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spartanguard · 4 years

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(love will see us through these) Dark Days [CSRT; 5/7]

Summary: A century ago, the United Realms of Pomem had been a land of peace, prosperity, and magic. Until war tore the land apart, leaving behind cruel leaders and even crueler laws regarding the use of magic. And each year, the youth of each realm are subjected to a fight to the death, both for entertainment and to weed out anyone capable of wielding magic. In the 99th Magic Games, past victors Emma Nolan and Killian Jones find themselves serving as mentors, while Alice Gothel and Robyn West end up representing their realm. Everyone has secrets; everyone has something to lose. Who will win? Who will die? Just don’t forget: all magic comes with a price.

A/N: Another Monday, another update! Only two more after this—ahh! Thanks as always to everyone who’s been reading and commenting; to the awesome peeps over at @captainswanbigbang; and to the best beta ever @optomisticgirl. Chapter title is from “Rules” by Jayme Dee.

part 5: Round and round, two by two, we run around the rules

Fucking hell; was this actually happening? Or was this a sleep-deprived hallucination? (He’d only gotten a brief nap in last night—he forgot what Cruella’s...appetite was like.)

But the red X over Ursula’s screen was no dream: she was dead. And at the hand of her supposed ally.

Killian’s vision took on the color of the signal of her death, and his eyes darted to the accomplice, who looked appropriately sheepish on the other side of the room.

Ariel tried to stop him, but he easily shook off her hand from his bicep. He hadn’t felt this kind of betrayal in years.

“What the bloody hell was that?” he spat in Emma’s face, not afraid to crowd her personal space. “What in all the realms were you thinking?”

“I’m doing whatever it takes to keep my tribute alive,” she hissed back. “You should know; it’s what you told me to do!”

“You of all people should know better than to pull something like this!”

“And what’s that supposed to mean?”

“Don’t think I don’t remember your games, Nolan.”

“It had to happen at some point!”

“Hey, hey, hey,” Graham interrupted, trying to slip between them and put some distance there, but Killian was too riled up and kept pressing forward. “Enough; both of you.”

Killian tried to take a breath to calm himself, but it didn’t work and instead came out as an exaggerated huff. There was a fire behind Emma’s eyes and it colored her cheeks pink as she stood there heaving, too.

“Why don’t you both take a walk outside to cool down?” Ariel suggested; Killian hadn’t even noticed her come up behind him. “We need to be heading out anyways.” Mentors without tributes in the game weren’t allowed to stay in the game center—which was the other reason he was angry. Not that anyone needed to know that.

Without a word, Killian turned on his heel and left, throwing open the doors to the center so they’d hopefully slam shut behind him; it would have been cathartic. But no—one of them was caught from closing by Emma as she stormed out behind him, leaving the other to shut with a dull, unsatisfying thud.

“Seriously? I thought this was a competition; you can’t be that upset that I took whatever edge I could get,” she said, continuing the argument from behind him. He honestly had planned on going out for a walk, but if she wanted to argue, then fine—he’d argue.

He turned back around and marched back toward her. “No, but I can take issue with the fact that that edge was the sharp end of an axe, and that it ended up in my tribute’s back!”

“Oh, please; you would have done the same,” she threw back.

“Actually, no,” he said coolly; her visible recoil was somewhat satisfying. If the kids had turned on each other, that’d have been one thing, but he hadn’t planned on sabotaging the alliance.

Satisfied that he’d won the debate, or at least rendered her speechless, he started to head down the corridor again.

“Well, at least your precious Sherwood tributes are still in.”

He stopped in his tracks; God, she just knew all the buttons to press, didn’t she? “You have no idea what you’re talking about,” he tossed over his shoulder, not daring to look at her.

“What, is one of them your lovechild or something?” she sneered.

A chill went down his spine; did she know? He faced her again, glaring.

“Eloise’s daughter, is that it?” She was smirking, clearly thinking she was joking.

“Stop. Talking,” he warned, stomping back into her space. “It’s none of your damn business.”

“Holy shit; really?” she whispered. Bollocks; he hadn’t meant to confirm it. But there it was. “Is that what you were talking about on the elevator?”

“Aye,” he said on a breath, though the damage was probably done; Olympus had eyes and ears everywhere. “So as a parent, I’d hope you’d get it.”

“I do,” she replied, suddenly solemn.

“Imagine it was your child in there, and you could do almost nothing to save them. How would you handle that?”

“I...I have no…”

“Exactly.”

Suddenly, the lights flickered overhead, and he could see the emotional distress on her face and the spark of magic at her fingertips.

“Calm down and get that under control,” he murmured, annoyed. “Lest neither of us make it through the night.” He was incredibly curious at how she’d managed to keep her magic a secret; he knew having that part of her stifled played into why Eloise was the way she was, and if Alice managed to get out of this, the same fate would likely lay ahead of her—she knew better than to put it on display, but the Games had a way of bringing it out in even the most composed person, which Alice wasn’t.

But if Emma let that run loose—and he was caught aiding her—it wouldn’t end well; civilians found with magic were rarely allowed to live, and this was unprecedented.

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath; it took a moment, but the light stopped flickering and the static in the air dissipated; he could actually see the hair on his exposed forearm relax.

“Good. Now, if you excuse me, I need to watch the rest of the games from my quarters. Where I can’t do anything.” For what he hoped was the last time, he turned and left.

“Are you going to the Gala?” she called out as he walked away.

He didn’t stop, but answered back, “Don’t have much choice, do we?” And then turned the corner to the elevator lobby, out of her sight.

He nearly broke the elevator panel with his hook with how hard he hit it to call a lift, but his blood was still simmering (and, honestly, Olympus could afford to replace it, so he didn’t much care).

Thankfully, he was the only one on board, and was finally able to let out a long sigh once the doors closed, scrubbing his hand along his face as he leaned back against the wall. In all his years doing this, he’d never been so let down by a fellow mentor. It was probably the shock of the moment and the adrenaline of the games, but Killian was also pretty damn good at holding a grudge, and he wasn’t sure he’d let this go anytime soon.

To make matters worse, he had trusted her. Hell, he’d had some other sorts of thoughts about her, too. He’d thought she was a kindred spirit, and she still was, in some ways; but now, he just had to hope that the fact he knew her secret was enough to counteract her knowing his.

The elevator dinged once they reached his floor, and he shuffled out. At least he didn’t have any more appointments, and likely wouldn’t until after the Gala, whenever that would be.

He made a beeline for the mini bar in their quarters and poured himself a hefty amount of rum. Then he collapsed on the sofa, grabbed the remote, and flicked on the monitor, bringing up a live feed of the arena. He may have lost access to the gaming center, but he at least could still watch the same video streams.

He clicked through a couple of channels until he found the one he needed: the image of Alice and Robyn hiding in that cave.

And he’d keep his eyes locked on this channel until the very end.

◇─◇──◇────◇────◇────◇────◇────◇─────◇──◇─◇

Robyn came to consciousness coughing, gasping for air and spitting out water. “Wha,” she tried to say, but it only led to another round of coughing.

There was a supportive hand on her back and another on her arm, but it wasn’t until she could finally breathe and blinked a few times that she remembered what all had happened: finding Alice, running through the storm, fucking up her leg, and oh yeah—Alice apparently having magic.

“I passed out, didn’t I?” she deduced; that was an awful lot to process in a short span of time. Or she’d lost too much blood. Either were likely.

“Yeah, you did; I thought getting you to drink might wake you up, but I didn't realize it’d be so violent. Sorry,” Alice explained, the worried, sheepish expression on her face plainly visible in the light coming from her palm.

“It’s fine,” Robyn tried to say with a shrug, but didn’t quite have the energy for that, so it came out more like a wince. God, she felt embarrassed; who cared that they were in the middle of a fight to the death—she made herself look like an absolute idiot in front of her crush.

Somewhere, her mother would probably be scolding her on priorities, but they were all pretty skewed right now, so...whatever.

“God, you look pale,” Alice continued on, cupping Robyn’s cheek in her other hand. “How do you feel?”

“Tired, sore, hungry; about the same as I’ve felt for the last few days.” She tried to prop herself up against the wall better, but the movement aggravated her leg, making her wince. “But that kind of kills.”

Alice (adorably) chewed on her bottom lip for a minute, clearly debating something—something that had to do with the gash on Robyn’s leg that was sluggishly bleeding. “Do you trust me?” she finally asked.

“Of course,” Robyn said without thinking.

“Okay.” Alice scooted herself from Robyn’s side to near her calf, then used the light in her palm to inspect the injury again. It was kind of mesmerizing, the light; it wasn’t steady and solid, like the kind from a bulb—it pulsed and danced like light reflecting off water. It was just so...Alice.

And then it got brighter and warmer; Robyn could feel the heat of it on her injured leg, and probably should have looked away, but couldn’t—especially once she could tell what Alice was doing.

“Wait!” she shouted, reaching for Alice's forearm to stop her. “You do that and you’ll be completely exposed.” It was rare anyone found to have magic got out of the Games alive; it generally placed a target on them; and right now, it’d be putting one on Robyn, too.

“I think I already am,” she said dryly, glancing at her hand. “May as well put it to good use.”

That, Robyn couldn’t argue, unfortunately, so she just nodded back. Alice did the same, then focused her attention on the leg, both palms hovering over the gash.

It was impossible to look away as Alice worked. First, both hands glowed even brighter than before, and Robyn could feel the surge of warmth against her skin. Then, her leg began to sting—but, she realized, that was the first sensation she’d felt since they got here.

A weird pop happened somewhere inside her ankle as whatever had been dislocated went back into place, and then muscle and skin began to knit themselves back together; that was the only way she could describe the way it felt—like she was getting stitches, but without the needles or thread.

It had barely taken any time, but she’d been so lost in a trance as Alice worked her magic that it was more than a tiny jolt when the light in her palms went out. “There, that should do it,” Alice announced, looking over her handiwork. “There’s a bit of a scar, but hopefully shouldn’t be too noticeable.”

Robyn wiggled her toes inside her boots, then rotated her ankle to test it out. “Feels pretty good.”

“Good,” Alice said, beaming back.

“But there’s one thing still missing.”

Alice’s eyes went fearfully wide. “Oh no; what?”

Apparently, Robyn’s flirtatious tone hadn’t hit its mark. “Kiss it better?” If Alice’s magic was going to get them killed, she was at least gonna get her kicks in while she could.

A shy grin took over Alice’s face that was so adorable, it made Robyn’s heart stutter. She held Robyn’s gaze as she knelt over and pressed a careful kiss to the new scar on her calf; Robyn couldn’t hold back her own grin.

“Did that help?”Alice asked as she pulled away, still smirking.

“Mostly,” Robyn replied, but now she was feeling bold—and so, it seemed, was Alice. She pulled her legs close so she could move; her hurt leg was still a little tender, but infinitely better. “There’s one more way you can help,” she said, shifting herself to where Alice sat, “if you’re up for it.”

“I probably am.”

She didn’t waste a moment, pressing forward to kiss the smile off Alice’s lips—and Alice met her in the middle. There was none of the panic of their first kiss, when they didn’t know if they’d get another one; even now, there was still a chance they wouldn’t, but at least they had a moment to breathe and Robyn fully intended to take advantage of it. The cave wasn’t the softest place, but Alice’s lips certainly made up for it.

After one of the more memorable makeout sessions in Robyn’s life, they were catching their breath while they leaned against the back wall again, curled up under their blankets and huddled close as the air temperature dropped.

“God, this reminds me of recess when we were kids,” Alice said, giggling a bit.

“How many girls did you makeout with when we were kids?” Robyn teased.

“Oh, not any,” she brushed off. “Not ‘til I was a bit older,” she added with a wink. “No; it reminds me of the days it rained and they wouldn’t let us stay in.”

“Ugh, that was the worst,” she replied. “It’s amazing we all made it out of grade 5 without dying of hypothermia.”

“You don’t think we will tonight, will we?”

“I promise to keep you warm.”

Alice gave her a stunning grin that she’d definitely inherited from her dad; it was so obvious, now that she knew. Part of her desperately wanted to ask about how that was a thing, but they’d probably made enough dramatic revelations for Olympus and its citizens to eat up for one day.

“So...who was your first kiss?” Robyn asked instead.

“Ugh, no; that’s embarrassing,” Alice protested, her nose scrunching up adorably in disgust.

“I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours.”

“Fine,” she said with a roll of her eyes. “It was Phillip Rose.”

“Seriously?”

“Yes, and it was terrible.”

“Oh, I know—he was mine, too!”

“What? You’re kidding!”

“I wish I was.”

“Same!”

The ensuing fit of giggles stole what little air Robyn had managed to reclaim from earlier; it didn’t help that she was still a bit light headed from blood loss, but it was getting better.

“God,” Alice finally gasped. “He’s never getting snogged again, is he?”

“Probably not.”

“Sorry, Phillip.”

“No, you’re not.”

“No, I’m not,” she agreed, laughing.

The storm continued outside but neither of them really noticed as they gossiped about things back home and stole kisses. If it weren’t for the fact they were hanging out in a cave and had blood on their hands, literally and metaphorically, it would have been easy to imagine it as just another sleepover back home.

It really sucked that this was the way they were getting close, but Robyn knew she wouldn’t have done anything about her crush in any normal situation. Almost as if she could read her thoughts, Alice grew serious and asked, “So...you really weren’t lying to Sidney? About...me?”

“Of course not. I think you’ll find that I’m a terrible liar.”

“But...we’ve hardly ever talked until now. I was shocked you even knew my name.”

“Everyone knows your name.”

“Maybe, but not because of me—just because of my mum.”

“Yeah, probably; but I’m sure you’re making a name for yourself now.”

“I guess.”

“But yeah, I’ve always seen you; ever since sex ed in grade 6. But I had a reputation to maintain and whatnot; keeping up with the popularity contests and all that.”

“So you just do what you think will make you cool?”

“I did, yeah.”

“Well, that’s silly.”

“Yeah, it is,” she agreed. “I think I’ve always known that, but it’s only gotten more apparent now.”

“If we get home, what do you think you’ll do?”

Robyn was taken a bit aback; she really hadn’t been looking that far ahead. “Uh, I’m not sure yet. But I don’t think I could ever go back to my old life.”

“Yeah, I don’t think I could either.”

Robyn tilted her head in confusion. “But you’ve always been...you. That’s why I’ve always liked you from afar—you just seemed happy to do your own thing.”

“I have, yeah, but part of me was always scared of not being able to connect with anyone, so I just...didn’t try. Living with my mum in the Village didn’t really help, since there weren’t any kids there or anything, and once I started school, there was always that level of resentment because I was the Victor’s kid. Nicholas and Ava were the only ones I’d ever gotten close with.”

“Yeah, but look at how close you are, and look at my so-called friends—none of them would have even considered stepping up like you did.”

Alice was blushing now and it was fucking adorable.

“The world needs more people like you,” Robyn told her, and now it was her turn to cup the other girl’s face. And then she went ahead and kissed her, for good measure. “Okay, my turn: when did you first get a crush on me?”

The blush returned twofold. “Oh god; it’s been ages.”

“Come on; tell me.”

She sighed, but laughed a bit. “Do you remember that dance we had in grade 7?”

“Yeah; that was the first one we were allowed to go to.”

“Mhmm. I was definitely wallflowering, but then you were in front of me and just...grabbed my hand and pulled me in. Even if it didn’t last, it was nice to be included. And then, well, I couldn’t keep my eyes off of you. The more I saw, the more I liked.”

“Even if I was just trying to be one of the cool kids?”

“You said it yourself—you’re an awful liar. You may have had them fooled, but I could see all your good parts. You’re much sweeter than you give yourself credit for.”

Now it was Robyn’s turn to blush. “Can I make a confession?”

“Duh.”

“I grabbed you at that dance on purpose.”

Alice's grin returned fiercely and stunningly, and then her lips were back on Robyn’s, and there they stayed for a good long while.

It rained through the afternoon, all night, and well into the next day. At some point, Alice lit a fire with her magic, keeping them warm and toasty. They stripped off their wet outerthings so they could dry, as well as emptied their bags to make sure nothing was damaged (and so they could cuddle close under Alice’s blanket).

She was fluffing it out when a small, white thing floated out and landed on the stone floor next to Robyn. “What’s this?” she asked, picking it up.

Alice sat back down and wrapped the blanket around both of their shoulders, leaving her arm spread across Robyn’s to hold them close together. “A feather. I found it right before I found you—or, well, was trapped by you, or whatever.”

Robyn winced. “Still sorry.”

Alice shrugged against her. “It’s fine. It’s...memorable.”

Robyn just scoffed; a meetcute in the middle of a melee. Only Alice could see it that way.

“Anyways,” she continued, “I figured it had to be a bit of luck or something. It was too pretty to pass by.”

“It is,” Robyn agreed. “My mom will find them randomly from time to time, too—always on the hard days.”

“Well, that definitely defines the last few.”

“And she always manages to get through them. I think you’re onto something there.”

“Let’s hope,” Alice sighed, then pressed a kiss to Robyn’s bare shoulder.

Despite the setting, it was an unexpected day of bliss—talking, kissing, and cuddling—that made it hard for Robyn to envision a future, if she was lucky enough to have one, that didn’t have Alice in it.

When it finally dried up, it really did—like all the moisture had been sucked out of the arena, leaving the soil dusty and cracked and the leaves on the trees withered.

“They’re probably trying to get a final showdown,” Robyn figured; they always did that when there were only a few tributes left. No one had died during the storms, but they had heard a couple cannons go off earlier.

“Do you think we still stand a chance?” Alice wondered, adorably worrying her bottom lip with her teeth.

Robyn brushed a loose strand of hair behind her ear—the rest had been braided back, which Robyn had insisted on doing when she found out Alice had never had a friend do that at a sleepover (having never even been to one)—and placed a quick peck on her lips. “There’s only one other tribute out there. It’s two against one. Whoever they are, they hardly stand a chance.”

“You sure?”

“Between your magic and my arrows, absolutely.” She held her hand out. “Ready to end this thing?”

Alice stared at it for a moment, but then took it, interlacing her fingers with Robyn’s. Confidently, she looked up and nodded. “Ready.”

They shared one last, long kiss, and then headed off for whatever lay ahead—together.

◇─◇──◇────◇────◇────◇────◇────◇─────◇──◇─◇

President Adam Gold watched the final scenes of the 99th Hunger Games play out on his personal viewing screen in his quarters. Two tributes were left: the star-crossed lovers from Sherwood, Alice and Robyn. The fact that any tributes from the poorest district had made it to the end was incredible, but apparently, the strength of this pair’s love had carried them this far—and the public was eating it up.

It made him sick.

Which is why, in the eleventh hour, he forced the gamemaker to renege on his earlier promise to the tributes that a pair from the same district could win. To his credit, Jefferson fought it. “You can’t seriously expect me to tell these-these children that they have to murder the person they love?” The gamemaker rethought his stance, however, when he was reminded of what happened to his less-than-successful predecessors.

But the young lovers weren’t having it. In true tragic fashion, they were ready to commit suicide to avoid being without each other.

He had watched as they clung to each other after making quick work of the only remaining tribute, the girl from Misthaven; her body lay nearby, the arrow in her heart still sticking out. The girl hadn’t stood a chance against the two of them—not with the blonde freezing her in place with her magic, leaving her defenseless against the red-head’s weapon. (Honestly, he was impressed; that was exactly what he would have done.)

Now, they were looking around at the sky, expecting the announcement of their victory to come at any moment.

The absolute horror and fear that went across their faces when the one-victor-only announcement was made gave Gold a rush of thrill.

They stared at each other, wide-eyed and anguished, until the one with magic—Alice, right?—shook her head. “I won’t—I won’t do it. You’ll have to kill me, because I can’t.”

“And you think I can?” Dramatically, she threw down her bow and reached for Alice’s hands. “Alice, I...I love you. And I’m not going home without you.”

Alice sniffed, and a tear began to travel down her cheek; goodness, this was maudlin. “I love you, too,” she warbled. “But we’ve got no choice, do we? Only one can win. And either way, we both lose.”

They hugged each other tight, Alice starting to sob into Robyn’s shoulder. “Wait,” Robyn exclaimed, in a scheming tone Gold didn’t like at all. “Maybe that’s it—maybe neither of us win.”

“What? Like, kill each other?”

“Or ourselves.” Robyn stepped aside and pulled her dagger from where she’d kept it on her belt.

“They wouldn’t have a victor, then, would they?” Alice said, sniffling, but it wasn’t so much a question as an equally conspiratorial statement. Gold was getting nervous, especially when Alice too produced a knife.

“Nope.” Robyn reached for Alice’s hand again. “At the same time?”

Alice nodded resolutely. “Together.”

They both carefully held their daggers over their own hearts, and were ready to stab themselves with the weapons. It was sickeningly sweet; Gold hated sweet. The grip on the apple he was holding grew stronger.

“I love you, Robyn.”

“I love you, Alice.”

“See you on the other side.”

Gold saw that he wasn’t going to have his way. “Allow it,” he sighed to no one in particular, knowing the gamemaker would hear him. If he had to have both of them, then he’d take that over neither.

Before the teenagers could go any farther, Sidney’s near-frantic voice rang out in the arena: “Stop, stop! I officially declare the tributes from Sherwood as the winners of the 99th Hunger Games!”

The couple looked at each other in disbelief before dropping their weapons and embracing each other. They shared a passionate kiss before the hovercraft arrived to bring them back to Olympus, but Gold had stopped watching.

His mind was already on the next thing: how this would affect Pomem. Rumors were already reaching his ears of instability brewing in the realms—minor acts of rebellion against Olympus; an act like this might be fuel on the embers, depending on how the citizens took it.

But more so was the revelation of Alice as one of the witches he’d been waiting for. The prophecy still stood: that the four sorceresses would return, and bring magic back with them. It was funny: magic had brought Pomem together; but without it, the realm was at risk of ceasing to exist.

That white feather Alice found marked her as one of the four; another was for certain, and another was a possibility. He didn’t have any clues on the last but had been assured she was out there by his predecessors.

It was annoying having the voices of all the other Dark Ones past in his head, but, as the saying went, all magic came with a price; if that was the one he paid for the power he wielded, both politically and magically (though much less in that capacity), he’d gladly pay it.

Enjoy your time together now, children, Gold thought as he smashed the apple against his desk, juice running down his fingers with an odd hiss. No one gets the upper hand on me. This is just beginning.

◇─◇──◇────◇────◇────◇────◇────◇─────◇──◇─◇

thanks, as always!!! tagging: @kat2609 @thesschesthair @xpumpkindumplingx @shipsxahoy @amortentia-on-the-rocks @mryddinwilt @cocohook38 @annytecture @wingedlioness @word-bug @distant-rose @wellhellotragic @welllpthisishappening @let-it-raines @pirateherokillian @its-imperator-furiosa @killianmesmalls @sherlockianwhovian @ineffablecolors @laschatzi @ive-always-been-a-pirate @nfbagelperson @stubblesandwich @killian-whump @phiralovesloki @athenascarlet @ilovemesomekillianjones @whimsicallyenchantedrose @snowbellewells @idristardis @scientificapricot @searchingwardrobes

#cs ff #captain swan rewrite a thon #csrt 2020 #the magic games #my ff #(love will see us through these) dark days

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bucky-at-bedtime · 6 years

Text

Redemption – Chapter Two

Chapter One

Summary: Your life as an assassin for the mob has always been an easy one – find the target, kill the target. Simple. Everything changes when you fail to kill your new target – Bucky Barnes.

Pairing: Eventually, Bucky x fem!reader

Warnings: Violence and sass lmao

Words: 2400

A/n: Okay, I posted Ch.1 of this fic a while ago, I don’t really know what I’m doing with it, if it gets a good response I’ll continue, if it doesn’t I’ll pretend it never happened. Lmao, okay pls enjoy.

C H A P T E R T W O

‘Life asked death,

“Why do people love me, and hate you?”

Death responded,

“Because you are a beautiful lie,

And I am the painful truth.”’

Recap:

You let your head fall back against the side of the dumpster, unable to care about how disgusting this situation was. You sighed to yourself, squeezing your eyes shut to try and stop the tears that were brimming in your eyes. You clenched your jaw in determination, fingers brushing over the gun in your jacket.

The King killed your brother. It’s about time he lost his crown.

You were not ashamed to admit that you had a power nap in that dumpster – a quick pick-me-up for your aching legs and bruised body. It’s not like you had anywhere else you could go. By now, your apartment would be swarming with goons, waiting to see any sign of their King’s beloved assassin. Any place you frequented would be compromised. It seemed this dumpster was the only safe place in the world right now.

You groaned quietly to yourself, gripping the metal edge and pulling yourself up, flinging a leg over the side and allowing yourself to topple out, landing in a crouched position.

The sun was beginning to rise, hiding behind the city buildings and sending streams of pink and orange light through the morning air. You brushed off your leather jacket as best you could, sliding your hand under it to press to what you were pretty sure was a broken rib or two, and beginning a slow walk towards the Avengers tower.

He wanted to kill the Avengers. He knew he would never have control, never have his ‘perfect’ city if the heroes were still around. He wanted them dead and you wanted him dead. The enemy of my enemy is my friend, right?

You got a few strange looks from passers-by as you stumbled towards the tower, though most of them brushed it off, deciding that you were probably homeless and an addict. You kept your head down, and as you walked, some of the pain began to fade, making the limping far less noticeable and allowing you to stand up straight.

The sun hid behind the giant tower – a dark shadowy silhouette in the morning sun. The city was starting to wake up around it, men and women in suits emerging onto the streets, coffee shop lines growing as assistants checked their watches and attempted to steady their pulses.

You slipped into the lobby, trying to imitate the confident strides of the other people who entered. Hopefully, no one would notice the blood on your face and the yellowing bruises splattered across your skin.

“Hi.” You watched as the woman at the front desk gulped down her coffee before turning to face you, her eyes going wide in surprise.

“Can- Can I help you?”

“I need to speak to Tony Stark.”

“Uh, Mr. Stark doesn’t deal with people directly – can I put yo-”

“Listen to me. I need to speak to Stark.”

“Ma’am, I’m sorry but I can’t-”

“Look, I’m gonna take a stab and guess that the camera right there,” you pointed at a security camera behind the desk, “runs facial recognition on everyone that walks in and out of this building. If you look at your computer you’ll find a file on me – Y/n Y/l/n.”

You watched as she typed some things into the computer, her eyes widening as she read the file.

“Thought that might be the case.” You shot her a faux smile, “So, if you could pick up that phone, and get me Tony Stark.”

You knew she was probably scared of you now – the information about your ‘career’ could be quite intimidating. You also knew she could easily call the cops instead – but why do that when the Avengers were in the building?

Moments later, you found yourself in a sparse office, high-tech handcuffs secured around your wrists as you waited for Tony Stark to come and talk to you. The cool, metal of the chair slowly adjusted to your body temperature as time slowly trickled by. You stared blankly down at the cuffs connecting your wrists.

The past 20 minutes had been nothing but sitting, fiddling and waiting for someone –– an avenger or agent –– to come to interrogate you. You woefully reminisced on the past few years; the experiments, the torture, the killing. You couldn’t help the disgusted grimace that broke through your neutral expression. You vehemently hated the mob for single-handedly ruining yours and your brother’s life. But there was no one that you despised more than yourself, not even the King of that damned elitist gang. It was your own fault for ever getting involved, and most importantly, you got your own brother killed because of it.

“Andy…” His name just slipped out of your mouth. It was quiet and despondent, and completely contradicted your now stone-cold features. He’s gone, dead, because of you. You killed him. You were still having trouble believing, the scene flashing through your mind repetitively, sending your brain into overdrive. Every possibility, every opportunity you had to save him. If you’d been a little stronger, a little faster, a little better, like you were supposed to be – he’d still be alive.

You slammed your fists onto the metal table, a solid indent was produced on impact and you were sure you broke a couple of fingers, maybe your wrist. You didn’t care; you deserved it, and so much more. You slowly released a breath, stretching your fingers out. You had definitely broken something. A few minutes later, someone finally came in.

Steve Rogers – Captain America was suddenly striding into the room, his eyebrows furrowed in a mixture of anger and confusion as he assessed you. He glanced briefly at the dent in the table and his eyebrows pulled even closer together.

“Warm welcome,” you mumbled, lifting your connected wrists.

“You’re a criminal.” He crossed his arms over his chest and you scoffed quietly at his words, looking back down at your hands.

The door opened again, and Tony Stark stepped in, adjusting the blazer he was wearing over a graphic tee. He gave you a look-over before pulling out a chair from across the table and looking at you curiously.

“Alright, what’s your deal?” He asked, obviously intrigued. “You don’t look like much of a murderer”

“That seems sexist – and I prefer the term assassin” you quirked a brow, daring him to disagree.

“Well I prefer the term ‘smartest avenger’ but it isn’t catching on,” he sassed. He leaned forward, resting his arms on the table. “Answer the question.”

“I don’t recall a question.”

“What’s. your. Deal?”

“You’re gonna have to be more specific.” you leaned across the table, mimicking his position.

“Cut the bull crap.” Steve finally interrupted the exchange. “Why are you here?”

You let out a breath of air and turned your head to look at the blonde. You stared at his chest for a moment, trying to think of a way to phrase this. Your eyes shifted up to his, looking earnestly into the bright blue – you knew what you were about to say was absurd, but you needed him to believe you. You let out another sigh, before blurting it out. “Someone’s trying to kill you.”

“That’s ominous” Tony’s voice broke the short silence that followed your statement, refusing to take you seriously. “What’s new?”

“What, and you came to warn us?” Steve was leaning forwards now, his arms uncrossed and resting on the table. His voice was still filled with disbelief, but something told you he would be easy to convince.

“Pretty much.”

“I’ll humour you,” Tony mumbled, leaning back in his chair and raising a perfect brow. “Who?”

You shook your head slightly at his indifference, continuing to talk despite it. “The man I used to work for – guy calls himself ‘The King’”

“That seems pretentious,” Tony interrupted, a smirk on his lips.

“Almost as pretentious as ‘the smartest avenger,” you snapped, glaring over at him. His smirk only seemed to widen.

“Continue the story.” Steve was getting impatient, obviously done with the banter, so you turned your attention back to him, ignoring Stark’s presence for the moment.

“He’s a powerful guy – addicted to control and perfection. He runs all the crime in New York.”

“Why haven’t we heard of him?”

“Like I said, he’s powerful – good at his job and a goddamn perfectionist. He stays under the radar, frames other people, doesn’t go into the public unless he has to.” You looked down at your hands, noticing the mild shake as you spoke. You pressed them down onto the table, wincing slightly when the cuffs pressed against your wrists.“He wants complete control – wants to run this whole goddamn city.” you stopped, shaking your head lightly and leaning back into your chair. “He can’t to that with you guys around.”

“Why should we believe you?”

“Because I want him gone.”

“Why’s that?” Tony finally seemed intrigued. He ran his fingers across the stubble on his jaw, watching you carefully.

“Why do you think? Look at me.” you gestured to your beaten body with your still-cuffed hands. “Who do you think did all this?”

“What did you do to piss him off?”

“I didn’t kill Bucky Barnes.”

Steve perked up at that, his curiosity sparking as a scoff escaped his lips. “You’re the girl – the one that attacked him yesterday.”

“Technically he attacked me”

“Yeah, you were pointing a gun at his head.”

“Wasn’t going to pull the trigger.”

“What do you mean?”

You hesitated to answer, opening your mouth to respond just as Tony interrupted. “What’s this guy’s real name?”

“How the fuck should I know? I’ve worked for him for 10 years and I’ve never heard anyone call him anything other than ‘The King.”

“You seem to really hate this guy – why work for him for 10 years?”

“I had to. I didn’t have a choice.”

“You didn’t have a choice?”

You opened your mouth with the intention to snap back some sassy remark, but the door burst open behind you and you were suddenly defying gravity, being thrown against the back wall. All the air escaped your lungs on impact and you coughed, trying to gain back some oxygen.

Your hands, still cuffed, came up to hold onto something, but all that was there was another person’s arms. You held on tightly.

Finally, you lifted your head, finding the eyes of Bucky Barnes.

It was safe to assume he held grudges.

“It’s good to see you again,” you rasped, still trying to bring enough oxygen in through his tight grip. “I have to say, this is almost as pleasant as our first meeting.”

His eyes narrowed and he pressed his forearm harder against your collarbones – at this point, you thought he might be intending to break them. “I should’ve finished the job,” he grumbled.

“You’re not the only person who’s tried to kill me in the last 24 hours – I like to think I’m pretty tough.” Your cuffed hands clawed slightly at his flesh arm, trying to gain some leverage.

Steve was standing up, still behind the table and asking Bucky to let you go. He was ignoring him.

“How’d she get in?” he asked, still staring straight at you. It seemed as though he didn’t want to let you out of his sight.

“I walked in through the front door,” you hissed, looking around the room, attempting to find a way to escape his death-grip.

“Shut up.” He turned away slightly to look back at the two men. “Steve?”

“She walked in through the front door, Buck,” Steve sighed, walking around the table and putting a hand on Bucky’s shoulder.

You could feel your heartbeat speeding up, the fear of suffocation creeping in behind your passiveness. Your mind was moving too quickly –– confusing itself –– you needed to slow down. You needed to breathe.

“Are you kidding me? She tried to kill me 24 hours ag-”

Before he could finish his sentence, you had found your leverage. You pushed his chest back as your foot came up, connecting with his kneecap. His grip loosened and you fell from where he was holding you up on the wall, taking a few quick steps away from him.

“Stop- stop, Barnes,” you held your hands up in surrender as he took a step towards you. “You know I had a good shot. You know I could’ve killed you long before you spotted me.” You backed up further, basically pressing yourself against the opposite wall, “Think about it,” you hissed.

He stopped, eyes still narrowed as he glared at you, Tony and Steve apparently happy to stay silent throughout this exchange.

“We have similar training, you know if I was going to kill you, you’d be dead.”

“So why didn’t you?” he seethed.

“Changed my mind,” you hissed back, still holding your cuffed arms in front of you. “And now I’m here to try and fucking save your cute little team, so if you could refrain from killing me, for two goddamn seconds, maybe your friends can fill you in.”

You stared, wide-eyed at Steve and Tony, rolling your eyes at the smirk that seemed to be permanently attached to Stark’s face.

“How about we fill everyone in?” He suggested, glancing from Steve to Bucky and then back to you. “Team meeting?”

Steve assessed you – your position of surrender across the room, the bruising that still covered your body.

“FRIDAY? Tell the team to meet in conference room 3A. Urgent.”

Bucky looked back at Steve, assessing his direction before finally taking his eyes off you. You took a shaky breath and brushed off the front of your blood-stained leather jacket.

“I don’t trust it,” he mumbled.

“I’m not an ‘it’”

“Let’s let the team decide,” Steve attempted to bargain.

“Ah, some healthy codependency, great,” you mumbled, unable to stop the remark from leaving your lips.

“You should really stop talking.” Steve raised a brow at your constant sassiness. “Bucky keep an eye on her”

When you were close enough, Bucky’s metal arm reached out, clamping tightly around your forearm. You looked down at the shining fingers and raised your brows.

“He said to keep an eye on me, not a bionic limb”

“Yeah, well, if we were listening to what he said, you would’ve stopped talking”

“Touché.”

TAGS:

@srgtsprout @redstarstan @just-add-butter @wildefire@dewy-biitch @emilia-dawn @comfortablenihilist@averyrogers83 @chameerah @vodkasindream@ciarawriitesmarvel @lauxeyson @mylovelymarvel@breezy1415 @xxashy999xx @moroiboy @miniwroetofreezymd@ellaisbutteredtoast @barnesbuucky @black-shad0w-w0lf@shelteredheart @fridolf-arach @missavengeer @winters-beauty @burningthroughmybones @theglowstickofdestiny@gotov-otvechat @o0justyouraveragefangirl0o @winterz-children @silverbvcky @petals-sunwards @stormbreaver@demonspawn2468 @verycoolveryunique @fireflyloki21 @laurfangirl424 @ohitswanda @winters-beauty@buckybarnessquadfam @dixonsbugaboo @widowsfics@lowkeysebby @javapeach @vxidnik @dark-night-sky-99@untimelyideasforstories @futzingclint @feelmyroarrrr @laneygthememequeen @slytherinrising @logan8546 @his-paradox @teawithbucky @bluemoon-0132 @wonderless-screwup @sing-once-more @bibibucky @lovely-suuzy@movie-dates-and-choccy-shakes @crazy–me @Just-amarvelfan @bucky-smiles @nervous-shawn @me-you–me-and-you–whatever @badsongwinchester @milkshakeslou@iwillbesmall-promise @whyisquill @tai-holland @collection-of-posts-to-share @lukeyasheycalymikey @marvelgal666 @captameric @rvmanova @ellacaramella @curls-n-cats-styles @dontwintilligetthere @cordelia-sagewright @a-watson-in-search-of-a-sherlock @andmaggiee @thisismysecrethappyplace @gravewalkerray@12thatsanumber @booksmarvelandfanfic

@pandalandalopalis

#bucky x reader #fic #marvel fic #serious stuff #idk #tony stark #steve rogers

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3wrsefesf · 3 years

Text

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saranel · 7 years

Photo

Tagging @mags-duranb, who asked (thank you for the interest btw, it was super sweet. Also, I love your art <3333) :) I was gonna make a post anyway, but I wanted it to be a timeline photoset hence why I’m not replying directly.

I thought it was about time I gave you guys a nice long update on the purrito, since we have now officially reached 2 months of age as of yesterday!

To answer the requester’s question, SHE is doing just fine xD That’s right, when we visited the vet about a week ago for the second round of shots, we got visible proof (or rather lack thereof) that we have a little girl in our hands. This was only a couple of days before I made an insta post announcing the official name, because of course it was. Way to embarass me, kiddo.

So I’d like to introduce you all to Buffy, because hello, so dang pretty, look at that last pic that was taken only yesterday, and she’s also pretty fearless and resourceful, though not necessarily highly intelligent xD Not a vampire slayer, but an ankle slayer for sure. I generally post updates on her every couple of days on instagram.

Oh, and, just as a final note on the whole name thing, yes, we still call her purrito from time to time, as well as a thousand other nicknames ;)

So! On to the update (and an extra... suprise?¿¿??) below the cut:

Buffy’s issues with food have gotten a lot better. She used to be vicious about meals, meowing and pleading hours before her feeding time. At first we thought we were perhaps feeding her too little, so we followed the general advice everyone gives re: how much to feed kittens, which is to say we just let her eat her fill. She did not stop until her belly was so distended I had to physically drag her bowl away. So we decided to slowly increase her intake whenever we saw she started to get skinny. Which, given her Longcat status, was so. damn. OFTEN. Seriously, if she looks malnourished in some pics, I assure you she’s not. She just grows and grows like a damn weed.

Lately, however, since her weight has reached a healthy plateau, she’s gotten much better about food. No screaming, no scratching, and she doesn’t really complain before feeding time anymore. She still follows us whenever we dare visit the kitchen, but hey, it could be worse xD

Something I’ve never mentioned here is that when we first found her, her whiskers were very short and stubby, which we originally attributed to her being very young. But eventually, we noticed that not only were her brow whiskers much longer, there was a lone whisker next to the stubby ones that was regular-sized, and the shorter ones looked almost... manually cut, if that wakes sense. A bit of research led us to find out that sometimes, littermates may do this to a runt (bite them off) when they’re competing for mom’s milk, which... not only makes my heart ache for our little buddy, it starts to put her whole attitude toward food into perspective.

Long story short, we were prepared for the possibility that she may forever have issues with food, but she’s been improving constantly.

Other than the food issue, Buffy has grown into a happy, healthy kitty :) She’s up to date on her shots, and we took her to the vet only last week where we got nothing but good news.

She’s very attached to us, especially me since I work from home and basically see her all day, and though she doesn’t complain and yowl when she’s left alone, she is super cuddly when we return home.

Given her age, she’s incredibly playful to the point that we get more exhausted playing with her than she does xD She likes climbing all over the place and exploring everything within reach, always looking for new ‘lairs’ and stuffing her butt into every nook and cranny, she loves to chew on cables (which has led us to do some highly creative concealing) and often engages in what we call ‘Crab Dancing’ when she gets excited/territorial during playtime:

( I *****MAY***** have edited this. Slightly. For my own amusement. It’s kinda soporific if you stare at it for too long)

We were glad to see she takes to new (human) acquaintances very well, and she hasn’t (yet) started wreaking havoc in our apartment. She, has, however, gotten very bitey during playtime, and it’s ALWAYS playtime, so we’re trying to encourage her to bite on toys instead of our fingers: it’s a sloooooooooow process. There’s also the possibility that she’s teething a bit early so she’s just constantly looking for relief. We’ve bought her a few special chew toys that should arrive shortly, and hopefully they’ll help. Even if it’s still early for her, hey, new toys, amirite? xD

Still, she never lashes out to us in anger/anxiety, not even when we gave her a bath where she was visibly distressed (yes, I know it’s not necessary for cats, but we’d never cleaned her with anything but pet wipes since we rescued her; she needed at least one) and yet she never tried to scratch or bite us. TL;DR she’s mischievous, but not aggressive outside of playtime.

She’s super long for her age and will most likely be a pretty long kitty when she reaches maturity. Seriously, y’all, Longcat 2.0:

( USB stick for size comparison, lol )

I’m still bummed my theory that she was part Van doesn’t seem to be true (in my defense, she has something very similar to the characteristic Van spot on her nape!), but hey, less shedding xD She also has a permanent bald spot on her spine now (as we knew she would), where the vet had given her that shot that saved her life back when she got sick.

She’s a sweet little doofus, who thinks she’s really a parrot and likes to perch on our shoulder, and meows the whole time I’m in the kitchen because how dare someone in this household eat when she’s not eating too, and when I ignore her grey-green supplicating eyes she just curls up over my foot while I wash the dishes, and she constantly gets tangled up in our legs and waits for us behind closed doors, and she’s a friggin’ Duracell battery who does.not.tire, and she tosses half the litter out when she digs, and she loves to take naps with us cuddled right over our chests so our heartbeat can lull her to sleep, and we love her.

Here’s to the next two months :)

Size comparison below, using my hand in both pics. Then and now :)

Addendum:

Edit: You can keep on reading, but the story has a sad ending, unfortunately :(

The above was the post I had prepared and was going to post yesterday on Buffy’s 2 month ‘birthday,’ so I’ve left it intact. However, I would be remiss if I didn’t add this latest development:

For a while now, we’ve been discussing how to deal with Buffy’s inexhaustible energy levels, because we do have other responsibilities, all of whom also require a good night’s sleep, which as you may imagine, has been a bit rare lately. There’s this saying that the only one who can keep up with a kitten is another kitten, but we were very reluctant to adopt another one, since we’re currently dealing with an imminent move and we weren’t sure if we could even afford it.

Well...................

I found and rescued Buffy. My partner found and rescued this little guy yesterday:

Five things here:

1) NO THIS WAS NOT PLANNED THIS IS SO BEYOND UNPLANNED I’M WFSJKLSDFJSKDHFSDKJ

2) MY PARTNER DIDN’T EVEN FIND HIM IN OUR NEIGHBORHOOD HE WAS VISITING HIS MOM ASJKFDHLSADGHFDDFAS

3) WE SERIOUSLY DON’T KNOW IF WE’RE KEEPING HIM. SERIOUSLY.L

4) YEAH I KNOW YOU CAN’T REALLY SEE MUCH LMAO EVEN HIS WHISKERS ARE BLACK JFC BUT I DIDN’T WANNA SCARE HIM SO I DIDN’T USE FLASH

5) 31 FUCKIN YEARS WITH NO KITTENS AND NOW TWQO, TWO KITTENS WTFFFFFFFF ITS RAINING KITTENS PRAISE BE TO BASTET i guess?? wtffffffffff

*breathes into a paper bag*

I’m going to be even more reluctant to make any grand claims than I was when we found Buffy, because this little dude (this one is a dude, indeed) is in pretty bad shape. Though she’d been abandoned, Buffy was very clean and hale when we found her, even if she was a bit small and underfed.

This one though... poor little soot sprite is all skin and bones, he was flea-ridden until we took him to the vet, he’s filthy, he’s terrified and has a bum leg from some sort of accident. We didn’t even have a plan yesterday when my partner found him, but we figured since we had a lot of leftover milk powder and kitten pate from Buffy, we might as well feed up this little orphan.

It took some coaxing with a syringe, but he got a bit of milk down which got his appetite going and we were able to feed him some pate. He actually ate a fair bit, which is encouraging. We know for a fact he was abandoned by his mom, btw, she’s still roaming around the neighborhood but refusing to tend to him since he’s already older than 4 weeks (maybe 1,5 month old max). Just two weeks younger than Buffy. After he got some food down, we took him to our vet, who was reserved but cautiously optimistic even for the leg. He made us no promises, of course, and he advised we prepare ourselves for the possibility that he might not make it.

We’ve now had him for just under a day and he’s been improving. He was very scared at first, hissy when I went near him, and the first time I fed him at home, the new environment had stressed him out to the point that I had to use a syringe again to get him to eat. And yeah, we’ve had to keep him isolated ofc to protect Buffy (and him, omg, she’s literally twice his size in weight, no exaggeration, and most likely a social dunce with other kittes, she would destroy him). I’ll be able to give him a bath tomorrow afternoon after the 48hr clock on the flea medicine runs out, which is yet another reason we had to isolate him. Today, he’s been getting less and less reserved around me and he hasn’t needed to be force fed once, he’s been downing pate like no-one’s business. I weighed him earlier and found he’d gained about 40-50 grams, a number I offer cautiously as both weighings at the vet and today aren’t entirely accurate, because squirmy kitty. Still, he’s gained weight, even if only a little.

Buffy can tell something’s up, since we basically had to move her litterbox and feeding area and haven’t let her in that room since. It’s been... an adjustment xD But she bounces back admirably fast, she didn’t even bat an eyelash at the change; she’s just curious to discover what we’re hiding from her, obviously. She’s probably heard him meowing, too.

We honestly have no clue what we’ll do with him. Taking it one day at a time. He might not make it at all, and even if he does, he may never get along with Buffy, in which case we’ll have to give him away for both their sakes. I’m not gonna lie, money is a concern. Research tells me at their age and beyond the cost isn’t prohibiting, not even double that of a single cat. So if he doesn’t require any costly meds, we can afford him, especially since Buffy can now eat dry food (and so will he in a couple of weeks). This, again, is all hinging on a) him not having any serious, contagious illnesses, and b) him and Buffy getting along. In the long run, we know it would be way better for Buffy to have a companion to play and cuddle with, but we have to be realistic and prepare for the worst for now.

Soot sprite is a little cutie, he has the softest, most plaintive meow and there’s even hope for his little leg down the road (though honestly, that’s the last thing that concerns us; even in his current state, he’s perfectly mobile). His eyes, too, should get better with time if he grows healthier.

SO WE’LL SEE. RN I am beyond stressed and reserved, but also kinda hopeful. *sigh*

#cats #purrito #Buffy #<<<new tag lol #my actual show buffy tag is btvs #also #soot sprite #asks

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