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peterhollandkait · 2 years ago

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Althaia your comments have me SCREECHING!! Thank you soooo much for the lovely words. I will absolutely add you to the tag list!

Everything I Know Leads Me Back to You - Part 1

Part 1 - Spare Him A Little Kindness

Pairing: eventual Frankie Morales x afab!reader

Word Count: 5.8k

Masterlist

Read the Prelude here

Warnings: Mentions of drug addiction, depression, anxiety, ptsd, trauma related to the military, angst, slow burn, jealousy, sobriety, soft!Frankie needs his own warning MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

A/N: The first part is here y'all!! I am so excited to share this with everyone. As always, please reblog, like, and comment - I would greatly appreciate the feedback! I hope you enjoy :) OH - and you'll need this video for reference when you get to the end of the chapter !

Four Months Later…

The apartment was quiet, save for the scraping of silverware on your plates. You and Frankie sat quietly at the table, eating without an ounce of conversation between you. Some nights it ended up like this, your energy spent from eight hours with six-year-olds, his at therapy.

When Frankie appeared on your doorstep high out of his mind four months ago, you made it your mission to help him get clean. You found an outpatient treatment program for him, a weekly NA meeting, and got him back with his psychiatrist and therapist.

He admitted that he was a few months behind on rent from losing his job and blowing his extra income on the coke, so you took money from your savings to pay his landlord before you moved him into your own apartment.

Frankie felt immensely guilty, constantly apologizing to you. He didn’t talk very often at first, the guilt and shame eating at him. He was a shell of the man you’d known your entire life.

You tried to keep your distance from him, physically, unless he asked. You didn’t want to smother or coddle him, though you often thought about wrapping him in bubble wrap and keeping him in your apartment so he could remain safe forever.

But once he got used to his new schedule and your presence, he gravitated toward you, constantly touching you in some way.

Frankie’s love language was touch, and he sure was good at it. If you were on the couch watching a movie, Frankie had you in his arms. If you were at the dinner table, his leg rested against your own as you ate. He had you between him and the sink as he did the dishes every night, or your body pressed against his while he folded laundry.

After too many nightmares on the couch, you coaxed him into your bed, which unlocked a new level of his affection. You’d slept in the same bed as Frankie many times, and in just as many sleeping bags while you camped during his time in the service, but this feeling was new.

You were always pressed flush against his bare chest, a tight hand around your waist as if he was afraid you’d leave him in his slumber. His breath tickled the skin on your neck and shoulder, a constant reminder of his presence.

The nightmares were the worst, but you handled them in stride. Whether it was screaming, thrashing, or thoughts that made him jump awake but remain silent in shock, you were there.

He’d completed treatment a few weeks previous, and now he was focused on getting his pilot’s license back. Frankie hated being dependent on you. Though you’ve been his best friend for 33 years, his mother and abuela had always taught him to take care of the women he loves, and he was chronically anxious over the fact that he couldn’t care for you the way you needed.

He wanted to do good by you, the way he should have 23 years ago. Before he pushed you away and ran straight into a war on the heels of Santiago. At first, he believed he was doing good, that him and his squad were serving the greater purpose. But the more killing they did, the less and less he believed in the orders they were given. They weren’t defending America, they were killing for sport.

——

Frankie had a habit of watching you when you weren’t paying attention. Like now, while you’ve gathered the leftovers of your meal into a container for your lunch tomorrow. The way you hummed quietly while you worked, how your shirt rode up as you reached for the container in the upper cabinet, revealing a sliver of your lower back.

You moved to the fridge, setting the leftovers inside and retrieved two cans of soda to enjoy during your movie. It was Frankie’s turn to pick the movie, and he’d settled early on with Jurassic Park. It was the first movie the two of you had seen in theatres together with your families in the 90s, and you both had begged to see it again and again after the first time.

As you finished, Frankie got up and moved toward the dishes in the sink. “You don’t have to do the dishes every night, y’know.” You took a step toward him, leaning into his side while he worked.

Frankie tapped your nose with his soapy hand, leaving a small pile of bubbles on your skin with a smirk. “It’s the least I can do, Girasol.”

You hummed, snaking an arm around his middle while he worked. The two of you stood there quietly, basking in the comfort of each other. Sometimes, he would talk about his therapy sessions, but you never pushed him.

Some days haunted him more than others, sending him straight to bed when he came home in the evening. On those nights, you ordered in and ate in bed, an old sitcom playing in the background. Sometimes, you read aloud to him, his head rested in your lap as you stroked his hair.

As he finished placing the last portion of silverware into the drawer, Frankie spoke. “I got uh, a text from Pope today. Said he’s coming to visit this weekend and wants to see everyone at Benny’s fight.”

Frankie held back the other part of the text from you, knowing it would upset you. Santiago shared a proposal for a recon mission in Colombia. He wanted the other men to check out the folder he’d attached with the plans. He needed four guys - and a pilot - of which Frankie wasn’t any longer. He pushed the thought to the back of his mind, turning his attention back to you.

“Does he need a place to stay? I’ve got a blow up mattress around here somewhere. I can’t believe he didn’t text me.” You sighed, grabbing the sodas off the counter.

Frankie grabbed two glasses - your favorite ones with the Fish and Sunflower on them - and followed you to the couch. He settled next to you, taking the cans from your hands to pour the bubbly liquid into the cups.

“You should make him sleep on the couch, as punishment,” Frankie chuckled.

You laughed, taking a sip before you added, “you’re so right. I’m going to call him right now.”

You grabbed your phone and hit the call button on Santiago’s contact, settling your legs over Frankie’s lap while you waited. It rang for ages, to the point where the two of you thought Pope was sending you to voicemail.

Then, the line clicked. “Hola Hermosa,” Santi drawled. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

You blanked for a moment, distracted by Frankie rubbing a thumb over your ankles. “Yeah, uh, hi. I heard you were coming into town. Funnily enough, I think my text got lost in the cloud somewhere.”

Frankie chuckled lightly, shaking his head.

“That you Fish? Shoulda known you’d tell her. I wanted it to be a surprise, mi amor. How many babies d’y’all have running around there now, anyways? Three? Five?”

“Pope,” Frankie growled.

“I kid, I kid,” Santi chuckled. “Seriously though, when’s the wedding? My invitation must have gotten lost in the mail.”

You sighed. “Santi, c’mon. I was going to offer you my couch.” You reached over to Frankie for his hand, squeezing gently.

The two of you never spoke of marriage or your relationship, not after he broke your heart and followed Santiago into the service, and especially not after what happened those few months ago.

You used to dream of it, wearing his abuela’s veil and your mother’s wedding dress. Frankie standing at the altar with Santiago by his side, beaming at you as you walked toward him. You’d wanted an outside wedding, full of sunflowers, violets, and daisies.

You would be kidding yourself if you said you hadn’t thought about it since then. You had. But you couldn’t get hurt again, it would be too painful. So you loved him from as far as you could. In the present moment, it wasn’t entirely very far. He was your best friend, you weren’t going to abandon him in his time of need. Once he was back on his feet, everything would go back to the way it was. That’s what you told yourself at least.

“Can’t take the spot on the other side of your bed, can I? You have a very nice mattress, sunflower.”

“Well I need that spot for my five children, don’t I?” You watched Frankie throw his head back in laughter, any anger toward Santiago dissipating.

“Very funny hermosa. Make sure Fish keeps that couch warm for me, yeah? I’ll be there Saturday morning.”

You carefully pulled yourself out of bed at the sound of Santiago’s knock on the front door. You glanced at the clock declaring it was 7:30 and sighed. Padding over to the closet, you pulled on your robe before heading to the front of the apartment to open your door.

Frankie hadn’t slept well the night before, his anxiety keeping him on edge the whole day and a memory haunting his dreams at night. You spent most of the early morning coaxing him back to sleep with quiet lullabies, lavender lotion, and soft touches. His nightmares had gotten better, but something about Pope’s visit flipped a switch in his brain.

When you came home from work, you’d found him rebuilding a Lego set he must have taken apart from its display on your shelf. Where he found the directions, you had no idea. A completed sudoku pad sat on the table next to him along with the Sunday paper’s crossword puzzle. His anxiety had kept him in overdrive all day, sending him into a spiral. You’d finally talked him into laying in bed with promises of delivered sushi and The Breakfast Club.

Santiago knocked once more as you were unlocking the door. You glared at him as you pulled it open, stepping aside to let him inside. “Please keep it down,” you whispered. “Last night was rough. He needs to sleep for a while longer.”

He nodded, pulling you into a hug. “How’re you doing, Sunny?”

You sank into his arms, sighing contently. “I could be worse. I’m so glad you’re here, you have no idea.”

“It’s not good, is it?” Pope pressed a light kiss to your forehead, pulling away to get a look at you properly.

Yawning, you shrugged. “He’s been better. Something happened yesterday, I don’t know what. He took apart the Taj Mahal Lego set while I was working and put the whole thing back together by the time I’d gotten home.” You shook your head, running a hand through your hair as you paused. “He was up most of the night too, woke up screaming and thrashing around one. I finally got him back asleep a couple of hours ago.”

Santi nodded, worry etched into his brows. “How are you doing? You need someone to take care of you too.”

“I’m okay, Santi. Really, I am. Frankie is my first priority.” You squeezed his shoulder lightly before turning towards the kitchen. “Do you want some coffee?”

“Please, gracias Hermosa.” Santi followed you into the kitchen, leaning against a counter as you worked.

You reached into a lower cabinet for a bag of grounds before spooning it into the filter. “I keep the caffeinated stuff in another spot so Frankie doesn’t get confused…the caffeine affects his anxiety, so he’s been drinking decaf for awhile now.”

“You really have thought of everything, haven’t you,” Santi commented. He watched as you shrugged, pulling mugs from another cabinet.

He took the liberty of glancing around the apartment then, taking in the small signs of how yours and Frankie’s lives have further intertwined since he last visited. Pictures of Frankie and the rest of their squad littered the refrigerator doors, held up by magnets he would bring back for you after any mission he could. Your fish and sunflower glasses sat on the drying rack, shoes scattered together by the front door. One of Frankie’s flannels hung on the dining table chairs, his favorite books next to yours on the shelves. He also noted Frankie’s record player in the corner of the room, vinyls organized neatly next to the table. Pope couldn’t clearly determine where you ended and Frankie began.

“So, do you have any plans while you’re here?” You turned, handing a mug to Santi.

He took a long sip, savoring the taste. “Not particularly, just hoping to catch up with everyone. Benny’s fight is on Monday, right?”

You nodded. “Yeah, Will is out of town until then. Benny might come over tomorrow for some game, but that depends on how Frankie is feeling. Try to take it easy with him, okay?”

Santi nodded. “Yes, of course. Why didn’t you tell me it was this bad?”

“I didn’t tell you because I knew you’d get all concerned and try to come up here. He’s embarrassed about it, Santi. He doesn’t want anyone else involved. Will and Ben don’t even know how bad it is.”

As if on cue, you heard a shout from down the hall. “Sunflower?? Honey, are you there?”

“I’m in the kitchen, mi amor. Don’t worry.” You pressed a finger into Santiago’s chest. Whispering, you said, “Don’t heckle him, please.”

“Never,” he said quietly. “Go help our guy, yeah?”

You gave him a small smile before heading back to the bedroom where Frankie was getting dressed.

You treaded softly over to him, putting yourself between him and the closet. “Are you sure you don’t want to sleep a little longer? You can stay in bed as long as you want, Frankie.”

He shook his head, reaching for his hat on your dresser. “Pope is here. I’ve functioned on less sleep than this.”

Frankie had a hard look in his eyes, but not menacing or irritated. It was the look he acquired when he compartmentalized things. He put a barrier up, shielding everyone around him from his problems. Another symptom of the military, a change in him you never expected. Frankie used to wear his heart and his mind on his sleeve. You could know exactly what he was thinking when you looked at him. But that Frankie went away the minute he stepped foot on foreign soil.

“Francisco,” you took his hands into yours. “You don’t have to be strong every moment of every day. You’re allowed to be in pain. Santiago’s in pain too, they all are. Hell, why do you think Benny jumps in front of fists every week?”

Frankie chuckled. “Hermosa, I think you’ve got the wrong idea about MMA.”

You shook your head at him, giggling lightly. “Don’t change the subject, Morales.” You moved your hands up to caress his cheeks, thumbs resting over the heart-shaped patches in his beard. His eyes softened in your embrace, smile growing wider.

Frankie wanted to kiss you then. Hell, he wanted to kiss you every moment of every day. But in this moment, it took every bit of strength he had not to. He glanced down at your lips as you spoke, internally kicking himself for entertaining the thought.

“Just,” you sighed quietly, eyes drifting to the floor. “Please, take it easy. Santi will understand if you need to slow down.”

Frankie nudged your hands with his chin, catching your attention. “I promise. Thank you for taking such good care of me, girasol.”

Sunday had been easy with Santiago there. Him and Frankie spent much of the afternoon playing Mario Kart in the living room while you watched from the kitchen table. It relieved you to see Frankie so relaxed with someone other than yourself.

It reminded you of your childhood, days where you sat in front of Santiago’s tv, watching him and Frankie take turns with Zelda or play Super Mario Bros together. They’d yell profanities at each other in Spanish when one of them fucked up, causing them to restart a level. You still remembered the feeling of Frankie’s laugh against your back when you laid against his chest while they played. You were small enough, and him tall enough, that he could see the controller over your shoulders, so he held you in his arms most of the time.

You joined in on the fun when your parents gifted you (and Frankie) a Nintendo 64 for Christmas one year. You would stay up too late every night during winter break playing with him, falling asleep together on the couch more than once.

You were never sure when the feelings started, but they never went away. Even as you watched him and Santiago from across the room, you felt them.

Frankie was your first kiss, your first time. Your first everything. And then he left, broke up with you like you were nothing to him, and followed Santiago into a war that destroyed them.

The person you discussed marriage and kids with had abandoned you, to “defend the country,” he’d said. You mourned him as if he died, the pain unbearable. It clawed at your heart, leaving you broken and gasping for air.

Your college years were spent in psychiatrists' offices, life dulled through pills and therapy. Frankie would call you on occasion, him and Santiago writing letters as well. You’d always pick up, unable to resist the sound of his voice.

It wasn’t until you stepped foot into a kindergarten class your sophomore year that you came alive again. You had always known you wanted to be a teacher, but you never expected 20 five-year-olds to turn your world upside down and change your life.

You were friends with some of them on Facebook now, so many years later. More than a few of them had sent you emails over the years too, some asking after Frankie and if he had gotten home okay. They were the sweetest humans you had ever met and you cared for them as if they were your own.

You were at the point in your life where the idea of having kids was slowly retreating from the version of life you had built for yourself. They only existed in your dreams now, with Frankie at the helm of them. A glimpse of the life you could have led if things were different.

Instead, you peered across the room at your two childhood friends as they bonded over lost time and competitive video games from your seat at the kitchen table where you were finishing report cards.

Frankie must have felt you staring because he turned toward you during a break in the game, beckoning you over. “Ven acá, cariño. You deserve a break.”

You got up slowly and made your way to the couch. “Only for a few minutes, I have to finish the report cards for tomorrow.” You sat between the two men on the couch, legs tucked underneath you.

“What’re your plans for summer break?” Santiago glanced over at you while Frankie fiddled with his Mario Kart vehicle for the thousandth time.

“I never made plans for anything, actually. I thought about going to New York or Chicago, but life got in the way,” you shrugged.

“You’ve still got time! I think that’s a great idea, Sunny. You deserve a nice, long vacation. I’ll even pay for your hotel, my treat.” Santi placed a hand on your knee, squeezing gently.

Your eyes widened, jaw dropping. “Santi, no. I can’t accept. That’s…that’s so much money. Besides, I have…stuff I need to do here. Doctors appointments and…things.” You attempted to come up with any excuse in the book to refuse Pope, but he saw through your ruse. You didn’t want to leave Frankie alone and he knew it.

“I’m sure I can distract Fish here for a few weeks while you take some time for yourself, darlin. Ain’t that right, hermano?”

You watched the two men traded stern looks, Frankie’s cold and menacing look from yesterday morning returning as he glared at the other man. You reached for Frankie’s arm then, giving it a squeeze. “Hey, I’m not going anywhere, I promise. Not without you.”

Frankie’s mouth opened a few times as he hesitated to say something. Finally, he reached for your hand and squeezed as he said, “Pope’s right. You deserve a break after all you’ve done for me. You should go for your birthday, hm?”

“I’ll think about it, how about that?” You looked between them, hoping to satisfy their conspiracy. “I’m not sure what the two of you are up to, but it’s not any good. Now give me that remote, mi amor, so I can kick Pope’s ass in Mario Kart like I promised.”

Frankie laughed, a hearty laugh that had him bent over, leaning into your shoulder as he cackled. The brim of his hat hit the side of your neck, but you hadn’t minded. You hadn’t seen Frankie laugh like this in months.

It made you want to pull him into you by the collar of his shirt and kiss him senseless. But you couldn’t do that, not anymore.

—

After you bid the men goodnight and wandered off to bed, Frankie and Santi headed out to the balcony, each with a beer in hand as they sat. The men were silent for a while, taking in the sounds of the crickets, cicadas, and grasshoppers under the night sky.

Frankie fiddled with the wrapping on his beer bottle, tearing it off piece by piece, the bits falling onto his lap haphazardly. He sat waiting for Pope to say something, anything, like he usually did. But Santiago said nothing, leaving room for Frankie to speak if he was so inclined.

Once the beer wrapped had been demolished, Frankie had nothing left to ease his anxiety. He couldn’t stand the silence, not around Pope.

“I uh,” Frankie started, rubbing a hand up and down on his jeans, the other holding tightly to the beer bottle. “I got busted. It’s not a big deal…actually, it’s a big deal.”

Pope looked over at his friend, taking in his nervousness. “Coke?” Frankie barely glanced at him before he continued. “Jesus, Frankie.” Pope sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. “What happened?”

Frankie let out a deep breath before relaying the last few years to his friend. How he thought he was doing alright, until he wasn’t. How you took him in and cared for him when he was at his worst.

“And you still don’t think she’s in love with you, hermano? Mierda Frankie, eres un idiota.” Santiago shook his head, grinning at his counterpart.

“Why would she take me back after all these years? All I’ve ever done is hurt her.” Frankie removed his hat, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t deserve her, I never have.”

“Well, maybe not, but she has never stopped loving you, man. If I was a stranger, I’d think the two of you were married already. She wouldn’t have taken you in if she didn’t care.”

Frankie sighed, rolling the hat in his hands. The thing had been through hell and back over the years, with a small tear in the fabric at the back and sweat stains on the inside. But it was his favorite hat, one you had given him in high school after the neighbor’s dog had chewed his Astros cap to hell.

“Listen,” Santiago started, breaking Frankie’s disassociation. “I’ll shut up about the whole thing, I will. But do me a favor and ask her out. I promise you, she’ll say yes.”

Frankie looked at his friend and nodded. “Okay. I’ll try. But you get to be the one to tell her about this bullshit recon mission.”

——

You sighed at the sound of your alarm in the morning, hitting stop but not moving from your spot in the bed. You’d be running on little sleep today after one of Frankie’s recurring nightmares kept the two of you up for the better part of the night. You laid in bed for longer than you should have, savoring the warmth of Frankie’s body as he slept beside you. When you finally dragged yourself out from under the covers, you readied yourself as quickly as possible before you woke him to say goodbye.

You sat on the edge of the bed, gently caressing his back as you whispered, “Frankie, I’m heading to work.”

He grunted softly, rolling over to face you. His eyes were still closed, but he reached for your touch. “Five more minutes,” he mumbled.

You clasped his hand in your own, raising your entwined hands to kiss his. “Sleep as long as you need to, mi amor. I’ll be home by 5 and we can head to the arena together, yeah?”

Frankie made a noise in agreement, eyes fluttering open. “You look beautiful today, girasol.” He smiled lazily up at you, giving your hand a squeeze as he spoke.

You blushed, looking away from him. “You say that every morning.”

Frankie sat up slowly and pulled you into his lap on the bed. “That’s because you are beautiful every day, and I’ll keep telling you that as long as I live.”

“Frankie…” you started, dipping your head in embarrassment. Your cheeks burned red, the room suddenly too hot. “I’ve…I’ve got to go to work.”

“I know, I’ll let you go in just a minute.” Frankie squeezed your hips gently, just watching you.

In the comfortable silence, you took in the man before you. His hair had gotten long, the ends curling around his ears and forehead like they had when you were younger. His beard had grown longer too, a few grey hairs littering his jaw around the patches. You loved the patches, though they were one of the spots he was most insecure about. You ran your thumbs over them, fighting the urge to place kisses on the bare skin.

“What are you thinking about?” Frankie inquired, squeezing your hip again.

“How old you’re getting,” you smirked.

Frankie groaned, leaning into your touch. “Don’t remind me, Hermosa.”

“The greys look good on you honey. I’m admiring them.” You pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead before you moved to stand. “I really have to go to work now, though I wish I could stay in bed with you all day.”

“One week, yeah?”

“One week,” you smiled, walking backwards to the door. “I love you.”

“Te quiero mucho mucho mucho girasol,” Frankie replied, watching as you waved one last time and closed the door behind you as you left for the day.

You arrived at fight-night later than you had anticipated, just barely making it inside as Benny was climbing into the cage. Will, Santiago, and Frankie were already seated in the front, where you joined them and took the still full beer from Frankie’s hands. You assumed Santi had given it to him to “loosen him up,” but you weren’t willing to risk Frankie’s sobriety over a solo cup of cheap beer.

As you took the cup from his hands, Frankie gave you a thankful look and nudged your shoulder with his own. He could never say no to his friends, but you sure could. You waved to Will from where you sat before turning to watch Benny land a punch on his opponent.

The other fighter got a few good punches in, making you swallow the shitty beer in your anxiousness, but eventually Benny prevailed and was declared the winner. Your group erupted in cheers and as Benny came down from the cage, he ran right to you and hoisted you into his arms.

“Always my good luck charm, sunshine.” He pressed a kiss to your cheek, twirling you around.

You laughed, holding tightly to his shoulders. When he stilled, you tapped him lightly to let you down. “That was all you, Ben, believe me.”

You returned to Frankie’s side and nudged him gently. His jaw was clenched, eyes looking hard into the distance. The jealousy radiated off of him in waves.

“Hey,” you said softly, grabbing his attention. “Let’s get out of here, yeah?”

Frankie nodded slightly, reaching for your hand as you led the way out of the crowded room.

Ever since he introduced you, Frankie had been envious of the way Benny effortlessly flirted with you and touched you openly. The younger Miller was flirty by nature, but he had a certain soft spot for you. He also knew Benny meant no harm by it, but it still irked the older man, though he had no claim to you.

You weren’t his girlfriend, or his wife. You were his best friend, nothing more.

As the night wore on, the five of you returned to your apartment, celebrating Benny’s win. The younger man complained about the lack of alcohol in your apartment until he was kicked in the shin by his brother and given a stern look. When Santiago offered to run and grab a six pack, you glared at him and threatened to hide his car keys when Frankie was out of earshot.

“I’m not letting any of you destroy his sobriety, so help me god. Take a fucking soda and piss off.” You shoved a cola can into Pope’s hand before you retreated to the living room toward Frankie.

“What movie are you picking?” You inquired, sliding a hand across his back as you drew closer.

He held two dvds up to you - Grease and Gone in Sixty Seconds - and shrugged. “What do you think?”

You laughed lightly with a shake of your head. “I think we both know what movie I would pick. It’s your night to decide. Better pick quickly before one of them gets too impatient.”

Frankie smiled at you and shuffled over to your DVD player, setting Grease in the DVD slot before clicking it back into place with a press of a button. “For you, mi amor,” he offered, pressing a kiss to your forehead as he retreated to the kitchen.

The guys brought the snacks you’d prepared out to the living room, setting them on the coffee table in front of the other furniture before claiming their seats throughout the room. Santi and Benny paired up on the couch, each on a different end of the sofa. Will took up residence in the recliner, his usual spot on nights like these. That left you and Frankie on the loveseat, comfortably squished together. Frankie rested his arm over the back of the cushions, opening up his chest for you to lean against.

You all sat and watched the movie quietly for some time, you mumbling the lyrics under your breath, body wiggling in time to the music. It took everything in Frankie’s being to keep his cock from hardening at your movements, his body tense behind you. Suddenly, you were up and pulling at his arm, a grin on your face.

The opening notes of “You’re the One That I Want” played in the background as you tried to move him from the sofa. “Frankie c’mon, it’s our song!”

Your eyes pleaded with him, your hand soft in his own as you tugged at him. He blushed crimson as the other men whooped and hollered at him, begging him to get up and sing with you.

“Do it Fish, c’mon now!” Benny cheered, nudging Frankie with his foot.

“Alright, alright,” Frankie conceded, joining you at the front of the room just as the song started in earnest.

Frankie faltered over the first few lines, but by the chorus, you were both in sync. You danced back and forth across the room, hands never leaving the other’s. Having sung this together since childhood, you even knew some of the choreo from the movie, Frankie hanging on your every movement. He was a little slow in remembering some of the steps, a product of getting sick since returning from service, but you accommodated him as you moved, helping him recover some of the lost memories.

As you dove into the second verse you grinned as he sang to you, the rest of the world falling away.

“I better shape up,” he sang, a grin sitting upon his face as well. “‘Cause you need a man!”

“‘Cause I need a man,” you sang back, pulling him close to you. “To keep me satisfied…”

“I better shape up, if I’m gonna prove…” His arms wrapped around your waist, your bodies swaying together in time with the music. “...that my faith is justified…”

Frankie leaned impossibly close to you as you continued to sing, your hands coming up to rest on the back of his neck. By the end of the song, your noses were touching, breaths mixing together in the little space you had left between you. He could kiss you, your lips only inches from yours. But here? In front of the other guys? No, he couldn’t. It had to be special if he was going to make a move after all these years.

You pulled away reluctantly to reach for your water, face flushed and breath ragged. You smiled at him as you sipped from your glass, falling back down onto the sofa. The other men were cheering, hands out for high fives from their teammate as he followed you to your seats.

When Frankie sat next to you again, you leaned into his side, eyes focused on the end of the movie. As the credits rolled, he had you in his arms, thumb rubbing softly against your outer thigh. You sighed at his touch, barely registering as Benny changed the movie. By the 30 minute mark, you were fast asleep in his arms, Frankie glaring at his friends if they made too much noise.

You had to have been exhausted with what little sleep you had been getting every night from taking care of him. You needed the rest.

Will and Benny helped clean up the snacks and soda cans before their departure, bidding him a quiet goodbye as they left with promises to meet the next day about the recon mission Santi was pestering them about.

He had no idea how to tell you about it, and it was only days away. You’d be upset, disappointed even, not only at him but at Santiago for dragging him into the jungle once more. He was just getting better, he didn’t need this shit. But, the money Pope was promising would help you, and that’s what he cared about. He wanted to be able to pay off your student loans, do something to help you with this money after all you’ve done for him.

“Fish,” Santi whispered, pulling him from his thoughts. “D’you need help?”

“No, no. I’ve got it. Can you get the bedroom door open though,” he whispered back, shifting you into his lap to carry you to bed.

“Yeah, ‘course.” Santi moved toward the hallway and then stopped, turning back to his friend. “Hey Frankie?”

“Hm?”

“When we get home, you’re marrying her. Stop beating around the goddamn bush.”

Frankie nodded earnestly, your head shifting slightly on his shoulder as he walked toward your room. “That’s the plan, hermano.”

TAGLIST: @meveispunk @chaotic-mystery @i-own-loki @harperdoodle @wildemaven @tightjeansjavi @wonwoosthetic @im-the-daddy-here-5 @fckinel @aruthlessblackthorn @angelseye

#frankie morales #Frankie and sunny #comment reblog

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josephinegerardywriter · 2 years ago

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Last Line Tag

The lovely @zmwrites tagged me for this! Thank you!!

I shall take this from Puppet Kingdom, as usual. :)

-----

Magic? I inhale deeply, a salty aroma filling my lungs after a few moments. It’s so slight, if I hadn’t been looking for it, I would have missed it entirely. “Can’t you dispel it?”

August shakes his head, humming slightly. He touches the walls, tapping every few seconds. “We need only find the handle or lever that releases it.”

“If it’s an Illusion, why can’t we walk through it?”

“The Illusion has been crafted by Unknown magic,” August sighs. “It can only be broken if we follow its rules.” Typical Unknown magic. Always changing the rules. I scoff. But to craft a solid Illusion? They’d be quite the powerful mage. No wonder the castle builders sought them out.

-----

I shall leave this an open tag for whoever would like to do this!

#even Althaia has to give credit where credit is due #even if it's for magic #tag game #last line tag #my writing #wip: Puppet Kingdom #pk snippets #zmwrites

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the-primordials · 2 years ago

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Can you tell me something more about elfs an also were high human able to kill a primordial

Hi Anon thanks for the ask 💕

To answer your second question no. No Primordial fell during the War with the High humans. But! Many 2nd Generational gods and goddesses did, unfortunately.

Under the cut; 1st question 😇

Species: Elves

Creator: Althaia ( Velock, Effat, Elk & Solana )

Average lifespan: 600-3000 years

Types: Dark Elves, Wood Elves, Grey Elves, Snow Elves, Half Elves, Valley Elves, Wild Elves, High Elves & Celestial Elves

Average Appearance:Elves look like a Human with a Slim, Athletic or Muscular Build and V-shaped (Male) and Hourglass (Female) figure. Have leaf-shaped ears and are hairless everywhere (Except Hair on the head like humans, eyebrows and eyelashes), males are also very Androgynous. They have perfect level skin, completely lacks wrinkles and deformities. Abnormally attractive faces and bodies. Have completely smooth and wrinkle-free beyond ultimate flawless perfect softest soles and palms with also impossibly soft and smooth skin for the entire body. Hair colour ranges from all colours except black. Skin colour can range from white to black of any shade to extremely pale pink (Dark Elves are purple or extremely pale). Eye colour can range from any except black or white. General height for an average female elf; 190 cm/ average male elf; 209 cm.

Mainly Found: Velluda

Known For: Their impeccable beauty. Their unique magic called spirit magic and their god given magic only Celestial Elves can use, known as Celestial magic.

Trivia:

Creation;

According to their myth, the elves were born from the blood of Althaia. In some versions this blood was spilt when Adrion tried to force himself upon the Goddess of Life. And in their tussle Adrion drew blood from Althaia's cheek. And from this blood a new race was born; the elves. But over the eons the elves began to pay homage to Elk, Effat, Solana & Velock which caused an evolution due to them worshipping the nonelven goddess of woodlands, Althaia.

Family Name;

Elves always use family names, to help keep track of extended family relations across the centuries. Family names in translation are usually romantic and flowery: Starglow, Silverfrond and etc. Even in their original tongue, they tend to be melodious. Half-elves and elves living near human communities may add a career or location tag to their names for ease in dealing with humans who use this nomenclature. This reflects the importance some elves place on bloodlines, especially among the nobles of their kind.

Copulation;

There is no consistent philosophy of love among the Elf race; there is a wide variety of Elves, ranging from those who are sociable and court members of the opposite or same sex even after only meeting them once, to others who thoroughly get to know their potential partners before making a decision. It is said that this is because Elves either inherit the nature of Solana, who had many romantic interests, or that of Elk, who was more discreet. Also, it seems that many Elves believe that finding each person’s different beauty and charm regardless of their appearance is a part of love… though this is likely not insignificantly due to the fact that all Elves have beautiful appearances. But Elves often do become deeply attached to the partners that they have decided upon. A certain human mage left behind the words, “If an Elf truly falls in love with you, you will be dragged around for the majority of your whole life, so give up on them or make sure you got the lifespan for it."

Types Of Elves;

Snow Elves->

Snow elves] are very thin and wiry, but surprisingly tough and even more shockingly tall, typically reaching 9ft. The typical snow elf has light brown or tan skin, white or pale blond hair, and silver eyes. They prefer wearing only white materials, including jewellery made from bone or silver traded from Valley elves. They have surprisingly short lifespans, for elves, only living around 800 to 1000 years making them the shortest lived elves in the Eden. Most other elves, except Valley elves, look down on snow elves for this reason, seeing them as little better than humans with a misplaced sense of pride. It is true that snow elves are incredibly haughty, treating most other races, even other elves as completely beneath them.

Dark Elves->

Dark elves are descendants of the elves who sided with Ravyn, the goddess of darkness, during the "War of the Gods". They're despised by the other elves and reside only in the Forest of Darkness on Tehran just off the coast of Velluda. Dark Elves are purple or extremely pale and are more resistant to magic, which is said to have been a gift to them by Ravyn. Typical lifespan is on average around 2000-2400 years. A well-known dark elf is Liluth.

Wood Elves->

Wood elves, also known as cylven elves, are reclusive and seldom seen, living in the hearts of ancient forests. Wood elves are more reserved than grey elves, and do not mix with the organised societies of other races on a regular or recurring basis. Some Wood elves have fair complexions, while other tend to be darker than their High elf kin, with hair colour ranging from copper red to blonde and eyes of light brown, light green or hazel. They favour wearing loose pantaloons, baggy blouses and cloaks, in solid or mixed blocks of colours such as pale tints of green, fawn, ecru and dove grey or russets, reds, brown and tans for hunting and war. Their cloaks are usually green or greenish brown. Wood elves are more neutral than are other elves. Wood elves have a life span of centuries. They tend to befriend giant lynxes and owls. Wood elves can live anywhere from 2000 to 2350 years.

Grey Elves->

Grey elves built the old elven cities which now stand abandoned or were given up to other races as they moved through. They are more given to intellect than other elves, but physically weaker. They practice the oldest elven arts, but hide from the eyes of younger, shorter lived races in their isolated settlements. Grey elves are typically reclusive, especially when surrounded by hostile human settlements, but some grey elf cultures are very militant in nature. In Velluda and the Vast Swamp, Grey elves are unusually aggressive to outsiders. They are thinner than high elves, and have either silver hair and amber eyes or pale golden hair and violet eyes. They wear complex gowns and flowing robes, favouring clothes the colour of pure driven snow, the noon day sun, silver and gold, with accessories of polished leather, and contrasting colours and jewels. Their cloaks are often deep blue or purple. For battle grey elves favour plate or chainmail, with winged helmets. They live beyond the age of 2,500 years, sometimes reaching 3000 years. They're known to use Hippogriffs or even Griffins as mounts.

Wild Elves->

Wild elves, also called the Gragg, are considered barbaric by other elves. These tribal elves contend that other elves have given up their primal essence to be more like humans. They live close to the land in a half agricultural, half hunter gatherer lifestyle, and wear rugged clothing consisting of kilts, boots and shirts made of animal skin and rough plant weaves. They excel at stealth, even compared to their kin. They are similar in appearance to wood elves, but are smaller, thinner (but broader shouldered), and very fair of complexion with yellow to coppery coloured hair. When not in their tribal bands, they dress in leather armour decorated with the shapes of leaves or of the animals of the deep forests. It's been suggested Wild Elves were incapable of being Arcane casters, although divine magic from druids was common, and some Gragg may even be able to manifest sorcerous bloodlines. They're known to ride stags. They befriend many of the nonevil animals of their forest, having mastered beast tongue and tend to see themselves as guardians of their woods. They tend more towards Neutrality and peace than most elves. But can very scary adversaries.

Valley Elves->

Valley elves appear much like the grey elves, except that they are even taller, often 7'6 but sometimes reaching even 8ft. Some have ice blue eyes as well as the usual shades grey elves have. Their hair is pale yellow in the summer, darkening to a rich gold in the winter months.They dress in blues and greens, usually in garments that are loose and flowing. While many scientists suggest that Valley Elves are an offshoot of Grey Elves, some sources suggest their history and race actually goes back 1 300 000 years, being one of the first demihuman races to settle in the Vale for which they are named after. The Valley elves serve the Sorceress of the Valley (The Shinning One, as she's known to residents of the Vale), even raiding near by human lands on her behest. Other elves are contemptuous of valley elves. Neither side will say why, precisely, but other elves seem to consider valley elves to be slaves to humans, shown by their use of derogatory terms for them. It's thought that the other races of elves are watching closely, in case the Shinning One or her second in command corrupts the Valley elves; and rather than see another of their kin fall to evil, the other elves may launch a crusade. It is also curious that Valley elves only show antipathy towards Dark Elves, instead of the hatred that other elves show them. They also tolerate Snow elves, which most other elves shun. Their grasp of the gnomish language comes from them sharing the Valley with many gnomes, of whom the Valley elves tolerate. They also speak a dialect of elven particular to themselves. Valley elves often have Cooshee(dogs) accompany them and are skilled horsemen although they prefer to fight unmounted.

High Elves->

High elves are the elves most likely to interact with other peoples of Eden, particularly humanity. They have the same anatomy as wood elves, except for their ears, which are a foot long. They are also taller than other Elves. Females have a larger bust size and look like they wear red lipstick, their fingers and toenails also look like they're painted red, only they're naturally that way. High elves are distinguished from other fantasy elves by their place of living, as they usually dwell in stone cities, instead of the woods, like wood-elves. High elves and dark elves can be used to contrast respectively the good elves and the evil elves. Typically high elves consider themselves the most purely good race of all, and haughtily view all other races beneath them, especially other elven races, and they are usually the most magically developed of all elves. High elves dress in pale forest colours when in their villages, typically pastel and of blue, green, grey or violet hue but often covered by a greenish gray cloak, and intense, deep colours when in urban settings. Men wear loose blouses belted over close fitting hose with soft leather shoes or boats. Women often wear frocks with sashes, or blouses over ankle length skirts. When hunting, elves favour neutral brown leathers. They are typically dark haired and have green or hazel eyes. High elves can live up to 2200 or even 3000 years.

Half Elves->

Result of Elven and (usually) human relationship, those with Modern ancestry are unlikely to add much more to their mortal other parents abilities than Decelerated Aging, although even exceptions do tend to happen. Half-elves stand roughly around 6'2 to 6'4 (1.8 to 1.9 meters) making them shorter overall than most elves but taller than most humans. Half-elven ears were about the size of human ones, but like elves, they were pointed on the ends. Half-elves were also notably more durable and passionate than either elves or humans, a unique result of the two races' blending. Half-elves usually adopted the dress and hairstyles of the culture among which they were raised. However, it was also fairly common for half-elves raised among humans to wear elven clothing in order to proudly display signs of their dual heritage. Regardless of what they wore, half-elves stood out in a crowd through the combination of physical distinctiveness and force of personality. Like humans, half-elves had a wide variety of complexions, some of which were inherited from the elven half of their heritage, such as a tendency for metallic-hued skin and inhuman hair colors. Half-elves matured at a slower rate than humans, and could live for between 500-1000 years. Depending on their heritage.

Celestial Elves->

A race of elves that reside in the high heavens. These type of elves live in communities literally stationed in the sky. Because of their destination, their communities are hard to invade, and the elves have the power to protect it since they have learned to control the elements and creatures of their environment. Celestial Elves commonly appear with skin tones include a tan brown, as well as blue or gray, while their hair varies in both color and length, with colors coming in stormy tones of gray and bright shades of electric blue. Their clothing is often very light and is customized according to the needs of the owner, such as going sleeveless as a mage who can conjure wings. A common element of their clothing is to incooperate feathers into their attire. Some Celestial Elves enjoy the advantage of being born with wings located on their lower back, akin to birds or angels. Celestial Elves have an Irish and English accents. Celestial Elves typically have an average lifespan of around 2500-2800 years.

#the primordials #Q&A #Lore #anon answered

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fluffycoffeebuns · 3 years ago

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Oh look it's me, changing my art style for the 12 time this week.

No this was not an excuse to write more in depth lore about Kallistê and her life in Heaven

I'm still gonna do it anyway

I'm also tagging @godilyn2001. They did a redraw of Kallistê over on their blog. It's absolutely stunning (much better than I did) and even though I highly doubt they would want to redraw Kallistê again......👀

Anyway, buckle up kids, it time for lore-dumping.

So Kallistê was an Angelic Noble, a countess to be exact. Her full name and title is Countess Kallistê Althaia ||. She was an exceptionally beautiful angel with bright red hair an forest green eyes. Proud, sensitive, and empathetic, she was the model of what an Angel should be.

Unknown to the rest of Heaven, Kallistê was not as perfect as she seemed, and secretly practice witchcraft, an art that was forbidden to all. Dispite breaking the law, her successfully kept her power hidden for many years. Kallistê married her husband when she was the human equivalent age of only 19.

Her husband's name was Count Priamos |||.

He doesn't get any more information. He sucks.

As I've mentioned in my other post about her, Kallistê's relationship with her husband was extremely unhealthy. He was emotionally restraining, emotionally abusive, and controlling over every aspect of her life. Unfortunately, Kallistê, for some reason, was blindingly in love with her husband, blaming herself for her husband's behavior.

It wasn't until she found out her husband was cheating on her that she realized how horribly she had been played. Angry, heartbroken, and disgusted at herself for playing a fool for years on end, Kallistê, blinded by rage, used her abilities to hex her husband, cursing him to forever feel the pain she felt and to never find happiness till the end of the world.

Eventually, the Hiarchy of Heavan found out about her Curse of Passion, and inprisoned her. Kallistê was found guilty of witchcraft, and as punishment was stripped of her title, abandoned by her family, and kicked out of heaven, both figuratively and literally. Before her was thrown out, her wings were chopped of with axes, to prevent her from flying back to heaven.

As Kallistê fell, one of her hands caught on the barrier of thorns (because in my mind there is a barrier of thorns separating heaven from hell just go with it). Writhing in pain, Kallistê screamed, begging for mercy from her family and the Hiarchy.

No one listened to her pleas.

Kallistê's hand was ripped from her body, and she continued to fall, cutting herself on thorns and burning her body with hellfire.

Kallistê Althaia || landed in the streets of hell on the 12th of may.

Cut, burned, bruised and bloodied.

Body half-naked.

Halo pathediclly shattered.

Kallistê was nearly dead.

And she might have actually died, had she not been found by two very pretty overlords........

#hazbin hotel #hazbin oc #hell yea trauma time #i feel awful #Kallistê bebe im so sry #Kallistê actually has wings #but im tired #The drawing is of Kallistê in her Countess attire #I just couldn't choose a color scheme that looked good with green and red #but still looked angelly enough #idk lmao

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neighborhoodmoonchild · 5 years ago

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ᾰ̓γᾰ́πη - Pt. III

Pairing(s): Cursed!Seokjin x Reader

Genre(s): Fantasy Au, Fluff, Soulmate Au, Angst

Summary: “There’s a story whispered around here. One surrounding the beautifully carved statue of a man at the center of the town. Legend says that when the hand of his true love graces his palm, he shall wake from his cursed marbled slumber. It’s always been a silly old wives tale, until you give in to a friend’s dare.” (prompt idea from writing-prompt-s)

Warning(s): mild language

Word Count: 3.7k (oops)

Part I, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, …

taglist: @best-space-boy @maryelixabeth @mochimaw @yeontanismypresident @hannahantonette17 @ign-is @fanfuckingfic @koala-wonderland @suchgayaesthetic @dulcaet @anoynmoustumbler @annoyingpessimist

~ if you want to be added to the tag list for this fic, feel free to send me an ask! thank you💜

“It’s also a pleasure to finally see you again, Althaia,” Seokjin adds after a not at all awkward pause while Mira swiftly prepared an herbal tea meant to relax her noticeably uncomfortable guests. Looking over the rim of your cup as you took a long sip, your eyes darted from the man now sitting at the table across from you to the woman seated to your right.

He was watching her intently as she swirled her spoon around her cup, lightly agitating the liquid to blend the honey she always added. She once told you she’s not one for bitterness, and because she could never find the perfect blend sweet enough on its own, honey would have to suffice.

A long, dramatic sigh accompanied her look of disinterest.

“I’m quite surprised, though you don’t seem to be.” Again, your gaze flitted between the two, unsure of what to make of the situation. Mira didn’t seem bothered at all, almost as if this whole thing was something she expected, or at least, knew might be coming.

Why was she not correcting him? Insisting he must be mistaken; her name is Mira, not...not Althaia or whatever he said. And how could he insinuate he knows her in any way? He’s been a statue since before you were even born and Mira is only a few years older than you.

Mira had remained quiet, content as Seokjin waited for any kind of response. It would make more sense if she had outright denied his accusations, shut him down and insist a mistake had been made. Instead, she slowly moved her attention from her earlier ministrations, softly gazing upon you for a brief moment, then turning to him.

“I honestly didn’t think you’d remember me after all this time, let alone be able to recognize me, Mr. Kim.” Her voice was low and calm, calculated as she mulled over just how to address the situation to come. Something about the tone of her voice didn’t sit right with you. This was no longer the slightly agitating neighbor you’d grown fond of.

This person next to you was entirely different.

In the deepest part of her being, Mira knew it from the moment she met you that things were finally changing.

“What do you mean ‘remember?’” you piped up over the silent stare down the two had unconsciously engaged in. At an utter loss, your mind had taken the small bits of information provided to try and come to some sort of viable conclusion, but to no avail. Perhaps your mind was still processing your own dilemma, and you couldn’t afford to lend any brain power to this situation, or maybe it was just too far-fetched to even fathom.

Now, the two stared at you as if you were some poor, pathetic creature or a doll made of porcelain. Pitiful was one way to put it and it made your insides clench and churn, the situation all too reminiscent of a lamb about to be sacrificed to the slaughter. Eerie how suddenly you were the only one without a clue and it didn’t help that it now felt as if you were seated next to two strangers and not just one.

After the two continued in an annoyingly cryptic battle of stares, almost prodding the other to speak first, you decide the time for silence and secrets is officially over. Slapping two hands on the oak table as you shoot from your seat, the crack of skin on wood makes them fully focus on you. Not even bothering to look either one in the face, you let out a hefty sigh and close your eyes, mind suddenly battling an intensely growing migraine.

“Look, I don’t know whatever ‘this’,” hands waving between the two of them, “is, but I’m tired and done. With everything. Feel free to settle this on your own, I’m going home.”

Before you could even make it 5 steps from your seat, the slightly ajar front door slams shut...on its own. Like a lone wind had decided to fiercely bound though the opening, or more fittingly, a spirit decided to trap you inside.

“The hell was that?” You mumbled to yourself as you cautiously approached the door, afraid it may come suddenly to life, considering the day you’d had.

As your hand curled around the cool metal knob, you heard someone rise from their seat, “Wait, Y/N, just stay and let...let me explain.”

Swiveling your head around enough to see Mira standing firmly by her chair, a scared expression on her face, the atmosphere shifted. It set you off, igniting a sense of, you’re not sure, maybe fear, within you. Something wasn’t right. Nothing about this whole situation felt right.

“I can’t do this. I don’t know what’s going on, but it doesn’t feel right. I can’t be here...with you.” You weren’t sure what exactly was triggering this flight response within you. Not once in your time knowing her had Mira ever done anything for you to react this way towards her, but today, with her pushing you to touch the statue, to the odd sense of familiarity between Seokjin and her, to the strange aura suddenly radiating off her, it was all too much.

Your senses were overloading. Too much had transpired and you’d not been given enough time to properly digest anything. Going from a relatively boring life to one suddenly plagued by some kind of weird magic, sorcery, whatever it was, in the span of a few hours is too much.

The migraine you’d been fighting was on the cusp of becoming a full fledged breakdown.

Ignoring the protests of the two behind you, again your body moved towards the door, handle turning a fraction of an inch before everything stopped.

Seconds, maybe minutes you stared at the slab of wood. Not a muscle moved, like your entire body was paralyzed, only slow shallow breaths could escape the numb confines of your lips. As if you no longer controlled the only vessel with which you solely could. You were a marionette, controlled by invisible strings.

And then all at once, a warm tingly feeling seeped through your veins, bringing with it the sweet taste of freedom. Nerves alight, muscles contracting, you finally had your body back.

But with this came the intense fear of the whole situation. Every other thought within you was gone, mind shut down, body going into lockdown mode, syphoning your remaining energy into getting away.

Away from whatever this strange new danger was.

Slowly, cautiously, prey reacting to predator, you turned your body back to the table.

It hurt. Hurt to look at them. To look at her.

At first, a part of your mind jumped straight to blaming the newcomer, but deep in your soul, you knew.

She looked pained, as if she hadn’t just defiled you in some unbelievable and terrifying way. Like she had instead been the one to somehow become nothing but a husk reduced to a master’s bidding.

The questions of how and why were disregarded for a greater purpose, saving yourself from whatever was happening and preventing it from ever happening again.

How dare someone you trusted, cared for, looked up to, do whatever that hell that was to you, a friend, even for the fleeting moments she did.

The blood in your body was now cold, face pale and painted with such a deep look of betrayal you could feel the guilt radiate from her being.

“Y/N.. I-“

“Don’t.”

You didn’t even breathe when she flinched at the steel tone of your voice. This was all too much. This whole day was entirely too much. You needed to get away from this, from them, and you needed to do it now.

She knew what she’d done. Not only had she lied to you your entire friendship, but she’d hurt you in a way that shouldn’t be humanely possible. Panicked in her efforts to come clean to you, protect you, and protect herself, she’d acted too quickly, doing something she’d swore never to do again. It was one thing to keep secrets, but another to use them against someone.

Seokjin forgotten, you briskly made your exit, making sure they couldn’t see as the tears fell.

————

“If I see one more walk by, I’m going out there and beating the shit out of them,” you mutter to yourself halfheartedly underneath the comfort of the blanket fort you’d built in the living room.

After spending a few days trying to piece yourself back together, you’d decided the best course of action was: avoidance. Within the tiny walls of your home, you could stay cooped up in a safe space and forget everything that happened. Statue man could stay with her and you could go on with your life, without the both of them.

It seemed do-able at first, spending an unhealthy amount of time in bed, watching movies, the occasional brief call with your mother, but it of course couldn’t stay that way.

You’d been naive enough to think that the town would go back to normal, find something new to obsess over and forget all about you and the stupid statue.

Oh, how wrong you’d been.

Suddenly your house was like an attraction for everyone. As soon as the sun rose, you’d catch a few faces passing by your windows, just outside the front gate. There they’d sit for a few minutes, gawk and gossip, and eventually leave, and be replaced by a new set of oglers ready for a show.

You weren’t afraid of the attention, just miffed that your plan to lay low and be alone failed from the beginning.

Despite the annoyance from the nosy town folk, you were grateful that it had only been them, and not two other faces outside.

Watching the last of the group of young girls get bored and disperse from your window, you turn your attention back to the movie on your screen. As the characters moved and music played in the background, you forced yourself to try and focus on that. Instead, thoughts of Kim Seokjin and your friend weasel their way in over the noise.

What were they doing? Were they thinking of a way to fix things with you? Had they forgotten about you and moved on? How did she even do that in the first place? And what is the whole backstory between them?

The questions tore you up inside, fighting with the stubborn part of you that wanted to forget them completely. The other downside to isolating yourself was the immense amount of free time to think about everything that’s happened. It was a nightmare going over everything, every single bit that made no sense, bits and pieces not adding up in any way you could understand.

Just a few days ago you were a normal girl living life in a boring town fighting with your friend over the legitimacy of a town legend.

She was your only friend, the only person who listened, who understood. Could you forgive her for what she did? It was quite obvious she’d been keeping things from you, but for how long, and why? And Seokjin, your soulmate, how are you supposed to love someone you don’t know, who’s probably lived a whole life before yours even began?

If he is your soulmate, why didn’t he stop her? Did he feel the pain you did when you were robbed of your own self? How could he see you in such distress and not do anything? Why hadn’t it scared him as much as it had you? What parts of Mira’s hidden past was he privy to that you were not?

Perhaps you were putting too much onto the whole soulmates thing. After all, how could you expect a stranger to assert himself into such a personal thing, even considering the circumstances. When it all comes down to it, soulmate or not, Kim Seokjin is an outsider, an alien to you.

He is no more a part of your life than the nosy towns people, the visiting tourists, or the migrating birds. You don’t owe him anything, and he you.

The only thing you could wish for him right now, is to go about his own life and not force himself into yours.

Pillow clutched unknowingly tight to your chest, grounding yourself, you couldn’t help the dull ache in your heart. That was the only thing you would allow yourself to chalk up to the soulmate thing. Maybe one day, like them, you’d be able to ignore it too.

Movie long abandoned, you trudged your way back and forth, pacing across the wooden floorboards like a caged animal. You were desperate to get out, see the stars, breathe in the fresh air, but your body was still afraid of what leaving these four walls might incur. Whether you were ready to face them or not, you couldn’t sit there and drive yourself insane any longer.

The sun had set hours ago, the light from the moon casting a hazy white glow over the landscape, and you were desperate for even just a second to bask in it.

Grabbing a light jacket to fend off the chilly night air, you brace yourself, hand wrapped tightly around the door knob, and take a deep breathe.

Now that you were truly thinking about it, it must look overly pathetic from an outsider’s perspective. You’d been holed up in your home for four days now, only peeking suspiciously through your windows to glare at the onlookers and then returning to a pitiful mope-fest with only one attendee; you.

You owed it to yourself to snap out of it, move on, and go back to life as normally as possible. The only thing you could control was yourself. It doesn’t matter what others do or don’t do, you need to do what you can, for you.

And right now, that’s enjoying some fresh night air and being brave.

Taking that first step out onto the front porch is what you imagine the first astronaut on the moon must’ve felt. The most mundane of things became a huge feat, and you weren’t about to ruin it for yourself, no matter how silly it seemed.

Looking out across the street, the sidewalk empty and streetlights dim, it was like you were finally yourself again. The stars above and the moon shining bright made the first smile in days appear.

All of the worries, the questions, the bitterness lifted away by a light breeze, the clouds in your head dispersed and you had the sudden urge to forgive. All your life you’d been quick to judge and draw conclusions, but something within you told you there was more to this than meets the eye. You needed the truth.

Like fate had been keeping a close eye, your attention was drawn to the figure making its way along the outside of your fence line. The long dark hair caused a breathe to catch in your throat, and you were suddenly questioning if you were really were ready to face things.

She stopped just before the gate, head looking up and catching your eyes with her own.

Hesitating, she clears her throat, “I...I didn’t think you’d be up.”

Watching as her hands lifted up, you spot the neat paper bag tucked within her palms.

Still afraid to say anything, not trusting yourself to stay calm and collected, she continues.

“He’s been asking a lot about you. I wanted to do something...to apologize.”

She pauses, waiting to see if you’d run away or tell her to leave, but when you nod in the direction of the bag, she finishes, “I showed him how to make your favorite cookies. But I thought it be best if just I came to drop them off. I didn’t want to overwhelm you.”

Arms protectively crossed over your chest, you take another deep breath and slowly descend the porch on step at a time. Instead of meeting her at the gate, you plant firmly in the grass.

“Why?”

It sounded choked coming out and you hated that. Not only did you not want to seem weak in front of her, you didn’t want her to think you hated her. The only thing you want is the truth. She owes you that much.

Mira fidgets a moment and returns her attention to you, not quite in the eyes, but it’s close enough.

“I didn’t mean to-I just-“ Tripping over her words, not exactly sure how to begin or where to go, you stop her quickly.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Finally meeting your eyes, she sees the strength you’ve managed to muster up, sees that twinge of forgiveness at the helm and realizes it’s now or never.

“I’ve wanted to explain everything, I just wasn’t sure how to go about it.”

“So instead you instigate me to break some curse you already somehow knew I’d be able to, pretend to be someone your not this entire time, and somehow posses me and take away my free will?”

The look of shame that melted onto her face struck a chord of guilt deep in your soul, but this was something you had to do. For too long you let others have free reign, it was time to take control.

“I wasn’t sure if you could handle it, or even believe me in the first place...”

“And how am I supposed to ever believe you now? I don’t even know who you really are, what you are...”

Tension building quickly in the cool air, things were becoming muddled. You weren’t even sure what you were pushing for, a confession? A secret so dark and unbelievable it was grounds enough to hide from you for as long as you were friends.

“I’m a witch.” There’s a long pause. You both stand there, staring at each other, unsure of who’s to make the next move. Mira’s afraid she’s just divulged her dangerous secret to someone who can’t handle it, and you’re afraid you’ve officially lost your mind.

“I know I sound like an old record player by now, but maybe we should take this somewhere more,” she pauses to look around the darkness cautiously, sending a shiver down your spine, “private?”

————

Turns out cookies at 2 in the morning are a good way to smooth over the confessions of the magical past of your only friend. Not going to lie, you’d taken plenty of breaks to try and absorb and process the incredible amount of information Mira, or formerly known as Althaia in the late 1800s, if you can believe it, had to unload on you. In her defense, you’d pushed her quite hard to open up and be 100% honest with you.

“So, you just...change your appearance and house every few centuries and pretend to be someone else?” Rubbing your head to ease the growing headache as you mindlessly shoved another cookie in your mouth, you felt like a little kid asking an adult really strange questions that shouldn’t have a serious answer.

Mira nods, wrapping her hands around the mug of coffee you made her and taking a sip.

“And you knew Seokjin when he was alive, well, in his own time, before he turned into a statue?”

She cringes a bit and it catches your attention, “About that...”

“You mean, you’re the one that cursed him?!?” It was probably the hundredth time you’d asked her that in the past half hour, but you couldn’t help it, you suddenly felt like you were going crazy, trapped in some bad supernatural rom-com or something.

Sighing loudly enough to voice her growing impatience with you, she nodded, “Yes, for the millionth time. I put the curse on Kim Seokjin.”

“Well, why?” Resting your chin in your palms, eyes wide like a child, you prayed further. You just couldn’t understand why on Earth she’d curse him in the first place. Even if she is a witch, what could have warranted him to invoke a curse? And why this particular curse?

“Well, it’s not really my story to tell...”

Holding true to your childish theme growing in this conversation, you pouted, bottom lip sticking out and leaning forward on the table, “But you cursed him, how is not yours to tell?”

Mira only shakes her head, a small smile playing on her lips at your antics. You’d only shown your stubborn side like this to her on few occasions, and it made her laugh at how you could be so apathetic one minute and youthfully enthusiastic the next.

“True, but there’s much more to it than it seems. Besides, I think it’s time you both get together, talk, and figure things out.”

Your silent for a moment, fighting another pout and mulling over her words. Then suddenly, it hits you.

“Well, if you’re the one who cursed him, you can break our soulmate bond too, right?”

Her grin morphs into a neutral line, lips curled in. Like she’s trying to think of the best way to let you down.

“The thing is, I only enacted the curse. The means to break it were decided by fate, not me.” The look of disappointment that washed over you couldn’t help but bring a prick of guilt from the witch.

She’d invoked the curse reluctantly to help another, and now she was hurting someone again. If she could go back, maybe she’d have done differently.

Silence again stretched out between the both of you. It was one thing when it was some folk lore from town, but now knowing the truth, and knowing it is all very real and unavoidable; unfix-able, it’s a harder pill to swallow.

“Do you,” you squeak softly, eyes trained on the floor, “do you think we can actually do this? That I can do this?”

Mira’s hand reaches across the table to softly grasp your own. Despite your protests, a small tear slips from the corner of your eye, and you rush to brush it away.

“I’m scared.”

“Scared of what?” Even though she understands, she wants to hear you say it, for yourself to hear it.

“Of being tied to a stranger forever. Forced to be with someone I may not ever fall in love with...”

“To possibly fall for someone who’s forced to be bound to me forever, who may never truly love me back.”

__________________________________________________________

A.N.,

Not going to lie, writing this portion was like pulling teeth. I’m not 100% happy with how it turned out, but in order to progress the way I want, I needed some things cleared up first. Now that we know Mira’s little secret, how will Y/N and her’s dynamic change? How will Seokjin fit into Y/N’s life and this new world? I promise, Y/N x Jinnie shenanigans are coming in the next part!

-Moonie🌙

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