Summery of fic: Reader/Jess Harper has already survived abuse and sexual assault by stepbrother Nate Millers, but the reward was a prison sentence for murder at Litchfield penitentiary…
What happens when you/Jess come face to face with Nate’s old colleagues and friends, Correctional Officers Steve Rogers and James ‘Bucky’ Barnes, who both seem set on making you pay for your mistakes. Will you be able to survive it all over again?
Pairing (kinda): Steve Rogers x Reader, Bucky Barnes x Reader, Nate Millers (OMC) x Reader
Words: 6941
Warnings: DARK AU, dubcon/noncon elements, Dark!Bucky, Dark!Steve, implied sexual acts, sexual acts, mention of murder, mentions of death, mentions of violence, mentions of NC/SA and death, mentions of blood
You have been warned.
Chapter 26
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Bucky and Steve were both standing by their lockers, getting ready to head home and get some much-needed rest after the emotional day and night. They had yet to get any real downtime to process everything, and they weren’t really sure they could even begin to do so.
It was a whirlwind of doubts, fears, dread and every other emotion that could possibly haunt them, and saying how sorry they were hadn’t really lessened anything. Not really. Sure, it had put a lid on spilling the beans on what had hit the news, but for their own sake, it was like putting a rug on a mountain of dirt and hoping not to see it. They really just wanted to leave this place and get a badly needed break.
Kowalski shut the refrigerator door after getting his leftovers, and grabbed his jacket from the hook from which it hung.
“See ya, fellas,” he said, and headed out the door.
“See ya,” both Bucky and Steve echoed without turning around.
They weren’t alone for long. Officer Wilson stepped in, just starting his shift, and walked up to the other set of lockers to put his own stuff away. He didn’t give the other men more than a soft ‘hey’, which they both returned.
Bucky stopped fiddling with his gym bag for a second, and looked over at Sam’s turned back. Another shot of guilt hit him, this time not regarding you, but at the memory of their little conflict a week ago, before everything. Sam had defended you when they had only defended their own actions, and how they had riled up the other inmates. Sam had suffered quite the tongue lashing as a result.
Bucky cleared his throat, getting both Sam’s and Steve’s attention, who watched with curiosity from beside him.
“Hey, Wilson,” Bucky started, and Sam turned his head slightly.
“Yeah?”
Bucky threw the empty container he held into his bag, and took a few steps closer to Sam, who immediately squared his feet at the approaching man. He didn’t think Bucky would try to throw down in the staffroom, but he wanted to be ready should an altercation arise.
“I, uh… I wanted to apologize for last week,” Bucky said, and Sam raised his brows at him, clearly not expecting that.
“Okay,” he said calmly, and crossed his arms over his chest as he waited to hear what he had to say.
He looked past Bucky to Steve who was still standing by his locker, watching the whole thing play out, but didn’t look like he was about to intervene in any way, so whatever happened, it was between Bucky and him.
“Yeah,” Bucky continued. “I shouldn’t have gotten all up in your face like that. You had every right to voice your concerns about what happened in the cafeteria. With Harper, and everyone.”
Sam leaned his head back a little, standing up straighter. Bucky was an honest man, he’d give him that. He wasn’t too cowardly to admit his mistakes, at least not when shown how wrong he had been.
“I take it you guys heard the news then?” he asked both the other men, all knowing what he was referring to.
“Yeah, we did,” Steve said, still keeping his distance and let the other guys clear their history. “Caputo’s working on getting ahold of her lawyers. See what’s gonna happen with her.”
Sam nodded at Steve, who was looking dejected where he stood, a small frown on his face. Bucky cleared his throat again to gain back Sam’s attention.
“Yeah, but even so, I, uh… I didn’t mean to lose my cool like that, man. Wasn’t fair to you. I’m sorry.”
Bucky held out his hand, waiting for Wilson to take it and accept his apology. It took a second, but eventually Sam’s hand found his.
“Don’t sweat it, man,” Sam said, but there was still some apprehension in his tone.
They both released their grip, and gave each other a tight smile, before turning back to their lockers. When Bucky looked back to Steve, he got a rewarding raise of an eyebrow shot at him, and a triumphant little smirk.
“Shut up,” Bucky muttered under his breath to Steve, and slapped his arm playfully.
“I guess you didn’t know about Millers, huh?” Sam asked out of the blue, and shut his locker with a clash.
Bucky and Steve shared a look. There wasn’t any sarcasm to Sam’s voice, something they both appreciated. He didn’t seem to be mocking them for their friendship with Millers, but was simply talking about the serious matter at hand, sharing concerns and whatnot.
“No, we didn’t,” Bucky said, a tinge of bleakness in his voice.
Sam nodded thoughtfully, folding his arms again as he did.
“Wouldn’t have him pegged as such a psycho,” he said. “I only saw a few clips of some videos, what they were able to show on the news, but, uh… It was pretty fucking horrible what he did to her.”
Steve and Bucky alike felt like they just got punched in the stomach. Another reminder of what Millers had done to you. Another reminder of what they had seen in the clips they were showed. Another reminder of what scumbags they both were for doing the same.
Steve cleared his throat to get rid of the lump that had started to lodge itself there.
“Well,” he said. “We didn’t see much of it, but it was enough to get an idea. She must have been through hell and back.”
He hated thinking about what Nate must have done to you, the disgusting word he’d carved into you popped back in his mind. How could someone do something like that? Something so utterly evil? He supposed he shouldn't be the one to throw any stones though.
Sam jerked his head and looked to the ground, seemingly lost in thought.
“She’s been through hell alright,” he said. “And this place ain’t no vacation either. Let’s hope Caputo gets in touch with her lawyers sooner rather than later, so they can sort this mess out. I’d hate to see her broken by all this.”
Sam started walking towards the door, he was due to make the morning announcements any minute now.
Bucky and Steve shared a look which seemed to convey all their thoughts and feelings all at once. It was all just one big slap in the face. They knew Sam couldn’t possibly know about what they had done, no one did, but it still stung to hear the worry of their fellow officer.
Sam was almost out the door when Steve turned around.
“Hey, Sam,” he said and took a step forward when Sam turned in the door. “Keep an eye out for her, would you? The other inmates are still on her case, you know?”
If anyone wouldn’t mind keeping an eye out for you in their absence, it was Wilson. He had cared long before either him or Bucky did, or anyone else for that matter. He had believed you to be innocent from the start.
Sam gave him a tight but reassuring smile.
“Will do,” he said, and turned to start his day, leaving Steve and Bucky to get their things together and head home.
Once they reached the seclusion of their house, all the pretend assertion and duties wore off, and they could finally breathe. They hadn’t realized just how tensed up they had been, or how rowdy their inner turmoil was getting. They hadn’t spoken a word to each other the entire car ride home, both trying to sort through their own emotions before sharing them aloud. It was easier said than done.
Bucky sat down by the table, leaning forward on his knees as he rolled the sleeves of his uniform shirt up his forearms. Steve went to lean against the kitchen counter, holding his elbows in the cushion of his palms, and staring down at his boots as if they would hold some kind of answer. Bucky sighed loudly through his nose, and stared straight ahead with his hands now linked together before his mouth. They stayed like that for a few moments, neither saying anything or making any noise, until eventually Bucky broke the silence with a guilty sentence.
“She changed her shirt.”
Steve looked up from his spot to look over at Bucky, whose brows had started knitting together.
“What?” he asked, and Bucky drew a deep breath before answering.
“That night, when we…” he stopped himself, and cleared his throat to avoid speaking the word again. “She changed her shirt. I ripped the collar of it, and she changed it before she came back to the dorm. I didn’t even think about it, so I didn’t tell her to do that. But she did. She changed her shirt.”
Steve could see the wheels working inside Bucky’s head, how he was digging himself deeper and deeper in the guilt the more he thought about it.
“Bucky…”
“I thought it was strange at first,” Bucky interrupted, not wanting to hear Steve’s apologetic words to try and make anything better. “You know, how she caught that and changed. But I didn’t wanna think about it. I didn’t wanna think that she knew to do that because it wasn’t the first time she’d had to hide something like that.”
Steve sighed. He understood exactly how Bucky was feeling. They had both tried to justify everything for the sake of redemption and revenge, and any signs proving the opposite of their agenda they had turned a blind eye to. And now they had lost that comfort.
“We couldn’t have known, Buck.”
Bucky gave a saddened scoff at the notion.
“We couldn’t have known any of it, Steve. Either one way or the other. We didn’t know he hurt her, just as much as we didn’t know if she meant to kill him. But we chose to believe that she did, and acted based on that. We should have known better.”
Bucky ran his hands over his face and through his hair, pressing hard just to ground himself and not let anger and shame take over. And Steve had to stop trying to protect him from reality, stop trying to make the situation something it wasn’t.
“Yeah, we should have,” Steve agreed. “But we can’t take it back, no matter how much we wish we could. And wallowing in it is not gonna help her.”
“How the fuck are we supposed to help her, Steve? What, take her back to see Banner and see if she needs any more medical attention after what we did? Force her to go through another check-up? She was bleeding, Steve. We tore her up, we beat her and we tasered her and we…” Bucky’s voice started to break, turning weak and shallow. “We raped her, Stevie.”
Steve felt the sting of budding tears in his eyes as Bucky went on. It was tough to hear not only the truth being spoken so bluntly, but the tone of Bucky’s voice showed just how broken he was too, how much he was hurting inside after what he had done. What they had both done.
“I can’t believe we didn’t see it all sooner,” Steve said, jumping on the bandwagon of self-pity and shame. “She was so scared, even from the get-go. She hasn’t called me anything besides officer or sir, and when she tried to, I…” Steve cut himself short at the memory of your hurt wails and whimpers when he threatened you for using his name, making you say you were sorry.
They let the silence speak for a moment. It was so loud they wanted to break it, but couldn’t find the words to do so. Instead they were forced to relive the terrible incident in their heads, seeing everything play out with fresh eyes. Eyes that knew the truth and shamed them for what they had done.
“I never thought I could ever rape a woman,” Steve said, almost to himself.
Bucky looked up, finding Steve looking off into the distance, lost in thought.
“Me neither,” Bucky said honestly. “Never thought I could bring myself to hurt someone like that. No one deserves to get raped.”
“No,” Steve said and finally looked at Bucky. “We hurt her. We broke someone who was already broken. And we justified it.”
Silence lingered for a moment, before a scoff which held no amusement was heard form Steve.
“We’re far from the men we once were, aren’t we?”
The term ‘from hero to zero’ had never felt more fitting. They had literally gone from heroes saving lives and protecting people from harm, to the scum of the earth. Their entire view of the world had changed in its very core, and them with it.
Not only had they hurt you beyond redemption, ground you down until there wasn’t much left, which in its own was enough. But they had defended and protected the memory of a rapist, a sadist and a monster. They had acted in his honor, defended his name. To you, of all people. And never once had they listened to you, seen you for who you were. Had they not been so busy spurring each other on, course correcting each other whenever they started to doubt, this never would have happened. They wouldn’t be sitting here, in silence, elbow deep in rightful guilt and shame, living with the memory of their deeds. And you wouldn’t be hurt. You wouldn’t be so terrified. You wouldn’t be broken.
O.o.O.o.O
The night had passed with panic and fear. The remainder of the sedative had done nothing to quell your nerves or thoughts, only tiring out your body enough for exhaustion to hit somewhere in the middle of things. You had slept only when your body couldn’t take the trembles, or the racing of your heart anymore, and decided to shut down. It wasn’t a restful sleep by any means.
The officers had passed through a few times during the night, but they always passed, never lingered. Despite the routine of it, you never found yourself not tensing up in their presence, still expecting the worst. You pretended to be asleep whenever they walked through, feeling it was the safest bet. It seemed to work well enough and they left you alone, thankfully. The strain and tautness only aided in the race for sleep, tiring you out even faster, until you eventually slept for real.
You were awakened by the voice of CO Wilson coming through the speakers, startling you back to reality as he went over the daily schedule. People groaned around you, and yawns were heard throughout. The pain had come back to your wrist and lower parts when the morphine had left your system in the night, and you stirred uncomfortably in your bed. Grease Hair, who just happened to pass by your cube when you did, snorted scornfully at you.
“Rough night with your boyfriends?” she asked mockingly, and walked on before you could say a word to her.
Dread grew in your chest. Everyone was already set on you having relations with the guards, and their actions the other day didn’t exactly make anyone less sure of that. Tricia wasn’t the only one to think those things, even if she was the one to say them out loud. The prison held over two hundred inmates, and not one of those inmates took snitching or fornicating with an officer lightly. Hopefully there were at least some who thought it was all made up, just rumors passed on by jealousy for whatever shallow reason, but there was no telling. You couldn’t trust anyone to be on your side.
You hated that people thought you were sleeping with officer Rogers and Barnes, or whoever more they might have you pegged with. You were being teased and harassed, and for what? For being raped, for being tricked into taking a treat that wasn’t fairly given. The inmates wanted to hurt you, for already being hurt by the officers. But in their eyes, it was all fluff, all consensual, all a deliberate move to get things, and make your time at Litchfield easier to live through with the touch of a man or two. But their touch only hurt. In all ways.
You reluctantly got out of bed, figuring you were already awake and sleep was doubtful to find you again. Especially with the pain being back and calling out for attention. It hurt all over, and your muscles were all tensed up from being on the lookout, from being afraid. Afraid of what the officers might do to you, and for you. What the end goal was, you didn’t know. What kind of game they were playing, you didn’t know. And the rules of the game were all scrambled. First they hurt you, threaten you, rape you… Then apologize, say they won’t hurt you again, but also that you should you forget all about it. First you get in trouble for the officer making you late, the next time it’s no problem. Why? What did they expect of you?
It used to be so simple with Nate. If you messed up, you got punished. The guards did that too. If you were aided in anyway, you should show gratitude, but the officers didn’t want that. Both men had shot down your proposition to thank them. So, all falls in line at one point, but not the other, and you had no way of knowing which points.
Was that what they wanted? To watch you struggle to figure it all out? To have you learn by trial and error, as long as they got to punish you and make you fall back in line again? Did they not want something that was freely given? Maybe they didn’t like how subservient you were with so little effort. They probably wanted to be the ones to grind you down to the bone, but it took so little for you to get there. Perhaps that disappointed them…
You feared mostly that it was just the calm before yet another storm. That it was just a ruse, a show put on in order to get your guard down again so they could break through your wall, and you to never be able to build it back up.
The story had too many endings, you didn’t know which one to aim for.
You had dared a trip to the bathroom, shuffling along the corridors and looking as scared as a hunted rabbit on an open field. It had earned you only a few shoves and shoulder-checks. You had anticipated more, expected worse but it was mostly left at that. A few mumbled ‘snitch’ or ‘slut’, but no one got up in your face or threatened you. You hurried through the process, getting out of there before the bruises already painted on your body would bloom again, or your wrist would be the victim of another scolding. It had survived so far.
Dropping off your things in your bunk, locking them all safely in your locker, you went to change your clothes. This time you had more to cover than what would inhabit your body forever. But with a lot of pulling and twisting, you managed to get clean clothes on, and everything tucked away safely from wandering eyes. You spared yourself the eyeful you were bound to get if you looked. You already felt the ache of it all, you didn’t need to see it too.
You bulked up your hoodie to cover the back of your neck, in case the bruises left there would show, and started for the cafeteria. Walking took its toll and its time, and you hoped that most inmates had already gotten their trays, and maybe even started leaving. The less people, the better.
Eating breakfast was not an easy task. You were given food, something you thanked them very much for, but finding a seat proved to be a challenge. Not as many people had left as you had hoped. You had to locate a seat far away from anyone already at the table, and even when you did, the others got up and walked away. They made sure to walk into you as they passed, spilling some water or food on your sleeve for good measure. It could be worse though. It could always be worse.
Officer Wilson paced the cafeteria during breakfast, keeping an extra eye out for you, and made sure nothing escalated. He saw the shoves and pushes, but it was too small an infraction for him to do anything about. He kept close, knowing none of the inmates would dare to do anything with him nearby. It seemed to work well enough, seeing nothing more was ‘spilled’ on you or anyone ‘accidentally’ walked into you. And you seemed to be none the wiser of his supervision.
After breakfast was done, no more incidents going down for which you were thankful, you obediently went to stand in the pill-line to get your meds. Your body was shaking, the pain was taking its toll on both mind and body alike, and you looked forward to some rest for at least one part. You were shoved forward by the inmate behind you anytime the one ahead even began to take a step. More than once you stumbled into her, excusing yourself, only to be met by a vile glance from both sides. And to make matters worse, the one behind you always managed to hit precisely where you had some deep bruises. The meds couldn’t come quick enough.
“Next,” was shouted from behind the glass window, and you stepped up.
“Uhm… Je—” you started, and the nurse looked up to you when you appeared.
“Ah, Harper,” Bruce said with a bright smile, and immediately nodded to your arm. “How’s the wrist?”
He turned to his side to pick up the little cup containing your pills, crossing something off a list.
“Oh, uhm… It’s alright, sir. Thank you.”
You forced a smile on your face when he looked back at you, feigning whatever health signs he wished to see. He was almost beaming at the sight of you.
“Well, you certainly look better,” he said, and held out the cup for you to take. “Your color’s come back too. You shouldn’t have too much problem with any overwhelming pain, not with a steady supply of painkillers, but I hope you’ll tell me if you do.”
You could tell he was speaking from a kind place, and was honestly worried about you not asking for any help should you need it. Afterall, you had been walking around with a broken wrist for several days, and even when given help, you still proceeded to not complain.
You took the cup with a tight smile, keeping the façade you knew so well.
“Will do. Thank you, sir.”
Bruce smiled back at you warmly, not hearing the tightness of your voice.
“You’re welcome. Take them here, so I know you’ve taken them.”
He really didn’t think you would ease your own pain even when given the chance. But you did as he asked, and swallowed the pills down with a small drink of water and showed him your empty mouth. That earned you a relieved smile.
“Okay,” he said. “I’ll see you in the afternoon.”
You nodded at him politely, and left before any of the inmates could push you away.
You kept in your cube for most of the day, snatching up a book from the library on your way back to have something to occupy your mind, or maybe just hide behind. You were supposed to be working, but you felt you had enough physical reason not to attend for at least a couple of days, not to mention the mental and emotional ones. The book didn’t do anything for your mind. The words were all scrambled, and you had spent at least half an hour trying to read the same sentence. But you kept going. Trying to read was better than to let your mind start racing with questions you didn’t know the answer to. Answers you feared. Answers only the officers could give, but wouldn’t. So, you kept reading that one sentence, over and over and over again, trying to make out any words in it, just to make time go by.
Lunch passed in the same manner as breakfast. There was shoving, pushing, bad names mumbled to you whenever they got the chance without an officer hearing it, and someone even tripped you up. Thankfully everything stayed on your tray, but the stumble sent a shot of pain through your core, enough to almost make your knees buckle.
“Hey! Watch it!” someone yelled when you almost fell on her.
“I-I’m sorry,” you squealed, and backed away before she could push you away, holding back the whimper that wanted to escape.
CO Wilson spotted you tripping from where he stood by the doors, and started zigzagging through the tables to slowly work his way up to you. He didn’t try to speak to you, knowing the rumors going around of your relations with the guards, he didn’t want to add any fuel to the already lit fire. He just stayed close enough that should anyone try anything, they wouldn’t get away with it.
He couldn’t help the growing sadness for your situation. Not only had you gone through what you had with Nate Millers, you were wrongly convicted for murder, he was sure of it, and you had every single inmate in the prison gunning for you. You just couldn’t catch a break it would seem. So, he would do what he could to keep things from getting any worse for you.
Eventually you found an empty seat at the golden girls’ table, and they didn’t seem to mind. They didn’t say anything to you, but that was most likely due to the fact that you looked like you’d invert on yourself should anyone even try to. You rushed through the meal to have it over and done with so you could go back to your cube. So far, no one had bothered you there. Everyone had their job assignments they needed to work on, which meant some downtime from harassment, and you were not about to let it pass.
Once back in your cube, where you sat perched on top of your pillow for some soft cushion and hiding behind a book, time seemed to pass more quickly, and you did not like it. It seemed to be doing it on purpose too. The more you worried, the faster the minutes ticked by mockingly loud. You weren’t sure if officer Rogers and Barnes worked the nightshift tonight as well, or if they had the day off, but you doubted your luck. They seemed to be living in this place.
What would happen once they got here? Would it be another show of the polite and helpful officers, or would they go back to their torturous way and hurt you again? At least when they did that you knew what to expect. You didn’t know what to do around them when they weren’t intimidating you, or hurting you, or ordering you around. It was much simpler when they did. At least it was a portrayal of the truth, and not some made up front which only upped the rage of the other inmates. At least when the officers weren’t kind to you, no one accused you of having a relationship with them. No one else was trying to get you.
Inmates started to flood back into the dorm. Their day was over, or at least closing in on being over, so they spent the last hour or so before dinner either in the rec room or in the dorm. With you. Most of them gave you dirty looks when passing your cube, some giving the finger just to add to the ambiance.
One inmate, the first of many you guessed, walked up to the doorway of your cube. She was a scrawny looking thing, about 5’2 and maybe 100lbs, if you were being kind. Her long hair was dark and unkempt, hanging in greasy lines around her face, the rest hidden underneath her hoodie. Just overall, the posterchild for hillbillies.
“Sup?” she said, and once she started talking, you noticed she had the same snaggly, dirty teeth as Grease Hair did. Another meth-head then.
You looked up and over at her, your grip tightening on the cover of your book, should you need it for anything other than reading. But she just stood there, clapping her hands together from time to time, letting them hang in between. She looked restless.
“Hi?” you said, the uncertainty clear as day.
She nodded her head back in acknowledgement.
“So, uh… I heard you’re the little mouse livin’ in the COs’ pocket,” she slurred, raising her eyebrows expectantly.
“I… I don’t know what that means,” you said slowly, trying to figure out what the hell this person was talking about.
She gave some sort of half-snort, taking another step inside. You pressed back against the wall. Was this a threat?
“Oh, no?” she said. “Cause, see, I heard that you’ve been bangin’ a few of the guards, and gettin’ treats for it too.”
Great, another one of those. Was this just the start of a new Tricia-incident? She looked rule-y enough. And by the look of the growing crowd, she was a leader in some other crew. Even Grease Hair was standing in the crowd.
“Well, you heard wrong,” you said, with more fire than you meant to, toning it back a bit before speaking again. “And w-who are you?”
“Doggett,” she said. “My friends call me Penn, short for Pennsatucky. But you ain’t my friend, so it’s Doggett to you.”
She didn’t seem very threatening when she spoke, her tone was too bright and light. But she did seem quite weird so you wouldn’t put it past her to do something.
“Uhm…” you started, trying to find any words that would make sense in the situation. “Okay, Doggett. I don’t know exactly what you’ve heard, uhm, about… me, but none of it’s true. I-I’m not… doing anything with the guards, I promise.”
You hoped it was enough to convince her, but it was basically your word against everyone else’s, and yours held little credibility.
She scoffed at your explanation.
“Nah, nah, see, I know you’re lyin’, okay?” she said and, strangely enough, smiled. “Cause my friends saw you gettin’ all handsy with the blond Greek god of a CO, and… he gave you chocolate. Now, I don’ know about you, but in my eyes, that looks an awful lot like someone’s suckin’ dick for treats.”
Everything always came back to favors and treats with these inmates, which you gathered was what got everyone in such a frenzy. An inmate getting favors done for her was dangerous for the others, who might find themselves getting unfairly harsh treatments or the likes, should they cross said inmate. Like Tricia. It was basically like having a guard on a leash in their eyes. So, of course, they opted for the chance of catching that said inmate - you - when there weren’t any officers around to intervene. An eye for an eye so to speak. And it didn’t seem to matter how much you tried to convince anyone of your innocence in the matter.
You swallowed hard, feeling the tension rising in the room. The other inmates, you figured it was the friends she had mentioned, started closing in outside your cube.
“Look, uh, Doggett,” you said with a somewhat shaky voice. “I really don’t know what to say, except for that it’s not true. I’m—I’m not getting any favors. From anyone. I-I know it might look like I am, to you, but I’m really, really not. I don’t want any trouble, or… anything.”
She stepped even closer, still smiling at you. You pushed back even further, turning to cover your body the best you could without outright preparing for a beatdown.
“Oh, cause, see,” she said and scoffed, still smiling away like the Joker. “That’s not what I’ve heard, sweet cheeks. And, uh… I’m leanin’ more towards listenin’ to what my friends have to say… than you. Okay? And I don’t know about you, but it sure doesn’t seem fair to me that you should get all the nice little trinkets and treats for yourself, when, let’s say, Tricia, is in the SHU because of you. So… I think… it’s only fair that you share.”
What? That didn’t make any sense whatsoever. You weren’t even sure this person was a friend of Tricia’s, you’d never seen them together or looking very friendly towards each other. This Pennsatucky Doggett person was crazy.
“B-but I don’t… have anything to share,” you said, looking both to her and the other inmates still standing outside your cube. “Honest, I don’t.”
“Oh, no?” she said and looked back to her crew for a moment, before turning back to you. “So, you just cozied on up with the COs, and didn’t get nothin’ for it, is that it? Cause… That don’t sound very likely to me. Unless the cozying is what you got for somethin’ else.”
“What?”
She took a step closer, almost leaning over you. Her smile had morphed into something harder, and how a tiny little thing like her could look intimidating was beyond you, but she managed.
“You sellin’ us out? Hmm?”
“What? No—”
“Then what? You’re acting all sweet like a piece of candy with the COs,” she went on, even when you tried to defend yourself. “Ain’t nobody sweet in here except for a reason. I guess suckin’ dick is a little easier than honest hard work, huh?”
There was a resounding echo of ‘yeah’ coming from the other inmates watching, itching to get you all riled up it would seem. It only managed to get you more freaked out.
“I’m—I’m not doing anything with the guards,” you said in your very weak defense, voice trembling when you tried to sound assertive. “I’m not getting anything f-from any guard, okay? W-what happened with Tricia was not my fault, I-I didn’t ask the officers to do that, alright? I swear.”
“Oh, so, now we should all just believe you, right?” Doggett pushed, scoffing and smiling away. “We should just believe that it’s all one big coincidence, hmm? Tricia got dragged away to SHU by a CO, and he didn’t look all that friendly towards her, no, ma’am.”
There seemed to be nothing you could even begin to try and clear your case with. No one listened when you spoke, no one wanted to hear what you had to say. To hear the truth.
Everyone around you looked pissed. There were scowls and mean lip biting going around with each and every one of Doggett’s friends. They weren’t interested in hearing any explanation. They wanted to hurt you. If it wasn’t the officers, it was the inmates. When it wasn’t the inmates, it was the officers. No matter what, you got hurt.
“Look, please,” you started, and moved so you didn’t look as frightened as you were. “I know officer Barnes went hard on Tricia, I do! But remember when they trashed my bunk? When-when I got tackled to the ground and thrown in SHU, too?”
You really didn’t want to reminisce on that. The way Steve had thrown you on the ground, the cut of the cuffs around your wrists. Or how he pushed you down the stairs… But it seemed to get everyone’s attention. Their scowls started going away, but the irritation stayed. They looked between each other and you, so you kept on trying to reason with them, trying to keep the panic of the memories from rising.
“The COs were just as h-hard on me, as-as they were with her, right? They-they didn’t go easy on me either, right?”
Flashes of pain appeared like lightning in your mind at the mention. Their hands, their unforgiving grip on your arms, your neck, your hips. How they had grabbed at you, merciless in their eagerness to feel your skin. Your walls clenched at nothing, tried to evade nothing, as the memory of them forcing their way into you crashed like thunder. Flares of fire erupted through your core, watering your eyes at the suddenness and power of it. It felt like an upcoming panic attack…
Despite you now looking like you had just seen a ghost or demon of your past, the inmates around still scoffed or mumbled lowly, not really caring if it interrupted you or not. But Doggett seized your silence.
“Maybe you just like it rough?” she mocked, and her horrible words brought you back to the present.
“Yeah,” the others around chimed in, liking that take on the situation better.
“Maybe you wanted ‘em to do that to you?”
You could hear her, understood what she said, but her words were just bringing it all closer again. You could feel the trace of their fingers, leaving long gashes of crimson in their wake as they travel along your skin, like they were cutting you open.
“N-no…” you whispered, but whether it was to the person in front of you, or the horror inside was unclear.
But Doggett took it as an answer.
“Okay, then maybe… It’s all one big act, to make it seem like you ain’t gettin’ anythin’ from ‘em, when in reality… you are. You’re gettin’ all the nice treats, and touches and all. Maybe even something to numb all that pain they put you through. Huh?”
Touches, treats, pain. You could almost not hear anything else. You tried to bury everything, tried to push it all down and not have it flash in your mind anymore. But everyone was talking about the officers, about you and what they had done to you, there was no escaping it. They were mocking you, threatening you, and making up lies of what had really taken place. They didn’t know you didn’t want it, they didn’t know that you fought back, that you begged them not to do it. They didn’t know. And they didn’t want to know.
You had retreated back into yourself, letting her talk at you however she pleased. You’d had some fire at first, you had! It had been there! But there was no use. Fighting back, no matter what opponent, only made everything worse. It only made everyone mad at you, yelling at you and threatening to hurt you even more. There was no escape. Not from any of it.
Pennsatucky just stood there, looking down at you and smiling. She just needed to break through that shell, and you would share the goodness you were bound to have. Pornstache’s little side business was well-known among the inmates, and he couldn’t be the only one giving out pills and whatnot for a few minutes of pleasure.
“What they givin’ you, hmm?” she pushed, speaking lower than before. “Some zing? Crank? Smack? Maybe some blow for blow, huh?”
She laughed at her own joke, looking back to make sure her followers did as well.
The mentioning of drugs was new. New enough to hold back everything else that had piled on as she spoke about what the officers used you for, at least for a moment’s time. They were all convinced that you had drugs on you now, that the officers were bringing it in for you. If that was the case, why didn’t they just ask for it themselves, instead of pestering you? Maybe Steve and Bucky weren’t the only ones enjoying your misfortune and pain? It seemed to be a reoccurring theme in your life after all. There must be something about you that was kindness and care repellant, because you never seemed to get any of it. Something so utterly annoying that everyone just wanted to crush you. Your mere presence was a hardship for everyone else. So, maybe you could offer them something in return for their hard endeavors?
“I got some morphine…”
The others started shuffling at the mention of the drug, itching to get their hands on it, Doggett even shuffling from one foot to the other when she heard it. No one seemed to hear or care for the hollowness of your voice. The empty tone that carried it.
“I get it in the pill line though, so… I don’t have any on me.”
You hoped it would be enough, that it would be payment enough for the struggle of them being near you. They probably didn’t want anything to do with you. Why would they? You weren’t worth anything. Worthless. Shameful. Your fault.
Doggett just grinned, not caring one bit for your dejected state.
“But you’re gonna get some tonight, though, right?”
Her smile was back, dirtied teeth showing as she grinned down at you.
“Yeah…”
“Okay, then,” she said, and cleared her throat, too eager to find her words. “You just, uh… cheek ‘em, and bring ‘em to me, alright?”
“Okay…”
“Good, good, good,” she said and nodded for everyone to leave the cube again, and slowly followed behind. “I’ll see ya later then, Harper. And, and, it’s Pennsatucky for you now.”
She said it all through a smile, giggling to herself before rounding the corner and disappearing with the rest of the inmates, unknowingly leaving you to your demise.
Summary: Theres a new professor at a your college that you’ve just enrolled in, except you didn’t expect her to be this hot- oh, and Alex Vause.
Alex Vause / Laura Prepon x female reader
PART 1 🫶
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The second day of a brand new college.
New friends. New surroundings. New life essentially.
After three missed alarm calls and a rant from my mother on how I should have my shit together by my big age, I chucked on whatever clothes I could find in my wardrobe (that you could somewhat call an outfit) and headed straight to college and got on the bus in a flame of bulge.
After a boisterous and painful Monday, sat surrounded by rich freaks and bitchy girls, I was considering if college was even right for me. It was like some form of dystopian hell in there- a fresh room with a fresh tutor is a fresh start again, right?
It had to be better than yesterday- surely?
Checking the time on my phone in a panic, my heartbeat felt like it was slamming itself against my skull whilst the oxygen invaded my trembling lungs with each inhalation. At the thought of being behind everyone, I blush out of worry and pick up my pace before approaching the new mysterious room with my group of friends just after 10.30.
I couldn't be late for a new teacher- what sort of first impression is that!?
I throw in impulsively to my friends how much I didn't even want to come in to today's lesson through a clenched jaw as I thought of our main tutor and how she treated our class.
I shoulder my way into the room taking deep breaths and fiddling with the skin on the ends of my fingers as I scanned the room for the perfect place to sit before we settled in and selected our seats in the room.
Great. The only seats left are ones right by the board and the main bigger and black chair.
Why oh why do we always get the crap seats near the teacher!?
After a few minutes of my internal panic, I was relived to see that the lecturer hadn't arrived yet and seeing the rest of my class group lively and chatting to each other.
With relief, I turn and look at my friend (who was sat across from me on our table) through deep breaths to try and calm me down, as we started talking and laughing about some random shit we had just thought of whilst waiting for whoever our new lecturer was to turn up.
Smiling constantly, I had a good feeling about today despite the ghastly start to my day.
My friend Christie bellowed something hilarious from some TikTok or something sending us all into a fit of laughter until the tears actually started forming in our eyes.
God, how could I love these people so much in such a short space of time.
I glanced at the clock that stood strong above the projected board and notice that it was already 10.36.
Where was this woman?
Composing ourselves as we saw a tall figure shadow it's way around the corner, she stood bright but stressed as she slowly opened the door that moaned on its hinges and then entered our room carrying a pile of notepads and her laptop which she obviously couldn't fit in her under filled tote bag.
Speak of the devil.
I turn to the same friend that had just made me nearly piss myself with laughter as we lock our eyes in some sort of joint joy sensation and a gleaming smile soon spread wide across our faces.
In does not slouch the middle aged woman with grey hair and a long teacher style dress we all anticipated.
My gaze widens fully towards her and I subconsicously straighten my back, leaning forward in the seat in anticipation for something that I just couldn't form into words.
Dumbfounded, I trail my enervated eyes over the new female creature that had just entered the room like I was scanning for something. She was noticeably in a rush and was flustered, hence her slightly red cheeks.
There could be no simple explanation why this woman looked the way she did.
Her brunette bangs shook freely at the top of her head and trailed down either side of her face. They shone bright in the little bit of light that fought its way into the room making her look unearthly. I swallowed hard even though my throat was bone dry as my eyes roamed over her body once more.
A checked grey blazer, black suit trousers and doc martens. Could it be, oh my god?
I inwardly scream, feeling my stomach drop a few metres downhill. My entrancement abruptly comes to an end after a hard shove in the side fights against my body, making me subtly loose my balance as I turn and see the deadly glare from one of the girls next to me in a mischievous smile.
"Oh, stop it Y/N," my friend Elizabeth chuckled “I can almost see your lady boner from here”. I turned to her in a panic and see that she is giving me the look. Not just any look- the one to imply that I was in a different world and I wasn't going to live this moment down.
I quickly reinforce my stance I had before the woman entered the room after realising I was now slouched across my table with a form of drool leaving the side of my lip. I rapidly sat up as if nothing had happened and put on the usual composed and interested face.
The woman put her tote bag and her pride month edition 'Kanken' bag on the front table and then leaned against it whilst waiting for a silent order to come from the class.
"Okay, sorry about the late entrance everyone but my name is Miss Vause and I will be teaching you your skills for this project...."
In response, my stomach began to flutter slightly making me press my hand against the new uncomfortable feeling.
I couldn't even care what was coming out of her mouth, her emerald green eyes gleamed with every word she spoke, complimenting the dimples on either side of her smile.
"Oh. my. god," Christie mouthed from across the table resting her head in her palms whilst the smile still spread joyfully. "She is wow; Y/N, I don't even know what to say."
All I needed to care about at this point was trying not to show the unholy amount of dribble coming from the side of my lip in awe.
Whist Miss Vause was speaking, I opened up my laptop with sweaty palms as my heart started to pound against my chest even harder. My cheeks transfigured into a rosy bed of redness almost out of embarrassment and my voice got softer and warmer with every word.
As the hour went on, her voice became softer out of nerves and her smile grew more forceful before running her hand through her hair reshaping her bangs.
"Miss Vause, I have no idea how to use photoshop," Haz (a classmate of mine) mentioned as she finished her sentence. "Would you be able to help me?"
I had never been so jealous of that man in my life.
