causing him to trip and fall… almost. The leash went taut, leaving Castys suspended in midair for a moment, choking him, before Daniel smirked and loosened his grip. Unable to catch himself with his arms restrained behind his back, Castys fell flat on his face, making Daniel snicker.
"Yep. On the ground."
Hearing Daniel’s amused laugh, seeing Castys fall like that, the beginnings of tears he blinked out of his eyes, the blood dripping out of his nose…it was all too much for Berkeley to watch. He looked away, his gaze landed on Wren, and he felt his powerlessness bubbling up inside of him, turning into anger, and this was the only way he could deal with it, the only thing he could control. Following the thought that sparked in his mind, he grabbed Wren by the arm and dragged him out of the living room.
Wren stumbled after him, too surprised to resist, which might have been a good thing considering who he was dealing with. Daniel didn't seem to pay attention to them at all, too preoccupied with Castys and the mess his blood had made, so before long Berkeley led Wren out on the porch.
And then he punched him square in the face.
Wren cried out, stumbling backwards, but Berkeley pressed one hand to his mouth, pushed him until his back hit the wall, and wrapped his free hand around his throat, glaring at him.
"It should be you," he hissed, tightening his grip; Wren's eyes went wide and he tried to free himself, but with the wall behind him and Berkeley standing so close to him he had nowhere to run. "You should be collared and dragged around and kicked, not him. You-"
He got choked up a bit, and he covered it up with fury, squeezing Wren's throat, making him squirm.
"He doesn't deserve this!" he continued. "He-he shouldn't be here at all, with Daniel, and maybe if you did… I don't know, something, he never would've found out about Castys-"
He could feel tears coming, which only made him angrier; he let go, but before Wren could catch his breath, Berkeley slapped him hard, causing him to gasp, and grabbed his hair to hold him in place.
"You better do everything you can to make Daniel focus on you instead of him. If you don't, I'll make your life hell."
Despite the shock and pain, Wren couldn't help but let out a bitter laugh of disbelief.
"You made my life hell months ago," he said, doing his best to keep his head up and his voice level even as he trembled. "And I don't deserve this either."
While Berkeley stared at him with an unreadable expression, Wren continued.
"Castys deserves better, but what did you expect?! You're a slaver, you ruin people's lives for a living, and now you're surprised because someone you actually care about got dragged into it?" He shook his head. "Cry me a fucking river, Berkeley."
He wasn't surprised when Berkeley attacked again, slammed him into the wall, kicked him in the stomach with his knee, knocking the wind out of him. What he was surprised by was seeing Berkeley's eyes well up with tears, something he never thought he'd see.
"How dare you- You're nothing- You're- You're worthless, Rackham," Berkeley choked out, and Wren couldn't help but feel a tiny bit of satisfaction at having clearly struck a nerve, but it didn't last long when Berkeley continued. "Listen to me. You're an idiot, you're weak, you're completely useless, you-you're just a waste of space. You don't matter." Reciting every insecurity, every fear, everything he'd learned, while Wren stared at him, wide-eyed, suddenly on the verge of tears too. "I wasn't there, but I know how your funeral went. Wanna know? Nobody cared. There was cookie-cutter crap about you being a great ranger or whatever, but no one cared. And they definitely didn't care enough to be suspicious of your death."
"I know," Wren croaked, but it was completely different to have those grim thoughts and to hear a blunt confirmation, and of course he started crying, and Berkeley smiled at that.
"Crybaby," he said quietly, and finally let go. "We're going back inside. You can go cry in the bathroom or whatever your hobby is, and don't say a word about this to Daniel, got it?"
Wren did his best to glare as tears trickled down his face.
"He's too busy hurting Castys to care anyway," he hissed, earning himself another quick slap before being grabbed by the shoulders, forcibly turned towards the door, and pushed.
"Walk."
Fuming, Wren obeyed; once inside, he rushed to the bathroom, keeping his head bowed so that Daniel wouldn’t see his tear-streaked face, and locked the door. Berkeley took a deep breath. Blinded by guilt and anger he hadn’t stopped to think about what he was doing, what taking his emotions out on Wren entailed, but now the realization was catching up to him.
He had left Castys alone, at Daniel’s mercy.
After a while of being pulled around like Daniel’s new favorite toy, Castys found himself surprised when Daniel simply sat on the couch behind him after using the leash to force him to his knees. Was he finally tired of his little Yank Castys Around fest? Ah, nope, there was another jerk of the leash, this one forcing Castys’s head right up against Daniel’s knee. Daniel didn’t let the leash go slack, keeping Castys snuggled against him like a stupid pet. Fuck, whatever, he probably preferred this to being pulled around by the fucking neck. Probably.
When Daniel’s hand slid into his hair, Castys couldn’t help but flinch, feeling his face grow hot as Daniel chuckled. He fought the urge to make some comment about Daniel needing to get a pet cat. The last fucking thing he needed right now was to be muzzled on top of having to wear this stupid collar, so he’d keep his thoughts to himself for the time being. It had already been such a long day, so if Daniel was going to give him an opportunity to rest, he’d take it, even if it was…like this.
He flexed his fingers behind him, wishing he wasn’t still wearing these stupid handcuffs, but it’s not like they were the only thing preventing him from relaxing. Daniel’s hand in his hair was making his skin crawl, and it was all he could do not to shudder, which was especially hard given how close he was to the guy. It’d been a month or so since Daniel had cut his hair, but Castys still wasn’t really used to the feeling of it, especially now that Daniel was touching it, running his fingers through it, ruffling it, smoothing it down, like it was something just for him to play with, so of course he’d do what he liked with it, and that annoyed Castys enough that he had to strongly resist the urge to bite him. Not that it took much for Castys to want to bite Daniel, but still.
Castys wasn’t sure if this was better or worse than being hurt, honestly, because, yes, it didn’t hurt, but this still sucked majorly. Well, at least Berkeley and Wren weren’t here to see it anymore since they’d gone off somewhere, and that was making this a little easier. Maybe that was part of what made this collaring thing so awful this time around. He’d been collared and leashed before, and he’d dealt with it just fine, but something about this particular scenario was just…more humiliating somehow. He’d never had anyone see him this way before, let alone one of the best friends he’d ever had. Not that he didn’t like Wren, too, but their relationship was nothing like the one he and Berkeley had.
The way Berkeley had looked at him…Castys had gotten pretty good at telling how he really felt behind the mask he wore, and that aside he was doing a worse job than usual at hiding it. Honestly, seeing how much all this hurt Berkeley upset Castys more than everything Daniel was doing to him. He could take this, it wasn’t that bad, and even if it was in the moment, soon enough he’d be numb to it anyway. But Berkeley…fuck, he was so worried, and he probably blamed himself when it wasn’t really his fault. He knew how Berkeley got, how he’d spiral, his anxiety so high he could barely focus, and he wished he could hold his hands and help him calm down like he always did. Maybe he didn’t deserve to after how he’d lashed out at Berkeley when he first learned he was staying here, but…maybe he wanted to make it up to him, too, wanted to make up for doubting him. He hadn’t meant to but in the moment it’d reminded him so much of…of her, and he’d just panicked, and…
Daniel’s stupid fucking hand moved lower, lightly stroking the back of Castys’s neck, and this time he couldn’t stop himself from shuddering, earning a satisfied hum from Daniel. God fuck off dude most people don’t like being touched there you’re not fucking special. Now he was stroking the collar itself, fingers brushing over the sensitive skin on either side. Castys was kind of glad he could make all the faces he wanted at that since Daniel couldn’t see, so that was something. The hand was curled around the front of his throat now, not pressing or choking, just resting, but the message was completely clear. Not that Castys gave a fuck, but oh the vermin boy in him was wanting to chomp so bad. Instead of acting upon his instinct, he slipped into a daydream about biting Daniel’s finger off, the thought alone calming his urge. This wasn’t a battle he particularly wanted to fight at the moment, not when he could hear the sounds of Berkeley and Wren coming back into the house, so he’d settle for being a good little pet vermin.
For now.
After taking a moment to pull himself together as much as he could, Berkeley entered the living room, where he was greeted by the sight of Daniel sitting on the couch, his hand casually wrapped around Castys's throat, while Castys himself was kneeling on the floor. Berkeley felt sick, and Daniel just smiled at him.
"Look how docile he can be," he said, giving the leash a light tug, making Castys wince.
Berkeley nodded, not saying a word, and all he could think about as he hesitantly sat down on the couch as well was the fact that Daniel didn't even ask about Wren.
He was right. Daniel was entirely focused on hurting Castys now, making his life hell, and Berkeley was all too aware that he was the one to blame.
With a heavy heart he forced himself to look at Castys, locking eyes with him. Castys should be angry, he should hate him, he should glare - but instead he gave Berkeley a reassuring smile, which made him feel like he was going to break down right there and then.
Still, he managed to mirror the smile as best he could. If Castys could stay strong through this nightmare, Berkeley could too.
Wren jolts awake and gasps when a shock radiates through his body, sobering him up; then the momentary clarity starts to fade when his body grows heavy and fog fills his mind once the blinding light of electricity vanishes from it.
“No dozing off, Rackham,” he hears the voice he’s grown to dread, mocking, with an ever-present hint of laughter, an intruder in the house.
“For fff-” he starts, then bites his tongue - the fading clarity is still enough for him to remember that cursing is not a good idea. He huffs and fixes his gaze on the floor, seething with anger.
“Anyway,” Daniel says, and Wren is too tired to pay attention to his next words.
It feels like Daniel doesn’t even acknowledge Wren’s presence when Berkeley visits, allowing whatever torture he comes up with, maybe not daring to interrupt his fun. In Wren’s half-conscious state he finds the thought of Daniel being scared of Berkeley - hell, Daniel being scared of anyone - is hysterical, and he manages a half-smile.
The current torture is sleep deprivation. When he arrived, Berkeley announced with a grin that since his visits are so few and far between, it would be rude of Wren to sleep through one. He was therefore treated to a glass of water with the familiar drug that kept him awake through the night while his tormentors slept. The drug has worn off since, but tonight he has company, and they make sure he doesn’t fall asleep.
Pain runs through his body, paralyzing him, trapping a scream behind gritted teeth, until his thoughts devolve into a desperate chorus of make it stop make it stop please, and he slumps when his body is released from the hold of electricity. He opens his eyes; he had closed them. He’s been actively fighting to keep them open, and yet they closed, and he immediately paid the price.
Don’t fall asleep. Stay awake. Focus on… something.
But there is nothing to focus on. The bastards aren’t even doing anything interesting, they’re just talking, and their conversation becomes incomprehensible white noise with tidbits that Wren picks up only to immediately forget. He works his fingers into his hair tight enough to hurt, then rubs his temples, closing his eyes, then opening them when he feels himself slipping into consciousness again. He’s not quick enough, and the taser digs into his side once again.
“No. Dozing. Off,” Berkeley says sternly, and Wren groans, anger overcoming exhaustion and debilitating helplessness for a moment. “You should get a taser, Daniel. Could be useful for keeping your darling in line.”
“Eh,” Daniel shrugs. “They’re boring. Not enough blood, not enough bruises.”
“Tragic,” Wren snaps, but still shudders at how blunt Daniel’s words are. He squeezes his eyes shut when his snark earns him yet another shock.
And then it goes on - he fights his losing battle against sleep, Berkeley wakes him up with a shock, until he’s on the verge of crying from exhaustion, from how unfair this is, he just wants to sleep, why the hell isn’t Daniel doing anything? Why the hell is he just letting Berkeley continue this?
“For fuck’s sake, leave me alone!” He finally screams after one shock too many, and then he yelps when he receives a hefty slap to the face and Berkeley grabs a fistful of his hair and wrenches his head back with a satisfied grin.
“That was uncalled for, Rackham,” he coos. “Now, I think a punishment’s in order.”
“Just leave me alone,” Wren repeats. Tears finally gather in his eyes, but he manages to hold them back. Punishment on top of everything else. He should be panicking, but he’s too exhausted even for that. “I’m sorry, alright?”
Berkeley cocks his head to the side with a smirk that could mean anything, but above all it’s one of delight at Wren’s desperate apology.
“He’s not even conscious enough for punishment,” Daniel says, and the leather of the couch creaks when he stands up. “That’s enough for tonight. I’ll get him to bed, then we can talk more. Uninterrupted.”
Wren sighs when Daniel stops in front of him and helps him get up, then scoops him up into a bridal carry without warning, making Berkeley snicker.
“Fine, fine. Apology accepted,” he says, rolling his eyes. “You poor thing, that must have been a shocking experience.”
Daniel and Wren groan in unison, and Berkeley shrugs with an innocent smile.
“I can walk,” Wren mutters, shifting in Daniel’s hold as he’s carried upstairs.
“Sure you can, sweetheart,” Daniel laughs, and Wren sighs again, resting his head on Daniel’s shoulder and closing his eyes.
He falls asleep before he can feel angry at himself for giving in to Daniel's sick affection.
