#its definitely not normal to feel this anxious n be this paranoid about everything the way i am

[serraturt]

my anxiety might actually kill me one of these days

[danjo-ao3]

When Ashes Fall p.4

Pairing: Reaper/female Reader

Summary: You are a combat medic working for Overwatch, when a mission goes south and you cross paths with Talon mercenary Reaper. But will he kill you on the spot or is there more to this encounter?

Rating: 18+

Tags/Warnings: rape/non-con, violence, blood, emotional manipulation, blackmail, kidnapping

Word count: 52,215 (in 5 parts)

A/N: the warnings are clear on this one. Yes, there is going to be rape/non-con, and it’s going to get explicit. I strongly advise anyone who is not into that kind of story to turn back around, because this is going to get pretty heavy and will finally be the non-con story with Reaper that I had always wanted to write.

Part 4 / 5 (part 1, part 2, part 3, part 5)

***

 You were running. Bleak walls and grey floors were whirring past you as you hurried along corridors, past multiple doors, not stopping to even take a breath. Get away, away...far away. As far as possible. Barely aware of your ragged breathing, you almost tripped over your own feet, but managed to steady yourself on a wall.

 One breath, two, then the irrational fear of being followed spurred you into action again. With shaking legs you finally reached the elevator that would get you away from the lab’s floor.

 After all your time with Talon you had finally learned that the elevators were activated by your presence. To call one, you had to stand in a designated spot in front of it, which you were doing right now. It was incredibly hard to stay still, you kept looking over your shoulder, paranoid that a certain someone was behind.

 “Come on,” you mumbled as you anticipated the sound of the elevator’s arrival.

 It felt like an eternity until you finally heard it, then with one last look behind you hurried inside to immediately announce your desired floor. As the doors closed, you allowed yourself to lean against the shiny walls, aggressively ignoring the mirror on the opposite side. Instead you forced your eyes closed for a second, to try and steady your breathing.

 In, out. In and out.

 It wasn’t helping, your eyes shot open to observe the display up ahead that told you that you were on the first floor right now.

Move faster, damnit.

 Suddenly, the elevator slowed. Confused, you checked the floor again and noticed that you were on floor two, there were still two more until you would reach yours.

 The elevator was stopping, the confirmation sound rang loudly in your ears, and finally the doors slid open to reveal a dark and broad figure in front.

 Your breath caught.

 Revealed to you was—Akande Ogundimu. Your short exhale of relief of it not being a certain masked mercenary was short lived, though. This was bad, like      really bad.  

 Ogundimu’s expression spoke of surprise. Your disheveled state was something he normally didn’t see around here, you figured. He stepped inside, his gaze focusing on your face.

 He greeted you by your last name curtly, which you only answered with a jerk of your head that was supposed to resemble a nod.

 All you wanted was to vanish in this moment. As you warily watched him take position a few meters away, you involuntarily caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror.

 Wide, haunted eyes stared back at you, your hair was a mess, sticking out in every direction. Your hand still had a death grip on the front of the lab coat, which barely concealed your still open jeans underneath. But the most obvious thing about your appearance were the red marks all over your neck.

 Oh goodness...

 Silently, the doors slid closed and the elevator started moving upwards again.

 “Passcode 5-5-4,” Ogundimu spoke all of a sudden and the elevator stopped at his command.

 You stared at him incredulously. What was he doing?

 With his hands behind his back, the man turned to you, a severe look on his face. Today he was wearing all black, and it did nothing to make you feel safe. You were starting to hate that color.

 Still clutching your coat, you squinted up at him, further leaning against the wall behind you.

 “Are you hurt?”

 It took you a good five seconds to digest that. Akande Ogundimu, Doomfist, leader of the infamous terrorist organization Talon, was interested in your well being?

 Not likely.

 There must have been something else behind his caring façade. It would’ve been unwise to trust him. Nervously, you swallowed around an incredibly dry throat.

 “No,” you lied. Well, not much.

 Unbidden, thoughts welled up about what would happen if you told him the truth. Would he pretend to care, to tell you to confide in him, that he’d help you?

 Reaper’s words flitted through your mind. About how he’d assumed that you were specifically sent to seduce him. By Ogundimu himself, no less. You wondered if his assumptions were correct.

 Ogundimu was still studying you, his gaze roamed over your entire front; from your face down to your shoes, his eyes narrowing the more he took in of you in your current state.

 Then, he came on towards you with slow steps, as if he were approaching a stray cat so as to not scare it off. Still, you tensed up, his closeness was unwelcome. Especially right now.

 “I must say,” he murmured, as he approached, “You are doing well in Talon. Your work ethic is commendable.” He flashed a pleasant smile. “Not many show that much dedication to our cause in their positions. And Talon would like to thank you for being so caring and giving.”

 Your face scrunched up in confusion. Was he complimenting your work in the lab, on missions? The words he was using all screamed of something else, something a man of his status wouldn’t deign to utter.

 “I’ll have a special bank account set up for you, anything you desire,” he went on in a business-like tone. Only when he reached down and pulled lightly on the bottom of your shirt with a flick of his wrist to finally hide your still openen jeans, did it betray the true meaning behind his words. “That’s only fair, isn’t it.”

 Mortified, you stared back at him. He had already moved away from you again, satisfaction written all over his face. He had finally achieved what he had instrumented. Reaper was right, Akande Ogundimu was now… your panderer. And he definitely thought that you and Reaper had already—

 You felt your stomach drop, it was as if the floor gave out beneath you. If only it would swallow you whole.

 The sheer hopelessness, the grief you’d felt this whole time, and the anxiety of what was going to happen all rendered you mute. That didn’t seem to bother the man at all, he checked his reflection in the mirror, adjusted his expensive looking jacket, then spoke up to the ceiling.

 “Passcode 5-5-3.” The elevator started moving again, and just a few seconds later you had reached your destination. Ogundimu inclined his head in goodbye and stepped in front of the doors, which opened for him and revealed someone waiting for him on the other side. An omnic, dressed sharply in a dark grey suit stood just a few meters away, his shiny robotic face equipped with slanted, red eyes and dots neatly arranged on his forehead.

 The omnic’s attention snapped from Ogundimu to you. And even though his face could not betray any kind of emotion, you got the distinct feeling that he was silently judging you. For what, you weren’t sure.

Maybe for the way you look like you’d just had sex in an elevator?    

 You groaned internally. Could this day get any worse? Who in this forsaken building hadn’t witnessed your shame yet?

 Ogundimu greeted the omnic and then turned around to you one last time. “Mr. Hawthorne will be delighted to hear about your continued cooperation.”

 Hearing Caleb’s last name spoken so casually sent a new wave of trepidation over you. How was he doing, were they treating him right? You finally found your voice and called out to get answers, but the elevator doors were already closing shut again, preventing Ogundimu and his companion from further engaging with you.

 Close to tears, you just stared at the doors. Sniffing, you stated your floor number again and the elevator moved up.

 Finally, you reached your destination and impatiently waited for the doors to slide open. The long hallway led you straight to the dorm rooms and with a newfound haste, you jogged towards yours, fumbled for the key and got inside to slam the door shut and lock it behind you.

 After a very small pause, you hurried out of your clothes so fast, you almost fell on your way to the bathroom. You needed a hot shower now. Lab coat, shirt and jeans all landed in a different corner, your panties too. Trying not to think about it, you shrugged off the ruined bra, and dumped it straight into the trash bin.

 Whole body shaking like a leaf, cold and anxious, you went and turned on the shower. The water turned warm pretty quickly and you stepped underneath with your eyes closed.

 The water grew hotter by the second, now it was almost unbearable, but you kept standing beneath it. After a few minutes you reached for the standard issue shower gel and squirted a generous amount into your palm. Its purple discoloration was making you feel sick to your stomach, it faintly hurt when you flexed your fingers. But you were almost certain that it had started to change in color to more of a bluish tint.

 You heaved a sigh, just another thing on your long list of terrors.

 Everything you did was mechanical, your actions on autopilot, while you were internally struggling with how your mind wanted to process what had happened to you while fiercely trying to ignore Reaper’s last words.

This is not over, mariquita

 Scrunching your eyes closed, you scrubbed at your chest, trying to erase his touch from your skin. The fine cuts on your neck stung from the gel, but you kept at it nonetheless.

 The hot water washed all the soap away and you watched the bubbles disappear down the drain. If only you could disappear like that, you thought, and reached for shampoo.

 It took you a long while to get out of the shower, the hot water was soothing and calming you down somewhat. But you couldn’t stay in there forever. So with a long suffering sigh you turned the water off and dried yourself. You were grateful that the bathroom mirror was fogged up enough so you didn’t have to look yourself in the eye.

 Before you left to get dressed you decided to brush your teeth, get the bitter taste out of your mouth. When you spat out the toothpaste there was blood mixed in with the foam, curling red in stark contrast in a spiral to be washed away by the water. You’d brushed too hard.

 When you got dressed it was in simple clothes; cotton panties, a comfy zip-up hoodie and soft training pants. In that ensemble you curled up in the armchair across your holo screen and watched something on low volume that you didn’t even pay attention to.

 Your mind was racing while your body was finally weaning off the adrenaline it had been subjected to. The quiet voices on the show you were watching were soothing your frayed mind. It was a nice distraction. As long as you did not actively think about it all, you could stay relatively calm.

 It was still light outside, barely afternoon, but there was no way you would go out again today.

 As you drew your knees to your chest and snuggled into your hoodie, your eyes started to feel heavy, they burned and closing them for just a little while was nice. You were so tired… it had been a rough day, you deserved some rest. But all your reasoning did not ease the anxiety that was still simmering underneath it all. It spiked periodically, telling you to stay alert, but you were too tired of the feeling, just so tired.  

 The last thing that flitted through your head was the word mariquita.  

 What could it mean?

Mariquita...  

***

Mariquita  

 When you woke it was dark outside, the only light source was the holo projector on the wall. You rubbed one eye and yawned, maybe you should head to bed.

 “Mariquita.”

 Ice shards pierced your heart, your breath halted as your head snapped to where you’d heard his voice from.

 He sat on your bed casually, as if he belonged there, his red eyes faintly glowing in the semi dark.

 No. No, no, no, no, no!  

 This was a nightmare, you were still asleep and dreaming, right? Please, just let this be a nightmare.    

 “How did you get in here?” You demanded, voice small from disuse. Even as you asked him you knew the answer, he had used his mist voodoo like before when he had vanished in front of your eyes.

 “I have my ways,” he said quietly in his raspy voice, not moving from the edge of your bed, watching you. The dull light from the holo projector sporadically illuminated his face, revealing that he wasn’t wearing his mask, nor his armored coat.

 “Get out,” you blurted, sitting a little more upright in the armchair, trying to hide the way your body was already shaking again. But of course he didn’t do as you told him, he stayed right in his spot.

 “Come here,” he said instead, and it reminded you of the time he said these words during the mission, right before you’d healed him and—

 You shook your head.

 All you wanted was to laugh at him, scoff how there was no way in hell you were going to go to him of your own free will.

 In the end you just glared, telling him nonverbally that that was not going to happen. The outrage you felt almost outshone the fear that still had a tight grip on you.

 He cocked his head, as if he were still wearing his mask.

 His stare was making you extremely nervous, so in order to escape this uncomfortable situation you snapped at him.

 “If you’re not going, then I am,” you stated and unfolded your legs to get off the armchair and straight to your door.

 “You know I’ll find you.”

 His words gave you pause. Yeah, you figured. The way he had simply ghosted into your locked room was an indicator. With your hand on the handle, you trembled with the urge to get out, but also knowing that there was nowhere for you to escape. He would always find you, you absolutely trusted his statement.

 “Well, I’ll take my chances,” you said to him over your shoulder.

 “I can also find your friend in the holding cells.”

 Your grip on the handle tightened before it went slack.

 Caleb. It all boiled down to him, didn’t it? Defeated, you pressed your forehead against the door, wanting to hit your head against it until you blacked out.

 Slowly, you turned around to face him. “You— you’re a monster.” It felt good to say it out loud, to tell him your piece of mind, even if he didn’t care.

 “Aw, you’re hurting my feelings, mariquita,” he sighed. “Now come. Here.”

 Your legs felt like jelly. Unsure if you could even make your way over if you wanted to, you took a deep breath to center yourself. Maybe you could stall for time a little more?

 “What does it mean?” You asked out of the blue. Reaper was tensing where he sat on your bed, impatience mirrored on his face.

 “What?”

 “Mariquita.” You tried your hardest to pronounce it correctly, the way he always did.

 “It means you should come over here now, or I’ll come and get you.”

 Okay, he was done waiting. Tentatively, you took a step forward, testing your legs’ stability. They were working fine, it was just the man you were supposed to approach that had you hesitate after every step. It didn’t make it easier that he was still watching your every move. Color rose to your cheeks by being so openly observed, while you were struggling no less.

 When you were about a meter away from him, you came to a halt. Uncomfortable, you hugged yourself with one arm, your gaze avoiding him. You could feel his demonic eyes on you, your skin tingling unpleasantly where you assumed he was watching.

 When something touched the back of your hand, you jumped. He lightly gripped your wrist while the fingers of his other hand pushed the material of your sleeve up over your arm, the one that had suffered the damage from healing him. You watched as he traced upwards, goosebumps spreading in the wake of his touch.

 Again, he seemed very interested in what Dr. O’Deorain’s glove had done to you.

 From where he sat on the bed, you were almost at eye level with him, he was that tall even sitting. And as he intently watched his own actions you got your first glance at him without a hood covering his head. He had dark hair, streaked with grey at the shaven sides. It was gathering on the top and fell to one side lazily in a swirl of curls, one of the locks almost reached his eyebrows.

 Without that heavy coat his entire shape was different, his shoulders weren’t as extremely accentuated anymore, but they were still broad, fewer sharp angles and more rounded bulk. He was still wearing the armored chest plate, pants and boots, but not his clawed gauntlets. And thank goodness for that, you could still feel those talons against your throat.

 When his eyes found yours again, he pulled you towards him, you took the last few steps hesitantly, leaning away as much as his hold on you allowed. Which wasn’t much at all, you were standing in between his spread legs. Any closer and you’d be in his lap.

 “You want to know what mariquita means,” he murmured, his hand that was not still holding your wrist, went for the zipper of your hoodie.

 This had been the worst time to not wear a bra.

 You tried to pull away, but he held firm. His scowl told you to stop struggling, and you did so reluctantly, trembling. Your eyes flitted to where he was slowly pulling down the zipper, your shallow breathing making your chest rise and fall quickly.

 Well, he certainly wasn’t wasting any time.

 You swallowed audibly, a faint whimper climbing up your throat.

 But he stopped pulling just a little ways down, his surprisingly warm hand instead touching the skin just beneath your throat. He went further to the side, revealing more of you to him. The hoodie was now hanging off your right shoulder but was still hiding your chest.

 He paused, studying you, then stroked a path just below your collarbone, right where the scar was from where you’d been impaled on that steel beam. You shivered.

 “It means ladybug,” he finally clarified, his red eyes lifting to your face. Frowning, you wondered why he’d chosen that moniker. “When I found you, the way that metal was sticking out of your shoulder, it looked like a giant needle pinning down a little bug in one of those showcases.” Reaper’s voice was rather quiet, but still sounding rough. “All that blood,” he faintly smiled as he remembered. “Just the color of a ladybug.”

 Of course he would remember this fondly, your pain seemed to bring him immense pleasure. Your resulting scowl only seemed to amuse him.

 “Ah, well—” You faltered shortly when he brushed along your throat. “Thanks for telling me, I will be going then.”

 He chuckled at that, mirth dancing across his features.

 “Don’t think so,” he murmured and reached behind you to pull you into him. You fell forward clumsily, barely able to catch yourself against his chest. Your knees came to a rest on either side of his thighs, just like that time during the mission. This new position had your heart beat frantically in your ribcage, and your eyes searched his to gauge his intentions.

  What do you think he wants to do? A voice inside your head chided.

 The two of you were so close now, you could feel his breath on your face, his expression turned serious again.

 “I’m not here to hurt you,” he whispered, and goodness you wanted to believe him so badly. Eyes burning, you scrunched them close.

 Why was he saying this? Why was he pretending that this was anything but his one sided obsession with your healing effect? It hurt that he thought you were so gullible, like you were some naïve little girl unfamiliar with men like him, when you were old enough to have had your fair share of toxic relationships.

 “I find that hard to believe,” you answered. Apparently, Reaper had forgotten the times when he had hurt you in the past, on purpose or not. Maybe he was too far gone to recognize the consequences of his actions, that assaulting someone like he had was a violent act that was very traumatizing.

 “Then let me show you,” he said.

 With those final words, he cradled your face in his hands to guide your mouths together. Your breath caught once more. This was so different from the last time he did it. It was such a gentle brushing of his lips against yours, feather light and tingly. He pulled away just a fraction, licking his lips and went back in, one hand gliding into your hair.

 The worst thing about this was that it felt so nice. After all the anxiety and fear that had beaten you down, it was his cautious touch that was soothing you. You wanted to scream at the unfairness of it all. At this point you weren’t sure if you had preferred him to not be so fucking fake considerate. It was messing with your head too much.

 With a forceful push against his chest you drew away, panting lightly.

 “You’re… you’re not supposed to,” You hiccuped. “to be so gentle. You’re not, you’re pretending.”

 Tears had gathered at the corners of your eyes, it was all so unfair. Why was this happening to you? And why were you even complaining about that, as if the fact that he was doing this to you in the first place wasn’t terrible enough. Sometimes you wished your mouth wasn’t faster than your brain in moments like these.

 Reaper hummed in thought. “Do you want me to be rough with you, hermosa?” He squeezed your waist in emphasis, then let his hands glide over your bottom, pulling you into him further. You gasped when his groin was pushed against yours. “That can be arranged,” he flashed his teeth in a feral grin, then proceeded to kiss you once more. There was not a hint of gentleness now, he was all teeth and tongue, forcing your mouth open wide by having you groan with grinding his hips into yours.

 You started to struggle again, pushing at his armored chest. Oh no, this was worse, yeah this was definitely the worse choice.

 Reaper was not deterred, he grabbed you and spun you around until you lay flat on the bed, his heavy frame landing on top of you.

 Breathing labored, you stared up at him with wide eyes. He was regarding you cooly, like he wasn’t affected by his own actions at all, while you were a shaking mess.

 “Al—alright. I take it back.” Goodness, you were so pathetic.

 He hummed darkly, leaned away and crossed his arms over his chest.

 “I'm afraid you’ll have to earn my tenderness again. Think I like being a bit rough with you.” His eyes flashed. “It’s exciting.”

 Earn it? You had a bad feeling about this.

 Reaper shifted, he sat back on his heels, no longer holding you down, and on instinct you scrambled further away until you bumped against the headboard.

 He looked at you expectantly, at your hoodie to be precise. And slowly it dawned on you. He wanted you to take it off…

 Ice cold fear stabbed your heart, you couldn’t do this. No way could you strip for him without dying of shame. You shook your head softly, pleading with your eyes. Don’t make me do this.  

 But he was only raising his brows in an effort to spur you into action.

 This was going to happen either way, but you had the small choice of whether he would play nice, or not. And although both choices were the literal worst, one was slightly less disturbing than the other. You only hoped you were making the right decision.

 With shaking fingers, you reached for the zipper. Your hands were sweaty, but you managed to hold onto it hard enough to start pulling it down. Closing your eyes tightly, you dragged it over your chest and belly, the sound of the zipper grating in your ears, to finally reach the end and separate the two sides. You were still covered though, it would take a push to open the sweater completely.

 You cracked your eyes open tentatively, too anxious about what Reaper was doing. His red eyes were glued to where your trembling hand was still gripping the zipper. Was now the time when he would pounce? The fear made you light headed.

 “Good girl. Go on,” he half growled and nodded at your legs.

 The praise made you blush. How fucking stupid was that? This next part seemed even harder than the one before. At least you were wearing underwear down there. Trying not to think much anymore, you got your thumbs in the waistband of your sweatpants and pushed them down your legs, a little awkwardly so as to not disturb the jacket that was covering you yet.

 When you had discarded the pants onto the floor, you pulled your knees against you, trying to hide from view. You cast wary glances at him.

 Slowly, very slowly, he moved forward. Then, he struck like a snake would, one hand curled around your ankle and pulled you towards him in quick succession. He had tugged so hard, your head was bouncing off the mattress beneath you as you lay flat once more and he was above you again.

 You feared your heart was going to burst out of your chest the way it was beating so hard.

 When he’d dragged you down the bed like that, your hoodie had opened on its own and he used the opportunity to get his hands on you. He pulled your naked legs over his thighs, his nostrils flared and his jaw clenched at the sight of you around him and pressed your groins together.

 A metallic trinket that looked like some form of medaillon hanging from his belt came to rest against your stomach, the shock of its coldness made you gasp. His armored pants were hard and unyielding against the soft skin of your inner thighs, scratching and piercing you in some places.

 You whimpered.

 The bulge you could feel between your legs was unmistakably his dick, eager and already half-hard. Your blush deepened as goosebumps rose over your entire body.

 Then he was stroking your belly with his big hand, until he went further up to brush over your chest and finally grabbed a handful of your breasts.

 He wasn’t exactly rough with you, but he wasn’t gentle either. Still, you blushed hard with his bold touch, squirming underneath him and biting your lip, turning your head to the side.

 Apparently, he took that as an invitation to kiss your neck. His teeth grazed your ear, then he moved further down along your jugular, until he licked over your nipple before biting down on it softly.

 You gasped at the feeling, it was sending little electric shocks down to your core. Your thighs tensed where they lay around his waist and he groaned when you accidentally ground against him.

 He breathed hotly against your skin, then sucked on your nipple and swirled his tongue around it. You couldn’t help the moan bubbling up and how you drew your legs together, squeezing his hips tightly while ignoring the pain the hard plates were causing your skin. You felt so vulnerable, practically naked while he was still fully clothed, in his damn armor no less.

 He slammed his hips into yours, pushing you up the bed a fraction with the force of it while simultaneously giving you a taste of what was coming for you.

 Your breath stuttered with how he was manhandling you. All hard edges, sharp teeth on your breasts and protruding metal bruising your skin. It was too much, you were starting to hyperventilate.

There’s no way out, I’m trapped, I can’t breathe…  

 He pressed your thigh against his own, hard, and you cried out at the pain that flared up your leg.

 Tears burned your eyes when you screwed them shut, with your upper body turned to the side your arms flew up to hide your face behind them while your body was shaking uncontrollably, soft whimpers sounding with every breath out.

I’m not here to hurt you.  

 Fucking liar.

 Suddenly, he stopped what he was doing. The tight grip he’d had on your upper leg eased off, brushed over the spot soothingly and then pressed your leg further to the side. Anxiously, you peered sideways from behind your arm to watch his actions.

 It seemed as if he was inspecting the damage he’d done to your inner thigh due to that armor of his. He hummed in thought, then raised your leg while simultaneously bending down to press a kiss to the spot, his sharp eyes finding yours.

 “Sorry about that, mariquita,” he appeased, let go of your leg and reached for his belt instead. The sound of the leather sliding free and the clinking metal had you tensing up.

 When he had freed the belt, he discarded it to the side, but—you couldn’t help but notice—still within reach. With precision and routine he reached for the clamps that would loosen the hold of his chest plate. They were quite numerous, but you watched him undo every single one of them, too afraid to look away for even a fraction of a second.

 Reaper was smiling lopsidedly. When he had finished undoing the very last one, he made sure you were still paying attention as he shrugged out of the chest plate, under which he wasn’t wearing anything.

 That mist was rising off of him again, now that he was topless there was nothing to contain it anymore. You wondered what was up with his condition, but were too afraid to ask.

 Your breath caught for the upteenth time that day when the mist had cleared. His skin was just as greyish and dark as on the rest of him. Never had you seen so many scars on somebody before either. They were big and small alike, some screamed of sharp tools that must have slashed him, others looked rugged and downright nasty. You’d seen their kind before: explosions and their shrapnel left these kinds of horrible wounds.

 The sheer amount of pain and suffering one had had to endure with these scars as testament; you shuddered in sympathy.

 Reaper’s chest was big, a light dusting of dark curls began around his pecs, then gathered at the bottom of his taut belly and disappeared in a trail down his pants. He chuckled darkly when he caught you checking him out like that. Ah damn, your eyes seemed to have a will of their own.

 That blush on your cheeks was going to burn a hole through your skin sooner or later.

 He reached out and took a hold of your good hand, brought it up and pressed it against his chest. It rose and fell with his breathing, you even detected a faint heartbeat, albeit a very slow one.

 You were facing him again, one arm extended toward him, the other unconsciously balled into a fist and pressed against your sternum.

 “Go on.”

 What? What were you supp—

  Oh.  

 He wanted you to use your healing on him. Automatically, you shook your head. Nothing good has ever come of it.

 His eyes narrowed and your heart sank.

 “Your choice, mariquita. Either give me what I want,” he kissed your fingertips with deceptive tenderness. “Or I’ll simply take it.”

 Your throat closed up. You were scared shitless of him when he was under the influence of your healing powers, but what would he do if you stopped cooperating now?

 Slowly, but surely, he pressed your hand against his heart. The image of his greyish skin in contrast to yours was mesmerizing. The firm muscle underneath your palm was warm, his skin soft.

 “Understood?”

 You stared at him. There was no way around it. With a meek nod you surrendered.

 The healing you sent out was just the amount needed to heal minor wounds, Reaper closed his eyes in bliss when it hit him, his hand fell away from where he held yours against his chest.

 You watched as he laid his head back, a look of pure bliss written across his face. The dark mist that was constantly rising off of him intensified, almost shrouding his face from view.

 The moan that was rumbling through his chest made you shiver, your still sweaty hand slipped and brushed over his dusky nipple. With an otherworldly groan he fell forward through the mist to hold himself above you, his hands on both sides of your head.

 His pupils were blown wide, the red fire burning brightly in a fine ring around them. He blew cool mist into your face when he opened his mouth to groan one more time.

 Reaper undulated against you, bent down and went for your neck with open mouthed kisses. It was difficult to keep the contact and the healing up in this new position as well as having to deal with the assault on your senses. His hands pushed the sides of the jacket you still wore apart forcefully, kneaded your breasts, then reached around to grab your back and hauled you up to his level. With swift motions, he divested you of the hoodie, now you sat in his lap while he frantically cradled your head and kissed you with such ferocity it stole your breath away completely.

 You hated that you could recognize his taste, he had kissed you often enough now.

 Gradually, you lowered the healing output, until you stopped it completely.

 Reaper slowed down after a few seconds, the urgency with which he had practically devoured you mellowed until he was kissing you so sensually instead that it made you feel things. Things that terrified you. You were flesh and blood after all, of course this was affecting you. A small sob bubbled up from deep inside your body, hands curling against his chest.

 One of his hands was making its way down your back, over your bottom and then to the front of your underwear.

 Panting, you pulled away, wanting to say something. To tell him to stop. But, you realized, you had crossed a line where a ‘no’ was not an option anymore. You were past that point now and there would be no going back.

 So, you resigned yourself to warily watching as his fingers lightly stroked you through your panties. It sent tingles up your spine and you gasped at the sensation of it. He used the opportunity and kissed you again, stealing your breath away with every stroke over your sensitive nub and his tongue inside your mouth. You had to brace yourself on his shoulders, the steel like muscle underneath was stiflingly strong.

 You didn’t even notice how he slipped his fingers underneath the cotton of your panties, the touch of his fingers against your naked skin was more intense now.

 His other hand was holding your neck, his thumb tilting your head back by the jaw so he had better access to your mouth.

 With your eyes closed you could feel how his fingers crept further down to gather some of the essence between your thighs and how he groaned into your mouth when he felt how wet you were, then he smeared it around your clit to slick his movements.

 On the one hand you were mortified at how your body was betraying you. You were so aroused you were practically soaking through your underwear. But you also knew that it was its natural response to the stimulus, there was no way for you to interfere.

 On the other hand you were kind of thankful that your body was responding because sex was not very pleasant while being dry. And you got the distinct impression that Reaper was not carrying a spare bottle of lube around. But who knew? At this point nothing surprised you anymore.

 Again, Reaper snuck his hand down and between your folds, but this time he pushed two fingers inside with no resistance whatsoever.

 This time it was you who groaned. Damn, that felt amazing, they were just the right size with how they stretched you around them and the light curl they did towards your navel.

 Reaper pulled away from your mouth with a loud, wet sound. You let your head drop forward, breathing loudly and trying to stifle the mewls spilling from your lips at the intense feeling of his fingers stroking in just the right spots.

 “Let me hear you,” he cooed, sounding a little out of breath himself, simultaneously speeding up his ministrations. One particular stroke of his must have hit that special nerve in you and you moaned loudly, a new kind of blush forming on your cheeks; one of deep seated arousal mixed with shame.

 “Yes,” he hissed, bent down and lightly bit your neck.

 You swore in surprise, the pain was negligible, but you clamped around his fingers nonetheless which earned you a moan and a kiss on the spot he’d just bitten.

 His fingers withdrew, only to return with a third one, stretching you even wider than before. It was almost bordering on uncomfortable, you hadn’t had any kind of intimacy like this in months. Ever since you’d signed up with Overwatch, your love life had been put on the back-burner, and until now you hadn’t minded a bit. Now it seemed disadvantageous.

 Reaper kept nipping and kissing at your neck all the while, now that his third finger was coated in your juices, the constant stroking along your inner walls was becoming easier.

 Then he found your clit with his thumb again, his fondling inside and outside had you keening.

 You could feel a slow orgasm approaching. Ah damn, you really didn’t want to find your release like this, on this demon’s fucking fingers, but it would move things along and bring this night to an end, or at least you hoped that it would.

 With clammy hands you held onto his shoulders for purchase, all his kissing and touching was leaving you light headed.

 He broke away from your neck when you’d grasped his shoulders, his misty breath blowing in your face cooly.

 “Do you want to come, hermosa?”

 Fuck.

 Yeah, you did. But you were not going to tell him, too…

 So you screwed your eyes shut and nodded faintly.

 Reaper tutted. “Tell me,” he commanded and when you kept silent, did his best to hit that spot that made you squirm and see stars. You moaned pathetically, but just couldn’t bring yourself to admit to it with words.

 He kept hitting that same spot over and over again, the orgasm building and almost reaching its crescendo, but before you could topple over that edge, Reaper slowed down again.

 You whined when he stopped, weakly bucking your hips against his fingers, but unable to find the right angle.

 “Say it,” he growled in your ear, his fingers maddeningly slow in their movements, his other hand around the back of your neck and holding you securely in place.

 Fucking hell.

 “Please,” you faintly whispered. But it wasn’t enough, he stopped with his fingers buried inside you, keeping you from moving altogether.

 He wasn’t going to remind you a third time, you were sure. But you were also quite stubborn, and so you clenched your teeth in frustration. Let him get off on this, you really didn’t need to.

 Maybe if you kept lying to yourself it would become true.

 Without saying a word he started stroking you again, that beautiful release just on the horizon. But you knew he was not going to allow you to reach it without begging him for permission.

 Oh, how you hated him.

 “Fuck, please!” You almost yelled when he threatened to withdraw his fingers completely. “Please, I...I want to—to come.” The shame you felt at admitting these things out loud was unbearable, but it was swiftly overshadowed by the sheer pleasure that washed over you the second you had uttered that last word and Reaper resumed his stroking in earnest.

 Oh shit, this was intense, your sweaty palms slipped off of his shoulders to grasp at his back when he pulled you against his chest and the two of you embraced.

 “Ah!” You exclaimed when he massaged your clit even faster, just a little more and you’d come.

 Eyes screwed shut in pleasure and concentration you decided to ride that wave that he had forced upon you, your body needed the release badly.

 Your orgasm came swift and powerful, better than you’d had in a while. It left you weak and limp in his arms, your cheek resting on his shoulder and your whole body shaking with aftershocks. You still felt his fingers resting inside, the sporadic contractions around them had you feeling a new kind of uncomfortable.

 Almost soothingly, he stroked along your back, down and up again, then he slid his fingers out of you, wiping some of the slick onto your thigh.

 He was trying to keep his breathing even, like he was holding himself back. A violent shiver ran down your body, surely now would be the time he’d be done waiting and playing nice.

 All the afterglow you’d felt dissipated into nothing when he gently, but firmly pushed you back until your head hit the mattress again. His eyes were practically black, the thin ring of fiery red of his irises reminded you that you were in bed with the devil.

 With his one hand in the middle of your chest he raised his other one and made a show of licking the fingers that he had used to pleasure you with with languid strokes of his tongue. He moaned obscenely at the taste. Still trying to catch your breath, you tried to look away but found that it was impossible. The image was too mesmerizing in its lasciviousness.

 When he was done he said, “My turn,” got on his knees and used both hands to open the fly of his pants and pushed them down to reveal that he was completely naked underneath.

 Immediately, your eyes shot to the proud erection that had sprung free.

 He was...proportionate.

Big.

 There was no denying it. He was bigger than you’d ever had before.

 Your mouth went dry at the thought of having to take him. Even though he’d loosened you up a little with his fingers and that orgasm you weren’t sure this was going to be comfortable at all.

 You were also willing to bet that he wouldn’t care about that one little bit.

 Cold fear settled in your stomach.

 “W—why do you do it?” You suddenly blurted in a last ditch effort to buy some time or maybe to deter him.

 He flashed you a half-smile. “Because I can.”

 “But aren’t you...playing into their plan?” You saw his face contort into a frown.

 “I don’t care about Akande’s plans. I’ll show him that whatever it is, it won’t work on me.” He had managed to completely disrobe, and now he kneeled before you in all his naked glory, at least from what you could see of him from the faint light of the holo projector. You tried very hard not to ogle him.

 “How do you know?” Goodness, he was advancing on you again, all your instincts screamed at you to run away, but you also weren’t keen on being chased about in nothing but your underwear.

 He leaned over you. “Because I am Reaper.” The fire in his eyes flashed brightly. “I am Death,” he murmured and brushed his lips over your ribs, up and over a nipple. “Let him try, I like a good challenge.”

 You gasped at the sensation, body still strung tight, all the relaxation from your very recent release gone like it never even happened in the first place.

 Was he being that edgy on purpose, to keep you on your toes? If so, it sure was working, you shook like a leaf.

 You jumped when he touched your hips on both sides, his hands began to drag down your panties and you couldn’t help how your thighs pressed together. To no avail of course, he pulled them ever further until they were bunched around your knees. All the while he was staring at you, arranged your legs to slide the cotton off and over your feet. With a careless motion he discarded the material onto the floor.

 “But—” you stuttered when he settled between your legs, his dick dangerously close to your core, “don’t you want to know why they do this?” You asked in a trembling voice. Maybe if you proposed to help him he would leave you alone in turn?

 He stopped and considered you for a moment, his hands grabbing your thighs.

 This was your chance.

 “I can...help you find out.” Wide eyed you stared up at him, hoping with every fibre of your being that he was actually considering what you said.

 Next thing you knew he was pulling you into him, one of your thighs held up and high while he guided his cock inside you. It happened so fast, the feeling of being penetrated by his large dick stole all the breath from your lungs.

 It was like being punched in the stomach, his girth was unlike anything you’d ever felt before. He pushed forward without a pause and didn’t stop before he was fully sheathed inside, the tip of his dick pressing painfully against your cervix.

 You stared at him open mouthed, hot tears burning in your eyes and your hands fisted into the sheets.

 As the first tear ran down the side of your head, a sob bubbled up from deep inside your chest. And with this the dam broke.

 Crying had always been a very personal and intimate thing for you, hell not even your mother had ever seen you cry more than once or twice, let alone boyfriends. But you couldn’t stop it anymore, it was all too much. You wanted to go home, to not feel like this anymore.

 Reaper had let go of your leg and was now propped up on his elbows on top of you. While your leg slid down the side of his powerful thigh, he sighed into your ear in pleasure.

 “Oh, you will help me, mariquita,” he murmured against your cheek, “but on my terms.”

 And with this he started to move, rolled his hips into yours slowly, carefully. Like he wanted to savor the moment.

 It wasn’t exactly painful, but the way he dragged against your inner walls was unbearably intense, the stretch uncomfortable. Still, you grabbed the sheets so hard you thought they might tear soon. Eyes screwed shut and tears streaming from them, you turned your face to the side, trying in vain to suppress the noises coming out of your mouth.

 Reaper growled animalistically when he sped up, eliciting a broken wail from you. There was nothing gentle or considerate about the way he was thrusting inside you now, everytime he bottomed out he pushed you up the bed a fraction more. Until you finally hit the headboard and even further so your head lay at an awkward angle.

 Only then did he pull out and backed up a little, dragged you down to his level and back onto his cock. As he entered you it was with a sound that was a mix between a sigh and a grunt. Through blurry eyes you could faintly see his face contorting in ecstasy when he resumed his pace from earlier.

 He was on his knees again, his hands had a secure hold on your thighs while he fucked you so hard and fast you felt like you got whiplash.

 When he pulled you into him by the hips he hit your cervix again and you cried out in pain.

 He didn’t seem to care much, he hit that spot over and over.

 “Stop!” You finally cried, your hands pushing at his chest feebly. But a quick glance at his face revealed that Reaper wasn’t even listening. His eyes were hidden behind that dark mist that was surrounding him, rising up in plumes that were only faintly whirling about with the staccato rhythm of his hips. His mouth was hanging open, his breaths coming in short bursts.

 Overall it seemed like he was lost in sensation, your plea fell on deaf ears. Instead, you tried to angle your hips away so he couldn’t push as far inside, but that only earned you a growl. Reaper leaned forward again and licked along your neck—seemingly his favourite spot on you to put his mouth—and after a brief kiss there, sunk his teeth into your skin.

 Too shocked by the action you choked on a scream, and clawed at his back. He’d bitten you hard this time, you were sure he had drawn blood. Just like your fingernails must have left him with new wounds to adorn his scarred body.

 It felt like he was consuming you, inside and out. He was everywhere, surrounding you from all sides and angles, tearing you apart and putting you back together into something else.

 When would this end?

 Would it ever end?

 Reaper removed his teeth from your neck and lapped at the wound with small moans, his hips were still thrusting forward at a punishing pace. He hadn’t even noticed your scratches it seemed, or maybe they had spurred him on?

 One of his hands curled around your throat, the feeling now almost familiar, then he turned your head to face him. The constant flow of tears made it hard to see but you could make out where his eyes were burning into yours.

 He was knocking the breath out of you with every powerful thrust, you could see his jaw clenching in want and lust, it was overwhelming in its violence. But he forced you to look him in the eyes while he was defiling you with every snap of his hips, bringing your mouths closer together and finally kissing you. The taste of your blood on his lips made you nauseous.

 It didn’t last long at least, he rocked back and forth one last time and stilled, pressed against you as close as physically possible, and spilled his release deep inside of you.

 You felt like you were going to pass out.

 With shaky, shallow breaths, you stared at the ceiling with burning eyes, watching the low light of the holo projector dancing in a myriad of colors. Small sobs were racking your body.

 Your mind was shrinking back from what just happened.

I’m not here to hurt you, the memory of his voice was mocking you. It wasn’t like you believed him anyway, but you felt silly for even wanting to trust him in the first place.

 There were fresh tears running down the side of your head and into your hair, you hiccuped when Reaper moved his hand away from your neck and brushed it over your face gently, down your nose and over your mouth, the pads of his fingers catching on your bottom lip.

 “Got a bit carried away there,” he murmured while inspecting the bite wound he’d left behind.

 Underneath the hopelessness and the terror you could feel a rage blooming. Oh how you hated him.

 He just laid there, still on top of you, still inside of you, which you were still reminded of by the small twitches from his spent dick.

 “Ge—get off,” you tried to compel, but it only came out a weak whisper between sniffles.

 His eyes met yours again.

 “You feel…” he searched your face. “so fucking perfect around me.” He simply ignored what you said and to emphasize his point he rolled his hips languidly.

 You couldn’t suppress a moan at the feeling. He was moving differently now, slower, and—you were hesitant to even think it—with the intention to pleasure you.

 He was still hard, after he had just come mere minutes ago? Maybe it was part of being a fucking wraith.

 No, no, no, you couldn’t do this again so soon.

 “Wait,” you pleaded, reaching for him with shaking arms. But he just grabbed your wrists and pushed them down onto the bed, leaning into you.

 “Calm down, mariquita.” He cooed, brushing his lips against your forehead. “I’m going to fuck you so good, you’ll forget every pretty little boyfriend you ever had.”

 And with that promise he started to move again.

[megalony]

Baby of mine- Part 12

Another part of my latest Ben Hardy series which I hope everyone is enjoying so far.

Permanent taglist: @marshmallowmae @butlegendsneverdie @langdonzvoid @jennyggggrrr @luvborhap @radiob-l-a-hblah @rogertaylorsbitontheside @chlobo6 @rogertaylors-lipgloss

Series taglist: @caborhapch

Series masterlist

Enjoy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ben had to.

He didn't want to wake her, but he had to. The right side of his body was leaning up against the cot, his head resting against two of the wooden panels as he gazed at the one-week-old laying peacefully asleep. The actor had been sat on the carpeted floor like that for little over an hour and now he was beginning to get anxious. It didn't matter that he could see the small rise and fall of her chest to indicate she was alright because his mind simply wouldn't believe it.

Reaching his hand through the pannels Ben delicately traced his index finger over her rosy cheek, trailing the tip of his finger up and down her skin until her head gently nudged against him. His hand shook as his heart rocketed in his chest from the sudden movement he wasn't anticipating as it stole his breath away. A big sense of relief swelling through him at the movement that set his mind at ease.

Ben hated this. He hated the feeling inside of him that was telling him that Libby wasn't safe sleeping in the cot because he knew she was. There was no threat to harm her, no health risks or concerns to worry him and she was peacefully asleep. Yet he found himself sitting here when he couldn't sleep or when he was paranoid gazing over at her just to be on the safe side. They had been home for two days now and Ben was both on edge yet relaxed at the same time and he didn't really like this contrast. It was confusing to feel fine one moment and then petrified the next.

The actor had yet to pick Libby up from the cot. He could just about handle settling her sleeping form down into the cot but picking her up was something he couldn't find himself being able to do. Every time he leaned over his arms would shake and his chest would seize up like he was suffering some kind of attack or fit. His eyes snapped closed as he could simply see Tommy resting motionless in front of him. Ben could remember the small cream coloured onesie Tommy had been wearing when Ben found him. He could remember the way his hand was curled up into a fist and resting beside his head, if he looked hard enough Ben could even see the baby blue blanket that had been covering him to keep out the chill.

The moment Ben leaned over the cot all he could see was his little boy, pale-faced and blue-lipped, too far gone for Ben to be able to do anything to revive him and bring him back.

Seeing Libby sleeping in the cot wasn't doing much good for Ben at the moment. Setting his nerves on edge instead and making him feel more paranoid than normal. He knew this would happen and he knew sooner or later if he didn't get over this then he would be turning to his addictions to help him out which is exactly what Ben didn't want to happen. He had his little girl now, he needed to keep this clean streak for her sake. Ben couldn't do that to her and ruin everything just to calm himself down when there was no reason for him to be panicked in the first place.

"I didn't mean to make you cry, sweetheart." Ben cooed, trailing his finger over her cheek again as small wails began to leave her rosy lips. Slowly Ben pushed himself to his feet, his hands grasping the side of the cot with force as he felt his chest beginning to tighten in a way that was all too familiar to him. She was beginning to wake up now, Ben couldn't sit beside her and hope to get her back to sleep that way, he needed to pick her up. He didn't fancy calling for (Y/n) to do that for him when he was unsure if she was still sleeping or not.

His stomach pulled inwards to the point it almost disappeared as he quickly leaned over the crib. Trying not to cry or pull back in fear of what his brain was trying to make him see instead of his little girl. A rushed breath passed through Ben's lips as one hand gently slipped under Libby's head, the other going under her back as he finally closed his eyes. Needing to stop himself from pulling up too quickly and scaring her. His body wanting to snap back up straight like he had done before, his eyes willing him to look down at her and see her features in an ungodly pale colour with lips that were an icy blue verging on grey. Wanting him to see how she wasn't moving as his ears ignored the small whimpers escaping her lips to go along with the idea that she wasn't alive anymore.

He took a few paces back from the crib as he finally straightened to his proper height again. His head tilting back as a forced breath parted through his lips when he felt Libby grasping the collar of his shirt as her head fell to his shoulder. The feeling of her chest moving against his own sent such a wave of relief through Ben that he hadn't felt for a long while.

"I've got you, baby." Finally opening his eyes, Ben glanced down to her to find that his mind wasn't trying to trick him anymore. He saw the pale pink onesie she was wearing instead of the cream coloured one Tommy had been wearing. He noticed the way her hand fell against his chest so her palm was resting to his bare skin as if trying to feel for his heartbeat. Ben saw how her head nuzzled into his shoulder as she relished in the heat he was supplying. He could see the differences that were keeping him from sinking into the past.

Turning around, Ben glanced to the rocking chair a few paces behind him deciding to sit there for a while. Moving one hand he reached out for the teddy that was resting on the chair, the one which just so happened to be Tommy's one.

Sitting down, Ben adjusted the newborn against his chest as a smile pulled at his lips when her eyes slowly began to open. They were a very deep shade of blue that he hadn't seen before which contrasted to his rather light emerald eyes. His thumb brushed over the teddy clasped in his hand as he gently held it in front of her, wondering if she was going to be fussed about it or simply ignore it and go back to sleep instead. A smile worked its way onto his features when the hand that had been pressed against his chest slowly and tiredly reached out for the new toy in his hand. Watching how she grasped the arm of the teddy before coiling it back to her chest out of Ben's hand.

Her eyes began to slowly fall closed, her head resting just below Ben's collar bone as she nuzzled her face into the new teddy she had been given which was like a fluffy blanket to Libby.

"You like that, huh?" Ben's voice was soft yet quiet, wanting to talk to her for a while but not wanting to keep her awake if she wanted and needed to go to sleep for a while. It wasn't like she could give him a verbal response anyway but her snatching the toy from him was enough to know she appreciated the new gift she had been given. "Your brother liked it too, was his favourite." Ben mused, his hand running up and down her back as he tipped his head back for a moment or two, relishing in the peacefulness that was surrounding them.

Mick had been right, relishing in the moments like these and getting involved was much better and easier than sitting on the sidelines too panicked that something was going to happen. Ben couldn't turn that part of him off, he couldn't just throw all his worries to the wind and watch them fly away but he could try and get over them. He could try and forget that they existed by basking in these moments that came along.

"I don't have that much of his stuff to show you, sweetheart. Come to think of it, I don't have a lot of photos either. He wasn't here long enough for that but I know he would have adored you, just like I do. And I do, I adore you so much... I just want to keep you safe baby, since I couldn't do that for Tommy. His stuff is all I have left of him, but you can have this one." Ben leaned down so he could press his lips to the small ash blonde tufts of hair on her head. Feeling her begin to drift off against his chest, a feeling he hadn't felt for seven years. This was definitely one of the things he had missed, it had been one of the highlights of his life to feel his little boy falling asleep against his chest like he had. To have that feeling again with his girl was euphoric.

A sudden knocking on the front door brought Ben out of his thoughts, causing his eyes to glance down to Libby for a moment. A silent debate happening in his mind as he stood up, wondering whether to set her back down in the crib or to take her down with him to answer the door.

Ben wasn't ready to set her down just yet and just in case she wasn't fully asleep. He cradled the back of her head as he made his way out of the room, seeing that Libby was fine with holding the teddy to her chest that was almost her size since she was small like a china doll. The actor took his time down the stairs so he didn't trip or disturb the newborn resting against his chest as he wondered who was at the door. His parents were coming down tomorrow to see Libby, his mother having cried down the phone when she was given the news of Libby's birth. Mick had been down yesterday and expressed his clear love for the newborn who seemed to take to him instantly. And Joe was coming over in two days when he had a free day, having been sent a new picture of Libby every day per his request.

Ben felt his stomach tensing when he managed to open the door to see Cora on the other side.

He had called her when Libby was born and the pair of them had shed tears and had a talk for a while. She had promised to come by soon when they were all back home but Ben didn't know when that would be. Ben knew that it would be hard for Cora. She hadn't wanted children anymore and to see Ben with another child of his own wouldn't be the easiest thing in the world for her and he didn't want her to feel she was obliged to come down and see them so soon. He understood if she needed time and he understood if this was upsetting for her. Ben never wanted to cause her any pain or upset.

"Hey." He breathed through the word as he quickly pulled back enough to open the door so she could come inside. Watching how her eyes focused on the small bundle in his arms, her lower lip pulling between her teeth when she noticed the teddy tightly wrapped up under Libby's arm.

A mix of emotions flooded her face so quickly Ben couldn't keep up nor decipher what she was feeling in that moment as he nodded for her to head into the living room so they could sit down. They both sat down on the sofa as Cora didn't dare move her eyes from the little girl resting in Ben's arms. She would be lying if she said it didn't hurt to see this sight again in different circumstances but that didn't mean she wasn't happy for him. Ben was her closest friend and if he was happy then she was too.

"I haven't seen this sight in a while." Her voice was quiet, her tone gentle as if she was testing the waters between them. Clearly indicating to the fact Ben was cradling a newborn, more to the point he was cradling his newborn. It was a beautiful yet shattering sight for Cora to see but the delicate smile on Ben's face showed he was over the moon to have this feeling back again.

"Feels weird- it's perfect but weird." It was a mix of a foreign yet memorable feeling that made Ben conflicted. He loved the feeling of Libby in his arms to the point he didn't ever want to set her down again but at the same time, it was weird when he had told himself this was never going to happen again. He'd convinced himself he'd never have the feeling of cradling his child again since Tommy was gone yet now here it was and he wished it had never disappeared in the first place. Ben started to wonder why he had never gotten this feeling again before now.

"It was a good pick after all." Cora mumbled, referring to the teddy as Ben smiled. Her eyes asked for permission before she delicately brushed her hand over Libby's head and cheek before her fingers trailed over the teddy. She had never paid much mind to the teddy before Tommy had passed away. She clearly remembered Ben coming home with that, claiming it was the perfect thing for their baby. Cora remembered Ben setting it in the cot and seeing Tommy took to the toy instantly, sleeping with it every night. But she never really paid attention to it or saw the significance of the teddy until Tommy passed.

Cora remembered how the teddy didn't lose its purpose or role after Tommy passed because instead of their boy needing it, Ben did. He had held the teddy at night when he couldn't find the ability to sleep, it had soaked up his tears and had been cradled to his chest like he was a toddler again.

When Ben moved out of his and Cora's flat into his own the teddy went with him like a roommate or travel companion. When he moved again it followed and when he got this home with (Y/n), the teddy was not forgotten along the way. It was kept in Tommy's box that held his things that Ben treasured close to his heart and never left his sight. Now it could be something that travelled everywhere with Libby instead. It had passed backwards from Tommy to Ben and now it could go forwards from him to Libby.

"Seems so... d-do you want to hold her?" Ben didn't want to push things too far if Cora didn't feel able to hold Libby just yet. It was clearly a bit weird for her to see her ex with another child of his own after all they had been through but at the same time if she wanted to hold Libby he wouldn't stop her.

Their eyes locked for a brief moment as Cora debated whether she really wanted to or not. Giving in to the overwhelming urge to do so she nodded, her arms shaking as the newborn was passed from his arms to her own. A shuddering breath left her lips at the feeling she hadn't felt in a long while. Her eyes looked down at the little girl who didn't seem fazed about being passed over like a present, her head snuggling into Cora's chest as she still held the teddy to her chest.

"Hey, hey no tears." Reaching forward, Ben carefully brushed the few tears beginning to fall from Cora's eyes with the pad of his thumb. His head ducking down to be level with her own as he tried to fight off the tears himself.

"W-what's her name? You never said on the phone." Cora tried to distract herself from the sudden waterworks happening from her eyes. Her head tilting up to look at Ben, suddenly remembering that he hadn't told her the name of the precious girl resting in her arms. He and (Y/n) hadn't decided on a name when she was born so when he called then he didn't have a name to tell her. Then when they talked again three days ago he either still didn't have a name or simply forgot to mention that little detail.

"Libby... Libby Cora Jones."

Cora's eyes lifted from peeking down at the girl in her arms to the person sitting in front of her. Her head beginning to shake as if he was telling her a lie, an unreadable expression on her face as the tears started to come back again. One way or another, Libby wouldn't have been here if it wasn't for Cora. If she and Ben didn't get together when they did, if they didn't have Tommy, if they hadn't of split when they did and decided to be friends then Libby would never have been born. If Cora hadn't felt alright with Ben having another child he wouldn't have had Libby now when he did if it would have upset Cora. Libby was here because of her and Ben wanted his girl to know just how important Cora was to him. She was his best friend and she meant as much to him as (Y/n) and Libby did.

"You... Ben..." A flicker of a smile pulled at her lips before they were pressed into a thin line to stop a cry from cutting against the back of her throat and escaping her lips.

"You're so important to me, I want Libby to know that." One of Ben's hands reached out to brush over Libby's head as she seemed rather peaceful and content in Cora's hold. A single tear slipped down Ben's features as he leaned forward to press a gentle kiss to Cora's temple, needing her to know how important he thought she was. It didn't matter that they weren't together or what they had gone through, she was still there for him whenever he needed her and he appreciated everything she did for him.

Libby was now one of the biggest parts of Ben's life, and he wanted her to know how much the other people in his life meant to him. Especially Cora and Tommy.

[vnderoos]

unbroken [iii.] ✧ bucky barnes

warnings / language, 1940's bucky, violence, gun use, mugging, description of injury. word count / 5.6k

(gif is not mine, credit to the owner)

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⠀⠀⠀⠀BUCKY'S CAMEL-COLORED trench coat was the only thing keeping Y/N warm as she stepped outside of the bar and into the bite of the nighttime air. The cold nipped at every bit of her exposed skin, from the rosy tip of her nose to the soft curves of her ankles. Y/N's hands were stuffed into her pockets, her left hand curled tightly around the money that she'd won, and she couldn't help but feel slightly uneasy as she started her short journey back to Bucky's apartment.

This was always her least favorite part of her nights.

She hated having to walk home alone in the dark, on a dimly lit sidewalk, and in one of the sketchiest areas in Brooklyn. She hated how her skin prickled with goosebumps the entire way, how paranoid she was that someone was following her, and how she constantly worried about how she'd reach Bucky if something bad were to happen to her along the way.

God, it was times like this that she wished that even if it meant leaving her sinking in pools of debt, her mother had left her with a car.

Well, one that had been paid off, at least.

Y/N did get to use her mother's station wagon for a while, the bank had repossessed it when they realized that she hadn't been making the payments on it. She couldn't afford to drop a monthly fee on a car when she was already in such deep waters with the rest of her late mother's problems.

A heavy sigh rattled through her ribcage and she shook her head, trying to clear her negative thoughts away.

She didn't want to think about her situation, the money she owed, her mother, none of it. She just wanted to focus on getting home so she could go inside, clean herself up, make the love of her life some pancakes, and fall asleep in his arms like nothing else existed outside of them.

She continued on her path down the sidewalk, the soft filter of a muted yellow covering everything beneath the street lamps. A gust of wind blew past her, ruffling her coat and sending the leaves from the bushes along the buildings rolling through the air. She shivered and pressed her arms against her body, just wanting to be home and warm already.

She walked past an alley, separating a sandwich shop and a bookstore and leading to a solid brick wall. She glanced down it as she walked by, not really seeing anything except a few mounds of trash bags because everything else was soaked in darkness, but as she moved on, a weird feeling settled over her.

Maybe it was the fact that she was anxious to get home, or that the random gust of wind made her feel unsettled, or maybe it was just her irrational fear that somebody was stalking her, but she suddenly felt very afraid.

It was probably her imagination, but she could've sworn she felt eyes burning holes into the back of her coat as she progressed further and further down the street. It was probably her imagination, but she could've sworn she heard quiet footsteps mingling with her own. It was probably her imagination, but she could've sworn she could see a shadow trailing behind hers.

But, she didn't turn around, she didn't stop, and she definitely didn't say anything, because she didn't have a goddamn death wish.

All she did was pick up her pace a little and keep her head down, trying to focus on the quickening of her breathing and the rapid thumping of her heart in her chest instead of who or what might or might not have been following her.

There was another alley a few buildings ahead of her. She'd passed it a dozen times before and nothing had happened, but tonight felt different.

It felt dangerous.

She didn't want to keep walking, she wanted to turn and run, but who knew what kind of weapon the person following her might have?

I mean, it was very unlikely that anyone was even behind her at all. She was just being paranoid, right?

That's what she was telling herself, at least.

Keep walking, Y/N, she thought to herself, shaking her head. Just keep walking. You'll be fine. She took a deep breath as she approached the alley. You're always fine.

So, she kept walking. One quick step after another.

And right when she was about to hit the mark of the alley, right when she was about to open herself up to vulnerability from all sides, someone stepped out in front of her.

An immediate scream ripped out of her mouth as she came to a halting stop in the middle of the sidewalk, but a small hand slapped over her mouth before anyone else had the chance to hear it. "Hey! Are you trying to wake up everyone in the neighborhood?" A girl hissed quietly and, after her heart stopped beating so damn loud and she actually started breathing again, Y/N realized that she was the girl she'd talked to before the fight.

Her hair was no longer in a bun. Instead, it poofed out in a halo of springy, dark, gorgeous curls around her head. Her soft doe eyes seemed meaner, fiercer, and more determined than they had earlier, but perhaps that was just the lighting. Either way, relief flooded through Y/N, easing the fear that was coursing through her veins, and she shook her head softly.

The girl removed her hand from over her mouth and sighed. "I hope you know you scared the hell out of me," Y/N brought to light as soon as her lips were uncovered and she pressed a hand against her chest, feeling the still-quick racing of her heart beneath her hand. She laughed nervously, sucking in a deep breath. "God, you really had me there, for a second," she panted, exhaling and trying to shake her nerves off.

The other fighter's lips pulled into an awkward smile and she crossed her arms over her chest. "Sorry," she muttered, casting her gaze down at her beat-up tennis shoes.

Y/N, with her adrenaline still pumping as she tried to recover from the scare, swallowed and adjusted her fingers inside of her pockets. "What were you doing in there, anyways?" She questioned, her eyebrows furrowing in slight confusion. She didn't really care what the girl had been doing in the alley, she just wanted to change the subject and calm down.

Except, now that she was thinking about it, it was odd how conveniently the girl leaping out of the darkness had been.

And that Y/N hadn't seen her when she was leaving the bar.

"When did you end up leaving tonight?" She asked, tilting her head slightly. "I thought you were supposed to be fighting."

She almost missed the way that the smaller girl's eyes widened for a split second before going back to normal. She shook her head and smiled uncomfortably. "Oh, I, uh, had to forfeit tonight," she confessed and Y/N raised her eyebrows in surprise. "I started feeling sick halfway through your match and ended up vomiting in the bathroom, so after that, I had to pull out of the match," she explained quietly, fidgeting as she spoke. "And I left around the same time you did. I went out the back entrance."

"Oh," Y/N muttered. She didn't know that they let anyone use the back entrance aside from the employees. Even if they were already running an illegal, underground fighting circuit.

The girl nodded. "Yeah," she said. "I came from the other..." She trailed off, seeming very out of place all of the sudden. "I-I came from the other side of the alley," she finished, doing everything that she could to avoid eye contact.

It was weird and Y/N noticed.

"Oh, cool," she said, nodding slowly, and deciding to just go along with what she was saying. If she was uncomfortable, it was probably for a good reason, so Y/N decided not to push it. Instead, she glanced over into the alley and then, she froze.

There was no "other side" of the alley.

It was a dead-end, just like the last one she'd passed.

Her heart started to pick up speed in her chest again, her thoughts whirring back to a few minutes ago when she wasn't worried about the girl but the feeling of being watched, and the footsteps, and the shadow.

And now, she was here, stopped, and nothing had happened.

Nothing had happened.

Something was wrong.

Something was very, very wrong.

Y/N laughed nervously, lifting her right hand to point st the space between the buildings. "But there's no—" she started, but she shook her head and cut herself off, letting her arm fall to her side. "What's going on right now?" She asked, her voice a slightly higher pitch as her stomach swirled with nerves.

The awkwardness on the girl's face fell as she dropped her act, genuine guilt taking its place. She'd been caught in her lie and she knew it. "Look, this isn't about you," she mumbled, shifting her weight between her legs, and she shook her head. "No, I meant— It is about you, but not—" She gave up and let out a frustrated groan. She was getting nervous, uneasy, uncomfortable as she tried to talk to Y/N and it showed. "I didn't forfeit because I was sick, okay? I forfeited because Winslow paid me," she finally spit out.

"Wait, what?" Y/N asked, furrowing her eyebrows. Part of her wanted to laugh again and the other part of her wanted to get the hell out of there because something about the situation felt unstable, like a bomb threatening to blow up at any given second. "I'm not sure I understand. Why would Winslow pay you?" She queried.

She shrugged. "You beat him. He's pissed about it, because he had a winning streak," she answered. "So, after the match he approached me, told me I'd never win against anybody in that place," she muttered, almost laughing at herself as she held up one of her arms. She flicked the skin, drawing attention to how thin she was. "He's right. I mean, look at that." She let her arms drop. "Anyways, he offered to pay me the equivalent of winning a round if I agreed to go after you. If I... if I agreed to take what you earned, too."

Y/N scoffed. "You're asking me to give you my money? You know I need it," she growled, her left hand tightening protectively around the envelope in her pocket. Did she really think she was gonna get so much as a penny from Y/N? The nerve of this kid.

She watched as the girl in front of her sighed, her fingers disappearing into the pocket of her own coat and pulling out a switchblade. It clicked as she flung it open, adjusting her stance and holding the blade out threateningly. Y/N's eyes widened.

What the hell was this?

"I don't want to hurt you," she whispered, her hand shaking slightly as she talked. "Just take the money out and put it on the ground," she instructed, gesturing to a crack in the sidewalk. "I'll take it and go. That's all that has to happen," she explained. "Please, don't make me hurt you."

Y/N shook her head in disbelief and took a step backwards. "Are you crazy?" She blurted, absolutely dumbfounded by the fact that she'd even asked. The girl started to inch forward, adjusting her hand around the handle of her knife. "I'm not giving you anything," she spat, stepping backwards again.

Oh, screw it, she said to herself.

She turned around and decided to make a break for it, but before she could take two steps, she smacked right into the chest of a grimy stranger.

Then, the metaphorical bomb that had been hanging over her head dropped and it detonated, obliterating everything in its path, engulfing the street in fire, swallowing her whole.

Shit.

Shit.

Shit, shit, shit.

She was so screwed.

She gasped as the greasy sleazeball of a man in front of her grabbed her arms with bruising force, spinning her around slowly to face the knife-wielding teenager again. He gripped her bicep tightly with one hand, clamping the over one over her mouth to keep her from screaming. Her eyes were wide as he did this, the sound of her heart thundering in her ears as it pumped furiously inside of her chest, and she was nearly petrified with fear.

His hand was disgusting. It smelled like cigarette smoke, car oil, and straight up filth. She wanted it off of her face, but instead of letting her go, he pushed her back towards the girl. "Seriously, kid?" The sketchy man behind her, pressed so close against her that it made her feel sick, gruffed. His voice was hoarse and guttural and his chest rumbled against her back.

Y/N watched helplessly as the girl waved around her switchblade, standing up straight because it didn't seem like she was stabbing anybody anytime soon. "I'm sorry, okay? I've never done this before, I've never—I've never mugged anyone!" She whisper-shouted, clearly distressed but still trying to be careful not to alert anybody who might be in earshot.

Y/N tried to calculate her chances in her head, run through the likelihoods of the situations, but none seemed to have a great outcome. Not with this idiot holding her in place. Plus, even if she did get away, he'd sure as hell catch up to her and something told her that he wouldn't be as hesitant to slit her throat as the girl would be.

"I don't care, just speed it up. Winslow's not paying us to take our time," he grumbled, pressing his hand a little harder over Y/N's mouth. "And you," he whispered, leaning over her shoulder just enough to where his chapped lips almost brushed against the outline of her ear. "If I let you go, you promise to cooperate?" He asked. Y/N nodded slowly, figuring it was better to just give in. "Alright. Just do what the kid says and we won't have any problems here."

There was a flash of sympathy in the girl's eyes, like she wasn't the one who'd gotten Y/N into this mess in the first place, and she held her switchblade out again. "Your money."

That was all she needed to say for Y/N to understand. "Fine," she murmured, pulling the small envelope out of her pocket. "Two-hundred and fifty dollars. It's all I have," she told them, holding both of her hands up clearly so she could flash the envelope and let them know that she wasn't trying anything. She bent down slowly, keeping eye contact with the girl the entire time as she set the envelope on the sidewalk.

The girl waved her knife, gesturing for Y/N to stand back up again, and she did. "Kick it over," she instructed and Y/N nodded, brushing her shoe against the packet and sending it sliding a few inches forward. The teenager picked it up quickly, pulling the bills out of the inside and adding them up. Her eyes flickered over Y/N's shoulders, at the man behind her. "Okay, we got what we came for," she said, tucking the money into her coat. "We can leave now."

Instead of getting ready to leave, the guy shook his head and laughed. "You can leave now," he corrected her. "I doubt you'd wanna stick around for this."

Y/N's blood ran cold and she stood as still as possible. She found herself clinging to the impossible hope that if she didn't look at them, if she didn't say anything, if she didn't move a muscle, that maybe they'd forget she was even there. "For what?" The girl asked the question bouncing around Y/N's mind. "We just needed the money and we got it. That's all we came for, let's go," she continued. "Please."

Y/N could hear the guy sigh from behind her. "Once again, kid. Just you," he explained and the girl furrowed her eyebrows in confusion. "You needed to get the money and you got it. It was a one person job."

"So, why are you here, then?" She asked, panic rising in her voice, and she glanced over at Y/N. There was a mix of emotions—fear, guilt, regret—swirling around in her deep brown eyes.

The man chuckled. "Are you stupid, kid? Winslow wants her dead," he said nonchalantly.

The wind seemed to be knocked out of Y/N's lungs as he said that. She sputtered out a few coughs, struggling to process it.

Her head felt like it was spinning.

He was there to kill her.

"What? No," the girl practically squeaked. "You can't do that. He said we didn't have to hurt her, he said she'd—"

She started, talking quickly and glancing between Y/N and the man the entire time. "He said you wouldn't have to hurt her," he elaborated. "But this is why I'm here in the first place." He reached over and grabbed a fistful of Y/N's hair, using it to yank her to his side and she winced at the pain it brought to her scalp. "I'm supposed to kill her," he snapped, before untangling his fingers from her hair and shoving her back to where she was standing.

"Shit," Y/N hissed, tripping over her own two feet as she stumbled a few feet to where she'd previously been standing. God, is this really happening? She thought, teetering slightly because her entire world was whirling around her. She wanted to throw up, but she settled for steadying herself against a lamppost.

She wanted to run. She wanted to get the hell out of there, but she didn't move. She didn't move because she knew that if she did, she wouldn't get very far. Either she'd fall on her ass because everything was spinning or he'd catch up to her.

There was no way she was getting out of this.

Her eyes flickered between the man and the girl, watching him slide his hand into his brown leather jacket. There was a flash of silver as he pulled out a gun. "I don't leave witnesses, so go, kid," he growled. "Go before you see something you shouldn't and make me do something we'll both regret."

She didn't budge. She just looked over at Y/N, her jaw falling open like she wanted to say something, but she didn't. She just shook her head, her eyes brimming with tears.

"I said, go, kid!" The man barked, causing both of them to jump. "I'm not gonna tell you again," he shouted, taking a second to cock his gun before he pointed it at the girl.

Don't go, Y/N pleaded silently, her eyes locked with the girl's. You can't go. Please, you can't leave me with him.

The girl shook her head again. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," she whispered. "I just— I needed the money." She gave Y/N one last look, full of guilt and sadness, but it didn't mean a damn thing because she turned and took off, anyways.

Every last hope that Y/N had took off with her. "Fucking coward!" Y/N called after her, her voice breaking, because she truly was helpless at that point.

She was alone, she was in the dark, she was in a sketchy neighborhood, she was unarmed, and there was a man with a gun. She was right not to run before and she was right not to run now, because if she made one wrong move, she was dead.

Hell, she was dead, anyways.

"Fuck," she whimpered, leaning her head against the lamppost. "Why are you doing this?" She asked and there was a distant holler and a fit of remote laughter from somewhere up the street.

She watched as he glanced in the direction of the commotion, something flashing across his features. He shook his head and brushed off her question, his gun pointed at the ground as he stepped over to her. "It's nothing personal, kid," he grumbled, smiling sadly as he tried to pull her away from the lamppost with his free hand by the front of her shirt, but she resisted. "C'mon, don't make this harder than it has to be." He tugged at her again, but her hands were still hugging the post.

Y/N refused to let go. If she stalled as much as she could, maybe she could buy enough time for the people up the street to get closer. "You could just walk away," she pleaded. "You don't have to do this."

He exhaled through his nose and shook his head, a bitter smile on his lips. "I don't, but I'm strugglin' here, kid," he confessed as he finally yanked her hard enough to loosen her grip. She yelped as he threw her to the ground in the same motion, rolling onto her back. "I gotta make a living somehow." He shrugged.

She pushed herself up on her hands, much preferring that to laying flat on the concrete. "It doesn't have to be like this," she explained. "Please, whatever Winslow's giving you, I can double it."

He almost laughed in her face. "You think I'm fucking stupid? Huh?" He asked, making the move to point his gun down at her. "You think I didn't hear you talking to that girl? You don't even have half of what Winslow's paying me."

The shouting and the whistling from somewhere not-so-far off sounded closer than it had been before and Y/N pulled her knees up slowly, moving to stand up again. Before she had the chance, the man slammed the sole of his boot into her stomach and knocked her back against the floor.

She grunted as she smacked against the sidewalk once again, but this time, she didn't make the move to sit up again. She just accepted her fate at that point.

"I've gotta do this." He clicked the safety off of his gun, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed thickly. "I'm sorry," he apologized, but it didn't change anything. Nothing got better because of it. She was still going to die. He was still going to kill her.

He sighed and aimed the gun between her eyes. That's when she realized that she didn't want the last thing she ever saw to be a greasy man and the barrel of a gun.

She wanted to see Bucky.

She wanted to see the brown of his soft hair and the sparkling blue of his eyes. She wanted see the gentle curve of his lips and the crinkles in the corners of his eyes as he smiled that sweet smile. She wanted to see the pucker of his mouth and the closing of his eyelids as he leaned in to kiss her.

She wanted to feel him, too.

She wanted to feel the warmth of his body against hers. She wanted to feel the touch of his calloused hands and the peck of his lips. She wanted to feel the butterflies in her stomach and the tickle of his stubble.

But she couldn't, so she closed her eyes and took herself back to the moment before she'd left him that night. The moment where she was stuck between his arms and the door (not that she minded that), where he peppered her face in kisses, where they whispered soft I love you's, and where it felt like they were the only people in the entire universe.

And in that moment, she decided, with a gun pointed at her forehead and a beautiful memory of her boyfriend playing in her mind, that she'd be okay if she died right there. She'd lived a good life and loved a good man, so even though her time was short, she'd be okay.

She opened her mouth to tell him to do it, to get it over with already, but one of the rowdy men up the street cut her off. "Hey, what's going on down there?" He shouted.

"Shit," her attacker hissed, followed by the increasing sound of pattering footsteps that didn't belong to him. "Shit," he repeated, harsher this time.

Y/N's eyes snapped open, flickering up the street where at least four men were sprinting towards them and back at the man who still held her at gunpoint. He was nervous, his eyes wide and his hand trembling, but a quick glint of determination flashed in his eyes.

Then, he pulled the trigger and ran.

After that, everything seemed to fall away around her. Buildings sank into oblivion, streetlights melted into nothing, and asphalt broke off into the void, leaving her floating in a sea of darkness.

Y/N always thought that getting shot would feel different, that dying would feel different. That it would hurt. But right now, she didn't hurt at all. Maybe he missed, she thought as she touched one of her hands to her forehead. Feels pretty normal. She pulled her hand back to examine her fingers. They were perfectly fine. She was fine.

She laughed. She was fine.

Or, maybe she wasn't.

She couldn't tell if it happened after a split second or an entire minute, but an unimaginable pain flared in the lower left region of her abdomen, tearing her back into reality. Her surroundings returned, flashing back to normal like they'd never seemed to disappear, and Y/N decided this was probably closer to what dying felt like.

She tried to sit, to prop herself up on the back of her arms, but she didn't have the strength to hold herself up for long. "Damn it," she muttered, scooting backwards inch by inch until she bumped softly against the brick wall. Y/N winced, a pained groan tearing from her lips as she pulled herself into a sitting position from the windowsill. She let her head fall back against the brick, resting for a moment so she could catch her breath.

She touched her hands to her abdomen, eyes widening at the wet feeling her fingers were met with. She glanced down and her hands and torso were slick with blood. It was like she'd dipped herself in a bucket of red paint. It was spilling out of her wound, over her skin, and dripping onto the cement. "Oh, God," she whispered. She clenched her jaw, leaning her head against the brick again.

On the bright side, the man had missed his main mark, but unfortunately, he'd still shot her in the stomach.

She was screwed.

At least, that's what it felt like as she closed her eyes and let herself rest against the building, trying to breathe steady. Who knew breathing would be so hard when you had a giant hole in your abdomen, huh?

"Holy shit, Y/N," someone stated and she'd know his voice anywhere.

Y/N opened her eyes and there were five men standing around her, all dressed in tattered Henley's and long pants, silver dog tags dangling from their necks. Three were staring down at her and the other two were probably talking about what to do with her. They must've been the group who kept interrupting. Thank God for that. "Bucky?" She whispered when her eyes landed on none other than James Buchanan Barnes, her Bucky. "Is that really you?" She asked, turning her head to look at him slowly. She concluded that he looked just as handsome when she'd left him and she smiled weakly.

Bucky nodded his head. "Yeah, I knew you walked this way and I was hoping to see you, but," he shook his head, his eyebrows knitting together as he reached a tentative hand towards her wound. "This wasn't what I had in mind," he admitted. One of his friends had pulled his undershirt off and was extending towards him. He mouthed a 'thank you' and pressed it against her stomach, hoping it'd stop the bleeding some.

She started to laugh, but she grimaced at the way it sent waves of pain bursting through her body. "Yeah, I got shot," she said, swallowing thickly. "But I think I'm okay," she promised.

"Well, I mean, you're talking, so that's definitely a good sign," he said, chuckling nervously as he kept his friend's undershirt pressed against her injury. Bucky was trying to stay calm, trying not to freak out, trying not to throw his fist against the wall. He wanted to run after and beat the shit out of whoever did this to her, but she needed him. Y/N needed him and he'd be damned if he let her down. "We need to get you to a hospital, now, though, okay? Just help me get you up," he instructed, repositioning from a kneel to a squat so he'd be ready to lift her up on her say.

Y/N shook her head. "What? No," she protested quickly, setting her hand on his forearm and pushing him away slightly. His eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "I'm fine, okay? Things are a little fuzzy right now, but I just need to get home, stitch this up, and rest. I'll be good as new tomorrow, I swear," she said, but she could tell he wasn't buying it at all.

"Y/N, are you kidding? You got shot," he pointed out, holding up the undershirt that had already been soaked through with her blood, trickles of red rolling down his forearm. "You have to get help," he told her, passing off the shirt to one of his friends so he could free up his hands. "Here, put your arms around me," he instructed, lifting his head up so that she could easily wrap her arms around his shoulders if she so pleased.

She shook her head. "Bucky," she whispered, her voice broken and her face contorting in pain as she shifted. God, it hurt his heart to see her like that and it hurt hers to know she was killing him. She knew what she meant to him. She knew that she was not only his entire world, but his entire goddamn galaxy and it hurt so much to know that she was putting him through this, but she couldn't go to the hospital. She might've needed it, but she couldn't have the bills. She already had her mother's and whatever they'd send her away with would be more than she could ever pay off. "Buck, I'm not letting you take me anywhere until you promise to take me home," she told him.

He looked at her like she was insane, because in the moment, she sounded like she was. She needed medical attention. She was going to bleed out if she didn't get it. "Y/N, I can't—"

"Bucky, you have to promise me," she repeated, her voice croaky as a knot of sobs formed in her throat. Her eyes were wide and shimmery, like two sad stars and he hurt. "Please, just promise you'll take me home. I can't go to the hospital, please," she begged him, tears starting to roll down her cheeks and it broke his heart to pieces.

Bucky sighed. She would hate him for this. She would hate him with every fiber of her being, at least for a little while, when he did what he was about to do. But he had to do it. He couldn't sit there and follow her every order like an obedient dog while he watched her die. She wasn't going to get better on her own, he knew that. God, she knew it, too, but she was so blinded by how much her medical bills would be that she didn't even care.

So, Bucky was going to get her to a hospital. One way or another. She'd get over it eventually. At least, he hoped she would.

At last, he nodded his head. "Fine, we'll go home," he whispered and she looked up at him with anticipation still glittering in her eyes. "I promise we'll go home," he lied straight through his teeth and she must've believed him, because the tension in her shoulders left her body with a deep sigh.

Y/N smiled weakly up at him. "Okay," she said and he returned her smile halfheartedly, waiting until she gently slipped her arms around his shoulders to slide his beneath her body. She hissed in pain as he hoisted her into his arms.

Her head fell against his chest and Bucky looked over at his friends, who shot him looks of confusion. "Hospital," he mouthed, quirking his eyebrows up for emphasis and filling the guys in on his plan with a single word. They all nodded and he let them lead the way. "We're gonna get you home soon, Y/N, okay? Just hang in there for me."

She nodded once. She hadn't realized how tired she was until Bucky had picked her up. She hurt like hell, but he felt warm, cozy, and safe. "Okay," she whispered, brushing her fingers over the space between his shoulder blades with the hands she had draped around his neck. "I love you, James," she whispered, sighing against his chest.

And then her whole world went dark.

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author’s note / thanks for reading!

also, sorry, my links are messed up and idk why, so i can’t link my masterlist or the next parts in here without it hiding my fic from search results i’m so sorry for the inconvenience.