Yandere! villain x gen! Prison guard! reader
A prequel to 'Prison Escort Guard' and how some stories are doomed from the start
cw: dark, brief mentions of death and gore, a naive but brave reader, reader spoon-feeding an adult man (shh it's for the plot), mentioned throwing up and just general creepiness. Also including one (1) cuss word as a treat :D
Part 1
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The higher ups were worried about something. You saw it in the tense set of their usually relaxed shoulders and the sudden increase in checks and inspections around the facility.
You had only been working here for a few months before the prison started rearranging itself to accommodate a new inmate. The previously run-down and unused D-block cleared and renovated, new equipment bought and cameras installed. It looked more like doomsday prep than the arrival of a new 'guest'.
None of your colleagues were aware of when the transfer was happening, the days passing in tense silence, waiting for a shoe to drop. Until one day, when you clocked into work, and nothing seemed the same.
The entire facility seemed eerily quiet. There were no random clanks and noises or the rough chatter of prisoners as they went about their day. It was like the air was sucked out of its corridors and all the residents were holding their breath.
The chill crept into your spine and numbed your feet, but there was no reason to be nervous. As a newbie, there was no way you'd interact with the new and dangerous inmate at all.
Or so you thought, until you were assigned directly to him.
The new inmate wasn't allowed to leave his room, and so his meals had to be brought to him. And as the least experienced of the bunch, you were most easily replaced. Experienced professionals are hard to find compared to a dime-a-dozen rookie. For the greedy board, it was a no-brainer, and you were thrown to the wolves as a sacrifice.
The walk to prisoner 111's cell was tense. This portion of the facility was somehow even creepier. The air seemed to carry a persistent chill, somehow heavier and strangely dry. Gooseflesh rose in your skin as you made the walk alongside guards armed with the biggest guns you've ever seen in person.
The anticipation was too much, each step feeling closer to death's door even though logically you knew it was as safe as this job can be. Your heart shook and your legs wobbled as you reached the set of double doors leading to the isolation ward. To limit contact with the outside world, you were the only one allowed from here.
Taking a shaky breath, you walked into the lion's den.
The room was unbearably bright, lit up from every panel on the ceiling.
A man was sitting on the ground, wearing a straitjacket with tubes sticking out of his back attached to the wall behind him. Thick chains surrounded his body, restricting even the smallest movements, full with a collar circling his neck, making even swallowing look hard.
..but he didn't look that scary
Whatever oppressive aura made it difficult for you to breathe outside seemed to vanish in this room. The artificial lights and the emptiness of the space making the prisoner look small and oddly pitiful. The painful looking restraints and lack of even basic comforts like a cushion to sit on no doubt adding to the image.
It was probably a horrible idea to sympathize with a criminal, but even the worst of the worst was treated better than this.
Taking a second to breathe, you approached him with the tray and set it down in front of him. The movement making him stir and causing him to finally lift his head and look at you, his expression blank.
"Hi there. I got you your food."
He gave no indication that he heard you, staring at your face without even a twitch. The tension in the room gave away to awkwardness, and you stood there for a while, wondering why he wasn't eating before a realization hit you
"wait. how will you eat with your hands tied?"
The chains were designed to prevent any and all movement. The only way he could eat was if he had some sort of telepathy, but even that would be suppressed by the specialized restraints. Then how was he supposed to eat?? You looked to him for answers but were still met with silence. His expression remaining blank apart from the slight furrow of his brow.
The look in his eyes, however, had slightly changed. The blank, almost dead look in his eyes seemed to shift into something more alive. Still, he seemed far away, like your words skipped over his head instead of reaching him.
Drugged your mind supplied.
You had a sneaking suspicion no one cared if he actually ate or not, but you couldn't just leave the food in front of him and leave; Your superiors might not care if he 'starved himself', and his restraints didn't look like they were meant to be untied, which meant you either fed him or left him to the cruel fate of staring at a plate of food just out of reach.
"Alright. I have no choice then, say aaahh"
You scooped up a spoonful and held it to his lips. The cogs turned in his head, and you watched as the blank expression on his face slowly turned to the most offended and scandalised look you'd ever seen. The pearl-clutching made more sense coming from a suburban mom than a criminal, but who were you to judge?
"Have a better idea, big guy?"
His expression flickered, like he was going through all the stages of grief at once, but after a hesitating some more, he slowly took the bite.
He reminded you of the spicy kitten you'd found in an alley one time. It hissed at the food you offered until it got a taste, and then proceeded to act like you didn't exist even as it ate out of your hand. Though this particular stray was twice your size, the quiet acceptance of their fate was comically similar.
By the time he finished, your arms were tired, and you were no longer worried about being murdered on the spot. Which was probably stupid, but you couldn't stay wired and tense around him forever. The suppressants were working, the chains held, and your remaining anxiety drained from your body till you felt calm again.
Job well done, you packed up and left without a backward glance. Eager to get home and looking forward to the shiny new hazard pay that was sure to be added to your paycheck.
You didn't notice how his eyes followed you
How at some point through the slow meal, his attention had shifted from the food, to your hands, to your face, watching you as you concentrated on your task.
How he watched you leave and stared at the door long after it closed behind you.
The morning light filtering into your apartment made your headache worse. The pressure in your head and nose making both breathing and existing miserable. Taking a few days off was usually hard, but even your boss could see that you looked like death warmed over, allowing you to stay in bed for the next few days as you recovered.
It had been several weeks since you'd been assigned to inmate 111. Things had been progressing smoothly, and you both had developed a kind of routine. You'd walk in at the same time every day, feed him while you filled the silence with mindless chatter, and leave later with an empty plate to go about the rest of your day.
Inmate 111 never made a fuss, or a sound for that matter, eating quietly as you talked. He always looked at you like you were the most interesting part of his day, eyes soft and relaxed, watching you bob your head with the force of your rant.
It's why you got so comfortable around him. His attention making you feel powerful and him, in turn, look harmless. It's why you never imagined that assigning someone else to him while you were sick would be a problem. Why you didn't realise you were playing in quicksand until you'd already sunk deep enough to drown.
He was usually quiet and reserved. There was no need to worry about someone else replacing you for a few days.
You lay in your bed, unaware, as Prisoner 111's cell walls were dyed a fresh shade of crimson
Why is everyone so tense?
The were eerie as you walked to your superior's desk. Your coworkers were milling about and taking glances at you, not being as discreet as they thought they were. The discomfort of being watched followed you around since you walked in this morning, no one even telling you what happened until you were finally called to talk to your boss.
"Good morning sir. You wanted to speak with me?"
You'd never seen him look so tired. There were dark circles under his eyes and various coffee mugs on the table. What is going on?
"Close the door and take a seat."
He stayed silent as you did what you were told, until you were facing him across from his desk and had nothing to distract you from what he would say next.
"What is your opinion on Prisoner 111?"
Why are they asking about him?
"He's.. quiet. and reserved. Doesn't talk much. Just sits there and waits to be fed. Why?"
The frown on his face got deeper the more you spoke. The quiet sense of foreboding creeping up on you making every second stretch to its limit.
"He killed every person that came near him since you left for your break"
"I won't show you the pictures, but let's just say that the walls are a new colour. Tell me, he didn't exhibit any violent tendencies around you?"
The sweatiness of your palms didn't go away when you wiped them on your clothes.
"No, not once. He.. he didn't even move, most of the time"
The heaviness in your chest made it hard to breathe
Since when did you start thinking of him as harmless? When did you get so comfortable with a murderer? If he killed even with those restraints.. he could have killed you at any point. So why did he let you live?
You boss leaned back in his chair, watching you spiral for a while, looking straight through you as your heartbeat picked up speed. When he finally opened his mouth, he seemed to have come to a decision.
"I want you to be in the convoy escorting him"
"The security measures here clearly aren't enough to stop him, so he will be transferred to a more secure facility meant for handling cases like his. I want you to be part of the security detail taking him there. It leaves in two days, make sure to be there bright and early."
The words felt like they were being spoken underwater. Taking their sweet time to reach you and actually make sense. You were already by your locker when you came to, with no recollection of the walk there. You didn't feel like yourself, your body feeling foreign and uncomfortable, your head heavy. When did things go so wrong?
There were flowers in front of a few lockers.
Let's just say the walls are a new colour
Your stomach turned, and you rushed to the bathroom to empty what little breakfast you had
In the two days in between, you read his file. The contents would have made you throw up again if you had eaten anything since your disastrous sick leave.
Prisoner 111 wasn't just anyone, but Him
You'd heard about him before, in hushed whispers and what you had thought were exaggerated rumours. The violence, the bloodshed, the bodies. Everything you would not have associated with the calm man you'd gotten comfortable visiting in cell 111.
You had known he wasn't harmless, but damningly, stupidly, you'd gotten comfortable with him, too naive to realise the calm exterior was a facade. You hadn't even realised how close you were to death every time you walked into that cell.
You'd complete this last assignment, take that monster where he needed to go, and wash your hands off of him if it was the last thing you'd do.
The shaking of your hands, however, didn't die down for a long while.
