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nightscythe · 2 months ago

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crimson affliction [two]

→ sanguinius x gn!reader → 3.7k, 18+ mdni, cw: psychological horror/obsession/sacrificial/ suicide mentions. dead dove type thing → pre-heresy, sanguinius’ thirst is different to that of his sons, but it’s far more potent than anything they’d understand

[prev: one] - part 2/5

“You said you wanted all of me.” His words are whispered one more time. Delirium spins within, yet he still seems so composed. “You were never afraid of any part of me.”

I was wrong. I’m afraid. I don’t want this.

He laughs again. It’s unkind, unfamiliar. “You promised me, remember?”

Please, stop…

“I can’t stop,” he hisses, glancing at Magnus, but never resting there. “You know I can’t. I need you. You made me need you.”

Time passed by. He only knew because he often reached into the void to feel your heart beating.

Sometimes fast, when you were running. Sometimes slow, when you weren’t. He’d have believed time had stopped without it. He would have stopped without it.

Others passed by. Nameless. Voiceless. Blurred into one.

He didn’t care to look anymore, or even pretend to, no acknowledgement of their presence granted. Not when his mind preoccupied him, prevented his attention from moving anywhere but that soft beating heart.

So, when the door opened, he didn’t even blink.

He stood alone, staring into the pit of fire at the edge of the room, hands locked together, his wings dragging along the floor as he took small, even steps.

“I hoped to not find you here.”

Sanguinius doesn’t turn. His eyes move upwards, no longer looking directly into the flames.

“There are whispers that you haven’t left this room,” the voice behind continues, slow and practised. A voice he’d found comfort in before. “Are they true, brother?”

The silence is confirmation. Magnus is still for a moment before he steps into the room, closing the heavy door behind him.

His presence is overwhelming. For the first time in days, Sanguinius can look away. The fire burns on whilst his attention finally casts a net on the room. Quiet. Just the two of them. Dark. His gaze shifts across the room until he comes to a stop his brother approaching gently.

“You haven’t had any rest,” Magnus says, steps ending when he stands an equal distance from the fire. “Your mind does not know how to. I can feel it.”

The echoes of a smile curved onto Sanguinius’ lips. “And yours does?”

“I am not the one confined to a room,” Magnus answers. Sanguinius can feel his eyes burning into him. “I hear your mind. How it screams louder than any other around you.”

“That is not unusual.”

“No,” Magnus continues, “but it is louder than usual. Untamed. Not like you.”

Sanguinius’ eyes flick back to the fire. As neither speaks, Magnus follows, watching the roar alongside him.

“I thought it was grief. That usually would cause this.” Magnus sounds as though he understood. Cared. Had seen this before. “But you are not grieving. That is different. This isn’t mourning. This is fragmentation.”

Sanguinius hums. He turns his head towards Magnus but avoids his eyes. Magnus is staring, studying him anyway, watching for any movements.

“Who is it?”

Sanguinius meets his eyes. Flinches. He won’t say.

“Could you give me a name?”

Sanguinius shakes his head. “It belongs to me.”

He can’t bear to share the memory. He’s afraid that someone else would challenge him, try to take you away. Only he was allowed you. No one else, not even a brother trying to help.

“Well, they are buried in the darkest parts of your mind, trapped in every corner.” Magnus’ brows pull together. He takes a small step towards him. “They’re burning you alive, brother.”

Sanguinius shouldn’t feel so relieved that his memory hadn’t leaked past his own delusion. He’d not spare the details of you.

You were his. Even now.

“They were my salvation.”

“They still are.”

“No.” His voice slashed Magnus’ connection to his mind. His eyes returned to the flames. “They’re not here. They’re not with me. They have chosen… They do not love me.”

Magnus pauses for a moment. “They are there.”

“No,” Sanguinius chides, “They don’t love.”

“But I still feel them in you.” Magnus sighs, pulling his hands together, adjusting the golden bangle on his wrist. “In your breath. In your silence. Your heart and soul.”

Magnus pauses. His focus shifts for a moment, as though he could replay every one of Sanguinius’ memories.

“What did you do to them?”

Sanguinius doesn’t answer.

“You lost them, but it is not without cause. What… What could you have done?”

Sanguinius refuses to answer.

“I only see love.” Magnus looks closer at him. Takes another step closer as if that would unblur his memories. “Yet you are hurt. Lost. I see what it is doing to you. I think you are losing control.”

Magnus watches for more. A tactic that may work on a mere human, but not one of them. He doesn’t move yet, and Magnus tries again.

“You’ve already lost control.”

Sanguinius’ hands fall to his side. He looks back to Magnus, this time turning his whole body. He felt the golden aura crack himself.

Another smile. Cold, lifeless. A predator’s natural instinct. “I never lost control.”

“Then what is it?”

“You were always wiser than me, brother.” Sanguinius huffed a laugh from his pale, cracked lips. “I see them when I close my eyes. I hear their voice instead of mine. I remember them in every candle. Feel them beside me when I look in mirrors. What do you think it is?”

His breath quickened. The smile he carried no longer felt hollow. Magnus’ opportunity to interject was lost.

“I know where they are. Where they’re hiding from me. I feel them breathing, their heart beating, the way their body begs for me. Nothing could keep them from me, not the stars, not you… not even fate.”

“Devotion?” Magnus suggests.

“Perhaps.” Sanguinius’ smile blossomed. “Prophecy. Worship. Sacrifice. Ache. Hunger.”

Magnus takes a step back, a frown etched into his features. “You speak of them like they’re the air around you, like you’ll die without them. They’ve left you bleeding.”

“I am not bleeding,” Sanguinius insists, “I am thirsting.”

Magnus doesn’t move, his expression unchanged. His lips part as though he had found some semblance of reassurance, but he never speaks them. Sanguinius was already gone.

He turned away from Magnus. His wings dragged across the ground once more, heavy with dust. His hands rest behind his back as he takes meaningless steps once again. After a few, he stops.

Closes his eyes. Feels their heartbeat.

Then continues his path, his musing. “I always find them in the same places.”

He hums to himself, voice falling to a low tone. He looks over his shoulder, finding Magnus once more. “It’s as if they want me to find them again. Wouldn’t you agree?”

Magnus doesn’t answer this time.

Not until Sanguinius stops completely. He turns back to Magnus, now on the other side of the room, with the same smile still burning. “You wonder why they would run to begin with.”

“Naturally.” Magnus stands uncomfortably still, as though pulling apart the weave holding memory and hallucination together. “You do not run from them. Are they frightened by you?”

Sanguinius is quick to shake his head. “No. Never. They enjoy how I chase them.”

He starts to pace once more, looking ahead as though the memories were on a screen in front of him.

“You would like them,” Sanguinius says softly.

Magnus’ eyes follow him. “Tell me.”

“You dare me?” Sanguinius musters a laugh from somewhere. His eyes fall shut for the briefest of seconds. “I can’t. If I start, I will not be able to bring myself to stop.”

“I want to know more, Sanguinius.” Magnus folds his arms over his chest slowly. “Tell me everything.”

Sanguinius looked away. Felt his brother’s gaze at his side. His head dips ever so slightly.

He lets his eyes fall shut again. Allows every memory to return to him.

“I feel them in every step I take, another prayer for them to answer.”

His chest thumps harder as he speaks.

“But… I met them in a garden.”

Sanguinius looks beyond Magnus. Sees the image in his head – where you stood before him and he was hooked.

“The sun was out, late, even for summer. I remember the way the corners of the frame were turning violet. They had their hands held up towards the sky, blood on their fingers. They smiled when they saw me.”

Magnus’ frown doesn’t quite reach Sanguinius. “They were hurt?”

“Barely,” he laughs, “the roses had fought them. They wanted to trim their stems and keep them from overgrowing. Cut themselves in the process, told me they didn’t mind.”

Sanguinius hums fondly over the memory. He could picture you sitting there, with the same clothes, the same hair, the same memory that always wandered through his mind.

“I sat beside them. The way it dripped down their fingers fascinated me. They wiped it on their apron like it was nothing, said it happened all the time. They fascinated me. You understand that, don’t you?”

“Fascination, yes,” Magnus answers. He watches Sanguinius, studies him, like it would somehow lead to more understanding. “but this isn’t just fascination, brother.”

“Then what is it?” Sanguinius asks once more. “Adoration? Possession?”

Magnus shakes his head. “Worship.”

Sanguinius doesn’t answer.

“You did love them,” Magnus clarifies, “but you worshipped them, too.”

“It’s hard not to worship someone who made you feel whole.”

Sanguinius looks towards the floor once more. His hands shake at his side until he pulls them into fists. When he finally looks back to Magnus, there’s an absence in his gaze that can’t quite be explained.

“They were kind to me. They taught me what sweetness was. They held me, kissed my hands, showed me love without even caring what I was, or who I was. They…”

His voice broke, his chest heaved. Magnus doesn’t move.

“They’d sit behind me and trace over my wings, every feather, as they told me why they wanted me. They called me angel, said they loved me. Magnus, they loved me. Loved all of me.”

“You speak of them like a dream,” Magnus comments.

“Yes,” Sanguinius returns. Too soft. Too reverent. “That’s what they are.”

Magnus’ lips raise in one corner, not quite a smile. “Do you still love them?”

“Always,” Sanguinius returns. “There isn’t a day I haven’t loved them.”

“Then what happened?”

“They said they’d never leave.”

“But they did?”

Sanguinius hums. “But they did.”

“Because of something you did?” Magnus asks, braver with his questions, yet never approaching his brother.

“I thought I was giving them everything they needed,” Sanguinius answers. “They were the only peace I ever had. But… I ruined it.”

He keeps his lips parted, words still coming to him.

“It was too much. That’s what they said. I was taking too much, leaving them with nothing.” Sanguinius pauses again. He swallows, hard, and his voice rasps as he continues. “They were mine. I don’t… They were everything. Mine.”

“But you’re not theirs?”

“All of me belongs to them.” Sanguinius’ knees feel weak. An ache, longing in his chest as he finds the courage to laugh. Once, bitterly, pain seeping through him. “They don’t know. They’ll never know how much of me is theirs.”

Magnus doesn’t speak for a moment. In all his wisdom, he wasn’t sure how to advise his brother. Not on this, not as he saw the light in his eyes beginning to fade, embers burning at his core as the gold simmered to scarlet.

But he saw, knew, the desperation behind his brother’s eyes – and despite knowing better, he continued, his tone softer than before.

“Why don’t you show them?”

Sanguinius laughed once again.

Was it supposed to comfort him?

Mend the bleeding and broken divinity threaded through his very soul?

Or, Sanguinius thinks, it’s the final push he needed.

Confirmation.

Sanguinius doesn’t blink, doesn’t look away from something that Magnus couldn’t see. Not a point in the distance; it was something beyond the realm of his understanding.

The crack of a smile, then slanted brows and downturned lips, all in quick succession.

You should forget me.

Sanguinius’ breath chokes.

Magnus frowns. “What is it?”

Please, let me go.

His lips part, breath unable to form.

Please.

“Sanguinius?”

“They’re here.” Sanguinius tells him. Magnus looks to the empty room, but he never gets the chance to protest. “They’re close. I hear them. Throne, they’re always close.”

Sanguinius steps forward, slow, as if afraid to scare the voices away. Gentle, like a child in awe of something too great for them to understand. Like he was a boy again, like he’d understood love for the first time.

You can’t keep doing this. I was never yours to keep.

“No.” His voice is so quiet, Magnus would have missed it if he wasn’t watching so closely. “No. You don’t mean it. No.”

I’m not yours, Sanguinius.

His eyes narrow at the point across the room. His nostrils are flared, his jaw drawn tight. “You’re lying.”

“You’re speaking with them?” Magnus asks, reaching a hand to his brother. Sanguinius doesn’t react, not even as Magnus squeezes to see what’s still left of him. “They’re not here, but they can hear you?”

“You wanted me to chase you,” Sanguinius murmurs. He brings a hand to his chest as though it would soothe the pain. “You said you enjoyed it. You loved it.”

This isn’t the same.

“How?” he petitions, voice strained, “what’s not the same?”

You.

He hilts his head back slowly.

You’ve changed.

“You said you wanted all of me.” His words are whispered one more time. Delirium spins within, yet he still seems so composed. “You were never afraid of any part of me.”

I was wrong. I’m afraid. I don’t want this.

He laughs again. It’s unkind, unfamiliar. “You promised me, remember?”

Please, stop…

“I can’t stop,” he hisses, glancing at Magnus, but never resting there. “You know I can’t. I need you. You made me need you.”

Magnus steps forward again, now right beside him. He feels pity. He feels worry. This wasn’t something he could easily comprehend, and he hated it as much as seeing Sanguinius broken.

Magnus pulls his attention back to him. “Talk to me, brother.”

Sanguinius looks at him with wide eyes, glassy, lips shaking. “They begged me to stay with them no matter what.”

“When?”

“That night.”

“What night?”

“They laid beside me, ran their fingers across my chest and said they didn’t care. They’d bury themselves in my madness. As long as it meant they could keep me.”

That was before.

“Before what?” he continues, shifting his eyes away from Magnus. No reply. He looks back to Magnus. He places his hand on Magnus’ chest. “They said… they were the sweetest thing I’d ever taste. They were. Nothing is better than them.”

Sanguinius stops.

The first bite of metal. The bitterness of grapefruit. The sharpness of cranberry. Then, the sweetness of the ripest plum.

“I thought about it every day. I resisted for so long. I knew what it could do.” Sanguinius’ eyes aren’t quite focused, but he tries to keep his coherency. He thought Magnus’ approval might save him. “It was the madness they wanted to bury themself in.”

Magnus doesn’t answer, but he doesn’t look away.

“They didn’t want to be without me, they loved me.” It takes him less than a second to correct himself. “Loves me.”

It was all he could think about.

The taste.

“They turned their neck to the side and offered themselves to me. Told me to be gentle… I was. I always was. They wanted me to have them.” His eyes continue their crimson descent. “They gave me every part of them. Skin. Voice. Blood.”

Magnus holds his breath.

“Their soul.”

Sanguinius takes his hand away from Magnus, shrugs his hand off his shoulder, too.

“They’d die for me. If they had to.”

Magnus forces his reply. “They never needed to.”

“No.” Sanguinius’ lips part, then begin to curl. “I’d never have let them die.”

“Then what did you do?”

“What they asked,” Sanguinius confirms, indignant. “I only ever did what they asked.”

Because you had kissed him first.

You’d leaned into him, whispered that you were his, promised him anything he wanted, he just had to ask.

So, he did. He asked for a taste, for more of you, and you had said yes. You always said yes.

He remembered how warm your skin was, how you barely flinched as his teeth scratched the surface of your skin, how you nodded for him to continue when he searched for your eyes amongst the fuzziness of the world around him.

You’d laced your fingers into his hair as he took the first sips. It was so easy. You made it easier for him, reassured him each time that it was what you wanted as well.

“They were shaking,” Sanguinius recounts, softly speaking his thoughts aloud. “I was always gentle with them. I barely even pierced their skin the first time. It was just a taste.”

He brings his hand up to his mouth, tips of his fingers just brushing his lips, memory serving him an image of you doing the same motion.

His lips part. His breath, already ruined, stutters. His hand trembles as he feels the touch, as if your blood stained his lips once more.

“I’ve never tasted anything better,” he says, “and I’ll never know anything better.”

Sanguinius watches his brother, but his face never changes. Just a few simple words. “That was only the first time.”

“Resisting temptation isn’t easy.” Sanguinius hums as his head tilts ever so slightly. “You’d understand, brother.”

“This is different.”

“How so?”

Magnus doesn’t answer.

Sanguinius continues his musings.

“They’d never truly understood what it meant, but they understood me. They became a part of me. I’d never be without them.”

Sanguinius loses his focus again.

“They told me to take more if I needed it. Every time, every need I had, they satiated it. Drop by drop. I didn’t stop.” His smile falls. “I couldn’t stop. They let me take, let me drink until it hurt them, until they would beg me to stop, and…”

His hands shook, his words left him.

He could see you beneath him, lips pale, skin ghostly, a weak palm on his shoulder to stop him.

He hadn’t meant to love it. Not more than he loved you.

“They were always mine.” Sanguinius’ gaze snaps back to Magnus. “They are mine.”

Quiet builds between them as they stare. Magnus can see it; the delight, the desire, the undoubted possession that Sanguinius held.

It was never grief he felt.

Never sorrow.

“I can still taste them.” Sanguinius sighs. “Like it’s the first time. It was always like the first time.”

“This isn’t…”

“Normal?” Sanguinius laughs, excessively. “I don’t need it to be.”

“This isn’t love,” Magnus corrects him. “This is need. Ruin.”

Sanguinius doesn’t follow. The words don’t register with him. “I can’t go on with just their memory. I need to feel them again. I need them. Here, with me. For me.”

Magnus recoils the hand that had reached for Sanguinius.

It wasn’t his brother anymore.

“I know where they’re going.” Sanguinius exhales gently. “I always know. They always tell me.”

He turns to leave.

Magnus doesn’t follow, just watches. The air is wrought with unspoken words, but Sanguinius can’t notice.

Not like this.

But he does stop, his thoughts needing to be shared.

“They always run to the same places,” he tells Magnus. He smiles, nodding curtly. “They want me to find them.”

Magnus didn’t answer, not until seconds had passed and Sanguinius was on the verge of leaving.

“Brother.” He keeps his tone flat. “You can’t go like this.”

Sanguinius narrows his eyes but doesn’t speak. He doesn’t acknowledge the words, but he doesn’t listen to them either. Like something menial had distracted him.

“They’re hiding from you,” Magnus tells him. “They’re scared.”

“They’re waiting for me,” Sanguinius replies.

“No.” Magnus approaches him again. He holds the door handle to prevent him from leaving. “They’re running from you. You know that.”

Sanguinius doesn’t answer.

“You felt it.”

A hum. “I did.”

“Because they needed to.”

“Because they had to.” Sanguinius sighs, as though it pained him, as though he was reciting a prophecy laid out for both of you. “I’ll find them, and they’ll come back, like always.”

“Not this time.”

Sanguinius’ brows pull together. The air between them shifts, even as his expression becomes less recognisable. Threatened. Hurt. Overwhelmed.

He watches Magnus like the answers would appear before him. Like you’d be brought back to him without him needing to ignore the truth Magnus was bearing.

One crack in his façade wasn’t enough, though. Never would be.

His hands ball into fists.

Just an ounce of restraint stays with him.

“Step aside.”

“You don’t want to harm them,” Magnus says, never leaving his spot. “You’re not thinking clearly.”

“I am,” Sanguinius snaps, “My mind is clear.”

A pause. Silence. Mourning.

“I just miss them.”

Magnus swallows.

“I can’t be without them. Everything… it hurts. I can’t think, I can’t breathe. I’m burning, Magnus. My bones are scorched. My veins only carry fire. I’m starving.”

“I know.” Magnus’ gaze never leaves his. “Let me help you.”

Sanguinius’ chest heaves.

He places his hand over Mangus’, removing each finger’s grasp on the handle. Magnus doesn’t stop him. He couldn’t. No weapon or spell could avert what happens next.

Any air left between them is gone.

“You can’t help me.”

The crimson in his eyes burns.

“I crave their blood.” Sanguinius’ voice is so quiet, trembling. “I ache for their fear.”

Any rationality left in him begs for an apology. He didn’t mean it. But he did. Deep down. No words to apologise ever come to the surface.

Instead, he remembers. “I dream of one last taste.”

Magnus stills. Realises.

It was love, but much more.

Compulsion. Addition. Withdrawal.

Divinity disguised as despair.

“You’re not going,” Magnus tells him, his voice faltering for the first time, “I won’t let you.”

Sanguinius hums.

Then, he smiles.

“I won’t hurt you,” he says. Pity tangled between each syllable. “But I will go.”

And Magnus shouldn’t let him.

He should put the creature that had taken over his brother down and save you from what fate had conjured just for you.

But Sanguinius simply moves past him.

Wings skim the delicate robes, eyes move back to the unseen reality, affliction bending reality right in front of him.

Fate. That was it. All of this was meant to be.

“They always run the same places,” Sanguinius muses one last time, stepping past his powerless brother. “They need me to find them.”

And this time?

He wouldn’t stop until he did.

confirmed: magnus and fulgrim next.

#sanguinius #sanguinius x reader #primarch x reader #blood angels #warhammer 30k #warhammer 40k #lua.wrt

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falcemartello · 1 month ago

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Net Zero is the IQ of its supporters.

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yuurei20 · 1 year ago

Note

I've got a question if you wouldn't mind answering!

I saw that the voice actor for Grim commented that Grim always ends his phrases with the word "zo", I was wondering if it had any meaning? Or if maybe it's just something to make his character more unique? Similarly, I've noticed Ruggie tend to use a lot of "su" at the end of his phrases, and I was wondering the same thing, if it had any meaning at all or if it's just supposed to be a character quirk!

Ty for your hard work and don't feel pressured to answer this if you don't want to! 🫶🏻

Hello hello! Thank you very much, you are so kind! ^^

Yes yes, Grim's Sugiyama comments on how difficult Grim's "zo" was for him in his interview (published in vol. 1 of the fanbook).

"Zo" can have a meaning of its own (I liked this explanation on jlptsensei.com, for those who may be curious), but it is generally not used in the way that Grim is using it 🐱 He adds it just to everything!

And verbal ticks like this come up a lot in all kinds of Japanese-language media! Videos games, manga, anime, TV dramas, comedians, etc.

Ruggie's "su" is also kind of a verbal tic, and also has its own meaning:

Discussed in more detail in another post (ref: Idia's "degozaru"), the Japanese language has the word "desu," which has different forms depending on how polite you want to be!

Grim and Jade use the word in two of its more normal (least slang-like) ways, casual for Grim (da) and more polite for Jade (desu).

Ruggie is also using it in a casual way, dropping the "de" part and only using the "su," but it all means the same thing ^^

A verbal tic is even the catalyst of Spectral Soiree!

While not as often as Grim, Malleus is also known to end his sentences in "zo."

He keeps this speaking pattern even during Spectral Soiree, when he is pretending to be possessed by the ghost of an emperor.

But he then slips mid-conversation, saying "zo yo."

Leona noticing this inconsistency starts a domino effect that ultimately compromises Malleus' charade, leading to Malleus' confession (more here).

So verbal tics can be very important! ^^

Crowley's "since I am kind" might also be considered a verbal tic, as it is generally repeated in the exact same way throughout the original game (original-game-to-EN comparison here!).

I think I will add a deep dive into the various speech patterns there are to my TODO list because this post keeps getting longer ww But here are a few pick-ups for right now:

・Idia's use of "degozaru," "-shi," otaku-/net-slang and his stutter are unique to his character.

・Ace will often say "papatto," for getting something done quickly.

・Epel has many things going on with his various forms of speech, and his "kana" might count as a verbal tic?

・Vil will often say "choudai" (apologies for the twitter link)

・Lilia will often use the adjective "rippa," which is similar to admirable/splendid/impressive/respectable/etc. in English!

・Riddle will often end questions with "dai"

・A line that Riddle also says before battles, Riddle will often say "ii dokyo ga oari dane," which is something like "to have some nerve." Other characters will say variations on "ii dokyo" (usually Vil and Leona), but this full phrase is unique to Riddle.

・Riddle will also often say "owakari dane," usually to mean "You understand?," as in, "if you don't do as I say, you understand what is going to happen to you, yes?" (re: he is going to behead someone).

・Maybe my favorite, Rollo will often end his sentences with "kane."

In the way Rollo is using it, it is just another verbal tic, but then there is the Bell of Salvation from the event or 救いの鐘 in Japanese:

Sukui no Kane. "Kane" means bell!

Rollo is ending so many of his sentences with the word "bell" ^^ It is wordplay!

Language is personalized to each and every character in the game, to the point that most of the time (on JP) you can tell which character is speaking before they even enter the room based upon verbal tics and honorifics ^^ It is all very interesting, but unfortunately all very impossible to put across on EN!

#twstask #twisted wonderland #twstlanguage

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yiiyiiwrites · 8 months ago

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| If I must be your ruin |

Summary: before the buildings ruin, Cassian knew that your love would fall the same but he was willing to fight that fate with his mate. (Some dad Cassian and uncle Azriel/Rhys too)

Cassian x summer court reader (forbidden romance) [acotar masterlist]

Before under the mountain:

Sneaking Cassian into the summer court because you prefer your silk sheets and comfy bed.

Cassian loves waking up to you in his arms, the salty breeze filtering through the open window. Veiled curtains fluttering around the bed frame, dangling shells clinking together and creating a song he hopes he never forgets.

Takes a while for both of you to take the relationship serious as you’re both forbidden from stepping in each other’s courts.

Swimming together during the full moon, taking a small boat out into the summer sea and diving from the deck.

That one time Cassian got caught and you had to flirt with the guards so that he could escape. You never heard the end of it, but it did lead to great make up sex. He teases you for it all the time.

Your older brothers don’t like Cassian because of what he did.

“It was one building! It was ugly anyways, did us all a favour.”

You’re also part of the reason for the buildings ruin, but Cassian has never mentioned it.

“I would tear down buildings for you.”

Meeting on the boundary of summer and winter, Cassian can’t step over the invisible court line. (After being caught previously it’s too risky for him and you).

So you launch into his arms not caring at the abrupt temperature change. He opens his jacket and pulls you into a crushing hug to keep you warm.

Slipping a shell in his pocket, so that he’s reminded of a piece of you when he puts his hands in there to warm up in the cold. (He doesn’t tell you that he got a seamstress to sew a shell into the lining of his pocket so that you’re always with him).

Sending Cassian a blood ruby when he’s angered you. He ends up with a collection of different cut red gems, that you both laugh about now. You only get more angry if he forgets the reason of why you sent them.

You made him a necklace with discarded fishing netting and a shard of sea glass you found washed ashore.

“If I must be your ruin,” Cassian said, hooking his finger under your chin and raising your gaze to his. “Then I will also be your salvation.”

Secret wedding, where he creates you a ring out of the first blood ruby you sent him (the only reason you sent it was because it was the exact same shade as his siphons, he got in a lot of trouble with Rhys too).

Your mating ceremony is halfway between both of your courts in dawn. Only you and cassian with a priestess that is your closet friend.

Your dress pearlescent silk, fluttering layers in the morning breeze. Pearls weaved into the waves of your hair.

“In this life and the next, my love.”

After under the mountain:

You’ve never seen Cassian under the mountain and that you are glad of.

The only thing you have of Cassian’s is a dagger, blood ruby set in the scabbard. Your ring is hidden away in the Dawn court with your priestess friend.

You’re convinced that Rhysand can scent his friend merged with yours. He even studied the dagger, but did not push any further.

It wasn’t your mate that ended up being your ruin, it was the things you had to do in order to survive.

Fifty years of yearning and you meet him back in dawn. Granted it took you a couple of years of freedom till you reached out to him. Closed yourself up in summer to try and rid yourself of the trauma.

Cassian bought you a small estate that looks out to the sea in the dawn court. Your shells and rubies decorating the driftwood mantelpiece.

Your mate is hesitant the first few visits as if he’s worried about scaring a wild animal. As if you’re made of glass.

You seek refuge in the dawn court and wait for your mates visits. The first person he brings to your shared home is Feyre. He knows that she’ll be the most understanding and will treat you with kindness.

The nightmares are few and far between when Cassian is there to hold you.

The sound of the sea crashing along the shore soothes your mind and helps you stay grounded. Your mate knows you too well.

When you do eventually get invited to Velaris, you’re surprised to see the small shells scattered around his bedroom. The ribbon from your mating ceremony in the drawer beside his bed.

The different ornate chests full of rubies tucked away at the back of his wardrobe.

Your family:

When you have children they are named after precious stones. The first a daughter Ruby, as fiery as the threat of summer and has drawn blood from her father (accidentally).

Ruby is a forced to be reckoned with when she gets older. “Well it’s not that bad, dad totalled a whole building,” Ruby smirked, eyes sliding to Feyre who bit back a laugh. “Who told you that?!” It’s turns out Rhys was the one that let that slip.

Ruby has no interest in fighting in the mountains, thinks her father and Azriel are brutes (but loves them anyways). She does however want to join the Valkyries. Very fond of Nesta and loves romance books too. Debates with Cassian on how they can help Illyrian women.

Cassian teaching Ruby to fly, she’s reluctant to learn but he takes a more softer approach and asks feyre to help out too.

Obsessed with Pegasus in the day court that she begs you to take her there whenever you have diplomatic work.

Asks Rhys to put in a good word with Helion so that she can study in the day courts library. Ruby sends Cassian war books that she’s read and add sticky tabs for parts she thinks her dad will like. Sends you precious stones with a note. “Whatever you do, do not call any of my future siblings after this one.”

A son Jett, who is so protective of his siblings and his mother when you fall pregnant with a third one. He doesn’t give too much away, his stony face unmoving as if he’s spent too much time with uncle Azriel enjoying the quiet (which he doesn’t get at home thanks to ruby).

Jett’s the only one that wants to train in the Illyrian mountains like his father and uncles. Grew up playing with a wooden sword before he even learnt to fight.

Cassian doesn’t let Jett go to the Illyrian mountains till he’s trained to a high standard. Knows his son will be a target for people to prove they are better than him. So wants to give him a fighting chance before he’s left to his own devices.

Play fights with Rhys as a kid and gets in a good few swipes before you and Feyre are telling them both to calm down.

Jett asking Cassian to tell him of his adventures putting away monsters in the prison before bed.

Azriel is the one to teach Jett to fly, Cassian too nervous as he falls each time. Jett can’t do it with too many distractions, values silence and figuring it out himself instead of people telling him what to do. He ends up going out alone and mastering it himself…which earns him a scolding from you and Cassian.

Pearl, she loves the ocean that her first steps were paddling in the shallow waves at the beach. Free spirited and loves to fish with Feyre and Rhys. Whether it be looking for shells or sea glass or searching for a crab in the rock pools.

Pearl is the only one without wings, you tell her it’s so that she can swim and follow the mermaids in the ocean. She’s a spitting image of you as a child and it’s like you’re meeting yourself again for the first time.

Pearl has no spatial awareness when it comes to wings. She’s always getting swatted by her siblings wings and she likes to play a game where she hides behind Cassian’s wings, all that can be heard is her giggles.

Azriel took Pearl flying because he didn’t want her to miss out when her siblings were learning to fly (he may have dropped her few times as he mentioned how many times Jett fell whilst learning…he always caught her maybe even dropped her again just to hear her little giggles).

His girls braiding his hair and adding little shells and strands of string. Cassian definitely learns how to do their hair too. He even massages your hair before he braids yours too and the girls whine asking him to do that to them as they undo the ribbon holding their braids.

You live in Dawn during winter and spring, as you can’t handle the cold weather. Summer and autumn in Velaris, a top floor apartment in the art district overlooking a lake. It’s smaller than your home in dawn, but you spend more time outside on the rooftop patio than inside.

Your children visiting your brothers in Summer during the hottest time of the year so that they can see where you grew up.

Ruby rejects her mate, an Illyrian brute that doesn’t value her intellect or cares for her opinion. She falls in love with a scholar from the day court and lives out the rest of her life there. She doesn’t visit you and cassian for a few years thinking that you are not happy with the rejection as she knows that mates are sacred. But you make it known that her happiness is all that matters.

Jett’s mate, a peregryne in the aerial legion. They meet across the battle field during war and spend years trying to find each other. Nothing but letters going back and forth whilst they fulfil their respective duties.

Pearl meets her mate in the Summer court. A way finder, he was pulling a fishing net up in the middle of the sea when he saw Pearl swimming by.

Hope you liked….I thought about this way too much after thinking of it ages ago :)

#cassian fluff #cassian x you #cassian fanfic #cassian acotar #cassian fic #acotar cassian #cassian x reader #cassian #acotar fanfic #acotar headcanons #azriel acotar #rhys acotar #acotar feyre #acotar x you #acotar x reader #cassian x fem!reader #acotar fanfiction #summercourt!reader

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penvisions · 8 months ago

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one fish, two fish {chapter 3}

Pairing: Local! Frankie Morales x Transplant! Reader

Summary: Your day seems to be turning around for the better and you certainly don't expect for the night to end the way that it is. Maybe this is the start of things to finally settle into place, you can only hope.

Word Count: 5k

Warnings: canon typical language, canon typical bad luck, angst, unlucky encounters, misunderstandings, mentions of reader getting ghosted, then frankie gets ghosted, feelings of inadequacy, recovery, ptsd symptoms, past drug use, na meeting setting, conversations with a sponsor, a lot of feelings, reader has imposter syndrome, reader and frankie finally talk things through, alcohol consumption, illusions to traumatic event involving fire / explosions, illusions to helicopter wreck in the movie, illusions to canon death, reader has a callsign nickname but no assigned name, triple frontier boys, descriptions of both frankie and santi as romantic interests, lemme know if i missed any (nicely) please!

A/N: um hi ♡♡

ao3 link || series masterlist || frankie morales masterlist || navigation

Panic grips Frankie, reminding him of the time he had been stranded in the middle of a field beside a smoking and wrecked chopper, the crash landing he had tried to avoid becoming their new reality. They had been stranded, all five of them, with far too much money pulling taught the netting beneath the vehicle. He had tried his best, to get them to the coast, to get them home. But he had failed, the feeling all too real as he watches with a thudding heart the way you careen down the aisle away from him in the middle of a grocery store with a pinched expression.

“Daddy, why did she run away? I wanted to talk to her!”

“Maybe she was just in a hurry, mija.” He knows it’s bad to lie, especially to his daughter, but the truth is something he himself isn’t too clear on at the moment. He tries not to dwell on the way he hadn’t had the courage to reach out, a couple weeks ago now when you had let him know your phone was repaired and working once again.

He was a cowardly idiot, that’s the only reason he concluded with confidence.

Later that evening, once Cecila was snuggled in her bed with the blankets tucked in around her growing body did he allow himself the chance to sit out on his porch and let his thoughts consume him. He had no reason truly, why he hadn’t responded. The day getting away from him, work calling his attention as a routine check on an engine turned into a full-blown repair as a belt had snapped, too worn from the excessive trips into the air and idling along the runway as students learned out to operate the aerial vehicle. He had showered and thrown himself atop the bed that night after tending to his daughter, no thoughts for the phone still stored in the front pocket of his pants crumpled on the floor.

The next day it had been much the same; the outline for his day tedious but thankfully predictable with teaching, instructing, lecturing, testing, repairing. For nearly five hours until he had been able to catch his breath and take a few bites of something Will had been able to bring over, knowing how overwhelmed he was, how stretched thin he was.

He had no reason other than his own life was barely managed, as to why he hadn’t reached out. Another layer to it was how sleezy he would feel, he met you at a meeting for fuck’s sake. You obviously had been seeking out a lifeline of your own, something to cling to in the low moments. His evening routine of sitting in silence on his porch seemed to be his only respite as of late. The pack of menthol cigarettes he keeps hidden from his daughter taken out once the door to her bedroom shuts. The flick of the lighter almost Pavlovian in the way he eases some of the tension in his shoulders.

The overwhelming feeling of turning to the pills or the powder or the needles that once meant salvation no longer an option. A new need to be better, to do better. And who was he to provide better for you? When he couldn’t even approach you in a friendly enough air to sooth your worries in that moment. At the meeting he was the orchestrator of. He’s by no means a sponsor, but he does hold a bit of authority in the local community. An ear for those too shy to share during meetings, a wealth of information for those seeking it, someone who always plays a part in the annual picnics and events. A family man with no family of his own, save for his friends who give too much of themselves to him even now that their feet are back on US soil.

There’s no space for him in his life, let alone another person who deserves everything and anything. He couldn’t give that to you, the hours spent in the diner already a welcome strain on the one night he had to himself a week. He had given it up for you, your distress at his hand and actions too much for him to handle and not feel like he needed to fix, alter, repent for. Your smile had been shy at first, but oh, when it had bloomed fully before him in the bright lights of the diner? He knew he would give what little of himself was left in order to see it again.

That in itself sounded warning bells inside his head, it was surely to become another vice he would cling to in low moments. But unlike white powder or scored pills, you would were something someone to let down even as he clung to you. Pursuing you would only create more problems, not alleviate any that already plagued him. So he made the decision to keep his head down, work through the strain of being short-staffed at his job, to focus on his daughter. To let his own needs for something more idle and be shoved into the back of his mind along with thoughts of you.

He was okay, Cecilia was okay, their life was good if a bit hectic. If a bit lonely. He would survive, and he’s sure you would too without him complicating things for the both of you.

Frankie tried to be a good man, too many past deeds reminding him of why he felt the need to find repentance and be better. Should he cross paths with you again out in public, he would apologize. Offer to take you to the meeting he had scared you away from. Introduce you to the others, integrate you into the group. As a friend, as a fellow addict, as…a friend. And nothing more. It’s the least he could do if you deign to give him the time of day.

Sighing, he rubs a rough hand over his face, palm catching on his scruff and reminding him he needs to trim it. His grays are visible no matter how short it is, beginning to shine through the dark brown. He was about to get up from his spot in the whicker chair to do something about it, but he feels rooted in his spot. Legs heavy and torso leaned back into the cradle of the chair. His feet are bare, his cut off shorts made from an old pair of sweatpants allowing for him to feel the cool breeze as the evening progresses.

It's nice out. He brings another cigarette to his lips and lights it, smiling softly as the sound of your soft laughter echoes in his ears.

Santiago is rather nicer than Frankie had initially been, though there was no underlying current of mutual attraction. At least, that’s what you were trying to tell yourself, tamping down on the way the man’s eyes would sparkle when they caught both natural and artificial light. The way his curls beautiful and nearly completely steel grey looked effortlessly soft and pliable for wandering hands to tangle in. He was handsome, as you originally thought, but it was his kindness and thoughtfulness that was cementing him in your thoughts.

So unlike the snub of Frankie’s affections after that first night of actually talking to him, that night of the diner where you had thought there would be more just like it. Before you had found out that he had kept the revelation of him being a parent from you, something that hadn’t been mentioned during those long hours you had sat and spoke with him, held his hand and shared in easy laughter. Not that he owed you the truth, you suppose, because for all intents and purposes he was still just a stranger to you. A chance encounter and a lovely night of shared company that was more a memory now than anything.

The sting of his silence and then half-assed explanation and excuses had faded over the last few weeks.

Until he exited out from the truck of his friend that Santiago had called to help tow yours. There was a mechanic shop just next door to the gym one of his other friends owned, something about one of them having worked there or knew the person who operated it and would be able to get you a decent deal that wouldn’t break the bank or your resolve to make this city work.

“Fish! Didn’t expect you to be off work already.” Santiago crowds the man, arms going around his shoulders and a few loud claps of his hand on his back before they part. You see a flash of the smile that had been aimed at you over a low table only once before and your heart skips a beat even as it disappears. Frankie’s eyes land on you and you suddenly feel exposed. The bare skin of your arms blooming with goosebumps despite the warm evening air.

“Can’t believe it myself.” The two men embrace, hands slapping and then Santigo is engulfing you in a side embrace of your own. His eyes catch yours briefly, as if signaling that the next words out of his mouth were genuine.

“Been pretty long days lately. But this one needed some help, and who am I to deny her that?”

It’s quiet for a beat, Santiago looking between you and Frankie who suddenly don’t seem to be on talking terms, while Will beckons you over to ask a few questions about the front bumper. The conversation of whether or not it’s able to handle towing and what kind of issue is going on fades as you both round the front of vehicle.

“Hey,” The older man whispers, sidling up to his friend. “Thought you said you two smoothed things over?”

“We did….until I never texted her back and she ran into me and Ceci at the market.” Frankies large hand rubs at the back of his neck, curls greasy from work. He’s sure he doesn’t look too great, tired from the long day and caught off guard that the ‘friend’ Santiago needed a hand helping out turned out to be you. How did he even know you? He had only ever briefly met you at the bar, all those nights ago. Had only ever been mentioned to the man in passing, not willing to admit to selfishly and cowardly ignoring you for weeks now.

“…you didn’t say anything about that. I take it you hadn’t quite yet told her you’ve got a lil one, then, huh?”

“She nearly knocked into an endcap display once she saw it was me.” Stuffing his hands into the front pockets of his khakis, he shrugs his aching shoulders. Trying not to look too hurt by the way his heart had clenched at the reaction. It hadn’t been great but he had deserved it. He knows he did, he hadn’t been fair to you.

“Shit, Fish. That’s…I thought you said you liked her?” Santiago furrowed his brows and looked at Frankie straight on, not giving the man any space to avert his gaze. He was being a good friend, but he was also sticking his nose where it didn’t belong.

“Liking her ain’t the problem, it’s finding time for her. Which I don’t even have for myself right now.”

“Well, now you’ll have time. Gonna set her up with Will for work, fill that open position for a secondary mechanic they’ve got on the base.” Before he could respond one way or another, Santiago was clapping him on the back and walking over to where Will was just pulling on the chains to ensure they were secure.

Fucking- of course he would end up being in proximity to you. Every detail of your hours long conversation rolled around his head. You would definitely get the job, your background and experience exactly what the base was looking for.

The only issue is that meant he would see you on nearly a daily basis and he’s already botched meeting you for the first time and second…he needed to clear the air. Even if it was going to be difficult to articulate the reasoning behind his actions. You deserve it, to not question in the back of your mind the endless possibilities of what had happened. If you even thought of him, if you even cared at this point.

No thoughts of other than making things right, for the sake of potentially working together and seeing the way you interact with his friends. They like you, an invitation for drinks offered for later.

A short drive down a few blocks and you find yourself standing in a nearly empty parking lot of a gym called ‘Brass Knuckles’. Frankie, Will, and Santiago were idly chatting, waiting for their friend to close up the gym for the night to walk across the street to the dive bar that was mentioned. He looks a little younger than the rest of them, but not by much. You’ve all lived your earlier years for the country, that much is obvious, in the way you all hold yourselves. The comradery was one of the things you missed the most about being around other people who had served as well. But your contact with much of your squadron had fallen by the wayside as things progressed after the attack that had earned you all an honorable discharge…

Shaking your head, you found yourself sat at a table with them all and they were discussing what to get a pitcher of.

“Any preferences, hermosa?” Santiago nudges his shoulder into yours. “You were drinking an amber the other night, maybe one of those?”

“I stick to those just cause they’re pretty even along the board no matter what city, but just get whatever you all want.” To be honest, you’re a little nervous being around Frankie. Let alone amidst his personal friend group, you didn’t want him to feel like you were imposing. He had made it pretty clear he wasn’t interested in you, even if he had tried to smooth things over in the way he had in that rambling voicemail.

It still felt like an invasion, his life his own and something he protected in omitting certain truths.

He keeps glancing at you from across the table and you weren’t sure what to think about him. He had apologized sure, but it seemed that he either feels some sort of obligation to you with all of the mix ups that keep happening or if he truly does wish to extend the hand of friendship. You don’t know him well enough to know which one for certain, thought if you were going off of the man he had been across a dingy table you would have to guess it’s because he was a good person who wanted you to be in his orbit.

“Nah, we’ll get a pitcher of that. And some appetizers to tide everyone over until dinner.” Benny winks at you as he stands and makes his way over to the bar counter.

“Pope here mentioned you’re on the lookout for a service job,” Will meets your eye with a charming smile. “We’ve got openings in Fish’s zone, mechanics and repair work. Don’t have too much in the way of engineering or assembly work, but we do have some instructor roles that need to be filled too. Safety protocol, seminar leaders, stuff like that. What experience do you have, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“I was an explosives expert, Navy SEAL. Did foreign tours but spent most of my time at the Pearl Harbor base. Have a background in mechanical engineering and weapons instruction. But I’m not sure how much if it is on file now should I be looked up in the system.” It’s a clipped summary though your tone is open and honest, explaining in the simplest way you’ve come to know how to for exactly that question.

Potential jobs, apartment hunting, casual curiosity when using your discount out and about, it was a constant one in your life. Though the specifics of what happened to cause the way you had been ejected from active service more personal, a little heavier and harder to explain. Your keys jangle in your hand, the plastic chip emblazoned with ‘one year’ a grounding feeling in your palm. The cool plastic gives you a little comfort as you sit amongst strangers with similar pasts.

“Did you finish out your contract? The only time information about your skills gets altered is if you take leave before the end of it.”

“I was, um,” Your eyes catch the movement of Benny moving back toward the table, the phantom feel of flames licking at your sides as the room suddenly feels way too hot. “I was honorably discharged. For medical reasons.”

He watches you closely, eyes roving over your exposed arms, taking in the muscles you’ve managed to keep up as best as you could. There was no evidence you had been sick or otherwise that was visible, all of it shielded by your top. The other two men stealthily check you for the same, though you feel Frankie’s gaze more than the others, something underlying his casual concern. “And is everything okay now?”

“Oh, um, yes. It was…” You averted your eyes to the keys in your lap, unable to formulate a polite summary of the reason you had ended up sitting across from him. It was a lot, endless meetings and deep conversations, of yelling and arguing. Of admittance after too much avoidance of the truth. A lot of fault on your shoulders, on those around you, on medical professionals and the circumstances that had begun it all.

“Don’t need the details, if you’re uncomfortable sharing them. We can discuss is further when you come into the base for a “formal” interview, if you think it’ll affect any aspects of the job.” You feel the band of anxiety around your chest relax, the breath you take in expands your lungs instead of feeling stuck in the back of your throat. “How does- what’s today again-?”

“Wednesday, you big oaf.” Benny teases as he returns to the table with a full pitcher of dark beer and a stack of pint glasses nestled into each other.

“So kind and gracious, little brother.” He rolls his eyes as he thinks something over. “Would Friday work for you? Give me the weekend to run your resume and file over with the higher ups and could probably formally offer you something on Monday.”

You find yourself at the table alone with Frankie. His friends gone to the other side of the bar to start a game of pool amongst themselves. Brother against brother with Santiago to moderate.

It’s…awkward to say the least. Apprehensive tension charging the air around you both as you sip on your beer. It’s the second of yours, though Frankie is still on his first.

“Santiago and I ran into each other,” You blurted out, unable to handle the silence. Frankie had been lost in thought, plush lips twitching as he seemed to go over words he thought to say and then changed his mind. His eyes snap up from the foam he was watching slowly disappear in his drink to you across the table. You swallowed down the way your breath stuck in your throat as his eyes met yours. Dark brown that swirled with so much pulling you toward him. “Literally.”

“He’s got impeccable timing.”

“I was having the worst day, but he helped to turn it around.”

“And now you’re sitting here across from the asshole that ghosted you.” His scoff was subdued, but the distaste he felt about himself and the way things played out was obvious.

“I wasn’t trying to say that. I was trying to- you know what, just forget it. This is all so fucking stupid.” You reach for your bag, hands uncurling from around your own drink. Frustration glowing hot in your chest as he took your words and twisted them. How dare he, you think, reeling from the whiplash of the man’s emotions across from you. You didn’t fault him for feeling things the way he did, but open communication means a lot to you. Honesty means a lot to you and he’s been terrible at both the past few interactions. “You really do know how to make an impression.”

“Shit, wait, please.” The desperation in his voice makes you pause, silent as you wait for him to continue, gauging the wideness to his eyes. He licks at his bottom lip, the pink of his tongue catching your attention far more than you want to admit. “I don’t…I’m not good at…people beyond my small circle.”

“We don’t have to talk like friends, Frankie. But we do have to respect each other as coworkers and share the hangar space if I get this job. If you don’t want to talk to me at all, I can deal with that. We can leave notes on a whiteboard or exchange emails about things that need to get done, no big deal. But I will be damned if whatever happened between us, or lack thereof, affects this opportunity.”

“That’s the last thing I want, Angel.” Frankie’s mouth is a firm line, his hands cupped around his pint glass once again, eyes focused on you and the determination settled in your expression. Almost as if he was grounding himself.

“I wouldn’t ignore you just because of how we met. I…I only regret letting my own shit taint what I thought was a good night after everything had turned around. How I’m letting it fuck this up now, I’m sorry, I know I’m not being the best right now. It’s been a long day, like you said.” You see him pause, one of his hands tensing so much that his knuckles pale. “I can work with you, I’m willing to work with you. We both deserve to do something we’ve got the skills for, I wouldn’t ruin that for you. Believe me.”

“Kinda hard to believe someone who wouldn’t even tell me about their own kid. But hey,” You down the last dredges in your own pint and move to stand up. “I’m just the girl you were trying to make feel welcome after two not so good interactions. You didn’t and don’t owe me an explanation.”

“You deserved the truth.” Frankie agrees, reaching for your arm just as you shoulder the strap to your bag. “You do deserve the truth. Let me- please let me drive you home. I can bring you back tomorrow, talk to Javier, the owner of the shop and get you a deal. I used to work there, I just…I don’t want you to think I didn’t have a good time, that I don’t-it’s me, I’m the problem. Not you, you’ve done nothing wrong.”

“Frankie,” You’re pinching the bridge of your nose, a headache forming as the day progresses. You still really just wanted to curl up on your couch with take out. The greasy appetizers doing their best to fill your grumbling stomach, but the call of more food in the comfort of your home was strong. “I have no energy for this right now, my day has been shit. Can we just agree to…start over? We’re adults and I don’t want to dwell on things. Please?”

“Whatever you want, I swear it. Just- one last thing, just hear me out on one last thing and then I’ll shut up about it.”

“What is it, Frankie?” You don’t wave his hand off and he thankfully squeezes it in his grasp before stepping back. His shoulders square and he emphasizes with them when he speaks next, providing you with the answers to questions you had tumbled around in your head for days after your encounter at the grocery store.

“The reason I didn’t tell you about Ceci, my daughter, is because she gets attached to people very easily since her mother left us. I didn’t…it’s a lot to learn that someone you’re interested in has a kid, let alone a clingy one. I didn’t want it to be a deal breaker for you.”

“Kinda moot now, isn’t it?” You can’t help the hint of sarcasm that leaks into your tone, wanting for all the world to move past what if’s and maybe’s of how you first met each other. If you’re going to be working together, it’s better to start off fresh, to start off on a better foothold than the rickety one you two had been sharing up until this point.

He catches the way the corner of your mouth quirks up, the arch of one of your brows as you cross your arms and jut your head a bit to the side. Teasing, you’re teasing him and when he realizes his entire body relaxes.

“I mean, you’re the one who went out of their way to make amends for not one, but two terrible first encounters. So, I think you may have been a little more invested than I was, Mr. Morales.”

“With the way you were smiling and giggling, bet you were just as invested, querida.”

“Shut up and take me home, I need a mountain of Chinese food.” You can’t help the roll of your eyes as he matches your taunts, truly set on making things better and tiding over the insecurities of past interactions and lack there of. It’s tentative, your nerves alight even as a giddiness settles in just beneath your skin. The back and forth, the easy conversation flowing like it had once upon a time.

“I know a good place, we’ll look it up and place a to go order. Pick it up on the way.” He offers, seemingly willing to try and move forward as well. There’s a hesitancy behind his eyes that thaws your lingering anger and annoyance, the hurt that had bloomed from it.

“Yeah? You gonna pick up the tab?” You challenge, stepping closer to him as you do so. The setting of the bar and the chatter of the crowd melt away as he matches your step. He’s only inches away as he rests a hand on the top of the table, his head ducked down to focus on only you. The bill of his hat brushes your forehead and you feel a flash of warmth as the memory of his lips on your cheek suddenly bubbles up.

“Picked it up last time, why would this time be any different?” He’s smirking, the glint of his teeth behind his plush lips spurring butterflies to life in your middle.

God, why was it so easy to forgive him for the misunderstanding? Because now your body was alight with the giddy feeling of connection, just like it had been that night in the diner. You only hoped that you could keep it professional, keep it friendly. And how were you supposed to know that Frankie was wondering the exact same thing? His own mind racing as his heart beats wildly in his chest that things are finally changing and changing for the better.

Off to the side, the three remaining members of your little party are nursing their new pints. The second pitcher set on the table and left for you both as they started a game of pool.

“How much you wanna bet that’s gonna happen by the end of the month?” Benny’s wolfish smile influenced by his joy of games, though it stems from a place of genuine interest and want for his friend to find the happiness he had been lacking in his personal life.

“I bet it’s gonna take them two months, and one of them is gonna mistake it for being overly touchy- feely and back off again.” Santiago rises to the bait and offers his own idea of what will happen. He knows his best friend, the way things tend to play out. His past intertwined with is own. He thinks back on the past few years, since their collective return from South America. The strides they’ve all taken since then to be better, to actually make a difference and not fall victim to the endless cycle of not feeling good enough. Frankie deserved good things, a second chance at finding someone to share his life with, even if the man didn’t personally believe it.

“I think they’re gonna hit it off, become inseparable and then one of them is gonna get jealous that the other got asked out. That’s how these things typically go, don’t they?” Will chalks the end of his pool stick, eyes trained on you two standing far too close to each other and lost in your own little bubble. All three of them smiling and enjoying seeing Frankie truly relaxed for the first time in what feels like years.

“Either way, they have intoxicating energy. Makes me feel like I’m watching something I’m not supposed to.” Santiago claps his hands together before retrieving his phone from his back pocket. “Think it’s time to call my girl and see when her next night off is.”

They watched on as you both seemed to mess around on Frankie’s phone, fingers pointing at each other and easy laughter shared between you both. Mock frowns and the flash of tongues being teasingly stuck out at each other. They wondered what the conversation was, because when they walked away it looked nothing like it did now. Just as the phone is tucked back into a pocket, you’re both waving at the trio as you make your way to the door.

“I’d have that workplace conduct paperwork at the ready, brother. They’re gonna be trouble once they figure everything out, hell, maybe even as they figure everything out.” Shaking his head and chuckling, Will makes a mental note to stick a blank contract in each of your files tomorrow when he gets to work before going back to the game at hand.

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softer-ua · 4 months ago

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Thinking about how sad it is the LOV is made just from people who at very vulnerable moments in their youth were groomed by twisted adults to think they were going to rebuild society in a way that would ensure that no other kids would hurt the way they did or it’d fix their hurt

Dabis-

He’s had very few moments between all the trauma to actually develop his mind into that of semi functional adult who can at least somewhat grasp the nuances of the world and practice self reflection

What should have been the time where he began to understand his place in the world & all the nuances of it he was put into a comma & turned into a medical experiment. He woke up in an adult body he could barely recognize.

He never got to build a space to process anything, to challenge his own beliefs childhood beliefs about himself or others, could never conceptualize the nuances of his family actions and their dynamics, he entered adulthood so suddenly and had the conclusions of his hurting and upset child mind reinforced as sound logic and the only truth that deserves justice

He’s only like 24, he had all the time he was supposed to get growing into himself and developing a separate identity from his family and what that can mean for him ripped away.

Shigaraki-

In a similar boat, he might have physically lived through his childhood and adolescence, but mentally, he never got to grow beyond that scared, desperate five-year-old who just wanted someone to save him.

He was put into a living situation that continually encouraged, insisted, that his trauma completely arrest his development.

Every time he started to process and understand what happened, AFO reinforced his worst fears: that the world was cruel, that no one would but AFO would ever help him, and that the only way to make sense of his suffering was to destroy everything that allowed it to happen.

He never had the chance to step back and see his father as more than just a villain in his story. That his dad was also a deeply broken person, trapped in his own cycle of pain.

That his sister was a scared kid who made a mistake, not a betrayer.

That his family’s death wasn’t a punishment or some kind of destined retribution—it was a tragedy. And that tragedy wasn’t his fault.

It’s absolutely horrible that no one noticed him crying and instead just assumed a hero would show up. But also they live in a world where a toddler can accidentally turn an entire family into dust, and maybe some causation is warranted for strangers. While society could also do better to inform people what to do in this situations

But no one ever told him that. No one ever gave him the space to grieve, to be comforted, to hear a different perspective. AFO came along and fed him a story where none of it mattered because the world itself was the enemy. Where he didn’t have to process his pain—he could just act on it.

Twice-

A villain took his parents lives, and with no safety net eventually became a villain and it took his life.

Orphaned in middle with family he had to join the workforce, a traffic incident gets him a criminal record at 16 and it costs him his job of 3+ years and facing homelessness he starts using his quirk for theft and just so he has some company, and when his quirk got stronger from the constant use it over powered him causing a severe traumatic brain injury that left him with life long mental health issues that he never got support for

Then some guy offers him a job as a villain, acceptance, and the closest thing to stability and friendship he’s had in over a decade

instead of having any avenue to get help, he was left to spiral in fear and isolation. He had no one—until the League. And they didn’t just accept him, they needed him. That was all it took.

When you’ve spent a decade drowning in loneliness and self-doubt, the first hand that reaches out to you feels like salvation, even if it’s leading you off a cliff.

Spinner-

He grew up in a world that never saw him as anything more than a background character, a nobody. He was ostracized for his appearance, pushed to the fringes of society, and left to rot in obscurity

Then Stain came along. And there was a voice that resonated with him, an ideology that felt like it meant something, a path to be somebody.

He grew up in a society so devoid of meaning for anyone who doesn’t have some big hero dreams that kids join cults just to feel something 💀

Toga-

as child she was never given the space to understand herself—only punished for being different. (The story of so many queer/neuro divergent kids😭)

She wasn’t born evil. She wasn’t even born with inherently violent tendencies.

She was just a kid who experienced love and attraction in a way that no one around her understood, and instead of guiding her through it with patience and care, they shamed her, treated her like a monster, and tried to force her to be something she wasn’t.

Her fascination with blood wasn’t the problem—it was a part of her quirk, a part of her—but the way she was treated for it turned it into something dangerous. Instead of helping her learn how to control and safely express that aspect of herself, she was told to repress it, that she had to erase this part of her to be “normal.”

She needed someone to say, I understand that this is part of you. Let’s figure out what that means together. But no one ever did. Instead, they made her feel like she had to choose between being herself and being loved.

So she ran away

then the opportunity of LOV came along, and it wasn’t just a place to hide—it was the first time she was ever accepted for who she was. Even if that acceptance came with the price of violence and villainy, it was still more than she had ever gotten from the world she was born into.

Because the world told her blood always equals violence, she became what they made her.

Toga was just a child. She never had the chance to explore her quirk, her feelings, or her understanding of love in a way that wasn’t met with immediate fear and rejection. And that’s the tragedy—she(like the rest) could have been someone different if just one person had met her with kindness instead of disgust.

Big Sis Mag-

She wanted to live free—to carve out a space where she could be herself without fear, without judgment, without society trying to push her to the margins or erase her entirely. But the world wasn’t built to accept her, and when she tried to find belonging, she was met with rejection, violence, and a system that saw her as unworthy of protection.

So she did what so many of the League did—she clung to the only people who did accept her. Even if they were villains. Even if their cause was violent. Because, to her, fighting for that space, for a world where she and others like her could exist without fear, was worth the cost.

But the tragedy is that the League, for all the genuine bonds they formed, wasn’t a path to real freedom—it was a trap, orchestrated by a man who didn’t care about their dreams, only his own. She laid down her life believing she was fighting for something greater, for a future where people like her wouldn’t have to suffer the way she did. But the cruel irony is that the very person pulling the strings was ensuring that the world they were building would only be more broken, more violent, more unforgiving.

Mag wanted to belong. She wanted to protect her family. She wanted a future where no one would have to live in fear of simply existing. But instead, she was taken advantage of, her loyalty twisted into another step toward AFO’s goal—a world even worse than the one that hurt her in the first place.

She was the first to lose her life to the cause, and her character encapsulated so much of what was at the heart of LOV’s story

(I didn’t count Kurogiri because he’s a legitimate, not figuratively, brainwashed nomu zombie(?) man/ victim of desecrating remains, in his like late 30’s and that felt like an outlier)

#my hero academia #bnha #mha #boku no hero #toga himiko #toya todoroki #dabi todoroki #shigaraki tomura #twice mha #big sis magne #these aren’t really original or even cohesive thoughts just some ramblings i needed to get out

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