#&& –– the sky pours itself into me as if i were a saint about to die // MUSINGS ❜

[heart-songs]

Lisel Mueller

THERE ARE MORNINGS

Even now, when the plot  calls for me to turn to stone,  the sun intervenes. Some mornings  in summer I step outside  and the sky opens  and pours itself into me  as if I were a saint  about to die. But the plot  calls for me to live,  be ordinary, say nothing  to anyone. Inside the house  the mirrors burn when I pass.

[embraceyouropacities]

“There Are Mornings” — Lisel Mueller

Even now, when the plot calls for me to turn to stone, the sun intervenes. Some mornings in summer I step outside and the sky opens and pours itself into me as if I were a saint about to die. But the plot calls for me to live, be ordinary, say nothing to anyone. Inside the house the mirrors burn when I pass.

[violettesiren]

Even now, when the plot calls for me to turn to stone, the sun intervenes. Some mornings in summer I step outside and the sky opens and pours itself into me as if I were a saint about to die. But the plot calls for me to live, be ordinary, say nothing to anyone. Inside the house the mirrors burn when I pass.

There Are Mornings by Lisel Mueller

[abellinthecupboard]

There Are Mornings

Even now, when the plot calls for me to turn to stone, the sun intervenes. Some mornings in summer, I step outside and the sky opens and pours itself into me as if I were a saint about to die. But the plot calls for me to live, be ordinary, say nothing to anyone. Inside the house, the mirrors burn when I pass.

— Lisel Mueller

[holyfigtree]

“Some mornings / I step outside / and the sky opens / and pours itself into me / as if I were a saint / about to die.” — Lisel Mueller, from Second Language: Poems; “There Are Mornings”

[starr-fall-knight-rise]

HASO, “The New Doctrine.”

Things are heating up a little, and I hope you all enjoy. I will have you know that there was a bit of a time skip in here for Ramirez and Adam, and there are things that happened to them that I might go back and write at a later date.

But for now I am getting back to the Humans are Space Orcs theme, and I thank you for being patient while I went off on a tangent

The sun beat down through the caldera of the mountain, beating don on her skin, and the droplets of water that rolled down her skin in great streams. Water sloshed around her body, ankle dep and kicked up into the air by her swirling feet. The tip of her spear was bright with water, and the white moss around her was almost blinding, so she kept her eyes mostly shut, listening to the rhythmic thud, thud, thud of Naktan’s spear on stone timing out a rhythm for her, fight, a wild dance of imaginary foes an unseen enemies.

The heat of the sun was familiar, a friend to her after all these months fighting, and perfecting her craft under its rays and in all other weathers inclement or not.

She had fought when the rain thundered down and lightning roared overhead. She had fought when the wind roared, and when the ash fell out of season. She had fought during the day and during the night, illuminated by the blue flames of the mountain. She fought until she could fight no longer and then she moved past her exhaustion and continued to fight despite her weariness. 

She fought until there was nothing of her left but the repeated spear movements spinning through all four of her hands like a machine that was incapable of making a misstep.

When she was done fighting by herself she fought against Naktan, a warrior so skilled it seemed as if his hands were moved by forces beyond the world in which she stood. He fought as if his entire being was infused with the spirit of war itself. Time and time again she fought him until her bruised body lay on the moss and the dirt, unable to move and unable to think.

He would dress her wounds then, carry her away to a small grouping of coitrees at the back of the bason, where she would rest, and sleep the sleep of the dead. Once done she would be roused form her sleep and forced to begin again despite the fatigue of her body, and the pain of her injuries.

Her entire life was consumed, down to her very dreams which whispered the formes back to her even as she created them. 

She was a creature of nothing more than the spear and sleep, more the former than the latter.

She couldn’t have said how long she was top hat mountain, or how many times her body ached with bruises. She couldn’t count her dreams.

But they were always there rife with friends she barely remembered and faced it was hard to recognize.

Moments of clarity reminded her of who she was and what she was doing, but the strange palace and the strange practices didn’t leave her much time for thinking, only fighting. And when they weren’t fighting she was listening to the words of Naktan as he spoke to her on the nature of Drev martial doctrine in its purest state and how it had been perverted and corrupted overtime into something…. Else entirely.

The doctrine of the spear being especially poignant to her. If only that had been the tradition her mother had followed…. Than maybe her life wouldn’t have turned out this way. Maybe she would have been raised by proud parents together in battle instead of one proud parent and another full of bitterness, so torn apart by their differences that they would never fight together again.

She listened to his words, and listened some more, about the nature of fighting itself, and the more she listened the more she understood just how wrong they had been about so many things. War was for honor sure, but it had never meant to become the lynch pin that held the doctrine together.  Fighting was about honor and was only to be performed under certain circumstances, protection, and to write wrongs between corrupted nations and uncorrupted nations.

He bemoaned the population of the Drev, so meager and sparse as it was….. Which was an issue Sunny had never considered. 

When she asked about technology his words surprised her. It was not, completely heretical, yes technology for the use of CEREMONIAL war was heretical, war between the Drev and the Drev alone, but when it came to other species, all bets were off. You didn’t hold others to the standards of your own nation and expected them to keep it.

Ranged weapons were a part of the universe and a completely new fighting style the Drev were going to have to learn and embrace.

The Drev martial doctrine was supposed to be hard, hard like a stone in a river, but also flexible, like water pouring past obstacles, a delicate balance between honor and practicality. OVer the years, the Drev had perverted those practices by making them too hard, and less flexible, placing those same hard parameters on their young.

Many perfect Drev children had been thrown to the fires for this ideology, and it was fitting that she would change it.

Saying this, he stood and took her by the arm leading her towards a cave in the back of the caldera surrounded by moss almost as black as midnight. He led her inside and towards the back where a forge was burning and huffing out great gouts of flame.

He turned and allowed her to look at the armor pieces lying on the stone floor crude and unfinished.

“I have begun the process for you using the ancient and secret knowledge of prismatic armor…. The armor of the saints. This will be your armor when you finish your work, and your armor when you descend from this mountain exalted. This is the end of your time with me, and there is no more I can do for you. So take up your mantle and begin your work.

Sunny nodded allowing herself to fall into the beating rhythm of metalwork, something that she had not done in a long time, but came back to her with the ease of a skil remembered, and the armor took shape underneath her hands, imperfections burned off by the flames….. A metaphor for herself perhaps.

***

Adam pulled his bag tight over his shoulder as he and Ramirez made their way towards the ship over the Tarmac. He craned his neck to look up at the familiar ship, a back monolith against the sky. The Omen, he had missed her greatly, and all of the people on it. Months of adventuring on strange planets and time to think for himself had certainly made his fondness for the ship grro.

Absence sure did make the heart grow fonder.

A hand rested on his shoulder, and he turned to look over at Ramirez,: who now had the worlds most glorious tan and a new white scar on the side of his neck, “You ready for this.”

“You better believe I am.” he looked up at the ship, “Did my girl miss me.”

“She most certainly did not!”

Jumping in surprise, he turned on his heels to see Narobi and Simon marching down the catwalk and over towards them. Nairobi’s eyes might as well have been filled with thunderheads negating the cheerful orange and yellow bandana she wore over her hair.

She marched right up to him, and jabbed him in the chest with a finger, “Do you know how hard it has been to keep this damn ship running when the person you left to captain CANNOT understand the IMPORTANCE of my work.”

Simon lifted her chin, “Admiral, the readout on the mechanical systems was negligible. I saw no danger from the elevated readings.”

“Do you have a degree in aerospace engineering? I don’t think so, and if you listened to me, you would know that ‘negligible’ can become ‘catastrophic’ very very fast.’

Adam frowned in some measure of concern, “Is the ship alright?”

“Just barely.” Nairobi snapped, no thanks to the Lieutenant.

Simon continued to hold her head high her jaw locked into palace quivering with anger.

Adam held up his hands, “Alright you two, take a few deep breaths and calm down. Nairobi, breathe in and out a few times, and next time sit Simon down and explain to her exactly what could go wrong and how it is likely to happen. Supply numbers and figures, Simon likes that sort of thing.” He turned his head towards Simon, “And Simon, It is important for you to listen to your crewmen. They are experts in their fields and know how to take care of their jobs better than you do. Let people know what you need, tell Nairobi that you need it explained to you in no uncertain terms. Your crew is what keeps your ship alive, and while you are their captain, you are also obligated to listen to their questions and their concerns . it is ALWAYS better to be on the safe side than it is to ignore a potential problem.”

Simon wilted a bit, and Narobi took a deep breath. Eyeing him with…. Some sort of expression he could not place.

She seemed almost surprised..

He ignored it for the time being setting his bag down and drawing himself up in height, “Now, what seems to be the problem.”

“One of our warp gaskets is running a little hot. I think it should be replaced.”

“Do you have a requisition form?”

She held out the holopad, “Right here sir.”

She held it out to him but he shook his head and pointed to Simon, “Simon, I want you to sign and date that. As acting captain of the ship, which you still are until I take command of the bridge.”

“Now both of you play nice.”

Nairobi frowned, but sighed as Simon grudgingly took and signed the requisition form, “We missed you Admiral, the ship….. Hasn’t been the same while you were gone.”

He smiled, “I know I bring a certain charm and roguish panache.”

“Well I was thinking that we don’t almost die nearly so much.”

Ramirez frowned and then looked at him, “You know what, she’s right but “I” i almost died like five times.” He turned to look at Narobi, “I got shot in the chest you know.”

She didn’t ook sorry for him, “Did you deserve it?”

He looked scandalized at her words, “I most certainly did not!”

Adam laughed, “it's Ramirez, of course he deserved it.”

He walked past Narobi and onto the ramp leading up into his ship. The smell was familiar, and hit him in a wave of fuel, and newly requisitioned cargo containers. At his side, Waffles trotted, staring up at him and wagging her tail, clearly happy to have him back since she hadn’t stopped looking at him like that since he returned. Letting her walk off leash she continued to circle him happily, tail whirling around like a furry sort of windmill.

As he stepped into the cargo area, the members of his crew stood up, salutation or greeting him surprising gusto.

They seemed…. Happy to see him.

It felt pretty good.

A few came up to shake his hand and ask how the extended vacation went. He smiled and glanced at ramirez, “As Ramirez here, he got shot.”

There was an eruption of voices and Ramirez excitedly began by telling his, mostly fabricated, tail about a heroic gun battle, proudly showing off his dented deputies badge. That got the reaction he was looking for as other men and women crowded around to oooo and ahhh.”

maverick , appearing from nowhere, looked around the man's shoulder, “Twenty bucks says you bought that at a gift shop somewhere.”

Adam grinned and shook his head, “You know I wouldn’t put it past him either, but actually, the first part of our vacation we visited the Bramble colony got us some horses and rode out for a little fun. We ended up getting kidnapped by bandits.”

“Like you seem to always do.”

“Yes, like I seem to always do, but it turned into a gunfight with the local sheriff’s department and after their leader got away the sheriff asked us to join him on thwarting a train robbery. Ramirez did get shot in the chest, and I got into a gunfight on the back of a speeding train.”

Maverick stared at them, “I’m not sure if I Believe that story or not.”

“You don’t have to, we have pictures and souvenirs of all the places we went .”

“Even have a picture of the guy who gave Ramirez that scar, on our last outing, but I can tell you that later.”

“YOU.”

He sighed quietly, “Here we go.”

He turned on the spot, looking over to see Krill marching up through the ship glowering at him, like only krill, out of all his species, could glower, “I-am-ao-angyr-with-you. 

Adam shrugged, “What’s new.”

“Don’t get cute with me. I have been watching your vital signs for weeks, and it's been like riding a rollercoaster. I have never ridden a roller coaster, but do to this experience, I already know that I would very much hate it. You, you were supposed to be on VACATION. You were supposed to be on Vacation for mental health purposes and now i hear that you have been SHOT AT, and jumped onto the back of SPEEDING TRAINS. What makes you think that this is ok!”

“I find that putting your life in danger really brings things into perspective, doctor. Now I promise I will go visit Dr. Adric later for a second opinion, but right now, I need to go inspect my ship.” He patted Krill on the head amused when the little creature nearly burst into a flaming ball of rage. It made him laugh as he worked his way further onto the ship, finally appearing on the bridge with a deep breath.

“Admiral on deck!” Someone shouted, and the entire room raised their feet in greeting him their hands raised in excitement welcoming him back with no shortage of enthusiasm and relief. He bet he knew why. Simon was….. Well she was a bit of a stick in the mud sometimes, even more so when she got nervous. He had a feeling things on the ship had become a little more strict since he had taken his leave of absence.”

He went to go take his seat in the captain's chair and frowned, “Dammit Simon, what have you been doing here. It took him almost five minutes to adjust his seat back into its preferred position, and then when he turned on his holo projections he frowned, “Simon! What the hell did you do.”

“I reconfigured it for maximum efficiency.”

“To me it looks like you broke it. Damn where the hell is everything.”

It took him about two hours to even partially recover what simon had “fixed.” And even then he was still having trouble finding everything. He would have liked to get off the ground that day, but it didn’t seem like that was going to be happening. He dismissed the rest of the crew to  rework the computers back to his preferred state.

Simon called it inefficient, but he called it comfortable and familiar, which is what mattered when it came to being a pilot. He promised her when she became the captain of her own ship she could do whatever the hell she wanted.

Sitting there, alone in the dark for hours on end, he tried not to think about the one person he had hoped to see when he came back. He tried as hard as he absolutely could not tothink, but still the thoughts slipped in anyways.

He pulled the ship into orbit just before lights out with the help of the night crew, and then surrendered command to the night lieutenant giving orders to head in the direction of Europa station before he stepped out into the darkened hallway.

Alone and with his own throughs, he grew morose and sour upon thinking.

Waffles bumped her head softly against his hand and he ran his fingers along her velvety ears, “Yeah I’m an idiot.”

“Certainly.”

He jumped shocked for a moment thinking she had spoken before realising the voice….. The voice wasn’t female number one, and number two it had a certain air of condescension that he knew and recognized all too well.

“Hello Conn.”

Ethereal silver ribbons took their form around the next corner as Conn floated closer his wide black eyes shining back at Adam from the darkness, “Admiral. I am glad to see you are doing better.”

He grunted, “Save me te platitudes Conn.”

“No really, I am glad, you see I am the only one here who has to share your necrosis, which can be rather loud and bothersome sometimes when I am trying to relax.”

“I am sorry my mental anguish invoenianced you.”

“Apology accepted.”

Adam sighed deeply.

“She’s not here you know.”

He blinked feeling his skin go cold and clammy, “She’s not.”

“Yes, she has not been back for months now.”

He took a deep shaky breath, “Oh…. I see.”

“When she left, she did seem intent on returning, but I cannot know if those inclinations have changed.”

“How long?”

“She didn’t know. She was still deciding on her next course of action…. Also, you might want to turn around.”

“Turn around, why would I want to-” He was turning even as he spoke, and just in time so it seemed to be punched squarely in the jaw. He fell over backwards slamming into the floor with a loud rattle seeing stars, his face aching. He scrambled to regain himself but went slack again when he looked up and saw Cannon standing over him, a look of absolute rage on his alien face.

He grabbed Adam by the front of the shirt and hauled him upright and into the air so his feet were kicking a good two feet off the ground. He could feel the fabric of his shirt straining against his weight as he was slammed back against the wall.

“You BASTARD!”

It translated to bastard in english, but underneath the words he could hear the phrase Cannon actually used. The Slur that in Drev was more closely related to corward.

His first instinct was to struggle, but then, he thought better of it, allowing himself to go limp in cannon’s hands as he quietly said, “I know.”

Cannon slammed him back against the wall again, “NO YOU DON’T KNOW. DO YOU EVEN REALIZE WHAT YOU’VE DONE.”

He stared up at Cannon in confusion, “I-”

“No of course you couldn’t understand, you’re human. You don’t give a shit about your romantic partners, you just up and leave them, constantly. Cherry picking them and squeezing the life out of them until your done just to discard them.”

“Cannon I-”

“Drev only-love-once. Just ONCE.”

Adam blinked in surprise and shock as those words sank in.

On of Cannon’s hands migrated to his throat, and he choked against the crushing force on his windpipe, “She will never love anyone ever again, you understand. Its biology, and nature, but you humans just don’t understand that do you. You don’t understand loyalty. Instead you pick out partners like you’re going grocery shopping, or getting a taste to see which ice cream flavor you like more.”

Cannon’s grip grew tighter, “Well she is  my SISTER…. Not an ice cream flavor.” 

Adam’s vision was beginning to blacken and he kicked weakly in an attempt to escape.

“And then you just upland left without explanation. You left her to deal with that all on her own, and now I don't know where she is, or what she is doing.”

His hearing was echoing, and hi entier vision had gone black.

At some point Cannon must have seen his face turning purple and finally dropped him. Adam hit the floor and collapsed gasping for air and holding his neck as he rolled onto his back.

“Pathetic.” Cannon snarled

Adam was admittedly very scared, he had never seen Cannon like this before. Usually so laid back and relaxed.

He sat up still holding his neck and wheezing, ‘I get it…. I get it I fucked up. I know that, I know.”

“DO YOU! Do you understand what you’ve done!”

“She is going to be alone for the rest of her life because of YOU.”

Adam flinched holding a hand over his head to avoid being struck, “It wasn’t meant to be permanent!”

Cannon paused, “What do you mean.”

“I mean I…. well. I just wanted to be able to get myself together without hurting her more. I didn’t want to force her to be with me, when I wasn’t ready or able. Now I can see that that was a mistake I made when I wasn’t in the right place. I didn’t intend to leave forever.”

“Than why didn’t you TELL HER THAT.”

Adam scrambled backwards across the floor as Cannon came marching after him, arms held to his sides ready to fight.

Adam held up a hand to cover his face.=, and Cannon had just drawn back his fist when Both of their implants began beeping.

They paused in their Drama looking down at their arms.

Adam frowned.

Cannon tapped his wrist, “What is this?”

“ITs a transmission from Anin.” he crawled to his feet, “Come on, lets go see what this is about.”

Their Argument forgotten for the moment, the two of them ran onto the bridge and Adam pulled up the transmission, flipping it on just long enough to see a message scrawled in the Drev language to rolling across screen that translated to.

“The spirit of the mountain burns blue, and the saints have returned.”

“Spirits save us.” Cannon whispered.

Adam shook his head in consternation, “No way…. But cannon, no on has been sainted in…. In.”

“Over five centuries. We must go, as the Sentinel of our clan you will be required to appear if you are able, and anyone other Drev whose feet can carry them far enough.”

“Right, setting a course for Anin.”

*** Sunny Knelt on the stone floor of the cavern, eyes closed breathing deeply. The fire of the forges were doused and she was left in semi-darkness.

Soft footsteps approached, and she looked up slowly to find Naktan standing before her, over the neatly arranged pile of armor that glowed like a freshly polished pearl in the light above…. The armor of saints.

Only relics of similar armor had ever been found, and only ever in pieces.

This was the only full suit of its kind.

“It is time.”

He held out his hands, and in them he held a large scroll made out of the most rare of Coiltree paper, “The words written here are your words, the Doctrine of Drev martial combat and law. Penned in my own hand it contains firstly, the doctrines and second the forms of the new fighting styles to be decementated throughout the class.”

She nodded.

“Take up your mantle Saint of the Burning Sun, and so we shall begin a new age.”

She stood, and he knelt before her strapping on the first piece o her new armor from the feet up, interlocking the masterfully crafted pieces the color of pearl, stronger than steel. Until lastly he placed the helmet upon her head and locked it into place

It was heavy in a comforting sort of way.

A moment later he returned, “The last piece I gift to you is a weapon made by my own hand.” It was pearlescent like the white of the armor she no wore, “Stronger than steel, and as sharp as obsidian. None but I know the materials and methods to craft this, and none shall ever know until I pass it down to a successor.” he handed her the scroll, “Begin your trek down the mountain, and there they will be waiting to hear your words.”

She nodded, “Thank you Naktan….. Thank you.”

He placed a hand on her arm in a friendly gesture before urging her on.

She did as told walking, for the first time in so many months towards the opening of the caldera.

When she stepped outside she was momentarily dazzled by the glowing blue fire that roared up from around her.

The mountain seemed to shake and burn in ways she had not seen before erupting from all sides as if it knew.

Blue light poured off her body like water, and with her head held high she began her way down the mountain.

***

Adam and Kanan stood at the edge of the hotspring, packed in with the rest of a restless crowd. Adam’s eyes were wide, Dazzled by the glowing inferno that was the fiery blue mountain. He had never seen anything like it. It burned with such glorious blue intensity that he could scarcely look at it, and it rubmeld so violently he could feel it in his feet.

He wore his ceremonial Drev armor, all the way up to the helmet and down into the cape. A spear was held in his right hand as he stood sentinel for the Wandering tribe, next to the rest of the clan leaders that had made their trek here.

They stood, for hours and hours as the mountain burned, casing a beacon of blue light down around them.

Thousands of drev trickled in from all sides  whispering and murmuring at the strange scene before them. But still they were mostly silent, unsure of what to do or how to behave. Adam didn't  know what to expect. 

His human leg ached under the weight of the heavy armor as the sun began to rise slowly in the distance, but discipline, discipline he had learned in his travels kept him in his place, unmoving.

They waited and waited and waited until the Sun painted the sky peach with its rising.

And from the sulfuric fog of the hotspring, the watched as a figure coalesced as a shadow in the mist, walking calmly across the open hotspring field

A asp rose up, as those, still in disbelief began to realise that this was real.

Adam stared forward engaging his mechanical eye and zooming in on the figure.

The fog parted like a curtain to reveal a glorious almost ethereal drev warrior in pearl white armor just as the sun crested over the horizon. The light hit the armor, and rays of prismatic light exploded around them.

The waiting crowd gasped and threw up their hands to cover their eyes. The light was so pright Adam had to cover his human eye, and only after he filtered out the brighter wavelengths was he able to see.

And when he did his knees went weak.

“Sunny!”

Cannon heard the words and forced himself to stare into the bright light, but after a moment of looking Adam heard him, “Spirits above….” His voice trailed off 

She walked slowly and with great purpose over the steaming landscape, glittering like constellation fallen from the sky.

Adam fel his heart racing and his stomach churn in flips.

A small part of him, for a single instant bittered towards her, for going out and becoming THIS while he was away.

But then the rest of him, stamped that thought out with a vengeance feeling a glowing of pride inside for her and what she had become. She was better than he was, than he had ever been and he could see now that he had never deserved to even stand in her presence. He felt small even as pride for her burned through his veins like the molten blue fire on the mountain.

She paused just ahead of them, standing on the white bed of the hotsprings.

“Brothers and sisters.”

Her voice echoed like rolling thunder.

His heart only beat faster, his stomach turning somersaults.

“Long has it been since the spirits spoke, since they have changed the martial doctrine of our people. Long have we been left to suffer in words and actions corrupted by time and foolish interpretations. Today I am here to lead the Drev into a new and brighter age, but also to bring us back to the true and pure doctrines that once were, before being so morally corrupt. See the mountain behind me, and the armor with which I ware, and if any of you dare to challenge my legitimacy, let him step into the circle with me.”

She stared around at the crowd, her eyes seeming to glow with fire.

His heart sped up and then stopped as her eyes passed over him, and then turned to fall upon him again.

It seemed as if she could see right through him, and his innards felt s if they melted and trickled down into his leg.

“Does no one wish to challenge me.”

The plateau was silent.

“By deferring to my word you accept my legitimacy, and therefore the legitimacy of my words. THe doctrines will be handed out to all peoples young and old, for copy and study. The day changes now, and my first and greatest decree is a return to the true doctrine of the spear, “If a Kit is born above the raging fires, and possesses the ability to hold a weapon, than they shall not be cast into the fire.”

There was a gasp up around them.

“It may have one arm, or no legs, or no eyes, or be blind or be deff, or have no carapace of which to speak, but if they can hold a spear than they shall live.”

The thunder of her words rocked him to his very bones, so he could only have imagined what it did t the others, an entire people who had been living differently for hundreds of years. How would they react, would they accept her words.

But looking up at her, he knew what his choice would be.

He wouldn’t dare challenge her.

She was the truth made corporeal.

She was A saint.” 

[thehierophage]

Holy Day Meditation for 4/10/21 e.v. - The Feast for the Third Day of the Writing of the Book of the Law

April 10, 2021 æ.v. Dies Saturnii, 

☉︎ 20° ♈︎ : ☽︎ 4° ♈︎ : ♄ : Ⅴⅴⅰⅰ 

Do what thou wilt shall be the whole of the Law. 

The Feast for the Third Day of the Writing of the Book of the Law, The Greater Feast of Saint Swinburne, The Day of Aleph, The Day of the Fool 

Hebrew Letter: Aleph 

Numerical Value as Letter: 1 

Numerical Value as Word: 111/831 (Aleph+Lamed+Peh / Aleph+Lamed+Peh [fin.]) or 117/837 (Aleph+Lamed+Vav+Peh / Aleph+Lamed+Vav+Peh [fin.]) 

Meaning: Ox. 

Thoth Card: The Fool (Atu 0) 

Alternate Title: The Spirit of Aethyr. 

Image: 

Correspondences: 

Tree of Life Path Association: Key 11 - Chokmah to Kether (from Sephira 2-1) 

Astrological Sign: - 

Element: Air 

Egyptian Godforms: Hoor-pa-kraat, Mout, Shu, Tefnut 

Geomantic Figure: Those of Airy Triplicity 

Gemstones: Topaz, Chalcedony 

Perfumes: Galbanum, Pinus, Gum Arabic, Mastic, Anise and all fresh odors. 

Plants: Aspen, Peppermint, Lime, Linden, Pennyroyal 

Animals: Eagle, Man (Cherub of Air), Ox 

Colors: 

King Scale – Bright pale yellow 

Queen Scale – Sky blue 

Prince Scale – Blue emerald green 

Princess Scale – Emerald, flecked gold 

The Secret Instruction of the Master:

Know Naught! All ways are lawful to Innocence. Pure folly is the Key to Initiation. Silence breaks into Rapture. Be neither man nor woman, but both in one. Be silent, Babe in the Egg of Blue, that thou mayest grow to bear the Lance and Graal! Wander alone, and sing! In the King's Palace his daughter awaits thee.

Mnemonic:

Truth, laughter, lust: Wine's Holy Fool! Veil rent, Lewd madness is sublime enlightenment.

Recommended Text for Meditation:

Liber AL vel Legis sub figura CCXX, Cap. 3

The Book of the Law Liber AL vel Legis sub figura CCXX

as delivered by XCIII = 418 to DCLXVI

III

1. Abrahadabra; the reward of Ra Hoor Khut.

2. There is division hither homeward; there is a word not known. Spelling is defunct; all is not aught. Beware! Hold! Raise the spell of Ra-Hoor-Khuit!

3. Now let it be first understood that I am a god of War and of Vengeance. I shall deal hardly with them.

4. Choose ye an island!

5. Fortify it!

6. Dung it about with enginery of war!

7. I will give you a war-engine.

8. With it ye shall smite the peoples; and none shall stand before you.

9. Lurk! Withdraw! Upon them! this is the Law of the Battle of Conquest: thus shall my worship be about my secret house.

10. Get the stele of revealing itself; set it in thy secret temple -- and that temple is already aright disposed -- & it shall be your Kiblah for ever. It shall not fade, but miraculous colour shall come back to it day after day. Close it in locked glass for a proof to the world.

11. This shall be your only proof. I forbid argument. Conquer! That is enough. I will make easy to you the abstruction from the ill-ordered house in the Victorious City. Thou shalt thyself convey it with worship, o prophet, though thou likest it not. Thou shalt have danger & trouble. Ra-Hoor-Khu is with thee. Worship me with fire & blood; worship me with swords & with spears. Let the woman be girt with a sword before me: let blood flow to my name. Trample down the Heathen; be upon them, o warrior, I will give you of their flesh to eat!

12. Sacrifice cattle, little and big: after a child.

13. But not now.

14. Ye shall see that hour, o blessed Beast, and thou the Scarlet Concubine of his desire!

15. Ye shall be sad thereof.

16. Deem not too eagerly to catch the promises; fear not to undergo the curses. Ye, even ye, know not this meaning all.

17. Fear not at all; fear neither men nor Fates, nor gods, nor anything. Money fear not, nor laughter of the folk folly, nor any other power in heaven or upon the earth or under the earth. Nu is your refuge as Hadit your light; and I am the strength, force, vigour, of your arms.

18. Mercy let be off; damn them who pity! Kill and torture; spare not; be upon them!

19. That stele they shall call the Abomination of Desolation; count well its name, & it shall be to you as 718.

20. Why? Because of the fall of Because, that he is not there again.

21. Set up my image in the East: thou shalt buy thee an image which I will show thee, especial, not unlike the one thou knowest. And it shall be suddenly easy for thee to do this.

22. The other images group around me to support me: let all be worshipped, for they shall cluster to exalt me. I am the visible object of worship; the others are secret; for the Beast & his Bride are they: and for the winners of the Ordeal x. What is this? Thou shalt know.

23. For perfume mix meal & honey & thick leavings of red wine: then oil of Abramelin and olive oil, and afterward soften & smooth down with rich fresh blood.

24. The best blood is of the moon, monthly: then the fresh blood of a child, or dropping from the host of heaven: then of enemies; then of the priest or of the worshippers: last of some beast, no matter what.

25. This burn: of this make cakes & eat unto me. This hath also another use; let it be laid before me, and kept thick with perfumes of your orison: it shall become full of beetles as it were and creeping things sacred unto me.

26. These slay, naming your enemies; & they shall fall before you.

27. Also these shall breed lust & power of lust in you at the eating thereof.

28. Also ye shall be strong in war.

29. Moreover, be they long kept, it is better; for they swell with my force. All before me.

30. My altar is of open brass work: burn thereon in silver or gold!

31. There cometh a rich man from the West who shall pour his gold upon thee.

32. From gold forge steel!

33. Be ready to fly or to smite!

34. But your holy place shall be untouched throughout the centuries: though with fire and sword it be burnt down & shattered, yet an invisible house there standeth, and shall stand until the fall of the Great Equinox; when Hrumachis shall arise and the double-wanded one assume my throne and place. Another prophet shall arise, and bring fresh fever from the skies; another woman shall awakethe lust & worship of the Snake; another soul of God and beast shall mingle in the globed priest; another sacrifice shall stain the tomb; another king shall reign; and blessing no longer be poured To the Hawk-headed mystical Lord!

35. The half of the word of Heru-ra-ha, called Hoor-pa-kraat and Ra-Hoor-Khut.

36. Then said the prophet unto the God:

37. I adore thee in the song -- I am the Lord of Thebes, and I The inspired forth-speaker of Mentu; For me unveils the veiled sky, The self-slain Ankh-af-na-khonsu Whose words are truth. I invoke, I greet Thy presence, O Ra-Hoor-Khuit!

Unity uttermost showed! I adore the might of Thy breath, Supreme and terrible God, Who makest the gods and death To tremble before Thee: -- I, I adore thee!

Appear on the throne of Ra! Open the ways of the Khu! Lighten the ways of the Ka! The ways of the Khabs run through To stir me or still me! Aum! let it fill me!

38. So that thy light is in me; & its red flame is as a sword in my hand to push thy order. There is a secret door that I shall make to establish thy way in all the quarters, (these are the adorations, as thou hast written), as it is said:

The light is mine; its rays consume Me: I have made a secret door Into the House of Ra and Tum, Of Khephra and of Ahathoor. I am thy Theban, O Mentu, The prophet Ankh-af-na-khonsu!

By Bes-na-Maut my breast I beat; By wise Ta-Nech I weave my spell. Show thy star-splendour, O Nuit! Bid me within thine House to dwell, O winged snake of light, Hadit! Abide with me, Ra-Hoor-Khuit!

39. All this and a book to say how thou didst come hither and a reproduction of this ink and paper for ever -- for in it is the word secret & not only in the English -- and thy comment upon this the Book of the Law shall be printed beautifully in red ink and black upon beautiful paper made by hand; and to each man and woman that thou meetest, were it but to dine or to drink at them, it is the Law to give. Then they shall chance to abide in this bliss or no; it is no odds. Do this quickly!

40. But the work of the comment? That is easy; and Hadit burning in thy heart shall make swift and secure thy pen.

41. Establish at thy Kaaba a clerk-house: all must be done well and with business way.

42. The ordeals thou shalt oversee thyself, save only the blind ones. Refuse none, but thou shalt know & destroy the traitors. I am Ra-Hoor-Khuit; and I am powerful to protect my servant. Success is thy proof: argue not; convert not; talk not over much! Them that seek to entrap thee, to overthrow thee, them attack without pity or quarter; & destroy them utterly. Swift as a trodden serpent turn and strike! Be thou yet deadlier than he! Drag down their souls to awful torment: laugh at their fear: spit upon them!

43. Let the Scarlet Woman beware! If pity and compassion and tenderness visit her heart; if she leave my work to toy with old sweetnesses; then shall my vengeance be known. I will slay me her child: I will alienate her heart: I will cast her out from men: as a shrinking and despised harlot shall she crawl through dusk wet streets, and die cold and an-hungered.

44. But let her raise herself in pride! Let her follow me in my way! Let her work the work of wickedness! Let her kill her heart! Let her be loud and adulterous! Let her be covered with jewels, and rich garments, and let her be shameless before all men!

45. Then will I lift her to pinnacles of power: then will I breed from her a child mightier than all the kings of the earth. I will fill her with joy: with my force shall she see & strike at the worship of Nu: she shall achieve Hadit.

46. I am the warrior Lord of the Forties: the Eighties cower before me, & are abased. I will bring you to victory & joy: I will be at your arms in battle & ye shall delight to slay. Success is your proof; courage is your armour; go on, go on, in my strength; & ye shall turn not back for any!

47. This book shall be translated into all tongues: but always with the original in the writing of the Beast; for in the chance shape of the letters and their position to one another: in these are mysteries that no Beast shall divine. Let him not seek to try: but one cometh after him, whence I say not, who shall discover the Key of it all. Then this line drawn is a key: then this circle squared in its failure is a key also. And Abrahadabra. It shall be his child & that strangely. Let him not seek after this; for thereby alone can he fall from it.

48. Now this mystery of the letters is done, and I want to go on to the holier place.

49. I am in a secret fourfold word, the blasphemy against all gods of men.

50. Curse them! Curse them! Curse them!

51. With my Hawk's head I peck at the eyes of Jesus as he hangs upon the cross.

52. I flap my wings in the face of Mohammed & blind him.

53. With my claws I tear out the flesh of the Indian and the Buddhist, Mongol and Din.

54. Bahlasti! Ompehda! I spit on your crapulous creeds.

55. Let Mary inviolate be torn upon wheels: for her sake let all chaste women be utterly despised among you!

56. Also for beauty's sake and love's!

57. Despise also all cowards; professional soldiers who dare not fight, but play; all fools despise!

58. But the keen and the proud, the royal and the lofty; ye are brothers!

59. As brothers fight ye!

60. There is no law beyond Do what thou wilt.

61. There is an end of the word of the God enthroned in Ra's seat, lightening the girders of the soul.

62. To Me do ye reverence! to me come ye through tribulation of ordeal, which is bliss.

63. The fool readeth this Book of the Law, and its comment; & he understandeth it not.

64. Let him come through the first ordeal, & it will be to him as silver.

65. Through the second, gold.

66. Through the third, stones of precious water.

67. Through the fourth, ultimate sparks of the intimate fire.

68. Yet to all it shall seem beautiful. Its enemies who say not so, are mere liars.

69. There is success.

70. I am the Hawk-Headed Lord of Silence & of Strength; my nemyss shrouds the night-blue sky.

71. Hail! ye twin warriors about the pillars of the world! for your time is nigh at hand.

72. I am the Lord of the Double Wand of Power; the wand of the Force of Coph Nia--but my left hand is empty, for I have crushed an Universe; & nought remains.

73. Paste the sheets from right to left and from top to bottom: then behold!

74. There is a splendour in my name hidden and glorious, as the sun of midnight is ever the son.

75. The ending of the words is the Word Abrahadabra.

The Book of the Law is Written

and Concealed.

Aum. Ha.

Love is the law, love under will.

[ofrosetrees]

tag drop!

[socialdisease609]

It’s finally here. My Amicia x Melie fic lmao

A two part-er now, though, instead of a one-shot. Please show it love with kudos and comments lol

“Part One: During her night shift at the Chateau, Melie can't help but try to make a worrisome Amicia feel better and distracted (FLUFF).

Part Two: Four years later, Melie is a contract thief, and as the stars would have it, has been hired to steal from a Knight, who happens to be Amicia's fiance... (SOME SMOLDER-Y STEAMY STUFF HERE).“

It is posted here under the cut too, if you don’t have an AO3 and wanna do your fic keeping on Tumblr:

+ + + +

Mélie noticed Amicia leaning against a crumbling archway all the way from her lookout perch further elevated in the ruins. She was supposed to be keeping an eye out for the Inquisition or a migration of rats, but all her eyes wanted to dart to was the pathetic sight of the noble girl who was looking off into the distance as the sun set, her arms crossed against her chest as if she was sheltering herself from the cold.

    Mélie knew where the noble girl’s mind was. Hugo had been gone for at least a week today. No doubt Amicia’s mind was full of horrifying images of Hugo dead on the side of a road, gnawed away by the populous rats, or experiencing unspeakable torture from the Inquisition. Mélie didn’t have to grow up with the girl to know that Amicia was a mission-oriented person, and nothing would really relieve her mind except accomplishing the mission itself: keeping Hugo safe.

    “Hey, Amicia!” the thief waved from her perch. Amicia looked up, almost startled, and dropped her arms from her chest.

    “Yes?” She asked, her voice echoing off the crumbling stone walls slightly.

    “Want to keep me company on my shift?” Mélie continued to shout down. “Come up here and have some cider!”

    Amicia seemed to hesitate for a second, but moved forward, making her way to the stairs that would take her to Mélie.

     “Evening, Mélie,” Amicia greeted, her breath becoming visible in the chilled evening.

    “Here, have something to drink. Take a seat, My Lady.”

    Amicia took the small tin cup that was steaming with the cider.

    “Where did you get this?” Amicia asked.

    Mélie smirked, “You know the answer already, My Lady.”

    “Can’t believe things like this can still be found right now…” Amicia blew on her cup gently before raising it to her lips. Mélie couldn’t help but notice that they were chapping. Not that it was a big deal or anything. Mélie’s lips, and everyone else she ever knew, had lips chapped when winter was coming, but Mélie suspected Amicia’s lips had always been soft up until all the hardships that were thrust onto everyone with the plague. Her hair, while braided in ribbons, was loose with flyaway strands, her complexion was blotched with dirt like that of a peasant, and her clothes were coated with the dust of her travels. She wondered what Amicia thought of herself now, if the state of her physical appearance irked her inner noble.

    Amicia cleared her throat, probably from the sting of the alcohol, and brought Mélie back to focus.

    “Good things can always be found, in every situation,” Mélie said, leaning back in her chair. “It just depends on how you measure things. For example, France is torn, we know this, but look,” Mélie pointed to the setting sun in the distance. The sky was turning mostly deep blue, but were the sun was slipping away, it was a swirl of pink and orange, with the great golden disk in the middle. “Can’t say that isn’t something beautiful and good.”

    “Of course, even the simplest of the Lord’s work is beautiful.” Amicia nodded, taking in the colors. She stared at the sunset, but Mélie could still tell that Amicia’s mind was elsewhere.

    Mélie reached to touch Amelie’s forearm. This got her attention. Amicia turned and looked at Mélie with sorrowful eyes.

    “We will find him, Amicia,” Mélie said genuinely. “Trust me. He’s okay, and he’s got to be close.”

    “He is, isn’t he?” Amicia repeated, in a tone that Mélie knew was Amicia begging for reassurance in something she probably told herself over, and over again. Mélie knew how that went, you can try to convince yourself of something with all your power, but nothing really comforts the soul like hearing it from someone else.

    “Definitely,” Mélie said with a confident nod of her head and reached out to squeeze Amicia’s hand. “And you know what, tomorrow, we will go scouting again, even further than we usually survey. I’ll come with you.”

    “Thank you, Mélie,” Amicia smiled sympathetically.

    “Absolutely. I promise,” Mélie said. And then she did something before she could stop herself. She lifted Amicia’s hand and pressed it to her lips.

    Amicia’s eyes widened in curiosity. “What… what was that for, Mélie?”

    “What?” Mélie asked sharply, her cheeks blushing, carelessly letting Amicia’s hand go. “Your friends never did that? It’s like a … promise thing.”

    Amicia stuttered, humored, “I don’t… well, I never saw the other children of noble houses a lot… but that…”

    “Maybe a class difference,” Mélie waved dismissively, looking away. She picked up a stick that was leaning against her chair and poked the small fire that smoldered in the pit she had used to heat the kettle of cider.

    “Mélie,” Amicia’s voice broke the brief silence. “Tell me about yourself?”

    What was there to know? In comparison to Amicia’s life, there would be no common ground found.

    “What do you want to know?” Mélie muttered, more frustrated with her embarrassment than the question.

    “Where in France are you from?”

    “I won’t bother you with the name of the village,” Mélie began. “I know you must be well taught in the geography of the kingdom, but we had no lord. No real lord at least. He was old with no heirs, and never came out. It was only a matter of time before his manor and the farmlands would be up for grabs. You know my father was a monster of a man, so there’s no point in going further into that.”  

    Amicia looked at her hands instantly, which were now folded in her lap.

    “I’m sorry,” Amicia murmured, “I just wanted to get to know you better.”

    “It’s fine,” Mélie shrugged indifferently. “The fault for my father belongs to neither of us. It just so happens I was destined to be in my life’s environment. But it’s nothing to me now. I have taken charge of my own life’s direction, and that what matters to me most.”

    “Do you think the world will ever go back to how it was before all this?”

    Mélie thought for a second, her brows furrowing in genuine contemplation. “Perhaps, in a few years. That is if we successfully fend off the English. But I think you can handle that.” Mélie winked and Amicia laughed.

    “Please,” she touched Mélie’s arm as she laughed.

    “Don’t dismiss it so quickly, Lady DeRune.” Mélie squinted as if she were scolding her. “Amicia the Amazon: Lady Knight of France- some say the sling she brandishes is the very relic wielded by King David in his defeat of Goliath.”  

    Amicia giggled as she raised her cup of cider to her lips, the steam gently grazing against her face in graceful swirls.

    “They might canonize you, Lady Amicia!” Mélie leaned back in her chair, satisfied with her story-making prose. Amicia liked that kind of stuff.

    “That requires martyrdom, doesn’t it, though?” Amicia asked, lowering the tin cup after a cozy sip of her cider.

    “Well… you’ll be the first saint who doesn’t have to die,” Mélie humorously threw her hands in the air in defeat.

    Amicia leaned forward towards the fire, enjoying the warmth, her cup held between both hands. A miniscule smile curling at the edge of her lips. Melie took a sip of her own cider as she watched the flames dance in the reflection of Amicia’s eyes as she stared into the pit.

    “When things get better, Mélie, what do you want to do with your life?” Amicia then asked, still watching the small flames lick the twigs that were burning within the belly of the fire.

    “The same thing that I was going to do before the Plague.” Mélie admitted. “Believe it or not, but my life hasn’t really changed since the outbreak. I was always looting for my next meal and shelter. Now I just have to keep a look out for rats.”

    “But you don’t want anything else?”

    “What is there to want when you’re a peasant? It’s not like I can work my way up the ladder into nobility. I will always be in my class, might as well do what I want to within it.”

    “What about marriage? Or a future family?”

    “Ah yes, the woman’s purpose,” Mélie scoffed with sarcasm. “No plans for it, My Lady. I wouldn’t want to bring a human being into this world. I’ll be doing some souls a favor by keeping them in Heaven. I bet you had a betrothed already, huh? I know that’s something all classes have in common: marrying off girls as soon as possible.”

    “No,” Amicia laughed, which genuinely surprised Mélie, and the noble took another deep draught of her cider before continuing. “I was quite the spinster. Lady Renee Durand- the Durand family owned the land where ours ended- Lady Renee is my age, but her Lord father married her at thirteen, insisting that she should at least bleed for a year before having children.”

    Mélie shook her head in disgust, but chuckled at the ludicrous circumstance. “Good Lord,” Mélie drained her cup. “Thank the Lord my father was too drunk to arrange anything for me. Was more interested in seeing if I could make coin with traveling men instead.”

    “That’s horrible,” Amicia frowned.

    “Yeah, well…” Mélie shrugged. “That’s my father for you. Ever the business man… So, Spinster De Rune, never had any gentlemen callers?”

    “Oh, I courted here and there, but found reasons to convince my father to end connections with all that came to call on me.” Amicia leaned for the bottle of cider that lay next to the fire and poured herself another serving. “They all were the same: apparently completely in love with me,” she said this with annoyed disbelief, “spewing the same sonnets in hopes of wooing me. The unoriginality surprisingly filled me with contempt. Also, they all intended to go fight the English as soon as possible, and I wasn’t interested in becoming a widow within weeks of becoming with child.”

    Mélie felt incredibly uncomfortable with the idea of Amicia carrying children for some reason. She didn’t want to think about it, so she shook it off.  “I can see them all,” Mélie grinned, placing her tin cup on the stone floor. “Silly fools.” Melie then reached for Amicia’s hand once more, cupping their palms together and placing her other hand onto of their clasp. Then, putting on her best noble lord impression, began to plead, “O, Lady Amicia, you eyes are so clear and blue like the life-giving rain, which relieves the drought in my heart- your hair, rich of auburn and deep cherrywood, and your complexion- gently peppered with the kisses of the sun! And your strength! My, what a fine hero you are to little boys and girls everywhere.”

    Amicia’s smile twisted something in Mélie’s stomach. Mélie didn’t know a word for it- it was almost like a bashful smirk, like she wasn’t allowed to find entertainment in the words Mélie mocked, yet within her eyes Mélie could see wonder and amusement shine. The smile was absolutely beautiful and real.

    Captivated, Mélie continued her theater. “O, Lady Amicia, permit me to steal a sin by pressing my lips upon your hand?”

    Amicia controlled a faint exhale, making Mélie realize that the girl had been holding her breath for a moment there. Before responding, Amicia lifted her hand slowly, still clasped in Mélie’s hold.

    “You may," Amicia said lowly, her voice deep like that of a true noble lady, and it sent a small shiver through Mélie to be reminded of the reality of Amicia’s status. She always knew what Amicia was, but to see her embody the spirit of a noble lady… Mélie held Amicia’s prevailing gaze as she raised her hand to her lips once more. Hazed as if this were a dream, Mélie closed her eyes as her lips tickled the skin of Amicia’s hand. After a full press of a doting kiss, Mélie told herself this was enough. She didn’t want to cross a line she knew she couldn’t cross with this woman of status. Besides, Amicia never showed enough coded interest for Mélie to assume she wanted to be pursued. All Mélie could do was indulge in stealing these brief moments of intimacy. Call her selfish, she didn’t care. Better to have had and lost than to not have had at all.

    Gently returning Amicia’s hand to her lap, Mélie straightened up in her chair and grinned. “Is that how they are, My Lady?”

    Amicia grinned widely and replied, “Amateur effort.”

    “Oh my god,” Mélie rolled her eyes and crossed her arms, roughly leaning back into her chair. She had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep herself from grinning too, lightened by the sound of Amicia’s heavenly laughter.

    “Amateur, my dear Mélie. But strangely, so much better than them.”

    “Hmm,” Mélie scoffed, still crossing her arms and looking away from Amicia, playfully. “I should hope so. My real wooing would be much more than that.”

    “Mhm,” Amicia murmured, amusement twinkling so lively in her eyes. “I wonder what that’s like.”

    “You wouldn’t be able to handle it, My Lady,” Mélie teased, turning her attention to Amicia for a brief moment before returning to her crossed posture.

    Amicia let out such a hearty laugh at the claim and Mélie’s heart swelled at her jovial passion. What a beautiful girl- Mélie didn’t care in that moment that she wouldn’t ever be able to have Amicia, because in this moment, she was honored with seeing Amicia so happy, and was proud at having being the reason. For this unspoken moment, she could pretend Amicia was her girl.

    After overcoming her bout of laughter, Amicia drained her cup once more, her cheeks pink from the steaming hard cider and merriness. She then placed the tin on the ground and stood up. Mélie followed suite.

    “Thank you for your company and cheerfulness, Mélie, you have soothed so much of my soul tonight.”

    “Of course, Amicia, anytime.” Mélie grinned triumphantly. “When you’re ready to head out tomorrow, let me know.”

    “Thank you,” Amicia said softer this time. “I uh, I need to collect my thoughts before heading to bed.” She smiled with a faint remnant of that divine smile she blessed Mélie with just a few minutes ago. “I will be collected after a few minutes, so don’t mind me walking the grounds, okay?”

    “I understand, Amicia.”

    Amicia leaned forward and hugged Mélie, which the thief did not hesitate to requite. Amicia’s thumb caressed Mélie’s back before they broke the embrace.

    “Goodnight, Mélie,” Amicia said, her eyes spoke of appreciation as she gazed into Mélie’s, and for a brief moment, darted to the thief’s lips as Mélie replied:

    “Goodnight, Amicia.”

    And the thief watched as Amicia turn away, daydreaming of the unrealistic, yet heart-racing possibility of Amicia wanting to kiss her goodnight.

[dk-thrive]

Inside the house, the mirrors burn when I pass

Even now, when the plot calls for me to turn to stone, the sun intervenes. Some mornings in summer, I step outside and the sky opens and pours itself into me as if I were a saint about to die. But the plot calls for me to live, be ordinary, say nothing to anyone. Inside the house, the mirrors burn when I pass.

— Lisel Mueller, “There are Mornings,”Alive Together: New and Selected Poems. (LSU Press; First Edition edition, October 1, 1996)

[luxlightly]

Reunion: A Symbrock Fanfic

Wrote this all in like an hour. No betas we die like men.

Set at the end of Venom 2016 Issue #6 when Eddie and the Venom Symbiote are reunited for the first time in many years.

------

It was in there. Eddie could feel it. The way he could always feel its presence, no matter how long they’d been separated, or how far apart they were. That tickle in his throat. That pull at his brain like a thin but unbreakable threat that could stretch across all existence and never snap. The bond between him and what lay on the other side of that door.

His symbiote.

His darling.

He’d called it that in the helicopter when he’d first seen it. The first time in so long and those were the words that passed his lips. “My darling.”

He’d never called it that before, and yet in that moment there are been no word more perfect, more fitting. And even now, it resonated with such total truth. A rightness and certainly that Eddie Brock rarely felt about anything in his life. But the last thing Eddie Brock felt right now was certain.

It had been so long. Never long enough that he’d forgotten, of course. Never long enough that he didn’t still lay awake at night and long for the feeling of being so utterly whole and complete. Feeling his other everywhere in and around him, their forms merging and mingling down to each individual cell. Every atom twisting and entwining in an endless chorus of “Us. Us. Us.”

There had been others. Toxin. Anti-Venom. There had been a bond there, of course. He’d been Toxin. He’d been Anti-Venom. But never the way he’d been Venom. It had been a bond, a symbiosis, but it had never been…

It was obvious though, wasn’t it? What it had never been with any other. What had been with his other. And yet Eddie could not bring himself to admit the word itself. Too dangerous. Too fragile and much too sharp when shattered.

And it had been so long.

Eddie had heard about Flash Thompson. Everything he and Eddie’s other had accomplished. His other had apparently be very healthy. Very happy. Flash had been good for it. They’d been good for each other. Not an echo chamber of dubious morality that bounced poisonous thoughts back and forth, so desperate to agree that it would ignore anything but its own sound, until the reverberations drowned out anything else. But Flash was a partner and a friend. A teammate. Theirs was a bond of trust, of friendship, but it still wasn’t what he and his other had had. It still wasn’t…

Eddie was afraid. Afraid of so many things. Afraid of what he’d find if he went into that room. Afraid that his other would reject him. Afraid that it wouldn’t. Afraid of what he’d lose if he did what he was thinking of doing. Afraid of what he’d gain. Afraid of the past repeating itself. Afraid of a future that couldn’t be predicted.

He would lose the life he had now. That was without question. He’d be on the run again. No stability. No teammates. Any amount of trust he’d garnered with anyone at the FBI would be wiped out in a instant. He’d lose everything he’d gained in the years since he’d been Venom. He could turn around now. Continue the life he’d eked out for himself here. Maybe someday he could find a way to be a good man. Maybe even a respectable man.

And yet…

He would always lie awake at night, dreaming of what was separated from him now by only a wall and a sheet of glass. He would yearn in his heart for that part of himself he’d never even known was missing until that fateful day at the altar of Our Lady of Saints (he’d called it ‘Our Lady of Sorrows’ once, by mistake. Maybe that was fitting).

But there were ways he could be less empty. Ways not to be alone. It couldn’t only be for that. And it wasn’t.

Because, even deeper than the longing for completeness, the fear of loneliness, there was also a joy.

The joy of hands held in a dark theater. The joy of feeling his other light up when he gave it gifts. The joy of days and night spent together in a contented bliss not driven by hatred or revenge, but just a desire to exist and be together.

Eddie Brock missed being Venom. Missed being whole. Missed it all. But, more than anything...he missed...his darling.

The way it would get so excited. The way it marveled at new experiences on Earth. The way everything seemed to fascinate it. Its childlike joy and wonder. The way it would hold him close at night and just let him feel what it felt. Its joy, its sorrow, its curiosity, even its anger and fear. Eddie missed every single thing about his other.

It was obvious then, wasn’t it? Any debating, in the end, was pointless. From the moment he’d laid eyes on it again, Eddie had always known in his heart the way this day would end for him.

The agent guarding the door, Gibbons, wasn’t keen on letting Eddie anywhere near the symbiote. Eddie couldn’t blame him. His fears were entirely grounded and, if Eddie had anything to say about it, would soon be confirmed.

“C’mon. I just want to see it,” Eddie lied. It didn’t even sound convincing to him. He used to be good at lying.

“If you wanted to see it, why weren’t you around for the take down?” Gibbons asked.

“Spider-Man made me take cover.” Eddie insisted. “Besides, I couldn’t be there when it got betrayed or it might not trust me.”

“Trust you?” Gibbons scoffed. “Hilarious. Nobody around here trusts you. I didn’t think you cared about that.”

It took only an instant for Eddie to get Gibbons in a choke hold and only a few moments for Gibbons to lose consciousness. For all they talked about not trusting him, these FBI suits were easy enough to catch off guard.

Eddie dropped Gibbons’ unconscious form to the floor unceremoniously.  No turning back now. Not that he could have once Gibbons told him they were going to ship his other into space somewhere, anyway. As of this moment, Eddie Brock was back to being a fugitive, no matter what happened on the other side of the door.

But that wasn’t why his heart was racing. So close now the tingle of the bond was a full on vibration, reverberating through him. It was so close now. But what if it didn’t want him anymore? After everything he’d done he wouldn’t blame it. What if it wanted to be with Flash? What if it was disgusted by the very sight of him? What if? What if?

Eddie knew his other knew he was there. He could feel the churning of uncertainty in both their minds.  He opened the door.

And in that moment, all time might have stopped. The infinite turning of the universe might have ground to an utter halt when Eddie laid eyes on it.

That beautiful swirling vortex of black ink, shifting and churning like a radiant ocean, pitch black like the night sky. An endless and infinite void broken up by two bright, white eyes, also shifting endlessly. Staring him down.

His other. His darling.

His love.

And there was the word. The word that had burned at the tip of his tongue for so long, held back by fear. A fear of pain and loss. Of giving too much and losing it all. But there was truly no other word but love. A love that had been strained and torn and scattered but never truly broken. A love that burned so bright that even the years of separation could do nothing to quell the flame.

“H...hey,” Eddie said, voice sounding so flat, so insignificant compared to the emotion he wanted to express. The feeling burning within him.

“Sorry...it took so long,” he continued. “Traffic...was terrible.”

He lay his hand against the glass containment unit his other was being held in, trying in vain to steady his trembling.

His other pressed tendrils to its side of the glass. A silent acknowledgement. An acceptance. In that moment, Eddie Brock had never been more certain of anything.

Reeling back, he slammed his fist against the glass. It was strong. Not quite bulletproof but not far from it. Trying to punch through it with his bare fists was probably foolish, too, but the idea of waiting even the time it took to find something more suitable to be reunited was unbearable.

A second punch cracked the glass. Eddie could feel the bones in his hand cracking as well, but he didn’t care. His other did what it could from the other side as well, seeping into the cracks and widening them.

A third hit bloodied the side of the containment unit but again Eddie didn’t care. Couldn’t care. Not when he was so close. When they were so close.

If the fourth hit completely shattered Eddie’s hand, he couldn’t have said, because in that moment it was the furthest thing from his mind. Because it had shattered the glass.

It took only an instant for his other to spring forward and latch onto him. It flowed up his arm, sinking into his skin and enveloping him.

It was so different than Toxin. So different than Anti-Venom. It was beyond all words.

Eddie always found it funny. He was a man who had dedicated his life to words. To crafting sentences. To finding a way to describe and explain even the most abstract of concepts in written language. And yet so often his other left him speechless. There were no words because there needed to be none. Because their could be none.

Eddie just opened his mind and felt and let his other feel and his other did the same. Tears poured down their shared face. Joy and relief and fear and excitement and longing and hope all melding and churning in an indescribable cacophony of emotion.

When they did speak, it was as one, as Venom.

“Missed you so much. Missed us.”

“WE ARE BACK!”

[7cypher]

My Beauty, My Blood

With Namjoon out of the picture, Jeongguk has to step up and be the sole successor to the organization laid out before him. However, guilt doesn't escape him very easily, and neither does your persistence.

▸ PAIRING: Jeon Jeongguk x Reader

▸ RATING & GENRE: NC-17 ; Fluff, Angst, Mafia AU, Single Parent AU           [ ! ] Warning: Mentions of violence and sex

▸ WORD COUNT: 20,001 words

▸ A/N: I had posted this under a different user a while back and I’m finally bringing it back yay! This was one of my favorites to write and it had been written for bangtan book club’s mafia prompt. Marked as NC-17 to be safe :)

With blood-soaked hands, Jeongguk lets his gun clatter to the ground, the sound of metal against concrete barely audible with how hard his heart is beating in his chest. It thumps and pounds, thundering its demands to be released from its shackles of misery. But this chain—death—is inevitable, unfixable. A permanent carving upon his heart that has left a hollowness in its place.

Rain pours from the sky, blurring the bright city lights behind them that shine none of their guidance into the dark alley they are hidden in. Three men, two guns, one survivor. The risk comes with his line of work and, though he grows numb over the years towards the number of lives lost, plans spoiled, he supposes death is inescapable even to those he once believed as invincible.

“Guk,” the man, his partner, his other half, winces as he struggles to sit up against the wall. His shirt is soaked to the threads with rainwater mixed in with the blood that sinks into the fabric and taints his skin with a murky crimson. “Will you promise me something?”

Promises, promises. There are no guarantees. Nothing can ever be said for sure. He’s learned that the hard way. But Jeongguk does anyway.

“Take care of her,” he mutters, “don’t let her in harm’s way, don’t let anyone take her away from here. Her and Heejin, I-I can’t protect them anymore.”

Jeongguk lets his eyes slide shut as the guilt then begins to submerge into his bones, rooting itself and propagating like a virus he can never rid himself of. This is on you. This is your fault. “D-don’t say that, alright, you’ll be fine,” Jeongguk breathes, “help is coming.” The rain tastes salty in his tongue, or perhaps it is the iron taste of his blood. He can’t tell. The sky is relentless, turning as miserable as he felt at that moment, and pelts against him like bullets—bullets his friend had taken in his stead.

Namjoon laughs, bitter, hopeless. Two things Jeongguk never once could associate with him. “Let’s be real,” he grimaces again, “I’m going to die here.”

“Don’t say that,” Jeongguk hisses again, placing more pressure with his palm against the older man’s stomach. “You’re the smarter one out of the two of us—”

“And I can count my numbers, Guk,” Namjoon smiles weakly, closing his eyes to let the water roll down his features. The droplets cling onto his lashes like tears. In the darkness, Namjoon looks even younger. When he is vulnerable, which he rarely is, Jeongguk is easily reminded of how youthful the man is, how early he had gotten himself thrown into the game.

The two of them are soldiers, raised from the dirt with their fates decided from the moment they are born. They are partners, soulmates, two halves that fit together perfectly.

But death shows no mercy to those who have sinned and Jeongguk knows he is the farthest thing from a saint.

Jeongguk breathes through his nose, the sound loud enough to stop the man in front of him from stammering like a fool. The man clamps his mouth shut, a wise idea considering how unbelievably done he is dealing with such idiocy.

“Let me get this straight,” Jeongguk waves for his stupid mumbling to a stop, “you lost the shipment, said the Snakes grabbed it from you, and you’re still here. Is that your story?”

“Y-yes, sir,” the man clears his throat, “I couldn’t do nothing, t-they had a gun to my head, I had to give them everything.”

Jeongguk lets out another exasperated sigh. How many idiots, how many traitors does it take for men to understand that Jeongguk has no time to deal with such bland lies? The least they can do to entertain his time is to construct a better excuse. “Chulsoon, come here.”

“S-sir?”

“Come here, come closer, I need to speak with you.”

The man leans forward from where he kneels for mercy in front of his boss. Jeongguk clicks the safety off from his gun and presses the mouth against the man’s temple. He visibly shakes, jerking away from the cool touch of metal against his warm skin.

“Did I say you could run away, Chulsoon? Stay still,” Jeongguk repeats himself, his hand still wrapped securely around the weapon aimed directly at him.

Chulsoon inches closer carefully and, just as he does, Jeongguk pulls the trigger, the bullet grazing the shell of his ear with a loud bang. The rest of the men in the room startle as well, but none of them as shaken as Chulsoon who ducks and cries out like a man on fire, “I’m sorry! I’m sorry! They gave me an amount I couldn’t refuse, fuck—I’m sorry, boss.”

And there he is.

Jeongguk laughs, disbelief coating his every word. “After you do that, you dare show yourself here in front of me?” The man gapes, opening and closing his mouth like a fish in search for salvation. “Did you think I was going to believe your story, Chulsoon? How many years do you think I’ve been in this place? How many similar stories I’ve heard before their brains splatter my father’s floors.”

It is then that Chulsoon begins to quiver, his entire body convulsing like a seizure. A pitiful sight, truly. The man has no family, no heir to continue his bloodline. It would be a shame to let such worthless, disloyal blood to stain his favorite carpet.

“Take him away and deal with him,” Jeongguk sighs, “I refuse to have him before me. Taehyung, will you do the honors?”

“Sir,” Taehyung bows, jerking his head to motion his men to take the man away.

However, Chulsoon, ever the scaramouch, opens his mouth again. “I-I guess they were right, you are a coward after all,” he snorts, rolling his eyes, “can’t even do the dirty work yourself.”

Taehyung is about to drag him away but Jeongguk halts him, instead crouching down to Chulsoon’s level. His voice is calm, steady. He pins the gun back against the man’s lips and, before the man can back away, Jeongguk grabs him by the back of his neck. The muzzle presses painfully against his lips as the leader of the gang pushes it in between, leaving the poor soul with a bullet inches away from his throat. “Chulsoon, if I had my way with you, if I had all the time in the world to deal with someone as useless as you, I would’ve slit your stomach open and gouged out all your insides. I’ll feed them to my dogs outside and leave pieces of your body to hang from the highest buildings in Korea. I’ll make sure they’ll never be able to identify you or any of your known relatives or acquaintances. It’ll be as if you never existed.”

Chulsoon’s pupils widen as he scrambles away from Jeongguk and his manic-driven eyes. Stutters of fear begin to spill from his lips but Jeongguk is no longer listening.

“Fortunately for you, I don’t have that kind of time on my hands. So you’ll have to deal with a pathetic death, perfect for your pathetic self, don’t you think so?” Jeongguk smiles, eyes darting towards Taehyung.

Chulsoon has frozen up, forcing the men to drag him by his feet without an ounce of fighting spirit left inside of him.

Truly a pity.

God, he thinks that over the years humanity has begun to lose its intelligence. What once was a race of innovative and ambitious people became a bunch of greedy, begging scoundrels who had no loyalty. He sets his gun on the table. He never liked guns, preferring blades and the satisfying slice of metal against skin rather than a quick, painless death.

Chulsoon is one of the few who have betrayed him ever since he took over the syndicate. It isn’t quite surprising really how many of them has turned against him. None of them had faith, everyone thinking that the kid from around the block who had pissed his pants over the sound of blasting guns would never succeed an empire as big as Bangtan.

But Jeongguk has been one of his father’s dogs ever since he was a mere child. He was born into this life. He never had much of a choice.

Bangtan had been built from the ground by his great grandfather, inheriting a name that suited the man who had survived a bullet straight to his chest. Many believe in the idea that his great grandfather was God’s chosen one; when his heartbeat had gone cold, everyone had prepared themselves to mourn. However, without even a touch from the defibrillator, he miraculously resurrected.

A bulletproof man selected by the gods themselves.

He pulls the door to the room open to find even more silence, welcoming the fresh breeze of Busan air. This kind of serene atmosphere is one he tolerates well.

When he glances across the area from the second floor where he stands, he can barely make out the shadows of two figures playing in the pond. High-pitched shrieks echo across the water, reaching his ears. His reflex is to turn and there he sees you and your daughter. You look joyful, at peace. It is hard not to enjoy yourself in a house as massive as his.

It is a house inherited from his father, having been renovated several times to keep it sturdy. The buildings come complete with bulletproof glass and minimalist decor. Each wing of the house is guarded by his men to ensure security and safety. Though, in all honesty, nothing much happens.

Although Bangtan dominates over a large part of South Korea’s underground economy, they are on the quieter side of the spectrum, the better side of the law. His men have been screened and controlled to ensure that they would not cause trouble and hence attract less attention to themselves, especially the cops.

The sight in his home with all its greeneries and beautiful view is a welcome contrast against the actual horrors of his occupation.

Lost in his thoughts, Jeongguk doesn’t notice you looking up. It is only when he pulls himself out of the stupor that you meet his gaze. His breath catches in his throat as he instinctively turns on his heel and into his office. There are a lot of things that Jeongguk has learned to deal with, you aren’t one of them. Years have passed since Namjoon’s death but the earth keeps turning, days move in a flurry of meetings and organized crimes.

Jeongguk feels as if he is stuck in the past while others have moved on—Namjoon always niggling somewhere in the back of his mind. It certainly does not help when you are there as well, always hovering and reminding him that Namjoon had left behind two pieces of himself. Jeongguk still has not gotten around the nerve to speak to you, to properly acknowledge your presence—once a coward, always a coward.

A knock on his door brings him back to present day. “Come in,” he calls.

Taehyung peeks inside, brown hair falling into his eyes, “Guk, the little bird wants to speak with you.”

Jeongguk throws him a withering look. He has spoken to Taehyung about this before. If you ever needed anything, you can speak to Taehyung, his right hand man. So far, he has avoided any incidences of having to interact with you so he wonders what calls for his attention this time.

“Send her in.”

You step in, dress swaying around your legs. He hasn’t seen you properly in quite some time and it shows when you take his breath away. He sometimes forgets how beautiful you are, how your looks had enchanted both him and Namjoon though Namjoon was more of the charmer between the two of them.

He greets curtly, your name almost reluctantly rolling off his tongue.

“Jeongguk, it’s been a while, hasn’t it?” you smile softly at him, taking a seat on the chair in front of his desk. If it were any of his men, he would’ve scolded them for being disrespectful. That is, if any of them even dared to take a seat in front of him.

“It has, what can I do for you?”

You worry your bottom lip before starting, “I was wondering if I could go grocery shopping.”

Jeongguk has never been more puzzled in his entire life. “Grocery shopping,” he repeats dumbly.

“I know you’d rather that I don’t leave the house but it’s been years and—I mean—I can do that on my own, I’d like to be able to go there directly.”

Your explanation only leaves him with more questions. He didn’t quite understand your request so instead his eyes wander to Taehyung for help. The man just smiles and shrugs. What the fuck? “Grocery shopping,” he says again.

At this point, he probably sounds like an idiot incapable of understanding basic sentences. “Yes, grocery shopping,” you repeat, tilting your head. There is a shake to your shoulder and he guesses that you’re probably suppressing your laughter.

“I can send any of the maids to go, did you need something specific?”

“I, uh,” you lick your lips, “no, I want to take a look at what they have for myself.”

Jeongguk looks at Taehyung again. “It might be nice to get some fresh air,” the other man adds, “the supermarket’s not that crowded during this time considering it’s weekday working hours.”

“I suppose so,” Jeongguk drawls, “Taehyung can accompany you, bring another man if you have to.”  

“Of course,” Taehyung smiles, nodding a little and then turns to you, “Little bird, would you mind leaving me alone with Jeongguk for a quick second? I have business to discuss. You can go ahead and wait in the car, I already asked the driver to start it.”

You nod, “Thanks, Jeongguk.” It is the first time you’ve said his name in a long time and the effect is almost immediate as his stomach churns with something both pleasant and unpleasant. With that, you duck out of the room, leaving Taehyung alone with him.

“Don’t you think you’re being rather cold? And, I don’t know, suffocating,” are the first words Taehyung say to him as if he hadn’t just murdered a man cold blood. Taehyung relaxes his shoulders when it is only the two of them—a conversation between old friends rather than colleagues.

“It’s for safety, I don’t see why—”

“There is nothing out there for her, Guk. Give her some breathing room, give yourself some breathing room,” Taehyung insists, his tone sterner, “she’s still so young, nobody really knows of her so it shouldn’t be a problem. Go with her, get to know her. It’s been years and you’ve barely spoken two words to her.”

“For good reason,” Jeongguk mutters, righting a piece of paper on his table as an attempt to draw his attention away from Taehyung’s accurate accusations.

“And what is that? Your cowardice perhaps? The fact that you still can’t face her after years?”

Jeongguk shoots him a warning look. Careful there. Taehyung sighs, stepping back a little. “She’s only one of my many responsibilities, Tae. I’m a busy man.”

“Busy wallowing in your self-created despair,” his friend mutters with a roll of his eyes that has Jeongguk’s finger twitching. “She’s not a chore, Jeongguk. She’s a human being just like you and me.”

He takes a deep breath to calm himself, “Why are you suddenly pressing for this?”

“Because she has never asked for anything before. She’s so low-maintenance, always cooking for herself and her daughter, never requesting more than the bare minimum. You would know this if you even gave her a second of your time,” Taehyung continues, piling on the guilt that is already brewing in his gut. Jeongguk does not find the words to respond and hence chooses to remain silent. He knows he hasn’t been the best of hosts towards you, but he cannot change how he feels whenever he is near you. You are a tangible flashback to a time of what could’ve been with Namjoon.

“So you want me to talk to her?”

“There’s no harm in it. Plus, you’re a better bodyguard than most of the men here, you’ll protect her just fine.”

When Jeongguk opens the car door and slides in, he finds you sitting there with Heejin on your lap, twiddling with your thumbs. Meanwhile, Heejin is singing out vegetable names like a prayer. His driver is watching the two in amusement but his smile slides off his face when his boss steps in. He ducks his head politely as Jeongguk closes the car door.

He sees how you tense up the moment he steps into the car, how your gaze darts over to Taehyung for a brief second for comfort or answers. When no one breaks the silence, Heejin has no problem in doing so.

“Who are you?”

The question is unsurprising but it does not make it hurt any less. Jeongguk drinks in the child’s features. She is a near perfect replica of Namjoon, down to her dimples that are deeper than the Pacific. He aches just looking at her. Clearing his throat, he holds out his hand, “I’m Jeongguk.”

Heejin stares at the hand warily before she turns to her mother as if seeking permission. When you give a small nod, Heejin accepts the handshake and grins, “I’m Heejin.”

Never in his life has Jeongguk sat stiffer than he is doing then, back straight, palms sweaty on his legs. His posture is painfully awkward that even Taehyung takes notice and snorts up front. “Heejin,” Taehyung starts, drawing Heejin’s attention to him, “this man is weird, isn’t he?”

Heejin turns back to Jeongguk, blinking, but says nothing.

“He’s a little tense,” Taehyung cautions, “but he’s actually really nice, you should ask him lots of questions, especially about guns.”

“Tae!” you and Jeongguk chide at the same time. The two of you turn to each other in mild surprise but are quickly distracted when Heejin leans over towards Jeongguk with the wildest, star-filled eyes.

“Really? You can tell me about guns?”

“Heejin,” you chastise this time, “that’s inappropriate. You should ask him normal things first, like his favorite food or his favorite movie.”

At that moment, Jeongguk probably would’ve preferred an interrogation about guns, which he is knowledgeable about, rather than mundane topics he probably has to wrack his brain to answer. When is the last time he watched a movie?

“But that’s boring,” Heejin pouted shamelessly, “are you good with guns?”

You release a groan at the impossibility of your child but Jeongguk just smiles. The little girl is too much like Namjoon, always so brazenly curious. “I am, but I’m better with cameras.” That’s a smooth diversion, right? Taehyung hums approvingly to answer his unsaid question.

“Oh, really? Do you have those big cameras? The ones for movies?”

“Yeah,” Jeongguk coughs, “I can let you see it if you behave for your mom until we get back.”

“I can do that, I can behave,” Heejin cheers then whips around to face you. “Did you hear the man, mommy? He’s going to show me a fancy camera.”

In honesty, Jeongguk hasn’t touched in camera in years—a forgotten hobby thrown aside when his father began grooming him to become heir to the organization. He supposes he would be rusty but he will know just enough to impress a child like her.

When they arrive at the store, Heejin is first to leap out the door and run screaming for the trolleys. You chase after her in worry while Jeongguk and Taehyung trail behind.

“Wait for my call,” Jeongguk instructs as he steps out of the car. Taehyung follows suit but keeps his gaze locked at the two of you. Jeongguk’s eyes unconsciously scan the area, a habit he picked up a long time ago under his father's warning.

“What do you think of her?” Taehyung asks, peering too closely as if his intention is to pry into Jeongguk’s soul.

He merely shrugs, “I don't know enough to have a lasting impression.”

“First impressions count.”

“She's beautiful, I can see why Namjoon was attracted to her.”

Taehyung rolls his eyes, “How shallow of you. What about Heejin?”

He inhales sharply, focusing on the child walking hand in hand with her mother. The child is intelligent and full of questions that can even leave the best and brightest bewildered. She looks carefree at that moment, void of any worries as she holds onto you. “Namjoon, she's so much like Namjoon.”

“Yeah,” Taehyung nodded, huffing in affirmation, “I see so much of hyung in her it’s kind of terrifying. She's a smart kid too, picks things up fast so be careful about cursing around her.”

“I really could be dealing with that lost shipment right now,” Jeongguk mutters in annoyance under his breath. He has things to do and people to deal with. Yet, here is Taehyung making him play house.

Taehyung shakes his head disapprovingly, “Please. I already sent a few men to track down the people who propositioned Chulsoon. Low-ranking kids probably trying to climb their way to the top so we’ll catch them in no time.”

Jeongguk nods thankfully but looks far from appeased.

When the four of them enter, they almost look out of place. A woman with a child and two men dressed neatly in suits, wearing matching intimidating expressions. You turn to them and frown, “Can you guys stop glaring at everything? It's weirding people out.”

Jeongguk nearly snaps that it doesn't matter if it's strange as long as they stay safe. But he holds back and only grunts.

“Mom, can I look at the toys?” Heejin tugs on the hem of your dress.

“Let's look at the food first yeah, darling? We’ll look at the toys after.” You try to pacify your utterly spoiled daughter who sticks her bottom lip out in return. “Heejin,” you warn.

“I can take her to see the toys, Jeongguk can accompany you. How about that?” Taehyung suggests, earning a squeal from Heejin who instantly curls around his leg.

Jeongguk gives Taehyung a look nothing short of incredulity. How can he possibly leave him alone with you? This is his first proper introduction. What if he messes up? You clear your throat next to him and draw him out of the plaguing worries. “If it’s okay with you, do you mind helping me shop?”

Does he have a choice really? He is tasked with trolley duty, following after you. You scan the refrigerated shelves, eyes sparkling in excitement as you take in the plethora of colors before your eyes. Jeongguk wonders what the big deal is with going shopping on your own, but you’re already humming to yourself as you begin to pluck things off the racks and placing them in the basket.

“Are you sure this is everything you need?” Jeongguk mutters to break the silence for the first time since they started. The cart is barely filled with very few choices of vegetables and fruits.

You turn slightly pink with his words. “I don’t think I need that much. We can make do with this.”

Never more than the bare minimum. Remorse filters into his veins as he looks at you. He wonders how welcome he has made you feel in his household these past few years. His past lovers—serious enough to use his money, distant enough to keep them out of his home—had had no trouble swiping his cards whenever they pleased. It’s sort of unnerving to have you be so reserved around him.

“Please, help yourself. I hear you often cook so I’m sure you would need more than these to test out new recipes,” Jeongguk says and observes the way your face brightens with pleasant delight. “You’re not a guest in my home anymore. You live there, so please don’t hesitate to take advantage of the resources.”

Your lips thin as you glance towards the food. “Thank you for your offer, but it is still your wealth and I can’t touch it so carelessly. I appreciate it though, really.”

“I really don’t mind it,” Jeongguk insists again, “I have more money than I can ever hope to spend in my entire lifetime, so if my wealth can help you in any way at all, I am happy to be able to care for you and Heejin.”

“You’re too kind, Jeongguk,” you give him a smile that has his guts turning. You really are beautiful. “You should let me cook for you once in a while, I think Heejin would love some extra company too aside from the maids. The men are terrified of her.” The invitation leaves a warm effect in his heart, but he decides to direct his attention to the latter part of your sentence.

He raises an eyebrow, “Are they now?”

You giggle, the sound ringing like angels’ hymns from the heavens. “They try to interact with her but she’s more curious about their weapons and they always hesitate because she asks too many questions. I’ve been trying to get her to ask more… appropriate conversation topics.”

“Sounds like a charmer your daughter,” Jeongguk chuckles.

“Too much of a smart aleck.”

The two of you continue to walk down the aisles, this time in much more comfortable silence. You’re less shy when you find items you are curious about, albeit you still glance at him as if to attain permission. You break the ice with questions about meals that he would like to try, anything he’s interested in, and he smoothly responds to your inquiries as if you both have been friends for years.

It is admittedly easy to speak to you and the atmosphere strangely domestic as he follows after you and chases after your shadow as you grow more eager with every turn. Doing something so normal after so long in the business feels unnatural, but Jeongguk finds himself basking in the air nonetheless.

By the end of what Heejin referred to as an “adventure down toy world,” they end up with plenty of groceries to last them for a while, Heejin happily cuddling her new bunny that she so aptly named Jeongguk, and a promise for dinner.

“I have to get back to work, I have someone to meet after this, but it has been nice meeting you,” Jeongguk smiles honestly.

“You too,” you simper in return as Heejin hugs your leg, “don’t be the stranger okay. This house is pretty big, it gets a little lonely.��� Your statement seems to surprise the both of you, and Taehyung who is watching the interaction too closely, so you blush. “W-what I mean to say is that you’re pretty cool to be around and you have to keep that promise for dinner sometime. I’ll cook a meal so good you’ll be coming back for more.”

Jeongguk laughs wholeheartedly with your guarantee, which shocks the fuck out of Taehyung and the driver (who apparently is still standing there listening to them). “I will, I’ll ensure to make some time for you both this week so I hope to see you again soon.”

“Okay,” you nod, grinning. Heejin calls for you, announcing that she is hungry, so you look apologetically at the two of them. “Sorry, I have to go but thank you again for today. It’s been really fun. I’ll leave leftovers in the kitchen later if you both want to try the pasta I’m making tonight.”

Heejin bounces towards Jeongguk and bows, “Thank you for today! I’ll see you soon okay? You promised me to show me your fancy camera.”

“I did promise that,” Jeongguk stoops to her level.

“Pinky promise?” Heejin sticks out her finger.

Jeongguk chuckles and curls his own around hers, “Pinky promise. Be good for your mom okay.”

The little girl nods eagerly before trotting away with you to head straight for the kitchen. Jeongguk doesn’t realize then but the aching of his jaw roots from the shit-eating grin he has on his face, one that scares Taehyung.

“You’re way too happy,” Taehyung snorts.

“I’m not,” Jeongguk returns his scowl, “don’t we have a meeting to attend?”

“Sir, yes, sir.”

In the following weeks, Jeongguk finds himself slipping you and Heejin into the empty spaces within his schedule. Whenever his day ends early, he would go to the kitchen and watch you make dinner in complete fascination. Jeongguk has been surviving on takeout and junk food for so long, eschewing the dining room in fear of running into you but also because he barely has time to sit down and eat. Now, he has assigned himself as your Official Food Tester whenever you experiment with new recipes.

After the perpetrators working with Chulsoon were caught, his life returns to its normal routine: making deals, bribing officers, running clubs. The usual deal. Things are relatively slower as he just needs to maintain connections and keep up appearances.

However, instead of anticipating new customers and branching out his influence, he rather looks forward to quiet dinners with you and Heejin—as quiet as dinners with Heejin can get. The little miss rambles on about her tutors, about the fishes in the pond (“one of them just had babies!” — that Jeongguk didn’t know), and also about the camera Jeongguk finally handed over to her.

Heejin had gone starry-eyed when she saw the camera, falling head over heels for it. Jeongguk didn’t hesitate to give it to her to put it to better use. Namjoon used it more than he did after all, it only feels right to pass it to his successor.

( Jeongguk says that talking to the two of you is just one of his many ways of stifling boredom, but Taehyung calls bullshit )

The maids in the house and his men have also somehow gotten friendlier—too friendly if you ask Jeongguk. They are the first to giggle whenever Jeongguk’s face contorts at one of your dishes and he has to pretend as if he doesn’t want to gag. They are the first to go wide-eyed whenever Jeongguk shows Heejin and you some impressive tricks he can do.

They are pure, the only untainted part of his life at that moment, and he wants to keep it that way. This is why he usually still secludes himself off on days he has meetings with clients and suppliers, whenever he has to pull the trigger or put a knife through some poor sucker’s heart. Heejin has an inkling of a clue, but you hide it well enough behind your wary smiles whenever Jeongguk meets the both of you afterwards.

He should’ve known though that his right hand man would dip his hand into puddles he is not meant to touch. Taehyung’s current suggestion surprises the living daylights out of him and has you stiffening on the couch.

“The beach?” you ask.

“Yes, the beach,” Taehyung affirms, ignoring the way Jeongguk is frowning at him. Jeongguk understands that his friend wants him to get to know you more, to get along with you, but this might just cross the line. “It’s been a while I figure since you’ve been there, thought you and Heejin would like the field trip.”

“Field trip my fucking ass,” Jeongguk mutters under his breath only low enough for Taehyung to hear.

Taehyung pitches a glare his way and then returns his gaze back to you. “We’re checking on a shipment that’s coming in and also doing our monthly survey of the port. Jeongguk has a house by the beach, far enough away from the docks but with a good view and private beach.”

You still look doubtful with his words, your teeth catching your lip in worry. “I don’t know, it might not be safe for Heejin,” you argue.

“You and Heejin will be far from where we will be doing business, one of the men can stay with you though you can expect nothing threatening there. It’s a quiet neighborhood and you and Heejin can enjoy yourselves for the weekend,” Taehyung adds on, hoping that it would reassure you.

Jeongguk isn’t quite sure honestly why Taehyung decided that it would be a brilliant idea to invite you when they are on the job, knows that it probably will be catastrophic if anything goes wrong. However, the image of Heejin lighting up just a few days ago after seeing the picture Namjoon and Jeongguk had taken in that same house might be a reason enough for Taehyung to defy him.

You breathe out, turning to Jeongguk, “What do you think, Guk? Is it safe enough?”

Jeongguk looks slightly taken aback by your question but clears his throat. “Yeah, it’s a safe area and we can always bring extra hands to keep you both secure. Waters are nice too, good weather forecasted for the rest of the week.”

“So, what do you think?” Taehyung presses again.

“I guess it won’t hurt,” you shrug, “Heejin has never been so it might be nice.”

Taehyung grins, eyes crinkling around the corners, “Great. I’m sure Jeongguk will do his best to ensure you are safe and sound.”

The look he gives Taehyung shows all of the doubts he has about his masterplan, but he sighs.  “I’ll make the arrangements and have one of the maids come along to assist you. I’ll install more security cameras before we arrive as well.”

Your eyes widen at his ideas and you quickly shake your head. “God, you really don’t have to go through all that trouble. We’ll be fine, we’ll spend most of our time in the beach or in the house so there’s no need for it.”

“It’s just a precaution,” Jeongguk tuts, “do you need to do some shopping beforehand? Swimsuits and all? Groceries?”

“Ah, yes. I haven’t shopped in a while and Heejin doesn’t have any swimsuits.”

“My schedule is free the rest of the day—”

“Actually,” Taehyung interrupts, “you have a meeting with Taeho later regarding ship licenses.”

Jeongguk curses under his breath, “Fuck, I forgot about that. My apologies then, I’m afraid I can’t accompany you today. However, you can take two of my men and a driver to go if you’d like.”

“I-I can wait,” you clear your throat, “I can wait until tomorrow.” The pretty blush that graces your cheeks is a welcome color that has Jeongguk’s lips twitching. Your shyness around him is still adorable and he can’t help but allow his hope to wander that maybe, just maybe, you want to spend more time with him.

“Tomorrow then,” he confirms softly.

Jeongguk keeps his promise and makes time to go to the department store with you and Heejin. Picture this: a mob boss walks into a plush store, chandelier hanging on the ceiling and all, with a screaming child and a mother who is ten out of ten done with the entire thing.

Taehyung is always close by, ensuring that Heejin doesn’t touch anything she isn’t supposed to and teaching her how to behave appropriately. In other words, no shrieking over perfumes that smell amazing (Jeongguk still buys her three bottles). They spend too much time in the children’s section and Heejin spoils herself with attention and an array of swimsuit choices, too many for her to handle.

“Do you want all of them, Heejin?” Jeongguk asks from his seat next to you. You had given up and groaned in frustration an hour ago when Jeongguk insisted he could afford it.

Heejin thinks it over for a second, glance darting over to her mother before coming back to Jeongguk. “No, I just want two. I don’t want to buy more than I need.” She looks proud of her statement and turns to you again for approval and you hide your smile.

“I want to spoil her rotten but you somehow manage to get in my way each time,” Jeongguk shakes his head. “Alright, baby, pick two.”

The term of endearment seems to stop the entire store. To the clerks working there, you and Jeongguk probably look like the sweetest, most doting parents. To the rest of you who know your relationship, it comes off as an electrifying shock. Jeongguk feels you stiffen next to him—hell, he feels himself tense and clamp his mouth shut. Taehyung blinks at the two of you in surprise but says nothing.

But Heejin—Heejin softens.

“Okay,” she replies gently and goes to choose her favorites.

Both of you come to a silent agreement not to address Jeongguk’s sweet nickname for Heejin, preferring to pretend as if nothing of the sort ever happened in the first place.

“Mommy,” Heejin calls, “are you going to buy swimming clothes?”

“I–ah—I don’t need new ones, I have some still at home.”

“Nonsense,” Taehyung chides this time, “come on, treat yourself a little. It’ll be nice to be by the beach, show off that cute booty of yours.”

“Taehyung,” Jeongguk scowls with his words.

He shoots him a look, “You know it’s true. Tell her.”

His boss takes a deep breath and turns to you, “We can go, you know. I don’t mind. Take a look new designs to replace your old ones. Like Taehyung said, treat yourself.”

“Tae-oppa and I can look at toys while you shop,” Heejin grins cheekily. So that is her intention. You know full well that Taehyung loves to pamper Heejin and can’t say no to the little devil so she adores going toy hunting with him.

“Perfect, look at the time, we should get going,” Taehyung hurries, picking Heejin up after she decides on her swimsuits. “Text us when you’re done!”

Thus is your fate as you end up trapped in a dressing room, unwilling to come out to “show your husband how gorgeous you look, darling.” Jeongguk reddens and clears his throat, opting out of clarifying the statement as it will only raise more questions. He hears you stumble behind the curtains with the employee’s words, but peek your head out, “I-I’m good, I think I’ve decided.”

“Already?” Jeongguk questions in surprise, “Heejin took three hours and you took five minutes.”

“I’m not that picky,” you huff, “plus it’s a struggle to keep switching between swimsuits.”

“Do you need me to help?”

The offer is supposed to be innocent, harmless, a kind gesture. But the flush that spreads all the way to the tips of your ears has him realizing that his intentions may not have been so clear. “It’s o-okay, I’m good.”

“Try on some more please,” he coughs, “we have plenty of time. You can decide which models you like.”

“Fine,” you bite your bottom lip. The employee shoves more and more swimsuits into the room for you to try on but Jeongguk, much to his quiet disappointment, doesn’t see you in a single one. You finish a little while later, bringing an armful of clothing only to hold up one. “This one. I’m good with this one.”

“Just one?”

“I really don’t need a lot, Jeongguk,” you sigh, setting the others aside. “I’m not used to all this… pampering. It makes me feel weird so I’ll take one for now.”

For now. That Jeongguk can deal with. He understands your sentiment and decides to press no further… for now.

That weekend, the lot of them pile into Jeongguk’s SUV, one of his many cars complete with bulletproof glass. They ride out towards the bay, a car ahead of them and a car behind for extra security. Jeongguk sits next to a restless Heejin who sings The Little Mermaid songs as she gapes at the view outside the window. Of course, the fact that Jeongguk is out for work is something he leaves out when he had told Heejin about the trip.

“You and dad lived there?”

“No,” he smiles, “but we do have a house there whenever we want to go to the beach.”

“Did dad like the beach?”

Her question is innocent, but it brings about a rush of memories, a series of images flipping through his mind. Namjoon had loved the beach, loved the sea. He always told Jeongguk about bringing his family there to appreciate the natural beauty outside of the construction of the city. Jeongguk only hopes that Namjoon is watching over them now.

“Your dad loved it,” he says and he is graced by the blinding smile on her face.

They arrive shortly after that Friday, Heejin rushing into the house with her tiny legs and heading straight for the window to press her face against it. The waves crash against the shore, melding in the blue sea against the white sand. “Mom! It's the sea, it's so blue like the storybooks!”

“It is, honey,” you confirm, “don't run around the house.”

“Can I go see?”

“Heejin, take your bag first and bring it to your room, yeah? We don't want Jeongguk-oppa to be mad do we?”

Heejin pouts but does as she's told, picking up her small backpack and upstairs. Jeongguk doesn't miss the word oppa slipping past your lips and he's ashamed to see how quickly he reacts to it. Lord, he's acting like a child.

“Jeongguk-oppa,” Taehyung blows in his ear. Jeongguk catches his neck and glares, Taehyung only laughs, unfazed.

After settling in, Heejin runs straight for the sea, only to run screeching back further inshore when the waves chase after her. You follow her and shake your head, “Be careful okay.”

“I wanna see fishies,” Heejin grins and tugs your hand to move cautiously towards the blue ocean.

Jeongguk stays behind and watches them from the porch of the house, sipping on a cup of coffee across from Taehyung who lights a cigarette.

“Namjoon would've loved to see this,” Jeongguk begins, “he always talked about raising a family by the sea, I always thought he just had a thing for mermaids and bikinis but that guy was too sentimental.”

Taehyung laughs, tapping a bit of ash onto the tray, “He's nothing like you, playboy. Though, he had a good number of women. He changed when he met her though, started using his head more.”

“Speak for yourself, he used his dick a lot considering how many times I've heard things I really didn't want to hear from his room,” Jeongguk mutters and Taehyung blanches.

“Did not need to know that about my brother,” he grimaces, giving a little shiver for emphasis. He sighs then, “He would've thanked you, for taking them here that is.”

“He's probably enjoying paradise somewhere out there, watching them.”

“We’ll join him eventually.”

Taehyung raises an eyebrow, sucking in a deep breath, letting the nicotine stick to his lungs, “You think so? Think God will open his golden gates for me? You think angels will take a man sworn to singledom? Wait, do you think they have sex up there?”

“You're fucking gross,” Jeongguk scowls, “I think God might just accept you just to fling you from the clouds.”

“That is, if there is a God,” his friend smiles devilishly.

Jeongguk rolls his eyes, “I'd like to believe Namjoon is somewhere better.”

“Taehyung-oppa, Jeongguk-oppa!” Heejin comes running up the small hill and the stairs leading to their house. “Look! Mommy found all of these for me,” she holds up a pile of seashells for them to see.

“They're pretty, Heejin, just like you,” Taehyung coos, pinching her cheek.

“Are you guys coming down to play?”

“In a minute, baby,” Jeongguk says softly as he fixes her messy hair, brushing away her bangs. He likes the way Heejin’s expression melts into a dreamy one when he calls her that. “Make sure your mom doesn't get swept away by the waves,” he warns.

She nods before dashing back for her mother.

“If I didn't know better, you're getting soft for the girl,” Taehyung teases, waving his cigarette in the air.

“How can you not like her?”

“You missed out on a few years of that, my friend.”

Jeongguk chances a glance their way again and nods solemnly, “Could’ve seen her growing up.”

“Well, you've got the rest of your life to make up for that.”

It's probably time to redirect the conversation before it treads into dangerous waters, namely feelings—emotions Jeongguk could surely go without talking about.

“How's everything looking for the shipment?”

“Good, China has their share on the way along with labor. Australia is done with the cap up and are using body packers, should be coming in easy.”

“Keep me updated if anything happens,” Jeongguk instructs, ignoring the way the cigarette smell is starting to affect him.

Taehyung grins maliciously, killing off the fire on his stick. “Forgot you quit a year ago.”

“I can't die before the next one comes along,” he snorts, “as much as I want to. My great grandfather is rolling in his grave.”

“He was cremated.”

“It’s a figure of speech, you dipshit.”

The night passes quickly. While you soothe Heejin to sleep in the second floor, Jeongguk and his men leave for the port a short distance away to check on the area. He tries not to worry too much about leaving only Taehyung with the two of you, or the regret that surges through his veins for mixing pleasure with business.

Hushed whispers serve as an alarm the next morning, waking you up in the early hours when the sun has barely risen over the horizon. You quietly leave Heejin to continue her slumber as you tiptoe downstairs to find Jeongguk typing away on his laptop.

Taehyung stands across the counter, hand wrapped around a warm mug of steaming coffee. “You're up early,” Taehyung notes. Jeongguk turns around and looks equally surprised as he bids you good morning.

“You guys look like you haven't slept,” you say, amused. They are still dressed in clothes from the previous day, their hairs neat, and their eyes heavy with caffeine.

“Bingo,” Taehyung grins, “our dear friend, Jeongguk, here had the incredible idea of staying awake to work on numbers. Numbers, can you fucking believe? I want to rip his head off.”

You cock an eyebrow at said man, “Really? Why do you hate yourself that much?”

“I live with my eternal, internal self-loathing,” Jeongguk deadpans, “also chronic insomnia.”

Shaking your head, you peer over his shoulder to take a look. “Annual reports? You act as if you run a legitimate business.”

He scoffs to your claim, “I do run a legitimate business with a side of illicit activities, but mostly legitimate.”

“Good to know, do you need some help?”

“Ah, I'm okay.”

You smirk, flicking his nose, “You know, it's not going to kill you to ask for help if you need it.”

“It's dangerous to get you involved.”

“Look, when Namjoon invited me to join him, I knew what I was signing myself up for. Now, scoot, let me put my brain to good use,” you shoo Jeongguk away from his seat and take over, scrolling through the spreadsheets at record speed. Taehyung and his boss share a look, both puzzled and impressed by your determination. “Are you just trying to balance everything? There are some discrepancies here with hidden costs and your exclusion of transport costs. You might also want to give breathing room for the taxes because they’ve been stricter. Make sure your numbers are correct or the tax office will come after you.”

Jeongguk shoots Taehyung a stare of absolute bewilderment before turning back to you. “Uh, yeah.” He spends the rest of the morning going over the numbers with you again, finding your advice insightful, especially to evade those blasted tax officers.

“How do you know so much about this?” Taehyung asks, leaning his elbows down on the counter.

You grin, “You forget that Namjoon recruited me first to handle your books. I know the basic rundown but he never let me see anything else.”

“I think it’s time to get you to join the club again,” Taehyung smirks, “Jeongguk here might be a fantastic leader, but he’s crap at math.”

“I am not that bad,” he scowls.

“I can help whenever you need it, no compensation needed of course considering I’ve been living in your house for nothing.”

Jeongguk purses his lips at your words, “You’re no longer a guest in our home, I’ve told you this. You’re one of us.”

“Let’s be honest, the only reason I’m still around is because you feel like you have a debt to Namjoon that hasn’t been paid.” Offering a sympathetic look, you shrug.

Your words leave the two men speechless, unsure of the next step to progress in the conversation. Luckily for all three of them, Heejin is kind enough to interrupt the heavy silence with a cheerful “Good morning!”

With Jeongguk busying himself with work, checking on the shipment area and regulating his men, he barely has time to spare before he takes off that same morning, leaving behind a pouting Heejin who looks far from pleased with his departure.

“Do you really have to go?” she asks. Heejin is ready with her colorful, floral swimsuit and arms stuffed safely into her floaties. However, the threatening frown on her face is dampened considerably into a cuter expression.

“Yes, I do,” he says, fixing his tie and ruffling her hair.

She sighs before pressing again, “Like really, really have to go?”

Jeongguk laughs, crouching down so he can level his gaze to hers. “Yes, baby, I do. But I'll be back before dinner, that's a promise.”

“Okay, if you say so,” she gifts him a small smile with glittering eyes.

“Make sure to put on sunblock and listen to your mommy okay,” he advises again, holding up his pinky to swear on his word. He learns after the few times that the only vows that count with Heejin are those he pinky promises.

She nods, “Mhm! I'll be good.”

“Okay, see you later,” Jeongguk stands, facing you then. “Will you be okay?” His voice is softer, careful.

“It's just the beach, Jeon,” you laugh, “the scariest thing out there is an awful sunburn.”

“Let’s keep it that way,” he breathes. His first instinct is to pull you close and press a kiss onto your forehead but he realizes and stops himself before he can do anything that might jeopardize what small relationship you both have.

Jeongguk watches you and Heejin wave goodbye from the rearview mirror, finding an odd stinging in his heart at the sight. Disregarding it, he sighs and skims through what paperwork he has today. Taehyung eyes him from the same mirror, a small knowing smile on his lips.

When they return hours later, after rounds of scolding from Jeongguk’s side to his careless men and a sweep of the entirety of his private dock, Jeongguk is drained, ready to knock out from the lack of sleep.

The quiet house now feels almost foreign to him, his expectation to hear childish screams echoes in his ears. For a moment, his heart stops at the emptiness of the house. It is almost as if he has returned to the past, to being cold and alone. However, his needless worries are shaken away when he hears distant giggles from outside the place.

He steps out onto the porch, having changed into a pair of board shorts and tee shirt. The sun has begun to set behind the sea, star sinking into the blue abyss and reflecting its crimson glow upon the piling waves. The two figures are silhouetted against the background, creating a picture so beguiling Van Gogh would be jealous.

“You made it!” Heejin’s scream reaches his ears as he walks down the beach, feet plunging into the smooth sand with every step.

“I told you I would,” he smiles, patting her head, “did you have fun today?”

“Yes!” she giggles, pointing to the line of castles and the fortress that surrounds it on the ground. “We made sandcastles and went swimming. I can float better now but I’m still learning how to swim properly.”

He laughs, “Good job, baby. I’m sure you did great.”

“Are you going to swim?” Heejin wrinkles her nose adorably and tugs on the hem of his shirt. “You might want to take this off otherwise it’s going to get wet.”

“Noted,” he says and, with a satisfied noise, she runs back into the sea to continue collecting seashells for her collection.

It is then that he spots you, realizes how striking you look in a little black one piece, the straps going behind your neck, your breasts pushed together by the cupped top half of the swimsuit. He can see your smooth skin of your sides from the transparent lace that makes the rest of the swimsuit. While Jeongguk has seen a fair share of women in all sorts of swimsuits, no one has captivated him the way you have.

“Welcome back,” you murmur, ever so softly. The sentiment leaves a tingling warmth in his heart, a novel feeling that tickles his icy soul.

“Glad to be back,” Jeongguk whispers. He takes in the breathtaking view before him, his mind spinning back to the time Namjoon and him had travelled here together. Nostalgia ripples in the pits of his stomach, bringing a new bout of melancholy that fills him up.  

You stand next to him, skin warm with the sun’s kiss on your skin. “You know,” you begin, “Namjoon always told me that he wanted to live by the sea. That man could appreciate natural beauty like no other. I guess Heejin takes after her father; she hasn’t stepped foot off this beach since this morning.”

He chuckles, nodding as he observed Heejin jumping and splashing water, carrying a tune in the wind that rings unfamiliar in his ears. “Yeah, he always wanted to work with the port shipments. It drove me crazy how much time he would kill out here, just sitting by the beach doing absolutely nothing.”

“His silences,” you agree, “it used to irritate me so much how quiet he could be. He could sit quietly in a room for hours, reading, listening to music, not saying a single thing. God, how I craved his attention on me.”

“His library is massive, I can’t bring myself to donate or toss out anything. There were books he hasn’t read yet, just sitting there collecting dust. I keep telling myself I’ll read it eventually, but his literary skills are beyond my level of comprehension.”

Jeongguk chuckles at the memory. Whenever Namjoon disappeared from sight, forgetting to do his duties for the day, the first place anyone would search in would be his library. They would always find him there, so enraptured by a book that the rest of the universe seemed to cease to exist.

“Don’t remind me, he used to try to get me to read English classics and I would cry just so he would let me go,” you groan.

“Stubborn one that one, I thought I was bad.”

Silence dawns upon them once again, the only sounds that surround them are the caw of seagulls in the distance and the rumbling of waves crashing against the sand. The air is salty and sticky, clinging humidity onto his skin. It feels comfortably warm and Namjoon’s memory seeps slowly into his bones.

You take a deep breath. “I don’t get to talk about him much anymore.” At this, Jeongguk turns to look at you in surprise. “Nobody really wants to talk about it. Sometimes I can’t believe he’s gone. It’s been years and—” you pause “—yet it’s still so hard.”

Jeongguk breathes, nodding slowly. The feeling is familiar—that sort of quiet void that he chooses to actively ignore in place of people’s comfort. Namjoon is never an easy topic, for him or his men. Sometimes the past is best left in the past, but misery loves company and Jeongguk seems to have found it in you. “He’s been gone for so long but it feels like he’s always around. I see him everywhere, sometimes I think I’m going crazy.”

“But then,” you sigh, chewing your bottom lip, “not talking about him—it’s like he’s a stranger that never existed. I don’t—I have so many regrets, things I wish I told him but never got the chance to.”

“I feel you on that. So much shit I could’ve just said, so many things I hoped for him to do.”

“Jeongguk,” you start, voice giving away your anxiety, “w-would it be okay if I talked about him with you? I-I know it’s hard, that’s why a lot of people would rather act as if he never was around in the first place. Tell me if it gets too much, but I just—I feel like, if I don’t talk about him, he’s going to disappear for good.”

“Y-yeah, of course,” he clears his throat. He may or may not have been thinking of the exact same request that you brought up, so he is more grateful than anything that you did. “It’s probably therapeutic anyway. We were both closest to him, let’s keep his memory alive.”

You tip your head up, offering him the sweetest smile that had his heart aching. Jeongguk sneds a prayer to the heavens, perhaps asking God or Namjoon whether it is okay for him to let himself fall for you.

“Thank you.”

The weather is strangely pleasant for a day that sweeps sorrow across the household. It is always in the last days of summer that rain continues to pour, silver clouds concealing bright blue skies. However, this year, the heavens have blessed them with clear skies.

Gravel crunches beneath the roll of the car’s tires. Heejin, for once, sits quietly as she stares out the window. You are by her side, equally as silent as you lose yourself in your own thoughts. Jeongguk tries to distract himself by replying to messages on his phone, ones he usually cannot be bothered to even look at. The car goes past the open gates of the cemetery and eventually slows to a stop.

It feels as if the air is ten times heavier. No one says a word as they step out of the vehicle, an act of respect towards those who have passed, but also because none of them can seem to find the words to say.

Today is Namjoon’s death anniversary, the third to be exact. Years before, Jeongguk has always gone with only Taehyung. However, with the bond he has formed with you and Heejin, he had offered to go together.

Heejin’s hold around the bouquet of flowers tightens as her lips curl into a sour grimace. Jeongguk bends down to her height and rubs her back thoughtfully. “Do you want to speak to your dad first, baby?”

“Yes.” Her voice is quiet, so small and vulnerable, so unlike Heejin that Jeongguk worries. But Heejin only takes her mother’s hand and leads her to the grave. Her steps are automatic, calculated.

Jeongguk stands off to the side with Taehyung, granting the two some privacy to speak with Namjoon. Taehyung keeps his lips sealed, the silence between them stretching for far too long as it usually does during that day. He watches Heejin place the flowers on the stone before kneeling next to her mother to pray.

Minutes later, the two return to the men, seeming more relieved than anything. “Thank you,” you say appreciatively, “you both should talk to Namjoon now.”

“Guk, why don’t you go on ahead?” Taehyung smiles, albeit a little wonky. His face is heavy with shadows, eyes with sleep.

Jeongguk hates seeing his friend desolate. Out of all of them, Jeongguk always thought that he took the worst blow from Namjoon’s death, but it’s apparent that he is not the only one with how much Taehyung has been suffering with his brother gone. He walks slowly with the grass crumpling beneath his footsteps. His feet feel heavy, his body even more so, until he finds himself in front of Namjoon’s stone.

“Hey, Joon, it’s been a while hasn’t it?” he breathes. The air feels a little clearer here, the breeze almost like a comforting caress against his skin. “Things have changed a lot in a year. I guess you’re probably not used to us coming together.”

He pauses for a second, “It has become ‘us’ huh, it’s funny how one conversation can turn things around. She is great, Joon, you picked a good one—then again, you were always the one who made better choices.” A chuckle leaves his lips. “Heejin is wonderful, she’s just like you, but maybe cuter. Really smart, she’s gonna grow up and do great things.”

For a second, the gentle wind seems to whisper in his ear and he swears that it is Namjoon, but it is hopeful wishing. “They’re wonderful, Namjoon, they make the house feel warmer. I guess I haven’t been paying attention for the past couple of years, but they’ve been there and now it feels different.

“We’ve always been on our own, our dads sucked in case you need a reminder—” he chuckles “—but this is probably the gods giving us our second chance, to give someone else a better opportunity. I hope—I hope you’ll entrust me with this—with them. I’ll do my best, Joon.”

The wind does not answer—no sign of Namjoon having heard his sentiment. But maybe, that is just the response he needs.

The ride home feels relatively lighter with Heejin distracting Jeongguk with mundane topics that keeps his mind off the lingering vestiges of nostalgia. The four of them share dinner in the dining room that same night, warm lights illuminating the outdoor space. The sky’s shades of pink and orange reflect upon the still pond, creating an almost ethereal effect on the glimmering surface. Heejin’s giggles bounce across the table and stretches Jeongguk’s grins further. They share stories—memories—as they traded their own antics with Namjoon. For once, Namjoon’s death anniversary doesn’t feel empty and instead leaves him at peace.

Soon after dinner, Taehyung helps Heejin write a letter to Namjoon by the edge of the pond with her legs dangling over the edge and feet skimming over the cool water. It is a ritual she has kept up since she started writing, a way of her to stay connected to her father.

Meanwhile, Jeongguk lends a hand in the kitchen as you clear the dishes. The two of you work in comfortable silence, neither of you attempting conversation. Over the last few months, Jeongguk has gained appreciation for the little things: Heejin’s gifts of tiny paper cranes on his desk, homemade meals you leave behind in the fridge for him, small smiles you send his way across the counter as you cook.

“Does she ask about him?”

The question jolts you out of your daze, shifting your gaze from the running water to Heejin’s silhouette outside. “Time to time, she likes hearing stories about him, about his supposed heroic endeavors. I couldn’t really tell her that her father basically ran a drug cartel with her godfather.”

Jeongguk chuckles, setting dried plates aside and nods, “She’s smart, I wouldn’t be surprised if she picked up on it by now.”

“My biggest fear,” you grin back teasingly, “though I suppose I can’t shield her from it forever.”

“You’ve raised her well though, she’s such a great kid. It’s hard not to love her,” Jeongguk admits. He is honest this time that maybe spending all that time with the both of you has created a fondness that’s irreplaceable. You’ve carved a space into his heart and filled it in with you and Heejin, and perhaps even sliding into gaps and holes he never knew he had.

“You’re a great man yourself. If you ever become a father, I think you’ll do wonderfully.”

Jeongguk would be lying if he said he doesn’t look back on his juvenile dreams, fairytale happy endings he wish he could had—the normal life, the good life. But remorse is a beast that he isn’t keen on facing so he tends to shy away from them and thus from thoughts of such impossible fantasies occurring.

“I can only dream.”

That night, Jeongguk holes up in his office as he has every year for Namjoon’s anniversary. It’s almost sad, but the ritual he does is comforting: he takes out Namjoon’s favorite bottle of whiskey, pours himself a glass on the rocks, and drinks in honor of his late friend. He tilts the glass back and forth in his hand, listening to the ice clink against the sides.

Jeongguk wonders if he’s mistaking his attraction towards you as comfort on Namjoon’s death. Being around you reminds him of what it was like to be around his best friend, but at the same time also offers him a new, equally as soothing presence that he never knew he needed.

A knock on his door resounds in the empty room and he calls for the person to come in. Jeongguk is surprised to be greeted by Heejin and you standing at his door before they step in quietly. Heejin holds a blush on her face that is too endearing. He walks towards you and quirks an eyebrow, “How can I help you ladies?”

Heejin glances up at you as if to ask permission before turning back to Jeongguk. “Um, I was wondering if you would read me a bedtime story.”

A bedtime story. Out of all the demands he’s received so far from her, and that’s plenty enough, this is perhaps the strangest one of all. His confusion is apparent by his lack of response.

“She’s seen a lot of children’s books with fathers reading their kids stories,” you clarify with a cough, “and she wanted to know if you could do it just for tonight.”

Jeongguk is left without words to say, gaping like a man searching for air. His heart suffers a twinge to the request. “Heejin, I—” Jeongguk is about to deny her, tell her that he can’t possibly do that, but quickly stops himself when he sees how her expression shifts into one that is crestfallen “—I’d love to read one for you, did you choose one already?”

It seems that his soft voice has surprised all of them. Heejin is the fastest to recover and tugs his hand with an excited nod, “Mhm! This one is my favorite, I think it’ll be yours too.”

“Okay, baby, lead the way.”

The three return to Heejin’s room with the little girl skipping the entire time, chanting ‘bedtime story, bedtime story!’ Heejin even goes as far as to shoo you away from the room because the story is just for her ears. You giggle at her command but does as she says, staying outside the door to listen in on their conversation.

Jeongguk is awkward and stiff at best with his storytelling, taking too many pauses and attempting (and failing) to make sound effects as best he can. However, Heejin is entertained all the same, laughing and complimenting Jeongguk on the voices he does. After the tittering subsides, you return to the room to find Heejin fast asleep. Jeongguk handling her so gently is a sight to behold.

“Thank you for that,” you whisper as you switch off the lights in the room and pull the door to a close.

Jeongguk smiles and shakes his head, saying that it is his pleasure. “I’m actually sort of touched  she asked, I’m glad I can help.”

“It’s different with you. Taehyung has always been her uncle but you—she looks up to you.”

The thought has his heart feeling just a teensy bit bloated. “I’m honored honestly, I can’t imagine myself being the best of role models but I appreciate it.”

You smile and nod, seeming to hesitate in your before you add on, “Um, if you’re not busy tonight, do you want to maybe… have a drink with me? I don’t think I want to be alone tonight.” Your words come out shy accompanied by a delightful blush.

Who is he to refuse?

They end up settling in the living room, the glass that stands transparent against the pond hides none of the beautiful glow of the lamps and fireflies fluttering outside. Some of his men patrols the area as per usual but pay them no mind. Jeongguk leans back against the leather couch, glass of wine in hand and a lighthearted laugh bubbling up his throat. While you offer up stories about Heejin and what it was like raising her, Jeongguk has some of his own from work (though, expectedly censored of its gory details). The two of you talk and talk, so much so that you end up on topic of Namjoon and sex.

In all honesty, the last thing Jeongguk wants to know is how his best friend had done the deed, but the intoxication has placed him past the point of caring. His laugh, for the first time in a very long time, is closing on boisterous. He can't help his undeniable mirth at the wondrous sight of how red your face had become—from the alcohol or the embarrassment, he isn't quite sure.

"Come on, it can't be that embarrassing," Jeongguk grins, acting as if he himself isn't scared of what answer you have.

You hide your face in your hands and let out a small squeak, one he finds too adorable, "It's embarrassing for me! I'm not telling you."

The conversation has shifted to the things the two of you like in the bedroom, perhaps a space that both of you really shouldn't be venturing into considering your drunken states. But what better time to discuss kinks than with wine?

He nudges your shoulder with his own, the teasing lilt still dancing in his voice. "What? You have a thing for daddies or something?" The flush that appears deep and dark on your face is correlational. He can't possibly miss it. With a choked laugh, he leans closer, wiggling his eyebrows, "Is that it? You like calling—"

"Stop," you groan, shoving his face away and turning to bury your face into the couch. He thinks that you're probably hoping the seat would swallow you whole but there is no escape from this predicament. "I don't want to say things like that."

"It's nothing to be embarrassed about," Jeongguk smiles, hand reaching up to pat your head comfortingly. "It's really not that big of a deal. I think it's a common one, don't you think?"

Your bottom lip sticks out in response as you turn away from him. "Still, I don't like saying it out loud in normal conversations like these."

"Considering my line of work, I hardly think it's plausible to have a normal conversation. Take a walk on the wild side," he pokes your side. "So tell me, does it turn you on when I call you baby girl?"

"Jeongguk," you gasp and let your hand fly to smack him on the arm, "you are unbelievable. Apologize right now."

"And what if I don't want to," he pauses and adds as a bonus, "baby girl?"

"You're despicable," you sputter, however still unable to keep the stupid smile from spreading across your face. Jeongguk notices your amusement and presses on, teasing you again and again, inching closer with every breath until he finds himself separated from you by a mere hairbreadth.

He watches as your gaze falls to his lips and his own moves to yours. Yours look pretty and plump, tinted dark with the color of wine, kissable. His breath stutters in his lungs as you begin to move ever so slowly towards him. Jeongguk seems to have the same idea because he is then mirroring your movement before finally touching his lips to yours.

Now, Jeongguk likes kissing, he takes pride in his skills most of the time. But you—you make him love kissing. He loves the way your lips move in sync with the rhythm of his heart. He loves the way you pull your lips from his for a mere millisecond to take a breath before diving in for another. He loves how you bump noses every time you do so. He loves how you curl yourself around him, arms meandering around his neck to pull him even closer, chest to chest, heartbeat to heartbeat.

For the next few minutes, he loses himself in your lips and in your hold, in the way your fingers tangle through his hair and how your moans slip deliciously past your lips and through his. By then, you are nestled cozily on his lap, legs straddling his body. You feel so soft and warm, like a flick of flames in a cold winter day.

Both of you kiss and kiss and kiss until his lips feel sore, until his thighs begin to ache. Yet, he cannot bring himself to part from you, not when it feels so good.

When you finally release a long sigh, pulling yourself away from his face to lay your head on his shoulder, nose in his neck, Jeongguk feels breathless—but the good kind, the great kind, that leaves his heart knocking a soft cadence against his ribs. "I'm tired," you whisper.

"Get some sleep, baby," he says in return, voice successfully masking how loud his blood is rushing through his vessels.

Jeongguk bristles from his sleep with the sunlight streaming through the blinds, nearly blinding him as he opens his eyes. The last thing he wants is for Taehyung's smug smile to be the first thing he sees in the morning. "Morning, sunshine," the man grins, a smile too annoying for—he glances at the clock—six o'clock.

"The fuck you want, Tae?" Jeongguk grunts, about to move but is stopped when Taehyung brings his finger to his lips. When he looks down, he realizes that the heat pressed up against him is your body curled into his, your face in his chest as you snore away peacefully. "Shit," he mutters to himself. He must've fallen asleep after letting you fall asleep.

No.

He distinctly remembers trying to leave the couch only for you to pull him back, whines leaving your lips that urge him to stay. His fingers card through your hair as you hum in your slumber, burrowing yourself deeper into him.

"Sorry to break up the party, Casanova," Taehyung taps his watch, “if I didn’t know any better you guys were canoodling.”

“Jesus, are you five?”

He shrugs, dismissing the question, “Enough chit chat, we have a plane to catch.”

"Plane?"

"Yes, Jeongguk, plane," he stresses with an exasperated sigh as if he can't believe Jeongguk forgot. "You have a meeting with a Japanese investor remember? The one who's looking into Circle Room."

He winces, the remnants of the liquor swirling in his stomach. "Right, Japan. Fuck, I forgot."

"Get yourself ready, darling," Taehyung clicks his tongue one last time before exiting the room.

Jeongguk groans and slumps back, wishing that he can just fall back asleep and ignore all of his responsibilities. Why can't he just stop being an adult for one day? Just one. His eyes fall back to your sleeping figure, face so free of worries. What happened last night, he isn’t quite sure how to feel about it. On one hand, there is a guilt that plagues his mind, leaving him with a bitter aftertaste. But thinking about it now, he can’t help but feel his skin tingle with delight.

He feels like a teenager again, sneaking around and falling head over heels for every other person in sight. Letting out a sigh, he decides that his emotional dilemmas can be postponed for another day.

After leaving one last note on the table and promising to be back home soon, Jeongguk takes off for the rest of the week with Taehyung. The time there proves frustrating and the last thing Jeongguk wants to deal with is a difficult, hard-ass entrepreneur who thinks he knows how to run a business. Taehyung has been on the end of all his vexation, taking in insult after insult and responding with slander of his own to put Jeongguk in his place.

By the time he returns to Seoul, all he wants to do is drown in a few drinks (and maybe that man along with it). Alcohol is but a temporary escape from all his problems and he wishes he could just flip all his problems off, but alas he is a man with many responsibilities.

You are working away on the outdoor dining table when he returns, an offshoring freelance thing you had brought up once. Though, in his livid state, all he can picture at that moment is locking himself away in his office and willing away his worries. He barely spares you a glance and, before you can even greet him, he is already sheltered away in his office.

An hour, or perhaps more, passes but he can't really tell. He's still chipping away at the contract that that blasted Japanese investor had made, ensuring no loopholes whatsoever that can potentially fuck him over. He has to return to Japan because of the prick and he barely has time to do everything else in South Korea.

His attention is pulled away from the glowing screen in front of him when a knock sounds on the door. As you step in, it feels as if his muscles tense even more. He isn't sure how well you would deal with his present state of mind and can only pray that you would leave him be.

"Sorry, can I come in?" you ask, voice timid that softens him up just a little bit.

"Yeah," he grunts, shrugging and saving his document before clicking it closed. He directs his gaze to you instead as you lean back against his desk. You are dressed in nothing more than a bathrobe and—how in the fucking world did he miss it in the first place? Jeongguk tries not to stare too much at your tantalizing cleavage and glues his eyes to your face instead. "Anything I can help you with, Miss?"

You smirk, nudging his leg lightly with your bare foot. "You're playing cute. Are you doing okay?"

He sighs as thoughts from the trip come whirling back like a tornado inside his mind. "Yeah, just tired and still working away but it's nothing I haven't dealt with before." His words are honest enough to hopefully convince you, but euphemized enough to avoid saying my entire fucking life is a mess, this deal is a mess, I'm a mess.

"You need to relax and destress a bit. Find a hobby, go fly a kite or something."

"Really? Fly a kite is the best hobby you can come up with for me?" Jeongguk quirks an eyebrow in amusement, leaning back against the cushion leather seat.

"I don't know much about you, Jeon Jeongguk," you wiggle your finger at him and poke his nose, "I don't have much to go on to suggest hobbies."

"Mm, anything that can help me relax," he hums.

You pause for a moment. "Okay, so what helps you relax?" Jeongguk only shrugs without giving it much thought. You huff a laugh and raise an eyebrow, "Maybe you just need sex or something—" Jeongguk chokes "—I heard a little bit from Taehyung about how wild you were back then."

"Taehyung is a goddamn liar," he hisses, tugging on his collar. Is the room suddenly stuffy?

"So you didn't fuck around?"

"I didn't say that," he mutters. "I was just a brat is all."

You giggle, pinching his cheek, "Are you a man now? You're so cute, Guk-ah."

Never in his life did he ever think that he would be blushing like a teenager. He is Jeon Jeongguk after all, how can he be so easily flustered by measly words that certainly didn't define him? "I am and I'm not cute. I'm intimidating."

He sees your lips twitch but you nod anyway, teeth peeking out from between those lips as if hiding your smile proved to be too difficult of a task. Tugging you down from the table, he settles you comfortably on his lap, hand supporting you on the small of your back. He stares for too long, one heartbeat, then two. The silence is comfortable, peaceful. A feeling Jeongguk hasn’t felt these past few days.

“What?” you ask him, smiling.

“What?” he echoes.

“You’re staring.”

“You’re beautiful.”

The words have you thrown for a loop. Your response dying in your throat over again when Jeongguk sweetly grins up at you, hand rubbing circles on your back. “I’m—um—thank you.”

He chuckles, finding the stiffness in your muscles amusing. He’s admittedly pleased that he can affect you this much, have you blushing in his hands. He wonders what it would be like to have you underneath him, looking shy and sweet. Christ, that’s a thought for another day perhaps.

“Hey,” you start, “if you ever need to relax, I mean, if sex helps then—what I’m trying to say is, you know, I’m here and—”

The aghast look on his face has you stopping, heart faltering in your chest. He notices the subtle shift in your expression and wonders if he has done the wrong thing. To reassure you, he holds you tighter against him, hand gripping your waist. “I’m flattered that you would offer, but if we were ever to—” he coughs, cheeks tainted pink “—I don’t want you to think of it as a favor to me. I’d rather you do it because you want to.”

“I do want to!” you interrupt him, then proceeding to blush with how fast you responded. “I mean, I do. I do want to have sex with you, but I didn’t want you to feel pressured or anything you know.” You huff, “Get with the times, Jeon Jeongguk. Don’t make me say it to explicitly.”

Jeongguk laughs, cupping the back of your neck to pull you down for a sweet kiss. He whispers then with your mouths pressed together, “You’re fucking beautiful, any man would be lucky to have you.”

“But I only want you,” you murmur right back.

You truly will be the death of him. Jeongguk adjusts your position so you are straddling him, soft legs wrapped around his waist as he moves his lips against yours, twisting against each other smoothly like silk. The heat that radiates off of you only proves to tense his body up, the member in between his legs hardening at the contact of your plush ass pressing down against him. His hands travel south to massage the soft flesh in his palms, loving the way he cups them so perfectly.

“J-Jeongguk,” you stutter slightly, blushing at the sensations. You already feel dampness in between your thighs, maybe even feeling slightly ashamed by how easily you react to his touch. It has been quite some time since you’ve been so intimate with another person and Jeongguk’s grasp on you is too enticing to resist.

“You’re so pretty, baby,” he coos, pulling you down again to meet your lips. God, he absolutely loves kissing you and your soft lips with your body warm against his. “I’ll make sure the only name you know by tonight is mine.”

Jeongguk and you grow closer by the minute, sharing secret, intimate touches when you think no one is looking, accepting the way his hand often lands protective on the curve of your waist. The days that once seemed to drag on ever so slowly seem to blur together into a giant frame that is painted with you and Heejin. Heejin warms up even faster to Jeongguk, never shying away from voicing her requests on her own.

Not that he minds in the least. Jeongguk adores spoiling the little girl, much to your annoyance. “Come on,” he laughs after he purchases a plastic nerf gun for your daughter, “she’s only young once.”

“Exactly, which is why I need to teach her that guns are a bad idea,” you huff, shaking your head at Heejin who is aiming the toy at Taehyung and making firing noises. The other man plays along, taking those air bullets to the heart and crashing on top of her. Her giggles fill the room, easing you out of your worries.

“Kind of hard to do that when nearly everyone who accompanies her in the house carries guns,” he snorts, pulling you close when Heejin and Taehyung are distracted. Even after all this time, you still pink a little whenever Jeongguk draws you near. He presses a kiss to the back of your ear and grins, “I’ll make sure that she knows how to use it appropriately.”

“You better,” you throw him a glare which quickly melts when he softly smiles at you and places a gentle kiss on your forehead.

“Pew, pew!” Heejin calls out again, aiming for another one of Jeongguk’s men this time. The man, who stands burly and terribly awkward, only shifts around uncomfortably, unsure of what to do. Instead of being discouraged, Heejin pushes closer, continuing to fire at the man.

Taehyung gives him a look and mouths, “Play along.”

It’s hilarious to see Heejin opening Jeongguk’s men up from the tense, stick-up-their-bums badasses into people who don’t know how to handle children. But it’s hard not to love Heejin when she’s the only spot of innocence left in their tainted world. Once they realize that Jeongguk isn’t as spiteful towards you and Heejin as they initially believed, they’re quick to welcome them into the family.

That night, after Jeongguk once again shows you how well he can use his hands and cock, you lay exhausted underneath the sheets in his bed. He pulls you close, lets you lean your head against his chest. You trace your finger along the colored ink that pictures a panther that curls around his shoulder.

“Hm, I can’t believe I didn’t notice you had this before,” you hum thoughtfully, finger running along the length of the panther’s tail that curls around his bicep.

“Bangtan doesn’t need to draw too much attention. We have tattoos to symbolize the organizations we represent but I don’t want the law coming after us just because they see ink.”

You press against his chest where the panther lays, “Mm, that’s thoughtful of you.”

“It’s not that big of a deal,” he chuckles, “as proud as we are of what we’ve achieved, I don’t need trouble.”

“You’re trouble,” you giggle.

“Only to you,” he grins, carding his fingers through your hair. You bury your face in his chest again, safe and protected. “By the way, I’m heading to Seoul next week,” Jeongguk whispers in your ear, “would you and Heejin want to come along? See the city.”

Your eyes widen at the offer. “Seoul? I mean, I’m sure that would be delightful but I don’t want to get in your way.”

He shakes his head, “Don’t worry about it. I’ll be staying in a hotel there, everything will be provided for you. While I get work done, you can see the city and take Heejin around with one of my men.”

“Why do you have to go to Seoul? Isn’t your territory in Busan?”

Jeongguk clenches his jaw and rolls hie eyes, “Yeah, which is why I’m pissed that another gang is starting to encroach on our area. A few of them have been spotted near Haeundae Beach where we usually have clients and do our runs.”

“I see,” you nod, “and you’re going to be talking to them.”

He doesn’t answer, only tightens his lips.

“Jeongguk, are you really—”

“It’s just a little warning!” he defends with a laugh, “Sometimes they need a reminder that gangs have their territories that they shouldn’t be crossing.”

“Alright, fine,” you huff, “I’m sure Heejin will be excited.”

Jeongguk smiles, “Good, I’m sure we all can use a little vacation.”

Thus, after packing up most of their belongings, the group set out to Seoul. Heejin marvels at the scenic view outside the fast-paced train, pointing out the numerous valleys and animals that she spots along the way. You sit next to her, joining in her enthusiasm despite having seen the sights before.

“You’re from Seoul?”

“Yeah, born and raised before my parents passed. Then I moved to Busan to help my grandmother before she passed too,” you explain, turning to glance at Heejin, “so it’s good that I get to take her back to my hometown, show her how we city kids do it.”

Jeongguk chuckles in agreement, “She’ll love it.”

Soon after they arrive, they rent a car to head over to their accommodations. They check into a nice hotel located in the heart of Myeongdong, packed with people even on a weekday. Even if Jeongguk is the head of one of the biggest mafias in South Korea, he is still there for both legitimate and more illicit reasons, and hence can appear in the city under the guise of business.

As he takes off early the next morning to meet with the head of a local gang, he leaves you and Heejin to take a stroll around the district with a promise to join them later on. Jeongguk rarely graces other organizations with his presence, but this one called for his attendance to solve things smoothly. In other words, he isn’t planning to shed blood today. Not yet at least.

Seungcheol, a balding man with two gold teeth and a practically permanent toothpick dangling between his lips, shows no sense of respect towards Jeongguk who had so kindly gone all the way here in order to maintain peace and order in the community. While Jeongguk covers most of Busan, Seungcheol dominates over the drug market in Seoul. However, in terms of connections and quickly expanding clientele, Jeongguk has the lead.

From the moment Jeongguk steps foot in the empty bar, one owned by Seungcheol, he can already smell a rat—a disrespectful rat who so desperately needed to learn his place. Jeongguk has been itching to shove the man’s feet off the table, grab him by the collar and slit his throat open in front of his men.

But he has somewhere to be and the last thing he needs are blood-stained clothes.

“You still messing around, kid?” Seungcheol grinned, picking in between his teeth with that stick.

Jeongguk wonders how long that thing has been in his mouth. “I take my responsibilities pretty seriously, I don’t know if you do.”

“‘Course I do,” he scoffs with a humored snort, “I always do my research, keep track of competition and all you know.”

“The makings of a businessman,” Jeongguk drawls dryly.

“Now, now,” he clicks his tongue, “don’t be rude. I hear you’ve been rather careless lately. Heard you got yourself a pretty little thing.” The mere mention of another person has him stiffening and he wonders if Seungcheol has caught wind of— “wasn’t she your partner’s woman? What was his name again?” Don’t say it, don’t say it. Jeongguk fists his hands underneath the table. Do not let his pure name be said with that worthless mouth. “Namjoon, was it?”

Taehyung inches closer as if sensing Jeongguk’s budding rage. “Don’t talk about him,” he growls quietly, “don’t even think about saying his name.”

“Why?” Seungcheol forges a pitiful look, “Scared the dead will come back to haunt you? Poor thing that kid. He was going to have a pretty family in a pretty house—” shut up, shut the fuck up “—but he just had to die, huh. What a shame.” Jeongguk breathes through his nose, a vain attempt of keeping his temper in check. “Instead, you lived. The stupid one.”

Jeongguk licks his teeth, body stiffening. Taehyung can feel his anger prickling on his skin, raising goosebumps and a chilling fear that snakes down his spine. His boss can tell that he wants to try to calm him down, but this kind of rage—the one that involves people he cares for—is not easily pacified.

“Have you ever wondered—” Taehyung nearly groans because this fucking idiot “—if you were worth it, Jeon Jeongguk? You’ve got a big mouth, short temper, and none of the charm. Nothing like that friend of yours. Except he’s the one buried six feet underground, covered in dirt with no honor to his name.”

“You know jack shit about him,” Jeongguk snarls, gritting his teeth, “I’m not here to discuss past matters. Let bygones be bygones.”

“Wonder what would happen to his pretty family now.” The other man continues, dismissing Jeongguk’s words completely and chooses to add fuel to the fire. “They could’ve lived a long, happy life. But now you’re the one in charge, you reckless brat.”

The younger shoves the metal table away from him with a scrape, hitting Seungcheol straight in his belly with a choke. “Shove that fucking peace offering up your ass,” he hisses, “I’m not going to deal with your impudent shit until you understand the hierarchy. Get your boys off my territory or you’ll have them return to you with no heads.”

“You think I’d really come here empty-handed?” Seungcheol laughs, kicking his own chair back. “You really are a brat after all. You fucking lost your right hand man but I lost a brother that night. You Bangtan scum are just as vile as the rest of us. Get off your high horse. Didn’t your daddy ever tell you not to attack a man’s family?”

“Namjoon was fucking family you piece of shit. I hate to bring up the past but your fucking goon came after us first that night.”

“He was a kid, you piece of shit!”

Jeongguk grits his teeth, “So were the rest of us!”

“Keep your fucking bullshit to yourself and get out of my fucking bar.”

It is then that Jeongguk smiles—a grin so sinister that the men around him seem to freeze in time. “If you think you can control Bangtan, guess again. We haven’t reigned undefeated for years for nothing. Keep that big mouth of yours shut or I’ll sew it closed myself. Like you said, I have a short temper and who knows when I’ll be reckless next.”

[ you ]

Your eyes follow Heejin trek around the room, giggling and petting every dog in sight. The two of you, after working your way around Myeongdong and Gangnam, end the day in a dog café just a ten minute walk from Eonju Station. The urban playground is swarming with dog owners and their pets, freely roaming around and enjoying their time. Heejin seems to take delight in the place more than the dogs do.

You are situated by the window when Taehyung walks in and seats himself across from you. There is a tightness around his eyes that has you frowning. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah, Jeongguk sent me to pick you guys up because he has some shit to deal with.” Absentmindedly, your lips disappointedly press into a thin line. Taehyung doesn’t miss the unsubtle shift. “Sorry,” he says, voice a little softer, “work calls.”

Jeongguk had promised to meet the two of you here and, although you are saddened, you force yourself to smile and reassure Taehyung. “No worries, I know he’s super busy and Heejin and I have been doing fine. Plus, Yugyeom over there seems to enjoy the dogs more than we do.” You gesture to the bodyguard assigned to you who has been curled up with a dog in a corner for the past hour. However, when he realizes Taehyung has arrived, his eyes widen as he releases the dog and stands upright.

“Yeah, I’m glad you girls are enjoying yourself,” he smiles, “Jeongguk is back at the hotel so whenever you’re ready.”

You lick your lips, hesitating before asking, “Did something happen?”

Taehyung fidgets, a sign of his uncertainty, before he merely shrugs, “Sour deal is all.”

Unfortunately for you, Jeongguk has not returned to the hotel. After parting with Taehyung, blood still pumping furiously through his veins, he walks straight into one of the night clubs he co-owns with an investor based in Seoul. He sits by the bar, tipping back shot after shot to let the antidepressant course through his body, spreading warmth and the kind of relaxation that makes him forget this entire day.

Instead, his mind is brought back to Namjoon. Seungcheol, as much of an asshole he is, is right. Namjoon should’ve been saved that night. Namjoon should’ve led Bangtan. Namjoon should’ve been standing here today, dealing with all this, raising Heejin, taking care of you.

Namjoon, Namjoon, Namjoon.

The more liquor he inhales, the shittier he feels. All he can think about is that he deserves it. Maybe Seungcheol is right. What the fuck is he doing here really? He had the chance to save his partner, a man who was practically his other half, but he had been a coward and his friend had taken the bullet.

He stumbles into his room, barely managing to slip his card into the slot. Fuck. The room is spinning a little bit despite his having sobered up a little on his walk back. Taehyung had left him multiple calls, all of which he ignored. He’s probably calling to lecture again, scold him for being an idiot.

Jeongguk is, after all, just a kid. He is far from the man his subordinates believe him to be, far from the gentleman you see him as.

Just minutes later, just as he loosens his tie and feels the pounding subside, there is knocking at the door that brings another surge of thudding in his mind. Jesus Christ. He staggers to the door, pulling it open to see you.

You—you’re so beautiful, so sweet. You’re intelligent and thoughtful. It’s no wonder that you match so well with Namjoon. Namjoon was his brother, but you are his lover. Jeongguk wonders if he is selfish for starting something with you, for replacing Namjoon when he never could live up to the name.

“Jeongguk, are you okay?”

He feels his stomach rise, his throat tightening as he chokes out a groan. “F-fine, what do you want?”

“I—” you pause, opening and closing your mouth as if finding the words to say “—I’m just worried, thought I’d check on you cause I heard you come in.”

“I’m peachy so go get some sleep,” he says, grabbing the door to pull it closed.

However, you stop his movements and instead push your way in along with him. You sit him down on the bed and begins to undo his tie, tugging at the lapels of his jacket to pull it off.

“Jesus, what are you doing?”

“You need some sleep and water, I’ll get you ready once I make sure that you’re safe in bed.”

“I’m not a brat, don’t treat me like one,” he hisses bitterly, pushing your hands away as he attempts to do it on his own. He wrangles free of his jacket, kicks off his shoes and slides against the sheets. “You can leave, I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself.”

You sigh, grabbing the bottle of water on the table and handing it to him, “Drink up.”

“I told you I’m fine.”

“I’m just making sure you are, Jeongguk,” you frown, your tone showing the initial signs of your irritation, “it’s not a big deal.”

“And I keep telling you I’m fine,” he snaps again. The hammering in his head returns as his exasperation is fueled by your presence. He needs to sleep it off, he just needs to forget once again that Namjoon is gone, that he’s probably going to fuck this entire gang up. Forget. That’s all he needs to do.

“Did something happen?” you press again, “Taehyung wouldn’t tell me anything but I want to help when I can, Jeongguk.”

He breathes out a sigh, “And what if you can’t? What if you can’t help? Namjoon isn’t here for either of us. He would know what to do in every fucking situation. But he’s not here and he never will be.”

Your expression twitches with a flinch, a flicker of pain passing through your eyes. “Is this what it’s about?” you ask quietly, “did something happen regarding Namjoon?”

“Does it matter?” Jeongguk laughs, clenching his jaw.

“Of course it matters,” you say abruptly, “Jeongguk, Namjoon has been gone for years now. It’s time to let him go.”

“Christ,” he mutters under his breath.

“I know you were and still are hurt by his death but he would want us to move on.”

Jeongguk stands, inching closer towards you to growl at your face, “What do you know?! You don’t know jack shit about moving on.”

“I know that I lost him too!” you flare, “I know that he’s gone.”

However, Jeongguk doesn’t relent there, instead coming up to you and jabbing his finger at you. “Do you know what it’s like to have him die before your eyes? Do you know what it feels like to have a raw beating heart ripped in two? That’s what it felt like! Namjoon was everything to me.”

“And you think you’re so fucking special?” you snap right back, “Namjoon was my boyfriend, he was all I had, Jeongguk. That man took care of me when no one else would, took me in as if I was blood. If you think you’re so fucking exceptional just because you loved him, then get in line. I loved him as much as you did, I mourned for him just like you did. You think any of this is easy for me?”

Jeongguk’s lip quivers, the first mistake he makes perhaps. Never show weakness, never show your fears. The lesson has been ingrained in his veins from day one, tattooed onto him like the permanent ink he has on his skin.

“I loved him, Guk,” you say softly, “he was my everything. He was all I had before Heejin. He gave me Heejin. H-he was a good man, Jeongguk, but so are you.” Jeongguk grimaces with your words, shifting away when you try to touch him. “You may not believe it but he did. He loved you. He would’ve done anything for you.”

“He died for me,” Jeongguk whispers, “I can’t—nobody can—ever repay a debt like that. He was a good man who deserved a good life, deserved a wife and children and the happily ever after everyone wants.”

You drift closer to him again, slowly slipping your fingers in between his. He doesn’t move away and you find yourself speaking even gentler, “There is no debt to be paid. He didn’t do it for glory or honor, he did it for you because he wanted to, because that was just the kind of man he was. This life has no happily ever after, you and Namjoon both constantly remind me of it, and I’ve accepted that. I knew what I was getting into when I accepted him. We—Heejin and I—don’t need a happily ever after, we just need to stay alive for as long as we can until the opportunity presents itself. It may or may not come, I may be living in false hope this entire time, but it is hope nonetheless and it’s hope that keeps me going.”

“It’s not that easy, this isn’t easy.”

“You’re free to make your own choices, Guk, but just know that Namjoon would’ve wanted only one thing for you: for you to forgive yourself. Living in guilt is living in misery and that would be the last thing Namjoon would ever wish on you.”

“What do you think would’ve happened?” he began as he slides to the floor. “What if he survived instead of me?”

You press your lips together. “Stop living in what if’s, Jeon Jeongguk. If it is the past, let it be in the past.”

“The past never really leaves you, you have to know that,” he chuckles, sighing as he lets his head fall back against the wall. “I think you should go. I-it’s late.”

“Jeongguk—”

“I’ll be fine, I just need some alone time to think.”

You stand still doubtful, but Jeongguk’s head has dropped, his eyes on the floor. “I’m next door so just call me if you need anything, yeah?”

But by then Jeongguk does not grant you a reply.

The next day finds Jeongguk on an awkward walk with you and Heejin. While the man tries his best not to alarm the young girl, the tension that crackles between the two of you is palpable. Taehyung doesn’t miss this, neither does Heejin. However, they figure that it is a matter best left for you both to tend to and thus they stop themselves from meddling.

Jeongguk moves distractedly through the Seoul crowd, keeping his eyes floating upon you and Heejin’s figures up front. His right hand man walks next to him, quiet with questions hanging on the tip of his tongue.

“Hey, Guk,” he finally starts, “everything okay, man?”

“Yeah, fine,” Jeongguk replies. His voice doesn’t give away anything which leaves Taehyung itching for more, but he knows he really shouldn’t press.

“I know we had a shit meeting with Seungcheol’s gang, but don’t worry. If it happens again, it’ll be easy to handle. His goons aren’t that big and his runners are chickens once scared away.”

“Mhmm,” he says.

Jeongguk isn’t sure what has him so preoccupied but his mind continues to flip the switches of his mood and the last thing he needs is to drop a shit one on Taehyung. He is still plagued by Seungcheol’s words, Namjoon’s death, and your presence. Life had been so simple before everything happened. He wonders if the guilt would follow him until the day he died. Bet that fucker Seungcheol would like that.

A gunshot slices clean through the buzzing air, eliciting screams from the patrons all around. Jeongguk feels his heart drop, his body immediately reacting to reach for the two of you. His eyes scan the area as more bullets fly to the air. He can barely see them zoom past but the shots ring louder and louder.

Taehyung immediately pulls his own gun from his hidden holster, body alert as he inspects the area for the perpetrator. It isn’t until he spots the figure in a mask, gun in hand, and he follows the aim to find it aimed directly at you and Heejin just inches away from Jeongguk.

“Get down!” he screams, lungs shaking at the sheer force of his desperation.

When the next shot is fired, Jeongguk is a breath away from you and Heejin who have frozen still in the midst of the rapidly moving crowd. Jeongguk can’t take his eyes off of the two of you, his heartbeat slowing down as if the world moves in slow motion. Heejin with her mouth open, shrieks that he can’t hear, hands covering her ears. You, arms wrapped around your daughter, as you close your eyes as if awaiting your destiny.

He is so close.

So close.

His mind shifts in retrograde then, back to that fateful night when he can see Namjoon. His body standing tall, rain splattering on his hair and soaking his clothes. He smiles. Jeongguk can see him smile. That is before he sinks to the ground, hand clutching his stomach where blood is quickly permeating through the fabric. His heart stops.

Another scream pierces through the air that yanks him quickly back to reality. His eyes are open yet he can’t bring himself to see whether anything has—“Guk, shit!” Taehyung propels him forward, “shit, shit, I-I’ll call an ambulance.” Jeongguk sees his shaking hand punch in the numbers on his phone.

One second, you are on your feet, and the next Heejin is crying next to your limp body on the ground. Jeongguk snaps out of his reverie then, dropping to his knees as he takes hold of you, blood that looks familiar, so familiar—it feels like history is repeating itself, a cruel twist of fate bringing him around full circle. His hand closes around the wound, hoping to some sort of deity that the bleeding would stop.

“Y-you’re going to be okay,” he whispers, hand stroking your hair. He still sees your chest rise and fall with every breath, but your lack of response leaves his blood frozen. “You’re going to be okay, baby, I promise. We’ll take care of you, we’ll make you all better.”

You still don’t say a thing, your eyes closed as you lay there unmoving.

“Fuck, fuck,” Jeongguk says frustratedly to himself. He looks up from your body to see Heejin tugging on her mother’s shirt, sobbing and sniffling as she begs her mom to wake up. Jeongguk’s heart aches for her. She has already lost one parent thanks to Jeongguk’s negligence. She can’t lose another. “Tae, what’s the ETA?”

“Five minutes,” Taehyung curses under his breath, “the crowd is out of control. It’s difficult for them to come through.”

Think, Jeongguk, think. He quickly rips a shirt out of one of the shopping bags, pressing it against the wound in your stomach. Fearing that you’ve fallen into shock, he shrugs off his jacket and wraps it around your body. The entire time, he attempts to keep his demons at bay, keeps the taunting in his mind away. You are the priority in this case.

“I see the stretcher!” Taehyung calls, the relief evident in his voice.

Everything moves too quickly. Jeongguk files into the ambulance with you and Heejin while Taehyung is told to take his own vehicle to the hospital. The entire thing feels like a dream—or a nightmare, Jeongguk can’t really tell. His body that was humming with nerves earlier has gone still, the life drained out of him as he sits in the waiting room.

The worst of the worst scenarios has gone through his mind, leaving his palms sweating and knee bouncing. He tries to stop himself from overthinking and just pray that the best doctor in the city that he hired can get the bullet out of you and put you back in tip top shape.

Jeongguk feels as if he has been thrown back to years ago. His fate like déjà vu.

Taehyung and Heejin returns minutes later when he is lost in his thoughts, their hands joined together. Heejin had cried and cried, her eyes puffy with redness as she crawls up to the seat next to Jeongguk and leans her head against his arm. “Did Uncle Taehyung get you the ice cream?”

She quiets, small hand latching onto Jeongguk’s shirt, and shakes her head. “I don’t want ice cream.”

Jeongguk sighs and pulls her close with an arm around her. She settles on his lap instead and sits quietly. “Don’t worry,” Jeongguk whispers, “mommy will be okay. The doctor will make her all better.” He runs his fingers through her tangled hair as she nods silently.

The two of them sit there for hours, only leaving for bathroom breaks. Heejin fidgets and shifts in her seat until Jeongguk offers his phone for her to distract herself. She takes pictures and plays games, anything that makes her giggle and keeps her mind off of her mother in surgery.

When the doctor finally returns, Jeongguk practically leaps to his feet with Taehyung joining him moments later. “The surgery was a success, she’s asleep right now and resting. We’ll let you know when she awakes but we recommend leaving her be for at least two hours.”

“Thank you, Doctor,” Jeongguk breathes, shaking his hand, “thank you.”

“You’re very welcome, Sir.” The doctor smiles down at Heejin then, “your mother will be just fine, sweetheart. You can see her soon. Stay with your dad for now okay.”

Neither he nor Heejin corrects the mislabel—or rather, Jeongguk’s heart warms at the thought. Taehyung groans in relief, thanking the lords and promising to go to church more often. Heejin laughs and calls him silly.

When he is finally allowed into your room, it feels as if the world has been renewed. You lay there, looking exhausted with hair sticking against your forehead and splayed out on the pillow. Heejin bounces over and engulfs her mom in a tight hug before retreating when she moans in pain. “S-sorry!” Heejin says, wide-eyed, “do you feel better?”

“Much better, baby,” you answer softly, “did you eat yet?”

Even when you are bedridden and recovering from a surgery, you’re still worrying about whether your daughter has eaten. Jeongguk wonders if he’ll ever be as selfless with his own child. Heejin nods eagerly and spills what she has done for the past hours waiting for you.

Taehyung slowly embraces you, whispering words Jeongguk can’t hear from where he stands frozen near the door. You giggle, a sound that has never left him so grateful for the magic of medicine. He leaves afterwards with a note to his boss that he’ll be looking into the shooting with his men.

Jeongguk idles by the door until you gesture him over. He sits down by your bedside, holding your hand in his. Your hand feels a little cold but the tangibility of your presence soothes his apprehension. Before he can say anything, you already say, “This is not your fault. Don’t apologize for it, okay.”

It’s as if you had looked straight into his mind. Christ, he chuckles under his breath and draws circles on the back of your hand. “Alright, I won’t. How are you feeling?”

“Like a bullet just plunged into my stomach and was dug out when my stomach was sliced open.”

Jeongguk winces at the description but laughs because, even in this state, your sense of humor is still intact. “I’m glad the bullet was taken out then.”

You then press your lips together, marring your pretty face with a frown, “However, I do need you to compensate for damages.” Jeongguk cocks an eyebrow. “Considering the injury I sustained and the emotional impact, I think you’ve got a debt now.”

“I’ll definitely pay you back and support—”

“Christ, not that,” you roll your eyes, “you already support Heejin and I anyway, what’s the point of that? This is extra compensation that I’m asking for.”

Jeongguk worries his bottom lip. “What is it?”

“From now on, you’re not allowed to blame yourself for every single bad thing that happens. You’re going to professionally deal with the aftermath of whatever shit you did without pinning guilt onto yourself. I don’t need Heejin growing up with a man still hanging on the words of an asshole like Seungcheol—yes, Taehyung told me if you’re wondering—” this shuts up Jeongguk’s unsaid question “—and you’re going to be a good man to Heejin, a good guardian, because that’s what she deserves. You’re going to do your best to make us happy but most of all, make you happy because that’s what matters to us.”

Unbelievable. He laughs, deep, loud, and genuine. He brushes the tear that has escaped away from his eye to grin at you, nodding, “You didn’t even need to ask. I was planning to do that in the first place.”

“Good,” you say smugly, “you better hold onto your word, Jeon Jeongguk. No man in the Bangtan household is going to be playing a crap archetype.”

“Now that’s a promise I will keep.”

five years later…

You run down the porch, chasing after the wobbling toddler who’s garbling and giggling all the way. “Heesun, come back here!” you groan, tired legs nearly giving out.

By the seaside, Jeongguk scoops up the little boy who lets out a shriek at his father’s capture. “Dad, put me down!” he screams and wriggles in the man’s hold. Instead, Jeongguk carries him like a baby and blows raspberries on his stomach. “Stop! That tickles!” Your boyfriend’s laugh carries in the wind and shooting tingles down your spine.

“Me too!” Heejin squeals and jumps on Jeongguk’s back as he grunts at the weight. He turns around, allowing her legs to swing freely in the air as she let out peals of laughter. The sight of it is all too endearing and your heart hurts in the best way possible.

Jeongguk leans back to whisper something in her ear and Heejin perks up, dropping from his back and running towards you instead. She catches your hand, lips curled mischievously, dimples appearing on both her cheeks, “Mom! Dad wants you to go there so he can give you a big smooch.”

You blush and your gaze darts over to him who grins unapologetically at you. When the four of you finally settle down with a blanket spread out, Heejin feeds Heesun as Jeongguk pulls you close to him. The air is thick with the salty scent of the sea, but the breeze carries a soothing whisper on your skins.

When you had gotten pregnant with Heesun, Jeongguk basically put you in full lockdown until you put your foot down on his irrational protectiveness. Instead, he assigns twice the number of bodyguards whenever you leave the premises.

Life in the organization has been relatively quiet. After the shooter was found to be a man of Seungcheol’s group, it didn’t take them long to confront him. Turns out, the shooter was a close friend of the man who died alongside Namjoon and worked on his own accord to satisfy his personal vendetta.

“We don’t mess with family, Jeon,” Seungcheol had said and Jeongguk let the man off with an instruction to discipline his members.

Time goes by and Jeongguk remains in the organization, leading it with an iron fist but a better heart. He tries to avoid confrontation that involved death and violence for his family’s sake, but when push comes to shove, even you can be understanding. You stay busy with offshore work in the comfort of his humble abode when Heejin advanced in elementary school. It also allows you to spend some time with Heesun who is still being home schooled for kindergarten unlike Heejin who has finally convinced her father to go to a public school.

Her bodyguard still follows her to school to ensure her safety, of course. Though, Heejin has gotten rather fond of the man, often taking him to dog cafés to spend time with her.

Jeongguk leans over and presses a kiss on the back of your ear as his hand lands on your stomach, “You know what I was thinking—”

“No.”

“You haven’t even heard what I was going to say.”

“You want another baby,” you give him a look, “but we both know neither of us can handle another right now.”

He pouts childishly, “But Heesun is already four. He’s growing up too fast.”

“Jeongguk,” you moan in complaint when he tries to manipulate you with kisses all over your face.

“We’ll talk about this more later,” he promises, “Heejin, Heesun, do you want another baby brother or sister?”

The two squeal in agreement simultaneously. You shove at his shoulder with a hiss, “Using the kids as a ploy is immoral.”

“Babe,” he snorts, “I lead a gang. I think I know what counts as immoral and using our kids isn’t.”

“You’re terrible,” you huff.

Jeongguk places a sweet kiss on your lips, “But you love me still.”

“Unfortunately, I do.”

Jeongguk has never felt this kind of contentment and, despite everything else, he keeps the pipe dream going—that he will forever hold this kind of peace. However, he supposes that’s just the way his life should be.

[moonichor-blog]

TAGGED: @kintsuggi  TAGGING: listen. 

LAYER ONE: THE OUTSIDE.

NAME.           LUNAFREYA NOX FLEURET ( luna / the moon. roman moon goddess and equivalent to selene. freya / ‘the lady’  another form of freyja, the norse goddess associated with fertility, war, death, seidr - a sort of shamanic magic - gold, love & sex.  nox / latin for night. fleuret / a sword, or foil - which also is a synonym for to prevent ironically )  EYE COLOUR.        sky blue / cyan. ( if you take it in a very microscopic analytical way: the shade of blue that the sky resembles is basically only created by sunlit molecules in the atmosphere. luna is in a very bizarre way a materialized dream of selene’s ‘day-dreaming’ / existing in a mirroring effect opposing her actual self. though we know beyond the blue, there is obscurity and darkness only waiting to be discovered but so majestically hidden, you can only wait till night-time to unveil it, if you can stay for that long. )  HAIR STYLE/COLOUR.        golden hair . ( given freyja is associated with the color gold & seidr, in which luna’s healing magic reminds strongly of such, in prowess, and color...  her hair color might be manipulated by the genetical anchor that this magic has already bitten itself into  ) long locks, mostly styled and pinned up, with sideswap braids fixated across her crown. she certainly needs hair maidens to style her hair each morn  HEIGHT.       167cm ( 5 feet 6 inches ) . CLOTHING STYLE.        extraordinary, elegant, expensive dresses. casual clothing is worn too with elegance. such as blouses and skirts. clean, and oft lily-white.  rarely does she wear black or blue, but would do so occasionally. BEST PHYSICAL FEATURE.        her back. ( dont @ me rn, i have an explanation ) its strong and well toned. its the middle ground between fine and firm. stiffened and always straightened when she stands or sits. its a fragment of her strictness and strength in how she carries herself.  these shoulder blades,  whenever exposed, show those of a saint who does not fear to openly present her best feature indeed.  

LAYER TWO: THE INSIDE

YOUR FEARS.       actions being in vain. sacrifices done for naught. oh the emotional exposure.    YOUR GUILTY PLEASURE.        writing a journal / diary. a place to express herself between pages and ink, as a rather cheap replacement for someone to talk to. often in form of poetry or not-so-pleasantly looking drawings does she pour thoughts and sentiments and allows herself to let go of all these harbored things in her mind.  YOUR BIGGEST PET PEEVE.       being objectified. being seen as trophy or treasure. despite her being used to ‘be’ the holy grail that grants miraculous healing --- she is greatly peeved to be seen as only this. however, she can separate professional duty as oracle and her personal disdain, and her compassion comes with a price.    YOUR AMBITIONS FOR THE FUTURE.         verse dependent. in most cases to fulfill her purpose, no matter how hard the work may be. / with the exception for one particular verse in which she aims to break free from god-given captivity. 

LAYER THREE: THOUGHTS

YOUR FIRST THOUGHTS WAKING UP .          there is a specific blankness.  WHAT YOU THINK ABOUT MOST .       knowing about things she will not be able to reach for, nor would she accomplish certain things, given her confined limitations. rationally she is not a fan of day dreaming and far too devoted to her duties and the prophecy.  WHAT YOU THINK ABOUT BEFORE BED .         everything. too much. wondering if she did enough. wondering if her knowledge will be enough for the next day, and if not, how much would she need to learn? how long would it take to get back to the sky and how long would it take to carry this body that has her skin but feels not as her right type of skin. how much longer must she endure only to lay into bed the next day and ask the same questions. / most likely, leading back to her objectification pet peeve, and how A CERTAIN SOMEONE does exactly the opposite and it’s tearing her apart and draws her away to think about something else than what she devoted herself to. YOU THINK YOUR BEST QUALITY IS .         to fake a smile. to fake stability. to emotionally detach herself and if she doesn’t, knowing how to stay.  

LAYER FOUR: WHAT’S BETTER?

SINGLE OR GROUP DATES.          single . TO BE LOVED OR RESPECTED.       respected . ( some inner desire of her says to be loved, but it’s greatly overshadowed by her rational wish to be respected, to be treated right, which sometimes you cannot receive with love. sometimes you face disrespect, or are not treated the way you expect, even when you are loved, and she is aware of that.  ) BEAUTY OR BRAINS.       brains . DOGS OR CATS.         both. whilst the moon has a certain relationship to canine-animals ( example, wolves howling to the moon ) freyja has a fondness to cats.

LAYER FIVE: DO YOU…

LIE.       yes . BELIEVE IN YOURSELF .        barely , though, forcefully.  BELIEVE IN LOVE.         as a rarity . WANT SOMEONE.         hah.

LAYER SIX: EVER BEEN…

BEEN ON STAGE.       yes, mostly speeches / preaches / gospel.  and eventually the ceremony of the ascension as oracle required a public first healing performance  DONE DRUGS.       no, not for addiction purposes. rather medication, if any.  CHANGED WHO YOU WERE TO FIT IN.         yes & no, afford to blend in with the casual masses she cannot in her grander role as public figure. she is in fact very much residing in utter distance from where she could fit in, therefore she did not change who she was, willingly. /  she only attempted to ‘fit in’ on her getaway from the empire, and during travels across Eos, only to not out-stand too much and get caught on the long run. less extravagant clothing and hairstyles was all she did for that. old habits die hard though, such as extremely formal speech and her posture. 

LAYER SEVEN: FAVORITES

FAVORITE COLOR.          white / silver and black. FAVORITE ANIMAL.         she appreciates any animal FAVORITE MOVIE.           she is more into books than anything. though she would enjoy drama & thrillers FAVORITE GAME.            chess certainly. 

LAYER EIGHT: AGE

DAY YOUR NEXT BIRTHDAY WILL BE.       tuesday, 4th of september. HOW OLD WILL YOU BE.        25 years as mortal ( which is a lie, she doesn’t even reach 25, she dies being 24 )   /    4.5+ billion years and onward as selene AGE YOU LOST YOUR VIRGINITY.         N / A DOES AGE MATTER.        depends on the case. you can be the oldest being, and still be foolish and unwise. intercourse-wise, the age of consent is still something of importance.  

LAYER NINE: IN A PERSON

BEST PERSONALITY .        ‘contrasting’  /  ability to reflect her own madness /  humorous enough to make her genuinely laugh  /   give the feeling of safety & openness  BEST EYE COLOR .        any BEST HAIR COLOR .        any BEST THING TO DO WITH A PARTNER .         existing   /  feeling  /  closeness  /  honesty  ( very simple and base things but as humane as they are, its something she is not very practiced with )

LAYER TEN: FINISH THE SENTENCE

I LOVE.        balance  /   chaos I FEEL.         light   /  heavy  /  chained  /  caged I HIDE.         nothing   /    everything  I MISS.         my body I WISH.        for release. 

[karojoseph]

There Are Mornings by Lisel Mueller

Even now, when the plot calls for me to turn to stone, the sun intervenes. Some mornings in summer I step outside and the sky opens and pours itself into me as if I were a saint about to die. But the plot calls for me to live, be ordinary, say nothing to anyone. Inside the house the mirrors burn when I pass. --Lisel Mueller

[goneontherun]

5 nov

i dreamt last night i was in the house in belsize park again -- in that cold but beautiful room on the top floor looking towards hampstead heath. sentimental for something vague these days, some feeling from a whole lifetime ago. now i’m in the season of new beginnings, and i find i’m struggling to put myself into words for other people. it’s hard to say i’m like this or i want this -- how much of my own inclinations and desires do i really know? where does my narrative arc intersect with another person’s? how much can i evolve and still be me? 

There are Mornings -- Lisel Mueller 

Even now, when the plot calls for me to turn to stone, the sun intervenes. Some mornings in summer, I step outside and the sky opens and pours itself into me as if I were a saint about to die. But the plot calls for me to live, be ordinary, say nothing to anyone. Inside the house, the mirrors burn when I pass.

[brittanyyoungblog]

100+ Love Quotes for Her: Cute, Romantic Quotes She’ll Love

There are relationships, then there’s true love. You’re with someone new, and it’s different. Or maybe, you’ve been together for years. Either way, it’s deep, exciting, special. You want to pour your guts out to her. Maybe you have already. If you’re having trouble putting words to your feelings, don’t worry—most people do.

Here are over 100 quotes to help you put your feelings into the right words.

  You’ve gotta dance like there’s nobody watching. Love like you’ll never be hurt. Sing like there’s nobody listening. And live like it’s heaven on earth.

—William W. Purkey

You know you’re in love when you can’t fall asleep because reality is finally better than your dreams.

—Dr. Seuss

  Only once in your life, I truly believe, you find someone who can completely turn your world around. You tell them things that you’ve never shared with another soul and they absorb everything you say and actually want to hear more. You share hopes for the future, dreams that will never come true, goals that were never achieved and the many disappointments life has thrown at you. When something wonderful happens, you can’t wait to tell them about it, knowing they will share in your excitement. They are not embarrassed to cry with you when you are hurting or laugh with you when you make a fool of yourself. Never do they hurt your feelings or make you feel like you are not good enough, but rather they build you up and show you the things about yourself that make you special and even beautiful. There is never any pressure, jealousy or competition but only a quiet calmness when they are around. You can be yourself and not worry about what they will think of you because they love you for who you are. The things that seem insignificant to most people such as a note, song or walk become invaluable treasures kept safe in your heart to cherish forever. Memories of your childhood come back and are so clear and vivid it’s like being young again. Colours seem brighter and more brilliant. Laughter seems part of daily life where before it was infrequent or didn’t exist at all. A phone call or two during the day helps to get you through a long day’s work and always brings a smile to your face. In their presence, there’s no need for continuous conversation, but you find you’re quite content in just having them nearby. Things that never interested you before become fascinating because you know they are important to this person who is so special to you. You think of this person on every occasion and in everything you do. Simple things bring them to mind like a pale blue sky, gentle wind or even a storm cloud on the horizon. You open your heart knowing that there’s a chance it may be broken one day and in opening your heart, you experience a love and joy that you never dreamed possible. You find that being vulnerable is the only way to allow your heart to feel true pleasure that’s so real it scares you. You find strength in knowing you have a true friend and possibly a soul mate who will remain loyal to the end. Life seems completely different, exciting and worthwhile. Your only hope and security is in knowing that they are a part of your life.

—Bob Marley

As he read, I fell in love the way you fall asleep: slowly, and then all at once.

—John Green

I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where. I love you simply, without problems or pride: I love you in this way because I do not know any other way of loving but this, in which there is no I or you, so intimate that your hand upon my chest is my hand, so intimate that when I fall asleep your eyes close. —Pablo Neruda

Have you ever been in love? Horrible isn’t it? It makes you so vulnerable. It opens your chest and it opens up your heart and it means that someone can get inside you and mess you up.

—Neil Gaiman

I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where. I love you simply, without problems or pride: I love you in this way because I do not know any other way of loving but this, in which there is no I or you, so intimate that your hand upon my chest is my hand, so intimate that when I fall asleep your eyes close.

—Pablo Neruda

Love is that condition in which the happiness of another person is essential to your own. —Robert A. Heinlein

There is only one happiness in this life, to love and be loved.

—George Sand

The most important thing in the world is family and love.

—John Wooden

The one thing we can never get enough of is love. And the one thing we never give enough is love.

—Henry Miller

A loving heart is the truest wisdom.

—Charles Dickens Treasure the love you receive above all. It will survive long after your good health has vanished.

—Og Mandino

Love is, above all, the gift of oneself.

—Jean Anouilh

Unconditional love really exists in each of us. It is part of our deep inner being. It is not so much an active emotion as a state of being. It’s not ‘I love you’ for this or that reason, not ‘I love you if you love me.’ It’s love for no reason, love without an object.

—Ram Dass

Love doesn’t make the world go ’round. Love is what makes the ride worthwhile. —Franklin P. Jones

Love is all we have, the only way that each can help the other.

—Euripides

  Life is a game and true love is a trophy.

—Rufus Wainwright

There is always some madness in love. But there is also always some reason in madness.

—Friedrich Nietzsche

To witness two lovers is a spectacle for the gods. Johann Wolfgang von Goethe You’re not looking for perfection in your partner. Perfection is all about the ego. With soulmate love, you know that true love is what happens when disappointment sets in – and you’re willing to deal maturely with these disappointments.

—Karen Salmansohn

Love is like a virus. It can happen to anybody at any time.

—Maya Angelou

Love grows more tremendously full, swift, poignant, as the years multiply. Zane Grey A kiss is a lovely trick designed by nature to stop speech when words become superfluous.

—Ingrid Bergman

The course of true love never did run smooth.

—William Shakespeare

I love you more than my own skin.

—Frida Kahlo

Life is the flower for which love is the honey.

—Victor Hugo

Flatter me, and I may not believe you. Criticize me, and I may not like you. Ignore me, and I may not forgive you. Encourage me, and I will not forget you. Love me and I may be forced to love you.

—William Arthur Ward

Who ever loved that loved not at first sight?

—Christopher Marlowe

True love is like ghosts, which everyone talks about and few have seen.

—Francois de La Rochefoucauld

The thing is that love gives us a ringside seat on somebody else’s flaws, so of course you’re gonna spot some things that kinda need to be mentioned. But often the romantic view is to say, ‘If you loved me, you wouldn’t criticise me.’ Actually, true love is often about trying to teach someone how to be the best version of themselves.

—Alain de Botton

Love is like a beautiful flower which I may not touch, but whose fragrance makes the garden a place of delight just the same.

—Helen Keller True love cannot be found where it does not exist, nor can it be denied where it does. —Torquato Tasso

    We’ve got this gift of love, but love is like a precious plant. You can’t just accept it and leave it in the cupboard or just think it’s going to get on by itself. You’ve got to keep watering it. You’ve got to really look after it and nurture it.

—John Lennon

Love is friendship set on fire.

—Jeremy Taylor

Love knows not distance; it hath no continent; its eyes are for the stars. Gilbert Parker True love is eternal, infinite, and always like itself. It is equal and pure, without violent demonstrations: it is seen with white hairs and is always young in the heart.

—Honore de Balzac

The things that we love tell us what we are.

—Thomas Aquinas

I love you—I am at rest with you—I have come home.

—Dorothy L. Sayers

Love is the beauty of the soul.

—Saint Augustine

To me, a forever love is a bond that can’t be broken.

—Nick Cannon

Keep love in your heart. A life without it is like a sunless garden when the flowers are dead.

—Oscar Wilde

With love and patience, nothing is impossible.

—Daisaku Ikeda

Love and a red rose can’t be hid.

—Thomas Holcroft

Love will find a way through paths where wolves fear to prey.

—Lord Byron

True love, to me, is when she’s the first thought that goes through your head when you wake up and the last thought that goes through your head before you go to sleep.

—Justin Timberlake

Loyalty and devotion lead to bravery. Bravery leads to the spirit of self-sacrifice. The spirit of self-sacrifice creates trust in the power of love.

—Morihei Ueshiba

The giving of love is an education in itself.

—Eleanor Roosevelt

Unable are the loved to die, for love is immortality.

—Emily Dickinson

Love is like a friendship caught on fire. In the beginning a flame, very pretty, often hot and fierce, but still only light and flickering. As love grows older, our hearts mature and our love becomes as coals, deep-burning and unquenchable.

—Bruce Lee Familiar acts are beautiful through love.

—Percy Bysshe Shelley

Whatever is done for love always occurs beyond good and evil.

—Friedrich Nietzsche

We loved with a love that was more than love.

—Edgar Allan Poe

Love is the silent saying and saying of a single name.

—Mignon McLaughlin

Maybe true love isn’t out there for me, but I can sublimate my loneliness with the notion that true love is out there for someone.

—Roxane Gay

Love is a gross exaggeration of the difference between one person and everybody else. —George Bernard Shaw

Love is my religion – I could die for it.

—John Keats

True love lasts forever.

—Joseph B. Wirthlin

Love is the only sane and satisfactory answer to the problem of human existence.

—Erich Fromm

Love is an irresistible desire to be irresistibly desired.

IFTTT