
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/13545075.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Graphic_Depictions_Of_Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
  Category:
      F/M, Other
  Fandom:
      Boyfriend_to_Death_(Visual_Novels), btd_-_Fandom
  Relationship:
      Strade_(BTD/TNR)/Reader, Strade_(BTD/TNR)/You
  Character:
      Strade_(BTD/TINR)
  Additional Tags:
      wow_so_this_is_a_lot, and_im_so_fucking_sorry, strade_makes_u_his_bitch
      for_ur_whole_life_and_u_have_one_last_night, this_is_A_LOT_IM_NOT_KIDDING
      ABOUT_THE_RAPE/NONCON_HERE_GUYS, also_AU_kind_of?_not_the_BTD_world?, who
      know_sorry
  Stats:
      Published: 2018-02-01 Words: 2333
****** Bury a Body, Dig up Memories ******
by privxess
Summary
     You and Strade have been friends for a life time, but one night his
     problems drag you down with them, and you remember some less
     desirable memories. hopefully you like. less scary shade and more
     like...really....evil shade if he was like a regular kid LOL
Notes
     okay, i honestly have nothing to say? enjoy. super...bad...super
     gross.
You aren’t sure how to feel, standing in the neighbor’s backyard at 4 AM,
holding a shovel. Strade stands in front of you, looking you up and down. It
makes you uncomfortable. If someone would have asked you if you imagined the
summer before your freshman year of college to be like this, you would have
called them crazy. This is the last summer you and Strade will share together,
you’re moving out of state at the end of the month, and he’s been getting
rather aggressive with his treatment towards you. It’s always been a staple
that he treats you better than everyone else, but he adores you in a way that
he likes breaking you down mentally, till you become completely dependent on
him. Which you have, coming at his every beck and call, even tonight.
“Are you going to dig the hole or do I have to make you? If I have to do that,
I’m gonna have to hurt ya.” His voices cuts into the night, your eyes snapping
up to meet his. He has a playful smile on his lips, almost taunting you. You
looked down again, at his feet there is a lifeless body, mangled and destroyed
from what you should assume is his fault, but you’ll have to clean up after
him. Fix it so he won’t end up hurt or in trouble, but looking at the deep cuts
running along the body make you want to vomit. Again. “If I do it, you’re going
in the hole with them” He laughs, hand shooting down to grab the body’s matted
hair and show the face to the you.
 It’s even worse than the rest of the body. Nails drilled into upper part of
the forehead, one of the cheeks is sliced open. The nose is smashed into almost
nothing, but something about them still looks familiar, somebody you knew. An
old best friend. Maybe. You decide to turn your back to the body, facing your
neighbor’s house, knowing they will be blamed for this, and if they aren’t,
Strade never will be. You take a deep breath, not wanting to think about the
body, the family, and the lives ruined just tonight.  Finally, though, you
press the shovel into the soft dirt and begin to dig a hole fit for the body.
 
You are thirteen. Strade is fifteen. He has you locked in his bedroom, arms
handcuffed behind your back and you squirm across the floor, tears streaking
down your cheeks. “I wanna go home!” You cried at him, before he grabbed one of
your legs and pulled you closer to him, his carpeted floor burning against the
back of your arms.
“Common! We’re having fun, just the two of us…” He trails off, before he gets
you all the way in his lap, forcing you into a straddle like position. “You
look so helpless…” He says quietly, leaning back on his palms to admire you.
The look hes giving you reminds you something out of Animal Planet, a predator
admiring prey. You think he’s going to hit you again, but you haven’t made him
mad in a while, so he has no reason to.
You’re still crying, mostly hiccupping and whimpering as you twist your hands
behind your back. “I wanna go home. I have homewo- “You’re cut off, Strade’s
mouth crashing against yours. It’s hot and rough, one of his hands coming up to
hold the back of your head, keeping you pressed into him. His teeth sink into
your lips almost immediately, a groan coming from your mouth. Before you know
it, he has you pinned under his body, small sobs still racking your body as he
keeps kissing you roughly. His hands start to touch your, roaming under the
fabric of your shirt as the assault on your mouth continues, tongue pushing its
way down your throat.
You gag and try to struggle away, but he pushes his lips onto your further,
moving down and starting to bite at your neck. Your crying grows louder once
more, trying to shake your head away, before he kisses you one last time,
biting down on your lower lip hard enough to draw blood.
Just as suddenly as it began, he stops, putting his arms on either side off
your head, looking down at your as his hair falls partially over his face. You
heave, chest rising and falling as you looks up at his face with flushed
cheeks. He doesn’t stop looking into your eyes, a small smirk crawling across
his face.
“So you liked it...”
 
“I wanna go home.” You mutter, dumping dirt over the body. Strade stands far
away, in fact, at the back door of the house, idly watching your and seeing how
you handles such a situation. Your arms are tired; you want to go back to bed.
You would love a shot. You wish yourself and Strade had never became friends,
you wouldn’t have ended up like this at all, you might have even been able to
form normal relationships with people if it wasn’t for him. You try not to
think too much about it though, dumping the dirt into the hole mindlessly.
Strade on the other hand, has taken interest in breaking into the neighbor’s
house, as quiet as a mouse, nobody ever catches him doing anything wrong. It’s
going to be just your luck that someone sees your hiding a body, but you take a
second to wipe a tear from your eyes. You don’t think you deserves to be
treated like this, to have to depend on someone so evil for everything. Your
parents raised your to be nice and sweet and loving, not to hate yourself and
let someone take advantage of your like this, but they also don’t know Strade
like you does. They trusted him so much with your and keeping you safe…
 
You’re only nine, he’s eleven. Your parents went out for a date night and
wouldn’t be home until later. Till two, to be exact. That’s what they told
Strade before he shut the door behind them and they drove off into the sunset,
like a fairytale. You were excited, you loved having Strade stay the night. Key
word, loved. You were starting to regret it with each passing minute. He’s made
rules for your, one by one that he knows you’ll follow, simply because you’ve
always done what he’s said.
He told your it was time to take a bath, although you already took one this
morning, you wandered into the bathroom and fill the tub with warm water. And
bubbles, lots and lots of bubbles. Your mom wasn’t there to tell your that you
can’t use half the bottle, so you did that too. You remember leaning on the
edge of the tub, dipping your hand into the water, when Strade walked in.
“Hey! Are you gonna take your bath soon, buddy?” He asks, placing a hand on
your head.
“Yeah! I was just waiting for the tub to fill up!” You giggled, before turning
the facet off.
Everything seemed to slow down as Strade suddenly pushes your head underwater,
and it took a minute for the rest of your body to react. Your hands push
against the edge of tub, trying to force your head out of the water. The
feeling in your chest is tight and its scaring your, you don’t know when Strade
is going to let your come up for air.
His hand tightens in your hair as he snaps your back out of the water. You
heave and pants, but only for a second before he’s forcing your back into the
water for another round of torture. You try to use your legs to kick at him
from behind, but he simply adjusts himself so his knees force their way into
the backs of your, pinning you’re in place. You never thought about dying until
then, you’re nine, why would you ever even consider the idea of dying. You
start to think that this is how you die, your best friend holding your hair in
his hand and him, holding you underwater. In a last resort, you reach your
hands behind you and start to claw at his arms. Only then does he yank your
back up and pull you into his chest, releasing your hair and wrapping your arms
around the small girl.
Hands quickly come to cover your eyes as you sputtered out water, heaving and
crying. You don’t understand what just happened, or why that just happened. You
don’t even think you can breathe, hands still covering your eyes. You opened
your mouth to speak, but all that comes out is more coughs and chokes, Strade
still holding your lovingly in his arms. “Don’t say anything, I don’t know what
came over me…I guess I just got carried away.” He whispered, rubbing one of
your sides tenderly. “You can forgive me, can’t you?” He continues, resting his
head on your shoulder, water droplets from your hair landing on his cheeks.
You felt like you were still drowning, so all you did is nod.
 
 
“Can’t you go any faster?” Strade taunts your,mm, standing feet away from your
as you cry, still covering the body with dirt. A knife teases the skin of his
hand, as he twirls the point on his palm. “There still time for me to burry you
too.” He continues, the younger girl trying to move the dirt into the hole
faster. He laughs, the sounds echoing through the night.
Taking a shaky breath, the dirt is almost all back into the hole now. The night
is almost over, college is starting soon, all you can think about is soon you
will be far away from Strade and this. You want to run away, reinvent yourself.
You’re not even staying in state for college, you’re moving from this sleepy
town to another one, miles and miles away from this place.  Sniffling, you try
to just get this over with, he can’t keep your out here forever.
 
You’re sixteen. He’s eighteen. Highschool is full of a time where hormones run
high, but you aren’t interested. You are pretty, people fawn and drool over
your, they are irrelevant in your eyes. Highschool has changed your, not much,
but you are more self-aware, the once ugly duckling has started to grow some
feather, although you won’t become a swanuntil that summer before high school,
you are still a sight. Strade is always a few inches left of your anyways,
derailing the eyes of other boys away, he is a senior after all.
You’re at his house, his parents aren’t home, is isn’t like they would help if
they were though. His door is shut, locked, and his chair is rigged under the
handle, no way to get in, no way to get out. Muffled sobs and screams come from
inside the room, drowned out with loud, blasting music.
“Stop! Stop, please!” You sob shakily, thrashing your body around violently as
Strade fights to hold down. Your arms are tied to the bedframe above your, the
ropes rubbing your wrists raw.
“Hey! Stop moving or I’m going to hurt you.” He says, a commanding tone in his
voice. He gets a grip on your throat and holds you there. “You wouldn’t want
that would you? No? That’s what I thought. You look so gorgeous right now, so
helpless. Kind of like a few years ago when I kissed you.” He speaks calmly,
your sniffling and crying still filling the empty space between words.
Your pants have long been removed from your body, Strade already having
wrestled you out of them. Starting slow, he pulls your underwear aside and
thrusts a finger inside, earning a loud sob from the you.  You kick one of your
legs out, but Strade quickly apprehends your and digs his nails into the skin
of your thigh. He’s interested, of course he’s been with other people, but none
of them cry or scream like you does when he touches them. The sobs of unwanted
touches give him in the same feelings he got whenever he choked you on the way
to school or when he slapped you. He groans quietly, pushing a second finger
inside.
A moan slips past your lips, your body responding without your wanting to.
You’re scared, nobody has ever touched you like this and now you don’t think
anyone might ever. Why is he doing this to you?
Strade has a better idea. A few minutes after he has you sobbing for him to
stop, he does. But quickly, his mouth replaces his fingers and he licks you
roughly.  You taste sweet, different, scared. He can’t help himself and he gets
too carried away, listening to you cry and beg him to stop, and you cum.
Looking into your eyes, he smiles at you and says, “You liked it.”
 
The car ride home is silent, you’ve stopped crying. The radio plays static,
this feels like a movie. At a stoplight, Strade finally cracks the silence.
“I’m going to have sex with you.” He states, not a question. He is telling you
what he will do to you. You move for the door handle that isn’t there, and you
start sobbing. Strade has taken everything from you. From your willpower, to
everything intimate, it belongs to Strade.  “I’m going to get to my house soon,
and you’re going to loveit.
By the time you get to his house, you’re inconsolable. You can’t stop crying
and the panic is rising in your throat. Without so much as a care, Strade drags
you up the stairs to his room and he shuts and locks the door.  You spend the
whole night crying and begging Strade to let you go home, but of course, he
doesn’t.
You move away for college two weeks later. You don’t give Strade your dorm
information.
He still shows up.
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