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mrkerina · 3 months ago

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Unspoken vows 𓍼 Park Jisung

— in which an argument left you to discover how much he loves you, through his silent ways.

Pairing — Park Jisung (nct) x fem!reader

Word count — 2841

Content — Who knew paper rings could be so meaningful? Frustration left you crushing the neatly folded paper rings from your boyfriend, only to discover the hidden messages written in them.

M.list + Author’s note — inspired by The Ex Vows by Jessica Joyce didn’t even like the book that much but the paper rings scene stuck with me 😞 also idk if writing in she/her compared to you/your is better or not.

Jisung had never been big on expressing his feelings openly, even with her. He was always the mediator when it came to fights, always being the first one to repent even when she was at fault. Those moments were rare though, with him having a soft spot only for her, he had always soothed her anger before it escalated into an argument between them. Even though he doesn’t blatantly show his feelings, she always understood his quiet affection reserved just for her – the way his eyes always lingered on her as she left the room, a silent yearning in them as if the time they spent together was not enough.

He had always been too shy to voice his affections aloud, only when she forces him to then does he manage to mumble a soft “I love you”, with his cheeks flushing pink at the effort. Her teasing smile after had always been worth it though. That had always been how it was between the two of them, her being the one to cling onto him, sprouting whatever endearments that came to her mind while he quietly savoured them all, warmth spreading throughout his body. He showed his affections in other ways, ways that even she never realised before until a vulnerable midnight talk left him admitting to them, or if she discovers it for herself.

Contrary to popular belief, one thing Jisung was good at was folding paper rings. It all started one mundane valentines day, after the two of you had came back home from your date. With her splayed out on the bed, her head rested on his lap as she scrolled through her social media. His fingers seemed to have a mind of their own as they played with her hair, twisting and twirling them around his fingers. “Look at this oh my gosh, this is adorable!” she squealed as she turned over her phone to show him the jar of stars that her friend had posted online, a gift from their boyfriend for valentines day. Jisung squinted at the screen before his eyes flicked downwards to her face, the twinkle in her eyes and the grin on her lips that seemed to light up her entire face.

“That’s nice,” he replied simply, his lips curving up as he saw the disbelief on her face when she thought that his reaction was too nonchalant. With a pout, she went back to scrolling on her phone at all the valentines day posts, completely oblivious to the boy who had picked up his phone by the bedside table and started to search up origami tutorials.

And that was how it all started, Jisung learning how to fold the world’s most perfect paper rings from any scraps of paper he found, it becoming a habit along the way. He would leave a random paper ring with a note by the kitchen counter sometimes, whenever he had to leave early for work. She cherished every last one of them though, keeping each one stored safely in a glass jar that he had given her after she requested for one. It felt like a silent promise of some sort, like he was signalling to her that she was it for him, in his own little ways, as if one day it wouldn’t be a scrappy paper ring that was being given to her. Her heart filled with joy every time she caught sight of one, a quiet reminder that he did indeed love her.

Maybe that was why everything hurt so much in the first place. Despite all the simple reminders of his affections that he displayed nakedly for her, it was never enough for her as compared to saying the words itself. The doubts crept in whenever her supposed “friends” would point out how clingy she was and how indifferent he was. It was times like this when she needed the confirmation the most when she forgot the bulk of what he did for her, to show how much he did indeed love her.

Action always seemed louder than words for him, but words were always louder for her. That night, after a hard day at work, it was like an impending storm was raging inside her, threatening to explode. She couldn’t help it, her insecurities were flooding her tenfold, unable to shove the bitterness that coated her tongue to the back of her mind.

The moment Jisung came home, he noticed the silence in the house. He waited at the door for a beat, waiting for the familiar padding of hastened footsteps that usually came the moment he entered through the door followed by the scent of flowers and daydream. Today, though, the lights were turned off, an ominous air engulfed the place. Panicked, Jisung was quick to take off his shoes and throw his bag to the side, not caring about where it landed. “Y/n? Are you okay? Are you sick or anything?” He called out to her, his heart racing as he turned on the lights to find her on the couch, eyes gleaming with unshed tears. “Hey, what’s wrong?” he worriedly questioned as he rushed to her side, reaching out to cup her cheeks but stopping just before he touched her. “Can I?” he asked, a considerate request yet it seemed to be her undoing.

“Why do you act like we’re strangers, we’ve been dating for years, you can touch me whenever you want to without asking,” she ranted bitterly, tears starting to spill out of her eyes.

Alarmed, Jisung started to wreck his brain for ways to calm her down but came short. “You know it’s not like that, I just don’t want to do anything that would make you uncomfortable,” he replied.

“That’s the thing! You don’t do anything! Is it so hard to just tell me that you love me once in a while?” she spewed out, her words seeming to come out of her without a thought, even when deep in her heart she knew they weren’t true. Out of everyone she had dated, Jisung was the most affectionate person she ever met, the one who affected her in a way no one else had. Maybe that was why it hurt so much too. “It’s just- It’s just that it comes to other people so easily why can’t it be like that for us too?” she choked on her words.

Jisung’s eyes darkened, eyes narrowing on her, his face a mask of aloofness despite the piercing stab he felt in his chest with every word that left her lips. “You know I do a lot for you, even though I don’t say it,” he simply stated, his chest ached in longing to touch her but he felt that it wasn’t the time. He was too cowardly, afraid that something he did could make the situation worse, too terrified to lose her.

“Well, maybe it’s not enough,” she murmured angrily, his indifference maddening as she stood up and walked off to their shared bedroom before locking the door shut, not giving him a chance to chase after her.

Sobs escaped her lips, tears moistening her cheeks and sleeves as she tried desperately to wipe them away, to seem stronger than she felt. She sat next to their bed, pulling her knees to her chest as she leant back against the bed frame. She knew she was being unreasonable but she couldn’t bring herself to care. The heaviness in her heart, and the ill thoughts whirling through her mind. It all felt suffocating, like the room was closing in on her and leaving her to desperately scurry for air.

Needing something to vent her numbing disappointment on, she grasped the jar by the bedside table, turning the cap open and pouring the contents out onto the floor. Seeing the number of paper rings he folded spilled out onto the floor barely gave her much satisfaction, just another reminder of another method he used to not speak the words. Frustratingly, she took one of the less sturdy paper rings – one that was done using a gum wrapper – before crushing it in her hands and letting it fall. The shape ruined and the wrapper slightly teared. However, despite her tears blurring her vision, she took notice of the tips of letters being written on the folded piece of wrapper as it unfolded slightly from her damage. Her curiosity piqued, she took hold of the ring again, now carefully unfolding the wrapper to find writings inside.

46. Because you’re so hardworking.

47. Because you always come running out to hug me the moment I step through the door after a long day at work, and that is the best part of my every day.

48. Because you secretly love it when I play with your hair.

Perplexed, she started unfolding every single one of the paper rings he had given her, to find writings inside each one. She placed them all in chronological order, her hands moving in a frenzy as she tried to uncover whatever he was doing or trying to say.

61. Because you always cook dinner for me.

62. Because you are so beautiful, I can’t breathe when I look at you sometimes.

63. Because you tolerate me and my difficulties with expressing my feelings.

55. Because of the way you look at me like I hold up the moon and the stars, god I wish you will always look at me like that.

56. Because you sing in the shower (you sound bad but it’s adorable).

57. Because you would do anything for me too.

Tears flowed, but for a different reason now. Each sentence clearly written with those three unspoken words meant to be at the start. She let out a ridicule laugh, of course even when he was saying so much through each sentence he still doesn’t say the words – but that seemed so redundant now as she read each reason why he loved her so much. Each declaration filled with a sense of devotion that he felt towards her, a kind of loving warmth that tingled through her bones. And then there were those that sounded more solemn, like it was written after a fight the two of them had.

78. Even though we argue sometimes.

79. Even though I can’t ever seem to give you everything you want.

80. Even though I can’t seem to tell you that I love you when you need to hear it most.

81. Even though those three words can’t seem to encapsulate the overwhelming feelings I have for you.

82. Even though you’re angry at me but all I can think about is how cute you look with your eyebrows furrowed and how much I want to touch you when you’re mad.

83. Even when I can’t seem to bring myself to touch you when you’re mad because I am so cowardly and afraid to lose you, as if you are some fragile thing when you are the strongest person I know.

Her heart ached painfully, she could feel the longing that weaved together with his words. It was then when she did understand something, that he would always love her through thick and thin. No matter the occasion, he had always loved her. That was why the paper rings never came in any significant dates, just random days of the year. Each one of them to secretly remind her of how much he did in fact love her, at any point of time in his life. She lets out a laugh, of course he was saying his affections quietly, without her knowing. All the words left in plain sight for her to read but she simply didn’t know. And he is right, the fact that he spent the effort to do all this, with his actions and scribing out every word explaining his feelings just because he knew how much she loved when the words were spoken as a confirmation, he has done so much for her, she couldn’t even begin to list down what. He was always someone who spoke through his actions but he took the effort to write out the words just for her.

With a new sense of conviction and an overwhelming sense of guilt, she stood back up on her feet, the paper rings all no longer in shape. She strided to the door, ready to go out and apologise to him before he has a chance to take all the blame for himself. She flung the door open, only to be greeted by Jisung standing there. A tray of food on one hand while his other was held up mid-air like he was just about to knock. His eyes widened slightly in surprise, his hair tousled like he had raked his fingers through the strands repeatedly in distress.

“What are you doing?” She said, even though she very much knew what exactly he was doing. Repenting. Again, for something that wasn’t his wrongdoing. Her eyes caught sight of the paper ring rested by the side of the cutlery, folded using a napkin meant for wiping her mouth. She immediately reached forward, taking it into her hand and unfolding it. Jisung flinched from her sudden eagerness, a pink flush creeping up his neck as he watched her unfold the ring.

98. Because you’re the kindest person I’ve ever met even when your friends aren’t the best influence. (no shade)

99. Even though I can’t seem to treat you the way you deserve.

100. Because I love you. I love you so fucking much it kills me on the inside. Because if you ever decide to leave me, my heart would leave with you, because it belongs to you, it always has.

The tears were streaming down her cheeks by now, full blown sobs escaped her lips. She leaped forward and swung her arms around him, unable to keep from being apart anymore. “Woah wait the food,” he said anxiously as he stabilised his other hand holding the tray, while his other arm came to circle around her waist. “What’s wrong? Did I do something again? I’m sorry I knew it was too much I shouldn’t have done that. It’s just reasons why I love you, I’m sorry I don’t say it enough. Actually, all the paper rings are all-” his rambling got cut off by a quick kiss on his lips. Her salty tears touching his lips, making his chest tighten. He never wanted to hurt her, never. Watching her in this state is more than he could ever take.

“I know you dummy, you stupid dummy. But you’re my dummy,” she scolded as she punched his chest with each word. His gaze eventually landing on the unfolded paper rings on the floor of their room, and understanding dawned on him. “Yeah I just found out when I was crushing one of them,” she mumbled against his shirt that was now wet from her tears. “Why did you not tell me?”

Jisung softened, pushing her slightly to enter the room and placing the tray of food down by the bedside table before sitting down on the bed and placing her on his lap. “I was just about to, you were suppose to eat then use the napkin you know for the grand reveal,” a boyish smile tugged at his lip as he spoke, his thumbs gently wiping away her tears. “I just didn’t know how else to tell you, everytime I want to say it, it feels like my there is a lump in my throat and I don’t know how to explain it. I love you was never enough to describe what I felt for you and I just struggled with saying it. But if you want to I will try to say it more, if it makes you feel better,” he babbled, his eyes anxiously gazing into hers, carefully analyzing her expression.

“Well for one, I don’t ever want to make you do anything you’re uncomfortable with. And you’re right, this is way more meaningful and the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me,” her voice softened, fingers rearranging and tidying his messy hair. “I’m sorry, I overreacted, I know you do everything for me. I was being unreasonable and I let my insecurities and other people’s words get to me, even when deep inside I know you always did have your own ways in showing that you love me. And for that, I love you. I love you so much sometimes it feels so suffocating,” she finished.

In the quiet room, the two discovered that there was more to simply saying that they love each other. Jisung’s breaths were ragged as he pressed a kiss to her forehead, then to the tip of her nose, then to each eyelid and cheek, before his soft lips met hers. “I love you,” he murmured, with his eyes sparkling like stars in the vast night sky.

#.☘︎ ݁˖ shan’s dream #kpop #fanfiction #mark lee #nct #nct x reader #park jisung #lee haechan #zhong chenle #huang renjun #lee jeno #na jaemin #nct dream #nct fluff #writing #one shot

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httyd-art-requests · 6 months ago

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So the teaser for the live action How To Train Your Dragon film has dropped. Have you seen it? Any thoughts on it?

I just saw it, and BOY do I have some thoughts about it lmao

Live action remakes already annoy me for several reasons, and as much as I want to be excited for "new" HTTYD media, it really misses the mark for me

The movie doesn't look original to me. It's so obviously a remake of something else that it loses any personality it could otherwise have. If the original HTTYD movie had been a live action movie from the start, it would have looked nothing like this, because the creators would have tried to create something that stood out from other movies. This one just feels like a checklist being completed in front of me: "right so we'll have this scene, and then we'll have this scene, and the dragon does this, and the boy does this, and then this is the part the fans like so we're going to recreate it 1:1", but no real understanding of what made the original as beloved as it is.

This trailer just looks soulless to me, but I'm holding out hope that the other trailers will show us more and hopefully prove me wrong

Toothless's design is... fine I guess? They made his hind legs digitegrade for some reason, which just looks very jarring to me. Idk why they felt the need to change it, it's one of the details that made his design feel unique to me. Like dragons' legs are almost always depicted as dinosaur-like and digitegrade, and HTTYD having dragons that have plantigrade legs feels really cool. The wings are comically oversized and he lost a lot of his personality based on the scene recreations shown in the trailer (like the silly People Sit he does in the original, now he just sits like a dog lmao) but it really, really could have been worse.

I slowed it down to catch some of the other dragon species' designs and eeeeeehhhh... They're recognizable, I'll say that. They also lost a lot of the personality that the original models had, they look a lot more uniform in their proportions. I really don't see why making them look "realistic" has to mean that they look more boring, when we have so many animals irl that look fake and made up because of how absurd they look. They could have had more fun with it is what I'm saying

Casting Gerard Butler as Stoick feels like the only actually good decision, his voice as Stoick just can't be recreated. Hiccup's actor is... also fine I guess, no strong feelings whatsoever.

The thing that bothers me the most is the lighting. The original HTTYD movie paid special attention to making the lighting look as realistic and believable as possible. It's atmospheric and helps you get sucked into the world while you watch. "Subdued" is probably a good word to describe it. It very intentionally doesn't go overboard. The lighting in the trailer looks fake as hell. They could be using real actual lighting conditions on set and I still wouldn't believe it's real.

Overall, I have mixed feelings despite all the negative things I just listed. I'm sharing in the excitement of all the people who want to watch it, but I'm still disappointed that it, like, exists at all. No matter what this movie ends up looking like, I'm always going to prefer the original animated movies. I'm open to being proved wrong though, I really hope this movie is going to be better than anything we're imagining rn

#asks #httyd #how to train your dragon #dreamings #not dragon art #httyd live action #this isn't meant to be salt these are just all the thoughts I had as I was watching the trailer #the fact that there aren't many positive ones is another thing lol

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chaos0pikachu · 10 months ago

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4 Minutes and the Cinematography of Nipples

I said before that I thought 4 Minutes was pretty instantaneously the best looking BL on the market for 2024 after one episode. Which, not gonna lie, is a pretty big fucking claim. There’s been a lot of BL that’s come out that’s looked good, and I do think there’s been a steady improvement overall in the market in the last few years. Personally I think Japanese and Korean BL have a stronger production quality over a majority of Thai BL but like, if that’s a hot take I guess I prefer my food spicy.

The point being~ if I’m gonna make such a hyperbolic statement, well I better back it up right?

So I’m gonna break down a few scenes from the first episode, what I liked about them, why they worked for me, and why on a technical level I think 4 Minutes has just got it going on.

For better readability you can also check out this essay here.

Sidenote: my google docs kept trying to autocorrect “Bible” to “the Bible” and idk how to teach google I mean the hot Thai actor and not the book of Jesus.

To start, I’m going to break down this scene featuring Great and his nepo baby cat:

I thought starting with this scene would be good because it’s such a low-key scene and honestly making these simplistic scenes visually interesting is very difficult! But if you have the basics down, the foundations of cinematography and film making, these simpler scenes can be really memorable.

Like yeah we’re all gonna remember this scene because shirtless Bible and oh my god Akira!? - I have only recently learned who Akira is; why is this cat getting a bigger bag than me? - but beyond that, what makes it cool to watch? What makes it interesting? What information does it showcase to the audience?

One thing I added to the video was a grid for the rule of thirds.

Rule of thirds is a shot composition technique applied to both film and photography. It’s the grid you see if you film a homevideo and helps a Director and Cinematographer figure out where to place the subject or subjects of the shot. The idea is the gridlines show you where you “should” place the subject(s) of said shot.

Like everything, the rule of thirds is a guideline in filmmaking, not a hard and fast unbreakable rule. Filmmakers like Wes Anderson like to play more with central composition shots, rather than ROT.

Anyway on to the opening shot, right after our credits and we’re moving into the shot.

To start, the first thing I notice is the scene’s color grading. Color grading in film is the manipulation of raw film footage to create specific color tones throughout a project. Sometimes this grading is more pointed and obvious, think The Matrix, while in other films it’s not as obvious but still very prominent, think Killers of the Flower Moon.

It’s not that the before credits scene looks entirely, jarringly different from the opening scene, but the hospital scene is surrounded by whites and blue tones, it’s darker, and only a single source of light exists. It gives the entire scene a much more frantic, uneasy aesthetic but it’s not so far off from the darker muted tones of the next scene that it feels jarring or out of place.

The second big thing I noticed in the episode is the use of aspect ratio. I’m not 100% sure what aspect ratio the production used exactly, but the use of widescreen as opposed to full screen in my opinion, gives the episode a more cinematic feel to it in comparison to other Thai BLs.

Example, if you look at Century of Love (2024) it appears to be filmed in the standard full screen - which I believe is 16:9? - while 4 Minutes is widescreen (thus the black bars at the top and bottom). Widescreen can give a show a more “movie like” quality to it which is part of the vibes I get from 4 Minutes.

(source)

Onto Great’s actual introduction scene.

We’re not starting the shot with static movement, but with a camera panning right. I’ve talked about camera panning and such in BL before and it’s something I’ve found doesn’t happen as often as it should. Which is a shame! It’s such a simple technique but it adds so much.

Imagine if we entered the frame with a static center shot, and then a cut to Great sleeping and turning off his alarm clock, and then another cut to above the bed. Think about how much more boring that could be visually.

Instead, we enter the scene with movement, panning over and creating some interesting visual framing.

So here’s our opening shot, do you notice anything interesting? To start, what I like about this shot other than the panning movement in, is that we don’t see Great’s face yet. In fact we don’t see his face in full until about 30 seconds into the scene. This builds anticipation, yeah we all know what Bible looks like, but for the audience who doesn’t this helps build anticipation.

Who is this character? What does he look like? What’s his deal?

It also engages the audience more, if you notice part of the composition of the shot has Great in the mid-ground slightly blurred out, while the foreground emphasizes the things on his desk. He’s distant from us, the audience, sleeping off his hangover not yet ready to “join” the world yet.

Here’s another two more things I like about this shot:

Lines.

Using lines and shapes can make a scene more visually interesting and invoke different feelings to the viewer. In this shot, I get a sense of symmetry, the camera panning right, lightly drags across the screen alongside the lines below and above Great, almost creating a frame within a frame effect. As if Great is boxed into a clock in and of itself.

You can also see the use of balance in the scene as well, connecting back to that visual theme of symmetry as well as blocking our view of Great’s face. The lava lamb and champagne bottle are almost the same height, which helps create balance in the shot. The champagne bottle informs us Great has been drinking or does drink since it’s positioned so close to his bed, whilst also continuing to hide his face away from the viewer.

I also like that the lava lamp is a bright spot of color. The tone of the scene is mostly muted greens, and gray, but the bright orange lava lamp and even the pink champagne bottle draw our attention but don’t overwhelm us either. It provides the scene with some warmth but doesn’t offset the overall tone of the color grading.

And then, the last bit of this shot:

We have Great knocking over the champagne bottom, and turning off his alarm clock. Notice that the alarm clock and the champagne bottle hit those ROT dots almost exactly. There’s also the use of lines by the length of Great’s arm - I just forgot to add a line I’m a failure, a fake, fml - we see him knock over the bottle, and then we follow the line of his arm directly to the alarm clock which is also a shape, a circle.

I like that they used a clock with a specific notable shape, since by the end of this scene the clock is relevant to the story as a whole. Using a shape makes the clock more visually noticeable and memorable to the audience.

So in the next cut we’re above Great - just like Great’s gonna be above Tyme, fuckin hell I’m corny - in a medium-full shot and there’s a couple things I really like here.

I really like the use of lines here with the bed going in one direction but Great’s body going another. It’s disconcerting, and off kilter a bit.

The use of patterns plus the opposing symmetry, whereas in the previous shot the lava lamp and champagne bottle were providing balance, here one side of the bed is patterned, while the other isn’t. This creates a sense of imbalance and makes the shot more visually interesting.

This medium-full shot at a high angle makes Great smaller, and continues to showcase his dishevelment, keeping him distant from the world itself. Also notice the lack of color here as well.

What could this say about Great as a character? Or his story?

So this next cut is the one that actually inspired me to write this essay to begin with and know what I’ma eat some crow here. I originally said it was a great ROT shot but I was wrooooooong. It’s definitely a center composition shot.

Notice as well, the bed itself is its own shape - rectangle - center in the frame, and yet the shot almost looks unbalanced again because of that singular patterned rug. It’s the only pattern in the entire shot, not even Great’s pillows have noticeable patterns on them.

The above view camera angle in a full shot creates almost an omnipresent feel, as if the audience - or something else? - were looking down upon Great. Whose face we still haven’t seen! It makes him smaller, less powerful, and almost vulnerable. Shots like this are often used in horror films like James Wan’s Malignant (2021) where the horror spector will be looking down above the would-be victim.

Another thing I like about this scene though is we have Great moving. It would be simpler and easier to have his phone just by his alarm clock, or under his pillow, but think about how much more visually interesting it is that he has to move down the bed and reach for his phone. It creates action in an actionless low stakes scene.

And now, 30 whole seconds in and we’ve finally seen Great’s face!

Fun fact, with the ROT grid the gridlines fall right across Bible’s nipples. That’s not a film analysis, just something I noticed entirely intentionally. Thanks Madam Director Ning Bhanbhassa Dhubthien.

The actual shot is in center composition again, as Great rolls over and reveals his face the camera begins to zoom in.

This creates movement in the scene instead of leaving the camera to statically observe it’s now, finally, inviting the audience to meet Great. Pulling us in towards him whereas before we were kept at a distance. Great’s awake and, well as ready to meet the world as somebody with a raging hangover can be.

I also like how Bible is moving constantly in this scene; he rubs his eyes and nose, he twitches his fingers, titles his head back and forth, etc it’s nothing revolutionary but it’s appreciated.

When the scene cuts, we get this shot:

I didn’t put the red dot on his nipple, it just landed there. This is all Madam Director Ning chepie.

But you can see how Great’s body is landing on all those gridlines pretty solidly. Also in the background we see his alarm clock again, a bright blurred circle in the distance. I also like the angle of this shot, as it creates depth in the frame, with Great’s head being in the foreground his lower body in the mid-ground and the background blurred out.

What follows is Akira appearing in frame. Which was really difficult to capture so I don’t have a screenshot. But what I really like is Akira entering the frame out of focus. They could have just cut to Akira, but instead they opted for Akira to enter the frame which is more interesting.

When we do cut, Akira is firmly on one of those dots so we don’t miss them in the frame. I think it’s also interesting that we’ve pulled out again, into a mid-full shot, hanging above Great, and we see that clear symmetry line again between the patterned rug and the regular carpet.

I also really love that when we got to Great sweet-talking Akira and feeding them we’re not just doing a cut, we’re panning downwards which continues to add movement to the scene. And we get that moneyed sponsor shot!

Durex can’t pay for everything okay?

So in the final bit of this scene we get focus on Great, who’s in focus, before he gets up and leaves the frame where the camera then focuses on the clock behind him.

See how in the first frame the background is all blurred out, but once Great walks out of the frame - again, great that he walks out, movement!! Y’all don’t understand how boring 1000 Stars was for me to watch because of the lack of this stuff okay? - and then the focus shifts to the clock. Which is round.

God I know that sounds so dumb, but imagine the clock without that ring light bit on it, it’s just a tiny little rectangle. Not as fun or interesting to look at right? Or as noticeable especially from a distance?

This shift in focus also tells us “this is important” whatever “this” is. The subject of the shot goes from Great to the alarm clock but they are positioned as equally important. We’re meant to pay attention to this seemingly innocuous item, which we learn later in the episode is time. We’re meant to remember and note that time will be important to the story - I know with a title like 4 Minutes you’d fucking hope time would be important but have y’all ever read Youtube comments? It’s rough out there for visual comprehension okay?

So all in all this scene is only 1 minute and 40 seconds give or take. It’s very short, but I don’t think it was boring at all. I think it’s a really solid introduction to a main character. Think, Korn didn’t get this much time to showcase his introduction, his scene is shorter - though also well done - which showcases which character is more of a story priority.

This scene eases the audience into the story, inviting us to wake up into the world like Great is. It uses techniques like lines, shapes, symmetry, color and focus to make what could be a very boring scene into an interesting one.

There’s so so much I probably and certainly missed, I’m far from an expert, but I hope I was able to articulate what I liked about this scene, and why I think it looks good.

Stay tuned for more if I can manage to focus long enough to breakdown more scenes lol

Also red dots on Bible’s nipples are just funny to me it be what it be.

Further Reading:

Composition in Cinematography / THE LAST OF US

Center-Framing vs Chaos-Cinema: Mad Max vs Transformers

Camera Framing: Shot Composition & Cinematography Techniques Explained [The Shot List, Ep 2]

The Ultimate Guide to Camera Shots (50+ Types of Shots and Angles in Film)

Color Grading 101 - Everything You Need to Know

Mixing Film And Digital Footage: Killers Of The Flower Moon

In Praise of Subtle Cinematography

#4 minutes #4 minutes the series #bible sumettikul #4minutes #jesbib #chaos pikachu speaks #pikachu's bl film series

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moonmunson · 29 days ago

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don't worry baby

summary: you and wally figure out how to keep touching, you spend a day with him at the pool, your mom is putting the pieces together, and she's not happy about it.

wc: 8.4k

cw: gn!alive!plussize!reader, pool scene™, soft smut (? idk, they make out), wally's 40 year reunion, slight angst bc reader has an argument with their mom

don't go breaking my heart: pt. 1 - pt. 2 - pt. 3 - pt. 4 - pt. 5

masterlist

“Wally, this is stupid. And I look ridiculous.”

You’re standing on the football field, sunset washing the AstroTurf in a golden glow, wearing random pads and a helmet he’d found for you in the locker room. There are gym mats laid out behind you, and Wally stands in front of you, knees bent and getting ready to move.

After you’d gotten over the shock of actually being able to hold hands, confusion set in. Why were you not able to touch before, but you could now? How long would it last, and what had you done differently?

The connection held strong for a while, long enough for you to memorize the feeling of your hand in his, before it flickered and cut out. It was jarring, holding his hand one second and in the next, feeling it fade away before it went through your own.

Even though your touches so far had been soft, Wally figured he could cheat the system. Run at you, hard and fast, and the force of it would knock you into each other. You don’t know how he convinced you to do this - his logic is flawed, and even if it works, it doesn’t prove anything, doesn’t help you to figure out the why, but he’d looked up at you with his big brown eyes, and before you knew it, you were standing in the field freezing your ass off.

“It’s not stupid, it’s gonna work, and you look fine. More than fine, actually - this is a good look on you.”

“How do you know it’s gonna work?” Your hands are on your hips, and though you know he can’t see your face through the helmet, you look more than unenthused.

“I don’t, but won’t it be fun if it does?”

“Does getting tackled to the ground feel like a fun first date idea to you?”

He stands then, straightening his knees and lowering his arms from their ready-to-go position he’d held them in a moment before. He tilts his head ever so slightly, a smile creeping up slowly on his face. It is so easy to get him to blush.

“Is this a date?”

“I don’t know, Wally,” you take the helmet off, hold it by your side, “You’re the one that put fairy lights and blankets and pillows everywhere so we could watch a movie together. And then we held hands. And now you’re trying to tackle me.”

“Well one of those things is not at all the same as the other two, but fair point. Now shut up and put the helmet back on, we're doing this.”

You sigh, retaking the position Wally had coached you through. You bend your knees, keep your stance wide, neck straight and head forward. Wally shuffles his feet a few times, does a little hop that you can only describe as bunny-like, and takes off running.

Though he’d told you not to, the urge to close your eyes is overwhelming. As he gets nearer to you, you can feel your heart pounding in your throat.

It’s almost anticlimactic, the way he soars through you. The force of it does knock you over, but the feeling of him going to grasp at you only to literally go through your body leaves you feeling colder than before.

Your butt lands on the gym mats behind you, a soft oof leaving you from the impact of it. With nothing to stop Wally’s fall, he goes a bit further, hitting the ground behind the mats and rolling to slow his fall on the grass.

It’s quiet for a second, as the two of you process what just happened. You thought he might be angry, or disappointed, but instead he just laughs. It makes you laugh, and before you know it, you’ve both dissolved into a fit. He’s still clutching his stomach as he crawls over to you, shuffling on his knees toward the mats.

“That was kinda stupid, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah, kinda,” you wipe a stray tear that had fallen during the outburst, “but it was kinda fun, too.”

He sighs, leftover giggles still making their way out, “I just don’t understand why sometimes we can touch and other times we can’t. It doesn’t make any sense to me.”

“It doesn’t make any sense to me either, Wally. If I could fix it, I would.”

“I know, it’s not your fault.”

He runs a hand through his hair, brushing the strands that had fallen onto his forehead back into their usual position atop his head. You follow the movement with your eyes, and trail them down to stare at him. You don’t know how you ever thought you’d be satisfied just looking at him from a distance.

He’s beautiful. You follow the curve of his cheek, the ridge of his nose to his cupid’s bow, you stare at his pretty pink mouth and wonder what it would feel like on yours.

“Do I really look that good today?”

“What?”

You’re broken from your reverie, and Wally is smirking at you.

“You were staring, so I probably look really good today. Is it the sweat? Is it making me glow?” He brings his hands up under his chin, rests it on the back of them, and tilts his head. It makes you giggle, and you tilt your head to mirror him.

“Yeah, actually, it really ties your whole look together.”

“Oh hush,” he drops his hands, straightens his head, and goes to stand up, “thank you for trying this with me, I know it was kinda silly.”

“Hey, anything is possible. We don’t know how this works so I don’t think anything is a stupid idea. Maybe a little stupid, but,” Wally scoffs at you playfully, “not so stupid that I wouldn't try it if you asked me to.”

As you say it, you know it to be true. You would do anything he asked you to. The admiration you feel for him, the inspiration you get from the giddiness he exudes at any given moment, it makes your chest ache.

It feels more than usual - charged, like a current running under your skin, the static you feel when a limb falls asleep, almost. The confusion on your face shows, and Wally crouches down to your level on the mats.

“Hey, you okay?”

“Yeah, I just,” you look down at your hands, then back up to Wally, “something feels different.”

“Good different?”

You nod, and motion for him to take a few steps back. Moving your hand up and out towards him, your voice is shaky when you ask, “Gimme a hand?”

Wally doesn’t verbally respond - face uncharacteristically serious as he steps forward to reach out and grab you. His hand slides into yours, lukewarm but solid, and he pulls you from your spot on the mat and into his arms. They wrap around you, safe and secure, and when you wrap your own around him, he sighs into your ear, eyes closed and embracing each other in the middle of the field.

In his embrace, all you can focus on is the fact that you’re touching, mind racing to figure out what exactly made it possible. A spark of an idea in your head, half formed and needing editing, you pull back from Wally, eyes wide and smile wider.

“We need to keep doing this.”

“Hugging? I agree.” He goes to pull you back to his body, but you stay firm, hands on his shoulders, chest parted from his.

“No, well yes, but -” you shake your head, “We couldn’t touch each other five minutes ago, but we can now. Something changed in that five minutes, and we need to figure out what. Run experiments or something, I don’t know.”

“Experiments?”

“No more tackling,” you giggle, and Wally sighs - disappointed, “We know that doesn’t work, but I can go home and make a list.”

“Okay,” he nods, head bobbing and smile forming to match yours, “But can we just hug for now though? And you can go all Einstein on me later?”

This time, he does pull you back into him. You don’t know how long you stand like that, and when you part, the sun has made its descent, and the moon is the only thing shedding light on the two of you.

After a while, Wally walks you to the boundary of the school, holding your hand the whole way. When you step off the curb and start the journey to your car, you look back every so often until you’re unable to see him anymore.

You spend Sunday locked in your room, scribbling ideas and questions into a blank notebook you had tucked away on your bookshelf. By Monday, you’re barreling into school, looking for Wally, and when you find him, you make him follow you to your tree by the field.

You haven’t spoken yet, except to say “good morning,” and “follow me,” and he watches you with amused and concerned eyes as you frantically flip through your full pages.

“You’re skipping first period?” He asks, ducking his head down to try to take your attention from the notebook in front of you.

“Yeah, this is important,” you whip your head up to look at him, turning the notebook around to show him what you’ve written, “I think I figured it out.”

He nods, taking the notebook from you and urging you to continue.

“So, when we try to touch, it usually doesn’t work, except for the other day on the field. Before that, it’s been accidental, or seemingly unrelated to anything, right?” You don’t wait for him to nod before starting to rant again, “Wrong. It is connected to something, but we just didn’t realize it. What were we talking about the first time when our hands actually touched?”

“My death, right?”

“Yes! And what about in the film room?”

“My mom,” his eyebrows furrowed - indicative of slow understanding, not necessarily confusion, “And on the field after? Is it connected to the kinds of stuff we talk about?”

“That’s what I thought at first, but we’ve had heavy conversations before that and nothing happened. So I was trying to figure out what else it could be, and I think it’s tied to our emotional connection. On the field when you went to tackle me, I trusted you but I was scared. Like, really scared. And then after, when we were laughing and I was looking at you, I felt safe, and hopeful, and I think that’s what made me feel like I could touch you again.”

“And it worked.”

“It worked,” you nod, parroting him, “What about you? How have you felt before?”

“I’ve talked about my death so many times before that it doesn’t feel like something that happened to me, if that makes sense,” you nod, “So I wasn’t really all there when we talked about it. And then I looked over at you, and you were crying, and it started to feel more real to me. Like it happened, and I was allowed to be upset about it.”

“What about after the movie?”

He looks away from the notebook, eyes moving over the morning dew still clinging to the grass.

“That one was hard. I’ve never really let myself be mad at my mom, I’ve always just been disappointed in myself on her behalf, y’know? But the movie really got me thinking. And after it was over, I felt like I could let it out, talk to you about it, and you’d understand - and you did, and it felt so freeing.”

“This is my version of going all Einstein on you, by the way,” You lean over to flip to a page full of questions on it, and point to them, “We need to get to know each other better, like on a deeper level, and then maybe we’ll be able to touch more. Plus, it’ll give you the opportunity to talk about things and work them out with someone new, instead of just going over the same shit with the same people.”

“Okay,” he hands the notebook back to you, “Where do we start?”

You smile at him, and get to work.

Over the next few days, you spend any and all free time you have in between classes, or lunch, or during study hall sitting with Wally and actually getting to know him. Not the picture of him your mom had painted for you, or the assumptions made about him by the rest of the student body. Not the version of him that is defined by the way that he died, but the truth of who he was when he was alive, and who he is now.

Not all of it is fun; he talks at length about what it was like to be a white teenage boy in the 80s, how often he stood by and watched as people in lower social statuses than him were mistreated, bullied, and how he never helped them. He talks about his secret love for curating mixtapes, how much he misses body shots.

He learns about you, too. How you’re a gigantic d&d playing nerd, how you spend most of your free time glued to your laptop watching movies and tv shows. He finds it especially interesting hearing you talk about how you figured out you could see ghosts.

You tell him about your grandma’s passing, how you’d seen her essentially stand up from her body, waving to you on her way out the door. That she’d seemed lighter, calmer - happy, almost, as she walked toward something you couldn’t see and faded into the distance.

As your feelings grow, so does your ability to touch Wally for extended periods of time. It takes concentration - focusing on the positive ways you make each other feel, but it does get marginally easier. By the end of the week, after hours spent playing 20 questions and Never Have I Ever, you feel like you really know him, and you’ve let him know you in turn.

As March transitions into April, and the biting chill in the air is soothed into something warmer, your relationship with Wally continues to flourish. Like spring flowers, the feelings in your chest blossom, filling the space in between your ribs with something colorful and bright.

But with the school year winding down, final exams and graduation grow near. Not just looming in the distance anymore, a vague notion of grades and graduation caps thrown in the air, but a real, tangible deadline. An end date to your time at Split River High, and, by extension, an end date to whatever is happening with you and Wally.

You try your best not to think about it - avoidance comes easy to you - and it’s even easier to take Wally up on his offer to hangout when you should be at home studying instead. It’s not his fault he’s confined to the school grounds, and though in a perfect world you’d be able to do normal teenager shit with him, that’s not the case.

He shows up at your locker on a Friday, scaring the shit out of you when you close it to see him standing there, like he’d appeared out of thin air.

“Jumpy today?”

You sigh apologetically, swing your backpack onto your shoulder and slip an airpod into your ear so you don’t look batshit insane in front of everyone at their lockers.

“What’s up?”

“So I was thinking,” he walks next to you in the hallway, “I know you have much more important shit to do, but I miss you, and I think you should hang out with me on Saturday.”

“Wally I don’t know if it’s a good idea,” you tuck yourself into a less occupied space in the hallway, angling your head up to look at him, “I really need to study and in the best way possible, you’re really distracting.”

“It’s my good looks and my devastating charm, right?”

“Yeah,” you whine, softly banging the back of your head against the wall behind you, “You’re too pretty, I won’t get anything done.”

He laughs, halfheartedly teasing but softening into something sweet, and he goes to rub your shoulder. The touches between you lately are becoming more common, a sure sign that your emotional connection theory had been correct. He’s still not as warm as you, but he stands as solid as any other person.

“I think you’re giving me too much credit,” he says, fingers running down your arm to hold onto your hand, “I wanna help you, but maybe a break would be good for you too. Please? I miss you.”

How are you supposed to say no to him? You push off from the wall, hand still holding his, and pull him to walk beside you in the hallway - not caring if your slightly extended arm looks weird or out of place.

“Fine, I guess I can come in tomorrow,” you say it like it’s a hardship, an inconvenience, but you both know that’s a lie, “A break would probably help me. And studying is hard anyways, most of the time I just end up thinking about you and your stupid face.”

“Stupid face?” he uses his non-occupied hand to bring it up to his cheek, affronted, “I can’t believe you.”

He laughs, detaching his hand from yours and moving to throw his arm around your shoulder. As the hallways clear, and you walk together, giggling and tucked under his arm, you think for a moment about what it would be like to actually be with him. If he were alive, if you were born earlier, if the world was different and you didn’t have to hide him away.

The walk from your car to the school is decidedly less miserable now that it’s getting warmer.

Wally is waiting for you by the bus stop again, propped against it like last time. He’s without his letterman jacket today, opting to have his arms showing through the cut holes in what used to be a full sweatshirt. The sun is out, and though he’s partially covered by the overhang, it still shines through his black hair.

He smiles at you, greeting you with his arms outstretched, making grabby hands and prompting you to sprint over the boundary of the school and into his embrace. The sun beating down on him slightly warms his body, a nice change from the tepid temperature of your usual hugs. You stay there for a few minutes, before pulling back and directing his hand into yours.

It flickers, but holds steady as he leads you around the back and onto the field.

“So what’s the plan for today?”

“We’re playing with balls.” He laughs at your wide-eyed expression, and when you round the corner and make your way onto the field, you hum, confused. By the benches, there’s a rack of footballs, probably taken from the backroom of the gym.

“Why are there so many?”

“Well,” Wally drops your hand, goes over to the rack and grabs one, throwing it up in the air and catching it on its way down, “I figure you’re not gonna be the best at this, so instead of running around the field going after stray balls for hours, it’s just easier to have a bunch of them.” He shrugs, picks one of them up, tossing it to you and laughing when you fumble with it and it falls to the ground.

You chuckle - indignant - but don’t correct him, because he isn’t wrong. You’ve never claimed to be athletically inclined. Wally walks back over to you, picking up the ball and handing it to you. Your hands brush as he passes it, and he curls his fingers around yours, helping you hold it correctly.

“Is there a reason we’re doing this?”

“Nah, not really, I just thought it would be fun. Get you out of your own head, y’know? Go stand over there,” Wally takes the ball back, points at a spot a few feet away. You laugh, shake your head, and actually manage to catch the ball when he lobs it in your direction.

“Good! Throw the ball back.”

The rest of the morning into the afternoon is spent just like that. Throwing a football back and forth until the sun is high in the sky, sweat is trickling down the nape of your neck, and you’re begging Wally for a break.

“C’mon, I know where we can go.”

Wally grabs your hand, dragging you through the gym, into the locker room and through the double doors leading to the pool. The main lights are off, leaving the room illuminated by the soft blue glow of the underwater bulbs. You laugh, surprised, and bring your hands up to cover your eyes when he goes to take his shirt and sweats off.

“What are you doing?”

“What do you mean, what am I doing?” You hear his footsteps echoing, soft padding of his feet on the tile stopping in front of you, “Wanna go swimming?”

You don’t put up much of a fight when his hands, soft and sure, grab your wrists to pull them from your face. Cracking an eye open slightly, you’re met with the sight of his bare chest. Just like on his face and arms, the rest of him is smattered with moles and freckles, and you connect them with your line of sight.

He doesn’t stay in front of you for very long though, gently dropping your arms and stepping back.

“But I didn’t bring anything to change into,” You shake your head, quietly laughing when he brings out the puppy dog eyes, “Don’t look at me like that, Clark.”

“Look at you like what? You don’t need anything to change into if you just take off your clothes.”

“Is that what this is about? You just wanted to get me out of my clothes?” It’s flirtier than you mean it to be, toeing the line of the PG rating the we’re slightly more than friends but we haven’t done anything about it yet relationship you’ve had so far. And you can always count on Wally to up the ante.

“Yeah, you caught me,” he says, deadpan, “I lured you here, seduced you by standing on the field throwing footballs for four hours, all because I thought I could get you to go skinny dipping with me.”

“See, when you say it like that, I only think you’re half-joking.”

He rolls his eyes, but it’s clear there’s no malice behind it.

“You’re stalling. Do you want me to turn around? Would that help?”

When you nod, wordless and shy and chin tucked to your chest, Wally smiles at you. It’s soft, his brown eyes twinkling from the pool lights reflected in them. He turns around, true to his word, and the only sounds in the room are your breathing and your clothes hitting the floor.

You whisper that it’s okay to look now, arms wrapped around your midsection, underwear-clad and self-conscious under the weight of Wally’s gaze. To his credit, he keeps his eyes on yours, not letting them trail any further down.

“So, are we doing this or not, Wally?”

He stalks towards you, glints of mischief in his eyes, and though you’d trust him with your life, it makes you nervous. Your chest is heaving, breaths coming fast and shallow, made worse when Wally picks you up and jumps in the pool with you in his arms. You hit the water at lightning speed, feet kicking the bottom and rocketing yourself back up. It takes you a minute to right yourself, pushing your hair back from your face and spluttering.

“I am going to kill you!” You splash in his direction, his laughs echoing off the tile surrounding the pool.

“Can’t kill me, already dead, remember?” He swims over to you, wavy black hair plastered to his forehead, golden chain and pendant glittering under the water.

“I could probably figure out how to kill you a second time,” You squeal when he takes you into his arms, hands respectfully placed high on your back and waist.

“I believe it.”

You don’t say anything in response - curling your head forward to rest in the space between his neck and shoulder. You just stand there for a minute, calmed by the sound his breaths in your ear.

“You know, for a second there, I seriously thought I crossed over,” He breaks the silence, nodding at you when you pull back to look at him.

“Really?”

“Yeah, really,” He smiles at you, tucking a stray wet strand of hair behind your ear, “I’m just really happy.”

“I’m glad,” You giggle, pausing for a moment as a question forms in your head, “Would you? If you had the choice?”

“What, cross over?” He looks off into the water when you nod, “I’m not sure. There’s only been one other ghost that did it - her name was Dawn. She kinda just disappeared one day, like she didn’t get the chance to say goodbye. I don’t wanna go out like that.”

“Do you know how she was able to do it?”

“Nah, not really,” He shakes his head, bringing his eyes back to yours, “We figured something just clicked for her. We felt it when it happened - there was this weird ringing, and all the lights got really bright for a few seconds, and we just knew.”

“What do you think you’re missing, if you don’t mind me asking? Like what do you still need to work through?”

“Why?” He laughs, “You wanna get rid of me?”

“No,” You reach out, fiddling with the pendant attached to Wally’s necklace, “Just curious.”

“I’m not sure. There’s a lot of shit I didn’t get to do before I died, and I think it’s harder on me than I say it is. Didn’t get to go to Prom, didn’t graduate, shit like that. I don’t go anywhere near the football field when they do the graduation ceremonies, I just can’t watch it.”

It makes sense, Wally’s avoidance of the thing he couldn’t do when he was alive. It makes you sad, picturing him, forty years in a row of staying inside all day as the other kids move on to their next phase of life. You’d stay inside too, if it were you. You hum, thoughtful noise lilting through the air around you.

“I’ll tell you what though,” He cups your cheek in his palm, sliding his thumb over the fullest part of it, “Wherever I’m going, I seriously doubt it gets better than this.”

He smiles then, tilts your head back ever so slightly, and brings his face closer to yours - lips hovering, waiting for you. His eyes close, long dark eyelashes fluttering against his cheeks, and you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him the rest of the way into you.

The first brush of your lips against his is feather soft, his bottom lip slotted in between yours. When he goes to pull away, you tighten your hold on him, a whine slipping from your throat.

Hungrier than before, he exhales, breaths hot and hitting your cheeks, hands wandering down the expanse of your back - the contact making you shiver. It lights up in your stomach, dizzying and all consuming.

You could stay like this forever, you think, as his hands trail down, stopping above the waistband of your underwear. The touch burns hot on your lower back, and you arch into him.

The water echoes around you, quiet splashes with every movement. You feel weightless, wrapping your legs around Wally’s waist and pulling softly at his hair. His hands slide further down, holding you up by your thighs and under your knees. Your lips part, an invitation, and he accepts graciously, nipping at your bottom lip and tugging at it with his teeth.

You return the favor, hands moving from their locked position around his neck and trailing down the length of his chest. When he pulls his mouth from yours, chuckling softly at the way you follow him, he nudges your head to the side, and brings his lips to the space between your neck and shoulder, a mirror image of the way you’d had your own face there a few minutes ago.

You know he can feel your heartbeat racing under his lips, a hummingbird trapped in your chest, and you whine again when he latches on, tongue peeking out as he sucks a mark into your skin. The pace slows after that, his arms coming back up to wrap around your waist, soft pecks left on the spot where he’d been so harsh a moment ago.

You pull away, softly grabbing Wally’s cheeks and righting him so your faces are in front of each other, lightheaded and reeling, and you rest your forehead against his - breathing heavily, open mouth near to his.

“Was that,” As he talks, his lips still brush against yours, “Was that okay? Too much?”

“Not too much,” You shake your head, a breathless chuckle, “That was perfect.”

You share a few more soft kisses before he eventually lets go of you, playfully splashing you when you protest, and you splash at him in turn, making it an all out water war. You spend the rest of the day like that, fingers and toes pruning from being in the water for so long, floating on your backs together, weightless and relaxed.

You know it’s time to go when you peel your eyes open to see the sun going down through the skylight in the ceiling. Wally helps you out, hand resting on your lower back before he jogs over to the basket full of towels. It’s domestic, almost, the way he wraps one around your shoulders and rubs them, wordlessly, like he’s done it a million times before.

When you get back into your clothes, hair still wet and jeans sticking to your thighs, he pokes at your neck, the mark he left still red and aching.

“I wanna apologize for that but it looks good on you,” He coos when you wince at his touch, “Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” You shrug, sitting down on one of the foldout chairs by the pool, putting your shoes on, “I kinda liked it.”

Wally walks you to the bus stop, as far as he can go, but grabs you by the waist and holds you there as he leans against the glass. You stand there with him for a bit, stuck in the cycle of trading a few soft pecks, pulling away from him, and giving back in when he whines and says he doesn’t want you to go yet.

“I’ll see you on Monday,” you say, when you’re finally able to put real distance between you, “Not even 48 hours from now. I think you’ll survive.”

“You don’t know that, baby,” the pet name is new, sending sparks through your core when his voice drops, “I might wither away while you’re gone.”

“You better be here when I get back, Clark. No withering.” you turn to walk away, laugh tearing from your throat when he calls out to you again.

“Hey, wait!”

“What, Wally?” you giggle, still slowly walking backwards a few paces from the boundary of the school.

“Do you want to go to Prom with me?” his smile is wide, cheeks flushed and eyes hopeful.

You stop moving, melting under the warmth of his gaze. The urge to run back over to him is overwhelming, and it wins out without much pushback from you. His arms encircle you when you cross the curb, nodding into his chest as he laughs and kisses the top of your head.

He convinces you to stay for another few hours, basking in the setting sun under your tree, soft lips brushing against yours.

When you get home, your mom is waiting for you in the kitchen.

You’d missed dinner; the evidence of it in tupperwares and dishes in the sink. She doesn’t seem mad, but turns around, eyebrows scrunched in concern.

“Where were you? I was getting worried,” she says, rounding the island to meet you halfway.

You don’t want to lie.

“I was studying with a friend, I’m sorry I didn’t text.”

“That’s okay,” she comes over to you, eyes scanning your still flushed appearance, and pausing on your neck. Her eyes widen a fraction, sly grin pulling the corners of her mouth up. She reaches out her hand, poking at the hickey Wally gave you, “Get a lot of studying done? Or was this more of a half-work half-play situation?”

You grumble, embarrassed, and turn to go to your room, mortified laugh leaving you when she says, “Oh come on! Give me the juicy details, let me live vicariously through you!”

She follows you, stopping in your doorway as you throw your backpack on the floor. You’re checking the mark in the mirror on your wall, covering it with your hand when she knocks on the doorframe.

“Are they hot? Whoever gave you that?”

You roll your eyes, making eye contact with her through the mirror before turning around and plopping down on your bed.

“He’s very hot, yes. Do you have any other questions? Or can I start getting ready for bed?”

“Does this mean you’re going to prom? Has he asked you yet? Or are you gonna do the angsty teen thing where you like, go on a date but very specifically don’t go to prom because it’s for people who peak in highschool?” she’s all smiles, playful and teasing, and it makes you chuckle.

“He asked me today, actually,” you say softly, corners of your mouth curling up, “I said I’d go with him.”

“This is so exciting! I remember my prom, but mostly I remember the hotel room Randy Warner took me to afterwards.”

“Oh, gross, Mom,” you shudder, though a laugh peeks out in spite of yourself, “That is entirely too much information.”

She shrugs, and turns to leave before pausing and looking back.

“I’m happy for you, I am. Are you being safe?”

It’s a loaded question.

Looking at Wally, speaking to Wally, making out with Wally all fall under the umbrella of ‘Things I Promised My Mom I’d Never Do.’ Safety, in this case, is subjective. The way she’s implying safety is easy to answer - today is the furthest you’ve gone with him, and you’re not even entirely sure if sex is possible, or if it’s something you’d want to do.

Your heart, though? Or your mind? That’s where it gets tricky. Images of Wally flash through your head; him on the field, in the library, the feeling of his hands on you in the pool, and something in your chest falters, thrumming under the weight of impending loss. Borrowed grief from the future.

“Yeah,” you nod, attempting to assuage her worries, “I’m being safe. I promise.”

The library is uncharacteristically loud today. The usual low murmur of students reading and talking has been replaced by cater waiters, a dj setting up on the stage at the back of the room, and volunteers organizing place cards - a job that had been delegated to you.

You’d signed up for the setup for Split River High’s Class of ‘84 reunion long before you’d actually spoken to Wally; it’s your mom’s forty year reunion, and she thought it’d be fun for you to be there with her, even if it was just as a volunteer.

It’s technically Wally’s reunion too.

It’ll be hard to navigate, having your mom and Wally in the same room. It doesn’t sound difficult on paper - you just can’t talk to Wally, you can’t look at him or acknowledge his presence. You wouldn’t be able to, anyway, with his other ghostly friends being in attendance.

They’d been in here earlier with him, laughing and dancing to David Bowie. It was sweet, seeing them with him. Wally had told you about the dance a few days prior. Forty years of boredom and access to vinyls that the library kept in the back had led to traditions, and though his friends roll their eyes and pretend to hate it, they dance with him at every reunion without fail.

You’re standing in front of the table with the name cards, organizing them according to the list you’d been given when you feel someone press up against you. It’s not hard to tell that it’s Wally.

It’s a test of your resilience, feeling him so close to you and not turning around. Wally teases, fingers touching yours as he tries to rearrange the placement of a couple that had a gnarly breakup that year. You snort when the cards revert back to their original position, and he giggles in return.

It’s most likely the only acknowledgment of each other you’ll get for the rest of the day - as much as you want to, you can’t afford to be seen talking to the air.

When everything is perfect, and guests start trickling into the room, bathed in blues and purples from the lights set up above the stage area, you find your mom and sit with her and her friends. They’re nice, asking you questions about what your plans are after graduation, telling you stories about the kinds of things your mom got up to when she was in high school.

You’re laughing, smiling at your mom when a woman takes the stage, mic in hand.

“Can everyone hear me? First of all, thank you so much for coming to the 1984 class reunion -”

“Woo! Class of ‘84!”

Your head whips to the side, and you see Wally, Charley, and the kid from your ceramics class. It’s the first time you’ve ever seen him not actively doing pottery, and your mouth quirks up in amused confusion. Wally’s changed since you saw him last - a blue shirt under a white suit, sleeves pushed up to his elbows. It’s very Miami Vice, but it works on him.

“Hey, you okay?” Your mom nudges your shoulder with hers, eyes following your line of sight but unable to see what you see.

You nod, turning back to the woman on the stage. You don’t catch her furrowed brows, her gaze fixated on you.

“Forty years, can you believe that? Before we get too tipsy, I’d like to take a moment to honor those who couldn’t be here with us today,” The projector screen turns on, a slideshow showing pictures of the people who’d recently passed, “And now, a moment of silence for our 1983 homecoming king, Wally Clark. A shining star taken from us way too soon.”

Your breath hitches in your throat when Wally’s picture comes up. It makes you feel sick. You can’t imagine what it’s like, to be at every high school reunion as a ghost. To see the evidence of your death in other people’s aging faces, to hear them talk about their spouses, their kids. To know you’ll never have that.

He looked so happy - alive. The smile he wears is familiar to you, having seen it so many times over the past month and a half, but the picture evidence of it feels different. Sadder, like you know you shouldn’t know what it feels like to have that smile directed your way.

You’re broken from your train of thought by a voice a table over from you.

“...sat on the lid and laughed for hours. And Captain Homecoming never did anything to try and stop them,” It comes from two men sitting next to each other, the speaker drinking a glass of red wine, “Can’t imagine what they would’ve done if I’d actually come out.”

You exhale, directing your eyes to Wally and Charley at the opposite end of that table. They’re talking, and it seems tense. Charley is trying to brush him off, though you can’t hear what they’re saying. He walks away, leaving Wally solitary in the middle of the room. His eyes find yours, eyebrows turned upwards, like he’s asking you what to do.

It’s subtle, the face you make in return, and you hope it conveys what you mean to say.

I’m sorry. Give him some space, and then go find him.

He nods, and turns to go after his friend.

The rest of the night passes without issue, for the most part. You mingle with your mom, joining her on

the dance floor during her favorite hits, grabbing hors d'oeuvres from trays and sneaking sips of her wine.

“Hey, I’m gonna use the bathroom. I’ll be back in a bit, and then we can go?” You nearly shout to your mom over the sound of the music, and wait for her nod before you turn to leave.

The hallways are empty when you step outside the library, the music and chatter from inside quieting down once you’re a few steps away. You haven’t seen Wally or Charley for a while, and you hope they’re okay, that they’re talking. There’s no excuse for Wally’s past behavior, and however Charley feels about it, he’s well within his rights to do so. You just hope it’s clear how much Wally has grown.

You’re still thinking about it when you finish up in the bathroom, jumping slightly when you open the door to see Wally walking back towards the library.

“Hey!” You whisper, smiling wide when he turns around to see you there.

“Hey yourself!” He whispers back, and it makes the both of you giggle. He walks over to you, hands in his pants pockets.

“This is a good look on you, by the way,” You pat at his chest, “Very on theme.”

“Thanks! I stole it from the costume department.” He’s all smiles, honey brown eyes twinkling under the fluorescents.

“How are you? Did you find Charley?”

“Yeah,” He sighs, “We’re all good.”

“Good,” You laugh, “That’s good.” You pause, reaching for one of his arms and pulling his hand from his pocket and into yours, “I’m sorry we haven’t been able to talk today. I’ve missed you.”

“That’s okay,” He runs his thumb over your knuckles, “We’ve been busy. You look really pretty too, by the way,” You hadn’t noticed him gently pushing you backwards until you’re pressed up against the wall. Your head tilts back, soft giggle leaving you when he says, “I can’t stop thinking about that day at the pool, y’know.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah,” He brings his free hand up, brushing a stray hair behind your ear, “It just plays on a loop in my head all the time now.”

“You say it like it’s a bad thing,” You pout, and his thumb moves to pluck at your bottom lip.

“Not bad. Really, really good, actually.”

He brings his face down, closer to yours, and you can feel his breath hit your cheeks. It feels like time stops when you’re with him. You’re not paying attention to anything - the music from the library is all but silenced, the click of heels in the hallway doesn’t reach your ears.

You’re just waiting for him to make a move, to close the gap and put you both out of your misery. You close your eyes, feel the slight brush of his lips against yours.

“Honey? What are you still doing out here?”

Your eyes snap open, finding your mom a few paces away by the library doors. She’s holding your things, confusion covering her face. She looks at you, eyes flitting back and forth between you and the empty hallway - like she’s looking for something she knows isn’t there.

You’re so fucked.

It takes a second for you to get your bearings, blood running cold and pulse picking up, thumping in your chest and ears. You know you can’t look at Wally. He inhales, a sharp, guarded thing, exhaling an “Oh, shit,” under his breath on its way out.

“Nothing, I was just…” You brush past him, dropping his hand and not looking back as you make your way over to your mother, “It was really loud in there. I just needed a break. You ready to go?”

She hesitates, eyes still directed at the air behind you where you know Wally is, before she nods and hands you your things.

The drive home is extremely tense. Neither of you say anything for most of it, your mom only sighing when she pulls into the driveway. You don’t know how much of your interaction with Wally she saw, if she saw any of it or was able to put together what was happening.

You try to imagine what she would’ve seen - you, back against the wall, head leaned back and eyes closed. It’s entirely possible you just looked like you were resting, right?

You can’t ask her about it either - you’d basically be admitting to something you hadn’t even been accused of. The silence is deafening, and you exit the car to go inside. You hover in the living room, waiting to see if she says anything to you.

“Mom?”

She’s quiet as she puts her coat on the rack, moving into the kitchen and leaning against the island.

“Do you have anything you want to tell me?”

Your stomach drops at her question, mind racing a million miles an hour to come up with some sort of answer. It’s vague enough, the way she phrased it, but you hear the true meaning. Have you been talking to Wally Clark?

It’s like standing on a tightrope. A breeze from either direction could knock you off, sending you careening into a bottomless pit.

If you tell the truth, solidifying your relationship with Wally, making it real by telling someone else, it won’t belong to you anymore. It won’t be just yours - and you’ll have to face the consequences. If you lie, you jeopardize the relationship you have with your mom. Founded on truth and trust, it’ll start to crack.

“No.” You shake your head, eyes cast towards the floor, stepping off the rope and into the wind. The end result is the same, anyways. Falling towards an end you can’t see yet.

“Are you sure that’s the answer you wanna go with?” Her arms are crossed over her chest, breathing steady and gaze unwavering. You nod, and she sighs again, shaking her head ever so slightly. “Look,” She says, “You don’t wanna tell me the truth, and that’s fine. So what I’m gonna do,” She brings a hand up to her chest, fingers splayed out, “Is lay it out for you. If you’re doing what I think you’re doing, if you’re seeing who I think you’re seeing, it’s a mistake.”

You open your mouth, poised to push back, but she beats you to it.

“It’s a mistake. Of epic proportions. Have you thought this through at all? Have you thought about what it’ll do to you when you graduate next month and you can never see him again?” She drops her hands to her sides. She doesn’t sound mad, only worried. You don’t notice the tears until they’re falling in quick succession - fast, one right after the other. It’s your admission of guilt. “And what about Wally?”

Your breath shudders as she speaks his name, shoulders rising and falling with each inhale and exhale.

“You can’t keep doing this. Prolonging the inevitable, giving him hope where there is none. It’s not fair to either of you - it’s cruel. You should know better. I thought I taught you better.”

“It was an accident, I didn’t mean to…” You’ve never felt smaller, shrinking under the weight of your mother’s palpable disappointment.

“An accident?” Her voice raises, skirting the edge of genuinely yelling at you, “You’re talking to Wally Clark, and he got close enough to give you a hickey. How could that possibly be accidental?”

You flinch, the implication of your stupidity and carelessness hitting you like a ton of bricks. You raise your head, making eye contact with your mom for the first time since entering your home. The guilt is still clear on your face, but there’s a hint of defiance there, too.

“You don’t understand,” you say, “You could never understand.”

“Then explain it to me,” your mom presses.

“He saw me. He saw me. I didn’t do it on purpose, I didn’t ask for this to happen. I ran away from him that first time, and he made me see him.”

“And every time after that? You made the conscious decision to keep it up.”

“Do you have any idea what it’s like? To be the only person that sees them? He followed me to class the next day, mom. He kept talking, he wouldn't stop talking, and he was so fucking funny, and I-” You break, sobs tearing from your throat, breath catching and near-suffocating you.

Your mom’s voice is uncharacteristically cold when it meets your ears.

“I’ve been getting notices about your absences and tardies for weeks at this point. Your grades are falling, your test scores are abysmal, your teachers are getting worried. I’ve been worried, too, but I tried to let it go because I thought you were finally having a normal teenage experience, but nothing about what you’ve been doing is normal. I’m not telling you anything you don’t already know, because I know you, and I know you’re smarter than this.

“From now on, I want you in your car and driving home immediately after the school bell rings. You will not skip your classes. You will not leave this house on the weekends to sneak away to school, you will be under this roof studying your ass off because you will graduate on time. Do I make myself clear?”

You nod, and with nothing left to say, ultimatum issued and tongue lashing over, your mom exits the room, brushing past you without looking back. You don’t know how long you stand there, tears trailing down your face, before you’re able to pull yourself together enough to make it to your room.

Rest doesn’t come easy that night - you spend hours tossing and turning, restless, and when you finally do fall asleep, you’re plagued by visions that leave you more drained than you were before you went to bed. Flashes of your memories with Wally, coated in a dream-like haze, play alongside your mom’s voice in the back of your head - apathetic, detached, echoing with disappointment.

a/n: i am SO sorry it took me so long to update this 😭 school has been crazy, i got really sick and lost the motivation for it for a bit but i'm back!!! this was originally going to be much longer, but i decided to split it into two so you don't have to read a 12k word fic LMFAO. part four still needs some editing and extra writing but i promise there will not be another month gap in between this one and the next one, since it's mostly fully written

also, don't forget to like and reblog if you feel so inclined :)

taglist: @whoopsyeahokay @preparedfruit @lov3bug @awenthealchemist @aquaalanah @calpurnia2002 @badbishsblog @kravitzwhore @fallout-girl219

#wally clark #school spirits #wally clark x reader #wally clark x you #wally clark x y/n #wally clark fanfiction #school spirits season 2 #wally school spirits #wally clark smut #don't go breaking my heart

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starryeyedstray · 8 months ago

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my thoughts on dbh as someone entering the fandom in 2024

so just got into the dbh fandom like in aug 2024. i have watched too much gameplay, read the wiki extensively, read an obscene amount of fanfics on ao3, and am in the process of writing my own. here are some of my thoughts (that no one has asked for):

every fanfic writer who started in 2018 and is still updating their works in 2024 are literal saints and some of the best damn writers i ever did saw and the dedication is fucking unreal. one fic had almost 2 million words??????? like BRUH. some are still ongoing and updated this year?? the dbh fandom in ao3 is not thriving as much as it was in 2018 (i say this purely as someone who's looking at the hits/kudos/comment ratios on older v. new works) but they are still alive!!!!

i am puzzled with the obsession with gavin reed. there are like a million fics that feature him and rk900. i am confused bc he did not seem like a redeeming character at all in my opinion and idk, i think he's just an asshole. i like the redemption arcs some ppl write for him but i just can't with him. i mean you ship who you wanna ship but i am not a reed fan and i am confused how he became so popular when all he did was bully our poor boi connor.

i personally don't ship hank x connor bc they give strong father-son vibes in the canon. however, i am obsessed with how jolli_bean writes the pairing on ao3 since its usually a canon divergence or an AU so the pair meet later in life. there are some fics that follow the canon and do a pretty good job with the pairing, but i just tend to keep it familial between them in my head. (but like i said, ship who you want to ship)

i am glad there's a vague consensus that we all wished alice stayed a human bc i feel like that lends itself to a more interesting narrative post-game. tho i guess her being an android is fine bc now kara, luthor, and alice can live as one happy family in canada forvever lol

i am literally obsessed with bryan dechart's acting as connor. like if you haven't seen him play connor in real life for the interactive #detroit2038 premiere event, then you gotta watch some of the live stream. like he doesn't break character the whole time and his physicality just screams connor and i just really appreciate how much effort he put in as an actor to really embody the character. just so impressive and i wish there was more bts of him acting as connor bc its just so nuanced and ugh *chef's kiss* if they ever made a live action dbh it would be impossible for anyone else to play connor

i love the 28 stab wounds meme. when i watched that scene for the first time it was so jarring lmao

i also love how everyone is like yes, we all know connor likes dogs but he also likes fish bc of that one fish you can save in the very first minute of gameplay hahahah. (his name is dewey and it is vitally important you save him). i also appreciate how the "i like dogs" line will undoubtedly find it's way into every fic possible lol

i think the love for simon is very good and well and amazing but i think josh deserves more love in fics too

it bothers me that when north tells markus "i love you" at the church, MARKUS DOESN'T SAY IT BACK??? LIKE BITCH SAY YOU LOVE HER BACK DAMMIT DON'T JUST WALK AWAY

i love how the fandom just latched onto rk900 and rk800-60 and fleshed out their personalities and i love reading ppl's interpretation of these characters and how they incorporate them into their stories. it's funny they only show up like one time and ppl just ran with it and it's so fun and creative and i love it.

i love the hc that chloe deviated when connor chose not to shoot her. that's the best hc. like it's canon in my heart idc

bless all the fic writers who have mastered the art of explaining how androids mind and bodies work bc there are so many gaps and possibilities left open in the lore and it's incredible to see what ppl come up with or interpret based off the canon. (i still feel 50/50 about when they make deviants feel pain cause like androids not feeling pain is such a big part of the canon and yeah i'll give it a pass if the fic does it for the whumps and the angst but i prefer when a fic finds a canon-compliant reason for deviants to feel pain, even if its just like they got a chip or software installed that makes them feel pain or something)

every pairing that i find in this fandom, i tend to be like... "yeah i can see that." (with the exception of hank x connor for reasons i stated in #3). i'm still like ehhh on reed900 or even gavin x connor bc i just don't think it makes sense in the canon but if it's written well i just shrug and say yeah i guess i could see that. some rarepairs i ended up absolutely adoring were chloe x north and rk900 x north (i realize they're both north but she has such good potential for character dynamics)

idk if it's just me bc i specifically look for fics centered around connor, but i feel like there's not a lot of love for kara at least fic-wise. ig it's cause she kinda just leaves so it's easy to not include her. tbh, i am quite well-versed in markus' and connor's stories but i haven't really explored a lot of kara's. i plan on playing dbh with my partner when i see them again in a couple months and i wanted us to take turn playing different characters and i wanted to play kara's storyline so i've been avoiding it for the most part so i can be surprised with my options. plus, in my wip fic, kara is in canada so she's not really relevant to my story which is why i have in depth knowledge about markus and connor and less on kara.

the music in this game fucking SLAPS. 10/10 kara's theme makes me wanna cry.

okay, there is a common trope in the dbh fanfics where connor loses his memory and that shit gets me everytime. i'm always bawling and anxiously waiting for him to fucking REMEMBER and i hate and love it and eat it up every. single. time. usually, the memory loss happens early in the fic and it's pretty expected but sometimes i get blindsided and i'm like FUCK not this shit again but i can't stop reading it and the angst is so palpable.

i think it's so interesting how ra9 is just like this mystery in the lore that never gets entirely explained in the game. it's like something you can totally kinda ignore but it does have interesting lore implications if you decide to really think about it.

i adore all the characters in dbh equally except for connor who is the certified best boi and my absolute favorite (no one is shocked by this declaration). and the characters on my shit list are zlatko, todd, and sometimes reed.

this is an obnoxiously long post and i apologies. i haven't been on tumblr in years and i just had so many thoughts about dbh and i have no friends to talk to so i decided to dump it all here. i still have more thoughts but those are the ones that come to the forefront of my mind.

tldr: i love dbh and its fandom and i have many specific thoughts about it and you should just really read my post if you care about any of it

#mine #dbh meta #dbh headcanons #dbh connor #dbh #detroit become human #dbh gavin reed #dbh markus #dbh hank #dbh north #dbh simon #dbh alice #dbh josh #dbh kara

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aihoshiino · 6 months ago

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chapter 164 thoughts

This post discusses suicide and suicidal ideation in the context of Oshi no Ko.

Chapters Until The Story Ends Without The 143 Kiss Being Addressed Or Acknowledged: 2

Bizarrely, I feel like I don't have a ton to say about this chapter. Not because stuff doesn't happen in it but because… fuck, man. What do I even say. I can't quite 100% shake my suspicion that Akasaka has some asspull up his sleeve and that Aqua might come back in style form, even if altered to the point that he isn't the Aqua we know anymore, but this chapter is clearly set up for us to think he's dead and for us to see other character's reactions to this news, so I'll talk about the text with that assumption in mind. This one will probably be kind of all over the place so bear with me ig

That being said… this is all kind of dumb as fuck, huh

Like. There's just so many insane contrivances with this setup that it's impossible for me to take it seriously. Putting aside that there's no way on planet earth Aqua's plan should have fooled anybody, why in God's name are his family and friends finding out about this from a news broadcast and not, like… Being contacted by the police?? Or at least hearing about it beforehand??

I also really don't like that we're setting up to have a whole chapter focusing on Ruby's response to all this while Aqua's Literal Mother and all his friends get like. Two panels to be shocked at the news. If the series ends without giving them all the space to grieve I think I will be legitimately really pissed off lmao

The presence of 15 Year Lie in this chapter also makes me agonizingly aware that we know basically nothing about it to this day, even though the contents of the movie are what this final arc revolves around. Aqua's plan relies on Kamiki's crimes as exposed by the movie being heinous enough that Kamiki would kill Aqua to silence them but…

WHAT FUCKING CRIMES???

The Kamiki we saw in the movie was only ever portrayed as a victim in the scenes we see. Unless the story is trying to imply that Kamiki is somehow responsible for Uehara and Airi's deaths or that 15YL makes him directly responsible for Gorou's death or - literally I have no idea what this could be referring to.

I dunno, man. It's hard for me to really want to buckle down and analyse this because so much of it feels entirely contrary to the story that came before. I've always insisted that the one thing that we could guarantee was that Aqua and Ruby would survive the series and be happy because so much emotional weight is put on Ai's wish for Aqua and Ruby to grow into adults and be happy, and it really seemed like we were building up to an ending of Aqua deciding for himself that he wants to finally live for himself, so this sudden swerve into Aqua being told by God "actually your purpose in life is to nobly commit suicide for your sister" is uh, jarring to say the least.

Part of the issue with this is that I think Akasaka doesn't think of Aqua's sacrifice as being a suicide, narratively speaking, even though Akane literally acknowledges it as such. But the thing is, Aqua's "sacrifice" is emergent from all the same things as his suicidal ideation - his belief that his life is intrinsically less valuable than everyone else's and his continued guilt and self loathing as a result of his trauma. Aqua literally says to Ruby's face in 143 that he feels guilty just for being alive and it's literally never addressed again.

So it's very difficult not to read this ending as the story approving of Aqua killing himself, but only if it's for the right reasons. Not only is that an insanely irresponsible message to put into a story as widespread and visible as OnK is right now, it's also just fucking ghoulish.

Idk. Even if Aqua lived here, I just really dislike this idea of his whole life's purpose being Narratively Affirmed as being to uplift Ruby at his own expense. Aqua is very much like Ai in that he's a person who has spent basically all of both his lives in service to other people, unable to pursue the things that he wants and that make him genuinely fulfilled - an ending that parallels Ai, where he is denied this to the extent that it kills him, is not a bad idea on paper but the execution here makes it fall apart. Like, if the framing was that Aqua and Kamiki were both unable to move on from the past to the point that it kills them, I'd vibe with that or something like it. But as is, this shit is just baffling.

It doesn't help that Aqua's death is just completely unmoored from anything the series has been setting up all this time. I've seen people defending this as being what Aqua's revenge was building up to, but this very explicitly isn't about Aqua's revenge. It's about "protecting Ruby's future", but the idea that Kamiki was a threat to Ruby specifically is something that was introduced all of four chapters ago. Even then, it's deeply undercooked. Like, what it is about Kamiki that makes him SUCH a threat to Ruby that Aqua has no choice but to take the nuclear option and kill them both? Why is this the one and only way to stop him? We don't know - we basically know nothing about Kamiki besides "he's Ai's crazy ex" which is such a massive letdown for an antagonist who's been built up for this long.

Speaking of Ai��. where the fuck is she!!!

I know this is predictable background noise from the Ai Wife Guy, but it really is baffling to me that she's such a nonfactor when the climax happening right now is her son confronting the man who killed her. At best, we get mild lipservice as to her existence but the series is so all-in on this "protecting Ruby's future" framing that Ai's absence here feels jarring. It's not just that Ai should be relevant because I like her (but I DO and she SHOULD) but because it makes for a bizarrely deflated finale. Instead of the tragedy we've been building up to avenging for over 140 chapters, Aqua's death comes as the result of a plan he came up with on the spot to deal with an ill-defined threat that only came into existence 4-6 chapters ago.

It just doesn't really feel satisfying, especially when the series has been so wishy washy when it comes to focusing on Aqua and Ruby's relationship. If the series was going to make that connection The central axis on which this climax revolves, then it needed more fleshing out than it got, regardless of if the series went the AquRuby route or not.

Two chapters left………..

#oshi no ko #oshi no posting #onk spoilers #chapter reviews

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iwillneverforgiveyousunghanbin · 1 year ago

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bully⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

monday, kim jiwoong — advanced drama

⋆˙⟡ zbully1 smut series masterlist! hanbin, jiwoong, hao, matthew, and taerae included. game day (group) chapter here. all 7 endings here.

⋆˙⟡ wc: 2.8k ⋆˙⟡ reader: femme afab (listed first, she/her are used a couple times) // gender neutral (alternate version listed second, no pronouns used at all to describe reader— scroll down) ⋆˙⟡ series summary: five bullies. six days. it's gonna be a hell of a week, babe. stay hydrated. ⋆˙⟡ monday summary: it's monday, the first day of the school week. you're excited for your advanced drama class, but not too keen on the person you're always forced to run into there. suave, charismatic, repulsively arrogant: kim jiwoong lives to make your life just a bit harder. and lucky you: today he's your scene partner. ⋆˙⟡ warnings: explicit smut. 18+. minors do not interact. please read specific warnings under the cut! angst. lighttt dub-con. bullying. jiwoong plays romeo, that should be a warning for the faint of heart. the smut is fairly light in general. it's only monday guys, we have to survive six consecutive days so let's pace ourselves, ya know? ⋆˙⟡ bully scale: ★★★☆☆ (3)

EXPLICIT SMUT 18+ WARNINGS: fingering/heavy petting (reader receiving), dub-con kind of sort of idk better safe than sorry, bullying, degrading sexual names.

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　

“an exciting day today, as always,” professor lee announces from the center of your chair circle. “we’ll be performing a series of famous two-character scenes in the second half of the class and you’ll have the first half to prepare with your scene partner.”

all of your classmates begin to whisper loudly. several two-character scenes would undoubtedly include some romance. the thought made your head spin with anxiety.

your best friend mina softly kicks your foot with her’s. you turn to look at her, a stunning grin shining back at you.

“i hope i get paired with jiwoong oppa,” she says, giggling quietly.

you scowl. even knowing all the hell that kim jiwoong and his rat bastard friends have caused you this entire year, mina persistently eyes the inconveniently beautiful man with googly eyes through every class.

curious as to how the man himself is reacting to today’s assignment, you steal a glance in his direction: a terrible mistake. jiwoong is leaned back in his chair, one shoe resting on the opposite knee in a cocky, relaxed position. his hair is pushed neatly behind his ears, fashionable brown slacks and a cream-colored sweater tucked into his belt— arms crossed over his chest.

skin perfect and glowing under his black, wire-framed glasses. tongue poking at his cheek in an arrogant smile.

staring right at you.

you immediately look back down at your lap, trying your best to appear unbothered by the bait that jiwoong’s hooked for you.

“i’ll be picking names out of this jar to assign parts at random and, from there, we’ll just jump right in,” professor lee explains as the chatter comes to a halt. “there’s props and minimal costume pieces in the storage closet at your disposal as usual.”

mina bounces her leg happily beside you, fingers crossed behind her chair for good luck. you shake your head sadly. the thing she’s wishing for is the thing you dread most.

“the first scene will be from bonnie and clyde. caroline-sshi will be reading for bonnie,” professor lee calls as he pulls the first slip of paper out of the jar, followed by the second. “and ichan-sshi will read for clyde.”

there’s a chorus of teasing oooooh’s throughout the room, caroline and ichan shyly waving to each other until your professor holds up his hand for silence.

“for our second scene, we have an excerpt from medea,” professor lee says, reaching into the glass jar. “the role of medea will be played by… mina-sshi. and the role of jason will be played by…”

mina’s eyes light up at both the meaty assignment and the anticipation of who her scene partner will be.

“yijin-sshi,” he finishes.

the class giggles at the two sweet girls playing such contentious ex-lovers. mina sighs disappointedly and returns her attention to her shoes.

“our third scene will be from romeo and juliet,” professor lee calls, two slips of paper between his fingers. “reading for romeo, we’ll have… jiwoong-sshi.”

nearly everyone gasps in awe at the casting. how fitting of an actor for such a part! how did jiwoong always manage to get assigned the best roles? who will get to read for juliet?

you dare to steal another glimpse at jiwoong. he’s sitting forward now, legs spread apart with his forearms resting on his thighs— focusing on his hands as he waits. you truly feel sorry for the chump that has to spend the next forty minutes alone with him.

“and the role of juliet will be played by… (y/n)-sshi.”

oh for f*ck’s sake. out of 19 possible partners, of course you’d end up having the terrible luck of being paired with kim jiwoong.

he licks his tongue lightly across his teeth like a predator taunting his prey. you were, for all intents and purposes, fucked.

“while the romantic blocking written in several of these scenes is technically optional,” professor lee says, holding up his hands as if to calm the nervous energy in the room. “it plays an important part in the emotional integrity of the character dynamics. only do what you’re comfortable with, but consider why a stage direction is written and do take it seriously.”

professor lee finishes announcing the rest of the pairings before dismissing you to get to work on your scenes.

“i’m so jealous,” mina whines, stamping her foot cutely as she stands up from her chair. “are you gonna kiss him? if it’s in the scene?”

“KISS HIM!?” you shout, driven by pure shock and disgust. nearly everyone in your class turns to look at you, but you’re too disturbed to care. it was a ridiculous question. there’s no way jiwoong would ever lower himself to kiss you. besides, he’ll be too busy using his mouth to insult you the whole time.

but mina did raise a good question that you hadn’t fully considered yet. just how romantic would the scene you’re assigned be?

“thinking about me?”

the voice comes from behind you, so close in proximity that it makes you jump. you stumble backwards, your back tapping against a solid surface.

looking over your shoulder, you recoil at the sight of kim jiwoong hovering over you, a shaky denial leaving your lips, “i w-wasn’t...”

“explain to me again how you made it into advanced drama with those piss-poor acting skills?” jiwoong huffs, knocking into your shoulder with his as he brushes past you towards the door. when you don’t follow him, he turns around and glares at you expectantly. “did you forget how to walk or something?”

you shake your head silently and run after him out the door. a gap of at least a couple feet forms between you and jiwoong as you struggle to match his determined stride. “um, where are we going?”

“stage. duh,” jiwoong answers plainly, rounding the corner. “if we get there first, we get it all to ourselves and everyone else can fuck off.”

you gulp. you could barely survive jiwoong’s bullying in a crowded room. all alone with jiwoong— no witnesses to keep him at bay… you didn’t like the sound of it.

as you finally reach the side door to the auditorium, jiwoong opens it and lets it swing before you can step inside. it nearly slams into your nose until you catch it with your elbow at the very last second.

“look at you,” jiwoong says with a dark chuckle. “maybe you’re more coordinated than matthew lets on. should we keep testing that theory?”

you inhale deeply, trying your damnedest to not let him get to you yet. you still had thirty-nine long minutes to go. shaking your head in response, you follow him up the stairs and onto the stage. there’s some larger set pieces currently in use in preparation for the winter play; a corner tableau with walls occupies stage right.

jiwoong tosses your script (at your face) and it falls delicately to the ground in front of your feet. “aren’t you gonna pick that up?”

bending down carefully in your short skirt, you pick up your script and flip to the first page of dialogue. your hands are starting to tremble under the pressure of jiwoong’s piercing gaze.

“come here, we can do a cold read first,” he instructs, flipping open his own script. “follow stage directions, but we’ll iron them out later.”

you nod in complacency but stay exactly where you are beside the wall of the corner set— six safe feet away from kim jiwoong.

“seriously?” he asks, raising an eyebrow at you incredulously. “scared i’m gonna bite you?”

your lips part slightly at this remark. you hadn’t been scared of this before, but under the circumstances...

“or maybe you’re scared you’ll bite me,” jiwoong hums smugly. “think you might fall for me during our love scene? that’s almost unbearably pathetic.”

“please just read the script,” you reply quietly, gaze returning to your script. i am unbothered. i am in control of my own destiny, your therapist’s stupid affirmations ring through your head.

jiwoong stares at you for a moment and then, much to your surprise, he obliges.

you take advantage of this, reading through the script carefully and marking the blocking lightly from your fixed position on the stage. as you recite your lines, your ears burn red at what becomes clear to you: the scene is, for lack of a better word, sexy. juliet is a young virgin who is absolutely taken with the charismatic, handsome romeo. he desperately wants to kiss her and then some and juliet wants the same— though she has to feign that she doesn’t because of female fragility or some other bullshit, antiquated principle.

“if i profane with my unworthiest hand this holy shrine, the gentle fine is this: my lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand to smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss,” jiwoong reads, your heart dropping to your stomach. he makes an agonizingly convincing romeo: charming, witty... gorgeous.

why was this scene beginning to feel kind of... real?

“good pilgrim, you do wrong your hand too much, which mannerly devotion shows in this; for saints have hands that pilgrims’ hands do touch,” you read your next line softly, attempting to steady your nerves as your script shakes between your fingers. “and palm to palm is holy palmers’… k—... kiss.”

jiwoong feeds off of your hesitation, a dangerous smirk darkening his features. this scene is evoking a visible reaction out of you and he’s as aware of it as you are. setting his script down on the hardwood stage floor, jiwoong recites perfectly, “have not saints lips, and holy palmers too?”

“stop it,” you say through gritted teeth as he unsubtly eyes you up and down. you don’t care if he’s in character or not— he’s just trying to get under your skin. “stop doing that.”

he steps towards you, the air souring from the magnitude of his arrogance. “i don’t think that’s your line, now is it?”

“don’t come any closer,” you warn again, a little more conviction this time but still not enough to stop his perpetual motion. you try to move, but your feet are frozen to the floor. at least, you assume they are. that’s the reason you’re not moving, right?

it has to be.

jiwoong takes another step and then another, the distance between you diminishing rapidly.

“if you come any closer, i’ll—… i’ll tell professor lee,” you threaten in panic. he’s just a few inches from you now and you can smell his sharp, spiced cologne. “i’ll tell him everything you’ve ever said to me, you absolute... TWAT ROCKET!”

“ooh, i like the creativity. but it’s still not your line,” he whispers, clucking his tongue in disappointment. “shouldn’t you be taking this a little more seriously, (y/n)-sshi? where’s my stick-up-her-ass, goody two-shoes when i need her, hm? do you want us to both fail today’s assignment or something?”

you did not want to fail today’s assignment. jiwoong bullying you through your whole rehearsal wasn’t exactly helping your chances, but there was hardly an available remedy for that. the only way forward was to just try to be the bigger, more professional actor. sighing resignedly, you read your next line: “ay, pilgrim, lips that they must use in prayer.”

jiwoong somehow comes closer still, hovering over you like you’re a moth he plans to ensnare in his deadly flame. he raises his hand to your cheek and you flinch, expecting some sort of dull impact. you open your eyes when there is none. when your eyes meet his, jiwoong lifts his index finger— brushing it against your bottom lip as you stand there, unblinking in your shock. “o, then, dear saint... let lips do what hands do.”

he tugs your bottom lip down slightly, running the tip of his thumb gently across the soft, wet inside. you’re screaming inside your head, but not a single sound makes its way out of your mouth. jiwoong has called you names, pulled your hair, left red rashes from twisting the skin on your arms for two years now...

but this is easily the meanest thing he’s ever done.

“they pray, grant thou,” he continues his line, thumb trailing from your lips, past your chin and down your neck. you gasp when he stops at the collar of your shirt, not sure if you’re more disturbed by his audacity to do this or his audacity to suddenly stop. you curse the aching feeling that you now realize has been radiating from your heat since you stepped on this stage. how could your body betray you like this?

jiwoong exhales a mean laugh as he searches your eyes and easily finds what you’re so poorly trying to hide. maybe you really didn’t belong in advanced drama after all.

continuing his trail down the center of your chest and over the curve of your stomach, he breathes, “lest faith turn to despair.”

“jiwoongie,” you whisper, eyes locked on his hand just a couple inches from your clothed core. begging for him to stop; begging for him to start— it’s anyone’s guess. “you—... i—...”

“how thick is your skull that i have to keep reminding you to read your fucking line,” he hisses, the harsh insult sounds just like honey to you. his eyes appear almost black, daring you to disobey him.

you want to run away. you need to stay exactly where you are.

“saints—... saints do not move,” you manage to squeak. “though grant for prayers’ sake.”

“then move not,” jiwoong recites, his left hand finding your hip as he presses you up against the set piece behind you, “while my prayer’s effect i take.”

you don’t know how you’re still breathing as jiwoong’s middle and ring fingers find their way under your skirt and between your legs. a whimper escapes you as he finds the sensitive bud, bucking your hips slightly into his hand at the wave of arousal.

“that easy, baby? feel good?” jiwoong asks rhetorically, as if the growing volume of your mewls isn’t enough proof for him. “fuck, i’ve wanted to do this forever.”

“but—...y-you hate me,” you counter, grinding into his fingers again. jiwoong moans softly at your assertiveness, biting his bottom lip as he works you over.

“i don’t know what that has to do with wanting to fuck you,” he replies, attaching his lips to your collarbone as he shoves the damp fabric of your panties to the side. “really wanna fuck you.”

“jiwoongie,” you whine again, script falling from your hand and onto the floor. your arms wrap around his neck for support as your legs start to weaken. “i—… i think you were just supposed to kiss me.”

“huh. is that right?” he asks, grinning at your adorably innocent protest as he takes his hand off your hip and starts to fool with his belt buckle. “well, professor lee always says to lean into the scene. and you looked like you could use some leaning into.”

“i c-can’t believe i’m letting you do this,” you rasp, biting your bottom lip as the top button of jiwoong’s slacks comes undone.

“i can,” he grunts, flipping you around so that your chest is squished against the wall. his gruff hands push up your skirt and knead into your hips and ass as he admires your form. “fucking insufferable little angel. was hoping you’d secretly be a filthy slut. just for me though, right?”

though hearing jiwoong demean you would normally bring tears to your eyes, it’s intoxicating to you in this moment. it’s a scary, complicated feeling and the only truth you know falls from your lips: “i... hate you.”

“mm, whatever you say baby,” he coos mockingly, the sounds of your arousal growing louder and wetter against his fingers. he flips you back over to face him eagerly. “but you want my cock in you, yeah?”

your lips part as you stare at the bulge in his pants, mouth watering slightly. to your surprise and horror, you really do want it. if you let this happen, the consequences you’ll face could be detrimental.

but in this moment, watching a wavy lock of jiwoong’s hair fall across his forehead as his middle finger starts to prod at your entrance: you want him— need him inside you. your brain is clouded; vision lustful and hazy. how much does jiwoong’s past treatment of you really matter?

“(y/n)!” a voice rings out from the house of the auditorium.

“come fucking on,” jiwoong groans in frustration, your eyes wide like a deer in headlights. somehow it hadn’t even crossed your mind that you might get caught in the act. you start to struggle in jiwoong’s grasp, looking everywhere for a quick exit. he throws a hand over your mouth to keep you quiet, shimmying your skirt back back down over your ass with the other.

“jiwoong-sshi! (y/n)-sshi! time to get ready for performances!”

after running a smoothing hand through your hair for you, jiwoong suddenly pushes you out from behind the set piece you’re pressed up against. you stumble nervously onto center stage.

“oh my god, (y/n)!” mina calls excitedly, running over to you. “how did it go!? where’s jiwoong oppa? did he kiss you? was it amazing? does he taste like smoke and cinnamon? are his lips soft like clouds?”

“mina, that’s enough,” you shush awkwardly, knowing full well jiwoong can hear everything she’s saying— undoubtedly smirking like a wild hyena, that bastard. coming out of your spell of lust, you shudder as the reality of what just happened starts to sink in. how could you let an asshole like him put his hands all over you— almost put himself inside of you? the only answer to all of mina’s questions you can manage is a truthful one: “we didn’t kiss.”

“oh,” mina replies with a small smile, probably happy that there’s still hope for her. “that’s too bad.”

“what’s too bad?” jiwoong asks, stepping out on stage next to you. he hands you your script, tucking his own under his arm. you notice his belt is buckled again. “sorry, i was getting our scripts.”

“nothing!” mina answers much too enthusiastically. “everything’s so, so good actually. now that you’re here. i mean, because professor lee sent me here to find you. and i found you! so everything’s great. perfect, even.”

jiwoong chuckles, turning to you: a malicious glint in his eye. he bites his lip, one corner of his mouth upturning in a mocking smile. then, he turns back to mina before sitting down on the edge of the stage and hopping off. “you know, i really wish we could’ve worked together on this one, mona.”

“it’s mina,” you correct, tears prickling the corners of your eyes. yes, you could see very clearly now. this had all been a sick little game to jiwoong. and you’d fallen right into his trap. he knew you would.

“sure, whatever,” he says, dismissing you with a passive wave of his hand. throwing an arm around mina’s shoulder, jiwoong leads your best friend toward the side door of the auditorium that you’d entered through. “but, like i was saying... i think we’d have a lot of chemistry, muna. maybe you’d like to work more on developing that with me... outside of class?”

the door slams behind them, leaving you standing alone in the spotlight of center stage. your underwear is wet and uncomfortable; your heart races as you blink back tears. of course jiwoong would be cruel enough to use your best friend to deal the final blow.

and, though jiwoong had apparently studied this scene before, you hadn’t even memorized any of your lines.

yes, you’d let your guard down. but how were you supposed to know that something like that would happen? though jiwoong and his friends often made disparaging sexual remarks towards you, he wasn’t someone you thought would want to act on them. the biggest fear crosses your mind now: would he tell his stupid fucking friends about how much of a desperate whore you’d been for him just now?

mondays, you think. at least jiwoong would be out of your sight for another week after today. you walk to the steps at the side of the stage, following jiwoong and mina’s exit route.

at least you can hope that tuesday will be better.

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　

gender neutral version below

EXPLICIT SMUT 18+ WARNINGS: heavy petting (reader receiving), dub-con kind of sort of idk better safe than sorry, bullying, degrading sexual names.

*also want to say that reader plays juliet in a RANDOMLY ASSIGNED scene during class. other people in the fic are assigned parts that are a different gender than they are. just wanted to mention this just in case it makes anyone uncomfy!!

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　

all of your classmates begin to whisper loudly. several two-character scenes would undoubtedly include some romance. the thought made your head spin with anxiety.

your best friend mina softly kicks your foot with her’s. you turn to look at her, a stunning grin shining back at you.

“i hope i get paired with jiwoong oppa,” she says, giggling quietly.

skin perfect and glowing under his black, wire-framed glasses. tongue poking at his cheek in an arrogant smile.

staring right at you.

you immediately look back down at your lap, trying your best to appear unbothered by the bait that jiwoong’s hooked for you.

“i’ll be picking names out of this jar to assign parts completely at random and, from there, we’ll just jump right in,” professor lee explains as the chatter comes to a halt. “there’s props and minimal costume pieces in the storage closet at your disposal as usual.”

mina bounces her leg happily beside you, fingers crossed behind her chair for good luck. you shake your head sadly. the thing she’s wishing for is the thing you dread most.

there’s a chorus of teasing oooooh’s throughout the room, caroline and ichan shyly waving to each other until your professor holds up his hand for silence.

mina’s eyes light up at both the meaty assignment and the anticipation of who her scene partner will be.

“yijin-sshi,” he finishes.

the class giggles at the two sweet girls playing such contentious ex-lovers. mina sighs disappointedly and returns her attention to her shoes.

“our third scene will be from romeo and juliet,” professor lee calls, two slips of paper between his fingers. “reading for romeo, we’ll have… jiwoong-sshi.”

nearly everyone gasps in awe at the casting. how fitting of an actor for such a part! how did jiwoong always manage to get assigned the best roles? who will get to read for juliet?

“and the role of juliet will be played by… (y/n)-sshi.”

oh for f*ck’s sake. out of 19 possible partners, of course you’d end up having the terrible luck of being paired with kim jiwoong.

he licks his tongue lightly across his teeth like a predator taunting his prey. you were, for all intents and purposes, fucked.

professor lee finishes announcing the rest of the pairings before dismissing you to get to work on your scenes.

“i’m so jealous,” mina whines, stamping her foot cutely as she stands up from her chair. “are you gonna kiss him? if it’s in the scene?”

but mina did raise a good question that you hadn’t fully considered yet. just how romantic would the scene you’re assigned be?

“thinking about me?”

the voice comes from behind you, so close in proximity that it makes you jump. you stumble backwards, your back tapping against a solid surface.

looking over your shoulder, you recoil at the sight of kim jiwoong hovering over you, a shaky denial leaving your lips, “i w-wasn’t...”

“stage. duh,” jiwoong answers plainly, rounding the corner. “if we get there first, we get it all to ourselves and everyone else can fuck off.”

you gulp. you could barely survive jiwoong’s bullying in a crowded room. all alone with jiwoong— no witnesses to keep him at bay… you didn’t like the sound of it.

“look at you,” jiwoong says with a dark chuckle. “maybe you’re more coordinated than matthew lets on. should we keep testing that theory?”

jiwoong tosses your script (at your face) and it falls delicately to the ground in front of your feet. “aren’t you gonna pick that up?”

bending down carefully, you pick up your script and flip to the first page of dialogue. your hands are starting to tremble under the pressure of jiwoong’s piercing gaze.

“come here, we can do a cold read first,” he instructs, flipping open his own script. “follow stage directions, but we’ll iron them out later.”

you nod in complacency but stay exactly where you are beside the wall of the corner set— six safe feet away from kim jiwoong.

“seriously?” he asks, raising an eyebrow at you incredulously. “scared i’m gonna bite you?”

your lips part slightly at this remark. you hadn’t been scared of this before, but under the circumstances...

“or maybe you’re scared you’ll bite me,” jiwoong hums smugly. “think you might fall for me during our love scene? that’s almost unbearably pathetic.”

“please just read the script,” you reply quietly, gaze returning to your script. i am unbothered. i am in control of my own destiny, your therapist’s stupid affirmations ring through your head.

jiwoong stares at you for a moment and then, much to your surprise, he obliges.

why was this scene beginning to feel kind of... real?

“stop it,” you say through gritted teeth as he unsubtly eyes you up and down. you don’t care if he’s in character or not— he’s just trying to get under your skin. “stop doing that.”

he steps towards you, the air souring from the magnitude of his arrogance. “i don’t think that’s your line, now is it?”

it has to be.

jiwoong takes another step and then another, the distance between you diminishing rapidly.

“ooh, i like the creativity. but it’s still not your line,” he whispers, clucking his tongue in disappointment. “shouldn’t you be taking this a little more seriously, (y/n)-sshi? do you want us to both fail today’s assignment or something?”

but this is easily the meanest thing he’s ever done.

jiwoong exhales a mean laugh as he searches your eyes and easily finds what you’re so poorly trying to hide. maybe you really didn’t belong in advanced drama after all.

continuing his trail down the center of your chest and over your stomach, he breathes, “lest faith turn to despair.”

“jiwoongie,” you whisper, eyes locked on his hand just a couple inches from your clothed core. begging for him to stop; begging for him to start— it’s anyone’s guess. “you—... i—...”

you want to run away. you need to stay exactly where you are.

“saints—... saints do not move,” you manage to squeak. “though grant for prayers’ sake.”

“then move not,” jiwoong recites, his left hand finding your hip as he presses you up against the set piece behind you, “while my prayer’s effect i take.”

you don’t know how you’re still breathing as jiwoong’s hand finds it’s way between your legs. a whimper escapes you as you buck your hips slightly into his palm at the wave of arousal.

“that easy, baby? feel good?” jiwoong asks rhetorically, as if the growing volume of your mewls isn’t enough proof for him. “fuck, i’ve wanted to do this forever.”

“but—...y-you hate me,” you counter, grinding against his fingers again. jiwoong moans softly at your assertiveness, biting his bottom lip as he works you over.

“i don’t know what that has to do with wanting to fuck you,” he replies, attaching his lips to your collarbone as he starts to tug at your waistband. “really wanna fuck you.”

“huh. is that right?” he asks, grinning at your adorably innocent protest as he brings his left hand to fool with his belt buckle. “well, professor lee always says to lean into the scene. and you looked like you could use some leaning into.”

“i c-can’t believe i’m letting you do this,” you rasp, biting your bottom lip as the top button of jiwoong’s slacks comes undone.

“i can,” he grunts, gruff fingers pulling down his zipper. “fucking insufferable angel. was hoping you’d secretly be filthy like this. just for me though, right?”

“mm, whatever you say baby,” he coos mockingly, the sound of your moaning growing less concealable. “but you want my cock in you, yeah?”

“(y/n)!” a voice rings out from the house of the auditorium.

“jiwoong-sshi! (y/n)-sshi! time to get ready for performances!”

after running a smoothing hand across the top of your head for you, jiwoong suddenly pushes you out from behind the set piece you’re pressed up against. you stumble nervously onto center stage.

“oh,” mina replies with a small smile, probably happy that there’s still hope for her. “that’s too bad.”

and, though jiwoong had apparently studied this scene before, you hadn’t even memorized any of your lines.

mondays, you think. at least jiwoong would be out of your sight for another week after today. you walk to the steps at the side of the stage, following jiwoong and mina’s exit route.

at least you can hope that tuesday will be better.

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　

398 notes · View notes

userlando · 2 years ago

Note

bestie idk what would even be the plot of something like this but i have been Thinking Majorly abt carlos x reader x lando a lot recently... just wanted to let you know in case that mayhaps inspire you 👀

oh bestie you just unlocked something dangerous in my brain. I have no idea how to write threesomes because I’ve only ever done monogamous stuff but hope you like this lil blurb I cooked up for you & you only 🤍

generous (1.8k words) lando/carlos/fem!reader - this is nsfw, minors dni!!

It starts with a squirm. It’s innocuous and barely there but Carlos clocks it so fast. He’s so in tune with you and your mannerisms by now that he knows when something has struck a chord with you, feeling you shift a little where you’re laying against him on the sofa, and he watches your lips part in an innocent and quiet sigh. It almost sounds wistful to the untrained ear, but he can see your eyes flicker across the screen and his own ones dart to the television to look at what exactly has you so… riled up.

Oh. Of course. It’s a sex scene, a bad one at that and it has Carlos eyebrows lifting enough to crease the skin of his forehead. He refrains from smirking because he can feel the pads of your fingers stroking down his arm, almost subconsciously, feeling the hairs on his flesh as they map out a random path.

Lando clears his throat and the sound is so jarring in the quiet room that you jump a little, the both of you looking over at him. His eyes are fastened on the tv, but there’s a tenseness in his body that lets Carlos know that he’s anything but focused on what’s happening on the screen. That, along with a distinct flush on the apples of his cheeks and his fisted hand.

It makes something wicked flare up in the Spaniard’s chest, sliding his hands down your side where it had laid dormant and casual, slipping beneath the blanket he’d thrown over you when the three of you had sat down and decided on a movie.

You don’t say anything at first, nor do you react but he knows that you’ll soon shift your eyes and glance up at him questioningly. You do exactly that when he slips his hand to your lower stomach, under your t-shirt so he can feel the softness against his bare palm. He doesn’t look at you, but you’re staring up at his face, trying to figure out what the hell he’s doing because surely he’s not… Shit.

The sound you make in your throat is quiet, but it’s a whimper that sounds so loud in the room that you can feel your entire body flush warmly when Carlos successfully finds his way inside your shorts, fingers touching the slickness gathered between your thighs. He rubs one finger over your clit, gently and almost non-existent, but you react so beautifully that he can’t help but smirk when Lando shifts in his seat from the corner of his eye.

Carlos knows about your feelings for the Brit, it’s harmless and he’s secure enough in your relationship to feel anything but threatened. That’s why he’d barely reacted when you one day confessed, albeit a little drunkenly, that Lando was sexy. Your words, not his.

You hadn’t brought the subject up after that night, thinking and praying that Carlos had somehow forgotten you confessing your thoughts and feelings for his best friend. He’d certainly acted like it until a few days later after the Imola weekend where you’d stumbled into your hotel room after the club, a little buzzed and a whole lot of horny. He’d had his fingers deep inside you, worked you up to two orgasms and the third one took a little incentive. So, he’d very casually and calmly painted a pretty picture of Lando between your legs and Carlos in your throat, the filthy words whispered in your ear. You’d screamed your orgasm that night.

You suck in a breath between your teeth when your boyfriend slicks his fingers up further and rubs circles where you’re the most sensitive, squirming in his hold and your heart jumps when he takes pity on you, sliding one finger into you. He almost groans at how easily it goes in, daring to add a second finger right after because he knows how achy you must be right now. It’s written all over your face, your hands gripping his shirt as you push conspicuously into his moving fingers.

“She’s pretty, isn’t she?” Carlos asks and you blink your eyes open, confused and a little hazy until you realise that he’s not even talking to you.

Your eyes flick to Lando sitting by your feet like you'd forgotten that he was sitting there - awake, body seizing up in slight panic when you find his eyes already looking at you. The tips of his ears are red, and his mouth drops open like he wants to answer but he can’t find the right words, closing it mutely.

He guiltily looks away before looking back at Carlos, frown marring his face when he realises he’s been caught ogling his girlfriend.

“I’m—“ he stops, like he doesn’t know what to say. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay, cabrón.” You can’t see your boyfriend’s face but you can easily hear the smugness in his voice as he speeds up the movement of his fingers. “She’s beautiful, I can’t blame you for looking.”

If you were of sound mind, you’d probably have sat up and slapped his hand away, even scold him. But you can’t lie to yourself, can’t say that you haven’t been fantasising about a scenario like this. Carlos clearly knows it, because even though you haven’t expressed the extent of your desires, he reads you like a book.

And he would be a damned liar if he said that he hadn’t thought of you and his best friend together. It was probably sick and a little twisted, but there was something about it that got him off.

“Maybe I should…” Lando trails off when Carlos curls his fingers, making you stutter out a filthy moan as your stomach starts getting tied up in knots.

He stares and you stare back, because fuck you can’t look away from the brightness of his eyes, how his pupils have blown out in what you can only describe as sheer and utter arousal.

“Are you close, mi amor?” Carlos whispers against the side of your head and you nod with a small keen, feeling his lips twitch against your temple in what you can only assume is a smile.

The smug son of a bitch is having the time of his life and you grip his arm that’s working between your legs when you feel yourself climbing closer to the edge, breaths coming out laboured and messed up. Like you’re sucking for air but can’t quite get enough in your lungs.

The sounds you make are so mesmerising to Lando that he can’t help but stare, clenching his hands in his lap in a poor attempt to shield his half-hard cock from your eyes but he knows the gesture is futile. He’s so entranced by the way you’re looking at him through hooded eyes that he completely misses Carlos’ question aimed at him, only coming to when your eyes flicker up to your boyfriend, breaking the trance he’d found himself in.

“Do you think I should let her come?” Carlos asks again, face so hard to read that it should scare Lando but if he squinted hard enough he can almost see the hidden amusement in his eyes. Or maybe it’s wishful thinking from Lando’s part.

Lando all of a sudden feels overwhelmed, looking down at where you’ve managed to slide onto your back, head resting on your boyfriend’s lap and legs splayed out underneath the blanket. He has a fleeting thought of ripping it off so he could see exactly what Carlos’ fingers are doing to you, but the situation is so bizarre and odd that he doesn’t even know what would be considered crossing a line.

He doesn’t dare to make a move, in fear of abruptly ending whatever this was, but then you open your mouth around a breathless moan and Lando’s hand shoots to cup over his cock; like the mere sound of you hurt him.

Carlos’ eyebrows jump in amusement, staring at his friend with that doe-eyed, vacant look he always holds and Lando almost looks away from the intensity of it.

“Please, please, Carlos.” You plead, grabbing at his arm just to have something to hold on to as your stomach starts coiling, on the brink of an explosive orgasm.

Carlos sucks his teeth, and the sound of it is disapproving enough for you to whine because you know what it means without him having to utter a word. No, you’re not allowed to come.

“I’m not the one you should be asking, nena.” He chastises you, eyes flicking up to the man sitting on the other side of the sofa. “Así que?”

Lando’s Spanish is limited, but it’s clear what Carlos is expecting of him by the tone of his voice and a zip of excitement shoots down his spine when he realises that his friend is handing him the reigns to something he holds so dear. He’d seen Carlos chew out men for even disrespecting you in the past, and he knows how wildly protective Carlos is of you.

His eyes slide down to where you’re writhing, thighs closing and hips pushing up as you’re getting close. He wants to see you come undone but when he opens his mouth, the complete opposite comes tumbling out.

“No.” His voice is hoarse, loud and you whine when Carlos stops the movements of his hand, like he had been expecting Lando to respond in the negative.

Lando is sitting close enough to hear the slick sound as Carlos pulls his fingers out of you, and his hand squeezes himself through his sweatpants subconsciously.

“Lo lamento, amor. If Lando says no then it’s a no.” He says with no real regret in his voice, and it makes you scowl a bit.

Lando can’t help but almost smile in amusement, thinking that you look adorable as you’re pouting with that wild look in your eyes. He’s so preoccupied with the way you’re glaring and huffing at the both of them that he misses Carlos holding up two fingers to your mouth. It’s only when you begrudgingly and shyly open your mouth that he realises that those fingers were just inside of you, heart speeding up when the light of the television catches the slick on his fingers. Fuck.

He watches you suck on Carlos’ fingers, humming and moaning like you’re tasting something so magnificent and Lando makes a noise before he could stop it. The sound catches Carlos’ attention, causing him to look up from you to his friend.

“She tastes very good.” He said, conversationally and Lando struggles to keep his eyes from bugging. “Don’t you, nena?”

The last question is directed at you and you nod shyly, never taking your eyes off of Carlos. He strokes his other hand over your head lovingly and bends to kiss your mouth.

Lando watches silently, feeling a little like an outsider but he can’t keep his eyes off of the slip and slide of your tongues against each other. It’s like watching a train wreck, you just can’t look away from it even if you tried.

He almost feels like passing out, blood rushing to his nether regions when Carlos parts with a slick sound; licking his lower lip as he glances at Lando.

“Do you wanna taste her?”

sorry for stopping at literally the worst time but i had to contain myself or we'd end up with 5k of smut 🫣 so um, hope you liked that. please don't hesitate to send me anything, i'd be happy to write blurbs and stuff! x

#carlos sainz jr #lando norris #carlos sainz jr x lando norris x reader #carlos sainz jr x female reader #lando norris x reader #f1 fics #f1 smut #blurb #f1 blurb #carlos sainz jr smut #lando norris smut #zee's asks 💌

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