#i requested new cards and i have a backup emergency card but like

[girlfriendsofthegalaxy]

had to make eleven phone calls today. none of them resulted in anything actionable. also at some point today i lost my little phone wallet with my two most important cards

[fics-n-stuff]

Home - Pt 2

For @glowstick-lesbian, request here

Pairing: Kaz Brekker x Reader

Summary: After Y/N finally gets out hiding, it's time to sit down with Kaz and talk through whatever it is that's going on between them.

Word Count: 5.1k

Warnings: Brief talk of Jordie and Kaz's trauma and touch aversion

A/N: Wow this ended up being longer than I intended! I'm so sorry it's taken so long, I was focused on The Bastard's Shadow and Affluenza pts1 + 2, and then I started picking up more shifts at work and got writers block at the same time. I really hope you like how it turned out!! ❤❤

Pt1 here

After the very enlightening visit from Kaz, the days seemed to drag on even slower than before. The next two months went by in a crawl, and no matter how much you buried yourself in work you couldn’t distract from the longing you felt to get out of your apartment.

When your messenger came to deliver the news that your pursuers were willing to come to a truce you had been so happy that you’d gone straight to pour yourself a glass of whisky to celebrate. From then, you counted down the days until the meeting that you set up, the result of which should mean that you were free to roam the city again.

Inej had shown you how to get out of the window and onto the roof months ago. It was your escape route in case of an emergency, but you had used it every now and then just to sit on the roof and enjoy a taste of the outside world. That night, you had climbed out with intention and dressed in your finest coat.

You travelled over the rooftops towards the Government district, where your meeting had been arranged to take place near the Stadhall. The presence of the stadwatch would serve to protect you in case the deal went south.

You had been jittery with a mix of anxiety and excitement when you descended to street level and wended your way through the streets to find three men waiting for you at the Stadhall, all of them tall, broad and commanding. Barrel businessmen that you had crossed one too many times, and no doubt they had been angered that forcing you into hiding hadn’t put a stop to your business.

You were too smart to have not found a way around it; you had to be to run the business that you did. You owned three boarding houses and two bars in the Barrel and two ships that brought in imports from Ravka and Novyi Zem, a squaller as a permanent fixture on the crew of each to whom you paid a fair salary. You’d had Kaz put them under the protection of the Dregs to keep them safe from slavers. On top of all of that, you used your contacts in Ravka, Novyi Zem and other parts of Kerch to help get kids out of the Barrel and into honest work elsewhere. You might operate from the criminal underbelly of Ketterdam, but you made a mostly honest living.

The meeting took longer than you had anticipated. The three men were eager to negotiate territories that you couldn’t conduct business in and items that they didn’t want you to import because it was cutting into their own business. You held firm, you knew what was fair and you would be damned if you let anyone bully you into submission.

In the end, you essentially just agreed not to get in their way, which was easy enough to do. You wouldn’t actively compete with them in the sale of imported goods, and you wouldn’t try to convince any of the lads that they used as runners and grunts to get out of the Barrel. As long as you kept your distance from them you’d be fine, since they were clearly tired of chasing after you.

“Alright then, the deal is the deal.” You said, holding out your hand. All three shook hands with you in turn, echoing the phrase as was customary. When the man in the middle – clearly the leader and the last to shake with you – took your hand, you tightened your grip and leaned forward. “If you try to cheat me after this deal, you will have Dirtyhands to answer to.” You said lowly. He tried not to show his reaction but the fear in his eyes betrayed him, and you released his hand. It wasn’t often that you involved Kaz and his reputation in your affairs, but sometimes it paid to be friends with the most ruthless man in Ketterdam.

You left the meeting with your head held high and took a gondel back to the Barrel. You were approached by a few people who stayed in one of your boarding houses or drank in one of your bars on your walk to the Crow Club, telling you that they had been curious or worried about having not seen you around for so long. You didn’t engage in any conversation beyond polite acknowledgment, too eager to get to the Crow Club.

Inej was the only one that knew that you were getting out tonight. You had told her when she had come to deliver your food for the week and she had promised to try and keep everyone corralled at the Crow Club so that you could make a big entrance, but the later it got the less likely it was that she could keep them all there without raising suspicion.

You practically ran down the last street towards the Crow Club, bursting through the open door and searching the crowd for your friends. Jesper caught sight of you at the same moment that you spotted them all at the bar, and you saw his jaw drop in shock. A huge grin spread on your face as he set his drink down, his sudden change in demeanor getting the attention of the rest of the group and causing them to turn to follow his gaze.

“Y/N?” Jesper called, prompting you into as much of a sprint as you could manage across the crowded floor of the gambling hall. You vaulted yourself into him, wrapping your arms tightly around his lanky frame. “You’re back! How?” He exclaimed, and you laughed as you felt him hug you back and sweep you off of your feet.

“I had a meeting to call a truce. As of tonight I am a free person!”

“We missed you so much!” Nina grinned, prying Jesper’s arms off of you so that she could pull into a hug herself. “Why didn’t you tell us that you were finally coming out of hiding?”

“I wanted it to be a surprise.” You grinned, pulling away so that you could move to hug Wylan next. “I missed you guys so much too, you have no idea.” You caught sight of Kaz over Wylan’s shoulder, his eyes wide as if he couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing. You pointed your smile at him and his lips twitched upwards before he cooled his expression and gave you a simple nod.

Your reunion was spirited to say the least, even Matthias couldn’t help but smile at the fact that you were back. You made them tell you about all of the most significant things that you had missed in the year that you had been trapped inside and update you on any power shifts between the Barrel gangs. Jesper wouldn’t shut up, Wylan was excited to tell you about all of the new explosives and weapons that he had developed, and Nina was making a list of places that she wanted to get lunch together to make up for lost time. It felt amazing to be with them all again.

“Okay! I want to play a few hands of Three Man Bramble before I go.” You announced, pushing your glass away from you after downing the last of its contents.

“Don’t have to ask me twice.” Jesper grinned, slinging an arm around your shoulder and guiding you to a table.

It seemed apt that fortune seemed to be in your favour, winning so consistently that you continued to play even though you knew that you shouldn’t. It felt like every time that you looked up from the table you caught Kaz watching you, and his unashamed gaze made your heart flutter.

After a while you saw him give a slight nod towards the door, an action that meant that it was time to go, and you tucked you lip between you teeth as you gave a subtle nod back and turned your attention back to your cards.

“Unbelievable!” Jesper exclaimed upon seeing that you had won again. “I guess you’re catching up on a year’s worth of luck.”

“Perhaps, but I’m going to quit while I’m ahead.” You smiled, gathering up your winnings. “I need to go and breathe some more fresh air.” You pocketed half of your winnings and pushed the other half around the table to Jesper. “Not too much fun.”

“There’s no such thing as too much fun.” He beamed and pulled you to him so that he could plant a kiss on your cheek. “Good to have you back, Y/N.”

“Good to be back, Jes.” You winked before bounding back to the bar to say goodbye to the rest of your friends. Kaz had already disappeared, no doubt in an attempt to avoid drawing attention to the fact that you were leaving together.

“We’re going to get waffles tomorrow. I will break your door down if I have to.” Nina asserted, practically crushing your ribs in a hug. “Inej, you’re coming too.”

“What about me?” Wylan pouted, and you laughed.

“Everyone’s invited.” You replied, holding his face and turning it towards you so that you could press a soft kiss on his forehead before pulling him in for a hug. “I just got out, I want to spend time with you all!”

You kept your hug with Inej pretty short, considerate of the bad feelings that too much contact could stir up in her, and even managed to coax a hug from Matthias before you headed out. Kaz was waiting not far from the entrance and you smiled as you quickly made your way towards him

“Hey.” You chirped.

“You wanted it to be a surprise, huh?” He questioned, starting towards the Slat. You chuckled.

“I know you’re not a big fan of surprises, Kaz, but I thought this might be a fun one. Why? Were you offended that I told Inej and not you?”

“Did you have anyone go with you to your meeting?”

“No, I didn’t need any backup.”

“Things could have gone badly, and you didn’t tell anyone about it.”

“Well things didn’t go badly.” You rebutted. “I’m here, I’m fine, and I surprised you all.”

“You shouldn’t put yourself in danger like that.” Kaz said flatly, ignoring your point, and you groaned loudly at his stubbornness.

“If it makes you feel better, I made sure to drop your name in to intimidate them. But I can handle my own business.”

You hopped along the cobblestones playfully, irrationally happy to be back out on the filthy and foul smelling streets of the Barrel, but even the stink couldn’t dampen your joy at finally being free. You were sure that you and Kaz probably looked like a bizarre pair walking together now, him with his stoic exterior and identifying limp next to your childlike joy, though you had taken after him fashion wise with your smart attire and well-fitted, black coat.

Walking back to the Slat with Kaz took you in the opposite direction to your home – now that you were out of hiding you could finally return to where you actually lived in a house on the boundary of East Stave and the Zelver District – but you wanted to talk to Kaz, and he wouldn’t have asked you to leave with him if he didn’t want to talk to you too. Nevertheless, you continued the rest of the walk in silence.

When you got to the Slat, Kaz continued straight up to his room while you lingered on the ground floor to say hello to some of the Dregs that you were more friendly with. The noise of the Slat was unfamiliar to you after so long, but you had kind of missed the rowdiness of it.

You followed upstairs shortly after. Kaz had left his door ajar for you and you could see him sat at his desk through the opening.

“Shut the door behind you.” He said as you slipped inside, and you heard the door click as you push it shut after yourself.

“You wanna talk to me?” You questioned, walking over to lean on the side of the desk casually. “Or did you just want some time to look at my gorgeous face?” He did look up at you then, his eyes darting around to take in the entirety of your face, and you felt your heart flutter.

“How did your meeting go? What deals did you make?” He asked. You sighed. It wasn’t new that Kaz was asking about your business, he liked to know about what you were doing the same way that he liked to know about literally everything else, but you had hoped that this conversation would be a little less mundane than that. You had hoped that he might express an iota of joy that you were back.

“I can’t dock my ships in 3rd Harbour anymore.” You shrugged. “So I’ll stick to 2nd for imports going into the morning market, mostly 5th for everything else. There’s a few streets that I need to keep my business off of, and obviously I can’t try and undermine their operations anymore. That doesn’t mean that I won’t, it just means that I’ll be smarter about not getting caught.”

“And what do you get from them?”

“They leave me alone. I don’t need more than that. I mean, their terms are hardly going to impede my business anyway.”

“And your insurance?”

“You.” You smiled sweetly. “Very few people are bold enough to cross someone that has Kaz Brekker on side.”

“I thought you prided yourself on running an honest business.”

“I do. My association with you doesn’t make my business any less legit. I’m more honest than most of the Merchant Council anyway.”

“That’s fair.” He conceded with a slight nod.

Kaz had visited you a few times since the night that you had both let on about how much you cared about each other, but you hadn’t talked about it. It felt like the tension between you had been building and building like an elastic band ready to snap. It was driving you crazy.

“Anything else that you want to talk about?” You hinted. Kaz let out a long breath, his eyes sliding away from you for a moment. You could tell that he wanted to talk about it but he was struggling to get it out. “Because you haven’t told me that you’re glad I’m back yet.”

“I am glad that you’re back.” He affirmed, then he took a hard swallow. “We all missed you.” You smiled brightly at that.

You could hear the crows moving around on the half-roof outside of Kaz’s window and crossed the room to perch on the windowsill. There hadn’t been anywhere for the birds to land in the apartment that you had been cooped up in.

“Can I stay here for a while? I don’t want to be alone again just yet.” You said softly, tucking one knee up against your chest as you watched the birds through the glass.

“Sure.” Kaz answered.

You sat in silence for a while after that, which wasn’t unusual for you two. Before you had gone into hiding, you had spent many evenings with Kaz in his office just like this. Tonight felt different though. Something had opened between the two of you and now you couldn’t close it. The feeling permeated every corner of the room until you felt like you might explode if you didn’t break this silence, but, to your surprise, Kaz spoke first.

“I’ve been thinking about that day that I saw you outside the Crow Club.”

“Why?” You asked, blinking in surprise. Kaz was still facing forward at his desk, back turned to you, but his pen had stilled over the page.

“I watched you for a while, deciding whether to chase you off or recruit you for the Dregs.” He continued, ignoring your question. You were used to that too. “You were good at pickpocketing – you could spot a good mark, distracted them by pretending to beg for pennies – but you stayed in one place for too long.”

“I know, you told me at the time.” You smiled amusedly.

“I was just planning on telling you exactly that, but after I got your attention and you looked at me I knew that I had seen you before. It was in your eyes.” He turned around to look at you then, his gaze finding yours immediately. “Your eyes never changed.”

Kaz’s eyes had. Maybe that was why you hadn’t recognised him. Kaz Rietveld had eyes full of wonder and warmth, that were curious about everything and shone when he was happy. Kaz Brekker's eyes were cold, they held secrets. The curiosity had become analytical, and the shine had turned into a devious glint. Kaz Rietveld didn’t exist anymore, the R tattoo on Kaz’s bicep was the only relic of him, and you were the only one left to remember him.

“Crows remember the faces of those that are kind.” He finished softly.

“And that’s why you took me in? Because I was kind?”

“Because we were friends. We are friends.”

“Just friends?” You murmured, a challenge in your eyes. It wasn’t a provoking challenge, more of an encouraging one. You wanted to know where he stood and you wanted him to be able to tell you. He was silent for a long stretch.

“Would we ever be able to be more?” He asked. You knew what he meant. Kaz had built up so many walls that he didn’t know how to let down, and he knew that about himself. It was how he had survived, but it was a way of being that wasn’t very conducive to relationships. He didn’t think that he could do it.

“That depends on you.” You answered with a soft smile. “Because I’m not looking anywhere else.” Kaz swallowed and looked away quickly, but you swore that you had seen a hint of a blush in his cheeks.

A knock came at the door, and you cursed whoever was on the other side in your head.

“What is it?” Kaz called.

“There’s a man downstairs says he has a job for you.” Specht’s voice came through the wood. “Won’t talk to no one else but you.”

“I’ll be down in a minute.” Kaz replied, then muttered something under his breath bitterly. You heard the creak of Specht's retreating footsteps and Kaz turned to you. “Will you wait until I get back?”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

You watched Kaz leave the room and let out a long sigh once the door had closed behind him. You were finally talking about whatever it was that was between the two of you and you just had to get interrupted.

You shed your coat, dropping it lazily on the floor next to you, and rolled up your shirt sleeves. Despite the pressure put on you from some members of the Dregs, you had never gotten the crow and cup tattoo on your forearm. You had known from the start that you didn’t want to belong to the gang, no matter how thankful you were for the help that Kaz had given you.

When you had realised who it really was that had approached you that night outside the Crow Club, you had been shocked. He knew your name when he spoke to you, though he had seemed unsure of it, and you had furrowed your brow and asked if you knew him.

“It’s Kaz.” He had said, and you had blinked.

“Kaz Rietveld?” You had whispered in disbelief. His jaw had clenched, his shoulders stiffened.

“That’s not my name anymore.” He snapped. “It’s Kaz Brekker now.”

When you asked him why he had changed his name he had simply told you that it was easier that way. When you asked him about why he was in Ketterdam he had answered that his father had died and they had sold the farm. When you asked about Jodie he didn’t answer.

He had walked you to the Slat, told you not to talk to anyone, and brought you up to this very room. You had trusted him enough to follow. Despite his proud presence in the Barrel, despite the fact that he was walking you into the den of a gang, despite the fact that he was almost unrecognisable from the Kaz that you knew as a child, you had trusted him. And in the years that followed, he had never broken that trust.

He had helped you pay for the first boarding house that you purchased, come with you to the bank when you took out the loan to buy your first ship, had come to the harbour to see you off the first time that you had gone to Ravka.

Kaz had once reminded you of something from your childhood while around the other Crows, and once it had slipped that you and Kaz had been friends when you were young, people were constantly asking you about what he had been like. He never told anybody anything about himself and people had been eager to find a source of information on him, but most people had quickly come to realise that you weren’t going to say anything either. Kaz had never thanked you for your discretion, but you knew that he was glad for it.

If you were honest with yourself, you had found yourself drawn to him ever since you got your first glimpse through his cold and uncaring exterior and saw his loyal and protective nature. The pull had only grown since.

Your thoughts were broken by the sound of the door opening, and you looked over to watch Kaz enter. The door clicked shut behind him and he moved to the wash basin directly across the room from the window that you were sat in, set down his cane and pulled off his gloves .

“A good job?” You asked. He shrugged.

“A job that I’ll do.” He answered and began unbuttoning his shirt. You tried not ogle as he pulled it off and picked up the washcloth from the basin, but you caught sight of a reddened stripe of raised skin across his side and furrowed your brows.

“When did that happen?”

“A few days ago.”

“How deep did it go?”

“Not too deep.”

“It doesn’t look like you stitched it up properly.”

“It’s fine.” He dismissed. You rolled your eyes and got up from the window ledge. Kaz never took proper care of himself but he was always too stubborn to admit it.

“Let me see.”

“I said it’s fine, Y/N-"

“Kaz.” You interrupted sternly, meeting his eyes in the mirror. “I said let me see.” He held your gaze for a moment before letting out a huff and raising his arm so that you could get a better view of the wound.

You kept your distance as you looked over the injury, but you could clearly see that the stitches were sloppy on the end of the gash towards his back; the side that he couldn’t reach easily himself.

“You’re keeping it clean?”

“I know how to treat a wound.” He grumbled.

“I know that you know how, that doesn’t mean that I actually trust you to do it. You didn’t even have it bandaged or anything, what if it gets infected?”

“It won’t, Y/N, stop worrying so much.”

“Well, if you’re not going to worry about yourself then somebody else has to.” You exasperated. “At least bandage it.” You didn’t wait for a reply before you crossed over to the cabinet where he kept his impressive stock of medical supplies and grabbed a roll of gauze. Kaz caught it grudgingly when you tossed it to him and set it to the side while he finished washing his torso.

“You worry too much.” He muttered.

“It’s good for you.” You smiled.

You watched him as he unrolled the gauze and wrapped it around his body, carefully laying it over the wound with pale fingers that you rarely saw. He was precise, but he couldn’t see his back and the bandage twisted as he moved it between his hands.

“It’s folded.” You told him softly, taking half a step towards him. “I can fix it... if you want.” There was a beat of silence before Kaz nodded slightly.

You moved towards him slowly and reached for him even slower, your eyes constantly flicking back to the mirror to gauge the reaction on Kaz’s face. Your fingertips barely brushed over his back as you unfolded the downturned piece of bandage and you immediately stepped away when you were done. It took no more than a few seconds, but you could hear Kaz’s short breaths and when you looked at him in the mirror you could see that he had paled.

You picked up the clean shirt that was laid on his bed and held it out to him at full arms length. His hand shook as he took it from you. He pulled it on quickly, making short work of the buttons, and pulled his gloves back on hastily.

“Sorry.” You mumbled, though you weren’t exactly sure what you were apologising for.

“It’s because of Jordie.” Kaz’s voice was hoarse when he spoke, his eyes trained on his shoes. “Why I can’t touch anyone. It’s because when he died...”

“You don’t have to tell me, Kaz.” You said softly when he trailed off. He shook his head slightly and cleared his throat, squeezing his eyes shut for a few seconds.

“When Jordie died, I was sick too. It was the Queen's Lady plague. One night, I fell asleep in an alley and woke up on the Reaper's Barge.” He swallowed thickly, wringing his hands together thoughtlessly, and you could see sweat forming on his brow. “When my fever broke, I had to swim back to the harbour, and Jordie... whenever someone touches me, all I can feel is those corpses.”

Silence hung between you as you tried to find the words to respond. It was a lot of information to take in, but suddenly things made sense. Now you understood why Kaz had become the way that he was; why he was prone to shutting people out, why the light behind his eyes had dimmed.

“Kaz, I... I’m sorry, I don’t know what to say.”

“That’s okay.” He muttered. “I have work to do. You’re welcome to stay as long as you’d like.” He crossed the room to sit down at his desk, his movements tense. You watched him for a minute, unsure of what to do. It felt wrong to leave him alone right now, but you didn’t know if he would want you to stay.

“I’m sailing to Novyi Zem next week.” You said. It was the first topic that you could think of. “I’d really appreciate it if you could look over the rent ledgers while I’m gone.”

“Sure.” He replied flatly. Silence again.

“Will you come with us all to get waffles tomorrow?”

“I have work to do, and Nina didn’t invite me anyway.”

“Yeah, well, the celebration is for me and I’d really like for you to be there.” You smiled slightly. “She probably didn’t invite you because she knew you’d say no.”

“Smart of her.” Kaz responded, and you let out a frustrated huff.

“Don’t do that, Kaz. Don’t shut me out.” You complained. He didn’t answer at all. You folded your arms over your chest and went to stand beside his chair. “I don’t care that you can’t touch people, it doesn’t bother me. You went through trauma and that’s not your fault. What is bothering me is that you’re choosing to stay closed off to everyone. You can’t keep your walls up forever, you’ll kill yourself trying.”

“I can’t handle it, Y/N.” He snapped, his voice low. The gravel in his voice might have intimidated you into backing off if you weren’t so adamant on getting through to him.

“You’ll never be able to handle it if you don’t start trying.” You insisted. “Maybe if you’d just admit to yourself that you care about people it wouldn’t be so hard to see that we care about you too.”

Kaz pinched the bridge of his nose, his eyes shut tightly, and released a long breath. You watched him, waiting for a response, not backing down. After a moment of silence, he glanced up at you.

“I can’t need anyone.” He said slowly. “Not after Jordie. I can’t let myself need anyone else.”

“You don’t have to need me, Kaz. You just have to want me.” You replied softly. His head snapped towards you and you actually saw his pupils dilate for the few seconds that he held your gaze before quickly turning away again. You hadn’t meant it like that, but you weren’t upset that he’d heard it that way.

“I don’t deserve you.” He muttered. You leaned against his desk, a sympathetic smile on your face even though he wasn’t looking at you.

“I’ve been around this long, I’m not going anywhere.” You promised. “There’s more to love about you than you think.”

Kaz tapped on his desk with a finger, a nervous action that he would usually suppress. Then, he took a sharp inhale and turned back to you.

“Okay.” He breathed. “I can try.” You bit down on your tongue in an attempt to suppress your grin, but you couldn’t stop the smile that stretched across your face.

“That’s all I ask.” You lilted. You stood up straight, pushing off of the desk and starting across the room to the window. You rolled your shirt sleeves down and snatched your coat up from the floor. “I’m going to head home. I expect to see you at my door promptly at eleven bells tomorrow morning, ready to get waffles.”

“Alright.” He nodded, breathing a single light laugh.

“Perfect. I’ll see you then.”

“Here, Y/N, these are for you.” He said quickly, picking up and couple of envelopes from his desk and holding them up for you. “You’ll have to make sure to notify your business partners of your change in mailing address.” You chuckled, going to take the letters from him, and he gave a small smirk as he handed them over.

“Thank you.” You smiled, before turning and heading to the door. “Eleven bells, Brekker. I know you’re a punctual man.”

“I’ll be there.” He affirmed. “Goodnight, Y/N.”

“Goodnight, Kaz.” You echoed softly before stepping out of the room and shutting the door behind you, a fond smile on your lips.

[faunusrights]

yeah, all i got is this belly button lint: a happy huntresses short fic

wrote this real quick because i love thinking about the random crap fiona has in her Inventory(tm). also i just like thinking about these clowns in general, so,

=

"Okay, so, what's actually in your Semblance right now?" Joanna asks one day in third year, when Fiona and May have sneaked away to Robyn's dorm to lose at cards and help edit her new batch of flyers promoting union creation in the workplace. Fiona had given a couple a look and accepted them as good enough, but May is weirdly exacting about her standards and is currently trying to convince Robyn to nudge the text headers over by ten pixels to the right. That's why, as she's sat on the floor and wrapped up in the drama of watching Robyn try and slowly fail to ignore May's insistent pleas for her to boot up her editor, Fiona's caught just a little bit off-guard by the question.

"My Semblance?" she asks, and Joanna nods all serious-like from her place on the bunk above Robyn. Joanna often looks very serious, because she suffers from what Robyn calls resting thoughtful bitch face, so sometimes it's hard to gauge how actually serious about something she really is. "I mean, it's probably a mess in there right now."

"I keep forgetting you actually use it like storage space," Robyn adds cheerfully, having now progressed onto shoving May away from her laptop computer every time she tries to creep closer. "Since most Semblances are, y'know, combat-only things or like... special occasions, I guess. And yet here you are, telling people you really don't need a bag for all your groceries!"

It is fun to flex on all the people struggling to carry like six bags to their car or their home, and Fiona preens. "Yeah, it's nice. I mostly keep things in it that I'd wanna have in an emergency, but it's been a while since I last sorted through it, so, who knows what garbage I've put in there."

"Tell me Robyn's braincell is in there too," May says imploringly, still trying to slide an arm around Robyn to get at the keyboard, but Fiona just shakes her head. She can't and won't be blamed for that particular disappearance any time soon. Instead, she rubs her hands together, scrunching up her face as she tests the edges of the Semblance. It's a funny thing, a Semblance like this--she never really has to think about it, but it's always just in reach, like this extra weight in her chest that she can totally forget about. It's strange to think about, so she often just doesn't.

"Okay," she starts, and she goes for the biggest item she can sense, which is an easy one to explain. In her hands materialises an acoustic guitar, worn and scuffed with age, and this attracts to attention of every girl in the room. "Well, this one's easy. This is my guitar, and honestly? If I ever leave it behind in the meatspace and don't pick it up on my way out the door, know that you've just seen my evil clone and you have to kill her."

Joanna blinks, and Robyn seems caught between asking about the guitar, the evil clone, and also the fact that Fiona insists on referring to the physical world as the meatspace. So, she does as Robyn does best, and settles on an expletive. "Shit! You play?"

"Been playing since I was... like seven? Something like that." Fiona shrugs, because she really can't be sure; her first vague memory of even seeing this guitar was a long time ago, her uncle telling her it used to belong to her grandmother who'd never managed to learn a damn thing on it. So, Fiona had taken up practice, if only because it was something for a little lowlands Mantellian Faunus to do during the long, cold polar nights and the endless sunshine of the midnight sun. "But, yeah, this is always on me in some form or another."

"You should've played it whilst we were on watch our last mission," May says, with a certain scowl that Fiona knows is 100% directed at their team leader, who is currently off doing... some sort of bullshit with their partner, no doubt. Gods, this team is a nightmare. "All those hours trying to stay awake so we could stare into nothing..."

"Sorry," Fiona says, and she means it. She'd intended to, but, well, she'd sort of chickened out. The echo in the mountains is kind of insane. "Next time?"

May nods, but Joanna cuts off whatever she's about to say next by waving her hands through the air like she can physically dissipate the conversation. "Okay, okay, cool, but now I gotta else you got hiding in there."

Re-compressing her guitar--and oh, is Fiona thankful that dematerialising and rematerialising it doesn't leave it out of tune--Fiona has a mental root around. "Uh, okay, so, we've got--"

In no particular order, she starts pulling things out: a pair of thick gloves for the brutal Solitas chill, an extra pair of socks (hugely understated by most, but never by Fiona), a ushanka that Robyn instantly cheers for, and a couple of jackets ranging from light windbreakers to thick furred jackets that feel like she's wearing a mattress around her ribs. Her Scroll and wallet are in there too, naturally, as are her keys and some extra ammunition, and she pulls out a load of old train tickets with a grimace. "Hm. I was meant to throw these away years ago."

"You're basically carrying around a wardrobe in there, then?" May asks in a way that'd maybe be a little teasing if she didn't look about as jealous as she sounds, but it becomes a thoughtful expression when Fiona shakes her head again.

"Bold of you to think I haven't got a whole pantry in here too," she says, and now Joanna looks very interested. "Check this out."

The first thing she pulls out is a gallon jug of clean water--endlessly fucking useful, she's found, especially when you're in some situation where you can't sit on your ass for an hour waiting for the water purification tablets to do their job--before pulling out a whole host of Atlesian MREs that she keeps around just in case shit really does hit the fan. Atlas rations are... not good, in a phrase, but she's owed them her life more than once, so, whatever.

"What dates are on those?" May quickly interrupts with a critical eye, trying to make out the printed numbers on the snow-patterned packets, and Fiona tosses her one if only to distract May's hands from trying to puzzle out Robyn's password when Robyn isn't directly paying attention.

"Things don't really degrade in my Semblance," Fiona admits. "I've tested it before on stuff with a short shelf-life, like cheese and milk, and honestly I can leave it in there for months and have it come out just as fresh as when it went in. Something to do with a sort of... internal stasis, I guess." Then, she adds, "One thing in my Semblance is a goldfish in a bowl, but he's part of a practical theory I'm running, so I can't materialise him for another fifteen years or so."

"That sounds very normal," Joanna says, and Fiona is glad she agrees as she barrels right over the inherent sarcasm.

As May agonises over finding the date, though, Fiona continues to unveil her pantry--there's plenty of snacks, like dried fruit and nuts and energy bars and chocolate, and when she reveals she carries extra for every member of her team and then some (then some in this instance being Robyn and Joanna, not that she'll admit it), Robyn looks delighted. "That's so sweet! Look at you, making sure nobody goes hungry. You're one in a million."

That's cute and very gay, but Fiona has a lot of stuff to be working through and so she keeps on going--there's a flask of coffee that, thanks to the maybe-stasis, is eternally hot, a bottle of dark Mantellian ale she keeps as, uh, moral support, and she blushes when she pulls out half an uneaten tuna sandwich. "I wondered where that went. Whoops."

May looks up from the MRE for a second, and then does a double-take as she takes in the sight of the very limp and sad-looking sandwich, made courtesy of the Atlas Academy cafeteria. "Wait! Isn't that the sandwich you accused me of stealing last month?!"

"Anyway!" Fiona says with a forced grin, quickly making it disappear back into the void where it can safely continue not existing. "I think the final thing in here is... wait."

She blinks, and suddenly in her hands are at least a hundred little booklets entitled The Pocket Guide to Communist Outreach, scattering right over the floor. Robyn yelps, and then reaches down the side of her bunk to pick them up. "Oh shit! I forgot I asked you to hold onto these! I thought we ran out, nice."

Joanna's face is in her hands, and May sighs long and hard before tossing the MRE back to Fiona with a distinctly pained expression.

"It goes out of date in a month," she notes with distaste, and Fiona just sucks it up without a word. She'll be thankful for it when they end up down a dark cave with no backup, but Fiona figures she'll sit on that one for a bit before being able to make the greatest told you so call in history. She can wait.

"So," she says, watching as May takes advantage of Robyn's momentary distraction to try and access her computer again. "I guess... do you wanna hear me play a song?"

Joanna watches as her partner leans too far over the side of the bunk, yelping as she nearly slams her head directly into the hard vinyl of the floor, and she grimaces. "Please do."

Grinning, Fiona finds her guitar again--somewhere buried, she mentally notes, beside the gallon of water but under the coats--and she slings the broad strap about her shoulders before settling it on her lap, crossing her legs tightly beneath herself before finding her place on the fretboard. After having not played since being back home, it relaxes her more than she'd ever realised it did. It helps to be surrounded by friends, though. Helps to be with family.

"I don't take requests," she adds, flatly, and Robyn laughs from her place on the floor before music fills the dorm, soft and deep and achingly familiar of a place far, far below.

But she's okay with calling this place home, too.

[freckledmountain]

Lulling comfort

By @freckledmountain for @romeoandjulietyouwish

Rating: Gen

Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark

Characters: Peter Parker, Tony Stark

Summary:

"Music had gotten an entirely new meaning after that, from Disney songs to musicals to classic rock, and everything else in between. … He´d do anything to listen to Peter sing to them again."

Or, an AU where you hear whatever your platonic soulmate sings or hums! :D

For the @friendly-neighborhood-exchange

Read on Ao3

Chapter 1: Change

Some-

BODY ONCE TOLD ME

the WORLD IS GONNA ROLL ME

I AIN´T THE SHARPEST TOOL IN THE sHE-ED

Peter´s endearing screech and dramatics at the starting notes startles a fond laugh out of Tony, making DUM-E beep in curious surprise.

The bot has a screwdriver in his grasp and usually Tony´d chastise him for grabbing tools without permission (he has not forgotten the last lab incident, thank you) but right now he´s much too preoccupied resisting the urge to join in the kid´s slumber party via his own singing.

God bless karaoke.

Peter had looked sheepish when he´d mentioned it to him, the little get-together his scary girlfriend and Ned had planned this weekend at the latter´s place after a ridiculously long week of exams. Tony had absolutely no problem listening to his kid´s voice in his head, but it was still sweet of Peter to ask beforehand.

“You know I work best with music anyway.” He´d said, remembering all the times he´d listened to Peter perform dramatically to songs on the radio.

Peter´d hunched his shoulders a bit, smiling. “Yeah, okay, okay, I just wanted to make sure because Ned might ask me to duet to Take on me again, and last time I sang it you were on a meeting and FRIDAY sent me that video of you mouthing the words and Ms. Potts looked like the disappointed dad from that Shawn Mendes vine- “

…even if he had no idea what the kid was talking about sometimes.

He´d gasped and placed a hand to his chest, feigning offence. “Have you forgotten the time you had Call me maybe on loopin my head for an entire day?”

“…It was a dare?”

“Hmm” he´d said, raising an eyebrow playfully as Peter dissolved into laughter. “whatever you say, bud.”

His smile softens unconsciously at the memory as he methodically tweaks a few things in his nanotech suit, still listening to Peter belt out lyrics in his head. Truth be told, he misses the kid working alongside him like usual, but he knows how important spending time with his friends is to Peter.

(The parenting books say it´s imperative too, although of course he hasn´t ever read, purchased five on a whim or fret over anything of the sort. Obviously.)

He hopes Ned and Michelle´s respective other halves don´t mind the kids crooning 80´s rock on a Friday evening, but he guesses if they´re anything like them, they probably won´t complain. Soulmates are cool like that.

He remembers all the times Rhodey had told him about his soulmate´s voice inside his own head, how he´d suddenly perk up and grin at whatever melody he could hear, how he´d start humming randomly to join in.

Tony had grown up hearing nothing but his own treacherous thoughts for the longest time, almost losing hope completely at the possibility of having a soulmate right up until adulthood. Heavy metal music blasted over his speakers constantly whenever he was busy in his workshop, but he never joined in. There were moments when he´d thought his love for singing would be soured forever, since apparently the universe or whoever was in charge didn´t have a problem leaving him without someone out there to share it with him in his head.

Thankfully, he always did have Rhodey, and boycould he kick-start the fun in singing again with his flawless Mariah Carey impressions. He´d loved the few times he´d heard Pepper sing too, and there´d even been one memorable instance where he´d surprised Happy vocalizing in an unexpectedly pleasant lilt.

Hearing Peter sing though...simply put, there was nothing else like it.

-and we could aLL use a little changeeeeeeeEEE

…Yes, nothing was quite like it.

Tony shakes his head, smiling, and grabs his phone to text May about the kid´s shenanigans. She´d been more than a little concerned when Peter and him had figured out who the other was, (that was one heck of a superhero fundraiser) but now they´ve become much closer, and Tony can genuinely say they´re friends. He´s glad to have her on his side, because May Parker is, in Peter terms, a very kind powerhouse, and not someone he´d like to mess with.

He´s about to press send when the lights in the room flash red.

Tony´s up and summoning his gauntlet attentively in a second, right as FRIDAY pulls up screens around him, showing footage of the emergency.

“What am I looking at, FRI?”

“Around 30 heavily armed machines have emerged in Midtown Manhattan, boss.” She responds, as the room fills with projections. The robots on screen are huge and ugly as heck, about the width and height of three school buses together. They´re making their way through the streets surprisingly quickly for how heavy they look. People run away, steering clear of their illuminated blasts. “They appear to be releasing high frequency blasts approximately every ten seconds. Local police have just arrived at the scene and are requesting backup, since the blasts are causing structural damage to the surrounding buildings. The source of these machines is unknown.”

“Tell the team to suit up and meet me there.”

“They have already been alerted, boss, but I´ll relay your message as well.”

The rest of his suit materializes around him, and he makes haste to get to the nearest window, half worried and half downright annoyed at whoever was behind this.

“Another one for the robot bingo card on means of world domination.” He says to himself, unimpressed. Just one week without this crap…

He soars above the sky nonetheless, blasting his way towards the fight.

Please stay put kid, he wishes, even as the singing stops.

---

Three blocks.

He´s three blocks away from where Peter is making his way back when it happens.

As big and fast as the robots are, Tony can tell they weren´t exactly made by the finest of the loons who regularly try to take over New York. Not to mention they´re absolutely appalling to look at, whoever designed these things had absolutely no taste, Tony thinks, crushing his twenty-second bot with the suit´s repulsors. It hasn´t exactly been easy, since the wretched machines have no real apparent motive but to blow up everything in their path, but within an hour it seems they´re done with the worst of it.

He can see Nat and Wanda dealing with the remains of one of the last ones below, while a little way away Cap´s talking with a few cops, scoping out the damage. Even though the air is permeated with smoke and there´s rubble in some places, there are no casualties, and they´ve thankfully emptied out the buildings that got wrecked. SHIELD will take care of the rest.

He flies over the skyscrapers, keeping an eye out for any other bots, but it seems like FRIDAY´s finished identifying all of them. He activates a private line on the comms to talk to Peter.

“Done securing the area from whatever that disastrous colour scheme was?”

He can hear Peter´s good-natured groan as his location pops up on Tony´s screen, six blocks away.

“I know, right? I can wear mismatched socks for a week and rock them no problem, but blue with like, eye-melting neon? Yikes.”

“Exactamundo. Couldn´t agree with you more, kid. But hey, it looks like you might actually be able to get back to your sleepover after all. Can´t wait to hear what alarming chorus is going to keep me up until midnight.”

“Oh you just wait, we´re doing ABBA next and it´s gonna be so-“

FRIDAY tears through the conversation with an alarm, but it´s precious seconds too late.

A gasp. An abrupt thud resounding through the comms. A scream. Peter´s.

Tony´s blood freezes in his veins.

“Peter? Peter!?”

He gets there in less than a minute and sees one of the bots with its blaster pointed at Peter, still smoking from the shot.

He obliterates it without a second thought, his mind swirling with fear and rejection at FRIDAY´s next words as he runs towards Spiderman´s crumbled figure.

“No heartbeat detected, boss”.

Chapter 2

The first time he´d ever heard Peter´s voice, he´d been running on three hours of sleep, a frankly heart-attack inducing dose of caffeine, and no motivation whatsoever to sit down with stuffy board members for five hours.

It didn´t exactly come as a surprise that for the first few milliseconds of the “Itsy bitsy spider” chant in his head he´d thought, confusingly, that it might just have been his mind finally resorting to the resurface of old nursery rhymes as a way to tell him to go the frick to sleep.

His heart however, was another matter.

As ridiculous and improbable as it sounded, a new something in his chest rose even before he knew what was happening. He might not have been a machine, but something slowly and irrevocably clicked into place the more he heard that gentle voice go on about water spouts and suns.

He´d stopped short in realization. Blinked.

And then smiled wide enough to lose himself in the mirth of it.

He´d run back to his workshop right after that, laughing like mad with the absolute mayhem of emotions coursing through his whole being, almost crashing into Pepper in the process. She´d looked back at him in concern, questions already forming in her lips, before Tony had frantically mimed at her to keep quiet, wanting to listen to the soft voice´s final notes.

Once the song finished, Tony may or may not have let out a loud shriek of sheer joy and told an increasingly delighted Pepper all about it, practically bursting with excitement.

“Pep! Wait, what do I do now!? Do I- Do I sing it back to him? Do I sing another- crap I don´t even know any children´s songs, JARVIS, JARVIS!”

In the end he´d had to phone Rhodey to yell the news ecstatically to him, because he´d just found maybe the universe hadn´t wanted to screw him over after all, and he felt like screaming it from the rooftops. The little voice was sweet and shy and boyish and happy, and about the best thing Tony had heard in his damn life. He couldn´t have contained himself if he´d tried, and heck if he was going to any time soon.

(“Tones, what- “

“Rhodey!”

“…was that you or a screech owl.”

“It happened! There´s- a little kid! Somewhere! Spiders! My soulmate!”

“The- wait what-? “)

Music had gotten an entirely new meaning after that, from Disney songs to musicals to classic rock, and everything else in between.

…

He´d do anything to listen to Peter sing to them again.

Burning.

He´s burning all over.

Screaming in pain, he tries to escape from the scorching heat, but it´s everywhere, it´s everything, he´s the pain, he´s the fire, everything hurts-

And then as soon as it appears, the pain is gone.

He opens his eyes, blinking woozily.

“Oh, thank God.”

His vision blurs all over for a minute. There´s dampness in the corners, left over from tears.

Tears?

He makes an attempt to sit up, but there´s a hand holding his shoulder gently. He blinks again.

Tries to decipher his surroundings.

He´s laying down in a mostly deserted, grubby looking street. A figure kneels close to him, some sort of red and gold robot type thing. He narrows his eyes at it, trying to figure out why it feels so familiar…but finds, to a detached kind of surprise, that he can´t.

He has no idea what happened.

The robot seems to be very relieved for some reason, just staring up at the sky for a couple of seconds, taking a deep, wheezy breath.

Even with his head feeling like wet cotton, he looks at him with concern. The robot sounds seconds away from fainting. Is he…alright?

When the robot´s face opens and a man´s head peeps out (cool!), he almost jumps back in surprise.

And then…

Well. He still doesn´t have a clue who this person is, but as soon as he sees the man´s expression of utter joy and relief, something inside him settles. Safe.

He blinks in confusion at the feeling. He knows this person. He does.

But who is he?

“Pete? You´re back bud. Do you feel okay?” The man´s (man? robot? man-robot? cyborg? figment of his imagination?) smile fades slightly, looking at him in worry. “FRIDAY” Friday? Who on earth is he talking to? “didn´t you say the CPR made his vitals-“

“I´m- I´m fine” he says, because enormous confusion aside, he is. Maybe his head is scrambled, and he feels exhausted, but he has a feeling he´s been in worse shape before.

A feeling.

The man (he´s decided on man) starts going on about robots, and getting him to a tower with someone called Dr. Cho, but all he can do is blink back, his confusion increasing.

“I´m really sorry” he interrupts, knowing he´s probably going to disappoint the man, but needing to push forward even so, “who- who are you? Are you-? “

He tries to put a word on the feeling seeing the man´s face had evoked in him before, tries to remember who he is or what he has to do with the man or why he feels so…safe. So safe. With him there, even with all the questions going round and round inside his head.

“Are you my dad?”

The man´s face stills. For a second, it looks like his brain short-circuits.

Mood, a thought rings out in his head, unbidden.

That´s when he hears it.

A huge metallic…thing coming through the street towards them, and he doesn´t know why but it makes his heart thump like a rabbit´s in a cage, and suddenly he gets a flash of remembering pain, and he knows these machines, these machines are dangerous, and what if the man gets hurt too-

He pushes the man behind him as he desperately tries to look for somewhere they can hide-

-but the man grabs his hand first and hurries them both towards the sturdiest-looking car on the street, crouching so they´re out of sight.

“Uh, alright. I- this must be really weird for you, but it´ll be okay. Just stay here for now, ´kay? I´ll- We´ll figure this out. You with me?” The man holds his gaze for a second, and it´s so sincere, he finds himself nodding.

The man smiles. “Okay. Give me a sec.” And then he gets up and turns towards the robot.

What the-what´s he doing!?

He reaches out clumsily to drag him back, but the man´s face gets obscured by his robot mask once more and he…

Flies?

The frick? He thinks in bewilderment, as he sees the man lift off and attack the robot with blasts coming from his hands. My maybe-dad can fly!?

Either he lives in a sci-fi novel, or he´s going absolutely nuts.

Could be both at this point, frankly.

The whiz of gold and red fighting the robot is almost quicker than his sight can keep up with, but he persists, looking out anxiously for any opening the robot might have to take the man down so he can try to warn him about it. There is none though, the robot might be exceedingly fast, but the man remains unyielding. He takes another look at the giant machine and sees it´s blaster-

And then it´s like someone takes his brain and shakes it around everywhere, and the throbbing is so sudden he kneels and clutches his head tightly to keep it from falling apart. His thoughts feel shattered and tampered with, and the pain-

He cries out in agony, and tears fill his eyes again.

The man! I have to look out for him!

He tries to listen to the fight again, but just as he tries to focus in on it it´s like a tsunami of yells and police sirens and voices washes over him, and noise, why is there so much noise-

Overwhelmed, he kneels until his forehead touches the grainy concrete, and wishes he would just pass out.

He doesn´t, though.

Among the oversaturated ocean of noise, one adds to the mix.

Except this one isn´t grating. This one doesn´t make everything seem like too much.

Because it feels like it´s coming from within himself.

He´s at a loss for what´s happening, but the voice slowly and lightly blocks out all the other noise, grounding him in a gentle tune. In a flash, he recognizes the song. He knows where he heard it last.

Mr Stark.

And he remembers.

“Kid? What are you doing up?”

He shrugs, sinking deeper into the couch cushions. Baby Tarzan laughs onscreen.

He half expects Mr Stark to push him for more details, but he seems to understand Peter´s not in a talking mood and walks up to him solemnly.

“Scoot.”

He does, and Mr Stark plops down next to him, wordlessly extending his arms out in invitation. Peter falls into the hug gratefully and sighs. Exhaustion pulls down on his bones, but he´d rather not get back to the nightmare he woke up from. Mr Stark snorts softly at something in the movie, and then they both jump a bit at the sudden loud gorilla roar. They keep watching the movie, and Peter´s curls are brushed back gently in a soothing motion.

He wants to sleep. But he can´t.

But he´s safe here, isn´t he?

His chest grows heavier as he thinks of the dream, and when he blinks, his eyelids dampen. He hasn´t shed a tear yet, but Mr Stark must sense something again because his hand at Peter´s hair stills.

And then he starts singing.

It´s a lulling comfort, and Peter melts into the embrace, allowing his tired eyes some rest.

He´s safe.

Come stop your crying

It will be alright

Just take my hand

Hold it tight

I will protect you

From all around you

I will be here

Don't you cry

He´s safe.

With a final shot from Iron man´s repulsors, the robot powers down, and Peter runs out to meet Mr Stark, almost crushing his ribs in a hug.

“Woah, woah!” The helmet´s visor pulls up, revealing a grinning Tony. “Did that actually work? FRIDAY told me you were freaking out and I thought it might help calm you down.” He says, hugging him back. “But it did more than that, didn´t it?”

Peter´s too relieved to do anything but nod happily into his shoulder, but he gets the point across.

They stay there for a full minute, just holding on to each other. Until Tony grumbles out a “and I can´t believe you remembered Phil Collins before Iron man, seriously.” and Peter bursts out laughing, lightening the mood.

“The man didn´t sing that soundtrack in five languages for nothing, Mr Stark. It slaps.”

Tony hides his smile in Peter´s curls, and hugs him close.

[skzsauce01]

Apologies in Advance

Description: Everyone in the company knows about the time their best chemist and best field agent worked on a mission together-- one of the worst done missions in JYP history. Needless to say, they don’t along. Despite that, you and Lee Minho are paired together again for another mission. Hopefully, history doesn’t repeat itself.

Warning: murder

Word Count: 6.4k

Pairing: reader x secret agent!Minho, enemies-to-lovers-ish

Lee Minho, the file clearly said. You closed the folder and reopened it, hoping the name would spontaneously change. To your disappointment, Lee Minho was still printed in bold, black letters.

“--meeting adjourned.”

Everyone but you got up from their chairs and left the conference room. Instead, you were staring at the paper in front of you, willing the letters to rearrange themselves into a different name.

“Y/N? You okay?”

The case officer and your closest work friend looked at you with concern, and you wanted to throttle her.

“Nayeon, you know I can’t do this,” you hissed. “Why did you assign this to me? We had an agreement!”

She shrugged. “Direct orders from the boss himself. You knew this day was going to come. You’re our best chemist, and he’s the best field agent in the business. In theory, you guys make a great duo.”

“That didn’t go so well last time, did it?” you bit out.

The first and only time you worked with Minho had gone horribly. One of the worst done missions in JYP history. The two of you were bickering about something, and it had quickly turned personal with him making a snide remark about how he couldn’t believe he, best in the business, had to work with a rookie with no almost no field experience. He was right, but you were fed up with his stuck-up attitude and promptly stormed off. Neither of you realized the target left the hotel until a call from headquarters reported that his car had been spotted by traffic cameras and why was he there? Long story short, a short pursuit and one vehicular manslaughter later, the mission was complete, and you and Minho limped out of the situation with several broken bones, still arguing.

Needless to say, you and Minho got along as well as oil and a match.  

However, direct orders are not to be ignored, so you could only huff and complain to Nayeon who was all but sympathetic to your plight. Minutes into your venting (“Did you know that his phone lockscreen is a picture of himself? What kind of egotistical person does that?”), she was called to another meeting. She left with a cheerful “Have fun!” and a promise to buy you lunch if you returned unscathed.

On your walk to your office, you skimmed the rest of the contents of the file. It seemed simple enough: be Minho’s arm candy at some fancy party tonight and kill the target in a discreet fashion. The only worrying part to you, Minho aside, was the window of opportunity. The target was a foreign businessman, and he would only be at the location for a few hours.

You had already finished reading the information about the target and started compiling a list of possible poisons to use when you arrived at your office. Upon your arrival, a black garment bag and a shoe box that weren’t there before greeted you. There was a yellow sticky note attached to the box.

“Good luck!” it read and was signed by Sana from wardrobe.

Word must have gotten out that the most dysfunctional team in company history was working together again.

You moved aside the garment bag and sunk down into your chair. Truth be told, you weren’t sure if you could face seeing Minho again. The disastrous mission was technically your fault because you had broken one of the most important rules of your job: don’t lose your cool. You had also succeeded in proving Minho right-- you were just an amateur and were not qualified for the mission. That bothered you the most. You pushed the thought of him out of your head and refocused on the task at hand-- preparing for the mission. The bottom drawer of your desk was filled with vials of different poisons, and after much deliberation, you selected tetrodotoxin and, as a backup, batrachotoxin. You unzipped the garment bag to find a black dress and a clutch. With care, you placed three vials of each neurotoxin and two syringes into the clutch. It was more than overkill, but it never hurt to be prepared. Then you reopened the file to review the mission.

As per the instructions, at seven o’clock you packed your uniform for the mission into an overnight bag, and a company driver took you to the ritzy hotel on the other side of the city. The company had made a reservation for the mission, and the driver handed you the card key for the room. The elevator ride up was quiet, and the gentleman who rode with you got off on the ninth floor. You were on the sixteenth and dreading the moment you arrived.

The elevator chimed, and you got off and walked down the hall to find room 1618. You timed your footsteps to the beat of your racing heart and found the gold number plate looking back at you in less than a minute. The card key easily slid in, but the door opened before you even reached for the handle.

“Hey, baby,” was the greeting you received. Lee Minho leaned against the doorframe and gave you an appraising look up and down.

You wanted to personally kill the person who designed this cover story. And maybe the director too for assigning it to you.

“Hey,” you replied back with the same sultry tone he used. You gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. “Did you miss me?”

“Of course I did,” he purred. He let you inside the room, and as soon as the door shut, he dropped his facade. “I checked out the room and hotel already. It's not bugged."

Thank goodness. At least you didn’t have to put on your persona for at least one more hour.

"I hope you got more field experience these past years. We don’t need another repeat of last time,” he said. He still loomed by the doorway and watched you carefully as you scanned the room. “I was out for months thanks to you.”

His tie was unknotted, and you resisted the urge to choke him with it. He was as condescending as you remembered. “I’m well aware.” You headed to the bathroom and called over your shoulder, “I’ll be ready before eight thirty.”

Without waiting for an answer, you went inside and locked the door. It wouldn’t take you that long to do your hair and makeup, but you intended to take your sweet time, so you could have minimal contact with him.

However, you forgot about the dreaded dress zipper problem. You were able to get it up a little bit more than halfway, but the zipper refused to budge after that. Already there were beads of sweat on your forehead, threatening to ruin your makeup.  

There was a knock on the door. “It’s almost eight thirty.”

Curses. “I’m almost done,” you lied. Why was this happening to you?

A few minutes later, you were still struggling with the same issue, and Minho knocked again. “It’s eight thirty, Y/N. We’re supposed to leave in ten minutes.”

You softly swore and reluctantly cracked open the door. Despite how much you despised him, you really needed him now. With a sigh, you called out, “Minho? I need help.” With one hand holding the front of the cursed dress, you stepped out and stood with your back facing him. “Can you zip me up?”

Minho choked on air when you stepped out, and he turned his head to the side.

“What?” you frowned.

“I was just surprised. JYP’s best chemist defeated by a mere zipper?” he teased.

“We’re in a rush here,” you said through gritted teeth. “I would appreciate it if you just simply do what I requested.”

“Prickly, are we?” he mumbled, but he did what you asked.

“Thank you.”

You disappeared back into the bathroom to clean up the mess you made and to grab your poison-filled clutch. When you emerged, Minho was holding his phone in front of him with one hand and tousling his hair with the other. So he was still full of himself. He noticed you staring, or rather glaring.

“Can I help you?”

“I’m fine, thanks.”

He sighed. “Could you put your personal vendetta against me away for tonight?”

“That’s rich coming from you considering the first thing you said to me today was a dig at what happened two years ago,” you spat out. “If anything, it’s you with something against me.”

“If I remember correctly, the first thing I said was, ‘Hey, baby.”’

“First thing coming from you, not your persona.”

“Fine. I’m sorry,” he said. He looked at you directly. “About everything. Now can you not screw up this time?”

You pressed your lips together. You had plenty of poison to kill him and the target at your literal fingertips. Instead, you swallowed the retort at the back of your throat and agreed.

“The car should be here now,” you tightly said. “Let’s go.”

In a normal setting, you would have left without waiting for a reply. But this was a mission, and you had to cling to Minho’s arm for dear life like the trophy girlfriend you were supposed to be. He looked as excited as you felt. The elevator ride down felt too long, and every little thing about Minho was bothering you.

“Why is your cologne so strong?” you muttered. “I feel like I have to sneeze every five seconds.”

“Your perfume isn’t that great either,” he shot back. “Did you purposely choose the worst smelling one?”

The door chimed and opened, revealing a lobby full of well-to-do people dressed in velvet and silk. Their eyes were trained on you and Minho, trying to discern exactly who you two were.

“Anything for you, babe,” you sweetly replied through a false relaxed smile.

There were whispers and pointing fingers, and you were suddenly aware of how intent the stares were. Most of your past covers involved you being a wallflower, so this was an entirely new experience.

Sensing your nervousness, Minho pulled you closer. Just as you were about to feel grateful, he leaned down a little and hissed, “Stop being so stiff,” in your ear.

So much for reassurance.

You gripped his arm tighter than necessary and dug your nails in. You doubted he would feel anything through his suit jacket, but it felt good to inflict some damage onto him. Still, you relaxed your body and pretended to laugh at his nonexistent comment.

There was not a car outside the hotel but a limousine. A middle-aged man dressed in formal wear opened the door for you, and you thanked him with a coy smile. He winked in return.

Goodness, you hated this cover.

Minho slid onto the seat beside you, and as soon as the door was shut, the ride to the party began. He kept one hand on your knee, and it burned. A perfectly appropriate act for a young playboy businessman and his trophy girlfriend, but not for two almost-enemies who wanted nothing more than to stay twenty feet away from each other. You could feel his heat through the thin fabric of your dress. Uncomfortable was a bit of an understatement.

You rested your head on his shoulder and whispered, “Could you not do that?” while subtly jutting your chin out towards your leg.

He smirked, and you wanted to dig your nail into the corners of his mouth and rip it off. “Sorry, sweetheart,” he said out loud. “I have to. I have a meeting tomorrow.”

The pout on your face was a combination of the cover and your own reaction. “Please?” you whined, using the highest pitch you could muster. You saw him wince, and you happily continued. “Please? I know you like the pufferfish at that restaurant.” You tapped your clutch.

Take the hint already, dang it!

The threat of a potential poisoning had no effect on him. You had to admire that; most people would comply with your demands almost immediately, but Minho wasn't "most people." Unfortunately for you, that meant you and Minho would be playing a perpetual game of tug of war.

There was a scowl forming on your features, but you quickly rearranged it into another pout. Your chin was starting to hurt from sticking your lower lip out so much. You dramatically sighed and pretended to concede. The rest of the ride Minho kept his hand on your knee, and you plotted ways to poison his food.

The driver announced your arrival at the location of the party, a mansion with tall windows and balconies across the walls and water features decorating the front lawn. It was beautiful. Too bad there would be a murder happening here.

The door on Minho's side opened. He stepped out first, tipped the bellhop, and held out a hand for you. You flashed your second coy smile of the night. This one blushed and looked away.

You linked your arm with Minho's, and the two of you began to make your way to the entrance while surveying the area. His cologne tickled your nose, and you inched as far away as you possibly could be. Unfortunately, any empty space between the two of you was deemed unacceptable by Minho.

"Could you be more obvious? I think everyone’s noticed you trying to escape me at this point," he whispered. He moved his arm to your waist and pulled you closer. "Play the pestilential part."

You slithered out of his hold and stood in front of him, pretending to adjust his tie. "Will do, darling," you said aloud, enunciating every word with a tight tug. You hummed, pretending to think. "Is that too tight?"

You were sure he was going to turn blue if he didn't loosen his tie in the next few minutes. But he only smirked and replied, "It's perfect."

If he ended up dying from a lack of oxygen, it would be his own fault, you reasoned.

Some guests stopped to introduce themselves, and Minho easily answered their thinly veiled questions of "So, who are you exactly?"

"An entrepreneur from Australia," he would breezily reply. The guests would praise his Korean, remarking how fluent he sounded for a foreigner. Minho would laugh and would launch into a story about how he fell in love with Korean culture after a trip here. "I saw an excellent opportunity to expand my business here. And there are other reasons of course." Here, he would give you a sidelong glance, and you would giggle and pretend to be flattered.

After the fifth round of introductions-- how were there so many businessmen named Lee Minhyuk-- you spotted the target. He slipped out of a limousine, and a horde of opportunists greeted him with handshakes and what you were sure was flattery. At this point, you realized you and Minho had never formally come up with a plan to kill him. There was a woman half his age by his side, and you recognized her as his new wife. No instructions were given how to deal with her; the only guideline was to make sure there were no witnesses.

"Ooh! Look at her dress!" you interjected during Businessman Lee Minhyuk #3's story about his latest trip to Malaysia. You pointed a finger at the wife and called your partner’s code name. "Daniel, baby, will you buy me one like that?"

Minho, thankfully, got the signal. "Sure. Whatever you want, babe," he nonchalantly replied. He pretended to do a double take. "Is that Yoshifumi Shido?" he asked Lee Minhyuk #3. "I didn't know he was going to be here."

Lee Minhyuk #3 started talking, but you tuned him out and kept your eye on the target. His wife's dress was fortunately a bright red, making her easy to spot in a sea of dark colors. She weaved in and out of the crowd, occasionally pausing to give cheek kisses to other women who you assumed were her friends. The target shook hands and made light conversation, but it was clear that he was in a hurry to get inside the mansion.

"We must get going now," you heard Minho say. "I wanted to talk to him about business."

Lee Minhyuk #3 nodded understandingly. "Of course. Pleasure to meet you."

Minho gave him one of his charismatic smiles. "It was all mine, sir."

You tried to link arms with Minho again when the two of you started the walk to the mansion, but he wanted you as close as possible. Your right side was flushed to his left, and you could feel every move he made. The burning sensation blossomed from your chest. It crawled up to your cheeks and down your spine until it spread everywhere.

"How's the noose around your neck?" you asked to distract yourself.

The tight knot around his neck had to be cutting into his esophagus by now, yet there was still no sign of visible distress from him. How was he not dead?

"I don't think your pathetic attempt even qualifies as one. Your lack of field work is showing," he said in a sing-song voice. He smirked and looked down to see your reaction but instead found that a section of your bangs fell from its pin.

“Wait,” he told you.

You were about to snap back an angry, “What?” when he turned you towards him and tucked in the locks for you. You looked up at him, shocked by his sudden kindness. He muttered something, and although you couldn’t quite make it out, you swore he said, “Lovely.”

“What?” you said, still incredulous.

“Let’s go,” he coughed.

There were too many people around now to make snarky remarks, and the both of you silently agreed to keep quiet. The two of you entered and momentarily stood by the front entrance. You rested your head against Minho's arm and pretended to be in awe of the chandelier and high ceiling when you were really looking at the people on the second floor balcony. There was no red dress in sight.

Minho, meanwhile, was scanning the first floor. From the way his brows were furrowed, he didn't see them either. He mindlessly took glasses of champagne from the waiters while doing so, and handed them to you. You were now juggling three different glasses and desperately trying to flag down another waiter. You could see Minho hiding a grin from the corner of your eye. Finally one of them noticed your distress, and you gratefully smiled at him while you placed two on the tray.

You sipped on your one remaining drink. "Can we go up to the balcony, baby?" you asked Minho. "I want to see the view from up there."

"Good idea."

Was that sarcasm or a genuine compliment?

You had to follow Minho from behind to the balcony since there was barely any room. There were crowds on the stairs, and you wondered how they hadn’t collapsed from the weight. Men and women were packed together like sardines in a can, and you said, “Pardon” and “Sorry” more times in those minutes than you had in the past week. Minho looked back occasionally to ensure you were still with him.

Fortunately, you and Minho made it to the balcony intact where he found a spot near the railing. The space was small, so you were forced to face him instead of the scene below you. You held your drink in front of you to create some sense of personal space, but he insisted on having one hand on your waist. Luckily, with more pressing matters at hand, you could ignore the burning sensation that had returned again.

“Any sign of him?” you asked after a few minutes of looking down at the main floor. You only saw tuxedoed strangers and dark dresses. No spot of red in sight.

“Not yet.”

Without warning-- or maybe you just didn’t notice-- he leaned dangerously close to you, and you tried not to flinch. You kept an amused smile on your lips, but your eyes told a different story.

“What are you doing?” you worriedly asked.

He whispered, “Apologies in advance,” in your ear before pecking you on the temple.

As you stood there, frozen by his affection, you didn’t notice him tipping over your glass of champagne with a sly hand.

You jolted back, but it was too late; you could already feel the cold seeping through the front of your dress. You stood there, gasping in both surprise and anger. This was a new low even for Lee Minho.

“Search for the target while you’re finding a bathroom. I’ll stay and ask around here,” he continued in your ear. Then he said out loud with false concern, “You okay, babe? You know you can’t drink too much.”

So, this was his grand plan. “It was just a little champagne,” you airily replied. You pressed the empty glass into Minho’s hands. “I’m okay. I’ll clean up in the bathroom.”

You stumble-walked through the crowd and down the connecting hallway. You weren’t even close to tipsy, but people had to believe it. You tried all the doors nearby, but none of the rooms yielded the target or a bathroom. There were, however, several drawing rooms filled with kissing couples. You left those as quickly as you could. As you furthered away from where the main party was taking place, there were more locked doors. You almost considered taking out a hairpin from your hairdo and picking the lock before realizing that the target wouldn’t even have been able to get in anyway.

“Miss, can I help you?”

You stopped tugging on the doorknob and looked to your right to see a waiter with a tray of hors devours.

“Do you know where the bathroom is?” you sheepishly asked.

If you were him, you would have been suspicious. But he must have had too many dealings with ditzy, champagne-drunk, rich people, so he merely showed you to the nearest bathroom which was inside a bedroom further down. You thanked him, and he left, presumably to get back to his job of handing out food and collecting dishes.

You left your clutch on the sink counter and blotted at the wet spot with a towel from a wicker basket before realizing that it did absolutely nothing. Then you tried with water, but you only succeeded in making the stain more visible. You sighed. Screw Lee Minho.

Luckily, it was a black dress, so the spot wasn’t too offensive. Just as you resigned to your predicament and were about to leave, you heard two pairs of footsteps and a door closing. The lock clicked.

Someone came into the bedroom. If you had to guess based off of the footsteps and your previous encounters, it was a couple. It would be awkward, but you could just hurry out, apologize, and get back to the work.

“Check the bathroom,” you heard a man say in Japanese.

Japanese? It had to be the target.

“There’s no one here,” snapped a female voice, also in Japanese.

That was definitely his wife.

“Just do it.”

“Fine.”

You grabbed your clutch and quickly climbed into the enormous bathtub at the far end of the room. If you laid yourself flat against the bottom, no one should be able to see you if they stood at the entrance. You were pretty sure she wouldn’t even go past the door frame.

You were right. You heard her heels approach the bathroom, but she quickly said, “There’s no one,” after. Her footsteps sounded farther away now, and you took that opportunity to get out your phone.

You messaged Minho the directions to the room.

You: They're in the bedroom. East wing, second floor.

Minho: Wife too?

You: Yes.

Minho: Omw

Minho: Are you in danger?

You: No, I’m hiding in the bathtub.

Minho: Is that sarcasm?

Minho: Are you hurt? Have they spotted you?

You: No! Why are you asking? Just get here quickly.

Minho: No reason. Text me if anything changes.

You frowned at your exchanges of texts. A proud field agent such as Minho wouldn’t be wasting time idly asking questions that didn’t pertain to the end goal. You shook your head at his skills and decided to prepare for the killing.

As you loaded up the first syringe of tetrodotoxin, you listened to the argument between the target and his wife. Yes, an argument and not a makeout session. It was a loud one with lots of shouting and accusations. You learned that the target and his wife’s marriage was on the rocks. He apparently was caught cheating with his wife’s sister. You were busy loading up the second syringe when you learned that said sister was possibly pregnant.

If only they weren’t going to die. You could have made an obscene amount of money from the blackmail.

Your phone, face up on your stomach, turned on with a message from Minho: “Get ready.”

You tucked your phone into the waistband of your spandex and positioned both syringes between your fingers. Then you pushed yourself up and out of the tub. When you glanced into the bedroom, you could see that the target was still being berated by his wife. You hid behind the door and hoped no one would notice the door slightly moving. Now all you had to do was wait for Minho to arrive.

The shouting suddenly stopped, and the target called out, “Occupied,” in Korean. He repeated it when Minho presumably persisted trying to open the door.

“Yoshifumi Shido! Is that you?” you heard Minho shout. What kind of stunt was he going to pull now? “I wanted to discuss my business plans with you.”

“I’m busy right now.”

“I think you’ll really like it! Just hear me out!”

“I’m busy!” the target snapped.

From the tiny gap between the door and the wall, you saw Minho walk in. He must have finally picked the lock. He shut the door behind him, and the lock clicked shut again.

“Yoshifumi Shido!” Minho loudly exclaimed with his arms open. He began walking towards the target. “Didn’t you hear me?”

“I thought you locked the door,” the target roughly said in Japanese to his wife.

“I did!” she replied. She was confused, and her face was tinted red from screaming.

They bickered for a minute about whether she did lock the door or not. Their voices were hushed, but even you could tell they were both making accusations about each other. All the while, Minho stood in front of them with a patient smile, pretending he didn’t know what they were talking about.

Finally, the target ordered his wife, “Go fix your hair or something while I sort this out.”

Oh, how perfect.

The wife huffed in both anger and annoyance but complied. She snatched her purse from the bed and stormed away. Minho, seeing her leave, launched into his fake business plan. Through the gap, you carefully watched the wife approach the bathroom. You felt bad for her; she was innocent in all this. But there could be no witnesses to the crime.

You waited until she was just inside the bathroom. She was mumbling to herself, and she sounded like she was sniffling. You held your breath in fear of ruining your plan. Her back was turned, and she seemed focused on her thoughts.

Perfect.

Quick as lightning, you clamped your free hand over her mouth and dragged her behind the door. She tried to scream and flail, but you held her tight as you injected her with tetrodotoxin. At that moment, Minho started talking loudly to drown out the noise. He didn’t need to though. She stopped trying to scream and started gasping for air. You could see how dilated her pupils were. Seconds later, she suddenly convulsed and went limp. You placed two fingers on her neck, and sure enough, she had no pulse. You released your hold on her, and the body fell to the floor with a loud thud.

“What was that?” you heard the target say. “Kaguya?” he called.

“I’m sure it was nothing,” Minho replied. “Anyway, in the third quarter--”

The target apparently did care about his wife. He cut Minho off with a glare. His wedding ring flashed in the light, and you positioned the next syringe in your hand.

“Kaguya? Answer me!”

When there was no reply, he stalked towards the bathroom, Minho following close behind. You watched the target closely. He saw the red dress first, the skirt spilled onto the marble floor like blood. He rushed inside and shouted his dead wife’s name.

He never saw it coming.

Minho swiftly punched the back of his head. The target cried out and crumpled onto the floor. He was hurt but not dead yet. Minho pinned him down while you stepped over the body. The target, dazed but still conscious, threatened vengeance, begged for mercy, promised money, but his pleas fell on deaf ears. You injected the poison into his neck with no hesitation. He thrashed around, but it was useless. He was dead a few seconds later.

“No pulse,” Minho reported. He got up from the ground and turned to you. “We’re done here.”

“Finally,” you muttered as you gathered the rest of your belongings. You wrapped the used syringes in a hand towel and placed it in your clutch. Being discreet meant leaving no evidence behind. “Call the car.”

Minho, who already left the bathroom, called over his shoulder, “Later. We have to get out first.”

You turned off the light and shut the bathroom door. The maids-- you assumed this giant place had maids-- would be getting an unpleasant surprise tomorrow. Minho stood in front of the vanity mirror, ruffling his hair like he did in the hotel room.

“Are you done?” you asked. Not that you minded waiting for him, as long as he didn’t catch you watching the way he fluffed his hair. “Let’s go.”

“Yeah, lets go.”

You placed your hand habitually on his arm again when you realized your cover wasn’t as important anymore. You quickly shot a look at Minho. If he minded, he didn’t show it. Still, you decided it was better to walk on your own for now. You lifted up your hand, but he pressed it down again.

“Just a little longer,” he muttered. “We’re not safe yet.”

“Right,” you mumbled back.

The two of you walked out the door, and you locked it behind you. The hallway was empty, but you couldn’t help but feel that there was a person lurking around the corner. You got flashbacks to your first mission, and all you could think about was potentially being caught and failing.

“You’re being stiff again,” he whispered.

You relaxed your raised shoulders. “No, I’m not.”

“We’ll be fine,” he said, as if he could read your thoughts. “We’re JYP’s best team.”

You almost snorted. “‘Team’ is highly debatable.”

There was a giggle from around the corner, and both of you went silent. Minho’s whole demeanor shifted, and the lazy grin from earlier in the night returned. He slipped his arm to your waist, and you rearranged your own features into something more adoring. Then you heard footsteps coming down the connecting hallway.

A champagne-drunk young woman stumbled in front of the two of you. Still giggling, she sloppily pushed her hair back to get a closer look. Her eyes lit up as if she recognized you, and the anxiety of being caught came flowing back.

“Did you guys have fun?” she slurred, drawing out the ‘u’ in ‘fun.’ At your raised brow and possibly alarmed eyes, she smirked. “It’s okay. Wanna know a secret?” Without waiting for an answer, she leaned forward conspiratorially and whispered, “Everybody hooks up at these parties.”

Minho choked on air for the second time that night, and you tried to control your raging blush. “It-it’s not--”

“Don’t deny it!” she sang out. She stumble-walked forward to you and nodded to Minho. “He’s cute,” she said in a whisper everyone could hear. “Don’t mess it up.”

You opened your mouth to deny everything. “I--”

“We’re going to miss our ride,” Minho smoothly cut in. Thank goodness his head was working because you were pretty sure you were short-circuiting. “Nice meeting you,” he said before ushering you down the hall.

The woman only called out, “Byeeee!”

It was silent between you and Minho again. You placed the back of your free hand against your warm cheeks. The thought of being in a relationship with Minho was ridiculous, although you had to admit he was a little cute. That horrifying realization wasn’t the only part that made your head spin though. The sound of music grew louder, but that didn’t distract you from your swirling thoughts.

Don’t mess it up.

She was talking about the perceived relationship, but you were thinking about the cover. You almost did mess it up. You were so close to denying the woman’s claims, and you almost blew your cover. Again.

“I’m sorry,” you blurted out. Though right then likely wasn’t the best time; there were more people in the vicinity. “For almost… ruining the night.”

“It’s almost over anyway.” It was soft and assuring, so you decided to take it as an acceptance.

The stairs to the main floor were in sight. To your annoyance, there were still people congregating on the stairs, but at least they did not seem to be on the verge of collapsing. Minho pulled out his phone and dialled a number. Even with loud music playing, you could hear the keypad tones. He murmured into the device for a minute before sticking it into his pocket again.

“Changbin’s going to take us back to headquarters since he’s nearby. Chaeyoung needed a hotel room last minute for her cover, so HQ just gave her ours.”

“But we have our stuff at the hotel.”

“Chaeng already sent it back to HQ.”

You hummed a response, and the two of you walked down. There was a faint smile on Minho’s face, and you tried to keep one on yours. He made fake conversation with you, asking if you wanted to have pufferfish for dinner tomorrow night. You squealed with equally-fake excitement loud enough that turned several heads. You rattled off a list of non-existent outfits that you could wear, hoping that your rambling would be enough to fill the emptiness in the air.

You stopped talking once the both of you made it to the curb. There was no one outside; the party had only just begun. However, he made no move to remove his arm from your waist.

“You did better than I thought,” he said, looking directly at you. “You didn’t screw up.”

“This is a joint mission,” you replied, looking back at him. He meant it as a compliment, but after his previous digs, it didn’t feel like one. “It’s not dependent only on me.”

“You were the one that had to take him out. It’s mostly on you.”

“That’s not how joint missions work.”

“I’m the field agent here. Best in the business, mind you. I know how they work.”

“Then you should know that success depends on both of us.”

“The company knows I’m capable. You know I’m capable. It’s not my success that’s in question. It’s you that they’re worried about.” He brushed your cheek free of an eyelash and softly added, “It’s you that I’m worried about.”

“Oh,” was the only reply you could think of. You looked down at the pavement and noticed how the tip of your heels lined up with the cracks.

“I can’t protect you all the time. If something happens to you, I can’t save you. What would have happened if you got caught in the bedroom?” he continued. You swore he held you tighter.

You stood there, quiet. Everything he did and said tonight conflicted with everything from the first time you had worked with him. You thought he hated you, and you were sure you hated him. You felt him staring at you, and when you glanced up at him, and suddenly, you weren’t so sure.

“What?” you tried to snap, but it only came out as a whisper.

“I just thought you looked pretty in the moonlight.” He didn’t seem like he was teasing the least bit.

You were even more confused now. And you told him so. “I don’t understand you! Why are you being so… sweet now? You hate me!” You stepped out of his hold and pointed a finger at his chest. “Don’t tell me it’s for the cover either! Because we both know it’s a lie!”

“People change,” he replied. “Like how you’re better at field work and like how I have a greater appreciation for your skills now. You know why.”

“There’s no universe where you and I actually like each other,” you harshly laughed. “You hate me.”

“Maybe I do.” He reached out and cupped your face. You were too shocked to do anything but stand frozen. “I hate that you’re smart and pretty and funny and make me lose focus.” He traced your jaw with his thumb as he continued listing his reasons. “I hate that you make me deviate from my plans and make me worry about you. I hate that you make me feel weak whenever you’re around. I hate that you’re too stupid to realize it.”

“I have a PhD in Chemistry,” you breathed as he placed his forehead on yours. You could count his eyelashes and see the ring of black around his iris.

“I know.” His lips were centimeters away from yours. Just like he did on the balcony, he said, “Apologies in advance.”

You saw him twist his head a few degrees. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Changbin’s car’s headlights approaching and wished Minho would hurry. He dropped his left hand and slowly traced your jaw with his right. His lips parted and then stretched into a smirk.

“Just kidding!” he jeered.

Changbin pulled up, and Minho removed his hand from your face, his index finger drawing one final line before flicking your chin up. You inhaled sharply and recoiled at the motion.

“You’re not too mad, right?” he called as he got into the passenger seat. The smirk was still there when he said, “I’ll see you back at headquarters.”

The car sped down the street, leaving you at the curb. You could only watch the taillights grow dimmer. Your fingers twitched, and you felt yourself loading up your third syringe of the night.

You had plenty of poison to go around, and they all had his name on them.

~ ad.gray

[gooddadstan]

The first story in my Batman Bingo 2020 writing! For the card above, Red is completed, and blue is requested. Another huge thanks to @batmanbingo2020 for making it! Feel free to ask for a prompt!

 1.Sleep Deprivation 

Arkham breakouts were bad. Rogue level breakouts were really bad. Gotham knew it, the bats knew it, even the Justice League knew it, if just from the strict instructions to not call on any bat within three days of returning all escapees to their cells. With a necessary exception of world ending circumstances, no matter how much everyone hated it. 

Unfortunately, these were world ending circumstances. 

According to the clock on the Batcomputer, it hadn’t even been an hour since they started the Do Not Call countdown in the Watchtower’s systems. Far too early for the emergency transmission to send alarms blaring through every bat-associated device the house.

Clicking the button for the video call to patch through, they’re met with a disheveled looking Flash with a grim expression on his face, no other leaguers in sight. 

“What.” The growl had been forming during the small loading period, but the Flash didn’t waver in his stance. 

When he speaks just a second later, it’s sped up as much as he trusts the bats to understand. “Batman, the League needs your help. Send all available backup, you’ll meet Justice League Dark at the site..” He rattles off a set of coordinates and is gone again, the trail of his image heading off in the direction of the Zetas. 

Batman scans over his children, the wounds both new and days old being nursed in the medbay and the bodies flopped onto any surface they deemed comfortable enough to sleep on. More than half of them were just lying down on the floor, which, okay, but they’re children of a billionaire, they’re supposed to have standards. Apparently these standards don’t involve not sleeping on the floor in full vigilante gear. 

Tim, looking up from his designated spot on the next chair over, makes very pointed eye contact with Bruce. A simple nod is all that meets him. Already mourning the loss of a relaxing afternoon filled with cartoons, sleep, and lots of food, he pulls up the League’s initial reports on the issue. The burning behind his eyes was a later Tim problem. There’s not much there, but he sets to work as Bruce rises to call the others to action. 

~^~^~

Maybe Dick going on this world-saving escapade was a bad idea. Yeah, he kicked some ass, and yeah, he was the one to actually get his hands on the device that let the world-enders of the week wreak their havoc, but he kinda feels like his legs are going to drop out from under him and it may or may not have been four days since he last slept. Sue him, it was a rogue-level Arkham breakout. Measures had to be taken. Caffeine pill measures. 

And if those measures ended up with him more spaced out than present during the after-victory conversation with the Titans, well, it’s not like he hasn’t done worse to himself in the past. 

And no, bad Dick, that’s neither a healthy nor productive way of thinking. He forces himself to focus back in on what Wally was saying, only to see that the entire circle he was in was looking at him with various concerned expressions. Wally had placed a hand on his shoulder. Huh. Dick didn’t remember that happening. 

“Dude, are you okay? We’ve been calling your name for at least a minute and a half.” He doesn’t even bother hiding the concern in his voice, which, fine, it is Wally, but Dick’s torn between wanting to yell at him for putting himself in unnecessary danger during the fight, and just wanting to go eat enough carbs to kill an elephant. “How long have you even been awake?” Oh, he must have given up on reality for another second there, because Wally decided it was time to talk again. This time, Dick was pretty sure he was collected within himself enough to answer. Maybe. 

Pulling one hand up to rub at his face and almost, almost hitting his own nose in the process, Dick finally opens his mouth. “Since the breakout started. So… a hundred n’ twenty-six hours? Somethin’ like that.” 

Wally closes his eyes extremely pointedly, and opens them to make direct eye contact with both hands on Dick’s shoulders. “Dick. You are going to go home, and you are going to sleep. Do you need someone to be there for you?” The caring is familiar, but it still sends warmth through his chest after all these years.  

“Yeah. To the manor?” 

“To the manor.” In less than a second, Wally’s arms are around him in a familiar hold, and he’s being hoisted up into the air. By the time Wally sets him down on his bed in the manor, he’s asleep. 

~^~^~

“Tim.” Kon takes one look at Tim after they finish the battle, and immediately goes from grinning manically as he punches villains into the ground to hovering in front of Tim and calling Cassie and Bart. 

“Yes, Kon?” He ignores the fact that he can feel the concern and disappointment in Kon’s gaze, and focuses on the wrist computer projection of the rapidly lowering energy readings in the area. 

“Tim.” And oh, this was going to be an Actual Conversation now. Tim looks up from his projection, unsurprised that Cassie and Bart are both already there. When Kon’s satisfied by the level of eye contact, he speaks again. “Tim, did you sleep at all during that breakout?” 

Tim spends less than a second debating with himself before shrugging. “I got knocked out at one point. Killer Croc doesn’t exactly pull his punches.” Watching the looks going his way grow slightly darker wasn’t foreign, at this point, but the curl of uncomfortability in his gut could probably be blamed on exhaustion at this point. 

“Tim. Buddy. That started four days ago. Were you checked for a concussion?” It’s Bart that speaks this time, having appeared behind Tim’s back to place one hand down and try to guide him towards some rubble that looks vaguely chair-height. Tim doesn’t move. 

A small sigh escaping his lips, Tim shakes his head and stands his ground. “Yes, it did start four days ago, and no, I’m not concussed. World ending circumstances override our protocol. I’m fine.” 

Tim’s pretty sure if any of Young Justice had a say in it, he’d be at home asleep already, because even he could admit (to himself) that maybe he’s not entirely fine. Unfortunately for them, and fortunately for Tim, he thinks, Tim is technically their leader so they can’t kick him out. Probably. He notes to check if they can kick him out for lack of self care and moves on. 

The next thing he knows, he’s yelping and scrambling for handholds as the ground disappears beneath him. “What the shit, Kon?” From his awkward half-dangling place, he can see Cassie fly up to meet them, Bart in her arms. 

He’s shifted to a slightly more secure hold, but it’s painfully clear that if he makes a move to leave Kon’s arms or if Kon drops him, he would be in for a decidedly Not Fun Time. So they’re trying to coerce him. Threaten him? Maybe both. 

“Dude, you’re even glitching. Take a nap or something.” Bart shouts at him from maybe five feet away, which is unnecessary, but Tim appreciates the effort to account for possible wind. If only there was any more than none. 

“Seriously, you’re spacey and clearly exhausted. You didn’t note anything from those readings until the third rotation, you’re not exactly keeping up with the field work. I could even take you over to the farm or your apartment or something if you don’t want to go back to the cave. But find somewhere to go pass out.” And okay, fine, Kon might be right about the readings. But he can’t just leave- 

“Nobody’ll fault you for leaving dude.” Tim immediately curses Bart and his uncanny ability to understand Tim’s anxieties. 

“And if anyone does, then we’ll make sure to have a little chat.” He can almost hear the sound of Cassie’s fist hitting her palm, and as much as he wants to accept… 

“Thanks guys, really, but I need to keep up on my own responsibilities.” His tone his regretful, and he really can’t leave the rest of his family without warning. 

“Tim, you’re our responsibility, so go home and take a nap.” And Kon is not allowed to make sense when Tim’s this tired anymore. But, ever the adamant one, Tim opens his mouth to speak again. “I-“ 

“Tim, go home.” It’s simultaneous, and manages to effectively shut Tim up.

Heaving one last exasperated sigh, Tim accepts. “Fine, just drop me off at the nearest Zeta.” 

Kon gets that manic grin on his face again, and Tim’s internal monologue consists entirely of ‘oh no’. “I can do you one better.” Tim is going to get murdered. “Gotham, here we come!” 

~^~^~

Bruce was still fighting as his GPS reported family leaving the area. He felt like his limbs were moving like slugs, his eyes were burning with every blink, and every little noise sent waves of rage through his very soul, but he was still fighting. The last of today’s havoc wreakers were still raring to go, and where evil stands, the Justice League rises to meet them. 

As one final punch sends his last opponent to the containment area, Bruce lets his shoulders slump. The past few days have been unbearably long, and he just wants to sleep for a week wherever he can find a horizontal surface. His kids might have the right idea about the floor, at this point. His wounds are throbbing, he can feel his mind succumbing to exhaustion, and he just wants to rest. For once. He should extend the protocol before the next breakout. 

Clark touches down next to him, and he immediately braces for a complaint about something, even though this is Clark, and he’s pretty sure Clark hasn’t complained about a thing in his life. Or maybe he just really needs to sleep. Despite all his training, it’s hard to tell. 

“Batman. I think it’s time you took a rest. You’ve had some long days.” There’s a kind pressing in his voice. 

Bruce suppresses a growl, though he’s sure Clark can hear what escapes from his throat. “I can continue.” 

“But you don’t need to. Batman, the kids you brought are already gone, you’re the only one here. Hood and Robin are home with broken bones, you’re needed there more than here.” He smiles, and lowers his voice. “Go home, Bruce, rest up. We’ll see you for the meeting next week.” He takes off, nothing but a gust of wind that aggravates the burning sensation in his eyes. 

An hour later, Bruce is pulling himself out of the Batmobile and shedding his suit. As he turns the corner to the main area of the cave, he’s met with his children, huddled together asleep and surrounded by blankets and pillows. A small smile creeps onto his face, the warmth of seeing each of his children here, safe, and soon to be better rested. He moves to go past them, move up to the master bedroom and get some rest himself. 

A hand catches at his wrist, pulling down. He glances to the source, and can’t help but worry when he’s met with Jason, eyes still closed and broken leg elevated on a stack of floor pillows. “Br’ce.” 

“Yeah, Jaylad?” The nickname wouldn’t fly most times, but his own exhaustion made it slip by. 

“Stay, w’ll you?” He tugs again, harder this time, and Bruce lets himself be pulled down to sit on his heels. Dick almost immediately shimmies over to throw himself over Bruce’s legs, and he supposes that’s that. He lightly lifts Dick to lay his legs down flat. Cass’ arm to pull his shoulders down onto the blanket nest isn’t unexpected, and it’s not a surprise when the rest of his children stir enough to drape themselves over one body part of his or another. 

As Alfred stands on the foot of the stairs, a dish towel drying his hands, he can’t help but smile. Maybe this way his wards would actually rest for once.

[sugar-petals]

Trophy Boyfriend (m)

PAIRING: yoongi x ceo!reader

WORD COUNT: 37k 

SYNOPSIS: He’s accomplished. He’s sexy. He is the perfect subordinate. But something about your new secretary seems off. Yoongi wouldn’t be the first spy in your company.

GENRE: business au — smut | action 

WARNINGS: dom!reader, brat/painslut!yoongi, cunnilingus, bondage, riding, cockwarming, edging, vaginal sex (protected), thigh riding, slaps, anal (unprotected), fingering, mention of blood, no prep, name-calling, spanking, aftercare, scent kink, cbt, harassment, hurt & comfort 

A/N: welcome to this monster of a one shot. if you like e2l, grab a snack 😄requested by @.hopiiiie​!

You smack down the papers on your desk where they disperse. Fury. The file, albeit your favorite contender, is immaculate except one detail. 

It’s in the middle of the timeline where the letters appear larger than the surrounding ones, as if you put a magnifying glass on top of the hefty pile.

Yoongi worked at Lexcom four years ago.

With the top tier league. The luminaries. The impostors. Your greatest rivals.

He even listed them below, one by one, in the neatest of bullet points. Nothing could be more irritating. But the hiring contract form is already on your desk, begging for you to fill in the blanks and boxes with his name. You turn the CV upside down so you don’t have to see the tidy font anymore. To your dismay, even the reverse side of the paper has a detailed work history written on it. And a compilation of rather lofty awards.

You shove one of the other, much more slipshod applicant files on top of it and get up, rip the window open. You hope that the wind carries out all of the CVs with one gush. But it’s May. There’s no breeze at all. The door to your office slams into its dated angles when you leave the room. Even that sound, though always gratifying as of recently now that nobody is actually around, doesn’t make it any better.

The secretary room feels all too empty now. You pace around on the carpet, going through the details of the CV over and over again inside your head. What keeps on bothering you — the sheer audacity. Or was it, well, plain naïve? Impossible. Anybody at Lexcom and from Lexcom knew you’d stay away from them as much as possible. Even if the person had left work at their headquarters a relatively long time ago. Four years, within the pace of the current market, is a very long time, that’s what you own up to, but still: Yoongi was in direct contact with the elite team that so ruthlessly conducted the scam of the century. And now he applied to become your new assistant.

The carpet already sports traces where you had been walking in circles thinking about it. Hiring, how much you hate that nasty shit. There are twenty files that came in with the post from Monday to Wednesday, pre-selected with utmost care, but all of them straight-up bogus with the most improper of qualifications, and one that fits, one!

There’s no alternative. You lean on the secretary desk with both fists closed. Seokjin left it spotless and the drawers in remarkable order. That was back when you didn’t slam doors. It’s so lifeless in this room. You miss him.

After punching in a quick 5-number combination into your desk telephone, a high-pitched, cheery voice emerges at the other end of the line. It’s Park Jimin from HR.

“Can I help?”

“Hey Park. It’s about the applicant, Yoongi.”

“Oh! Yoongi, yes?”

“I’ve checked his curriculum again. I don’t know what Seokjin would even say about that. Need to know your take before I decide.”

“The curriculum, um. Well, I think— Worth the risk,” Jimin shortcuts, ��qualifies as basically stellar”.

“Hm. What I thought.”

You already suspect why. Yoongi has a background in accounting, which was one of Jin’s very few shortcomings, but nevertheless, a crucial one. He always had to delegate some of it and couldn’t catch up either. As per the Golden Book, you do require at least five years of accounting experience for the position, and let Jimin know every now and then when new applicants call, especially with the current situation. It’s why you decided to pick Yoongi’s file as a favorite in the first place instead.

“You didn’t ask twice back when Seokjin applied. Why now?”

“I know. This is... a tougher decision. He’s excellent, that’s why.”

You can almost hear Jimin nod through the speaker.

“He even owns and writes for ‘Six Rules’. Never guessed who could be behind that.”

The infamous business blog that’s been making rounds. Jin bought and praised the book that was released under the same title probably two years ago, you don’t quite remember.

“Yeah.”

“You might as well say, Yoongi is not a secretary. He invented it.”

“That’s a stretch.”

“You should read the book. I have it, too. It’s like declining Celine Dion if she calls. His work at Lexcom is long over. Four years is quite a long time.”

“That I agree with.”

“The fact that he put Lexcom in the CV in the first place. Nothing else shows he has nothing to hide. That’s not a strategy of someone who wants to harm our company. Lexcom is sneaky. Yoongi isn’t. He has all of his cards on the table. Think about it.”

“Well, he can’t lie on his CV or leave it out, Park.”

“Jin would like him. That’s all I can say.”

“I’m not convinced. Check your email after lunch.”

“Read the book.”

“Oh well—”

“You’re missing Jin because he went by everything good that Yoongi wrote. Good meaning, everything.”

“I hope so. Later, cheers.”

The telephone beeps away until you put it down. The shelf next to Jin’s desk does have a couple books left in it. You already know that he doesn’t have to take them with him to memorize what’s inside. Or maybe it would have been too much of a hassle to bring home. You clear out a dozen empty folders and stack them on the desk so you can browse through the book titles without taking out each one of them. Keys to Management, Accounting 101, Advanced Grammar, Essential Steps To Successful Consulting, Basics of Civil Law, Copyright Law—

Six Rules: The Way of The Secretary. It’s not a job. It’s a lifestyle!

Written by Min Yoongi. Published by Lexcom Press. Seoul, 2016.

You shake your head in disbelief, toss the blue hardcover back and forth between your palms. Quite a lot of pages. The table of contents reveals the same neat structure from Yoongi’s CV, even the same font. He’s consistent. You decide to go back into your office and put the book on the fringe of your desk.

The twenty files in the center, almost impossibly scattered now, went through Jimin’s fingers last week for selection. Judging by his enthusiasm for Yoongi, you start to doubt that he handed you the nineteen other obviously bogus applications without bias or knowing full well which one would make the race according to your criteria.

The hiring contract looks even more tempting now. You turn around the top page of Yoongi’s curriculum again to dart your eyes across the first part of the work history for what feels like the 30th time today. A lot of management accounting here, auditing there. Time abroad in Switzerland, one and a half years. Maybe he is, indeed, the Celine Dion whose call you should by all means not decline.

The corridors are strangely silent when you clatter through them, headed to your office when the sun rises above the Han River. You hear from the social media department forming a decent queue at the coffee machine preparing their tea and macchiato that there’s been gossip, but they pull rather furtive and taut faces when you ask what that gossip was about.

At your desk, the first thing you do is check your email. Jimin’s upbeat replies from yesterday evening moved down a little, while a new message from Namjoon popped up. Your CCO since a year, yet already irreplaceable. It doesn’t have any content except a sequence of letters and numbers.

— CODE 19. #9828.

#9828 looks familiar. You gather Yoongi’s file, by now, the only one on your desk, and glance to the header where the same number is imprinted with italics. It’s the applicant cipher. And code 19, integral to the Golden Book, is universally known since the last incident, shortly before you took over the company from your mother.

Code 19 means threat of espionage.

You reply Namjoon a short confirmation right away and storm out the door. HR here you come. You knew something wasn’t right with Yoongi the second Jimin handed you the batch of files.

Jimin, ruffled hair but collar stiff, paces up and down on his rather maltreated office carpet whose halcyon days have long passed. The printer you lean on is currently busy spouting data sheets and stock results. Economy department sent a request, and Jimin has the only printer on the floor. The door is firmly closed. Your patience is running out but Jimin still goes onto his fifth tangent.

“Y/N. Code 19 is not a fact, it’s an assumption. It’s a possible threat. You were the one saying that when you instructed me to the Golden Book. Joon picked a up a rumor at a meeting, that’s about it. There are a lot of jealous people out there. They don’t want Yoongi to strengthen our business. They know he’d perform well here. As your backup.”

“I guess.”

“Don’t you check the news on your app? Lexcom has its eyes on Hoseok’s company. They won’t send us a spy. Just because you consider them a rival, doesn’t mean they think of you as one in return. Those days are gone. They think we’re out of the competition already. We’re way below. Not dangerous to their monopoly game. That’s what Lexcom thinks. Hoseok’s company is where the money is instead. The innovations. The right minds, the right people, the right symbols and slogans. It’s where Lexcom will attack. If they send a spy, if they send Yoongi for their gain, then he’d go there. Yongsang Digital is on the rise. Hoseok is a brilliant head. His softwares give solutions where nobody thought problems would be.”

“Park, you sound like you wanna work there. Our company doesn’t create artificial needs.”

The social media directors and other staff strut down the corridor and Jimin pauses until they reach the stairwell.

“It’s not the point. What I wanna say is. Y/N, you put your signature on the contract. The paperwork is done. You can’t fire him before he even shows up here. You said his book is great yourself!”

“The rumors. I’ll take them seriously. I trust Namjoon’s weary eye. He won’t mail me Code 19 without a solid reason. Yoongi is a real risk. I don’t care about Lexcom’s interest in Hoseok and his slogans.”

The chatter in the stairwell slowly ceases and Jimin no longer sounds like he’s short of whispering.

“It’s nothing of substance to pin down. Yoongi’s interview went well. He’s dapper, he’s smart, he can handle a stress situation. Every interviewee reported a good impression. Namjoon’s eye gets a little too weary when he’s busy elsewhere. You act like Yoongi is about to replace you or hangs outside your office window like Tom Cruise with binoculars, what on earth.”

“Impressions aren’t everything. Especially when it’s someone who’s been in the devil’s den.”

“Four years ago! Before the scam went down, and that wasn’t even in his department.”

“Four years ago. It was the adjacent department, he was involved for sure.”

The printer stops. Jimin takes out the papers and staples them.

“This is HR. I do this every day. You trust me as much as you trust Namjoon, do you?”

“If you spill too much praise for Yongsang Digital and read books by Lexcom Press, maybe not.”

“You read it, too!”

“Recommended by you. Listen, Yoongi arrives in one hour. Namjoon is not in office, I can’t call him. He’s in another external meeting, they have a presentation going on there.”

“If that’s not fate?”

“Fate isn’t what makes business good and safe. Yoongi is an excellent candidate. But I decided that we have to annul—”

Jimin’s phone rings only once. It’s the reception’s number popping up on the screen. After nodding twice, Jimin, past the printer, rushes out of the door smiling. He has the printed papers clamped under his arm. The front page has a sticky note on it. For Secretary M.Y. — Please report + double-check. You follow Jimin down the corridor fuming.

He’s already here. Fifty minutes early because he can. The hailed secretary genius from Lexcom. Fifty fucking minutes. Because he’s ‘dapper’, polished, handles stress well, and writes dastardly prodigouous books about lifestyle, not jobs. With all these trophies and the right type of experience. You already know Yoongi’s a big piece of shit.

Jimin’s back before you is almost taunting. Going down the steps from the center hallway seems to take forever. Perhaps it’s just the feeling in your gut, but even the new elevator is terrifyingly slow today. Fuck Orbit Electrics, all they can do is craft you a shiny bleeping steel box that looks good but won’t actually go up and down the way it should. It’s a disgrace, it runs on your goddamn software. You check the display panel where a red number glows. 6th floor. Jimin’s smile in the mirror becomes all the more annoying. He notices, and starts going through the papers humming a Celine Dion song. At least is smells good in here, some nice aftershave.

You distract yourself with the small reading session’s afterthoughts from yesterday. The book persuaded you too fast to tick the boxes and put down the signature. Maybe it was the adrenaline, the affect. Yoongi is passionate about business. Every page reads very much like it. But now, in a sober moment? Too much regret, at the wrong point in time. You would be glad to have Yoongi join the office if he had been a trusted employee so far in another department.

Heck, you’d even take him if he worked at Yongsang Digital before the company blew up. Jimin is right about Hoseok and his team, they do bring the innovation on the market. But Yoongi, effectually, is not from Yongsang Digital. A walk through the office this morning reminded you who would be the one and only person suitable for this job, still. How can you miss Jin so much?

3rd floor. Jimin not only hums, but also dances from foot to foot. Your eye rolls won’t faze him. He keeps on swaying. HR is one hell of a department. Their coffee is too strong there. Jin always had two cups of tea each morning. Herbal. You are glad that he, judging by the pictures on his feed a week ago, has found a little share of peace in life with his family. Gwangju is a nice city. He got hired at a consulting business, gave up on smoking.

Jin’s happiness was more important than this job. Not that he didn’t enjoy the office work, but Jihye wasn’t content in clouded Seoul after their marriage, as were the kids. Jin thought the same after a while of hearing complaints and mentioning it to you, which was probably a good sign. A joint family decision is much better than being at opposing ends. When you love each other, you feel each other. Much of that mentality, although not in a romantic way, made him the secretary he was. It’s where the certificates came from.

The farewell was on good terms because you knew about Jihye’s opinion. It’s was not because Jin followed the Six Rules, which, even after reading the book you could not reconstruct in hindsight. It was the honesty on both sides that made him the ideal assistant to you. His most important contributions are already engraved in the frames all around his office. Trophies, who cares. Jin got it all written down for him.

The staff from the relocation team got your personal order to let them hanging because Seokjin said he was moving on, he didn’t need the certificates anymore just like everything on the bookshelf. That his professional and platonic time took place with you was the only memory that counted and that he took with him. So the certificates still stayed next to the door to your office, behind the wall at the oaken desk. You walk past them every morning when you come into your office. Even today, and you looked at them for much longer than usual.

1st floor. Your absent-mined stare on Jimin’s hands doesn’t seem to bother him one bit. You think about how the certificates could either be a menace or reason for a good belly laugh to Yoongi. Even if, yes, his file reads like an unblemished success story. So far. The benefit of the doubt still rules. But that doesn’t mean you will cast aside all suspicions. The stocks are doing well, yet you can’t manage the loss of not having them stabilize throughout winter. 

A loss that would come about so easily if Code 19 hit the bullseye and Yoongi’s ties with Lexcom were never cut in the first place.

His CV certainly could make someone believe that he really did, since he’s been busy accounting and doing freelance jobs since then. It’s all in the timeline. It was all very unlike his work with software at Lexcom. But finding out how loyal Yoongi is even to his font, you can’t exclude the same for his former employer. You have to call Namjoon as soon as possible to verify things. Otherwise, instead of the certificates, Lexcom’s eyes dangle on the wall the second Yoongi moves in. Metaphorically speaking. Or quite literally. Surveillance software is the new market. You have to speak about the strongroom with Namjoon the second he sets foot in his office again.

“GROUND FLOOR,” the elevator voice announces.

“Ah, Front of House. Always a joy,” Jimin finishes his dance with a wink at his own reflection in the mirror. HR really does have the strongest coffee. Or the toners from Jimin’s printer puff out some weird fucking fumes. You’ll alert Taehyung that it needs maintenance.

Jimin stacks the papers against his knee twice to make them look less disheveled and greets two guys from the IT. Your eyes are elsewhere. There’s an up-tempo jazz tune coming from the street. The musicians, one with a trombone, another with a cello, the third with a guitar, are not something you’d see or hear from your office during the day. They tap their feet in perfect rhythm on the pavement opposite the the foyer glass facade where a turnstile spins and lets in both people and the melody.

Good, groovy music. It’s what you always liked. Your mother wanted SeoulTec to be at the heart of the city for that purpose, too. To feel the beat of the alleys. Jimin doesn’t really seem to bother, striding past the cafeteria where the pastries are all sold out today. Your eyes dart back to the entrance, musicians, and the street.

Even now, curious people are peering in to look at the silver statue located in the middle of the foyer. A giant and sleek crane, curved and sculpted almost entirely out of chrome. A symbol that decorated the hall for almost twenty years after a modern artist with a complicated name decided to design and build it under difficult circumstances, which in and of itself was symbolic for the company.

The interest in the passers-by, however, even if you see them almost every week when you come here, makes you smile. Maybe Front of House isn’t too bad, after all. Yoongi’s arrival is making you think about things you took for granted. Because everything inside of this building could be going down within the span of a day.

Behind the statue, some ludicrous ad standees and service desks stretch out row after row. A few steps away — the reception with a quirky pot plant next to it. A queue of roughly fifteen people ranges from one standee to the place where you see Taehyung sit at his computer, in his second-best suit with the little dots on the shirt underneath. It’s one of those days.

“Nice morning, T!” Jimin greets, making the people in the queue turn their heads after just randomly staring around looking rather impatient.

“Rowdy morning,” Taehyung cocks a brow from behind the reception table, typing while he speaks. “You’ve heard that Yoongi is here, right.”

You’re sneering.

“Apparently, he’s an, uh, ghost? Jimin looked like you said to him on the phone, ‘hey Park, come down, Mister Lexcom arrived with flying colors!’ What happened to the fifty minutes earlier promise?”

Taehyung bites his lower lip.

“Well, ah. He is not here. Um, using the normal entrance. I didn’t want to talk too much on the phone. It’s because—”

“Hmm?”

Taehyung isn’t normally that shy.

“Yoongi’s got a fancy car. He did come in through Front of House but decided to leave it in our subterranean before you both could come down. The elevators are slower today, don’t know why, beats me. Couldn’t really stop him.”

If gazes could stab, Taehyung would be impaled by yours now.

“A fancy car, you say? And you just gave him access to the subterranean. Where my car is.”

“He’s your secretary. I’m obliged to give him the access password. That’s in the Golden Book.”

“Anyways,” Jimin interrupts. “The queue is getting longer. T is busy. Come on, Yoongi can’t access the building again from the subterranean without a key card, the code only goes one way. Concierge, would you be so kind?”

“Here it is.”

He hands over a turquoise, rectangular chip. The number #9828 is stamped into the white name field in the middle.

Min Yoongi, SeoulTec. Executive Assistant. DOB 09-03-93.

You take it from Taehyung with an empty smile.

“Last time you gave out the password. Apart from that, by the way. Send someone to take care of Jimin’s printer later.”

“Okay, Ma’am. On the list.”

“So long, T!” Jimin waves. “We’ll meet the ghost now.”

Your smile becomes twice as empty, and the chip two times as heavy in your palm. Seokjin handed his key card in a few days ago, with Taehyung becoming a bit teary-eyed. It was so used, the turquoise had come off. He had deserved to carry it all day.

Jimin already heads to the elevator again and presses the -3 button, then puts in the password. You join him with a teeth-gritting scowl. Impossible to hide how much you despise Min Yoongi, the grandiose fuck. He could have parked outside and asked you about garage opportunities later and not change his mind the last minute to make you wait at the reception. This is Lexcom type of conduct, you can smell it before the elevator even hits the basement level.

“SUBTERRANEAN,” its electronic voice drones over your heads.

Jimin grins when the doors part and the scent of gasoline engulfs you.

The designated area is a small walk away. If he wasn’t with you right now, Jimin would prance along the way and sing, “yay, I meet the Six Rules guy!”

“Excited? This is the HR dream,” he spouts.

“The day you get that Code 19 is a serious order I will be. I signed a contract to make our stocks drop.”

Hiring Yoongi was a death sentence.

“Too late for that order.”

You knew what happened back then when it was first used. Tax fraud allegation. False, but reputation ruined. Lexcom used the SeoulTec blueprints they got their eyes on, just a bit altered here and there, instead and hit it big. The spy was never identified. The rage still anchors from your head to toe. It’s what made your mother resign. You feel it now, all the more, and Jimin’s salesman smile makes it worse.

“But ready to throw hands with my own Executive Assistant and drag him out through the entire foyer.”

Jimin rolls his eyes.

“The foyer.”

“To let everyone know the SeoulTec safety policy. We won’t go bankrupt again.”

“So, throwing hands for that, then.”

“If need be, my office stays Tom Cruise antics free.”

“Tom Cruise? Try shake hands. Gotta stay professional. Dragging doesn’t send a safety message either. Keep your boxing gloves in the ring. Whatever pent up stuff you got going on there... Yoongi is a good guy.”

Jimin pats the stapled papers with the sticky note resting in his left hand, turns a corner into the parking lot. Only a few steps and one heavy door left, past the large “private garage” arrow. Jimin puts in the password once again to make the door click open.

It’s when the smell of diesel gets the most intense that you see his silhouette.

Surprisingly petite. A fresh haircut, ruffled through quite deliberately with gel in it. A suit in royal blue, so dark and velvety, Taehyung would dissolve in a jealous fit. The collar crisp and stiff, more than Jimin’s. Slightly tapered shoulders but without pads. A suitcase in his right hand.

He bows deeper than you thought. But you know why. That’s Rule Number I in the book.

You stop, keep a good distance, bow down half as deep. He pushes back his hair into its original form as you do.

“Hey, Porsche.”

His voice is deep and throaty. You sigh — at least on the inside. He’s seen your car. Parked at the other end of the garage by itself. He knew exactly it was yours and nobody else’s. The game of chess is on.

“Hey, Benz.”

Right behind him. A glossy car, CLS, all black, epitome of class. You know that the Lexcom executives drive the same brand, some even Maybach models. CEO Jeon does. If you drive Benz, you are Lexcom. You are part of the luminaries.  

“Utmost pleasure. I’m sorry for the inconvenience with the reception.”

His deep eyes glower. Do you hear some nervosity in his voice?

Jimin reminds you of something important with a mere nod.

“Catch.”

You toss Yoongi the key card. A quick throw. Snap. His fist closes around it without a flinch to be seen from the rest of his body. One segment on his CV said: Interests — basketball.

“At your service. Thank you for accepting me.”

You twinkle. Maybe there is this tone of nervosity indeed. Now it’s your turn to remind Jimin.

“Park, would you be so kind? Pass him his first task.”

“Oh, yeah, the papers. Welcome to SeoulTec enterprises.”

The salesman smile grows wide. In return, Yoongi’s bony fingers store away the key card in his suit’s inlay, then reach out to the papers. He scrutinizes the first pages for a few seconds, then bows to you again.

“Perfect. That’s my job.”

You might as well pass out from gritting your teeth. He’s so inconceivably full of himself. That’s his true profession.

After Jimin and him exchanged some friendly verbiage for introduction, the sole noise between the three of you is Yoongi further rustling with his papers on the way up. You don’t know what else to say or think other than sizing him up. He’s just two feet away. Whatever gel he smeared into his hair to make it stick and shine, it’s the sign of a lot of time in the morning and haughtiness that surpasses your entire innovations department, and these are the guys who get all puffed up each time you drop by. Not even close, he’s worse. You have nothing against competitive intelligence between corporations, but he radiates it: Something far too dodgy and illegal. It’s the way his grey tie is fastened, his shirt is cuffed. Sabotage. Dirty cash bags. Drugs. Foreign prostitutes on corporate excursions. There has to be something weird about a guy that refers to their boss by her car’s brand and then goes on playing nice.

If you could drag him out through the foyer, you would not think twice at this point. But who are you to go about that just now without proof other than Namjoon’s judgement and your learned lessons from the resignment that broke your mother’s heart. Jimin is right to keep the boxing gloves away and be a reasonable leader, but how else can you assure that Yoongi hasn’t bribed Taehyung with two hundred thousand Won, knows how to hack, and installed a camera and microphone in his suitcase. Only when it’s too late and the damage is done can you do something about it. Even the actual fist fight you’d be more than down for wouldn’t harm the public image of SeoulTec as much as being betrayed and deceived again from your own ranks.

The elevator still smells like way too much petrol when the voice announces the 8th floor. But the only thing that concerns you is Yoongi’s aftershave. A distinct mix of orchid, sandalwood, something else, something more dangerous, luring. It’s driving you absolutely nuts, you wish you could wreck his. Jimin sends you a knowing glance. That is Rule Number II in the book at work you’re seeing indeed.

The two rugged IT guys from earlier set up an account and all the other paraphernalia for him, extra security at your demand, firewall. Jimin talks with Yoongi outside of the room. It’s unintelligible. When the IT leaves, Yoongi parts from Jimin bowing and props his suitcase onto the desk in a very non-Seokjin-like manner.

How dare he.

This desk is holy.

Big deals might not have been signed on it, that was on your desk. But here, SeoulTec’s future was still decided through the minutiae that Seokjin treasured and took care of. The way the suitcase just lands there— you can already tell, the right dose of respect is not flowing through Min Yoongi’s veins as expected. The way he throws himself into the chair, too.

“Thanks for the PC setup, seems very comprehensive. Got the password.”

“Good that you mention it. If there’s any concern, consult me first.”

“Will do. This office is nice.”

“Glad you like it. Utensils are in the left drawer.”

“Ah, for the papers. I won’t distract you further, I know you’re busy.”

“Just give me a shout, and there are cookies in my room.”

You can’t believe your just said that. Cookies. 

By the time you sit down, door open to the secretary’s office, the papers are distributed on his desk, the suitcase is still in its place. Yoongi himself you see study the bookshelf with eager eyes, seemingly content, then working through the papers one by one with a stern gaze. You at least pretend to preoccupy yourself with medium priority phone calls and drinking three cups of extra strong coffee in the hopes that you can still wink at yourself in the mirror by the end of this day Jimin-style. Two hours later and the papers are on your desk, everything summarized, everything corrected. It’s all so neat. Every other CEO would do a standing ovation. But you don’t.

Every detail from the report has been scrutinized. You can tell by the bright green and orange highlighter pen marks all over. He was beyond thorough. You didn’t just hire a spy. You hired the self-proclaimed secretary mastermind who does appear to live up to that name. Shooting yourself in the foot by having him work for you is an understatement.

But who are you not to bite your tongue now and utter the due praise. There’s nothing to hold against him.

“Good job. Check your mail in a minute.”

“Oh yes, thank you Ma’am!”

Yoongi only smiles and spins on his tapered heel to return to the desk.

“Take a cookie before you go. I have chocolate, cream, and plain.”

“Right!”

He now heads to the small tray that you set up at the window. It’s deliberate — the view stuns anybody who lingers for a couple seconds. But Yoongi’s eyes won’t break from you the second he got himself a cookie. He doesn’t seem to plan biting into it anytime soon either.

“You have a question, right?” he says instead. Any other boss would love a secretary knowing what’s on their mind. But you don’t.

“The Six Rules,” you cock your head. It doesn’t take much more to get him talking. 

“I knew you’re heard of it. Jimin said he recommended it to you.”

“When exactly did you come up with them?”

“Roughly four years ago, I think. It was a time when I learned a lot.”

“Four years, I see.”

What a fucking coincidence.

“Is there anything specific you want to know?”

Again, he knows your mind too well. He’s probably trained in planting cameras everywhere as much as he is trained to read your body language to a T.

“That’s it for now. Jimin was right to recommend it.”

“I’m honored. And this is cream, right?”

He holds up the cookie.

“Oh. Yes. My favorite as well. I’ll send the mail now.”

“Will reply in a minute!”

He leaves the office munching. A little ping from his PC lets you know that the data was transmitted. The amount of grudge you have sending it to him gladly wasn’t. But given how his eyes seem to read you like a book, Yoongi already knows how you hate giving him this task. It has to be done, it’s urgent. At least he didn’t mute the PC volume, that’s at least one good sign. So you hear what’s going on. Or maybe it’s done to distract you on purpose. He shouts into your room.

“Great, I’ll read it in a second!”

It really snaps you out of your train of thought: His voice is so raunchy. The distance from your desk to his is far enough to make him raise the tone this way, but close enough so you can enjoy the timbre. It almost makes you forget about Namjoon’s warning.

“Take it slow, it’s 50 pages. Nothing to read in one go. It’s the work of a couple years condensed, plus it’s still growing.”

“Splendid. Hold on.”

Just when you want to reply, he opens his suitcase. Without making it too obvious, you grab your phone, unlock the camera. Should he fuck around, you’ll have solid evidence. Something to rub into Jimin’s face as proof that Yoongi was in fact, the man you knew he would be. When the suitcase is wide open and he reaches inside, you are ready to press play. What comes into your sight, drawn out by his hand is—

A tissue. 

The wipes his hand, the corners of his mouth, stands up, and drops it inside the bin behind the door to the hallway all crumpled up. Going back to the desk, he shuts the suitcase and lifts it from the table. As accurate as his pen circles on the first papers you looked at, he brings it down at the left side of him where it remains closed and ignored once he resumes scrolling at the PC. Your camera’s press play button remains untouched. Instead, you’re taking up an incoming phone call.

From Yoongi’s desk, only clicking and scribbling noises reach across the room while you make calls with project managers whose words about revenue, discarding and filing ideas, the new stakeholders — go right past your left ear at the phone speaker. All you care about is that Yoongi is taking notes while he goes through the Golden Book PDF. He’s taking. Notes. And scrolling slow. Soaking up every word. The project managers asking about the databases only get a less-than-satisfactory “hm, hm” of yours at the other end of the line.

You hang up all too soon. This is of no use. Emails you click away into the low-priority field. Then, stand up to walk into the secretary room. If only you could give him another task. But reading the Golden Book is strictly required on the first day. Because the book itself says so. You hate your own policies. They’re shit.

“How are you advancing?”

“Page twenty, Ma’am. I’m quite impressed. There are some profound things in there.”

You peek at Yoongi’s notes. He’s written two pages in petite lettering already. That’s what happens when you make your own company’s number one codex spy-proof but hire one regardless.

“The Golden Book... only gives employees a rough outline, a contour if you will. It’s more superficial than you might think. It changes all the time, too.”

“It looks more than just a guideline,” he shakes his head. You can see him pat the embossing on the front cover. The golden crane. “I’ll definitely keep these things in mind. Everything sounds like it comes from experience. And, lessons learned. I wouldn’t understate that.”

That feeling again. Just an inch under your skin. You’re boiling. It’s hard to hide your clenching fists before his eyes behind your back. Not only do you hate your policies. But also having to go full sophistry mode with Tom Cruise disguised as Celine Dion in your office doing his job as excellently as you thought he’d do it.

“The purpose was to not repeat mistakes, but also, to weed out the employees who harm the business.”

“Have just written that point down. About the nondisclosures and such. You might know, I’m big on security. A lot of people want a piece of good work. I’ve written Rule Number III considering this back and forth.”

Without a doubt, you know you are about the worst CEO of whole Seoul when it comes to hiring. Even Orbit Electronics couldn’t fuck up like that.

“I see you’re a few steps ahead.”

“It’s the cookies, Ma’am.”

Yoongi, after having a cup of herbal tea, flops his jacket across the hat rack where Seokjin’s old light blue umbrella still dangles side to side. He checks whether his shirt is tucked in properly at the waist three times, then jots down something on his notepad. You step inside the secretary room with an orange folder in your hand.

“Ready to go?”  

“Looking forward to this.”

A quick glance into the bin and the certificates without being too obvious about it is harder to pull off than you think, but at least he leaves the room first. Who knows, he might have hidden a camera in the tissue. It would be unobtrusive enough.

“We start at innovations, last is maintenance and warehouse. The IT is a larger department, I’ll show you around tomorrow. It’s a bit overwhelming at first. You already know Taehyung, but we can still visit Front of House instead. I’ll introduce you to the service desks, they will call you here and there. Cafeteria should have new snacks by now, and green tea cake.”

“Yes, I like cake rolls. That’s an AB blood type thing to do.”

“Oh, AB is yours.”

It’s a bit of an outdated practice. And superstitious. But still, a custom. You’ve been wondering about his blood group since Taehyung handed over his key card.

“Let me guess yours. B, perhaps?”

“It’s zero.”

“Fitting of a chief executive. You might prefer rice cake, then.”

“I do. The ones with strawberries and chocolate on the inside.”

Yoongi closes the door behind you, then writes something down below the underlined rubric ‘Rule Number IV’. You don’t want to say anything about it. Now he even takes notes about your habits.

There’s loud chatter in the staircase now.

“Okay, so, innovations department is first. Curious. Quite lively around here.”

From the group of staff entering the corridor, a lady in a red suit and black wavy hair separates into your direction. Her smile is brighter than ever, particularly when she sees Yoongi looking all professional with his notepad and the most creaseless shirt in the entire company.

“Hey sweethearts! The new secretary?”

She blinks, earning your nod.

“Yes, just joined us.”

“Min Yoongi,” he retorts. “And you are?”

The lady’s eye smile lingers.

“Kim Hyuna, Development.”

“Oh, that’s where we’re headed.”

“Great, just come along in a minute! Whole team could use someone handsome to look at. Y/N, the file?”

“Yes, the new blueprints,” you hand over the orange folder, brow knit. Hyuna browses through the pages with her usual sound effects. Yoongi takes notes.

“Oh, this pretty design. Mh, an algorithm. Okay, okay. Ah. And this is the script we need. Wow, top secret, even! Look at this, so brilliant,” she turns the page to Yoongi now, then looks at you. “Hey, Y/N, you don’t seem alright, what’s wrong?”

Your eyes and ears might as well implode. Jimin was right with your bad temper. But it’s not like everyone in this building would give you a solid reason for it. A rice cake doesn’t sound so bad right now.

“Read it later, Hyuna,” you tip the cover of the orange folder over until it closes before her eyes. “I just want to show Yoongi around in the corridors and get to know each other. But I think we should start with the cafet—”

“Come on, you two lovebirds,” Hyuna flounces down the hallway now, orange folder resting laxly on her left forearm crossed before her chest. “Probably a good thing Jin went to Gwangju.”

The words are like a slap in the face. You can already feel your heart beat five times as fast.

Yoongi looks up from his notes to look at you.

“Jin?”

“My... former secretary.”

On top of a rice cake, you probably need to refresh your deodorant if this goes on. Hyuna opens the door to the development office with a cackle.

“Was off limits for her, frustrated the entire department, but you don’t have a wedding ring, do ya? No offense, you look good.”  

Yoongi shakes his head.

“I’m not, not married, uh—”

“I already love this,” Hyuna says, then shouts into the office where about ten busy staff members type and pin things to the wall where sketches and algorithms are drawn all over the place. “Look at that, she finally got herself a boy toy, hah! About time!”

Applause from all corners of the room.

Maybe taking him on a tour through the building to buy time backfired not just once, but two times.

Yoongi has to leave earlier. The fifty minutes he arrived before the actual morning appointment, minus ten or fifteen that you spent in the subterranean, pay off now. He glances at Jin’s wall certificates a couple of times while packing his briefcase. His suit is more clean and well-fitted than ever. Yoongi tosses the wrapping into the bin and picks up his jacket again. He looks at the umbrella, then back to your office, suit case in his right hand and notepad safely stored inside.

“Great time working with you,” he says.

“You know what you’re doing.”

“Always part with good words,” Yoongi bows. “And, don’t work for too long.” You realize that he just quoted page 50 from the Golden Book, hoping he doesn’t notice your desperate want to stress-eat all the remaining cream cookies. “That complements what I wrote in Rule Number V.”

“Our books might not be so different, after all.”

“We enjoy the same cookies. No surprise to me.”

A charismatic, winning smile follows. One knowledgeable about the accolades listed in the front pages of the Six Rules webpage. One knowledgeable that a Mercedes waits for him. One knowledgeable of how insufferable you find him, but can’t do anything, just anything, about that because he’s secured himself that secretary room like a tick on a patch of skin. And you can’t scratch him off without risking parts of him getting stuck in this enterprise even deeper.

He turns toward the door after a 90° bow. More a butler than secretary, you think, uttering a mumbled goodbye formulaic and as meaningful as a piece of toast. The key card bleeps.

“See you then.”

So casual. And he’s out the door.

A fourth cup of coffee is deeply needed now. Even if your hands are jittery. Think, think back to how this all started. Your brain is absolutely blank. What holds you back from firing him right on the spot?

What damage control task Yoongi gets tomorrow is certainly not dependent on the printer in Jimin’s office that gets important assignments from any other department on the hallway. And not on Kim Hyuna’s orange file. Nor Kim Taehyung. Generally speaking — after knowing Jimin’s recent canticle about every other enterprise in town except SeoulTec, you plan to thwart his undertakings on top of Yoongi’s, drastically so. His dedication is elsewhere. Yes, he caused this. The nineteen bogus files had an ulterior motive and weren’t selected according to the guidelines at all. Jimin stepped on all principles of fairness, he probably threw away the other good applications right away. Elsewhere he must go. Yongsang Digital could need an HR manager. Not now. Yoongi is first.

Neither Namjoon’s email nor phone react. You go to HR again where Jimin, staying late as usual while there’s virtually no one else on the corridor, says he has word he returns in two days. The journey is quite long as is the presentation he’s at. Orbit Five enterprises in Daegu where a new hardware prototype model had been launched. Namjoon gets busy with some press releases next week, but this launch is more important, he has to show attendance, presence. Until then, Yoongi can’t be fired on a solid basis for practically any accusation. But Jimin knows that you came for another question. He coaxes it out of you by imitating the faces you were trying not to pull in the elevator coming back from the subterranean after first meeting Yoongi.

“Oh, Mister Lexcom, such scent!”

“I do have a question on that...”

“Such! Scent!”

He’s caught up in the impression. Talk about professional. You want to deck Yoongi in the face so he flies out the building on the legal basis of tax fraud, but here your HR manager has his fun ridiculing you. Perhaps, truly, there’s nobody ‘professional’ except the cafeteria guys who sell more cakes and snacks than even Taehyung on a bad day can eat.

“Now, really. What’s in his aftershave?”

“Orchid, sandalwood, spice, duh. You dig that, grump? You’re acting weird.”

You’re already on your way out.

“Was nice talking, Park, good to see you.”

“Might be a bottle blonde but I still know the gentleman’s essentials.”

“It’s late, time to sign out,” you shout going down the corridor. Jimin shouts right back.

“Calm your anger issues until tomorrow and just fuck him!”

Spice it is. The third ingredient. What spice exactly? You should have asked. Let’s see if he wears that tomorrow. The aftershave seems to follow you everywhere — even dropping to the subterranean on the elevator again, where you check your emails on the phone. The field where Namjoon’s messages always turn up is still empty.

Instead, a new flagged mail is at the top of the feed. Kim Eonjin, CMO. Here in marketing since 2013, the only person you trusted to fast forward the Code 19 alert to. She writes she advises care for “the matter” and to remember the last meeting you had. Where you got to know the market fluctuates too much to tell, that Yongsang Digital can make the big decisions currently, and not SeoulTec. But a crucial detail and Lexcom could outdo all five competing enterprises in the field with a new software launch. Better than Orbit Five’s, no matter how enthusiastic Namjoon was to see it, which truly meant something — usually. That alone would be all fair and just. But what if that crucial detail came from your office, Yoongi’s keen ears to be precise.

The email attachment has new contents for the blueprint in it, less significant ones, but just about a hundred pages worth of packed information and sketches. Those you make a mental mark to send to the development office. Eonjin is clever. Really clever. She knows that Hyuna works best when there’s a lot to do. Otherwise, she does things like spontaneously proclaiming a dinner date on Friday for Yoongi and you earlier. During lunch break at the cafeteria. Even if she knew that you’d roll your eyes at that and go eat elsewhere in town at Sunmi’s food stall, dragging Yoongi with you knowing that otherwise, the whole IT department seated at the other cafeteria table would deliver him whatever codes in jest. Because they can’t shut up either. Which further prompted Hyuna to announce that you might actually be dating already. Who treats their secretary to Sunmi’s sandwiches on the first day, hah, you lovebirds!

While in reality, Yoongi got an important text and had to drive around the block for a private matter at a place he said was in Hannam. In the meantime, you ranted and cried your eyes out to a strangely customer-less Sunmi for 30 minutes straight, with the rather juicy tomato sandwich she made you almost ruining your suit. If there’s no queue at Sunmi’s, Namjoon is out of office, and Taehyung gives out passwords because he can, a day is truly hell. Except this one flagged email on top of your feed. The elevator is beeping again.

“SUBTERRANEAN.”

You reply an “OK” to Eonjin feeling the need to develop a safety plan with Namjoon. Who knows, the IT department might be a bunch of arrogant pricks, but their work is hard to underestimate and so essential to keep the corporation out of getting into the red. Lexcom is unpredictable, so is Min Yoongi, and you already know he wants to get involved under the guise of being such a secretary mastermind. Maybe it’s a good move to have the enemy up close in the other room. One mistake from Yoongi and you have compelling evidence, Hyuna’s antics aside. You will finally understand why Lexcom did what they did. You’ll get into his head and find out. You close the email inbox, tuck away your phone, and step into the cloud of fuel again.

Where the Mercedes stood after Yoongi’s arrival is now a gap that you do end up staring into for three minutes instead of heading to your own car. You hate realizing how you think about these things so much.

Finally. The paper box with red felt marker on the top lid has been making your mouth water all day. Fried potato starch noodles that Sunmi prepared in a matter of three minutes. You push the container into the microwave where they sizzle and permeate the apartment with a flavor of sesame and soy sauce, then practically fall into in the armchair in your living room. Christie S. Kwon keeps on looking at you strange, but gives off a satisfied meow once you pat and scrub her head multiple times, the neck, too. The cat makes herself at home in the kitchen once content, watching the moon rise at the skyline. She dozes off in a matter of two minutes.  

On your lap now rests Six Rules. Already tossed and turned more than Jin could have possibly read it throughout his entire career at SeoulTec.

Again, you start with the introduction text. All sentences as correct as Yoongi’s way of bowing, and his collar. He must be good at ironing. You read through the table in the middle of the page once more, each rule one by one, then go to the chapters where each individual rule is elaborated and exemplified. Chapter six in particular makes you ignore the blip of the microwave where Sunmi’s noodles steam the front window from the inside, making Christie S. Kwon purr in her sleep.

Once you did fetch them from the microwave, they’re already lukewarm. The book is closed, balancing itself on the armrest of the chair while you provide the searchbar on Yoongi’s website with some fodder.

#taxes #lexcom #rule VI #yongsang digital #orbit five #about me #stock market #ceo #notes #basketball #blood types

Much like Christie keeps on mewling in her sleep because the noodles still smell that tasty, you’re not running out of tags any time soon. How to get into his brain if not this way. You memorize everything about the website, and not just the text. The layout, the images, the filing system, the email addresses and contacts, too. If you want to get into his head, you do it properly even if it’s a lot of work. If Yoongi can take notes, so can you.

Hyuna gets her hundred pages tomorrow. Less fuel for her boredom. You, however, will not rest until you regain yours. Min Yoongi, executive assistant, is already making too many waves.

When the noodle bowl is empty and the moon has almost reached its zenith, you upload a final user picture of a typical and inconspicuous Incheon sunrise holiday shot and create a new email address that you enter in the form at the bottom of the page.

Contact: christie.s.kwon@seoul-mail.com.

Subscribe to Six Rules Club and get access to unique information!

You click the blue subscribe button.

Taehyung comes along carrying three pastries in a plastic bag and a rucksack. You’re not the only one trying to survive the schedule.

“Not running out today!”

He touts, passing over a flyer after you held the elevator door open for him.

“Which floor?” you ask.

“On my way to the restrooms, five. Need a large stall.”

“Changing suits, huh?”

You point at the rucksack. Taehyung nods.

“New interns are coming, Jimin will be there, too. Need my A-Game.”

He might mess around with passwords, but hard work Taehyung does not shy away from.

“That’s good, and he’s getting busy. But what about this?”

“Take a look, just in.”

The flyer showcases Orbit Five’s new hardware at a glance, all nice in bright colors with detailed descriptions. Taehyung says it was in his lockbox this morning. Someone got it from Namjoon, and someone passed it on to him, and now he passes it on to you. What a giant hassle. It’s about time Namjoon returns to cut the chain of command short. The elevator almost gets to floor five that Taehyung, already fiddling with the rucksack to get his grey suit out, remembers something.

“By the way. Yoongi’s an early bird,” he laughs. “Seen the Mercedes park on the subterranean CCTV like fourty minutes ago.”

“I know, just walked right past it.”

“He’s different, isn’t he.”

“Very much so.”

The elevator doors part, revealing the ‘restrooms’ sign on the opposite wall. Taehyung tips his invisible hat to you.

“See you later ma’am, gotta stun the entourage with my suit.”

“Good luck,” you maintain, but Taehyung already speeds to the right. “Tell Jimin to take care of the interns for me.”

His desk is empty, but the noise from the end of the corridor is all too treacherous. You find Yoongi cramped into Hyuna’s office, surrounded by the IT guys, female interns from the marketing department, and the whole Development team. They sat him down on a desk between a scanner and laminating machine. Even if you thought the coffee from yesterday didn’t really do much, your blood pressure goes straight through the roof of SeoulTec in this very moment.

“Hyuna, everybody, what on earth!”

Yoongi looks rather apologetic, too caught in the middle. He’s in a silky blue suit today.

The marketing interns and IT guys chirp into your ears from all sides.

“Jimin told us that he’s the Min Yoongi!”

“Look at how he’s dressed!”

“You’re too good at hiring.”

You make your way past the mob to the laminating machine trying very hard to keep a straight face.

“Doubt it.”

Hyuna tugs at Yoongi’s tie as a brief retort.

“Really? You got us a rockstar secretary, hah. Need any condoms?”

You pull Yoongi from the desk and guide him toward the door under the jeers of the team.

“No thanks. Yoongi, lock the door when I’m not in the office yet and you arrive early. Lock the door... in general.”

Hyuna yells out loud.

“Ohh! Lock the door, Min Yoongi! Now she got a reason to use her own condoms!”

Thunderous groans and applause. The entire room is laughs. You strike a serious tone.

“What did I write about sexual harassment in the Golden Book.”

“Says the exec who takes her boy toy to Sunmi’s!”

“Do you even understand what sexual harassme—”

Hyuna clicks her tongue while you still speak.

“Oh shut up. Jimin even said you read Yoongi’s book and liked it a lotty dotty lot, hah.”

More laughter.

It’s like a police interrogation. Whatever you say will be used against you. Whoever has control over this enterprise, the CEO in supposed charge it surely is not.

Yoongi looks a little flustered and helpless when you shove him out into the corridor, past the interns who pat his back and blow him kisses.

Too bad you can’t fire every single person in this company. At least they kept Yoongi from being all by himself around your office. Hyuna’s everlasting chaotic nature might not be so bad, after all. But still, you see Yoongi scratch his head seemingly confounded.

“You okay?”

“I mean, I met the employee of the month. And it’s a lively place.”

Ever so diplomatic. You are the one to lock the door with your key card before dropping a pack of old business cards on Yoongi’s desk. That’ll preoccupy him with the contacts archive to fill in.

Sunmi rocks her Doc Martens against the counter, already looking as angry as you do. The pans, pots, and two grills of the stall are turned off except the deep fryer that spins around some fries. Children play in the park, but nobody seems to bother with the generous offer of a couple thousand Won for Japchae, chalked onto a small board by the side of the road with an arrow below, pointing toward the stall.

“We served him everything on a silver plate,” you stir your ramen when Sunmi hands it to you, then add a few spritzes of soy sauce. “Blueprints, codes, prototypes, and a reason to give us bad press just because Hyuna thinks I should fuck him. I’m scared to read tomorrow’s newspaper.”

“Oh fuck, man. You get an extra sandwich to stock up for the afternoon. With extra radish.”

“Sunmi, I pay. Your customers, recently...”

“The queue will come back, don’t worry.”

“I can send you some hungry people from our cafeteria. There are plenty.”

“That’s where they went, aye!” Sunmi giggles into her apron to hide her smile. She doesn’t like her crooked front tooth.

“They’ll come back to you once Seoul Daily sends us reporters asking about a sex scandal. Caused by the damn employee of the month.”

“Ah, Hyuna. All because the fucker Yoongi wrote that book and Jimin fell in love with it.”

“Yeah. That’s how I got those nineteen shit CVs. Jimin might as well have given me just that one application and said ‘hey I want this one just take him’. Like, no illusion of choice, you know.”

“That sucks. What did Yoongi write in his cover letter again?”

“Kind of, everything I wanted to hear. Good crisis management, written communication—”

“No, not that. What did he say about his real motivation to do the job, why he applied?”

“He just said he wanted to be of good service. Something super cheesy.”

“Sounds honorable given that Lexcom might have sent him.”

“I know, yeah.”

“So far your employees sound worse than he actually is. And I don’t get the feeling that he hides stuff. Except the Hannam thing.”

“He looked a bit distressed when he came back from that yesterday.”

“Oh really?”

“But not for too long.”

“Yeah, you told me, he bounced back from this rock star thing as well.”

“Hannam is different, though. He had to really hurry to get there and didn’t want to give any details. Just, none.”

“Really wanna know what goes down there. You know what I’m thinking?”

“Sunmi... he’s the spy, not us. We got into enough trouble already. It’s all exposed. We are the ones embarrassing ourselves. He doesn’t even have to move one finger. At this point, we can’t provoke it anymore.”

“We’re not spies when it’s good ole Sunmi driving around randomly to deliver some glazed chicken and rice, you know.”

“I know that you navigate Seoul very well.”

“And?”

“That makes me worry because you’ll do it.”

“Nothing easier than that, nobody will know I follow him except you.”

“Murphy’s Law ahead.”

“Murphy’s what?”

“Everything that can go wrong will go wrong. Happened in the last two days all over the place.”

“Fuck that law. We go by the Golden Book. And nowhere does it say in there that the sandwich lady can check up on what the secretary does in Hannam to come back weird like that.”

“The Golden Book has Code 20 listed. For stalking. I can’t break my own law there.”

“Code 19, 20, whatever. You said the codex is just in the way since he started and he’s using it against you already.”

“Doesn’t mean I’ll completely disregard it. It’s made from experience. And stalking isn’t cool.”

“But you went through his webpage...”

“Like a normal person who’s interested. I still went by the Golden Book.”

“This situation doesn’t compare. Yoongi’s a very particular case. He needs new rules. And new rules we only get by new trial and error.”

“Sunmi, Hannam is taboo for you. Who knows where he really goes. It could be dangerous. Or think about it, he might not go there again tomorrow.”

“That’s why we should go now!”

“I’d rather have the extra sandwich. Sans mayo.”

“Y/N, you never take any risks! Such a bore!”

“When I take risks and don’t think twice, you know what happens. My signature on a contract with Lexcom’s eyes and ears embodied.”

Sunmi points at you with a ladle from the grill and her most mischievous of grins.

“Hey, at least they come with a silk suit on.”

“That’s true. But a stack of dynamite won’t turn any less dangerous with silver wrapping and a greeting card.”

“Oh man, loosen up. Hyuna, she isn’t very far from the truth. You’re kinda frustrated.”

“But I don’t take Yoongi as my punching bag for that. Even if he wasn’t affiliated with Lexcom.”

“Are you so sure?”

“I’m very sure.”

“Don’t pretend you never wanted to go out with Seokjin. Come on! And who said she wanted to throw hands the other day, punching bag much! Frustration, but denial as a cherry on top, huh.”

The deep fryer turns off. You get out your car keys and zip your jacket tight at the neck. A deep sigh.

“Sunmi, one last question. Should I hire you?”

“Sorry, what?”

“You do start to sound like the people in Hyuna’s office.”

The office door is locked. You pull out your key card, swipe, then enter. Yoongi gives you a sweet smile from his desk, although again, it seems like something has ruffled his feathers.

“About 40% done with the cards,” he types, a few double clicks follow.

“Is that a secretary ethics thing to always arrive early?”

“I mean,” he lets go of the mouse now. “You read the book, right.”

Sure you did. But the pages make your head spin.

“Yeah.”

“It’s courteous, I think. Letting someone wait is the worst thing you could do. And even when your superiors are still busy when you come around, a secretary, by default should be invisible.”

Sort of like Tom Cruise indeed.

“Yoongi, what I mean is that you can enjoy your break. I’ll give you coupons for the green tea cakes if you like, Jimin always hands them to me.”

“I’m really not used to this,” he blinks. “But if that’s your wish I will always enter five minutes after you come back from break.”

“Extra mile, I got that.”

“Extra mile. And thank you for the offer.”

You cram around in the drawers of your desk, then get out five coupons that had amassed over the last few months. Jimin doesn’t like green tea rolls and figures you do. Somehow you are glad that he didn’t get the idea that Taehyung could have a better use for them. Because now, you can get Tom Cruise to sit in the cafeteria.

“The cards in the archive can wait. Take one, make yourself comfortable in the foyer,” you hand him the little vouchers with a silver crane printed in every bottom right edge.

“You mean, I can prolong the break?”

“Of course. I have a meeting on floor two now anyways, won’t be good company.” You already usher him toward the door. “Greet Taehyung and Jimin if you see them walking around with the new interns. You can talk to them if you like.”

His aftershave starts messing with your head when the elevator goes down. You step out into the second floor headed to Eonjin’s office. Yoongi does an awkward tiny wave with the coupon in his hand when the doors close and the elevator drops to the ground floor.

Eonjin practically pulls you into her tiny, dim lit room after you knock.

“Y/N! Is #9828 around?”

She starts tugging at your suit from all sides.

“No, he’s— Hey, what are you doing!”

“Bugging devices,” she mouths, without actually speaking it out loud. She pats around, you turn by 360° until she turns the light up to full brightness. “Seems ok. Your cell phone is also in your office, right?”

You nod.

“Thank you for the hundred blueprints, lifesaver,” you sit down on the sofa opposite Eonjin’s messy desk, located underneath a giant infographic about the 4 Ps of marketing on the wall. Product, price, place, promotion.

“Hyuna will leave you alone when Namjoon returns,” Eonjin fiddles with a shelf now. All orange files. “And Yoongi’s foul play has an end. What’s he doing now?”

You shift back and forth in the sofa’s middle pit where a lot of decisions about SeoulTec had been pondered through the years.

“Triple threat. I sent him down to Front of House for cake, interns, and chatty Taehyung.”

“He’ll be preoccupied.”

“Backfired the last few times I tried this. At least he’s not in the office. He’s always there early.”

“Really, check your devices. Could be any type of sabotage. Smart phone in particular, it’s portable. Did he behave suspiciously so far? Saw him enter your office yesterday in passing, but I didn’t see much more.”

“He’s kind of overly formal and odd I guess. Increasingly so. He says things about being invisible and whatnot. And he drives to Hannam during lunch break but won’t say why, and comes back exhausted. All the work he does is super pedantic. He keeps taking notes about the most trivial stuff. It’s creepy. His website has a lot of talk about Switzerland and taxes on it. I signed up there.”

“What!”

“With a fake profile and blocked IP, and I didn’t do much on there. I just looked at tags and some entries that he wrote when he first made the website.”

“Was there something about Lexcom?”

“Nothing.”

“Be careful subscribing to that site, I’m telling you.”

“I’m not doing anything extraneous. And Yoongi isn’t too active on there.”

“He’s been marketing the shit out of that book, didn’t he?”

“So successfully that everyone in here has read it by the end of May.”

“Genius secretary you say.”

“Yes, that’s his moniker.”

“What a hot air balloon. Sucks that Namjoon won’t reply, I just wonder what the hell is going on in Daegu. I mean they launch the latest hardware idea and he can’t even get proper wifi? Even his private number seems perpetually blocked!”

“If he’s somewhere strapped to a chair at Hannam and Yoongi’s henchmen put a gun to his head...”

“You think he’d resort to such a method?”

“Wouldn’t exclude it. Yoongi’s politeness schtick doesn’t mean anything. Did you check Namjoon’s social media activity already?”

“Yeah. He didn’t post anything recently.”

“Then that’s more than suspicious. A Communications Officer without any tweets?”

“Yeah, we gotta do something.”

Sunmi’s ash grey Honda sounds like a smoke-burping dragon going down Hannam Bridge. The sky is clear. You’ve insisted that the Celine Dion playlist starts to get annoying at least three times yelling from the backseat, but Sunmi keeps on shaking her head and turns up the volume a bit more each time.

“It’ll make us look and sound casual. We’re just delivering some chicken, remember. Bitch, this is the Sunmi express!”

“Oh gosh, just stop swearing like that,” Eonjin complains from the passenger seat, still hiding behind a rather crease-laden map that was likely considered recent back in 1982. “Y/N, how the fuck did you two even meet?”

“You just swore yourself!” Sunmi laughs and stomps on the accelerator. Eonjin looks indignant.

“No, really!”

“I don’t know, even CEOs get an empty stomach?” you shrug, adjusting your shades and the extra large hoodie Eonjin gave you before departing from her office. The huge box of chicken resting across your thighs is way too hot to handle. You already hate this.

Sunmi keeps tapping her fingers on the steering wheel to the intonation of Celine Dion’s dramatic falsetto blaring from the speakers, backed up by heavy percussions.

“Y/N likes very spicy sandwiches. And nobody does 'em like I do in Seoul. Even her cat gets my food sometimes. Special edition!”

Eonjin buries her face in the Itaewon district on the map.

“Ah, I see, uh. Question answered.”

Celine Dion hits a perfect high note when the Honda exits the bridge. The cafeteria with Taehyung, Jimin, Hyuna, the chatty interns, and a couple greasy IT guys at full throttle about their god complex at the neighboring table is now but a distant, yet much-cherished dream.

The license plate of Yoongi's black CLS before you vanishes on the left behind the first block of toplofty skyscrapers when Eonjin pulls out a bag of crisps for 128₩ from her jacket. You can’t believe your own eyes.

“What are you doing!”

“Can’t use my 4 Ps of Marketing here. We’re out of office. Sunmi is right.”

“Right about what?”

“Oh, well.”

The bag pops open while Sunmi already twirls the steering wheel to the left, causing an abrupt turn. You hold on tight to the box of chicken while your seat belt does the rest until the chassis balances and Yoongi’s sleek Mercedes shifts into sight again on the main street. You sigh, push the shades further up your nose bridge. The things you do for Namjoon.

Even now, the Honda continues to burp and rattle to the sound of the orchestra whose impetus seemingly presses you against the backseat through its sheer ostentation, while in reality, it is the speed of the car.

“Ladies, I still don’t think this is a good idea.”

“What I meant by Sunmi is right was, we gotta look natural,” Eonjin says, shoving two potato crisps into her mouth at once. “We’re just delivering a box for Mister M.Y.G. and fuck him up. Want some? They’re really crunchy.”

“Not in the mood, I’m sorry.”

Sunmi turns down the volume at least one bit.

“Yoongi is the real snack we’re after anyways. I got so curious how he looks like.”

“You won’t be so curious anymore if we see him walk into a mob boss mansion in a minute,” you mumble into your hoodie.

“The usual pessimist,” Sunmi darts a quick glance across her shoulder to face the back seat, and chuckles. “And you’re not even the one with everything to lose.”

Eonjin looks as confused as you are.

“Sunmi, what do you mean?”

The music stops. Her finger stays on the pause button.

“My customers. They don’t seem to come back recently.”

“Oh...”

“Maybe it’s Wang’s new restaurant at the end of the street that opened last week. Their food is good. They don’t have sandwiches, but a lot of staff. I was happy when you showed up with Eonjin at my stall today. Takes my mind off things, we can have some fun.”

You reach your hands out to the driver’s seat, and rest them on her shoulder.

“I’m sorry for that, Sunmi. That sucks big time.”

Eonjin puts down her map.

“Hey, why doesn’t anybody pull a huge marketing stunt for these sandwiches? I mean Y/N eats them every day!”

Sunmi is the one shrugging now.

“Nah. I’ve tried everything, really. If we get caught up in a scandal here they might sell again. Ya-hey!”

The Honda goes on burping and bumping music two skyscrapers later. Nobody in the rusty car really bothers looking at the black Mercedes driving in the parallel alley. Celine Dion is at full blast now. You have to scream against the ariose and pompous voice and orchestra.

“Sunmi, listen. You can start at our cafeteria any time!”

Eonjin loudly agrees.

“Yeah why not!”

But Sunmi doesn’t reply. Instead, the whole car comes to an abrupt stop. The seatbelt digs into your chest. You can’t breathe. Once the breaks kick in, both Eonjin and you slam back into your seats.

“Sunmi!”

“Shit!”

“What happened!”

“There was, someone crossed, the road, fuck!”

Eonjin cries out.

“Did we hit them?”

“No, but...!”

For one moment, you see nothing. No orientation. The seatbelt relaxes around your chest again. Your breath goes fast, but it’s back. Then, a wild knock against your window.

Shock.

The voice is all too familiar.

Sunmi pushes the pause button almost automatically. She's dead-eyed. Silence. And then—

“You fuckass pricks, I just got a new bag! What are you doing, hah? What's going on! Reckless driving motherfuckers! Who do you think you are, Honda twats! You're fucking ugly! Speeding through Hannam like dumb shits with the volume up!”

Hyuna’s bright red grimace of anger appears up close when you operate the crank to bring down the window. You take off your glasses for her to recognize you. Her eyes go wide.

She stumbles backwards.

“What! Sweetheart, you?! And, Eonjin?”

“Get, get in the car, Hyuna. Fast.”

You size her up head to toe. She seems alright. She didn’t fall. Sunmi successfully evaded her. Other cars behind you are already honking. You still feel so dizzy.

“Oh, okay, uh!”

You open the door, grab her shopping bags, and stuff them under the driver’s seat from behind. Hyuna climbs over your lap to the other side of the back seat, pulls her seatbelt down.

Eonjin sighs out, picking up the map she dropped.

“Hyuna, what the fuck! Use the traffic lights to cross the road!”

“I can’t walk there, I just had to carry a lot, goddammit! I had a good time shopping!”

Sunmi, eyes still wide in panic, looks back at you, then Eonjin, then Hyuna.  

“It’s the Kim Hyuna?! From your office, Y/N?”

“Yes, you idiot!” Hyuna promptly replies, stifling your voice before you can even raise it. “Are you Y/N’s chauffeur or what! You need to quit your job, hah!”

“Me, an idiot?!”

“Calm down now!” Eonjin grits. “Hyuna. This is Sunmi from the sandwich stall!”

More silence. Hyuna’s jaw drops.

“Are you kidding me!”

“We explain that in a minute. Sunmi, get going. We’re losing Yoongi. We gotta hurry.”

“Losing Yoongi? Sunmi driving? What’s going on here!”

Even now, Hyuna still wildly gesticulates around. You need to dodge her arms about three times. Sunmi restarts the engine. In about half a minute, the Honda rattles down the alley twice as fast now.

“Hyuna, listen. We suspect that Yoongi has some shady business going on,” you crank up your window again. “Something with Lexcom. He always drives to Hannam for something.”

“Really now? Lexcom?”

“Namjoon sent us Code 19 for Yoongi.”

“Yoongi? He’s a fucking spy?!”

“Looks like it. Namjoon’s social media went dead since he got hired. It's all very weird.”

“Huh, I thought Namjoon is in Daegu? With the prototype thing?”

“We’re not so sure about that anymore.”

“So, Namjoon thinks Yoongi spies on us for Lexcom. And you get into Sunmi's car to find him on lunch break, but instead! You try to run me over, what the heck— I thought you make good sandwiches and mind your own business! Clown.”

The Honda goes even faster. The polished Hannam apartments blur outside your window. You were wrong about Lee “Leadfoot” Sunmi being a decent driver.

“I’m not a clown! You were the one crossing the street from a dead angle! And I heard you’ve been on some bullshit in the office, too!”

Eonjin deliberately presses the play button.

Celine Dion’s ginormously loud and emotional outcry about how her heart will go on interrupts the conversation. After two seconds, Eonjin shuts down the CD player completely.

“Do I have your attention now?” she grumbles. “Stop fighting. The only clown in this game is still Yoongi. He got us into that mess. While we were arguing, he parked his car over there.”

She points toward a tower-like building at the far end of the street.

“Eonjin, my ears!” Hyuna just keeps on whining. "Celine Dion, what?"

You shush Hyuna with a quick hand gesture.

“Wait a minute, Eonjin! Yoongi parked?”

Sunmi slows down the Honda. She checks twice whether the music is actually turned off now.

Now it’s your jaw that drops virtually into the subterranean if it were actually below you.

The building where the Mercedes stands has a bright yellow sign at its very top. You recognize the lettering almost right away.

Yongsang Digital headquarters.

And at the entrance: The tall silhouette of Kim Namjoon.

“Four gals on a fucking trip, hah!”

“Quiet, Hyuna. Only Sunmi should be visible! They have their CCTV everywhere.”

Eonjin rustles behind the map, peering across the upper part just enough to observe the entrance.

“We’re not breaking in or something, calm down,” Hyuna wails in return. “Just want something to happen!”

“They just walked in like three minutes ago,” you murmur into your hoodie, then pass Sunmi the paper box of chicken from your lap. It’s kind of lukewarm already, as are your thighs. It’s a miracle that the container survived the heavy brake earlier with just a kinked upper corner. On the top lid, a name field with red felt marker scribbled right across in Sunmi’s typcial convoluted handwriting.

Cruise Chicken Delivery Service Itaewon. Fresh and red hot! For M.Y.G.

The Honda, even though its engine is turned off and the hand brake is on, rattles back and forth when the driver’s door pops open. The car still didn’t recover from the race through Hannam. You wonder whether it will even start again later.

“Thanks. Just stay wherever you are. And check your phone, Y/N,” Sunmi whispers, making sure her apron and cap sit right, and her name tag is horizontal before crossing the road.

While Hyuna tries to suppress her “yes, fuck it up!” cheers, both Eonjin and you look at each other like Jimin just singlehandedly hired CEO Jeon from Lexcom himself.

You're all too familiar with wrong decisions and regret.

And now that.

Sunmi casually struts toward the entrance, snapping her fingers, and moving to the nonexistent beat of Celine Dion’s I’m Alive that made the speakers burst when you went down Hannam bridge earlier.

“She’s the right kind of person to do this,” Hyuna snickers into her fist. “Just look at her.”

You want to crawl under the driver’s seat and pretend to be one of Hyuna’s new bags.

“She said we need new rules. Guess I have to abolish Code 19 and 20 altogether.”

“Come on, Y/N. Cruise Chicken Service from Itaewon is just delivering something! Only another day in the fast food business. Relax, hah.”

“We can get into serious trouble though,” Eonjin cowers down. “And Namjoon messing around at Yongsang Digital is not good at all either.”

“Yeah, he lied about being in Daegu. And they shook hands and smiled, I saw that. Namjoon was in his best suit. He had his bling bling watch on, you can see that shit from a mile away. And, look.”

You point at Yoongi’s Mercedes. Namjoon’s BMW parks right next to it, door to door.

Hyuna peeks outside her window from below.

“Snug, aren’t they. Becomes more intense with every minute, hah.”

You fiddle with your smartphone under the sharp eyes of Eonjin, going through both your emails, chats, and other messages. You hope that Sunmi typed in your number correctly. It was all in a hurry. You hate improvising.

“Any vital signs?” Eonjin asks, then ogles the BMW again.

“None yet.”

“Ah, probably a good sign, hm,” Hyuna flashes a smile. “None of them actually know her. The delivery thing is genius.”

You disagree.

“Should have called the police. Should call them now. Something is terribly wrong about Yoongi and Namjoon messing around at Yongsang. We only went for this because we thought Namjoon was in actual danger...”

“Police ain’t needed. The only thing—”

Your phone buzzes. Hyuna starts screaming.

“Oh gosh, oh gosh!”

Eonjin reaches her palm to the backseat to cover Hyuna's mouth.

“Don't yell! Open the message, Y/N, quick!”

Your nervous fingers need three taps until they activate the little window on the screen.

Comin’. Stay down. — S

Hyuna can’t stifle her second scream either even if Eonjin tries her very best to contain her.

“Sunmi made it!”

“Hush!”

You leave the message window open but duck down even more.

Eonjin gasps into her map herself when the doors of the building swing open.

Sunmi casually walks out with Namjoon on her left and Yoongi on her right. Both men head towards their cars. You can see that Yoongi carries the chicken box, half open.

The Mercedes reverses out of its parking space, first. Smooth and elegant. When Sunmi struts toward the Honda, snapping fingers, the BMW’s window winds down and Namjoon, sunglasses on and laxly steering the wheel, makes a short departing gesture. Sunmi tips her hat, then gets into the Honda's driver’s seat, wordlessly turns the keys, shifts gear.

“Jesus Christ, Sunmi, what happened?!” Hyuna pokes her arm.

Sunmi hands you her phone.

“Stay down until we’re out of the CCTV range. Click on the video. Explains everything.”

The engine takes four trials until it crackles again. Then, the Honda follows the BMW and he Mercedes downtown.

You press play on the video. A shaky view through a thin corridor appears. An edge of the chicken container shakes back and forth at the lower end of the frame. It’s Sunmi walking towards a room. The camera turns dark when she stuffs it into her apron. But the audio is still on. Two men are whispering from the side, or wherever Sunmi walks. You recognize them without a doubt. The voices are Yoongi’s and Namjoon’s. The camera stops shaking. Sunmi stays still.

“It’s just the way I thought,” Namjoon says. “Same shit, different company. Fed up. I can't do this any longer.”

“Do you think warning Y/N is a good idea already?”

Yoongi’s voice is even more hushed.

“We have concrete evidence. I think we should go for it. This is dangerous. And we can only pretend for so long. They’ll find out we’re from SeoulTec soon enough. You might be, but I’m not the most believable shareholder.”

“I don’t trust this either. Hoseok gave us an offer way too early. That's fucking strange!”

“Because he has to launch the software fast, he has no time. Hyuna and Eonjin are already busy finalizing the blueprints. Yongsang can’t wait. They have to use them first. We were the best and only opportunity for him.”

“I can’t believe that Hoseok managed to hack the innovations team.”

“We should have been more careful with the blueprints. Hoseok has already started using the codes, did you see that?”

“You mean, the presentation?”

Yoongi sounds confused.

“Yeah, you could tell they took basically everything Hyuna worked on and made it their own.”

“Sorry, missed that. I was too busy pretending I care about stocks. Hoseok has a keen eye, he’s asked me a couple detailed questions yesterday, I’m still sweating. If I blow our cover this is going downhill. We're so close.”

“The only thing that’s important is that I keep my social media clean of anything. They could hack into it within a minute.”

“But you did send Y/N the warning and Yongsang’s postcode, didn’t you, Joon? #9828.”

“Yes, but I couldn’t write anything else.”

“No wonder she’s not been doing anything about it yet. She misunderstood.”

“I guess— Damn, time is running out. Half past already.”

“Ditch that coffee, we need to get out of this kitchen.”

Rustling. Steps. The camera shakes even more. Loud commotion. It sounds like people bumping into each other. Yoongi sounds like he’s having a heart attack.

“Who, who are you!”

“Shut it! I’m Y/N’s friend! Sunmi!”

“Sunmi?! From downtown?”

“She sent me to look for Namjoon, we’re outside with Eonjin and Hyuna!”

“What!”

Yoongi still keeps his voice low, but you can tell the panic in his tone.

“Back to the kitchen! Come! There’s no CCTV in there!”

More rustling.

“Aren’t you from the sandwich stall Y/N always goes to? And why the chicken?”

“Yes, that’s how we planned to get in.”

“What did you just hear when we talked, Sunmi?”

“The whole conversation.”

“We need to get out of here.”

“But we still have to say goodbye to Hoseok, shit.”

“Hoseok?”

“That’s Yongsang’s CEO!”

“You fuckers look like a million bucks right now, come on! I give you the chicken, we walk out of here together like nothing happened.”

“What do you mean?”

“Look at this box. We wrote ‘for Min Yoongi’ on it. This will look like you just guys ordered some food for lunch. Take the container and start eating! Where is this guy Hoseok’s office?”

“Third floor, it’s made out of fucking glass.”

“You walk past like you have to attend a meeting elsewhere, wave goodbye from a distance, and just munch. I take the staircase in the meantime. We meet at the reception, like ‘by chance’. And then exit the building, all three. Easy business. Y/N is still waiting outside, we’re in a delivery car.”

“Okay, we just pretend we all part ways first when we’re in the car. There’s CCTV outside.”

“And then we meet at my food stall together. It’s close to this new restaurant, Wang’s.”

"Oh man! Are you sure that all of that works?"

"Take the box, fucker. Go."

After a few more seconds, the video ends. No more storage left says a little flag at the bottom.

The deep fryer is working overtime. Eonjiin made sure everyone has their smartphones turned off. She made Namjoon and Yoongi check their suits for bugging devices thrice.

Sunmi, albeit barely concentrated on her work, stacks sandwich after sandwich together while everyone comes together at the counter. It’s pure mayhem until Namjoon gathers his words. He’s still shaking.

“I sent Yoongi to work for Lexcom four years ago. To find out what they’re doing,” he begins. “And this week, I made Jimin hire him to become your secretary, Y/N. While we both went to Yongsang Digital under the guise of being their new shareholders, simultaneously. That’s why we turned up with our best suits, the expansive watches, parked the cars right before the Yongsang building. So they would think we’re the richest blowhards around.”

“What! What do you mean! What was that for! Hah?”

Hyuna is redder than her suit and keeps on tugging at Namjoon's shirt. The sausages on Sunmi's grill start to look jet black because she doesn't turn them. Namjoon's voice becomes even more frail.

“Calm, please, stay calm. B-both times. I suspected they were trying to mess with our company. In the first case, I sent Yoongi because I knew that a scam was going on at Lexcom. It was too late, they already made the tax fraud allegation against us, and they launched the stolen product that we had been working on. This time, with Yongsang, I had to be faster and go there myself. I didn't want to make the same mistake. Of course I lied about being in Daegu. I was busy gathering information from how Hoseok was hacking into Hyuna’s database. Yongsang Digital has been doing the same thing as Lexcom four years ago. They stole shit from us. So I went undercover.”

“So that’s why you said your social media went dead...”

“Yeah. You didn’t understand the email I sent you?”

“No, I thought the postcode was Yoongi’s applicant number.”

“Oh fuck...”

Yoongi buries his head in the napkin Sunmi had handed him a minute ago.

“So— you thought I was spying on you?”

“Yeah, all the time. I thought you were doing some horseshit with Lexcom. And that you kidnapped Namjoon. That’s why I sent Sunmi to find and observe you.”

Hyuna builds herself up in front of Yoongi and pushes his chest now.

"Yeah! We were fucking worried! All because you two couldn't get your number right in that email? Shame on you! I almost died!"

"Hyuna, what?"

"Sunmi was speeding down Hannam lane like a maniac and almost knocked me over after I walked out of a boutique!"

Namjoon knocks his head against the stall counter now.

"What... have I done."

Yoongi wipes his forehead with the napkin now, and Hyuna lets go of him.

“I can’t believe it. Hoseok spies on us and steals codes, Namjoon and I spy on him in return, and you spy on us pretending to be a chicken delivery racecar driver. This industry is nuts.”

“We didn’t pretend! I’m actually a food delivery,” Sunmi pouts right away.

“But you made up another name, didn’t you. Cruise, uh, Delivery Service or something.”

“That was just a detail. You two jackasses, you pretended to be some loaded as fuck stock owners from the Wall Street! You were eating caramel cookies in Yongsang's designer break room! I thought vigilante justice is less luxurious!”

Yoongi looks mortified.

“Jackasses? We did it to protect Y/N’s business from another bankruptcy, all we have to do is alert authorities and they will jail Hoseok and his hackers! Namjoon and I tried to fit in there, that's all that was.”

You put down your sandwich and point at Namjoon with narrow eyes now.

“Hey, are you sure that they won’t accuse you of espionage yourself? You didn’t get into Yongsang through legal means, did you?”

“Ahm, we just walked in and said we’re interested in stocks after Hoseok’s product launches. I mean, Yoongi actually has stocks in Switzerland! That the product is made from a code that Hyuna made? Hoseok pretty much told us himself, we didn’t have to do anything!”

“Yeah. He invited Namjoon and me for his short presentations. And we saw that most of the software design had SeoulTec written all over it. Hoseok is too arrogant not to keep it a secret. Anybody who would have walked in there as a guest listener would have found out that he stole the codes!”

“If that guest listener knew what we develop here,” you raise a brow at Yoongi now.

“We’re 'stockholders', we know how each software company works.”

“Thanks to that, we have an issue with the police. One glance into their data bank and they will know Yoongi works as my new secretary, and Namjoon as our CCO. We fucking trapped ourselves.”

“Wait a second,” Eonjin puts down her fries. “If I can detect evidence on my PC that they hacked us, I can be the one who reports them. The police will never know about the stockholder thing when Namjoon and Yoongi retreat from Yongsang Digital without a trace. I mean, you used different identities, right? How did you get to know each other, anyways?”

"Same basketball team in high school," Namjoon clasps his hands. "I kept up with Yoongi for years during our business majors. We even made a start-up once, that was auditing. Ten years ago, but it failed. Then I found out about Lexcom's scam when I was already working at SeoulTec. Sort of by chance. So I called him up again, and suggested that he should go to Lexcom to investigate. Yoongi was a rising secretary at the time, he just came to Korea from his time abroad in Switzerland. Of course, Lexcom hired him. And for the identities we had for the stakeholders make believe — We were a bit, say inspired by the initials of our pets. Ryan and Holly."

You have to bite your tongue at that. Christie S. Kwon dot fucking com.

“And yeah," Yoongi puts down his napkin. "We used fake IDs. Namjoon called himself Mister R. from New York and I was Mister H. from California. They didn’t even ask about anything else, I just flashed them my Switzerland stocks on a tablet, the car, how I worked at Lexcom four years ago, and Hoseok already asked us to join. He was easy to persuade. He offered us the stocks. They thought we wouldn’t know about SeoulTec’s innovations because we supposedly came from the states. They just rolled the presentation and bragged about their stolen software to impress us.”

Hyuna rolls her eyes.

“So much about legal. You really went in with fake IDs? You're both a fucking mess. But, how unprofessional can Yongsang Digital be!”

"Better than actual theft. I mean, we just showed them my stocks, watched a presentation, and put on an American accent. We didn't have bad intentions, it was just a reaction to when Namjoon spotted malware in the system last week. We knew someone was extracting our blueprints. But we couldn't prove it was from Yongsang yet. So we decided to take matters in our own hands. That's why I showed up at peculiar times in the secretary office, too. We were just demonstrating interest in Hoseok's stocks, nothing wrong with that."

For some reason, that, too reminds you of Sunmi's motto. Well, well! We're just delivering. Fresh and red hot!

“At least that’s good,” Eonjin says, “that you didn't use your own names. We can work with that. I say, we focus on how I found out how they stole the codes, and send you two on vacation while the investigations are running. We need proof for the malware, too. Then we're good to go.”

“True. It shouldn’t be too difficult to find evidence about what they stole,” Hyuna munches away at her sandwich. “The base code will probably be damaged in some parts where they attacked and extracted files.”

Namjoon nods at that.

“We know exactly which blueprints they used, too. When Hyuna can prove that her email inbox was leaked, and which ones of the top secret blueprints were stolen, Yongsang will get fined and Hoseok will be put on trial for being the fraud he is.”

Hyuna’s angry red cheeks turn back when she hears that.

“My inbox, too? Fuck 'em! And when do the Yongsang scammers plan to launch my software, then?!”

“In about two weeks,” Namjoon rubs the back of his neck. “That’s a month before we want to bring our prototype on the market. We also have information about how Yongsang cartelizes with Lexcom to make it a successful launch.”

Another collective jaw drop. The sausages are already starting to turn into coal, emitting pitch black smoke. Even Sunmi puts down her ladle. You are the first to say just about anything.

“You’re only saying that now?! They work together?  Joon, don’t fuck with me. What on earth is going on. What is Lexcom doing!”

"I know. It further complicates things. That could be the lawsuit of the century," Namjoon cracks his knuckles, bites his lower lip. No eye contact.

“They’ll just fix the price," Yoongi adds. "Yongsang's profits will skyrocket. Probably into several trillion Won. They have the industry in their hands now.”

The memory comes back. Your mother, with the newspaper in her hands. Crying. The reputation of years, the trust from clients, all gone in one day. You knew exactly why Namjoon did not mention a single word about hiring Yoongi.

Now you're the one to get red in the face.

“With our fucking product!”

“Yeah, Y/N. It's kind of a dilemma. And we don't have much time left." Yoongi stirs in his fries with a sigh. "I thought we could do this more, I mean, discretely. I need a giant cup of herbal tea."

"I just can't believe it," you reply. "Yongsang stole our blueprints and cartelizes with Lexcom. Where do we even start.”

"At least it's not too late. But we have to do something about both enterprises."

"And I'm, sorry," Namjoon adds. "We should have figured that the postcode was the same as Yoongi's applicant number. You should have known earlier."

That’s what Jimin meant by leaving your boxing gloves in the ring. This is the ring. It was never Yoongi. Not one second. He was the good guy, and Jimin never lied. He was the one who gathered all the information about the tax allegation, too, in order to warn Namjoon four years ago. Maybe there was hope.

"Don't be," you say. "It was an unlucky coincidence. And you had to stay in the shadows about it anyways. Otherwise, Yongsang would have known. I mean, and we still have to be careful."

Hyuna brings her fist down on the counter, almost knocking over the mayo.

"These fucks!"

Eonjin nods. She's chewing at her nails now.

"That's surveillance for you. If it was only Yongsang's hacking, we could alert the police. But with a whole cartel. It'll be tough. We're already neck deep in trouble ourselves. We're not any better. Cruise Delivery Service fucked up."

"Then we can't do worse, can we?" Hyuna asks.

Eonjin wraps her hair around her head twice to cover her face. Her head limps down, and not even Namjoon's pat on her shoulder seems to help.

"No, we really can't," she sniffles.

"Then," you take out your phone, "we use our last and best weapon."

"What do you mean?"

"Fuck Murphy's Law. We use it to our advantage. He'll destroy everything."

Sunmi blinks at you, while Yoongi tries to get a glance at the number on your screen.

"Who? Y/N, who?"

The speaker first beeps a few times, then, a cheery voice emerges, next to an avatar with a man smiling impossibly bright on your screen.

"Hey, hey grump! Can I help? By the way, think I found out which aftershave it is, did an actual Google search. And the new interns, oh! They are mighty, mighty fine. Oh yeah. Ask T, he's super in love as well. They were all saying how handsome he is, they got manners. If you still think Yoongi's an ass, you might as well grab yourself one of those. There's about fifteen of 'em. The exact opposite of the IT nerds, can you believe it? That's the HR dream. I don't know how you survive that much stress without fucking anybody to dust. Man, I could use some attention as well. You're so glad, got dozens of cute people on your corridor. Anyway. What did you want to ask, Y/N? How's Christie S. Kwon doing?"

Hyuna taps Eonjin's arm in the background with a cackle.

"He's the right guy for that, just look at him. Sexy, hah."

You only see Jimin's backside when he slips off Namjoon's passenger seat in what possibly are the tightest pants anybody at SeoulTec has ever worn. The passenger door slams shut, as does the driver's where Namjoon just entangled his long legs and stepped out, and you're alone again, with Eonjin and Hyuna giggling to your either side on the back seat. You hear Yoongi's door close just a few seconds afterwards. Then, the entrance door to Yongsang Digital headquarters is cranked open.

The back seat is much broader than the Honda's and super sleek. Even Sunmi, surrounded with a bunch of soda cans, babbling and cracking jokes from the trunk has enough space to stick her head out. Namjoon was right that all four of you should get into the BMW together. While Hyuna bargains with Sunmi to give her one of the cans, Eonjin continuously strokes her hair back, then puts it into a ponytail, takes the scrunchy off again, and starts from the very beginning.

"Nervous, Eon?"

"Well, let's hope Hoseok isn't that heterosexual," she peers through the window, phone in her left hand ready on dial. The windows are gladly darkened, so either of you doesn't have to duck down now. "I pray for the day that I can actually use my 4Ps once. I feel like Tom Cruise and this mission is impossible."

"No guy is hetero when it comes to Jimin," Hyuna wiggles her eyebrows, an open lemonade can in her hand now. "I think even Taemin has a big crush on him."

Sunmi, a brand new 5,000 Won bill rolled together and clamped behind her ear, makes big questioning eyes from behind you.

"Wait, who's Taemin?"

"Works at maintenance," Hyuna explains. "Yesterday, you won't believe it. He tried to fix Jimin's printer even if there was no problem at all. I think he just dropped by to get charmed."

You clear your throat at that.

"Hope keeping track of that didn't make you neglect that task."

Hyuna quickly stiffens her posture and puts her chin up, arms akimbo.

"Y/N. Really? I'm the employee of the month. I got this done in ten minutes. If Jimin lets his eyes sparkle and Yoongi can get the USB stick in the right spot, hah. Then we can open a glass of champagne at Sunmi's in thirty minutes."

"Would love to," Sunmi puts her thumb up. Eonjin keeps on staring at her phone.

"Nothing yet, they've been inside since noon."

"Five minutes almost. They should be in Hoseok's office by now. Operation Gentleman's Essentials begins."

Hyuna almost chokes on her lemonade.

"Oh Lord! That name cracks me the fuck up!"

You shake your head.

"Let's hope the same doesn't apply to Yoongi. I get the feeling that he will lose his cool soon. He's a secretary, not 007. He likes cream cookies, green tea rolls, and Swiss chocolate. I wonder why Namjoon could persuade him to do all these jobs just to save SeoulTec in the first place."

"He might not be James Bond. But Mister Yoongipenny!" Sunmi raises her own soda can. "Don't worry."

Hyuna clinks her nails against the soda can and casts a frivolous gaze toward you.

"You're concerned about him, hah. The crane lady and the secretary rockstar, I see. I give you condoms anytime, that would be the cutest dick ever to hop on. Or wait, this is just a fling, isn't it. After you cool off, maybe you like Sunmi? She's got edgy shoes and a good swagger when she dances!"

"Hyuna, you're inappropriate again. My private endeavors aren't yours to decide. I don't need suggestions when they're that aggressive. I decide for myself."

You try to focus on the entrance of Yongsang Digital. But you know that there is nothing to see anyways.

"Sorry, but your sex life is the only thing that worries me. The entire department. You need something to improve your moods. I'm always half joking, you know... but you always seem so lonely and dissatisfied. Sometimes people need a nudge, ya see. I know what's best for you."

"No. And why do you care about that? You've almost ripped Joon's shirt to shreds and unleashed a mob on Yoongi. I don't know who needs some mood management in here."

"We all do," Eonjin taps around her phone, looking for messages. "Some Swiss chocolate wouldn't be a bad idea right now. And the champagne."

"Yeah, that'll do. My grill needs a bit of cleaning but I can make us some fried tofu noodles, I got kimchi in stock as well. Namjoon was so stressed yesterday, he ate three sandwiches and two bowls of vegetable rice. I didn't have that much revenue in a week."

"Operation Gentleman's Essentials could cause the SeoulTec stock crash of the decade so we need that money," Eonjin exhales. "I can't even think about a marketing campaign to save us with, I don't know, just about any new product. Think we need to ask for the PR department to fix it all up in advance."

"Don't think too much ahead," Hyuna says. "But you're right... this all isn't very healthy."

"Start with the soda cans," you raise your brow, "maybe it's that what makes you wanna mess with my sex life."

"Man, he calls you grump for a reason, Y/N! You're so negative. Can you be any less stubborn?"

"Dissatisfaction is the reason new things are made. Supply and demand. If I wasn't dissatisfied, I'd not be driven. Am a CEO."

Hyuna laughs.

"More like, a cat person."

Eonjin puts down her phone, screen still turned on, but still empty of any commotion.

"She's right about dissatisfaction though. The supply and demand. It's what Lexcom and Yongsang don't see. That's why they have to steal our shit. They're cowards and don't know what customers want."

"I thought the same," you nod, "they also want to skip the process of observing customers. They take our results to skip the efforts. Just to release is earlier and get the money. I think this is more insidious than anything Cruise Delivery Service has ever done."

"If they actually still exist," Sunmi puts down her soda can. "I think we've done our part."

Hyuna goes into pouting mode again.

"Eh. I'm already feeling bored. The boys club is out there doing shit and we hide in a car, hah."

"Waiting for SeoulTec to go bankrupt. And my damn sandwich stall."

You pat Sunmi's arm in return.  

"You know what I wanted to say before we almost had the accident? I made up my mind about it."

"Huh?"

"If SeoulTec makes it, Sunmi, you're hired. I mean, it's just a possibility, you don't have to."

"What!"

"You know... it'd be great to have the Sunmi Express Takeaway where the city feels alive. I think a lot of people would enjoy it."

"But, but—"

"Take your stall with you. We have enough space at the entrance. You can do whatever you like there."

"But, doesn't it look shabby? Your building is very modern."

"Don't give a fuck. You can access and use our cafeteria kitchen as well. Front of House will like you, I promise. Taehyung will print out flyers of your menu and hand them out. You don't deserve to be beaten by Wang's kitchen. You need a queue. When your grill is back in good form, of course."

"T—Taehyung? The reception guy you talked about, with the nice suits?"

"Yeah, he's cool. Unless he gives out passwords to potential spies. But that's another story."

"You mean Yoongi, hah? Come on Y/N, he didn't turn out to be the threat you thought he would be."

"I just wonder why he did all of this for Namjoon."

"They're basketball buddies. Didn't they create a start-up, too?"

"Doesn't really explain why they playing their Mister Yoongipenny game by themselves."

"Maybe Namjoon likes you? Maybe he likes Yoongi?"

"Even if either was true. That's not enough of a reason. He even lied about Daegu just to be at Yongsang."

"Whatever drives him, I just hope it won't get in the way with Jimin's big day."

"That, too. Eonjin, is there any message at all?"

"As with Sunmi, that's probably a good sign. None."

"Oh I went through hell in there! I had no time to call. Even my video was bad, I was lucky the phone didn't fall out of my apron!"

Hyuna already disagrees.

"You did a good job, it was all improvised! I wish I could dance like you."

"Hyuna, you did some proper tap-dancing on our last Christmas party in the office, don't complain," Eonjin laughs, for the first time that seems like an eternity.

"That was fun. Maybe that's why they voted me as employee of the month later?"

"In May? That's a delay of several months!"

"I was never good at statistics. Like causation and correlation, hah."

"Not so sure anymore whether what you put on that USB actually helps us," Eonjin says. "What exactly did you make her programme, Y/N?"

Hyuna sulks in her corner now. Employee of the month — devastated.

"In the words of Kim Taehyung," you smile to yourself, "When your opponent is better, all that's left is to sabotage. Hyuna didn't do a bad job, I'm sure. It's not about statistics."

"Oh really, you liked the result?"

Hyuna looks more hopeful now.

"Didn't have all the time in the world to review it, but I thought they were great at first sight. I will when Hoseok wakes up to the biggest stock crash in the history of software."

Sunmi can't believe it.

"All just through one USB stick?!"  

"Not really. We rather make use of Hoseok's own shortcomings, he'll sabotage himself. All it needs is a little spark. That's what I made Hyuna programme."

"What shortcomings do you mean?"

"Greed. Arrogance. Impatience," you count each off by a finger. "You'll see what happens. The trick is simple. It's not even classic malware."

"For real?" Hyuna asks.

You affirm.

"Yes. All it does is infuse Hoseok's news feed with fake articles how Lexcom is developing their own software, one with a bigger budget, and it looks strangely like his. Meaning ours, our stolen prototype, but you get what I mean."

"What? You think that works? How is Hoseok going to believe that, hah?"

"That's where Jimin comes in. He plays a filthy rich Silicon Valley innovator working at the enterprise 'Chim Parks' who can present Hoseok a new, improved software."

Sunmi scratches her chin, looking a little lost in the trunk now.

"But, Y/N... that doesn't make any sense!"

"Because it doesn't stop there. Hoseok will not only believe Lexcom stole the same software and now competes against him. Once Jimin presented the Silicon Valley software to him, he will give Hoseok a free trial version in exchange for the stolen prototype data. This trial version happens to be infused with the faulty codes from what, have a guess!"

"Uh... No idea."

"Codes from Namjoon and Yoongi's failed start-up product. We call it Di-On 2.0. That was Jimin's idea."

Sunmi looks completely startled.

"What the fuck!"

"Hoseok will trade us the stolen prototype back hoping that he'll get Jimin's fancy software to compete against Lexcom who supposedly betrayed him. The consequence being that both the cartel gets broken and we get all the data from our prototype back."

"Do you really think Hoseok would trade our software back against Namjoon's?!"

"We made it a free trial so he gets interested. Well, hopefully. But making this trade will increase how much he wants it, but doesn't really have to pay a price. The fake news articles that we feed him with will let Hoseok think the old software is basically worthless since Lexcom is working on it with a bigger budget. Which he can't keep up with. Yongsang's revenue isn't the highest."

"Probably why they're stealing shit in the first place!" Hyuna points out.

"Yes, exactly. So Hoseok will take what he gets now. Jimin sends him Di-On 2.0 from his tablet, make big eyes and raves about how awesome it is..."

"And what about the USB stick, Y/N?"

"That's Yoongi's task. While Namjoon and Yoongi involve Hoseok in conversation in the kitchen before their negotiations start, Yoongi quickly infiltrates Hoseok's office. He just says he has to go to the toilet. But instead, he brings fake news onto Hoseok's PC."

"But, the CCTV!"

"Yoongi will change into janitor standard clothes that he wears under his suit," you explain. "Taemin gave it to him, they are used in every enterprise. So Yoongi can act like he's cleaning Hoseok's office."

"And then he hurries back to the kitchen with his normal clothes back on," Hyuna adds.

"Yes, and he does change in the restrooms."

Sunmi clasps her hands, nervous.

"That takes a long time, ugh."

"Yes. That's why Jimin will unleash his most demonic charm demon during the conversation in the kitchen to buy time. When Jimin starts talking, literally hours can pass. You can't even do anything against it. It's not his forte at SeoulTec. But today it is."

Hyuna puts up a hand for a high five.

"Jimin's gonna talk Hoseok's ears off while Mister Yoongipenny becomes Mister Maintenance and gets the USB in place!"

"That's the plan," you smack your palms together. "With Mister Yoongipenny!"

Sunmi sighs out loud.

"So complicated!"

"Everything can go wrong. But as long as Jimin can convince Hoseok to try and use the shitty start-up codes, we've won."

Sunmi looks even more nervous now.

"But why?"

"Hoseok will be in a hurry to recode the new software for his launch. He can't release the same one as Lexcom when they have more money. It's impossible to fix the price now. He'll realize too late that Di-On 2.0 is so old, it's not compatible with any hardware on the current market."

"In short: We get our prototype software back. While Yongsang releases Di-On not knowing that it's super outdated and whatnot. All while Hoseok thinks Lexcom backstabbed him, and he severs ties between them because of it."

"Meanwhile SeoulTec can sell the software that was hacked and taken from us but we got back because Yoongi is a good cosplayer, Jimin talks a lot, and Namjoon has coded some real bullshit ten years ago that is so bad, it'll make Yongsang's stocks crash."

Eonjin bites into her sleeve not to comment on that, but eventually, still does.

"No PR campaign can save him from that embarrassment."

Footsteps. Besides the ubiquitous typing noise from the secretary room, you can hear Eonjin, Jimin, and Hyuna cackle in the hallway. It takes about five minutes until the chatter dies down and doors click in their locks. Then, eerie silence to your ears that are used to something fairly different.

Earlier in the cafeteria, Namjoon lamented almost endlessly at the neighboring table, then to Sunmi behind the counter about how the 'Three Cackling Musketeers' had simply taken the liberty of using his cherished tablet to monitor today's stocks. It seems to you that they didn't give it back yet, and how would they.

Yoongi keeps on typing with an occasional stop to pick up a cookie from the plate next to him. He looks a little funny with stuffed cheeks because he mindlessly bites off too much at once. Email after email on your screen disappears once you've written the obligatory two liners as a reply each, and the phone comes to rest. You enter the secretary room not so much ill at ease, but with a certain relief in your voice.

"Set. The prototype will be out by Tuesday. You did a good job."

Yoongi swallows, shoves away his notes, closes a few windows on his desktop fast.

"Then what about a break, foyer?" he says.

"Cafeteria's packed, the interns like it there. Must be the new sandwiches or Sunmi's entertaining every customer as usual. But we can finish earlier, actually."

"Oh! And Taehyung must be busy, too? Yeah, sure, Ma'am."

"He is. We can head to the park or something. Three minutes to walk. Downtown isn't too crowded today. If you like."

You pick up your trench coat and bag, the car keys, too. Yoongi swiftly lifts from his chair as well.

"That sounds good. It's a nice place, at the lake. But you don't have to. I know you barely have any free time already. Those were a lot of phone calls earlier."

"You say that as if you were a waste of time and the stocks are more important than my employees. Do you really know whether I think that way, about you?"

"No, uh— Of course not, ma'am," he shakes his head quite vehemently. You tinker with the keys.

"Hyuna often crosses the line. But, I think she was right that I need some more balance."

"More balance?"

Yoongi takes his own fitted coat from the hanger. Bedizen, as always. His suitcase stays next to the desk.

"For private life, and such. And I think the park lake is nice, too."

"We have to sneak out though, I think. Somehow."

"Foyer, you mean. Yeah, we can't go through there. That's a ruckus. Subterranean is better. Don't forget your suitcase."

"Oh, right!" Yoongi takes off his fine blazer to have one layer less, grabs the suitcase. May is being all too moderate. His shirt is in creases underneath. He tries to smooth at least the sleeves. "I'm sorry," he says, "I look a little stressed."

You shake your head.

"Since we got news from the stocks, you're less tense. I don't think you look bad either. You just had no time to iron. Won't make you a bad secretary. You're still up against Joon in the employee of the month poll, aren't you?"

Yoongi laughs a little. His eyes are downcast. Pretty lashes.

"People won't see anyway if you wear the coat," you add, swipe the key card at the door. "Unless you're not wearing it, that is."

The door glides open now. Your tone is unequivocal.

"Is it your wish I won't?"

"If you don't mind to have the creases— for my eyes only."

The corridor is as silent as before. You shut the door with a bleep. Yoongi faces you in earnesty. His eyes are fervid.

"I don't."

"Possibly less."

"Less?"

"I mean less than a shirt for my eyes only."

"Don't mind, either."

"Indeed so?"

"Everything for you, boss."

"You'll have to tell me about the Six Rules in depth."

The elevator ejects you into the subterranean entangled, Yoongi’s shirt is half open. Orbit Electrics knew what they were doing when they made the entire hoist extra slow. You're glad Taehyung and virtually everybody else is busy in the foyer and not going up and down from floor to floor.

Yoongi hums into the kisses so pliantly. He's buttoning down for two inches more. Your hands rest calmly at his neck. The mirror that had given you a good view of his backside has a few streaks on eye level now. The pitfalls of men's hair gel and getting pinned against a shiny surface. But you don't care. The maintenance heading for Jimin’s printer tomorrow always starts their tour scrubbing here, and they don't bother with speculations. The elevator doors are already closing.

“Whose?” Yoongi asks, parting from your lips apace.

“Your car. Wanna see you clean it up later. And drive home with my scent in it.”

“That’s a really good argument. What scent is it going to be, anyways?”

“Whatever you tickle out of me. Secretary job.”

Yoongi can't hide the arrant amusement on his face. At least, he tries to.

“But that’s nothing I could scrub off afterwards with a quiet conscience.”

“Then I’ll see you crawl and climb around in my office instead. Buckets and all.”

“You like when I clean something for you, I'll write that down.”

"Later, Romeo."

The black windows block out the neon gleam from the subterranean lighting on the ceiling. Yoongi, lips locked again, has to fumble for the button thrice until he finds and pushes it. The four lamps of the Mercedes switch on as does the ice blue ambient lighting of the dashboard. Now, the back seat delves into a gleam. To your surprise, the lights even coruscate a little, as if someone lit a candle.

“Comfy,” you retreat, rearrange on his lap.

“We can have music, too.”

“You know what I like.”

Now, your eyes are blithe.

“Rule Number I. Go the extra mile showing respect to a superior. What genre? I have everything.”

“Don’t laugh.”

“Hm?”

“Jazz. Soul. Maybe?”

“Comfy and groovy it is,” he plants a kiss on your collarbone, then bends to the driver's seat to mess around with the touchscreen. A few seconds later, trumpets, bass, and percussion resound. Yoongi gives a testing smile.

“Use Me. Bill Withers, August 1972. B-Side: Let Me In Your Life.”

“Is that supposed to be subliminal?”

“If you want, it will be, Ma’am.”

“Then, can I use you, Min Yoongi?”

“Beg you to.”

He's nestling with his hands around your hip when he slips into the backseat again. You're detangling your hair. He's been an avid kisser.

"What was Rule Number II again."

“Know how to please the senses if I'm not mistaken, boss.”

"That sounds interesting. Are you sure it's not Sex Rules instead of Six Rules?"

"I've pondered it. Glad to interest you very much."

"Pants off, Romeo."

His belt clicks open already.

"Just a second."

And he shoves the hem to his ankles. No way for your eyes to miss his boxers bulging out center. Yoongi notices. You yourself are striping down the elastic of your waistband, and get rid of the trousers in celerity to hop on his crotch.

"Any thighs spare today?"

"By all means, help yourself."

"What's the safeword, Mister?"

"I suggest your blood group."

"Oh, zero. That's good."

"Yes."

"Then we use yours or 'go on'. AB, I mean. Then B is for pause. A is for more."

Your neck is brimming. Yoongi's lips are hot and glossy on it. Between your legs, Yoongi's knee grazes at your pubic bone. Easing forward sends a tingle up your spine. His slimming to the calves while shapely at the thigh where you shove up his boxers with your grinding. It leaves a mess, and your own panties disheveled either way. Yoongi is too busy purling into your skin and lapping at it. Only his thigh muscles react to your movement. They clench and declamp, erratic within the rhythm that your hips gyrate to orienting itself at the cadence of the song until the trumpets abade into silence again. A new tune starts with a silent piano.

"Please the senses, what else is there?"

“Rule Number III. Safer is better,” he murmurs into your hair.

Yoongi's lips are cerise. The bulge at your core is still waxing.

"Not planning on maternity leave either."

Yoongi hums again.

"Sorry, driver's seat."

Reluctantly, you glide off his lap to the side when the piano goes into a forte. Yoongi rummages in the depot of the car dashboard until he draws a magnum packaging out of it. Before he can open the wrapping, you tap his shoulder.

"You know what?"

The tone in your voice seems to sway him pressing the stop button of the music.

"Any concern, Ma'am? We can always stop."

"Just an idea. Fancy a more sophisticated spot for us? We can do something stupid and have fun." You pick the condom from his fingers, nod towards the pedal. "I bet you didn't miss that the subterranean has not just an exit."

"It goes downwards over there, doesn't it."

Yoongi looks toward the direction of your car, parking next to a barred descent to a lower plane. It's a dark area.

"It does. To my personal strongroom."

"That one should be 5-0-6 on the CCTV in your office, isn't it?"

He saw it passing the table where the cookies are led out.

"Nobody else has the footage. I can easily shut it off, too. Same goes for opening the bars. All electronic."

"Rule Number IV. Your bosses' preference will always be worthwhile. Sometimes it's more than just strawberry and chocolate rice cakes."

"Well-remembered. Shall we go?"

Yoongi laughs.

"What would Hyuna say? When out of all people, you are the one to suggest that we can do something fun and stupid, that's a must."

You wave around the condom between to fingers. Yoongi turns the key. The blue lights turn slightly orange now that the engine purrs. He maneuvers the car out of the parking lot, then past your Porsche. You can see how veiny his hands are at the steering wheel. Something must have gotten his blood going.

The Mercedes parks by itself in the empty plateau. You decode the CCTV from your phone, shut it down. Equally, you open the round vault door with a face recognition. Exiting the car, you leave behind your own blouse and Yoongi his boxers, shoes, socks. The only thing you take with you is your phone and the condom. Yoongi has kept his tie on. The rest he stripped off faster than in Yongsang's bathroom. You notice that he's clean-shaven. Not a stubble. Maybe lasered. Maybe waxed. Whatever secretaries do nowadays in their regimen. But you have to redirect your eyes since the door is bleeping. A timer to open within thirty seconds.

"We don't have piano music in there," you turn the door's wheel clockwise. "That's the only thing I don't like."

"I can play the piano."

"You do?"

"Can give you a taste with my fingers."

With a massive boom, the door opens inward, as does the tight grid behind it. You tug Yoongi in, switch on your phone screen for light.

"A taste... Have you seen what's dripping down my thighs already?"

"Doesn't mean there can't be more of it."

"Good argument." You rotate the light switch on the wall until the quadric room brightens into a deep yellow. The door churns back into its round frame. You swipe into your phone to keep the locking bolts retracted as they are. A row of deposit boxes rows up to the ceiling on the left-hand side. "Just need a bed to sit on."

You trace the lockers, counting.

Yoongi smirks.

"I suggest starting with #9828."

He can't be smirking just because it's his number. He's seen you like what you saw stiff against his abdomen.

"The floor's too hard for you. I'm going for something else. I sort until #1000 only anyways, this isn't like Lexcom's vault."

"It soon will be when stocks crash."

You hand Yoongi the condom to roll on, browse the shelves where gold bars are locked in behind glass until you reach the other section of the vault, quick. Behind a grey lattice, cranking to the side, you pick up bank notes, strip off their red paper wrapping, and toss them toward Yoongi.

"Soft enough to get fucked on?"

"Softer than cream," he sticks a bill between his teeth with nonchalant fingers.

"Rascal."

You empty five, six, seven, eight more box contents onto the floor. The room already starts to take up a very different scent. Not of bank notes, but a familiar aftershave. Sandalwood. Without counting, you estimate that there are about 200 Million Won on the floor, Yoongi and his net cash excluded. Both your ankles are already disappearing when you wade toward him, sit down on his chest. The back of Yoongi's head sinks into the paper a little too much for your taste. That's what the tie is for. Pulling at it lifts him ever so slightly towards you, although you realize his Adam's apple doesn't like it. So you loosen the sling. Yoongi's sleek bangs fall out of his face. That's not happened before so far.

"Could be a good ride without a fancy car, could it."

You're tantalizing. Yoongi's chest is hot under your thighs, between them.

"Don't need a fancy car as long as you fancy me."

"Cheesy, aren't you?"

"It's a lifestyle."

"I wanna go for it. Any risks involved?"

"I'll keep your pussy wet."

You gird him closely with the tie once more.

"Quite an ambitious secretary."

"Doesn't mean I won't start slow."

The bills rustle around when Yoongi brings his hand up. The veins have seem to bulk out even more into a blue relief.

"A piano session, I see. You may. Blood group: AB."

Yoongi bites his lower lip. Your eyes glaze over observing him so closely, doing his work. Finger tip after finger tip testing which one fits best on your clit. He's monitoring your reactions after each rub and prod, and he has a lot to see.

Whatever lube issue you ever thought running into, fucking someone after such a long time, has proven itself to be unfounded. It's his thumb that smoothes into you with the most ease. It's slightly broad and angular. It's the best access, while the rest of his fingers can rest on your pubes and massage into it with broad, sweeping circles. You thought he'd be silly about this. He has no intents of retracting his thumb.

You graze his collarbones with a digit almost mindlessly, catching yourself just rock against his hand to get the maximum traction out of it. A bad idea. A good idea. Your body doesn't know. All you feel is the arousal tint your vision and dripping Yoongi's chest with drops of clear fluid.

"Damp day, isn't it," he says. "In Spring."

"I'm looking for some heavy rain."

Yoongi's intonation sounds all the more tempting now.

"Are you testing me?"

"No need to test to know you're a good weatherman."

He increases the frequency of his thumb circling. You can't help but moan along. The vault is too small for it to take up an echo. All you hear is your voice stay up close inside the walls, and only amplifying with his movement. He's too good— for his own good.

You loosen the tie from his neck, to his surprise, and detagle the nod. He slows down his fingers.

"Those hands are dangerous," you say, picking them up. "Way to go. Can I?"

He nods.

"Sorry Ma'am, I just type a lot. And now... they're preoccupied anways."

In a matter of half a minute, Yoongi finds himself with bound hands. He wiggles his wrists back and forth in the knot of the fiber, going nowhere, only fastening the gusset more because of the movement. You're shaking your head.

"I said they're dangerous, that needs a punishment. Just inhibiting them isn't enough."

"Are your punishments severe, boss?"

"Going by the Golden Book, they aren't. Unless someone leaks data. Then I'll be hard on the perpetrator. You're lucky."

"I made you leak, didn't I."

You squint at him. He's serving you his salesman smile.

"Giving me the brat? Hard punishment it is."

The smile grows even wider.

"Extra hard? I'm curious. Haven't had someone beat me up for long."

Tongue in the corner of his mouth, he's toying with your gaze. It doesn't take long for you to get the idea.

You don't bother answering. Despite all efforts not to, Yoongi exhales with a little fuck under his breath. You're sliding down his cock.

The paper stacks won't sit well in your hand, but they doesn't have to. You trace his jaw with them, side to side now.

"You need a smacking?"

"Need's an understatement."

"Then get ready weatherman," you fixate his head, hand grabbing the underneath of his chin. "It's raining bricks."

"Fucking— hot."

It's his face you're going for, down on his cheek. Flat side. It doesn't leave cuts. The bils disperse around his face like a paper halo.

You're satisfied how it turned out. A bounce of your hips landing on his own sweetens his expression for you all the more.

"Good— showers today."

"You took that one well."

A kiss to the cheek. It's a bit red.

"Thank you, Ma'am."

You test one of the stacks, make sure the wrap is in place.

"Mouth open, Romeo. Show me your teeth."

His jaw loosens. You hook your fingers at his lower lip.

"You got cute buck teeth. They look expensive."

"They are. But I only paid so I can smile at you."

"Smiling is good. Biting is better. Corny sucker." You shove the stack between the two pearly row of teeth. "Keep still that way. Secretaries from Daegu normally don't keep their mouth open as wide."

"A for me."

You nod. He bites down on the notes. The look in his eyes makes you drip on his cock.

"Good boy." You flick his nose with your middle finger snapping from your thumb. He's wincing. "Long as you know your place."

I will, he wants to retort, and you know he does, but the gag in his mouth prevents the words to come out clear.

Taking in his scent makes you want to curl up and cum right away. You slap your ass down on his thighs, take his dick deeper. Yoongi, still trying to manage the stack barring his jaw, does as much as whine. It gets louder when you sink down on him completely, but discontinue the thrusts.

"It's no punishment if I ride out all of your cum and call it a day."

"Nh—!"

No movement. Still hips. Yoongi twitches inside of you. Moans. Writhes.

Still no movement. It's if as his cock begs inside of you for a more fervent drilling.  

"You'll fucking suffer, brat. I'll destroy you."

The whines blend into lumbering breaths, making you wonder how far his stamina is going to take him. Yoongi's hands are visibly shivering, much like his legs.

You take out the gag of notes from his mouth. It only closes with dire efforts, and too much saliva sploshing out to soak his dried lips. You continue thrusting down on his shaft for a dozen times.

"Let me hear, pretty love."

It's easy for your labia to glide open on his shaft, perhaps too easy, as the promise of wet weather did not fall short. Nor does your teasing. The amount of friction is barely enough to shove the condom up and down, and keeping him half in. It's torturous. It's in his eyes.

"Please. Break me, boss, please..."

"Oh I could," you slow, even more. "But I wanna use you later. Can't empty all of you."

"Boss, you're so cruel—"

"Be grateful for your dick riding."

You barely thusted twenty times. That'll train him. The yearning is in this face already.

"I, I am!"

"Then sip this up and make me come."

You huff out and slip off his dick. The condom is decently bulging out with precum at the top. Yoongi's head tilts back into the pile of notes when you sit on his face. Support from your legs helps you to push up your pelvis enough for his tongue winding into you. No hesitation. It curls, it prods. It explores. It looks for the spot that his thumb left just teased enough not to make your back arch.

An almost electric charge begins to make your body brim.

You want to grab hold of sheets but there is nothing but money. To your relief, Yoongi rustles with this arms above his head, still tied.

"Hold— on there," his lips drip, and just a second after, the teasing of his mouth resumes.

You grab his upper arms on either side. They're firm enough for you to find hold to lace on during the rise of your orgasm. He's purposely putting some tension into his muscles.

Yoongi isn't stupid.

Nor half as experienced as you thought he'd be, having been so busy around the globe.

You come on his tongue with a feeling so carnal, either of your knees in the pile of money seems to flicker, and then disappears trembling. No sentence in your mind makes sense anymore. Just the hot shot of pleasure pooling in your loins, bringing more fluid down, way down, for him to swallow. All support from your legs ceases to hold your hip in place.

Holding on to Yoongi's arms even more is the only way to prevent you crushing in his face from the jaw upwards with your weight. You can barely loosen the knot of the tie for him to get his arms free to come and prop your waist up. His tongue is still lapping and sucking until you feel the licks become aching on your clit.

"Zero, Yoongi— Sensitive," you expel, and he leans his head back. Your legs still tremor underneath you.

"You alright?"

He helps to lift you off from the crouched position, making you stand as good as possible, and you nod.

"That fucking tongue... shit!"

"Sorry, I got a bit carried away."

"Need a moment, oh my god."

He offers his chest to lean at now, humming. You snake your arms around his torso, barely standing. He holds you until at least a bit of sentiment returns to your legs. Severe breaths are replaced by flimsy ones when it does. Embraced this way, you'd expect his boner to press firmly into your stomach. But he's flaccid. And the condom is bulging out much heavier at the filled tip.

"Did you—"

"You can't just crush me and think I won't find that hot, Ma'am."

Shaking your head in disbelief is too much of a hassle now. But if you could, you would now.

"How much more of a painslut can you get, Min Yoongi."

"Who gets cum fed from their boss like this."

He nods toward the floor where crumpled bills are spread under your feet, almost flat to the floor.

"I'll probably feel that ten days from now. Sorry for cutting it short, my brain just did a somersault."

"Don't worry boss. I have a rule for that, too."

"Oh, right. There was one."

"The fifth rule. Don't overdo it. Some things are best saved for later. Nothing works all at once."

"I don't even want to know what you saved for later," you wipe some sweat off your forehead. Yoongi seems a bit bewildered.

"Wait, Y/N. Was it— bad?"

"If you just make me drip and come like that... what's next, enlightenment?"

"Damn... You scared me for a minute there."

"I'm the scared one. You sit next to my office every day and talk with a tongue like that. Where the fuck did you learn this!"

"Won't distract you from work, I promise."

"Easy for you to say, you're not the one getting turned on!"

Before Yoongi can reply, your cell phone vibrates a few times on the floor. You pick it up sighing.

"Ah, shit."

"What's wrong, someone calling?

"No, battery is at 10%. I still have to give you my number in the car. There's a lot to clear up around here."

"Yeah," Yoongi looks around. "But I wrote down I needed to clean something up for you. You can go into the car and type in your number into the dashboard, it has a button for that at the top. I'll clean here, I mean the vault door stays open until someone turns the wheel."

"Okay, but you'll just bag this," you get up to draw some large grey sacks from a corner behind the shelves. "No issue. We won't stuff that back into the lockers or something. That takes forever."

"Are you still going to use the bills? Some might be a little, uh, stained and creased."

"Well, yes."

"Really, boss?"

"Now that I think about it. It's the money I'll send Yongsang after they demanded compensations from Jimin."

"Holy fuck, what? They really did?"

"This very morning. Chuck the condom into one of the bags as well. It's all still gonna be cleaner than most of the money Hoseok handles. I might fuck with you. But he won't fuck with me."

Taehyung steps into the elevator with his third-best outfit, trying to camouflage a giant grin.

"How was his suit like?" he licks his lips. You press together yours. The grin is too knowing.

You should have considered that he checks the CCTV of the subterranean every now and then. The vault, at least your personal one, he won't and cannot monitor.

At least Yoongi has black windows in his CLS, too.

But you have to live with the fact that Taehyung knows you only took two days from “Apparently he’s a ghost” to “I fucked my secretary”.

You elbow his side and watch him laugh even more.

“T, you should rather tell me how the press handled the big reveal.”

"Stocks are great, I mean, that happens when you chill out for once and have fun."

"Oh, I see? Backhanded compliments are the currency at SeoulTec now?"

"Am not complaining."

"Me neither, in fact."

"About what particularly?"

"Jimin does a good job hiring people. Extra salary coming his way. Next month. I will pay the Yongsang recompense for him as well."

"He does hire well. Not to mention he is a good actor, anyways."

"One day... he'll stop calling me grump and gets promoted."

The elevator tingles.

"Don't think he wants that," Taehyung shrugs.

"It's true that the position is already perfect. He just deserves something extra, you get what I mean. But I can't just gift him a bottle of hydrogen peroxide, can I."

"Hm. You know what, Y/N?"

"Yeah?"

"You might wanna try something counterintuitive."

"Well, shoot."

"Promote Taemin."

"Taemin from maintenance? Into Jimin's office?"

"Jimin's liking the attention. Taemin finds a lot of fault in his desk tools as well. He's always on their floor to wipe something."

"Probably just to hear Jimin laugh, doesn't he."

"You got it. So, just an idea. Taemin is qualified anyways. He can do anything. I don't know why he is still busy wiping elevators and whatnot."

"Sounds like win-win."

"It's what I'm saying."

"Will give it a try."

The elevator doors pop open. Taehyung rushes out left-bound toward Eonjin's office. You stay inside the cabinet and wait for the doors to shut again.

But you hear more footsteps.

From behind the palm plants nearby, Hyuna turns around a corner and dances into your direction. She pretends to get into the elevator singing, then steps out again, messing with the ankle-level laser that lets the doors rattle, indecisive whether as to close or not.

"We'll talk later, lovebird," she chants.

"Am busy."

"Busy busting his balls, I know! I told you!"

"Seriously... Taehyung can't keep a secret. Does Jimin already know?"

You turn toward the mirror, demonstratively taking out your phone to swipe through your apps.

"So it really happened, I knew it. And Taehyung? He didn't tell me anything. I can just smell it. Don't even pretend! This entire building feels different. You got yourself that boy toy, hah."

Of course. Her entire dancing charade was just a bluff to test you. Hyuna's methods become more intricate by the day.

"Kim, back to blueprints, there's an evaluation coming up. We gotta stay on top now. Seoul's press would eat up anything controversial right now, the entire Di-On plan would have been in vain."

"Yeah, yeah, lovebird," Hyuna rolls her eyes.

"And don't buy too many of Sunmi's soft drinks. That shit gets you high. Miss Employee Of The Month. How can you even focus on coding?"

"Hah! That shit's delicious! And Sunmi needs her revenue!"

It's like talking to a brick wall.

"At least everything's back to normal in here. And don't worry about Sunmi. Her queue is back and longer than ever."

Hyuna makes an odd face.

"What? Back to normal? You fucking around is not normal, chief! I'm so close to throwing a party. I don't know if Sunmi can stock up on champagne anytime soo—"

"Blueprints, Hyuna. Blueprints. This is SeoulTec, not a nightclub. My birthday is in three weeks, we celebrate then. There's plenty to do beforehand, still."

You tap your fingers against the sides of the phone. Hyuna just laughs.

"Plenty to do? More like plenty of doing your boyfriend! For how long didn't you have someone?"

"Get to work."

Her lighthearted As you say! gets cut short with the doors closing. A second later, your phone buzzes. It's Hyuna's icon popping up in your messages.  

— gotta have some fun in life, y/n ;) you already know it's a good thing. i'll keep it a secret though. fuck him rough.

Raindrops dabble on the aviary in the garden. There are only few cars, all headed to Incheon airport, chattering down the adjacent road every five minutes, maybe less. The frequent thunder at the bay makes them barely audible anyways. The rugged pines are swaying all around the pavilion at the pond.

But it's warm indoors. With nothing particularly interesting on the news, however. You zap back and forth since seven fifty, but the channels aren't as interesting as what goes on in the other room.

You sit and stare into the tube, hungry, one ear very much observant of the rummaging in the kitchen, and the constant walking noise. A little later, the footsteps cease for a second. You're twice as attentive now. To your surprise, the cat purrs in the hallway. It's her cozy-smoochy type of purr.

The footsteps resume their way to the living room. You stretch your neck out to look into the hallway. With his hair a little messy, Yoongi shuffles around the corner.

Now, the red off button on the remote yields to your digit fast. Yoongi slouches down next to you on the couch because he realizes too late how soft the cushioning is. It's unusual to see him in anything but a business landscape or driving around in Gangnam, now with a tight Muji shirt on, fairly low-cut, jet black.

After switching off his phone and tucking it underneath the table, he opens the noodle boxes that he balanced onto the nearby table, watches them steam away quite intently with two pairs of bamboo chopsticks, still wrapped, sitting right and left on several napkins with the crane logo embossed. Both smells of soy sauce and spices layer in the room like an invisible blanket of scent. Yoongi seems to wonder about something, scratching his chin. It catches your attention, but still leaves you in the dark.

Outside the formality of the office, and without the constant thought of Lexcom, the simplicity, the trained sleek demeanor, in his mannerisms has almost dissipated. He took a long time in the kitchen, too. He's relaxed. To your surprise, he's brooding more.  

"Sunmi always gives customers two extra napkins when the food is more grease-laden," you say after lighting strikes outside at the harbor.

"She does very well with the stall. I've seen her bustle inside at the cafeteria counter as well."

"Yes, working out how to rotate best, currently. With a better salary than at Cruise Chicken Delivery Service. Was about time we got her into the cafeteria. She even traded her Doc Martens against the uniform without saying anything. I think she really likes it at Front of House."

"Wouldn't be surprised if she takes over the foyer in a week," he clicks his tongue, and grins.

"Me neither."

The thunder keeps on rumbling. Another flock of cars, heading towards the airport, makes their way down the road past the alley of cherry trees.

Yoongi settles on the big purple satin pillow in the righthand corner of the couch, pulls up and fondles his knees. His sweatpants, calves downward, have cat hair all over it. Nice to be at home. This might be what Hyuna called balance.

"Clingy, isn't she," you say.

"Cats like me more than dogs, I guess."

"In that case, I myself am a cat."

"Why not."

Yoongi takes his chopsticks and shoves their thin paper wrap off, then snaps them apart in the middle. He turns to you, noodle box in his hand, stirring. You lean over to kiss his nose. The rain keeps on pouring onto the pavilion roof. It's rhythmical. A few birds nestle in the aviary to hide from the sweeping drops as they always tend to do. Yoongi settles closer to you now, leaving the pillow.

After cracking apart the chopsticks, you want to pick up the other box of noodles to stir them yourself, wait, taste a bit, then remain startled. You're sniffling. Something isn't right.

"Oh?" Yoongi's eyes get a little bigger now. "Is it that food?"

"Nothing, just. It's unusual without your aftershave on. Really different."

Especially now that he's so close.

"Ah, that one. I didn't apply it today. Funny you noticed."

You're chuckling, then pick up the vegetables from the box with the chopsticks.

"First it's causing me a hassle, and when I think it'll be there, it's gone."

"It did?" He perks up, chopsticks tucked into the box again. "It's not that strong I hope."

"Sometimes people get used to what they wear and forget about it. My whole office is like, it's like you dip it into the bottle, too every morning."

And you're more intimately familiar with it than just that.

"The office... Guess you're right. Sorry for causing a nuisance."

"Didn't say it was a bad thing. Nothing against your normal scent either. Mind you."

"I bought it when I received a call from Jimin that I have a chance to start at SeoulTec and follow-up the work of— Jin, that was his name, right."

You're nodding.

"It's strange. He was all about perfumes and whatnot as well. He's read your book anyways. Looked up to you. He's doing well in Gwangju. I mean, with your guidelines he can't go wrong."

"Really? The Six Rules?"

"Didn't know that either until recently. Think, now I know why I wasn't keen to see Jin leave an empty spot that's hard to fill. Little did I know, your philosophies are the same. I thought you were polar opposites."

"The spy thing," he nestles in his hair, "wasn't the best way to introduce myself."

"Now you can. Different place, different start."

"But not the 'Min Yoongi, 26, from Daegu' way, I'm thinking."

"The cat needs that introduction, perhaps. Tell her about the trophies you won."

"She'd be so bored, it's not impressive."

Yoongi slurps up a few noodles after testing for temperature. He can barely keep his mouth closed because they're still so hot.

"Cats don't usually become secretaries, she wouldn't be bored. It's two different worlds. Don't burn your tongue right there, Romeo."

He swallows.

"Am trying!"

"There should be a rule that prohibits hasty eating."

Yoongi shrugs, draws another string of steaming noodles from the box.

"I think it's called common sense."

"Theory: Yours disappears whenever it's in my radius."

"No objections. Good theory."

"Or is it because you're just into that."

"Not burning my tongue in particular. But maybe other stuff—"

"Might have gotten myself a masochist secretary indeed."

"That sounds like something Hyuna would say," he munches and laughs, seemingly at once, but at least, you note, he waited for the noodles to cool for a bit.

"She pretty much already did. Kind of insistent as always."

"I mean, was Hyuna ever wrong?"

"More often than not," you nod. "She said you look good. That's understated."

"It's my job to be. I hope! At least."

"You didn't ever look bad as far as I can remember."

"I mean— And what she said about being a boy toy..."

"Is that in your manual?"

You tap Yoongi's chest with nonchalance in your tone.

"It's a lifestyle, anything can be arranged."

"Was she the one who gave you the condom?"

"Like ten of them, in an envelope," he gestures. "Taehyung dropped by with it and we both thought it was regular post or something."

"She even signed it?"

"Yeah, there was a note inside. With 'by Cupid Of The Month' written on it. And more 'xo's than I've seen in my entire life. And I thought, she spent her money on this?"

Yoongi scratches his head. You're mostly bewildered, too. 'Cupid of the Month' had stopped at virtually nothing. But who's surprised.

"Typical of her. Sorry that, you know, she's been so direct with you anyways. I don't know what to do with her. Hyuna's a wild card. All people at Development are like that."

"I mean, she introduced me to colleagues in her office, I got free contraception, she made compliments. Can't really resent her. If you go by the Golden Book, Hyuna's an outlaw. But if you go by what she accomplishes, that's a different story."

"Hm. Maybe it wasn't a bad idea to keep the condoms," you twirl the chopstick into the noodles. "I do get cravings."

Yoongi perks up.

"What cravings, Ma'am?"

You smile to yourself already.

"Oh, Romeo is interested?"

"I'm the genius secretary supposedly. Making sense of— My superiors is the least I have to do. I think that's what the manual is about."

"Information intake, isn't it," you crawl toward him. Yoongi sets his noodle box aside almost like robot on autopilot, all while staring at you. "I don't think you have troubles filling, you know. The empty spot."

He's staring even more, pupils blown wide enough to replace the dark hazel of his eyes with sheer, deep black.

"Pleased to do anything. Boss."

"You wanna know where that empty spot is?" you watch Yoongi's eyes drop to your crotch. "Well, almost."

Now, he's raising a brow. Palm flat, you pat your lap instead.

"Here it is. For my bratty brat. But not with a full stomach. If you fancy it, later."

"You mean— For a spanking?"

The nod that you let his words follow is deliberately tantalizing. Yoongi's chest rises and falls quite heavily.

"Hyuna hears that through the grapevine before I even raise one hand."

Yoongi's eyes crinkle at the outer corners. It's mischievous. He does look like a rascal the way he is one.

"Maybe... it's the spanking echo she's hearing."

And how could you not chuckle, now, too.

"You're fucking funny."

"Oh, well."

"I have more things like these in mind. If you wanna hear."

"Yes, yes," he loosens the seam alongside his shirt's cleavage, as if it were a collar and not so loose already.

"Just keep on eating," you retreat from the proximity, falling back to your spot in the sofa. "We're not in a haste. I've known you for two weeks or so. Rule Number V, remember. Slow."

"Right."

Yoongi picks up his noodles again, but he's not quite focused. Teasing gets to him. He's aiming to finish up fast. You eye him with a little mischief in your smile yourself.

"So, you really like to know what I've been thinking about, anyways?"

"Virtually nothing against that."

You tap your chopsticks against the edge of his takeaway box.

"Been thinking about how I love to test how obedient you can become. Curious how far it goes."

Christie meows in the hallway. You're starting to think she has synced with Yoongi's mind. Because that's what happens when a cat brushes herself against a secretary's legs each time. Bizarre, isn't it.

"As, as far as you desire."

Yoongi seems to have some troubles leaving his jaw closed.

"You didn't even hear what exactly I'd like to do. Got a whole list in my mind."

"Fair enough, but I don't think anything less than worthwhile is on that list, uh."

"How come you think you won't be selective? There's a lot."

"You smacked me in the face with money and sent it to your arch enemies. What's next? It can only be something good."

His intonation alone makes you throw your head back into a deep laugh. Particularly the 'what's next' undoubtedly appears to be something that he picked up from your tone.

"That was for the lack of anything else at hand. You like bills?"

"Mister Jung Hoseok at Yongsang does. I like the smacking part more."

Good answer.

"It's why I figured spanking suits you."

"My ass comes for free."

"Now you're the one who's teasing."

"Learned it from the master."

Yoongi crams the empty noodle box shut, wipes down his mouth with the napkin. Christie mewls again, scurries down the hallway into the kitchen heading for her metal bowl on the floor.

"But ah, I'm sorry Y/N, you weren't finished with the list."

No, you weren't. It makes your thighs tingle just thinking about it.

"Talk about ass. Anal sex in the whirlpool? I know it's a bit outdated. But you've probably seen that it's got an edge to hold onto. It's good to just bounce, and not slipping away. No guarantee that your dick won't break off."

"No doubts you're capable of causing that," Yoongi holds his belly, stifling another laugh.

"Hyuna came into the elevator recently and said the exact same thing."

"She's prophetic."

"It was about busting balls or something? I don't know what her partners go through. Like on a regular basis. I think it's that E'Dawn fella who works at the market. The guy probably gets fucked into oblivion all night with ten toys and a champagne bottle stuffed inside of him or something."

"As much as I want to be envious of him with that... Maybe she's not as we see her behind closed doors, I don't know. You surprised me, too."

"Oh, with what?"

"When I was in the development department. The whole office said you're a spoilsport or something. I think the opposite is true."

As expected of the gossip central. By now, all it does is amusing you.

"Well, work is work. When the software has to be protected, this is what we focus on. People will stew in their own grease about me being a spoilsport until Taehyung passes out a rumor that I might have, say, repurposed my own vault."

"Well, he just said he saw us head to the car on CCTV, didn't he."

Yoongi might be right about that now that you think the scenario through, the camera angles in mind. The walk from elevator to cars is fairly long.

"Yes? And afterwards, some interns came along to pick him up for after-work hours. All you see on the footage then is only that the car drives off to the lower level where the vault is and comes back, I guess, two hours later?

"Yeah, like that."

"We've been lucky Hyuna holds her tongue, too. Hard to believe she really promised. I don't know how she found out. I think she tricked me into telling her but that's not quite it."

"I think... that's my fault," Yoongi shrinks in his spot. "It wasn't kiss-and-tell, but, yeah."

"What, she knew because of you?"

"No, uh. After I went back home after we cleaned the vault. I've accidentally texted Namjoon something I wanted to send to you. Your numbers are very similar. I think I made a mistake with the dashboard button to access your number after you typed it in."

"Namjoon?!"

"Yes. I'm sorry."

"I think we both have a numbers problem. What on earth did you send him? Nudes?"

"No, just an audio file."

"What!"

"No, no! It was just music. It wasn't me moaning or something."

"Thankfully, oh my gosh. But— That made Namjoon pick up on what was going on? I don't get it."

"I realized too late that it was the wrong number. It was just from the album. But I wrote your name and "for you" underneath."

"You mean Bill Withers' album?"

"Yes. I think the song was too telling."

"Which one was it?"

"Kissing My Love."

"Oh..."

"It wasn't explicit at least. But I think he understood right away. I couldn't send it again, I was afraid it would get posted to wherever."

Now you get it.

"That's why you've been calling me by landline yesterday? I've been wondering why you acted so strange about it."

"Sorry again, Y/N."

"All this technology and we're still human."

"The only thing without number errors is probably the software."

"That's because Hyuna developed it. She's best when busy. I can send her and Namjoon some new blueprints next week, I think. It'll take their minds off before the entire department implodes... discussing our love life."

You tuck your own noodle box away, with only a few chunks of too-spicy garlic at the bottom that you left out with deliberation. The hormones that Yoongi gives you just sitting on your sofa are making you feel hot enough.

"I don't think they're bored enough," Yoongi shakes his head. "We have a lot of stuff going on with Lexcom trying to save face and blaming us in the press. And people are still angry that Yongsang demanded money from Jimin even if it's all paid."

"Such a mess. But at this point I don't bother. The Di-On plan worked. My secretary is trying to send me music. All I care about."

You unfold one of the napkins, trace it across your lower face quite diligently.

Yoongi reaches underneath the table to grab at and bring up his phone, switching it on with a little 'ding' noise.

"Um, you might like this, I don't know."

You scoot next to him, gawking over his shoulder onto the green-lit screen where an "Unnamed_1" file pops up under his fingers.

"Cool, more jazz?" you ask.

Yoongi fumbles to press play to an untitled file. Piano music starts playing. It's lighthearted.

And then, a little heavy. Saddened.

Then, cheery again. It goes back and forth.

It's as if it was telling a story.

"From February," Yoongi says.

"That's you?"

"Yes. I had some time to compose back then."

"For how long have you been doing that?"

"Since second grade. I own a grand piano since the eighth."

"You're really good. Eonjin tried to play for two years, this is so much hard work. Why is that piece not named, it's so beautiful. I can really see the atmosphere."

"Ah... Thank you."

"Tickles— My own ivories."

You bite your lower lip.

Yoongi has to blink a few times.

"Sorry, what?"

"Nevermind, Yoongi."

"That sounds like a good title, to be honest."

"Hm?"

"Nevermind, I mean."

"Guess it fits. What key is it, anyways?"

"D Major, ma'am," he hums.

Now you're the one blinking.

"Hey, wait a second. Are you flirting?"

"I might be."

"Press pause right there."

The piano music stops. Yoongi lays down the phone on the couch flat, screen down.

"You said something about ivories," he pries. "I'm just curious."

"Is that an AB?"

"That is an A."

"Oh, want to hear more of my piano innuendoes, huh?"

"How could I not."

Yoongi almost cracks up when you flip him over onto his chest by the waist, and drag him by the ankles to get him towards you where you want him on the couch.

"Bummer the jacuzzi isn't running. I would break your dick off I swear," you tickle Yoongi's sides. "Come, come here to Mistress. Need something else to substitute for it."

"At your service," he crawls until settling on your lap, face down.

Maybe Hyuna will hear the echo indeed.

His pants are loose enough to slide them down with relative ease. Pleased to see what is there to inspect, you trace the outlines of his peach fuzz at the bottom of his spine, down to his little compact cheeks. Goosebumps spread all over while Yoongi wriggles his face into the couch whimpering. Grazing your nail into his skin seems to be particularly fun given how he arches a bit more each time. Even if there's not a hint of aftershave, something else strikes you as smelling really good, radiating from all over his skin.

"What shampoo do you use?"

Albeit barely audible, Yoongi still manages to mumble something even if the way his balls slips between your thighs makes his legs visibly twitch hard.

"Pa, passion fruit. Some no-name brand."

"Very nice."

Another pinch, more poking, and Yoongi's ass slowly comes alive with tiny red marks and an overall flush. However satisfactory it is, what pleases your ear more is the pained groan coming from him when you squeeze together your legs and put pressure on his balls.

"Is that an A for me?"

"Yes, Ma'am. Ah—"

"If your balls survive the weekend I am skeptical about. You did say you envy the E'Dawn guy for getting his spare of torture."

More pressure.

"Don't really need 'em," he grits. "Long as your pussy is wet."

"You do learn fast, love. Ready for some spanks?"

"Beg you... to."

You already cup your palm on his right side of the butt, about the lower half where the most flesh aggregates, adapting the shape with your fingers.

"This one's for 'D Major'. You're so cocky, even Jimin couldn't pull that off."

The first hit is deliberately crisp. His ass is cushioning your hand with a slapping noise louder than you thought it would give off. Yoongi bites into the fabric of the sofa, nose scrunching together.

"Nnh—"

"And this one's for 'softer than cream'."

A lighter blow stamps his ass a little redder. Judging by the double twitch in his legs, he's surprised. You realize how much you love playing with his anticipation. Yoongi's face soon buries in the sofa again when you make sure he feels you tugging and compressing his balls with the inner sides of your knees from either side.

"Sorry, boss! Ah!"

A third whack to his other cheek, remaining the cupped shape of your palm.

"Say it louder."

More pressure on his balls. It's not Christmas, but you start to think it's still fun playing Nutcracker. Yoongi's ass is turning cherry pink around the main red spots in the meantime.

"B for a sec, oh my god, oh my god," he gripes until you pause right away. Yoongi's breathing hard. You relax your thighs entirely, wait until his jaw declenches and his face begins to emerge from the surface of the couch.

"Is it really okay to go on?"

"Yes, just, just a moment. Oh, fuck..."

His mouth gapes, saliva pools at either side. You pat Yoongi's hair from behind, feeling it through. It's quite soft without any gel in. You check how his breathing goes in a heartbeat. But he's already grinding his cock against your thighs again.

"Okay, Yoongi?"

"Okay."

"I'll give you two more. Without the balls."

"They're blue anyways, shit."

"Mh, it's making you horny?"

"Too much, Mistress."

"Then keep your ass still and don't rut. Or else it gets worse."

"Sorry, it just happened! I just love your legs..."

He really is a secretary masochist.

"You want a punishment."

"I'm desperate."

"AB?"

"Yes, and, it, maybe it should be, I mean. Fa— fast. Please. I'm blowing up soon. I'm so sorry."

"You naughty piano boy."

First, you flick his ass to get him accustomed, then deliver another pair of spanks to either side of his butt. Each is not as strong a hit as before, but still makes him jiggle. A really stark neck vein starts to thump and run up his tan neck. Yoongi's ass is completely ruined with blotches by the time you end.

You roll him off your lap, awkwardly so, to lay back down alongside the couch. He rotates to support himself from the side instead after his breath stagnates. It hurts too much with his ass facing downward on the couch.

"Calm, calm," you stroke his loins, and twist his fringe out of an otherwise pinkish and sweaty complexion. Yoongi almost immediately twitches. "Sensitive, aren't we. But your balls survived."

Kind of red. Bigger and more bulging, solid, pushing up against the brimming shaft that you would love to flick just like his ass.

He really did become hard. And close. Very close.

"I really thought I'd come, sorry—"

"Don't be. Your screams make me wet enough."

"Ah. That's the goal," he rubs his ass. "How many did I take?"

"Five, two hard ones."

"I need to work on that. As for being wet..."

His eyes linger on your abdomen.

"I'm not gonna shove it in your face, I'll do that later. We need something messier first. Real dirty shit."

"Yes, my goddess?"

"I do have an idea."

"Sounds good."

"Should we do something fun again?"

Yoongi licks over his lips.

"Is there a 'place' I don't know of."

"The garden is in full bloom," you point toward the window. "Nobody can see inside."

"It's still raining, are you serious?"

"The pavilion is made of glass. Did you see it?"

"Oh, right!"

"It's quite beautiful indoors. A lot of ivy covering the outside as well."

"There might be a little bit of evening heat left."

And less presence of a weirdo cat watching you fuck trying to figure out what the hell is going on with these humans.

"We take two blankets. Wrap yourself in one, I join in a minute, I grab two things."

"Okay!"

"And take these here, your socks get wet on the lawn otherwise."

You hand Yoongi your blue felt slippers to put on, open the squeaky old door to the garden's porch and where Yoongi quickly hops out. Wiping the saliva off his chin, he vanishes inside the pavilion with slightly dewy hair. The thunder, gladly, has not returned since a few minutes now. You're heading to the cupboard in your bedroom.

The birds have started to cease chirping while the rain still panders on the transparent roof. Yoongi has spread out one blanket on the powder-coated steel bench inside of the pavilion, the other he hands you right away coming through the little glass door. He looks mystified.

"You put on a skirt, Y/N?"

"Easier to fuck you like that."

"In, indeed."

"No prep, but at least I wanna bounce good on you. Here," you hand Yoongi a little packaging in exchange for the blanket. "Lube that cock up, I need it slick."

"You, you want me in—!"

"Yes. I don't care. The full load if you can. Wanna go for it?"

"That's an, an A. We don't have the jacuzzi, after all."

"You said you were tested last month, right."

"Yes."

Yoongi's pants are shoved halfway down his thigh. He hardly dares to use his entire palm to distribute the light yellow, cold lubricant.

"What's wrong?" you ask, wrapping yourself into the blanket chest downwards, keeping your sweater on. "Help necessary?"

"No, it's just, I'm really sorry if I cum early. Next thing Hyuna needs to send me in an envelope are blue pills or something. I'm sorry."

"Don't be, you made me implode last time. We're even. Take a little more of it, it's cold enough to kill that boner for a while. We're outside, that helps, too."

"Don't want to ruin the blankets entirely."

"I might leak on there too, ignore it. I'm horny as shit. I just need cock in my ass."

"Nevermind then."

Yoongi slathers half a palm full of the liquid over the tip of his cock. Its veins turn greenish, slightly azure. They're even bulging out more than the vein at his neck. The throbbing comes back. You pull off your own shoes and socks.

"If you weren't close I'd step on that dick properly."

"Maybe you should, if it hurts I'll cum later."

"Mh, really?"

"AB."

You place your foot at his crotch, stretching your Achilles heel back and forth a little. A day on the couch can always leave it a bit rusty.

But Yoongi was right saying he'd prolong this way.

Letting the underside of your foot grind, then press against his length, he grabs at the bench where he first finds grip and goes red in the cheeks and collarbones. You slip your right hand between your legs and deliver a few quick rubs against your clit while Yoongi winds on the bench.

"Ah! Oh, fuck!"

Good sign. Now the blood's elsewhere. Retreating your foot, Yoongi's pants have ridden down even more. And underneath the hem of your skirt, a little transparent droplet, bordering milky white, runs down the inside of your thighs.

"Look what your voice does, Yoongi darling."

Trembling bottom lip, he looks up and sees.

"That's, that's sweet."

"You're lucky it's not my period. Might be fun when I think about it though."

"When is it, normally?"

"End of the month, coming up."

"We have plenty of condoms and towels if you want a bloody fucking. Wet is wet."

"That's the motto," you glance down your thighs. The droplet is making its way. Yoongi catches himself fondle at your hips absentmindedly.

"Shit, I wish I could make you come earlier."

"If you're lubed enough, anything is possible, Min Yoongi."

You gather the blanket and get on his lap, a little stumbling. Yoongi brings you upright with the help of his arms.

"You okay?"

"Too horny. Fuck you and your passion fruit schtick. That shit messes with my mind. Been waiting for that veiny dick too long."

"Served to you slick," Yoongi reaches down between his legs, and peels the foreskin of his glans. It glistens with the cold lube, slowly heating the liquid up for you. "Anything to alleviate your cravings."

"Knock before you enter."

"Of course."

Yoongi grabs his cock by the base and taps it against your clit, which ends up spritzing the lubricant all over your labia. The electric feeling shoots back through your loins. It's been a couple days since the vault.

"Is it good like that, Y/N?"

"That's how you get in. Slow now. I'm not stretched out. Just give me the tip."

"I can use my fingers first."

"Tip, Yoongi. Your fingers are dangerous."

Grip tight on his shaft, which alone makes him inhale sharply already, Yoongi obliges, circling in the head at your entrance. It's about a quarter in, by now only dilating the muscle enough for you to feel his superficial warmth. He's struggling a bit to bring it in further, almost slips off. 'Slick' was no lie.

"What makes you relax?" he mutters in your left ear, tempting now.

"Kisses, Romeo. And don't come."

"Trying hard," he leans in. You pull down his jaw by the sides with two fingers.

"Where's that tongue I love, busy elsewhere?"

He shakes his head briefly. Between his teeth snakes out, coated wet, the light pink delight where saliva pools. What dabbles between your legs like the rain, with added lube now, even, Yoongi seems to have going on with his mouth.  

"I love your drool. Good darling," you nibble at his nose, making him crosseyed to follow your movement. Yoongi's cock stays quivering at your ass, half an inch deeper, but still, with a significant part of his tip visible. "Do I squeeze your cock well?"

"It's, it's too good. Ow—"

Sitting still hurts. Yoongi's ass will be green and blue by tomorrow.

"I'll step on it more next time I get the chance, do you hear me?"

"Yes, goddess, oh shit."

You could do as much as sneeze and Yoongi would be bubbling over like a well. Licking off the saliva from his tongue creates long, gorgeous threads down your chin, thinning out as they drop on the blankets. Finally.

You open.

With the help of your own hand, eventually, you stuff the rest of his tip inside of you. To your pleasure, your palm feels Yoongi's cock vein pulsing even harder than before. It's so big and bulging. A little crinkled at the base, and protruding in S-shapes and zigzags the most where his girth spans the widest and your hand rests. You could just climax to the mere thought of it. Yoongi's shampoo really has been getting to you.

"Is it good this way?"

"Just how I want it," you shed the blanket, shove up your skirt a little more. "You feel very good, Min Yoongi."

"Utmost, cordial pleasure, M—Ma'am."

"You're close, my love."

"Yes, hurts..."

"Don't hold back. Cream me up."

He looks at you with big, kittenish eyes.

"Can I, can I really?"

"I don't care. Cum in my ass. You have to clean it."

"I have... a lot of cream for you."

"You're a fucking secretary whore. A."

Yoongi releases with a bass grunt from the very back of his trachea. Droplets from his black bangs nestle between his lashes when he tilts his head back against the bench. The welcome heat of his sperm seeps through the inside of your rectum.

You milk him. Hard. With full tension of your sphincter pressing around the area where his tip ends. Your hand squeezes onto the vein to grout his girth alike, feeling his balls contract and release just inches below. They're pumping more hot bits of seed into your ass the more you jerk him roughly. The more dire, agonizing growls drop from Yoongi's throat, the greedier your hand becomes.  

And so does Yoongi's.

You feel his thumb back pricking at your clit. His hands shake too much to keep his finger firmly in place. Instead, you feel him poking, rubbing you in a helpless frenzy. His eyes look blood-shot when they flash at you. Even though his hands begin to tremble even harder, you see one thing in his gaze. Determination.

The friction against your clit becomes so sloppy, he glides off several times. But that, in return, makes him press his thumb down even more, causing you to squeak and clamp at his shoulders with new each wave of heat and lust that his movements kickstart through your body. He's not giving up so fast. The rain drums onto the roof incessantly.

You want more.

A lot more.

The sheer fury in your scowl brings out a yell that reverberates in the pavilion.

"Do it faster, dirty fuckslut!"

With the words, your forehead comes crashing forward against Yoongi's. His tongue yields immediately to yours jabbing inside. You push it in, retreat, then slide back in to its farthest point, crisp, until Yoongi chokes up. His tearing eyes glower with a spark so gluttonous, you feel yourself leak. The pulse of his thumb against you gains even more acceleration. The heat becomes scorching in your abdomen.

His scent is all you can think of now, and the beat of the rain on the roof. Everything else blacks out. When the edge comes and you part from the kiss, your ass almost automatically pops wider and swallows Yoongi's creamy cock by three inches more, clamping around the vein, and getting fully stuffed and shot up with semen, with lube, his fat fucking girth. The throbbing vein pulsing into you. When the orgasm sets off, your entire core jolts under the fast stimulation of his hands. A thin streak of blood starts running from Yoongi's left nostril and mixes with the drool on his lips. The wind outside hammers against the glass walls of the pavilion while the length of Yoongi's dick crams into your ass further. Your eyes roll backward into your skull. He rubs you through the violent twitches of your body until his hand cramps up and he switches to the other with haste, even more avid digits carrying your through the high until you hit balls deep. The neighbors prove to be on a stroke of luck today when the thunder sets in to drown out you screaming his name.

A late-night flight takes off and leaves Incheon buzzing with the noise of the turbines. A few cars are still going back and forth the lane.

Yoongi's whole body still shivers with sweat. He hangs on the bench like a demolished ragdoll, your sleeve pressed against his nose to catch the rest of the blood. Your body is still buzzing with adrenaline from head to every toe.

Ever so slightly, you lift yourself from Yoongi's cock that doesn't seem to plop out of your asshole right away. His tip is quite broad and acts like a hook inside of your rectum, keeping his semen in place until he helps you with his hands.

The skirt, now pulled down, does a bad job at covering the dripping gape of your asshole. You pull the blanket around the two of you more tightly.

"Ouch, oh fuck..."

"My baby's hurting. Let me hear."

"I think they split in half. My, my balls. Shit."

"You shot that in deep," you slurp off the remaining saliva from the corners of his mouth. "I love your cream serving. Shoved a lot of things around in there. Guess I'm a dirty boss."

You're giggling. Yoongi's ears turn red.

"I like that."

"And your cock is perfect."

"Did it, feel nice?"

A strong nod comes as a fast reply.

"You almost made your hand fall off for that," you pick up his wrist to plant little pecks on it. "This darling working hard, does he. My ass still doesn't wanna close. It misses you. I got more cream than the cafeteria makes in one day."

"If, if you care sharing. You said something about cleaning earlier."

"Oh yes. That serving's for two."

"Yes, Y/N. Can I?"

"Your tongue still ready to go? Tell me when the sleepiness kicks in."

"I'll scrape it out if I must, I'll do anything, boss. AB."

"We'll go inside and I hope I don't lose any of it on my way. Alright? I think your nosebleed stopped by now. It wasn't a lot. Come."

You both stand up trying not to lose balance, thus, holding on to each other inside the blanket.

Outside, you walk through the grass on bare feet, watching out for lightning. But, as Incheon's sky seems to follow however the weatherman sees fit, the thunderclouds have seemed to become tender against the stars again.

"You get a lot of my blood going, Y/N," he says.

You open the porch door for him to slip inside the living room.

"Love you, Yoonie."

Much like the rain, the shower water is running down with a perpetual splash. It's entirely dark outside by now, with few stars peering from behind a translucent grey cast. The moon looms from one corner of the window and sends a soothing, cool light. Yoongi's lips are warm on your shoulder, his hands suave on your back. They circle in the shampoo until it foams up and runs down your legs. His phone is going off in the other room, and you already know it's Namjoon blowing it up with messages and calls.

"He's turning into Hyuna," you say.

"And you turn into me by the scent of it."

"I like passion fruit."

And stealing his shampoo just because.

"Next you just rub on my aftershave and go."

You turn up the shower handle to increase temperature ever so slightly when the warmth of his kisses leaves your skin.

"I might. Just to see how Jimin recognizes it, he's been trying to tease me."

"About your perfume?"

"No, that I like your aftershave."

Yoongi tampers with the sponge from the shower tray and distributes a bit more shampoo on it.

"I can just wear more of it and don't care, does that solve the problem?"

"That'll probably make the air fresheners obsolete at SeoulTec."

"Are there actually any?"

"I've been asking myself the same, to be honest. One day we'll have pollution alert because of the subterranean fumes."

"Ah, we'll have to ask Taemin at maintenance about this. I'm sure he has an idea, Y/N."

"What I've been thinking is that there will be once car less down there, anyways."

Yoongi seems to understand. He brings the sponge up to your collarbone.

"Mine, I believe?"

"I can pick you up," you affirm. "Or if you like to spend more time around here, we'll go together, anyways. No guarantee that Tae's eyes won't fall out when he sees us arrive together on CCTV."

"It's only a matter of two weeks until the entire company knows," Yoongi squeezes the sponge to bring the foam out, and it bubbles down your breasts, then dissipates with the water stream from above. "Taehyung gets chatty at the cafeteria."

"Oh yeah, and especially now that Sunmi is there, I don't know. Can't really keep this a rumor," you shift in an attempt to get Yoongi to move his sponge around a bit more. "Or do you say that so everyone knows you belong to me?"

The blush that traces along his cheeks does not come from the high temperature in the bathroom, you are sure.

"I mean," he stammers. "Namjoon knows, Hyuna does, Taehyung, Jimin."

"Yes, I'm aware. It's like a chart for exponential growth. Or some domino effect. But I wanna know what you think."

Yoongi seems to compensate for a lack of reply with more sponge rubbing. Your chest is getting warmer and warmer from all the friction and hot water.

"I, uh."

"You think I have something against it when you want to show us off?"

"When you put it like that."

"If you reply to Namjoon later, I mean, do I care? And it's better if we don't lie about it in the first place. You think that would be good?"

Yoongi stops moving about now.

"No. Surely not," he puffs out. "I don't want to live a lie."

"It's not about showing off either. If people know, they know. Their opinion is out of reach for us," you shrug. "If they think we're show-offs, that's how they think. We're just together. What pretense is there. Except maybe the cars. Those are ritzy enough."

Yoongi starts giggling. You turn down the water temperature ever so slightly.

"I don't know about you," his lips go into a pout. "Taking public transport from Incheon to SeoulTec is hell and takes an hour. We're not going anywhere without fast cars. You commute a lot, of course you drive Porsche."

"If I stay at your home we can almost walk or take the subway."

"Mine? It's not as nice as your house."

The shower stream changes to cold a little. You've already warned him about how old the boiler in the basement is. He doesn't seem to bother the temperature change. It goes back to warm in ten seconds either way.

"What about it, are you piling designer drugs in there or something?"

Even after asking two times already, you remain curious. Yoongi has been reluctant to say much about his home.

"It's a bit spartan I guess."

"Hey, more place to fuck!"

"I don't even have a garden or a whirlpool somewhere. It's not homely either," Yoongi continues to scrub. "I wish I had a cozy armchair like that. My taste— sucks. There's nothing special about my place."

"Oh come on, isn't that the please the senses rule? You walk around with gel in your hair. No person like that has a shitty home."

"I try hard not to be boring like my house."

"Yoongi. You're a dirty liar. What are you saying," you cock your head to the side. He shrugs a little, finishes scrubbing. The stars gleam brighter outside, and the moon wanders, steady as always. You reach for the lotion to apply gently on Yoongi's backside after turning off the shower.

The familiar piano tune resounds. Nevermind. A few geometric architectures pass, alongside shops that Hyuna and Jimin like to frequent during the holidays. The lights of Cheongdam station illuminate the end of the street.

Namjoon hasn't been calling Yoongi today. Only Eonjin pops up in your email feed while you're going down Hannam bridge, joking about how everyone at Marketing seems to have relocated their offices into the cafeteria to get advice from Sunmi. Attached, a picture with the new interns smiling bright at today's second software launch press conference in Busan.

The event, she writes, has brought a lot of shareholders there, too. You reply congratulating, and with a question about how Jimin and his department are doing in the meantime. Other than that, there are no mails to drag around on the screen.

Yoongi's CLS takes a corner into a side street with guest houses, then enters a tunnel. The lights overhead almost fly since he can go faster on this lane, then fade once the end of the tunnel approaches. A big sign frames the exit.

Gangnam District.

Yoongi steers toward the northern area and talks about how he learned Taemin lives about two blocks away from his house just a few days ago. The piano piece comes to an end just before he parks in front of a glass facade, interlaced with concrete and stairwells in between, three levels high, yet still towering. A few plants form a guard of honor at the entrance.

"The cat has her time off, that's good," the car door clicks into its place after you shut it. Yoongi follows suit on the other side and presses the red lock button on his car keys. The turn signals flash once, then, the Mercedes falls asleep.

Yoongi opens the front door with a four-digit numeral code that seems familiar to you. He hesitates for quite a moment before typing it into the blue grid. So you realize: He's changed it recently. He looks at you, testing whether you saw the numbers. You're nodding.

"Does she like being alone?" he closes the door behind you.

Whatever Yoongi has done to prepare his house this morning before going to work, it primarily seems to have targeted what the rooms smell like.

He must have crawled around on every marble tile and parquet with a tiny paintbrush, coating the gaps with something suspiciously reminiscent of—

Sandalwood.

It's everywhere.

Not that he doesn't make you horny already.

"Alone? She can recover from all that scrubbing against your leg, her hair is falling out already. You're a fucking cat magnet."

"It's falling out? That is unintended!"

"I'm glad she likes you, though. Makes two of us."

"Ah," Yoongi exhales, and places the keys in a white little tray next to the cloakroom where you already pace about, looking for a good spot to hang up your spring coat. Eventually, you find a broad metal hanger, streamlined, to carry the light attire.

"And hey," you add, "it's not boring here."

"You have access 24/7 with the code now," Yoongi pulls off his black loafers, arranging them next to your shoes.

"That's a number I won't mess up."

"Unless I play piano or sleep, knocks on the door have quite an echo in here either way. I'll hear it."

"Oh yes. You don't like walls, do you?"

Even a brief look to the ceiling reveals the gallery on the third floor where a few statues protrude from the edge on wide pedestals, integrated into the balustrade. You never thought it could be this spacious judging by the facade.

"Walls? Just the ones inside you."

He pulls off his own trench coat, hangs it up next to yours.

"My walls is where you're headed, Min Yoongi. Cocky fuck."

"Hyuna's condoms got a special place, do you wanna see? Before they run out."

"Sure thing. Doesn't she send you and Taemin a new supply at every opportunity?"

"Pretty much," Yoongi takes the stairs, you joining parallel on the step. The entire stairwell has a modern slant to it, with wide pillars supporting a wooden handrail on both sides. "She should make a safer sex campaign or something."

"Or she just wants to make everyone have sex for the gossip."

Yoongi lifts a brow. You currently pass a bit in the staircase where slender poles of bamboo tower on the right side. The stems reach up from the basement where they firmly anchor in a raised bed. Behind the bamboo installment, you can see a box of glass embedded into the architecture. Awards, gleaming in platinum, bronze, and gold. About a dozen or more.

"I'm not sure," he murmurs. "She has this 'have fun, lovebirds' schtick."

"She says that to me as well!"

"Whatever she tries seems to be working."

"It's Hyuna," you say, taking the last step. "She'd be happy to know you found a good place for cupid's present."

"Oh, I hope so. Over here."

Yoongi points toward the other end of the room where the balustrade is. To your confusion, the only visible interior in this part of the room is a white pit, a few inches deep engraved into the floor, and dark blue cube structures scattered around, inside, or alongside it. The pit appears to be made of a smooth surface.

"What is that?"

"I told you it's boring."

"No, it looks interesting. Is that a sculpture as well?"

"Sort of. The cubes are depositories for various things. I can activate the whole thing if you want."

"Sure, go ahead. Does it have lights or something?"

"No, but this."

Yoongi claps his hands two times. A sensor at the ceiling flashes up in yellow, then rotates. You can hear some sort of pattering noise coming from the cubes inside the pit.

And then, water starts to spring up from the upper edges of them. The pit on the floor catches the surge and distributes it evenly in the room. It is not simply a hollow in the ground, but a flat basin. Yoongi heads to one of the larger, inactive cubes on the edge of the pit while you are still frozen stiff.

"What!"

"I figured that the third floor needed a bit of decoration," he opens the structure at the side to reveal simple drawers. While he rummages, you step forward and pull your socks off, twirl through the room tip-toed. Gangnam's clear sky outside makes for a good scenery. The beaming skycrapers don't annoy you as they are usually prone to on other days.

You're cheering.

"Oh, you put the Rome in Romeo!"

"Rome? Because it's an aqueduct?"

"No, this is the Trevi Fountain."

He's grinning a little, and picks out a condom from the drawer.

"You don't even need a coin spare to get lucky in here," his eyes follow your path through the room now.

"My whirlpool is a joke against this. What's next, a sauna? A tennis court on the roof?"

"That's the only special feat I have in here. Your pool is much cozier and romantic."

"The only one?"

"The rest is glass and concrete," he shrugs. "Was a hasty time I got this built."

"Liar, you have statues over there! And the, uh, bamboo thing! Where are the statues from, anyways? Holy shit!"

You wonder whether it is some Olympian, perhaps Olympic type of figure on the right sight of the balustrade. It sure looks like it. Full nude, athletic body. Chiseled into perfection. SeoulTec's crane in the foyer looks like a bad joke compared to it.

"Present. I was just glad someone had a better taste than I did," Yoongi tears open the condom. You head back to him now, feet leaving wet blotches on the floor behind you.

"May I ask who it was?"

"Namjoon."

"Really?"

"It was for my birthday two years ago."

"Are you sure you're fucking the right person?"

His eyes are downcast. You glance down to Yoongi's hands peeling the Magnum.

"Time flies."

"I'm jealous of him. You know Namjoon since forever. You're a good team."

"We have a lot to catch up with," he exhales. You can see the tension creep up his torso. "I thought— the same about Seokjin and you."

You swallow. It's a bitter taste in your mouth. You don't feel like cheering anymore.

"Yes. We have. That's a draw," you reach your hand to shake his. The water of the cubes keeps on pattering. "Two jealous fucks with missing years."

He squeezes your palm. Still no eye contact. He looks at the statues instead.

"Cheers to that."

He keeps on fixating on the statues. You exhale. There are a thousand and one feelings in his gaze.

"Namjoon took your virginity, didn't he."

"There was a bet. And a lot of soju involved."

"Time really flies."

You let go of the handshake. Yoongi rubs the back of his neck.

"It does. Even managed to get sober."

"Maybe you would have been a good drinking buddy when I was busy crying over Seokjin."

Pause.

Something changes.

Yoongi looks beyond indignant now. Even against the sound of the fountain, he's almost yelling.

"What! He made you cry? Seokjin?"

"I have to blame myself for that," you stroke a strand of hair behind your ear.

"Really now?"

"It's been years," you tremble. "I didn't realize he was about to be, well. Engaged when I asked him," you knead your palms together. It's if as the feeling of back then returns. "I was already hesitant. Thought it would mess with work. In the end, it messed with it more because I hesitated. I did move on after we got tied up in the tax scandal rumors. Had no other choice. But I didn't feel good at that time. Jin's wife still resents me. She said I'm a homewrecker. I couldn't have known about her."

The tenderness returns to Yoongi's voice.

"I'm sorry to hear that. Doesn't that mean, you said you couldn't have known! Don't blame yourself."

"Maybe it was better that they went to Gwangju. Although— I went through hell offering the vacancy. I thought ill of you as well. Thank Jimin for insisting we avertise the job opening."

Yoongi chucks the open condom back into the drawer. The cube closes without noise. The water keeps on running.

"You had several good reasons at that time to think ill of me," Yoongi says.

"It wasn't the spy thing. I was just quick to assume things because I messed it up last time."

He shakes his head. His voice becomes firm again.

"Don't say that, Y/N. You didn't mess it up. You were still a good team regardless with Jin. And you didn't assume things. Namjoon's mistake made you think the number was correct. You had a reason."

All you can do is sigh out, but the water swallows the sound.

"Code 19— It became more than that. It became, something like, a convenient reason to get rid of you. So I wouldn't have to deal with the same issue all over again. I got the same dangerous feeling once your CV was on my desk. I didn't know I was wrong about everything. I was too stupid."

"I would have done the same in your stead. Don't castigate yourself. You have a lot of responsibility."

"It's easy for you to say that. But you didn't hear the shit I said to Jimin. I said I'll beat you up and drag you out. I called you a clown, too. I said all these things. To everybody. And then I agreed to chase your car into Hannam with the girls. Do you understand? I was ready to hand you to the police... We almost killed Hyuna on the street because we were reckless. Heck, I told entire deparments bullshit about you!"

"Well... Not complaining."

You fall comepletely blank.

"Huh?"

"You thought I broke the law, after all. My reputation you don't have to worry about."

"Why?"

"I get it strategically ruined every four months or so, this is secretary business," he nervously rubs his wrists down his legs. "But in this case, all things were clarified, weren't they? I have nothing to complain about. Everybody knows I went undercover by now. And that Hoseok was the real perpetrator. Why do you have a bad conscience, everything turned out fine!"

"Doesn't change I did that stuff. I look like a fool. And you were innocent."

"Y/N, listen to me," he cups your shoulders with his hands now. "If you were a bad CEO, SeoulTec would be in ruins by now. The opposite is the case. And we got together. If you called me names, then you did. None of us can change that. Nobody likes a spy in their enterprise. Especially when a lot of sacrifices were made for it in the past. It wasn't wrong to take the Code 19 alert seriously. It's my fault, and Namjoon's, that we didn't inform you correctly. We're the fools. That was careless. We fucked up times more and caused you all this mess. If you would beat me up and kick me out? I'd deserve it."

"No. All you did was miss out on a detail in the Code 19 email. That was not deliberate."

"I'm sure we did something very wrong when we managed to cause you and the girls to drive to Hannam. Some stuff must have happened for me to appear that untrustworthy to you."

"Well... I thought you kidnapped Namjoon because his social media died. And that you installed cameras in my office. I was also mad that Taehyung gave you access to the subterranean password without asking me since the vault is down there."

Yoongi sighs, hands gliding off your shoulders.

"Ditto. It's just like I said. Assistant Min Yoongi made a very bad first impression, posed as a traitor, and left his boss completely in the dark about it. I carry the can."

Now it's your voice that goes through the roof.

"Ditto you say? That was just me being paranoid! And blowing everything out of proportion! Jimin probably thinks of me as Seoul's number one imbecile. I wanted to fire him! Can you imagine that, Yoongi? Firing the guy who hired you and saved our plan with Di-On? You're dating a first class idiot!"

Pause.

Yoongi's shoulders are visibly shrinking together under the weight of your words.

"That, that's a draw, Y/N," he soothes to assuage you. "We're even. Okay. That was... both subpar. But it's useless to feel guilty now. Everything's in the past. There is no need to bring yourself down. You know that it's not good for you. Please. Do you understand that? I don't want my girlfriend to hate herself. Nothing of what you said harmed me at the end. I'm alright. And if you still think you are an idiot — it takes two to tango. I was very stupid, too. I made you fear for someone else's life and the safety of the entire company. That's even worse than making you cry. I'm a shithead. I hardly deserved when you said you want to invite me to your house and spend time. I have to be very grateful for your trust. It must have been twice as hard to open up again after what happened with Seokjin, and Lexcom. And Yongsang. Everything. You're crafted of steel and still let me in. How can I not be grateful. Y/N."

He claps his hands twice. The fountain ceases almost immediately. You fell silent, too.

"This place... isn't good for us, Y/N. Downstairs. Come," Yoongi breaks the quiet after a minute, offering his arm for you to link with. "We both have to make our amendments. But we'll eat, first."

You hook into the angle of his elbow and whisper a little okay.

Yoongi guides you toward the stairwell again. The tension loosens around this shoulders.

The little rice cooker steams and puffs every other minute, but it's not loud enough to disturb the music in the room. Yoongi's hands waltz across the keyboard, bringing the lighthearted melody to life. He was right that the house carries an echo quite well. It's a good way to pass the twenty minutes until the rice is boiled enough. Despite its lean and simple design, your chair is quite comfortable. It naturally rocks a bit back and forth, too.

On the kitchen counter, accompanied by several Santoku kitchen knives in a granite block, several types of sprouts, zucchini, and a small pile of watercress wait to be mixed into the pan where a sauce now simmers just enough to stay warm on the gas stove, all while letting the spices and herbs that Yoongi mixed into them earlier infuse the decoction. The sky outside remains crystal clear as before. Seoul is vibrant.

When Yoongi gets up from the grand piano and joins you in the kitchen to put white porcelain bowls on the table, about half the house has taken up the smell.

"How hungry are you?" he gazes across his shoulder while stirring the zucchini pieces into the pan using a wire wisk.

"It's like— as if I skipped lunch break and didn't visit Sunmi's stall combined."

"No problem Ma'am, I used three cups of rice instead of one today."

Now, the watercress disappears inside the sauce, all while Yoongi turns the gas influx button and the circular blue flames dim a bit more. The rice cooker starts to jingle just a minute later.

"Shame we can't order stuff from Sunmi's takeout anymore since she moved," Yoongi says, filling the bowls. "But if this is only half as tasty, we should be alright. I hope you like it."

After handing you chopsticks, he sits down at the opposite side of the square teak table, now rocking back and forth as well.

"The only close delivery is Wang's restaurant," you mix some of the rice into the sauce. It's nice and sticky. "I don't want to know what my employees think about having to order there now when Sunmi is not available in the cafeteria."

"Betrayal, I'd rather starve, hah!" Yoongi wildly gesticulates with his chopsticks, imitating Hyuna's voice and mannerism. You've rarely seen him act silly this way. Your laugh may be surprised, but genuinely entertained.

"Sunmi will be installing a new delivery service in two months if it goes on like that. She gets Taehyung to drive the Honda around or something. We had a food supply shortage last Monday and Thursday. People really love the sandwiches."

Yoongi ruffles his hair and puts a napkin into the V-neck of his shirt.

"She is busy. Hope I'm a worthy substitute cook until then. Personal Cruise Rice Delivery right here."

"I think it tastes good. Is that part of secretary training?"

"It's not a part, it's a must. At least for me. Secretaries are the modern day knights," Yoongi ours himself some water now, then fills your glass, too.

"Oh, you mean people think they have just one task but actually—"

"They have to be good at everything, yes. You got it. It's like being Miss Moneypenny."

You have to chuckle to yourself. If only he knew.

"If you keep it up like this, I'll make you my Squire then."

"Yes, Lady Y/N," he makes a tip on his invisible hat. "Any wishes? We still have desert coming up."

"Methinks something with fruit."

"Oh yes! Fruit is a good choice."

"I won't eat all the rice and get full until then, I promise."

"If you like— Got a bunch of strawberries from the market yesterday," he nods toward the fridge. "You're lucky."

The chrome dishwasher rumbles and churns alongside a continuous pumping noise. There's a lot to rinse down. Yoongi said it's one of the few times he won't do it by hand.

By now, the sun has disappeared behind the skyscrapers. On a walnut wood tray, you light an oil lamp and some incense in the living room where three chairs and a sofa center loosely around the piano. Even if the herbal note of the sauce still lingers in the air, the familiar aftershave scent begins to become more prominent after Yoongi returns from the bathroom on the third floor. It mixes with the sage, neroli, and amber of the incense quite seamlessly, making the air thick with aroma.

"Oh, aphrodisiac," Yoongi hums, eyeing the incense box you chose from his petite collection.

"Strawberries also classify as such, don't they."

Yoongi confirms, already looseing his V-neck a bit. A bit of a tan line is visible where his collar normally is.

"We're having a good evening, Y/N."

The dishwasher thrums a bit in the background now. You put the charred matches that you used for the lamp and incense back into their little blue box.

"How about I fuck you on that piano?"

"Thought about it. But probably a safety risk and not so, uh, comfortable. I know Rule IV applies here since it's your preference, but Rule Number II and III are more important."

His face makes you coo. "That's a lot of thought you put into that, hm. Did someone fantasize?"

"One of my knightly duties is to think of ways to indulge you."

"Which other ways did you think of? I hope I could persuade you it's not boring here."

"I think you accomplished that. But it's mostly because of your presence."

"Flattering me a lot today, are you."

"By all means, you're my guest."

Again, the invisible hat tip.

"Thank you for hosting me. I really like this house. I don't say this to be polite. It really looks good."

"Oh right, the other ways!"

"Yes, tell me. I'm curious."

"There's, well— Let's see. A TV room on the basement level that has a very smooth furniture landscape, it's very easy to clean, too. Then there's the rooftop, uh, and the bathroom, third floor, with an antique tub. I sleep on the first floor, it's a plain room, however."

You ponder for a moment, then lift the oil lamp and incense on their little tray with either hand.

"We pick that one."

"The bedroom, yes?"

You're already heading toward the stairwell downwards, balancing your cargo with care so the lamp won't fade out.

"Whatever you say is plain almost always turns out to be quite spectacular."

Yoongi's cock is hard against the base of your spine. His hands shift alongside your waist a little when you gyrate back on him. The streamlined chaise longue is velvety enough to allow unrestricted movement. You face the side of the house where Yoongi's bedroom admits a broad view onto the Han River. Little car lights, illuminated bus windows, and the ubiquitous neon bling on the horizon paint the surface of the river like a movie. You imagine how its ripples and larger waves translate to your hip movement.

Whatever it does to him, Yoongi's speech center seems to have drifted off to another dimension.

"This is— I got, how's your ass, Y/N? From the pavilion. I mean!"

You purposely press your butt cheeks to either side of his erection, encompassing him. Meanwhile, your core strains on his nimble lap, enjoying its warmth.

"Still feel your dick inside. Phantom sensation. Or maybe it did break off and stayed in there. Who knows. The ways of the world."

You turn, stick your tongue out at him.

"What, uh?"

"I'm kidding. It's all normal. Anal works for me. Your dick has a good shape for it."

"Oh, eh, good. Good. That's very good. Tremendous. Yeah."

You halt your movement while he keeps on babbling and smoothing over your waist.

"Romeo."

"Hm? Yes?"

"Don't let my ass turn your brain to mush so early. We didn't have soju or anything."

"Nn—no. Right."

"And yet, my host acts drunk."

Drunk on ass.

"You're just, just so beautiful tonight."

"Maybe you're more susceptive to incense. That must be it. Aphrodisiac much. Or are there actual designer drugs in the bathroom, huh?"

The tray is quite close to the chaise longue and infuses the air with more aroma by the minute. You make a mental note of it. Yoongi's fingers at your hip and belly seek more friction now.

"I love, really love. Incense," he whispers, mouth hanging half open. "It's smoking. Hot. Like you, boss."

"M-hm. Should I torch your cock, you have to say something, though. Could melt the condom off."

You resume gyrating. Yoongi, more by chance than deliberation, starts dripping saliva on his naked chest. And there it is again.

As if by automatism, his hands wander from your hip already. Downwards.

"Don't care if you burn me. I just, wanna. Make your pussy a waterfall."

"Good thing that'll douse down your cock."

"Yes. Yes, Mistress."

"I'll see how much of a pounding your balls can take today. They have a lot of clit service to do. I like when they slap against me."

"Clit service is a secretary's favorite."

Almost parallel to his words, Yoongi's finger tips follow suit on your labia. They are a lot less eratic by now. You find yourself rutting against them in a matter of second to seize the opportunity. His hands will shake soon enough.

"We're playing nutcracker. Let's hope I don't split your two friends in quarters today. Or is that what you're going for?"

Furious nods. Yoongi's drool trickles to either side of his loins. His eyes are glossy and big, gleaming with the night life of Seoul in then at you from behind his fringe.

"AB."

You squeeze your ass onto his lap so snug, Yoongi gasps out. Dirty boss mode activated. You're flashing provocative eyes at him.

"I'll crack you apart like a passion fruit on a Santoku, you fucking greedy whore."

"Please, please, yes Y/N—"

"Gouge out the seeds. Stir it up. Make some juice for me. How's that."

"Take it. Take as much as you want."

Your palm takes the familiar spot on his girth. Good thing you always have the vein for orientation purposes.

"Can I?"

"You can."

"Roll the condom on Yoonie, it's time for a a chopping."

"I do like your floors. All of them in their own way."

Yoongi bumbles and sways in his seat as a response. You twist the incense stick into the tray's mold where most of the ashes had gathered during the evening. Outside, the glowing outlines of the skyscrapers start fading, window by window where people wander to bed equally late, headed for a rough upcoming day.

Seated at the edge of the grey box-shaped bed, half twirled into the white sheets with his legs, Yoongi finishes replying to a few emails and messages on his phone, then stores his phone under the cube-shaped nightstand, alarm clock set to 6:15 AM, and looks up.

"Glad you do."

"It's very well-designed. I bet the TV room is just as nice. Yes, my home's cozy but—"

"I do still like yours better."

"I really wanna know why you're so stubborn about this."

"It's sterile here, I just don't like it as much as I used to."

After finishing up the tray, you button down one of Yoongi's spare shirts. As most things in his wardrobe, it sports only black and white. He is intent more than ever when you sit down next to him, however, even in the dim light the emerging bags under his eyes are somewhat visible. From the nightstand, you pick up a water bottle and hand it to him.

"But, can we have our breakfast on that landscape thing you mentioned?"

"Everything is possible," Yoongi unscrews the cap. "Is there anything you want from the bakery? It's around the corner."

"If it's not Sunmi's pastry and cakes, what's the point?"

"Then I will personally call her and pay extra."

He starts drinking. You finish buttoning down the shirt. It's softer than you thought on the inside.

"I'm messing around, the bakeries in Gangnam are nice. Anything with mocha or red bean flavor, if you find something."

After placing the bottle on your side of the bed again, Yoongi takes up the sheets to slip underneath them now.

"Red bean? Definitely a good choice."

You follow, patting the extra pillow that Yoongi got from the basement into the right shape before lying down. Yoongi claps one time to switch off the light bar at the ceiling. Only Seoul's moon is left now, illuminating half of the room through the large glass front from between three skyscrapers.

"What do you like, Yoongi?" you ask, voice dulcet now. You hear him ponder for a moment.

"I think, Soboro bread."

"Because of the strawberry jam you can put on top, isn't it."

Your tone is playful. Yoongi wiggles himself into the blanket now, his legs reaching a bit to your side of the bed so you can intertwine your own with them.

"Almost. Not quite. The guess was pretty good though."

"The inside— is soft like my ass. That must be it."

Yoongi shakes his head. It ruffles his hair into the fabric of the pillow.

"Which bread can compete with your ass when it comes to softness?"

You try again.

"Okay... Is it because of the streusels is has?"

"Nope."

"Hm. Running out of guesses, honestly. One nil for you."

"The thing about Soboro bread is," he scrambles closer, ribald now. "You can fill it up with fresh cream."

"Ohh."

"It tastes the best for me that way."

"I wasn't entirely wrong about guessing it has to do with my ass."

"True. It's nil-nil again."

"Your guessing games are quite fun. We need some fresh cream for breakfast tomorrow."

"Definitely. Was fun today, too."

"Yes. Sleep well, you've been looking very tired."

"Couldn't rest last night, I was a bit nervous."

"Because I'd come here?"

"Kind of. I don't know."

Sighing out loud was not your intent. But it being so late and your body so lax, it escapes you without much of a filter.

"Come on. You don't have to be a full-time genius or whatever. That's madness. You already thought a lot about how to host me. I like all of this here. You cooked well. We had a lot of conversation. Sex was amazing. You're amazing. When it comes down to it— I don't need much. Just food, a solid roof over my head. And you. Don't worry about all the rest."

"I'll try next time. I just wasn't sure if you like it here. Even the bedroom and so."

"No, Yoongi. It's more important that you like it here. It's your home. I need to be assured you feel comfortable in your own skin, in your own life, you know. If you say it's just nice when I'm here. What happens when I'm busy elsewhere, and you're in this place feeling shitty all day? That can't be right."

Yoongi's voice turns a little shaky now.

"There are— some odd memories attached to this house, I guess."

And there it is.

Silence reigns for a minute until you clap your hands to switch on the dimmer again. The light bar illuminates the room when you sit up and look him in the eye.

"It's because of that," you say, "isn't it. Why you hesitated to go here with me."

"Yes."

"And why you said this place isn't good for us. Even though it's the most tastefully made house I've ever seen."

He sniffles a little, says nothing. You entangle your fingers with his on his chest. You see a tear well in the corner of his eye.

"I know that— I know, moving on is hard," you say, filling in the silence after another passing minute. "If you— See, there's an empty armchair in Incheon. And a cat who likes you, too. It might get a little stuffy in the garage with too cars, but, if you pack a bag after breakfast, we can be right there after work already. I'm serious now. You need to get the fuck out of here. I see how you look at the statues. This is suffocating you. If you'd rather sit on my porch with me right now instead of lying in your damn own designer bed, then we both know where it is best for us. If you hate the house, I'll start hating it, too. We'll stay in Incheon."

"Can I really do that, Y/N?"

"We'll somehow get the piano over there as well. I'll call up Orbit Five, they have a service for that. It's of no use if you don't feel well here. Things won't get better just because I'm around. We could ask Taemin to check up on your house if that's okay. I mean he lives close, he passes Cheongdam every morning. I'd be happy to host dinner for two tomorrow night. And— the day after tomorrow. How often you feel like it. Okay? Say something."

"It's okay with me."

"You don't have to force yourself through this here to accomodate me, and think the new memories will overwrite shit from the past. I shouldn't have asked about visiting your house so much. I really thought you genuinely didn't think it was worth it because it would be too lackluster to bother or something. Should have seen the warning signs."

"No, it's alright. I can pack some things together. I'm sorry for this. But maybe you're right."

"Don't apologize. My apartment is nice enough for three. I look after the details."

"I'll cook the dinner. Taemin gets my front door code."

"Alright. Just so you know. We'll take it easy after work."

You slide your hand out of his now.

"Thank you again. I don't take it for granted."

"I'm looking forward to dinner."

"Me, too."

"Sleep now, we'll bother with the rest tomorrow."

One clap and the light bar fades into the obscure of the ceiling again. Outside, the city smog has waned. Stars, billions of them, some bright, some barely visible, some twinkling, some stark, splatter on the ecliptic rising from behind the river and skyline.

"You're the best, Y/N."

"Life is like chess. Where there's a knight, there's also a queen."

"Who's king? The cat?"

"SeoulTec."

"Oh. That makes sense."

"We talk at work. I'd fuck you to sleep but it's getting too late by now. Can't do anything."

"Oh right, Rule Number V."

You nod, then press a kiss on his forehead.

"Good night, Romeo. Don't sweat things. I'll handle this."

The jacuzzi keeps on bubbling and chortling. To your ears, Sunmi's Honda engine sounds tame compared to it. Yoongi however finds it amusing how the old ghastly pump rattles around and makes the brim of the entire contruction vibrate. At the push of a button, you activate the water nozzles to whirl the water back and forth a little while you both try to balance tall, chalice-shaped glasses above the water, scooping strawberry sorbet out of it.

"Let's hope the cat doesn't get curious again. She hopped in here last time I was trying to relax. One wet pussy is enough in here."

Yoongi can't swallow properly and almost gets some sorbet in his airways from laughing.

"She even tipped over the shampoo bottle. Into the water! Took five days until she started to smell like actual cat again," you go on, stirring the sundae a bit.

"It wasn't something like— passion fruit shampoo, then?"

"No, a perfumed one. Nasty stuff when you use too much of it."

"Oh god."

"Oh cat you mean! Christie. She's one of a kind."

You raise your brows into the direction where her little basket is tucked into a corner. Yoongi finishes up his sorbet and seems to look a little serious by then.

"About that... Can I ask you a question?" he says.

"Well, anything."

"It might be a little, say, private."

He fiddles with his spoon.

You let your legs float with the pulse of the water nozzles quite casually.

"We may or may not be in my private realms here at Incheon, Cheonseok Road fifteen. Let me in your life and such."

"Well, uh. I don't want to embarrass you with it. But I have to ask."

“Yes?"

"You said Christie... Is that related to Christie S. Kwon? Someone signed up on my website. With that name. I—"

Now you're the one to cough up on the sorbet.

You completely forgot about that.

The subscription.

You reach out of the jacuzzi to put the empty sorbet chalice down, and gather yourself.

"That, yes. Is my online alter ego."

"Oh!"

“Say, um, I got inspired by the cat. You know I was a bit undercover, you know myself. I was researching about the Six Rules and such. Just, being discreet with it. I couldn't possibly pick my own name."

Yoongi shrugs.

"Yes, that's no problem? I was just wondering if there was a connection."

You breathe out the relief now.

"But, how did you actually get a sense it was related? Can't pride myself with a software safety premise when I'm that transparent just making an account.”

The corner of Yoongi's mouth rise into a lingering crescent now. He licks the sorbet from the corners of his lips.

“Taehyung. He has the exact same sunrise picture at his desk. As a greeting card, I guess. Or some photograph with your name on it.”

You have to laugh. Of course. The sunrise. Taehyung, forever the nostalgic, never bothers removing old cards from his pinboard.

"Oh gosh. That was 2014 when we formed the team. You want cards, too? Everybody gets one now and then, I make them myself."

"That sounds nice. Sure thing! I've been planning to personalize the secretary room anyways, with some things here and there."

"Ah, that fits."

"You're a good influence for my taste in things. The sunrise icon struck me in the first place because it was well-shot."

"By the way. Am very happy with my subscription. Good site."

"Any plans to prolong the subscription? It has to be renewed every now and then, just for the algorithm."

"Rule Number VI applies here."

"Choose well and commit."

"Your file has proven to be immaculate in every detail."

"Then, happy birthday, boss. I'll be your trophy boyfriend."

do not repost, modify, or translate without permission. mentioned car brands: No endorsements, infringements, tarnishments, and dilutions intended. they are for descriptive purposes only. © 2017-2019 submissive-bangtan. all rights reserved.

[tap-tap-tap-im-in]

Black Mage

“I don’t understand what you do, it all seems like black magic to me.” - A very honest and satisfied customer.

As someone who has had the pleasure and the curse of doing things that my boss doesn’t have the time or the context to understand, I can’t tell you how many times someone has expressed something like the above sentiment to me. I know a huge part of it is because I have been working at companies small enough that I don’t have very many peers who are fully aware of what I’m doing, and those few peers can’t always follow the logic I’m using. I honestly don’t know if that means I’m operating above them, or that my logic is hugely flawed, but after a few years of getting more positive results than negative I’m starting to trust my gut a lot more.

I’ve been called a doctor (I don’t hold a doctorate), a wizard (I don’t practice magic or magicks), and a lifesaver (I don’t know what flavor). I’ve also heard all sorts of negative descriptions of what I do, and its weird. These small companies need results that are affordable to maintain, and quick to implement, but the thing that they seem quickest to cast off, the thing that would bring my work from the shadows into the light, is documentation. I’ve tried my best to leave ample documentation at the positions I’ve left. I have no idea if it was enough, and at this point I don’t even really care because I was far more interested in making sure they had it than they were in me giving it to them.

I’ve learned a couple of things in the last few years of no one really knowing what I do, and I think I’d like to share those with you.

Keep documentation. As much of it as you can. If you’re the only one who knows something, if you forget it, everything is out to sea. Plus, if you decide to leave the position, you can hand over the documentation and not have any guilt about them not understanding what you did.

Find metrics for all of the work you do. They should be as honest as you can make them, but they need to be nicely quantifiable so that if your manager starts wondering about what it is you’re doing, you have a bunch of numbers to give them that look nice in a report to give to a client or upper management.

Lean into the laziness. I don’t mean miss deadlines or do sloppy work, those will get you fired, but instead relish in the fact that the only thing setting your own process is you. Research, learn, gather or build tools, and join online communities. All of these will make you better and faster at your job, and learning can be fun on its own, and you’d be surprised what kind of information you can tie back to your own job. I read about games and game engines all the time, my justification is that I look into the graphics technology and I crib some of their ideas to help me optimize websites and software.

I mentioned this above, but it really deserves its own point. Join a community of people who are doing something close to what you are doing. The hardest part of having a position like this is that there’s no real way to know if what you are doing is the right thing. Sure, it might be working for now, but is it the best? Learning from your peers can better your process, but it will also save you from a bunch of crippling doubt. Most people, even experts in their fields, are just kind of trying things to see if they work. The difference between experts and amateurs seems to be that experts do this ahead of time to plan their future actions, and amateurs do it almost exclusively in reaction to some deadline or emergency.

Be ethical. Having a position like this makes it exceedingly easy to lie. And you will get away with it, possibly for a long time. But it does catch up to you, and when it does it can kill your whole career, as well as get you fired. Plus I’ll hate you, because you’ve helped contribute to a lot of friction I’ve had with managers over the years.

Be understanding that people don’t understand what you are doing, or what you are saying. Learn to laugh it off. They’re not stupid or ignorant, they just don’t have the same specialized knowledge that you do. If you feel anger welling up, remember, your specialized knowledge is why you’re probably going to be very employable for a very long time.

If you would like to know what I do, here’s an incomplete list of projects I have worked on (they’re not all my best work, but they all taught be something):

PCI Complaint Credit Card Encryption (AES-256, double encrypted, second key is kept [also double encrypted] in an external database requiring IP, hostname, and API token to access. This one was extra dumb because for good measure I built an implementation of the Diffy Hellman exchange used in the communication between browsers and SSL websites and used it inside of the exchange that was already happening to connect to the SSL API in the first place. I encrypted the communication inside of the encrypted communication. I still have no idea if this did anything to help secure it, or if it was just giving the server processors busy work. But anecdotally, we never had anyone decrypt our data without both keys… so)

Completely rewriting a custom piece by piece CMS and then transforming it into a CRM (I hate that terrible acronym, it’s a client, employee, and project management portal)

Website optimization

Using Google Maps to outline your driveway to estimate the material needed to repave it (simpler than it sounds, I did this in three hours)

Writing a client to to automated cloud backups of files chosen by the user (Think Kryptonite, but way less of a budget)

Modifying the above client to sent status and health data back to a central server for monitoring (think LogMeIn, but way less of a budget)

Writing crawler with the aim of only requesting every resource once, even if the resource is used on multiple pages. (I hope all crawlers are built this way, but I suspect they’re not)

Evaluating the data from that crawler to create an SEO report about that website (Think SEM rush, but way less of a budget)

The worst API implementations I’ve ever seen, and I’ve used SOAP.

Writing JavaScript libraries for commonly requested “flashy” elements that leverage technology to make the effects as optimized as possible. (Think banner sliders using CSS transform, and parallax effects using HTML Canvas, anything to pass the heavy lifting over the the graphics hardware and free up the CPU for other work)

Database Diff tools for projects that don’t have proper version control for whatever goddamned reason (there’s no good reason, but you play the cards you’re dealt)

Automated migrations of data in and out of OpenCart, WordPress, Drupal, and even once out of static HTML files written in Dreamweaver V1.0 (and we cached back and forth from wordpress every night on the last one, a dumb requirement, but I did it.)

Calling up a client and telling them that their computer has a virus, and they need to disconnect it from the network, or I’m locking them out of their email account before they spam the entire North American continent. (And yes, you really do have to do this sometimes as a server admin when your boss refuses to let you just lock out the user.)

And, I shit you not, a passed over prototype for integration of a major Shipping Carrier’s new “Deliver To Very Large Drugstore Chain” API features into a woocommerce plugin. They would have sold the plugin along side several others, we would have made a few pennies on every order. (Managers, please tell your developers when a prototype is being tested in front a board of directors, then your developer may not go home when the prototype was bricked by a last minute feature the night before, assuming there will be time to work on it tomorrow)

[odogaronfang]

okay here it is!!! the long-awaited (not really) masterpost of hc’s about the background characters!!!

@105ttt and i have been working on this stuff for a couple weeks now and i’ve finally got around to making it into something shareable!! and i’m excited because now this means i get to use them in fics without people being completely lost!!!!

anyway this post is long so i’m gonna put it under a readmore-

Leonel

-link’s father

-captain of the guard & keeper of the wind key

-close friends with artura and valensuela since childhood

-because of the circumstances, he’s very well-read on the various legends/stories of the past heroes

-is a stand-in father for zelda sometimes because of how close she and his son(s) are

-constantly worried about his kids (sometimes because of the trouble they’ve been in, sometimes because of the trouble they cause)

-definitely the ‘cool manager’ type of captain- does what he needs to in order to run an efficient guard, but he’s also good friends with all of them

-there are days where he wants to take his kids out to town for a family day and there are days where he wants to throw them all out a window

Artura

-the captain’s top knight

-friends with leonel since childhood; they weren’t in the same battalion until they became full knights but leonel would cut sessions to go train with his group

-specialized in heavy armored combat, proficient in several kinds of weaponry but mostly uses bludgeoning weapons

-the backup dad for vio when leonel is busy because hylia knows vio needs constant supervision

-the embodiment of the gentle giant trope- does a lot of favors for people and the castle town kids ADORE him

-always busy + always tired. give artura his vacation days please

-he has a special room in the castle he goes to when he needs alone time and doesn’t want to be bothered. vio is allowed in but only grudgingly and only if he’s maintained at least one (1) week of decent behavior

-works a lot with younger trainees (mostly around link’s age); has a lot of instructional tasks on top of his regular patrol duties

-he doesn’t take off his armor in public a lot, so most people haven’t seen him out of it. there’s a joke among the younger groups that artura isn’t actually a person but rather a darknut or one of the phantom knights animated by the royal family’s magic. (actually it’s just because he’s secretly a twink and he doesn’t want people knowing that Mr. Top Knight/Mr. Living Darknut couldn’t hit 160lbs if he was soaking wet.)

Valensuela

-keeper of the water key

-close friends with leonel since childhood; was in the same trainee battalion as him

-trained for armored combat but dislikes wearing heavy plate- if he wears a lot of armor, it’s usually maille

-can dual-wield, but usually opts for one larger sword instead of two smaller ones

-basically adopts green after the pyramid incident. just steals him from leonel. green is his son now. green accidentally calls valensuela ‘dad’ once and leonel’s parentship of green ends right there.

-appears very dignified and serious but actually has a flair for the theatrical. most people are not aware of this but his friends know.

-leonel’s second-in-command, but he’s far more task-oriented and doesn’t deal with people as well as leonel does. he can come across as a little brusque with people he isn’t familiar with so he tries not to take that role if he doesn’t have to.

-not a personality headcanon but he has a scar on his forehead from when green shattered his helmet in the pyramid. and after he’s overcome the trauma that came with that whole ordeal, he definitely brags about it. someone asks what happened to him for him to have a scar like that and he’s like “oh my son did that isn’t he talented?”

Lucien

-keeper of the fire key

-so chill. extremely laid-back guy. the kind of guy you go to hang out with when you want to do something social but you don’t want to leave your house (or even your couch).

-kinda lazy when it comes to little mundane tasks, which he caught a lot of flak for while he was still in training, but wholeheartedly dedicated to his job when it comes down to it.

-basically adopts red. they’re like best buds. red makes lucien carry him around on his shoulders so he doesn’t have to walk but lucien doesn’t mind.

-absolutely the kind of person to disappear for an entire day and when you find him again and ask him where he went he says he was in the living room the whole time

-very good at cooking, but only the really time-consuming, complicated recipes, which goes directly against his low-effort nature. he rarely cooks, but everyone looks forward to the days that he does.

-also the kind of person to “work out” by doing one push up every five minutes. the second he hears someone approaching he’ll stay in mid-push-up position and when they walk in he’ll say “one thousand”. (he only actually made it to nine.)

-if he isn’t in armor he’s in sweats. “dress more professionally” the captain says to him one day. he shows up to breakfast the next morning wearing sweats again, but this time he also has a tie on.

-the tallest of the group, which artura makes fun of (it’s all in good fun. he just makes fun of artura for being so small.)

Wes

-keeper of the earth key

-the high-energy go-getter of the group. his energy alone balances out the chronically low-key natures of artura and lucien. basically an eternal child at heart.

-ALWAYS ready to throw down. it isn’t even that he has anger issues, he just needs a way to get rid of his restless energy while also triumphing in his various conflicts, and to him, fighting (within the controlled setting of a spar) is the easiest way to do that.

-one of those people that has to be physically restrained from doing dumb things. “hey i bet i could land in the hot spring if i jumped from the third story balcony” “wes you will break all of the bones in your lower body” “and??”

-also the guy in the group that’s constantly making bets and daring people to do things. he violates the sanctity of the triple dog dare by using it literally every time. he is also eerily good at predicting the correct outcome of bets.

-learns little things like sleight-of-hand tricks just to fudge them at the end; he’ll keep a group of little kids enamored with the “magic” before asking if they want to see the finale where he makes the cards disappear. the kids say yes and he just hurls the entire deck into a nearby bush. “there,” he says with pride as he walks away, “they’re gone.” (he would never actually upset the kids. if they look too disappointed he’ll sigh and go get the cards and do an actual disappearing trick just to make them better.)

-definitely takes blue under his wing. they spar like every morning. the other links might try to go on kitchen raids without their parents’/mentors’ knowing but blue goes WITH wes to go steal the best-looking cookies fresh off the baking sheet. arcy always gives wes grief for enabling that behavior but wes knows she won’t actually do anything about it

Selenas

-another of the captain’s high-ranking knights

-the exasperated lawful good of the group. he tries so hard to get the rest of them to follow the rules but it never works. he knows there’s no point to the efforts anymore but he still tries.

-the constant sigh-er of the group. you’d think he had respiratory issues if you didn’t know him.

-is tasked with helping to keep shadow in line because of his lawful good status. he’s the strict parent who insists upon balanced meals with a lot of vegetables and who believes in a strict 8pm bedtime. he will not hesitate to confiscate shadow’s laptop if he’s misbehaving. shadow despises him but he’s doing all of hyrule a great favor.

-doesn’t safeguard a royal jewel so he’s kind of an outlier but it’s fine, everything’s fine, he doesn’t need a jewel to prove that he’s a good knight and no, he isn’t envious, no not even a tiny bit, why would anyone ask that,

-prefers long-reach weapons like pikes and halberds over swords/daggers

[all of the above-mentioned knights are collectively referred to as the cape squad by the links]

Arcy

-one of the castle chefs

-an ex-knight; had barely made it into full knighthood before receiving a career-ending injury

-decided to continue work at the castle as a chef so she could still be around friends + to provide for her daughter

-was in the same trainee battalion as artura for armored combat, so they’re old friends

-her daughter is adopted; keina is the biological daughter of a late friend of arcy’s who died from birth complications

-is actually still technically in reserve for the guard; in a state of emergency she’s tasked with aiding evacuation efforts

-she’s the most popular chef among the knights because she takes requests. there’s a weekly competition among battalions and the winning one gets to choose the weekend meals that she makes. it’s a good motivator, especially for the ones in training, and it also gets her friends in high places (:

Keina

(see above images)

-arcy’s adopted daughter

-she’s very sickly; she’s never gone beyond the gates of castle town and barely even leaves the castle grounds. the only time she’s been beyond castle town was when she fled the castle with arcy, and she was in extremely poor health the entire time.

-she’s friends with the links + erune; they’ll often visit her and bring her things from other towns (or in erune’s case, her hometown) so she can still experience new things

-has a lot of pen pals all over hyrule since she can’t leave her home to go see people- she gets like two dozen letters a week and it helps keep her busy

-very knowledgeable on a lot of different subjects! because she’s often home- and sometimes even bed-bound, she spends a lot of time reading and writing and will sometimes illustrate as well. she’d like to be some kind of professional scholar so she can still contribute even when her health prevents her from travel.

[lunar-lattice]

Solaris Caelum (8)

Asuka's hindsight leads the gang to NERV when the power goes out right in time for an Angel attack.

Mirrors in reblogs.

< Previous x Next >

8. Not So Itsy Bitsy Spider

It was an exceptionally hot day in Tokyo-3, the kind that made one wish Second Impact had made Japan suffer an eternal winter rather than an eternal summer. It seemed as if no one wanted to do anything but yet this day found a group of NERV employees at the laundromat. Ritsuko sighed as she withdrew a stack of her laundry from the washer, "The cost of doing laundry...it's been killing me."

One of her companions, Maya, laughed softly, "I don't even have time to wash my clothes most days..."

Aoba grumbled, "At least you can sleep in a home off-base."

Maya sighed, "You could have requested to be placed off-base, you know?"

Aoba only grumbled more in response as he followed them out. All that sort of thing was too much work but being so close to work made him wish he had done it now. Not that he would admit that.

From there, they boarded the train to see the Vice Commander. Ritsuko greeted him, "Good morning, Vice Commander," and sat by him with some distance between them.

Maya and Aoba snapped to attention, "Good morning, sir!" they cried in unison.

Fuyutski lowered his newspaper. He nodded to acknowledge them, "Morning," and went back to reading his paper.

Maya and Aoba stood, holding onto the bar. "You're quite early," Ritsuko commented to Fuyutski.

"Well, I have to go up top in Ikari's place."

"Ah," Ritsuko nodded in understanding, "Isn't today the City Council's regular meeting?"

Fuyutski rolled his eyes from behind his newspaper, "It's a pointless job. Ikari has always thrust the sundry tasks onto me. Without the Magi, I'd be lost. "

Ritsuko nodded once more, "Speaking of which, the city elections are approaching up there, right?"

"The City Council is merely a shell. The municipal government, after all, is in fact run by the Magi."

Aoba arched an eyebrow, "The Magi? The three super computers?"

Fuyutski nodded, "Government by majority decision of three different computers. It's a system that is properly in line with the fundamentals of democracy."

Maya looked at Aoba, "The council obeys their decisions too! That's a city of science for you!" she sighed and smiled, "It really is an era where science reigns supreme."

Aoba furrowed his eyebrows, "Talk about an old-fashioned line. Sounds a little shady but I guess if it gets the job done, it doesn't really matter,"

"That's why you're only on the bridge!" Maya teased.

Aoba huffed softly and glanced away.

Fuyutski glanced at Ritsuko, "Come to think of it, you're running an experiment on Unit 00 today, right?"

Ritsuko nodded, "We need to make sure there's no issues with it after the cross-synch with Kaworu. So we're running the second prolonged activation test at 10:30."

Fuyutski nodded, "I'm looking forward to good news then."

An hour or so later, there wasn't much good news to look forward to. The emergency alarm blared through the testing facility. Unfazed, Ritsuko glanced at Maya, "Abort the experiment. Cut the circuits."

"Switching circuits."

The testing room went dark for a moment before the lights came back on. "We're still having a problem here..." Ritsuko murmured, looking over Maya's shoulder.

"Yes, we're getting closer though," Maya assured her.

"Good. We don't need one of our Evas acting up. Lower the reciprocal conversion rate but 0.01 and recommence the activation experiment."

"Gotta love having a short day!" Toji stretched as they left school.

Asuka huffed, "Not for us! We have to check into NERV later!"

Toji snorted, "Sucks for you. Me and Ken are gonna hang out at his house!"

"Yeah, I gotta tell my brother about that parent-student conference. I mean, he is my guardian for the most part," Kensuke shrugged.

"Ah, yeah! Gotta ask my dad! See if NERV will take a second to let him off," Toji paused, "No offense. "

"None taken," Kaworu answered, "I'm not sure who will check in for me though. Perhaps Misato."

Toji blinked, "Someone has to have been taking care of you!"

Kaworu shrugged, "Not here, as far as I know. And I doubt my guardian in England would want to deal with that."

"I guess I'd have to tell my dad," Shinji slumped at the mere thought of calling him.

"Shinji!" Asuka cried, making him jump, "I'm pretty sure Misato is charge of that! Remember her scolding us about our grades!"

"Oh..." Shinji sighed, "You're right."

"You can't really want him to show up!" Asuka said.

"I mean, I just..." Shinji paused, rubbing his arm, "I dunno. I just want him to be involved somehow..."

"Well, best if you don't call. He might yell at you!" Asuka said, "Then we'd have to get onto his case."

"Getting onto the Commander's case?" Rei echoed, an eyebrow raised.

"Well, hypothetically. I wouldn't be surprised if the man's office was booby-trapped!" Asuka waved her arms for emphasis.

Shinji chuckled and Asuka smiled, "Let's just head on to NERV. We won't really have the time to go home then come back."

Misato herself was on her way to her personal office to get the day's paperwork over and done with. It was a thankless job but it was hers so she couldn't opt out. She stepped inside the elevator, preparing to press the button to go up.

"Hey! Hold up!" came Kaji's voice down the hallway.

With a stony expression that would make the Commander envious, she pressed the button, watching the doors slowly close on Kaji.

A hand darted through them and the doors stopped, opening once more to show a relieved Kaji. Misato huffed, redirecting her expression away from him. He stood by her, catching his breath. He glanced at her, "Man, that run really took a bit outta me!"

He turned to face her, "You've certainly got a black expression."

Misato turned her nose up at him, "It's from seeing your loathsome face first thing in the morning!"

Kaji laughed, unperturbed by her. Misato rolled her eyes, "Really nothing bothers you, does it?"

"Well, nothing you're doing right now."

Misato sighed and leaned against the wall, watching the floor tick up. Then the lights went out and the elevator was flooded with an orange gloom. Kaji looked at Misato, "What do you think?"

She met his gaze, "Er, it's bound to switch to the backup power supply soon."

A few minutes passed.

"I hope."

Hyuga was the only one of the main bridge staff not at base. To his credit, the day was supposed to be a slow one. He sighed as he adjusted the bags in his arms, "Man, she can be such a lazy slob. Can't Katsuragi pick up her own laundry?"

He looked at the bag full of her clothes and sighed, "Yet, I never say no. And not because she's my superior..."

He shook his head to clear his thoughts and looked up at the crosswalk light to see if it was time to cross. It went dead. "What?"

Back in the testing chamber, it was dim. Maya, ever dutiful, reported, "The main power supply has been interrupted. Voltage is at zero," she looked at Ritsuko.

Along with every other tech in the room. Ritsuko chuckled nervously, "Well, it wasn't me."

She turned, "Let's get to Central. I don't think the power failed only here."

Maya stood and followed her to the door. She asked, "What do you think is going on?

Ritsuko hummed in thought, "The power is off. But it's not coming on. That makes me suspicious."

Maya frowned, "I hope it's just a fluke."

"As do I."

In the Command Center, Aoba was shaking his head as he sat at his station, "It's no good, the backup circuits are not connecting."

Fuyutski, who had come down from his usual lofty perch, cried, "This can't be! Reroute all remaining power supplies to maintaining the Magi and Central Dogma."

Aoba spoke up, "But that will interfere with life support systems."

"I don't care!" Fuyutski snapped, "With the Magi, we'll get everything back up sooner!"

"Huh," Shinji raised an eyebrow as Rei swiped her card and the doors to NERV did not react.

He swiped his with similar results. "Try yours, Kaworu," he suggested.

"I don't think it'll work if either of yours didn't," he said.

"Door could be broken. Or power is out," Asuka suggested.

"That is unlikely," Rei spoke up, "NERV has sufficient backup power."

"Well, just in case, let's go around the side," Asuka gestured with a jerk of her head.

A few more minutes passed in the elevator and Misato sighed and crouched, inspecting the buttons, "This isn't normal."

With a tilt of the head, Kaji asked, "What's the power system here?"

"There are three main systems, main, sub and reserve. It's unthinkable for all three to fail simultaneously."

"Which would mean..."

"We should not assume that the breakers didn't fail on their own, but rather were taken down on purpose."

Fuyutski had returned to the top tier of the Command Center with the Commander, lighting a candle as he listened to the Commander. "Regardless of cause, this is not an optimal situation. It would be disastrous if an Angel attacked right now."

As if on cue, a military installation had just picked up something off the coast of the former Atami region. The commander of it commented, "It's likely the eighth one."

One of the officers spoke up, "I agree."

Another asked, "So what is the plan?"

"We go on alert status for now, as is procedure."

The second officer said, "It's most likely going to Tokyo-3 anyway."

He muttered under his breath, "Where else? There's nothing we will need to do."

A few minutes passed and one of the techs reported, "We have no response from Tokyo-3."

"What?!" the first officer cried, "What are those NERV guys doing?"

The second officer raised an eyebrow, "It's unlike them to slack off."

Ritsuko and Maya were still navigating their way to Central, climbing up a ladder as they did. "I thought gangway ladders were decorative holdovers from the past. Who would think we'd be using them?"

"Well, to prepare is to prevent!" Maya said from behind her.

Ritsuko chuckled, "You're just full of those, aren't you?"

"I'm right, aren't I!" Maya cried.

"Of course. One would never know what will happen."

"Nothing's working," Shinji commented, having run his card again.

"None of the facilities are working. That is odd," Rei turned to Asuka, "You may be correct."

"Damn right, I am! I bet something happened below."

Rei nodded, "A natural assumption."

"Let's get in contact then with the headquarters then," Shinji suggested as he picked up one of the emergency phones.

All he got was silence for his efforts, "Phones aren't working. I think Asuka is onto something with the power. What do we do now then?"

Rei sat, opening her bag to retrieve a small booklet from it. She opened it and began to study it. Shinji asked, "What are you doing, Rei?"

"It's the emergency manual," Asuka explained, "I have one too. Rather, we all should."

"Do not bother pulling them out. I say we go to headquarters," Rei put it back and rose to her feet, "I'll lead."

She pointed down the walkway, "We can get below through Route 07 over here," and without waiting for a response, began to walk down that way.

"Yeah, let's follow Rei. She must know the place better than us," Asuka nodded.

Rei lead them to the door, "Correct. I have been here longer."

"How long?" Shinji asked.

"...all my life."

"Wow, really? How come?" Shinji blinked in surprise.

Rei didn't miss a beat, "My guardian is the Commander so I've never lived anywhere else."

Asuka dared to glance at Shinji. Unlike his father, he did not know how to mask his emotions so his face shifted between surprise then annoyance then full on anger then resignation. Asuka looked away, "At least we'll get to base in a timely manner."

Rei's response was frustrating. Rei's origin was something Asuka never actually figured out. It seemed like she knew everything else but there was a missing piece that eluded her. Rei was a parentless child who was the ward of Commander Ikari and eerily obedient to him. So her saying she lived there her entire life was not a lie. But how did she come to be here? A child of former employees, the child of Commander Ikari, a test tube baby even?

They stopped in front of the door, "Will the doors work?" Shinji asked.

"Manual door," Asuka smiled, "Go on Shinji, Kaworu."

"Wow, you really rely on other people for this," Shinji sighed as he took a hold of the crank and pulled.

"Oh no, just you and Kaworu are standing around a whole lot."

Kaworu joined Shinji and with a heave, the crank began to squeal and turn. The doors opened and Kaworu smiled, "Let's go,"

Back at the military installation, there was still little luck, "Still no response from Tokyo-3."

The second officer snapped, "Damn those Joint Staff bastards! They only rely on us at times like this!"

The commander, ever cool, said, "What does the government say?"

The second officer rolled his eyes, "Those bastards in Tokyo-2? They're apparently getting ready to run!"

A cool but withering look from the commander sobered him up. One of the techs said, "The Angel is still active and advancing."

The commander looked forward again, "In any case, we need to get into contact with NERV."

"But how?" the second officer asked.

"By actually going there," the first officer said.

Hyuga was on his way to NERV, as there wasn't much else to go. Going home was useless and ay any case, NERV needed every hand. If Tokyo-3 was down, NERV was too. The two were inexplicably connected.

A large military plane flew over, its broadcast drifting over the dead Tokyo-3, "This is the third district ASDF! An unidentified object is moving toward this area. All residents must move to their designated shelters."

There wasn't much else an unidentified object could be so Hyuga realized immediately. "Big trouble!" he gasped, "Must be an Angel!"

He took off at a run, "I've got to report this to Headquarters at once! But how?"

A van drove down the rode in the distance, droning election propaganda. He watched it then grinned, "Lucky me."

In the dreaded elevator, it was hot. It was beyond hot. Misato has stripped off her jacket to her tank top up and was fanning under it. She sighed, "Boy, it's so hot."

"Yeah, the air conditioners are out too. Katsuragi, if you're so hot, why don't you take off your shirt?" he flashed her a grin, "No reason for shyness between us. After all, it's nothing I haven't seen before."

Misato hissed and snatched her jacket off the floor, putting it back on and zipping it up to her chin, "Don't get any funny ideas just because we're in this situation."

Kaji chuckled and looked away, "Oh no, the "love in the elevator" situation is far too cliche for me. I only have your best interests in mind."

"How about you? Those long sleeves must be hot too!" she smiled smugly at him.

Kaji blinked, "If you're asking for me to take off my shirt, you could just ask," he went to unzip his shirt.

"Wait, no, I didn't mean it!"

Hyuga, along with the driver and speaker he had dragged into his mission, tore through the empty streets. The speaker cried through the intercom, "Pursuant to the declaration of a state emergency, emergency vehicle passing through!"

"Wait!" she cried, pointing to the blocked off tunnel they were speeding towards, "That's a dead end!

"It's alright! Charge!" Hyuga cried, "This is an emergency!"

The woman speaker wailed, "No, no! Stop the car!"

The driver grinned like he was having the time of his life, "Roger!" and charged through, breaking the barrier.

Meanwhile, Fuyutski sighed, fanning his face, "This Geofront was designed to be a self-sufficient colony even isolated from the outside. Theoretically, it's impossible for all of the power sources to fail at once."

Ritsuko had come up to the top tier to talk with him once she arrived. "It's not supposed to happen," she cut in, "To me, that means someone did this deliberately."

The Commander said smoothly, "Their purpose would be likely to investigate this facility."

"So they could determine HQ's structure through the process of restoration," she turned away, "I'll run a dummy system through the Magi so it'll make it harder for them to get the full picture. I'll have it restore us out of order too."

"I'll leave it to you."

"Yes, sir," and with that, she departed.

Fuyutski shook his head, "The first havoc wrecked upon our Headquarters directly, not caused by an Angel but rather our own kind. Just goes to show."

Gendo said from behind his hands, "Ultimately, the enemy of mankind is mankind. It would not do for us to forget this."

"This would normally only take two minutes. Is this really a corridor?" Shinji asked.

"An emergency corridor, yes," Rei said.

Shinji frowned, not quite believing her but not one to complain. "We'll get there sooner or later. We have time," Asuka shrugged.

"You're very calm..." Shinji said.

"Well, Rei knows her way around!"

"So...you trust her?" Kaworu asked, an eyebrow raised.

Asuka quieted him with a withering glare. "Quiet," Rei said, holding up her arm in front of Asuka.

A voice drifted from somewhere below, quiet but just loud enough to be understood. "Is that Hyuga?" Shinji asked.

Hyuga's voice got closer, "An Angel is approaching! Repeat, an Angel is approaching!"

Shinji gasped in surprise, "An Angel is approaching?!"

"Then let's get moving!" Asuka cried.

"I know a shortcut. Follow me," Rei said, walking forward to a vent in the wall.

She daintily pulled it out and set it on the floor before pulling herself up into it, "Come on," .

The other three followed her in. A few minutes passed in the tight space before Shinji asked, "Say, Asuka. What do you suppose the Angels are?"

Asuka would have looked back at him if she could, "That's a weird thing to ask right now."

"I mean, they're Angels. Messengers of God, enemies named after them at least. Why are we fighting them?"

Asuka considered her next words carefully, "I don't think they're like actual Angels, like out of heaven. Plus, they're attacking us so really we're just defending ourselves."

"I wonder why they're attacking us then. We haven't done anything to them."

"Beats me," Asuka shrugged.

It wasn't like she could tell him that they were after something NERV had. She had a hunch about what that something was but she hadn't found out last time nor did Kaworu tell her yet. Something else on the list of what to ask him.

"We get out here," Rei said from the front, pushing another vent out where it hit the floor with a metallic clang.

She climbed out and surveyed their surroundings, a forked crossroads. She pointed to the left, "I think we go left."

Asuka looked down the dim hallway, "Left, it is."

The hallway sloped downwards, a good sign. As they walked, Asuka asked, "What are these for anyways?"

Rei answered, "Most were put in here when construction began as a means to move around. So they are mostly unused now."

"Does anyone use them now?" Asuka poked for information.

"We are,"

In the back, Kaworu cracked up. "Shut it, Prettyboy!" Asuka snapped, "I meant anyone else."

Rei hummed softly, "Perhaps to move things but other than that, not that I know of."

Down in Central Dogma, Hyuga's "borrowed" van came squealing to a stop as he cried, "Angel is approaching! Immediate Eva dispatch will be necessary!"

Maya, who was looking down to the bottom of the command center cried, "Oh no!" she turned to the bridge in surprise.

The Commander rose, "Fuyutski, I leave this to you."

Fuyutski raised an eyebrow, "Ikari?"

He stepped onto the elevator, "I'll start preparing for the Eva launch in the cage."

"Don't tell me...manually?"

The Commander was annoyed which only showed in how he grabbed the rail, "There's an emergency diesel generator."

Fuyutski raised an eyebrow again, "No pilots."

"They will come," he said curtly and with that, he departed.

"We are close, this way," Rei said as she lead them.

They walked in silence for a few minutes more. Asuka asked, only to dispel the silence, "Rei, the Commander is your guardian, right?"

"Correct. I am his ward."

Asuka paused, debating for a moment. Then she scoffed, "He should treat you better."

"He treats me adequately."

Asuka glanced behind her and was surprised to find Shinji annoyed. Upon seeing her looking at him, he looked down. Asuka shook her head, "That's not the point. I bet he won't come to that conference either."

"Most likely no. No one will."

"That's...really depressing," Shinji said.

"I never thought of it that way."

"It is," Kaworu piped up, "A parent or guardian has a duty to their child and he does not fulfill it to you or Shinji. He has failed this and thus, is not a guardian."

Rei appeared to think on this but then said, "He is still my Commander and is yours."

Asuka sighed, "It's not like we have a choice to disobey him on that front."

Rei's next words were slow, thoughtful, "And neither do I."

After that, it was quiet. They came to a section of the hallway that was full of rubble. "Can't open this," Kaworu quipped.

"Then we go through a duct. Or break through one," Rei picked up a pipe, testing it in her hands for weight.

An audible click went through the chamber as the final entry plug was loading into place. The techs and the Commander let their ropes go, the techs shuffling awkwardly at the Commander's presence. The Commander himself walked away to the side. Maya, peering through a pair of binoculars, reported to Ritsuko, "The plug is fixed and ready."

Ritsuko nodded, "Now, for the kids. Let's sit down to wait."

They had just settled back in when a racket came from above them with a bunch of voices. Ritsuko looked up, her lips twisted in confusion. With a final groaning clatter, the vent opened up and deposited three teenagers onto her floor. Rei dropped from it with a dainty landing.

Ritsuko smiled, "There you are!"

Asuka bolted up, "We are prepared to sortie!"

Shinji picked himself up, "But how will we? There's no power, how are the Evas?"

"In standby," Ritsuko jerked her head in the direction of Unit One, head bowed and the entry plug set in place.

Shinji blinked in surprise, "But how?"

"All done by hand. It was the Commander's plan actually."

"My father's...?"

A cry came from below, "Preparing all units for entry!"

Shinji walked over and looked over the rail to find his father with the techs, pulling the entry plug to load it into Unit One. He looked to his side to find Rei, looking down at the Commander with a passive expression. "Commander Ikari had faith that you would come and prepared everything," Ritsuko said.

Shinji gasped softly, this new piece of information only adding to his confused feelings. His father...having faith in him? Beside him, Rei's face twitched but she betrayed nothing. Shinji turned away and prepared to suit up.

Below them, the techs buzzed with activity. Once the pilots were inside, a key was turned and with the rough rumbling of power, the entry plug screwed in.

Maya reported, "Plugs inserted."

Ritsuko nodded, "All units activated using backup power supply."

The Commander, beside them, said, "Release the primary lock bolts."

The techs took axes to the thick cords holding the lock bolts in place. Red fluid sprayed from them and with a mechanical click, the bolts disengaged. "Zero pressure. Each unit is free." Maya reported.

The Commander nodded ever so slightly, "Go ahead. Each unit, force open your restraints under your own power! Head out!" he yelled.

With the groan of straining metal, each unit pushed out of their restraints. Above, the Angel, a spider-like creature on spindly legs stopped and crouched over the base. False eyes were patterned all over it in colorful hues but at the bottom of it was a single real blue eye. It began to weep an orange acid that sizzled and ate through the concrete below it.

In Central Dogma, Hyuga cried, "The target appears to have stopped right above us!"

Ritsuko flinched, Hyuga's voice bouncing around the chamber from his speaker. She recomposed herself in a moment, "Get ready! Hurry up!" she cried to the pilots.

Maya cried back, a similar speaker in her hand, "The emergency batteries are loaded!"

Ritsuko stood tall, a knowing and confident smirk on her face, "All right, we can do this! Launch!"

All three Evas walked past them, the ground shuddering beneath their feet. Asuka climbed first into one of the shafts that lead out of the chamber, Shinji and Rei clamoring after her. Kaworu stood beside the team, watching them leave with a thoughtful expression on his face.

"We're approaching the vertical shaft," Rei reported, only a few seconds into their climb.

"Wait for me. I'll check it out," Asuka gestured at them to wait with Unit Two's hand.

She poked her head out into the shaft. It was silent. She glanced up, unable to see the top. "Asuka, we have limited power..." Shinji warned.

"Wait, I'm thinking how we get up there," she said.

A low sizzle filled the chamber before daylight flooded the shaft. Following it was a thick orange liquid fell just inches from her face, hitting the floor at the bottom of the shaft and eating through it. "There's acid," she reported.

"So it appears its using it to invade HQ?" Rei asked.

"Acid?! How do we get through it? We only have three minutes." Shinji asked at the same time.

Asuka chuckled, "You forget you have a master strategist here! I have a plan that will get it done in three minutes flat! Less if we're lucky."

"Wow, Asuka! You're a genius!"

Asuka smiled to herself. Yes, she was a genius but she also had the power of hindsight. "Here's the plan. One of us defends, the other shoots and the last acts as backup."

"I will def-" Rei began.

"I will defend, you will act as backup at the bottom of the shaft, alright?"

Rei was quiet then conceded, "Alright. What will I be doing?"

"You will go to the bottom of the shaft, in case one of us falls or drops a rifle. You will also give Shinji yours?"

"Why?" Shinji asked.

"You're offense. Double the firepower. You'll be in the middle of the shaft and shoot the Angel when its open."

"What is your role?"

She grinned, "Defense. Not only will I defend you from the acid but I will use my AT Field to neutralize the Angel's AT Field. Thus, I'm at the top of the shaft. So Shinji, don't get into position until I am? Got it?"

"Got it! But are you sure you'll be safe?"

"I'll be fine. Think of it as me repaying the favor from last time. Are you ready, Rei?"

"I understand."

"Then let's go!" she swung out into the shaft, grabbing the sides of the shaft and crawling upward. Above, she could see the Angel's single blue eye. Below, she could hear her comrades getting into position. The eye blinked and a wave of acid fell onto her, setting all her nerves on fire. She bit back a cry and hissed to herself, "This...is...nothing," images of flying white figures coming to her mind unbidden.

A cry came over the comm, breaking her from the images, "Asuka, get clear!"

She swerved out of the way, a rain of shots racing by her, into the Angel and out the other side. The Angel stood on its own for only a moment, then slumped, its legs going awry. Asuka sighed in relief, her skin still stinging somewhat, "Angel is dead."

Back in the elevator, neither occupant even knew there was an Angel, much less it had been defeated. But what one did know is she really wanted to get out. So that's how Misato was perched on Kaji's shoulders, trying to pry open the emergency door at top, "Oh damn it! Why won't it work!"

Kaji glanced up at her, "Misato, be caref-"

"Don't look my skirt!" she kicked him in the back

"Yes, ma'am..." he had only wanted to make sure she wasn't going to fall.

The lights clicked on, the mere shock of the bright light causing Misato to recoil...and fall over. Kaji himself yelped and fell over, her falling onto him in a heap. With a ding, the elevator opened, revealing Ritsuko, Hyuga and Maya.

Hyuga cringed, Ritsuko slapped her hand to her face and Maya sighed, "Really?"

"Oh no! Love in an elevator is far too cliche!" Kaji cried

"Shut it!" Misato hissed.

Night had fallen over Tokyo-3, the stars twinkling above in the absence of unnatural light. The three pilots had trekked out of Tokyo-3 and set their Evas on the ridge overlooking the city like a trio of silent guardians. The pilots themselves had laid on the ground, watched the sunset and now stargazed. Asuka spoke, breaking the silence, "Seeing the city like this makes me feel...alone, like I'm alone in the universe."

Shinji looked over at her then the city then the sky, "Yeah. I feel so small."

The lights flicked back off, Tokyo-3 awash in an electric glow. "There," Asuka smiled, "The universe feels a little more crowded again."

Rei spoke up, her quiet voice drifting into the night, "Man has always feared the darkness, carving away at it with fire."

"Well, the darkness is frightening. Who knows what is in it..." Shinji trailed off, "Do you think that's what makes mankind a special species? Why the Angels keep attacking us?"

"I think it's more than that. Who knows why they're attacking," Asuka shrugged, "We just need to do our jobs and protect humanity."

She turned to Rei, "What do you think, Rei?"

Rei hummed in thought then said, "Eva is our bond to humanity and we are bonded to Eva. Our bond to Eva and humanity dictates we do what is in humanity's best interests. Right now, that is defeating the Angels."

Asuka paused then smiled, "I'm glad you said that."

[ariyarathi]

Email Phishing: Why Should You Care and How to Stay Safe

The number of successful phishing attempts is rapidly rising, as is the number of different types of phishing assaults.

Every day, millions of users across the world are put in danger (well, every 30 seconds to be exact). Simply put, cyber thieves and their methods are always developing.

But it's not simply classic phishing scams that are wreaking havoc on firms; spear phishing and CEO fraud now provide a far more destructive assault spectrum. Without a doubt, IT decision-makers are trembling at the prospect of becoming yet another breach in the never-ending book of security breaches.

But why is phishing on an unprecedented rise? We discuss the reasons below:

Lack of Security Awareness

The key reason for the effectiveness of modern-day cyber assaults is the lack of staff training that focuses on topics like phishing and ransomware. According to statistics, just 6% of users have ever attended security awareness training. When it comes to an employee's confidence and ability to spot phishing assaults and respond effectively, this is quite damning. Users should be taught to be wary of unexpected communications and frauds that they may encounter on various sites.

The Dangling Money Trail

The Dark Web's popularity and use have reduced the financial value of stolen data. Because the cost of a payment card record has decreased from $25 in 2011 to $6 in 2016, cybercriminals have been forced to shift their emphasis to other means of making the same amount of money they did previously. As a result, they're now focusing on the generative character of information-holders. Attacks like ransomware, where data owners are frightened of losing their data, indicate that victims would pay the criminal's demands without hesitation.

Lack of Due Diligence

Companies just aren't doing enough to mitigate the dangers of phishing and harmful malware. There are insufficient backup procedures in place, as well as a failure to identify the weakest users who require more training. Furthermore, effective internal control systems, such as a double confirmation for each bank transfer request, are frequently lacking (which can be key to preventing CEO fraud). By ignoring these procedures, you're playing right into the hands of some of the most typical fraud schemes.

Access to Abundant Resources

Many cybercriminals have enormous sums of money at their disposal, allowing them to refine their technological abilities and launch more complex phishing assaults. According to reports, some cybercriminals may earn up to $7,500 per month from their malicious schemes, making the market richer than the drug trade.

Easily Available Phishing Kits

Wannabe hackers now have an easy way to enter the market and compete with sophisticated criminal organizations because of the availability of phishing kits and the emergence of ransomware-as-a-service (RaaS). The most concerning aspect of this expanding trend is that even persons with little or no IT skills are benefiting from these simple-to-obtain technologies. With such a high-profit margin, it's easy to see why thieves are driven to the profitable business.

Evolving Cyber Threats

The conventional (but still successful) method of enticing users into clicking harmful links will soon be eclipsed by far more clever and difficult-to-avoid approaches. Although many have expected that new dangers, such as ‘random worms,’ may emerge this year, there is no great urgency to move away from current malware approaches (self-replicating ransomware).

The establishment of a unified approach that involves people, processes, and technology is the key to avoiding these attacks and boosting employee phishing awareness. On top of that, there are a few simple things you can do to ensure the sanctity of your domain and ensure that your data and money are safe. They are:

· HumanFirewall'semployee awareness workshops will raise employee knowledge of these hazards.

· Develop procedures to assist employees in determining the appropriate course of action in the event of an assault.

· Put in place technologies including email authentication protocols such as DMARC, SPF, DKIM, BIMI that can stop these assaults from happening in the first place.

· EmailAuth is the one-stop solution for all your email authentication needs. It makes your work easier by automating DMARC, DKIM, SPF, and BIMI implementation. Additionally, you can also check and verify your DNS records for enhanced security of your domain.

For more such information, follow us on social media.

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Source: - https://www.bloglovin.com/@infosecventures/email-phishing-why-should-you-care-how-to

[spncontips]

A HANDY DANDY CONVENTION CHECKLIST!

Prepping for a convention? Here’s a check list to help you get organised for your trip!

TICKETS Make sure you remember to print out all your tickets! That’s your PDFs/receipts for your convention ticket, photo ops and autographs, plus meet and greet invoice if you’re doing one. Hotels have printers of course, but it’s easier to have them ready to go, rather than trying to find somewhere to print them out while at the convention – because you’ll be busy!

EXTRA TIP FOR HARD TICKETS - CREATION SPECIFIC Some people put the hard tickets (bought at the con, or via PDF ticket exchange) in the back of their lanyard - they can fall out! Be aware of them at all times, or find a safter place for them! You can jot your name and seat number on the back, so if you do drop them and someone finds them, they can find you, or turn them into Creation who can find you. (Fingers crossed if you lose a ticket, someone honest finds them!)

ELECTRONICS Camera – with spare batteries and memory card and associated cords. Phone Laptop/iPad/iPod All your chargers! All your charger cables!

It’s also great to bring an extra battery pack for your phone, because there usually isn’t anywhere to quickly charge your phone without going back to your room, so if you have a pre-charged battery backup with you that can help keep in touch!

If you do forget something, you always have fan backup – someone will lend you that charging cable that mysteriously got left behind!

PENS A pen – for filling out reupping forms – and for writing down your email or twitter for new friends! Highlighter pens – for highlighting the schedule Coloured Sharpie – if you don’t want black or silver for your auto, bring your own coloured Sharpie pen!

PAPER Always bring some kind of notebook – just in case you want to jot down notes from a panel, or something someone told you, names, emails, twitter handles (as Jensen calls them) etc!

SOMETHING TO PUT YOUR PHOTO OPS IN You need something to put your photo ops in so they don’t bend and get ruined! You can buy great hard sleeves in the vendor’s room, but I find that sometimes the photos can get stuck in them! So be careful of that! A document display folder with plastic inserts, or a ring-binder with plastic inserts is great. Or just a hard plastic document envelope. The photos printed out at the con are 10x8, so anything that fits A4 or larger works.

WHATEVER YOU’RE GOING TO GET AUTOGRAPHED If you have something specific that you’re getting signed, don’t forget to pack it! The Vendors room has photos and books and some other items that can be used for autos if you don’t have something specific.

SNACKS AND WATER Soooooo important! Many of the convention hotels/convention centres don’t have much (or any) food available, or you have to go out to get food (and did I mention how busy you’ll be?), or it’s super expensive. So pack your own. If you’re travelling and can’t pack a sandwich or anything, even if it’s just some fruit or nibblies to take into the convention auditorium, that will help to keep your energy up.

The days are long, you might not get much sleep, you might be drinking more alcohol than usual, the hotels and convention centres are heavily air-conditioned, so it’s also super important to stay hydrated. If you can pickup a bulk pack of water at Target or a supermarket or something, that’s going to save you money and you’ll have water in your room and to take to panels! Seriously, snacks and water. Get on that!

*CREATION CON SPECIFIC - There is also a large water dispenser with cups inside the auditorium. You can use that water throughout the day, and you can also fill up your own water bottle from the supplied water dispensers to save more money. 

HANDOUTS - Twitter/Tumblr/email Print out your Twitter @  or/Tumblr/email addy on little pieces of paper that you can hand out to your new fandom friends who want to be able to follow or contact you. You can make them simple, or into cool little business cards!

EXTRA MONEY – BUT BUDGET! Um. Cons are expensive. Outside of the costs of hotel accommodation and all your tickets that you’ve already paid for, you’ll also have to buy food and drinks (unless you packed them as per the awesome tip above!) The Vendor’s room or vendor’s areas at a con has cool stuff, t-shirts, books, stickers, mugs, glasses, posters, standees, all sorts of jewellery, and various other goodies that you might want. There may even be a guest that you didn’t get an op with, but when you see their panel, you feel you absolutely must hug the living hell out of them, (oh believe me, it happens!), so you just have to get another op! So take a little extra money, just in case. But budget…because it’s real easy to get swept up into the con craziness and want all the things and all the ops (speaking from experience), so make sure you set yourself a budget!

Make sure you have ID on you too, in case that is needed for credit card purchases!

YOUR OUTFITS Okay, I know, d’uh, you’re going to pack clothes! But if you’ve decided on a specific outfit, whether something pretty or something cosplay, make sure you have all the necessary bits! I always plan what I’m wearing for each day ahead of time. That way I don’t have to pack loads of options and I don’t have to think about it at the con. Some days (especially Saturday and Sunday) can start quite early, and the last thing you’re going to want to do is be trying on outfits like crazy. 1. You won’t have time. 2. You don’t want to increase your stress! So pre-plan your outfits and pack all the elements you decide on to make them perfect.

And bring something warm to take into the panels - it can be chilly in the auditorium!

CREATION SPECIFIC - CASH FOR CHRIS – the Creation photographer If you are buying JPEGS of your photo-ops you will need $US to give to Chris the photographer. Each photo op you have, comes with 1 10x8 print – but only 1. You can purchase JPEGS of each photo for $10 per JPEG. There is a number on the photo – you give that number to Chris or his offsiders. Each photo’s JPEG you purchase costs $10 and you must have cash for that. So when you know what photo-ops you’re getting, figure out before hand which you may need (if there’s more than one of you in the photo) or want a JPEG of and ensure you have enough $US on you. If you are at a Canadian con – you can use Canadian dollars but as Chris is from the US, US dollars are better for him. The JPEGS are super high quality, large files, which can be printed to LARGE canvas size if you want (speaking from experience).

NOTE - Chris supplies the JPEGS via an email link to Google Drive. Expect to get them within about a week or two after the con depending upon Chris’ other con and family commitments. Be patient - he will get them to you!

If you don’t have the cash at hand to buy the JPEGS at the convention, you can still buy them after the con. Go to the Creation website and follow the link and you’ll be able to contact Chris via there. See info below!

TISSUES/VITAMINS/PAIN KILLERS ETC. There’s lots of aircon in the hotels/convention areas and you may get a running nose – you don’t want to be snuffly or snotty – pack tissues. Eyedrops – for the same reason, the aircon may dry your eyes out and make them sore and red. It’s also not a bad idea to pack some Vitamin B or C to keep your energy up and immune system working. Pack some Paracetamol or/and Ibuprfen in case of headache or backache or hangover! I always take hay fever medication with me – I never know if something is going to affect me in a place I’m not used to (Vancon for example, gives me hives…WHY I DO NOT KNOW!). I also bring cough/cold medication. I have got super sick at cons! It sounds like a lot, but seriously, I have got sooo sick and having stuff on hand has been a life saver. I also always travel with Bepanthen because I get tatts when I travel :D Also don’t forget extra contact lenses if you need them, and pack band aids (especially if you have new shoes.)

And remember, you are going to be somewhere where you can buy things, so don’t overpack. If you forget toiletries or need something, you will be able to buy at the con. Most cons are held in a hotel, all of which have some form of shop for emergencies - fangirls are also a great back up. 

BREATHMINTS/GUM You’re going to want to pop a mint before you go into a photo op! You’re about to get up close and personal with Jensen Ackles, and you don’t want to breathe coffee breath all over him! Pack mints.

PERFUME/MINI DEODERANT For the same reason as the mints. You’re about to hug the crap outta Misha Collins – you don’t want “been sitting for 6 hours in the same shirt” smell as you squish into him!

LITTLE PURSE MIRROR Perfect for checking your lippy, hair, making sure you don’t have kale in your teeth – as you wait in line for your photo op. Don’t worry, EVERYONE is doing it!

HAND SANITISER. OMG YESSSS! Con crud is a thing. Protect yourself at all costs! Santitise like your health depends on it! IT DOES!

BAGS I get asked about bags a lot - what bag can you take to a convention. For Creation, at this stage there is no restriction on the bag you bring into a panel, however the bag must easily fit under your chair or the chair in front of you. You can not keep bags in aisles or anywhere they may be an obstruction or a saftey issue. 

For Karaoke - it is requested that you do not bring a bag of any kind. So only bring a bag if it is vital - ie if you require a bag for medication, ensure you let the people manning the door know.

If you have a camera, and do not need that bag - bring it without. 

For the Saturday Night Special Concert - once again, avoid bringing a bag. If you do bring a bag for the concert, it must be small purse size, or a camera bag.

Note: there is security and all bags will be checked so DO NOT BRING A BAG to Karaoke or the concert.

ALCOHOL Creation do not allow alcohol at their events, there is no alcohol permitted at Karaoke or the Saturday night concert, or in panels. (There wasn’t even alcohol allowed at the Hawai’i con luau dinner! Seriously.)

That’s it for now! But I’ll keep adding more as more tips come up!

-sweetondean

[tigerlilynoh]

Fic Request: Sam’s First Month at Stanford

Word count: 6,662 Pairing: Sam x Brady Warnings: Mention of child abuse, Homophobic language

Author’s Note: This was written to be set within The Uncomfortable Adventures of Sam in Law School AU, but it’s also intended to stand on its own just fine.

Hope you enjoy it :)

It’d taken him four days of hitchhiking, hustling pool, and bus rides to get to California.  The journey had been slower than normal because he’d tried to avoid illicit shortcuts like pickpocketing people for funds or the like.  He’d gone so far as to take a can of lighter fluid with him when he left, then had a bonfire of his fake IDs and credit cards.  From then on he was gonna live legitimately.  He might not have much money, but he’d come by it through legal, mundane means.

Sam walked through the hallway of his dormitory looking for his room.  Clutching his duffel bag to his side, he suddenly felt self-conscious.  Everyone else seemed to have multiple suitcases or cardboard moving boxes, meanwhile everything he owned was contained in the bag he was holding.  Many of the students had their parents with them to help out and share the momentous event.  Seeing one dad help carry his son’s boxes up a flight of stairs, Sam was struck painfully by his own lack of support.  

Telling his family that he was leaving had been the hardest thing he’d ever done.  His dad had yelled at him and called him a coward—said it would be his fault if anything happened to them because they wouldn’t have enough backup.  How could he be so selfish?  He’d never amount to anything as a civilian, so why even bother wasting his and everyone else’s time.

When he’d attempted to pick up his duffel bag, John had pulled it from him, then thrown the bag across the room.  For a moment Sam had braced himself for a physical fight.  His dad had even been armed, but didn’t bother drawing the knife from the sheath on his belt.  Sam hadn’t looked at Dean, who had silently watched everything from the far wall.  Sam tried to ignore them both as he quickly collected his duffel bag from the ground, then walked out the door to his dad shouting for him to never come back.

Despite knowing that he’d done the right thing, he still cried several times a day.  He’d called Dean’s cell phone twice, though both times he was sent to voicemail.  It hadn’t been his intention to completely sever ties with his family.  He’d figured that was a risk, but it had never been something he wanted.  Distance and the freedom to figure himself out had been his dream, for as long as he could remember.  He was finally getting the chance, though the reality of his situation wasn’t nearly what he’d dreamt of as a kid.  In reality decades of trauma and unhealthy relationships had a way of coloring even a fresh start in the form of a free ride at a top-tier university.

When he discovered that his dorm room wasn’t shared with another student, he decided to call it an early night thanks to his emotional exhaustion and lack of boxes to unpack.  He slipped his protection charm into the bottom of his pillowcase, then knelt beside the bed to pray.  His upbringing had been a strange mixture of nondescript Christian and traditional Anglo-Greco hunter.  He’d pray to Artemis more often than he’d pray to God, but the Great Huntress almost exclusively received canned piety.  When he really needed a little customized help he turned to God—though in that moment he felt like an apology was in order.

He withdrew a knife from his duffel, placed it on the top of the mattress directly in front of him, then rested his right hand on top of it.  The rite called for touching his favorite weapon, but he hadn’t been able to take his bow from the Impala before he’d left.  The knife was the only weapon he still had, so it would have to do.  At least he tried.  His dad never prayed before bed and on the rare occasion that Dean did the rite it was never done justice.

“I’m not sure if you can hear me anymore.”  He wasn’t sure if she ever had been able to.  “I’m sorry, but I couldn’t do it.  I couldn’t stay in your service.  I need to find my place, wherever that is.  From now on, that’s my hunt, my pursuit.  I hope you can forgive me.”

He wished someone would forgive him, that someone would tell him it was alright.  In his heart he felt like he’d made the right choice, but doubt whispered that he’d never be able to have the life of a civilian.  He pushed the unsettling thought aside, then continued to the standard prayer.

“Please give me strength and patience.  Give me the will to endure my trials and the mind to overcome them.  Protect me…”  He pursed his lips in hesitation. “...and my family.”  Before finishing, he added, “Please watch over me even when I’m lost… even when I don’t speak your name.  Please... remember me.”

Lying in bed, he stared up at the ceiling.  He would be waking up to stare at that same ceiling every morning for at least the next eight months.  The thought made him strangely frightened.  It was so long.  He’d never been anywhere that long.  What if he couldn’t do it?  Maybe he was trapped by his upbringing?  He’d never heard of any cradle-to-the-grave hunters retiring.  In that moment it wouldn’t have surprised him to find out that people like him couldn’t cut civilian life.

He got up from the bed, took his desk chair, and wedged it under the doorknob to secure the door.  Then he moved his pillow and a blanket onto the floor in the corner, so that he could see both the door and the window.  He curled up with his knife by his pillow, ready to grab in an emergency.  His first night on campus, he fell asleep on the floor, crying into his pillow.  It took him three nights before he tried sleeping in the bed.

Adjusting to his new life was harder than he’d anticipated.  He knew it’d be emotionally difficult, that being apart from his family and the hunter lifestyle for the first time would be difficult on top of all the assorted trauma he wasn’t yet prepared to look at head-on.  But he hadn’t foreseen several other challenges.  Thanks to having spent his childhood living on the road, traveling from hunt to hunt, he had certain disadvantages—socially and financially, many of which hadn’t even occurred to him as issues.

Social anxiety hadn’t really been on his radar as a problem that he might have.  For years he’d been used to putting on a false smile and playing various roles in order to help with witnesses on a hunt, or maybe just to work a hustle.  He could be charismatic when it came right down to it, but there had been a sort of comfort in knowing it was all fake and insulated from his actual life.  But now he wasn’t playing a part; this was his life.  He felt suddenly exposed and vulnerable to others’ judgment in a way that he’d only ever felt at hunter gatherings.

The first morning at the dormitory he decided to take a shower.  He hadn’t bathed since leaving his family and was in desperate need of self-care.  His skin felt oily even if it didn’t look too bad and no matter how many times he’d washed his hands he still had a sneaking suspicion that there was dried blood somewhere on him, even if no longer under his nails.

He walked to the co-ed bathroom with a towel that he’d stolen from a motel room.  He was wearing full-length pants and his hoodie.  A few people glanced at him in his state of ample dress while he waited for a free shower stall.  Everyone else was wearing minimal pajamas, shorts, swimsuits, or maybe even just a strategically wrapped towel.  Some students whispered to each other, though he couldn’t tell if it was his imagination that they were talking about him.

The fact of the matter was that he didn’t want anyone to see him with his shirt off.  Large bruises covered his shoulder, torso, and upper legs.  Worse, there were still two dozen stitches holding him together below his left arm.  He had no good explanation for them and dreaded the thought of what gossip might grow out of it being seen.  Slipping fully dressed into the shower stall, he pulled the curtain, took off his clothes, and examined the injuries.  With a little luck they’d be the last scars to mark his body.  

After hanging up his clothes as best he could so they wouldn’t get wet, he began washing himself.  He could hear a man in a neighboring shower singing classic Motown.  He’d never heard someone singing in the shower before—he couldn’t even remember hearing someone singing in person at all.  As unusual as it was, it was kind of charming to know that somebody was comfortable and happy.  He let the warm water pour over him, washing away as much of the unpleasantness of his past as it could.  For a moment it was deeply soothing… until his pants fell off their hook and were soaked.  He picked up the soggy jeans, then checked his injuries again and wondered how much longer he’d need to keep covering up on the way to and from the shower.

The fourth day brought with it Sam’s first public embarrassment of his college career and the subsequent breakdown.  He’d been in the student union buying some lunch when another student had accidentally bumped into him.  The recently-buffed floor and sudden impact caused them both to slip and fall down, spilling Sam’s plate of food and costing him a precious, scholarship-sponsored meal.  The scene drew the attention of a few dozen bystanders.  The sudden motion had torn one of his stitches, causing Sam to clutch his side.  Two people went to help him up, but the combined pain and embarrassment triggered his memories from his youth, inducing an anxiety attack.  So when they grabbed him to help him up, he panicked.

Their hands on him reminded him of the way his dad used to grab him and shove him around.  Just a few days before leaving, he’d been slammed into a wall while being yelled at for taking so long to finish off the last werewolf they’d been fighting.  The impact had made the fresh slashing wound on his side sting and dribble blood.  Their dad had instructed Dean not to help suture the injury—Sam would have to deal with the consequences of his poor performance and could stitch himself up in front of the bathroom mirror.  It’d taken an hour and all the willpower he had to get through all twenty-four stitches before he drank himself numb.

Sam pulled away from the students and their bizarre attempt to help him.  He scrambled across the floor, then ran out of the student union clutching his ribs.  When he got back to his room, he locked the door and propped the chair against it before sitting on the floor in the corner.  There was a little blood on his shirt… one of only six that he owned.  He took it off to examine the damage.  The injury hadn’t opened up too much and he wasn’t sure how to even do anything about it without a first aid kit.  So he settled for stealing an unopened box of tissues and a roll of duct tape from his floor’s janitorial closet and just cleaning up the mess until it stopped bleeding.  After forty-five minutes, when the bleeding had essentially stopped, he covered the wound with tissues, then applied some duct tape to act as a bandage.  From then on, he’d take it easy.  He’d avoid people touching him.

On the fifth day he was running low on clean clothes.  He decided to finally bite the bullet and go do some laundry.  With so little in the way of clothing, he was able to stuff it all in his duffel and carry it down to the dormitory lounge.  He found the RA playing on her laptop at a desk and approached her.

Once he’d caught her attention, he asked, “Do you know where the nearest laundromat is?”

“The laundry room is in the basement.”  The RA stared at the clear plastic baggie of quarters he was holding, then looked up at him with a raised eyebrow.  “You… uh, you know you don’t need to pay to wash clothes, right?”

Sam could feel his ears turning pink with embarrassment, but he didn’t want to admit that he’d never had access to such services for free outside of when he’d stayed at Bobby’s.  “Yeah, I was gonna get a soda.”

She gave a little shrug at the explanation, then went back to her game.  After a little searching he found the laundry room.  It even had a supply rack full of detergents and cleaning products that were completely unattended.  He started his single load before sitting down by the machine.  About ten minutes later, several students entered and complained to each other about having to do their own laundry.  It was hard for Sam to imagine who else might have previously done their laundry, if not them.  When they were done starting their machines, they left.  

For a moment he furrowed his brow at the reckless abandonment of their clothes, then he realized that people there weren’t worried about someone stealing their stuff.  He was at an expensive private university.  Most of the students were probably well off.  If their clothes had ever been stolen at a laundromat, they’d probably just bought new ones—Hell, most of the students probably had had homes with washers and dryers in them.  He considered leaving his clothes to go do something else, just like any other student might do… but he wasn’t quite prepared to risk it yet.  Maybe someday.

The stark financial contrast had struck again the next day while he was shopping for class supplies.  When he’d arrived on campus he’d had $512.75 in cash on him.  That amount was intended to last until he could find a part-time job, though he’d given himself permission to play a little pool if he really needed the additional funds in the meantime.  Unfortunately, he’d overestimated both the number of pool halls in the area and the amount of free time that would be available.  At that point his current savings were only $485.96, which had seemed like a lot… until he went to buy his course materials.

Sam stared at the $320 textbook.  It was over one thousand pages of pristinely curated knowledge complete with twenty detailed flowcharts and a fifty-page bibliography.  Unfortunately, its most prominent feature in his mind was the fact that it, along with the rest of his course materials, wasn’t covered by any of the handful of scholarships he’d cobbled together.  He flipped through the pages to see how densely written the text was in an attempt to guess how long the reading assignments might be.  About two-thirds of the way through the book was the security sensor.  An old reflex reminded him that he could easily slip the sensor out of the book, then steal it.  But he wasn’t that kind of person anymore—he’d always hated being that kind of person and he wouldn’t return to that sort of life.

“Excuse me,” he said to get the attention of a nearby employee.  “Is there some way to set up a payment plan or something?”

“Sorry, we don’t do that sort of thing.”

“How much are all of the required books together?” Sam asked as he handed over his course list, then followed her to one of the register computers.

“It looks like…”  The employee chewed her lip while totaling it up.  “$1,076.32 with tax.”

He stared at her, completely dumbfounded for a few seconds.  Those were just the necessary books and it was more than twice the amount of money that he had.  He could hurry and try to find a few less-savory ways of make some money, but even at his best that much would be hard to scrounge up over any less than a few days or a week.  He’d hoped to have his books in time for the first days of classes, which began in only two days.  Not to mention, he needed to buy other supplies like pens and binders, since he didn’t own a laptop.

“How… how long do I have to buy them?” he asked, voice tinged with disappointment.  “I mean, if it takes me some time to get… things together—how long are you gonna keep them in stock?”

The bookstore employee’s eyes took in the handsewn  patching on the elbow of his hoodie, which he anxiously tried to cover.  She gestured for him to come a little closer, then leaned forward so that she could speak to him in a voice that was soft enough so that no one else would hear.

“Talk to your professors and ask them if older versions of the textbooks will work.  The library should have a few copies of older textbooks or you can try to buy them off past students.  Check the bulletin boards,” she suggested.  “If you really do need the latest version, we should have them for another week.  And talk to financial aid.  They might partially cover the books if you really need the help.”

He nodded at her words and his voice broke slightly when he eventually managed to say, “Thank you.”

When his medical insurance through the school became effective, he decided to finally take advantage of those services.  He’d of course been to a hospital before, but as far as he could remember it’d only been for a few trips to the emergency room when his or Dean’s injuries had been too severe for their dad to mend himself.  Though, they’d never left the ER in a typical fashion, instead having to sneak out before Child Protective Services were called or the bill was delivered.  Despite having more legitimacy through the presence of coverage, he still opted to go to the dentist first as his small step into civilian wellness.

The receptionist at the dentist’s office handed him a clipboard full of intake forms, then gestured for him to take a seat in the waiting area.  Only a minute after sitting down and starting the paperwork, he got up to ask her a clarifying question.  He’d never had insurance before and didn’t want to mess anything up.  Before fully returning to his seat, he spotted another unclear instruction and turned back to her.  He ended up just standing at the counter while filling out the intake paperwork with her help.  

He felt profoundly embarrassed.  There he was having his hand held through basic medical forms while going to college for pre-law.  A few pieces of paper should’ve been the least of his problems.  But he was an outsider trying to navigate a new system.  He tried to remind himself that he was a quick learner, and that the only way to learn was to tackle the unknown... even when it was disheartening.

At some point he’d make an appointment to see a doctor, but first he wanted to remove the remaining stitches from his side.  He didn’t know how to explain away such an obviously unprofessional attempt at treating a noteworthy injury.  Technically he was eighteen and was free to make those sorts of poor decisions, but quite a few recent scars hinted at damage done while he was still a minor under his dad’s care.  He had no idea if John could get in trouble for it at that point, but he didn’t intend on testing his dad’s limits.

When the examination was done, Sam was informed that he had numerous cavities from a lifetime without trips to the dentist and that his teeth were severely damaged from grinding while he’d slept.  The dentist suggested that it might be related to stress and that the damage had probably been done over the course of several years.  Repairing the damage would take multiple visits that would inevitably have to be spread out so that he could manage the $50 per visit copay.  In addition to that, at night he would have to wear a mouthguard to prevent the grinding until his anxiety improved.  He would also need to use a retainer at night for several months or years in order to correct the alignment problems that had resulted from never having braces as a child.

That night before bed he popped in his temporary mouth guard.  He felt a bit silly about the fact that he’d soon be wearing a retainer, which was the sort of equipment he’d previously associated with kids.  But he was having to go through many of the basics that well-off civilians took for granted and got out of the way in their youth.  Eventually, he’d have to go easier on himself.  All journeys had beginnings; it was okay for him to start there.

Classes started a week after he’d arrived.  Finding a new routine was profoundly welcome.  The predictability was something he could finally rely on and it was a distraction from his fears.  He’d always loved school as something to consume his mind— something other than worries about monsters or memories of his dad’s hurtful words.  School had been the place where he’d had his best chance at being himself.  He’d even had his first kiss with a boy at school when he was in seventh grade.

In many ways college was different than he’d expected, in some ways for the better and others for the worse.  To his delight he could generally set his own challenge level through switching to harder classes, taking on a larger course load, or by doing extracurricular activities—granted he hadn’t attempted to join any clubs or the like.  The prospect of being surrounded by civilians that were his own age and working in close proximity to them was still a bit intimidating.  He’d always been a bit socially awkward at school, not catching all of the pop culture references and being uncertain how to relate to other kids' mundane troubles.  

On the plus side, it seemed that in college generally other students were happy to leave him alone.  Despite the loneliness that gently nibbled at him through the days, and gnawed more prominently when he lay in bed with insomnia at night, he was grateful to be left alone.  He wasn’t sure how to make friends; he’d barely ever had a real one.  The change from hunter life to student life had been too recent and traumatic for him to even begin analyzing how to make friends.  After a few weeks, when his nerves were a bit better, maybe he’d observe some of his classmates during the seminars and see if he could find someone who might share some sort of common ground with him.  Then he could figure out a few topics to discuss and an introduction.  From there he’d have to wing it, but with his experience charming witnesses as someone else, surely he could figure out a way to be somewhat likeable as himself.

In the meantime, he was too vulnerable to risk more than a sentence or two of social interaction.  He could feel his undiagnosed anxiety manifesting in his trembling hands, pounding heart, and the painfully long, sleepless nights.  There was this terrible feeling that something was wrong and waiting to spring upon him—it was like he was perpetually caught in the moment just after entering a haunted building and hearing the door close behind him.  His senses were strained, searching for signs of danger, and he was ready to run or fight.  On his sixth day of classes, the extent of his fear had hit him hard.

He’d stayed in the library to do all of his homework until close to midnight, but his sleep-deprived mind wasn’t thinking clearly enough to make any progress worthwhile.  When he was walking back to his dormitory he could hear sudden movement behind him.  The slinking, scratching sound reminded him of something—undoubtedly a hunt.  His mind started racing, trying to identify the sound, whatever was stalking him.  He reached into his bag and clutched his knife, but before he could turn around he heard snickering.  The noise had been a couple making out against a wall and only of their shoes had slid on some gravel.

For a moment his fear had gotten the better of him and he’d nearly pulled a weapon.  He wasn’t chasing monsters anymore, and they shouldn’t be chasing him.  The odds of him running into anything was so small that it was more dangerous for him to be armed than not, especially while he was struggling with his past trauma.  When he got back to his room, he put his knife away in his nightstand.  As much as he felt naked without it, he wouldn’t carry it around with him anymore.  

He wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do to deal with his fear.  What did civilians do with their fear?  They didn’t have it as much—at least some of them.  He supposed some of the civilians could just call the police and rely on that to protect them.  Regardless of the fact that he was a white man, he’d never really felt like he’d had access to the protection of police before.  Even at school he’d always been armed, which could’ve easily gotten him into serious trouble.  When he was out on a hunt, he was almost always breaking at least a handful of laws.  And even just being at a motel was problematic considering the illicit goods his family kept.   He’d always been in incriminating circumstances.  His dad had raised him to be wary of the police because if he wasn’t conning them like a top hunter, then they would catch him and either arrest or kill him.  Law enforcement couldn’t help him with his problems; growing up he’d known that.  Whether that was still true or not, he felt it.

“You’re a civilian now,” Sam whispered to himself.  “You’re in their system….  You’re in the system.”

A week later, Sam was sitting against the base of a tree, enjoying its shade and reading.  The temperate weather was such a welcome change from any number of other places where he’d spent his Augusts, baking in the unbearable heat.  He’d taken to studying outdoors whenever possible, outside of his claustrophobic dorm room and near the cheerful voices of follow students—near, but never close enough or in a posture that might invite interaction… or so he’d thought.

“Hey, big guy,” someone called in his direction, making Sam look up.  A group of four large, male students were approaching him.  Three of them were dressed in vaguely athletic clothes prominently featuring the Stanford logo.  Aside from their overall aesthetic, the way they carried themselves and their overly confident demeanor screamed ‘jock,’ which wasn't inherently a problem….  Though he did feel some heartburn coming on.  “You new here?”

“Yeah,” he replied, unsure of what they wanted.  For whatever reason, the sight of them made him painfully aware that he was unarmed.  It was probably the fact that he was sitting on the ground and they’d, intentionally or not, positioned themselves to be standing over him, surrounding him with his back against a tree.  He tried to take a calming breath or two, but they weren’t really helping and it just made him worry that they would spot his fear.

“We’re holding tryouts for the football team.”  One of them pitched the idea.  “You should swing by.”

“Thanks, but I’m not interested,” Sam replied with an attempt at a polite smile.  He looked back down at his book, but they didn’t leave.

“Have you ever played?” asked another one.

“A little, back in high school—“  It had just been for a few weeks during a physical education class, but the group didn’t give him a chance to finish his explanation.

“Come on.  Just try out.”

“I don’t want to,” Sam said more firmly than before.  “I have to focus on my classes.”

“We all take classes and play.  You can do both.”

“Listen, I’m just not interested.”

“You’re new, so maybe you don’t get what being on the team would mean for you.”  One of them grinned in an unsavory way, then boasted, “You have no idea how much pussy you can get—“

“I don’t care about….”  He couldn’t bring himself to talk about chasing pussy no matter how much using their vernacular might’ve helped him.  “I’m not interested in chasing women.”

He’d meant it in a more general way, expressing his disinterest in pursuing any sort of social excitement, but he realized that his words had missed the mark.  The four men all shifted uncomfortably, probably torn between their prior attempt to woo him and the thought that he might be attracted to them.  In a particularly unwelcome moment, they all seemed to realize that their positioning had left Sam’s head at roughly the same level as their crotches.  The players took a half-step away from Sam, and took stances that bordered on defensive or hostile—almost as if he’d somehow entrapped them rather than them encircling him.

“Fag,” muttered one of the jocks.

Sam’s heart was pounding.  He wasn’t sure what to do.  There hadn’t been anything inherently queer about his statement, but being incidentally outed was still being outed.  Though he wasn’t sure whether the slur had been more hyperbole and his visible embarrassment would be the thing that really gave him away.  He was trying to compose himself, to recover enough to respond or even just to gather up his things and flee—though he wasn’t sure what he’d do if they started following him.  In theory he could take them in a fight, but that might’ve been the last thing he wanted to do.  He wasn’t sure if he was willing to take a beating in order to pretend to be a civilian.

“Hey, assholes!” shouted a blonde guy standing a few yards away.  “He said no, so leave him alone.  What are you, three-year olds or rapists?”

Being called rapists made the football players suddenly recoil even more.  There were enough scandals about college sports players committing sexual assault in the news that hurling that accusation had been a direct and effective hit.  The four guys all retreated from the tense situation to find someone else to solicit.

Sam realized he must’ve been visibly shaken by the encounter when his rescuer slowly approached him and asked, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah.  Thank you.”  

Sam rubbed his face and ran his fingers through his hair as he tried to shake off as much of the adrenaline as he could.  Unfortunately, now that he could see the blonde guy better, his heart was pounding for a whole new reason.  He was beautiful, with a lean build, messy hair, and intensely light blue eyes.  His clothes were fit jeans and a t-shirt that somehow managed to be a flattering cut.  But despite the casual clothing, his watch and leather laptop bag hinted that he was at least somewhat well-off financially.  Sam hastily got to his feet so that he wasn’t staring up at the guy… or impulsively checking out his crotch.

“Sorry about those guys.”  The rescuer held out his hand to Sam, which he accepted in a quick shake.  “I’m Brady.”

“Sam,” he replied, thankfully minus any nervous squeak to his voice.  “Do you know them?”

“Those goons hassled me yesterday.  Well, I’m not as big as you, so they weren’t nearly as aggressive.”  Brady smiled.  “What are you, 6’3”?”

“A bit over 6’4” last time I checked.”

“Wow, I bet you’re popular with the ladies.”

Sam made a non-commital noise.  Historically he hadn’t flirted with women much, except in front of his family when it seemed necessary to meet expectations.  It’s not that he didn’t find women attractive; he just liked men more and had more experience with them.  

Back before Stanford, he’d sneak off to gay bars whenever he was in a large enough city.  There he could relax without fear of his family finding him and that feeling of freedom had led to a lot of experimentation that had been almost entirely with men.  Upon arriving in the San Francisco Bay Area, he’d searched online for gay bars and was surprised to find that there were many more than he’d seen elsewhere in the country.  There was even a significantly LGBTA+ community in a neighborhood in San Francisco called the Castro.  Someday he’d have to work up the nerve to visit.

“Well, maybe you’re just popular all around,” Brady amended after seeing Sam’s hesitation.

“Not quite….  I’m new around here, and uh,”  Sam chewed his lip a bit, unsure whether to say anymore.  “I’m not exactly good at talking with people.”

“So far you don’t seem to be doing too bad.  Maybe you just need a little practice?”  When he didn’t immediately decline the invitation, Brady picked up Sam’s book and backpack from the ground, then handed it to him.  “Today is too important for you to be spending it studying.”

“What’s so special about today?” Sam asked, unsure of what major event he’d forgotten.

“It’s the day we met.”

They strolled around campus for almost three hours, then walked the short ways to downtown Palo Alto for a few more hours of aimless wandering.  Brady was probably the most charming person he’d ever met.  That was the only explanation for how they could’ve talked so long.  Sam had barely spoken to anyone for more than fifteen minutes at a time, but hours—he never would’ve imagined something like that.  Brady was also a freshman, focusing on chemical biology and pre-med, but he seemed to know everything about anything.  And he made jokes.  

Sam didn’t know anyone who had that sort of lightheartedness.  The entire feel of their interaction was different than what he’d previously known.  There was such an ease to the whole thing, that when Brady hooked Sam’s arm in order to redirect them, the surprise contact hadn’t triggered any unpleasant memories or a mild panic attack.

“Come on, I know this great Thai place just down the street,” Brady explained as he pointed in the new direction of travel.

Sam stopped walking, slipping his limb free from Brady.  He couldn’t go out to dinner; he didn’t have enough money for that kind of indulgence.  His scholarship included an on-campus meal plan and that was what he had to live off of until he could find some source of income.  He was ashamed of his circumstances and didn’t want to let the lovely day end so soon, but he couldn’t just walk into a restaurant knowing that he couldn’t pay for his meal.

“I shouldn’t….”  He anxiously pulled away from Brady and held his arms to himself while avoiding looking his guide in the eyes.  “I mean, I can’t….”

“I’m driving you crazy, aren’t I?” Brady guessed.

“No, you’re not—anything but that.”  Sam gave him a reassuring smile.  “I mean, I’d like to go get dinner with you.  It’s just I haven’t gotten a job yet and with books and everything....”

Brady just stared at him for a second, processing the fact that his invitation was being declined over finances.  Sam could feel himself turning pink.

“It’s my treat,” Brady offered, then added after seeing Sam’s discomfort at the act of charity, “You can pay me some other time—we’ll figure something out.  Anyway, I don’t have anything else to do.  You’re really doing me a favor by keeping me company.”

“You seem like the kind of guy that doesn’t have a problem making friends,” Sam observed.

“I have high standards.”

“Then are you sure you want to have dinner with me?”

“Without a doubt.”

Sam continued blushing for reasons completely unrelated to embarrassment.  His mouth curled reflexively into a smile and he had to look at a ground for a moment.  He bashfully tried to redirect Brady’s attention away from his physical tells.

“I’ve never had Thai food.”

Brady’s bright blue eyes lit up.  “Well, now I need to take you to dinner.  Not knowing what pad thai is is just criminal.”

It was the best meal he could remember having.  Not only was the food delicious, the company continued to be enchanting.  At one point while they were chatting over dessert, their feet touched under the table and Brady’s fingertips delicately traced the rim of his wine glass.  The moment made Sam’s stomach knot in a strange new way that he enjoyed.

After dinner, they walked back to Sam’s dormitory, stopping in the hall, just outside of his room.  Brady moved a little closer, testing whether he would pull back or if there were any mixed signals.  Sam felt a bit faint at the realization that that incredible guy in front of him might’ve been posturing for a kiss.  Brady candidly glanced down at Sam’s lips, then smiled slightly.  Sam titled his head and leaned in a little, ready to convert the maneuver into a stretch if he’d accidentally misread the situation.  But Brady took a half-step forward and kissed him.

Sam had never kissed another man so publicly before.  It was mildly terrifying, yet more than that it was thrilling.  He didn’t have to be scared of having his family find out, and despite the awkward interaction with the football players, the overall environment seemed more tolerant.  After all, Brady was more familiar with the area and he felt safe sharing a kiss where any number of other students might see.  When Brady cupped the back of Sam’s head, their kiss became more passionate, making Sam grateful that all of his hunter paraphernalia was hidden and his bed was clear of weapons.  And, thankfully, he’d taken out his last stitches two days earlier.  

Brady reached into his pocket—almost certainly to check for a condom.  Sam was grateful.  He hadn’t expected to need one so soon after moving and hadn’t yet located a Planned Parenthood where he could get some for free.  The whole outing with Brady had been great, though not what he was used to.  A quick one night stand would be some welcome familiarity.  But instead, Brady pulled out his cell phone.

“What’s your number?”

Sam stared at him for a moment, completely thrown by the question.  This guy wasn’t just trying to have sex with him.  He wanted them to see each other again.  To Sam’s surprise, he realized that they’d gone on a date or something, and it might not be the only time they did it.  No one had ever asked for his phone number before.  It took him a while to remember and recite it.

Brady immediately texted him, then said, “There.  You’ve got my number now too.”  He gave Sam another, longer kiss before pulling back and smiling slyly at him.  “I’ll see you later.”

Sam went into his room, tossed his backpack onto the floor, then lay down in his bed.  His dick was partially hard and his whole body was shaking from nerves or adrenaline.  A few tears ran down his cheeks—not tears of fear or sadness….  Okay, maybe a little fear.  He had a thing for someone.  More importantly, someone had a thing for him too.  As startling as the development was, it was a good thing.  Things were finally beginning to get better.

His phone buzzed.  When he checked it there was a text message from Brady.  “Want to get breakfast tomorrow and compare our schedules?  I still need to pick out two more elective classes.  Maybe we can take something together?”

“Sounds great,” Sam replied before starting to touch himself to the thought of the smart, beautiful man who wanted something more from him than just sex.

[summer18magic1302]

Syllabus

DIG 1302: 3D Modeling

Professor Mark Simpson _________________________

Class Sessions: Mondays & Wednesdays 12:40 - 2:50pm

Room  8109

Website           summer18magic1302.tumblr.com

Contact            Message user summer18magic1302 through Tumblr

Required Materials

Flash Drive / External Hard Drive

Tumblr account & a new blog for this class

Maya 2018 Student Edition  https://www.autodesk.com/education/free-software/maya

Recommended: PC or laptop with a mid-range graphics card for 3D applications

IMPORTANT DATES

http://www.mdc.edu/academics/calendar/

Summer Semester:  May 14 (Monday) - Aug 3rd   (July 28 – Aug. 3 is finals exams week)

Class Meets: Mondays & Wednesdays 3:10pm - 5:20pm

May 16: Last day to drop with refund; change courses without financial penalty; register, add a course or change sections with instructor and/or department approval; change from audit status to credit status or from credit status to audit status.

MDC Holidays Summer 2018 (college closed)

Memorial Day Weekend May 26-28(Saturday-Monday)

Independence Day July 4th

GRADES

Total Possible Points: 1000

In-Class Homework Assignments: 100 points

Project 1 (vehicle): 150 points

Midterm (interior): 200 points

Character Expression Poses: 150 points

Final Project (armored character): 250 points

Attendance: 150 points

Tips to get an A:

Follow along in class

Work outside of class at least 1 hour a day

Take notes on Maya shortcuts & project requirements

Raise your hand to ask questions

Spend time in the MAGIC lab & ask the TA’s for help on your projects (Alexis, John, and Leo, they sit by the 3D printers)

Message me through Tumblr if you have questions outside of class

Steps to get A’s on projects:

Research your subject by collecting reference images

Draw some concept art before you start modeling

Express yourself as an artist, make interesting things that people want to look at

Run your ideas by me so I can help you avoid problems

Use the techniques we learn in class to model low-poly 3D objects

Texture your objects using UV mapping techniques

Avoiding Technical Headaches:

Don’t touch anything, Maya has dozens of hotkeys, accidentally hitting keys like B, V, 1, 2,3,4, +, -, etc might change vital settings

Save often using Increment & Save so you always have backups

Delete History (Edit->Delete all by type) & Freeze Transformations (Modify)

Use *.ma Maya ASCII file format for greater stability

Export your objects as OBJ and FBX when completed

Choose File -> Archive Scene to turn in projects

GRADING SCALE

RANGE

A 100 - 90 B 80 - 89 C 70 – 79 D 60 – 69 F 0  -  59

Late Work:

Late homework is subject to a 10% late penalty for each day it is late.

No homework may be submitted more than 1 week late.

Attendance Policy:

Students are expected to attend & participate in all the classes

Attendance is taken at the beginning of each class

Lectures are given at the beginning of the class, therefore, if a student is absent during the lecture portion of the class, it is his/her responsibility to cover/study the material that is missed.

If absent, it is your responsibility to keep fully informed about the notes, class material discussed (including syllabus adjustments, additional reading assignments, changes in examination material and dates, etc.).

Students who stop attending class will receive a letter grade of “F” for the course unless they submit a drop card to the Registrar’s office prior to the withdrawal deadline date.

If you will be absent from class for any reason, please message me in advance.

COURSE POLICIES:

Academic Dishonesty Procedure:

Academic  dishonesty is  defined  as  an  action inconsistent  with  the ethical  standards  of Miami  Dade  College. Academic dishonesty includes the following actions, as well as other similar conduct aimed at making false representation with respect to a student’s academic performance.

Collaborating with others in work to be presented, if contrary to the stated rules of the course.

Plagiarizing, including  the  submission of other’s ideas or papers  (whether   purchased, borrowed,  or otherwise obtained) as one’s own.

Submitting, if contrary to the rules of a course, work previously     presented in another course.

Knowingly  and  intentionally   assisting  another     student  in  any     of  the  above     actions,  including  assistance  in     an arrangement  whereby any     work, classroom  performance, examination,     or other activity is submitted or performed by a  person     other than the student     under  whose  name the work  is submitted  or performed. Some actions of academic     dishonesty, such as stealing examinations or course material and falsifying records, may be processed through the Student Disciplinary Procedure.

The Student Disciplinary Procedure may be found on the Student’s     Rights & Responsibilities Guide (page 20).

Students are to work individually during lab hours, unless otherwise instructed.

If the prohibited behavior continues, the student may receive an “F” for the course.

Copying Project Files from another student is prohibited; both students, the author and whoever copied, will earn a grade of “F” for that assignment or exam.

Course Withdrawal:

A student not completing the course for any reason is required to     submit an official drop notice to the Registrar’s office.

If a student decides to withdraw; it is the responsibility of the     student to do so by the course withdrawal date provided on the College     Academic Calendar.

If a student stops attending this class, the student may be     dropped from the course without notice and the student’s record will show     a grade of “IW” (Instructor Withdrawal).

Students are responsible for checking the College Academic     Calendar for refund and course withdrawal deadline dates.

Incomplete Grade:

In this class, an “Incomplete” or “I” grade is not usually given.    

An incomplete grade (“I” grade) is only available at the     discretion of the instructor; as a result of a documented emergency that     prohibits your completing the course.

The “I” grade applies to students that cannot submit the final     project.

Students will only be considered for an incomplete     grade if it is beyond the course withdrawal date and the student is     passing the course at the time of the request.

The instructor and the student will complete an Agreement for     Grade of Incomplete form.

This agreement will determine the requirements for a course grade     which must be completed by the end of the next major term or a failing     grade will be assigned.

CLASSROOM POLICIES:

1.       Electronic (cellphones, iPods…etc.) devices are to be either turned off or in silent mode.

2.       NO electronic (cellphones, mp3, etc.) devices are allowed during lecture.

3.       Eating, gum chewing, eating, drinking, or smoking is strictly prohibited in the electronic classroom.

4.       All items such as soda cans, gum, food wrappings…etc. should be disposed of prior to entering the electronic classroom.

5.       Behavior in the electronic classroom is expected that will allow for conditions that foster learning and a free exchange of ideas. A positive learning atmosphere is one that shows respect and courtesy for the instructor and fellow students. For example, such things as whispering, sleeping, working on other subject matters, or interrupting students or instructor, will not be tolerated.

Class Competencies

Competency 1: The student will demonstrate how to use animation software to create geometric forms by:

1. Creating geometric forms utilizing points, vectors and polygons and curves.

2. Discussing the application of Open GL and how pixels, light and RGB colors are displayed on a computer screen.

3. Manipulating objects quickly in perspective, top, side and front views simultaneously.

Competency 2: The student will demonstrate knowledge of how to create complex three dimensional (3D) forms by:

1. Utilizing primitive shapes to model 3D forms.

2. Describing the difference between nonuniform rationalB splines (NURBS), polygons and sub division surfaces and applying these techniques to create 3D forms.

3. Using Boolean functions and Maya polygonal modeling toolset (extrude, lattices etc.) to create 3D forms.

4. Manipulating points, vertices, edges and faces to create 3D forms.

Competency 3: The student will demonstrate knowledge of spline curves and how to create 3D curvilinear forms by:

1. Creating and using loft, planar, lathe and other NURBS surface tools.

2. Creating complex geometric forms from curves.

3. Converting curves into polygons and a variety of other objects.

Competency 4: The student will demonstrate the ability to map detailed textures to complex 3D objects by:

1. Rendering algorithms.

2. Explaining how pixels in an image are created from Maya.

3. Creating a 3D object in Maya from a 3D sketch.

4. Discussing different types of techniques available in Maya to apply texture and how light interplays with a computer surface.

5. Describing how Open GL display works with texture mapping and gaming.

Competency 5: The student will demonstrate the ability to create and render a 3D image by:

1. Describing the differences between various rendering engines (e.g., MentalRay, Renderman and VRay).

2. Creating 3D cameras to produce depth of field, motion blur. and exposure 7/17/2015 www.curricunet.com/mdc/reports/Competencies.cfm?courses_id=39651http://www.curricunet.com/mdc/reports/Competencies.cfm?courses_id=39651 2/2 effects.

3. Creating a photorealistic render.

[woodworkingpastor]

Help Wanted -- Matthew 9:35-38 -- Sunday, November 8, 2020

Scott Foster is an unassuming accountant who lives in Oak Park, IL.  In his college days, he was a goalie for Western Michigan University, a hobby he continues today as the goalie in a Chicago-area rec league.

On an otherwise ordinary evening in March 2018, his wildest dream came true. NHL teams always have an “Emergency Backup Goalie” under contract.  It’s an unpaid gig; well over 99.9% of the time the “EBUG” (as they’re called) watches the game from the press box, eating nachos.  

But on this night, things were different.  The Chicago Blackhawks regular goalie was injured, and their backup goalie got hurt right before the game started. Their third goalie was doing well, but started to cramp up in the third period.  

That’s when the call went to the press box for Scott Foster to head to the locker room and put his gear on. He entered the game in the third period to protect a 6-2 lead—which he did, blocking all seven of the shots on goal he faced.  And to make an already feel-good story even more feel-good, the savvy Blackhawk fans recognized the situation and even began chanting their Emergency Backup Goalie’s name: FOS-TER! FOS-TER!

All of creation

Over the next three Sundays we will consider what the word harvest teaches us about life in the Kingdom of God.  The sermons between today and Thanksgiving each come from a text where the word harvest appears. What will we learn about Jesus from these passages?  How does looking at Scripture in this way expand our understanding of the faith we share and cause us to grow closer to Jesus?

This is one of those Biblical passages that somewhat lends itself to being read over too quickly, without our giving it proper attention.  If we pause and look more closely, we learn that Jesus’ love for humanity comes with a sense of purpose (v. 35).  Jesus knows things because he was with people, going to where the people are.  We can be a bit too quick to say things like, “Well, of course Jesus knew things about people—he was God, he knew everything.”  We play that card too quickly; Jesus does not assume that people will come to him, even though they sometimes do. Jesus knew the sufferings of the people because he was with the people:

…teaching in their synagogues, and proclaiming the good news of the kingdom…

We might look at the people to whom Jesus ministered and say, “But these are not our people.  They’re not part of our group.”  Between sermons and our recent webinars on media and bias, I’ve said a lot recently about how we treat people who we think are “the other.”  It’s so easy to look at those who are “other” as some kind of adversary, as if all of life is a zero sum game where someone else gaining something inevitably means that I must lose something.

But with Jesus, we are all other, and we are all the object of his work. You and I are God’s possession, and God’s plain has always been to reclaim that which is his.  Jesus’ view of ministry is shaped by what God told the Hebrew people all the way back in Exodus 19:5, just three weeks after bringing the people from Egypt:

the whole earth is mine; you will be for me a kingdom of priests.  

There is no square inch of creation that does not belong to Jesus,

for in him all things in heaven and on earth were created (Colossians 1:16).

Jesus was not going to some foreign place to meet some people one who “other.”  He was going to that which was his to reclaim those who belong to him. SPOILER ALERT: He would later—in the Great Commission—tell us to do the same.

Going to where the people are took Jesus to where the problems are.  Towns and villages are filled with both people and problems, and Jesus ministered to both.

We need not create a false dichotomy where our view of the soul is separate from our view of the body, the spiritual separated from the physical. Jesus was concerned about both.  Jesus went about

…curing every disease and every sickness.

“Every sickness” refers to the variety of ailments that befall human beings.  It doesn’t really matter if someone was sick from a virus or if they were injured when their ox stepped on their foot. Jesus went about curing all sorts of diseases and ailments and injuries and sicknesses, simply because these things keep people from the fullness of life.  Jesus was a good shepherd and he spent time with his flock.

A compassionate shepherd

Calling Jesus a “good shepherd” loses something for modern hearers.  It is a powerful Old Testament image often used in a tragic sense: the flock has been scattered; the people are lost, and there is no one to regather them.  It was an image people understood better by living closer to farm life; they might not have raised sheep themselves, but they understood how shepherding worked.  

Many of us find it a powerful image because of the influence Psalm 23 has had on our lives

The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want…

What does the shepherding image convey?  The important aspect of a shepherd is that they were responsible for the whole flock. We know from the Parable of the Lost Sheep that the shepherd will leave the 99 to go in search of the one. Shepherds have responsibility for tending to the life and health, the protection and well-being, of the entire flock.  

Having a vision of care for the whole flock inevitably changes your attitude, because the shepherd knew of no “other” sheep; there was only “this” flock. They are all part of the group.  The sufferings of one impacts all.  And so rather than railing against one that is sick, or wounded, or prone to wander off, the shepherd is filled with compassion for his sheep, which is why Jesus was moved by the crowd’s harassed and helpless state.   The word for compassion in the Greek is a strong one; it refers to our bowels, which was the seat of emotion in that culture.  Today we might say that Jesus’ heart was touched.  

Help wanted

Being moved by the suffering of the sheep causes Jesus to turn to his disciples with a request, one that we might not see coming:

ask the Lord of the harvest to send out laborers into his harvest.

Jesus sees a situation that touches him in the deepest place of his humanity. We have this window into Jesus that is deeply personal and emotional and human. But where we might expect (or hope) that Jesus would reply out of his divinity and just solve all the issues, he doesn’t.  He tells the disciples to put out a “Help wanted” sign.  Talk to God about this.  Workers are needed.  Even an Emergency Backup Goalie can make a difference.

Jesus asks the disciples to pray for you and I.

There is both urgency and uncertainty in this request.  It is urgent because Jesus encounters real people with real needs and real challenges; being “harassed and helpless” is common to our humanity.  What becomes of harassed people who never find peace and calm? What becomes of the wounded and sick and injured who never find healing, safety, and security? What happens to people in need of a shepherd but don’t have one?

But the request is uncertain.  Will the disciples pray? Will we pray?  

We often pray to know God’s will for our lives.  But I suspect we often overthink that one.  Jesus’ prayer request is for the Lord of the harvest to send laborers. Move people from one place to another place where there is work to do. That doesn’t mean some place far away.  Jesus himself encountered people in his normal travels; as we go on our way and about our day, we will find the same sorts of people that Jesus found.

[michaelandy101-blog]

The Ultimate Guide to Cybersecurity

New Post has been published on http://tiptopreview.com/the-ultimate-guide-to-cybersecurity/

The Ultimate Guide to Cybersecurity

If asked you to list the most valuable things you own, how would you answer? I guess this would be another way of asking the infamous “What would you grab if your house was on fire?” question.

For me, I’d grab an old keepsake box filled with things from my childhood, my engagement ring, my phone and computer (for pictures and writings!), and an old Iowa sweatshirt of my dad’s.

But I’d also have to say that my identity, social security number, credit cards, and bank accounts are valuable to me.

While these things can’t exactly burn down in a fire, they can be stolen … and if I were to ask a computer hacker what they thought my most valuable possessions were, they’d probably quote the intangible.

That’s why we’ve compiled this guide on cybersecurity. Below, we’ll talk about why you should care about cybersecurity, how to secure your and your customer’s digital data, and what resources to follow to stay up-to-date with emerging tech.

What is cybersecurity?

Cybersecurity refers to the process and recurring practice of securing data, networks, and computers from misuse: either by external cyber attacks or other threats. Protected data typically includes contact information, passwords, credit card numbers, bank account information, passport and driver license numbers, social security numbers, medical records, and any other non-public information.

Personal data is incredibly valuable. Hackers know it, and businesses know it. That’s why both go to great lengths to collect it — albeit one following a much more legal and moral avenue to do so.

Unfortunately, as technology and data collection practices progress, so do the methods that hackers follow to steal data. As business owners, we have a special responsibility to protect our customers’ data and be transparent with our practices.

Why You Should Care About Cybersecurity

In the first half of 2019, data breaches exposed over 4 billion records. Moreover, a recent study found that hackers attack every 39 seconds — that adds up to, on average, 2,244 attacks per day.

Small to medium-sized businesses (SMBs) are especially at risk. You might see corporations like Target and Sears topping the headlines as top data breach victims, but it’s actually SMBs that hackers prefer to target.

Why? They have more — and more valuable — digital assets than your average consumer but less security than a larger enterprise-level company … placing them right in a “hackers’ cybersecurity sweet spot.”

Security breaches are frustrating and frightening for both businesses and consumers. Studies show that, after a company data breach, many consumers take a break from shopping at that business — and some consumers quit altogether.

But cybersecurity is about more than just avoiding a PR nightmare. Investing in cybersecurity builds trust with your customers. It encourages transparency and reduces friction as customers become advocates for your brand.

“Everyone has a role in helping to protect customers’ data. Here at HubSpot, every employee is empowered to solve for customer needs in a safe and secure way. We want to harness everyone’s energy to provide a platform that customers trust to correctly and safely store their data.” — Chris McLellan, HubSpot Chief Security Officer

Keep your business ahead of the tech curve with the tips, systems & recommended resources in our guide to staying current on emerging tech.

Cybersecurity Terms to Know

Cybersecurity is a very intimidating topic, not unlike cryptocurrency and artificial intelligence. It can be hard to understand, and, frankly, it sounds kind of ominous and complicated.

But fear not. We’re here to break this topic down into digestible pieces that you can rebuild into your own cybersecurity strategy. Bookmark this post to keep this handy glossary at your fingertips.

Here’s a comprehensive list of general cybersecurity terms you should know.

Authentication

Authentication is the process of verifying who you are. Your passwords authenticate that you really are the person who should have the corresponding username. When you show your ID (e.g., driver’s license, etc), the fact that your picture generally looks like you is a way of authenticating that the name, age, and address on the ID belong to you. Many organizations use two-factor authentication, which we cover later.

Backup

A backup refers to the process of transferring important data to a secure location like a cloud storage system or an external hard drive. Backups let you recover your systems to a healthy state in case of a cyber attack or system crash.

Data Breach

A data breach refers to the moment a hacker gains unauthorized entry or access to a company’s or an individual’s data.

Digital Certificate

A digital certificate, also known as an identity certificate or public key certificate, is a type of passcode used to securely exchange data over the internet. It’s essentially a digital file embedded in a device or piece of hardware that provides authentication when it sends and receives data to and from another device or server.

Encryption

Encryption is the practice of using codes and ciphers to encrypt data. When data is encrypted, a computer uses a key to turn the data into unintelligible gibberish. Only a recipient with the correct key is able to decrypt the data. If an attacker gets access to strongly encrypted data but doesn’t have the key, they aren’t able to see the unencrypted version.

HTTP and HTTPS

Hypertext Transfer Protocol (HTTP) is how web browsers communicate. You’ll probably see an http:// or https:// in front of the websites you visit. HTTP and HTTPS are the same, except HTTPS encrypts all data sent between you and the web server — hence the “S” for security. Today, nearly all websites use HTTPS to improve the privacy of your data.

Vulnerability

A vulnerability is a place of weakness that a hacker might exploit when launching a cyber attack. Vulnerabilities might be software bugs that need to be patched, or a password reset process that can be triggered by unauthorized people. Defensive cybersecurity measures (like the ones we talk about later) help ensure data is protected by putting layers of protections between attackers and the things they’re trying to do or access.

Types of Cyber Attacks

Password Guessing Attack

Distributed Denial of Service (DDoS) Attack

Malware Attack

Phishing Attack

A cyber attack is a deliberate and typically malicious intent to capture, modify, or erase private data. Cyber attacks are committed by external security hackers and, sometimes, unintentionally by compromised users or employees. These cyber attacks are committed for a variety of reasons. The majority are looking for ransom, while some are simply launched for fun.

Here are the four most common cyber threats.

1. Password Guessing (Brute Force) Attack

A password guessing (or “credential stuffing”) attack is when an attacker continually attempts to guess usernames and passwords. This attack will often use known username and password combinations from past data breaches. An attacker is successful when people use weak passwords or use the password between different systems (e.g., when your Facebook and Twitter password are the same, etc). Your best defense against this kind of attack is using strong passwords and avoiding using the same password in multiple places as well as using two factor authentication, as we talk about later.)

2. Distributed Denial of Service (DDoS) Attack

A distributed denial of service (DDoS) attack is when a hacker floods a network or system with a ton of activity (such as messages, requests, or web traffic) in order to paralyze it. This is typically done using botnets, which are groups of internet-connected devices (e.g., laptops, light bulbs, game consoles, servers, etc) infected by viruses that allow a hacker to harness them into performing many kinds of attacks.

3. Malware Attack

Malware refers to all types of malicious software used by hackers to infiltrate computers and networks and collect susceptible private data. Types of malware include:

Keyloggers, which track everything a person types on their keyboard. Keyloggers are usually used to capture passwords and other private information, such as social security numbers.

Ransomware, which encrypts data and holds it hostage, forcing users to pay a ransom in order to unlock and regain access to their data.

Spyware, which monitors and “spies” on user activity on behalf of a hacker.

Furthermore, malware can be delivered via:

Trojan horses, which infect computers through a seemingly benign entry point, often disguised as a legitimate application or other piece of software.

Viruses, which corrupt, erase, modify, or capture data and, at times, physically damage computers. Viruses can spread from computer to computer, including when they are unintentionally installed by compromised users.

Worms, which are designed to self-replicate and autonomously spread through all connected computers that are susceptible to the same vulnerabilities. .

4. Phishing Attack

A phishing attack is when hackers try to trick people into doing something. Phishing scams can be delivered through a seemingly legitimate download, link, or message. It’s a very common type of cyber attack — over 75% of organizations fell victim to phishing in 2018. Phishing is typically done over email or through a fake website; it’s also known as spoofing. Additionally, spear phishing refers to when a hacker focuses on attacking a particular person or company, instead of creating more general-purpose spams.

Cybersecurity Best Practices: How to Secure Your Data

Cybersecurity can’t be boiled down into a 1-2-3-step process. Securing your data involves a mix of best practices and defensive cybersecurity techniques. Dedicating time and resources to both is the best way to secure your — and your customers’ — data.

Defensive Cybersecurity Solutions

All businesses should invest in preventative cybersecurity solutions. Implementing these systems and adopting good cybersecurity habits (which we discuss next) will protect your network and computers from outside threats.

Here’s a list of six defensive cybersecurity systems and software options that can prevent cyber attacks — and the inevitable headache that follows. Consider combining these solutions to cover all your digital bases.

Antivirus Software

Antivirus software is the digital equivalent of taking that vitamin C boost during flu season. It’s a preventative measure that monitors for bugs. The job of antivirus software is to detect viruses on your computer and remove them, much like vitamin C does when bad things enter your immune system. (Spoken like a true medical professional …) Antivirus software also alerts you to potentially unsafe web pages and software.

Learn more: McAfee, Norton. or Panda (for free)

Firewall

A firewall is a digital wall that keeps malicious users and software out of your computer. It uses a filter that assesses the safety and legitimacy of everything that wants to enter your computer; it’s like an invisible judge that sits between you and the internet. Firewalls are both software and hardware-based.

Learn more: McAfee LiveSafe or Kaspersky Internet Security

Single Sign-On (SSO)

Single sign-on (SSO) is a centralized authentication service through which one login is used to access an entire platform of accounts and software. If you’ve ever used your Google account to sign up or into an account, you’ve used SSO. Enterprises and corporations use SSO to allow employees access to internal applications that contain proprietary data.

Learn more: Okta or LastPass

Two-Factor Authentication (2FA)

Two-factor authentication (2FA) is a login process that requires a username or pin number and access to an external device or account, such as an email address, phone number, or security software. 2FA requires users to confirm their identity through both and, because of that, is far more secure than single factor authentication.

Learn more: Duo

Virtual Private Network (VPN)

A virtual private network (VPN) creates a “tunnel” through which your data travels when entering and exiting a web server. That tunnel encrypts and protects your data so that it can’t be read (or spied on) by hackers or malicious software. While a VPN protects against spyware, it can’t prevent viruses from entering your computer through seemingly legitimate channels, like phishing or even a fake VPN link. Because of this, VPNs should be combined with other defensive cybersecurity measures in order to protect your data.

Learn more: Cisco’s AnyConnect or Palo Alto Networks’ GlobalProtect

Cybersecurity Tips for Business

Defensive cybersecurity solutions won’t work unless you do. To ensure your business and customer data is protected, adopt these good cybersecurity habits across your organization.

Require strong credentials.

Require both your employees and users (if applicable) to create strong passwords. This can be done by implementing a character minimum as well as requiring a mix of upper and lowercase letters, numbers, and symbols. More complicated passwords are harder to guess by both individuals and bots. Also, require that passwords be changed regularly.

Control and monitor employee activity.

Within your business, only give access to important data to authorized employees who need it for their job. Prohibit data from sharing outside the organization, require permission for external software downloads, and encourage employees to lock their computers and accounts whenever not in use.

Know your network.

With the rise of the Internet of Things, IoT devices are popping up on company networks like crazy. These devices, which are not under company management, can introduce risk as they’re often unsecured and run vulnerable software that can be exploited by hackers and provide a direct pathway into an internal network.

“Make sure you have visibility into all the IoT devices on your network. Everything on your corporate network should be identified, properly categorized, and controlled. By knowing what devices are on your network, controlling how they connect to it, and monitoring them for suspicious activities, you’ll drastically reduce the landscape attackers are playing on.” — Nick Duda, Principal Security Officer at HubSpot

Read about how HubSpot gains device visibility and automates security management in this case study compiled by security software ForeScout.

Download patches and updates regularly.

Software vendors regularly release updates that address and fix vulnerabilities. Keep your software safe by updating it on a consistent basis. Consider configuring your software to update automatically so you never forget.

Make it easy for employees to escalate issues.

If your employee comes across a phishing email or compromised web page, you want to know immediately. Set up a system for receiving these issues from employees by dedicating an inbox to these notifications or creating a form that people can fill out.

Cybersecurity Tips for Individuals

Cyber threats can affect you as an individual consumer and internet user, too. Adopt these good habits to protect your personal data and avoid cyber attacks.

Mix up your passwords.

Using the same password for all your important accounts is the digital equivalent of leaving a spare key under your front doormat. A recent study found that over 80% of data breaches were a result of weak or stolen passwords. Even if a business or software account doesn’t require a strong password, always choose one that has a mix of letters, numbers, and symbols and change it regularly.

Monitor your bank accounts and credit frequently.

Review your statements, credit reports, and other critical data on a regular basis and report any suspicious activity. Additionally, only release your social security number when absolutely necessary.

Be intentional online.

Keep an eye out for phishing emails or illegitimate downloads. If a link or website looks fishy (ha — get it?), it probably is. Look for bad spelling and grammar, suspicious URLs, and mismatched email addresses. Lastly, download antivirus and security software to alert you of potential and known malware sources.

Back up your data regularly.

This habit is good for businesses and individuals to master — data can be compromised for both parties. Consider backups on both cloud and physical locations, such as a hard drive or thumb drive.

Cybersecurity Resources

To learn more about cybersecurity and how to better equip your business and team, tap into the resources below. Check out some of the most popular cybersecurity podcasts and cybersecurity blogs, too.

National Institute of Standards and Technology (NIST)

NIST is a government agency that promotes excellence in science and industry. It also contains a Cybersecurity department and routinely publishes guides that standards.

Bookmark: The Computer Security Resource Center (CSRC) for security best practices, called NIST Special Publications (SPs).

The Center for Internet Security (CIS)

CIS is a global, non-profit security resource and IT community used and trusted by experts in the field.

Bookmark: The CIS Top 20 Critical Security Controls, which is a prioritized set of best practices created to stop the most pervasive and dangerous threats of today. It was developed by leading security experts from around the world and is refined and validated every year.

Cybrary

Cybrary is an online cybersecurity education resource. It offers mostly free, full-length educational videos, certifications, and more for all kinds of cybersecurity topics and specializations.

Signing Off … Securely

Cyber attacks may be intimidating, but cybersecurity as a topic doesn’t have to be. It’s imperative to be prepared and armed, especially if you’re handling others’ data. Businesses should dedicate time and resources to protecting their computers, servers, networks, and software and should stay up-to-date with emerging tech. Handling data with care only makes your business more trustworthy and transparent — and your customers more loyal.

Note: Any legal information in this content is not the same as legal advice, where an attorney applies the law to your specific circumstances, so we insist that you consult an attorney if you’d like advice on your interpretation of this information or its accuracy. In a nutshell, you may not rely on this as legal advice or as a recommendation of any particular legal understanding.

Editor’s note: This post was originally published in February 2019 and has been updated for comprehensiveness.

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