Warnings:ANGST. It’s bad. No way around that… Major injury, animal injury, animal suffering. If you can’t handle animals in pain then please do not read this.
Overview: You were raised in the hunter life. You fell out of it. It wasn’t your choice to get pulled back in.
Word Count: 1,508
A/N: This is the sixth installment in my first ever fanfic. I’m apologizing now, and I’m sure I’ll apologize again later. This one is a deep dark sad to the point where I was crying as I wrote it. Proceed with caution and tissues and please don’t hate me. These words, like everything else I write, are for me. Feel free to join me in the adventure.
“A dog?” I couldn’t stop the sour note in my voice, “You want me to get a dog?”
Uncle Jay took in my folded arms and slight head tilt, a stance I normally opted for when entering an argument I thought I was going to win. He just smiled, which made me scowl. “Yes, a dog. Allen’s German Shepard had a run-in with a wolf and had a litter of hybrid pups last month. He said we were more than welcome to one.”
I was surprised that he was pushing this. “We move around all the time, constantly on the go, constantly hunting. We struggle some days to even feed ourselves. How does a dog fit into that equation?”
Six months after graduating from Tulane University, Sadie Neal is on a one-way trip to Buffalo, New York to start her first real, big girl job with the local professional hockey team, the Buffalo Sabres. The problem? Sadie knows next to nothing about hockey. They use pucks, not balls. They wear skates, not cleats. And they play on ice, not grass. That’s it. How is she supposed to represent them on social media when she doesn’t even know what icing means outside of baking?
Louis Tomlinson (#91 / RW) is coming off a career high season (79 games, 20 goals, 30 assists, 50 total points) that he’s trying to recreate. The goal: Lord Stanley’s Cup. There’s a magic in the locker room that feels like it could be their year. He stays focused by keeping hockey and his personal life separate. Everyone knows that.
Summary: The fallout of the most recent mission in Lagos is a lot more intense than you anticipated, now you and your team must make choices
Authors Note: Hello my loves, sorry for the long absence, I kinda got the rug yanked out from under me this week at work, but I believe I am on better standing now. As I said this fic operates right in tandem with the Civil War plot line so you may notice some familiar lines and descriptions. Hope you all enjoy. Tagging is open, they’ve just been moved to the bottom, just ask if you want to be tagged :D
You look into Wanda’s room as you walk past, seeing her curled on her bed, eyes locked on the TV as she bites her lip nervously. You sigh, unwilling to abandon your friend in such a state. Your knuckles wrap lightly on her open door, drawing her attention as you enter.
“Hey hun, you doing ok?” You ask calmly, dropping the duffle bag from your shoulder as you come to sit at the edge of the bed. “You’re leaving again?” She ignores your question, eyes shifting between your leather jacket and your duffle bag.
“Just for a few days, I’ll be back soon.” You smile softly as you reach for her feet, rubbing them lovingly. Her name is mentioned on the TV and both your attentions snap to it as Wanda turns up the volume listening closely to the criticisms of the news report.
“What legal authority does an enhanced individual like Wanda Maximoff have to…” The screen suddenly goes black and you and Wanda start, looking towards the door to see Steve observing you both nervously.
“It’s my fault” Wanda breathes, her head falling forward to her raised knee. “That’s not true” you and Steve respond immediately, “Turn the news back on, they’re being very specific.” She mutters, clicking her tongue at you. You squeeze her feet, forcing her attention to you “They’re blaming all of us, this isn’t just on you.”
“I should have tagged that bomb,” Steve’s head falls forward as he crosses his arms, leaning back on Wanda’s desk. “Rumlow said ‘Bucky’ and…” Your heart stops at the sound of Bucky’s name, your gaze snaps quickly to the duffle bag at your feet before rising to Steve, “all of a sudden I was a 16-year-old kid again in Brooklyn.”
“Did you grow up in Brooklyn Steve? Huh, I never knew.” You tease, making Steve roll his eyes as Wanda giggles quietly behind you, finally cracking a smile. At the sound of her laugh, Steve’s annoyance falters, giving way to a small smile.
“Look… People died. It’s on me.” He says insistently, “It’s on all of us,” you interject, reminding him of your own presence in the situation. He shakes his head, exhaling exhaustedly. “This job… we try to save as many people as we can. Sometimes that doesn’t mean everybody.” You nod at him, agreeing with his words as you turn around to face Wanda.
“But, if we can’t find a way to live with that, next time… maybe nobody can be saved.” Wanda nods, responding to your advice. Suddenly Vision enters through the wall, making you jump in surprise, “Jesus Christ! Seriously?” You yell, hand clutched to your chest.
“Vis, we talked about this!” Wanda scolds, “Captain Rogers you wished to know when Mr. Stark was arriving… he’s brought someone else with him as well, the Secretary of State.” Steve nods acknowledging Visions report and thanking him for the information.
“Welp,” you say, slapping your thighs as you push off the bed, rising to your feet and reaching for your bag, “That’s my cue to get out of here.” “Sorry Agent Y/L/N, Secretary Ross requests the presence of the whole team in the conference room.” Vision reports to you, looking insistently towards the door.
You sigh exasperatedly, rolling your eyes as Steve shrugs and motions towards the door as Wanda rises beside you, “Well, I guess we better go find out what he wants.”
“The Sokovia Accords” Ross states, dropping a large binder onto the conference table, making Wanda jump slightly beside you as your eyes flash nervously to Nat across the table, her gaze locked on the binder, “Approved by 117 countries. It states, that the Avengers shall no longer be a private organization…”
His voice drifts off in your head, his words washing over you as your mind spins. Rules, regulations… restrictions. All things that have never worked well for you in the past. How often had you made the tough call? Working around the police to protect the people. Too often you have seen corruption in politics, known how assets can be turned into weapons… just like… Bucky.
His name rings in your head as you glance at your watch, knowing you missed your flight, knowing there wouldn’t be another one for hours. You silently curse him for not having a cell phone, or anyway that you could get in contact with him.
“4 days from now, the UN meets in Vienna to ratify the Accords. So, talk it over.” Ross finishes as you clue back in. You look around at the blank stares of your surrounding team, everyone lost deep in thought, each having a decision to make.
“And if we come to a decision you don’t like?” Steve asks insistently, clearly angry about the deal being presented to him. “Then you retire.” Ross states sternly, a note of warning in his voice. You feel Steve’s eyes flash to you as you keep yours pointed at your clasped hands, resting in your lap.
“4 days.” Ross orders reminding you of the deadline. He departs, leaving your team quiet in his wake, everyone still lost in thought.
Suddenly Steve rises, hands slamming onto the table as he walks out of the room. “Steve,” You call after him quietly, rising yourself. “I got him.” Sam comes to his feet as well, quickly moving out of the room behind Steve as you follow him, the rest of the team moving behind you to follow their Captain into the living area.
“Secretary Ross has a Congressional Medal of Honor, which is 1 more than you have.” Rhodey argues, going after Sam once more. You rub your forehead tuning them out as they continue their argument.
It had been 2 hours. 2 hours of non-stop debating, back and forth. The forerunning decision makers made their opinion clear. Cap vehemently against the accords while Rhodey, being the military man he is, immediately emerged as the main advocate for the accords. Sam quickly followed Steve, and Vision sided with Rhodey, citing logic as the reason.
Tony remained uncharacteristically quiet as the main defenders or rejecters continued their never ending debate, Natasha watching and observing before contributing cautiously every so often. Your eyes are drawn to Wanda however, her delicate form curled up on the chair as she bites at her lip once more, nervously observing the debate.
“So what are our options?” You finally interject, your own voice sounding strange to you after hours of no usage. “Ross was pretty damn clear, either conform or defect.” Sam scoffs, rolling his eyes as he flops onto the couch. “You’re such a little drama queen, Wilson. Did you even listen?” Rhodey comes to sit before you, leaning forward to hold your hands in his.
“Y/N, the accords would just allow some safety regulations. 117 countries want to sign this, 117 countries would have a say in where we would go and what we would do. So… you sign and agree to the terms and continue to operate as an avenger under agreed upon restrictions. Or you refuse to sign and you retire and agree not to use your skills anymore.”
Rhodey stares at you as your blank gaze rises to Steve, taking in his furrowed brow and pouted lip. You knew where he stood, but was he really prepared to stop being Captain America? Were you prepared to stop being the Scorpion? Maybe some regulations could be good, keep people safe… keep accidents from happening… “I… I’m not ready to decide right now.” You stand up hurriedly, causing a shift in the room as Tony and Steve both rise to their feet as well.
“You don’t have to,” Steve reaches out for you as you try to pass him, his fingers wrapping around your bicep as he steps towards you, his voice dropping, “You have 4 days to think about it. Y/N…” He starts, leaning towards you as his fingers press against your hip. “I… I need a break, need some time to think.”
You push away from him as you hurry out the door, leaving your team to debate their decisions. Still not knowing your own. You move quickly down the hallway, stopping before the entryway closet to grab your jacket and duffle bag, you step quickly towards the elevator, pulling your phone out of your back pocket.
You scan your phone, flipping hurriedly through an app as you wait for the elevator to arrive. A few taps of your finger and the tension in your chest ebbs away. The elevator arrives and you step inside, shifting your bag slightly as you punch the button for the garage.
Your phone dings, alerting you to a notification. You glance at the screen. Confirmation of 9pm flight to Bucharest, departing from JFK gate 31. You sigh, only 2 hours to get to the airport.
Though my leather duffle, plaid on plaid shirt - tie combo and my skinniature jeans may try to distract you from noticing, I am still wearing hard working work boots made for hard work. They are peeking out, as if to say, “I like hard work, but I’m not a show off. By hiding behind this duffle I am working hard at not being a show off about how hard I work. Dig?”