Both start the same but do take a dramatic shift after a few paragraphs so I would suggest reading both if you are interested.
This current one is extremely angsty with no happy ending.
The other one has angst, but also ends with comfort and fluff and can be found here.
@amonthofwhump, @reysorigins
Rick sighed, glancing at the clock on his dashboard as he waited for the red light to turn green. It was 11:47 pm. Shit. He had promised he would be home early tonight to take you out to dinner. Just add it to the ever growing list of ways he let you down lately. Fuck Waller for forcing him to run drills with the team all night. She must have heard him talking to Economos about his big plans for tonight. That woman was the biggest cock-block he had ever met. First with June, now with you. If she even caught the smallest hint that he had something going on in his personal life, she did everything in her power to derail it. She didn’t even give him the chance to call or text you and let you know he was going to be late. And when he finally was able to check his phone as he was leaving the prison, he had half a dozen missed calls from you. When he tried calling back, your phone had gone straight to voicemail. Fuckin’ Waller!
He finally turned down his street still muttering under his breath, but his anger quickly shifted to confusion and panic as he saw three fire trucks parked outside his apartment. Smoke was still billowing out of the top of the building, but it seemed like the firefighters had managed to get the main blaze under control.
Rick quickly pulled his truck into the first open parking spot he saw and jumped out even before the engine had shuttered to a stop. There was a large crowd of people huddled around the barriers the police had set up and Rick recognized most of them from around the building. Spying Ms. Thompson, the friendly older woman who he sometimes cat sat for, he approached her.
Her worried face softened slightly when she saw him. “Ah, Colonel! I’m so glad to see you! We were all hoping you hadn’t been left up there. But seeing as where the fire started and all, we couldn’t be too sure.”
“No, I’m fine ma’am. I actually just got off of work. Can you tell me what happened?”
Her face dropped even further as a dark shadow passed over it. “Oh… I thought you knew. I’m sorry, Colonel, I am so sorry…but the fire started in your apartment.”
Rick’s face twisted up in confusion. “My apartment? How did that happen?”
She hesitated, placing a hand softly on his arm. “Your young lady stopped by.”
Rick’s blood ran cold. “No… she wasn’t supposed to be here tonight. I told her I would meet her at her place.”
Ms. Thompson saw the panic cross his face and she just shook her head. “I don’t know what happened, Rick. I haven’t seen her but…they just carried out a body a few minutes ago. They brought it over by the ambulances.”
Rick gave a quick nod of thanks then hurried up to the cops guarding the barrier. Pulling out his military id, he flashed it at the men.
“I am Colonel Richard Flag, Special Ops. This is my building, and I was just informed my girlfriend was involved in the fire. I want to see her. Now.” Rick barked the orders gruffly.
The two officers glanced over at each other hesitantly but stepped aside. Rick pushed past them and stormed over to where all the emergency vehicles were parked. But he stumbled to a stop when he saw a gurney with a body on it. The body was mostly covered in a thin white sheet, but the right arm had slipped out from under the covering, exposing it to the world.
Rick fell to his knees as he spied the familiar tattoo just recognizable through the burns on the body’s wrist. He folded over, forehead pressed tightly into the concrete as he released a wail of agony. This wasn’t supposed to happen, not to you. He had done everything he could to keep you away from the dangers in his life, yet you still had been taken from him.
A concerned looking cop approached Rick slowly. Placing a gentle hand on his shoulder, he asked, “Hey, are you okay? Is there anything I can do?”
Rick sat up slowly, tears still streaming down his face. He managed to ask in a gravely, hoarse grunt, “What the hell happened?”
“Um, do you mean with the building?”
“No…her.” He jerked his head in the direction of your body but was unable to look at it again.
The cop understood immediately. He tightened his grip on Rick’s shoulder, giving it a rueful squeeze. “Ah, I’m sorry, son. We’re still trying to figure out what happened but the best we can figure, it seems she had some candles lit in the apartment and one of them must have fallen over. The fire spread quickly, and we don’t know how much time she had before…” He stopped and sighed. “Are you sure you want the details?”
Rick nodded stiffly so the cop continued. “I’m not supposed to be telling you this, but I heard you say you were special ops and all… We found her curled up by the front door of the apartment. She had burns on her arms and legs, but they weren’t too serious. It appears she…died… from smoke inhalation. There was a heavy chest of things next to her that we think she must have tried to go back for. But it’s all just speculation.”
“She wasn’t even supposed to be here….I was supposed to meet her for dinner tonight, but I got stuck at work.” Rick muttered robotically.
“One of your neighbors talked to her this afternoon when she arrived.” The cop shifted uncomfortably, but Rick once again nodded for him to continue. “Apparently, she said she was planning on cooking dinner for her boyfriend to surprise him when he got home from work. I’m assuming that's you.”
Rick squeezed his eyes closed tightly. He thought back to the conversation he had with you last night just before you headed home… your last conversation.
“Rick, we don’t have to go out tomorrow. We can just stay in and I’ll cook.”
“No, darlin’. I haven’t taken you out in weeks. You deserve to be shown a good time.”
“You show me the best time when we’re right here. Plus, you’re always exhausted when you get home from work. You don’t have to drag yourself out to some restaurant just because you think that’s what I want.”
“I’ll be fine. And we’re going to do things right. We’ll get dressed up all nice, you can wear that red dress I love so much, and then when we get back, I can take it off you. How’s that sound?”
“A little like overkill. I can just wear the dress over here and then you can still take it off.”
“Can you please just humor me for once? I get off at 5 so I can pick you up around 7. Is that okay?”
“It’s perfect, baby. I’ll see you tomorrow at 7. I love you.”
I love you. Those had been the last words you had said to him. He could tell you still weren’t happy with the situation as you left so it really didn’t surprise him that you would have snuck over to surprise him. You would have wanted to prove to him how wrong he was thinking they needed to go out to have a good time. This was all his fault….
“I need to see her.”
The cop sighed. “Son, I don’t think that’s such a good idea.”
“I don’t give a fuck what you think. I. Need. To. See. Her. Now.” Rick practically threw the words at the other man. The cop hesitated for a moment, then nodded.
As they approached your body, the cop motioned for the other men to leave the area. Rick deserved some privacy for what came next. Rick slowly trudged toward the gurney, each step making his feet feel heavier and heavier. And then, he was at your side.
At first, Rick didn’t have the strength to look at your face. His gaze got as high as your neck before he had to stop. The sheet that had been draped over you was pulled back and was folded at your collar bone, covering everything below that point. But Rick could see just the smallest bit of red sparkling from under the cloth and his heart seized. You were wearing the dress he had asked you to. The red one that always took his breath away.
He couldn’t put it off any longer. Rick followed the beautiful curve of your throat until his eyes settled on your face. Half of him was disappointed your eyes were closed as he was desperate to see them one more time. But the other half thanked God that they were. He didn’t think he could bear to see the blank, glazed look he knew would be staring back at him. Your face was slightly red, assumedly from the heat of the fire, and soot coated your skin, but besides that, you could just be sleeping. It was the same sight that had greeted him on countless mornings as he got up for work. But this time, you wouldn’t be rolling over, begging him to come back to bed for just a few more minutes. This time, you wouldn’t be sneaking up behind him to trail kisses down his bare back as he brushed his teeth. This time….you wouldn’t be waking up.
He could just imagine what had happened in the apartment. You crawling across the floor, desperate for air. Scratching frantically at the door when you finally managed to reach it, only to discover the doorknob was too scalding hot to turn. He knew you, and he knew that even up to your last moment, part of you would have believed that he would arrive in time to save you. That the man who swore to never let anything happen to you, who would always protect you, would swoop in and carry you to safety. And it was crazy he knew, but he could almost see his name imprinted on your lips, left when you whispered it with your last breath.
He lightly cupped your cheek, tilting your head down slightly. Then he leaned over and placed a last, long, lingering kiss to your forehead. You tasted of smoke and sweat but Rick didn’t care. He put everything he felt for you into this kiss. His love, his devotion, his sorrow, his regret, his guilt. He hoped that wherever you were now, you could feel all of it.
Finally, he had no choice but to pull away. Brushing his hand across your cheek one last time as he tried to memorize every pore on your face, Rick whispered, “Goodbye, darlin’.” And he turned his back on you.
The cop from before slowly approached Rick, a large chest in his arms. “We found this on the floor next to her. We think she was trying to carry it out and that is why she didn’t get out in time. We didn’t open it, so I have no idea what is inside. But it was in your apartment, so I see no reason you shouldn’t be able to take it now.”
Rick nodded and took it from the man. He had instantly recognized it as the one he kept stored in his closet. It was normally empty so he had no idea why you would have been trying to carry it with you. But it didn’t matter. If it was important enough for you to die over, Rick wasn’t going to leave it behind.
He walked back to his truck, ignoring the words of sympathy and condolences from his neighbors as he passed. He climbed into his driver’s seat and slammed the door shut, tossing the chest on the seat next to him. He sat there in silence for a moment before his dam burst. He slammed his fists repeatedly into his steering wheel as an animalistic howl of grief tore from his lips. It wasn’t fair! You hadn’t done anything wrong! All you were trying to do was do something nice for him. If he had just called, or demanded Waller let him leave like he had considered, you would still be here. If everything had gone according to plan, by this time tonight, the two of you should have been curled around each other after a night of passion.
Instead, he was sitting here alone with just this stupid chest. What could have possibly been so important for you to not flee the apartment immediately? What in his apartment was worth your life? He pulled the chest into his lap and opened the lid. What he saw inside took his breath away.
It was everything he would have wanted to save from his place. His military medals, the flag he had been given when his father was killed in action, the photo album that contained the only picture he had of his grandparents. It was all there, perfectly protected within the sturdy case. You had known exactly which irreplaceable items he would have mourned the loss of the most. Though nothing compared to the loss of you.
The last thing he pulled out, smushed at the bottom of the box, was the stuffed monkey he won for you on your first date. The one you snuggled with every night when you stayed over. The one that still smelled like you.
Rick curled himself around the ratty toy, smashing it so deeply into his chest it felt like part of him. And sitting there in his truck in the parking lot of his apartment building, the smell of smoke and ash still filling the air, he allowed himself to fall apart.
AI-Less Whumptober 2023: 11. Fainting, 19. Left Behind, 23. Forced to Watch, 28. Oxygen Deprivation
Fandom: Top Gun, Top Gun: Maverick, Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw, f!reader
Summary: When there is a malfunction during training, Rooster is forced to watch as his world comes crashing down.
Word Count: 1153
TW: Character Death, Oxygen Deprivation, Passing Out, Panic
Notes: Thank you to @topguncortez for looking this over for me! 💕 Part of @ailesswhumptober's event
Bradley groaned as he sunk down deeper into the rec room couch. He absolutely hated these training days. Most of the time he was stuck in this tiny room for hours just waiting for his turn to get into his plane and then he would maybe get an hour up in the sky—if he was lucky. And there was very little to pass the time in here besides one uneven foosball table, a handful of magazines from the mid-2000’s, and a radio connected to the planes currently in the air.
It wasn’t so bad depending on who he was waiting with. But since they had downsized the Dagger squad, he was currently alone with Hangman as his only company. While the two of them had cleared the air and moved past most of their past grievances, it was still awkward hanging out one-on-one like this so they usually just kept to themselves. If only Bradley had been able to switch places with Coyote today. Then he and Hangman could have kept each other occupied while Bradley could have spent this waiting time with you.
It had been bittersweet when Phoenix was promoted out of the Dagger Squad. She more than deserved it but everyone knew the squad just wouldn’t be the same without her. However, Bradley had been overjoyed when he learned you were selected as her replacement to fly with Bob.
He had first met you a few years ago when you were both stationed at the same base. It was instantly clear there was a connection between you and things had gotten pretty serious pretty quickly. However, when you found out you were being transferred a few months later, the two of you mutually agreed long distance wasn’t for you and you parted on great terms. But ever since you joined the Dagger Squad, it was as if no time had passed and you both had picked things up where you had left off.
Neither one of you wanted to put much pressure on the relationship by talking about the future, but Bradley already knew that now that he had you back in his life, he never wanted to let you go again. He just hoped you felt the same way.
Ten minutes later, Bradley had just begun to doze off, lulled to sleep by the constant chatter over the radio, when suddenly Bob’s tone shifted, his words sharp with an edge of concern and nervousness. “Hey, Raven, what’s going on? Are you okay?”
“Somethin’s wrong…”
Bradley bolted upright on the couch at the labored sound of your voice. Jumping to his feet, he tore across the room and snatched the radio receiver before anyone else could. It was highly frowned upon for those waiting in the rec room to use the radio, but Bradley didn’t give it a second thought as he called out to you, “Rae? Raven, what’s happening?”
“Roo...Oxygen’s not working…Ca-can’t breathe…
No. That can’t be right. The oxygen systems are always inspected before every flight to ensure something like this doesn’t happen. You had been given the all-clear this morning along with everyone else. Yet as he continued to listen to the radio, it was abundantly clear that you were struggling for every breath.
“Lt. Floyd.” Oh shit. Cyclone was monitoring training today. “Is your oxygen compromised?”
“N-no, sir. It’s just Raven’s.”
This was both good and bad news. On one hand, at least Bob wasn’t also being affected and he would be able to stay alert and focused on the situation. But on the other hand, if something happened to you, there was little he could do to help. He didn’t have any steering or altitude controls in the back seat and all emergency overrides were out of his reach.
Grabbing the radio, Bradley carried it over to the window so he could try and see what was happening. Luckily, there were a few clouds covering the worst of the sun’s glare and he could just make out the planes far off in the distance. Two were circling at a normal altitude, but the third seemed to be steadily climbing.
Cyclone must have noticed this too because his voice crackled out of the radio, “Lt., drop altitude to below 10,000 feet immediately and return to base…..Raven? Do you copy?”
“....can’t….breathe….”
“Why is she still going higher?” Hangman murmured as he approached the window to stand next to Bradley.
It seemed counterintuitive but Bradley thought he understood what was happening. Right now you wouldn’t be thinking logically about how to fix the problem, you’d just be straining to get air into your lungs. He could almost see you with your arched back, wide eyes, heaving chest….and fist clenched tightly around the stick as you unwittingly climbed higher and higher.
But then your plane seemed to level out for just a moment—before it began to plummet towards the ground.
Hangman inhaled sharply, “Oh my God…”
“Raven! Raven, wake up!” Bob’s voice was frantic as he cried out, “We’re going in! She’s unconscious and there’s no one on the stick!”
“No, no, no, no!” Bradley screamed, his fist slamming into the window over and over. This can’t be happening. This can’t be…
“Altitude dropping rapidly! Raven, please! Wake up! What do I do?”
“Lt. Floyd…eject.”
“What?” Bob sounded horrified at Cyclone’s command. “No. I can’t. I have to do something! I have to help her! Just tell me what to do!”
“There’s nothing you can do but save yourself. Now eject. That’s an order.”
“But–”
Hangman snatched the radio receiver out of Bradly’s hands and yelled, “Bob, you have to punch out right now! Your chute won’t save you if you go much lower.”
“I can’t…I can’t leave her.”
Hangman turned to Bradley, his face a mix of pain and sorrow as he held out the receiver. They both knew what needed to be done.
Squeezing his eyes tight to keep his tears from falling, Bradley grabbed the receiver and whispered, “Do it, Bob. She’d want you to.”
There was a momentary pause. Then, “I’m sorry.”
A loud bang blasted through the radio as the canopy was torn open and Bob’s seat jettisoned from the plane. Bradley looked out the window, his eyes scanning the sky until he just barely made out the tiny plume of color that had appeared as Bob’s cute deployed. It would be a rough landing, but he had ejected just high enough that he should be alright.
The same couldn’t be said about you.
Bradley sank to the floor as your plane spiraled closer and closer to the ground, bile rising in his throat at the knowledge there was absolutely nothing anyone could do to save you now. All he could do was watch it happen.
Then, just before your plane slammed into the ground in a fiery explosion, he heard one final word whispered through the radio.
AI-Less Whumptober 2023: 6. Mind Control, 23. Begging, 24. Hunted Down, 25. Nightmares, Alt. 11. Suffocation, Alt. 29. Prison
Fandom: Marvel, Bucky Barnes, Winter Soldier, f!reader
Summary: When reactivated while infiltrating a HYDRA base, the Winter Soldier is now on the hunt for the two people Bucky cares most for in this world.
Word Count: 2171
TW: Character Death (or is it...?), Nightmares, Mind Control, Choking, Hunted Down, Chased
Notes: A huge thank you to @musings-of-a-rose for the ask that inspired this! 🥰 Also thank you so much @loverhymeswith for beta reading for me! Part of @ailesswhumptober's event
The snow had just begun to fall once more as The Asset entered the woods. Around him, the wild underbrush jutted out through blankets of undisturbed frost, and the bare trees stood like shadows against the moonlight. Anyone else may have paused to take in this haunting beauty, and yet, he stalked forward without the slightest hesitation. Beauty and nature meant nothing to him, especially on a night like tonight. Because tonight, the Winter Soldier was on a mission.
He continued deeper into the woods, his steady stride never wavering as he tracked his prey. Two SHIELD agents had infiltrated the base he had been guarding and, as they fled into the woods, his handlers ordered him to terminate them. For just a second, there was the slightest hitch in his march as a thought tickled at the back of his mind: He couldn’t remember anything before the order. It was as if time hadn’t existed until that moment.
But the thought disappeared as quickly as it had appeared and his steadfast pursuit continued. It didn’t matter anyway. He was made to follow commands and nothing else held any importance to him. So, even if this one order was the only memory he had, that was enough.
The Asset reached a small clearing in the trees and paused, listening intently to the silent landscape around him as his eyes scanned the area for any indication of where his prey had gone.
To his left, there was a set of heavy boot tracks imprinted into the snow and the underbrush had been haphazardly pushed aside leading in a clear path. Small splatters of blood stood out against the pure white canvas further illuminating the trail. It was all so blatantly obvious that even someone with absolutely no training would be able to spot it. It was the sort of trail left by either an amateur or someone deliberately attempting to draw his attention.
To his right, however, the snow had barely been disturbed to the point he had to kneel in order to truly see anything in the pale moonlight. And even then, only the faintest of markings could be made out in the densely packed snow, boot prints that could have only been made with the gentlest of care.
Most hunters would take one look at the first trail and charge after the prey in that direction. Whatever had gone that way was apparently hurt, possibly to the point of not being able to mask their escape route. However, the Winter Soldier was no ordinary hunter and he instantly recognized the trails for what they were. The pair of agents had split up and they were trying to draw him towards the stronger of the two.
He stood and resumed his hunt—taking the path to the right.
Though they had escaped before he was able to get more than a glance at them, The Asset had identified the agents as a man and a woman. The man was taller, broader, and most assuredly stronger than his companion. In fact, he may even pose a challenge to The Asset in hand-to-hand combat, something that he had rarely encountered.
However, everyone had a weakness. And by the way the man had shielded the woman and aided in her escape into the woods, it was clear that she could very well be that weakness. By tracking her down, The Asset would not only be able to take out the easier target first, but if he captured her, he would have leverage over the man. A leverage he could use to take out the man as well.
Suddenly, The Asset picked up the faint sound of panting up ahead and he lengthened his stride. Within a few moments, he caught a glimpse of the woman through the trees as she hurried as quickly as she could while still creating those faintest of footprints. However, she must have caught sight of him out of the corner of her eye because her head whirled in his direction and their eyes locked across the snowy woodland.
They both froze in place as they held one another’s gaze. And slowly, her wide-eyed panicked expression softened and, inexplicably, she gave him a cautious smile as her eyes sparkled with a hopeful gleam. She mouthed something he couldn’t understand but it ultimately didn’t matter. He didn’t need to know what she had said in order to complete his mission.
But as he took a step towards her, the terror instantly returned to her face and she bolted, no longer concerned about masking her tracks. She fled into the trees as fast as her legs would carry her but it was going to be a futile effort. She was no match for the power of the Winter Soldier.
He took off after her, weaving in and out of the trees with ease. As he began to close the distance between them, the woman pulled out a gun and pointed it at him. There was a momentary hesitation….then the sound of the gun shattered the quiet of the night.
The Asset easily blocked the bullet with his left arm and continued running. The woman let off a few more shots but he continued to either avoid or deflect them. Possibly because she wasn’t able to aim as she fired while still running, but he found it strange none of the shots were targeting his head or chest. Even if he slipped up and a bullet did manage to hit him, with their trajectory, they would only cause minimal damage. They would definitely slow him down but they would not do enough to stop him for good.
As he closed the distance, he heard the recognizable click of the trigger being pulled on an empty gun and the woman swore. Tossing the gun to the side, she reached for a second weapon, but it was too late. He had caught up to her.
Reaching out, The Asset grabbed the back of her tact vest and hurled her into the side of the nearest tree. She slammed into it with a sickening thump and the sound of breaking bones followed. Curled at the base of the tree, the woman screamed as she grabbed her left shoulder, her arm jutting out at an unnatural angle. But that didn’t stop her from trying to escape him.
As he stalked towards her, she used her feet to push herself back a few feet until she bumped up against a tree. Looking up at him, tears streaming down her face, she begged as he approached, “Bucky, stop! Don’t do this, please! Baby, this isn’t you, not anymore. The Winter Soldier is gone. You’re James Buchanan Barnes—you’re Bucky—and you don’t have to do this. Just try to remember. Please, baby, please come back to me. I love you! Just remember!”
But her words meant nothing to him.
The Asset’s metal fingers closed around her throat and he lifted her off the ground. Her legs began to thrash frantically in the air as her fingers on her right hand clawed at his own. It was an instinctual act, her body attempting to free her windpipe despite the obvious uselessness of her nails on Vibranium. She tried to choke out more pleas for her life, but all she could manage were a few raspy hisses. Her eyes were bulging in her head and The Asset watched as her blood vessels broke and clouds of crimson leached into the whites of her eyes.
Soon however, her clawing and writing slowed to little more than a twitch as her body began to shut down from lack of oxygen. And just as he felt one last desperate gasp building in her throat, he tightened his grip. He felt the bones and cartilage in her neck give way with a loud crunch and her body instantly went limp in his grasp.
The Asset heard someone calling out a name from behind him and the sound of something large crashing through the trees. He turned just as the other agent he had been sent to track down burst into the clearing. The man staggered to a stop as he saw his companion still dangling from The Asset’s hand.
As The Asset opened his fist, the woman dropped in a lifeless heap at his feet. In a mock imitation of her fall, the man dropped to his knees, tears streaming down his face. As he stared up at The Asset—not in fear or in defiance, but in agony—he whispered, “Bucky…. What did you do?”
The Asset reached into his belt, pulled out his gun, and aimed it directly between the man’s eyes as he said, “Who the hell is—”
Bucky bolted up from his resting place on the floor, chest heaving as he gasped for air, a cold layer of sweat coating his body. Looking around frantically, his breathing slowed slightly as he took in the sterile room around him and he remembered where he was. He had been sleeping. It had been a dream.
Collapsing back down with a sigh, Bucky stared up at the ceiling. He scrubbed his hand over his face as he attempted to wipe the vision of your lifeless body from his mind, but it didn’t work. No matter how hard he tried or what else he focused on, you were still there, hanging limply in his grasp as he heard the crunch—
Sick to his stomach and struggling to get his heart to stop racing, Bucky climbed unsteadily to his feet. However, he had barely taken two uneasy steps before he reached the wall and was forced to turn, take a few steps, and turn again. For the most part, he had become accustomed to his tiny room—after all, it was still a vast improvement over the cryostasis chamber he had spent the majority of the last fifty years in. However, at night he wished he had some way to work off his adrenaline-fueled energy. Not that he really wanted to go back to sleep. Sleep meant dreaming, and dreaming meant repeating this cycle all over again with the same agonizing scene playing in his head.
Because it wasn't just a dream…it was a memory.
Six months ago, a HYDRA agent had gotten ahold of his trigger words and reactivated the Winter Soldier when Bucky tracked him down along with you and Steve. Trapped once more within his programming, The Asset had been ordered to find and eliminate both of the SHIELD agents that posed a threat to HYDRA. Steve was able to bring Bucky back just before he could complete his mission, and he re-emerged from the conditioning to find you lying at his feet—your throat crushed and tears still staining your face.
You who had never given up on him no matter what. You who had never looked at him with fear or pity, only kindness and understanding. You who constantly reassured him that he would never hurt you. You who he loved more than life itself.
You who he had murdered in cold blood.
Once he had been reexamined and deemed no longer a threat, SHIELD had agreed to let Bucky go and chalk your murder up to “collateral mission damage” but he had refused. He was a danger to every person he was around, especially the few remaining people he still had whom he cared about. The fact it took your death for him to finally accept that fact was devastating but he was never going to let it happen again. That was why he voluntarily offered himself over to SHIELD’s custody so he could pay for all of his previous crimes. SHIELD was more than happy to oblige him and they immediately confiscated his Vibranium arm and threw him in The Raft. Bucky just hoped they never let him out.
Steve hadn’t agreed with his decision—he still didn’t—and had tried everything he could to talk Bucky out of it. He pleaded for him to reconsider, that it had been the Winter Soldier who had ended your life, not Bucky himself. But Steve didn’t understand. No one did.
It didn’t matter where he spent the remainder of his life. From the moment your life ended, he had been given a life sentence of endless torment. Bucky might not have been in control that night, but that didn’t mean he didn’t remember what happened. That he didn’t hear your voice sobbing as you begged him to remember you, remember that you loved him. That he didn’t feel your fingernails snapping as they tried to dig into his metal hand in a futile attempt to pry it away from your throat. That he didn’t watch the last beautiful spark in your eyes flare once before fading into oblivion as he crushed your neck.
No. His mind had already become his prison before he was placed behind bars. And this time, there were no magic words anyone could say to bring him back and allow him to escape from it.
Fandom: Top Gun, Top Gun: Maverick, Jake “Hangman” Seresin, f!reader
Summary: You were Jake's first everything. Unfortunately, for every first, there has to be a last.
Word Count: 1062
TW: Angst, Blood, Concussion, Major Head Injury, Reader Death, Car Accident
Note: Written for @footprintsinthesxnd's 500 Follower Celebration. Big thanks to @loverhymeswith for beta reading for me! 💖
You were his first kiss.
As Jake headed to the bus after school in sixth grade, you popped out and dragged him into an empty classroom. Before he could ask what you were doing, you pressed your lips firmly against his. It was your typical closed lip, “smash my face into yours” sort of juvenile kiss, but it still made Jake’s head spin. As you stepped back, a sheepish smile on your face, he stared at you with his jaw hanging open. But then you tore from the room and Jake ended up missing the bus.
However, he didn’t stay speechless for long. The next day, he asked you to get ice cream after school and his best friend quickly became his girlfriend.
You were his first time.
Your parents were naive to allow two fifteen-year-olds to study alone in their house while they were at work. As soon as Jake walked in the door, you took his hand and led him into your room. Sitting him down on the bed, you stood before him while you tugged your shirt over your head. Jake was once again left in a stunned silence, even as you climbed onto his lap and unhooked your bra.
What happened next was awkward, and clumsy, and over way too quickly, but neither of you really seemed to mind. In fact, despite how much the two of you improved over the years, that first time always held a special place in Jake’s heart.
You were his first forever.
The night he came home from the Academy, Jake got down on one knee in front of you. He had planned to make it special, to really blow you away with his proposal, but he didn’t even fully make it through the front door before he couldn’t wait any longer. He knew he had missed you, but he hadn’t realized how much until he laid eyes on you again.
You fell to your knees beside him, covering his face with your kisses and your tears as you cried “Yes!” over and over again. And though you both knew it would have to be a long engagement with Jake’s burgeoning career, it didn’t matter because you were his and he was yours. For the rest of your lives.
You were his first loss.
The two of you were heading home after celebrating the news that he had been accepted into Top Gun. While it meant having to delay the wedding yet again, you had been nothing but supportive and overjoyed to hear about Jake’s accomplishment and it made his selection all the more special to him.
It was late and Jake glanced over to look at you resting your head on the passenger window. You looked so beautiful in the dim light that it was hard to look away. Jake never saw the semi that ran the red light until it plowed into the side of his truck.
The world exploded in a shower of glass and metal. Jake was thrown from the truck but luckily, he soared over the asphalt and tumbled into the snow on the side of the road. It was still a rough landing and he was left dazed for several minutes. When he regained some semblance of coherence, he lifted his head to see the burning remnants of his truck in front of him.
Despite the pain in his side from what felt like broken ribs, or the soreness of every muscle in his body, Jake scrambled to his feet and woozily stumbled towards the passenger side. As he approached, he could see you shifting slightly in the seat where you were still strapped down which seemed like a good sign. But as he got closer, he had to stop himself from falling to his knees in dismay.
During the collision, your head must have slammed violently into the passenger window. It had shattered on impact and pieces of glass jutted from your scalp. The right side of your head was drenched in blood which cascaded down your face, obscuring your right eye. Your left pupil was blown wide, almost completely dilated, and though he was just inches in front of you, Jake could tell you were struggling to focus on him. There was no doubt that you had a severe concussion, if not something much worse.
When he reached you and carefully pried open what was left of your door, your lips began to move, though no sound came out. Finally, you managed a weak, “Ja–... J–...Ja–...” Your speech was slurred and stilted and it seemed as if you were struggling to form complete words.
Jake took your hand. “I’m here, baby. I’m here.”
“He–...Hea–.... Head.”
“I know. I know your head hurts. But help is coming and they’re gonna get you patched right up and give you something for the pain. I just need you to hold on.” He squeezed your hand tighter as if doing so would transfer some of his strength into you.
Your lips began to move again, but the words took longer to come this time. Eventually, Jake could hear your whisper, “L–…L–…Lo–…Love…. Ooo.”
Jake had to bite his lip to keep his sob from tearing from his chest. Once he managed to choke it down, he brushed your hair gently from the uninjured side of your face and said, “I love you too. So much.”
Carefully, he leaned over and pressed his lips to yours. It was a chaste kiss, yet a fierce one and it reminded Jake of your first kiss all those years ago. Though this time instead of strawberry lip gloss, your lips tasted of iron and rust.
When he pulled back, a ghost of a smile flickered across your lips seconds before everything dimmed as if someone just unplugged you. You went slack and your one visible eye stared off into nothingness.
Jake felt his heart shatter as he desperately clutched at your limp body, frantic for the slightest hope he was wrong. “No, no, no. Baby, come on. Stay with me. Please. Come on. No. No…. no.”
He buried his face into your still chest, tears stinging his eyes. And though he could hear the sounds of ambulances quickly approaching, he knew it was too late.
“Pretty good? That movie sucked! I am so sick of these endless reboots and pointless sequels. You told a good story. It’s over and done, move on and give us something new.”
You chuckled. “Yeah, this coming from ‘Robin 2: The Adventure Continues’.”
Jason glared at you, but Dick burst out laughing. “Oh, oh! How about ‘Robin 2: The Second One’.”
“‘Robin 2: Electric Boogaloo’!”
“‘Robin 2: The Rise of Jason Todd’!”
“And the gritty reboot ‘The Red Hood: Return of Jason Todd’.”
“Alright, alright, I get it. Very funny. Make fun of the dead guy.” Jason rolled his eyes as you and Dick high-fived each other. He jammed his hands in his pockets and began storming off.
“Formerly dead guy. You can’t keep playing that card forever.” You said teasingly, reaching out and linking your arm with Jason’s. You felt Dick link arms on your other side, so the three of you were all connected as you walked down the sidewalk.
Crime had been surprisingly low the last few days, so you had decided to enjoy yourselves and catch an afternoon movie. It wasn’t often the three oldest of Bruce Wayne’s wards managed to find time to hang out, and it felt like old times.
Jason had reluctantly dropped his scowl. He glanced over at the storefront on his right and stopped abruptly in amazement. He scoffed, “Oh my god! Did you guys see this?”
As you and Dick turned, you let out a small chuckle of surprise as you saw display after display of merchandise bearing a variety of bat symbols. All of you were represented in some form or another. Bruce’s Batman on a shower curtain, Dick’s Nightwing on a blanket, Jason’s Red Hood on a bathrobe, Tim’s Red Robin on a coffee mug, and Damian’s Robin on a coloring book. But the thing that really caught your eye was the hoodie that looked like a replica of your costume, complete with mask built into the hood and your signature Bat-Insignia across the front. Glancing at the sign, you chuckled again at the name. The Bat Cave.
“Did either of you know about this?” you asked.
Dick and Jason both shook their heads in disbelief. Then Jason snorted, “I think somebody owes us some royalties or something. Those things are trademarked.”
You laughed, but knew he was probably right. Suddenly, you realized something was missing. Cursing under your breath, you turned and hurried back towards the theatre. Both boys turned to watch you speed away.
“Where are you going?” Dick called after you.
You yelled back over your shoulder. “I forgot my sunglasses. I’ll be right back.”
Just as your hand reached the door to the theatre, you heard Jason yell, “Hey, dumbass!”
Glancing back, you saw Jason smirking as he pointed to the top of his head. Reaching up to your own head, you felt the sunglasses perched there. You blushed as you placed them on your face, sheepishly turning back to the boys. You shrugged dramatically and took a step in their direction. That’s when the theatre exploded.
Jason and Dick were thrown backward by the blast, landing in a heap about ten feet from where they had been standing. Groaning, both boys struggled to sit up and regain their bearings. People were screaming all around them and smoke curled out of the scant remains of what had just been the theatre.
All the blood rushed out of Jason’s face as he muttered, “Y/N.” He scrambled to his feet as Dick paled and frantically followed suit. They took off running towards the area they thought they had last seen you, but it was almost impossible to tell where anything had once been. When they thought they were in the approximate area, they began shifting desperately yet carefully through the rubble, screaming out your name. Jason couldn’t help but wonder if this was how Bruce had felt as he searched for his body years ago. Finally, Dick moved a hunk of cement and saw as a hand appeared from underneath it. He instantly recognized the bracelet that he had given you for your birthday on the wrist.
“Jay, over here! I found her!”
Feverishly, the two boys moved pieces of rock and debris, slowly uncovering more and more of your broken form, until the only wreckage that remained was a large section of the theatre wall that was too heavy for them to move. It was still pining you to the ground from the waist down, but there wasn’t any more they could do at the moment, so they began assessing your injuries.
You were lying awkwardly, half on your side, half on your back. Every inch of you was covered in a thick layer of dust and grime. The left side of your face was skinned raw where you had skidded across the asphalt. Your sunglasses were destroyed, the remains of which dangled haphazardly from your face. Dick carefully removed what was left and noticed that they had been rammed against your nose with such force, they had shattered bones and blacked both of your eyes. The rest of your body was littered with bruises, burns, blood, and small cuts while your breathing was irregular and strained. Dick and Jason both crouched down next to you and tried to rouse you but at first you barely stirred. Finally, they watched as your eyes flickered open with a pained groan.
“Wha – what happened?” Your voice was hoarse and weak.
Dick and Jason exchanged a worried glance before Dick said, “We’re not sure. There was an explosion in the theatre. You were still at the door and it seems like you took a pretty bad hit. You were completely buried when we found you and we still can’t move that big piece off your legs. It is too heavy for just the two of us. Jay, you stay here and I’m going to go get help.”
“No…. don’t.”
“Sweetheart, we have to get you out from under that thing. You need medical attention immediately. Who knows what kind of internal bleeding you have or if there are any worse injuries this piece of wall is concealing.”
“You’re right, which is why it won’t matter. I can feel it. My leg…. Well, I’m pretty sure the pressure from this wall is the only thing keeping me from bleeding out immediately. As soon as you move it…. So, yeah, it’s too late to do anything.”
Jason sat back on his heels, horrorstruck, as Dick shook his head vehemently refusing to believe what you had just said. “We can at least try. As soon as the paramedics get here, they can help us. They’ll know what to do.”
You smiled hazily up at your brothers. “It’s okay, Dick. I’m not in much pain at the moment, it’s more numb than anything, but if you move that piece of wall, it’s going to be utter agony. And it still won’t matter. So, please, just let me go in peace.”
Jason hissed in fury, “We can’t just sit here and watch you die!”
“I don’t want you to. It might be too late for me but you two can go help the other people who were injured. You might still be able to save them.”
“We’re not leaving you.”
“It’s what we do. We’re heroes, Jay.”
“Not today we aren’t.” Dick said through a clenched jaw. You furrowed your brow in confusion. “Today we are just three siblings who wanted to spend the day together. Who just deserved a goddamn break for once in their lives. And instead, this happens. So, no. Today we aren’t heroes. There are enough other people walking around helping right now. We’re going to stay with you for as long as we can. I don’t care what that makes us.”
You grabbed Dick’s hand as tightly as you could manage as tears began to flow down his face. “It makes you a good brother.”
You smiled up at him and started to say something else, but a chest rattling cough cuts you off. Your brothers held you down, so you didn’t hurt yourself more as your body was racked with the intense hacking fit. Finally, when it subsided, you relaxed, blood dripping from your mouth. You looked up at Dick and weakly said, “I guess you were right on both accounts. Internal bleeding and a concealed wound. Huh, who knew?”
Before either boy could answer, you gave a dry chuckle and said, “You know, I always thought I would die in the suit. Going down swingin’ with my Bat Symbol proudly on my chest and my mask firmly on my face. Instead, it’s going to be flip flops and Jason’s old t-shirt.”
Jason thought for a minute, then stood up. “I’ll be right back. Dick, stay with her.” Dick just nodded numbly.
A few moments later, Jason came rushing back carrying the hoodie resembling your suit you had seen in the souvenir shop what seemed like a lifetime ago. For the first time since the explosion, tears filled your eyes.
“It’s not your suit, but it’s the best we’ve got at the moment.” As carefully as he could and with Dick’s help, Jason gingerly wrapped the oversized hoodie around you and zipped it up as much as he could. Then he pulled the hood down over your face, so the built-in mask framed your eyes.
You slowly lifted your fingers and traced the familiar emblem that rested over your heart. “Thank you, Jay. It’s perfect.”
“Least I could do.” Jason kissed your knuckles and smiled sadly down at you. Keeping ahold of your hand, he began rubbing his thumb lightly over the back of it, a constant reminder he was with you. Dick shifted so he was behind you and lifted your head so it was resting comfortably in his lap. You felt that the tension was so thick with all of the unspoken things between the three of you, that it was almost suffocating. Or maybe that was just your blood filling your lungs.
You felt your head starting to get fuzzy as your vision began to blacken around the edges, and you knew you didn’t have much time left. You nuzzled your cheek softly into Dick’s leg and gave Jason’s hand another squeeze. After taking a few deep breaths, you managed to croak out, “Hey…. I love you guys.”
“Back at you sis,” Jason tearfully bent down and kissed your forehead.
You smiled up at them as your world went black. Jason felt your hand go limp in his, and he frantically looked to Dick, hoping beyond hope his older brother would make this all better. But Dick just gazed down at your empty, staring eyes, tears streaming down his face. And all he could think at that moment was, “How the hell are we supposed to tell Bruce?”
All I Ever Wanted Was For You to See Me (Rick Flag Drabble)
Fandom: DC, The Suicide Squad, Rick Flag, gn!reader
Summary: Your whole life, all you wanted was for Rick Flag to see you. And you will do whatever it takes for that to happen.
Word Count: 643
TW: Angst, Gun, Gunshot, Reader Death
Growing up, Rick Flag had been your best friend. Up until high school, the two of you had been inseparable. He had been there for you when your parents died and you were forced to live with your aunt whom you despised. He had been there when you broke your arm and no one else cared enough to take you to the hospital. He had been there when you just needed someone to console and comfort you.
But starting in 10th grade everything changed when Rick got his growth spurt and joined the football team. He began pulling away until you felt like a ghost around him. Always there, but he never seemed to notice you anymore. Never seemed to care. And it broke something deep inside you. The one person who had always helped you, who had always cared, just…didn’t anymore. He didn’t even see you. And for the first time in your life, you were truly alone.
But now, for the first time in twenty years, you stood face to face with Rick Flag. And this time, you had made sure he couldn’t ignore you anymore. As soon as the rumors had started around your old hometown that the former football star was now the head of a special government task force taking down extreme threats to national security, you knew what you had to do.
And so, when Rick Flag and the Suicide Squad had arrived to take out the supervillain currently terrorizing New Orleans, he had been shocked to find out their target was his former best friend. Both sides fought hard, but the battle ended with the two of you facing off, one-on-one, just as you knew it would.
At the moment, his gun was pointed directly at your heart, but you could see a slight shake in his grip. He called out, pleading desperately to you, “Please! This isn’t you! Don’t make me do this!”
“You have to choose, Rick! Because I can’t stop, not now. Don’t you see? This is who I was always meant to be. Everybody sees me now! Everyone actually cares what I have to say! And now everyone will fina–” BANG.
You peered down to the hole that had just appeared in your chest. Watched as your blood began soaking your pristine costume. And as your lung began to give out, you stumbled into the wall trying to catch your breath. You looked up in disbelief at your former best friend, shocked that he actually went through with it.
But he looked just as stunned as you felt. He glanced down at the weapon in his hand then turned to look behind him, eyes growing wide at what he saw. “Deadshot! I ordered everyone to hold their fire! What the hell did you just do?”
As Rick and the man who had shot you argued back and forth, their voices faded away and your vision began to grow fuzzy and dark around the edges.
“Rick?” you called out just as you started to collapse to the floor. The colonel managed to catch you just before you hit the ground, pulling you into his lap.
“I’m sorry. I never meant to hurt anyone. All I've ever wanted was for you to see me,” you rasped unsteadily.
Rick ran his hand tenderly across your cheek, brushing away the sweat-drenched hair that clung to it. “But darlin’, I’ve always seen you.”
Your eyes grew wide. “Really?”
Rick nodded, and a radiant smile spread across your face. However, after a moment, the light in your face dimmed and slowly went dark. Rick bowed his head as he gently closed your eyes for the final time.
And as he looked down at your broken bloody body, Rick knew it was going to be a long time before he closed his eyes and saw anything but you.
Fandom: MCU, Marvel, Avengers, Captain America, Steve Rogers, f!reader
Word Count: 623
TW: Angst, Whump, Death, Mind Control
Notes: Thank you to @heart-0n-fire for beta reading for me! This was inspired by the below gif but the reader-insert in the fic is all-inclusive.
The second the two of you hit the floor, Steve’s mind cleared. The hazy film that had been swirling around every thought was instantly gone. He blinked a few times to clear his vision before he realized you were laying under him, your eyes wide as they danced across his face. Then, in a voice barely more than a breath, you whispered, “Steve? Is that you?”
He blinked again hard as he softly shook his head, trying to regain his bearings. “Yeah, it’s me. What happened?”
All the tension instantly dropped from your tear-stained face as your lips curled into a soft smile. “I knew it. You’re back.” Despite the joy in your words, your voice was still strained and breathy.
“Sweetheart, what’s going on? What do you mean I’m back? Where did I go?” Steve shifted slightly against you, but the movement caused you to let out a soft moan deep in your throat.
His eyes began to slip from your face to see what was wrong, but you called out to him, recapturing his attention. “Steve… It’s okay. It wasn’t your fault.”
A cold wave of fear traveled through his body at your words. Slowly, both of you glanced down to see the knife protruding from your chest, the one with Steve’s hand still wrapped around the hilt. It had pierced your chest right above your heart and a bloody stain was quickly spreading across your suit. He jerked his hand away in horror, causing a pained gasp to escape your lips as the motion jostled the blade.
“I did this…” Steve whispered, his voice cracking under the weight of his actions.
“No, baby, no. This wasn’t you. It was HYDRA. The new weapon they’ve been working on. It was a gas that attacks the serum in your blood. It sent you and Bucky into some sort of bloodlust-fueled rage. Nat and Sam were trying to stop Buck… and I led you away. I knew I could get you to come back to me… and I did.” You flashed him a blood-soaked smile as you reached up to cup his face. Your hand trembled slightly as it rested on his cheek and your skin was cool to the touch. “You came back….”
Your eyes began to flutter, and your breathing was becoming more erratic as Steve tried to prop himself up. “I need to get you help.”
But you wrapped your free hand tightly around the material of his suit, holding him in place as you hissed gently. “No. Stay here with me. Please. I don’t want to be alone for this.”
Steve’s heart shattered at your implication. “Sweetheart, please let me help you. I have to try and fix this. Fix what I did.”
“It’s okay. It wasn’t you. You would never hurt me, Steve. I know that. Please don’t blame yourself. I know you will, but I don’t.” You released his suit as you placed your palm flat against his heart. “In here… it wasn’t you.”
Both of your hands weakly dropped to the floor as you began struggling to breathe. Your eyes were still trained on him, but they were growing unfocused and glazed as they struggled to remain open.
Taking your face in his hands, Steve begged, “Please, hold on. It’s going to be okay, you’re going to be okay.”
A soft smile gently pulled at the corners of your lips. “Steve... I love….”
Steve watched the last embers of light fade from your eyes even as your final word still clung to your lips. When Nat, Sam, and Bucky burst into the room moments later, they found their friend clinging to the motionless form of the woman he loved, his knife still lodged in her chest.
TW: Whump, Pain, Reader Death, Angst, Mind Control, Drugged
Note: Thank you to @lanatheawesome for requesting the Alternate POV!
Part of Seeing Colors: Seeing Red, Seeing Green, Seeing Blue (Coming Soon)
Bonus: Seeing Red (Alt. POV)
Everything had seemed to pass in a blur. One minute, Clark had been investigating Luthor’s latest laboratory, and then….. nothing. Now, all he can remember after that are flashes, tinged in a burning red glow. As if trying to shake off a dense fog, he blinks a few times as he tries to recall what happened and where he is. As his eyes come into focus, he finally notices you just about a foot in front of him. The look on your face sends a wave of terror and concern through him. It is one he has never seen on you before, especially not directed at him. Fear, uncertainty, and, most of all, pain. So much pain.
Your mouth moves slightly as if trying to gain the strength to speak and he can see blood spilling out from between your lips. Then, slowly, painfully, you choke out, “Cl-Clark?”
“Y/N?” he responds, still unsure what is going on or where the two of you are. He glances down and his heart freezes. No! “Oh my god! Y/N!”
You are hovering hundreds of feet in the air, which isn’t that concerning given his powers, but what is concerning is the manner in which youare staying in the air. Clark’s arm is currently jammed into your chest so far it disappears almost up to his elbow. He can feel your heart as it gently beats against the back of his fingers and, to his absolute horror, he can feel it gradually slowing down. As gently as he can, he tries to dislodge his arm from your chest, but the sobbing howl of pain that rips from your lips at the movement stops him immediately. And even when he freezes once more, a low, continuous moan sounds in your throat and it tears Clark’s heart in two.
Suddenly, it all comes rushing back. Someone throwing a glass vial at him in Luthor’s lab, the feeling of the red Kryptonite taking over his system, tearing through the city as he destroyed everything in his path, slamming Jason into a brick wall as he attempted to hit Tim with his laser beams, then you…. You had offered up yourself to save your brother and you had gotten Clark’s fist through your sternum for your bravery. He remembers, as if in slow motion, the feeling of his knuckles contacting the Kevlar of your suit. How it offered no resistance to his superstrength. Neither did your flesh or bones as his fist continued through the armor into your chest. And yet, through the pain and the betrayal, you had never given up on him. You somehow managed to find the strength to smash the antidote against his face. You had saved him even as you were dying by his hand.
As gently as he can without jostling his arm, he pulls you into his chest. He can feel a slight tremor traveling the length of your body and he flinches. He cannot even begin to fathom the amount of pain you must be in at the moment, yet you are somehow managing to not completely fall apart or freak out. But then again, Clark expects nothing less from you. You are too much like your father. Bruce. Oh, God. How is he going to be able to handle this?
Slowly, Clark floats down to the ground, holding you as still as possible. As you return to earth, he lays you softly in the grass. Your head falls weakly to the side and as your eyes focus on something in the distance, Clark sees tears welling up in your eyes for the first time. He glances at what you are looking at and spies the rest of Bruce’s kids standing a few hundred feet away.
Dick has his arm wrapped around Jason as the other boy struggles weakly against him. Jay’s busted red helmet lay at their feet and Clark can see blood drying where it had flowed down his face, probably from when Clark had thrown him against the wall. Even from here, Clark can hear Dick murmur softly, “There’s nothing we can do for her, Jay. And going over there will just upset her. And you’re hurt too. Stop struggling and think about what she would want.” Clark watches Jason still slightly at his brother’s words and softly nods.
Shifting his gaze to Tim, Clark thankfully notes that he is on the comms calling Batman. Frantically, he cries, “Bruce! We need you here. NOW! She… I don’t… It’s bad. Please, you need to get here now!”
He rests his hand on his youngest brother’s shoulder, but Damian doesn’t even seem to notice. His gaze is locked firmly on your face and he barely even blinks as he takes in the sight before him. Tim finally notices and gives his shoulder a squeeze. “She’ll be okay, Dami.” His voice is shaky and filled with uncertainty.
“No. She won’t be.” The youngest boy replies bluntly. Unlike Tim, Damian’s voice is firm and stoic as there is no doubt in his tone that what he said was true. Clark knows Damian had seen and experienced more in his young life than seasoned heroes twice his age and he recognized death when he saw it.
Clark turns his attention back to you. Your breathing has slowed significantly since he first came to his senses and it is growing more rasping and labored with every inhale. Using his super hearing and x-ray vision, he quickly notices your lungs are filling with blood. And as he is assessing what can be done to stop or at least slow the bleed, he hears you softly mutter, “Dad…. where’s my …. dad?”
Once again, Clark’s heart breaks. Suddenly, he doesn’t see the brave warrior laying before him, but the tiny six-year-old he first met all those years ago clinging to the back of her father’s cape. He vowed that night to always watch over you and care for you, yet here you were, your life draining away because of him. Choking back tears, he runs his hand over your hair like he did when he was trying to put you at ease back then as he whispers, “He’s on his way. Just hold on.”
You must have heard the regret and sorrow in his voice because as you nod, you mutter, “Not you- don’t blame….”
It was the final straw. The tears he had been holding back slowly spill down his cheeks. Even through all your pain, you still were looking out for others. You had every right to condemn Clark for what was happening. He might not have been in control of his actions, but it was still his fist currently residing within your chest. And yet, you were using some of the last of your strength to make sure he knew you did not blame him for this. He is about to respond when a movement out of the corner of his eye steals his attention away. Bruce has arrived.
Your father races through the alleyways until he bursts into the opening where the rest of his children are standing. He falters slightly as he sees your prone form on the ground with his best friend’s arm thrust through your chest. His eyes flicker up to meet Clark’s and the Kryptonian just hopes that he can see the sorrow and regret that is etched on his face. Clark watches a myriad of emotions flash across the bottom half of Bruce’s face before he steels himself and rushes to his daughter’s side.
As soon as he is close enough for you to see, Clark feels you perk up slightly beneath his touch. There is a hint of a smile in your voice as you whisper, “Hi….. Dad….”
Bruce kneels down and cups your face in his hand. Ignoring Clark completely, he rubs his thumb across your cheek as he murmurs, “Hey, babybat. It’s going to be okay. Help is on the way.” His tone is soft and soothing in a way Clark has only heard in the direst of situations and only ever directed at one of Bruce’s children.
You must have been thinking the same thing because you say in a labored, slurred voice, “Wow, thing….not good.…if you using tha- tone.” The chuckle at the end quickly morphs into a ragged cough as your body convulses violently. Clark tries to hold you still as gently as possible, but your moan of pain returns, louder this time.
Yet, when you regain some of your composure, you reach up and touch the edge of your father’s cowl. Bruce rips it off and Clark gets an unobstructed view of the pain and heartbreak that is radiating off him. Clark turns his head to give the pair of you as much privacy he can while his hand is still lodged in your chest. But he can’t help but overhear you whisper, “Please…. take… care of…….. them…. They’ll need….. you…..” Always the most caring and thoughtful big sister, even at the end.
Suddenly, the emergency vehicles that someone had remembered to call, came rolling up. Bruce looks to Clark and in a low voice, so you hopefully don’t hear, he mutters, “How do we do this? Do we have them take her to the hospital with you still….-” he can’t bring himself to say the words so he just moves on “- or do you remove it first?”
Clark closes his eyes and takes a deep breath as he tries to find the words to tell his best friend the reality of the situation. “Bruce… I am so sorry but… There’s nothing…. They can’t- No one can fix this. I can see the damage, I can feel it, and it’s…. it’s too great. I don’t even know how she’s still-”
Clark and Bruce’s attention immediately snap back to you as you tap your thumb once on your father’s face. He bends down closer, gathering you in his arms as much as he can without hurting you further. A fresh line of blood trails from the corner of your mouth as, in a voice that is barely more than a last gasp of air, you say, “Thank you…..for….the life….you gave….me. I don-don’t…. regret a sec– of it……..”
As you choke out the final word and your head falls to the side, Clark feels your heart slow to a stop against his fingers. Horrified, he exchanges a look of alarm with Bruce before your father turns back to you, clutching your face and begging you to look at him. But your eyes have already turned glassy as they stare blankly ahead. As Bruce crumples down on top of you, pressing his forehead firmly against yours as he continues to plead with your still form, Clark slides his fingers over and begins squeezing your heart with his hand. He knows it is a futile effort, that even if he can get it restarted manually, the blood filling your lungs would make it impossible for you to breathe. But he tries anyway.
And he doesn’t stop as he hears a shout, and a small figure appears at your side. Somehow, it doesn’t surprise Clark that Damian is the first break and come to you. As much as the boy tries to stay aloof and keep a distance between himself and the rest of the family, he knows how much his sister means to him. But instead of reaching out to you as he expected, Damian gently places his hand on Bruce’s back. The man turns his head slightly to look at his youngest son, silent tears streaming down his face. And then, he wraps his arm around Damian and pulls him into his chest.
In seconds, Dick, Jason, and Tim arrive. Dick just stares down at you in disbelief. His permanent smile and joyful light in his eyes are gone, replaced with disbelief and pain. Jason is glaring hate-filled daggers at Clark, and truthfully, Clark can’t blame him. Even as he continues to try and restart your heart, he knows that each and every one of them should hate him. Just as he hates himself. Every one of their reactions just adds to Clark’s regret and sorrow. But Tim…. Tim is the most heartbreaking to see.
He collapses to the ground a few feet from your body, sobs already racking his lean frame. Dick tears himself away from you and bends down to comfort his brother. Even with his super hearing, Clark can only just make out Tim’s words through his wails, “It’s all my fault. She was just protecting me. It should have been me.” Clark didn’t think he could have felt any worse at that moment, but hearing this proved him wrong.
Softly, Clark whispers, “Bruce… I’m-”
But the other man cuts him off. “You need to go. We’ll talk about this later but for now…. Just go.” His voice is wavering and thicker than usual as he tries to speak past the pain in his chest. And as much as Clark wants to stay and comfort his friends, his family, he knows Bruce is right.
With one final squeeze to your heart, a final goodbye, Clark removes his arm from your chest. Part of him was expecting some sort of reaction but of course, there was none. Corpses don’t have reactions.
Clark glances at everyone one final time and then takes to the sky, putting as much distance between himself and this nightmare as he can. In moments, he arrives in the Arctic just outside the Fortress of Solitude. It was the only place he could think of to go at the moment. But as he raises his hand to open the door, he sees your blood still coating his arm up to his elbow. The thick, crimson liquid streams down his outstretched hand and he flashes back to the look on your face as he punched through your body.
Dropping to his knees, he buries his fist into the snow, desperately trying to remove your blood from his fingers, from the grooves in his hand, from underneath his nails. But after a moment, he realizes that it feels just the same as when his fist was buried in your chest, and he yanks it out as quickly as he can. Still kneeling in the snow, tears begin to roll down his face as he stares at the hole he created. And as Clark mourns the loss of a person he loved like family, he watches as your remaining blood drips from his hand onto the snow until he is left just seeing red.
