He saved your life. He took care of you. When the cops look into your accident, they find it wasn’t an accident at all… Someone sabotaged you.
Warning: car crash, broken bones, stalking, dark!chris evans, manipulation, no smut, angst, fluff, use of drugs to make someone forget, throw up, ending sucks i’m sorry
Summary: He saved your life. He took care of you. You owe him everything, right? But your mind tells you something isn’t right.
Word Count: 5.7k oops
Screech.
Brakes squealing.
Blinding light in your eyes.
You tighten your grip on the steering wheel as you brace for impact, staring at the cement wall in front of you.
You don’t know how you got turned around or why your brakes aren’t working, you don’t even know where you were going.
You do know that you won’t make it out alive.
Crash!
You feel flames envelope your car, the heat grazing against your cheek, the shock of it all causing to fade away.
“Come on, sweetheart! Come back to me,” You hear, feeling the light tap of someone’s hand against your cheek. Your eyelids flutter open, revealing a strange man cradling you in his strong arms. He’s got tears streaming down his face, smoke and ash staining his face. You gasp for air, immediately coughing up dirt and debris.
You’ve never been in so much pain, yet so calm. Relief spreads over the strangers face, using his sweaty palms to wipe away his tears. “The EMT’s are on their way, sweetheart. You’re gonna be okay.”
You furrow your eyebrows, trying to piece everything together. You try to focus on what happened earlier tonight, but the pounding headache distracts you. “W-what happened?” You ask, your voice scruff from the heat. You attempt to sit up, to move away from this strange man, but a shooting pain runs through your body, originating from your ribs. You gasp, your hand reaching to cover your body.
“Sh, sh… Just relax, I don’t want you to hurt yourself even more,” He says, covering your hand with his. You stare up at him, your eyes flickering over his strangely familiar face. You’ve seen this man before, but you don’t know when or where. You doubt you’ve even had a conversation with this man before, or you would instantly recognize him.
But you almost swear you’ve seen him lurking around your friends parties.
“We were in an accident. The EMT’s are on their way,” He explains, nodding over to where the accident occured. Your car is sitting in a pile of ashes, barely recognizable. There’s metal and tire rubber spread across the road, blocking anyone from driving.
Thankfully, it’s almost 3 in the morning, so the roads aren’t that busy.
You glance up at the man once again, trying to force yourself to remember this man. You were in the car with him?
Your thoughts are interrupted when the blare of sirens near you, signalling that help is here. “Oh, thank god,” The man mutters, scooping you closer to his chest. He lifts you with no hesitation, carrying you over to the moving ambulance. You relax against his chest, the exhaustion taking your body over. A mix of the pain and adrenaline has left you drained.
You hear the EMT and the stranger converse, but you can’t make out what they’re saying. You can feel your body fading, but you’re too weak to do anything about it. You hear the man shouting, and then you feel a foreign object covering your mouth, breathing air into your lungs. “Man, she’s out of it! Do something!”
You feel the EMT’s poking and prodding, a sharp pain in your wrist following. You know enough about first aid that you know they probably put an IV in you, to give you some pain meds, so your body doesn’t have to fight so hard. You instantly feel better, your head lolling to the side, giving you that well-needed rest.
The beeping of the machines wake you up, disturbing your sleep. You look around the room, frowning when you realize that you’re alone. You’d halfway hoped the stranger was still there, so you could thank him and ask him some more questions, like why were you in the car with him? Where were you going? Where were you coming from?
But part of you is relieved that he’s gone, so you can be alone and rest. You’re sure the hospital has taken care of informing your parents of what happened, so they’ll be on their way soon enough. You’re distracted by the sound of the hospital door opening, revealing one of your nurses. “How are you feeling, sweetie?” She asks, flashing her smile at you.
You smile nervously, sinking into your bed. The small movement causes a sharp pain in your ribs again, but it’s nothing compared to how it felt earlier. You’re sure the pain meds have something to do with that. “I feel a lot better… Just confused, I guess,” You answer, picking at your blanket. It’s a nervous habit you picked up from your brother when you were younger, one you were never able to get rid of.
“Your doctor went over everything with Chris, so I’m sure he can explain everything when he comes back in.” The nurse explains, leaning over and checking your pulse. You watch her carefully, furrowing your eyebrows. Chris? That’s the man’s name? Why doesn’t that name sound familiar?
“Ah, you’re awake!” The man exclaims, smiling at you. You ignore the nurse as she finishes your exam, your eyes dropping to the plate of food in front of you. The man had gone to the cafeteria for you?
You eye the bowl of soup in front of you, along with the grilled cheese. Beside of the grilled cheese, there’s a cookie, one that he grabbed from the vending machine. You chuckle as you open the cookie, your mouth practically watering. You hadn’t had a cookie like this in so long, they were always your favorite growing up. “I hope you like the soup, it’s the only semi-attractive thing they had down there.” The man explains, sitting in the chair beside of your bed.
You dig into the cookie, leaving the soup to cool down. “I guess I should ask you some questions,” You say, crumbs dropping down to your bedsheets. The man leans back in his chair, staring you down. It should be intimidating, there’s something that tells you that you’re safe.
“First of all, thank you for taking care of me,” You say, earning a chuckle from the man. His beard moves with his face, drawing your attention to it. You’ve never been one for facial hair, but you’ll have to admit, it’s nice.
"It’s the least I could do, sweet heart. I wasn’t hurt nearly as bad as you,” He answers. It’s the first time you’ve really paid attention to his voice and his accent. He has a Boston accent, that’s for sure. You’d almost forgotten that he was in the car with you. You certainly couldn’t tell by looking at him— he has no bruises or cuts.
“What happened to me?”
Chris’s smile fades away as he takes a deep breath, dropping his eyes to his lap. You know it had to have been traumatizing to be in a burning car and be alert through it all, but you have to know what happened. You’ve never been in a car accident before, you’ve always been a great driver. You hadn’t been drinking or smoking, you were driving responsibly. You just can’t figure out what went wrong.
“I’m not sure, honestly. We were driving fine, then all of a sudden, you lost control of the wheel. We flipped and I heard you screaming until you finally stopped. I thought… I thought you were gone,” He says, his voice fading. Your heart sinks in your chest, realizing just how lucky you are.
This man is your hero.
You would’ve died if he hadn’t pulled you out. He could’ve gotten himself out and left you there.
“Chris,” You say, sitting up straight in your bed. You reach out and touch his hand, a small smile on your face. “Thank you. For everything. If you hadn’t been there… Well, I wouldn’t be alive,” You say, expressing your gratitude. Chris smiles gently, rubbing his thumb over your bruised hand.
“But, I don’t want you to feel like you have to stay. My parents will be here soon, I’m sure. You probably have better things to worry about than some stranger,” You finish, pulling your hand away. You know he’s probably exhausted and has his own life to live.
Chris chuckles quietly, raising an eyebrow. “Wow, you must’ve really hit your head hard,” He says, reaching over and breaking off a piece of your cookie. You watch as he eats it, furrowing your eyebrows.
“What do you mean?” You ask. Chris wipes his mouth, his smile fading. “We’re not strangers, y/n. I’m your ex-boyfriend. You really don’t remember?“ He explains, his eyes searching yours.
Shit.
Your ex-boyfriend?
The last boyfriend you remember having was three years ago, the one that broke your heart so bad that you swore off dating. You don’t even remotely remember the man sitting in front of you.
Then again, you were in a horrible wreck. Even if you didn’t hit your head, the trauma and shock of it all could’ve confused you.
“I… I don’t remember you at all,” You whisper, your heart breaking. How could you not remember?
Chris clears his throat, his eyes dropping to his lap. “Then I guess I should fill you in,” He says, lifting his eyes again. “We were together for two years. We met at a friend’s party. We’ve been broken up for 6 months,” He explains. You desperately try to force yourself to remember, but nothing is jogging your memory.
“Why did we break up?”
The question seems to throw Chris off guard, as if he wasn’t expecting you to ask. He swallows a lump in his throat, guiltiness washing over his face. “I cheated on you,”
The answer knocks the air out of your lungs, throwing you off guard. Cheated?He cheated?
Despite you not remembering anything about him, you don’t take him for a cheater. He seems too… caring.
Besides, if he had cheated on you, why were you riding in the car with him 6 months after breaking up?
You take a deep breath, relaxing in your bed. “Why were we together if we’re not dating?” You ask, trying to get a clearer picture of everything. Chris eats another piece of your cookie, dusting his hands off on his pants.
“Well, we were at another party and… One thing led to another and we were on our way back to my place,” He answers, his cheeks heating up. Your cheeks heat up once you realize what was happening, your heart fluttering in your chest. You sit in silence, neither one knowing what to say after that.
Chris clears his throat again. “I know this might sound crazy, but you’re more than welcome to stay with me. The doctor said you’ve got a few broke ribs, so you’ll need help doing the basic things. It’s gonna be pretty hard for you to live on your own right now,” He offers.
You want to shut him down immediately, but you have to seriously consider his offer. With a broken rib, it’s going to be hard to shower on your own. It’ll be hard to cook, to walk up and down your stairs, to do anything on your own. But you can’t live with a stranger… That’s like one of the basic things they teach you in elementary school.
Don’t trust strangers.
Then again, you reckon he’s not really a stranger. Just because you don’t remember anything about him doesn’t mean he’s a stranger.
“Uh, are you sure? I mean, we’re not even together, I don’t want to be a burden,” You say, picking at the skin around your nails.
“I wouldn’t have offered unless I meant it,”
“And right here is where you’ll be sleeping,” Chris says, gesturing to the guest room. It’s on the first level, meaning you won’t have to climb up any stairs. The bathroom is in the room, so it’s not too far of a walk. His house is nice– much nicer than yours. The ride home was silent, neither one of you knowing what to say to each other.
You’re relieved he showed you to the guest room. You were worried he’d expect you to sleep in his room with him, since you were dating. You find him attractive, but you just can’t see yourself being comfortable with sleeping in a bed with him right now.
You lean against the doorway, already out of breath from your short walk. “Thanks again, Chris,” You say, doing your best to muster up a smile. You’re thankful for everything he’s doing for you, but you wish you remembered something, anything about him.
“Let me know if you need any help with anything… Anything at all,” Chris offers, turning to walk out of the room. You hesitate to speak up, but you open your mouth before you even know it. “Actually, can you do me a favor?”
Chris turns around, a small smile on his lips. “Sure, anything.” He says.
Your eyes flicker around the room, searching for anything to make your memory come back. “Do you have any pictures of us? Maybe if I see some pictures, it’ll help me remember you,” You say, your voice small.
Chris’s smile falls, replaced by a frown. “I wish I could, y/n, but after we broke up, I deleted everything of you. I was heartbroken.”
Your shoulders fall, along with your smile. Of course, he deleted everything of you. That’s what happens when you break up with people. You glance over your shoulder at the bed, exhaustion sweeping over your body. “I should go to sleep,” You mutter, taking small steps toward the bed. Chris follows you, reaching out a hand to place on the small of your back.
He gently helps you into bed, frowning when you whimper in pain. He fluffs your pillows and tucks you in, taking a step back. “Goodnight, y/n,” He says, his voice soft. You can tell he’s holding himself back, and you feel guilty.
This man loves you. At least, he did love you. You can tell he wants nothing more than to crawl in bed with you and hold you, or at least give you a kiss goodnight, but he doesn’t want to make you uncomfortable. You appreciate the thought, even if it makes things awkward.
“Goodnight,”
“I’ll pick you up after I finish running errands,” Chris says, opening the office door for you. He’s been super helpful all morning– making sure you don’t move too fast, helping you change your outfit, helping you with anything that might be difficult with a broken rib.
You’re at the insurance office now, preparing to speak with your agent about the accident. You told him you don’t remember much, but he told you anything would help. You look up at Chris, giving him a tight-lipped smile. “Thank you,” You repeat, hating the way you sound like a broken record. You must’ve said the phrase a million times in the past 24 hours, but you truly can’t thank him enough.
Chris chuckles and shakes his head, brushing your hair away from your face. “It’s the least I can do, y/n. I promised you I’d always take care of you, no matter what.” He reminds you, your cheeks heating up. You still find it weird to think that you spent two years of your life with this man; that you loved each other.
Your agent walks in the lobby, interrupting the intimate moment. “Ms. Y/L/N, it’s nice to see you. You can follow me, it won’t take long.” He states. Chris gives you one last goodbye, before walking out the door. You slowly follow the man, sitting in the chair in front of his desk.
“First of all, I’m terribly sorry for everything that’s happened. I can’t imagine how traumatic the accident was,” He says, true sympathy laced in his voice. You pick at your nail bed, swallowing the lump in your throat. You feel guilty that you don’t have any trauma surrounding the accident, but thankful at the same time.
“What do you remember about the accident?”
You clear your throat, shifting awkwardly in your seat. You attempt to remember as far back as the hours before the accident, struggling. “I was at a friend’s party. I wasn’t drinking, I was just talking and dancing. I met up with an ex-boyfriend apparently, and we wanted to go back to my place. I don’t remember anyone being in the car but me, but Chris says he was there. I remember driving down the road and that’s all. Chris says something caused me to lose control of the wheel, and we started rolling.” You explain, a headache forming. You’ve been thinking non-stop, trying to force yourself to remember.
Your agent nods as he writes in his notebook, an eyebrow raising. “So you don’t remember anyone else being in the car?”
You shake your head, shrugging your shoulders. “I thought that was weird, but according to Google, it’s a real thing. Retrograde amnesia, I think is what it was called.” You explain.
Your agent stops writing, lifting his head. “Well, yeah, that’s a real problem, but normally it affects memories years before the injury to the brain. You remember everything up until the accident, correct?” He asks. You nod, furrowing your eyebrows.
He flips through the pages on his desk, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth. “And your hospital records don’t show anything about a brain injury… Just a few broken ribs and a busted lip.”
You stare blankly ahead, trying to come up with any explanation for your memory loss. You know trauma can cause memory loss, but is that really what happened?
Your agent stares at you, his shoulders dropping. “Ms. Y/L/N, I think I want to have an officer formally investigate you. I have a daughter your age, and I hope someone would help her out if she were ever in this position,” He says.
After agreeing to speak with an officer, you recount your story, trying your best to fill in the blanks for him, but you failed. You left the office feeling defeated and confused, ready to go home. You wish you could say going home helped you, but it hurt you even more.
You walked into a home you didn’t recognize, with declarations you don’t remember picking out, and a man you don’t remember meeting. You stare absentmindedly as Chris washes the dishes left over from spaghetti night, hoping for anything to jog your memory. A tattoo… A scar…. A mole… Anything.
You’re left staring at skin you’ve never seen before, a lump forming in your throat. Normally, the image of Chris washing dishes shirtless would be something you’d drool over, but it just breaks your heart.
What would you normally do? Did he normally cook for you, or were you the one in the kitchen? Did you share the responsibility of the dishes, or did you leave them piled up in the sink, hoping for the other to clean them? Would you go up behind him, wrapping your arms around his waist, pressing a kiss to his back?
Before you can think about what you’re saying, you’re speaking up, watching Chris turn around. “Did I love you?”
Once again, Chris is thrown off guard. His cheeks heat up as he dries the plate, a soft smile on his lips. “Uh, I think so. At least, you told me you did,” He says, adding a chuckle at the end.
“A lot, actually,”
You stare at the shower water running, disappointed with yourself. You’ve been in the bathroom for 20 minutes, trying to get your shirt off without hurting yourself. You don’t want to strain yourself and prolong your healing process, but you also don’t want to give in to the alternative.
The thought of Chris seeing you shirtless makes your skin crawl.
It shouldn’t, though. After all, you were together for two years; you’re positive he saw you naked.
You reach down to unbutton your jeans, slowly pulling them down to your knees. You wiggle as carefully as possible, working the jeans down to your calves. You gently pick up your foot, using it to kick the other pants leg off of your leg. You suck in a sharp breath with every movement, thanking the gods above for pain medicine.
There’s no way you’re gonna be able to wiggle out of your shirt. It was easy just throwing the shirt on this morning, but you just knowyou’ll get tangled up in your shirt when you’re trying to get it off.
You sigh, giving in. “Chris?” You call, followed by the sound of someone running down the hallway. You heard a thud on the door, causing you to flinch.
“Is everything okay?”
You giggle quietly at the panicked sound of his voice. “Uh, kinda… I need your help,” You say, blushing for what seems like the millionth time tonight. Chris stays silent, waiting patiently for you to explain what you need help with. You take a deep breath, trying to push the embarrassment down.
“I uh, I can’t get out of my shirt,” You say, only to be met with silence. You don’t hear anything for several seconds, but then, you hear what sounds like light footsteps leading away from the bathroom door. You frown, your heart sinking in your chest. You knew it was an odd request, but you didn’t think he’d just leave you hanging. You accept defeat, sighing as you stare in the mirror, preparing yourself to just suck it up and deal with the pain.
You’re pulled out of your thoughts when a voice is at the door, getting your attention. “Can I come in?”
You walk toward the door, opening it. You gasp when you open the door, following it with a fit of giggles. Chris is standing at the doorway, a makeshift blindfold over his eyes. “What is that for?” You ask, your face heating up.
Chris smiles as he blindly enters the bathroom, grabbing your hand in the process. You lead him deeper into the room, shutting the door behind you. “Well, I just wanted to make sure you were comfortable,” Chris explains, darting his tongue out to lick his lips.
You smile, your heart swelling in your chest. You lift your fingers to feel the soft fabric of the tie, furrowing your eyebrows when you get a good look. “This tie… It looks familiar!” You say, excitement laced in your voice.
You can see Chris’s face light up, even though his eyes are covered. “Really? I picked this one because you bought it for me before I met your parents.” He explains.
A light bulb goes off in your head as you gasp. “My parents! Maybe they have pictures of us together? Or maybe they could at least help me remember,” You say, watching Chris’s smile fade away. He lifts his hands, fumbling for the bottom of your shirt. “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” He says.
You frown, allowing him to slip the shirt over your head. The movement hurts your ribs, but it doesn’t hurt as much as it would’ve if you had done it alone. “Your parents didn’t like me. They uh, they didn’t trust me… They told you the night we met that they didn’t approve, that they thought I was up to something,” He mutters. Your heart breaks for Chris, knowing exactly how your parents are. They’ve always had strong opinions about the people you’ve been with.
You stand there as your shirt falls to the ground. Several silent moments pass, so you clear your throat to fill the silence. “I might need some help in the shower,” You say, your voice quiet. If you can’t lift your shirt over your head, how are you going to wash your own hair?
You watch Chris swallow a lump in his throat as his cheeks heat up again. “Uh, yeah, of course,” He says, standing there awkwardly. You giggle as you start your water, letting it heat up. Once you feel it’s hot enough, you carefully step in. “Okay, you can get in,” You say, nervously.
Chris takes a deep breath, his eyes still covered by the blindfolds. He reaches up to his tie, carefully undoing it. You keep your eyes on his hands, feeling your heart speed up. You know you’ve seen it all before— but you don’t remember it. Maybe seeing his body will jog something in your brain.
Silence fills the room as he throws his tie down, reaching for the buttons. He carefully undos them, peeling his shirt off of his back. Your eyes rake over the multiple tattoos, drinking the image in. You don’t see any you recognize, causing your heart to sink once again.
“I can feel you staring at me,”
Chris’s voice brings you back to reality, causing you to clear your throat. “You wish,” You mutter, not wanting to admit it. You turn so your back is to the water, letting the water soak your hair. You try your best to ignore Chris as you see him take his pants off in the corner of your eye, but it’s harder than you thought it would be. You want to look, but it’s not right.
Chris steps into the shower, taking a deep breath. “Just tell me what to do, and when to do it.”
You nod, only to remember he can’t see you. So, you answer him by handing him your shampoo bottle. “Here, hold out your hands.”
He follows your instructions, waiting for you to squirt the liquid onto his hands. Once you feel like you have enough, he rubs his hands together, lathering it up. You turn your back to him, closing your eyes. Chris tangles his fingers in your hair, massaging and rubbing the liquid in your hair. You hum quietly, feeling your body relax.
“Did we have fun together?”
Chris laughs behind you as he rinses your hair, careful to not let any get in your eyes and ears. “Oh, yeah. Tons of fun.” He says. You smile, reaching for the conditioner bottle. “Doing what?”
Chris blows a raspberry as he thinks, eventually shrugging his shoulders. “Everything. We had fun even when we were just laying in bed together. When we would cook together, drink together, anything,”
“How are you feeling?“ Chris asks, making his way downstairs. His fingers are working on his tie, tightening the knot. You’re sitting on the couch, flipping through the channels of the tv.
“Better. I can finally sneeze without crying,” You say, earning a chuckle from Chris. You’ve been at his house for two weeks, meaning it’s been two weeks since the wreck. Chris has been amazing;answering any questions you might have, making sure you’re taking your medicine, and helping you with daily tasks.
“Heard anything from the insurance company?” He asks, leaning against the doorframe. You shake your head, guilt settling in. You hadn’t told Chris that the insurance company was looking into the accident, and you’re not sure why. It’s not like it’s a bad thing, but you feel uneasy about the whole thing.
Chris sighs, grabbing his keys from off of the hook in the hallway. “Alright, I’ll be back in a couple of hours,” He says, making his way over to you. Without hesitation, he leans over, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead.
You tense up, staring up at him. Chris blushes, stuttering. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to. It was just our thing before… Before we broke up. It just felt natural, I shouldn’t have done that.” He explains, panic in his eyes.
You giggle quietly, blushing. “It’s okay… I know this has been hard on you too,” You say. Chris’s nervousness seems to fade, his shoulders dropping. Even though you don’t remember him, part of it felt natural to you too. As much as you hate to admit it, you can feel yourself falling for him— all over again.
Chris awkwardly walks out the door, leaving you alone in the house.
Your eyes are glued to the tv for what seems like forever, until you hear a knock at the door. You groan, leaning your head back against the couch cushion. You hatecompany.
“Police; open up!”
Your eyes shoot up, your head coming up off the back of the couch. Police? What are the police doing here? Panic runs through your body, the adrenaline sending you flying over to the door. You swing open the door, your chest heaving. There are five policemen standing in front of your door, their hands resting on the guns on their hips.
“Ma’am, I need you to come with us,” One of them says, carefully and slowly.
“W-why? What’s going on?” You ask. One of the cops pushes you side gently, walking into the home. “Are you y/n y/l/n?”
You nod, your voice seemingly stuck in your throat.
“We were assigned to your case. We suspect the man you’ve been living with tampered with your breaks the night of the accident,” He explains, your heart sinking into your stomach.
This can’t be right, it can’t be true. Chris? Why would your ex-boyfriend intentionally cause your accident?
“That can’t be true, Chris is a great guy; he’s my ex-boyfriend!” You argue, disbelief laced in your voice.
The cop pulls a picture out of his wallet, holding it up in front of you. “This is you, with your parents, and your realboyfriend,” He explains, passing you the picture. You examine it, tears streaming down your cheeks.
“Mr. Evans began micro-dosing you with Midazolam, which is a drug that causes retrograde amnesia. It was a small enough amount to cause you to forget your boyfriend, but not your parents. You’d only been with your boyfriend for three months, so it was easier to erase him from your memory,”
You block everything out, memories flooding through your brain. You had gone to the party with your boyfriend that night. You suddenly remember everything, all the way back to the first time you met him. He was kind, he was generous, he was funny…
“Is Tyler okay?” You ask, your head snapping up. The cops sympathetically frown at you, shaking their heads. “If you come with us, we’ll tell you everything,”
You stare straight ahead, locking eyes with the man you thought you knew. The man you thought you were falling for.
The man you thought had saved your life.
It’s been 6 months since the police escorted you out of his home, 6 months since you returned to your normal life. 6 months since you found out Chris murdered your ex-boyfriend, causing your parents to think you suffered the same fate.
6 months since you were told Chris had been stalking you for years, lurking in the background of your friends’ parties, hiding behind the trees of the parks you ran in, doing anything he could to get close to you.
The judge bangs her gavel, causing you to jump. “Ms. Y/L/N, are you listening?”
You gulp, looking over at her. “I’m sorry, can you repeat the question?” You ask, watching the disappointment on her face. Even after knowing what you know about Chris, it’s going to be hard to put him away for life. You know he’s a bad man, but he helped you so much. How could a murderer be so gentle with someone? You remember him in the shower with you, delicate touches as he helped you wash your hair.
He never made a bad comment or tried to touch you. He made you feel so safe.
You remember mornings in the kitchen with him, before he went back to work. He’d flip the pancakes, dropping them on the floor. You’d giggle and shake your head as you pulled out a box of cereal instead. You remember late nights on the couch, when you’d accidentally snuggle up to him as you fell asleep. He’d wrap you in his arms, pressing a kiss to your head. He thought you were asleep, but you felt each kiss.
“In your time together, did Mr. Evans ever attempt to harm you?”
Chris stares straight ahead at you, his eyes locked onto yours. You shake your head, a tear falling down your face. “No, quite the opposite,” You say, a dry chuckle falling from your lips.
“Can you elaborate?”
“Chris was great. He was always very gentle and kind, I never had any suspicions that he was a bad man.” You say, watching Chris’s eyes fall to his lap, as if he’s hurt that you called him a bad man.
You see your lawyer shaking his head, disappointed that you didn’t stick to the script. The judge sighs, banging her gavel once again. “Alright. That’s all for today. Court dismissed. The sentencing is scheduled for Friday morning at 10 am,”
You watch everyone get out of their seats, including Chris. His hands are handcuffed behind his back, making him look more dangerous than you believe him to be. Your parents run up to you, helping you off the stand. “Let’s go home, honey. You need to rest,”
You sit on the couch, a bowl of cereal in your hands as you watch the live stream of the sentencing. Your parents are there, but you couldn’t bear to be. You made up some lie about your ribs hurting extra today, but you really couldn’t bear to see Chris be sentenced to life in prison.
You feel guilty, even though you shouldn’t. This man murdered your boyfriend, he messed with your breaks. He tricked you into believing that you had been with him for years.
The head of the jury stands up, his eyes locked onto the paper in front of him. “We, the jury, have found the defendant, Chris Evans, guilty of first degree murder,” He says, knocking the breath out of your lungs. The camera pans to Chris, who can’t even bear to look up.
“We, the jury, have found the defendant, Chris Evans, guilty of tampering with a vehicle,”
“We, the jury, have found the defendant, Chris Evans, guilty of kidnapping,”
The charges keep rolling in, shocking you with every one. The camera pans back to the judge, silencing the crowd. “I am hereby sentencing Mr. Evans to life in prison, with no parole. Court is adjourned,”
The bowl falls into your lap, your hands flying up to your mouth, the bile creeping up your throat.
You did the right thing, so why do you feel so horrible?
tags:dark prisonguard!steve rogers, eventual hint of bucky x reader too, strong NONCON elements, oral sex (fingering), abuse of power/authority, eventual implications of manipulation
a/n: i did not intend for this mini-series to be a stucky x reader (i dont write for bucky), but i had to for the plot. omg ok so i dedicate this to @imdarkinme – my savior, my inspiration, my everything, my reason for writing dark fics. I LOVE YOU BABE. THIS ONE IS 4 U. NEVER GONNA STOP LOVING U (nd ur fics) <3
When your closest friend had called you one night stating that you were one of the most wanted persons in the city, you honestly thought of it as a prank. You could remember those moments so vividly. And honestly, you could just wish for a rewind in time as you never would have seen what was to come later on.
"I swear, your name is all over the newspapers–”
The worry in her voice was so strong. Natasha had awoken you and did not hesitate on blaring at you about the news she had just discovered, specifically about you.
“You’re actually fooling me by saying you still read those?” Your voice was still groggy as you tried to sit up straight to prevent yourself from falling asleep during mid-conversation.
“This isn’t a joke! I’m not trying to make you laugh I swear to god,” she asserts while consistently keeping the mood and tone of the conversation.
You cocked your head to the side, positioning your phone between your ear and shoulder. Your fingers were gently wiping circles around your eyes as your vision was still adjusting. For a moment you contemplated on switching on your lamp alongside, but eventually you did after realizing that your friend seemed to have no plans on ending the stunt she was pulling on you.
“Look I’m trying to be serious here–”
“I’m trying to get some sleep here, Nat.” Your tone came off a bit rude, cranky even, but both of you knew it was not intentional.
Hence, Natasha just disregards your tone off and continues, “I’m seeing your full name and even your picture in the paper, clear as day. There is not a doubt, that you’re the person they’re looking for.”
“Why would I be committing any crimes when I’ve been working in the coffee shop almost every weekdays to pay my rent for the least.” You scoffed, clearly not seeing any logical reason behind everything she had been telling you, “Hell, I’m struggling to put anything in my fridge but that doesn’t mean I’m willing to rob a bank or murder someone, okay?”
“God, I don’t know either, Y/N. I do believe you, I really do,” she calls out, “but what I do know is that the bureau is searching for your ass right now and we have to do something because they don’t seem to be easier to convince than me!”
There was a long pause afterwards. You were just so sleepy and out of a decent state of mind. You did not know how to react to it, probably not even comprehending any of what you just heard as there was not even a hint of horror or worry in your voice.
Merely, you just stared in front of you, glaring at the plain beige-colored wallpapers, with lips slightly agape and eyelids exceedingly droopy. If Natasha could only see your eyes looking completely exhausted right now, you were so sure that she would cut the act and leave you to finally get some sleep again.
Eventually, your friend spoke up again to break the wearisome conversation. “Sweetie, I’m so worried for you.”
“Are you crying? You’re very cute, you know that?” you say followed by a yawn. “Wish you did this prank tomorrow morning, I feel like you would’ve definitely gotten a better reaction from me. I’m sorry you didn’t get the reaction you were looking for tonight.”
“I’m not kidding, please, would you just listen to me.” Again, another loud sigh could be heard from her at the other end of the call, “God, if you search it up online I swear you’re going to find your name somewhere there. Don’t be so stubborn, I’m just looking out for you!”
“I’m too tired,” you honestly answered her. It must have been the lack of sleep, but the filter in your tone just was not enough to express enough sympathy to her. “Please I just need to get some sleep, Nat.”
“I’ll still be seeing you tomorrow, right?” Her voice broke a little, seeming as if she was on the edge of breaking down or crying. During that moment, you could applaud for how good of an acting she had been doing for you. Considerably, that might have been one of her best performances yet – or so you thought.
Nevertheless, you wanted to joke about her entire stunt, but you really were too tired to make something out of it.
The corner of your lips slightly curved into a soft smile. “I promise you’ll see me tomorrow. While you’re at it, you can tell me that you told me so if the Federal starts knocking at my door.”
You made that joke granting that you were not holding anything ahead of you. It was an innocent line that you thought could have gone better and lighten up the mood.
“Y/N, please, I–”
“Good night, Nat.” You could only stay awake for so long at this point. Your eyelids were sealed shut and you were seconds away from falling back against your soft mattress.
God that was stressful, though it could have gone worse and longer. How in the world did Natasha even think of that kind of prank on you or any of her other friends, you thought.
Dropping your phone beside and hearing a thump afterwards, you reach for the switch of your lamp. With one flip you were finally surrounded by the calming darkness again and left you to your peaceful slumber.
That was pretty much what you could recall before your entire world was turned upside down. Those were your moments before everything in your life had lead to a complete disaster. You honestly wished you could have done better, maybe even listened to Natasha.
You pondered what things could have turned out to be if you were not so sleepy and ignorant that night. Oh, could you honestly just pray that this was just a nightmare you still have not awoken from – dreading that you were still in that deep sleep you have been longing after that phone conversation with your best friend.
‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾༓･*˚⁺‧͙‧⁺˚*･༓☾༓･*˚⁺‧͙
And now, you were standing inside the courtroom with your useless lawyer beside you.
There were dozens of people behind where you sat. You could feel their strong and deadly gazes directing and stabbing you right into your back, but you could care less. The only thing that had you on the edge of your seat was the judge and the jury located in front of you as they were the ones who got to decide whether you plead guilty or not.
For days, you have discussed this and tried to reason out how completely innocent you were. You tried to gather witnesses as much as you could. But as a woman who was seen as nobody, it was pretty fucking hard and you were regretting to ever reject any interaction other people had offered with you for these past weeks.
You were framed. However, only you, and hopefully Natasha, knew that completely.
Even your relatives and former friends showed signs of doubt and it had honestly crushed your poor soul into more pieces. It fucking broke your heart. How could these people even think twice upon hearing that you have been subjected to robbery and assault?
Without any connections or enough funds, you were sure to go downhill from here. You were not given a proper lawyer with this case, feeling rigged as ever with the justice system of your country.
And sadly, from the looks of it, you seemed to be at boiling water. Every statement against you had been totally unreasonable and it was frustrating enough that you could not defend you and your dignity properly. You deserved so much more than what you were getting right now.
All you could do was close your eyes and suck in everything they have been throwing at you – the judge, juries, and for sure the media. Bastards.
Eventually, the moment everyone else had been waiting for had to arrive. You knew what was about to come from the judge’s mouth. Though, there was this tiny bit inside of you that pleaded for any turn of events, even so a miracle, to happen for the least.
There was a tear rolling down from your cheek as you looked down and stared at the wooden table. You kept both your hands intertwined and underneath it while trying to hide yourself from everything and everyone surrounding you.
You hear the judge strike the wooden gavel against the surface of the table three times, calling the attention of everyone as he was about to give out the order. Your heart beat raced rapidly as your fate was seconds away from being determined.
“The sentence for the citizen, Y/N Y/L/N, for the acts which are reproached to her is one year of imprisonment.” The declaration was widely straightforward, nothing more or less.
You could hear the gasps and other reactions of the audience. There was an amount of noise from the crowd, most of them calling out for your name as they seem to be wanting to throw questions at you, but you did not want to face any of them, especially the media.
Your hands were getting shaky and you were trying your best not to break down into tears. You released your interlaced fingers and made them into a fist, trying to bury your nails into the skin of your palms hoping that the pain would distract your from the sorrow you have yet to face.
There was nothing you could do as the final decision has been done.
Moreover, just as you thought you were slowly accepting the discriminatory ruling of the courtroom, your fear accelerated further while watching two guards emerge from the corner of the room. They were built like bodyguards, if not even more intimidating, as their expressions remained stoic.
They could have walked over to you within seconds, but during that moment you could honestly feel your entire world slow down. You just wanted to stop time, or rewind it even better, for the fear of what was awaiting for you.
Prison was not a place you had been expecting to be in a year ago. Hell, you never expected it even when your best friend told you two nights before. The Maldives or Bahamas would have been somewhere you were planning to go to rather. That was definitely in your bucket list.
Nonetheless, terror went through your system as those two guards had stood on either sides of you. They did not waste a second on grasping either of your arms also, them making sure you were secured and unable to make any movements as they proceeded to put your hands behind your back. The metal handcuffs were expected afterwards, feeling it tighten around your wrists prior to hearing it lock.
You barely could move your wrists apart for even the slightest millimeter.
Their hands slid between your body and your arms, tugging you to stand up and signaling you to follow them. Obviously, you did not want to cause any more of a scene unless you wanted to look more suspicious than you already were deemed to be.
“Follow us,” one of them instructed as they escorted you slowly out of your seat.
As you stood up and steadily made your way to the corner where they had emerged from earlier, you took one last look behind your back. You just wanted to see everyone making a fuss about your case, never mind whether it be positive or negative.
“I really didn’t do it,” you plead.
“I believe in your innocence, Y/N!” A familiar voice cried out.
It might have been a regretful action, but as you looked back, you immediately spotted Natasha just a few seats away from the front. Her newly dyed blonde hair stood out from you as she also wore a formal attire to your hearing. She had misery written all over her face and you could honestly feel her being remorseful.
That was pretty much the last thing you saw in the place that held you guilty and up for prison for crimes you were far from executing. You were not sure whether to be grateful or not with that memory.
Both doors closed behind you and before you knew it, you heading out of the building with dozens of people with microphones and cameras directly pointed at you.
None of them get to have any second of your time though. You could see as they tried to make their way to the edge of the aisle where the staff had given way for you to walk on. You were greeted with so many reporters that you felt so claustrophobic for that moment, even so close to fainting from the unfamiliar set up.
It was tragic to hear them calling you a criminal. Nothing else could replay in your mind than your name and that word being put next to each other. You could not imagine that happening even in your next lifetime.
“Get inside,” the man instructs as you have seemed to zone out despite all the attention you have been receiving. Your own thoughts have become more deadly that you were close to making it as a pathetic form of an escape. “Christ, we said get inside the car, lady.”
Finally you did, bending over modestly to be able to make your way inside the backseat of the police car. As you got inside, you spot the wired barrier between where you sat and the front area of the driver and passenger seats. It reeked of cigarettes inside and all you could think about was wanting to throw up.
You were still cuffed from behind and as you got to take a seat inside, one of the guards roughly slammed the car door. You bounced in your seat due to sudden shock and harshness over you, but you might as well need to get used to this kind of treatment.
You glanced at the window, seeing people still trying to make their way to get a good view of you. You could hear and see the flashes of cameras going on at you and all you could show now was a face of dejection, not sparing the moment to cry further.
No doubt your entire body and system were still ridden with fear. But with what you had just experienced in court, you were so doubtful anyone could help you or make the superiors change their mind on what they had sentenced you with.
It was repulsive and unfair to see people like that walk freely in their consciousness, in spite of them not being entirely sure if the person they have sent to prison was really at fault.
The sound of the car engine roaring as the cop has started it up interrupted you from your overwhelming thoughts. It was then that you had to accept that you were being transported to jail, a maximum facility to be exact – because somehow they found robbery to be more deadly than the others.
You saw the unfamiliar faces on your window swiftly pass from sight as the car drove away. God, this was terrifying.
‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾༓･*˚⁺‧͙‧⁺˚*･༓☾༓･*˚⁺‧͙
They made you change into those prisoner jumpsuits but instead of it being the typical color orange, it was in a very lighter shade of pink, even so being close to white. The color deemed so pure and innocent yet the place you were going to be held captive seemed the opposite of it.
The penitentiary did not look welcoming at all either. It had not reached even the least bit of your standards, expecting them to look like psychiatric hospitals since it was rumored to hold people who were convicted of serious crimes – not that you actually did so anyway.
Instead, it was grimy and disgusting. You were close to assuming they barely take care of the place at all.
You were helpless either way. There seemed to be no luck for you as another pair of guards were awaiting for you to finish changing your clothes. You were buttoning it up as you could hear their voices, “Hurry up, lady! The captain doesn’t like waiting for too long.” Making you panic even more, fumbling for your casual clothes that had dropped on the filthy tiled floor.
“S-sorry!” You mewled, still frightened about the flow of events.
Like always, they escorted you out, making sure to cuff both your wrists before positioning themselves on either sides of you. You could honestly just tear up again, realizing all too well now that they were treating you like one of the biggest criminals in town, when in fact, you could not even hurt a fly.
They guided you through a corridor, expecting to see cell jails with metal bars acting as a barrier. Alternatively, you were greeted with bulky gray metal doors that had a small sliding widow situated in the middle, which you assumed was for food only.
It was probably for the best, you could not imagine how scary the convicts looked behind those doors, or maybe they were also like you - incapable yet falsely incriminated.
A knee had kicked against the side of your leg, causing you to let out a short screech. “Jeez, could you walk any slower? Stop whining and zoning out.” The man’s voice echoed.
You unsteadily nodded, following the orders and focusing straight at your front. It was then after a few more resentful steps before the three of you took a turn, coming to face a wide door.
As you approached closer, you could discern the amount of dirt that had accumulated on it. It looked rusty and old, probably have not been improved nor modernized at all, which definitely gave off raw middle aged vibes with their prisons and such.
The guard unbolted the large latches at its side. He dragged it open all the while creating a strong high-pitch, horrifying sound which resonated throughout the hallway.
The first thing you had noticed was a man positioned in front of the room. He presented directly in front, looking comfortably seated while awaiting for your presence. There were at least three guards that stood surrounding him, each keeping their distance as they acted as a barricade. You supposed that the man in front was the captain they had been highly speaking of.
You stood at the threshold without even realizing that you were unable to move. The guards did not you so kindly this time, consequently feeling a strong hand over your shoulder and another one behind you. One of them practically shoved you in front, leaving you plummeting against the ground as your legs quivered still under fear.
Alongside, a commanding voice rang through your ears, stating to make your greetings with respect to their higher-up.
While your legs felt paralyzed, your head and mind were still intact. You were looking at the ground feeling shy to even gaze at the man who assuredly sat in front of you. The only thing you could get a glance on was his polished black shoes, looking very expensive and well taken care of.
Moreover, you saw the tip of his shoe extend right towards your face. Within a blink of an eye, you felt the leather under your chin, pressing against it and subtly tilting your head upwards to look up and finally face him.
The first few words you could make up were along the synonyms of beautiful. You had no words nor did you expect yourself to be engrossed by his looks.
Unlike the other guards who wore the typical uniform, he wore a more formal looking one. He had a white suit and black tie underneath. Along with it was his sleek black long-sleeved coat that was personalized with badges, stars, a name tag, a belt, and a rope at the side. All of those designs were silver in color which beautifully contrasted with the rest of his dark uniform.
His blond hair was neatly brushed back with a police hat faintly slanted and placed on top. His uniform was pressed precisely too, making him look perfect for the role he was reported to be. However, despite his attractive bodily aura, he kept a deadpanned expression which does not help upon calming your nerves.
So far you still felt like you were in deep trouble.
“3077,” he asserts. His voice was forceful without any hints of delay. “That’s what you’ll be called here.”
You were still a trembling mess, lips ajar over each other while staring with blank thoughts. You were unaware that you were staring at the man for a while already. He does not flinch or react either, merely dragging his shoe away from under your chin and moving towards the side of your cheek.
The side of his shoe repeatedly taps on your skin which catches your attention and interrupts another of your daydreaming sessions. “Answer, 3077!”
“Y-yes!” You whimpered under him.
“Good.” He vaguely nods,
“I’m Steve Grant Rogers, the chief security guard here,” He introduces himself while still having a foot in contact with your face, “Starting today, three o’clock in the afternoon, you will be my responsibility.
He continues on, using his foot to tug your face. Your upper body was leaning in front with hands still cuffed behind you and all you could do was listen, stare, and nod at him. “You must obey absolutely what I say until you earn your freedom, do you understand?”
Even the slightest pause was unacceptable for him, “Answer!”
“Yes!”
“I suppose you already know before they sent you here, but ever since the year 2030, this has become a maximum security prison…”
“And you’re the only woman among the rest of the prisoners here,” he explains. A subtle smirk turns onto the ends of his lips, but was not as obvious as he had intertwined hands covering his face.
A wave of surprise washes over you, the shock upon your face was evident as your jaw dropped. He does not give you a moment to react further. “I’ll start with the routine admission. Bring her with me,” he instructs to the same guards that escorted you earlier, both proudly standing alongside his throne.
Hands did not hesitate on carrying you up until you got your legs working again. You were walking behind Steve with guards still assisting you, and yet again you were being dragged into the many corners of the nauseating penitentiary.
“Where are they taking me?” You spoke with a low voice; however, none of them responded. They continued to walk with you, leaving the air utterly dead and silent.
They made their way to another room, Steve stopping in front of its door and then turning around. “I’ll take her from here. Go back with the rest and make sure Maximoff isn’t causing another ruckus in the cafeteria,” he instructs while his subordinates obediently apprehended along.
“Yes, sir.” They respond, immediately releasing their grip around your biceps and walking away after carrying out a salute.
Furthermore, Steve dragged you into the room after unlocking the door and switching the light on. You heard the jingling of keys behind you, even so feeling his figure unnervingly stop behind you. He stood too close, swearing that you could feel his body only inches away from your back, his breathing fawning over the top of your head.”Let’s start, shall we?”
Your wrists got to freely breath after hearing a click from the lock, somewhat surprising you as you were released from the metal handcuffs. Huh.
“Strip,” he boldly orders.
“E-excuse me?”
“You heard me,” he goes over, “Don’t make me repeat it. Take off your clothes.”
“I won’t do it!” Despite being terrified of him, you still wanted to keep even the least bit of your dignity left.
“A body search is mandatory in the penitentiary,” he warrants.
“Still!”
“I thought I told you that my orders were absolute, did I not?”
Though you tried to stay silent to prevent him from further infuriating, your mind had been wandering around with several questions.
Why was he doing this? Can this even be reported to the higher-ups?
The latter was far from likely, recalling that he had told you that he was the chief security guard in the place. Everything would be going through him and will be finalized by him, and him only.
“That’s it, 3077. Now strip.”
You hesitated. Your hands were shaky as your arms steadily moved to your front, pausing to undo each button starting from the collar and progressing down. You wanted to take an hour or so, probably even forever, but the man standing in front of you seemed to be generally impatient.
The look on his face was a combination of eagerness and attraction but your mind shifts it all into a repulsive imagine of emptiness.
Your white undershirt and undergarments remained as your baby pink jumpsuit fell to the ground. You stand shamefully, arms over each other trying to cover your chest. “Everything. Down. Now.” His voice getting more and more demanding as you provoked to stall every minute that went by.
Your chin was titled down, not wanting to show your self-consciousness to him. Your fingers gripped on the garter of your undershirt, pulling it over your head and feeling a short cold breeze over the skin of your stomach.
Chills were already across your skin, granting that you did not have a choice in any of this. This was your ticket to freedom – or so you could only dream for.
When your skin was completely exposed to him, you reached another level of shame you were not even aware of. You felt colder than before, trying to cover your breasts with the warmth of your hands. Still, you stared at the grimy floor, not wanting to see the man’s reaction as you knew it would just make your state of mind worse.
“A-Alright, is this enough for you?” A small scoff hidden between your tone.
“Hold on,” he says without minding your mockery, “Lie down there, your legs facing towards my direction.”
Your frowned even further, looking aside where he was pointing towards. His index was directed at a hospital bed at the side which did not have any railings at its side, merely having a metal footboard and headboard.
You walked towards there, one arm still covering the front of your breasts while the other acting as a support as you sat down first. Eventually you rest your back against the sheets along with the back of your head on the only pillow provided there. You followed as he told, sealing your thighs together though.
The beating of your heart increases rapidly knowing completely how this was going to go down.
From the corner of your eye you can see him raise his hand towards his mouth, tugging one of his gloves from a hand with the use of his teeth. He lets the fabric fall to the ground while walking closer towards the side of the bed where you lay down. This time, a smirk was obvious upon his face as he did not bother to hide it.
Steve’s hands descend over your body, making you tense up as you tried to keep your head straight and stare right at front. However, even if you attempted to avoid looking at him, you could not fight the feeling of his fingers stroking your upper body.
He started with your chest area, further descending down. All the while you had one thought in mind – one you felt disgusted to even have it cross your thoughts.
His fingers felt soft, like a feather. For a split second you wondered if he had done this before, moreover if he was used to doing such a flustering act.
“P-please don’t,” you mewl, “Stop.”
Your cries made the smirk on his face grow wider, only wanting to wipe it off from him but feeling completely powerless to do so. Instead of giving a second thought to what you were saying, he drags his hand between your lower abdomen.
Despite having your thighs glued together to prevent this very purpose from happening, the man merely parts them from one another. Just as you thought you had the strength to keep them shut, you felt entirely the opposite once he was actually touching your body already. The way your inner thighs quivered as he spreads them apart was already a sign of how weak you were against him.
“3077,” his throaty voice calls out. “What’s the matter with you? It’s just a simple body search.”
Regardless of his statement, his fingers began toying around the entrance of your cunt. Even so you could feel his thumb lightly press against your bud of nerves, drawing subtle circles around, as the rest of his fingers continued to encourage your body’s growing arousal.
Hell, he barely even inserted his fingers yet you were starting to get wet from the simple gestures of him touching you.
“Why are you reacting like that?” The smugness in his voice was clear.
“I- No!” Your voice was trembling as your body did too. The muscles at the back of your thighs tightened while sweat began to form from your forehead.
“You’re in prison, 3077,” Steve says, “the place where you’re going to pay for the crime you committed.”
After successfully rousing your body up, he smoothly inserts a finger inside your pussy, and for all that earning a sound which was caused from the wetness of your cunt. Both of you acknowledged how gladly your body welcomed him.
He began to thrust his fingers in and out of you, gaining several instinctive moans out from your lips. Your head felt warm and lightheaded. The worry in your eyes apparent and ardent.
He tsked. “Why are you getting these reactions?”
And then adding, “…I don’t want you to get me wrong.”
His rhetorical questions deemed useless for the situation nor provided comfort for you at all. You looked at him all the same yet it does not stop him from adding another finger.
Either way, Steve did not stop after it. His fingers continued to thrust deeper inside you, having your body bounce against his hand. You were a growing mess with hands finding their way to grasp onto the disheveled white sheets.
As much as you tried to bite down a moan, your mouth could not help but give in. Your gut felt as if they were tightening around him for every moment the tips of his fingers curl inside you. You yourself could feel how hot the temperature of your body increases as he boldly fingers you. “Ah… A-Ah… Ow… P-please … S-stop it…”
Amidst everything, however, there were voices coming from outside of the room. You did not notice them at first, being completely overwhelmed with the sensation of being pleasured. You were only aware of what was being said outside when Steve’s used his other hand to cover your mouth from moaning further. His palm pressed against your lips while you breathed through his fingers.
“Are you serious? I would love to fuck that woman!”
“If we behave would she might consider giving us a reward?”
“I bet she would be tight as fuck!”
“What are you talking about!”
“Fuckers! I told you that you can’t keep roaming around these halls.”
The voices eventually died down, seeming that it would have been inmates passing by from the corridors. Nonetheless, tears were already brimming from your eyes as you – uselessly – kept yourself together. “P-please..”
“N-No! Don’t d-do this to me,” you plead. Each moment lead to the build up of your orgasm, already feeling the knotting near your stomach and the clenching of your walls.
It was predictable for your part when Steve barely showed any hint of sympathy for your messy situation. He pursued your climax while maintaining an impassive expression. He wanted to see you crumble and he wanted to show how remorseless he can be either way.
It was useless to hold back. The man was going to get what he wanted and he did not need to say it.
You allowed yourself to let loose, creating an utter mess between your inner thighs and his hands. Your exposed cunt was throbbing alike your temples. Your chest was heavily heaving as your own sweat covered both your body and face.
Those were your last moments before succumbing to black out due to the chief security guard wearing you out.
‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾༓･*˚⁺‧͙‧⁺˚*･༓☾༓･*˚⁺‧͙
When your eyelids had fluttered open, the only thing you could make out of was the darkness in the room. You were laying on the bed, but you could instantly detect a blanket covering you. In addition, you were wearing your jumpsuit.
You took a deep breath and paused, recalling everything that you could remember and confusing it for a nightmare. Though whatever it could have been, you were just glad that the pain and throb in your head had ceased.
You had no choice but to sit up, discerning a feint light illuminating from behind a door. Looking around, you could still also notice a mirror, a sink, and a toilet at the side of the room. You assumed you must have finally been resting in your prison cell.
“Listen to me!” A loud voice came from the other side of the door.
“You have ten minutes to clean your room. After that, all of you must assemble in the hallway!”
Another wave of panic gets over you, but you quickly follow to what had been instructed. Since you did not have anything at hand all you figured that you have been resting all along, you merely fixed the sheets of your bed and fluffed your pillow. You fixed your jumpsuit too, flattening it down while making sure there were not any holes nor unbuttoned parts at the front.
When you made your way outside, you saw how fast the other inmates were as they had beat you to the corridors. Each of them were lined up, back facing their assigned prison cell as their front faced the hallway. There was a guard at the end of it too.
“List yourself up!” He starts.
Each inmate started to count, “One!” There voices loud and clear.
Despite that, your mind was clouded with the thought of what happened between you and Steve Rogers, acclaimed Chief Security Guard of the maximum facility.
Was it a all a nightmare? You could not even dare yourself to call it a dream.
“Twenty-eight!” The deep and guttural voice of an inmate calls from your right side.
“Twenty-nine!” You scream as you assumed you were next to him.
Out of nowhere, the other male inmates started to chuckle. It was probably for the obvious fact that you were a female and was completely distinctive among the rest of them.
Even if you have not done anything embarrassing in front of them so far, you surely felt like you were full of shame. You looked around and found every man’s gaze at you, staring at you like you were a prize at the end of the race.
Well, except for one.
You saw him just a few doors away from you. He had a few tattoos over both his arms – a red star being the most striking one compared to the rest of the designs.
The man seemed to have grown his dark hair, and his beard too. Your gaze at him fell longer compared to the rest and it was enough time before he got to feel your attention towards him. He kept a blank stare nonetheless as you were startled and looked away.
“Dude your arm fucking touched me!” Another one exclaims. He had silver hair and looked buffed alike the rest, his thick accent being the trait that stands out for him.
“Huh? You’re the one who ran into me, asshole!” The one he started an argument with now had a darker hair brushed into a mohawk. A sleeve tattoo was also present.
“Hey stop it, you two! If you keep this up, they’ll punish us all!” Again, another voice comes from behind and you did not bother to see how that man looked. He was smart though, that’s for sure.
Nevertheless, it did not stop the two from brawling further. With one swift move, the silver-haired guy already had raised his arm and purposely punched the man he was arguing with.
“Hell, all of us are in big trouble!”
Thankfully though, the man you were distracted from earlier had walked into their argument. He confidently stood between them and proceeded to pull them apart by the back of their jumpsuits. The two men looked surprised – even so slightly terrified – after seeing him caught up in between. “You two still want to fight?”
They did not answer him, merely looking away with a scoff on their faces and then lining back up at their spots in front of their cell doors.
Despite all of this, he still kept the blank expression just as you saw when he caught you staring right at him. No grins or smirk, whatsoever.
Hi, I’m Rae! I write dark fics on my blog harryspet. I write for many characters but these are my Steve fics. Most of these stories contain DARK ADULT content!! This means there are mentions of abuse, violence, noncon/dubcon, smut, and overall just a lot of angst.
TRIGGERING CONTENT AHEAD
our soulmateIn which Steve and Bucky both find their soulmate at a local diner.
a long way downIn which the dead are walking, you belong to Bucky and the two of you stumble upon Steve’s settlement.
the good guyIn which Steve returns from the war and things are not the same.
welcome to edenIn which the neighborhood you and your husband Steve move into isn’t like anywhere else on earth. The women are flawless and then men are way too happy. (stepford wives au)
caged bird In which you have to make a deal with three devils in order to survive in The Cage. (prison au)
sheltered In which your soulmate is not at all who you expected. (a/b/o)
pinky promise In which you and Peter play Mommy and Daddy. (ddlg/ddlb)
