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c-e-d-dreamer · 9 months ago

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Top Shelf Love: Chapter 2

A/N: Has anyone else been watching the Stanley Cup Playoffs? Just Me? I haven't decided yet who I want to be in the final ever since my Canes have been eliminated... Anyways! All this to say that it's been fun writing this hockey fic while watching hockey, and I hope everyone enjoys reading this latest chapter :)

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Cassian

Despite having played the Kraken in Seattle once last season, Cassian has to admit it’s pretty nice being on the home side of Climate Pledge Arena. Sure, playing in a place like Madison Square Garden most nights was a dream, one he held since he was just a boy, but there’s something to be said about all the upgrades and modernity that a newer arena has to offer.

Following the director of team services out of the elevator, they come to a set of frosted glass doors, the Kraken logo split between the two. As they step closer, the doors automatically slide open, revealing the locker room, and Cassian barely swallows down an impressed whistle. It’s certainly spacious, even for an NHL locker room, LED lights and the Kraken logo displayed on the ceiling. At least, he won’t have to worry about stepping on it here.

“Valdarez.”

Cassian turns just in time to see a tall man walking toward him, blonde hair cut short and beard trimmed to just a stubble along his cheeks. His grin is wide and easy, revealing the chipped upper tooth on the left side. It’s easy enough for Cassian to recognize the captain of the team, Fionn Donoch. He still remembers watching him lift the Cup back when Cassian was just a teen.

“Wanted to make sure I came down to meet you myself,” Fionn continues, holding out his hand for Cassian to shake.

“Are you sure you didn’t just want to come down and remind me who’s really in charge here?”

Fionn laughs good naturedly at the joke, slapping Cassian on the back. “You’re going to fit right in here. So, what do you think so far?”

Cassian glances around the locker room again, thinking back to the practice facilities he’d toured earlier. “Yeah, it’s pretty nice, all the fancy arena upgrades.”

“Definitely not the worst place to call home, right? Listen, they don’t have the ice down yet, but I can still show you if you want.”

At Cassian’s nod, Fionn leads the way out of the locker room. They pass through a glass lined hallway, Fionn explaining how during game days, it’s lit with blue LED lights, how fans typically line the other side, banging the glass and getting the boys going. Then they’re stepping onto the home bench and the arena floor, and Cassian gets to appreciate what the view will be from ice level. He turns slowly in a circle, taking in the stands, the scoreboards, the afternoon light streaming through the wall of windows.

He takes a deep breath in, and for a moment, he can almost hear it. The blare of the goal horn. The roar of the crowd. He can almost feel the cool bite off the ice against his cheeks. Can almost feel the surety, the peace that comes from having it beneath his skates, from the comfortable weight of a stick in his hands.

“Have you met with Miller yet?”

Cassian shakes his head of the daydream, turning back toward Fionn. “Yeah, I met with the whole staff earlier this morning.”

He and Fionn continue to talk shop, talk the system, before making their way together toward the garage and their cars. Or, in Cassian’s case, his rental car until he’s able to secure a new apartment and get all his things shipped out. He supposes he should check in with that realtor Eris connected him with again.

“If you need anything, don’t hesitate to reach out,” Fionn tells him, offering another easy grin as he hits the remote of his car. “Even if it’s just food recommendations.”

“Thanks, but I’m actually meant to be meeting up with a friend after this. She’s going to give me the whole tour of the city and all that.”

“She, huh? Let me know if I need to pass her number along to the wife. I don’t think they’ve done dues yet for this season.”

Cassian chuckles at the teasing smirk on Fionn’s face, the implication of his words. But then he thinks back to Nesta. Thinks back to the photos of her Instagram, to those icy blue eyes and that damn expression on her face. He can’t deny there’s been a low, simmering heat in his gut all morning, sparking at the fact he finally gets to meet Nesta, finally gets to witness that fire in person.

“Only if I’m lucky.”

~ * * * ~

Large, looping letters declare Grumpy & Sunshine Books above the door, the window display to the left of the door decked out with an artsy display of flowers and hanging book pages. Cassian glances down at the phone in his hand, the Map displayed on the screen there, confirming he’s in the right place. With a nod, he pockets his phone and presses forward, stepping through the front door.

The scent of paper and ink greets him as soon as Cassian steps inside, along with something vanilla. A candle that he can’t see? There’s a table display of books immediately inside, and Cassian casts them a cursory glance, taking in more looping text and what looks to be a variety of cartoon characters on the covers. He weaves around shelves and more table displays, past a wall of vines and succulents and a pink neon sign declaring Most ardently.

And at the very center of the store, Cassian finds the register and the woman he’s looking for bent over a book behind it. Cassian had known Nesta was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen since he first saw her picture, but seeing her in person is another thing altogether. Seeing her standing there in front of him almost has him wanting to drop down to his knees right there in the middle of the bookstore.

Her hair is braided back in an intricate updo, but with her head bent down, a strand of golden brown hair tumbles down her temple and kisses her jawline. Deft fingers brush the hair aside and behind her ear absently, further revealing the sharp cut of her cheekbones. When she turns the page of her book, her lips part, eyebrows jumping, and Cassian thinks he might give anything to see her eyes properly, to see if they spark and flare along with whatever she’s just read.

He’d give anything to have those eyes on him.

“Reading on the job?”

Nesta snaps her book closed, her attention finally rising, and Cassian gets his first look at those blue eyes he’s so often thought about. They’re a similar shade to Feyre’s, sure, and yet so different somehow. They seem to burn with a silver fire that leaves the cool shade of them looking like a storm roiled sea, especially when that gaze narrows on him, her lips pinching into a scowl.

Cassian doesn’t let the reaction deter him. If anything, it only stokes the embers in his own chest, beckoning him into the flames. He closes the final few steps between them, leaning against the register counter with a smirk.

“Nesta Archeron,” Cassian greets.

“Cassian Valdarez.”

His name falling from her lips shouldn’t sound as sweet as it does, especially with the clipped tone she speaks it, but a zing of electricity still skitters down Cassian’s spine nonetheless. What would it take to have her saying his name again? To have her sighing it? For him to taste it?

“So you do know me, then?” Cassian drawls, daring to glance down at her book. A Calanmai Secret. “And yet, you couldn’t answer any of my texts.”

Nesta crosses her arms, leveling him with a hard look that Cassian is sure is meant to send him running. “Most people would take that as a hint. Yet here you are. In my bookstore.”

“Feyre said you’d show me around the city.”

“Feyre asked me to show you around. I don’t recall ever agreeing.”

“I’m starting to think you’re the grumpy on the sign outside,” Cassian chuckles softly, hoping to at least earn the hint of a smile at his teasing joke.

Instead, Nesta settles both hands on the register counter, leaning forward. “Buy something. Or get out of my store.”

Cassian tilts his head, taken back by the harsh reaction. He’ll clearly have to work harder to get her to smile or laugh. Challenge accepted. Already, he can hear Az’s voice in his mind, making a dry comment about his taste in women. Already, he can see the way Rhys would roll his eyes.

“Fine,” Cassian says easily with a shrug, stepping back from the register counter. “The historical section is…?”

Nesta merely points to a bookshelf to his left, so Cassian turns his attention toward it. He grabs the first book within reach, the spine a blue and green. He’s intent on striding right back up to Nesta and proudly purchasing the book, but then he catches sight of the cover. Of the shirtless man that takes up the cover, the model’s skin clearly oiled up so every ridge of muscle is on full display. A tartan hangs low on the man’s hips, and just above the man the title is scrawled, Highland Escape.

“This… is not what I meant.”

Rather than direct him toward the historical fiction section, Nesta crosses her arms across her chest, her lips tugging up into a smirk. And, oh, there’s a real challenge blazing in her gaze now, that fire that had called to Cassian even in photo form sparking in her blue eyes. It’s beautiful, that look on her face, daring him to play.

He glances around the bookstore again, this time with fresh eyes. The greenery on the walls, the different table displays, the pink neon sign with an Austen quote. Of course. He’d heard of bookstores like these, ones that specialize in romance novels.

When he looks back toward Nesta, she has that same daring expression on her face, her smirk already starting to grow as though she’s won. As beautiful as it is, as beautiful as she is, Cassian refuses to back down. Heat flares through his chest as he fights back a smirk of his own, more than ready to keep this game of theirs going. He clears his throat and turns back to the shelf, sliding the book in his hand back into place. He takes his time reading the different titles along the spine before finally settling on a different book, tugging it free and sidling back up at the register counter.

“I’ll take this one,” Cassian tells Nesta with a grin, sliding the book across to her.

Nesta hums, glancing down toward the book he’s selected. Viking Bride. Cassian waits for the mask to slip, to see a hint of a reaction take over her face, but she’s nothing but cool and silent as she rings him up. The transaction complete, she tucks his receipt into the cover of the book, sliding it back over to him.

“Have a nice day,” Nesta offers, her tone mockingly sweet.

Cassian reaches for the book, his fingers brushing along Nesta’s own until she snatches her hand away. “You know, I’m beginning to think you don’t like me.”

Nesta snorts and rolls her eyes. “Whatever gave you that impression?”

“Oh, yeah, Nes, you’re a real ray of sunshine right now.”

“Don’t call me that.”

There’s no stopping Cassian’s smirk at earning that reaction, a little tidbit he tucks away, even as he continues, “but it’s not really fair, is it? I mean, you don’t even know me. This is literally our first time ever meeting. What could I have possibly done?”

Nesta’s face falls, a new emotion flashing through her blue eyes. It’s certainly the cool, haughty mask slipping away, but not how Cassian wanted. He frowns at the sudden change, but before he can even begin to attempt to decipher what that emotion is, what that expression could mean, Nesta turns away from him.

“If I give you a tour of the city, will you leave me alone after that?”

~ * * * ~

Nesta

Nesta doesn’t know what she expected. She knew, in the back of her mind, that despite never responding to a single one of Cassian’s texts, that that wouldn’t be the last of things. But she can’t say she expected him to show up at her bookstore. Didn’t expect him to stride in with a smirk and an easy confidence, to almost proudly buy a viking romance novel.

She wants to hate that he still looks as good as the last time she saw him at Feyre’s engagement party. His hair is loose, dark curls hanging around his temples and tumbling down to his shoulders. His eyes are a hazel as bright as Nesta remembers, a maze of greens and golds that seem to spark with a flickering flame. And that cocksure smile has no damn right being as attractive as it is.

She wants to hate the way he didn’t back down from her ire, from all the quips she threw his way. Instead, he only seemed to rise to meet her, seemed to enjoy it as though it was a game between them. She wants to deny the way his fingers brushing against hers sent a shiver ricocheting up her arm and down her spine.

And he doesn’t even remember her.

She’d felt stupid that night in New York, but she feels even more stupid now. She certainly hadn’t expected an apology or anything, but this is like a slap in the face. And on the heels of that churning feeling roiling through her gut is anger. It burns red hot through her veins, flaring like a wildfire that licks between her ribs.

“If I give you a tour of the city, will you leave me alone after that?”

Cassian clears his throat awkwardly, that cocksure smirk finally slipping. “You want me to leave you alone?”

“What are you doing here?”

Nesta’s attention snaps toward the new voice, finding Emerie standing just inside the door, her brown eyes narrowed on Cassian.

“Hey, how’s it going?” Cassian answers easily despite Emerie’s clipped question. He holds his hand out toward her to shake, but Emerie doesn’t take it. “I’m Cassian.”

“I know who you are,” Emerie tells him airily, stepping behind the register counter.

She reaches out as she passes, fingers curling around Nesta’s wrist and squeezing lightly. It’s a silent question out of view of Cassian’s eyes, to check that she’s alright. Nesta meets her best friend’s gaze and offers the smallest hint of a nod.

“You do? Are you a hockey fan, then?” Cassian asks, unaware of the silent conversation happening without him.

Emerie snorts at the implication. “No. There’s only one hockey fan in this bookstore, and it’s not me.”

“I feel like you don’t like me either…” Cassian comments quietly, tilting his head slightly. “Is everyone the grumpy on the sign? You might want to consider a new name if there’s no sunshine.”

“Gwyn is the sunshine, and trust me when I say you’re lucky that you don’t have to deal with her.”

Nesta has to press her lips together to keep from laughing at the way Cassian’s eyes widen slightly in horror. It’s certainly not a misplaced expression. Gwyn was one of Nesta’s first friends when she first moved to Seattle, and while the redhead is one of the kindest people Nesta has ever met, she’s also the fiercest. Beneath all the bright smiles and easy laughs there’s a viciousness that can and will be released, especially when it comes to those Gwyn cares about.

“I don’t know. You said there’s one hockey fan, right? And I’m guessing it’s this Gwyn. Maybe I do want to meet her. We can talk all things Kraken.”

“Gwyn’s a Nashville fan,” Nesta informs Cassian. “They’re her hometown team.”

And dedicated to her hometown team she is. Nesta doesn’t think she’ll ever forget the first time she and Gwyn went to grab dinner at a sport’s bar, the first time witnessing the way Gwyn ranted and shouted at the large television on the wall.

Nesta waits for Cassian’s face to drop again at this newest tidbit, but what she doesn’t expect is for his grin to grow wider and stretch across his face, for the golds of his eyes to glint. He looks like a child that just stepped foot into a candy store, like this is exactly what he was waiting for, and it has Nesta frowning in confusion.

“My brother plays for the Preds. Azriel. You know, if she wanted, I could probably get her a signed jersey.”

“Gwyn would absolutely lose her mind,” Emerie comments under her breath.

“And what’s the price for this signed jersey?” Nesta dares to ask, squinting suspiciously at Cassian.

Cassian shrugs a shoulder, all faux innocence. “Well, you clearly don’t want to give me a tour, so how about just dinner? You can give me a list of your recommendations then.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“A dinner for a jersey. Sounds like a fair trade to me. Don’t you think, Nes?”

Nesta sighs, shaking her head. “Fine. One dinner and in exchange, you’ll get a Nashville jersey signed. By the whole team.”

Cassian’s smile twists into a smirk, gaze flickering and darkening as he holds his hand out across the register counter. “It’s a bargain.”

Nesta already knows she’s going to regret this, but she reaches forward, sliding her hand into Cassian’s. His fingers curl around her own with ease, his grip surprisingly gentle. His hand is so large compared to her own, practically swallowing hers whole, and the callouses slide against her palm when she pulls her hand back. She has to forcibly shove down a shiver before it can skitter up her spine in reaction.

“Let’s go, then,” Nesta says, gathering up her things where she stored them beneath the register.

She and Emerie share one final look before Nesta leads Cassian out the door and back onto the street. Thankfully, it’s a short walk to one of the local restaurants that focuses on PNW cuisine, a good introduction for Cassian to the city and area.

“So, I have to ask,” Cassian begins once they’re seated at a small table near the back of the restaurant, the waitress vanishing with their drink order.

“Ask about what?” Nesta asks, not even bothering to look up from the menu even though she already knows what she’s going to order.

“About the bookstore.”

Nesta’s gaze flicks over the top of the menu in her hands, eyes narrowing. “Some people like to read, meathead.”

Cassian tips his head back and lets out a booming laugh, earning a few curious looks from the other tables. “Did you really just call me a meathead?”

“I’ve seen you play, seen you fighting other players on the ice.”

“Are you watching my games, sweetheart?” Cassian asks, leaning across the table to smirk at her, those hazel eyes of his glinting in amusement again.

Nesta rolls her eyes, leaning forward as well to sneer, “you wish. I told you, Gwyn is a Nashville fan. I occasionally watch a game with her.”

Cassian hums, and Nesta bristles at the way he continues to eye her. Something about those hazel eyes is almost unsettling, as though he’s looking through her in a way no one ever has. It takes everything within her not to shift in her seat, to simply turn her attention back to her menu.

“History.”

Nesta looks up again with a frown. “What?”

“History,” Cassian repeats, leaning back casually in his chair. “That’s what my degree is in.”

“I thought hockey players got drafted at eighteen? That’s what Gwyn has always said at least.”

“That’s true, but not everyone joins the NHL right out of the draft. I played for my college team for two years before I was finally called up.”

“And what? You magically finished your degree in two years?”

Cassian laughs again, this time a low chuckle that’s surprisingly warm, that practically wraps itself around Nesta’s limbs. “Lucky for me, there’s this really amazing thing called online classes.”

“Oh.”

Nesta doesn’t know what else to say to that, but thankfully, she’s spared when their waitress returns to their table, ready to take their food orders. When she steps away again, Nesta no longer has her menu to use as a distraction, has nowhere else to look except at the man sitting across the table from her. The low light of the restaurant cuts shadows across his cheeks and jaw, the candles on each table flickering in and deepening the hazel of his eyes. The large span of his hand is on full display as he curls his fingers easily around the bottle of wine he ordered, filling Nesta’s glass before he fills his own.

“You never answered my question,” Cassian tells her, setting the bottle back down. “About the bookstore.”

“I told you, some people enjoy reading. Myself included.”

“Yeah, but I remember Feyre talking about how you went to law school, that you’d be terrorizing courtrooms and making everyone regret going up against you. So, what happened? How do you go from lawyer to bookstore owner?”

The urge to lash out, to make a snapping reply that diverts the conversation, claws up Nesta’s throat. She rarely talks about it, about him. The reason she made the move to Seattle in the first place, leaving a gaping wound as big as the distance between them with her sisters. The reason the dream she thought she had, the dream she swore she always wanted, shattered between her fingers like glass, shards cutting deep and leaving her bloodied. The reason she retreated and fell back into the shadows, that Emerie and Gwyn had to pull her out.

There are days where it all still feels so raw, no matter how much time has passed. Days where a sickening feeling will churn through her gut as soon as she opens her eyes. Days where she can still hear his voice, still feel his hands. Days where the voice in her mind morphs into her own worst thoughts, into her mother’s clipped, cool tone.

“My life fell apart, and I decided to open a bookstore with my friends,” Nesta finally answers with a derisive drawl. “Happy?”

Cassian’s face falls, lips tugging down in a small frown. “What does that mean?”

Nesta doesn’t want his pity. It’s the one thing she hates most, people looking at her with pity in their eyes. As though they feel sorry for her, as though she’s weak. When she finally walked away, finally got out, she swore to herself that she would never be weak again, and she’ll be damned if she starts now.

“Last I checked, I don’t have to tell you my whole life story. I answered your question, did I not?”

“Nes–”

“You get one dinner as part of our bargain, remember? Do you really want to ruin it?”

—

Taglist (let me know if you’d like to be added or removed): @moodymelanist @nesquik-arccheron @sv0430 @talkfantasytome @bookstantrash @eirini-thaleia @ubigaia @fromthelibraryofemilyj @luivagr-blog @lifeisntafantasy @superspiritfestival @hiimheresworld @marigold-morelli @sweet-pea1 @emeriethevalkyriegirl @pyxxie @dustjacketmusings @hallway5 @dongjunma @glowing-stick-generation @melonsfantasyworld @lady-nestas @goddess-aelin @melphss @theladystardust @a-trifling-matter @blueunoias @kookskoocie @wolfnesta @blurredlamplight @hereforthenessian @skaixo @jmoonjones @burningsnowleopard @whyisaravenlike-awritingdesk @ofduskanddreams @rarephloxes @thelovelymadone @books-books-books4ever @tenaciousdiplomatloverprune @that-little-red-head @readergalaxy @thesnugglingduck @kale-theteaqueen @tarquindaddy @superflurry @bri-loves-sunflowers @lady-winter-sunrise @witch-and-her-witcher @fieldofdaisiies @freakingata

#nessian #nesta archeron #cassian #acotar #acosf #nessian fanfiction #nessian fic #nesta x cassian #Top Shelf Love #my fic

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xxx-cat-xxx · 5 years ago

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I walk this lonely road

Characters: Natasha Romanov, Tony Stark, Steve Rogers

TW: Self-harm references, Coronavirus (but nobody gets infected), Alcohol

A/N: This fic makes reference to self-harm and to the coronavirus. I know the latter is a really sensitive topic at the moment, so if that’s something that might upset you in any way, please be careful.

The virus affects almost everyone in the world at the moment at some level and this fic is meant to explore one particular experience among millions. I do not claim that this experience is representative in any way, and I definitely do not claim that it is worse than what others have to deal with. Nat is in a very privileged position, but she is still hurting, and that’s what I wanted to write about.

As always, thanks to @whumphoarder for beta reading.

They lock down the tower in the second week of the pandemic.

Steve, while helping to set up tents next to the already overcrowded Metro General, shared his lunch with another volunteer who tested positive two days later. Since tests are hard to come by and none of them were showing symptoms, the team decided against using their influence to get tested through the backdoor and instead are self-quarantining for at least two weeks.

Bruce and Tony are elbow-deep in research to find a vaccine and wouldn’t leave the tower if an armed battalion tried to force them out. Clint went back to stay with his family at the farm as soon as the first cases started being detected in New York. Steve is keeping busy by exercising, recording PSAs about everything from handwashing to social distancing, and sending uplifting video messages to infected fans.

Meanwhile, Nat is slowly coming apart at the seams.

Before the self-enforced quarantine, she was distributing essentials to homeless and low-income families, but now, trapped inside the tower, there isn’t really anything she can do remotely to help the population.

(Except maybe taking out the president with one of his own killer drones, but that’s not exactly in the realm of legality.)

It’s not that she hasn’t experienced being locked down somewhere for weeks at a time before, but that was on missions, with work to do and a goal to achieve. Right now, she has nowhere to go and nothing to do, and for Nat, that is the worst possible combination.

The first few days are comparatively easy to bear. She runs the better part of a marathon on the treadmill every morning. Brushes up on her Mandarin. Hacks the Pentagon for the sheer thrill of it.

Anything to keep her from spiralling too far down.

Five days in, she wakes up at midnight from a nightmare about the Red Room, feeling like there’s a boulder on her chest weighing her down. She scrambles up to open the window and takes huge, gasping breaths of the cool night air, trying to convince herself that it doesn’t make a difference whether she’s inside or outside the window frame.

Finally, she slides down onto the carpet and digs her fingernails into her bare shins, heart still beating way too fast and too loud in her ears. Catches herself wishing for a task, an attack, anything she can do, eyes the small imprints of her nails in her legs, a few of them oozing blood. The pain is tempting, much too tempting. She tries not to think of the blades under her mattress, in the cupboard, below the bathroom sink.

She knows it’s not exactly pain she longs for, but it’s a functional substitute for everything else.

Nat swallows. Then she makes the executive decision that she needs to go for a walk.

She wears a mask and gloves when she slips into the darkness. Even with the protective outfit, she keeps away from walls, streetlights, shop windows, anything she could potentially contaminate.

The night air is just the right kind of chilly to feel alive. The city, devoid of people, cars, and pollution, is a different kind of beautiful. The huddled groups of desperate families in front of the downtown hospital are not.

Nat finds a children’s playground with monkey bars wedged in between two residential buildings. She does pull-ups until her shoulders are on fire. Then she climbs up and lies on top of the climbing frame, her gaze getting lost where the skyscrapers meet the night sky.

She only climbs down when she can hear the sirens of an ambulance from a nearby street. Then she wipes the bars clean with the hand sanitizer and paper towel she brought along. When she makes her way back to the tower, it finally feels like she can breathe a little easier.

Tony and Steve are waiting for her when she sneaks back in through the delivery entrance.

Tony looks tired, three-nights-awake-in-the-lab kind of tired, but there’s a manic energy radiating from him that almost seems electric; Nat wouldn’t be surprised to see sparks flying off his fingertips. It’s the kind of energy that keeps him up and running until whatever problem he is working on is completely solved, until the world is saved once more.

Nat would love to say she feels guilty upon seeing him. But the ugly truth is, all she can feel is envy.

Steve looks… not exactly angry. His face is stony, but something else flickers in his eyes. Nat takes off her gloves, the coat, the mask, and that’s when she realises. He looks disappointed.

“What were you thinking, Natasha?” he says, his voice low and tight. “You know we’re all under quarantine! What, do you think you’re above this or something?”

“I was wearing a mask—” she begins in a weak attempt to avoid this conversation, but he doesn’t even let her finish.

“You know damn well they’re not a hundred per cent.. You’re just tempting fate for no good reason.”

“I don't—”

“What, you don’t get sick?” he interrupts and maybe it’s a good thing because what she was going to say was something else: I don’t care if I get sick. It’s the truth, but it’s nothing either of them want to hear.

“It’s not just about you, Nat,” Steve continues, ignorant of her thoughts, his voice rising and a vein starting to swell on his forehead. “What if you infect someone else? For god’s sake, Tony’s only got two thirds of his lung capacity left. Did you think of that before putting him in danger?”

“Calm down, Cap,” Tony interjects. “I’ve lived through worse—”

“No, I’m not calming down!” Steve snaps. “We are so privileged to be able to live here with all the food and money and medical services we could need―all we have to do is endure a few weeks of boredom, which really shouldn’t be too much to ask in exchange for everyone’s protection. And you decide to throw all of that out the window for a stroll?”

He stares at her for a moment as if waiting for her to defend herself, but there’s nothing she has to say. What should she tell them? I couldn’t bear the thoughts in my own head? I can’t deal with not knowing when I can be out again? It was either that or sitting on the bathroom floor, cutting lines in my own flesh just to fucking feel in control of something?

“I really expected more of you,” Steve says finally, an eerie calm in his voice. Then he turns on his heels and leaves.

“Well, that was dramatic.” Tony rubs a tired hand over his eyes before looking at Nat directly, his expression sober. “His mother died of TB, you know?”

Nat feels numb. “Yeah, I know,” she says quietly.

Tony’s expression softens. He seems to make a decision. “Come on.” He waves roughly in the direction of the elevator. “I guess we both need a drink.”

“Okay.” Nat takes a deep breath. “I’ll take the stairs.”

When she enters the living room fifteen minutes later—after showering thoroughly and changing her clothes—she finds drinks on the table and Tony on the sofa, working again. Nat sits down on the armrest of the chair across from him, keeping a safe distance. Jazz music is playing in the background, the fake fireplace is lit, and it all just feels wrong.

Nat takes her time to fill her glass and slowly drain it. When she looks up, Tony is observing her, his dark eyes unusually warm.

“I get it, Nat,” he sighs when their eyes meet. “Trust me, I do.” He nods at the tablet sitting in his lap. “Why do you think I keep busy with this all the time?”

She gives a tiny nod of appreciation and hopes he gets that too. Tony smiles at her with a bit of sadness and then turns back to his work.

Nat goes to the kitchen to refill her glass. When she comes back, Tony is asleep, twisted up on the couch as if he just fell over from exhaustion, tablet still in his hand. She goes back to wash her hands thoroughly, and then, holding her breath, takes the device out of his hand and covers him with a blanket.

She sits there, alone with the scotch bottle, Tony’s snores, and her thoughts, until pink clouds start to creep over the sky.

At 5:35 on the dot, Steve appears in the doorway, dressed in his workout clothes. He stops just outside of the room and leans against the doorframe, taking in the scene. The look on his face makes it clear that it’s her turn to speak.

Nat takes a moment to weigh her words. “It’s just… I can’t sit in here not knowing when I’m going to be out. Not again,” she finally admits into the fake fireplace that has now grown cold.

Steve doesn’t reply, but he relaxes just the tiniest bit against the doorframe and something in his expression shifts.

“Are you up for a sparring session before hitting the treadmill?” he asks.

“You want to work out with me?” Nat doesn’t look him in the eyes.

“That’s why I’m asking.”

This isn’t an apology—not from either of them. Nat isn’t guilty, just sad. And if Steve was sorry, he would’ve said so straight away. But this is not a concession―it’s a I don’t approve of your actions, but I’ll still be here for you. Just like Tony’s glass of scotch, what it means is: You don’t have to go through this alone.

“So?” Steve asks.

Nat pushes herself up from the armchair. The residual alcohol in her bloodstream and the all-too-familiar tiredness make her head swim for a moment, but she’s stable once she gets to her feet. “Fencing. Let’s go.”

____________________________

This is part of the Red in my Ledger series.

All my fics

#natasha romanov #hurt natasha #tony stark is a good bro #team feels #steve rogers & natasha romanov #People disagree but they are still there for each other #self-harm #corona #alcohol

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sinjaangels · 7 years ago

Text

Merciful Red - Kekkai Sensen Fan Fic

Kekkai Sensen/Blood Blockade Battlefront

Story and Characters belong to Yasuhiro Nightow

Merciful Red

Hellsalem's Lot was once New York and is now known as the city of miracles due to a great supernatural catastrophe called the Great Collapse. Where the impossible is possible. But what is a miracle? According to the dictionary, a miracle is an effect or extraordinary event in the physical world that surpasses all known human or natural powers and is ascribed to a supernatural cause.

Leona Watch and her young brother, Michel came to Hellsalem's Lot with their parents. The Watch Family had hoped to experience a miracle for Michel to walk again. What they experienced wasn't the miracle that was desired. The Watch Siblings encountered an ancient deity. The deity made the siblings choose who would pay the price for the "Eyes of the All-Seeing Gods". While Leona was paralyzed with fear, Michel had spoken up willing to pay the price. Michel's sight was taken and the magical artifact replaced Leona's eyes. As quickly as the deity arrived, it disappeared, and time resumed. However, Michel was not only crippled but blind.

Leona was devastated by her failure as a sister. She couldn't bear the grief and disappointment of their parents. Weeks later Leona gave up everything to make it up to Michel. She gives up her current life to move to Hellsalem's Lot. She had two goals: one, to support her brother financially and her main goal to find a way to reverse the damage she should have prevented.

Leona arrived in Hellsalem's Lot during a cold Late February. All she had was the coat on her back and a rolling suitcase. She was taking her first trip through the subways standing on a platform nose deep into a brochure map. It was Friday the thirteenth and Leona would forever remember this day and the number thirteen for all eternity. For when she lowered the map and looked down the platform, her magical eyes caught sight of a beautiful crimson aura. It wrapped around a woman that was just as beautiful with short lavender-pink hair and pale skin. The woman glances at her with wide red eyes. They stare at each other until the woman slowly smiles. A multitude of squeaking and flapping of leather wings surrounded Leona. The eerie creak of a door opened behind her. Over her shoulder, she saw a doorway within the dark cape of a creepy man in a hat. Suddenly, the woman leaped across the platform and pushed Leona through the door. They fell into the doorway and they and the door disappeared with no one the wiser. Leona gazed up in horror at the woman wicked grin with bright-eyed excitement. She forced open one of Leona's eyes and the gleaming azure orbs decorated with ancient runes glowed on her the woman's face.

"Ah, the Eyes of the All-Seeing Gods! Must be my lucky day!"

Leona was taken by the Elder Blood Breed Valsh Rozzo Valctovoel Girika to the depths of the Alterworld. Girika was a very powerful Blood Breed but Girika wanted to elevate her status further. She was delighted with her discovery of Leona and intended to have her as her servant. Leona became a Blood Breed after her thirteenth bite. The mark of turning appeared over her chest, beneath her collarbone in the form of a pair of black raven wings with the roman numeral 13 between the wings. But she was far from loyal to her mistress. Girika discovered that Leona's eyes resisted her power to control her mind. Every so often, Girika would bring a fresh living human and try to entice her to feed. To give in to the bloodthirsty savagery that may perhaps weaken her resolve. Once Girika brought her a baby to cruelly tease her. When Leona adamantly refused, Girika fed on the poor infant right in front of Leona, draining him of every precious drop. In horror and in despair, Leona activates her eyes and took over Girika's sight by accident. Girika was thrown off balanced for a moment before she ends Leona's control by slamming Leona's skull against the floor! With this discovery of an ability, Leona's courage renews. Thus, began the six-month struggle between the two Blood Breeds.

By the sixth month, Leona was terribly weak and thin. She had never partaken in the blood freely. At times, Girika, much to her disgust and frustration, had to force Leona to drink. It was a fight every time and Leona violently resisted, spitting and chocking to prevent ingesting the blood. Girika lost her temper and started beating Leona. She was merciless as going so far as ripping her skin, breaking her bones and even tearing her limbs away! Leona would be tortured this way for hours and hours until Girika's anger abated.

Leona was lying in the corner of the room missing her arms and legs in a large pool of her blood. She gasped raggedly, her body throbs in pain with every breath. Tears and snot mix with the blood on her face. There was the sound of a pop and a tiny hoot. Leona opened her eyes and saw a little white monkey staring at her.

"What….what are you doing here?" she asked. "You better leave…before she…comes back…she'll kill you…"

Leona had never seen a mach monkey before. Mach monkeys were a hybrid creature between a Beyondian and surface world animal. Mach monkeys are incredibly fast creatures that can break the sound barrier, hence the popping sound. The naked human eye can never track the movements of the elusive creatures. Another important note was their level of intelligence. These monkeys are so smart that they have been known to steal small electronics such as phones and cameras to pawn for money which they spend for food.

The monkey sitting before Leona's limbless body happened to be passing between the two worlds of the Alterworld and the surface world. He had heard Leona's cries as she was tortured. Usually, mach monkeys tend to flee from dangerous scenes, but it had sympathized with the poor girl's screams. He had watched in horror as each limb was ripped off and nearly fled when Girika devoured them. When the horrible woman was gone, the monkey slipped in through a small barred window and checked on her. The girl had the same scent of a Blood Breed as the woman that had left, but her soft voice and her concerns for his welfare made him feel safe to approach Leona. He licked her tears and blood off her face. It was the first time in months that Leona felt such sweet gentleness even if it was from an animal. It moved her so deeply, her tears returned, and the monkey licked those up too. Leona shivered at the sound of the tiny animal's beating heart. She could hear the fresh living blood that rushed through his veins. She had felt her fangs unsheathe and she hissed. The monkey leaps back alarmed.

"….I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" Leona wept.

With a pop, he was gone. Leona cried harder and apologized repeatedly to herself. She screamed and cursed. With the little strength she had at the time, she lifted her head with her neck and banged her head against the dirty floor soaked with her blood. She stilled at the sound of a pop. When her head lifted she was stunned to see the monkey again with a two-headed rat, each head that eight-eyes like a spider. It was dead and the monkey pushed it towards her. He had offered the blood of another animal. Would it be okay, Leona asked to herself. It was already dead and it was an animal. She opened her mouth and the rat was set between her fangs. Leona's eye's had been a flickering blue, but when she had finally taken blood, they became a bright as a red moon. She body went from cold to lukewarm and then it had gone back to cold when the rat was drained. Leona shook and whined. Her body was roaring for more.

"Go away!" she whimpers. "Go away before I hurt you…"

There was a pop and he was gone. After he was gone, Girika appeared and Leona felt her fury.

"You…" she glances at the rat. "…are a disgusting disgrace!" she shrieks.

Leona screams in fear and agony.

Strangely, the monkey came back the next time and took notice of a larger pool of blood and deep gashes and flesh bitten off her body. Leona lies on her stomach, still limbless. The monkey whimpers and pats Leona's cheek.

"….mon…key…" her voice was hoarse and cracking.

The monkey whines.

"Help…me…please…"

Leona lifts and turns her head. She places the monkey's paw on one side of her canines. Gently, she closes her mouth and pricks the monkey's paw. The monkey squeaks but the pinch was gone in seconds. It reached behind his back and scratched it vigorously. Under the white fur the roman numeral one is tattooed on the dark skin of his back.

Every day, for thirteen days, the monkey would visit to comfort Leona and each time, he received a pinch.

After he received the thirteenth bite, the monkey felt a strong connection to Leona. He felt a powerful need to return to her and he went. Leona was alone. He popped right in front of her. Leona smiles weakly.

"You came," her eyes were glowing red instead of blue. The monkey's own eyes were glowing red.

Leona flinches, "She's coming!"

The monkey felt Girika's approach. His short fur stood on end and he arched his back. His instincts were telling him to flee. The bond that was cemented through Leona's fangs kept him there. He faced the door and growls with his eyes glowing brighter and redder. Girika enters and raises an eyebrow.

"Hmmm? What's this filthy beast doing here?"

Leona could see the monkey's crimson aura grow larger and larger, wrapping around the monkey. Leona grits her teeth and her eyes flash. The monkey shrieks and crimson wings hide his tiny form…

There was an explosion of power and a great ape leaps out of an Alterworld building. The beast soars through the air over 200-feet! It lands on the roof of an apartment building. In the crook of one of his hard biceps, Leona was being cradled. The beast looks around snuffling his nose in the air. He groans and looks down on Leona. Leona gazes up to the sky. Around them were floating buildings on slabs of land. Some of the buildings were from the human side as debris. There were flying monsters of varying sizes flying alone or in flocks. Further above was the dense fog flowing out of the Alterworld and out into the human world.

"I…want to go home…."

The beast grunts, crouching low to the floor he leaps into the air with a great sonic boom! It was like an explosion and it created a crater on the roof. The beast takes great leaps launching off floating plots of land and debris until it disappears into the fog and blasts out of it to fly over twinkling, colorful lights of the nightscape of Hellsalem's Lot. A mid-air sonic boom goes off and the beast makes a great and powerful landing on the roof of a five-star hotel. Its guests on the uppermost levels felt the impact with the shuddering walls and flickering lights. The beast moves Leona into his paw and he whines. Leona gazes onto his face and smiles before opening her eyes wide. The blue artifacts shine brighter than before piercing through the night fog and gazes on the stars and planets in the far heavens.

"Thank you so much!"

The beast grins, baring his sabretooth fangs. With a deep hoot and sonic boom, he disappears with his mistress.

At a seedy bar somewhere in the rougher than normal part of the city, two men were having heavy drink in tall, wide mugs. Like the fog outside, there was a fog of hazy smoke gathering at the ceiling, spiraling out of cigarettes in hands and ashtrays. The smoke imitated a hot pink aurora borealis in the pink and gold neon lightning. Tending the bar was an eyeless Beyondian with a bulbous, mushroom-like head. He was thin and wore a nicely tailored suit. He looks towards the young lady sitting at the far end of the bar. She had her own little glass filled with the galaxy blue alcohol. Sitting before her was a little mach monkey, with his own glass. The young lady had thick fluffy hair that trailed down her back. Her eyes were so squinty that you couldn't tell the color of her eyes. But, she had a charming and pretty face. The girl smiles down at the monkey and raises her glass. The monkey hoots and they clink their glasses together. The two men were eyeing her, taking the swell of her breasts under her white tank top. The naked bit of thigh peaked between her short, blue jean shorts and thigh-high navy blue leggings. The two men grinned at each other as they stood up and make their approach. They sit on each side of the girl.

"How you doin'?" the man on the left slurs.

"Don't think I see a pretty young thing like yer'self here before," the man on her right grins.

"Mmm, I just moved here. Sonic and I are just celebrating our freedom."

Sonic hoots and sips his whiskey. The girl giggles and sips her drink slowly savoring the sparkling brew, tilting her head back lengthening her neck. One of the men whistles and waggles his eyebrows. The other man was drooling over the lovely expanse of skin on her chest. He blinks several times when he finally notices the tattoo.

"Whoa, that's some sweet ink! Wings and…what number is that?"

Setting her glass down, the girl replies, "It means 13. It's an unlucky number for me."

In their drunken daze, they frown at that, "Unlucky number? Then why put it on you?"

"As a reminder of an unfortunate day…when I first arrived here. To always be careful in Hellsalem's Lot."

"Awww, I'm sorry to hear that, baby."

"Why don't you tell us what happen?"

The young woman smiles sweetly, "Sure! Though it's a very personal story…can we go somewhere private?"

The men's eyes widen with glee. They finish their mugs and slam them down on the bar. One of them pays for theirs and the girl's drinks while the other helps the girl off the stool. The monkey had disappeared, his shot of whiskey empty.

The girl is followed from behind, leading them deeper and deeper through the maze of alleyways and backstreets. They arrive at a small church hidden between two buildings. The Great Collapse had completely altered the streets and landmarks of former New York City. Small abandoned buildings such as this small steeple of a church are hidden. Inside the church were simply just dusty and cracked pews, at the back of the church the altar with a podium and toppled over chairs. The girl gazes on the stained glass of a cross, the city lights are seen through.

"Heh, pretty kinky…getting naughty in the church," the man licks his lips.

"We're not here to get kinky," sighs the young woman. "We're here to feed."

A great white beast drops down from the rafters. Whipping around the men found the beast completely blocking the exit. It's large red eyes flash over them. It lunges it long arms out and grabs a man into each of his paws. He growls and gradually squeezes them. They yell out in pain until they passed out. Leona joins Sonic and they gaze over the unconscious men. Leona crouches over them with an apologetic smile.

"Sorry, but…we got to eat."

Sonic returns to his original size he joins Leona as she hovers over one of the men. She lifts the man off the ground and brings her lips to his neck. Sonic takes the man's hand and sinks his tiny yet long fangs in. Their eyes glowed bright and red.

Two finely dressed men stood in a hospital room looking over the two other men from the bar who were unconscious and handcuffed to their beds. On the side of their necks were taped white gauze. Their hands each had a simple band-aid. A tall man wore a full charcoal suit, with a blue shirt and yellow tie. He had dark, wavy short hair and soft maroon eyes. His most outstanding feature was a pale scar that ran close to the corner of left lip up his cheek and reaching underneath his hair. He was reading one of the men's charts. The other man was of greater stature, standing a foot and taller than his companion. He wore a waistcoat vest with a red back and gray front over a white, long-sleeved dress shirt. His slacks were a dark gray and his dress shoes were brown. Short red hair curtained his bright green eyes and glasses. His two remarkable features were his thick red sideburns and his most unusual fanged underbite. The red-haired man crosses an arm and rests his hand in his chin as he goes into his thoughts.

The man in the suit sighs and returns the chart.

"This has been happening for the last two months." The man looks out the window, "and on a full moon too. It's definitely a Blood Breed…but…"

"This is entirely different from any ordinary Blood Breed."

"It's so strange, Klaus."

The tall, red-haired man, Klaus, doesn't reply.

"It's unheard of. A Blood Breed that takes a nibble from their victims and…throws them back? No, not just throw them away…they had the…." Steven throws his hand and gestures out between the two men. "They had the…decency to deliver them to a hospital for treatment. It's obvious that they have been bitten…but the doctors had checked over them several times every hour for three days searching for any numeral tattoos. But nothing had appeared! They haven't been turned. It doesn't make any sense! Why?!"

"These two are the first pair of the night. By midnight, there will be another pair and a final pair before sunrise," mentions Klaus.

Steven sighs exasperatedly. The door slams open and a man in a tan trench coat, a flip of dark hair over his eye and possibly a little shorter than both men stomps into the room.

"Godammit, Starphase! What the hell are you doing here?!" he roars.

"Ah, Lieutenant Law," Steven smiles.

"Good evening, Lt. Law." Klaus nods his head.

Daniel Law growls in frustration and decides to focus on the other two men.

"I'm assuming you've come to collect these men?" asks Klaus.

"Yeah," Daniel sighs, "…again, this Blood Breed or vampire-whatever victims have warrants like the other victims. Henry McGinnis wanted for several counts of assault. Jack Benning…this bastard is wanted for a hit-and-run…the kid was only 7-years old."

Steven narrows his eyes and Klaus' mouth is strained.

"This vampire is picking her victims well. We and the hospital are learning to keep a hold on them recently. When this first started, the victims didn't stick around to talk to police because they had warrants."

"But the ones that are able to give an account had very little information. They don't remember anything. They know that it was a girl but when they are asked to give a description they all said that a blue light flashes in their minds when they tried to remember a face," shakes Steven's head.

Daniel clicks his tongue in frustration as he continues, "What really throws me off, is the tinier bite marks on the hands!"

Steven nods, "Yeah, I can't fathom what made that."

Klaus looks to Steven, "We're going to have to call in a specialist."

Steven chuckles, "I'm sure 'Lucky' is already on his way. Brand new vampire behavior! He wouldn't miss this for the world."

"The media and the public are buzzing," Daniel adds. "This mystery woman is becoming a newborn urban legend…they've given her dozen of names."

"Red Mercy…" Klaus begins to list, "Vampire Angel…the Merciful Vampire….Mercy Vamp…Merciful Red."

"Damn," Daniel scratches his head, "This city has to surpass itself in the realm of the weird every day."

#kekkai sensen #kekkai sensen AU #kekkai sensen fan fiction

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