#inprisonment

There was a way out.

That flicker of hope you clung to with all your might was the last remnant of humanity left in your heart. The walls were stark white, the cold tiles mirrored that same hue. You found yourself trapped in a room lined with soft cushions, where the most opulent bed absorbed your silent, pitiful tears. The windows were shrouded in black leather, and you had lost all sense of time. Was it a month? Two? It was impossible to tell. You hadn’t felt the warmth of real sunlight on your skin for what felt like an eternity, and despite Xavier providing everything you desired, when you wept to him about longing to bask in the sun’s glow, he would smile, that possessive smile.

“My star, how foolish do you truly think I am? Hm?” His voice was soft, as were most of his caresses. You couldn’t even recall the sensation of true light or the shade of your own skin, overshadowed by the haunting red LED lights that surrounded you, whether you were awake, not truly alive, or lost in sleep, or when you cried into the tear-soaked pillow as your… What could you even call him? pressed against you. “You’re doing so well, bun bun. Let me hear you scream; I’m the only one who can.”

Xavier. For a blissful month, he was your sweet neighbor, not the best cook, but always there to keep you company. Little did you know, he was meticulously studying you. Your interests, the cruelty of your friends, your latest heartbreak, and your disdain for your job.

Humans were such… intricate beings.

You concealed your anguish behind laughter, casually recounting it as if it were a tragic tale.

And as you grew closer, his love for you deepened.

You should have recognized the signs.

How he would always ‘innocently’ inquire about your whereabouts or appear unexpectedly at the places you frequented.

How he knew everything about you, from your favorite meals to your medical history.

And how he became more emotional when you came to him, tears streaming down your face after your tumultuous breakup.

As he enveloped you in his arms, tight and reassuring, he promised that the world didn’t...

So piece by piece, every time you got hurt, he was there to pick up the pieces. He always was. Friends mysteriously going MIA on you then later returning, your job firing you, rivals who faced a “tragic accident” and then, at your lowest, frail state, he took you away.

It was like you never existed.

Wiped from reality.

Only in this white confined room, with the man who controlled you silently, not physically but emotionally.

You remember screaming and crying as you hit him as hard as you could’ve, begging to be let out. He let you hit him, slap him, it didn’t faze him. When you broke down, he cradled you to his chest, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Don’t you see, little star? I’m keeping you safe, with me.”

And he would give you anything but a way out. Until now.

The small door mechanism clicked open and he walked up to you, smiling with hungry eyes. You knew what he wanted. “I’ve had such a hard day looking for that snack you were craving. I found it.”

You didn’t really want the snack, you just wanted him to leave you alone in your misery. He holds up the plastic bag and your eyes quickly dart from him to the slightly open door, unlocked. Your eyes widened a little. This was it. But you couldn’t run out now.

You’ve learnt to think and keep your face in check and disguises. So you look back from the bag to Xavier, who you had to admit, that other than all the twisted games he played with your mind, he looked so proud of himself, which made you think a little, backtracking.

You have been safe with him. And he gave you everything you wanted. He didn’t get mad when you stained the sheets from your period And he didn’t raise his voice whenever you threw an emotional fit. He scooped you up, placed you on his lap on the lush bed he got for you, and rocked you side to side, like cradling a little baby. He would always tangle his fingers in your hair, something he had learnt over the months that really soothed you, especially when he did it.

“Shh, cry to me. I’ll be the only one who will understand. Hit me, scream, hate me, I’m here.” He would always say. Calm, soft.

As he held up the bag, like clockwork, stepped out of bed, the cool tiles never being something you were used to as you padded towards him, enveloping him by holding his shoulders. It was all part of your plan. Seduce him.

In all the long periods of time you knew him, his biggest weakness was sex.

“Thank you baby.” You giggle, and he blushes. Your face whenever it was in that pretty smile made him head over heels for you. More than that. Did anybody really deserve to see this beauty of a creature?

“I’ve been gone for so long, don’t you think I deserve a reward, hm?” And you knew where this was going. He pouts, pretending to be this innocent boyfriend who had been touch starved for so long.

You grimace a little before pressing your lips towards him passionately. You knew you had to daze him. Get him all worked up, and when he was reeling from the after shocks, you’d pounce.

You had to be brave, this one time.

He was taken aback by your desperate need, and his fingers dipped below your panties under your dress. You were never allowed to wear pants. He needed easy access for his high sex drive.

He leads you towards the bed, and throws you onto the bed, before crawling on top of him. “Has my star been missing me?” He growls. Quite the opposite, actually. The red lights were setting the mood.

His large palm scrunches up your dress to your collar bone, and massages your breast, circling your nipple with his finger. You hated how much you were scared of this man, how wet he made you, and how you moaned for him.

The tip of his nose nuzzles your stomach and all the way to below your hips. And with no permission, he bared his teeth and ripped off the laced expensive panties he once endearingly bought for you. And you were bare. All laid out for him like prey.

“Ready?” He groans. You were already soaking wet for him, and he was so fucking needy for you that there wasn’t any warm up, no prep because that was Xavier. You were so used to him, and yet, when his tip aligns with your entrance, that yelp of surprise never prevails you.

Xavier's eyes burned with that familiar, unyielding hunger as he loomed over you on their king-sized bed, the sheets already rumpled from his earlier grip. The room was dim, lit only by the faint glow of the bedside lamp, casting shadows that danced across his taut muscles. He had you pinned beneath him, wrists caught in one of his large hands above her head, his body pressing you into the mattress with possessive weight.

'Mine,' he growled low, his voice a rough rumble against your ear. 'All fucking mine, bunny.' No patience, no gentle touches,just raw need fueling him. He didn't bother with kisses or caresses,his mouth crashed down on yours in a bruising claim, teeth nipping at your lower lip until you tasted the faint metallic tang of blood.

You gasped into the kiss, but he swallowed the sound, his tongue invading deep and demanding. His hips ground against your core, the hard ridge of his cock straining through his boxers against her thigh. 'Feel that, starlight? That's what you do to me. No one else gets this. Ever.' With a swift motion, he shoved his boxers down, freeing his thick length. It throbbed hot against her belly, pre-cum smearing across her skin as he positioned himself.

No warning, no fingers to ease the way,he lined up and thrust in hard, burying himself to the hilt in one brutal stroke. Her pussy clenched around the sudden invasion, the burn of the stretch making her cry out, but he didn't stop. 'Take it,' he snarled, pulling back only to slam forward again, setting a punishing rhythm that shook the bedframe. Each drive was deep and relentless, his hips snapping against hers with enough force to leave bruises on her thighs.

Xavier's grip on her wrists tightened, his other hand digging into her hip to hold her steady as he fucked into her without mercy. 'You're so tight for me, bunny. Squeezing my cock like you never want me to leave.' Sweat slicked their bodies, the wet slap of skin on skin filling the room alongside her moans and his guttural grunts. He angled his thrusts to hit that spot inside her over and over, forcing waves of pleasure through the ache, her walls fluttering desperately around him.

He released her wrists to grab her thighs, hauling them up and spreading her wide, folding her nearly in half as he pounded deeper. 'Look at me, starlight. Watch how I own this pussy.' His pace never slowed, cock dragging along her sensitive inner walls with every withdraw and plunge. She clawed at his shoulders, nails raking red lines down his back, but it only spurred him on, a feral smile twisting his lips.

'That's it, mark me up. Show me you're mine too.' He leaned down, capturing a nipple between his teeth and biting just hard enough to make her arch, then soothing it with a rough suck before moving to the other. All the while, his hips pistoned relentlessly, the friction building heat that coiled tight in her core. She came first, shattering around him with a scream, her pussy spasming and gushing slick that coated his balls.

But Xavier didn't falter. 'Not done yet, bunny. Not until you're wrecked.' He flipped her onto her stomach without pulling out, yanking her ass up and slamming back in from behind. His hand fisted in her hair, pulling her head back as he rutted into her like an animal, the new angle letting him grind against her g-spot with every thrust. 'Fuck, you feel perfect. So wet and sloppy for my cock.'

He reached around to rub her clit roughly, circles that matched his brutal pace, dragging another orgasm from her before she could catch her breath. Her body trembled, limbs going weak, but he held her up, driving harder, chasing his own release. 'Gonna fill you up, starlight. Mark you inside where no one else can touch.' With a final, deep groan, he buried himself flush and came, hot spurts of cum flooding her pussy, overflowing and dripping down her thighs as he kept thrusting through it, milking every drop.

They collapsed together, his weight pinning her down, cock still twitching inside her as aftershocks rippled through them both. But even then, he wasn't satisfied. After a few heaving breaths, he rolled them so she straddled him, guiding her hips to grind down on his semi-hard length. 'Ride me, bunny. Keep going until we can't anymore.'

She moved weakly at first, sore and spent, but his hands on her ass urged her on, lifting and dropping her onto his thickening cock. He sat up, wrapping an arm around her waist to thrust up into her, mouths clashing in messy, open-mouthed kisses. Sweat poured off them, the air thick with the scent of sex. Another round built, slower but no less intense, his possessiveness shining in every whispered 'mine' against her skin.

Hours blurred,positions shifting from her on top to him behind her again, then missionary with her legs over his shoulders. He fucked her through climax after climax, her voice hoarse from crying out, until exhaustion finally claimed them. One last thrust, his cum mixing with hers in a sticky mess between her legs, and they passed out tangled together, his arms locked around her like a vice, ensuring she stayed right where she belonged.

——————————

You have no recollection of what transpired. That was the nature of Xavier. He was harsh. Tears threatened to spill as he thrust into you. You couldn’t shed tears for him. This man.

Sleep weighed heavily, your eyes blinked back scalding tears to awaken. Your dress slipped back down from being hiked up around your neck, restoring your modesty. Your thighs were cleaned, undoubtedly from his aftercare. You pulled on the remnants of your panties and steadied yourself before you stumbled forward.

This was your moment.

There was an escape.

Your vision wavered, and your legs screamed in protest. But Xavier lay unconscious, so you trudged to the door and cracked it open just enough to slip through, then you ran.

You had never been outside that room before. Everything was white, driving you to the brink of insanity, and you hissed at the blinding brightness. You hadn’t seen any color other than shades of red in that LED-lit prison.

But then, as you dashed, deafening alarms blared all around.

It was a labyrinth of whiteness, undoubtedly to Xavier’s taste.

Twists and turns and dead ends just to locate an exit.

At last, it was there, right there. A door with a stained glass window, and it appeared to be around dawn. You were going to make it, and as you reached for the door, a massive arm encircled your waist and yanked you back violently.

“Were you planning to leave me..?” A heartbroken whisper escaped your captor’s lips, as he tightened his grip on your waist, causing your ribs to ache. You screamed and writhed. “Let me go, you bastard!” Not when you were so damn close. The door was right there. Leading to freedom.

“Where did you think you were going, little star?” His voice was gentle, yet laced with menace. “Away from you, bitch!” You shot back, attempting to kick him in the groin. He flinched slightly, but it hardly affected him. He was powerful, far stronger than your frail, broken form.

“Hmm, and what do you think they will do when they discover you’re legally not a person anymore?

“What..?”

“You don’t realize how good you are for this world. So pretty, so obedient, takes everything like a good girl, all for me.” And he covers your mouth, cradling your face along as he whispers like he’s telling you a soothing story.

“And, ah, I tend to get jealous, so, so easily.” He chuckles, like it’s a tiny bad habit he was slightly embarrassed about but laughs it off. Like this “jealousy” hasn’t caused this much collateral damage.

He traces the outline of your jaw, staring deep into your eyes.

“Because, how dare these humans mistreat you like this, look at you, so kind, so beautiful. Nobody deserves to ever see you. So when you were at your lowest, I took you away from all these problems in the world.”

You cry loudly, muffled from his palm to your mouth.

“Shh, don’t cry.” He coos.

“It certainly took some effort. I deleted all known files of you. Passports, documents, ID, everything. Like you never existed.”

You squirm even more, trying to do as much damage as you can to him. Just to weaken him a little and catch him off guard. Headbutting him, pinching him, kicking him. But he just stood there, hand all over your face, and arm wrapped securely over your waist, pinning you there.

“Stop resisting Y/N. see how you’re safe with me? You wouldn’t be safe with the authorities. They wouldn’t be able to find any trace of you.”

“I still have a better chance than letting you do this to me anymore!”

“Don’t make me do this, star.” His voice waned.

And finally, you find a weak spot in his ribs to dig your hips in, and it shocks him for a moment. And you scramble to the door.

Before his hand grabs your leg and makes you fall to the ground, knocking the wind out of you. But you’re determined. You crawl to the best you can to the door, hand desperately reaching out, but Xavier’s grip is stronger on you and he pulls you towards him.

“Two things I can do. I could either be your eyes, or your legs.” He murmurs. And you cry out, no clue what he means.

“Please, let me go! I promise to be a good girl, I promise!” You holler, ragged breaths and whimpers mixing with the hot tears streaming down your face. And Xavier has tears of his own threatening to spill out.

“I want to believe in you, my sweet star, but I can’t. It’s better if you have sight to see me, the person who loves you..no?”

And then, he rises, still clutching your leg, before wrenching it with all his might. You scream, your sobs erupting violently as the agony overwhelms you, and your wails reverberate through the stark white prison, until a sickening crack punctuates your cries, and you let out a howl.

Like the snapping of guitar strings, crimson blood oozes from your shattered bones and torn flesh. It flows out like a runny egg, sunny side up. You can see it all, your fragile skin utterly ruined. Bruises mar your body, and the floor is drenched in red, staining the pristine white tiles.

And when it was completely broken? Xavier picks you up, effortlessly. And kisses your head countless times as he returns you back to the room, and that last glimmer of hope you clung onto? It shattered and broke, just like your leg.

“Shhh, shhh, you’re safe now. I’ll make it all better. I promise.”

The end.

Chapter 1

  Everybody knows that Klaus can’t use his abilities when he’s high. When he’s been drinking. When he’s not sober.

It’s something they learned when he was thirteen and he stole some of Vanya’s pills and took more than the recommended dose. They heard him laughing for the first time in months. They saw him sleep peacefully. They watched him wake with a hangover and a smile.

To be clear, the pills themselves did not make him laugh. But the silence in his head when he took them did.

Dad was not impressed. But he decided it was a good avenue for experimentation. What drugs would inhibit his powers, could he fight past the inhibition, would any drugs heighten his abilities?

The answer was pretty much anything mind altering stopped him from contacting the dead.

So when he says he sees Ben, three days After, when he’s drunk and he’s taken something and he’s slurring his words, Luthor punches him.

Diego gets between them, protects like he always does. Allison is screaming at them to stop, Vanya is crying. Ben is sitting with his head in his hands, his hood drawn down over his face.

“I told you,” Klaus slurred, his lip thick and the taste of blood in his mouth (Luthor pulled the punch at the last second and Klaus knows it). “They never believe me.”

It becomes common to see Klaus talking to his brother. Their brother. To Ben. After a few days of hurt feelings and anger, they decide Klaus is broken. They decide he’s cracked. That the pressure of everything, the drugs, the shock of Ben’s death, one or the other or all of the above, has proved too much for him. And he’s almost sure they’re right. He can’t see dead people when he’s high (and he’s 17 now and high or drunk whenever he can get away with it). So Ben can’t be real. Ben died. Ben was gone.

  But real or not, Ben was right there. He was visible and he was listening and talking and present. Luthor and Alison were a unit. Diego was caught in between, spending half his time biting at Luthor’s heels, the other half leading Ben and Klaus into trouble. Five had been closest to Vanya, and now that he was gone, she was an outpost to herself. Without Ben, Klaus looked to Diego and found him fighting desperately to lead, to be the hero. And Klaus did not want that. Ben knew. Ben understood. They didn’t sign up for this. They didn’t ask for this. They were children.

***

And Ben was dead.

  Chapter 2

  Klaus is 18 and he’s in jail.

Drunk and disorderly. It’s his second time, so they’ve given him one month. He is sure Allison is pissed, she’s just got her first big role and she’s always going on about her loser brothers making bad publicity. He calls Diego, because Diego is the one he can always count on, but Diego hangs up on him. Klaus had forgotten that Diego had gotten serious about the whole cop thing. Having a brother in jail was not good for his image either. (Diego filled Klaus’s commissary account the next day, probably feeling guilty).

Klaus was sober and trapped and it was hell. Do you know how many people die in prison? He’s dealing with the withdrawal and the noise and the… everything. It’s too much. But Ben. Ben was there, right there. He sat on the edge of his bed and talked to him. Told him old stories, the stories Mom had told them growing up. The stories of Dad’s travels, heard from Pogo. He went sometimes to check on the other siblings and brought the news back to Klaus.

And for the first time since Luthor punched him, Klaus let himself believe Ben was real.

He gets out, he carries on, he’s stoned out of his mind half the time, and it’s fine. Allison goes to Hollywood, Luthor goes to space, Vanya gets published, Diego drops out of police academy, and through it all Ben is there. It’s just one more thing that makes Klaus Klaus. He’s gay, he’s an addict, he sees dead people, and he thinks he’s talking to their dead brother. He surfs on one couch or another (he’s the only sibling who had visited Vanya’s apartment before Five came back), he mostly takes care of himself, keeps to himself. And when he’s with them, they all ignore him talking to Ben, well for the most part. Luthor (when he gets on the space phone) tells him to knock it off. Allison rolls her eyes and asks him to please stop that, just while they’re in public. Vanya looks at him like she’s trapped (he never visits her for long). Diego… Diego puts up with it. He doesn’t say he believes Klaus, but sometimes he asks him to say hi to Ben. Ben sometimes visits Mom and Dad and Pogo, but Klaus can't face that damn house.

And through it all, there’s Ben. Ben goes with him to the halfway house. To his court ordered sobriety meetings. They read Vanya’s book together, they watch films, they eat eggs and waffles, and it’s real. Ben is real.

And they don’t see it. They don’t see him and they don’t see Klaus. Not really. They see the show he puts on. They see the lights and the dancing and they miss all the rest.

He doesn’t blame them for not believing him. He has carefully crafted the face he shows to stop them thinking of the scared little boy who screamed every night, surrounded by ghosts. The earnest little boy who did whatever his father wanted and got nothing in return. The broken boy who takes everything he can to numb his mind.

They talk about it, Klaus and Ben. Not often, but sometimes in the quiet, in the night. They speak softly to each other.

“Do you think it’s me? That I wanted to see you, to keep you, so I dreamed you up? Or do you think it’s you? That there’s something about the way you were that makes it easier for me to see you?”

“I don’t know. I’m not sure I care. I’m here. That’s all that matters.”

“Yeah.”

****

Chapter 3

  (The first time Ben is GONE, after hanging on through drink, through drugs, through prison, through death itself, is when Klaus is on the front lines. Ben isn’t dead yet. Ben hasn’t been born yet. Ben doesn’t exist.

And Klaus loves Dave, and that should be enough, and it is enough in all the ways that should matter, but people are dying. People are dead. People are destroyed in horrific and terrible ways and he sees them all. He hears them all at night. And there’s not much there to numb it. Dave helps, he helps so much, he’s perfect and human and Klaus loves him (and this is what love is, non-fraternal love, this is love given and received, love without reservation, love without restraint, this is Dave).

But Ben is gone. And for the first time in a long time, he doubts himself. Ben is gone (or was Ben ever really there?) and the voices are too loud and too sharp and there are ghosts everywhere.

And then Dave is gone.

And he can’t see him.

And Klaus is gone too, gone to his past, gone to the future, gone to sit on a bus.

And it takes a while for Ben to come back, for Ben to find him. And until he sees him again, he doesn’t feel real (he isn’t real, he’s a ghost himself, it’s all gone, all of it, Dave). But then Ben is there. And Diego. And all the rest and Klaus puts himself back together piece by piece. The show must go on. He puts his face back on and stands up and brushes off the dust. He’s a Hargreeves and there are expectations.)

(When Klaus vanishes, Ben goes slightly mad. He goes to his brothers and sisters, one by one. He screams at them. He tells them Klaus is gone (they missed him getting kidnapped in the first place, he’s not sure why they’d realise he was gone now). And it’s not long. It’s the space of a night, a few hours. But since he died, Ben has always known where Klaus was. Always. It’s because he’s dead. Klaus is like a lighthouse in a world of black and grey. They flock to him like moths to a flame.

And the light is gone.

For a moment, Ben is sure Klaus is dead (really dead, forever dead) but he quickly convinces himself he’s wrong. He has to be wrong.

So he goes looking. He looks at home, he looks at the motel, he follows Diego, but there’s nothing. There is an absence.

Then light flares up and he flies to it. And it’s Klaus, glowing like a hurricane lamp. And he’s so happy. So happy. His brother, his best friend, his only constant, his only contact with the world.

It takes him seconds to see something is wrong. Very wrong.)