#oh yeah the rules under the book sheet are just for me personally to remember. i know they're not official

[slightlydraconic]

I'm very excited to start @batmanisagatewaydrug's 2025 book bingo! This is such a fun variety of categories. I haven't decided what I'll read for most of the spaces yet, but I have a few ideas to start:

Reread a Childhood Favorite: Dragon Rider by Cornelia Funke was my absolute jam as a kid and I've been meaning to revisit it for awhile.

Sequel: Recently learned that Dragon Rider has a sequel, The Griffin's Feather, which I've never read! Amazing!

Published Before 1950: I've never actually read all of Dracula by Bram Stoker, and I really want to this year.

Bookseller or Librarian Rec.: One of my friends is a librarian, and in the past he has highly recommended The Master and Margarita by Mikhail Bulgakov, which intrigues me.

I'll be looking for more titles to fit the other categories, and am definitely taking recommendations if anyone has them!

[sukirichi]

the morning after – gojo satoru ver!

warnings: slight dirty talk and suggestive content, like the yuuji one, nothing too explicit! Oh and a teasing, cheeky gojo :>

masterlist ! (photo not mine)

It doesn’t hit you until you’re whacked by an arm in the face. Literally.

You whine and push the foreign weight away that smushed your nose at the impact, less than pleased because you’re having the best of your life, but someone had to ruin it. Nevertheless, you refuse to open your eyes and settle into the warmth that encases you in that moment. It reminds you of your precious unicorn plushie you left back at your apartment; cuddly, precious, keeps the nightmares away, but the best part about this human teddy bear is that he’s all firm muscles and body heat instead of fur cotton.

Wait, what? Human?

It’s when you hear the man stirring above you with a husky groan that you freeze in your spot, eyes snapping wide open your vision blurs for a split second. The first thing you see is smooth skin and firm pecs, followed by a slender, strong neck and a sharp jawline – oh god.

So last night wasn’t a dream.

Clenching your teeth and even biting the inside of your cheeks to stop squealing – more out of embarrassment and shame than happiness, really – you slowly reach up between your squished bodies to pinch your cheeks, bringing blood and feeling back into them. No wonder you’ve slept so well last night, and as someone who prefers pulling an all-nighter until you pass out in the middle of an anime series, it’s quite rare to find a good eight hour sleep.

It’s not like you had much...activities performed that would take up too much energy. Until Gojo Satoru came, the teacher from the Tokyo school, and also the notoriously infamous “strongest jujutsu sorcerer.”

You’ve had a crush on him the moment you’ve started working as a teacher in the Kyoto school. Utahime, who was closer to him, was incredibly appalled when you told her one day about your raging crush on the white-haired man who looked absolutely breathtaking with his blindfold, but without them?

Just the thought of having seen them last night, when he was between your legs, no less, has you inwardly groaning and cringing so hard you feel so shameful that you can’t even look him in the eye. Satoru is fast asleep above you, one of his strong arms lazily draped over the curve of your waist and his fingers brushing against your bum. When you shift a little to give you both space, his fingers begin to hover dangerously close to a sensitive area and you let out a tiny squeak, muffling it with the back of your fist before he awakens.

This man had the Six Eyes – the last thing you wanted was for him to sense and notice the little things and wake up. No, you had to leave before he even gets the chance to move.

The chances of not waking him up was pretty slim, but you’ve always been proud of your sneaky movements that you try anyway. Fortunately, Satoru doesn’t seem to be a hardcore cuddler because he doesn’t pull you back when you finally slip past the sheets.

You freeze for a moment at the edge of the bed, still in disbelief that you actually slept with him. No, no, that’s wrong, you’d have slept with him anytime if he allowed it but – he actually slept with you. It’s not that you’re looking down on yourself because you’re also a special grade sorcerer and could stand your own ground confidently, but your powers when it comes to exorcising and your social skills are two different things that don’t even come close together.

You’re not worried that a special grade curse would kill you and take away your privilege of finishing that new manga you bought in your day off because you know you could handle it easily, but as a person, there’s a stark difference between you and Satoru.

True, he wasn’t exactly liked by everyone because he refused to be limited by rules and regulations, always claiming that one should not be hindered by the narrow-mindedness of the others, but it was something you really admired about him because you’re not like that. You’re old school, sticking by the book, much like his co-worker Nanami Kento who equally hates overtime, and while Gojo Satoru was loud and confident, you’re more of the person who stays by a corner during a party.

Which is exactly what happened last night at Utahime’s birthday party – aka the old wrinkly principal isn’t here so let’s get wasted type of party.

You’re not surprised that Gojo Satoru walked in, but when he did, you had to clutch your spirit water and drink it in haste because he’s got you feeling thirstier than you did last night – and you drink your water plenty. But how could you remain sane when he looked so gorgeous in just his uniform and his laughter has butterflies erupting in your stomach?

Truth was, you’re satisfied watching him from afar. It’s not like you ever plan on asking him out or being his friend because you’re sure Satoru has better things to do and prettier people to talk to, so when he sits next to you in the desolate leather couch, legs crossed over one another and his arm right behind you (although not touching, he respects your space) you nearly pass out.

One thing leads to another, and you find yourself writhing under his arms, shamelessly crying his name over and over again until the dead hours of the night that has his ego inflating.

You don’t remember how or exactly why it happened, but definitely, alcohol had to be involved. There’s no way Gojo Satoru would actually notice you, much less sleep with you, when he’s completely sober, which is why you scramble around the room with the blanket covering your bare body as you look for your discarded clothes.

If he wakes up and sees you, he’ll probably regret everything that happened last night, if he remembers any of it, anyway.

But you’re most definitely mostly sober through the whole thing, so you remember how good he was in making you feel like a goddess. The way he sucked on your neck, licking a stripe at your burning skin while his large hands groped your breasts possessively, all the while rutting in that perfect spot that has your eyes rolling at the back of your head with your nails running down his back – you shiver just thinking about it.

Gojo Satoru really has that effect on people.

You hide your flustered state and quickly pull on your undergarments, about to slip the sweater over your head, only to die on the inside because you realize you’re wearing those full cotton panties instead of sexy lingerie. With a groan, you fight back the urge to cry. But then again, who could blame yourself for not dressing sexily? It’s not like you had any idea that this would happen.

You’re halfway through your jeans when Gojo’s husky morning voice breaks through the silence. “Leaving already?” you hear him smile, although your back is turned to him, face completely morphed into terror. “Such a shame. I was actually thinking shower sex sounds nice – if you’re into that, of course.”

“Satoru,” you greet lamely with a bow, avoiding the way his stunning eyes raked over your form with an unreadable dark expression. “Uh, you’re awake, and...good morning, I guess.”

Gojo smirks at your flushed cheeks, and it takes everything not to stare at the way his biceps strain from the way he supports his head, hair sticking in every direction and looking absolutely sexy in the morning light. “Good morning to you too, Y/N,” your breath stifles, because he knows your name? “Although it would be an ever better morning if you weren’t such in a rush to leave,” he chuckles, “It makes me feel like maybe you regret what happened last night.”

Your head snaps up at his words as you shakily wiggle your arms, “No, that’s not true, I loved every second of it! It was...it was the best night of my life,” your cheeks tinge a shade darker when Gojo beams at your words, chest almost puffing out proudly. Shyly, you turn away from him and fiddle with the hem of your sweatshirt. “I just...I didn’t think you’d still want me here around, because you were drunk last night and all and I thought maybe you’ll regret it, which I don’t want to happen so yeah, I just thought I’d leave before I get to...” you clear your throat awkwardly, “...be rejected like that.”

“Y/N,” his voice falls an octave lower, the thoughts in your head growing so loud you don’t even hear that he’s already left the bed, and now he’s cradling your chin until you’re forced to witness the galaxies burning in his eyes. “You thought I was drunk last night and did it because I was just horny? That I would regret it and forget all about it?”

His proximity has your breath stuttering, your eyelashes slapping your cheeks as you blink rapidly. “Well, uhm, I’m not really your type, so I think it was safe to assume that.”

Gojo hums at your words, his calloused thumb running over your lips. A small smile flits across his face when he remembers how much of a good girl you were for him last night, obediently opening those lips up and letting him bask in the warmth of your wet cavern before swallowing all he has to give. Funnily enough, Gojo isn’t the best with his words, so he just tucks a strand of hair behind your ear before sighing.

“I wasn’t drunk,” he finally admits. The confession has you slipping from his grasp, but Gojo snakes his arm around the small of your back to pull you to him, the warmth of his bare skin seeping into your clothes. However, it’s nothing compared to the lust and adoration burning in his eyes – one you can’t properly fathom in this clouded state. “Tipsy, sure, but I assure you I was aware and sober for every little part,” his lips hover at your ear, one of his hands coming at the back of your neck to tilt your head to the side, granting him access to the hickeys he’d purposely left.

Just the sight of his markings on your perfect body has a tent growing in his pants. You feel his erection rub at the pad of your jeans, eliciting a small whine from you, and this makes Gojo resist the urge to bend you over right then and there. But he doesn’t do that, because he knows your body is too tired from his ministrations, and he’s nice enough to give you a break – even if that’s not exactly what your burning core wants at that moment.

“Like the way you clenched around my cock when I hit that sensitive spot of yours,” he laughs when you shiver at the way his breath tickles you, “Or how pretty you look when you cream around my cock, begging me to go harder because you can take it, and baby, I promise you, I loved it just as much as you did.”

Finally, Gojo pulls back, and he’s extremely satisfied when he sees how small and innocent you look just like that, as if he hadn’t just folded you in half to watch the way your pretty pussy welcome him and take him better than anyone else just hours ago.

“But,” he continues, “I think I enjoyed it a lot more, considering I’ve wanted to do that for such a long time now,” at his words, you furrow your brows, and that’s when he realizes his mistake. Gojo reverts back to his usual lighthearted self and fans his hand out almost comically with his hands on his hips. “I mean, not just the sex, though it is amazing, but having you close is what I meant. Like holding your hand or getting to kiss you,” he sighs dreamily as if you’re not in the same room as him.

“Uh,” you awkwardly begin, unsure of what to say. “Are you saying you like me?”

“Yeah,” he smirks, which shouldn’t have been such a sexy look on him, but because he’s Gojo, it was. “But Utahime said she’d cut my balls off if I even get near you. Thank goodness she was too drunk last night to ever see it, but I’m glad I talked to you. I’m just ashamed I’m only saying this after the sex but...would you like to go out with me?”

Thanks to his Six Eyes ability, Gojo is blessed with the privilege of seeing you malfunction before him as you try to find your words.

[carpecerevisiam]

Rumrollins Week 2021

May 31st: Free Day!

So @quillingyousoftly broke my heart with THIS, and you should read it (if you haven’t already)

Brock is in the middle of cooking dinner when his phone rings. 

It’s his landline though, not his cell, so he ignores it. Anyone important who needs to get hold of him knows to call his cell, and the unknown caller rings off without leaving a message.

They try again though, half an hour later and just as Brock is stepping into the bath, and then again once he’s done and toweling off, but this time they don’t hang up.

“I think it’s time for you to fuck off, Mr Telemarketer,” he growls, stomping through the hall to where the phone is still ringing, but just as he’s about to yank out its cord, the answerphone kicks in.

“Commander Rumlow, this is Commander Harrison at the San Francisco field office. Please give me a—”

Brock snatches the handset out of its cradle so quickly that he almost fumbles it. “Yeah, I’m here,” he says, sudden fear making his heart skip a beat. “What is it?”

There’s a pause on the other end of the line, and then Harrison sighs. “Commander, are you aware that you’re listed as Jack Rollins’ next of kin?”

Brock closes his eyes. He can’t speak, can’t breathe. He spoke to Jack just a few days ago. God, it hasn’t even been a week.

“Commander?”

“Yeah,” he manages to say around the tightness in his throat. He feels lightheaded. “Yeah, I am. What, um… what’s happened?”

---

He feels numb. 

He doesn’t feel sad, or angry, or confused. Jack is dead, but Brock doesn’t feel anything at all.

The medical examiner is going to rule it a suicide. There isn’t much doubt about the cause of death because Jack left the bottle of pills on the kitchen counter. But any death of a SHIELD agent raises eyebrows, and that means an autopsy, and an autopsy means a delay before Brock can take him home.

He’s going to go back to D.C. with a coffin and one duffel bag.

“You’re telling me that this is it?” Brock asks. The look he gives Harrison could strip paint, but the other man simply shrugs.

Jack’s personal effects amount to five t-shirts; two pairs of jeans and a pair of gray slacks; a couple of jumpers; two button-down shirts; a pair of sneakers and one pair of black dress shoes; one gray blazer; underwear and socks; workout gear; a razor; a phone; a wallet; and a couple of books.

And a framed picture of the two of them that had been found next to Jack’s body. Brock remembers that photo well; Jack had taken it and immediately announced that he thought he looked stupid in it.

Brock cleans the smudges from the glass, wraps it up in one of Jack’s jumpers, and then places it carefully at the very top of the bag.

Jack’s entire life fits into one duffel bag, and Brock has it all packed away again in under two minutes.

“He was always quiet, you know?” Harrison starts, shifting awkwardly from one foot to the other. “We’d invite him out for drinks but he’d always decline, and we just... We didn’t think anything of it. Plenty of guys like to keep work and home separate, right? Don’t want to take work home, don’t want to bring home to work… You know how it goes.” Brock doesn’t say anything, and Harrison continues on quietly. “He was a bit odd, but he was a great agent. He used to show us all up on the mats, every single week. I guess we should have—” 

“Don’t blame yourself. You couldn’t have known,” Brock cuts in brusquely. He lifts the bag onto his shoulder. “Now, where was he living?”

---

Brock is no stranger to death, but even so it is an eerie sensation stepping into Jack’s apartment.

SHIELD hadn’t bothered to find him somewhere nice, but it’s serviceable. It has just one single bedroom, and a very small kitchen, but there’s no damp on the walls, no signs of pests, and he can’t hear the neighbors through the walls.

He doubts very much that they ever heard Jack, either.

Harrison had assured him that the apartment had been left as it was found, but Brock is still half-convinced that he has the wrong place, because there’s no sign that Jack lived here.

Hell, there’s no sign that anyone lived here.

The living room walls are bare; the kitchen cupboards are empty. In the fridge, Brock finds a solitary box of leftover takeout, and there’s a bar of soap on the side of the bathroom sink. He steps through to the bedroom expecting it to be every bit as nondescript as the rest of the apartment, but it isn’t, because the sheets on the right-hand side of the bed are still wrinkled from where Jack had laid down to die.

“Oh, Jesus Christ, Jackie,” Brock breathes. His eyes start stinging as he takes in the sight.

He had wondered why Jack had taken pills when a self-inflicted gunshot would have been easier, but now it makes sense; SHIELD would have needed to clean and redecorate, and Jack would have wanted to minimize the unpleasantness his death would cause. He would have felt bad about ruining someone’s day by forcing them to scrub blood and brain matter off the wall and out of the carpet.

Brock sinks to the floor as the tears finally come. He can’t stop looking at the bed. Jack had called him from that bed to say goodbye—only Brock hadn’t known that. He’d told him that he’d call him later, but without really meaning it. Work had been frantic that week, and Brock had been feeling overwhelmed. He had just wanted some peace and quiet; an evening to himself without interruptions.

But Jack had been dying, and Brock had blown him off.

[genaleah]

ANSWERING WILDCARD QUESTIONS

For the first time in about a year maybe??? Some of these might be even older than that.

Yes, it is Korka! I definitely want her involved, she’s a wonderful character and there is a *lot* of fun paranormal stuff going on in this setting that she can help them research. Also, I’d just love for her and Nelson to become friends!

Thank you! I love him a lot, and it’s fun to picture him interacting with the other guys. They’d all make for some interesting uncle figures, but they might not be that great in terms of role models.

OHOHO. Devilish laugh. That’s a wonderful idea, and a good way to keep him occupied at some point. He’s a great character, but he’s incredibly powerful, and I want these dudes to solve their own problems whenever possible. 

A good question! I don’t remember most of my dreams, but there’s usually a consistent look to the vivid ones. Lots of water, mountains, creeks, and high, winding roads. There are also a lot of buildings that are closely integrated with nature, even though I have almost never seen construction like that. 

I had not, but now I have! Here’s a trailer, for anyone else that missed it:

https://youtu.be/33HXHaaagsw

I really like these new models! I’m looking forward to watching a playthrough when that’s available. Just like with Rhombus of Ruin, I don’t think I’ll be able to play this one myself.

DOUBLE FINE, I WISH TO SPEAK WITH YOU- no, I’m kidding! I think great minds think alike. But I’m really excited to learn more about that character and possibly involve them in this whole au eventually. 

I’ve actually tried to avoid almost any info about Psychonauts 2 so I can go in mostly-blind, and a lot of the characters are vague to me. It’s fun to look forward to, but it’s also a little harrowing because I don’t know how to anticipate for it!

N...NO..... I NEED TO... Honestly those are old enough that it might be a good idea for me to re-make them, as well as the playing cards I made for the mega playlist cover. I think it’d be nice to remake them as vectors... that might make for a nice art stream sometime. I’ll mention publicly if I start doing that, and sharing any of these conceptual Wildcards arts when they’re done. 

And if you’re just curious about what the tarot cards for the other characters are going to be, it’s this:

Eddie: Judgement, The Magician, The Emperor

Manny: Death, Justice, The World

Sam: The Chariot, The Tower, Strength

Max: The Devil, Wheel of Fortune, Joker

Although! I may actually give the Moon card to Max instead of the Devil, and replace the missing card from Nelson’s selection with the High Priestess?  🤔  I’ll decide when I get to it.

Could be! I’ve flip-flopped occasionally on if I want the split-a-cab gang to participate much in the story. I think they deserve a break, and splitting an apartment in New York seems like a good situation for the four of them.

Oh boy, that must be so disorienting for him. The Psychonauts deal with a lot of hippy-dippy weirdness in a seemingly organized way, but it seems like they’re not as paranoid about safety as a real federal organization would be. Not necessarily a good thing, considering one of their camp counselors went AWOL one day, and the head of the Psychonauts got kidnapped the next. They kinda need to get their act together.

Fun fact, in one of the earlier drafts of Chapter 3 I was actually going to make Nelson get scanned by the equivalent of a metal-detector for malevolent thoughts at the door and get really spooked by it, but I decided against it.

YEAH IT’S ON THE LIST

Honestly, a big bulk of the plot in this just regards characters having to face their mental health struggles... via facing it as literal internal demons, unstable powers, etc.  It’s going to take a little while for any of Eddie’s teammates to realize how MUCH he has going on under the surface because he does a pretty good job of hiding it. “Needing to help others above ever helping themselves” is a hard issue to notice if you’re not looking for it. But it’s a guarantee that once they find out he needs help, they’ll give it; whether that’s making sure he’s not working himself too hard, or fighting off demonic cultists. Care comes in many forms.

SHE NEEDS TO REST.... POOR SYBIL (on the upside, they don’t TECHNICALLY work there, so she might be fine most of the time.)

Strong Bad isn’t a Psychonaut! He’s just a vlogger and a petty (psychic) criminal. It’s honestly not very different from canon.

Free Country, USA is a smalltown hotbed of psychic activity. Nearly everyone there has some mild capacity for supernatural powers, but nobody really notices or cares. Strong Bad just pops the tops off of cold ones and.... sometimes alters reality, a tiny bit. But mostly just in regards to media. The cartoons, comics, etc, that he invents and talks about have a tendency to suddenly voip into existence and nobody knows how. I swear, there’s actually a line of him saying something to this effect, but I can’t find it anywhere.  Don’t worry about it! Nobody in town is ever going to do anything truly nefarious with their powers, so it’s not a high priority on the Psychonauts’ radar, just a weird footnote.

The only reason Homestar is an actual agent is because he seems like exactly the kind of guy to sign up for a job like that on accident and then stick with it. And he’s a talented telekinetic! None of his other friends know about his job or notice his absences.

And just for fun, here’s some weird instances of psychic overpowering that happened in the cartoon:

---

(Poor Strong Sad)

I’ve actually answered this one before! BAM  Pretty sure all of it is still accurate.

Nelson: He sees floating sheets of paper containing notes, questions, etc. Anything that he wants to know more about regarding that person. The notes are subject to edits, cross-outs, ripped pages, etc.

Guybrush: He sees the item that the person is carrying that he wants most. As he gets to know people better, he sees them for their useful skills first.

Manny: His view of most living people is not very kind...

The people he’s closest to will eventually look a lot less garish. More like a flattering, camera-ready versions of themselves.

Eddie: Sickass sketch drawings that look like they belong in the margins of a composition book. The illustrations improve as he gets a better picture of where they’d fit in the internal lore of his mental world.

Sam: A lot like Nelson; Sam pictures case files, though his are a bit more in-depth.

Max: Max’s visions of people are highly personal and uncomfortable for those who witness them. He sees Nelson as a puzzle with a piece missing. Guybrush is a ripped up voodoo doll. Manny is a forgotten ofrenda. Eddie is a powder keg with a long, lit fuse. Sam is Sam, but he’s the wrong one.

I also got two questions that were pretty big subjects, or that I didn’t want to repeat, so I’m gonna cover them pretty broadly:

REGARDING [X] CHARACTER OR SERIES INCLUDED IN THE AU

Sure, I support it! I’ve gotten this question a few times in regards to things that I haven’t had time to delve into yet, or I’m not interested in, so I’m not going to include it into the AU myself. But if you want to explore an idea like that, feel free! This AU is pretty dang collaborative.

My main focus is just on the main 6 properties: Psychonauts, Puzzle Agent, Monkey Island, Grim Fandango, Brutal Legend, and Sam & Max.

But my general rule of thumb for “characters that exist somewhere within the background of this story” are any other properties owned by Telltale, Lucasarts, or Double Fine. And considering all of the licensed games that Telltale was getting into before it kicked the bucket, that includes some really weird characters, even up to the Venture Bros. I loved that series, but I’m not really interested in doing anything with them for this story! Partly for my sanity, the canon I’ve picked are already a lot of content to play with. 

ASSORTED QUESTIONS ABOUT THE WILDCARD AU DISCORD

There’s no particular criteria needed to join the discord, and it’s not strictly on a need-to-know basis! Because it’s been a long while since anyone has joined, I've been hesitant about adding new people in... But I‘ve decided to try sending invitations again! Everyone who had asked about it in the past will be getting a ping by me in about a day or so, since I want to double-check if you’re still interested. If you’ve been nervous to ask you can reply to this post or message me privately.

Some things to keep in mind before asking or accepting the invite:

If you’re not a friend or a follower I recognize, I will likely double-check your tumblr along with some other current members before sending the invite. 

Here’s the Rules page, so you know what to expect before you join: 

Be Mindful - Respect other people's boundaries, don't do or say things that would cross the line. If your behavior makes other people feel uncomfortable or unsafe, I will remove you from the chat. In most cases I will try to resolve things with you and offer a chance to do better, but that will depend on the severity of the situation. And if you have any concerns regarding another member of the chat, you can contact me privately.

Health Boundaries - While discussions of mental health do occasionally pop up, do not rely on the chat for help. None of us are equipped to handle serious mental health concerns, and it will only cause distress for everyone. Please seek real help if it is needed! If you rely on people beyond the point that they have asked you to stop, I will remove you from the chat.

NSFW - Generally speaking, try to keep NSFW talk to a minimum. Swearing and humor is fine, but don't get too explicit please! Discussions should usually keep to a PG-13 / occasional R, but no NC-17.

Spoilers & Censorship - Please use the spoiler function to hide story spoilers, as well as discussions and graphic depictions of gore/excessive blood/body horror/severe psychological horror. Include a content warning so that people know what they could potentially be seeing when they click on the censored content. If the spoilered content is the subject of a back-and-forth discussion, please use another warning when you are switching to a different spoilered topic. (Note that these rules were added to the chat later, so be careful when using the search function or back reading.)

The canon series involved with the Wildcard AU are Psychonauts, Puzzle Agent, Monkey Island, Grim Fandango, Brutal Legend, and Sam & Max. Please be mindful of story spoilers!

Channel Organization - Also be mindful of which channel you're in and move a discussion over if need be! That way they don't get too clogged with unrelated info.

Creative Criticism - When it comes to writing, art, or character creation; try to be open to suggestions from others! Nearly all of the creative work in the chat is collaborative, so input from others is important! Creative criticism is not the same as judgement, and is not a personal attack.

Have fun! - Discussions move quickly in this chat! Don't feel bad if you ever need to step back, whether it's because of the speed or a disinterest in whatever current topic we're focusing on. If you ever want to come back, we're happy to have you and can give quick explanations if you feel out of the loop! :thumbsup:

We’re a group of approx. a half dozen to a dozen people, either posting very very quickly in a span of a few hours or barely anything for a few days. We’ve been in an activity uptick lately and there’s about a year and half of back content, too. If it’s hard to keep up on, not that interesting to read through, or you just have a hard time gelling with the group that's already there, there’s no shame in just lurking or dipping out if you need to.

We also talk a lot about Psychonauts OCs, so anticipate that.

[imfactshual]

“The Tree”

Genre: Fluff (kinda? it’s like- not but kinda is.) + Slight Angst (memories were sad-)

Pairing: N/A (Nobody, for now it’s just Jaemin and his sexy agenda)

Warnings: N/A (sorry i cant think of any right now)

Part: 1

Word Count: 1.5K

A/N: Bro- Okay waiiit….Idk how this is gonna end up like i’m excited and I don’t even have a plan for this one-

Links: Masterlist, Request Rules

“Jaemin?” A boy with very dark brown hair stood in underneath a tree feeling the breeze in his hair. Each strand felt like a different emotion but he couldn’t quite pinpoint which. The boy looked at the person calling his name. He seemed very unfamiliar with who it may be, but that didn’t stop him from answering.

“Uh- Yea?” He answered watching a woman in a brown jumpsuit make her way towards the boy. She stopped and lifted her hands to rest on her hips and began tapping her feet almost in a rhythmic tone.

“It’s time for your test. You didn’t take it last year so you’ll have to take it now.” The lady said handing Jaemin a piece of paper. The paper was slightly torn but still readable to say the least.

“Yeah okay.” Jaemin said scoffing and looking back to where his mind had drawn him to in the first place.

“I’m serious Jaemin.” The lady’s expression changed to a more stern look. Assuming she was more serious, he definitely didn’t want to get on her bad side.

“Alright. When you say now, do you mean right now?” Jaemin asked grabbing the paper from the lady.

“When we get into the building Jaemin.”

“Well, you never specified.” They started walking back into the building while the students outside started to play.

Once the two got into the building, another lady greeted Jaemin.

oh great more people, my luck today is soaring.

“Hello! You know who I am don’t you?” The other lady asked. The lady before that accompanied Jaemin into the building was now nowhere to be seen.

“I do.” Jaemin answered coldly. He watched out the windows as the other children continued to play. He wondered why all the kids could play while he stayed in the cold room everyday being monitored by random staff.

“Then you’ll have no trouble following me to Room 15, right?” The lady said bending down to Jaemins eye level. He could hear the grin plastered on his face even without physically seeing it.

Jaemin gave a simple nod and followed the lady to the end of the hall when he was greeted with the same room tag on the door. ‘Room 15’

He gave a sharp inhale and started to twist on the door knob. When the door swung open he was surprised a bit. There was already two people sitting in seats that felt like miles apart.

“You will sit right here,”The lady said dragging Jamin out of his thoughts. He watched as the lady placed a stack of about 5 books and 20 sheets of paper onto the desk. The boy watched as the children around jumped a bit in fear.

“If you need anything just let me know.” The lady said handing Jaemin a pencil. He looked at it and sighed giving a simple ‘Thank You’ bow.

Jaemin sat down at his assigned seat and started getting to work. He wasn’t too behind since he constantly took tests, so he had a pretty easy time with the first test. When the second one came around there weren’t many answers he had. Every now and then he would pause to look up at the clock and see it was in the same hour it had been since he started.

I probably should’ve taken my time on the first one then.

Waiting for an answer he took out his phone that somehow never got confiscated. He decided he would defy the rules just once and look up some answers so he could move on and go back to his tree. Though it felt good at the time, it wouldn’t be so good later on.

He ended up finding the answers to each and every question on the paper. He was 15 pages in and went through about 3 books. Finally he was even closer to getting his end goal. Standing by that same tree.

“I’m done.” One of the children said walking towards the man that sat on a rolling chair. The boy handed him the papers and books that were given like how they were with Jaemin.

Who is that? How’d he finish the tests so quickly?

Jaemin watched as the boy walked out the room. The boy turned his eyes slightly and gave a small grin. They locked eyes for the slightest moment ever but to Jaemin, it felt like he was being read like he was the books used for the tests.

After a while of frustration and struggle, Jaemin finished the tests. He started to get up with his papers. He grabbed the books in one hand and the papers in another. The pencil he used was slipped in the space between his ear and the side of his head.

“You finished quicker than I thought you would.” The man said grabbing the papers and books from him. He thanked the man and walked out of the room.

“Finally,” The boy started to stretch his arms while walking in a very nonchalant way.

“I’m done with all these tests.” Jaemin made his way to the corridors and opened them slightly so he could slip right out.

He made his way out back to the tree trying his best not to bump into another kid playing so avoid trouble. Jaemin was never the fighting type nor was he a very angry kid, it’s the fact that he’s not that really gets under a kid’s skin.

Finally after a long struggle, he reached the tree. As soon as he arrived he felt a moment of relief. It felt like everything that was stressful for him, went away with the slightest glimpse of the tree. With the sun glistening on his skin and the breeze yet again finding its way to run through his hair, he was peaceful. He was finally happy. After years of anger, sadness, and slight happiness. It was real. He could finally enjoy the bliss moments he sees in TV shows all the time.

He let out a satisfied exhale and decided to try something new. He bent down to make himself comfortable and decided to sit down by the tree. The sun seemed to be getting dimmer by the second. It was still as beautiful as he remembered though, so it didn’t matter. What did matter, was the unnecessary memories he started to have.

Wanting to forget, he closed his eyes and tilted his head up to feel the tree’s leaves fall beside him. When he opened his eyes though, he felt a slight push letting him know he wasn’t alone like he thought he was.

“Hello?” He asked turning his head to see that same boy who was taking the tests with him in the beginning.

“Do you ever randomly start thinking of your past when you visit here?” The boy said staring up to the sky. This suddenly made Jaemin sit up and look directly in the boy’s eyes. He started getting that same feeling he got the first time their eyes intertwined.

“No,” Jaemin tried pulling a lie but it obviously wasn’t successful from how the boy looked at his response.

“Well, actually I have. They’re not often though. Every now and then they show up as little clips, almost like something you’d see in a movie.

“Really? The same happens for me sometimes,” The boy started to take something out of his pockets. He began rustling in them to find what he was originally looking for.

“You know, my grandmother gave this to me.” The boy said unraveling his hand to reveal a small wooden leg. The leg seemed like it belonged to a wooden toy from back in the day, but to Jaemin’s surprise it was very new.

“Why?” Jaemin asked seeming somewhat interested in the object the other boy had from his pockets.

“For good luck. She used to tell me it makes all the bad things go away.” He said.

“Well why are you telling me about it, if it’s so special to you I mean.” Jaemin asked with a cold tone. Usually he’s more friendly to some people, but something about the boy gave him an unsettling feeling.

“I want you to have it. Think of it as a good luck charm.” The boy said taking one of Jaemin’s hands and gently placing the leg into his palm. The boy looked back up at Jaemin and gave him the smallest, yet genuinely happy smile ever. Jaemin never seen such a thing. Not even the movies could describe the scene that was placed in front of him.

“I-I’m not sure if I should accept this from you.” Jaemin said fiddling with his other hand trying to avert his gaze from the boy.

“It’s fine really. I don’t need it anyway where I’m going.” The boy said. He quickly started to rise up and gather himself before brushing the dirt and leaves off of himself.

“Not a day goes by without me thinking about that leg.” The boy turned to face Jaemin once more and gave that simple smile again. He then started to walk away from the tree and was met at the door with a lady in an all black suit. The lady looked to see where he had came from and saw Jaemin sitting on the ground with his hand in a fist.

“Thank you.” Jaemin whispered while going back to what he was doing. Yet again, the sun was back to its shine and made his day a bit brighter.

[adarlingwrites]

Absolution

Summary:

noun: formal release from guilt, obligation, or punishment

The Capital Wasteland lauded the Lone Wanderer as a hero, a Messiah, a savior who’s willing to give her life for the Good Fight. Beyond the legends, the propaganda, and the mythification that surrounded her legacy, there is only one person who knew her bare soul. She gave him his absolution, and now he will fight for hers.

XXVIII

January 14, 2278.

I woke up feeling confused.

Percy?

My wife?

Impossible. A ghoul marrying a smoothskin? Fucking insane.

I don’t think I’m even made for something as… normal as marriage. All my skills are geared towards killing and destroying. How can I even build a life with her?

Some people marry out of love, don’t they? My parents did, and they were happy together. When I was little, during their wedding anniversary, they’d leave me with someone else to look after me. Before she went away to study, Aunt Katya would do that for them. After she’s gone, it was whoever babysitter they can find.

They would always come home the next day with smiles on their faces.

When we started to become poorer, they’d spend the evening in the house, a lone candle illuminating the kitchen, and they’d dance to the radio in silence. My mother would look at my father with uncertain eyes, and he'd kiss the worries away.

“Annika, moya solnyshko, we’re going to be fine.”

Solnyshko. If I recall correctly, it’s a term of endearment in my parents’ language. I think it meant ‘little sun’.

I sighed and turned to Percy, still asleep, resting peacefully as the sunlight streamed from the windows and illuminated her face.

Is that something I want to do with Percy?

Hold her in my arms through thick and thin? Call her silly little things out of affection?

Is it love that drives me to dream of being her husband? Or is she just too involved in my life now for me to think of someone else?

Some people married out of convenience, after all. Like Aunt Katya.

I remember bringing the rings on her wedding day. She was already heavy with child, dressed in white. I couldn’t remember if it was in the year 2069 or 2070, but obviously, it was before I was taken away for indoctrination.

“Tetushka,” I remember addressing her during the reception. “Who is he?”

“Artyom, this is Nathaniel. He’s the man I married, and he’s going to be your uncle. Don’t be shy, say hi.”

The man steps closer, and kneels. He had some stubble on his jaw, square and shapely, and his hair is cut neatly, like the soldiers I see on posters.

“So this is the nephew you were talking about, Kitty. Hey there sport,” he greets extending his hand. I remember reluctantly giving him a handshake.

“I know this is all so sudden, but he’s part of the family now,” Aunt Katya explains, smiling, but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes.

“I think it’s time for the toast, dear. We wouldn’t want to miss it.” Nathan interrupts, whisking my aunt away and giving me a nod and a wink.

That night, as my father drove us home, he spoke to me.

“Artyom, could you make me a promise?”

“What kind of promise papa?”

“Promise me, when you grow up and if you decide to marry someone, make sure that you marry out of love, like I did with your mother. Don’t be like your aunt Katya.”

“I promise,” I tell him. “But what’s wrong with aunt Katya?”

“Ilya, I think we should save this conversation for another day. Our Artyom might be too young,” my mother tells father.

“Nonsense. It’s never too early to let him know. Artyom, your tetushka married that man because she thought she couldn’t take care of a baby on her own. I’m not sure if she loves Nathan, and that’s what scares me. Your auntie is strong. But I’m not sure how she will handle a marriage with uncertain feelings. It could destroy her.”

I blinked a few times. It was too heavy for me to understand back then.

“I think what your father is trying to say, Artyom,” my mother adds, “Is when people marry and start a family, they usually live together under one roof, like your papa and I. When you marry someone and live under one roof with someone you do not love, life can become difficult.”

“I think I understand, mama.”

I do understand now.

My reminiscing got interrupted when Percy cracked one eye open, and reached for me.

“Hey. Good morning, big guy. You slept well?”

I nodded.

“Let’s get some breakfast.”

After waking Butch up, the three of us packed our sleeping bags and went outside to start a fire. The dawn is just breaking, the horizon hazy. I can’t remember being this up early. Our sleep schedule was borderline nocturnal.

As the Cram sizzled on the clean sheet of metal we used to cook on while travelling, Percy was heating some clean water over the fire as well. She used it to rehydrate the Instamash, and the rest went into a cup. My partner then takes out a small sachet, the label washed out, but I can still see what it was.

“Found this in a coat pocket from Moira’s gifts the other day,” she giggles. “Hot chocolate!”

My eyes widened. Damn, I haven’t seen one of those after the war. Is it even safe to consume?

“Man, I miss the food in the vault. Lemme have some,” DeLoria exclaims, excited.

Percy pours it in the cup and stirs it with a spoon. She takes a sip, passes it to Butch, who wrinkles his nose, then to me. Well, if we can still eat Cram after 200 years of it sitting on some shelf, I think I’ll be fine with this ancient hot chocolate.

It’s hot. Comforting. The flavor is a little rancid, but what else is new with these preserved Pre-War foods? It’s still somewhat sweet. The nostalgia I felt for the life I left behind grew. I look into the cup, the dark liquid swirling, reminding me of Percy’s eyes. Then, I pass it back to her.

“You were smiling in your sleep,” Percy quips, looking at me with eyes still heavy with sleep. “Dreamed of something nice?”

Despite the cold, I feel the warmth spreading through me. Of fucking course I just can’t tell her that I dreamed that I wasn’t a monster, and she is my wife, and we had a son who looked like her while we’re frolicking at a beach in California. I have to think of something else.

“I dreamed DeLoria fell down the stairs.”

Percy almost spat out her drink laughing. Butch gives me a dirty look. “Yeah, real funny, you bastard,” he groans.

I couldn’t help but laugh at my own lie, too.

Butch put the fire out with snow, and we’re off again, heading west. The sun’s rising in the east, warming our backs as we pressed on. By the time we got to Lamplight, the sun’s risen, but was blocked out by clouds.

We approached the cavern entrance, and followed the trail inside. There, MacCready is still keeping watch.

“Hey, we got your friends back. Can we come in now?” Percy shouts, keeping a safe distance.

“I guess you’re okay after all, for a mungo. But you better not piss me off!”

As the three of us approached the gate, the kid pointed his rifle at DeLoria.

“Hey wait a second, you weren’t with them when they first came here,” he barks, suspicious.

“Don’t worry about him, he’s harmless. He’s gonna watch out stuff for us while we go in Vault 87,” Percy explains, pulling Butch’s arm hurriedly.

“Who the fuck are you?” the mayor asks Butch, and of course the moron puffed his chest out.

“I’m Butch! I lead a gang called the Tunnel Snakes and I helped them get your friends outta Paradise Falls too!”

“What kind of dumbshit name is Tunnel Snakes?”

Okay, I can’t fucking help it. I am laughing. This kid is just fine.

As DeLoria squabbles with MacCready, Percy sits down in a corner to catch her breath and rest, and I join her. Soon, some of the kids started gathering around us, and among them were the children we rescued from Paradise.

“It’s the ghost and the zombie that saved us!” one of them exclaimed, running towards us.

“Zombie isn’t a nice word to call him, kid. He’s called a ghoul,” Percy tells her, voice a little softer than her usual speaking tone.

“A pretty ghost and a scary ghoul saved you? Wow!”

Soon, the voices of the children grew louder as they chattered about us, the odd group of mungos allowed in the cave.

I felt uncomfortable as the children poked around and asked us so many questions. Some of them are too afraid to come closer to me, while some openly try to climb on my back and gingerly touch some of my scars. I guess the dream I had about having one will remain a dream. These children are exhausting to be around.

Yet Percy takes it all in stride, answering every question they ask her, showing off her stuff, and regaling them with tales from our travels. She’d gently pet the hair of one of the little girls who huddled next to her, and her patience didn’t waver as one of the boys accidentally spilled their Nuka Cola on her jacket.

She reminds me of my own mother. I’m sure she’d be a great mother if she ever decides to be one.

And when that happens, I’m not going to be the one by her side.

“Percy! Tell us another story,” one of the children, who was called Knock Knock, asks my partner, snapping me out of my thoughts.

“I think I’ve already told you all of my stories.”

“Well, you can always make one up,” another little girl, the one called Bumble, suggests.

“Hmm…”

Eyes flicking towards me, Percy offers the children a soft smile.

“Long ago, there was a young maiden, living in a fortress with steel walls. The most important rule was one was allowed to go in and out of the fortress.” Percy starts, leaning her head towards me.

“A maiden? Why not a princess? Princesses lived in fortresses, right? Or was it a castle?”

“Shut up, Zip! Don’t interrupt her.”

Chuckling, Percy clears her throat and continues. “She kept to herself, and kept herself busy with plants and books. The maiden was content with living in the fortress, but she always wondered what the world beyond them looked like. One night, while the maiden was exploring the lower levels of the fortress, a horrible beast took her away, and captured her. He put her in an invisible cage, which keeps her under his control.”

I think I know who this maiden is.

“Oh no, is she okay? Who saved her?”

“We’ll get to that soon. The maiden was kept in a cage for so long, that she thought that she'd never get out. Then, one night, word got around that someone left the fortress. In her desire to see the world, she grips the bars of the invisible cage, and bends it, finally escaping.”

The children were listening in awe. “What happens to the girl? Does she escape the fortress?”

“Yes, and she had to face the monster that captured her in doing so. In a show of courage, she wields a sword, and takes his head off in one slice.”

“Coooool,” one of the kids exclaimed.

“Then, she starts looking for her father. But she couldn’t do it alone. There were many dangers in the world outside the fortress. So, she looks for someone who can watch her back.”

“Is it a knight? Or a prince?”

“Hmm. No, her companion is neither of those. He’s something else.”

“What is he?”

“A ferryman.”

“What’s a ferryman, Percy?”

“Have you kids ever heard of a boat? A ferryman is in charge of running that boat.”

“Oh, so they rode through a boat?”

“Yeah. They did. This ferryman, all he knew before he met the maiden was to take the souls of people and deliver them to Death. Kind of like the Grim Reaper. Everyone’s gotta die some time, and it was his job to ensure that they make it to the other side.”

“Yikes! Why would she ask someone like that to watch her back?”

Percy pauses, unsure what to answer. Her eyes flick to her lap, then, she smiles at one of the kids.

“Because, the maiden knows better than to judge a book by its cover. Turns out, the ferryman was one of the most reliable, bravest, and kindest people outside the fortress, but he’s stuck to his job. So, they burn the boat, and the maiden, instead of facing Death, runs away with the ferryman. The end.”

“Wow, that was boring,” one of the boys quipped, which earned him an elbow from one of the girls.

“Are you kidding? That was amazing!”

“Aw, that can’t be the end! What happens to them after?”

“Do they fall in love?”

A short chortle escaped Percy. “That’s a story for another day. My friend and I need to get going.”

Bumble looks up to Percy with big, begging eyes. “Promise us you’ll tell the rest when you come back, please?”

A chorus of “Please, Percy” fills the cave. I couldn’t help but snort at the overwhelmed look on Percy’s face. Then, she gave them a quick nod, to which they responded with cheers.

“Alright big guy, time for us to go into the Vault. Wait, where’s Butch?”

On the opposite side of the cave, surrounded by mostly boys, including MacCready himself, Butch was shouting and cheering.

“Tunnel Snakes rule!”

“Tunnel Snakes rule!” the boys echoed.

We laughed at the scene. “Hey, looks like Butch have new gang members in no time.”

Striding towards DeLoria, Percy dumps the gear we didn’t need to bring near his feet. She takes off her leather jacket and scarf, and her sneaking suit’s helmet protracted over her face. It was a curious sight for the children, looking at her with bewildered eyes.

“Look after the stuff, Butch. If we don’t come back in eight hours, get help from the Brotherhood.”

“Got it. What but what if something else comes through the door?”

“If it’s not with us, shoot it. Help the kids defend this place.”

Butch gulps. “I… uh…”

“There are spare guns and grenades in one of the packs. You helped us with Paradise, Butch. You can handle this,” Percy encourages him, rubbing the back of his palm gently.

I look away.

“You’re right. See you in a few hours.”

Following a teenage boy who introduced himself as Joseph, who turned out to be the brother of one of the children we got out of the slave pen, we were led to a terminal which accesses a door to the vault. No one bothered to write down the password, so Percy cracked her knuckles and started typing away eagerly.

Eyes still fixated on the glowing green monitor, she had that determined look on her face again.

The door hisses open, and we step in. It was unnaturally cold and silent.

“This is it, Charon. We’re so close.”

[imaginesmai]

Chris Evans - Banana’s worries

Since Bananas was so popular, I decided to write another fic about dad!Chris Evans! Hope you like it!

Plot: Banana the plushie is making another appearance in your life, and this time is bringing worries. 

Chris had always been a light sleeper.

Living with a brother that loved to make pranks on him made him be aware at night of whoever might enter into his room. Then, he had spent nights awake waiting to know if he had gotten the role he had fought so hard to win. The time difference between countries, and the fact that he was always late, made him grow used to the jet lag everywhere he went.

Claire’s first years weren’t easy, neither. When you first brought her from the hospital, the doctor told you that it was very important for you to take it easy, as you had suffered from some problems in the birth. That left Christ for the first two weeks of Claire being home to take care of her at night. She was a screamer, for sure. Not only she cried a lot, but screamed every time she wanted something. Christ spent two weeks without sleeping, and the only place he dozed off was in the shower.

Since becoming a parent, he had been a much more light sleeper than what he was at the beginning. Therefore, in the middle of the night, when the door to your bedroom opened with a creak, he was the first one to open an eye.

The sheets were, as always, thrown to the floor; so he had no mental protection from whoever was at the door. You were facing the window, and he was laying behind you with one hand placed over yours. It didn’t matter how you went to sleep, he always managed to touch you in anyway.

All the worries went away when, a moment later, he heard the recognizable soft pitter-patter of tiny feet, and he grinned softly. Chris couldn’t hear her crying or in any other kind of distress; besides, you had a sixth sense that woke you up when Claire was sick. It wasn’t a nightmare, neither, because Claire just cried for you from his bed.

So he kept his eyes closed until he felt her coming around to his side of the bed.

“ ‘Kay, Banana. You ‘ave to be quiet” Claire whispered as good as a three year-old could.

The stuffed fruit that Claire hadn’t let go since Chris brought it plopped down to Chris’ feet, and then the little blanket that was on the bed was tugged on so that Claire had a good grip to haul herself onto the bed.

Chris heard the small puffs of air that the little girl made every now and then. He fought the urge to help her, knowing she was in an independent phase encouraged by her cousins that made her think that she could do anything without her parents, because she was no baby.

He felt a small poke on his hand that let him know that you were awake too. Opening one eye slowly, he looked at you; you were already looking at him, with your hair spread all over the pillow and a sleepy smile on your face. You had no make-up, an old pyjamas and your eyes were swollen from sleep. Still, Chris got lost in you and almost forgot about the toddler trying to get in your bed.

“Yay!”

Claire seemed to have forgotten her own rule about being quiet, because she let an excited squeal when she finally plopped face first on the bed. She grabbed Banana and hugged her stuffed fruit close to her chest

“Tha’s fo’ nothin’, Banana” Claire scoffed, and you swallowed down a laugh. Chris bit his lip and closed his eyes tightly.

Both of you felt the bed dip as your little girl started to crawl in between towards the head of the bed. She was trying to be as careful as possible, every now and then shushing the toy when she made a loud noise, but both could feel the girl’s tiny knees and elbows digging into your bodies painfully.

She stepped over your linked hands as good as she could, and let her left feet prop up all of her weight on yours. Your eyes widened up comically and Chris emitted a silent laugh that your girl didn’t notice. With a murderous glance, you pretended to be asleep as the toddler walked-tottered.

Claire finally reached the head of the bed, plopping down in between her two parents with an exhausted sigh. She rested Banana on her chest, grinning at her stuffed animal; although a second later, she slammed her to the wall angrily.

“You did ve’y noise” she reprimanded the plushie. “I don’t wike it”

The last sentence finally got to Chris, who cracked down on a fit of loud laughs that made him choke with his own spit. He released your hand and laid on his back, half laughing and half coughing.

For months, Chris had been telling Claire in not-so-secret the ‘I don’t wike it’ thing. The second time he did so, you discovered them, and Claire understood it was something that her mommy didn’t like; so she didn’t do it. In front of everyone, she said the words correctly. But Chris heard her a few months ago in the solitude of her room; then, she denied saying so. It had been a bet on going for months now, that she said it only when no one was around.

And Chris had won.

“Daddy! You ‘wake!” Claire screamed, and turned on her belly to put herself on four.

“Yeah, baby. Daddy’s awake” you answered her, as Chris could barely breath between his laughing fit. “And a bad person”

Claire found the word funny, because the girl giggled quietly and scooted closer to you. She was quite small for her age, and her body fitted perfectly cuddled in your side, her small hand curling around the cloth around your growing stomach.

Chris finally calmed down, and turned to the side to see his two best girls curled around each other. If he had to say, in a way he preferred another girl, rather than a boy. His daughter had been begging to you that she wanted another sister to play with; and she didn’t get that it might not be a girl. Chris knew that the genre of the baby didn’t matter, as long as you were healthy and the baby was born fine, but he didn’t want to face the tantrum Claire would have if, in the end, the baby was a boy.

The man laid on his right shoulder and brought a hand up to play with Claire’s blonde hair. She was already closing her eyes, half awake half in the dreams world.

“You had a nightmare, baby?” you asked, your voice soft.

Claire was quiet for a second, before opening her eyes and alternating between looking at Chris and you.

“No. But Banana wanted to sleep ‘ere” she mumbled, and squeezed the plushie against her chest.

“And why did Banana want to sleep here?” Chris continued. He knew that the bond Claire had with the toy was normal, but sometimes it worried him that she only expressed herself through the toy. If she was hungry, she told you that Banana wanted food. If she did something, she always blamed it on the plushie. “Did he get scared of the dark?”

“No”

“Then?”

“Banana… Banana and I see some’in” she mumbled.

You frowned at her words. Since the moment she had learned to walk by herself, you had been very careful with the things she had access with. Babies love to play with the remotes, and Claire was no exception. She used to hide it, to chew on it and to change the channels every two minutes. A few times that month, she had turned on the TV without anyone knowing; sometimes on channels that weren’t that child-friendly.

So your first assumption was that she had seen part of a film that had made her scared. Chris seemed to think the same, as he frowned too.

“What did you see? Something scary?” he inquired. Claire shook her head again, and started playing with your pyjamas. She looked back to her father when she talked.

“Mean people we’ t’owin’ ol’ ‘ins” she said.

When Claire was scared, nervous or just excited, she messed up with her words, so you had a hard time knowing what she had said. You tried to think what she could have seen where ‘mean people were throwing old things’, but you couldn’t come across anything scary about that. It was true that when Scott came over, he loved to watch that type or program with garbage with Chris; but they weren’t traumatic.

You looked at Chris, but he was focused on your daughter. You didn’t have to ask anything else, as she kept talking. That she didn’t use Banana to talk showed that what she was talking about was something important.

“They – they t’ew ol’ ins an – an got new ones” her eyes filled with tears and, in a matter of a few words, her small face filled with desperation. “You – you t’ow me when baby is ‘ere?”

Claire broke into sobs when she finally expressed her thoughts and worries, and both of your hearts broke. You had thought she was handling well the news of her new sibling. It had only been two days since you told her, and she was pretty excited and happy to have someone to share her toys with.

Chris actually whispered a sad ‘oh, baby’ before pulling the two of you to his chest and creating a human sandwich with Claire in between. She clutched her other hand to his shirt, so hard that it actually tore a bit. Banana was left under her body, the toy making a small squeak noise but not breaking.

“That’s not true, Claire” you assured her. “We can love you both the same”

“But they t‘ow ol’ a’ay” she sobbed into your body, the words barely recognizable. “You ‘il get ti’ed of me!”

You looked up at Chris with desperation, and he looked exactly like you. His eyes were glossy and he was trying to come up with words that didn’t exist. He tried to think about something to say to a crying toddler; she couldn’t understand most of the reasons he could give her, but her mind had picked up on a problem that sounded too mature to her knowledge.

Finally, you sighed and tried to think of something the books you had bought about ‘being a good mother’ could hide.

“Look, baby” you started, and Claire looked at you through the tears. “There is a space, inside our bodies… where we keep the love for the people that matters to us. Do you remember how we love with the heart?”

Claire nodded, and hugged the plushie closer to her body.

“Well, right now, in my heart, there is love for daddy, for you and for a lot of people. Your cousins, your aunts and uncles. I didn’t stop loving daddy because you were born”

“But – t’at no s’me!” she cried out, and Chris made her look at him.

“It’s the same, baby” he used his deep, paternal voice that he only got when he was talking about something important or scolding her. The toddler focused all her attention on him, and swallowed down the tears. “When a new person appear for you to love, you don’t have to throw other away. There is enough space in our heart for al least one hundred people more”

“T’ats a lot” Claire mumbled. She looked at you for confirmation, and when you nodded, she looked down to the plushie and petted its head softly, as if it was a dog. “We don’ ‘ave to worry, Banana. I tell you”

The little girl grabbed his father’s t-shirt and pulled him close until a sandwich of the Evan’s family was made. Looking to the clock of your nightstand, Chris watched as the four o’clock rolled by, and that was another night where he couldn’t probably go back to sleep.

When he so many times had dreamt with having a family, he didn’t expect so many sleepless nights. He expected laughs, dirty diapers and trips to the toy store to have fun himself. And a lot of family reunions with his friends and family where he got to brag about a kid and his wife. He didn’t thought of the vomits on his favourite shirts, of having to fight with the other mothers about theirs kids and vaccines, or about tying so many shoes in a day.

Still, fatherhood was the best thing that he could think of. And he was sure of it when he looked at the two girls sleeping in his bed, tugged into his hide for the rest of his life.

Want to know more about me? Here is my Masterlist! Feedback is always appreciated!!

[if-you-built-yourself-a-myth]

Check Ignition: Part VIII

The Sobbe fake-dating Hogwarts AU that one person requested and I dove into headfirst

First part // Previous part // Next part

Send me requests for other fics, ideas for this one, opinions, whatever! My apologies if the quality seems to have one downhill; I'll be doing minor edits for the sake of readability when I have a good chunk of free time.

“Shhh, guys, leave it,” Jens said. Everyone’s comments died on their tongues. Zoë and Moyo herded the superfluous students from the room and left as well, shutting the door behind. Moyo almost clapped a hand on Robbe’s shoulder, but seemed to think better of it in favor of a saddened smile. It didn’t really help. Robbe wasn’t sure if they ended tonight on good terms.

“We’re going to bed early,” Aaron suggested. “We have to get a jump on those damn exams.”

“Leave it,” hissed Jens.

“I was just saying, we’re—”

“Leave it.”

“It’s a good idea,” said Robbe. “We’re going to bed early.” He hadn’t realized how angry he was all week until faced with its culmination. And now—now he was tired. Stupid and single and tired.

There were still no sheets on his bed; he hadn’t gotten around to doing anything with them. He could perform a cleaning spell on the mattress if it got too bad in their absence. Whatever. Robbe couldn’t be bothered to rifle through his trunk for a cleaner blanket, so he crossed the room and grabbed the one off the fourth bed.

Motherfucker. It smelled like Sander. He really couldn’t win, could he? Robbe threw the blanket to the decimated floor and curled up without any covering at all.

“He wasn’t that attractive,” said Jens, breaking his own rule. “Had to get those roots done again.”

Robbe clamped his pillow over his ears. “Shut up.”

“We haven’t been to Hogsmede in a while. Might be nice to go tomorrow. The four of us.”

Hogsmede. Robbe’s eyes burned.

“I need to stop at Honeyduke’s,” Aaron agreed. “It’s Live It Up week.”

“I’d fancy a pint at the Three Broomsticks.”

The Three Broomsticks. Robbe was not going to cry over this. It brought him back to Sander explaining their fake love story to Zoë, all the little accurate details, all the possibility… that’s all it was. A story. You don’t like me. He cast the Muffliato charm across his four-poster before the tears started flowing. Once they started, they didn’t stop until morning.

“You don’t have to tell us a thing,” Jens said. “We understand.”

I want to, Robbe thought. He rolled over and faced the wall for the remainder of the night.

***

As much as he would love to hardcore sulk, Robbe had never been that kind of person. Sander was gone. They weren’t even together for that long, so there wasn’t much sulking warranted. He took Saturday and Sunday as unofficial off-days before exams, in that he spent them with Jens, Moyo, and Aaron, pointedly not talking about Sander. They did not go to the Three Broomsticks. Jens passed a whole afternoon in Honeyduke’s, attempting to sample every flavor of Bertie Bott’s Every-Flavor beans.

Okay, Robbe sulked. But not hardcore.

Robbe resolved that one Monday he would snap out of it in time to guard his outstandingin his five classes. What should he do? What had he learned? He could start there. Starting there was something.

1. He should never drop a class for someone he wasn’t really dating.

Robbe’s Potions exam was the first on Monday, and he went into it grossly unprepared, despite hours of common room studying. There was a large difference between reading theory and enacting what it said. Plus, a lot of his library time focused more on Sander’s eyes than on the written material.

Everyone else chopped up their beans and sprinkled them into their brews without difficulty. Robbe couldn’t remember how many he should use. In the end, he dumped a whole handful in completely whole and stirred counter-clockwise. How much could it hurt, anyway? He left fifteen minutes before the exam period was up, and the Potions master did not bother to stop him. The Drought of Living Death he prepared could probably kill the whole class, Britt and all, even if not in the way it was meant to.

Why had he stopped attending in person? What could Britt have done to him? It hit him—she probably knew the dating thing was fake from the beginning. Sander might have planned it all out to make Robbe look like an idiot.

That wouldn’t account for that night in the workshop.

Fuck that night in the workshop.

Sander waited outside the Potions classroom, his back on the wooden doorframe. Britt would be done soon. It didn’t give Robbe any satisfaction to brush by Sander without speaking—or at least, not until he saw Sander rubbing his arm in the aftermath. Robbe must have hit him with the door.

“Sorry,” he called over his shoulder, hoping it sounded blasé.

It could have been anyone there, he thought. Sander wasn’t special anymore. Then he went to his bedroom and stared at the wall over it.

2. He was not straight.

The specifics were, as of yet, unclear. He was in love with Sander, which meant he liked boys, but he’d kind of liked Noor too. Not romantically. Or even sexually. But like, he enjoyed her company.

Sometimes.

He wasn’t in love with Sander anymore, though, definitely not. Robbe figured if he told himself that at least four to five times a day, it might become a little more accurate. Two weeks was too short a time to fall for someone.

After all this, he needed to get Jens alone and lay it all on at once. Bad phrasing be damned. The boys began packing their belongings on Wednesday, after a mostly uneventful Transfiguration exam (Moyo turned his cockroach into a pair of earrings that still moved their spindly antennae—he seemed satisfied). They would leave on Saturday afternoon. Aaron tried a simple cleaning spell, Scourgify, and ended up scattering his belongings to the four corners of the castle. He scurried away to pack the rest manually, Moyo at his heels to help.

Jens and Robbe were alone. Robbe was ready to talk about it.

“Why is Moyo always here?” asked Jens, in a way that made it sound like he was breaking the tension.

His plan failed, of course, because Robbe was already speaking. “We have to talk about something.”

They stared at each other. Jens blinked.

“There’s a lot I haven’t told you,” Robbe began. “I wanted to, but it was always so complicated.”

“Uh, sure, okay.” Jens shoved a crumpled shirt into his trunk, followed by a pair of ripped slacks he could never wear to class again.

“This thing I had with Sander… it was fake to him. But, well, uh, to me—”

Jens nodded. “I know.”

Damnit, no.

“Jens,” Robbe tried a second time, “I’ve realized some things about myself recently. They kind of explain other things, from earlier, so…” He switched tactics. Who knew how long until Moyo and Aaron returned? “Do you remember when you and Jana broke up? How you found out about what’s-his-name and—”

Another shirt in the trunk. Some more destroyed pants. “Yeah.”

“Cool. So um, you should understand that it was—” It was never this awkward to talk to Jens before. Jens was supposed to be easy. Robbe folded his shirts by hand, like his mother did, and placed them carefully in his own luggage as he thought of how best to phrase this. “I did it on purpose. She was gonna tell you and I—well I said—”

“You’re not making sense.”

“I know things about myself now. Learned them. From that. and this.” Here it came, the big jump. Even though Robbe knew Jens, Aaron, and Moyo outlined a whole plan to get him and Sander together, he still worried about what they’d say when confronted with the reality of it. “Jens, I’m—"

“I know.”

No, that wouldn’t work. Again, “Jens, please, I’m—”

“It’s okay, Robbe, I know—”

“I don’t want you to know!” Robbe flopped a shirt down harder than he intended. “I want you to let me say it.” He took a deep breath. “I’m gay. That’s who I am. With or without Sander. Okay? I need you to understand that it’s like that with or without him.”

“I—”

“Don’t say you know. You’re my best friend.”

“Okay,” said Jens. “I understand.”

“Good.”

Jens closed his trunk on top of some clothing that spilled out the sides. He sat down on it to close the latch. Then he reached out and gathered Robbe into the tightest hug ever. It wasn’t nearly everything that Robbe wanted to say, but it was some, and Jens didn’t run away from him. Sexuality crisis, somewhat had. Robbe was sure there would be more later.

3. You don’t like me.

Robbe’s final exam was History of Magic. Luckily, his cramming paid off. He breezed through the questions on the first and second wars faster than any of his peers and was out the door within thirty minutes.

Most students were trapped in their classrooms for another half-hour or more. Empty corridor stretched in all directions, and Robbe didn’t have anything to do for the rest of the day. He knew where he wanted to go.

Sure enough, his astronomy tower perch was vacant. Bright sunlight dyed the campus in shades of yellow and gold, made the upper turrets appear as drawings from a children’s book. Robbe noted in passing that someone had collected Sander’s picnic blanket from its forlorn position on the roof. That made sense. Filch himself must have cleaned.

From overhead, soft music played. Robbe was sure he was hallucinating. He sat down on the sill.

Oh fuck, maybe not hallucinating. Noon cast a shadow of someone above onto the roof below.

Sander’s blanket wasn’t where he’d dropped it on night one because Sander sat on the overhang above the window. He had it splayed across the shingles, a compact player oozing the final lines of that same damn song on a loop, his wand gripped in his hands.

Robbe couldn’t escape him. Couldn’t escape how he felt about him. He could bring it under his control if he made it look purposeful.

“Hey,” he said. “Don’t you have class?”

Sander startled.

This was a mistake. Never mind. Robbe should go.

He leaned even further out the window for a better view of Sander’s setup. A stack of textbooks balanced precariously, end on end, held aloft by a complicated charm of some sort. A quill rolled down the roof and stopped as if by an invisible wall. Sander had created a bubble for his things.

“Cheers to exams,” Robbe said, a bit louder. Sander did not look at him. The music cranked itself up to mask Robbe’s voice—perhaps it was spelled to muffle all noise Sander did not want to hear. That wasn’t fair. “This is my spot.”

“You said you didn’t want to be friends,” said Sander. He didn’t sound upset. Why did Robbe expect him to be upset?

“Can you turn down the music?”

“Britt’s going to join me.”

“That isn’t really what I asked.” Robbe wondered if interactions like this would ever stop hurting. But he didn’t feel as bad as he felt last week. Or on Friday night. Maybe the finality of a no was all he needed to move on. He recalled Sander’s speech word-for-word, mostly the end. You don’t like me.

It hit Robbe in a moment of irrational bravery, when Sander’s music dialed up in volume. Their first night in the astronomy tower, together, illuminated by Britt’s wand. The CD playing in the background. Sander knew what he was wearing on a specific double-date on a specific day—there was no denying something existed between them.

And to have Sander talk like that, say it was nothing… it wasn’t nothing, not to Robbe, and Sander needed to hear it.

So he said it. No introduction, no nothing. “I liked you.”

The Major-Tom-planet song quieted. Definitely some kind of magic there.

“I liked you so much,” he said again. Now that it existed, now that it was said, there was nothing to stop him from continuing. “You can’t tell me I didn’t.”

One of Sander’s quills rolled to the edge of the bubble, only this time, it dropped out and fell the length of the tower.

“We made it up, we agreed,” Sander whispered. “I’m sorry.” He slid down from the roof, landing beside Robbe on the sill, then jumped to the floor. His belongings trailed behind him in a floating line.

Robbe stood his ground and blocked the staircase. “It’s not your thing to decide.” His voice softened. “I liked you. So that’s that. And it’s done.”

Sander scuffed the floor with his shoe.

“Good. You never have to see me again.” Robbe pointed down the stairs for dramatic effect. “I have class. Bye.”

He felt lighter than he had all week when he descended the staircase. Any lighter, and he would have missed it when Sander said, “I liked you, too.”

4. He was a jerk to Noor.

Robbe sought her out on the train home, abandoning his friends in their own little compartment. They had plenty to discuss without his involvement. Pranks and whatnot. The usual. Noor was alone in a compartment near the back of the train, a dozen or so scrolls of parchment dispersed around her. She wrote on one with a broken quill.

She wasn’t a bad person. Robbe should have just told her. The least he could do was tell her when everything was over.

“Hey,” he said, taking the seat across from her.

She looked up, surprised. “Hello.”

“You seemed like you could use some company.”

Noor blushed. “No, I—Britt’s sitting elsewhere, and I have a lot to do.”

“With Sander,” Robbe supplied.

“What?”

“Britt’s with Sander.”

“Oh, um, actually—”

Robbe wasn’t in the mood for the nitty-gritty details of whatever Britt and Sander had going on. Obviously it was toxic. Not his problem. Besides, this conversation was for Noor’s sake, not his own.

“Listen, about me and him,” he said. “I need to apologize. It wasn’t fair of me to lead you on.” He hoped it wouldn’t get awkward. The extent of his recent planning was pretty much just say it without warning and hope it works out.

“I don’t read smoke signals,” said Noor curtly. She set her quill down on the seat next to her, ink stains bleeding into the cushioning. “But I get it.”

“No, it was fucked up. I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright.”

Awkward silence. Robbe wasn’t built for prolonged chatter with anyone besides Jens, Moyo, and Aaron. The girls’ group was the exception, and only when Jana and Zoë were present. He fiddled with the beginning of a hole in his yellow sweater.

“I suppose I should apologize too,” said Noor, after a while. “That was fucked up, to say he’d get bored of you. I was a little—well, you know.”

“If it helps,” Robbe said, “you were right.”

Noor frowned. She sat up in her seat, and her parchment fell to the carriage floor. The sweets trolley passed by their sliding doorway without stopping—its driver could likely sense the tension. Robbe explained, “He’s back with Britt.”

“No, he isn’t,” said Noor. “Where’d you hear that?”

“Jana said—”

“Who would know better: Jana, or me?”

Robbe fumbled for something to say in response. Actually, now was a pretty good time to get out, before the topic became any more serious. He said, “He broke up with me.”

“It wasn’t for Britt. She helped him through some stuff, sure, but everyone knows that train’s come and gone.”

“I guess I’m just boring,” Robbe said.

“Bullshit.” Noor picked up her parchment again. She dipped her quill into her ink and began her writing anew, on whatever mess this was. Robbe couldn’t read fucking cursive. “I don’t believe it. Britt says he adored you.”

Robbe didn’t know what to make of that. There was no way he could segue into his next point, which was, of course, that their dating arrangement wasn’t real in the first place, especially after something so honest from Noor. He gave a bullshit excuse, something about chasing the sweets trolley, and got the hell out of there.

***

Robbe said goodbye to Moyo on the train platform. Jens and Aaron lived close enough that their parents parked in the same general vicinity, meaning that they could walk over as a trio. Robbe considered awaiting Sander on the platform as well. Every time he learned something new about Sander’s behavior when he wasn’t there, he got more and more confused. What fake relationship could be convincing enough to have Sander’s ex lamenting its reality?

The boys shared idle gossip on their way to the parking lot. Nothing substantial. Robbe’s head was too full of thoughts, most of them Sander-related. He wasn’t angry, or upset, or tired right now. How did knowing one little thing from Noor make a difference in his overall mood? They split off to their respective parents with casual goodbyes and a promise to write at least once during the holidays.

“Hey,” called Jens, just as Robbe opened the shotgun side.

Robbe turned back, his rucksack swinging off his shoulder. He swiped a hand across his eyes.

“Were you in love with him? Actually?”

They spent two weeks together. Two weeks, plus months and months of pining from afar that couldn’t count for much. It was supposed to last longer. What had Sander said, that day after their date? He wanted it to continue through the holiday break. And now, nothing. Robbe summarized this feeling the only way he knew how: “Yeah.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Yeah.”

He climbed into his mother’s waiting car, and with that, it was Christmastime at the Ijzermans house.

[so-nightmary-ul]

Y/N is eight-year-old Julius’s ward.

Y/N is a twenty-year-old girl from our world who died. Her soul moved into the girl’s deceased body (it looks exactly like hers in childhood), from which, as a result of an illegal experiment, magic was taken away and thereby killed her in the world of the Black Clover. Y/N retained all her memories, including the plot of the anime. Julius took custody of her (let's be honest, Y/N just had no choice).

---

How it actually happened:

You were brought to the Clover castle almost at night. Supposedly secretly.

Marx met you, and then you both went to Julius.

Surprisingly, your conversation with him wasn't in his office, but in some room with a fireplace.

You were seated in one of the armchairs. Julius was sitting in the exactly same armchair opposite you.

In short, it all happened somehow like this:

You, in your thoughts: 'Perhaps I can replay this situation in my direction. It is only necessary to invent a story, how I–'

Julius: «You have the magic seal of reincarnation on you, so I know that you most likely don't belong here. You can tell me everything.»

You:

You, worried, still in your thoughts: 'oh,  s h i–'

Apparently, he understood everything from your face, so he just laughed and offered to calm down and drink some tea.

Your bare feet, and in principle whole of you, were cold (you were in one tattered dress, in which you woke up in this world). You agreed.

During the conversation, you told him about yourself, and how did you die. You even accidentally blabbed that you know some things about their world. And only God knows why you told him all this at all. You could simply be stubbornly silent, well, or at least lie.

Maybe there was something in this tea. Maybe.

By the way, Julius even used Marx, who had been standing at the door all this time, so that he would use his Memory Magic on you. With your consent, of course.

After all this, Julius offered to stay here. By «here» he most likely meant both «in this world» and «in this castle».

Marx, in the background: «Wha– Lord Julius!»

It's not like you were paranoid, but for some reason it seemed very suspicious to you. Too good option. Too tempting offer to refuse.

But since you also weren't too stupid and understood that you don't and will not have any other shelter (besides, a child not trained in magic, there is no place safer than under the wing of the Wizard King, right?), you agreed.

Although you had a growing feeling that you had just, like a nice little girl, been wrapped around little finger.

But it was necessary to come up with a story of how the hell a poor eight-year-old girl settled in the Clover castle (and not by order of someone, but by the Wizard King!).

What options just didn't sound! And the niece, and the extramarital daughter (Marx: «Lord Julius, PLEASE, everything but not THIS!»     You: «Extramarital? So you have children from marriage?»     Julius: «WAIT, THIS IS NOT WHAT I MEANT–»), and the goddaughter, and the student, and the adopted daughter.

You all agreed on a ward, who was left alone after the death of one of Julius’s close friends, and over whom he took custody in memory of this friend.

You mentally apologized to Zora and his father.

After that you all parted. Marx took you to the guest room, wished you a good night, and left.

In this way, you turned out to be the ward of Julius Novachrono, the 28th Wizard King.

Being in the world of the Black Clover:

The next morning, you were PRETTY sure that you were simply wrapped around little finger, without even a choice.

Therefore, the first thing you did when Julius took custody of you was making a deal with him. He works for at least a couple of hours, and you tell him a little about magic from other worlds (anime, manga, TV shows, and etc) for twenty minutes. And then everything repeats.

So that he doesn't think that life is sweet, and Marx has less stress. After all, it’s can't be just only one Julius who's being cunning, right?

But then you realized that this deal was even profitable for him. Because Julius was ready to do a lot for the knowledge about magic. And given the fact that now he knows that you know what kind of person he is…

You realized that you had been wrapped around little finger by the same person twice already.

After that, you gave up trying to somehow outwit the Wizard King. Mission is impossible.

However, now, even though earlier Marx didn't agree with the idea of ​​leaving you in the Clover castle, he is ready to take his words back. Your new ally in this world.

---

Sometime later, you already began to curse your little body. Because with such height it was very difficult to reach something. And you didn't want to call someone and ask to reach it, because

You: «EVEN IF I AM IN A CHILDREN’S BODY, IN THE SOUL I AM ALMOST TWENTY ONE YEAR! I AM A PROUD INDEPENDENT WOMAN!»

You:

You: «…and this proud independent woman is a little ashamed.»

In addition, you considered yourself smart enough to build a stable construction and reach something by yourself. And when you finally took the thing you needed in your hands, you realized that you weren’t smart enough to think about how to get down from this construction before climbing on it. And there was nobody around.

In this way, you met Owen, the royal healer. Because jumping from four large and tall chairs onto a slippery tiled floor with a scream «BANZAI!» was definitely not your best idea.

Marx, who came at the call of the servants: «Y/N! How did this even happen?! I understand that you might need a chair to reach something, if nobody is around, but…»

You: «It was a bookcase.»

Marx: «…FOUR chairs?!»

You: «It was a HIGH bookcase, and the book was almost on the top shelf.»

Marx:

Owen:

You:

You: «I'm sorry, this will not happen again…»

In general, you were remembered by the royal healer as a quite smart little troublemaker.

---

At first you were afraid to leave the room once again, and if you left, you tried not to encounter people. But then you sent everything to the devi– hell. They can't blame you for anything.

We all know that Julius is 42 years old. Men at this age are usually tend to splashing out their paternal instinct on someone small, like a child (even if the body of this child contains the soul of a deceased and reincarnated twenty-year-old girl from another world, yeah). In general, that's why Julius gives out some EXTRA attention to you.

And even if, when he pampers you or has some baby-talk with you, your gaze literally told «what the hell are you doing». It breaks his little, poor, fatherly heart a little.

By the way, after Julius heard about your healing from Owen, he asked the servants to collect, according to your instructions, the books that you would like to read. A mini library in your room.

In general, you suspected that a child’s body sometimes still somehow affects your mind. Like «child mod». Because the former you would think twice– no, three times before doing something like that. You haven't seen another explanation.

Since there was absolutely nothing for you to do in this world, everything you did around the clock was walking around the territory of the Clover castle, reading, and sometimes talking with Julius outside his working hours.

By the way, the first time you opened a book, you realized that you don't understand almost a single letter. And you were surprised to find a book with the alphabet and basic grammar rules in the royal library (exhale, Marx, it was at an accessible height). Apparently, there is really everything in this all-praised royal library.

Julius was really upset that you didn't give him a chance to teach you how to read and write, since you did it by yourself.

But then you discovered drawing, and that was all.

DrAwInG fOr EvErYoNe

Yes, Marx, and for you.

Yes, Julius, and for you too. Don't make such a sad look.

By the way, about one of the consequences of Owen’s healing. You were ashamed of such childish rash behavior. Especially in front of Marx. Therefore, since then, sometimes you ask him for some work for yourself to at least help him a little with his work. Usually it's just taking something to someone, that is, the work of a messenger.

+1000 to Marx’s respect

There are days when Julius’s fatherly instinct pierces the sky. On such days, he comes to wake you up, although you usually wake up on your own. Then you have breakfast together (and Novachrono will not miss the chance to softly joke on you for something). You go to his office, where he works, and you either sit on his lap or draw or read while sitting next to him. Have lunch and dinner together. Then, by nightfall, Julius reads something out loud to you, like fairy tales, and can even kiss you on the forehead.

This is very kind of you, Julius.

But please don't do this anymore.

Julius doesn't hear your thoughts and sometimes continues to do so.

Once you got a little sick, and it was a  c h a o s.

Then was your Birthday. Just a few months later. And there are two options for the development of event: 1) you don't tell them about it, and they somehow know about it themselves (it's impossible to hide something from the Wizard King)  —>  Julius’s fatherly instinct is sounding an alarm  —> literally the best Birthday; 2) you tell them about it  —>  Julius’s fatherly instinct is sounding the alarm  —> literally the best Birthday. In the end, it all ends the same way.

At some point, it dawned on you that you feel like Asta, looking at people using their magic.

SORRY, JULIUS, BUT WE NEED TO TALK

SAY NO MORE, HE WAS BORN READY FOR THIS

Although the body of the girl, which was occupied by your soul, was emptied of magic, apparently, this didn't apply to your soul.

No matter what your type of magic is, this man is THRILLED.

Then the holy  c a n o n  and the intrigues of the Eye of the Midnight Sun began, during which you, singing a quiet melody, painted «Licht» and his three-eyed gang. Then, with a sweet smile on your face and a creepy chuckle, painted over the whole sheet with black paint. And then burned this sheet in the fireplace.

Even knowing what would happen with Julius during the insurrection of the elves, it was painful.

Well, Julius’s fatherly instinct was now more like the older brother’s instinct. It bothered you a lot less. It, obviously, suited you more.

Now you and Julius are a team. Team We-do-not-look-at-our-chronological-age LOL

The captains of the Orders of the Magic Knights:

You didn't plan to meet with the captains of the orders for at least some more time, but then they had a meeting, and at the same time you mistaken the door, and here we are.

Frightened, when all eyes turned sharply on you, you wanted to apologize and quickly get out, but then Julius said cheerfully: «Oh, Y/N, it's you! Feel free to come in! Oh yes, you are not familiar. This is Y/N. She is my ward.»

Novachrono (the cunning, as he is) didn't even try to conceal you.

The first phrase, which instantly ended the dead silence in the room, belonged to the captain of the Black Bull.

Yami: «Damn, old man, when did you have time?»

Hearing «ward», they ALL thought not about what Julius really meant. But Sukehiro voiced this idea first and only.

You almost started to make excuses, but Julius spoke first in time. He explained the situation to them, and for some reason almost all the captains exhaled synchronously with relief.

The meeting could be officially considered interrupted, because c'mon, guys, this is the ward of the Wizard King.

If you are an introvert and don't like large crowds, then RIP

---

Rill was the first to come, as, apparently, the youngest of them. He began to chatter quickly and indistinctly, at the same time shaking your hands. From his monologue, you only understood that he was the captain of the Azure Deer, that he was nineteen, and that he was very glad to see you. Upon knowing that you like to draw (You, in your thoughts: 'It's not like I like it, I just don't even have much to do'), he began to speak even more merrily and to shake hands more intensely. Charlotte saved you from a dislocation of both arms. Stepping closer, she told Rill to stop, after what he, upset, fell behind.

You and Charlotte just stared at each other for a while. But then you had the urge to poke a finger into her cloak and say: «This is my favorite color.» After that, her face twitched for a second, and then she smiled a little. Charlotte gave you a blue rose created by her magic. When, having accepted the flower, you smiled broadly at the woman (you really like blue roses), the sound of a cracked heart was heard by you. But you still don't understand who it was coming from: Julius or Charlotte.

«Oh God, queen of thorns, what kind of expression that was now? Is your nerve pinched?» it was that phrase with which Yami came up to the two of you. Charlotte blushed, you looked at Sukehiro’s formidable face (he was your favorite character in the anime because of his jokes). When you coughed because of tobacco smoke, someone instantly exclaimed: «YAMI, PUT OUT THE CIGARETTE.» He was dissatisfied, but didn't put it out, but just moved away. This upset you a little.

Jack is creepy by himself, and now that you are standing right in front of him, and he, with his enormous height, hangs over you, you were scared three times more. You really froze, thinking that if Jack confuses you with a statue, he will lose interest in you. You could well have passed out because of fear, but Fuegoleon saved the situation.

He greeted you fairly adequately, asked for your name, and then called his. You thought that he was raising Leopold, so he has some communication skills with children. But Fuegoleon was strangely curious (which you thought was especially unusual for him). He asked about your hobbies, magic, and how do you generally live in the Clover castle. You liked to communicate with him.

Nozel didn't even get up from his place, content with what he was observing from the side. He only said (quite proudly) his name and then asked about your past parents. Julius answered him for you, on the go inventing that they were not from the nobility and other. Knowing that you're not from the nobility, he seems to have quickly lost interest.

William was the last to come. He squatted in front of you (the only one, by the way) and, smiling, called his name. Julius whispered to you: «William loves kids.» Knowing the plot of the Black Clover, you also smiled awkwardly at him, clutching Charlotte’s rose more tightly in your hands. You looked intently into his eyes, apparently trying to find something of Patri’s soul, but failed. And then you realized that for a long time you was indecently staring at a person and hastened to make excuses, blurting out the first thing that came to mind: «You have beautiful eyes.» William was surprised at first, but then again smiled only somehow differently. You thought you would die because of shame.

Dorothy and Gueldre didn't talk to you much. Well, that is, Unsworth snuffle something, but you didn't understand anything. And Poizot silently looked at you somehow strange, because of what you quickly looked away. These were the eyes of a crook merchant.

A few headcanons about the captains:

If you think Julius’s fatherly care is the most awkward care you ever received, then take your words back immediately.

One of the captains could well lend you one of their Magic Knights, if you need to go, for example, to the city.

Sometimes you and Rill draw together. Honestly, you're a little depressed by the fact that he draws 100 times better than you. And if you suddenly get the opportunity to be with him when he uses his magic, the «child mod» is switched-on in you, and you start to advise him what to draw in order to win. There is no need to say that he likes you very much, right?

At one point, Charlotte realized that you looked a bit like Yami. She, you and Yami appeared in her head. F A M I L Y. Charlotte’s heart cracked a second time.

At first, Sukehiro for some reason didn't like you too much. But then, when you became interested in his katana and muscles, perhaps he became more favorable a little. Perhaps.

You still stare a little suspiciously at William when you see him. Absolutely unaware of what was going on in his head.

Patri, don't make such face. Yes, she has the magic seal of reincarnation on her. Patri?.. PATRI, DON'T YOU DARE–

But William knows how to make good wood figures.

If one day someone decides to kidnap you or something, he is better off using all the luck he has. Because when he blunders, no one will ever see him again.

You really like spending time in the World of Dreams with Dorothy.

At some point, you became aware of yourself braiding Fuegoleon’s hair. You wanted to pinch yourself to make sure that it was just a dream, but decided to still watch this fascinating dream, while there is a chance.

Soon you realized that you were not sleeping.

You gave almost all of them a drawing of themselves.

[turning-dreams-into-chaos]

Rules:

1. Reblog this post (You don’t have to be following me to participate (but I’d appreciate it), I just would like this on your page 😊)

2. Send me an ask (not into my messages because they will get lost) with the name of the person you want to write for as well as the prompt you choose from below (Limit 2 people per prompt and 2 prompts per person) (First come, first serve by asks)

a. I’ll cross out prompts that are unavailable if people choose them, so always look for the most updated version of this post.b. If your writing account isn’t the one you’ve send an ask with, please include the name of your account at the end of the ask!

3. Use the hashtag #Riaswritingchallenge and tag me so I can see what you created! (make sure you use the correct tag because that will be how I am looking for posts)

a. I will reblog all the posts you write and if I don’t reblog within 3 days, send me an ask to make sure I see it

4. If it’s more than 1.5K (no word limit, go for it), add a keep reading option please so we don’t have pages and pages of pieces

a. If you can’t, that’s fine, I don’t think you can on the mobile

5. Don’t Stress and Have Fun! We aren’t comparing works to anyone; we’re just sharing what we wrote!

6. I’m not putting an end date on this challenge until I see activity! I’ll reblog with a date when I have one.

EDIT: So I’ve decided not to take requests for myself off this list and just leave these prompt to you guys, SO PLEASE DON’T SEND ME REQUESTS FROM THESE LISTS! CHOOSE ONES FOR YOU TO WRITE! 😊 Thank you!

Characters (Pick ANY character from a fandom):

The 100• Marvel• Harry Potter• Flash• Walking Dead• <- those are examples, choose what ever you’d like!

Prompts (specify which list in ask):

Fluff:

1. “Just hold me close and never let go.”

The One by @with1love1anu (Sirius Black x Reader)

2. “You may be good, but I’m better.” 

@abysshaven (Draco Malfoy x reader)

3. “You know, I’d go through hell for you.” “Really?” “Yeah, or well, really hot weather.”

@abysshaven (Draco Malfoy x reader)

@fridasfantasy (Zuko x Reader)

4. “Well you’re fun.” “And you’re annoying.”

Sirius Black x Reader by @valiantartwritingweasel

Just my Type by @writeseasonally (Fred Weasley x Reader)

5. “You’re drunk.” “I’m not drunk.” “Then what are you?” “…I’m not dead, right?”

@nekoannie-chan (Brock Rumlow x Reader)

Truth under Moonlight by @approved-by-dentists (Sirius Black x Reader)

6. “You’re a lot more interesting in my head.”

Hoax by @seiraswriting (Hermione Granger x Reader)

7. “You just have to trust me.”

Proud of you by @fandomscombine (George Weasley x Reader)

8. “Time flies when you’re a prisoner.”

9. “You’re my home.”

Home by @capsheadquaters (Bellamy Blake x Reader)

10. “Thanks for not killing me.”

@wonderful-writer​ (Sirius Black x Reader)

11. “I’m going to choose to take pride in that.”

Freedom of Innocence by @summer-writes (Draco Malfoy x Reader)

Gone by @moony-writes-stuff​ (George Weasley x Reader)

12. “You’re my second chance.”

@bad268 (Draco Malfoy x Reader)

Second Chances by @shaynawrites23 (Bucky Barnes x Reader)

13. “Take me by the hand and hold me tight.”

If it Hurts by @oingo233 (Daryl Dixon x reader)

14. “I’m proud of us.”

15. “Will you get off me?”

Snowscape by @kalimagik (Fred Weasley x Reader)

16. “I didn’t think it was possible, but I just fell more in love with you.”

@they-write-once-in-a-blue-moon (Remus Lupin x Reader)

I Love you by @theonly1outof-a-billion​​ (Mob!Tom Holland x Reader)

17. “You are everything I dreamed of.”

@the-moon-and-the-book​ (Remus Lupin x Reader)

18. “Here, let me help you.”

@dreamer821 (Sirius Black x Reader)

19. “Can I have a kiss? Please?”

Can I kiss you? by @bad268 (Julian Albert x Reader)

20. “Your hand is so soft.”

Gentle Hands by @johnmurphyisbisexual (John Murphy x Reader)

21. “I’ve been thinking-“ “uh oh.”

A Beautiful Dream by @missmulti (Remus Lupin x Reader)

22. “But you love me anyways.”

@leah-ravenanne (James Potter x Reader)

Secret Admirer by @shaynawrites23 (Sirius Black x Reader)

23. “Want a back rub?”

24. “Can we cuddle?”

Gentle Hands by @johnmurphyisbisexual (John Murphy x Reader)

25. “You realize how insane you sound, right?”

Crazy for You by @writeroutoftime (Sirius Black x Reader)

@wonderful-writer​ (Sirius Black x Reader)

26. “Stop making that face. It’s too cute.”

Proud of you by @fandomscombine (George Weasley x Reader)

27. You are perfect for me.”

Party Revelations by @angelinathebook (Sirius Black x Reader)

28. “You’re so warm.”

Snowscape by @kalimagik (Fred Weasley x Reader)

29. “I love you more every day.”

30. “Where’s my morning kisses?”

31. “Wanna go for a walk?”

Comfort by @iliveiloveiwrite (Sirius Black x reader)

32. “I’m here when you’re ready to talk.”

Comfort by @iliveiloveiwrite (Sirius Black x Reader)

33. “Stop stealing my food.”

34. “Wow, I almost forgot how beautiful you were.”

@hollands-weasley (Fred Weasley x Reader)

35. “There’s an open seat on my lap.”

Party Revelations by @angelinathebook (Sirius Black x Reader)

@stiles-o-dylan24 (Bellamy Blake x Reader)

36. “Please just look at me.”

@horsegirly99 (Remus Lupin x Reader)

37. “I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”

Star Crossed Lovers by @missmulti (James Sirius Potter x Reader)

@horsegirly99 (Remus Lupin x Reader)

38. “Netflix and cuddle?”

39. “I can count to ten.” “You can barely get to 3.”

40. “My best friend is an idiot. Awesome.”

Angst:

1. “Despite everything, I still care about you.”

Blind Love by @hyperion-moonbabe-art3mis (Bellamy Blake x Reader)

2. “I should go…”

Never Leave Me Again by @with1love1anu (George Weasley x Reader)

@they-write-once-in-a-blue-moon (Remus Lupin x Reader)

3. “Joke’s on me, right?”

To Love and Be Used by @the-moon-and-the-book (James Potter x Reader)

4. “Break my heart, I’ll break your face.”

5. “Fuck you and your promises.”

Promises by @masterofthedarkness (Fred Weasley x Reader)

6. “Remember when I asked for your opinion? No? Me neither.”

7. “I’m not worth dying for.”

A Beautiful Dream by @missmulti (Remus Lupin x Reader) 

8. “There’s still good in you.”

All for You by @blisfvll (Draco Malfoy x Reader)

9. “I thought you died.”

Home by @capsheadquaters (Bellamy Blake x Reader)

@screennamealreadyused (Jason Todd x Reader)

10. “Don’t touch me.”

@screennamealreadyused (Jason Todd x Reader)

11. “I’m fine.” *Passes out*

Can I kiss you? by @bad268 (Julian Albert x Reader)

@dreamer821 (Sirius Black x Reader)

12. “I was hoping you’d save us both.”

Never Leave Me Again by @with1love1anu (George Weasley x Reader)

13. “I’m invisible.”

14. “I don’t even know who you are anymore.”

To Love and Be Used by @the-moon-and-the-book (James Potter x Reader)

15. “You’re not you.”

16. “What do you want me to say? That I’m sorry? I’m not.”

@novellaquill (Barry Allen x reader, The originals crossover)

17. “Okay, fuck you.”

18. “You wanna play hero? Be my guest.”

Drama by @obsessedwithrandomthings (Remus Lupin x Reader)

19. “You’re an asshole.”

20. “I hope it was worth it.”

21. “Trust me, it could get a whole lot worse.”

22. “The only mistake I made was you.”

@acciomarauders (Regulus Black x Reader)

23. “Prove to me you’re different, then I’ll believe you.”

@stiles-o-dylan24 (Bellamy Blake x Reader)

24. “No one blames you.” “I do.”

All for you by @blisfvll (Draco Malfoy x Reader)

25. How come you’re still here?”

26. “This is when you stop talking.”

27. “How am I supposed to say goodbye to you?”

@novellaquill (Barry Allen x reader, The originals crossover)

28. “God, just let me fall apart.”

Gone by @moony-writes-stuff​ (George Weasley x Reader)

29. “Just let me die.”

John Murphy x Reader by @johnmurphyisbisexual

Duelled by @teheharrypotter (Sirius Black x Reader)

30. “You got to let go.”

Star Crossed Lovers by @missmulti (James Sirius Potter x Reader)

31. “Why can’t you look at me like you look at her?”

Fool’s Gold by @marauderswhisperer (James Potter x Reader)

32. “You don’t get to die today.”

If it Hurts by @oingo233 (Daryl Dixon x reader)

33. “I’m spiraling and I can’t make it stop.”

John Murphy x Reader by @johnmurphyisbisexual

34. “You’re never too broken to be fixed.”

She’s a Survivor by @eleven-times-lively (Remus Lupin x Reader)

35. “Fun? Is that all I am to you? Fun?”

36. “I would’ve given my life up for you, but now? Now I don’t even know you.”

@shatteredlovesick (Steve Rogers x reader)

37. “I haven’t been the same since you left me.”

Charm-ed by @nekoannie-chan (Steve Rogers x Reader)

38. “You were supposed to protect me.”

39. “You gave me the world, but it wasn’t enough.”

40. “Give me another chance to prove I am still in love with you.”

Smut:

(Sorry I couldn’t find or come up with more smut ones lol)

1. “Ruin me.”

2. “Lose the shirt.”

3. “You know we’re in public, right?”

4. “Be good.” “Or what, you’ll punish me?”

5. “I can’t wait to get you alone tonight.”

6. “Spread your legs for me.”

7. “Remember. You’re mine.”

8. “Stop the lip biting, you’re driving me crazy.”

9. “Tonight, you’re in control.”

10. “I’m not wearing anything under this.”

11. “Try to stay quiet for me. Can you do that?”

Learned your Lesson by @johnmurphyisbisexual (John Murphy x Reader)

12. “Aw, is somebody jealous?”

13. “If you wanna fuck, just say the words.”

14. “I forgot how much I missed seeing you beneath me.” 

@shatteredlovesick (Steve Rogers x Reader)

15. “Oh, fuck you!” “Your place or mine?”

16. “Was the sex really that good?”

17. “Like what you’re seeing?”

18. “On your knees.”

19. “Handcuffs? Sounds fun.”

20. “Touch yourself for me.”

Learned your Lesson by @johnmurphyisbisexual (John Murphy x Reader)

21. “Try not to ruin the sheets, I just cleaned them.”

22. “Why is your dick out?”

23. “Boobies!”

24. “I think the condom broke.”

Oh, baby by @grounderxbellamy (Bellamy Blake x Reader)

25. “Cute underwear.”

[han-shinsuke]

Creaky Bed

Sachiro Hirugami x Luna x Miya Atsumu

🔞🔞🔞⚠️⚠️

Aphrodisiac: THE HILLS ( the weeknd )

///

"Twenty billion dollars," my voice and composure did not falter as I let myself dressed in thin black fabric, enter the hundred years old conference room of out ancestral house.

The two dignified men, still in their suit and tie, chokes in their brandy. They eyed me from head to toe and both clear their throats to regain their composures.

The Counselor who is also the Legal Adviser of the Prime Minister, stands first.

"What a lovely sight, Luna, still careless eh?" Sachiro greeted me, half smiling. "The process of ownership is on the final reading. You can't negotiate anymore. The committee won't allow a woman to interfere their work," he added.

"And twenty billion dollars today is just a centavo. What else can you offer, princess? I might change my mind and overrule the decision of the committee," the Prime Minister remain on his seat, crossing his long legs on top of the oval desk.

I shoot him a glare when I noticed his eyes plastered on my chest.

Barefoot and unprotected, I stand on my feet, radiating my infamous established authority.

"A centavo huh? May I remind you how you two used to be my toys and servants."

Atsumu Miya, Japan's current Prime Minister, let out a loud laugh that echoes in the four corners of the room. "And may I remind you as well how you lost your innocence under my touch, Luna, I was your first, princess."

My cheeks and ears turned red with the mention of our past together. These men, Atsumu Miya and Sachiro Hirugami, were my childhood friends. They are both five years older than me so they are like big brothers for me. We all came from a wealthy and influential family but I was only seventeen when our family business faced a crisis. Atsumu's family was held responsible for my well being and future. They took good care of me while I was still under their roof. Sachiro who lived few blocks away from the Miyas, visits often.

Me being a confident brat, still boss them around even in front of their parents and relatives. They're my toys! But this man, Miya Atsumu, used tricks against me! It was the night of my eighteenth birthday when I gave a signed consent, allowing him to offer me an alcoholic drink, which his parents didn't approved. I was so drunk that night to realize that I was being dragged inside his bathroom. Atsumu insulted and belittled my alcohol tolerance and my capabilty to handle myself.

His words sounds like a challenge to me. A provocation I still regret up until now. I may be a brat but I have a dream of doing it with my husband.

Atsumu had me that night. The loud and deafening sounds of water pouring from the shower head still echoes in my head. He used it to camouflage my cries and screams as he forced himself into me.

He was smiling the whole time he's doing it. He's big and strong and he knows my weakness. He knows how to make me surrender to him. As I am about to fall asleep in his arms under the pouring water that night, I catch a glimpse of Sachiro walking towards us, removing his clothes.

So yeah, they both had me on my eighteenth birthday! And now, they are the challenge I must conquer! They just won't let me win! This mansion is my family property! This is not a state property! I won't let my enemies win against me again! I will make sure to take back what's ours!

"I am Japan's youngest billionaire and no one would dare defy me, even you, Mr. Prime Minister," that's the confidence, Luna! I cheered for myself internally.

Sachiro who has been silent for a moment, chuckles, "your arrogance makes me wanna rip your thin clothes and bend you over right here, right now."

"Oh! Mr. Counselor, I would love that only if you promise to be gentle. Your morality during sex sickens me. I prefer to fckk a man with ethics," I've been in war for years with different individuals. He's just a dust for me.

Sachiro chuckles again while Atsumu watches us throwing insults at each other, "as much as I want to talk about ethics with you, I would rather prefer tasting your lips," he says, making my blood boils in anger.

"You should kiss your Minister's lips then, he is more capable of quenching your thirst, councelor," I said then smirked at Atsumu who is obviously enjoying our discussions.

Atsumu being a politician that he is responds quickly, "Men don't interest me, Luna, I'm into politics and ruling a district. It is my job after all. Now, Ms. Corporate Heir, let's book an appointment, you and I behind closed door, moaning, yes?"

"If you moan louder, hand me the land title of this property, yes?" I said in my low voice.

"Let me join, guys, yes?" Sachiro butt in.

"No! I can't handle two guys at a time!"

"Weak."

"Weak."

I massage my forehead, sighing. They're really testing my patience.

"Fuck this life," I whispered. I flash them my sweet smile then said, "Scream or moan a word, game will be over, yes?"

"Deal!" the two men said in unison.

🔞🔞🔞🔞🔞🔞🔞🔞🔞🔞🚱🚱🚱🚱🚱🚱

The door in the attic slams open, giving a path for the three naked persons who storms in, clothes are scattered on the staircases. Pants and heavy breathings could be heard.

Atsumu waste no time and push Luna on the creaky bed, putting his weight on top of her as he smash his lips on hers. Luna grabs Atsumu's face and cave in her mouth on his lower lip, kissing him torridly. Atsumu's hands roam around her body, squeezing her soft skin, leaving some red marks caused by his fingers. Atsumu bit hard on Luna's lower lip, making her whimper. Luna who keeps a clear mind, set a mental reminder that she must not let out a moan or a single word. Some thing is at stake so she need to win. She shut her eyes closed while still exchanging torrid laps with Atsumu's warm and cherry like lips. She suck on his tongue and push for a deep, locking lips kisses. Atsumu who is also putting up a fight against her, groan in pleasure inside his head.

Sachiro stands a feet away from the creaky bed and starts stroking his erected cock. He can still vividly remember the same event ten years ago. Atsumu fucking Luna diabolically can make him sexually aroused. His friend is a sex monster.

Sachiro follows Atsumu's hands wherever it goes on Luna's tempting body. His speed of stroking his cock increases, revealing the pink flesh of its' head whenever the skin was pulled down a little lower from the tip.

Atsumu breaks the kiss and push his body a bit higher from her softness. He examines her face down to her womanhood. Atsumu couldn't believe he gets to taste her childhood friend again. Luna is panting when Atsumu starts groping her breast, kneading it hard. Luna rolls her head backwards, lower body aching for more touch.

Luna's face turns bright red when Atsumu suck in one nipple to his mouth, attaching his rough tongue on it. She grabs his head and shoves her breast deep on his mouth. Atsumu curses a lot in his head. He can't moan and that frustrates him! Due to his frustrations, Atsumu sucks harder on Luna's nipples, following it with deep bites around the buds.

Luna writhes in pleasure and curl up herself underneath Atsumu who's lips is traveling down to her navel he slightly poked with his tongue. The Prime Minister' lips ended on her drenched clit, poking it with his tongue. She was about to grab on Atsumu's head when he stopped her from doing so. Atsumu quiclky flipped her down on her stomach, face facing the mattress.

Sachiro then joins the two on the bed. He sits on the pillow, back against the headboard as he spread his legs, placing Luna's face between it.

Sachiro move in rhythm with Atsumu. He cup her face and grip her jaw, making Luna wince from pain. Atsumu on the other hand spank her ass harshly until it turns red and his hand marks are visible. Luna bit hard on her lower lips to prevent herself from crying and moaning.

A moment later, Atsumu plunges in three fingers on Luna's cunt, forcing her to squeeze her legs together but Atsumu disapproves it. He spank her again and using his free hand, he pry open her legs and starts pumping there.

Luna's hands fisted on the sheet, still suppresing her moans and cries. Sachiro exchanges signals with Atsumu and the two men smiles at each other. Luna's eyes widened when Sachiro put the tip of his cock between her lips and push it slowly until it reaches her throat, gagging her with its size. She feel her tears streams down her face. Sachiro loves that look on her face so he guides her head up and down his thickness, Luna's warm saliva painting his size down to his balls. Sachiro opened his mouth and silently gasped for air.

Little they did know, Luna will make sure to bring home the trophy. So, as long as she can, they won't hear her moan. Atsumu and Sachiro will moan her name, begging!

Luna cages in Sachiro's cock between her palms then starts stroking it as she keeps sucking on its length, kissing the tip and blowing some hot breath on it. She smiles, admiring how Sachiro bite his lower lip to keep himself silent.

Fuck! Luna cursed in her head. Atsumu hit her butt cheeks again... hard. She almost bit the hardness of Sachiro's cock when she felt the pain caused by his palms.

Atsumu continues pumping his three fingers in her pussy, her juice smoothening the muscles around her cunt. The squelching noises of Atsumu's fingers inside her pussy and Sachiro's cock between her lips are now the only sounds she can hear at this hour.

Luna grinds her core against Atsumu's pumping fingers while her lips is still intact with the counselor's throbbing cock.

"Fuck aaahhh! Just give up the land title already, Tsumu aaah! Fuck your warm mouth, Luna! I'll dump all my cum in there aaahh!" Sachiro 'the councelor' Hirugami cannot contains his moan any longer. He moaned loudly and releases heavy breaths as he explodes his jizz inside her mouth that's obviously can't handle all of his juice. As evidence, some of his cream drips out from Luna's lips as she struggles to gulp down it all.

"Fuck, Sachiro! You fucking dumbass! Fuck the land title! I will destroy you good, woman!" Atsumu curses so loud that made Luna laugh from victory.

But Luna's laugh fades so soon when Atsumu flip her again. He lays her on her back on the bed and spread her legs wider.

"The only hole I would dip my cock deep," Atsumu says, smirking. He signals something to Sachiro and the next thing she knew, Atsumu is holding a dildo and attach it to his cock and inserts both in her pussy.

"Ah, shit! Wa–wait aaaaahhhhhhhh!" Atsumu dig a cock and a dildo into her pussy, making Luna scream.

Atsumu then proceeds pumping two dicks in her cervix, both length scraping her insides, sending jolts of electricity throughout her veins.

Sachiro chuckles, seeing Luna's face get dampen with tears. He pins her both hands on her sides, restricting her movements. Sachiro kneels above her and for the second time, he shoves his still hardened cock into her mouth.

Mr. Counselor loves face fucking and he loves it more if it is Luna's face and mouth he's fucking.

The two men moves together. They dive into her holes, two cock in her pussy and a dick between her lips. Sachiro and Atsumu thrusts their cocks way deeper and harder she could think of. The bed creaks loudly from the hard pounding on top of it.

Luna feels Atsumu's hand on his stomach and draws circles there.

"Do you feel it, princess hmm? My cock and this dildo are currently hitting your g-spot, you wanna scream? you wanna moan? Oh! You can't. Sachiro is face fucking you," he is so cruel! She thought. They are both cruel!

Luna can't fucking moan. Her screams is being muffled by Sachiro's fat and long cock thrusting in and out her mouth.

Luna feels so much embarrassment! She hates to admit it but she loves how the two men are fucking her roughly. It makes her feel special!

Sachiro's cock throbs in her mouth. A sign of an upcoming orgasm. She also feels Atsumu's cock throbs around her core. He tossed away the dildo after pulling it out her pussy. If her calculations are right, and the throbbing cocks signifies, they are both cumming.

"Aaahh fucckk! Want my juice, princess huh? I'm aahh cummingg~" Atsumu pound his cock deeper and faster, making her breast bounce from the shaking of muscles.

"Fckk fuckkk! Drink my aaahh fucking cum, Lunaaa~ fucckkk!" Sachiro explodes his cream in her mouth again, groping her breast and pinching its nipples.

Luna struggle drinking Sachiro's cum as she tries to moan out the pleasure from Atsumu's rough pounding in her cunt.

Sachiro pulls out his cock and strokes it, his eyes closed, moaning Luna's name repeatedly, "Lunaaa aaahh~ Fuckkk~"

"Aaahhh! Aaaahhh! Fuck, sweetheart! Your muscles clenching my aaaahhj cocckkk fucckk!" Atsumu waves his hips harder as he moan loudly and moments later, Luna feel the warm and large volume of juice he release inside her.

"Atsumu aaahhh~ Sh–shit aaahhh~" Luna moan weakly, Atsumu still pumping his hips on hers, draining all of her remaining energy. She have told this before! She can't handle two cocks at the same time.

Luna still hasn't regain her energy and wasn't given time to calm her breathing when the two men lift her weak body. Atsumu sits her on Sachiro's lap, facing the counselor. Sachiro waste no time and put his cock inside Luna's core.

Luna drops her head on Sachiro's shoulder and moan on his neck. They just released their cums inside her but here they are, going in for another round.

Sachiro hold her face and crash his lips on her quivering ones. He sucks in her lips and nibble on it, inserting his tongue in her mouth. His lips grazes against hers and even on her weak state, Luna kiss him back. Sachiro moans in her mouth and that's enough to keep her going.

"I love your ass, Luna, may I come in?" Luna feels like cursing Atsumu but she hold back, instead, she just nodded at him.

Atsumu gave her ass a hard spank before shoving his wet cock inside her anus. Luna's arms grips tigthly around Sachiro's shoulders. She withdrew from their kiss and she buried her face under his jaw. Sachiro laughed at Atsumu who struggles to fit his hardness in her unscathed butthole.

"Didn't know her ass was a virgin!" Atsumu exclaims, pushing himself deeper.

Sachiro lay on his back, arms wrapped around Luna's shaking body. His cock still buried deep in her pussy.

Luna sobs from the pain and Sachiro caresses her back as they both wait for Atsumu to adjust himself inside her.

"Ssshhh, it will go away, Luna," Sachiro comforts her and she just nodded.

"You are so fucking tight, princess! fuck!" Atsumu pulls out his cock from her butthole, earning a groan of pain from Luna.

Atsumu spits his saliva on Luna's butthole and scrapes a small amount of the mix cum dripping from her pussy, where Sachiro's cock is buried. Atsumu rubs the cum on her butt entrance then spank her ass again. Luna sobs louder, feeling him again inserting his shaft into her anus.

"No more aaahhhh pleaseee~" Luna pleads for her dear life but Atsumu enjoy her cries. Pushing again deeper and this time, his cock slides smoothly inside her butt.

"Ooohhhh fuck! I'm in! I am fucking inside your butt, princess!" Atsumu with so much excitement starts pounding her from behind.

Luna scratch on Sachiro's skin and sob and moan from both pain and pleasure. The man under her also starts thrusting his hips up, joining the rhythm of Atsumu's hips.

"Oooohhhhh aaaahhhhh~ sl–slow down aaahhh pleaseee aaahhhh~ it s–still hurts aahhh~" Luna's cries became louder each seconds. The two men pound her from behind and underneath her, leaving her with no option but to moan and cry.

Her body trembles from receiving their merciless thrusts. Atsumu wraps his fingers around her neck and push deeper in her butt. Sachiro, while thrusting his cock, put a thumb on his clitoris and rub it hard. Luna moan so loud that it brings another level of excitement on the two men.

"Aaahhhh~ daddy aaahhhh cummm in–inside mee aahhh~"

Sachiro and Atsumu dig deeper through their cocks and the tension in her stomach tightens.

Luna's weak body starts trembling, her hand gripping on the sheet. Sachiro also feel his peak is nearing so he put a hand on Luna's mouth and covers it while unloading his cum in her swollen pussy.

"Fuckk I–I'm cumming aaahhh~ call me da–daddy, princess aahhh fucking call me daddyyyy~" Atsumu squirts his juice into her, body shaking from intense orgasm.

"Fuck, Luna, didn't know you can aahhhh scream like that aaahhhh~" Sachiro still covering her mouth as she moan in it. Luna received the men's final thrust and ejaculates all their thick cream in her holes.

Sachiro and Atsumu pulls out their pulsating cockc from her holes and lays Luna on her back.

Luna is breathing heavily. She can't feel her legs. Her butt and her cunt feels numb too. Their mix cum drips on her thigh, down to the back of her legs.

She was fucking creampied by these two massive men.

"Call the committee, Sachiro, tell them to bring the contract here tomorrow," Atsumu commands his Political Advisor but Sachiro just smirked at him before returning on the bed.

Sachiro bend the legs of the sleepy woman on the bed and position himself in between.

Sachiro slides his cock inside her cunt and turn to Atsumu saying these, "you fucking make the call, Mr. Prime Minister, I still have seeds to plant," and just like that, Sachiro Hirugami made his way deeper into Luna's swollen core.

••••

BONUS:

Luna after receiving the land title of ownership of their ancestral house.

She pays the two men a visit in their office and brings them a pack of meals.

Sachiro and Atsumu gave her a questioning look and she arrogantly insults them even if they are not doing anything wrong to her,

"I don't intend to misconstrue your behaviors and titles, gentlemen, but I don't think you two, are sexually capable of making a lady scream in satisfaction."

"what?"

"what?"

"Stop giving me that look. Yes, I am challenging your sexual capabilities. Make me scream. Make me moan. Yes? Yes?"

"Atsumu, ready the chains and dildos! This woman deserves a beating!" Sachiro said in his devilish tone.

•••

MAG COMMENT NAMAN KAYO PARA MASA GANAHAN KAMI GUMAWA NG SMUTS HAHAHAH! THANK YOU SA MAGBABASA!

The longest smut I have ever written!

[chickensarentcheap]

Best Part of Me - Chapter 72

WARNING: some smut

Tagging: @c-a-v-a-l-r-y, @innerpaperexpertcloud, @alievans007​

They lay in a mess of rumbled and twisted sheets and naked limbs; bodies sated and spent and covered in thin sheens of sweat that glisten in the moonlight. His chest against her back and his arm stretched across her pillow; her head resting on his bicep and one his thick, muscular legs draped over hers.  His eyes are closed, chin perched upon the top of her head; relaxed by the familiar smell that clings to her hair and skin and the warmth that radiates from her smooth, supple body. Enjoying the soft, almost tickling sensation of two of her fingertips moving against his palm; smoothing over the calluses and tracing slow circles and random patterns. It’s the simplest things that  he often enjoys the most; the way their bodies -despite the substantial difference in both weight and height- recognize and mould to one another. Those soft and tender touches that seem so pure and innocent yet still manage to reach your very core. The feel of her in his arms and her body pressed tightly against him; her skin silky and warm and smelling so damn good. He had never taken the time to appreciate those things before,  nor had he ever been with anyone that really allowed him to. The ex wife had ever been into the whole afterglow; intimacy purely sexual in her mind and pillow talk considered useless and boring. And he certainly never craved the quiet and loving aftermath with Nik or any of the women he’d hook up with while on the travelling and travelling from place to place. They were nothing but conquests; a chance to get his rocks off and rid himself of any lingering adrenaline or the last bits of frustration and anger.

Seven years ago everything changed. What should have been nothing BUT sex and two broken people using one another -and their bodies- as a coping mechanism for everything wrong in their lives, had quickly turned into something so much more. It had become apparent on the second night that he was in way over his head. When she’d fallen asleep on his arm -and turned his hand completely numb in the process- and he hadn’t had the heart to wake her hip. She’d looked so peaceful...so fucking beautiful...that instead of trying to slip away, he’d just rolled over onto his side and rapped his arm around her; burying his face in her hair and finding himself soothed by her scent and the softness of her  skin and the feel of her heart beating against him.  And while it should have terrified him -feeling things that strongly and that quickly- it hadn’t been enough to push him away or send him running.

“Tyler?”

He nuzzles the top of her head with his nose, then drops a kiss on it. “Yeah?”

“Are you okay?”

Why would I be? We fought, we made up. In the best possible way. All is right in the world. For now, anyway.”

“You haven’t said much.”

“I thought I talked a lot while we were...you know…”

“As much of a turn on as it is and how amazing sounds in your voice, dirty talk does not count as REAL talk.”

“Says who?”

“It’s in the rule book.”

“I already told you; I don’t like your rules. Fuck your rules.”

“No wonder you got sent to detention so much when you were a kid. An attitude like THAT,” she teases.

“You know what would be really hot?”

“I’m almost scared to find out. I know how warped your mind can be.”

“You remember those glasses you wore in Ireland? To go with your reporter cover?”

“Those were fake.”

“I don’t give a shit. You should totally get another pair.  And put your hair back; one of this really tight, formal looking buns. And wear a short skirt and heels and a low cut blouse.”

Esme snorts. “What the hell kind of teachers did you have growing up?”

“Not hot ones, that’s for sure. And you’re the one who told me that if you ever went back to school, it was to become a teacher. YOU  put that in my head. My brain and my hormones just took it from there.”

“There is something seriously wrong with you. You get weirder as you get older, I swear.”

“Maybe.” He moves his hand from her hip to her stomach, pulling her even tighter against him. “But you love me.”

“I do,” she confirms. “Although some days, I really want to throat punch you.”

“No throat punching. And you wonder where your daughter gets that shit from.”

“Because it’s definitely not from her father who technically beats the shit out of people for a living.  And she definitely doesn’t have your temper.”

“Nice of you to finally take the blame for her.”

“You’re a dick!” she declares, and directs an elbow to his stomach.  And he chuckles into her hair and removes the arm from her pillow and wraps it around her neck; palm resting above her left breast.  “You’re lying on your bad shoulder,” she points out.

“It’s fine.”

“It won’t be in about ten minutes when it seizes up and you can’t move it at all.”

“Stop giving me a hard time. I’m the one giving you a hard time, remember?” He grins as he presses his groin against her ass.

“I seriously wonder why the hell I’ve put up with you for so long,” she grumbles, then plants her elbow into his chest and shows him onto his back. “You're stubborn and you're chaotic and you’re absolutely fucking exhausting.”

“What are you bitching about? Those are all my best qualities.”

“I can think of better ones. Ones that don’t make me want to strangle you. But I’d be lying if I said I didn’t actually enjoy your stubborn moments and your chaotic tendencies and the way you exhaust me.”

She rolls over onto her stomach and presses a kiss to his lips. Both of his arms wrapping around her as she nestles her face into his right trap; tip of her nose against his neck and her breath warm against his skin. And for several minutes neither of them speak; their eyes closed and one of her hands repeatedly brushing through his hair and the fingers of the other lightly drifting back and forth along his shoulder.

“I’m sorry I called you crazy.”

Tyler’s eyes snap open. “What?”

“When we were fighting. I called you crazy. Or suggested you were. I said that you’d finally snapped and went totally nuts. And I should NOT have said that. IT was way off base.”

He can’t help but chuckle. “Are you being serious right now?”

She raises her head to look at him, chin resting on his shoulder. “You have a legit mental illness. You have three of them, actually. And I totally preyed on it and I’m a shitty person for doing it. I never should have said what I did.”

“Baby, you’re kidding, right? You’re not really serious about this, are you?”

“I am.” Tears glisten in her eyes. “I never should have said it. I’m sorry. I know you’re not crazy. I know you can’t help being the way you are. That your brain just doesn’t it own thing and you’re trying to get it under control and you’re constantly fighting and trying to get better and…”

“Okay, you know what? Now you’re the one being crazy. You think it bothered me? That I haven’t heard worse? Or thought worse about myself? I call you crazy all the time when you say something I think sounds nuts. It’s a figure of speech; doesn’t mean I actually think you’re crazy.”

“I still shouldn’t have said it. I’m sorry.”

“You are really fucking hormonal.”  He removes one of his arms from around her and uses gentle fingertips to brush the wayward tears from her cheeks and under her eyes. “What’s going on with you?”

“It’s the worst it’s ever been,” Esme laments. “I mean, I always get hormonal and irrational but never this bad or this soon. Oh God...what if it’s triplets?”

“Jesus fuck. Don’t say that.”

“You’re the one that always goes on and on about your super sperm. Maybe all this time you’ve been right; maybe it’s actually insanely super. And it would explain it, right? Why it’s this bad and why it’s happening so early. More than or two would make me extra hormonal and extra irrational and…”

“When we get back home, we’ll call the doctor and we’ll get you and little bean checked out.  I’m no professional, but I’m pretty sure there’s not three in there. I’m good, but I’m not THAT good.”

“Twins, maybe. I mean, we have a history. It’s happened to other people; two sets of twins.”

“How about you stop wishing multiples on me and just pretend we know for sure it IS just one.”

“What if it is more than one? What if it is twins again? You know how hard it was the first time carrying two made from someone the size of you. I don’t know if I can handle that again. Because things went wrong so quickly and Tanner was so sick and we didn’t think he’d even make it.”

“But he did. He DID make it. And now look at him; he’s the healthiest out of them all.”

“And the smallest.”

“Well I think Addie has that title and probably always will. And who cares if they’re small? You’re small. They take after their momma.”

“I don’t know;  Tanner is ALL you.”

“How you figure?”

“He is so much like you. He has all these feelings and emotions inside of him and he’s so sensitive. But he isn’t afraid to just let it all out; he’s just totally out there with it. He’s just so open and so honest and just so innocent about it.”

“He’s also only five,” Tyler points out.

“You keep everything inside. And I know how deeply and powerfully you feel. How big of a heart you have.  How sensitive you can be. You just bury it deep down for the most part. You always act so embarrassed when you catch yourself with the ‘feel’ or when you think you’re showing too much emotion.”

“That’s what happens when you get that side beaten out of you for years, I guess.”

“Tanner is the kid you could have been had none of that ever happened to you.”

“Maybe. Who knows,” Tyler shrugs. “If none of that happened...losing my mom...having to put up with my dad...there’s a chance we wouldn’t have happened either. I’m pretty sure going through what I did with the old man is what pushed me towards the military in the first place. And if I’d never gotten into the military, I probably would have never gotten into the job, either. If it wasn’t for the job, we never would have met and none of those kids would exist. And they’re awesome  fucking kids.”

Esme smiles. “They are. They’re incredible and they’re beautiful and they’re a mix of everything that’s perfect and right inside me and you. We did good, didn’t we.”

“We did better than good. We did amazing.”  He presses a kiss to her forehead. “Not bad for two people that were so messed up seven years ago.”

“Remember what Gaspar said to you? About how two broken people can’t  fix one another? That they just end up making things worse?

Tyler nods.

“I think we’ve pretty much proved him wrong. We didn’t destroy each other like he said he would. And we definitely didn’t make things worse. I know we’re not perfect; not by a long shot. And we’ve gone through some pretty shitty times; including times we didn’t think we’d make it. But we’ve put the work in.  We work at being better;  for ourselves AND each other. Shows you how completely full of shit he was.”

“I could have told you that before he even opened his mouth.”

“I still don’t get how the hell you two were even friends. He exemplified the worst of the worst when it comes to mercs. Even back then...with all your issues...you were so far from being like him.”

“In my defence, whenever I WAS around him, I was pretty drunk. So I wasn’t exactly the best judge of character.”

“I was completely sober and I was a great judge of character,” Esme proudly declares.

“You think so, do you?”

“I let you in my pants, didn’t I?”

He smirks. “A lot of people who know me would probably argue that showed you failed HUGE at judging my character.”

“Well they’d be wrong. Maybe none of them have ever seen what I have. Maybe they don’t take the time to look for it. There was something different about you; I could see it, in your eyes. Yeah, you were tough and hardened and totally badass, but I still saw it; whenever you looked at me. I even heard it in your voice. When we used to have those talks in the middle of the night after we...you know…”

“Fucked each other senseless?”

“To put it bluntly, yes. Even the first night I saw it. You were looking at me when I was telling you about Mark and his bullshit and you reached up and you pushed my hair out of my eyes and behind my ears and you were so gentle about it. It was so simple, yet it took my breath away. I remember that moment like it was yesterday. It was the last thing I ever expected from you; being like that.”

“Probably because an hour before, I had my hand around your throat.”

“Well that didn’t hurt, but it was more than that. I go into a job where I have to pretend to be married to a mercenary. And not just any mercenary, but one who was practically a legend; I’d heard all the stories and all the rumours and you ended up being completely different than I thought you would. And you go from being hard core and aggressive to having this quiet, soft, sweet side to you. That is the last thing I expected. And then to hear it in your  voice and see it in your eyes; this vulnerability and this brokenness. It was sad but it was beautiful all at the same time.”

Tyler frowns. “Have you been drinking?”

“Don’t be such an ass! I’m trying to be sweet and loving with you, goddamn it! Don’t ruin it!”

“I’m sorry,” he laughs, and loops her hair behind one ear, then the other. “You’re right; I do get embarrassed by this stuff.”

“Why? It’s not like we’re strangers. It’s not like we haven’t spent seven years sharing cooties.”

“Oh I think we’ve been sharing  A LOT more than that.”

“Of all the people you shouldn’t be embarrassed around, I’m at the top of the list. So…” she climbs on top of him places a knee on either side of his torso, then leans down to peck his lips. “...stop your bullshit. You’re exhausting me.”

Reaching up, he pushes her his hands through her hair; fingers combing through the dark, silky tresses and pushing them over her shoulders. “If it was that easy of a fix…”  he skims his palms over her shoulders and down her arms. “...I would have fixed it a long time ago.”

“Well you ARE getting better at it,” she admits. “Maybe on our fiftieth anniversary you’ll be fully over it and surprise me!”

“Bold of you to assume  I’m still going to be alive.”

“We got married when you were thirty five. You’ll only be eighty five then.”

“Exactly. Eighty five. You really think I’m going to make it that far?”

“I do. For the simple fact I won’t let you die.”

“Funny how you think you have control over it.”

“I might not have control over it, but I am optimistic that you’ll make it that long. Even longer, actually. If you can survive everything you have in the past forty two years…”

“Forty one. I haven’t reached forty two years. What the fuck?”

“Your birthday is only three months away,” Esme reminds him.

“Okay, so I’m forty one and three quarters.”

She sighs in exasperation. “Fine. If you can survive everything you’ve gone through in the last forty one and three quarter years, there is no way you’re NOT dying an old man, warm in his bed. If anyone deserves that, it’s you. If you can get shot in the neck and still get off that bridge alive? Your chances of making it to eighty five are very good.”

“You’re forgetting I got very fucking lucky; someone was on that bridge that actually give a shit about me and wanted me to live.”

“I only played a small part,” she says, and her fingers move to the side of his neck; gliding over the tattoo that graces his skin and the scar left behind from Farhad’s bullet.

“A small part? You stuck your fingers in my neck to stop me from bleeding out. That’s more than just a small part.”

“We’re not going to talk about that, okay? That part of it.”  Her voice trembles with emotion. “I don’t want to talk about that part.”

“You don’t have to, baby. Come here…” he lays a hand on the back of her head, drawing her down onto his chest. “...it’s okay…” he places his lips against her temple, the fingers of one hand gently massaging her scalp, the other drifting up and down her spine. “...you don’t have to talk about it. I’m sorry I brought it up. I know better than that.”

“It’s not your fault I can’t get over it.  That my brain is messed up because of it.”

“Actually, it kind of IS my fault. Considering…”

“It isn’t your fault,” Esme insists, and wraps both arms around his neck. “I’ve never blamed you. It’s just happened. IT was a horrible fucking mess and that stupid fucking Farhad. You should have killed him that night in the alley. You should have just done it. I wouldn’t have held it against you if you did.”

“Okay, first of all? He was a kid.”

“A kid that nearly killed you. So I’m sorry if I have no sympathy for him. He was a little bastard and you should have just done away with him. And if he’s still out there, I almost hope we run into him in Dhaka. Because I'll kill him if you won’t.”

“Alright, you need to settle down. Don’t get so worked up over this shit.  Let’s NOT talk about this at all. For the next however many days, let’s not mention that place at all. Deal?”

“Deal.  But I swear to God if I see him…”

“What did we just agree on?”

“Sorry,” she mutters against the hollow of his throat. “I get worked up.”

He grins. “Just a little.”

“I’m just scared. About going back there. That’s the last place I ever thought I’d go back to.”

“Trust me; I’m not too excited about it either.”

“You know what would be funny though?” She pulls back to look at him. “If we ended up at the same hotel. In the same room. Maybe we should go there and ask for that room. For old time’s sake.”

“How about no?”

“It wasn’t THAT bad. You had a good time. A VERY good time.”

“I am pretty sure that had nothing to do with the actual hotel or the actual room and everything to do with who  I was there with.”

“Maybe they fixed the toilet sometime in the last seven years!”

He chuckles. “Maybe.”

“And maybe someone over five foot five can actually take a proper shower. That was the weirdest thing; you couldn’t take a bath comfortably because you’re too tall and your legs are too long, but you had to sit in the tub to take a shower.”

“I’ll let you have this moment. But only because I’ve spent years making fun of your height. Or lack of it.”

“You were such a good sport about it, though. You let me wash your hair.”

“Honestly? That was the first time I ever had someone do it.”

“Ever?”

“Ever.”

“You were totally having the feels for me weren’t you. And I’m not talking about the feels below the waist; those were more than obvious. I’m talking about legit feels. You were having legit feels for me.”

“I was,” Tyler admits. “And it was fucking terrifying.”

“Not terrifying enough to walk away though. Or to back away, I should say.”

“There was no way in hell I was backing away. I spent years feeling dead inside...years where I just wanted to die...and all of sudden I’m feeling more than that? Something BETTER than that? No way in hell was I backing away.”

“I knew it,” she grins. “I knew you had the warm and fuzzies for me.”

“Holy shit,” he laughs. “So THAT’S where Tanner got in from.”

“He asked me how it feels when you like someone. How it felt when I met you. So  told him that you made my heart feel warm and fuzzy and he just took it from there. Did you ask you the same thing?”

“He asked if I got the warm and fuzzies when I met you.”

“Did you?”  She scrapes the knuckles on both hands against his beard. “Did you get the warm and fuzzies?”

“From the waist down? Yes. I totally got the warm and fuzzies for you.”

“Please! You did NOT get a hard on the second you saw me on your front porch.”

“The hell I didn’t. There was a hot girl at my place, all tatted and pierced up and looking totally unlike anyone that ever graced my door stop. Damn right I got one.”

“I would have noticed if you were pitching a tent.”

“I was wearing baggy shorts.”

“Baby, you are phenomenally blessed in that area. There’s no shorts baggy enough to hide when you’re excited. So nice try. I appreciate you attempting to build up my ego, but you did NOT get a hard on when you first saw me.”

“Okay, so maybe not a full one, but there were some feelings down there. Especially when I saw you had a tongue ring.”

“Please tell me that’s NOT what you told Tanner when he  asked about the warm and fuzzies.”

“I did not tell our five old son that his mom  made me horny when I first met her, no. I did tell him that I liked how you smiled at me. That you had a beautiful smile and it made me feel kind of warm and fuzzy.”

“I knew it!” You’ve been denying it for seven years. You had a thing for me right off the hop.”

“I so did. Lust at first sight.”

“You had a weird way of showing it. You weren’t exactly warm and fuzzy to me when we first got to Dhaka.”

“That’s ‘cause you pissed me off. Really pissed me off.”

“I wasn’t listening to your stupid rules. I’m a strong, independent woman. I do what I want.”

“Yeah, and if someone had grabbed you in the market? Who do you think would have had to bust his ass to rescue yours? I should have known right away you were trouble. As soon as you didn’t listen to me the first time. Now I’m seven years in and you still don’t listen to a thing I say.”

“It’s not that I don’t listen to you. Just sometimes I think it’s bullshit and I ignore it.”

He smirks. “I knew you were trouble. The second you downed those two drinks in my kitchen.”

“Are you kidding me? That’s probably what turned you on even more.”

“I’m not going to admit or deny that.”

“You don’t have to. I have my own lie detector test. In the same way you do.”

“Yeah?”  He rubs his palms up and down her thighs.  “How does it work?”

“I can give you a tutorial,” she offers.

“I bet you can.”

“It starts very simple…”  She pecks his lips, followed by the corner of his mouth and then along the side of his jaw. “...see, I know all of your weak spots. All those little places that drive you crazy. For example, this…” she drags the tip of her tongue along the outer edge of his ear. “...always gets things going. I know it drives you insane. In a good way. Just like I know doing this…” she bites down lightly on the lobe and then nibbles her away down the side of his neck. “...mixed with this…” she scrapes her nails down his chest, applying pressure against one nipple. “...really gets you going.”

“You’re evil, you know that? Really fucking evil.”

“You’re not the only one who’s good at teasing.  Or did you forget that?”

“Oh I didn’t forget. I know how good you are at it. Seven years, remember?”

His hands push their way into her hair; dark tresses slipping through his fingers as she slides her body down his. Her mouth placing hot, moist kisses along his collarbone and over each peck; a low growl and then a hiss tumbling from his mouth when she first bathes each nipple with her tongue and then scrapes her teeth against them. Breath coming in ragged, uncontrolled pants as she licks, sucks, and kisses her way across the one side of his ribs, then the other; fingernails gouging the skin as her mouth moves even lower. Tracing the ridges of well defined abs and the cut of his hips,  the wiry hair that surrounds his navel and travels lower surprisingly soft against her lips, tickling her tongue as she follows its downward path.

She’s always been amazing at this; from the slow build up and the torture that causes his body to lock up and his breath to quicken, the actual act itself. As so willing and eager; offering or taking it upon herself to just do it instead of having to be asked. A far cry from any of the previous relationships he’d been in.

“Jesus...fuck…” he manages through gritted teeth when she sucks and nibbles at his inner thigh and her fingertips drift along the side of his cock. He hates being on the receiving end of this kind of torture; the only time he possesses little to no patience. Yet it’s a game to her. Payback, in a way. For all the times he’s had the nerve to do it to her; the smart grin that takes over his face while he ignores the begging and pleading and allows his mouth and his hands to wander her entire body while purposefully ignoring where she so desperately wants them.

“What’s wrong?”

His eyes open at the sound of her voice; unaware that he’d even closed them, or that his body had been drawn so tight it’s almost painful. And when he looks down, her mouth is hovering at the juncture between hip and thigh; a devilish curve to her lips and a mischievous glitter in her eyes.

“Are you desperate Tyler?” Her eyes never leave his; her mouth moist and warm as it presses soft yet excruciating kisses along the top of his thigh. “...you seem pretty desperate. I know how hard it is for you; giving up control like this.”

“I’m not giving up shit. Just…”  he bites down on his bottom lip and his eyes close once more as she sucks and nibbles her way across his pubic bone; one of her nails lightly scraping along the underside of his cock. Already painfully hard; tip leaking pre cum. “...you’re bad.”

“You like it,” she says, as he palms cradles his erection. Pads of her fingers replacing the nails and repeatedly brushing against the sides; methodically tracing and exploring every vein, ridge, and indent. “...if you didn’t it, you wouldn’t be letting me do this…”  her hand tightens around his rock hard length,

One hand grabs the sheets beneath him while the other shoves its way into her hair.

“Entirely or…?”

“No. Not fucking entirely. Just…”  His hips arch off the bed when she drags the tip of her tongue along the top of his cock. Starting at the tip and ending at the base; aggressively suckling and nibbling while her hand tightens around him. The pressure of her thumb firm as it repeatedly passes over the head.  “...if you’re just going fucking play with me like this, just stop.”

“This is karma. For all the times you’ve made ME wait. All those times you got off making me beg and plead for it. And let’s be realistic…” her one hand continues to slowly and gently manipulate his cock while the other moves from his hip to his ball; first cradling and then rhythmically squeezing.  “...if you really wanted me to stop, you’d make me. You have more than  a hundred pounds on me. And more than a foot in height. You’re more than capable of getting your control back.”

“Don’t tempt me. I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You would never hurt me. At least not intentionally.”  

Her mouth moves to his other thigh; lips sucking and teeth biting down hard enough to mark the flesh. And when he feels her warm breath against him as her mouth lingers over the top of his cock, he sees that pleased glint in her eyes and that and that victorious grin on her face and he finally snaps. Roughly snatching her by the hair; twisting it around his fist as he yanks her up towards him. His lips aggressive and needy against hers’ tongue hungrily and savagely pushing through her teeth as he flips her over onto her back.

“You must be feeling pretty generous tonight,” Esme chides. “Giving up THAT?”

“Maybe I’d rather just fuck you.”

“You ARE getting back to normal,” she grins, and raises her head in order to lick a path that starts in the middle of his collarbone and travels   over his throat, along the underside of his chin, and up onto his lips. Capturing the bottom one between her teeth. “Your stamina is almost where it was before.”

“Almost? This will be the third time tonight.”

“You make that sound like a complaint. If you can’t cope with my wants and my needs…”

“I’ve been coping with them for almost seven years. I think I’ll be okay.”

He drops his head down to kiss her; long and deep and just as hungry and desperate as before. Shivering when her nails scrape down his ribs and over his hips. And he feels her body tense and then shudder  when he hastily pushes into her, giving her body a chance to adjust to the sudden intrusion before pulling out and sinking back in even harder and deeper than before. It’s a break from their usual; slow and even thrusts and the exchange of soft, short kisses followed by longer and more needy ones.  Her hands attentively exploring the muscles in his shoulders and back; fingers light and feathery when they travel over every bulge, ripple, and intent that exist in his arms.

“You’re so beautiful…” he breathes, a hand moving to the side of her face, cupping it gently; thumb brushing against the skin under her eye. “...you’re so beautiful and I love you so much.”

“Don’t talk like that,” she pleads. “Don’t say things like that while you have that look in your eyes. I know what you’re thinking. And that’s not going to happen; it’s never going to happen.”

He attempts a confident, reassuring smile and then kisses her. Long and soft and sweet at first, then much more intense. Feeling her legs wrap around his waist and her ankles lock together at the small of his back. And he closes his eyes and rests his forehead against her as he continues to move inside of her. Taking in every little whimper, moan and sigh and the press of her feet against his tailbone and the feel of her nails scraping his shoulders and back.

Attempting to commit all of it to memory. Just in case.

*****

He wakes to Addie’s shrill and incessant crying coming from the nursery across the hall. Eyes immediately snapping open and his body initially tensing. It’s a cry unlike anything he’s ever heard from her before. She’s always been a fairly quiet and agreeable baby; even in the midst of a ‘meltdown’ -when food isn’t coming as quick as she thinks it should- she never sounds like THAT. It’s louder and higher than normal; no longer the cry that almost resembles a kitten that’s been separated too soon from its mother. He tries not to feel panicked; it could be a number of things. A stomach ache, a wet diaper that she’s been in for far too long and has become unbearable, or she’s somehow managed to kick and squirm her way out of her tight swaddling.

Running his hands over his weary face, he sits up; left hand reaching for his right shoulder and his fingers pressing deep and massaging firmly in a vain attempt to rid himself of both pain and stiffness. Esme doesn’t even budge beside him; blankets pulled up to her ears and her hair falling over her face, oblivious to both the commotion across the hall and his movements beside her.

He groans as he swings his legs over the side of the bed and stands; a hand on the small of his back and a grimace on his face as he hobbles towards the pair of sweats that had long been discarded near the balcony door.  Climbing into them and pulling them over his hips and his ass as he heads for the door.

The first thing he notices is how quiet it is in the upstairs hallway. Not even the slightest bit of sound -aside from what Addie is making - trickling out from all the other rooms. Normally he hears something; music or talking coming from one of the kids’ tablets after they’d fallen asleep watching them, the dogs rustling around or snoring from their usual resting place on top of Millie’s bed, or one of the nannies moving inside their room as they prepare to tend to the baby.

The second is the sudden change in temperature when he gets to the nursery; the air coming from under the door drastically cooler than out in the hallway. And it makes him scowl and the hair on the back of his neck stand on end; briefly pausing -waiting and listening- with his fingers curled around the door handle. He’s not sure what he’s expecting to   hear, but his gut...his instincts...tell him that something isn’t quite right. Yet his brain is able to pin down just what it could be.

Addie has quieted down by the time he steps into the room; her crying now soft whimpers and gasps for air and a tiny fist shoved in her mouth. And as he makes his way towards the crib, his eyes do a thorough search of the room; it’s a large, open space and the closet door is close and there’s no possible place for anyone to hide. The window is wide open; the strong breeze violently rustling and flapping the curtains and filling the room with shockingly crisp air.

“It’s alright now,” he speaks calmly to Addie as he steps beside the crib.  She’s managed to get herself out of her swaddling and her body is cold to the touch; likely woken up by the chill in the air and the sound of the curtains being tossed and shaken. “It’s okay…” he places a kiss to the side of her head as he scoops her up, using one hand to press her against his chest while the other snags the receiving blanket from the crib and drapes it over her. “It’s alright, little peanut. Daddy’s got you.”

She’s comforted by the warmth of his body and the sound of his voice, and he keeps her tightly and protectively against him as he moves to the window; sliding it down and securely the latch. Pausing before stepping away; pulling back the curtains and peering out into the dark.

“What’s going on?” Esme asks, lifting her head from her pillow when he returns. “Everything okay?”

“Did you leave the window in the nursery open?”

She pushes her hair out of her eyes and looks at him quizzically. “What?”

“The window. In the nursery. Did you leave it open when you put Addie to bed?”

“No. It was already closed. I just left it that way. Why?”

“It was wide open.” He slides into bed; leaning back against the headboard, baby finally calm against him.  “Are you sure it was closed?”

“I would have noticed if the window was open; it’s been crazy windy all evening.” She reaches up to run a hand over Addie’s hair, then down her arm. “Oh my god, she’s freezing! What the hell?”

“She woke up because she was cold. The window was wide open. It was fucking freezing in there.”

“Here, ” Esme sits up and reaches for the extra blanket spread across the end of the bed, draping over the front of his body and tucking it tightly around Addie. “Daddy’s got you,” she presses a kiss to her daughter’s temple. “You’re okay now, bubby. You’ll warm up quickly. Daddy’s like a furnace. Except for his feet; those are always cold.”  She places a hand on Addie’s back and rests her head against Tyler’s shoulder. “Maybe one of the nannies opened it. The window. Maybe they went in to check on her and they thought it felt hot in there so they opened it. Then forgot to go back in and close it.”

“Maybe. That’s pretty fucking stupid though, isn’t it?”

“People make mistakes, Tyler. She’ll be okay. She just needs to warm up. Maybe she’ll take something to eat; that might make her feel better.”  She peels the blanket back and gently removes Addie from his arms, then stretches out on her side; baby on the mattress facing her, eagerly latching onto the breast when it's offered.

“Always hungry,” Esme muses, and combs her fingers through Addie’s hair. “Maybe you do have some of your daddy in you, after all. He’s always eating. You’ll be okay, little bubby. You’ll warm up and you’ll have a full tummy and then you’ll feel better. Good thing you woke daddy, huh? He hasn’t been a sound sleeper in a long time.”

Tyler stretches out on his side as well, facing the two of them. And he runs a hand over his wife’s hair and then his daughter’s before sliding closer to them; effectively shielding Addie’s tiny body with his own. His arm arm resting lightly on top of her as he places a protective hand on the small of Esme’s back.

He won’t be sleeping any time soon.

[crimsonbluemoon]

Terrornuckle/ Terrormoo (did we change the shipname?) 18, 1, 26

Okay, I went way too hard on this one. I always do that with this couple, damn >.>

AU: Celebrity Trope: Friends to loversPrompt: “sometimes, i sit in bed and wonder what would happen if things were different.”

Pairing: Terrormoo

“Where are you going this time?” Brian always enjoyed the limo ride to the private plane Brock owned. It was one of the only times that he got his friend alone, really. When he was working, he couldn’t be distracted and would lock himself in his home for days at a time. Brian didn’t blame him for it; being the writer of the biggest novel series in the world meant that he needed to nurture time for his craft. When he wasn’t writing his amazing stories, he was being carted away by Marcel, his manager, to different parts of the world for interviews and book signings. One day he’d be in their city, and the next he’d be in Hong Kong. 

“It’s a small tour, so I’ll just be doing an interview with Ellen, a book meeting with my company in Los Angeles, and then a Q and A at a convention in San Francisco. I should be back before Wednesday.” Brian remembered a time when Brock hated flying. The loudness of the plane, the turbulence, the fear of falling before completing his dreams in life- Brock had told Brian them all one drunk night three years ago. Back at the time, Brock had only just picked up some steam, and had been asked to come to a small bookstore in Atlanta to meet some fans. They met as neighbors four years before, their apartments both sharing terrible heating and thin walls. That was when Brock’s greatness was still hidden. Two months later, the world would be exposed to Brock’s beautiful smile. 

That had been before.

“It’s okay if you can’t make it,” Brian answered, trying to keep his grin wide to hide his own feelings. Brock always worried his lip too much when he thought Brian was upset, which then would get him scolded by Marcel and the make up artist he’d have to deal with for Ellen. Brock once told him he hated that part about his TV appearances the most. Brian remembered the first time Brock  had pursed his lips out for Brian to coat with lipstick left over from his high school theater make-up. How his eyes had popped out after the eyeliner guarded his lids like a coat of armor. How Brock’s eyelashes looked so long with mascara. Brock hadn’t needed blush; he’d turned a pretty shade of red when Brian had told him how beautiful he was. 

But that had been before. 

“It’s your birthday. I won’t miss it.” Again hung so heavy in the air between them, Brian was sure he’d choke on it. He glanced out the limo’s window with a chuckle he hoped wouldn’t be wet with the sadness he held back. Last year had been…a rough time for them. Brock’s busy schedule pushed Brian away, and the conflicting feelings of jealousy and sadness waged war in Brian’s heart, making him curl away from Brock’s friendly affection when he did have time. Because Brian didn’t want friendly; it took a month long absence of Brock’s presence by his side for him to realize it. 

His birthday had been shared with friends and family, with pretty girls and lots of booze. Brock was in Madrid, promoting his new book. There were no ‘after birthday pancakes’ the next morning, no horribly burnt bacon (six years and Brock still couldn’t make it right) and embarrassingly (but endearing) off-key singing. There was a nameless stranger in his cold bed and shameful hickies on his neck, which would have been signs of a successful birthday years prior. 

  But that was before. 

“I’m not saving you a piece of cake if you’re late,” Brian said instead of any of the words that rattled in his heart. Brock rolled his eyes, his shoulder bumping gently into Brian’s. He didn’t pull away, and Brian stayed quiet about it. 

“I’ll buy a whole customized sheet cake from that fancy bakery you liked in California and bring it back with me.” 

“You wouldn’t, you hate showing you’re rich unless it’s for charity,” Brian answered quickly, their eyes meeting at the challenge.

“Or if it’s for you,” Brock’s soft reply twisted something fierce in Brian’s stomach, his fingers digging into his pant leg to keep from pulling Brock into a kiss. Because he knew it was the truth; Brock always spoiled Brian. He did the same for his other friends, sure, but Evan and Tyler never let Brian forget how ‘special’ he was. 

Brock moved him into a house right next to Brock’s that Brian could never afford, and always made sure his needs were taken care of. Brock took Brian on some of his longer trips to Venice or Palm Springs, which Brian loved. But it had been just seven months ago when he had first discovered Proof Bakery in California. It was his favorite place, though not for the pastries like Brock always assumed. The little shop, which was way overpriced and the lines far too long, was where Brian first realized just how in love with Brock he was. The moment would always be sketched into his mind; the whipped cream that had crept over Brock’s nose from his frothy drink, the shy smile, the soft way his voice caressed the tail end of Brian’s name, and the sunlight that illuminated just how breathtaking all of it was put together. 

He’d nearly confessed right there, if not for the fact that cameras and paparazzi were hanging on every word they said. Their picture had been splattered on several tabloid magazines, with questions of their ‘relationship’ hounding both men for weeks. Brian had been avoidant of the question, waiting for Brock to bring it up. He never did, not to Brian, though he always spoke about his ‘good friend’ on TV shows and red carpet interviews. It’d been a knife in Brian’s heart. Because once, Brian had hoped the soft glimmer in Brock’s eyes at the bakery had been love for him. 

But that was before, too.

“Evan’s gonna get jealous, then Scotty will whine, and you’ll have to do it for everyone. With all the friends you have, you’ll actually put a dent in your wallet.” Brian doused any increased heartbeat he had by reminding himself how dedicated Brock was to making all his friends happy. Hurting himself more, he patted Brock’s thigh, not letting himself enjoy the muscle under his palm before pointing out the window. “Look, got here in record time. Almost time for you to head out.” 

“Oh, right.” Brock’s voice hid something that Brian missed looking out the window, but by the time he glanced back, it was gone. He quirked an eyebrow, knowing he was grinning like a fool after Brock’s cheeks turned pink. 

“You don’t sound to excited to get on your plane, mister. What, you gonna miss this beautiful face?” He forced himself to wink and blow a kiss at Brock, expecting the normal eye roll or scolding curve to his name that always made him feel special. 

“What if I will?” So the open heartbeak that cracked Brock’s eyes made Brian pause, frozen by the look he never wanted to see. 

“Brock, what… you know you can call m-us.” Desperate to get rid of the look on his friend, Brian leaned closer, ignoring his own rules of touch to cradle Brock’s face in his palms. “Video chat, anytime. Day or night, I don’t care. If you miss me- or any of the guys, that’s okay. We’ll miss you, too. We always do.” 

“We, or you?” The distinction seemed important to Brock, but Brian’s tongue was too tied up in emotion to give a response. Sighing, Brock closed his eyes, letting his shoulders fall in defeat. “Sometimes…sometimes, I sit in bed and wonder…. what would happen if things were different?”

“Different? Different how?” Brian asked, unsure if his heart could stay contained in his chest at the soft nuzzle of Brock’s nose against his fingers. 

“If I’d told you how having you come on the ride with me in the limo to the airport always helps me feel safe before leaving. If I said how much you saved me from my fears of flying by giving me all those helpful tricks. If I’d admitted you were the first person to make me feel beautiful that night with the make-up. Or, if I’d…if I’d been the one you’d taken to bed the night of your birthday last year, not that girl.” Soft flesh trembled against Brian’s thumb when he brushed it over Brock’s mouth, feeling the words from his own heart spill through Brock’s lips. “Would this be different, if I’d told all those TV hosts or interviewers the truth.”

“What’s the truth?” He was breathless from a marathon only his heart was running, eyes desperate for Brock���s pretty gaze when it finally opened to him again. 

“That I’m head over heels in love with you. Would that make any of this different between us?” He was so vulnerable, splaying himself out in front of Brian with his heart in his hands. It was rare to see someone with Brock’s power, money, status in the world with such an open soul. But this moment, this little piece of Brock now shining bright in the back of the limo, this wasn’t for the world to see. This was Brian’s, if Brian would take it, and nobody else’s. 

“Yeah, that makes a difference alright.” Brian leaned forward slowly, making sure Brock felt every indent and inch of his lips when kissing him. The kiss was slow, longing, full of each negative and positive emotion Brian had ever felt for Brock. He took his time pouring himself over Brock, teasing the crevices and dips of the mouth he’d been sure he’d only taste in his dreams. Brock was a willing participant, once his mind seemed to kick back on. Lust and need simmered just under the overwhelming love he had for Brock, and after fully divulging the months of realized emotion into their kiss, he pulled back. Not far, as his next words were whispered softly against bruised lips. “It’s going to make you late for your flight, love.” 

Usually, Brian hated saying goodbye to Brock after their limo trips, knowing it was another chance for him to find someone to settle down with on his adventures without Brian. Brock still left this time, Brian waving from the limo they’d destroyed with their love making. This time, Brian’s heart didn’t ache watching Brock disappear into the plane taking him away. There was no pain.

Because that was before; before Brian knew Brock loved him, too.

[shellheadtm-a]

Steve x Tony @shieldslinger​ / send me a ship and-

Who asks the other on dates:  lbh with each other here, these are the kind of assholes that have an actual date night.  sometimes they even make it to it and do date things.  but also let's be honest with the fact they've been going on dates for years and were too dumb to realize it.  museums?  burgers and a movie?  you know they've done it, you know it was a date, and you know they had literally no idea.  because they're dumbasses. Who is the bigger cuddler:  with all the unnecessary touching that went on with them from like literally steve's first day out of the ice and you come into my home and ask that question?  as touchy as they were before (those sweet, sweet shoulder squeezes of validation) you know it's worse now.  movie night's probably a nightmare just because you know it's either bc tony's draped some part of himself on steve, or they're jammed so close together you couldn't squeeze a sheet of paper between them, or...listen.  when two tactile people love each other very much, they're probably really gross and annoyingly handsy, and i don't mean in the...gropey kind of way, they're just touchy.  all the time.  must toch.  plus they have a shitton of issues, which probably doesn't help in that either but eh. Who initiates holding hands more often:  there's a theme here, you know that right.  there's a theme here, because it's a theme in canon, and it's tony offering a hand up to steve.  like it's a thing, you know it, i know it, so if you don't think tony's needy hand holder in this relationship, you'd be wrong.  it's sad, he gets this weird little thrill at even being able to do that, and on the one hand...you gotta feel bad for him.  he'd take whatever steve gives him and tell himself that's enough and he's content with it, because it's steve.  but knowing steve's okay with it?  a religious experience.

Who remembers anniversaries:  well, it's not steve rogers, i can tell you that.  and you know what, that's okay, and that's fair, and tony loves him anyway.  he might be the man with a plan, but he's useless with a planner.  he gets caught up in things, it's fine, tony remembers for the both of them, it's why he has friday.  what i'm saying is the only one who really remembers any important dates at all is friday. Who is more possessive:  i don't know that...you could really classify either of them that way?  overly protective, sure.  clucky with mother hen tendencies, the both of them, yeah.  taking what they can of each other's time, even if it's just to be able to say good night and good morning, absolutely.  but i don't think...with who they are as people, they really can't be. Who gets more jealous:  which goes back to being possessive, right, like tony has a little jealous streak but it doesn't manifest blatantly as one.  two, they're public figures so...there's not a lot of room for jealousy there.  like captain america and iron man might be characters they play (which are still them, i know i've talked about it but bear with me, it's an idealized version of them, separate from the inner selves) but they're public, you know, they're superheroes, and there's an expectation you share each other with the job.  and with the people you save.  with the world, really.  i think it's more about taking what time they do have as steve and tony more than anything else. Who is more protective:  this is a joke, right?  this is a joke.  these two idiots would throw themselves in front of each other over and over and over again if you let them.  that said, tony's moreso.  and i'll tell you why.  everything he's done?  all the bad?  the times he's sold his soul?  was to keep steve - and their loved ones - safe.  or happy, in a situation where there was really nothing they could do.  every time.  or i'll go one better.  tony will absolutely trade his own life for steve's in the blink of an eye, because he's always believed between the two of them steve's the better man.  he's done it.  willingly.  without a second thought once he's made the decision to do it.  he probably has a "sacrifing myself for the greater good and especially steve" face.  i'd like to lie and say that he understands if something happened to him how badly it would hurt steve but...if it came down to a choice of tony dying if it meant steve would live, he'd trade himself in a heartbeat.  that's uh.  something he's working on (he's not). Who is more likely to cheat:  this really is a joke.  steve "my middle name is noble" rogers and tony "has been in love with steve rogers for years" stark.  like tony would never, ever, ever say it, but this is it.  i don't mean in some fatalistic way, and i mean he fully believes he has an expiration date so he wouldn't say anything anyway, but this is it.  steve's always been The One.  his Person.  never would happen, not in a million fucking years. Who initiates sexy times the most:  you would think the answer is anthony edward stark and in most cases you'd be right, but steve rogers is not most cases, it is steve rogers and the rules don't apply to him.  by which i mean surprisingly steve is the proactive one here, and i think it's because tony is...he is hesitant.  it's weird, he's pushy with his forms of affection and then he backs off in this arena but i would argue he's getting better about it, and that the only reason he is like that is because he doesn't...he's very careful with steve, really, he's still walking on eggshells a little.  give him time, the tables will turn, he'll be pouncing steve from dark corners like an overgrown house cat with the 3am zoomies and a need to fight. Who dislikes PDA the most:  they're not, you know, public yet.  so it's not like this is really a thing outside of their friends circle, and even then, like.  i'm willing to bet literally nothing has changed in the slightest except you might walk in on them smoochin.  oh, the huge manatee.  tbf, for some people it might be (clint, looking directly at you) considering who wants to see their parents doing that but you know.  tough tiddy.  anyway, they’re just...not really the type. Who kills the spider:  listen they know some spiders who are very good people, and it's not nice to talk about premeditated murder.  there is a strict catch and release program in place and by that i mean tony will absolutely release said spiders back with their people.  except nat, because she's scary. Who asks the the other to marry them:  steve's joked around about that once.  once.  and tony did not take it well with his past history of failed relationships.  not out of a fear of committment, are you kidding me, this is tony who makes being married a personality trait.  but because he thinks he's a jinx.  i can tell you one thing, it won't be him that asks, if they ever get around to doing something more official than cohabitating.  shaking up.  whatever you want to call it.  not unless it's a jokey thing that gets taken seriously (which would change his tune embarrassingly fast).  he's gunshy at this point.  he's been engaged a few times and it's telling that he doesn't have like three divorces under his belt.  and also they're still feeling out the new them, which is fine, it's good they're doing that.  but he'd say yes in a heartbeat. Who buys the other flowers or gifts:  the answer you're looking for is tony stark.  it is tony stark who does this, thank you.  it could be big things, like, i don't know, a mansion (hello, 890 5th avenue).  training robots for the gym that...no one needs to know the price tag on that steve's going systematically tear apart.  training scenarios for the danger room he's spent three days straight coding and putting together.  new uniforms.  or it could be little things like a book steve's been meaning to get and read or his favorite bagel or...either way.  it's just who tony is, he can't help it.  if he has it, he gives it.  honestly i feel like at some point steve's just learned to roll with it because there's no stopping it.  he's been doing it forever, since day one (hey guys, remember the cray mainframe?), but now he's signed up for no complaining so you know.  that's on him. Who would bring up possibly having kids:  said like it hasn't already happened.  it's steve, by the way.  it's 1000% steve and he's already done it and tony's giving ten million reasons why he shouldn't when he knows he's going to say yes, and so what i'm really getting at here is they need to start thinking nursery colors for the mansion, because they're not fooling anyone.  and they're gonna be amazing parents and that kid is gonna be the most spoiled, loved, protected baby ever.  she hit the jackpot and doesn't even know it.  this is also the only superfamily content i am here for.  just a dumbass, a himbo, and a superbaby.  also consider.  all the cute.  knitted things.  i demand cute knitted things, it's not up for debate. Who is more nervous to meet the parents:  that's...not an issue, for one thing.  for another, like.  literally their entire friends group are...all...the same people.  lbr there was literally a betting pool in place and i wonder who won.  it keeps me up at night, wondering who cashed in on tony and steve no longer being quite as big of a pair of dumbasses as they have been.  part of me hopes it was peter parker, i worry about you, spooder-min. Who sleeps on the couch when the other is angry:  tony uh.  will stay in his lab if they have a row but i can promise you he doesn't sleep much.  if at all.  it's part and parcel with the tony stark experience in this case.  he'll stay in his hidey hole and be sad because steve's mad at him, but won't do anything about it at first, just stay and be sad.  because he's sad.  and also Feeling An Emotion is hard and they don't know how to use their words. Who tries to make up first after arguments:  i'd argue 70% of the time it's probably tony.  like, they're both stubborn, we know that.  they both dig in their heels and think they're right, the other's wrong, and they're being stupid about it.  and about some things they're just literally never going to agree but don't know how to agree to disagree.  tony gets set in a rut and won't consider a deviation from what he's already decided is going to happen.  steve gets mulish and refuses to listen to another point of view.  they butt heads.  but honestly, at this point, at the end of the day (if he can stop sulking), after everything that's happened?  you know, at this point it's obvious that when they argue and stay mad, bad things tend to happen.  tony doesn't even have memories of the worst of it but he knows he took it badly, let's be real here (i say, like badly's not a hilarious understatement).  he may not apologize in a way that says he's wrong, but he may do it for helping escalate a fight.  bc, you know, blah blah, not half as good as anything as i am doing it next to you, blah blah, azure eyes, blah blah, good morning beloved. Who tells the other they love them more often:  honestly, now that those big scary words are out there, and there's no takebacksies in having said it, they've both been pretty free with them.  making up for lost time, i guess.  i think they have different tones, though.  tony's as free with those with steve as he's ever been with anything else.  he gives them...often?  and with no expectation of anything in return.  because that's how he's always been with steve.  and from steve like...a lot of time it seems like...as much as he says it?  it's a reassurance more than anything (because we know how tony is).  sometimes tony even lets himself believe it without second guessing himself.

[razorblade180]

Lasting Embers:Epilogue

Knock knock knock

Tenzen:*Opens door* Pssst, You up Jin?

Yujin:Zzzzzzz

Tenzen:Of course not...*smiles and walks over*

Yujin:Zzzzzz french toast....zzzzzzzz

Tenzen:(Why am I not surprised in the slightest) *inhales* YU-

Yujin:*covers his mouth*........

Tenzen:!!!!?

Yujin:*opens her eyes* Please......stop waking me up with screaming okay? Why can’t you just shake me like a normal person?

Tenzen:Your dad already gets antsy when I’m in your room too long. If I scream then at least he knows I’m actually waking you up like I say I am.

Yujin:*groaning* You’ve been living here for almost a year by now. If you were gonna try something then it would’ve happened by now.

Tenzen:Was that disappointment in your voice. *smirks*

Yujin:*red* Not in your wildest dreams sherbet top; I’m still sleepy, I’m gonna sleep longer. *closes eyes*

Tenzen:You do know what today is right?

Yujin:.......

Yujin:OH MY GODS!!!! *jumps out of bed* it totally slipped my mind!!!

Tenzen:There’s the spirit I was looking for! Ha-

Yujin:It’s already seven and we need to be in Vale by ten!!! I gotta get ready! *lefts shirt*

Tenzen:*closes eyes* Ummm could let me leave your room first!?

Yujin:Huh? *blushing* Oh!!! Sorry about that... *guiding him out*

Tenzen:You should shower before you try the new clothes on.

Yujin:I took one last night.

Tenzen:But beds can be filthy and gross.

Yujin:Hey, my sheets are clean so what are you implying? *squints*

Tenzen:I’m just saying important people will be there. Who knows, maybe even Lilith. Meeting your idol would be embarrassing if you smelled like fire and brimstone from all that weapon forging.

Yujin:......I see what you’re doing here. I hate how it worked too; tell dad I’ll be down soon.

Tenzen:Good! One more thing...

Yujin:Come on man I need to start-

Her face moving mind was quickly stopped by a gentle kiss. It wasn’t exactly long but there was definitely enough time for her to ease into it right before she snapped to her senses and jumped back. Yujin’s face was almost completely red.

Yujin:Tenzen!!!! We had a talk about this! Minds on self improvement and moving forward; confusing and pleasant feelings later. *pointing at him*

Tenzen:I remember, don’t get all bent out of shape over it. *smiles* just consider it my birthday present to you. *closes door*

Yujin:......

Yujin:Huh, it is my birthday isn’t.....? *smiles* guess I lost track of time.

Casually she grabbed her gear and headed towards the bathroom while her mind drifted off towards past events. When she finally arrived the mirror caught her attention more than usual; it was her hair. It had grown almost to the length it was on her last birthday. Blonde, wild, and just slightly passed her shoulders; for fun she turned on her semblance and took a minute to just take in the uncanny resemblance she shared with her mom. Once upon a time the sight would’ve made her blood boil but now, it only brought a gentle smile to her face.

Yujin:I wonder how you’re doing out there? I hope you’re okay wherever you are. *turns on water* Now it’s my turn to do my best....

Jaune:*flipping pancakes* Can you pass me the-

Tenzen:*hands him plates and fruit salads* Gotcha covered.

Jaune:I’m gonna miss having a little helper in the kitchen. Something tells me you and Yujin are gonna steal the show.

Tenzen:I’ll say, everyday I did nothing train my butt off in secret so I can surprise everyone. Yujin has probably read and practiced all training tips Yang left in that book at least a hundred times.

Jaune:I still can’t believe you two only trained together in hand to hand....*shakes head*

Tenzen:We want to keep it fair! Especially if for some reason we end up having to face off in some sort of contest. I for one cannot wait.

Yujin:I can, fighting you is a chore. *jumps down stairs* tadah!!!!

The gentleman took a minute to check out the new threads. Blue jeans were the first thing to catch their attention, followed by light brown combat boots that were laced up calf high. A sleeveless white tucked in shirt. Over was a light fabric, blue trench coat with the inside of it being orange. On her hands were brown fingerless gloves. Adam’s sun pendent and Tenzen’s jade dragon bracelet completes her look.

Yujin:Tenzen, I hope you realize the risk I’m taking wearing your bracelet; it matches nothing I own.

Jaune:I think you look very stylish.

Tenzen:About time you got some gear for hunting. I was starting to think you were gonna take on everything in blue jean shorts.

Yujin:Says the guy in tracksuits half the time. Where’s your new stuff?

Tenzen: I’ll change when we get there. The tracksuit life stays for a bit longer. You have tempered steel with you?

Yujin:Of course I d- *looks at her wrists* don’t? Where did I leave it? I could’ve sworn I put it on.

Jaune:Maybe check under the couch cushion.

Yujin:*checking* Why would they be under the- oh hey would you look at that?

Crafting a new weapon wasn’t easy in the slightest and frankly, Yujin still wasn’t sure she had it down. In her hands she held two thick pieces of metal that looked almost like box cutter blades. Each one went around here wrist like a slap bracelet that looked like her mother’s Ember Celica in rest mode. The colors were gold a blue and function the wasn’t the same; it wasn’t a shotgun. As she put them on she decided to flick her wrist to turn transformer it into the more recognizable gauntlets.

Yujin:Function B is still a little clunky but I think this should do for now.

Jaune:How’s Function A?

Yujin clicks the bracelets together as they go back to rest mode. Both pieces automatically straighten back out while still connected side by side to form a hilt. A blade then extends out of it.

Yujin:*inspecting the long sword* A fine blade if I do say so myself.

Jaune:Think it can cut a cake?

Yujin:Cake? Why would you say - *looks in the kitchen*

Jaune and Tenzen:*lighting a birthday cake* Happy Birthday Yujin!!!!

Yujin....*eyes widened* You made me shower again and hid my sword just to pull this off?

Tenzen:Maybe......

Jaune:I mean it’s a definite possibility we- *bothed pulled into a hug*

Yujin:......I love you both, I mean it.

Jaune:We love you too sweetheart.

Tenzen:Not everyone gets to have their sweet sixteen be the day of an exam. Maybe you can use a little birthday luck to give you an edge.

Yujin:*blows out candles* Luck will have nothing to do with it. I’m using everything I’ve been taught to make sure I pass.

Jaune:You gotta get there first, which brings me to my birthday gift to you. *holds up keys*

Yujin:*gasp* Shut up......

Jaune:So last year you sorta lost your car to an insane race with a train so I got a replacement for you. Never thought I’d say that sentence in my life. Now you’ll show up in style.

Yujin:*grabs keys* Garage or front yard!?

Jaune:Front Yard....

Yujin:*bolts outside*

Tenzen:Maybe you could’ve told her that after we had her slice the cake?

Yujin:*staring at white and blue vintage mustang; and it’s convertible.*...... This looks too beautiful touch. Am I even worthy enough for you. *tearing up*

Jaune:*shouts* the seats are leather!

Yujin:*jumps in* Yeeeeessssss...... *looking around* this thing is amazing! It’s-......

Her heart stops as she takes a look at the stick shift. Tied around it is a faded sky blue bandanna; her old bandanna. She takes it gently and starts to tear up as a someone starts to sing.

Happy Birthday to you....🎶

Happy Birthday to you....🎶

Yujin:*turns around sniffling*.....

Yang:Happy Birthday my Sundrop....🎶 *wipes away her tears* Happy Birthday to-

Yujin:Mom! *hugs her* you’re....home.

Yang:Told you I’d come back. I wasn’t gonna miss your exam day. *points to the house* Also.......

The young girl turns her head to see her Aunt hugging Jaune, but she wasn’t alone either. A smile showed up on her face to see Tenzen look just as emotional as she did. In his arms was both of his parents trying not cry. They were back, they were really back and right in front of her.Who would’ve thought a birthday wish could come true so fast? Today was already shaking up to be the best day of her life.

Yujin:You’re all alive!!!

Yang:Yeah.... *holds her close* we are.......

[Ship]

Jacquelyn:......*swollen eyes*

Blake:Jael?

Jael:*staring at Vale in the distance*.....

Blake:You know this doesn’t have to end ugly right?

Jael:Yeah it does.....

Jacquelyn:Listen...*sniff* I know this isn’t how we wanted things but there’s still hope. Don’t give up just-

Jael:Last year you told me not to let hate rule over me someone might get hurt remember?

Jacquelyn:I do.....

Jael:Well I’m already hurt. *turns around with tears down her face* Might as well share the pain with others.

Jacquelyn:.......please don’t do anything you’ll regret.

Jael:*turns back around* I won’t do anything crazy but hey, it’s my Birthday after all. I might get a little self indulgent...*grips her star pendant*

[Menagerie,hospital]

It’s quiet and smells sterile through the bright hallways. All throughout the building you can hear countless different beepings of machinery as they do their best to keep a loved one around just a bit longer. Sun roams these depressing corridors until he makes it to the back where only certain doctors and visitors are allowed for confidential reasons. He opens up the last door in the back to check in on a visitor; it’s Adam’s oldest daughter. She’s crying over her father’s bed as the man is unconscious and hooked up to different wires and tubes. It’s been like this for six months.....

Sun:Any changes?

Sienna:*shakes his head* He just won’t wake up. Today the doctor said he didn’t think the coma would last this long. Said.....he might not ever....*sniffling* might not ever....*covers mouth*

Sun:*holds her close*.......

Sienna:*sobbing* I can hear his heart beat. Yet they say we might as well start think about pulling the plug. How could they just say something like that!?

Sun:He’ll pull through just you watch. The man is to stubborn to die like this. I just hope when he gets up......things will be okay.

•

Yujin:Alright everyone! To the entrance exam! Get ready world....

•

Captain:Not too long before we arrive at Vale. To all you going to then entrance exam, good luck!

Jael:Get ready Yujin......

“I’m coming at you full force.”

To be continued....

[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."

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