#he is the sole reason for an idiot plot.

[seiwas]

₊˚⊹｡ i left my keys on your bedroom floor | miya atsumu

wc: 2.4k

summary: atsumu is the clumsiest guy you've ever met; nothing ever goes to plan, especially when it comes to love. 

contains: f!reader, use of ‘misus’, mostly fluff with a bit of misunderstanding, reader wears heels, some swears, atsumu thinks he’s going to have a heart attack but it’s just him being him, atsumu is an idiot in love 

a/n: not related to the plot, but take a chance with me and fearless remind me of atsumu’s feels in this one (and paper rings will forever be an atsumu song for me)

part of how to be your lover boy (a valentine's collab by augustinewrites & seiwas)

Atsumu thinks this is the dumbest fuck-up he could have ever fucked up. 

Wood isn’t supposed to feel this cold, but his leg is freezing rested against it. 

Is this what it means to be weak in the knees?

Out of all places, of all times, Miya Atsumu finds himself knelt down on one knee by your bedside, legs feeling like jello at his attempt to look under your bed for his apartment keys. 

This wouldn’t be a problem at all, really; he kneels down all the time—for lunges during training (the bane of his existence if you ask him), for helping his Ma plant those herbs he’s sure she does for Osamu (he hates how the soil sticks to his skin), and for buckling the straps on your heels even, when you need him to (he doesn’t like it, only because he prefers you much more comfortable in softer shoes, unchafed ankles and all). 

So, kneeling isn’t really that big of a deal for Atsumu—

—but you’re there, standing by the bathroom door, staring at him with overwhelming surprise, evidently anticipating something serious enough to bring tears to your eyes. 

This is wrong. It isn’t at all what you’re thinking—he was just looking for his keys. 

“‘Tsum…” you choke out, mouth partially covered by your shaky hand. 

Fuck, if this isn’t the worst way he could possibly do this. 

He’s sure his eyes are wide, brows furrowed by a mixture of worry and regret. 

“Wait,” he holds two hands up, slowly coming to a stand, “S’not what ya think.” 

This is seriously the dumbest way he could fuck this up. 

The expression on your face drops, warmth rushing to your cheeks. If Atsumu could describe how you look, he’d call it worse than heartbreak—the horror in your eyes flashing embarrassment and the creases between your brows screaming rejection; what once were lifted cheeks have now sunk, turning into an undeniable frown. 

There are tears threatening to spill from your lash line, for a different reason now, he thinks, and it’s all his fault—it makes his heart break that he’s the sole culprit. 

And the sick thing is, despite all this, he still finds you the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen, backlit by a halo of fluorescent white that he’s tempted to drop everything he originally planned just to do it right now. 

“O-oh,” you mumble, “sorry, I just thought–” you close your eyes, taking a deep breath, “nevermind, that was stupid of me, Tsum.”

When you open your eyes, a single tear falls, and he tries not to comment on how you wipe it quickly, feigning a smile as you walk past him, mumbling something about making breakfast and preparing his lunch for when he heads out.

And, well, he feels shitty, that’s for sure. One, for making you cry, and two, for even making you think, just for a second, that he doesn’t want to marry you. 

It wasn’t stupid of you to assume he was proposing at all. He’s hinted at it enough in the past few years, calling you ‘the misus’ enough times when mentioning why he’s heading home early from post-game dinners and parties. His Ma keeps a photo of you and him in his childhood home, and Osamu’s given you a family discount at Onigiri Miya now, too (which is only 1% higher than the friends one, but it’s the fact that he considers you as family that makes it feel much larger). 

He likes coming home to you, likes that you don’t force him to do anything. That if he chooses to stay out, it’s all fine by you—he’s just stopped looking for that kind of life anymore; it’s a lot more fun getting to cuddle up on the couch with you. 

His legs still tingle, and he crouches down again with a big sigh. The silver key is there, glistening from the light directed from his phone, and he reaches to grab it, fishing for the metal that, if he’s being quite honest, hasn’t fully served its purpose in the past three years anyway. 

Four years together, and Atsumu has lived with you for most of them. The only reason you still have separate places by name is because of the apartment he owns in Osaka, meant for training season and game days. 

Other than that, home has always been your place. 

And lately, he’s been thinking of moving somewhere where home can now officially be both of yours—it’s the whole reason he was looking for his keys in the first place, with property managers and realtors coming in to assess the space. 

The new place—he’s hoping for it to be somewhere in the middle of both you and him, maybe a bit bigger, who knows? He was planning to ask you about it after the proposal—the one he’s planned and has been trying so hard to keep a secret from you. 

It’s a miracle he’s managed to keep it this hush so far. He’s got the ring, the venue, the speech, and has even asked Osamu to take the video (even though he knows he’ll never let him live down every jitter and stutter he’s bound to make). And the date, the oh-so-important Valentine’s day that you’ll both remember forever. 

The living room is awfully quiet when he steps into it, no sign of you and your usual humming to whatever song’s been stuck in your head. He walks to the kitchen counter, eyeing a plate of eggs with a bit of fried rice; you packed his lunch, just like you always have—fatty tuna with some rice and vegetables on the side.

Atsumu thinks he could cry, his upper lip already trembling as he stares at the piece of paper in front of him. 

Written in your delicate handwriting is a short note: ‘grabbing some grocery, be back later.’ signed with nothing—no ‘love you’, no ‘see you later’, no x’s and o’s. Just nothing. It sucks even more because the grocery is your place, your one escape when he’s upset you enough that you can’t even look at him. 

Yet, you still made him breakfast, and you still packed his lunch—that’s the only thing giving him hope that he hasn’t fully fucked this up. 

.

“Samu, I think am g’na die.” 

The scenery beside him whizzes past quickly, creating a blur of blue, green, and white. His head leans against the window, and he adjusts an earbud, increasing the volume to hear the call better. 

Osamu sighs on the other end, the sound of clinking pans and crinkling plastic muffled in the background. 

“Y’said that t’Ma the last time, what’s it now?” 

Atsumu groans, the memory still fresh in his mind; when he called his Ma a little over three years ago, he was a stuttering mess, breath unsteady and voice shaky at 1:00 a.m. The pounding in his chest would not stop, he thought for sure he was going to have a heart attack. 

His Ma diagnosed him all right, called it a serious case of ‘in love with you’—because, when he recounted everything he could have done to cause any potential uptick of his heart rate, all he could talk about was you. How you held his hand and laughed at his jokes, called him handsome even when he was sweaty and gross; how you nursed him to health even though he was probably stinky and dehydrated from an insane diarrhea episode. 

All these years later, and he’s even more in love with you. 

“I fucked it up, ‘Samu. The plan ‘n everythin’? Poof.” he gestures with his hands, even though he knows audio call doesn’t allow him to be seen. “Dunnow if there’ll even be ‘nyone t’propose to.” 

Then, he tells Osamu everything—the search for his keys, kneeling on the floor, the mistaken proposal but how he would have done it there, how he wanted to but didn’t because he actually managed to plan something and didn’t want to throw it away.

But then he said it all wrong, then you cried, and he really did mess it up; he wasn’t even able to say goodbye. He’s miss-called you thrice and you’ve only replied with ‘can’t talk right now.’ (which he knows is suggested text because you always say ‘later, baby.’ or something else more time-efficient). 

“Ya dumbass,” Osamu sighs again, words still sharp but tone a bit more rounded, “just give it time, ‘n stop catastrophizin’. Y’ve put y’self in stupider situations ‘n hav always made it somehow.” 

Atsumu feels like crying, again, but Osamu’s always right. He lets out a tear or two, maybe a sob for another five minutes, and when he recovers into small sniffles, Osamu tells him to get some sleep to clear his head—he’s holding the line in Onigiri Miya during peak time. 

.

His Osaka apartment feels even emptier than usual even though it shouldn’t be all that different. Meetings with realtors and property managers finished an hour ago and all they need is the go signal from him before they put the property up for lease. 

He was supposed to stay here until the end of the week, to meet with PR for sponsorship deals and brand campaigns throughout the year. But, the only (non-suggested) text he received from you today was an indication that you were home and heading in early for bed (which, he knows is a lie, because a new episode of your favorite show is airing tonight and there’s no way you’re missing it after last week’s cliffhanger). 

And he can’t, just can’t, leave you thinking that he doesn’t want to marry you. 

So he decides, fuck it, and packs it up—books a last minute train ticket back to you and hopes to god that he gets the words right this time. 

. 

He’s never been this nervous in his life. 

The olympics is a close runner-up, but nothing compares to this, standing outside your door with his finger hovering over the doorbell. It’s funny, because he has your keys, knows your passcode too—but it feels wrong entering your space without the assurance that you still want him to. 

What makes him ring the bell is the sickening twist in his stomach that warns him: this fuck-up could make him lose you.

So he presses it once, then twice for good measure, and before he can do it thrice, you’re opening the door, in sweatpants and a hoodie (his hoodie) as you rub the puffiness out of your eyes. 

You’re beautiful like this, too, he thinks—dressed in his clothes, staring at him with those eyes, standing in front of him and looking like the rest of his life. 

“Please don’t break up wit’ me.” 

The words stumble out of him freely, with barely any time for him to process it. Atsumu feels each pounding in his chest and knows now, just as his Ma said, that it’s all the love he has yet to let out.

“I–” he begins, hesitating. He’s still wearing the same joggers and bomber jacket from this morning.

His hands clench into fists and he pushes them in his pockets, unsure what to do with them; the bottom of his lip trembles and it’s starting to make sense why people tell him and Osamu apart by ‘the one who always cries’. 

“T-this mornin’,” he looks up to find you leaning against your door, listening, “Was lookin’ ‘round cos I left mah keys on y’r bedroom floor.” 

You nod, tilting your head to urge him on. 

“And I was kneelin’,” he breathes out, “and y’thought it was somethin’ else, but I said it wasn’t. And I shouldn’t ‘av ‘cos it came out all wrong and it wasn’t what I planned. Then ya cried but still made me breakfast ‘n lunch and it was good, just like everythin’ ya make is. But ya went to the grocery, and baby,” he chokes up, tears falling, “‘m sorry. S’not what I meant. Please don’t break up wit’ me.” 

Atsumu is a bumbling, stumbling, stuttering mess as he cries in front of you, his incoherent rambling a jumble of all his mixed-up feelings. He’s sure he looks dumb as hell right now, a fully grown man in tears at your door—but your brows furrow in concern, jaw tightening as the pout on your lips deepens. Then, you take a step closer, arms stretched out to pull him into your shoulder for a hug. 

This is why Atsumu loves you—

This is why Atsumu has never been more sure of the future he wants. 

—because, even when he’s fucked things up and has made an absolute mess of himself, you’re always there, picking him right back up. 

“T’sokay Tsum,” you hush, rubbing circles on his back, “there’s no need to explain.” 

He sniffles, tucking his face against your neck. It’s impossible to miss the sadness underlying your comfort. 

You’re wrong—it’s not okay, and he absolutely has to explain. 

After he’s calmed down and the tears have subsided, he pulls away, rubbing his nose with the back of his hand and apologizing for all the snot he left on your hoodie. 

You look confused and a little bit surprised as he takes a step back away from you, his hand immediately reaching inside the pocket of his joggers. 

“Y’know I can’t keep anythin’ from ya, right, baby?” he flashes you a small smile, a little nervous. 

You nod, because it’s true. Not a single birthday or celebration has ever surprised you because Atsumu’s always ruined it; he just can’t keep a secret from you. Either that, or things just never go accordingly. 

“Well, I kept this one real good. Planned it ‘n all. Had everythin’ set.”

The velvet box in his pocket is smooth to the touch, his fingers turning it over. It feels tangible and real now, a moment’s away from his life being changed, forever. 

He feels like crying again. 

“Was g’na do it on Valentine’s, ‘cos I had it all rehearsed ‘n shit.” 

Realization dawns on your face, eyes wide and your chest caught on hold—as if you’re expecting the wrong assumption again. 

But when Atsumu gets down on one knee, reaching from his pocket to present to you a ring hidden in red velvet, his fingers tremble when he says, “Know s’not Valentine’s, but can I be your forever Valentine?” 

You blink once, then the tears fall—the smile on your face is a little bit wobbly but an awful lot in love. You kneel on the floor with him, your hand reaching out to cup his cheek, pulling him in for a kiss.

The both of you are a tear-y mess on the floor, but when you part, he leans his forehead against yours, ring held up between his fingers as he asks just to be extra sure, “So… s’not a goodbye kiss is it?” 

You smack him on the chest before slipping in your finger. 

“S’a yes kiss, Tsum.”

thank you notes: @augustinewrites for suffering through this atsumu train with me & @soumies + @mysugu for helping me with tsumu characterisation and for listening to me ramble abt this fic!!

comments, tags, and reblogs are greatly appreciated ♡

[hannie-dul-set]

the psychology of strawberries — [s.qr].

SYNOPSIS. besides being your friend, kim gyuvin also holds the existence of being the worst matchmaker in history. the last guy he set you up with ended with a permanent ban from the arcade. the one before that caused you to file a restraining order. which is why when he tries to set you up one last time with his best friend, you understandably shut him down.

the problem is— why the fuck didn’t gyuvin tell you that his best friend is actually the prettiest man in the world? the most charming idiot to have graced your mortal existence? maybe if he did, you wouldn’t have to resort to pavlovian tactics and strawberries just to bag him. if he did, then you wouldn’t have to hide the fact that you’re kind of balls-deep in love with his friend.

PAIRING. shen quanrui x female! reader. GENRE. college! au, (anti) matchmaking! au, strangers to friends to lovers, eventual secret relationship. romance, humor, fluff, suggestive, older! reader, this is just lovelicky propaganda. sue me. WARNINGS. swearing, explicit language, mentions of sex, making out, making out in public, an almost car crash, stalking (not from any of the leads), erratic behavior (mostly from our lead), ricky in a floral shirt, black haired ricky and bathrobe ricky jumpscare. WORD COUNT. 21k.

TAGLIST. @lovialy @sarang-ae @khaelscafe @jenodreamer @lovelyrickyz @ciaoui @spjhyn @chwesuh-imnida @kgneptun @hanstarrs @dvalitaes @younxii @haesunflower @cyberpunksunwoo @tlnyjoong @bobabunhee @elavin @sassybakaaa @wishfulthnking @lvieee

NOTE. there is evident lack of plot in this. unless you consider thirsting over ricky as plot, then there’s a lot of plot. you’re welcome. feedback and comments are always appreciated, and i hope you enjoy!

AT SOME POINT IN YOUR LIFE, THE PROSPECT OF MEETING A NEW GUY STOPPED BEING A POINT OF INTEREST OR ANTICIPATION. It has now become a harbinger of horror, an inevitable car crash simply lying in wait. Gone are the days where you’re looking forward to the first kiss on your porch and doorstep— now, you don’t even care if you share the same hobbies or not, if you click well or not, neither if your personalities match or not.

Your only hope is that they don’t end up being a stalker or a slob or someone with severe anger issues. And there’s only one culprit for this seemingly permanent shift in your psychology.

“I’m not going on another date! At least one that you’re setting up.”

“C’mon!” Gyuvin clings onto your arm, preventing you from leaving the classroom. He’s crouching on the floor. Your face crunches up, looking down at him like he’s a piece of gum stuck on your boot sole. “This will be the last time. Please? I showed him a picture of you and he thinks you’re cute.”

The sole reason why Kim Gyuvin can get away with anchoring you by the arm with his entire body weight, why he can get away with setting you up with douchebag after douchebag, is because he’s a family friend, and you’ve known him for eight whole years. These tantrums are normal, but the sudden growth spurt he had in ninth grade makes him occasionally forget that you’re still two years older than him. You were already walking before he was even born. This bitch thinks he can make you do what he wants.

“Get off! Are you trying to dislocate my shoulder?”

The moment you raise your free arm to a fist, he releases you from his clutches and puts his arms up innocently, still crouched on the floor. You click your tongue with a sneer, brushing down your sleeve. Anyway, does he have amnesia? Has he forgotten how the last blind dates went? 

“Your friend Jaeryeong also thought I was cute,” you start. “Really cute, in fact. To the point where he wouldn’t leave me alone and I had to file a restraining order against him.”

Now, he’s finally looking guilty. Gyuvin clear his throat and jumps back up to his feet, straightening his clothes and not daring to look you in the eye. “He—he had some issues that I wasn’t aware of and I’m sorry for that— but Ricky is different! He’s not some weirdo! I promise you that he’s a good guy and he’s good looking and—”

“You said the same thing about Do Hajun,” you cut him off. “Sure, he was pretty good looking, but he got so mad at a claw machine and started assaulting it in public. I got banned at the Game Plaza, Gyuvin. I’m not allowed there anymore. I was the top scorer at DDR there. I can’t maintain my rank there anymore because the last guy you set me up with had problems with his temper.”

He looks even more guilty now. Your glare softens because it’s not entirely his fault. But this time the guy’s name is Ricky. That sounds like a fuckboy’s name. A fuckboy who probably wears snapbacks and jeans a little too low. You’re not taking any fucking chances.

“Okay,” Gyuvin breathes out. “I understand that I may have made some bad matches—”

“Some.”

“A lot of bad matches,” he corrects, sheepish. “But that’s just because so many people want to date you! If you think about it, it’s your fault for always attracting weirdos! I’m just the connecting bridge and messenger! I’m sick and tired of my friends asking me to set you up with them too!”

“So why the hell are you trying to do it again?!” Man, you’re getting tired. You asked him to meet you in your lecture hall after class because you wanted to check up on his project, but the moment he came in, he tried throwing you into the sharks once again in an instant. 

You dig into your bag for a piece of candy, unwrapping it and popping it into your mouth with an unamused expression as Gyuvin tries his damn best to market his friend to you. “This will be the last one, I promise! Ricky is my best friend and I can assure you that he’s a decent guy. He’s hot. He’s got a car. Didn’t you say before that you wanted a hot boyfriend with a car?”

“If he’s so hot then why are you so desperately trying to sell him off?”

You weren’t born yesterday. Hell, you were born earlier than this matchmaking scammer and he regularly forgets about that. “Well,” he starts, clearing his throat. “He’s my best friend, but I need my solo time too! If he gets a girlfriend, then maybe he’ll stop showing up at my apartment every Friday night and—”

“That’s enough.”

You stuff a piece of candy into his mouth, promptly shutting him up. His eyes are wide, shock quickly morphing into a grimace when the flavor finally kicks in. Durian. Serves him fucking right. 

“Go set your friend up with someone else. I called you in here for a different reason, Kim Gyuvin.” Nothing like dropping his full name and reminding him that you’re still his upperclassman as a cold splash of water to the face. Gyuvin flinches, suddenly straightening himself. “How’s your project going? You only have two months left to finish it. I hope you didn’t forget.”

His face tells you that he forgot about it, but not totally. He’s reluctantly chewing on the candy you force-fed him. “I’ve— I’ve already picked out a place. Hadong Country in Gyeongsang. I’m planning on going there next week.”

“Alright, good.” You leave him with a pat on the shoulder. “Tell me once you’ve set the date. You should worry about your term paper instead of mine or your friend’s love life. Getting us to date won’t pull up your GPA, Gyuvin.”

“But—”

“No, that’s enough,” you shut him down. “I’m not dating this Ricky guy. That’s final. Nothing you can do or say will change my mind.”

Famous last words. Little did you know that you’d be eating that very statement by the weekend.

ONE OF THE PRIVILEGES YOU’VE GOTTEN FROM SUCKING UP TO YOUR PROFESSORS SINCE FRESHMAN YEAR IS HAVING FULL LIBERTY OF USING THEIR OFFICE AS A HANG-OUT SPOT. The air-conditioning here is better than the classrooms or students lounge. You can even raid their snack pantry as much as you want— grabbing a handful from the candy bowl, now filled with pink wrappers of some strawberry hard candy— and stuffing them into the small pocket of your bag to restock your portable stash. 

“Does Prof Yoon know you’re the one that keeps vacuuming his candy bowl?” 

The question comes from Hanbin, who’s just as shamelessly making himself a cup of coffee with the faculty’s machine. The both of you are regular freeloaders at the office. A well-earned privilege, you’d like to say.

“He knows,” you reply, snatching a box of pepero for good measure. “He lets me get away with it because I’m his favorite student.”

There’s one more freeloader. Hao is sitting on the cushy sofa set funded by the student’s tuition fees, sharing a conversation with Mrs. Lee, and the two of you join him not long after. “You three are supervising some of the freshmen this year, right?” your professor asks, and her question is met with a set of artificial positive responses. “I guess I can look forward to some of their outputs then,” she leaves with a hearty laugh and a hard pat on Hao’s back. You wince.

“Why is an old lady so strong?” he laments once Mrs. Lee is sure to have returned to her cubicle. Hanbin is feeling and probing around his spine in case it got broken.

“I hear she’s a member at the gym Jiwoong goes to,” you say. “Scary woman. Thank god we’re on her good side.”

Complaining about your professors in hushed voices while being in their office is a rare skill the three of you have mastered over the past two years. The two elicit murmurs of agreement with your statement. “Speaking, how are your kids doing?” asks Hanbin. Kids, referring to the eighteen to nineteen year olds under your care for their term project.

Hao takes your pepero stick offer before grumbling. “I don’t get why we have to supervise the freshmen when he have our own assignments and projects to deal with.”

“Because Mrs. Lee will give us extra points for our class with her if we do,” you remind. “Gyuvin is doing the bare minimum. At least he now has a location settled down.” The project is for their required course in community development. The freshmen are tasked to select a rural area in the country and do a needs-based assessment survey on it. You did the same when you were in your first year. Mrs. Lee is also the head of the university extensions office. You three have theorized that she’s just using this annual assignment to update her data inventory.

“Gunwook is too passionate. He wants to go all the way to freaking Mokpo.”

“At least he sounds hardworking,” you say, disregarding Hanbin’s stress over an inevitable five-hour drive. “Why can’t Gyuvin be the same? All he does is set me up with terrible men and barge into my family dinners.”

You say that, but everyone who knows you knows that Kim Gyuvin, despite being generally annoying, has burrowed a soft spot in your heart. Unlike Hanbin and Hao who missed a 40-point quiz for Mrs. Lee’s class to join a random play dance competition at the plaza (they won), you didn’t really need the extra points merit, so you had no intentions on volunteering to be a supervisor in the first place.

But when you caught whiff of the news that your poor, poor younger friend of eight years still didn’t have a senior-supervisor for the project, you somehow found yourself in front of Mrs. Lee’s office cubicle and signed up at the last moment.

Which is also why you’re up at 5 a.m. in front of Gyuvin’s apartment building on a weekend, no breakfast in the stomach, just to accompany him to Gyeongsang for this god forsaken community development project.

“Morning.”

Gyuvin greets you with a yawn and a heavy ruffle on the top of your head, to which you respond with a side kick to his ass when he walks past you. “You’re late,” you scold him, and though you want to continue berating your dear friend, two more familiar-looking people emerge from his building’s entrance. 

“Oh, this is Taerae and Matthew,” Gyuvin informs you offhandedly. The two give you a mix of polite nods and smiles. You sort of know Taerae because you shared a class with him last semester. Matthew is just the guy you see at the campus coffee shop at least once a week. “They’re going to be my survey assistants. More people means more ground to cover at once.”

“How’d he scam you two into agreeing?” you ask.

“He’s buying me lunch for a week,” Taerae replies.

“I just wanted to go on a road trip,” Mathew says in a tone too bright for five in the morning. 

You let out a huff of air. Your backpack is getting a little heavy on your shoulders, and all you want is to finally reclaim your lost weekend. Meaning, getting on the road as soon as possibly is priority number one. “So, are we commuting?” you ask. “We should get going then.”

“Oh, no,” Gyuvin replies. He’s already noticed your impatience, and has found himself standing behind you, taking your bag off of your bag so that you don’t snap at him for the next statement he’s about to say. “Actually, we’re waiting for one more per—”

A car horn cuts him off. 

“Well, nevermind. He’s here.”

At that moment, a way too expensive looking car drives up to the porch of Gyuvin’s college-level priced apartment building. This is looking way too out of place. Matthew lets out a whistle when the car stops in front of you. “This kid just got his license exchange and the first thing he does is show off,” Taerae snorts. What...what does he mean? Is this your ride? Is this the (at least seventy-thousand-dollar) vehicle that’ll be driving you all the way to the outskirts of Hadong County? 

The variables don’t click, but your surprise doesn’t end there. Because the person that emerges from the expensive looking ass car’s driver’s seat is— by far— the prettiest person you’ve ever seen in your twenty-one years of life.

Whoa.

Not even those thick, dark shades can obscure that god-sculpted looking face. They only make his nose bridge look even sharper, and you’re trying your damn best not to stare at those full and cherry-painted lips. Holy shit. Platinum blonde has always looked tacky to you, but now you have to re-evaluate. Oh my god. Kim Gyuvin has a friend that looks like this, and all he’s done is set you up with guys that can’t even fucking compare.

Walking statue of a man closes the car door behind him with a click. “Get in,” he says. Holy mother of god, you’re light-headed. Your brain is fuzzy. You’re about to pass out. 

“Ricky! You’re late! How dare you keep the madam waiting?!” 

Things start happening a little too quickly.

Wait a second—

“Shotgun!” 

That name.

“Fuck off! Let’s play for the seat!” 

Sounds Very.

“Rock, paper, scissors, shoot! Rock, paper, scissors—”

Very—

“Paper, scissors— shoot!”

—familiar.

“Dammit,” Matthew grumbles in defeat, joining Taerae in the backseat. You stare at the fist you have held out since earlier. Rock. Rick. Ricky. This guy’s name is Ricky. Isn’t that also the name of Gyuvin’s best friend? The best friend he was trying to set you up with? This is Ricky? This absolute god of a fucking man who’s looking at you with an ounce of confusion, still holding your fist up after somehow winning all rounds of rock, paper, scissors with nothing but a rock, is the Ricky you turned down a date with?

You were correct to assume that his name gives off fuckboy vibes. The problem is, he looks like a really, really hot fuckboy who you don’t mind ruining your life in exchange for three months of fun. Shit. You think you just made eye contact with him through his thick-ass sunglasses. He nods a little with a small, awkward smile before disappearing back into the driver’s seat. 

Fuck. He knows. He definitely knows you wrongfully rejected his ass without even meeting him. Gyuvin, that snitching son of a bitch.

“Hey.”

With a heavy grip on his shoulder, you stop the said snitching son of a bitch before he can escape into the backseat. “What?” Gyuvin raises a brow. The audacity of this guy.

“What was your best friend’s name again?”

“Ricky Shen. Shen Quanrui. Shim Cheonye. Pick one.”

“Is that...the same…?”

“Yes, that guy is Ricky.” There’s an impatient honk from the car. You pay no mind, more concerned about the absolute fucking catch you totally drove away, and that regret is seeping through you expression, failing to wiggle out from Gyuvin’s notice. “Why do you ask?” Are you regretting turning down my offer last week? his face seems to say. You want to hit him. Yes, you are fucking regretting it, but there’s no way in hell you’re giving him the satisfaction of knowing.

“It’s just a little awkward,” you say. “Can you switch with me?”

“Matt hyung’s gonna throw a fit if I take your seat,” he simply hums, opening the door to the front seat on your behalf with a courteous bow that drives you further into annoyance. “Now hop in. We’re already behind schedule.”

You’re the bigger person here so you decide against throwing a tantrum. Begrudgingly, you enter the passenger’s seat, trying to ignore aphrodite’s reincarnation sitting right next to you, and prepare yourself for the three-hour drive or torture because you totally screwed over your chance of having him.

“Woohoo! Road trip!”

“We’re here for my project, idiot.”

“Please tone it down, I’m trying to sleep.”

It’s fine, you cross your arms, wiggling uncomfortably on the soft seat. It’s totally fine. None of Gyuvin’s friends have been decent so far. Yes. You shouldn’t judge positively too quickly. Maybe the only thing this one has going for him is his face. Maybe his personality is just as shitty as the last ones and you’ve completely dodged a bullet.

A very pretty bullet. The pretty bullet is looking at you through the rearview mirror. Oh god, why is he looking at you? He’s got his sunglasses down and those eyes are practically staring into your soul.

“Um,” Ricky clears his throat. “You should put on your seatbelt.”

That rasp shouldn’t be as attractive as it is. Fuck. This man is a walking heart hazard. “O—oh, sorry!” You’re stupid. Your brain is fried. You fumble with the dumb seatbelt, forgetting how it works, and mentally swearing at yourself in the process.

“Do you need any help…?”

Fight or flight instincts kick in. You smack away Ricky’s attempt at a helping hand. His eyes are wide in shock. Your eyes are wide in shock. You want to throw yourself out of this vehicle right now. “It’s—it’s fine!” Finally, you manage to put on the seatbelt. Ricky is a mix of confusion and offense when he starts the car, more on confusion, but that’s alright. The aftermath of him pulling a k-drama move and helping you with the seatbelt would have been worse. You would have disintegrated right then and there.

Your only source of comfort is the backpack that you’re hugging for your dear life. The entire ride is excruciatingly awkward because the three boys at the back have fallen asleep— a state you also wish to be in right now, but that’s quite frankly impossible because you’re a million times more conscious about your physical appearance right now with a literal angel next to you. 

He’s not asking why you’re pressed so far up against the door. For safety reasons, you tell yourself. The air around him just subconsciously feels a lot hotter despite the air conditioning literally blowing cold air to your face.

“Would...would you like some?”

But that doesn’t mean you could stomach this awkwardness, either. Two hours have passed and neither of you have said a word to each other. You’re a fistful into your candy stash and it feels rude not to offer anything to him when he’s been driving for so long. 

You have a cautious arm outstretched, a pink wrapper dangling between your thumb and index finger. Ricky peers down for a split second, a rumble from his throat before saying, “N—no, it’s okay.” The candy disappears into the crevices of his car. You dip your head down, trying to feel around for it, and Ricky continues talking. “Um. I mean. You don’t really have to force yourself to get along with me, seonbae. I already know that you don’t really like me.”

At that moment, you snap your head up. “What?”

Maybe you should’ve been more careful because you scare the shit out of Ricky and the car swerves off the lane.

Screech!

“Ah,” he exhales, parking the car at the edge of the road after nearly killing you all. “That was close.” How the three kids in the back are still asleep is beyond you. They’ve got their necks twisted in all the weird places and you’re pretty sure Matthew is drooling.

But the source of your adrenaline right now isn’t the near death experience.

“What do you mean you know that I don’t like you?”

Translation: what exactly did Kim Gyuvin say to this guy?

“You...turned down the blind date Gyu tried setting up,” he says. Well that’s because Gyuvin never showed you a picture of his face! Instead of using useless words to try and convince you to say yes, he should’ve just sent you his instagram and called it a day. “This car ride must be awkward for you, sorry. I’ll try to get to Hadong as soon as possible.”

He’s sweet and polite too! God, you’ve completely screwed it over. You spend the rest of the car ride overthinking and feeling sorry for yourself. The moment you arrive at your destination, you eject yourself from the car instantaneously. “Alright, we’re wasting daylight. Let’s get moving!” you clasp your hands together, hurrying your barely-awake lackeys into the town. 

With five people, the surveys and interviews get done quicker than expected. At one point, while you were surveying a marketplace owner, your attention got inadvertently distracted by spotting Ricky from the corner of your eye helping out an old lady with a cart and you nearly had a meltdown. Again, why didn’t Gyuvin introduce you to him before your impression of his friends got screwed over by Jaeryeong and Hajun and all the fucking rest?

“What a sweet boy,” says the marketplace owner. He is a sweet boy. That sweet and insanely handsome boy could’ve been yours (not guaranteed).

“Hey!” Gyuvin snaps you out of your daze. You look up, crouched underneath the shade of a tree. One of the locals was kind enough to give you a tour of their plum fields in the village, but you’re a little too rattled to actually appreciate the green scenery. “The ahjumma gave us some plums to taste!”

“You’re a bad person,” you suddenly say. Gyuvin’s face distorts in offense.

“Well, if you don’t want any plums, you can just say so, meanie.”

Maybe you are a meanie, but you’re still not over everything today. While the four boys are fucking around from a bit of a distance, you’re still crouched down and absentmindedly petting a stray cat and moping. Matthew says something you can’t hear, and the three burst out laughing— only the three at first, because Ricky looks lost for a second, blinking with a dumb smile, before joining their laughter only a beat late. 

Oh no, he’s cute. Oh god, you’re falling. Oh man, you’re a goner.

“Time to go home!”

It’s around four in the afternoon when you finally finish. You’re all gathered around Ricky’s car again, ready for another grueling drive back to Seoul. “Go sit in the back. I’ll drive this time,” says Taerae to Ricky, and there starts another rock, paper, scissors battle for who will take the front seat.

Unlike earlier where you won without even realizing there was a game, you lose even after praying to all the gods you know.

“Nice!” Matthew cheers, not even giving you a shot of negotiation because he quickly disappears into the car. You’re looking at Gyuvin, painted in shock and disbelief. Before you know it, you’re wedged into the backseat, in between the two men you’d like to be around the least at the moment. 

Yours and Ricky’s shoulders are touching. This is worse than earlier. He looks just as uncomfortable as you are— arms resting on the open windowsill, head uncomfortably craned away from you and giving you a full view of the tattoo trailing down his neck. Something snaps in your brain. This is your nth breakdown of the day.

“Let me in your candy stash.”

Gyuvin gives himself the liberty to zip open the front pocket of your backpack while you’re hugging it in your seat. The sound of you swatting his hand away seems to catch Ricky’s attention, so you give up defending your property and let Gyuvin snatch a handful of the strawberry-flavored sweets from your bag. “This tastes gross,” he says with a grimace. “So artificial. Blegh.”

You suddenly hear a gasp from your left. “How can you say that?” You’re shocked to find out it’s from Ricky. He’s been relatively quiet all this time. Gyuvin sure knows how to get into everyone’s nerves. “Take it back.”

“I’ll take it back if you dye your hair black for a day.”

A harmless fist zooms in front of your face. “Now way.” Ricky is hitting Gyuvin.

“Gross, this is so gross.” Gyuvin is hitting Ricky back.

“So what.”

“I’m telling your mom about this.”

Your existence is forgotten and your breathing space in between these two relatively large men has significantly diminished. Your face is burning. You can’t do this anymore so you clear your throat, causing Ricky— who’s leaned a little too close, fist in the air mid-punch— to suddenly tuck himself back into his side of the car. 

It becomes quiet again when Matthew and Gyuvin slowly doze off to sleep.

Gaze flitting to the front, you notice that Taerae is quite preoccupied with swearing at another car that just overtook yours. You take this as an opportunity.

A slight nudge to his arm, you hold open your palm without looking at Ricky. It’s a handful of the strawberry flavored candy he was so staunchly defending against Gyuvin earlier. He might’ve rejected your offering earlier, but you’re damn bent on ending this day by fixing his impression of you, even if it’s just a miniscule improvement.

He’s got his head trained down, staring at your offering with a face laced with a mixture of surprise, confusion, and uncertainty before a hesitant hand plucks out a single wrapper from the pile. “Thank you,” you hear him say softly, and you don’t miss the tiniest smile playing on his lips when the sweet touches his tongue, poking against the inside of his cheek and you feel somewhat offended because a damn piece of candy can elicit such an expression on his face when you can’t. 

It’s not stiff like the numerous bouts of awkward eye contact you’ve been sharing without end. It’s not forced. It’s not uncomfortable.

It’s an expression that makes you feel all the more regretful because you probably won’t be seeing him ever again after this.

“Did you see that guy?! He honked at me! He fucking honked at me!”

But maybe that’s a good thing. Because maybe then, you’ll be forced to stop lamenting the chance you completely wasted. 

MAYBE YOU SPOKE TO SOON. It’s the afternoon of a Friday, not even a week after your one-day trip to Hadong County. And Fridays are your cheat days to take a dip into your allowance for some well deserved milk tea at a bougie cafe next to your university.

What isn’t part of your usual Wednesdays is the inexplicable, one in a million chance that you’d be bumping into Ricky Shen again.

“Oh.”

You’re about to enter. He’s just about to leave, pushing open the door with one hand and holding a bright pink drink with so much whipped cream which looks particularly out of place against his all-black ensemble. The only common denominator between the both of you is the look of surprise you’re both sharing.

Ricky recovers before you do. He steps aside, giving you space to walk in while holding the door open. How the bare minimum is making you weak in the knees, you have no idea. “Th—thanks,” you give him a smile and walk forward, before putting yourself to a stop and spinning around. “Oh, wait. Have this.”

You dig into your pockets and drop three pieces of strawberry candy onto his hand. You don’t miss the way his eyes sparkle. “Thanks. See you around.” He leaves. You feel like you’re on top of the world.

From now on, you’re gonna stuff all your pockets with strawberry-flavored candy (courtesy of Prof Yoon from the faculty office) until Ricky gets brainwashed that your presence doesn’t bear awkwardness or discomfort, no— you are a good person. Your presence brings with you strawberries and sweetness. That one psych class you took last semester is finally proving itself to be useful. Ricky will fall in love with you through Pavlov and classical conditioning.

Is this ethical? Probably not. Will this work? You don’t bet on it, but his cute smile makes it all fucking worth it.

That is if a miracle happens that you somehow end up seeing more of each other. You sigh, waiting for the buzzer to receive your order. You remember that Ricky is a freshman, meaning you have zero chances of sharing classes with him, and your only mutual friend is Kim Gyuvin. You’d rather kill yourself than give him the satisfaction of knowing that you have a crush on his best friend.

Well, there’s also Matthew and Taerae. After your trip to Hadong, you somehow got added to a group chat with the two of them. “Same age friends have to stick together!” says Matthew. You’re not sure if you’re already at the point of calling them friends, but you are having dinner with them later, so that’s something. But no matter how much you want to gush about your feelings for the light-haired boy, you don’t think you can out yourself to those two just yet.

The buzzer vibrates in your hands. You stand up to get your order, only to be stopped by a familiar face that you’re not quite happy to see.

“I—I didn’t follow you here, I swear!”

Your expression sours. That last time you saw him was approximately three months ago— when you threatened him with a fake restraining order after Gyuvin and Hanbin helped you move into a new apartment.

“Jaeryeong.” You feel your blood pressure rising from the mere utterance of his name. “Is a restraining order not enough for you? Do I have to put you in jail so you can finally learn your fucking lesson?”

He looks rattled. “I heard— I heard from Siyun that the document is fake!”

Well, damn. You click your tongue. You thought it’d work for a little while longer than this. Maybe you should get a real RO next time. “So does that give you the right to keep stalking me, you damn creep?” You’re getting a headache. This guy’s appearance just makes you miss Ricky even more (gentle remember that Ricky probably doesn’t give a shit about you, nor does he think about you as much as you’ve thought about him within the past six days of your acquaintance).

“I really didn’t follow you here! This was just a coincidence!” 

“Sure,” you wrinkle your nose. “Was breaching my privacy and following me all the way to my parents’ place a coincidence too?”

Maybe riling him up is a bad idea, but you’re not exactly the best at interpersonal relationships (case in point, Riky Shen). But this is also a public place, so if he does pull anything dangerous, one of the cafe patrons is likely to take a video which you can use against him. Jaeryeong has his jaw clenched, visibly grated. “Look, I came up to you today to try and clear our misunderstanding, but if you keep on being a little bitch, then—”

“Then what?”

You’re surprised to hear a much welcomed voice from behind you.

“What are you gonna do?”

The last person you expected to swoop in and save you from this clingy freak is your senior who’s been out of reach for months now because he’s dying in post-grad. 

Kim Jiwoong suddenly tucks you behind him, wearing the facade of intimidation to scare off Jaeryeong— which, for some reason, ends up working because he runs off without much of a fight. “I’ll— I’ll talk to you later!” he says before leaving. Jiwoong lets out a sigh and turns around, looking at you with both disappointment and concern.

“You shouldn’t provoke guys like that. Who knows what could’ve happened to you.”

“I could’ve handled it even without you, seonbae,” you tell him. His gaze softens. You give him a bright smile. “It’s nice to see you, too.”

You know that Jiwoong is incapable of getting mad at you. The both of you catch up in the cafe once you’ve finally gotten your drink without any further interruptions. Whatever Gyuvin is to you, that’s who you are to Jiwoong. He was your project supervisor when you were a freshman, randomly assigned by a roulette, and somehow, you two still keep in touch two years later.

The both of you settle on a table inside the cafe. “How are your classes?” he asks. You reply with a bitter grunt, and that’s enough of a response for him to laugh and understand.

“By the way,” you rouse, spinning the remnants of the drink in slow spirals. “Seonbae. You’re close with Gyuvin, right?”

If your memory serves you right, you’ve seen them talking a couple of times with each other before, eliciting your utter confusion before ultimately finding out that apparently, they attended the same local dance studio before along with Hanbin and Hao for a period of time. “Well, sure,” is Jiwoong’s reply. That was just the lead-in question to your actual main question, which is—

“How about...his best friend?” you add. “Are you close with him too?”

You can see it in his face. He’s connecting the dots. You’re fiddling with your drink cup, nervous. The moment things click, Jiwoong unleashes a knowing grin.

“Are you crushing on Ricky?”

Well, damn. He didn’t need to be so blunt about it.

“And—and—and what if I am?” Smooth. Very smooth. You clear your throat, tugging on your collar to let some air in while Jiwoong stirs his americano with the straw, chin resting on his palms, evident amusement playing on his face. “So, anyway. I’m taking that as a yes— you are close with him.”

“Sure,” he hums. You want to sock him in the face.

“Well, is he anything like Gyuvin’s other friends,” you question. “Like Jaeryeong, or Hajun, or that one guy that told me to ‘sit pretty and shut my mouth’ because that’s what a woman ought to do?”

“No, no. Ricky isn’t anything like that,” he replies. “He looks a little intimidating, but he’s a nice kid. I don’t even think I’ve ever heard him raise his voice at anyone.” Ricky does seem pretty soft spoken and it’s hurting your heart. This doesn’t go under Jiwoong’s radar. He laughs at your misery and your shoulders slack. “His only flaw is his overconfidence, I think. Next time you meet him, you should compliment his face.”

No, but confidence is attractive. Overconfidence must mean extra attractive, right? Yes? “Thanks for the tip,” you grunt. “But can you not tell Gyoob that I sort of have a thing for his friend?”

This brings Jiwoong’s brows to a furrow. “Isn’t he hell bent on marrying off Ricky?”

“Yes. Well. There was a situation.” You don’t intend on telling Jiwoong about the said situation for the sake of your pride. He looks curious, but thankfully he doesn’t try to prod. The only thing that matters right now is that Ricky is Jiwoong-approved, and that’s good enough of a reason for you to pursue him under Kim Gyuvin’s nose. “Anyway, please keep this a secret.”

“What’s in it for me?” he asks.

“The continuation of my respect,” you flatly reply. Jiwoong, again, laughs and assures you that his lips are shut and sealed.

SOMEHOW, YOU’RE INVITED TO A BARBECUE DINNER AT MATTHEW’S BACKYARD. How long have you known him? Two weeks. Who else is invited to the dinner? His friends of two years the least. You’re not sure how you ended up here. Maybe you’re more charming than you thought. Maybe that’s why you keep attracting weird men.

But Matthew isn’t weird. He’s a little loud and a little too energetic for you to keep up with sometimes, but he’s nice, he’s polite, and you’d introduce him to your cousin if he’d let you. 

You show up to his front door step with a convenience store bag full of canned beer. You’re still not sure what the occasion is, but alcohol is always a good gift. “You made it!” Matthew greets you with a half-hug, and upon entering the premises of his home, you spot Gyuvin giving you an unabashed look full of judgment while Matt takes your present out of your hands and into the cooler in the backyard.

“Since when were you two so chummy?” Gyuvin asks with narrowed eyes as he leads you to where everyone else is. 

“Scared I might replace you in your friend group, Gyu?” you taunt.

“No. I’m scared of being the middleman again if Matthew hyung falls in love with you,” is his painfully honest answer. The yard is smoky and warm, familiar faces here and there— Hanbin being one of them, who graces you with a look of confused concern upon hearing Gyuvin’s words. “Hyung, you don’t understand my pain. I keep setting her up with my friends, but they’re never good enough for her. At this rate—”

At this rate, you’re gonna be needing a warning whenever Ricky suddenly appears in front of your vision— one of the people you preemptively deemed ‘not good enough for you’ only for it to bite you in the ass.

In fact, he may be too much for you, because for a second there, you had the presupposition that he might be walking up to you. That delusion is quickly evaporated into the barbecue smoke because he’s looking at Hanbin, not you.

“Hyung,” he says. “Woong hyung needs help with the grill.”

“Oh, I’ll be right there.”

In between, Gyuvin has somehow disappeared, leaving you alone with Ricky and the unreasonable amount of feelings you have for him. It’s been a good week since you’ve last seen him. He’s wearing a thick red jacket and that same look of awkwardness whenever you’re around. “Hello,” he greets you softly with a nod.

“Hi,” you do the same. It’s excruciating. It’s painful. There’s a sizzle in the air, music from the stereos, and the loud, rambunctious noises expected from a group of eight, nine boys. Yet it’s everything quiet in between the both of you. 

But after that tense greeting, there’s a shift in his gaze, a change in his posture. He’s clearing his throat, balancing himself on the heels of his feet with tightly pressed lips resembling that of a smile— almost as if he’s expecting something from you.

Oh, you realize. Oh, he’s too cute.

Without much of a thought, you dig into your coat pockets. 

“Hao!” you call out in a hurry, running off to the long picnic table where the rest are all gathered. Your heart is racing. Your heart is racing like crazy. “There’s still two faces I’m not acquainted with yet. Who’s this?”

While Hao introduces you to Gunwook and Yujin, your eyes flit over to the spot you’d left behind. Ricky is still standing there. He’s staring down, eyes trained on his cupped palms. “Ricky, come carry the cooler!” Taerae yells out for him, snapping him out of his daze. There’s a faint tinge of pink painting his ears when he strides off, fists closed with the same shade painting his knuckles. Your pockets are a lot lighter now. If you were him, you would have quite honestly fallen for yourself. 

Dinner starts. You ask Yujin why he’s friends with a bunch of old men. “They’re obsessed with me,” is his reply, and you can’t debate with that. Not when five of them are suddenly yelling at Jiwoong for saying you should all play some drinking games to heat things up. It gets settled when Yujin and Gunwook are given glasses of apple juice, and the word ‘gorae’ is now being repeatedly thrown over the table.

One thing you’ve noticed is that Ricky is always a beat and half slow. It’s stupid adorable. Gyuvin passes the never-ending whale baton to him and he just continues the beat without saying anything, looking around like a lost cat, before letting out a noise and collapsing against Hanbin the moment he realized he just lost.

That’s it. You can’t take this anymore. He’s pocket-sized. You’re stuffing him inside your pocket. It doesn’t help that his flushed face makes him look exactly like the strawberries he loves much— matching the red of his jacket, and it’s driving you insane.

“You really do have a massive crush on him.”

Jiwoong invades your alone time once things have settled down a bit. You’re in the living room, sitting cross-legged on the floor right in front of the sliding doors to the backyard. No, you’re not sitting here because it gives you a nice view of Ricky chasing Gyuvin around with his jacket as a makeshift weapon. That’s not true at all. “Say it louder, will you,” you grunt when he takes a seat next to you, hitting the corner of your beer can with his before he takes a swig.

“I don’t have to. Not when you’re already practically outing yourself with your staring.”

You frown. “I’m not that obvious.” You double take. Then bite the inside of your cheek. “Hey. I think I’m screwed.” 

Jiwoong shakes his head with a laugh. “Ricky is cute, isn’t he?”

Case in point, him doing that scrunchy face, gummy smile, when he suddenly bursts out laughing. You nod somberly. All Jiwoong does is make fun of your demise. 

Still, you think you’re being subtle enough. Ricky is slow. He told you this was his strength and weakness when Gyuvin asked you to tag along with them on a shopping trip one time. But for someone who’s usually programmed to be in slow motion, he sure is quick to catch onto things when you don’t want him to.

“Seonbae.”

His voice is soft, unassuming. You’re both standing in front of Gyuvin’s apartment one late Friday afternoon. You’re holding open one of his hands, cupping his knuckles from underneath— something you’d never have anticipated to have the privilege of doing maybe three, four weeks prior— dropping five pieces of candy onto his palm without much of a thought. 

“Yeah?” you hum. 

He closes his hand and stuffs the fistful into his coat pocket, a completely blank and innocent face, before asking— “do you like me?”

Now, this wasn’t in your monthly fucking bingo.

You stifle back a choking noise, completely caught off guard. “H—huh?” Jiwoong was right. His only flaw is his overconfidence. You have no idea how to slip away from this unscathed. “What— what makes you say that?”

Ricky blinks at you. “You always give me snacks.” You’re pretty sure candy doesn’t qualify as snacks, but you digress. “Don’t...don’t they say the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach?”

Unfortunately for him, you’re swearing by a different psychological tactic. “W—well, I always have a lot of candy with me! For my blood sugar, you know?” you sputter out the first excuse you can rummage from your short-circuiting brain. “And...and after finding out you liked strawberries a lot, it would be rude and selfish not to give you any if I have them, right?” 

Right? Please agree. Please stop asking any more questions. Ricky is pondering over your words, seemingly deep in thought with pursed lips, until those said pretty lips part open to say, “Oh. Oh, I get it.” You don’t know what he gets, but you roll with it. “Then again, it also doesn’t make sense if you like me.”

The fuck does he mean that it doesn’t make sense if you like him? You’d kiss his face right here and now.

“You turned down that date, after all.”

Insult to injury. He doesn’t know that was the biggest regret of your life. You bite down your tongue and exhale sharply. “Ah. Don’t overthink it, Mr. Shim,” you tell him, finally knocking on Gyuvin’s door after standing in front of it for a good ten minutes. “Overthinking causes stress. Stress will give you wrinkles.”

“It’s okay,” he says, turning over the door upon hearing a click. “I’m still handsome when I’m stressed.”

You breathe out a sigh. This is the man you’re down bad for. This is the man you’re helplessly pining for.

“I think you’d be more handsome with black hair.”

Surprisingly, that statement comes from Gyuvin and not from you. He opened the door just at the right moment— an unimpressed look on his face upon seeing his unannounced visitors. “Why have my Friday night invaders tripled?” he laments. Tripled? You don’t ask and let yourself in despite his protests.

“I’m here to check on your term paper,” you inform, kicking off your shoes at the entryway.

“I’m here to play games,” says Ricky, doing the same.

“I’m here to play games too.”

For some reason, Gunwook had the same idea as you two to terrorize Gyuvin’s sacred Friday nights of solitude, but managed to act on it before anyone else. He’s already settled on the floor of the living room like it’s his own, legs outstretched, switch controller in his hands. “Hyung, let’s play!” he calls out to Ricky. Gyuvin reluctantly tells you to sit down before he grabs you two drinks from the kitchen. 

“You know what, I forgot to ask.” Gyuvin settles down two glasses of juice onto the coffee table with a suspicious eye directly zeroed in on you. “Why were you two together outside?”

“Seonbae and I happened to meet each other downstairs,” explains Ricky. Which was true. You did somehow bump into each other at the building lobby, Ricky nearly closing the elevator in front of your face in the process.

“Right. I told you I’m here to check on your paper, and I’ll be off once I do exactly that,” you tell him, mentally thanking Ricky for the save. “You had a month to write so it better be decent. Give me your laptop.”

Gyuvin smacks his tongue, but does as you say anyway, while the other two boys loiter around the floor and fuck around with Gyuvin’s switch that’s connected to the TV. They’re playing a Mario game. You pay them no mind, ignoring the non-human noises they make once Gyuvin reappears with his laptop. He warns you that this is still his first draft, but you didn’t need that premise. The first page isn’t even formatted correctly. You’ve got your work cut out for you.

“Hey, hey, move over! Let me play—”

Again, you pay no mind to the noise. It’s mostly coming from Gunwook and Gyuvin because Ricky is quiet when he’s focused— in this case, focused on hopping over some goombas. He’s got a thin pair of glasses perched on his nose, lips pursed unconsciously into a noot noot, and fuck he’s so cute, and — no, you’re not paying attention to him. You’re paying attention to your junior’s paper. You’re proofreading. Simply proofreading. You highlight some errors here and there, marking some corrections. 

Yet again, you don’t pay attention to the noise Gunwook and Gyuvin are making—

“Ah. I’m killing Gyuvin’s brothers.”

—but Ricky suddenly makes a quiet remark, and you snort very, very loudly in response.

You slap a hand over your mouth. That wasn’t funny. That wasn’t funny at all and the other two didn’t even seem to hear it. “Why are you laughing?” Gyuvin looks at you, offended by the sound you just made. “Did I write something wrong in the analysis? Why are you laughing?”

“N-no, it’s just—” Your throat rips into a cough because it’s not easy to suppress a fit of chortles. Ricky looks so proud of himself, you’re going to cry. You’re near choking and Gyuvin hops onto his feet and makes a beeline for you in a flurry.

“You’re so mean! Give me back my laptop!”

This isn’t a misunderstanding that you intend on clearing up, so you let him run off with his laptop back into his room to revise in private after you’ve disrespected his work. Gunwook stretches up too, saying that he’s off to buy some snacks outside. “Do you want anything?” he asks. Ricky is feeding you his juice and patting your back because you can’t stop coughing. “Okay. Ginger candy. Got it.”

Gunwook has left. Gyuvin is holed up in his room. And the fact that you and Ricky are alone in the living room right now isn’t helping the state of your lungs. “Are...are you okay?” Ricky, the sweet, sweet angel, asks with those giant boba eyes and soft voice. You want to bite down your sleeve and chew it right off.

“I’m—I’m alright.” No, you’re not. You’re sitting way too close on the floor, knees bumping, and the game over screen being reflected on the television right now is a perfect rendition of what’s going on inside your head right now. “Whew. I’m fine. I’m perfectly okay.”

You honestly have no idea how you’ve managed to keep it together these past couple of weeks. You don’t know how you haven’t jumped this guy yet. The video game is forgotten, and Ricky is scrolling through his phone. He’s wearing a melon green sweater which, objectively, is an ugly ass color, but Ricky somehow pulls it off and looks extra fucking soft in it and you’re not god’s strongest soldier.

He lets out a soft laugh, notices you staring, and tilts his phone and scoots closer for you to see a dumb Tik Tok video. Your shoulders bump. You make a comment that fails to register to your own ears. “By the way,” he starts. He places his phone face down on the tabletop. Whoa, this is a little dangerous. He shouldn’t be pouring all his attention into you like this. “Are you free this weekend?”

You blink. Your brain is jumping into conclusions. “Why?”

“Well,” he fumbles with the tips of his sweater paws. You’re going to eat him. “My uncle’s resort is opening a new branch, so there’s an opening party. Everyone else is coming, including Gyuvin. It’d be nice if you can come as well.”

“Oh,” you open your mouth. You’re a little surprised. “Thanks for the invite, but I don’t think I’m fit for those kinds of events, you know?”

This is quite a bit of pressure. Ricky tilts his head, failing to understand what you mean for a second, but when he does he exclaims, “oh! Don’t worry. We don’t have to join the formal event. We can just eat dinner and mess around at the beach. The actual party will be boring, anyway.”

“Ah.” He’s an angel. He’s so sweet. It hasn’t even been long since you’ve somehow been absorbed into their tight-knit group. You’re not sure how it even happened.

Well, you were already friends with half of them separately. Gyuvin has been buzzing around you since he was eleven and you were thirteen. Hanbin and Hao have been your academic ride or dies ever since you met them in the first week of classes. Jiwoong has been a force you could lean on the moment he took you under his wing for your first major project in university.

And Ricky— 

“Tell me if you want to come,” he smiles. “So I can reserve a room for you.”

Maybe this was bound to happen eventually.

“I’m done!”

Gyuvin has finally emerged from his room, stomping back to you and Ricky before slamming the laptop on the table before you. “I edited it. No more errors now. Praise me,” he says proudly. You give him a suspicious glance, sliding the device closer to you. “This one’s good, right? Tell me it’s good. Don’t laugh. Laughing isn’t constructive.”

Ricky is curious and pokes his face closer to yours, and you flinch. “You misspelled ‘debilitating,’” he says. You gasp. Ricky, once again, looks so proud of himself. Gyuvin wants to die.

“Give it back—” 

He snatches the laptop once more and starts aggressively typing next to the both of you. At the same time, Gunwook finally returns with a bag of miscellaneous snacks. “Seonbae, here you go,” he tosses a full bag of ginger-honey candy to you, which you now have no use for because you have stopped coughing.

“Thanks,” you gruffly say. When you stuff it into your bag you notice Ricky staring at you. “Do you want some?” you ask. He doesn’t answer your question but says something else entirely.

“You don’t need that anymore.”

Your eyes widen when Ricky snatches the bag of candy from you. He promptly opens it— moving quicker than you’ve ever seen him before, and rips open a piece before tossing it into his mouth. 

You’re in shock. What is he doing?

“Hey, that’s not for you!” Gunwook protests. Ricky responds by simply pelting him with another piece. Gunwook is speechless. Then retaliates by throwing a candy bar from his 7-Eleven bag to Ricky’s chest. It bounces onto his lap. Ricky grabs another piece of candy to flick at Gunwook. They start fighting. Gyuvin notices the fun and abandons his paper to join in. 

This isn’t how you planned your Friday to end up like. Then again, you didn’t plan on developing a crush on your friend’s best friend either, so you can’t really say anything else.

HANBIN HAS BEEN WAITING IN YOUR BUILDING’S PARKING LOT FOR A GOOD TWENTY MINUTES NOW. You’re already late for the event, so might as well make the most of your tardiness. I’m still getting ready, you shoot Hanbin a text. You keep messing up your fucking eyeliner, and there’s no way in hell you’re showing up to that damned, bougie ass event in front of Ricky with assymetrical eyeliner. His are always perfect and you don’t want to lose to that.

“Dude, we might miss the buffet!” 

It’s Matthew yelling at you when the tinted front seat window rolls down as you sprint— heels on, mind you— to the car. “The place is a resort! They’re never running out of food,” you yell back while throwing the backseat open and then throwing yourself inside.

You’re breathing quite heavily. “Are we ready to go?” asks Hanbin, and you shoot him a thumbs up. You’re too busy catching your breath to notice Yujin also co-occupying Hanbin’s car. 

“Noona, how long did it take for you to get ready?” he asks.

“Three hours,” you reply with a grunt. It’s a little hot so you open the windows, letting some air in. You can’t risk your makeup melting. You need to be extra pretty tonight to stand a chance against all the rich people flooding that place.

“Really?” Yujin does the same. “I can’t tell.”

You’re speechless. You hear Hanbin swallow down a giggle. Matthew isn’t even trying. This highschooler just roasted your ass. You need to put him in his place. “Why are you out here on a weekend?” you click your tongue. “You should be using this time to study.”

“I study enough already,” he protests.

“What was the Gyeongbokgung palace used for during the Joseon Dynasty?”

Yujin freezes. “Wow,” he says robotically after a significant pause, just as mechanically turning his head to the window. “The night air is so fresh.” 

You don’t grill him further because Yujin is right— there’s something different about the wind wafting through the atmosphere tonight. You let yourself sink into the carseat, let the breeze cool your cheeks, eyes fluttered close, until you reach your destination. The resort is far off from the city— the seaside, obviously, but you don’t see the shorelane just yet. Only a towering building illuminated with warm flushed lights as the car drives up to the entrance, surrounded by ferns and foliage and an air of complete refinement.

The foyer floor is so shiny that you can see the chandelier reflecting from it. Are you allowed to step on this? Is this legal?

Upon entering the function hall however, your nerves become nothing. You already see a handful of people being completely, strikingly, and obviously out of place. All for different reasons.

You see Gunwook near the live band, somehow holding a conversation with two men that appear to be twice his age. Gyuvin and Jiwoong have comparatively way too much food on their plates as they camp right by the buffet. Hao is currently talking to a security guard while a suspicious looking vase is sticking out of his pocket. The only person that would be blending in well right now would be Taerae— if he wasn’t wearing that bright purple suit ensemble.

Damn. You shouldn’t have been worrying so much about being a fish out of water. These guys are way worse than you.

“I thought you weren’t coming.”

But of course. There’s one guy that looks like he’s completely at home. 

Matthew greets Ricky’s arrival with a half-hug, and the other two boys do the same while you respectfully stand and stare. Respectfully. Yes. You pay no mind to that dangerously unbuttoned-button down under than dangerously low-cut blazer. You are the embodiment of peace and serenity and giving him your business as usual smile. “Hey,” you say. “Sorry we’re late.”

When Ricky returns your stiff smile with one of pure ease and kindness, you swoon like a fucking loser. “Yeah,” Yujin inserts. “She was taking so long to fix her face.”

Your smile stiffens further. “I did not take so long, haha, what are you talking about.”

Yujin gives you a look. “You said you took three—”

And there goes your hand over his mouth to shut him up. “Haha. Let’s go eat, Yujinnie. Didn’t you say you were starving?” Yujin muffles something out. You pinch his arm. “Thanks for the invite, Ricky! We’re off to sweep the buffet now!”

“Wait—”

You book it. Well. As fast as you can book it with these damned heels and with a large shoulder bag weighing you down because you’ll be staying here overnight for free. Does the bag match your dress? No, it does not, but you don’t know where your room is and you’re not well enough to talk to Ricky at the moment, so you suck it up and stress-eat at the buffet table with the Yujin you kidnapped. “Why were you so embarrassed, noona?” he innocently asks while stuffing his cheeks with some meat skewers. “You look pretty tonight and it’s all thanks to your hard work.”

Who has been teaching him these backhanded remarks? Who has been negatively influencing this child? You grunt and put a scoop of mashed potatoes on his plate, much to his displeasure, and continue eating your own damned meal.

“Hey, can you take a photo of me?”

The moment you’re done with your not so pleasant meal, you’re skewed away by Matthew who wishes to hire you as his photographer. After that barbecue dinner last time, Matthew swore that you take the best photos of him and his entire IG feed for the past month is credited to you. 

You look at him, displeased because you’re not wearing the appropriate attire to lay on the floor to ensure the best angles. “Go stand by the window.” Still, you take his phone from him and make do with what you can. “What’s your password again?”

“Hao hyung’s birthday.”

“Got it.”

Now, stretching your legs and getting into various lunging positions aren’t easy to do when you’re wearing a long and silky dress. But you are a woman of commitment, and your bag is weighing you further to the ground as you take a low-angle shot of Matthew. “Okay, now hold your necktie. Now look away— perfect. That’s it. Next one.” When you try to get up, gravity decides that it hates you. You wobble on the stilts of your shoes, nearly stumbling back, but you feel someone grab onto your arm and pull you up before your ass kisses the ground.

“Whoa, please be careful.”

It’s Ricky. Of course, it’s him. When you look up, he’s got his eyebrows knitted together out of concern, strands of light wavy hair perfectly falling over said eyebrows and your breath hitches in your throat a little.

He’s got his other hand held out, and he’s probably expecting you to take it to balance yourself to your feet, but you refuse to be a predictable woman.

Instead, you give him Matthew’s phone and help yourself up. “Thanks. I’m fine. Just slipped a little.” You have no idea why you’re acting coy right now. Maybe it’s because he’s being a little less cute tonight, being a little more dangerous instead— flinching the moment you feel his feathery touch on your shoulder as he removes the weight of your bag from your person, before passing it to an attendant that he calls over with a single look.

“Can you bring this to Room 207? Thank you.”

No, no, no, this is too much. This is too much for you. Why is he trying to be smooth? Why is he trying to swoop you off your feet without taking any responsibility?

“Hyung, I’ll take your photos instead,” he says to Matthew, who’s been watching the spectacle unfold and you pray to god that your unsubtle thirsting wasn’t too noticeable. Matthew doesn’t say anything about it, though. You assume you’re in the safe zone because all he’s doing is complaining when Ricky takes way too zoomed in photos of his face. “This is a new trend. Just trust me.”

“Sure? Okay, go on.”

You take this as an opportunity to escape, only to be called by Gyuvin back to the buffet table because, “have you tried their gambas?! This shit is fire!”

When an old guy took the podium, you all took this as your cue to exit— scattered off either to the beach, bar, or your Ricky-sponsored rooms. You have an entire room for yourself because there’s no way in hell you’re sharing a room with any of those stinky boys. Your exhaustion is aching for a shower, and so you grant its request, and by the time you’re done freshening up and changing into a more comfortable set of clothing, you receive a text from Hanbin that they’re all gathered at the beach.

“Ah. The wind is cold.”

Wearing a thick jacket out was the right choice indeed. You stuff your hands into your pockets for warmth, feet sinking into the sand as you watch the mess before you. They’re all either running around, drawing things on the ground, or lounging on a picnic blanket under the starlit horizon. “Sit,” says Jiwoong, tapping the empty spot next to him, and you oblige with a yawn. “It’s only eleven. Can’t believe you’re sleepy already.”

“I’m getting old,” you tell him, letting your head drop onto your shoulder as you hug your knees. The rest are by the shore or in the water. You have no energy to join in at this point.

Jiwoong makes a distasteful noise at your statement. “What does that make me?”

“A fossil.” You yawn once more, craning your neck to bury your face into his arm. “I’m so tired.”

He chuckles. “Are you fine with Ricky seeing you like this?”

“Please be quiet.” This time, you sneeze. Right into the sleeve of his shirt. Then you sniffle. “He’s not even here.” Jiwoong is disgusted. He tips you off, picks up your wrist, and uses your hand to wipe off your ‘germs,’ or so he says.

“You’re lucky he didn’t see that. Where is he, anyway?”

The question is answered by Gyuvin when his energy finally gets exhausted from splashing around, flopping onto the blanket next to you and Jiwoong. “He was still in our room when I left,” he says, out of breath. “I think he wanted to rest for a while.”

Gradually, the rest start to gather too. “We haven’t taken a group photo yet,” Hao brings up. “He’s gonna sulk if we take one and he’s not here.”

It’s as if you just got recharged with a full eight hours of sleep.

“I’ll go get him,” you say, promptly standing up. “I need to pick up something from my bag, anyway.” Total lie. Jiwoong sees right through your bullshit and his teeth are showing through his smile. You flip him off and start making your way back, stumbling when Hanbin asks if you want him to accompany you, bringing back the hop in your step when Gunwook tells him, “she’s a big girl, she can handle it herself.” You’ll get back at him for that later.

Two-one-three, two-one-three, two-one-three, you repeat the room number in your head as you go down each door in the hallway, ringing phone glued to your ear to inform Ricky that you’re going to barge into his room, but he’s not picking up. Maybe he’s asleep? Probably. There’s no response when you knock on the door and slot in the key Gyuvin gave you, and you’re met with dim lights and an eerie silence the moment you crack open the door.

“Ricky?” you call out. There’s no response.

The light from the hallway leaks in to illuminate an empty bed. Huh. Where is he? What rouses even more questions is the odd positioning of what should be a bedside table, for some reason positioned at the foot of the bed and a few feet away from the open bathroom door. There’s also a mishmash of things stacked on the table— books, folded shirts, magazines, and some of which have fallen and scattered to the floor.

But those aren’t the only things on the ground. 

You quickly bring a hand to your mouth. “Oh,” you wheeze out. “Oh my god.” You try to cover it up with a cough, but it’s too late. A snort managed to slip through. 

“Stop laughing,” he protests from the floor. How could you hold it in when Ricky is right there, lying curled on the ground while hugging what seems to be his knee, bathrobe-clad, with papers and magazines scattered around and on top of him. A memo sheet is stuck on his cheek. His back is turned to you. His buzzing phone with your contact name on it is next to his head.

How the hell did he end up here?

“Are—are you okay?” you manage to say as you crouch down next to him. He doesn’t budge when you try to roll him back. He lets out a grunt and tells you to leave him alone. “I can’t, I was ordered to pick you up. What are you trying to hide? Why won’t you look at m—”

When you finally roll him to his back, you realize why. 

“Oh no.”

Ricky’s got a hand hovering over half of his face— the wrong half because you can very clearly see the red gash running down his right temple, but that’s probably not what he’s intending to hide. He’s got his brows in a sad and shameful furrow, glaring eyes refusing to look at you, and you can see the shades of pink coral and pink on his cheeks, slipping through the gaps of his fingers. 

He’s pink. He’s so pink.

“Don’t laugh,” he grumbles. “It’s not funny.”

You might as well eat him whole, holy fucking shit.

“N—no, you’re right. It’s not funny. I’m not laughing.” 

You’re damn near about to break into a coughing fit again with how hard you’re trying to suppress your giggles. Based on the evidence laid down at the crime scene— namely his still damp hair, scanty bathrobe, misplaced furniture, and the mess of it all— Ricky was likely trying to take post-shower thirst traps while Gyuvin was still out so he wouldn’t be made fun of. 

Slipping and hitting his head on the table’s edge in the process was probably not part of his calculations. You fear you might’ve been the unintentional cause of this because you gave him a surprise call earlier.

“Let’s get you up, big boy. Grab my hand.”

Begrudgingly, he lets you pull him up. You instruct him to sit on the bed while you call room service for a first aid kit. The wound on his forehead doesn’t look serious, but you decide to apply some ointment and put a bandage on it just in case. He winces when you clean the dried blood off with water. God, he’s too fucking cute. Your gushing is ruined by an incoming call.

“Hanbin,” you greet, wedging the phone between your ear and shoulder because you’re still trying to patch up the poor boy. He scrunches his nose when the ointment touches his wound. “We’ll be there in ten minutes. A minor accident occurred. No, you don’t have to come up here. Ricky is physically well and alive.” You can’t say the same about his emotional state though. He’s been quiet and frowning this whole time. “Say hi, Ricky.”

You pass him the phone. He looks at your phone wielding hand, a contemplative expression, then takes it. “Don’t come,” is all he says to Hanbin at the other end of the line— a little too gruffly for your liking— before tossing it off somewhere onto the bed.

Ricky’s eyes snap up to look at you. Maybe you’ve been taking this situation a little too lightly.

“Is it done?” he asks in that same tone of voice, and— oh. Oh, no. You’re in a tight spot. Figuratively and literally because Ricky is leaning back against the bed, you slightly leaning into him because you’re simply, very innocently trying to bandage up his temple, and the most comfortable way to do it is having a knee propped up on the mattress, face hovering dangerously above his. 

When you unavoidably make eye contact, you flinch and feel your bones rattle.

Oh. 

Your gaze falters and your swallow down your dry throat, watching as the bathrobe slips down from his left shoulder in real time. That’s it. You’re gone. Your brain has stopped working. You’re starting to miss cute Ricky who gets excited over your strawberry candies. Where is he? Where did he go? This Ricky is a little dangerous. This Ricky feels like he’s going to fucking eat you alive.

“Y—yeah. One sec.” You’re not sure if you even managed to secure the bandage on his wound because the moment your skin touched his, you immediately flung yourself back from a ghost burn. “Did...did you hurt yourself anywhere else?” you ask. He shouldn’t be looking at you like that. Why is he looking at you like that?

The brief silence that follows swallows you whole. 

“I’m not sure. Can you check?”

Then spits you right back out because crazy fucking bastard— what the fuck does he fucking mean by can you fucking check? 

“Oh, um.” Dry. Your throat is dry. Does he want you dead? Is that it? Does it not matter whether or not you get out of this room alive? You don’t like this— whatever this is because you don’t know what’s wrong with him tonight. Did he get a concussion when he fell? Do you have to go take him to see a doctor? 

Maybe it’s you that needs to go see a doctor. Because you’re pretty damn sure that this heart rate is nowhere near normal.

Knock, knock, knock.

“We’re coming in.”

Karma acts quickly because you stumble back and nearly collapse into the floor as well. The door cracks open and you grab onto the nearest thing for balance, which, in this case, is a curtain you almost tug off from the window out of sheer force. “Ricky slipped and hurt his head,” you blurt out the moment Hanbin and a few others enter the room. Ricky’s face drops into betrayal. Self-defense. You needed a diversion.

Taerae and Gyuvin are the ones that came with Hanbin, the former taking a long look at the room and its inhabitants. “Oh,” he says after acknowledging the mess on the floor and the bandage on Ricky’s forehead. “Okay, Humpty Dumpty.”

Gyuvin lets out a snort. Ricky chucks a pillow in their direction. Thank god for their interruption because you don’t know what would have overtaken you had they come five minutes later. “No wait, did he really slip?” Gyuvin asks, a little too giddy and giggly about the whole ordeal. “Dude, did you fall over while taking thirst traps?”

And you’re subsequently kicked out of the room while Ricky gets dressed into something more decent and gets made fun of by Gyuvin and Taerae. 

“Took you guys long enough.”

You’re all back at the beach now with a grumpy Ricky in tow. Gyuvin immediately runs off to snitch on his best friend’s misfortune to the rest. He’s sulking, you notice, face down and hands stuffed in his pockets as the cool breeze flutters his hair in its embrace. “Quit making fun of him!” Hanbin scolds, and you spot Jiwoong’s expectant expression to tell him what you were up to alone in Ricky’s room.

Nothing  You were up to nothing, you send the message through your glare. You could’ve been up to something had those three not interrupted, but would you have survived that? Your eyes flicker over to Ricky, who’s trying to push Gyuvin off him— traces of the tension and danger from the hotel room completely gone without a trace that you fear you might have just been imagining it out of the sheer feeling of want you harbor for the guy.

“C’mon, let’s take a picture!”

Before you know it, you’re gathered by the shore in a bluf, feet sinking into the sand, and you feel yourself bump into Ricky at the very moment the camera flashes to capture the scene.

“Hey, this one came out nicely.”

It did. You’re not sure about the rest, but this photo deserves to be tucked into your wallet and kept in a capsule. 

Ricky is standing next to you, the tight frame leaving no gap or space in between. You’re both smiling a little awkwardly. It’s cute. You keep staring at it until your attention is pulled away by the very man himself.

“You owe me something,” is Ricky’s introduction when he saunters over to you. You raise a brow, closing your phone. Looks like he’s finally gotten over what happened earlier. Gyuvin has finally stopped teasing him by moving on to messing with the sparklers Gunwook brought. You can hear their shouts and laughter from afar, but it’s all muted down.

“What do you mean?” you ask. 

He takes out one hand from his pocket, an open palm outstretched. He’s looking at you expectantly in wait. You break out into a soft laugh and shake your head. Maybe your candy-related scheme worked a little too well.

“I didn’t think I was contractually obligated to do this now,” you hum, fishing out a few pieces of candy from your sweats before dropping them onto his hand. “Maybe I should stop.”

“You can’t just start something by yourself and suddenly stop all by yourself. That’s not fair,” he complains, accepting your offer. “You have to take responsibility.” Only if he takes responsibility for your poor and shriveling heart. His tone is light, a smile playing on his lips, and at this point— you’re sure this isn’t just a crush anymore. You might just be a little in love with Ricky Shen.

YOU HAD NO IDEA HAO WAS SO INFORMED ABOUT PROF SHIN’S MAKEUP PREFERENCES. It’s her birthday this upcoming week. You three freeloaders need to keep sucking up so you can maintain your office privileges, so you decided to buy her a present. Hanbin is unavailable, so it’s just you and Hao browsing the boutiques downtown, and you narrowed down your scope (and budget) to just buying her makeup.

You pull out a bright red lipstick from the display and show it to Hao. “What about this one?” you ask. Hao puts on a look of disapproval.

“She doesn’t like wearing bright colors. Maybe something more on the nude side would be better.”

Well damn, okay. You put the rejected stick back with the rest of its friends. The next one you pick out is also rejected because it’s glossy. “Prof Shin prefers matte,” he further reasons. And now you’re starting to question exactly how and why he knows this. Hao doesn’t humor your queries, though. You settle with a nude Laneige matte lip and a matching blush as a bonus.

“We’re done here, right?” Hao asks after you two pay for the gift.

“Hold on.” You’re stopped by a certain item on display near the check-out counter. You’re convinced that you’ve definitely gone off the deep end at this point. The thoughts blurring inside your head the moment you laid eyes on the strawberry-flavored lip gloss for sale are a little too insane, even for you. You’re not buying this. You don’t even use gloss. This is crazy.

“Thank you, please come again!”

You exit the store with your gift for Prof Shin and a new lip product. You are stressing yourself out.

The buzzing of your phone forces you out of your existential crisis. It’s Gyuvin messaging the group chat. “Hey,” you tap Hao upon reading the message. “We don’t have anything else to do right? You said you have extra gift boxes at home.” When Hao asks why, you show him Gyuvin’s message.

[gyubie cutie: no one wants to send off ricky at the airport with me? :( damn i really am his only friend].

You reply that you and Hao are on the way. You know that Ricky is leaving for a quick vacation to Shanghai today (two weeks before the semester ends, mind you) after an impulsive decision involving alcohol the other day with you and a few of the guys. At one point they suddenly became all emotional and the topic of their families were brought up. Ricky woke up the next morning with a splitting headache and a phone screen that tells him his flight has been booked. 

“Well, I guess I’ll just go,” he said over hangover soup and aspirin, as if he doesn’t have exams in two fucking weeks, and as if Shanghai is just a bus ride away. Sometimes, you’re surprised with how easy going he is. The flight is at an awkward time— Thursday mid-noon, so it’s no surprise that no one else is free to see him off. You didn’t mention anything about wanting to send him off and neither did he ask you to, so you thought why the hell would you do that unless you want to expose your ass full of feelings. But Gyuvin presented the opportunity. Who are you to turn it down?

“Over here!”

You spot Gyuvin waving at you two from a distance with outstretched limbs. You preemptively grab a handful of candy from your pocket— battle ready because it’s been getting harder and harder to pass these to him subtly as of late with the amount of eyes constantly on you— but you don’t find the mop of blonde anywhere, even when you’ve finally reached Gyuvin’s spot.

“Has Ricky left already?” you ask, brow raised. You’d be pissed if Gyuvin baited you two here only for the guy to have already left.

“No, no. He’s here,” he assures. “He’s around here somewhere. He bought some snacks not too long ago, but some girl stopped him to get his number. I lost him because seeing him get hit on made me gag so I had to look away for my safety.”

Well, that’s both assuring and not. Then you remember you have no right to be jealous because Ricky Shen, as suspiciously as he may be behaving as of late (case in point, accidentally seducing you in a bathrobe the other week), he is still not your damned boyfriend.

“Oh, there he is.”

Ricky who is not your boyfriend arrives, and the first thing he does is make you feel so fucking sorry that he isn’t.

“Whoa.”

No wonder you weren’t able to spot him right off the bat. His attention-seeking light hair is gone. No, he hasn’t shaved it— he dyed it freaking black and he looks so fucking good. “Oh, uh,” is how you greet him. The words have completely dried out from your throat. Ricky is looking at you expectantly. Your mouth is hanging open pathetically. “Wow.” Your eloquence is award winning.

He laughs. He wants you dead. “Does it look weird? I needed natural hair for visa requirements.”

“N—no,” you sputter out. Gyuvin goes on to brag that he was right that Ricky would look great in dark hair and Hao proceeds to try and touch said hair, only to get his hand smacked by the hair-owner, while you’re still temporarily incapacitated to say or do anything. You don’t get to say anything, because the clock strikes twelve-twenty, and Ricky has to go

“Have a safe flight, dummy,” Hao bids Ricky off with what you can only describe as a glomp, only to be assaulted by Gyuvin immediately after. You’re standing there awkwardly like a fourth-wheel, hands tucked behind your back because you can’t find the timing to say your farewells, and you missed the timing to pass the candy to him earlier after being so rudely jumpscared by his new look.

When Ricky finally manages to swat and push them both off, his eyes flash over to you. Your mouth curls into something sort of a smile— you’re not completely sure. Ricky takes a step forward to engulf you in an embrace.

Oh. Oh, so we’re doing this now, you think, eyes flying wide open in surprise with a pathetic squeak. “Thanks for seeing me off,” he murmurs softly, and you can feel his voice vibrating into your skin and penetrating your bones. You can’t even reciprocate because he locks your arms tightly against your own body, and you feel his fingers unclasping yours behind your back, allowing him to take the strawberry pieces you intended to give, before pulling away with a dumb grin. “Want anything when I get back?”

You try to blink away the violent shock tremors you’re feeling right now. “I’ve— I’ve always wanted to try the sun cakes there.” Deep breathes. You’re normal. You’re totally normal.

Ricky takes his carrier from Gyuvin, sending you a small smile. “I’ll buy you a hundred.”

“Don’t overdo it,” you let out a breath. God, he drives you insane. “Safe skies. See you when you get back.”

The moment Ricky boards the plane, Gyuvin turns around to ask you two what you should have for lunch. “Why are you so happy that your best friend is gone?” you ask with narrowed eyes the moment you three settle with the first food place you see at Terminal 1 of the airport. “Do you secretly hate him? Is that it?”

“He’ll be gone for two days max, give me a break,” he grunts. “And tomorrow’s Friday. That means I can get the whole evening and weekend to myself without anyone barging into my apartment.”

Your friend’s joy is reflected with how energetically he’s inhaling the bowl of stew. “Don’t get ahead of yourself. I’m gonna do a progress check on your paper tomorrow.” Gyuvin sets down the bowl, looking at you like you just sentenced him to prison. Hao is minding his own business and enjoying his meal. “What? Don’t tell me you forgot that your deadline is in two weeks. I’m checking it tomorrow, so make sure it’s at the very least decent.”

When Gyuvin tells you to stop nagging because it reflects your age, Hao had to stop you from throttling the man.

Anyway, the day passes and you’re at Gyuvin’s apartment to check on his paper. 

“Why are you smiling at your phone? Damn, she’s finally lost it,” he says over another meal. You finished giving him your feedback and decided to just have takeout dinner with him. While eating, however, you received a text from Ricky— a photo of his own meal and a thumbs up above the plate of skewers. It’s been a day, but you can barely feel his absence with how he’s been texting you every hour from the moment he landed.

[ouricky: (photo attached) touchdown ✌️].

[ouricky: (photo attached) this looks like u].

[ouricky: are u asleep yet?]

[ouricky: gyuvin told me ur at his place. tell him to eat shit for me].

[ouricky: (photo attached) dinner w my sister 👍 our meal is better than yours].

“What the hell, did you get a boyfriend?” You look up from your phone to find a very judgemental Gyuvin. “After rejecting all my attempts to set you up for romance? This is a personal attack. You’re buying ice cream later.”

If only he knew you were texting his best friend. Not that you have any intentions on telling him.

“Hey, why do you smell like strawberries?” Gyuvin asks after your meal, right when you decide to retouch your makeup as you ready yourself to leave. “Is that the candy you always bring?”

“It’s my new lip gloss,” You show off the pink bottle. “It tastes like the fruit too.”

“Whoa, that’s cool,” he snatches it from you, examining it a little too close to his face to sniff it. “Where’d you buy it? Do they have one in mango?”

While trying to convince Gyuvin that he should maybe purchase actual mangoes instead of planning on eating an entire bottle of mango-flavored gloss, you also try to convince yourself that you definitely did not make this purchase yourself to try and seduce his friend. Ricky isn’t even here. You’re not wearing it for him. You’re wearing it for yourself.

“I’m off! I’ll take you to the store next time.”

When you defend yourself and your new lip gloss against Jiwoong’s judgment the next morning, he tells you that Ricky probably doesn’t feel the same way as you do. That you probably shouldn’t think too much of it and hurt yourself with your expectations. But at this point, it’s reasonable for you to start overthinking, right? Right? What does Jiwoong know, anyway? He’s not Ricky’s mother. Ricky’s mother is on a yacht with him right now, and you know because he just sent you a video and you’re damn near the precipice of falling headfirst into the depths of thinking he might just like you too.

“I just don’t want you to get too ahead of yourself and end up getting hurt.”

Assuming you’re right and Ricky does like you back— when the hell could it have started? The barbecue at Matthew’s? That one evening at Gyuvin’s apartment? That night in his uncle’s resort? You have no idea, much like how you have no idea how you somehow got absorbed into their mess of a friend group.

But a few little texts and inexplicable bouts of skinship here and there isn’t enough to set you way too far off-the deep end. The way he looks at you might just be your imagination. Jiwoong could still be absolutely correct and you’re just tripping over your own assumptions.

You’re not that quick to listen to your intrusive thoughts. You’re still a little reasonable. That’s why you haven’t fallen to your knees and blurted out your insurmountable feelings for him yet.

What does set you off to state beyond help, however, is a sudden phone call later that same Friday evening. 

Morning, rather. Specifically at four in the morning— waking you up from your sleep by its incessant buzzing. “Hello?” you groan into the mic, voice still croaky and eyes barely open. “What’s up? Why aren’t you asleep?” You have no idea why Ricky is calling you right now. The moment you hear his voice through the line however, you feel all five of your senses suddenly snapping wide awake.

“I thought it’d be a waste to spend my time here asleep,” he says with a soft chuckle. Oh, holy fuck it’s too early for this. You’re not mentally prepared for this kind of voice from him yet— low, almost a deep rumble, reminiscent of thunderstorms and clouds, only amplified by how he’s practically whispering into the core of your being through the phone. 

You pull your blanket down and roll over to the side to give your heart a chance to breathe.

“Yet you decide to call me at four in the morning instead of doing something more worthwhile,” you click your tongue, and you only hear Ricky laugh in response. “Are you planning on extending your trip? When’s your flight?”

“No, I’m leaving later. I still have to prepare for finals,” he replies. “Flight’s scheduled at 11 p.m.”

“Ah, that’s too bad,” you say. “I’m pulling an all-nighter at the library tonight. Deadline to catch. I don’t think I can see you at the airport this time.”

“That’s alright,” he hums. “Next time you can just come with me to Shanghai.”

You pause. Wait. Wait a minute. “Haha, yeah, it— it would be nice to visit your hometown with the rest of the guys, yes.” That’s what he probably meant. You probably meant all of you— many, plural— not just you and you alone. Haha. Of course.

But when Ricky takes a while to reply, you start to overthink, start nipping on the skin of your lip so hard that blood might draw.

“Yeah,” he says after an awkward beat. “With the rest of the guys. Yeah.”

You really need to hear Jiwoong’s voice of reason right now. Because all you’re hearing is the sound of your own heartbeat inside your ears like a hyperactive drum.

“Anyway, you must be tired. I should let you sleep now,” says Ricky after ruining all your chances of falling back asleep. You can’t. The best you can do is get up before the sun and go on with your busy day so as to not think about this conversation too much.

“You should be the one sleeping,” you manage to reply. “Don’t forget my sun cakes.”

“Mhm. G’night.”

Crazy. This man drives you fucking crazy.

You don’t return to sleep after that.

“Okay,” is Jiwoong’s expert opinion after telling him what happened later that same evening, having dinner with him at a McDonald’s near the city library. He’s put his kiddie meal on pause while you were telling him about Ricky Shen and his demonic antics at four in the morning. He’s got his elbows on the table, fingers interlocked, and staring at you with a look so serious he might as well be diagnosing you with a disease. “I think you’re right,” he continues. “Maybe he does like you.”

The shriek you let out is almost inhuman. 

Jiwoong’s lips quirk into a smile and he goes back to eating. “I told you! I told you I wasn’t overthinking things! My lip gloss purchase is justified!” you proclaim. Jiwoong tosses a fry into your mouth to sedate you, and it works for a few chews until you start yapping again. “But, god, now what? He’s returning later or tomorrow. I have no idea how to face him.”

Your phone vibrates a message. “Is it Ricky?” he asks in an attempt to tease you, but all your face does is turn sour upon reading the text. “No? Who is it?”

“Woong,” you say, setting your phone on the table. “Are you busy this evening?”

He furrows his brows. “I was planning on writing my paper. Why? Is there a problem?”

“Great. You can work with me at the library the whole night.”

When you slide your phone over across the table, Jiwoong understands. 

[jaeryeong: can i see you tonight? please? it wont take long. i just need to make things right]. 

“He’s a persistent fucking cockroach.”

You grunt, taking back your phone. “You should report him,” he says, and you’ve completely lost your appetite. “Screenshot his texts and block his number. I’ll accompany you to the station if you want to handle this legally.”

“No, it’s fine,” you scrunch your nose. He’s a wimp, according to his ex-friend Gyuvin, so you’re sure he isn’t gonna hurt you or anything. And your exams are coming up, so you don’t want to deal with processing this entire thing while you’re already academically burdened as is. “Be my bodyguard for the night. If he tries anything, I can just throw you at him and run away.”

Jiwoong doesn’t approve of your methods, but doesn’t argue anyway. After eating you both finally head to the library where you’ll be cooped up the entire night— tucked in the corner in your own respective cubicles. 

Your friend’s worry starts stirring whenever he sees you check your phone every hour or so. He pulls back the desk chair upon noticing the serious look on your face, turning over to your direction in concern. “Is Jaeryeong texting you?” he asks. “Did he follow you here? Should I call the police?”

“No,” you reply. “Ricky sent me a photo of him at the airport. He’s wearing ear muffs. He’s so cute. I can’t do this anymore.” 

Jiwoong’s face falls to an expression reminiscent of death and stops talking to you after that.

Well. You have been receiving texts from Jaeryeong, but you haven’t opened them in case he gets motivated by the fact you’ve read his messages. You still don’t know how he and Gyuvin ended up being friends, but then again, Gyuvin was friends with a group of delinquents in high school. He wasn’t part of the group. He just thought their vibe was cool.

“Hey.” 

It’s twenty minutes past twelve, Ricky is probably still on the airplane, and you haven’t eaten anything since your 6 p.m. dinner. You poke Jiwoong’s arm, to which he blatantly ignores. “I’m gonna get something from the vending machine. Keep ignoring me and I won’t buy you snacks.” He says nothing but follows you when you get up, and you sneer at the man following you with a silent tantrum. “Quit sulking,” you tell him as you punch the numbers for coffee on the machine. “You’re not cute enough for that.”

“I’m sorry for not being Ricky,” is the first thing he says to you after two hours of silence. “You’re wearing that scheming lip gloss again, but he’s not even here.” You frown. He laughs and takes your place in front of the vending machine by cordially bumping his ass into yours the moment your drink falls down the chute. “Your phone’s flashing by the way. I think Ricky’s calling.”

You look down, bringing up your phone, and sure enough calling ID “ouricky” is giving you a call. 

He’s calling. He is calling you.

Your eyes flash back up to Jiwoong, widened in surprise. 

Why is he calling you?

“Did he send a message in the group chat that he arrived?” you ask, suddenly panicking as the phone relentlessly vibrates in your hand. “He didn’t, right? Why would he call me first? What time is it? Wasn’t his flight just an hour ago?”

“For someone who’s been pretty confident that Ricky likes you back, you’re sure acting funny,” he hums, leaning against the vending machine and taking a sip from his cold brew while you’re having a mental breakdown. “Answer it. Go on.”

“‘I’m scared!” you exclaim. “What if instead of saying hello I end up blurting out that I’m in love with him and ask him if he feels the same way?!”

You take too long to make a move so the phone line gets cut off. But when Ricky calls again, Jiwoong wastes no time to snatch your phone from your hands, click answer, and put the damn thing on loudspeaker for the entire fucking world to hear. What the hell are you doing? your scrunched up face says to him. Doing you a favor, his arrogant eyebrows reply. You attempt to snatch your phone back, arms in a desperate move to retrieve to device—

“Hello?”

—but they freeze mid-air at the sound of Ricky’s voice blurring through the speaker.

Jiwoong grins. You slowly get your phone back and press it to your ear. “Yes. Hello. What’s up?” You give Jiwoong the nastiest glare you can muster, but flinch back the moment you hear Ricky’s voice again.

“Are you still at the library?” he asks.

“Yeah.” You elbow Jiwoong when he laughs at your sudden switch-up. “Why?”

“Come down.”

What?

“I’m outside.”

It’s almost stupid how your body starts moving on its own. 

The cold air bites your skin the moment you break past the doors, met by the dim sky and muted sight of the empty plaza square outside the library entryway. But it’s not completely empty— no. Ricky, who’s supposed to be still on the plane ride back to Seoul, is standing five feet away from you, eyes flickering up from his phone the moment you arrive, a slow, soft smile blooming on his face and cheeks.

You see the suitcase next to his feet. Jiwoong’s words echo in your head— maybe you’re right, he said, maybe he does like you. It’s not just a maybe anymore. It’s not just your mind making things up.

Ricky, who is supposed to be in the air halfway between Seoul and Shanghai, went straight from the airport to the city library just to see you.

You’re usually the one doing dumb things because of him. This time, it’s not you. 

It’s him.

“Hey, are you crazy? Did your flight schedule change?” You stomp towards him, closing the gap between the both of you with big strides and quick steps. “Why didn’t you update us? Jesus, you gave me a scare when you said you were here.”

Ricky’s only reply is a laugh, and your intent to scold him more gets stuck in your throat and you stumble a little when you abruptly halt right in front of his feet. You look at him, batting your eyes in an attempt to blink away the possible pink and hazy filter you’re seeing him with, but it doesn’t work. He is just this pretty. He is just this dreamy. He is just soft and soft and soft when his eyelashes flutter above his big, dark irises as he looks at you, when his stained hair frames his face a little too perfectly, when the corners of his lips lift ever the slightest to resemble a smile.

“That’s not how you usually greet me,” he says. “Aren’t you going to give me anything?”

Your heart stirs. “What?” Aren’t you supposed to be the one asking that? He promised to buy you a hundred sun cakes, and you’re pretty sure those won’t fit inside his one suitcase. “Oh. Oh, wait.” You pat around your pockets, only to realize you left all your candy in your bag back with Jiwoong. 

“Sorry,” you tell him, feeling a little guilty. “I was in a rush to get down. I wasn’t able to bring any with me.”

Instead of responding with disappointment, Ricky just hums and leans a little closer. “Really?” He suddenly nudges his face into yours, noses bumping, and your eyes widen in surprise. “But you do have something else.”

He’s close. His face is hovering a little too close to yours to be smiling cheekily unaffected like that. You can feel his warm breath on your lips and you’re starting to feel dizzy. 

“It smells sweet,” he says and you think— oh. He’s not good for your heart.

Maybe it’s because he’s officially driven you to the breaking point of being crazy, or maybe it’s because the cold has completely frozen all the sane parts of your brain, but the words you’d usually keep tucked between your thoughts and confidentiality suddenly come stumbling out of your mouth before you can stop yourself.

“Do you want to know if it tastes sweet too?”

You gasp after realizing what you just said. You look at Ricky with a face aghast with surprise, jumping back because holy fuck— why did you say that? Why? You’re crazy. You’re stupid. You bite down your bottom lip and taste the dull flavor strawberry mocking the tip of your tongue. You’re insane. You have officially lost it.

If you were Ricky, you’d probably call yourself crazy too, but he doesn’t do that.

Instead, he does something even crazier by taking your offer and pressing his lips against yours.

It doesn’t register that Ricky just kissed you until after the fact, and you’re staring at him with wide, blinking eyes, lips feeling fuzzy, head afloat beyond reach, and him— at an arm’s length away— eyes averted with pink strawberries dusting his cheeks, much like the color slightly glazing his lips, as if he wasn’t the one who just pulled your trigger.

He ran his mouth about taking responsibility the other day.

You’re going to show him responsibility with your mouth.

“S—sorry, that was too sudden, I just— mmph—!”

Two months of pining after him come crashing down the moment you pull him by the collar to finish what he started and god— his lips are softer than you thought, sweeter than you thought, and it’s not just the strawberry lip gloss smudged between your teeth and tongue, melting into what you can only describe as the best fucking kiss in your entire life.

Ricky pulls away to breathe. You chase after his lips once more in a short-winded daze, only to stumble into his chest and he catches you by cupping your face to press another kiss to your mouth. “Ah. This is bad,” he murmurs between barely parted lips. “I don’t think the candy is gonna cut it anymore.”

For a second there, you thought he was gonna say that you’re a bad kisser. 

“You should greet me like this from now on.”

YOU WAKE UP THE NEXT MORNING VIA SUFFOCATION FROM THE LOVE OF YOUR LIFE AND A TEXT MESSAGE FROM A PESTERING RAT. Blurry eyes and barely conscious, you try to roll over on the bed but physically cannot with how Ricky is squeezing your torso with his arms, his nose buried against your nape as he curls up into you from behind. 

You cannot move. You try your darndest to wiggle an arm out because your phone is incessantly buzzing on his bedside table— the only thing from your belongings that you brought with you last night because your haul to the library was left behind with Jiwoong, who’s probably the one texting you right now for ditching him.

When you finally retrieve your phone however, it is not Jiwoong who’s texting you.

It’s Jaeryeong. Squinted eyes read [how could you replace me with a grey-haired twink???] and [don’t even dare try contacting me, bitch] and the first thing you feel is confusion. Then you remember that Jaeryeong is a freak and probably followed you to the library that night, and saw you making out with Ricky in front of a public educational building.

Well. At least that stopped him from bothering you again. The question now is whether or not you should tell Ricky about this. 

“I’m going to kill him.”

You do tell him, in between washing his hair in the bathroom to get the remnants of spray stains out of his hair because Jaeryeong’s comment pissed you off. “I’m gonna kill him the moment I see him,” says Ricky with a lovely towel wrap on his head. You’re looking at him through the mirror and the scary face he’s trying to put on is promptly negated by his spa-day look.

“Do you even know what he looks like?” you raise a brow, freeing him from the towel head to reveal a damp mop of light hair. You throw away the muddled towel and grab a fresh one to dry his head.

“I’ll ask Gyuvin,” he says, face covered by the towel, and you snort.

“I think we’ll have a problem with that. I was kind of hoping to keep this secret for now.”

Ricky suddenly throws his head back, causing the towel to fall to the floor and the top of his head bumps into your stomach. “Why?” he asks, upside down, big brown eyes staring right into your soul like a premeditated attack shooting you square in the chest. He can’t pull this move. That’s illegal. 

“Be—because Gyuvin is annoying and he won’t let me hear the end of it,” you manage to say. You’re not going to fold. You’re not going to give in. “You know how I turned down that blind date with you right?”

The mention of it prompts a frown to tug on the corners of his mouth and it’s the second onslaught against your heart. “Right,” he huffs, lifting his head up to turn around and face you, looking up with a displeased expression, yet his actions say all but displeasure when he tugs on the hem of your shirt, pulling you towards him so he can lock you in place with his arms around your waist.

“Quit pouting,” you tell him. It hasn’t even been twenty-four hours. You’re not sure if you’re gonna last a month with him being like this.

“Gyuvin said you thought I was ugly,” he says. “That’s why you said no to the date.” 

All the adoration you feel gets extinguished in an instant.

You have never heard a more blasphemous statement your entire life.

“I never said that!” you shriek. “That’s not true at all! I didn’t even know what you looked like until we met for that Hadong trip that day!”

Ricky winces at your sudden volume and you’re quick to simmer it down and apologize by hugging his head to your torso. “Oh god, I’m so sorry,” you say. “I turned down the date because your best friend has traumatized me with all the previous blind dates he’s tried setting up. Jaeryeong isn’t the only disaster I’ve experienced. Every single guy he’s set me up with has been trash, so I thought you’d be just like the rest too.”

Maybe this isn’t a conversation you should be having in the bathroom of his apartment, but you digress. Ricky unburies his head and looks up at you once more. “So, am I?”

Again. You’re going to fucking eat him one day. “No,” you cup his face. You’re perfect, you’re an angel.” Maybe if you’d given him and Gyuvin a shot that day, then maybe your first meeting wouldn’t have been as awkward— but either way, regardless of the situation, you’re pretty sure you’d still somehow eventually find yourself falling for this loser.

You lean down, ready to dip into a kiss, only to hear an alarming noise outside the bathroom door.

“Ricky! Why didn’t you tell us you were back?!”

Oh, for fuck’s sake.

You’re pretty happy that Ricky is quick to listen to your request because he immediately scrambles to his feet and tells you to stay inside the bathroom for the time being. “Hey, he’s not in his room,” you hear Gyuvin’s voice from outside, followed by Yujin suspecting that Jiwoong lied to them, followed by Gunwook saying that Ricky is definitely around, evidenced by his unmade bed and half-unpacked suitcase. 

“I—I think I’d have to lock the door,” he mumbles to you, holding the doorknob and ready to leave. “What if they suddenly barge in?”

“It’s okay. You should go out before they actually barge in while we’re both still in here.” 

Cue heavy knocks against the bathroom door. “Ricky! Are you in there?” Ricky grumbles out a swear and quickly slips out of the bathroom, a click on the knob, and you’re officially locked inside your boyfriend’s bathroom within the first twenty four hours of dating him.

Now, this is just great.

You have the privilege of eavesdropping into their reunion through the muffled audio on the other side of the door. “Who were you talking to?” you hear Gunwook ask.

“My...myself…” Ricky answers, and you feel excessively sorry for him so you decide to repent by cleaning up his bathroom. The problem is, even after you’ve finished cleaning, you’re still stuck inside because for some fucking reason, those three have no intentions of leaving.

“Hey, should we order some food?”

“Oh! Sounds good!”

“Let’s watch a movie, I’m bored.”

[ouricky: i’m so sorry they just won’t leave 😭]

You slump to the floor, back sliding down the shower glass. Maybe...maybe this is your karma for turning him down the first time and asking him to hide your relationship. Honestly, you should have known it wouldn’t be easy to keep things hidden from seven pairs of eyes (Jiwoong knows and has sworn secrecy in exchange of being his research lackey). It’s especially difficult considering you’re chronically touch-starved and must always have Ricky Shen around you to hold. So when you have another barbecue dinner at Mattew’s the weekend before your finals, and when Ricky— out of a newly formed habit— tries to greet you with a kiss on the face right in front of his fucking friends, you panic and end up shoving the poor boy, causing him to kiss the floor instead.

Your mouth is wide open. “Oh. Oh my god, I’m so sorry.” Hanbin and Hao hear the very distinct thunk and start questioning.

“Why...is he on the ground?” Hao looks down to see Ricky’s half-alarmed, half-confused face as he half-lifts his body off from the floor. Your face is burning. Oh god.

“He’s repenting,” you say through your teeth.

Ricky tries blinking away the shock.“...Yes...I made a mistake.”

You’re going to lock away your strawberry lip gloss from now on. It’s too hazardous. Hanbin tells you that “friends should get along” and asks you to help him set the table, leaving behind Ricky who’s being pulled back to his feet by Hao. When you see Jiwoong, who saw the whole thing, at the table looking at you with an insufferable look on his face, you flip him off.

“Are you in a bad mood today?” asks Hanbin as he passes you a stack of paper plates. “You keep butting heads with the boys.”

You’re speechless. You can’t even defend yourself if you wanted to so you resign to mumbling out a bitter apology and equally bitterly start arranging the plates on the table, much to Jiwoong’s pure and raw amusement.

When you guys start eating, you even make sure not to sit next to him. You are instead sitting next to Gyuvin, and Ricky is sitting in front of him. They’re both bickering over something again— chopstick-fighting against each other over the table while you half-listen to Matthew who’s sitting on your other side, complaining about Prof Shin and her impossible exam coverage as you clean off your plate.

“You took her class last year, right? Which lessons did she focus on?” he asks.

“Review the most recent ones. I think she just took five or six questions from the earlier lessons,” you reply, grabbing a slice of the gyukatsu you bought and heated up as a potluck, and absentmindedly place said slice on Ricky’s plate.

It gets quieter all of a sudden.

Ricky, Gyuvin, and Matthew are all looking at you— one more alarmed than the rest, and the realization drains all the blood out of your face.

“Yujin, you should try this too!” you try to play it off, placing another piece of gyukatsu on Yujin’s plate, who’s sitting right in front of you. And for good measure you do the same to all of the plates within your arms reach, all while swallowing down the desire to bury yourself into a hole, never to emerge ever again.

“Whoa, thanks.” 

This whole secret relationship thing is harder than you thought, and Ricky is very visibly sulking that you’re giving away his current favorite dish to just about anyone. Looks like you have a grown man that needs to be coaxed back into affection tonight.

Jiwoong tells you that you should just come clean and stop making it harder for yourself. You firmly refuse because even though you are having a lot of trouble and even though you definitely want to kiss Ricky and his pretty face without the fear of getting walked in on by his friends who don’t know the concept of privacy, this set-up is still better than the bane of your existence, Kim Gyuvin, making fun of you until the day you die.

The said bane of your existence treats you all out to another dinner because he finally got his grade for his community development project. He says you have no choice but to come since you’re the reason he got an A.

It’s an easy dinner. You and Ricky even agreed to arrive at separate times with him tagging along with his hyungs, and you chaperoning the children while waiting for the rest of their arrival at the chinese restaurant. The problem comes when they arrive. Specifically, when Ricky arrives because for some god damned, unplanned reason, he arrives wearing the same distinctly floral-patterned short-sleeved button down you’re wearing.

“Oh.”

He doesn’t even fucking wear florals. Why did he decide to switch up today?

Never had you thought that the day would come where you’d be begging to bring back toxic masculinity, but here you are— mouth agape, aghast, and awkwardly standing from your seat at the round table because the shirts are way too obvious to be left unnoticed. 

“Take it off,” you immediately demand. “This is absurd. Take it off and quit copying me.”

“Wow, are you two couple-shirting?” Taerae’s comment stirs a faint blush on Ricky’s cheeks. Why is this idiot blushing? 

“I’m sorry to inform you, but Rik wears it better,” says Gyuvin.

You’re thankful that the same-shirt fiasco ended there. You try to ignore Ricky throughout dinner, but god damn it, Gyuvin is right— that shirt does look pretty damn fine tucked into his slacks and framing his broad shoulders like that and it’s making you angry.

Ricky catches you checking him out from across the table and you catch him subtly smirking. Oh, what a psycho. You’re not letting him off.

“I’m going out for a bit,” you announce, standing up quite loudly with how your chair scrapes against the floor. “Need fresh air. Be back in a bit.” Thankfully, they don’t stop you when you retreat to the cluster of grass and trees and plants tucked in one corner of the outside parking lot of the restaurant. When you take out your phone and prepare to send a message, the person you intended to message has already walked into your field of vision.

Ricky leaves the restaurant not long after you did, looking around the lot until his eyes land on your little corner, a sparkle in his eyes, and he jogs his way right over to you. 

“Ah. Not today.“ 

You hold up a hand in front of your face and Ricky’s nose bumps into your palm when he leans in to get a bite of your lips. 

He scrunches his face, wincing backward, confused. “You have wronged me tonight, Mr. Shim,” you say, dropping down your hand to complete your cross-armed display of beration. “You should reflect on your actions before trying anything funny.” All Ricky does is blink at you with those pretty brown eyes and no— you’re not going to give in. You’re biting down your tongue very hard so you don’t get swayed by those dangerous weapons (said pair of pretty brown eyes).

Ricky takes a step closer, or maybe he tugs you closer to him because you suddenly feel a pull on the belt loops of your trousers, face hovering just a few inches away from yours, pressing his lips together into a pout as he tries to get you to give in to his whims, but you are immovable. You are a mountain. You are this close to squeezing your eyes shut because he’s making it very hard for you right now to not kiss his stupid face.

When that doesn’t work, he resorts to his other weapon. That is, being sickeningly shameless.

“I didn’t mean to wear the same shirt as you,” he says, voice low. “Should I take it off?”

That’s it.

You hit his chest with a closed fist. “Ow!” Then you use the same hand to grab a fistful of that darned shirt and slam your lips against his because who are you kidding? You are not god’s strongest soldier. If Ricky bats his eyes at you and tells you to jump off a cliff, you might just do it.

When you hear him grunt into your mouth— something snaps. You pull him in deeper, other hand fixed on the back of his neck, the taste of strawberries mixing with spit and short breaths and the only time you’re letting him off is when you get lightheaded from the lack of fucking oxygen.

You pull back with a gasp. Ricky is flushed scarlet and his eyes are out of focus. “Wow, um. Uh.” You wipe off the smudged lip gloss from the edges of his mouth. He looks like he’s about to pass out.

“You two are so fucking disgusting.”

The sudden sound of Taerae’s voice feels like a bullet to the head.

Your face freezes. Your neck creaks, turning to the right, and you see Taerae standing a few feet away from you two, arms crossed with a face wound up in revulsion and sheer judgment and now you feel like the one passing out. You feel five years of your life getting scraped off against a sandpaper bed in real time. You want to fucking die. “H—hyung,” you hear Ricky say. “What—what are you doing here?”

“The guys are wondering where you two went, so I went out to check,” Taerae simply says, scrunching his nose before continuing. “I really did not need to see that.”

You feel the heat running up to your forehead. Oh god. Maybe you should’ve learned your lesson the first time you got caught making out with him in public. “I—” you start, a single syllable falling out of your throat before your mouth completely dries up. What are you even supposed to say in this situation? How do you explain to Taerae that this is not what it looks like— even thought this is exactly what it looks like?

“It’s alright. You don’t have to explain. I knew all this time that you two have a thing.”

“Haha.” You’re sweating. You’re sweating so bad. You feel Ricky squeezing your sweaty hand. God, you’re totally screwed. “What are you talking about, Tae?”

“I heard your conversation in the car on our trip to Hadong like two months ago.” 

Well, shit.

“I woke up when Ricky nearly killed us all on the road. You two are the most unsubtle people I’ve ever met. Quit looking surprised. Do I have to mention the way you eyefuck him whenever you’re in the same space? Girl, you’re not fooling anyone.”

You peer at Ricky and he looks a little too happy to hear that. You’re dizzy, you’re nauseous, and you want to sew Taerae’s mouth shut right now. “Does…does anyone else know?” you ask, scared, and you tug Ricky out of your unhelpful corner and start heading back to the restaurant before someone else comes out to look for you.

“Well. I’m not so sure. They’ve never brought it up when you two aren’t around so I don’t think so,” Taerae replies, and you let out a sigh of relief. “I think Gunwook is onto you, but Gyuvin for sure doesn’t know.”

“Oh, thank god.”

Taerae raises a brow. “Why are you even keeping it from him? It’s not like he’s gonna disapprove or get mad. In fact, it’ll be his dream come true since he’s been trying to sell Ricky off since last year.”

The restaurant’s lights get brighter as you walk towards it. “I’m not hiding it because I’m scared he’ll get upset. I’m hiding it because he’s gonna rub it all in my fucking face and I have way too much pride to deal with that, thank you very much.” Ricky laughs. You shoot him a dirty look.

“Okay. I get it,” says Taerae. “You’re not a normal person either. No wonder you get along with everyone.”

“Hyung, that includes you too.”

“I know,” he huffs. You’re in front of the restaurant entrance now, and you make sure to wedge Taerae between you and Ricky for an extra safety layer. “I don’t think doing that is going to help, but whatever. This is none of my business, so you don’t have to worry about me telling anyone that you and Ricky are dating—”

“You and Ricky are dating?!”

Well, shit.

Maybe you’ve been out for too long. Because there’s suddenly seven people right in front of the restaurant doors, probably on their way to look for you, only for you to come walking back and getting absolutely fucked in the ass in the process.

Gyuvin was the one who made the very astute observation. His eyes are wide and his mouth is hanging open in disbelief. You shoot Taerae a look. He presses his lips together and feigns innocence. “Oh. What are you all doing out here?” he says. So much for not telling anybody.

“You!” Gyuvin ignores him to point an accusatory finger at you— “and you!” —doing the same with Ricky as the shock completely penetrates his facial muscles. You swallow, eyes flitting over at Ricky and the both of you share the same guilty look. “What do you mean you’re dating? What?! How?! Since when?!”

Gyuvin throwing a fit aside, what bothers you more is how completely unfazed the other six are— even Yujin. What the hell? Jiwoong is given. He looks like he’s having the time of his life. But why the hell is Matthew looking at Gyuvin like he’s about to laugh? “C’mon, man. They’ve been together since the first barbecue dinner obviously. How could you not notice?” he says, and now you’re just as alarmed as Gyuvin is.

“Seriously?!” your poor friend looks betrayed, but you’re in a state no better than him because what the fuck is Matthew saying? He’s way off the mark but have you seriously been this fucking transparent all this time?

“I don’t think so. I’m pretty sure they started dating when we went to the resort,” inserts Hanbin, and you’re absolutely at a loss. “The phone call, disappearing off together like tonight— the hotel room. I’m surprised you didn’t catch on, Gyu.” Hao agrees. Yujin nods and says “why else would you spend three hours just getting ready for a lame event,” and you want to melt into the ground.

You can’t do this anymore. You want to go home.

“No!” Gunwook butts in, refusing to be left out. “They’ve been together since that one night at Gyuvin hyung’s apartment! I bought noona a pack of candy for her cough and Rick immediately got jealous. They even showed up together. I’m telling you. They’ve been together for longer than you all think.”

At this point, you have no idea how to diffuse this situation. They’re all arguing about when or how you and Ricky got together. Jiwoong is laughing his fucking ass off. Taerae is trying his best to act like he’s had no part in this. Gyuvin looks like you’ve just twisted a knife into his back. 

“Can...can I say something?”

It’s Ricky who speaks up and puts everything to a halt. They all look at him. You look at him. He clears his throat, slipping past Taerae so he can reclaim his rightful spot next to you, and makes your face flush a thousand degrees when he shyly hooks his pinky finger around yours and says, “You’re all wrong,” he says softly. “It’s only been sixteen days and twenty hours.” 

Oh.

It’s quiet. You can’t look at him. You have your face turned down in a heated embarrassment. You physically cannot look at him and everyone else and the fact that none of them are saying anything is making things all the more worse.

Kill me. Just kill me now.

“Hyung, you’re so lame,” Yujin breaks the silence of dread. And just like that, they go on as if nothing just happened.

“Hey, did we split the bill?”

“Oh, Gyuvin paid for it all.”

“I’m riding in Bin hyung’s car!”

“Thanks for the meal! You three get home safe!”

You’re in a daze. These fuckers just gossiped about your ass and called it a day. 

You’re not sure if you should be relieved or offended that they didn’t dwell any more on the topic of your relationship. They leave you behind with Gyuvin and Ricky, who’s legally obligated to drive you both home, and it’s so eerily quiet that you want to die. “I’ll—I’ll sit in the back,” you say, oddly reminiscent of your first meeting with Ricky, and Gyuvin simply sits in front without speaking a word to you. You fear he might actually be upset that you didn’t tell him.

Oh no. You make eye contact with Ricky through the rearview mirror as he starts driving. Do something. What should I do? I don’t know! I don’t know what to do either! and you cut your conversation short the moment you hear Gyuvin scratching his throat clear, and you jolt and straighten yourself in your seat like a guilty convict on the way to the station.

You end up not doing or saying anything until you finally reach your apartment. Ricky attempts to get out of the car to walk you to your door, but you stop him with one look because you feel bad enough as is to leave Gyuvin in the car alone. “Thanks. You two get home safe,” you say before shutting the door. The moment you close it, however, the passenger door clicks open in its place.

“Hold on.” 

Gyuvin is out of the car, and you stop in your tracks to turn around and face him, pressing down your lips together because god, you feel so fucking bad. He should be making fun of you right now, not looking all serious! He should be gloating and rubbing it in your face that you should’ve just taken his offer!

He’s got his arms crossed and looks disappointed. You see Ricky peeking out from the rolled down window in concern, ready to step in in case things get ugly. “I knew you’d be into him,” Gyuvin finally says. “I told you, he’d be different.”

Wait. Wait a minute.

Suddenly, he’s grinning again. A stupid fucking devious grin and you feel your soul escaping from your body. “Did I scare you?” 

Oh no. You’re not dealing with this shit, you’re absolutely not dealing with this shit at all.

“I’m going inside. Good night.”

“You should’ve just taken my offer the first time!”

“Shut up. Shut the fuck up.”

“And you should’ve told me you changed your mind. Maybe if you did, you wouldn’t have had to wait for two months before you started dating him—”

“I’m not listening, I’m not listening!”

“This is what you get for not trusting me!”

“Leave me alone!” you shriek, stomping up to your building entrance while Gyuvin happily chases you down, and you struggle to press the right numbers on the keypad so you hiss out a swear. 

“No way. This is too good. I’m telling your mom about this,” he grins. You want to cry. “Oh, and I can take the bus from here. Ricky, come out of hiding and help your girlfriend get inside her building! She looks like she’s having trouble opening the door.”

It’s almost ridiculous how the urge to throw yourself onto Ricky overtakes you the moment he shows up, but you’re not giving Gyuvin another reason to make fun of you until the day you die. You tell Gyuvin to fuck off and he tells you to not have too much fun before finally going away. You’re tired. You’re absolutely tired, and you let out a groan into Ricky’s chest and let yourself sink into his warmth the moment you’re sure Gyuvin has left the premises. 

“It’s open,” he says, prompting you to get inside but you don’t budge.

“Your friend is annoying,” you muffle into his shirt— the damned floral shirt that started tonight’s cataclystic mess. 

“He’s your friend too.” You let out a grunt. Ricky soothes circles on your back and lets you throw your silent tantrum a little longer. “Gyuvin is right though. You should’ve just said yes the first time— ow!”

Ricky’s appalled confusion when you land a hit on his chest almost makes you feel a little better. The problem is, you did the same thing earlier and pulled him into a scandalous kiss immediately after, so he’s once again staring down at your lips like he’s waiting for it. Holy shit. Your psych class didn’t warn you about this. This is a little insane.

Your powers are too strong. The power of strawberries is too strong. But you’re not thinking straight right now, emotions at a high after the events that unfolded— so you don’t think and give him exactly what he wants, ending the night with the sweet taste of tart, and another breathless exhale brushing over his now swollen lips. “I think I’ve brainwashed you,” you say in between bated breaths. “Maybe it’s not me you like. Maybe it’s the candy and the strawberries. You should cut off on the sweets.”

“That’s not true,” he grunts, pressing in another kiss, pulling away with his teeth grazing your bottom lip with a tug. “I liked you from when Gyuvin told me about you. I like you. I like this.”

Well, that’s one way to drive a woman mad. Gyuvin was right. Maybe you should’ve taken that first chance when you had it, but it doesn’t really matter anymore because either way— you’re certain that the outcome would be the same.

“Oh, what the fuck? Gyuvin just texted.” The door is still still left hanging open, and you’re still pressed up against him when you look down to check your phone. “That son of a bitch— he sent a photo of us just now to the group chat. Is he still here?”

“Leave it.” 

Ricky pulls you back when you turn and try to look for the nosy bastard who’s probably snooping around. He tips up your chin. “One more,” he says, leaning in for yet another kiss as if your lips are the candies you always give him in bulk, like he can’t function without it anymore. 

“You’re getting greedy,” you say.

“You keep spoiling me,” he mumbles, feeling his lips graze over yours for the nth time. “You make me lose control of myself.”

Whether you met him earlier or later, you’re pretty sure you’d still end up falling horrendously for Ricky Shen. And you’d still end up doing all the same dumb things you did just to get to kiss him like this over and over again.

the psychology of strawberries. © hannie-dul-set, 2023.

[ironunderstands]

AAAAAAAAA

Genuinely I feel annoying as fuck for saying this but like I can’t stand the way anybody else but me or my mutuals writes Aventio/Ratiorine 90% of the time

So, to vent my frustration, here’s a not in order at all bulleted list of stuff I absolutely despise when seeing content of them. This is not to call ppl out or anything, I just wanna rant about my preferences lol

oh and cw: mentions of slavery, nsfw, suicidal tendencies and non-con

-one or both of them being way to horny/flirty

Maybe this could work in content with an established relationship, but like, these guys don’t fuck, I’m sorry, they don’t. They are the biggest virgin losers ever regardless of if they have had sex in the past or not. Some of yall don’t get that they were acting in Penacony for the most part and Aventurine’s flirtiness didn’t have any weight behind it, he was really just messing with Ratio. I think if he were seriously trying to court Ratio, he’d probably be LESS flirty, but that’s just me. I understand why people make nsfw of them without any kinda buildup because well it’s fun, but for me personally I don’t really like it 90% of the time, however I fully get this is a me thing. I can tolerate it more in fanart bc well it’s fanart so yeah there’s not gonna be 3000k words of lore behind it, but like if I’m reading a fic and Aventio go from not even being in a relationship to having sex on a whim it just confuses me.

-yandere anything

I despise this trope already but it makes me 100000x more annoyed because holy shit neither of them would be a yandere I get it some people like this but WHYY THEMMM it doesn’t make sense. Yandere Aventurine makes me even more mad bc why the fuck would he make someone suffer like he did when he was younger???

-emotionless Ratio

Idk why half the community treats Ratio like he’s an unfeeling logic robot who’s sole goal is knowledge even when the game beats you over the head about how he’s the exact fucking opposite of that, but honestly I think this is just a symptom of the fact that a lot of ratiorine writers don’t give two fucks about him at all and he’s practically written as a plot device for Aventurine’s characterization.

-misunderstanding why Ratio is a tsundere

I’ve seen a lot of people misinterpret how and why Ratio is a tsundere towards Aventurine, citing it as if he doesn’t want to be associated with him/looks down upon him/is ashamed to like him when that’s really not true at all. Ratio respects and cares about Aventurine a hell of a lot, and he isn’t shy at all to show it when it’s necessary (see DSAIWYTBOL or the “if you can’t hold on any longer then tell me”). However, the reason he pushes away Aventurine isn’t exactly personal (although Aventurine’s closeness to him is part of the reason why).

Rather, Ratio tends to downplay his close relationships a lot, likely as a defense mechanism, as he admits himself that he isn’t good with people in one of the dialogue options with trailblazer for the express visits. Now why he is this way is a subject of speculation because Ratio rarely ever talks about himself, and the only character who actually has a voiceline on him is Aventurine himself, so it’s very hard to get an outside perspective on him. His character stories don’t really help that much either, as they are more about his personal philosophy and journey in life rather than his personality.

However, taking what Ratio says towards Aventurine at face value when he has proven the opposite (especially considering how the trope of the tsundere is kinda centered on the character in question spouting bullshit) results in people completely misunderstanding their relationship which can get REALLY annoying. Ratio doesn’t think Aventurine is an idiot in the slightest, he just worries about how his methods put himself in danger, not his capabilities.

-fast burn

You’re telling me these emotionally constipated idiots will get together easily? No. There’s a reason I write the most crazy bullshit happening to them before a confession scene and that’s because that’s the only way you can get them to confront their goddamn feelings quickly.

-slavery aus/anything like this

Self explanatory. If you have fetishized Aventurine’s past or made stuff like this please stay 1000 feet away from me at all times or block me. Thank you 🙏

-babying Aventurine

He’s one of the most competent members of the cast, but somehow people act like his breakdown scene in 2.1 is how he behaves 24/7 when that isn’t true at all. Aventurine is incredibly smart, and single-handedly clawed his way to the top. He does not need Ratio to save him. Would he appreciate Ratio’s support? Of course, and he definitely needs loving relationships in his life, but Aventurine isn’t a damsel in distress and not everything in his life is miserable and related to his trauma.

-or the horrible reverse of babying Aventurine: his trauma doesn’t exist actually and he’s perfectly fine/ they write him like it never happened

This one is rather rare and it has overlap with a few of the other points (seriously I’m gonna tweak out the next time someone writes the character who is implied to have survived sex trafficking being a person who would even dream of crossing others boundaries). Usually this happens because people treat Aventurine’s playboy mask as if it’s his actual personality and not traits he picked up to survive and succeed at his goals, and while admittedly even Aventurine is losing track of where the mask ends and he begins, some of y’all take it wayy to far even going on to unironically call him a fuckboy when he’s anything but that. The thing is, I think this happens when people erase who Kakavasha is from their minds, and act as if that side of Aventurine is a purely innocent child and all the “bad” parts of him are part of Aventurine’s mask. However, that’s not true, and Aventurine’s most admirable traits ARE Kakavasha’s. His strategicness, his intellegence, his bravery, these are all traits he possessed long before becoming Aventurine of stratagems, something which he demonstrated when he for example got his sisters neckless back, or made that bet with his first enslaver.

Aventurine’s purity and Aventurine’s capabilities are not separated between Kakavasha and Aventurine of Stratagems, both of those qualities ARE Kakavasha’s so if you are going to write him with the mask off, you have to write BOTH, not give into one or the other.

The things I tend to drop when writing him with the mask off are his false compliments and niceties, acting like he really gives a shit about the IPC’s goals, turning down the flamboyance and cockiness to reasonable levels and making him seem less like he’s playing pretend. Honestly I don’t think it’s that hard yet this is still a pitfall I see a lot of people stumbling into.

-Ratio talking like a goddamn encyclopedia

I understand he’s like that sometimes, but he also is well versed in internet lingo and seriously nobody unironically talks like that 24/7 because it’s pointless, and Ratio doesn’t use big words to seem smart, he uses them when they are necessary.

Like I’m sorry but if they are in a middle of having sex and unprompted Ratio starts talking like a biology textbook I’m closing the fic and running around my room screaming BECAUSE GOD IS IT CRINGE. Promoted it can be funny because yeah I can see him doing that but oh my god HE WOULD NOT SAY THAT I don’t even want to give an example it pisses me off that bad but trust me it’s a common phenomenon AND I HATE IT

-Aventurine trying to kill himself 24/7

He isn’t an active suicide risk every goddamn day of his life, he’s just self destructive and those are TWO DIFFERENT THINGS.

Yes, he tested if you could die in the dreamscape several times, but that’s because one of the favorable outcomes for his mission WOULD BE DYING in the dreamscape. He’s not doing this during a normal work week and even if I believe he still has suicidal tendencies, he’s not gonna throw his life away randomly or over nothing

-Ratio holds authority over Aventurine in any capacity

No, just no. Like the only other thing he might have over him is being intelligent, although they both are smart at different things so even then does it matter? Like I’m sorry but normal human with the ability to float and make imaginary constructs versus LITERAL FUCKING STONEHEART is not a fair fight on Ratio’s end. It doesn’t matter that he’s physically larger than Aventurine, muscles don’t mean shit in a sci-fi setting, especially when your opponent can just summon 3 bajillion coins to drop into your head at a whim and there’s nothing you can do about it. Not like Aventurine would ever dream of hurting him, of course, but seriously people need to stop acting like their different in stature really means anything. Even in terms of position, Aventurine probably outranks him so this false sense of authority people apply to Ratio in their relationship is confusing at best.

Hmm, well that’s all the things I remember to bitch about although I probably have more complaints. To be fair, whenever they aren’t written like incredibly smart people who are idiots hopelessly in love with one another when together I pop a blood vessel so most of these (besides THAT one) are non issues and if you have made/enjoyed these don’t feel ashamed because of my opinions. I needed to let out my inner grinch every once and awhile, so thanks for reading

[xomakara]

Rhythm of Desire

(re-posting from my old account seulrinnie-rinrin/xomakara-secondary)

SUMMARY | You and Mingi get paired up for a special song collab that calls for sexy dancing and smooth seductive vocals and rapping. You can’t help but want each other. PAIRING | Mingi/Reader GENRE | smut with no (maybe a little) plot, uprotected sex (wrap it up everyone!), fingering, vaginal sex, praising, dirty talk RATING | Mature LENGTH | 6643 words AUTHOR’S NOTE | Why does this have so much dialogue? LOL

“So…” You stood in front of the mirrors in the dance studio, watching Mingi through the reflection. “Is this it? Are we just going to stare at each other like idiots for the rest of the night?”

He looked up from his phone, frowning at you. “I’m just trying to figure out this part of the dance. We’re supposed to be in sync with our bodies, but I can feel when you try to do something different. It throws me off.”

“Why? It’s not like it matters if we don’t look exactly alike, right?”

He shrugged. “We’re singing about sexual innuendo, so it needs to feel real.”

“Mingi,” you sighed, running a hand through your loose hair. “We’ve worked together on other projects before. You know my moves and I know your moves. Why is it suddenly such a big deal now?”

He rolled his eyes. “Fine.” He pulled himself closer, standing behind you. His breath was warm against your neck as he spoke into your ear. “I just think maybe… maybe it’ll be easier if we could move together more smoothly.”

“That sounds good,” you said slowly, not wanting to say anything that might cause another argument between you two. After all, one thing you knew for sure was that working with Mingi wasn’t easy.

You knew he took his craft seriously. Every movement had meaning, every word was calculated to fit the rhythm perfectly, and every bit of his body language was designed to bring out his natural charisma. While it wasn’t your style to work that way, you still appreciated what he did for a living, and you respected him for it. If you didn’t care about how he worked, then why should he care how you did things?

He pressed his hips against yours and smirked when you leaned back against him. Your skin tingled from the contact and you swallowed thickly, your heart racing as his hands slid down your arms to grasp your wrists.

“Let’s see if this helps us synchronize better,” he whispered.

The music started playing again, and you watched him take a deep breath, concentrating on your movements. Slowly, you mimicked his posture, feeling the beat sync with your breathing. The sway of your hips grew deeper as your breasts brushed his chest, causing goosebumps to rise on your skin. He kept the same pace with you, only pressing in closer when the music called for it.

Every time he moved close to you, it felt like a taunt. As if he wanted to kiss you and show you what he really meant by the lines he sang. But you held yourself together as best you could, taking deep breaths to calm your nerves.

This wasn’t like the times before where you and him worked on projects side by side. No, these moments were… intimate, almost. For some reason, being this close to him made you forget everything else around you, focusing solely on the person you were touching.

A sigh escaped your lips as you dropped your gaze, looking down at your feet as they moved forward and back in time with Mingi’s. What would it be like if you actually kissed him? What would it be like if he actually touched you? The thoughts alone made you blush furiously, and you tried hard to push them away. This was your job after all, and your place was here, dancing with Mingi, not fantasizing about him.

When the song ended, Mingi let go of your wrists and stepped slightly back. “It feels more natural now,” he admitted quietly, nodding at himself in the mirror.

“Good,” you replied, knowing that no matter what, you couldn’t allow your mind to wander towards anything romantic. “Hopefully the singing part will be easier once we’ve done this.”

He smiled softly. “We have twenty minutes left. Let’s practice singing while moving our bodies in sync. I want you to mimic my movements exactly, and I’ll match yours. Got it?”

You nodded. “Got it.”

And so the next twenty minutes went by in silence. Each movement matched perfectly, and you lost yourself completely to the art of synchronized dance. By the end of it, your legs were shaking with fatigue, but you couldn’t bring yourself to move away from him. His presence surrounded you, and you couldn’t find it within yourself to stop this new form of intimacy.

Finally, the song ended and he stepped away, stretching his arms over his head and yawning widely. “Oh man, I am exhausted. And hungry too. Wonder if the rest of the group ate.”

You nodded, rising to your feet. “Let’s go check.”

Minutes later, you found everyone sitting on the floor in one of the other practice rooms, plates full of food sitting in front of them. Everyone was talking amongst themselves and eating their meals without even glancing at you and Mingi. When you approached, Jiae, the leader and rapper of the girl group you were in, waved to you, getting up from the floor to meet you halfway.

“How’d it go?” she asked excitedly, leading you towards the rest of the other girls in your group. “Did you guys manage to make any progress?”

“I think so,” you answered, smiling faintly.

As soon as you sat down, Ari, one of the group’s vocalists, leaned towards you, eyes sparkling. “Something going on between you and Mingi? I caught a glimpse of your practice and it looked like y’all were flirting!”

You glanced at Mingi who merely shrugged, eating his food casually. “Nothing serious,” you said lightly.

“Nothing serious?” Hongjoong’s voice echoed from somewhere in the room. “I did not write that song thinking y’all would dance like that! Do I need to rewrite the lyrics to match?”

Everyone turned to look at him, laughter in their voices. Yunho’s eyes darted between yours and Mingi’s. “You should. There’s some pretty steamy stuff there.”

You flushed, leaning forward to hide your face with your plate. “It’s nothing. We’re just doing our job.”

San shook his head. “Not anymore,” he murmured, grinning smugly. “Look at you.”

You turned back to look at him, blinking as he pointed at you and Mingi. “What?”

“I’m not blind. You’re both looking at each other like you wanna jump each other’s bones.”

Your cheeks burned with embarrassment, making you turn back to your meal.

Mingi coughed lightly. “There is nothing between us, okay?”

“Uh huh. Sure,” Seonghwa said, sounding skeptical. “We wouldn’t want to ruin this precious friendship of ours.”

“Mingi is my friend,” you protested, even though you knew you were fighting a losing battle.

“Well… I am glad that you are friends with someone like Mingi.” Hongjoong smirked. “I’m still changing those lyrics.”

You sighed, picking at your food. All around you, people were talking about the performance, wondering whether or not you guys would pull it off successfully. Eventually, Jiae cleared her throat loudly, bringing everyone’s attention back to her. “Should we take the day off tomorrow? We’ve all been working hard, and we should give ourselves a break.”

Everyone voiced their approval and began talking about their plans for tomorrow. You glanced over at Mingi, noticing that he seemed tired too. It made sense considering that you had practiced for hours and hours since the morning. Maybe it was time to call it quits and call it a day.

You stood, stretching your limbs carefully. The soreness in your thighs caused you to wince and you rubbed at them absently. “My body is aching.”

“After what you two were doing?” Wooyoung called out, the others snickering. “I think it’s a miracle you can stand straight.”

“Get a room,” Sera, the other dancer in your group, added playfully, nudging Aimee, the main vocalist. Both girls burst into giggles.

“Eonnie, you have to admit that your dancing was different than usual.” Aimee grinned slyly. “Very different. Admit it. You always wanted to do a sexy song, huh?”

You pouted at her. “Nope. Not admitting anything.”

Her grin widened. “Ah, Eonnie. Can I ask you something?”

“If you must,” you grumbled.

She gave you an innocent look before leaning in and whispering to you and the other girls. “Do you like Mingi?”

The other girls turned to look at you with wide eyes, most of them asking the same question. You fiddled with your hands nervously, frowning at Aimee. She had a strange gleam in her eye and you wondered if she was joking or not. “Like him as a friend? Yeah, of course. Why?”

Aimee huffed. “Not what I meant and you know that.”

“And if something happens, you’ll be the first to know.” You said, the girl beaming happily. “Okay?”

“Deal.”

You paused for a moment, watching as everyone got up to leave the studio, leaving you and Mingi behind. “So… we finished practicing today? Are you heading home now?”

“Not yet. There’s this part I want to try before I go home. Do you want to come?”

The offer came as a surprise, but you accepted nonetheless. Mingi wanted to continue practicing? So be it. He must have been feeling ambitious.

You told the girls that you and Mingi were going to continue training, receiving several questions from everyone, including how you felt about him, if you were attracted to him and if you would sleep with him. Finally, you convinced everyone to leave you two alone.

Mingi’s bandmates asked him the same questions when he told them about continuing to practice. But despite their initial shock, they didn’t protest much. In fact, Hongjoong laughed, slapping him on the shoulder. “Make sure you use protection if you end up fucking each other. I’m still changing those lyrics for y’all.”

Mingi only laughed, smiling gently as the others filed out of the room. The empty studio fell silent, except for the sound of your breathing and the humming coming from the speakers in the background. As much as you loved the music, you could feel Mingi staring at you, studying every inch of your body. Slowly, he reached out, placing a gentle hand on your hip. His touch sends shivers through your body, and you let out a soft gasp, nearly dropping your bag in shock.

“Don’t freak out,” he said softly, his fingers tightening slightly around your hip. “I won’t hurt you.”

You nodded slowly, but found it difficult to speak. What was happening? Why did his touch affect you so much? This never happened when you worked with him before. But here, right now, everything about him felt familiar. Like you had known him forever. Your heart started racing and your palms grew sweaty. You closed your eyes, taking a deep breath.

“Okay,” you whispered.

His touch remained firm, pulling you tight against his body. His chest pressed against your back, he held out his phone as you watched the demo choreography. “Okay for this part, it looks like this. But I think we should be closer. To give it that intimate feeling.”

You frowned, watching the dancers on the screen as they continued moving closer together. The more you thought about it, the more you realized that it might work. Granted the dancers didn't move that close to each other during the performance, but maybe, just maybe, having Mingi hold you like this will add an extra layer of sensuality to the performance.

You watched as the dancers were supposed to grind against each other and you couldn't help but wrap an arm around his neck, allowing your hand to brush against his cheek. "Close enough?"

"Yeah,” he breathed, his chest vibrating as he laughed quietly. “Perfect."

Your gaze lowered to his lips and you swallowed thickly. "Good."

Mingi chuckled. "Let's see how well you can follow directions then."

You whimpered softly, shifting your hips, arching your back as you tried to mimic what the dancers on the screen were doing. Mingi trailed his fingers along your skin, causing goosebumps to rise across your arms. "More. Less. More. That's better. A little lower. Okay, good. Good. Keep going."

He trailed his fingers along your sides, following the curves and valleys of your body. Your hips rolled in response, seeking out his touch. A low groan escaped his lips and you moaned, grinding your hips against his groin. With another chuckle, he captured your chin with his fingers, turning your face upwards to meet his gaze. "Much better."

Too close. He was way too close. And it wasn't helping your libido any. "Mingi…"

"Not yet," he said huskily. "I've got plans for you later. But for now, let me show you how it's done. Come here."

Your heart leapt into your throat and you shook your head, stuttering. "Y-you can't."

He laughed, amusement glinting in his eyes. "Of course I can. Don't you want to learn how to do this right?"

"No."

"Yes," he said, pressing himself firmly against you, forcing you to remain exactly where you were. His erection was hard and hot against your ass and you pushed back, causing him to laugh again.

"Come on, you're doing great," he encouraged, nuzzling your earlobe with his nose. "Just like that. I'll teach you. No one has to know."

In truth, you weren't sure why you hesitated. The idea of being intimate with him sounded enticing and after spending countless hours working on the song with him, you kind of wanted to know what it was like to have sex with him. At least you hoped it would feel similar to the way you imagined it would feel. You squirmed, wanting desperately to reach back and undo his pants. To release his throbbing cock. The thought of him pounding into you made your insides clench. "Oh God."

"What are you thinking about?" he murmured against your ear, nibbling lightly at your lobe.

"You."

He chuckled. "What about me?"

You shook your head. "Not telling you. It's private."

His smile faltered. "You aren't attracted to me, are you?"

You blinked, startled by the sudden change in topic. "Huh? No! Of course not!"

He paused, running a finger down your spine. "But you were thinking about it. About us having sex."

"I was not." You huffed. "Stop reading my mind."

"It doesn't mean I can't read your thoughts." He placed a gentle kiss against your temple. "You want this as badly as I do."

"You..." You looked at him. "You want this too?"

Mingi laughed. "Baby, haven't you realized the effects you have on me when you press yourself against me?"

You flushed, your cheeks growing warmer as he nipped at your jawline.

"We can stop if you don't want to do this anymore." He offered you a tentative smile.

"That's not fair." You said quietly, looking up at him with soft eyes. "You can't expect us to stop after you've gotten me all hot and bothered."

"True." He chuckled, resting his forehead against yours. "Maybe we should take things slow tonight. Maybe you should let me fuck you, one day. If you ever want me to."

"What about after we successfully finish the project?" You breathed out, his lips awfully close to yours. "We can sneak off right after we finish performing and Yunho and his team goes on stage."

"Really?"

"Yeah..."

"Damn, you're tempting me, baby." He groaned, nipping playfully at your lower lip. "Can I kiss you until then? Please?"

It took you all of five seconds to nod, closing the distance between your lips. His mouth crushed against yours, hot and demanding. You parted your lips for him, letting him slide his tongue inside your mouth. Before you knew it, you were kissing him back eagerly, your entire body heating up with desire. He broke away for a second, cupping your cheek, his thumb stroking the side of your face gently. You sighed contently, letting him draw small circles on your cheekbone.

"Shouldn't we be practicing our dance moves instead?" You mumbled into his mouth.

"Later." He pulled back, breaking contact with your lips. "Kissing first, then dancing. Okay?"

You returned home to the dorms well after midnight when your members rushed towards the front door, yelling about you and Mingi. Well, there went any chance you had of getting some shut eye.

Aimee latched onto your arm and dragged you to the living room. "Eonnie, something happened right?"

"What did you and Mingi get up to after we all left?" Jiae asked, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Did you two kiss?" Ari leaned forward, curiously.

You bit your lip, looking away in response. The other members exchanged glances. Sera took in your appearance, noting your slightly disheveled hair.

"Oh, you lucky bitch. You and Mingi totally kissed." She grinned. "How was it? Was he good at it?"

You let out a small nod, your cheeks burning bright red. "He was amazing."

Jiae giggled. "Seriously?"

"Yes," you insisted. "He kissed really well."

The other members exchanged glances once again. "Was it...?" Aimee began, holding her hand up. "Were you guys… sexually active? Did he…?"

You shot her a glare. "Of course not!"

"Wow, Aimee." Jiae shook her head, folding her arms across her chest. "You always choose the most awkward ways to ask these questions."

"Even if I'm having sex, I'm not telling you guys." You stuck out your tongue at them. "I might not be leader but I am older than all of you and I have the eldest sister rights, remember?"

Sera let out a loud snort, rolling her eyes. "I knew someone was going to kiss someone this time around. We've been working with the guys throughout the years. I had a feeling it would be you and San though. But Mingi...wow."

Jiae nodded her agreement. "He is fucking gorgeous, isn't he? And so talented. I bet he's amazing in bed too."

"Hush." You waved your hand in front of her face. "Don't start."

"Aww, eonnie." Ari pouted, grabbing onto your hand. "I'm happy for you. Really. I am."

Jiae let out a sigh. "I guess I'll have to make peace with the fact that you guys are dating then."

"Hey, who said anything about dating?"

Jiae smirked. "Aren't you?"

"I'm actually not sure." You sighed. "We haven't exactly got to talking while we made out, you know."

Aimee nodded slowly. "Well, even if you aren't dating him, you still kissed him. That counts as you liking him."

"I'm going to head to bed." You muttered, standing from the couch.

"Oh no." Aimee grabbed onto your wrist. "Where are you going?"

"To sleep. Like everyone else."

"But we have the day off tomorrow!" Ari exclaimed.

"I know, I know." You nodded. "But I've been dancing all day and I'm exhausted. I'll treat you all to food, okay? Eldest sister rights and all that."

Jiae gave you a sly grin. "Okay. But don't blame us if we buy the most expensive food, tomorrow."

"I won't." You smiled brightly. "Sleep tight, guys."

You waved goodbye before leaving the living room. Once you reached your bedroom, you stripped off your clothes quickly and crawled under the covers, reaching for the phone you kept next to your bedside table. You checked your messages just to be safe, surprised to find one waiting for you.

Mingi - Sleeping? Call me.

You brought up his contact and decided to facetime him instead. He picked up in a matter of seconds. He was in his bed and you noticed that he was shirtless, lying flat on his back. "Finally."

"Sorry. My members were grilling me with questions. Not a minute passed without someone asking something."

"If it makes you feel better, the guys all asked me the same thing." He laughed as he sat up in bed. "Asking all sorts of questions."

"Ha ha, I bet they did." You smiled, leaning back on your pillows. "So what did they ask?"

"Mostly about us, our relationship and stuff." He shrugged. "And yes, the sleeping thing was probably the worst question."

"We'll get to that one later." You glanced over at the clock on the nightstand. 1am. "Did you eat dinner?"

"Yeah." He nodded. "Seonghwa-hyung left some food out for me. Did you eat?"

"I ate. Not much though. Couldn't really eat when the girls were being so nosy."

"Tell me about it." He agreed, running his fingers through his messy hair. "Since we're off tomorrow...would you be interested in doing something together? Just you and me?"

"Song Mingi. Are you asking me out? On a date?"

"Sort of." He replied. "We don't need to go on an actual date to spend time together. Just us hanging out would be fine."

"You know I'd spend time with you anywhere, anytime." You assured him. "I wouldn't turn down an opportunity to see you."

"Ahh...what is your pretty little brain thinking about? Do tell."

"Nothing." You laughed softly. "My brain is busy processing your request."

"So cute." He laughed. "Are you alone right now?"

You nodded. "Yeah, I have my own room. Oldest sister rights."

"Good." He sighed. "Tell me...what are you wearing to bed right now?"

"Mingi, seriously?"

"What?" He tilted his head, narrowing his eyes at you. "Is it inappropriate? Come on, babe. Indulge me. Don't hold back."

You rolled your eyes. "Fine. I'm wearing a t-shirt and shorts."

He let out a long breath. "Wow."

"Okay, that wasn't what I expected." You teased.

"I thought you would wear some skimpy nightie or something." He said honestly. "Something lacy."

"Maybe when I move out from the dorms." You grinned. "Can't risk the girls barging in here if we were to have phone sex or whatever else we were planning to do."

"Look at you planning ahead. So mature."

"Shut up."

"Anyways…" He paused. "You're not wearing underwear under your sleeping clothes, right?"

"I swear Mingi. You're such a perv. What are YOU wearing to bed?"

"Pajamas pants." He said as he adjusted the sheets around his waist to show you the waistband of his pajama pants. "See?"

"Those are-" You cleared your throat. "They look great."

"Thanks." He said with a shy smile. "Anyway, you still have to answer my question."

"You still want to know if I'm wearing underwear or not?"

"Yep."

"Fine but I'll show you instead." You lifted your t-shirt up to show him. "I'm not wearing anything underneath."

He sucked in a breath, staring intently at your bare breasts through the camera. "Oh, fuck."

"Glad you like them." You rolled your eyes. "I'll put my top back down if you promise not to touch yourself."

He raised his eyebrows. "Not a guarantee that I won't. You got great tits."

"Mmm... Well if you do decide to touch yourself, send me a picture."

He groaned loudly. "Are you done teasing me yet?"

"No." You shook your head, grinning. "Why?"

"Because it's going to be hard to not fuck you until after our performance. I've already been thinking about it ever since we kissed earlier."

"You can think about it now. I'll show you how hot I am in person." You promised.

He let out a soft chuckle. "That will be fun. In the meantime, how about you put your top back down and talk to me?"

"Deal."

It was finally time for the performance to begin and you stood backstage, waiting anxiously to take the stage. Sera, San, Wooyoung and Yeosang were currently on stage, performing their latest hit. They seemed confident, full of energy and having a blast on stage. Seeing that only helped to relieve some of your stress. You couldn't help but notice Jiae, Hongjoong and Seonghwa sitting together as they discussed strategy. Ari and Yunho sat next to each other, whispering quietly to each other as they waited for their cue. Aimee and Jongho watched the crowd closely, making sure everything was running smoothly.

Mingi was standing next to you, his hand resting gently on your shoulder. His voice was soft as he spoke. "You ready?"

"Yeah." You nodded, giving him a quick smile. "Ready as I'll ever be."

"Then I hope we don't disappoint." He chuckled lightly.

Your nerves suddenly disappeared as soon as you took the stage. Everyone in the audience cheered loudly and welcomed you with open arms. All eyes were on you as you walked onto the dance floor. The rest of the backup dancers took their positions behind you as the music started playing. You heard the soft, sensual beat fill the room as you moved gracefully to the rhythm.

Your body moved naturally to the music, your hips swaying with every step. Your vocals were flawless and sensual as they flowed into the lyrics. You closed your eyes, letting the music flow through you. And when Mingi finally joined you, touched you, sang and rapped to you, the butterflies in your stomach started fluttering again. You felt electrified by the passion that pulsed between the two of you, as your hands caressed each other, bodies pressed tightly against one another. The heat from his skin warmed yours and it only served to drive you wilder. You were overcome with desire and you needed more than just the physical release. You needed the intense connection, the heart stopping emotions and mind blowing ecstasy that you both had the ability to give each other.

You had barely finished singing the last note before you pulled away, almost breathless. Your cheeks flushed red as the crowd applauded wildly. As soon as the music stopped, you turned to look at Mingi. He was panting heavily as he stared at you, his lips parted slightly. He smiled, causing your heart to skip a beat. The moment was magical and completely perfect. It was like nothing you had experienced before and you hoped it never ended.

You both left the stage as the host called for an interim break before the rest of the group were to perform.

"Damn..." You heard Wooyoung mutter from behind you. "Y/N and Mingi look good together. Really fucking good."

The guys glanced over at the two of you. "They really are amazing." Yeosang admitted, giving you a small wink.

"You guys are dating, right?" Jongho asked. "Because with that performance, there's no way you guys aren't. Anyone can tell."

"Are we?" You looked at Mingi, expectantly.

"Are we?" He mimicked your words, his eyes twinkling playfully. "Well…do we have to say 'yes' to this kind of questioning?"

"Please do." San groaned. "This shit has gone on long enough."

"Whatever. Look at them." Seonghwa scoffed, pointing at the two of you. "Just admit that you're boyfriend and girlfriend already. We'll accept that."

"We are." Mingi said simply, looking directly at you.

Your face lit up as your heart melted at those simple words. There were no doubts anymore. The answer was clear. He wanted you, you wanted him and you knew there was no going back. Everything was perfectly right.

"I'm so happy for you eonnie!" Ari exclaimed. "You guys look amazing together! No wonder you guys make such a great couple."

"Thank you." You smiled, blushing brightly. "It's not like we didn't try to deny it for so long but sometimes things just work out."

"True." She nodded. "I'm glad everything worked out."

"Same here." Sera agreed. "But honestly, I always saw you two together."

"Yeah right." You laughed. "Few weeks ago, you thought me and San would look good together. And that's just the tip of the iceberg."

"Hey, you guys started this mess." Mingi argued. "We just finished it."

Sera rolled her eyes. "God, I wish I could pull you two apart."

You snickered as you turned to look at the others. "Someone needs to. Mingi looks like he's plotting something."

"Who knows what he's thinking?" Yunho mused. "If I didn't know any better, I'd think he wants to fuck Y/N up against a wall somewhere."

"You are disgusting." You laughed.

Mingi grabbed your hand. "I mean..."

Hongjoong looked at your entwined hands and let out a laugh. "Oh god. You two are hopelessly in love. Go on and get your freak on. You guys aren't needed no more."

Mingi whispered into your ear. "Yours or mine?"

"Wherever as long as I have you." You whispered back.

"Works for me." He replied, pulling you closer.

"Bye bye!" Aimee waved at the two of you as she passed you in the hallway.

"Later guys." You called out.

"Bye." Everyone else echoed.

Once the hallway was empty, you leaned in close to Mingi's ear. "So..." You began. "About tonight..."

"Let's get to my place first and then we can discuss the details, babe." He smirked.

"Details?"

"Like what position we're going to fuck in, how many times we're going to fuck and whether we're doing anal." He explained.

"God, you're such a perv." You rolled your eyes. "And we're definitely NOT doing anal."

"You say that now..." He trailed off.

"We'll see." You teased. "Now take me home, Song Mingi."

He laughed. "Always the bossy one, huh? But since you ask so nicely..."

He led you outside and to his car where he held the door open for you. Once inside, he slipped his hand inside the small of your back and gave you a gentle kiss on the lips. "Enjoy the ride."

"I will." You grinned.

His arm wrapped around your shoulders as he drove you to his apartment. The city lights illuminated the windows, bathing the interior in a soft light. Before you knew it, you arrived at the front door and he opened it for you.

"Wow." You breathed, stepping inside.

"What is it?"

"Everything." You sighed, taking it all in. "I'm surprised that you and the guys have such a clean apartment."

"Thank you." He hummed, sliding his hand under your tight dress and cupping your ass cheek. "As much as I love seeing you wearing this outfit, I very much want you out of it. How about I take care of that little problem right now?"

You squealed when he lifted you in his arms and carried you into his bedroom. "Mingi, what if Seonghwa and San come home?"

"No one will be home until tomorrow morning." He growled, setting you on your feet. "Besides, who could possibly walk in on us right now?"

"You sound so sure about that." You eyed him suspiciously.

"Trust me, baby." He assured you. "No one can stop us."

He stepped towards you, pressing your back against the wall. He slowly unzipped your dress, slipping it over your head as he lowered his mouth to yours. You moaned softly as his lips met yours. His tongue delved deep into your mouth, stroking and teasing as he explored your entire mouth.

He reached up and massaged your breasts through your lacy black bra. He squeezed and kneaded your flesh as his hands wandered downwards, squeezing your ass cheeks. "Mmm...so round and firm." He purred against your neck. "How do you feel in these panties?"

"Why do you ask?" You breathed out.

"Because I want to rip them off of you." He told you. "I want to taste you. Do you want that too?"

"Yes..." You whimpered, your body begging for more.

He released your nipples, leaving them tingling as he moved his hands back up to cup your face. His thumb grazed over your bottom lip as he stared down at you. "You know, I've been dreaming about having sex with you for months now."

"Really?" You gasped. "Since when?"

"Ever since the last time we collaborated on a project. Every single day, all night, I kept imagining myself fucking you against this wall." He paused, staring at you. "Or maybe even fucking you in this bed."

"Hmm...it seems like we both got what we wanted." You mused.

"That we did." He nodded. "Come here, babe. Let me show you how thankful I am for all the nights that I imagined fucking you."

Your breathing hitched as he stood before you, slowly taking off his clothes. You watched him with hooded eyes, taking in every inch of his hard muscled form. You ached to be underneath him and explore every inch of his toned body with your hands and your mouth. You wanted to run your fingers through his thick hair and hear his voice begging you to touch him. With his long, beautiful legs and his strong arms and his… Oh god, you couldn't think straight anymore. All you wanted was him and you wouldn't think twice about giving yourself completely to him. You were dying to taste him and to feel his dick deep inside you.

He was breathtaking and you wished that you could freeze frame the moment, making sure that it stayed frozen forever. He placed a hand behind your head, guiding you forward as he kissed you again. Your hands rested on his chest as he pressed himself harder against you.

He broke the kiss as he pushed your underwear to the side, freeing your pussy from its confines. He pushed a finger inside you, making you gasp. "Fuck..." He breathed. "So wet."

He thrust his finger deeper inside of you as he pressed your back against the wall. You bit your lip as you tried to fight the pleasure building within you. He groaned as he added another finger, stretching you out. You arched your back, trying to get more of him inside you.

He pulled his fingers out and trailed his finger over your swollen clit. "Suck it, babe." He commanded. You felt yourself lean forwards, eager to give him what he desired. When you felt his finger slip into your mouth, you sucked hungrily, tasting yourself on his digit.

"Fuck, you're so hot." He groaned when you released his finger from your mouth with a pop. You moved his fingers back to your pussy, pushing them inside you.

“Ah fuck.” Mingi grunted as he shoved his fingers deep inside of you. “You’re soaking wet, baby. Fuck.”

He started moving his fingers in and out of you, gently circling your clit with his thumb. "You're driving me crazy, Y/N." He groaned. "I need to feel your sweet cunt wrapped around my dick."

"Me too, MIngi." You sighed. "Let's hurry this up so I can finally have you."

"Oh god, baby." He moaned as he kissed your shoulder. "You're so damn hot."

He pushed a third finger inside of you and you whimpered, feeling stretched out by the invasion. "You're so fucking tight." He groaned. "Damn, baby."

He slid a fourth finger inside of you, his thumb circling your clit. His other hand gripped your hips tightly, forcing you to lift your ass up slightly. As he pushed his fingers further inside of you, you moaned loudly, loving the way he filled you up.

He fucked you with his fingers in a steady rhythm. He kissed your shoulder and trailed his lips along your collarbone. "Tell me how you feel." He demanded.

"God..." You breathed. "Mingi, I can't..."

"You can, babe." He reassured you. "Tell me."

"It feels amazing." You panted. "Please, don't stop."

"Okay." He nodded, continuing to finger-fuck you. "Tell me more, baby."

"Oh god...Mingi...please..." You begged. "I can't take much more of this."

"Are you close?" He asked, trailing kisses across your jawline.

"God, yes." You cried out. "Please, don't stop, Mingi! Please! Ah! Fuck!"

"Oh shit, babe." He groaned, thrusting his fingers faster and deeper inside of you. "Come all over my fingers. Come for me, baby."

With his free hand, he cupped your breast and pinched your nipple lightly. He heard you cry out in pleasure and bit your neck, eliciting a yelp from you. He increased the pressure on your clit, plunging his fingers in and out of you as fast as possible. You screamed out his name as your orgasm ripped through your body. It seemed like an eternity before the pleasure subsided. You sagged limply against him, panting heavily. Mingi pressed a kiss to your shoulder, kissing his way upwards to your ear.

"How was that, baby?" He whispered.

"Amazing." You smiled, reaching for his hand and leading him to his bed. "And now I need you to fuck me. Be inside me."

He chuckled as he laid you down on the bed. He moved between your legs, parting them and spreading them wide. He gazed down at you, his eyes roving over your body. "Beautiful." He murmured.

"Mingi..." You whispered.

"Get on all fours, baby." He instructed. "Hands and knees."

You obeyed, bending over slightly so that your ass stuck up in the air. He grasped your hips firmly, holding you still as he rubbed his cockhead up and down your slit. "Baby, I'm gonna fuck you good tonight." He groaned. "Real good."

"Yesss." You moaned, digging your nails into the mattress. "Please, fuck me."

"Is this what you want?" He teased, gliding his cock along your slick folds. "Do you want me to fuck you good?"

"Oh god..." You gasped, closing your eyes and opening your legs wider. "I want you so bad. I want to feel you inside me. Give it to me, Mingi."

He groaned, burying his dick in your dripping wet pussy. You cried out in pleasure, feeling the warm friction of his shaft rubbing against your walls. He began to pump his hips, slowly pulling out of you only to push his dick deep inside again. "Oh, you feel so good." He groaned. "Perfect."

"Mingi, you feel so good. So big and warm." You moaned as he moved his hips back and forth, fucking you steadily. He leaned forward to grab your breasts, his lips trailing soft kisses down your neck. "Oh, fuck...I love how you feel inside me."

"Fuck, babe." He groaned. "Look at you. That's it, just like that. You feel so good."

"Fuck, your cock feels so good in me." You moaned. "God, please, keep doing that. Keep hitting that spot. Fuck me with your cock."

"Oh, yeah, babe." He groaned. "You really like that, don't you? I can tell. So fucking hot. You like getting fucked hard, don't you, baby?"

"Fuck, I love it." You gasped. "Please Mingi."

"What do you want, baby?" He asked.

"More." You moaned. "Please fuck me harder."

He slammed his dick into you, increasing the pace and depth of his strokes. You whimpered as he continued to move, pounding his dick inside of you relentlessly. He growled as he stared down at you, watching as your body arched and bucked beneath him. Your tits jiggled wildly as he continued to fuck you with abandon.

"Oh god..." You moaned, gripping onto the sheets. "Oh god, Mingi...oh god...oh god...Mingi, fuck me, fuck me!"

"Shit." He grunted, slamming into you harder than ever before. "Fuck, that's right. Yeah. Oh shit, babe. You’re taking me in so well."

He reached around to stroke your clit as he continued to pound into you. You threw your head back and let out a loud moan, your whole body quivering as you came. The orgasm caused him to jerk forward, pushing his dick all the way inside of you and leaving you breathless. "Fuck." He groaned, pumping his cum inside of you.

"Mingi..." You gasped, catching your breath. "That was...wow."

He pulled out of you and rolled you over so that you were on your back now. He kissed your neck softly, running his tongue along your skin. "Did you like it?" He asked.

"Yes." You answered, closing your eyes and smiling happily.

"Good." He grinned. "I knew you would."

"Mingi..." You breathed, shifting under him.

"I know what you want, babe." He said softly.

"Yeah? What is it?" You asked.

"Round two." He slid into you again, slowly and easily. "And then maybe we'll go get some food. Or sleep. Whichever comes first."

[sufferu]

...Three years?

I thought it would be the much more reasonable year total. (6 months for 1 and 2, and six months for the recovery).

So you know, it's A Roughhousing and not complete abuse that justifies Subaru one day vanishing to the ether (preferably) back home with his parents.

B, your telling me that Beatrice Otto Roswaal Garfiel Felix Reinhard Emilia, and all the others didn't have a single spark in their brains about Subaru's situation?

That's Beatrice (1), Otto (2, by proxy of Patrashe), Puck (3), Reinhard (4), and Liliana (5) people who can sense Emotions and they didn't realize Subaru's distress?

F

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!

this extra two years makes it a Full Second Order Idiot Plot:

In literary criticism, an idiot plot is one which is "kept in motion solely by virtue of the fact that everybody involved is an idiot",[1]: 26  and where the story would quickly end, or possibly not even happen, if this were not the case.[2] It is a narrative where its conflict comes from characters not recognizing, or not being told, key information that would resolve the conflict, often because of plot contrivance. The only thing that prevents the conflict's resolution is the character's constant avoidance or obliviousness of it throughout the plot, even if it was already obvious to the viewer, so the characters are all "idiots" in that they are too obtuse to simply resolve the conflict immediately.

Science fiction writer and critic Damon Knight, in his 1956 collection In Search of Wonder, says that the term may have originated with author James Blish.[1]: 26  Knight went on to coin the term second-order idiot plot as a narrative "in which not merely the principals, but everybody in the whole society has to be a grade-A idiot, or the story couldn't happen".[1]: 195  The term was later popularized by film critic Roger Ebert.[3]

Thanks wikipedia.

To decrease it being an idiot plot, go with my suggestion of six months for each half of the story, therefore everyone is too busy with every other thing to have time to sit down and actually think about wtf they are doing.

The other major issue I have with Back To Zero is that its answering a fundamental question Wrong.

"Would it have been better if I never existed."

The canonical failed loops answers: "The World is Objectively Worse Off without you."

This is the objective right conclusion each and every time I've seen it come up anywhere.

See, there was this old 1930s-40s movie called "It's a Wonderful Life" the main premise is that we get a guy tortured for an hour, by the bank that he's trying to prevent his town from falling victim to, by the townsfolk around him, and by nature itself.

then in the last half hour, he's so depressed that he literally attempts suicide but is stopped by an angel who shows him a world where he didn't exist.

The bank took over the town, his wife didn't marry his superior, and generally everyone hates being alive.

it was his presence that gave everyone the ability to fight against their apathy and their oppressors.

hence why its copied many, many, many times for being a classic story about Self Worth.

BTZ, however, says: "Subaru was only holding us back."

You know, like the much hated episode of Fairly Odd Parents' Season 5, episode 10: "It's A Wishful Life."

My suggestion to avoid a chunk of the hate heading your way, shrink the timescale and intermix the events.

Such as that abuse disguised as sparing with Julius. cut everything after Julius sits on Subaru and have another character interrupt that scene.

Like have The Blue Lightning guy do the kidnapping event from there.

Or have Patrasche decide that Subaru needs to be her space heater.

Or have Emilia and Beatrice come back from fighting the witch cult for resupply and have Emilia showcase a single iota of care for Subaru and be angry at Julius for his treatment of her dog.

Hell, let's go full crack.

That's when Elsa is revealed to be part of the emilia camp.

But as it, with a Full Three YEARS, they have become Villain Protagonists who no longer fall under the umbrella term:

"Never Attribute to Malice, What can be explained by Incompetence."

nonononnoono, now what applies to them is:

"Cuddling and Torture are synonyms."

them taking an interest in you is simultaneously a desire for closeness and a desire to subjugate and torment. A very common expression of love in Japanese fiction is “I want to know more about you”: with fiends that might well mean “I want to vivisect you”.

you know, the type of things that True Made from Pure EvilTM Demons do.

You know,

The Witches.

So Either A, They're Incompetent (in which case they should be losing against the Witch Cult and need the Story Breaker Power that is Subaru's Curse to Survive).

B, They are actively Malicious and Subaru needs to GTFO like the MC of The Truman Show.

Or C, in the course of viewing Subaru's life, everyone broke and here's the story of this massive group of insane individuals deal with returning to reality.

Okay, I feel that you have made a number of assumptions about the foundations of what I am writing that are simply untrue. I think you’ve misidentified some key themes, motifs, and foundational intentions of the prompt that I am working with here, and that a lot of your explanation of how to “fix” the story’s perceived flaws misses what I am trying to do with this fic and what kinds of tools I am working with in order to do it.

[First point: “BTZ is an Idiot Plot.”]

This is not the sort of claim that I can really argue for or against at the moment, because BTZ only has one chapter and the concept of an “idiot plot” is FAR more dependent on execution than it is on the prompt alone. Plenty of perfectly good story ideas have been turned into idiot plots due to poor execution, and good execution have taken many “iffy” prompts involving miscommunication and transformed them into very charming pieces of fiction.

I do not believe that BTZ is an idiot plot. I am taking great care to make sure that the line of thoughts that these characters are following are reasonable considering what they know, how they are perceiving their situation and interpersonal dynamics, and how they are both attempting and failing to present themselves in turn. BTZ — and ESPECIALLY BTZ II — is better defined as a comedy of errors: an event or series of events made ridiculous by the number of errors that were made throughout. These errors sometimes stem from the characters’ innate personal flaws or shortcomings, sometimes they come from wacky hijinks or the inherent flaws in the nuances of interpersonal relationships, and sometimes it is just pure bad luck. Once BTZ II comes around it really does lean into the absurdist humor of just HOW MANY THINGS needed to go wrong in order for things to go as badly as they do in BTZ I.

Of course, I cannot say that this is not an idiot plot yet because I have not executed the story yet. So I guess we’ll see.

[Second point: Central questions]

You argue that BTZ is answering the fundamental question “Would things be better if I never existed?” incorrectly, but the thing is: that is not the question being asked by BTZ. I have watched “It’s A Wonderful Life,” (and I actually really didn’t like that movie, whole other thing), but it has absolutely no relevance to BTZ from a writing angle because they’re not asking the same questions. They have a completely different thematic structures, central conflicts, and conclusions.

BTZ I and II aren’t about Subaru seeing a world in which he never existed: they’re about the dangers of personal pride, making assumptions about the perspectives and desires of other people, and the refusal to communicate with those around you. THOSE are the core themes of the narrative, at least when it comes to the central conflict about the constant, ever-growing miscommunication between Subaru and the rest of the cast. Nobody but Subaru is even considering that they might be better off without him. Hell, half of the internal monologues surrounding Subaru in BTZ II are them turning to the camera and saying, “Man, I sure love Subaru a whole lot! I’m so glad he’s here with me right now, and I hope I can facilitate a future where he can be safe and happy and a part of my life for the rest of our days!” The idea that Subaru is somehow a burden is — Subaru himself is literally the only one who would even suggest such a thing.

Hell, even if you were to ask “Would things be better if I never existed?” about BTZ — “Yes” is not even the right conclusion? Because BTZ is ONLY POSSIBLE because of everything that Subaru has done for all of these characters in the old timeline, that’s the whole point. As far as everyone else is concerned, Subaru already sacrificed everything for them, and now they have the chance to return the favor. The only reason it doesn’t look like that in BTZ I is because Subaru himself does not have the context necessary to recognize it. This is not a timeline where Subaru does not exist, it’s one where a different version of him already did all the work. In that sense, the conclusions reached by BTZ and “It’s A Wonderful Life” actually are the same regarding that central question, lol — but it’s still not really the intended central question of BTZ.

[Third point: Good intentions]

I’m gonna start this off by saying that I do not care about receiving hate on a fanfic: if I did, I never would have even considered the Julimilia subplot, and I probably wouldn’t have posted BTZ I on AO3 at all. I’m never going to change what I’m writing solely because I’m scared that I’ll get backlash for it. That aside, I have my reasons for keeping BTZ I and II on such a long timescale and I’ll get to that in a second, but first — I think your main suggestion fundamentally misses the point of what I am writing.

You are suggesting that I make everyone else in BTZ either intentionally cruel, insane, or completely incompetent as a way to justify this colossal misunderstanding. I will not be doing any of that, lol, because the whole point of BTZ is that everyone is genuinely trying their best. Changing that fundamental aspect of BTZ would transform it into a different story entirely. Is it a challenge to create a scenario in which the characters can fuck up this bad without being stupid or malicious? Yes — but it is a challenge that I believe is worthwhile, and one that I believe I can pull off.

[Fourth point: Why it’s so long]

The reason why BTZ I and II last as long as they do is because BTZ II is about everyone fully managing to accomplish their goal of conquering the plot of Re:Zero without getting Subaru involved: they defeat the Witch Cult, quell the Four Calamities, slay the Great Mabeasts, complete the Royal Selection, everything, and they do it without Subaru dying even once. They went back three years in time, and now they have fully managed to come full circle and can finally proceed after they have fully redone all of their worst mistakes and come out the other side. (—And then BTZ III happens and they realize that they kind of screwed up in an entirely different manner, of course.) For that to happen, BTZ II basically HAS to take place over a three year period.

Also, I mentioned before that BTZ II is a comedy of errors, where a large part of the central point is exploring just how many things would need to go ludicrously wrong in order for BTZ I to get as bad as it does and go on for as long as it has. This is also why the timeframe is so long: the fact that things go so badly for so long is effectively the punchline.

And like — it’s honestly not hard for things to keep going badly once they start down a certain path: once a pattern is set, it’s easy to keep repeating it. It might not seem like it from here, but I fully believe that the timeframe is honestly going to be one of the least challenging things to make believable. It’ll need work, sure, as will everything else about this story, but there are other things that will be more challenging to get right than that.

Anyway, those are my thoughts, lol. I have a lot planned for this fic yet, and a lot of it is going to be challenging to get right. But that’s kinda what makes it fun, eh? ;)

[dangermousie]

oooooh nooo. did they actually fuck up Jing or is he just one of the characters you're annoyed they removed important scenes with?

If they knew they couldn't have CX actually kill Jing because of censorship, they should have worked on restructuring his arc up to this point so that made sense. They can't just give him the same arc and then change the logical conclusion.

I wasn't annoyed with Jing per se but I was annoyed at the removal of a lot of his arc - like when he literally gate crashes her ceremony of becoming a nun (!!!!) and I just think that the second half of s2 put him into background to such a degree he ceased to be interesting to me - he was barely there and not given much to do when he was - that reunion scene was just so abrupt and filmed so randomly, I didn't even have a chance to care. A lot of second half of s2 felt like Cliffs Notes version in general but it got really bad by the end and I think Jing was hit by that along with most of the rest.

He's lucky he wasn't Cang Xuan - what they did to that character and that arc are utterly criminal! I agree if they knew they couldn't have him be a killer, then rewrite it way earlier - as is, it is like building building building and then NOTHING.

But also, in wrecking his arc, it wrecks Xiao Yao as a character. In the novel, it made sense she peaced out never to be seen by CX again - the person closest to her killed her love AND also confessed he was in love with her and etc etc - in fact before Jing comes back, she was planning to become Holy Mother ie be in one place where CX could never gain admittance. She felt blindsided and betrayed by the person she loved most (even if as a family only.) By the time Jing came back and she got married, the relationship between the cousins was irrevocably broken.

But here? She NEVER finds out CX loves her romantically. He is not in any way responsible for Jing's death. Sure, he can't execute Xinyue for the murder because she's the queen and it will start a war, but especially after Jing comes back alive, it makes NO sense for XY to just peace out in such a fashion that CX can never see her again - like why how - he's her beloved brother who approved of her marriage and where there are good reasons why he didn't punish his queen who ultimately did not murder anyone (and owed her nothing) - none of it makes any sense! It makes her awful tbh. (They try to do the thing where he says if he could choose the crown or her, he'd choose the crown but she is not shocked and it's not treated as a reveal because it obviously isn't.)

The whole structure falls apart.

(It also makes Jing weaker because it's one thing to not be able to guard against the freaking emperor of the world and another a fellow clan and plots by idiot Xinyue.)

Honestly, demon boy is the sole character who emerged from this with any semblance of a coherent character.

The title doesn't even make sense any more - it always came across to me as largely about CX losing XY forever (and vice versa.) But why does he lose her forever here? It makes zero sense.

It's like if they made Goodbye My Princess and at the end "psych!!! it turned out FL's fam were all alive and protected by ML and she got her throat stitched up and they lived happily ever after." It's not that it's a bad twist in a vacuum but it makes no sense with these characters and this story.

[utilitycaster]

Hi! Hope you don’t mind me asking but, I’ve seen you comment about a “fjord moon” theory every so often in your tags, and I’m quite curious what’s it about? I don’t think I’ve ever heard about it, is it something more prevalent in twitter spaces?

It started in Reddit spaces but it had a moment within the fandom at large during Campaign 2, especially after a YouTube video surfaced shortly after the campaign had come back from hiatus in August 2020. It hasn't come up lately since Campaign 3's plot pretty thoroughly debunked it, which wasn't necessary for reasons I will cover below.

I talked about how stupid it was at the time, and will do so again but I don't feel like looking back through my archives to find that post, so: the idea was that Fjord was from Ruidus. I call it a theory because its creators called it a theory but it was really just a lot of incoherent yelling that unfortunately happened to fall into the hands of a prolific and popular but talentless video maker and was boosted by a prolific and popular but deeply stupid figure on CR Twitter.

You can read it here but in short he basis was that Fjord was actually a Spelljammer Space Orc (Scro; yes this is just Orcs backwards; Spelljammer is not exactly the most brilliant of concepts) because he was intelligent and walked upright, ignoring that Spelljammer was, at the time, from D&D 2e only which can generously be described as "wicked racist in the depiction of orcs". Not that 5e is not without its foibles, but it had largely 86-ed the worst of the racism that pervaded earlier orc depictions. Also Garthok pre-dated Fjord and was a half-orc with the same intelligence, but what are facts to an idiot. So anyway this guy working off a deeply racist older concept for orcs spun this into a wild conspiracy theory involving the fact that Travis likes Dragonball Z; something about the film Spaceballs (as far as I know Travis has said absolutely nothing about this, this is just that the Mel Brooks Star Wars parody and my personal childhood favorite Spaceballs exists I think?) and various other random pulls from science fiction media. This guy asked a question at a panel and mistook the cast looking at him like he had lost the plot as a sign he was onto something. Somehow, people listened to him.

Here's the thing about theorycraft. It is more important, in writing a theory, that you base it on evidence than that you get it correct. Any dipshit can guess and any lucky dipshit can guess correctly, but if you show that you can't structure an argument for beans, anyone who can structure an argument for beans will rightfully look at you and say "well, they predicted something once, but that's a fucking fluke because they're a fucking joke." Theories should explain something that needs explanation (Fjord having an INT of 14 and the name Fjord and being an orphan does not). They should not solely rest on things the cast likes or things that merely exist in-world and certainly not from Spaceballs and Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, the connection of which to Critical Role in that Reddit post is not explained, ever.

To give some examples of good, mediocre, and bad but at least not nearly that bad theorycraft: the theory that Ashton was a meteor that was around early in C3 is in my mind not very good, but at least it fits within Exandria canon and explained something about Ashton needing explanation at the time. The theory that The Emissary is the source of the stasis bubbles is in my mind a very good one explaining several key mysteries (source of stasis bubbles; why Erathis sent him rather than coming himself). The theory that Bor'Dor was a dog was fucking stupid and made no sense nor did it explain anything that needed explanation (and also wildly misjudged how border collies behave) but did at least not say "also, the TV show Lassie...exists in our reality, and this is evidence" The Fjord Moon Theory is maybe the stupidest and worst CR theory I've seen in my entire life, and it's up there for fandom theories over all. I get that it was August 2020 and I don't begrudge people who were very bored and scared from joking about it while not taking it seriously, but I do begrudge those who did take it seriously because like, come on.

Anyway, I bring it up in tags sometimes because many of the worst C3 takes on Twitter that make it to me via "can you fucking believe this" screenshots in the groupchat are either started or propagated by Former Moon Theory People.

[tvckerwash]

@joltning I present to thee the elaboration requested:

When broken down to the bare essentials Wash and C.T fulfill the same function within the story, and the differences between them as characters mostly results from how the story was executed when it came to them fulfilling that function. 

For example, everybody (myself included) complains about how C.T exists solely as a plot device in the Freelancer Saga, but nobody complains about how Wash also exists solely as a plot device in Recovery One and Recollection. I mean Reconstruction is literally the ‘omg theres a plot!?!?!?!?” season of RvB, and without Wash there is no story. 

The main reason Wash isn’t perceived in the same way as C.T is due to the level of freedom the writers had when it came to telling the story they wanted to tell. The Blood Gulch Chronicles and Out of Mind set the foundations for Recovery One and Recollection, but it was through Wash that the lore of RvB was reconstructed into a cohesive story. The unexplainable was explained, the unelaborated was elaborated upon, and all the wacky hijinks and random bits and bobs of the previous seasons were tied together in a way that answered the question asked in episode one: Why are all of these idiots stuck in a canyon in the middle of nowhere while being separated into color coded teams that are fighting each other?

C.T however did not have the same level of freedom as Wash, and this is because of pfl’s nature as a prequel combined with the pacing of those seasons. We pretty much already knew everything about her that there was to know, so there was no point in hiding anything or taking it slow because of that, hence the painfully obvious foreshadowing. This approach to the Freelancer Sage, and C.T’s story is what leads to her essentially having the same arc as Wash, just reversed—or more accurately described; mirrored, like Chief and Arbiter in Halo 2.

A majority of the reversal and/or mirroring between them manifests in their personalities, which I actually talk about some here, but some examples of the phenomenon in regards to actual plot points are:

They are both introduced as recovery agents (or rather fake C.T, who was the real C.T at the time, was introduced as a recovery agent). Wash is a single agent recovering human technology from dead Freelancers, and he uses explosives to destroy the rest of the equipment to prevent information leaks. C.T is attempting to recover alien technology from a long dead civilization with the help of other aliens, and he uses explosives to make sure anyone who knows of their operation and presents a problem will be destroyed to prevent information leaks. 

We knew exactly who Wash was, who he worked for, and why he was reassembling the blues. We didn’t know who C.T was, who he worked for, and why he was fighting Tucker in the desert. 

Wash was shot in the back and survived, but failed to subdue the enemy. C.T was shot in the chest and died just as they were going to subdue the enemy.

In regards to the real C.T, some examples include:

The Meta was portrayed as the primary conflict for Wash, but in reality he had always been aiming for the destruction of Freelancer. On the flip side, C.T’s fight to take down Freelancer is portrayed as the main conflict, but in reality, while poorly explained, tracking down the alien artifacts seemed to be her real goal (which is not as insane as it sounds when you remember that Charon Industries was more aligned with the UNSC proper than pfl was). 

Wash never hinted towards his plan of taking out the Meta in Recovery One to South, or his plan for destroying Freelancer to the Reds and Blues until he had the perfect opportunity to strike, and by then he had built enough trust that they were willing to help him out despite his secrecy. If they weren’t, well, he knew what to say to change their minds. C.T however wasn’t exactly subtle with her thoughts and feelings, and she didn’t build any trust with the people around her, so when she finally defected—which didn’t take a genius to see coming—no one was willing to listen to her or take her at her word, and there was nothing she could say or do to change their minds except offering concrete evidence. “I’m starting not to trust you.” vs “I can’t trust you.”

This one isn’t a plot point, but I’m going to mention it anyway because I think it’s a nice example of this subtle yet obvious mirroring I’m talking about, and shows what I was trying to replicate in my blurb that spurred me to finally write this analysis:

Counselor: Agent Washington? Agent Washington? Washington: Sorry, what were you saying? Counselor: Were you thinking about Epsilon again, Agent Washington? Washington: No. Counselor: What happened with Epsilon was not your fault, Agent Washington. Washington: I didn't think it was. Counselor: We have safeguards for the unstable emotional patterns of an artificial intelligence. Sometimes these algorithms fail. Washington: Oh. So then it's your fault. Counselor: We prefer to think of it as no one's fault.

Vs:

Washington: It wasn't your fault, Connie. Connie: Easy for you to say. You didn't drop the ball. Washington: The ball got dropped. We were all there, it's everyone's responsibility. Connie: Dammit, why are you doing that? Washington: What am I doing? Connie: Making excuses for me. I'm not making excuses for myself...why are you?

All I've mentioned above is also why C.T’s relationship with the leader and the plot twist that the C.T in the desert wasn’t the real C.T are disliked by so many, as there was nothing to justify the sudden bait and switch like there was at the end of S6. I mean, considering we see both Tex and South use voice mods to sound like men, it reads as though that was supposed to be the case with C.T as well, which makes it feel like it was changed at the last second because everyone saw it coming.

This is an issue because A) There's nothing inherently wrong with being predictable—a good plot twist always has foreshadowing, even if it won’t be registered as foreshadowing until the twist happens in certain cases—and B) The story of the Freelancer Saga as a prequel was confined in a box created by the previous seasons, and all they were doing was connecting the aforementioned events to tie up a few loose ends and properly establish Carolina's driving force in present day S10.

[ripplestitchskein]

This is super crackish but I am DELIGHTED. So in Western Energy Andrealphus’s actions indicate that he is playing his sister in order to gain the upper hand for HIM. He is obviously flattering and manipulating her and loses his patience multiple times “You stupid cow”, which shows through the cracks of what he is saying and his fake demeanor.

This could be just a weird brother and sister dynamic, he genuinely wants to get the money for Stella and she’s just stupid so he loses his patience but why go through this subterfuge and the song and dance of walking her through it to make to seem like her idea? I’ve always found the dynamic odd, why not just tell her flat out “You can’t kill him we need his money, if he dies it goes to Via.” Why coo and simper and put on a whole performance?

That reasoning also falls flat for me. Stella and Via do not appear to have a bad relationship, Via is often with her and Stella takes her on weekends. If Stolas died and Via inherited why would they assume she’d cast Stella out? Why does Stella need to inherit directly? She doesn’t have control of the money and power now. She never has. She just has access to it. Which she still could. What’s the difference? Wouldn’t a grieving, untrained, teenage daughter be easier to manipulate into giving up the money, power and legions than leaving Stolas alive and having to do some convoluted plan in a nebulous future involving an already powerful demon? Like bad planning Andrealphus, think it through.

Also, what does he even need this money and power FOR? He has a palace of his own. He has powers of his own. I assume legions of his own. He doesn’t appear to be hurting for money in his own right. For Stella’s sake? He seems to kinda dislike her? He certainly doesn’t respect her. He clearly thinks she’s an idiot. He’s obviously manipulating her and leading her towards something. So what is he trying to get that he doesn’t already have?

And why NOW? Why wait until after Stolas is trying to get a divorce? Like if he truly is doing it for her sake it makes sense it wouldn’t come up until her position was at risk. He might very well be doing this out of love for her.

Like the serious side of me knows there’s probably a larger plan at work on Andrealphus’s part than has been revealed and it’s entirely greedy and will be shown to us in Mastermind and Sinsmas, I also have some ideas for how Mammon/Oz/Fizz will tie that all together but today I was watching Western Energy and my insane brain was like “What if Vassago is a misdirect and Andrealphus is Stolas’s romantic fairytale lead?”

HEAR ME OUT. IT’S SO FUNNY

We have no other indication about what Andrealphus is like other than Stolas saying “Your arrogant brother”. That is our first description of him. That is a hugely popular romance novel trope. How many arrogant love interests exist in the romance space, like a billion? Think about how often a posh aristocrat has called their love interest “arrogant”. And the entire plot of one MC having to marry the brother of another. Like that’s peak romance novel.

What made me think of this is that when Andrealphus is talking to Stella his manipulations are solely about keeping Stolas alive. That is his entire stated goal. He elaborates with “Eternity is a long time my dear” and he sounds fascinated that Stolas is behaving this way. Like Andrealphus has an opportunity for something now. I was just like “In a different context this would read like Andrealphus manipulating her into keeping Stolas alive to save his life. Like technically Andrealphus saved Stolas this episode. That’s interesting.”

And then my brain snagged on the cover of the romance book, it being two avian demons and of course the trailer where we don’t see Stella coming for Stola and Blitz but Andrealphus.

And like if all this was happening because Andrealphus has been secretly in love with Stolas this whole time and found out she hired Striker the first time time so has been trying to keep him alive and get Stella settled and happy and out of the way so he can be with him? Like obviously Stolas would have no idea, but Andrealphus pining for him and doing all these things he doesn’t need to do since he’s already rich and powerful would make much more sense. In the short term, like I said they’ll prob reveal something about his actual motivations soon. But looking at where we are right this second that is not incredibly outlandish. It would take like a few flashbacks to sell that and make it work with the current plot.

Andrealphus making his case and Stolas being like “But I love Blitz” would even lead into a really interesting start to the class conflict. Andrealphus can’t believe an imp could be better than him, would be preferred over HIM a royal, and instead of doing what a romantic hero with that plot should do he goes villainous and tries to kill them. Like what an interesting thing for Stolas, to have the cliche romantic hero moment he wanted BECAUSE of a twisted cliche romantic plot line? And Andrealphus’s twisted romance begins a larger divide between imps and Ars Goetia in S3.

Like isn’t that wild? Wouldn’t that be amazing?

[lycorisketch]

LMK SEASON 5 SPOILERS!

New AU

King of the Underworld Macaque

After the events of season 5, the Underworld is left without anyone to run it. Macaque, while content to avoid the place altogether, somehow ends up taking up rule as the sole King of the Underworld.

(Yes I need to come up with a reason for him to take charge but shhhh)

Macaque, given he was not quite alive for some time, is well versed in the Underworld and how it functions. Additionally he has noticed that his usual purple colored powers have started to turn a chaotic orange since his massive attack against the Nine-Headed Demon (Xiangliu). But the color of his power isn't the only thing changing, as the chaos is taking a toll on his physical appearance...and perhaps his mental state.

This AU will be fleshed out more I swear. I'm going to be taking ALOT of creative liberties and I cannot guarantee a full fledged plot, but I can promise doodles of this idiot.

Feel free to send me asks about this guy!

Design is subject to change.

Notes on his design:

Right eye - Blind, scarred (Not shown in design. I forgot it in this one)

Long hair - I just like Mac with long hair

Orange tint to his hair - Effects of his power

Blue claws - Why not

Robes - Matches the robes of the old kings (Except the designs on the sleeves, I thought those just looked cool. And the yellow is from his original design)

Colors in his ears - Purple and orange to match his powers

White in hair - Unfortunate after effects of LBD power, the white grows the longer he's in Diyu

Red waist wrap - Its his scarf

Note: In this AU I am taking creative liberties with how the Underworld works. I am using headcanons and what little knowledge we have from Lego Monlie Kid NOT the proper Chinese mythos version. Though if you want cool info on that please refer to this post by @/ryin-silverfish

[cherlawa-panna]

The interesting case of Barney Barton's name

Let's focus on a bizarre mystery in the Clint Barton universe (even though it's not really a mystery). And no, I'm not talking about why Clint is portrayed as a loser in the latest comics.

I'm talking about the the biggest idiot in Clint's life. His brother, Barney Barton. And based on the title, you can probably guess the topic of focus: about his name, duh.

To be fair, if you're not deeply into his lore or Clint Barton's family lore, you might not think his name is a mystery. You might assume his parents just didn't love him enough and named him Barney. Easy thing, right? Nope. Wrong.

Many people don't know this, and I don't blame them, but this bastard actually has a different name.

Please give a round of applause for: Charles Bernard Barton!

Yes, it's on his tombstone. And I bet he would rather be in his grave right now instead of being alive, but unfortunately, he didn't have much choice <3.

Don't feel bad if you didn't know this; his full name appears once and once only. It was shown in Hawkeye Vol. 3 and never mentioned again.

If you're like me, you probably have many questions. Why was his name mentioned only once? Why is his name Charles Bernard? Why is he ALWAYS called Barney? Why is his nickname based on his middle name instead of his first name? Why isn't he called Charlie or whatever????

Well, I'm going to answer every question you have—or at least I'll try!

We'll break this post into two parts: first, the real reason behind his name (from the author's perspective, but remember this is just my theory) and second, the fun reason I use in my fanon.

I'm dedicating it for @carcrash429 because I promised them Barney posts a long time ago but my depression didn't let me </3 I have more posts in my drafts so I'll public more soon. And for @hawkzeyes because they're my bestie.

Why Did the Authors Hurt Him with This Name?

The answer is quite simple. Barney was never supposed to have a significant role in Clint's story. Let me explain this. He first appeared in Avengers #64 (March, 1969) as a racketeer from the mob.

Look at him, the fancy criminal, with his own crew working for him. Even Egghead, a well-known villain bastard, wanted to work with him. He's a serious deal, guys; Barney must have held a high rank in the mob or whatever. Everything about him screams: a bad guy.

And despite all that, his sole purpose was to reveal Clint's name to us readers. And that's it, it was the only reason for his existence.

So, let's consider this from the author's perspective. We have a character who is a criminal, destined to die for the plot, just because we want to make Clint's name reveal more dramatic. He's suppose to be a bad guy who decided to change his ways before his tragic death, and in some way he serve as the other side of coin trope for Clint. What name should we give him? In this goofy comic with characters who look ridiculous—where even one of the villains is called Egghead—it's no surprise the authors would give him a stereotypical name.

If you don't know it: The name Barney is slang for "an angry argument." According to the Oxford dictionary, it's also defined as "a derogatory term for a man," originally meaning a worthless or contemptible man, but later used to describe an inept, unfashionable, or unattractive man, sometimes implying a loser.

In short: This name carries very bastard vibes.

I'm pretty sure they didn't pay much thought with naming him. They probably chose it quickly because it fits and that's it. And it sounds a bit like a nickname for a mobster (there is a real gangster from one of New York's crime families named Barney so yeah).

Barney remained Barney for a long time because he wasn't meant to be someone important like I said before —just a family member from Clint's backstory who was supposed to reveal Clint's name to us and make Clint angry for the plot.

But then came Hawkeye Vol. 3 where they decided, "Fuck it, let's un-barney your barney". And it turns out Barney isn't a very good name for someone like the Barney we see in Vol. 3. That's why they decided to give him a better name, making him seem more serious and fancy.

And now we have his name on the tombstone, and only on the tombstone. After that, Hawkeye Vol. 3 never refer to him as Charles and Bernard again. Even Barney's friend from the FBI calls him Barney in the letter to Clint for some goddamn reason.

The authors probably simply wanted to show, "Hey! He's a deep character with a serious name. He's more than just a goon from now because we need to give Clint more trauma."

You get that vibe, right? From now, Barney is just a nickname for Charles used by his friends, coworkers and family and that's it. Sounds reasonable, doesn't it? And it should be, however something got very wrong. No one seems to use his real name. Everyone calls him Barney regardless of who they are, even those who should use his real name.

Like, in his freaking MEDICAL CHART in New Avengers (2010), they called him Barney Barton.

It's ridiculous. But why this happened? It's simple The authors simply doesn't know his name.

Those who wrote him later after Hawkeye: Blindspot didn't bother to check his previous appearances (which you can see by how they wrote him). This kind of thing is common in the comics industry. For instance, remember when in Hawkeye Vol. 4 they forgot that Clint was dating Jessica and accidentally made him cheat on her? Funny times.

The only reason Barney appeared in later comics as Trickshot after Hawkwey: Blindspot is because the authors wanted a villainous counterpart to Hawkeye and they didn't pay much attention to his character. They just wanted an evil Clint lmao

Barney's time as Trickshot was a weird chapter in his lore, where he became a very different character than he was before. He just became a loser copy of Hawkeye before the authors eventually forgot about his existence. Then, in Hawkeye Vol. 4, it was suddenly decided to bring Barney back without bothering to explain why he quit his villain work. Why? Because nobody really cares about him; he's just a side character and he was needed for the plot. That's why Barney is the most frustrating character I've ever liked—his personality and motives changes in every new comic. It's INSANE.

But not every author forgets the fact that his real name isn't Barney… though they still don't use his actual name correctly. In some comics with different Earths or in other media, they refer to him as Bernard.

(Secrets of the House of M #1 [Earth-58163])

Why? Perhaps because they want him to sound fancier or more serious. They likely didn't use his first name because those who are not into Hawkeye lore wouldn't know that Barney and Charles are the same person. It's that simple.

Which brings us to another question: WHY IS HIS FIRST NAME CHARLES????

To be fair? I don't know. I wish to know. I've tried to research it, but I've come up empty-handed. Maybe I'm not good in research.

I mean, people tends to have nicknames from their second name but it's still weird. We may never find out why they made him Charles Bernard and not Bernard Charles.

Why Did His Parents Hurt Him with This Name?

Alright, it's time for the fun part of this post: how I imagine the reasons behind his nickname in story-wise. Let's dig in, shall we?

First and foremost, it's important to note that his parents never called him Barney. Perhaps this is because flashbacks always focus on Clint alone. It's Clint Barton's world after all.

Their father referred to Barney as a brat in one issue, but that's the extent of their parents acknowledging Barney lmao.

And the only person in flashbacks from their early childhood who calls Charles by his nickname is Clint. So it's likely that his parents called him by his real name and the nickname came from Clint.

So we can assume it's a childhood nickname that carried into adulthood. But why Barney? You could assume that Clint just called him Barney because it sounds better than Charlie, but I like to complicate things. I have 2 (maybe 3) options I usually explore in my stories (which I've never published because I'm a coward, so you'll never read them).

1. There was a lot of Charles in their neighborhood.

Probably there were many other kids named Charles, and to avoid confusion, they started giving each Charles a nickname (because Charles is popular name, duh — it's #11 in Top Names Over the Last 100 Years). Which is a normal thing tbh. I had another kid with my name in school, and my friends gave me a nickname to avoid mixing us up too.

Maybe Barney's friends started calling him Barney, and Clint picked it up and started using it too.

2. There was another Charles in their family.

I like to write in my stories that he was named after his grandfather from his father's side, and to distinguish between them, they called Charles "Bernard." Clint became so accustomed to "Bernard" that he started calling him Barney. This nickname persisted even after their family stopped exist lmao.

Maybe he also had a cousin with the same name after their grandfather, and that could be another reason why he was called Bernard. I don't know why people name their children after their siblings' kids, but it happens sometimes.

3. BOTH

Do I need to even explain this? I always incorporate both of these headcanons in my stories. It began with family, as he was named after his grandparent so they called him Bernard, then his friends started calling him Barney. Easy story.

I imagine that he was also called Barney in the army/FBI, because there were too many Charles. And that's why his best buddy from Hawkeye Vol.3 calls him this way.

These reasons are also the same reasons why I believe he continues to be Barney and never Charles later in his life.

I'll borrow a bit from the canon, because there's one interesting thing here.

(I think it was from Thunderbolts issues but I don't remember now.)

He probably doesn't like his name. Yeah, I know this panel is probably about his name being Barney and him being bitter about it because it's a stupid name (because authors didn't bother to check older Hawkeye comics again). But I don't care. I'll do whatever I want with this panel and treat it as if he's bitter about his real name lmao.

Why is he bitter? Why doesn't he like his name? You can create any headcanon you want, but mine is simple: he was named after someone in his family, and he hates his family. Maybe this caused him to have a bad relationship with his name. Or his parents were the only one who called him Charles and he hated it because of that. And he would want to disconnect from his past and therefore uses Bernard.

He was called Barney for most of his life, so I think he usually tells people he is Bernard and not Charles. Or "Yeah, I'm Charles, but you can call me Barney". I also think that after the Trickshot fiasco, he changed his name to Bernard Barton (probably not legally because he's still a wanted criminal). And he did it in other universes (like in Earth-58163).

That's it. I hope it wasn't too messy. Remember, it's just my theories and headcanons so you can not agree with me if you want.

[deusvervewrites]

honestly i think that AFO's "trys to kill midoriya even though he knows that midoriya's got to stay alive for him to get OFA" thing can actually be attributed to his "thinks everything runs on superhero comic logic but specifically the logic where he wins" thing.

because after all, whoever holds OFA is supposed to be the hero of the story! Obviously, this plot armor is how the quirk/user always manages to survive, and this will protect the current user until either AFO can steal the quirk or they can dramatically pass it on. <- (sarcasm) (unfortunately how i think AFO's brain works) (because this is the only reason that makes his stupid plans make sense to me)

Basically AFO doesn't comprehend that a OFA user can die at any time, not just when the quirk is passed on/he takes it himself/or the situation is deemed narratively dramatic enough. hes gotten extremely lucky on this part, that the story (the manga itself, not the story that AFO believes in) actually needed OFA to be passed on and for midoriya to mostly survive the murder attempts.

It is kind of funny to me how trying to be genre-savvy in mha technically works sometimes and occasionally makes for very interesting characters and moments that play on or subvert well established tropes (i am a monoma enjoyer and i find his technically correct observation that he, himself, is a side character and more specifically a low-stakes antagonist/heel both kinda funny and very intriguing in how this affects his frankly abysmal mental health and how it plays into his "performance"/facade of who he is that he presents to the rest of the cast) (also that somewhat recent moment w kaminari thinking that his "line"/"part" was to be the guy who 100% believed in the protagonist and cheer him on but he was genuinely and realistically worried about midoriya instead) BUT for the most part. It just makes characters act stupid as hell. And its especially funny when they are actually completely wrong about the general role that they play/what tropes are actually in action.

Now that im thinking about it. the fact that characters trying to think of their lives as a story, specifically a superhero story, is an in-universe flaw because they are supposed to be actual people in-universe and run the risk of greatly misunderstanding people and brushing off others issues/depth because they are not actually supposed to be in a written story in their universe. Yet they are technically right and can occasionally predict outcomes due to the fact that mha itself can't subvert every trope if it wants to stay as a superhero story. Is very interesting and both fun and maddening at times to witness. I feel like i didn't word this thought too well but besides that. Layers upon layers here. some of those layers are ridiculous but hey.

In conclusion because oopsies this ask came out much longer than i thought it was going to sorry for dropping this brick in your inbox -

Attempting to be self-aware is a massive hit or miss thing to actually work out in a character's favor in mha. And when AFO tries it. He makes stupidly convoluted plans that genuinely shouldn't work. Solely because he thinks that is how being a supervillain works. The fact that the plans actually work doesn't change that everything afo does is stupid as hell once you actually think about it.

One of the big ways that AFO is demonstrably an idiot is because this is genuinely how he thinks

[iamawolfstarsimp]

please pleASE can I request a fic between James and the others where James somehow provoked them all and ends up getting wrecked? Please I’m starving for marauders content I’ve literally read every fic to ever exist😭

Feel free to change the plot idea because it’s only a rough choice I will literally take anything at this stage 💀

oml I'm in the same boat with you, i have literally searched the whole internet (feels like I have) looking for fics

But I got you, have a mini fic for your troubles

"I swear to god, if you throw one more fucking paper ball at me, I'm gonna throw you off the astronomy tower." Sirius growled, hunched over his homework.

Finals season before Christmas was really taking a toll on all of the marauders.

Except for James, of course.

James was the kind of person who was annoyingly positive when everyone else was negative, mostly because he knew it got on people's nerves.

For whatever reason he was especially good at annoying Sirius (probably because he knew him so well, I mean, they were practically brothers).

Sirius whipped his head around when James threw yet another crumpled up piece of parchment at him. James sniggered and roll over onto his back, laughing up to the ceiling of his bunk.

"James, will you stop irritating Padfoot so he'll shut the fuck up so I can finish this essay?" Remus glared at the pair of them.

"It's not my fault that he won't leave me alone!" Sirius said, glaring right back at Remus.

"Will you two just be quiet?!" Peter shouted.

"Well, excuse me!" Sirius yelled right back. "All of a sudden it's my fault that James is the one being annoying!"

"I don't know what you three are talking about," James grinned from his bed. "I have been nothing but peaceful this entire work session."

The other three marauders shared a irritated look between each other.

The all opted to ignore James and he would get bored eventually and leave.

Unfortunately, Sirius wasn't very good at that and instantly turned around when James threw yet another paper ball.

"If you chuck one more paper ball at me, you're gonna regret it." Sirius hissed.

"Yeah, alright Pads." James chuckled and nodded.

When Sirius turned back around there was a good thirty seconds of silence before there was the soft sound of paper hitting the back of someone's head.

Remus, who was the victim of James' torment instead of Sirius, immediately stood up and walked over to James's bed. He grabbed him by the ankles and promptly tugged him off onto the floor.

James yelped as Remus wrestled him to the floor, pinning him down by sitting on him while grappling with James' arms. James was all the while laughing, finally getting the attention he wanted.

"I don't understand," James said calmly as Sirius and Peter hopped up to help, Sirius pulling up James' arms above his head and sitting on them, Peter holding down his legs. "I didn't throw anything at Sirius." He grinned.

"You're a fucking idiot, you know that?" Remus scowled. James grinned again and nodded.

"It's why you all love me." There was a collective eye-roll between the other three. "I mean what's not to love? I'm good looking, strong, smart, fu-hahaha-!"

While James had been rambling Sirius had taken the opportunity to start poking at his ribs.

"D-dude, stohop!" James giggled, unashamed.

"This is what you get for distracting us for an entire hour." Sirius smirked.

Peter sat lower on James' shins, making quick work of pinning his feet and had started scratching up and down his soles, Remus wiggling fingers across his taut stomach.

"You guhuhys su-hahaha-suck!" James squirmed wildly from side to side, throwing his head back when it got bad.

Jame arched his back and squealed when Remus found a good spot on his hips and proceeded to dig his thumbs into said spot.

"No no no no, nohohOHO!! H-hehehelp!!" James laughed, tugging at his arms but to no avail.

James bucked hard when Peter started scribbling on the tops of his feet and that soft spot under his toes, almost sending Remus off of him.

Remus glared and vibrated one hand into his belly the other digging into his hip. Sirius was non-stop scribbling and digging into his ribs and underarms, sending James into hysterics.

The room was filled with James' bright, loud laughter. His laugh became high pitched whenever he got really giggly, and it became especially loud when he got excited or happy.

"No more, no mohohore!!" James had closed his eyes, excepting his fate. "Plehehease!!"

They all slowed down, gradually bringing himself down from that high of laughter. Sirius wiped away the tears that had rolled down his cheek, Remus gave his belly a firm pat before climbing off, Peter doing the same.

They left him on the floor to calm down while they got back to their work. Once he noticed Remus had finished (who was the first to get done) and sat down on his own bed, he flopped across his legs.

"I have no pity for you," he smirked. "You got what you deserved." James groaned at his response.

"You're gonna continue to annoy people while they're working, aren't you?" Remus said after a pause.

"You bet." James grinned when Remus shook his head and eye rolled.

Hope you liked!!

[tamelee]

Hi, do you think they'll make S and N straight in the live action movie? Like making S nicer to Sakura or not even keeping the kiss or enforcing the idea of S and N being "brothers",... Anyway, I expect nothing but still... it stings.

Hi~ Yeah I feel you.

Oh I have many expectations- 's just that not a single one is any good.

It’s highly possible they’re going to push contrasting narratives. Unfortunately. Though I don't see the point in forcing any of these ideas into a movie, because there's simply no time. It will have no meaning either way unless 'romance' is going to play a significant part in it... which also wouldn't make any sense.

It's a lose-lose for all of us no matter what you ship...

However, they’ve always done it with filler (everything aside the source material and... arguably Kishimoto's add-on's) as well as marketing material. Some is still subtle enough so people can argue about it, but argue they will. (Ah! Isn’t that so very clever?) It isn't for nothing they used to force Naruto on Sakura aggressively and love to make him look like an idiot in filler, or introduce random girl characters as part of a new movie-plot so he can not only be the Hero to save the day, no, he can be their personal Hero. Because, oh, isn’t he actually so handsome now that he saved me? It’s a lame way to check off the romantic elements they for some reason always need to add in and give to Naruto, disguising it under the excuse of “character-arc-stuff” because Naruto can't evolve even a single belief unless the girlies’ minds change about him first. Let alone narratively it destroys Naruto’s character, because a huge "problem" is that he’s people-pleasing his way to being liked and pretty much all filler I’ve come across only strengthens this flaw (I saw ‘flaw’ lovingly btw). Name a single thing that faithfully stayed true to the Manga and wasn’t made by Kishimoto:…

… right. 

Imo, best case scenario? They just leave out everything beneath the surface, pick a single Theme, focus on the Shinobi in a way that still allows for a bit of believable growth in these characters. Something that can still show the current while pushing for some realization and round it out somewhat satisfactory in the end. If they’re going to try anything beyond that, it’ll fail.

Kishimoto created art, but the sole decision for an adaptation means art is now ground through a giant meat-mill of great team-effort and commerce. Every medium functions differently and this decision alone comes with many problems. (Length ’s an important one. Structure too.) You can already see it in the interviews that are held about this project. Too many people are involved that have influential say about the outcome of the creative decisions. There’s also the lovely men in suits that have all the control and yet have zero creative-skill although they’d like to believe otherwise. Studio’s by itself have their own politics. This never bides well for adaptations. Very rarely is it acceptable. Very often it’s disappointing. Almost always it’s a high-budget fantasy. And yet they always know that fans are going to be critical and still not care. 

Stubborn as hell. 

(It’s different when it’s not really an adaptation, but more inspired by an existing story. HTTYD for example is very, very loosely based on a book-series— it has little connection, but there’s obviously still a story idea in there… )

[narutocharacterpolls]

ROUND ONE

DEIDARA vs UCHIHA ITACHI

Reasons for submission under the cut

Deidara

he is an artist!

his clay models are cute, fun and dynamic!

cool hairstyle and sick eyeliner job

set up the mood for the rest of Shippuden with his introduction + fight with Gaara

4 mouths

wants to kill Oonoki

anti-nationalist

bombed several lands just for kicks

likes to appreciate art

faced Gai and his team ARMLESS armed with a kunai IN HIS MOUTH and escaped mostly unscathed

NANOBOMBS

trained one eye to counter attack genjutsus

likes birds and winged animals

fought against Sasuke (A HUGE honor of any character Kishi could have thrown at him he chose his GOAT 🫡)

deranged blue eyed blonde representation

can make his mouth hands make out anytime he wants, power move of the century

caught a Jinchuriki and a Bijuu all by himself

wears a crop top

wears black nail polish

lost both arms and didn't bat an eye

almost strangled Obito

explodes anytime he wants

beefed with Itachi

wanted to kill Orochimaru

long haired men

hates the government

he's annoying to everyone

youngest akatsuki member

hilarious one liners

intelligent, strategic, dramatic, hot, cool

looks like Ino

Itachi

he has one of the most compelling, gut-wrenching and beautiful sibling relationships in the entire anime

despite showing it in a peculiar way he does love Sasuke and honestly that's based

not to sound like a dudebro but his jutsu is honestly incredible and his fights are very interesting and entertaining to watch. Susano’o in particular is very beautiful as well

created Easter Kakashi. Lol

an incredibly intriguing and complex character, there's so many layers to Itachi and all of them are sad

he was groomed from the age of four because the Konoha Elders saw that he had such an intense reaction to witnessing war and realized that they could make use of that

loved his family deeply despite it all

is the reason behind one of the best plot lines and character (Sasuke) of the anime

he gave up his entire life because he thought this was the only way to guarantee Sasukes safety

he stayed with the akatsuki solely so that he could keep an eye on Konoha and Sasuke and to prevent the akatsuki from harming Sasuke by attacking Konoha

pushed Sasuke to his limit in their fight just to be able to get Orochimaru out of Sasuke for good

"you've studied a lot. You're like a snake expert now" is SO funny and he was so genuine about it

he was SO young and had so many voices telling him traumatizing things left and right, and that he was the only solution on both sides

truly genuinely made as one of the most heart breaking characters and character relations to exist

eye bags are real and relatable

men with long hair

bro's GORGEOUS

he was traumatized and manipulated since his childhood and deserved sm better

he just wanted to make eggs for his lil brother!

idiot fool boy

he's supposed to be a genius but his emotional intelligence is in the negatives

even his father recognized that he was a good kid and had good intentions when he found out about what Itachi was doing

malewife

[bobbie-robron]

Robron Fanfiction Recommendations (Apr-2024)

The below were recommended on Twitter in April 2024.

Two Hearts, One Love (2016) 6.4K words, rxbron

Alternative Robert Return. It’s 2016 and Vic and Adam are getting married, an event that had Vic inviting Robert to, the brother she hasn’t seen since 2009. They do indeed get married with Robert showing up at the reception. Robert and Aaron make eyes at each other obviously showing an interest in one another that leads them to stealing themselves away for a bit of nookie…

What came before won’t count anymore (2020) 6.5K words, softlass27

Reunion 3.0. It’s not fourteen years but four years that Robert spent in prison. He’s been back in the village for three months now and getting to know Sebastian again (Aaron has been his sole caregiver to him since whatever disaster you can dream up of happened to his mum). There’s so much sunresolved between Robert and Aaron but still… that doesn’t mean they should remain apart until that time is it? As the two decide how to move forward, we learn just how bad prison was for Robert…

Honest Love series (2015) 7.3K words, HermioneJBlack

Two stories. After Aaron leaves Bar West, he is attacked and beaten. It is Robert that finds him and calls for ambulance. With how close he got to losing Aaron, Robert makes a life-altering decision choosing between Chrissie and Aaron. The second story takes place a year later as Robert has a surprise for Aaron on Valentine’s Day.

Pretend boyfriends!AU (2016) 4.7K words, reinacadeea

Home Farm has been in the possession of the Sugdens for years with Robert handling the bulk of the business. Things turn hostile when Diane gives Andy & Katie 33 percent of shares infuriating Robert. When the Sugdens take a trip to London, Robert brings his (pretend) boyfriend (who he only met recently getting his car looked at) to irritate Katie. Well, being pretends boyfriends might not actually last long as Aaron has a positive effect on Robert… and contemplating Aaron’s question if he’s happy might actually give Robert a clearer focus on what actually makes him happy…

Robert’s dilemma (2016) 5.9K words, Margorobron

With the ‘drama’ unfolding with Charity, Cain & Moira, Charity offers to sell Robert her share of the pub at a lower cost than before. This leaves Robert pondering whether he should seriously consider buying the shares though the reason for it no longer holds. That also brings up another option he was considering… buying aa cottage for him and Aaron. Well, such an important decision isn’t for him alone so he and Aaron talk it through…

Operation Idiots (2020) 9.9K words, raelee514

Reunion 3.0. Robert has been back in the village for a few months getting to know his now twelve year old son, Sebestian, who has been raised by Aaron and gets along okay with his live-in boyfriend, Tim. The thing is, Aaron & Tim had parted ways weeks ago and now the chip off the old block Sebastian is plotting to reunite the two idiots who are no more than mates currently but clearly make each other happy using a tried and true scenario from the past. How can Sebastian lose?

I’m on my way to believing (2019) 14.6K words, softlyspoken

While out with Adam and Matty at a bar, Aaron notices a blonde dancing like a maniac but when said blonde tries to chat him up, is brushed off. It’s at this time that Clive bets the blonde, Robert, a grand that he won’t be able to make Aaron like him in three weeks. This leads Robert back to the village to reconnect to Vic… and Aaron. But Aaron continues to run hot and cold, mostly cold, toward him. But there is more than meets the eye when it comes to why Aaron is how he is and it’s not because of things ending with Ed. That bet, while it brings them together and real feelings arise, will rear it’s head at some point and… oh boy….

Courtroom reunion (2020) 2.3K words, SugdenLovesDingle

Reunion 3.0 AU. In this reality, Sarah is still alive and standing up for Robert against a certain villager while he is in prison as well as supporting Aaron. They are working to get the idiot to agree to an appeal using a solicitor Sarah knows through a friend. Oh, and Aaron continues not to sign off on any divorce nonsense!

the long way home (2021) 60.6K words, softlyspoken

Adam and Aaron have opened up a taxi business and who is the lucky (or is it unlucky) first client for Aaron… Robert! Let’s just say it’s not like at first sight or even second sight. But Robert continues to pop us as that dick client until little things start to seep out giving tiny hints that Robert is more than his usual annoying self. But it’s still very much more cold than hot most times but a drunken kiss shifts things between the two. Robert is deflecting (more like running) and threatening while Aaron sees him as a coward hiding from himself. Something’s got to give but what?