I Make My Own Rules Novels & Stories

the boy on the left said, blushing. “Rules?” I asked. I didn’t hear about that. “Ah. That’s—uh, we’re all agents, you know? Like, it doesn’t matter who you are on the outside, but you’re AG so that’s who you are here—” “Sorry, he gets confusing when he’s nervous,” the girl said. “What he means is that when we’re on duty, we can’t do stuff like ask for autographs and such. Like, we’re to treat everyone like agents even if they’re royalty or celebrities—”

There is a big smile on my face, and I am feeling great. If there is something I do well, then it is rolling out of bed the morning after. Now by rolling, I mean getting my ass out of the bed I found myself in the night before. I live by one rule, and that is, I do not take girls home. Yes, sometimes I find myself in some tight spots and rough places but never once will they ever come over to my place.

"We're making ten rules," Xavier said, "Rule number 1: No matter how angry we are at each other our favorite ice cream should solve the problem." "Good. That way I wouldn't have to be all depressed about your mood swings," I said giggling. "Hahaha very funny," he mocked, "your turn to make up a rule." "Okay so rule number 2: We should be happy for each other's successes," I said smiling. "Good one," Xavier praised, "Rule number 3: If you are doing something you can't tell your best friend about then you shouldn't do it."

And all I could do was follow. Just follow the rules.

And underneath, a question: Do you want the man who makes the rules or the one who breaks them? I stared at it for hours. Then I did something I swore I wouldn’t. I wrote a rule of my own. RULE 9: You’ll both come to my room tonight. But only one of you will be allowed to touch me. The other must watch. And I slid it under both their doors. Now I wait. Naked. Plugged. Blindfolded. One will come first. The other will arrive later. But only one of them will win. “In a house with too many secrets, the final rule is the one that breaks you.”

Chapter 71 ••~••°••~•• Luciano ••~••°••~•• Fuck. There are three rules I live by. One: Always trust your instincts, no matter the situation. Secondly, don't make stupid mistakes that will get you killed. And lastly—never, ever, get yourself an addiction—a weakness, because it'll only serve as a tool for your enemies, and damn if I didn't just smash that one straight through a wall.

His knuckles whiten around the mug. “Rule four: if I decide this arrangement is over before the year is up (any reason, no reason), I leave. No negotiation. No penalties. You never speak my name again.” I sit back, fold my hands in my lap like a queen. “Rule five,” I finish, soft and lethal, “if you break any of my rules, I will burn everything you’ve built to the ground and salt the earth so thoroughly nothing ever grows again. Starting with your reputation. Then your bank accounts. Then you.”

Too good at it. I learned her moods. Her tells. I read her like a book. But when the hormones kicked in, and my dick started wanting more, I made rules to keep myself in line. Rules are control. Control is survival. Some came from martial arts. Others I invented along the way. Over time, the list grew. They keep the demons quiet. Keep me functional. I bring them up in my head. Rule 1: Never fall in love with your best friend’s sister.

he said. I scanned through it making sure to not leave any rules out, pretty much all the rules were used to me, they are like my everyday life. I don’t party, nor have wild friends I can bring over. I don’t even stay out late till midnight so the rules are pretty okay and good to me.

I wrote the next rule. “Rule six: if we are attending an event and someone insults me, I get the first word.” “Why?” “Because if you go first, things will become expensive.” He paused. “That sounds like a threat.” “It is a promise.” I wrote faster now, warmed up by my own audacity. “Rule seven: no one is allowed to enter my room without knocking twice.” “Why twice?” “Because once is a mistake. Twice is a warning.” He folded his arms. “Continue.”