#but I definitely give af about fighting the battle inside yourself against despair

[pocket-size-cthulhu]

Just saw Godzilla Minus One finally. What the hell dude. I know y'all have been saying it's good but I had no idea I personally would like it so much

[fanfics-await-you]

The Death of Me (Part 1)

Prompt: Angsty Romantic Cliches I’m a Slut For by @quirk-y

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Summary: You and Steve are left to take down a mind-control scientist who is slowly enslaving the city. You defeat him but the price is higher than you could have ever imagined.

Tags: angst, death, blood

Notes: I fucking love dramatic irony. it just makes angst that extra level of painful. If Steve and Y/N weren’t head-over-heels dumbasses, this shit wouldn’t be happening. also, i seem to have a habit of abusing steve rogers??? which makes no sense because i just want my boy to have a happy ending??? yeah, definitely going to have to write him something nice soon

Word Count: 1,503

masterlist

Part 2

“I don’t think you should do this Steve. You need to get properly checked out before you go back into the fiel-“

“Y/N, I have to come! What’s the alternative? Leaving you by yourself to deal with this guy?!? No way! We’re a team. You know the rule, never leave your partner behind,” his smile is genuine but strained; his head is obviously still causing him trouble.

None of this does anything to comfort you, which Steve evidently picks up on as the smile drops almost instantly. He puts a hand on your arm, sending sparks of warmth coursing up your skin. You look away from him, partly to convey that you’re not convinced and partly to hide the blush creeping up your neck.

“I’m not saying that going in alone is the smartest plan, but we have no idea what that blast did to you! You’re still in pain- don’t try and lie to me, I know you too well for that… Here, let me do that. You’re going to end up looking like a mummy if you keep going like that,” laughter finds its way into your speech.

Steve, trying to prove that he was alright, was attempting to bandage the chemical burn that your current mission had left on his forehead in your last encounter. You were being honest about his appearance; layers of inexpertly placed gauzes and dressings were threatening to swallow the left side of his face.

“Now, if you don’t mind,” an uninvited smile sneaks onto your face, “I’m going to get rid of all this and start again.”

Steve doesn’t say anything but just leans forward and gives you a warm smile.

He’s going to be the death of me, I swear, if he keeps looking at me like that.

You gently remove the dressings from his skin and look at the mark that, despite his super-soldier healing, remains streaked with lines of silver like a human circuitboard. The burn does distress you. The scans that Friday presented were inconclusive, the information she can give is neither positive nor negative. This only further troubles you; with the remains of the Avengers scattered to the four winds, a little certainty would be nice. You jolt out of your thoughts as Steve’s soft fingers find your free hand.

“Y/N. I’m going to be fine. I promise that I’ll go see a doctor after this is all finished, but first we need to deal with this asshole before he hurts anyone else.” His tone is insistent and kind.

Realising that this really wasn’t a battle that you were going to win, you just huff and start to dress the mark. Steve closes his eyes and sits back in the chair with the ghost of a grin.

“Thank you, Y/N. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

I swear to God, the absolute death of me.

———

“Y/N, can you please stop going places I can’t follow?!? Not everyone can teleport!!!” His hair is plastered with brick dust from the last wall he had demolished to keep pace with you.

“Sorry, should I have just stayed back with the zombies?!?!” The stress you feel is evident in your tone.

Close on your tail, a swarm of what you could only assume to be mind-controlled civilians swiftly followed. They plainly have no training but are fearless, pay no mind to anything less that a mortal wound and are armed with guns that seem capable of melting steel. You hope to God that you’re on the right track because both of you are starting to fatigue and neither of your suits will be able to survive much more damage.

—

Finally, you burst into a cavernous chamber filled with massive computers; arcs of artificial lightning dances across the ceiling.

“Well, I think we’re in the right place,” Steve gives you a side-eye and grin like you’re sharing an inside joke, not about to fight for your lives.

God, I love him so much.

You don’t know if it’s the absurdity of his comment, the adrenaline, the fear, the heat of the moment, or the sinking feeling that you weren’t going to survive this but something in you decides enough. Before he has a chance to catch his breath, you grab Steve by the front of his uniform and drag him behind a huge discarded scrap of metal.

The look in his eyes is unsure, hopeful, “Y/N, what are you doin-“

You cut him off by pushing him against the wall and taking his face in your hands.

It all comes out in a stumbling, stammering rush, “I don’t really know how to say this, Steve, but I have a really, really bad feeling about this mission and I- I just need to tell you! I need you to know! I love you, Steve. I’ve loved you for a long time but I’ve been afraid and I guess I’m not afraid anymore? Actually, that’s not true, I’m still very much af-“

He returns the favour by interrupting you with a hard, desperate kiss. You can taste the sweat and dirt of battle on him but it only makes you want him more. One hand on your waist, one on your neck, Steve pulls you flush against him. With your hands tangled in his hair, the feel of him touching you like this is intoxicating and like vertigo all at once. You know you need to let go but everything about him is addictive. The kiss is frantic and aching in a way that reminds you of a final goodbye.

Oh Christ, don’t think that.

Before you can stop yourself, you feel hot tears begin to trickle down your cheeks. You step back - in fear, humiliation, or self-loathing, you’re not sure. Before you can wipe away the offending drops, Steve’s hands find your face again. You don’t want to look at him but as his thumbs tenderly brush across your cheeks, you just can’t help it. To your surprise and dismay, Steve’s eyes are also full of tears yet to fall.

So he feels it too then.

“This is not the end, Y/N.” His gaze is unwavering and steady despite, well everything that’s happening. “This is not where we end up, alright?”

You respond with a last hungry, despairing kiss that lingers on your lips long after you part.

With that, exactly like a last adieu, you step away from each other and turn to face the mission at hand.

———

With blood pouring from cuts all over you and a chemical burn starting to form on your arm, it’s fair to say that you aren’t at your best. The glances you spare for Steve indicate he’s not much better off. However, despite everything, you are winning. The disfigured scientist’s shots are slowing and becoming increasingly more erratic. With a final throw of Steve’s shield, the man lets out a shriek as the force drives him into the concrete wall behind him. There’s a sickening crack that makes you think that he won’t be getting up from where he’s fallen. The taste of triumph bitter and metallic in your mouth, you walk towards the crumpled man. He’s still breathing but the gasps are wheezing and there’s a rattle deep in his throat. This brings you no joy but somewhere deep in your consciousness, you are glad that this is over and that you’ve both survived.

“Lay down your weapon. It’s over,” Steve’s voice is iron, more soldier than man.

The man looks up at you slowly with a bloodied, pained smile; something in your stomach instantly drops.

“I knew I could never beat you.” The words are raspy and muffled by the blood in his mouth. “However, I thought I could give you a parting gift, something you will always remember me by.”

Before either you or Steve can react, the man hits the device on his wrist. It starts to glow, with the word ‘kill’ and a countdown timer beginning to flash across the screen in psychedelic colours.

“It’s a bomb!” You grab Steve’s wrist and begin to run.

You almost pull your arm out of its socket from whiplash when he doesn’t budge an inch. You turn back and find Steve still staring at the scientist, his perfect face smooth and cold like marble. His eyes - always so full of mirth, nostalgia, grief, something - are empty. The seed of doubt in your stomach has taken root and is beginning to invade your lungs.

Maybe it isn’t a bomb.

“Steve?” Your desperation is as clear as day.

Nothing; not a twitch of muscle or any indication that he can hear you.

“Steve, you’re scaring me. Please, we need to g-“

You’re cut off by a backhand that sends you flying. Hitting the floor hard, you feel something in your ribs give. Scrambling to regain your feet, you can only look on in horror to see Steve advancing with nothing but blank reflection in his eyes.