#from a writing perspective this is just annoying and frustrating

[lakemichigans]

you can't research shit anymore without google plastering the suicide hotline above every article and only showing you web pages from rehab facilities that never go into detail about anything because you have to pay for that shit 🙄

[sistersavelorn]

They're like an old married couple

[j-esbian]

love being told that the tenuous grasp i thought i had on the social landscape is, once again, completely wrong

[sebscore]

ARE WE STILL FRIENDS?

pairings: f1 grid x driver!reader (she/her pronouns)

warnings: angst. angst. angst. swearing. like a lot of swearing. i cannot write crashes/contact for the life of me. argument. lando and reader are assholes in this. 

author's note: dont even ask me why i wrote this, i got inspired and needed it out of my system. lol. 

masterlist

''Retire the car. Too much damage. Sorry, Y/N.'' Marco informed her over the radio, sounding frustrated and apologetic over her already finished race. 

The driver took a deep breath before answering. ''Too bad, it was going well. Thanks, guys.'' 

Her race had in fact been going well. She'd made a great start going from P4 to P2, and had managed to keep up with the Red Bull of Max. They weren't even halfway in the race or Lando tried overtaking her, causing contact, causing her to run off in the gravel with too much trouble on the car to continue. 

In her opinion, it had been reckless. The McLaren driver knew exactly she would end up being forced off the track by the overtake, and that her race would most likely be over because of it. 

As she trudged back to the garage, helmet in hand, she could barely contain her frustration. The team greeted her with sympathetic looks, but she didn't stop to talk to anyone. She headed straight for her driver's room, needing a moment to cool off before she could face the media. 

Her hands trembled with anger as she peeled off her gloves, tossing them onto a nearby chair. The season hadn't been going how she had hoped or even expected it to go. Last year she had been the vice World Champion, the undisputed second-best driver on the grid, the only one to essentially have been able to challenge Max's dominance. Now, she got lucky to even end up in the top five of a race. Her team's design of the car hadn't been meeting the expectations the engineers had set, and upgrades weren't helping in the way they had hoped. 

That is why this race weekend had been a great boost for the team's morale and confidence. Qualifying had gone really well, and for a moment they were able to fight for the win even. But the papaya car of No. 4 had shoved their hopes down the drain. 

Minutes later, there was a knock on the door. She turned to see Marco standing there, looking concerned. ''You okay?'' 

''Have I ever been okay,'' she remarked, a sarcastic chuckle leaving her lips. ''I'm just pissed, that's all. I had high hopes for today.'' 

''We all did,'' he smiled sadly. ''The stewards reviewed the incident, but he, uh, didn't get a penalty.'' He said softly, almost as if he was afraid of her reaction.

The young woman let out a bitter laugh. ''Of course he didn't, why would he?'' Her hands covered her face, briefly wiping off the sweat that had formed. 

Marco took a step closer, his expression a mix of empathy and disappointment. ''You drove brilliantly out there. Everyone saw it. The team saw it. It's just... racing politics sometimes.'' 

She dropped her hands, meeting his eyes with a mixture of anger and resignation. ''It's always like that, though. It's always the same drivers suffering the consequences of others, and they don't get shit for it. It is fucking annoying.'' 

Her engineer nodded, understanding everything she was saying. ''I know, we all know. But we keep fighting. We keep pushing. This season isn't over yet.'' 

''Yeah, true.'' She sighed. 

Marco gave her a reassuring smile. ''We'll be ready for the next race. We're all in this together, okay? We're all behind you.'' 

She nodded, feeling a small measure of comfort in his words. ''Thanks, I appreciate it.'' They shared a quick embrace, before he left to join the team again. Meanwhile she got herself ready to go to the media pen. As much as she wanted to hide away, she knew it was part of the job. 

Since she had an early exit, there wasn't much activity inside the area, though there were a bunch of reporters waiting for her. 

''Y/N, tough race today. Can you tell us what happened from your perspective?'' The reporter asked after briefly greeting her. 

''Yeah, it was, uh, challenging, I guess,'' she plastered a smile on her face. ''We had a great start, moving up to P2 and keeping pace with Max. Then, yeah, the contact with Lando. The car had a bunch of damage, and we decided to just retire the car.'' 

''Do you think it was a fair move by him?'' He followed up. 

She paused, weighing her response. ''Racing is always intense, especially at this level. I don't think it was the right move to make, but the stewards saw it as a racing incident.  I'll respect their decision, but it doesn't make it any less frustrating.'' 

''You and Lando are good friends, and have been racing against each other since your karting days. Will you talk to him afterwards or just forget about it?'' 

They had expected a question like this, so the media-trained answer came out very quickly. ''It was deemed a racing incident, so there is not much to say further about it.'' 

''How do you and your team plan to bounce back from this setback?'' The reporter for Sky Sports changed the topic. 

''We'll regroup and come back stronger,'' she answered, injecting as much determination into her voice as she could muster. ''This season has been tough, but my team and I are committed to pushing forward. We learn from every race, and today is no different.'' 

''That's great, thank you, Y/N.'' They wrapped up the interview, and she moved onto a new one. 

Once she had spoken to everyone she needed to speak to, she finally had a moment to herself. She knew the words she had just spoken were the right ones, but they did little to soothe the turmoil inside her. 

It didn't help that Lando managed to take the lead, and eventually get his first win. As she watched the remainder of the race from the sidelines, her emotions were all over the place. On the one hand, she was proud of her friend for finally making his dream come true. However, it had come at the expense of her race. She had pushed so hard this season, and to see her friend and rival celebrate his triumph while she stood there with nothing but frustration was almost unbearable. 

The cheers from the McLaren garage echoed in her ears. They celebrated wildly, the joy of his long-awaited victory palpable even from a distance. He was swarmed by his team as they shouted his name. 

The podium ceremony was even worse. As Lando stood on the top step, the British national anthem playing in the background, she couldn't help but replay the moment that had ended her race. She could see the excitement in his eyes, the genuine happiness that came with achieving a lifelong dream. But all she could think about was the contact, the gravel trap, and the wrecked potential of what could have been her race. 

Under any other circumstance, she would have been there for him. She would have run to the ceremony herself, just like he had done for her when she got her first win in F1 and made history as the first woman to do so. But it just stung too deep. 

''Lando, there was an incident with Y/N that resulted in her retiring from the race. Can you tell us what happened there?'' The Dutch reporter asked the race winner. 

Lando's expression shifted slightly, the euphoria dimming just a bit. ''Uh, yeah. I saw a gap and went for it. It was a tight move, and unfortunately, it led to some contact. But that's racing, you know.'' 

''Have you spoken to her yet?'' 

''Not yet,'' he admitted. ''But I don't think there is much to talk about.'' He chuckled, quickly glancing sideways, but his laugh seemed forced.

''She told Sky Sports that she didn't think you made the right move there.'' The journalist said, instigating a headline for them to be able to use. 

Lando frowned at his words, but recovered. ''Well, that's her opinion. It was just racing for me.'' 

''So you don't regret making the move?'' The reporter pressed on. 

The Brit took a deep breath before answering. ''I regret that it ended her race. But as a racer, you have to take chances. It's a fine line, you know.''

The older man in front of him nodded at his response, knowing they had gotten a glimpse of the tension that was present between the fan-favorite duo. ''Thank you, Lando. Congratulations again.'' 

''Thank you.'' 

With that, the interview wrapped up, and Lando moved onto the next reporter. As he walked away, he couldn't shake the feeling of unease. He didn't think he had done anything wrong, so why was everyone talking to him as if he had done something wrong? 

Y/N was struggling to unwind. The events of the day played over and over in her mind, each replay more frustrating than the last. She tried to distract herself by either watching some TikToks or TV, but nothing could drown out her thoughts. The texts from her friends, family and team certainly didn't help. It was a nice gesture, but she didn't want to think about the race anymore and the messages weren't helping. Finally, she decided to call it a night and climbed into bed, hoping sleep would offer some respite. 

Just as she was starting to drift off, another knock on the door interrupted her thoughts. It was unusual for someone to bother her this late, especially when she was winding down in her hotel room.

She frowned and got out of bed, opening the door to find Lando standing there, wearing his signature grin, acting nonchalant as ever. ''You wanna come celebrate with us? We rented a club.'' 

Y/N frowned at him, confused over his casual behavior. ''No.'' She scoffed, offended by the mere thought. 

It was now Lando's turn to frown at his friend. ''Why?'' 

She crossed her arms, incredulous at his obliviousness. ''Why? Are you taking the fucking piss out of me or something.'' 

His grin faltered slightly, but he tried to maintain his composure. ''If this is about the racing incident then you're being ridiculous.'' 

Her eyes widened in disbelief, her frustration boiling over. ''I am being ridiculous? You were ridiculous with that move you pulled!'' She retorted, raising her voice. ''You ran me off the track knowing how hard this season has fucking been for me. You know how much I needed a good result today and you ruined it for me!'' 

''Y/N, I get that you're upset, but it's racing. These things are bound to happen. I saw a gap and I went for it. The stewards didn't even penalize me, so clearly, it wasn't as bad as you're making it out to be.'' He was restraining from rolling his eyes, she could tell. 

She scoffed, shaking her head. ''Oh, so now you're agreeing with the stewards? Now that it is benefitting you? And there was no fucking gap, you were just being selfish. You knew what you were doing, and you didn't care how it would affect me.'' 

Lando's face hardened, his patience wearing thin. ''I didn't do it on purpose to screw you over, where the fuck are you getting that from? I saw an opportunity, and I took it. That's what we do out there. You know that better than anyone." 

''If that opportunity was ruining my fucking race, then yeah, you really took the opportunity, Norris.'' She rolled her eyes, voice tinged with sarcasm. 

He took a step closer, his frustration now matching hers. ''I'm sorry that you didn't get the result you wanted today, I really am. But I am not going to apologize for racing and doing my job, Y/N.'' 

She simply glared at him, disappointed in how he was acting towards her. They'd never really had an argument before, at least not one where they couldn't see each other's point. They'd been frustrated with each other before, but it was always in reason. 

''If anything, I should be angry with you- not the other way.'' Lando suddenly said. 

''Why's that?'' She sneered, almost in disbelief that he would have a valid reason. 

''Because you didn't even have the fucking guts to congratulate me,'' he snapped back, ''when you won Silverstone, I was literally one of the first people to hug you and congratulate you for your win. I stood next to your fucking parents, Y/N! And today you didn't even bother doing anything.'' 

Her mouth fell open, a mix of shock and anger flooding her veins. ''You are unbelievable… You ruined my fucking race, Lando! How am I supposed to stand there and cheer for you when you cost me everything today?'' 

He rolled his eyes while throwing up his hands. ''This isn't just about today. You're just jealous because my season has been going so much better than yours. You can't fucking stand that for one time I'm doing actually better than you.'' 

''Jealous… of you?'' The words came out like laughter, slightly hurting the McLaren driver's ego. ''You think I can't be happy for you because I'm not doing as well? That's so low, Lando.'' 

''Ever since the start of the season you've been so moody and distant, and now you can't even say or even fucking text me a congratulations for my first win. You're so pissed that I got a win before you this season, you can't even hide it.'' He shot back. 

''Oh, give me a break. Like you wouldn't act the same if you were getting all these shit results. Maybe I didn't congratulate you because I was too busy trying to scrape gravel out of my fucking tires.'' She remarked, throwing in the sarcastic comment. 

Lando looked unimpressed by her remark. ''You're just mad cause I'm outshining you. You can't fucking stand that I'm getting all the attention.'' 

''Outshining me? Are you hearing yourself?'' She mocked him, laughing bitterly. ''You get one win and you're acting like you're a fucking World Champion already. You've been riding Max's dick these last years hoping some of his success will rub off on you. Newsflash Norris, everyone is just fucking laughing at you.'' 

His face turned red, either embarrassment or anger. ''At least I'm not constantly whining about my car and blaming everyone else for my problems. Maybe if you spent more time focusing on your driving and less on complaining, you'd have more to celebrate.'' 

''You're a fucking spoiled brat who can't stand some competition. You think everything should be handed to you on a silver platter.'' She retorted. 

''And you're a fucking baby who throws a temper tantrum everytime you don't get what you want. It's time to fucking grow up, Y/N!'' He shouted, his voice rising with each word. 

She took a step closer to him. ''You should spend less time trying to prove yourself to people who don't give a shit about you, and more time trying to be a decent fucking human being. I'm ashamed to call you one of my best friends.'' 

That last sentence had clearly hit a nerve or several nerves. He shook his head, taking a few steps back. ''Fuck you, Y/N. Enjoy your pity party.'' Lando turned and walked away, joining his friends who were waiting in the lobby. 

She watched him go, her chest heaving with a mix of anger and heartbreak. She could feel the pulse of her racing heart, the adrenaline from their argument making her feel jittery and unsteady. 

A lump formed in her throat as she replayed the last few minutes in her mind. She cringed internally at the words she had fired at Lando, while also trying to ignore the sting from his own harsh words. She wondered how they would be able to come back from this. They had never been in a situation like this before, and she knew that she would never want to be in this situation again. 

The young woman knew that she had let her emotions get the best of her. She had always prided herself on being fair and understanding, but now she felt ashamed of herself. 

Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of another door opening. George peeked out, concern etched on his face. ''Y/N, you okay?'' 

She shook her head, not wanting to deal with anyone else. ''Mind your business, Russell.'' She retreated back into her room, not before slamming the door behind her. 

As she leaned against the closed door, the weight of the evening pressed down on her. The room felt too small, her emotions too big. She slid down to the floor, pulling her knees to her chest, and let the tears she had been holding back finally fall.

Even when she finally got up, even when she tucked herself in again for the final time, and even when she tossed and turned the entire night, the same question lingered in her mind. 

Are they still friends? 

The question haunted her, gnawing at her thoughts every time she closed her eyes. She replayed the argument over and over, dissecting every word, every expression. The hurt in his eyes, the anger in his voice- it all felt so raw and irreversible. 

As the hours dragged on, sleep remained elusive. The darkness of the room mirrored the uncertainty in her heart. She knew they both needed time to cool off, to reflect, but the thought of facing Lando again filled her with dread.

The first light of dawn began to seep through the curtains, and she felt no more at ease than she had the night before. 

Are they still friends? 

story ideas are always welcome, but remember that it can take a while for me to get to it! :)

[peaktora]

—ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ 𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐒 * ˚ ✦ : the ( weirdly comforting ) aftermath of arguments with sae itoshi

arguments. they’re the inevitable part of any bond—any relationship, since no two people are exactly the same. however, the word "arguement" isn't the right word to describe what you and sae do. you prefer to call them disagreements.

sure, you've had your share of back and forth nonsense. but they were never anything that ended in yelling or insults. you both make it a habit of keeping your tone nice and leveled when you’re “arguing”. and on the rare times when your tone does slip up? raises a pitch or two higher? sae makes it a rule not to match it. you’ve never once allowed a difference in opinions or perspectives turn into something uglier than they needed to be.

and for that, you’re thankful.

because just over an hour ago, you and sae had a disagreement revolving around an approach his marketing team was taking. you wanted him to consider a different approach than what his team recommended—something that (as it turned out), he wasn’t willing to budge on.

but now, instead of sitting in your frustration, you’re peacefully curled up on the couch. your knees are bent and angled sideways, feet tucked up underneath you, and a blanket is pulled up to your chin as you aimlessly scroll through your phone.

it’s only been an hour, and yet, the details of the disagreement are already starting to blur in your mind.

a sudden—click—is what makes you stop scrolling.

the tv flickers on.

you slowly blink away from your phone, turning your head just enough to look at the presence in front of you.

“oh, hey,” you murmur, slipping your hand out from beneath the blanket and giving him a small wave with your fingers.

sae doesn’t answer right away. he sighs before anything else, running a hand through his hair.

“move,” he mumbles, nudging your foot with his knee. “you’re on my side of the couch.”

you don’t move, you frown. “you’ve got the whole bedroom to yourself. let me have this.”

he sighs again—this one a little more amused than annoyed—and goes to lower himself onto the couch anyway. but with the way you’re curled so comfortably into the corner, there’s not much space leftover. so, he wedges himself beside you, thigh pressed flush against yours. all as if the couch is somehow smaller than it actually is.

and clearly, he’s uncomfortable.

you don’t say anything about the sight. you simply lift up the edge of your blanket.

a minute or two passes. by now, your arm is starting to ache from holding up the blanket. but just as you’re about to drop it and take back the silent invitation, he finally moves. without a word, he ducks underneath the blanket and instinctively settles at your side.

thank you so so much angel { @bestboileeknow } for requesting ! i had a lot of fun writing this

[sunsetcupid]

BED CHEM ; IH6.

synopsis: A fic about Isack Hadjar and his girlfriend, Y/N L/N, who decides to ask him about his opinion on threesomes.

trigger warnings: Use of Y/N; Use of feminine pronouns from the reader’s perspective; Mentions of threesomes; Use of swear words in English and French; Descriptions of romantic acts and behaviors; Suggestive remarks

a message from the author: This is spicier than my previous fics have been; however, I do not write smut. It’s not something I’m comfortable with. Therefore, this fic does involve a sex-related topic, but it is just the discussion surrounding it. No smut is found in here. There are other authors on Tumblr that write it, and I respect them for being able to do so, but I will not be one of them. Thank you!

If there was one fun fact about yourself that you wished you could broadcast to the world without fear of retribution, it would be that you loved to cuddle with your boyfriend. Isack was a little bit shorter than you were — something he would never admit to — but he was the best big spoon you could ask for. He was like an athletic teddy bear with a penchant for swearing colorfully in French.

You rubbed your eyes, tossing fitfully in the bed you shared with your boyfriend, who was diligently studying the next lip sync video that VCARB wanted him to complete. A frustrated groan escaped your lips as you attempted to find another comfortable position and nearly elbowed Isack in his stomach.

Though the bed was comfortably large, Isack had a tendency to stretch out like a starfish, legs and arms splaying out everywhere, even in your portion of the bed. Amused, you poked at his muscled thigh under the blanket, waiting to see his reaction. He looked up from his phone, pausing the video so he wouldn’t lose his place.

“Yes?” Isack asked, quirking one eyebrow. He wasn’t annoyed, just confused. “Is everything OK, Y/N?”

You shook your head, forcing back a grin as you flopped over on your side. “I’m fine. Go back to memorizing your terribly important overused TikTok audio.”

“Ma chérie, I would be extremely foolish if I trusted you right now. I can tell you’re lying.” Isack put his phone down on the nightstand, tugging you closer to him. His body heat billowed out, making you feel like you were melting inside a sauna. “What’s on your mind?”

“I’m being serious.” You stuck your tongue out, making him roll his eyes and playfully flick you on your nose. It was a habit of his; he claimed it was something his father used to do to him, and he liked sharing it with you. “There’s nothing wrong, Isack, I swear. Don’t pay attention to me.”

Isack huffed, suddenly caging you in with his strong biceps. He didn’t apply much pressure, but the air was still choked out of your lungs because of how surprised you were. All those hours at the gym lifting weights had not been useless, you thought happily. You quite liked his biceps; they were squishy but firm, and — holy shit, you were going crazy. Apparently you had less oxygen in your lungs than you thought. “I won’t let go until you tell me.” Isack informed you, adjusting his position so it was more efficient at making you surrender. “Now will you listen to me and tell me what’s bothering you? You’ve been flipping around as if you are a dead fish for over an hour now.”

You scrabbled at his arms, but he was telling the truth; his grip on you was too secure. “What’s your opinion on threesomes?” you blurted out a moment later when you realized escape was futile. Embarrassment and regret immediately washed over you, especially since you knew what expressions he must be making. The fact that you could not see Isack’s face was inconsequential.

Confusion. Then horror. A beat passed, then two, as Isack tried to make sense of what you had asked.

“Q…Quoi? Am I doing something wrong?” Isack loosened his vise on you, allowing you to wiggle out and finally breathe unrestrictedly. “Why are you mentioning this to me? Did last night not satisfy you?”

“It did! I’m not…You’re more than fine, I just…” You trailed off, waiting for air to refill your lungs. “I wanted to know your thoughts.”

Isack bit his lip, his tooth peeking out. “Am I not pleasuring you well when we…?” He implored you with wide brown eyes, a moment away from breaking into tears. The sight made your heart crumble. Oh God, forgive me for making Isack upset, you bemoaned internally. “I thought you were happy with me. I didn’t know you weren’t, and I’m sorry for not paying enough attention to you to realize. Je suis désolé.”

You bolted up, almost breaking Isack’s nose in the process, and winced. “Oh. My. God. Isack. I am! I am happy with you! It was just a question! Why would you think I wasn’t happy with you?”

“Are you sure?” Isack was still worried. “If you need someone else to pleasure you, then I am not doing my job right. Why are you asking if this is not true?”

You palmed your forehead. “I’m more than satisfied! I swear on my soul — if I have one, which I do —, I very much do not want a threesome.” Your nose crinkled as you imagined how it would play out. Isack would be possessive, and rightfully so. And whoever the other man was? He wouldn’t be half as good as your boyfriend was. “Other men are disgusting, and I don’t know any women who would want to join in.”

Isack scoffed. “Men are disgusting? Merci beaucoup, Y/N.”

“I said, ‘other men’! You’re actually pretty hygienic,” you retorted defensively. “I only brought this up because the book I’m reading…It has a threesome in it. I thought it was really sexy. Also, you’re French, and a ménage à trois is as French as croissants or the Eiffel Tower.” And you were curious to see what his perspective was, but it was not going well!

“Well,” Isack blew out a breath, pondering. “It’s fine for other people, I guess. They can do what they want. I am not involved; it is their business to deal with. But I’m not interested in that for me. For us. You’re everything I need, and anyways, I don’t want to share you. Je t’aime absolument putain, OK?”

You kissed him on his forehead. “I understand, Isack. I love you too, and I hope you know I was not asking for one.”

“Good.” Isack touched your chin, his eyes searching yours. “Now can I get back to that video, or are you going to ask me any more questions?”

Credits: Dividers — @dollywons

[bettys-redwinesupernova]

ALL MINE

rafe cameron x fem!reader

SUMMARY: rafe has to give his bratty gf an attitude adjustment. maybe a little teasing should work?

based on this ask !! i hope this is what you asked for anon, this didn’t turn out exactly how i anticipated, but i am still a little rusty with writing smut and i keep getting second-hand embarrassment writing it, HELP-😭 i also wrote in second person perspective for a change? i’m not too sure how to feel about it, and i may rewrite this in the future but for now, i hope you enjoy <3

WARNINGS: smut (18+ MDNI!), oral (fem!receiving), cursing, use of ‘good girl,’ manhandling, unprotected p in v (wrap that weiner guys🙄), dom!rafe, brat!reader, fingering, teasing, orgasm denial, slight overstimulation(?). (lmk if i missed anything!)

WORD COUNT: 1.7k

SECOND PERSON +

The clock ticks relentlessly on the wall, each second dragging you further into the simmering tension that has been brewing all day. You glance at Rafe, his dark eyes fixed on you with a mix of frustration and something else—something deeper, hotter, that makes your stomach twist. He leans back in his chair, one arm draped casually over the backrest, his shirt tauntingly tight across his broad chest. His jaw is set, but there's a glint in his eye that tells you he's not just annoyed—he's enjoying this.

"You've been pushing it all damn day," he says, his voice low and smooth, like honey laced with something sharp. "I let it slide because I thought you'd come around. But no, here you are. Being a fucking brat."

You shift uncomfortably on the couch, trying to ignore the way his words make your skin prickle. "I didn't ask for a lecture," you mutter, crossing your arms defensively. But even as the words leave your mouth, you know you're digging yourself deeper into whatever he's got planned.

Rafe's lips curl into a half-smile, slow and calculated. "Oh, baby," he says, his tone dripping with mock sweetness. "This isn't a lecture. This is a lesson. And trust me, you're going to learn tonight."

Your heart skips a beat, and you can feel the heat rising in your cheeks. Something about the way he says it, the way he's looking at you like he owns you, sends a shiver down your spine. You open your mouth to protest, but he cuts you off before you can say anything.

"Stand up," he commands, his voice firm but still carrying that dangerous edge.

You hesitate, torn between defiance and the pull of him. But before you can make up your mind, his hand shoots out, gripping your wrist tightly enough to make you gasp. He pulls you to your feet, his touch sending sparks racing through your veins.

"That wasn't a suggestion," he growls, his face inches from yours. "You've been acting out all day, and now you're going to deal with the consequences."

You swallow hard, feeling suddenly very small under his intense gaze. "What are you going to do?" you whisper, your voice trembling despite your best efforts to stay strong.

Rafe smirks, his free hand trailing lazily down your arm until it comes to rest on your hip. "Let's start with this," he says, his fingers curling around the waistband of your jeans. Without warning, he yanks them down, along with your underwear, leaving you exposed and vulnerable in nothing but your shirt.

Your breath catches in your throat as he steps back, taking in the sight of you standing there, completely bare except for the thin fabric of your top. He doesn't waste any time. Before you can react, he's kneeling in front of you, his hands cupping your ass roughly as his mouth descends on your core.

Oh God. The sensation of his tongue flicking against your clit is electric, sending waves of pleasure crashing through you. You grip the back of his head, your nails digging into his scalp as he works you with expert precision. His tongue is relentless, exploring every inch of you, driving you closer and closer to the edge.

But just as you think you might actually lose it, he stops. Abruptly. Your body jerks forward in protest, but he holds you steady, his hands firm on your hips.

"No," he says simply, his voice calm but assertive. "Not yet."

You groan in frustration, your legs trembling from the effort of staying upright. "Rafe, please," you beg, your voice cracking. "I need... I need—"

"You need to apologise," he interrupts, standing up and stepping back to look at you. "For being such a brat today. For treating me like shit when I was just trying to take care of you. So, tell me, sweetheart. Are you sorry?"

His eyes burn into yours, and you can feel the pressure building inside you, threatening to explode. You nod quickly, desperate to get him to finish what he started. "Yes, I'm sorry," you gasp. "I'm so sorry, Rafey. Please, just let me—"

"Not good enough," he says, cutting you off again. "Say it again, but this time, mean it."

You close your eyes, trying to gather your thoughts, but the way he's looking at you, the way his presence dominates the room, makes it nearly impossible. "I'm sorry," you repeat, louder this time. "I'm really sorry, Rafey. I didn't mean to be so... so difficult. Please, just let me—"

He kneels down again, his hands sliding up your thighs until they reach your waist. "Okay," he murmurs, his voice low and intimate. "But first, you need to be reminded of who you belong to."

Your whole body goes rigid, but before you can respond, he's already moving. His fingers press firmly against your clit, rubbing in slow, deliberate circles that send shivers of anticipation through you. He knows exactly how to touch you, exactly how to drive you wild without letting you go over the edge.

Rafe's hands wrap around your hips, steadying you as his lips press against your trembling core once again. The sensation is overwhelming, a burst of warmth that sends shivers through your body. His tongue moves with precision, flicking across your sensitive flesh, and you gasp, your legs threatening to give out completely.

"You're mine," he murmurs against you, his voice low and possessive. "All mine."

His words send a thrill through you, making your breath hitch. You clutch at his shoulders, desperate for something to hold onto as the pleasure builds like a storm inside you. His mouth is relentless, his tongue devouring you with an intensity that leaves no room for thought, only sensation.

"Rafe," you moan, your voice shaky and pleading. "Please... I need—"

He pulls back slightly, looking up at you with those dark, intense eyes. "You'll get what you need, love," he says, his tone dripping with dominance. "But, you have to prove it to me."

Your heart pounds in your chest as you stare down at him, your mind spinning. Prove what? You don't have to ask; you already know. He wants you to show him how much you want this, how much you want him. And god, you do. You've never wanted anything more.

"I'm sorry," you whisper, your voice barely audible over the pounding of your pulse. "I'm sorry for acting out. I didn't mean to... I just..."

He tilts his head, waiting for you to finish, his gaze unwavering.

"I just needed you," you admit finally, your cheeks burning with embarrassment. "I needed to feel you close, to know you were still here."

His expression softens slightly, but there's still an edge of command in his eyes. "Good girl," he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your thigh. "Now, you’re gonna’ keep being a good girl and take what I give you."

Before you can process his words, he stands, lifting you effortlessly and carrying you to the bed. He sets you down gently, his hands lingering on your waist as he towers over you, his shadow casting a cool darkness over your heated skin.

"Spread your legs," he commands, his voice firm but not unkind.

You obey without hesitation, your body craving his touch like a drug. He kneels between your thighs, his broad chest rising and falling with each deep breath as he tugs his shorts and boxers down to his thighs. His gaze locks onto yours, sending a shiver down your spine.

"Tell me you're ready," he says, his voice low and demanding.

"I'm ready," you breathe, your voice trembling with anticipation. "Please, Rafe... Fuck, I'm ready."

His lips curl into a smirk, and he leans down, his hands sliding beneath your thighs to lift them higher. His fingers trail along the inside of your legs, setting off sparks of desire with every touch. You squirm beneath him, desperate for more, for everything.

And then, finally, he pushes into you.

The sensation is overwhelming, a perfect blend of pain and pleasure that sends a cry tearing from your throat. He pauses, giving you a moment to adjust to his thick length, his eyes locked onto yours as he fills you completely.

"Fuck, you feel so good," he groans, his voice raw with desire. "So tight... so fucking perfect."

You cling to him, your nails digging into his shoulders as he begins to move, slow and deliberate at first, then gradually picking up speed. Each thrust is precise, hitting all the right spots, driving you closer and closer to the edge.

"Rafe," you gasp, your voice breaking as the pleasure builds. "God, Rafe, I can't—"

"Can't what?" he asks, his voice rough with control. "Say it, love."

"I can't hold on," you cry out, your body arching against him as waves of ecstasy crash over you. "I can't take it anymore. Please, Rafe, let me come. Please!"

He smirks, his grip tightening on your hips as he drives into you harder, faster. "That's my girl," he murmurs, his voice filled with pride. "Let it go. Let me feel you fall apart."

And then, with one final, powerful thrust from Rafe, you do.

The orgasm hits you like a tidal wave, crashing over you with relentless force. Your body shudders beneath him, your cries echoing through the room as release consumes you entirely. Rafe doesn't stop, doesn't slow down, pushing you further until you're nothing but a trembling, incoherent mess beneath him.

Finally, when you've had enough, when you feel like you can't possibly take another second, he withdraws, collapsing beside you on the bed. He pulls you into his arms, cradling you against his chest as your breathing slowly returns to normal.

"Shh," he murmurs, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. "It's okay, baby. You did so good for me."

You nod weakly against him, too exhausted to speak. His hand strokes your hair soothingly, his touch gentle and loving after the fierce passion of moments before. For now, there's only contentment, a quiet peace that settles over you both.

"I love you," you whisper after a while, your voice small but sincere.

He chuckles softly, tightening his embrace. "I love you too, brat. But next time, maybe think twice before testing me."

You snort, nuzzling closer to him. "Maybe."

He laughs, the sound warm and full of affection. "Rest now," he says, brushing a strand of hair from your face. "We'll talk about it properly tomorrow."

(dividers by @kodaswrld !)

betty’s notes ౨ৎ ⋆｡˚

not incredibly proud of this, but i hope this was what you wanted anon !! new writing style (second person perspective) which was something new, but i actually didn’t mind it? as always, hearts and reblogs are always appreciated!! please comment your thoughts <3

requests are staying open for ONE more day then i’m closing them, so if you want to request get one in ASAP!!

[alwayscorvus]

Hello, can I request Brant from Wuwa who had an argument with male!reader and the reader kinda give him space by avoiding Distancing himself from Brant.

When they both cooled down٫ reader is getting hit on by some lady and Brant swoops in and tells her that's his man :)

Jealousy and yearning

malereader x Brant, fluff; love this! couldn't wait to write this. thanks 4 the request! when I read it, it sounds different than usual, but let's see if you can enjoy it Fck I should focus on the scene that people ask me to do and not make long openings... But I can'ttt

-You always take it out on me!

-I’m just worried about you

-You question my decisions! - Brant threw his hands up in frustration.

-I just think that it’s not the best idea for you to go there. Especially alone -you tried calmly. Though his sharp voice, definitely contrasting with your softer, more composed one, was starting to get on your nerves.

-I won’t be alone!

Not good. As if you were talking to a wall...

-Yeah, you’ll be with some guy you just met

Brant put his hands on his hips, turned his head towards you, and gave you a look filled with something between contempt and boredom.

-Oh please, don’t be jealous

Jealous? You? Was he even serious?

You were probably starting to get angry.

-Don't be silly, i'm not jealous, i just-

-What?! Maybe you want to be a captain yourself?!

He didn’t even let you finish. Only yelled like a madman.

-You know that’s not what I mean -you said, trying hard to keep your voice calm and measured.

You wanted to act mature. Responsible.

You wanted him to understand your point of view. To realize that you didn’t mean any harm.

-But on the other hand, you don’t accept that I am the captain! You knew what you were getting into when you started to go out with me!

Andddd-... that's it.

Your patience has just run out.

-And that's the only reason why I should let you put yourself in danger now!?

You couldn't stand it. Where did your Brant go? Who were you actually just arguing with?

-I was never afraid of risk. If you didn't like it then there was no need to ask me out!

You replied to the loud shouting with visible irony:

-Oh, im so sorry that I fell in love with you

-Yeah! You should be!

...

Ouch.

That hurt.

What was that actually supposed to mean? It didn't make any sense at all. Like the whole argument.

Again, another quarrel. You were young, naive. Full of lively emotions. You often happened to exchange opinions. This stirred up the atmosphere a bit, woken up passion. Sometimes such exchanges were just healthy. You were able to get to know each other's perspectives. Come to some sort of agreement-

But not at this point. Today you crossed some boundaries. Neither of you wanted to compromise. Neither of you wanted to understand the other. Only to make his own stand.

You hated when Brant put himself at risk. When he gambled his life. You couldn't bear to see wounds on his body. To endure his groans of a pain. The thought that you could lose him pierced your heart.

And he didn't understand your fears. He grew up alone. He always knew how to manage himself, how to get out of any trouble. How to survive. He was strong, resourceful. He knew how to take care of himself, without anyone's help. Eventually, from nothing, he became the captain of a great ship. He was capable of a lot.

But sometimes he just forgot that now he didn't have to do it all by himself anymore. That he had you. Someone who wanted to take care of him.

He couldn't understand that your fear didn't come from a doubt in his abilities, but from pure love and a desire to help.

But his words… he certainly didn't mean it. He was surely throwing out random thoughts in emotion. He just wanted to annoy you. To win an argument. And at the same time he wanted for it to hurt.

You couldn't bare it. You didn't want to hear it. You didn't need any more insults.

You also didn't want Brant to go too far. For him to regret later. He would scold himself after and walk around with scolded face.

Despite all the hate and anger you just felt, you loved him so much. You cared about him an his well-being. You had a soft spot for him.

That's why you made the only responsible decision at that moment.

You got up and left.

With a slight slamming of the door.

Despite everything, you were angry. And a hint of immaturity told you to assert your “dominance”. At that moment it didn't sound as silly as it did in the next day.

On the way out you made another decision. That you would give him some space. To let him cool off a bit.

… And also to let it hurt a little.

And that's how your whole morning passed.

And noon…

And afternoon…

And then, the evening came. A tough evening.

It didn't take much for Brant to miss you. He was practically inseparable. You did everything together. And thanks to the fact that you were his right hand on the ship, you weren't even separated by work. While he was behind the wheel, you were studying maps right next to him, consulting with him about next destination of your voyages.

While you were delegating tasks to young sailors, he was watching you with curiosity, sitting cross-legged on a large wooden barrel.

While he was negotiating deals with some suspicious visitors, you always stood beside him, sending them a threatening look as a warning.

Together you checked out new merchandise. Together you went on escapades in new territory. Together you fought and together you spent all your free time.

It's almost surprising, that Brant himself wanted to go on a mission without you. After all, whenever he returned from such tasks, he fell tearfully into your arms and swore that he would never leave you again, because he misses you too much.

Or rather, he made you promise to never to leave him. He felt so helpless without you…

But you guess that history liked to repeat itself.

Brant liked to break off the leash sometimes, driven by sudden emotions. However, he was quickly caught by the abandoned puppy syndrome.

Exactly as in this case.

He didn't notice it at first. The fact that he was eating breakfast alone. The fact that no one was answering crew's stupid questions for him. The fact that no one followed him like a second shadow.

He completely forgot about you.

In the afternoon, however, things began to change.

Something stopped to fit right. Whole situation became suspicious. It was as if something had messed up his routine.

Standing alone on the dock, he didn't know who to smile at. Eating lunch, he had no one to ask for salt. Looking through papers in the office, he had no one to ask for a magnifying glass.

Same goes with performing. In rehearsal, he felt no joy in playing. As if the most important person in the audience was missing and thus the whole point. He didn't feel that piercing gaze following his every move. He didn't hear whistles or applause of satisfaction. Warm words after a good performance or a few longed-for remarks, necessary to improvement in the future.

He began to wonder. He furrowed his brow, walked absent around the ship and bumped into random people. Generously apologizing afterwards.

Some of his comrades asked what happened, if everything was okay. And he just waved his hand at them. They even began to wonder where you were, they wanted to ask for your help. They knew that only you could bring Brant back to normal. However, after meeting you and seeing your firm stare, they didn't even dare to ask. They turned quickly on their heels and forgot about the subject. Allowing you to work out your own problems.

Hours passed. Bloody difficult hours. And Brant finally understood.

All these things were done for him by one particular person. A person who loved to pamper him. To be kind and helpful to him. Even when he was whining. Someone who always made him laugh, listened to him and drowned out the boredom that Brant hated so much. That person was you.

But after all, you couldn't take a grudge against him forever. Right?

Brant decided to show you mercy and help you a little in your attempt to win him back. To give you an excuse to smooth things over so that things could go back to how they used to be.

Proud of himself and with a confident smile, he proceeded to execute his plan.

A small dramatic turn. A fake stumble. And a spectacular fall down the stairs into the abyss of lower deck. Perfect opportunity for you to move from a place not far away and be able to rush towards him. To catch him in your arms.

He specifically chose the right time and place just to feel your strong embrace and security of your closeness.

But he didn't hear any stamping of feet. Only terrified sounds of his companions with definitely poor reflexes.

Shit.

At the last moment, he used his forte to release some rope and grab onto the railing above.

Apparently, today he had to act as his own hero-

Fair enough.

After all, he told you that he could take care of his life and health. It would be foolish to question that now. But after all, it didn't apply to small things…

So he tried again.

But what was his surprise when, while dropping his compass beside you, he failed to get your help.

Only a loud clang and his gasp.

As if you didn't care at all.

Brant looked dumbfounded at the small object lying alone on the wooden boards. Why didn't you pick it up? Why didn't you hand it to him with a warm smile after which Brant could roll his eyes and, after faking seconds of thought, forgive you and let you return to his side? Why didn't you even look in his direction? Why you just walked past, busy talking to other sailor?

Okay.

Disasters happen. Maybe you just didn't notice. Maybe he should sign you up for a medical visit with that poor hearing of yours...

But you certainly must have noticed when he squeezed between dining room table and a bench on which you were sitting. Deliberately arcing his back. So inviting... Exposing his curves that you were so fond of. Just to encourage you- tempt you- make you lose control.

Orrr-… you could.

Things were beginning to call for drastic measures.

But after all, he couldn't apologize. Definitely couldn't. He had too much pride for that. Besides, you taught him this yourself. Brant didn't have to apologize. He wasn't just a captain, he was also like your little bratty princess.

Okay maybe not so little. Mostly not bratty. And for calling him a princess in front of the crew he probably would have thrown you overboard.

But-

You were always the one who made the first move. You liked to do things for him and couldn't stand the thought that he was sad. It was enough for Brant to send you eyes of a beaten up puppy from afar, asking to be taken in, and you were already running towards him and making all your misunderstandings go away.

But not this time.

Dear Jue. Why did you have to be so stubborn.

Especially now. Brant couldn't stand it.

He missed you so much-

He just wanted to soak in the silk sheets and be pampered with kisess by you until all his stresses from today were gone.

He will no longer go alone on any mission. He swears! Just take him back-... Please

Night has come. A period of celebration. That moment when Brant ordered time off for the entire crew. To relax a bit. Too bad that it didn't apply to him as well.

At least not today.

You decided to have some fun. Entire senior staff. You headed out to town, to one of nightclubs. The one with a shaddy reputation.

Rinascita's elite have always fooled around here. Golden spoon generations and those who knew how to crash.

Music here was loud and lights were colorful. Almost like any club, but in that air you could sense that aristocratic shabbiness. Laughs more fake than usual. Ostentatious clink of crystal glasses. And the drops of decades-old liquors that were falling prudently.

Splendor of expensive pearls and precious rhinestones competed with the beauty of personalities not tainted by work. It wasn't hard to feel on oneself mirroring gaze of others. Some searched for the best victims. Hoping to turn one night into a ring on a finger. Others oozed venom into their competitors. Whether they were hoping for a good candidate to settle down or just one for a passionate fun. Everyone was a rival here. Everyone was trying to be the most beautiful. Throwing on their best furs, tight outfits and putting on themselves the best make-up to highlight their features as much as possible. They batted their eyelashes, clicked their heels, playfuly curled hairs on their fingers.

Brant didn't need any of above to draw crowds. Or at least he didn't need to make such an effort. Even without expensive accessories, he unknowingly attracted plenty of suitors.

However, he wasn't thrilled with all the attention. He dismissed all pushy admirers with just a wave of his hand. Normally, he would probably get into a chat with them, make a joke, learn something interesting, maybe tease his boyfriend a little by that…

Today, however, all the whispers in his ear, all the nudges on his shoulders and every attempt to buy him a drink, bounced off him like off a wall.

He was in no mood for playing. And all his attention was focused on one person.

On you.

You were on two opposite sides of the room.

You were seated at a glass table, on a large, red, rounded sofa. He took his place on a modest bar stool, leaning his elbows against the bar top to which his back was turned. Abyss of glittering dance floor separated you both. From time to time the view of each other got blocked with bodies spinning in the dance.

Brant looked at you intensely, while you didn't even grant him with a single glance. It was as if you didn't know he was there at all. And that's probably exactly what happened.

While you were enjoying yourself at your best, drinking another purple drink, he was on tenterhooks. Debating whether to finally break through and approach you.

But he couldn't. His pride wouldn't let him.

Wasn't his presence enough? Didn't just the mere sight of him make you want to pounce on him? After all, it used to be like that… Did you manage to get bored of him already?

Brant bit his lower lip slightly. This situation was beginning to frustrate him and make him start to doubt himself.

He had had enough. These slimy people sticking to his body, this music piercing his eardrums. This club, you and himself. He already wanted to go home and bury himself into a bed. Crying quietly into his pillow and cuddling up to where your body should lie.

At the same time, however, he didn't even have the strength to get up. As if something was depriving him of will to live. Suddenly the vision of returning home alone in black night began to seem frightening. He sneaked down the dark alleys many times, escaping from The Order who tried to capture him. What's more, he always succeeded. And even if… he could walk out of each confrontation unscathed. After all, he was a big man. Postured, strong and persistent. Heck, he was the captain of a ship! After all, that's why you argued in the first place.

But now-…

Now-…

Now he just wished for you to hold him.

Brant lifted his head up, wanting to give you one last longing look.

And then-

Then he noticed something strange.

More specifically, someone who shouldn't be in your company. Someone who was definitely not a part of your crew.

A long-haired blonde woman, in a tight burgundy dress, with far too deeply cut neckline. She smiled flirtatiously at you. As if confident of her success.

With smooth movements she leaned towards you.

Brant felt how it began to boil inside him. And it wasn't due to the crowd of people or poor ventilation.

He took several deep breaths. Tried to calm himself down.

It's not that he couldn't trust you…

But her legs…

Her damn long legs in too high heels that she just threw on your lap!

Oh no. Definitely not!

You sat slightly troubled, feeling the piercing gaze tracing your lips. Gaze of someone you didn't want to feel.

But how did this happen?

At one moment you were chatting with your friends about your latest trip, bragging about your recent catch. And the next, you heard their immature, sneering whistles, suggesting the arrival of someone new.

This someone must have definitely been beautiful and phenomenal if they met with such a reaction.

You were hoping for Brant. You no longer cared about which one of you would apologize. It never mattered to you. You just wanted to feel him snuggle into your side, pretending that nothing had happened and joining your card game. Acting as your best charm and also the perfect source of distraction for your opponents.

Unfortunately. You could only dream. Instead of your confident boyfriend. His tangled sea hair, stunning, playful smile and beaming, curious eyes. You saw some stranger. A woman. Not much different from everyone else here.

That's how you found yourself in this situation. Blonde introduced herself to you by some local name. However, you didn't pay too much attention to it. You wanted to get out of her bony grip as quickly as possible. It wasn't easy though, you didn't want to be rude or make a scene and the only way out was blocked by your friends. Who apparently had a great laugh at your discomfort.

You felt as she traveled over your exposed shoulder with her long red claws and at the same time how she tried to fix her wavy hair. Apparently, this was supposed to be arousing, but for you it only caused unpleasant shivers. Like when you were suddenly attacked by some predatory echos in the wilderness, who tried to get they claws into you.

Woman tried to draw your attention to her colored lips, right after she saw your lack of interest in her exposed breasts. To her misfortune, all her disrespect of your personal space only turned you off.

In your head, you started making up some excuses. Arranging words in a way that wouldn't hurt her fragile ego. Despite everything, you were a gentleman.

You didn't take into your head what she tried to whisper to you. Promise of an unforgettable night, proposal to go to a hotel-

The only place you planned to go after leaving that club was to your boyfriend's bedroom.

Suddenly you felt something on your knee. Something that shouldn't be there. A foreign leg that you planned to push off as quickly as possible.

However, you didn't have enough time.

Loud gasps of your companions rang out all around. Terrified. They already knew how it would end.

-Hey! That's my man

You suddenly heard a firm and confident voice. So familiar to you.

Shocked, you lifted your gaze up at your partner. He stood proudly with his arms propped at his sides and with an unusual aura around him. Not just superiority. Something more emanated from him. Pure, natural beauty.

He didn't need skimpy clothes, cheap tricks or surgical touch-ups to be breathtaking. He was naturally bloody handsome.

Startled woman sprang back from you quickly. She looked horrified at the new company.

You could see the way she kept closing and opening her mouth every now and then. She probably wanted to argue, but she couldn't. It was as if she sensed that she was no match for her rival. You knew subconsciously that she must have launched herself on taken guys more than once. But the sight of Brant was overwhelming for her.

You weren't surprised with her reaction. You also could feel a shiver. Though for you it was more of a thrill of excitement. The way he was fussing about you was almost hot. Your adorable boyfriend, all flushed with jealousy. He glared at the intruder with deadly look. With a hatred stronger than when fighting the toughest opponent. On the battlefield, Brant at least tried to show his enemies some respect. Here, he showed only contempt.

You couldn't lie, you were really proud of your boyfriend. Or that you could be called his partner.

A sort of soft glow radiated from Brant's posture. Something like a warning. Any person who only dared to touch him right now could expect to get knocked down. Same applied to the violation of your person. Everyone present at the table felt that one inch movement in the wrong direction could make Brant snap. In his visions, he was already going for blonde's throat. Proudly fighting for what was his.

She tainted your body, her sultry touch left behind a filth that Brant would have to erase for a long time. He had an overwhelming desire to show this woman where her place was.

After all, he was the only one who was right for you…

But this woman didn't deserve it. She didn't deserve any extra minute to be wasted on her.

Brant didn't need revenge now. He needed you...

So before blonde could summon the courage to make one last gesture of cheekiness. Brant leaned over the table and extended his hand in your direction.

With a broad smile, you took his palm in yours. A pleasant warmth spread through your body. Brant reciprocated your happiness and this time rather pleasant, laughed sincerely. This soothing sound echoed through the room, drowning out the noise. You looked deeply into each other's eyes and everything around you began to fade away. Disappearing into the darkness, as if there were only the two of you. People, music, lights. Nothing mattered when you had each other.

You felt a sudden squeeze and pull towards your lover. Brant clearly wanted to kidnap his boyfriend, and you didn't plan to resist. Squeezing through the space your crew cleared, you let yourself be carried away by the strength of your partner.

And then you just ran.

Ran far ahead.

Laughing loudly and trying not to bump into any obstacle or break your legs on the steep stairs.

With the corners of your mouth raised high.

As long as you're together.

As long as you kept moving forward.

You felt a push towards the bed and a swish of sheets that raised into the air as a response to your rough siting on the edge of a mattress.

Brant looked at you with bent neck and made a small pouty face. Your heart began to beat faster, and you felt yourself slowly melting. You couldn't stay angry any longer. Especially after what he did in the bar. It was hard to hide how madly you liked it.

You spread your arms in an inviting gesture, and he didn't hesitate for even a second.

In the blink of an eye, he crossed the distance separating you both, and in a clumsy manner climbed up your thighs, straddling you. Out of habit, he snuggled into the crook of your neck.

You looked down. At his beautiful, closed eyes, highlighted with a soft pink line. At his heated skin, worn out by the run and heat in the club. At his unbuttoned shirt, perfectly exposing what you found so hard to resist.

You felt his weight, his gentle trembling. The way he wriggled on top of you to find the perfect spot. The way he arched his back and poked your arms trying to get your attention and seek your touch.

He was exactly where he belonged.

Completely swayed with this, you locked him in a gentle embrace and with slow movements began to roll circles on his back. Brant murmured satisfied at this and inhaled the scent of your cologne. Warm and heavy smell of sandalwood surrounded his senses. Man felt as his muscles began to slowly relax, and he unconsciously started to drift off to another realm. Nothing relaxed him more than your scent - scent of home.

-Don't leave me - he eventually muttered with authority into your shirt, to which you only responded with a questioning nod. You also were about to fall asleep from the feeling of high temperature of his body.

-I said don't leave me - he objected louder this time, pulling himself out of your neck and once again squirming in your lap -Don't leave me alone. Not now nor never. Especially for some blond-haired floozy. I am definitely better than her

His statement was more than serious, and you didn't dare question it. Especially now.

-Oh yeah, you are definitely better. I am much more attracted to blue-haired beauties

Brant didn't seem to sense this subtle irony. Or maybe he didn't want to… He breathed a sigh of relief and returned to his spot. Snuggled in tighter, like a cuddly koala. He was arranging himself as if he was planning a short nap on you.

And then you remembered something… You couldn't pass up an opportunity like this. An opportunity to have a little more fun.

Especially when he was so cute and vulnerable, exhausted after a full day of experiences.

-And what about your Rover?

-[M/N]~!

Brant scowled with that pouty face of his, and you snorted at this with genuine amusement.

You couldn't annoy him any longer.

-Okay okay. I'm sorry - you grabbed his cheek and looked deeply into his eyes - I promise I won't leave you again for more than five steps

When you thought that this would more than satisfy him, Brant furrowed his brow clearly displeased.

-No more steps. You must be close

Shit... what had you done to deserve him.

Without waiting any longer, you straightened up and saluted.

-Yes, captain! -you laughed again at the adorable groans of your sleeping boyfriend- No steps. I will be glued to you, so you won't be able to get rid of me

With a smile on your lips, you approached him, as your promise stated, and placed a sweet kiss on his forehead, sealing your words.

[redvdress]

SILENT TREATMENT

A/N: since i’m still working on a request i thought i could write some silent treatment prompt and i thought hawks would fit this perfectly, if y’all like the idea i might start writing this for more characters, let me know!! btw this is for all you anons, don’t be shy and fill my inbox with requests! i might take a bit to reply but i will. soo now i let you enjoy this, pro hero hawks x implied hero and jealous reader

It all started out fine. Great, even.

You and Hawks had attended one of those Hero Association galas together—one of the usual social events that required Pro Heroes to show up, smile for the cameras, and rub elbows with their colleagues.

Hawks, being Hawks, of course, thrived at these events.

He looked sharp in his suit, his usual swagger even more noticeable as he navigated the room like it was second nature to him. You couldn’t deny how good he looked tonight, wings folded behind him, that lazy grin on his face as he effortlessly entertained the people around him.

But that was exactly the problem.

It was too effortless. Way too effortless when it came to her.

One of the most popular heroes, had been chatting with Keigo for far too long, standing a little too close. You tried not to let it bother you at first.

Really, you did.

But the longer they laughed and the more she touched his arm with her annoyingly perfect, manicured hands, the harder it became to ignore that sinking feeling in your chest. He looked so relaxed, so comfortable with her. And those wings of hers—large, radiant, and golden, ugh, it was too much.

And he just kept smiling that signature ‘Hawks smile’, the one that made you weak in the knees, but tonight? It irritated you to no end. How could he stand there looking so smug and not realize how irritated you were becoming?

Then the hero said something, and Hawks threw his head back in laughter, his wings fluttering in delight. That was it. That was the final straw.

You turned sharply on your heel and walked off, ignoring the curious glance Hawks threw your way as you disappeared into the crowd.

The silent treatment was officially in session.

By the time you got home, the irritation had boiled over. You were mad. And yeah, maybe a little jealous too. But more than that, you were frustrated. Didn’t he realize how he made you feel when he flirted like that, even if it was harmless? Didn’t he understand how it looked from your perspective? He was used to it so it wasn’t a big deal, but it wasn’t for him.

You never acted jealous before, but this time you couldn’t help it. So poor Hawks couldn’t know what he put himself into now.

You threw your bag onto the couch and stormed into the bedroom, already determined to make a point. If Hawks wanted to act oblivious, then fine. You could play that game too. You weren’t going to talk to him. Let him figure it out.

A few minutes later, you heard the door click open and the soft shuffle of boots being kicked off.

Here we go.

“Honey, I’m home!” came his usual singsong voice from the entryway, completely unaware of the brewing storm. “Man, that party was something, huh? Can you believe how many people were there? I couldn’t go five minutes without someone trying to chat me up.”

You stayed in the bedroom, not bothering to answer as you sat down on the bed, arms crossed. You weren’t going to make this easy for him.

After a pause, you heard him shuffle closer. “Uh, babe?” His voice came from the hallway, a little slower now, like he was starting to pick up on the fact that something was off. “You good?”

You didn’t respond.

Hawks peeked his head into the bedroom, his golden eyes scanning the room until they landed on you, sitting there with your arms crossed and a very deliberate expression of ‘I’m pissed’ on your face. He blinked, then a slow grin tugged at his lips as he entered the room.

“Ohhh, I see how it is,” he drawled, his voice light and teasing. He walked over to the bed, standing just close enough to be annoying but not enough to invade your personal space. “We’re doing the silent treatment thing, huh?”

You ignored him, staring straight ahead. Your lips pressed together tightly.

Hawks leaned down a little, tilting his head as he tried to meet your gaze. “Y’know, if you wanted my attention, you didn’t have to go all quiet on me. I was gonna talk to you anyway.”

Nothing.

He raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Really? Not even a little response?” He straightened up, crossing his arms over his chest as he stared down at you with a smirk. “You’re killing me here, dove.”

You held firm, though it was getting harder to keep your expression neutral with him standing there like that, looking all too pleased with himself. You were determined to make him sweat it out, just a little longer.

Hawks was not deterred. In fact, he looked like he was getting a kick out of this.

“Okay, alright. I get it. You’re upset,” he said, pacing dramatically around the room, his wings fluttering a little with each step. “But I have a theory.” He paused and pointed at you, as if he’d just solved a complex case. “You’re jealous!”

He grinned like he’d just cracked the code, his eyes twinkling with mischief. You shot him a side glance, your resolve wavering, but you kept quiet.

“Ohhhh,” he drawled, flapping his wings in mock surprise. “This makes so much sense now! It’s because of h/n (i have no fantasy), isn’t it?” He dramatically placed a hand over his heart. “I mean, can you blame her? I’m a total catch. But don’t worry, you’re the one who gets to keep me.” He gave you a cheesy wink, fully aware that he was pushing it now.

You glared at him for a split second before quickly looking away, not wanting to give him the satisfaction.

“C’mon,” he said, walking up behind you. He leaned down, his arms lightly wrapping around your shoulders as his chin rested on your head. “You know she’s just a fan, right? People can’t resist my charm. Even you.”

He was insufferable. And unfortunately, also right.

You huffed but didn’t say a word, keeping your arms crossed as he leaned closer, his breath warm against your neck.

“Babe,” he whispered dramatically, drawing out the word, “are you really gonna stay mad at me? Over a little harmless conversation?”

Still, you said nothing, though you felt his hands shift to your shoulders, gently squeezing in an attempt to coax a reaction out of you.

Hawks, sensing that you weren’t breaking yet, pulled back slightly. “Alright. Desperate times call for desperate measures.”

And then, before you could react, his hands slipped under your arms and started tickling you mercilessly.

“C’mon! Say something! Admit you love me!” he teased, his fingers working rapidly as you tried—and failed—not to burst out laughing.

You squirmed, trying to push him away, but he was relentless. “Keigo, stop!” you finally squealed, laughter bubbling up as you tried to twist out of his grasp.

“Oh! You spoke!” Hawks exclaimed with mock shock, his eyes gleaming with triumph as he continued his assault. “I knew it! You can’t resist me!”

“Keigo!” you cried through laughter, finally managing to wriggle free of his grasp, breathless from laughing. You glared at him, but it wasn’t a real glare—more of an exasperated smile.

Keigo flopped down on the bed next to you, his wings splaying out as he propped himself up on one elbow, still grinning like a kid who had just won a game. “There it is,” he said smugly, “I knew I could get you to crack.”

You rolled your eyes, but the irritation had mostly melted away at this point.

“You’re an idiot.”

He smirked, shifting closer until he was right next to you, his face inches from yours. “Yeah, but I’m your idiot,” he said, his voice softening a little as he nudged you playfully.

You sighed, the last remnants of your jealousy fading as you leaned into him slightly, unable to stay mad any longer. “You seriously need to tone it down with the flirting at these events,” you muttered, giving him a halfhearted shove.

Hawks chuckled, his arm wrapping around your waist as he pulled you closer. “Flirting? Nah, that’s just me being friendly. You know I only have eyes for you.” His voice was sincere now, even though the playful tone still lingered at the edges.

You raised an eyebrow, still not entirely convinced. “Friendly?”

He grinned again, leaning in to press a soft kiss to your temple. “Okay, maybe a little flirty. But can you blame me? I’m naturally charming. It just happens.”

You let out a groan, but you couldn’t help the smile that tugged at your lips. “You’re impossible.”

He leaned back, grinning as if he’d just won the most important battle of his life. “Yep. But you love me anyway.”

You sighed, giving in completely as you rested your head on his shoulder. “Unfortunately for me, I do.”

Hawks chuckled, his fingers lightly playing with a strand of your hair. “See? I knew you couldn’t stay mad at me. I’m just too lovable.”

“Mmhmm,” you murmured, the warmth of his presence chasing away the last bits of jealousy from earlier in the night.

He smirked, clearly satisfied with himself as he wrapped his wings around you, cocooning you in the soft, comforting warmth of his feathers. “Now that that’s settled… how about we grab some late-night takeout and binge-watch something? My treat, since, y’know, I’m such a great boyfriend and all.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, the weight of the earlier frustration lifting completely as you looked up at him, your eyes meeting his warm, golden gaze. “Fine. But you’re paying for everything.”

“Deal,” Hawks said, pressing another kiss to your forehead before jumping up from the bed with renewed energy. “Anything for my favorite girl.”

As you watched him dash out of the room to grab his phone, wings fluttering excitedly, you realized it was practically impossible to stay mad at him for long.

Keigo then lleaned in, giving you one of those cheeky, lopsided grins that always made your heart flutter. His eyes softened just a little as he leaned down and pressed a quick, soft kiss to your lips—one of those ‘I’m cute, and you know it’ kinds of kisses.

Pulling back just an inch, he looked you dead in the eyes with that smirk still plastered on his face and asked, “Now can you forgive me?”

You could already feel the corner of your lips twitching in amusement. His tone was so light, so sure that you’d just let him off the hook with no problem. So, naturally, you decided to mess with him a little. You put on your most serious expression, crossing your arms again and raising an eyebrow as if you were deep in thought.

After a long, dramatic pause, you shook your head slowly and said, “No.”

His face was priceless.

At first, he just blinked at you, clearly expecting you to laugh right away. When you didn’t, his brow furrowed slightly. “Wait… no?” he echoed, his wings twitching with a little nervous flutter. He wasn’t used to this—he could normally charm his way out of anything in less than five minutes, especially with you. “You mean—seriously?”

You bit your lip to keep from laughing and nodded. “Yup. Not forgiven.”

The sheer confusion that spread across his face was both hilarious and oddly endearing. Hawks scratched the back of his neck, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “But… I kissed you,” he said, as if that alone should’ve been enough to completely melt away any lingering frustration.

He gestured vaguely toward his lips, clearly struggling to figure out why his master plan wasn’t working. “I gave you the classic kiss of apology. That’s supposed to work every time.”

You tilted your head, pretending to think it over, then shrugged casually. “Ehhh, wasn’t enough. You’re gonna have to do better than that, bird brain.”

Hawks’ mouth dropped open in disbelief, and his wings puffed out a little in what could only be described as a mini panic mode. “I—what? Better than that? What, do I need to pull out a ring? Get down on one knee? Hire a skywriter?” He paused, a mischievous glint suddenly entering his eyes. “Or… do you want me to serenade you with an original song? I can bust out a guitar and everything, babe.”

You snorted, unable to help the giggle that escaped. “Please don’t.”

“Oh, so you’re serious, huh?” He gave a mock serious nod, like he was really thinking this through now, eyes narrowing as if this was the most challenging mission he’d ever faced. “Alright, fine. How about this? Tomorrow morning, I’ll make you breakfast. Like, a real breakfast. Pancakes, eggs, bacon, the whole works. I’ll even throw in some of those fancy berries you like.”

You raised an eyebrow, still playing along. “I don’t know… I feel like breakfast might not be enough.”

Hawks gasped dramatically, his wings fluttering up with the motion. “Not enough? Who are you, and what have you done with my girlfriend? This is outrageous!”

You couldn’t help but laugh at his theatrics, but you managed to keep a straight face long enough to reply. “I mean… how do I know it’ll be a good breakfast? I’m not sure you’ve ever even made pancakes before. What if they come out burnt?”

Now he was on a mission. He threw his hand over his heart like he was swearing an oath. “Burnt pancakes? Me? Impossible! I’ll have you know, I was trained by the best chefs—uh, youtube videos,” he admitted with a sheepish grin, “but still! I’m a fast learner.”

You finally cracked, shaking your head as you laughed. “Hawks, you’re ridiculous.”

He stepped closer, his voice dipping into that playful, persuasive tone he always used when he was trying to charm his way out of trouble. “Come on, dove. I’ll even make the coffee just the way you like it. And I’ll clean the dishes after, too. And—” he paused for dramatic effect, eyes twinkling as he leaned in closer, his face just inches from yours—“I’ll even give you one of my feathers. For free.”

You rolled your eyes at his ridiculous offer, but you couldn’t stop the grin that tugged at your lips. “Oh, one feather? Such generosity. I’m truly blessed.”

He beamed, clearly pleased with himself. “See? Now we’re getting somewhere. That’s a Hawks Special Offer. I don’t just give these feathers away to anyone, y’know.”

You laughed, finally giving in as you lightly shoved him away, but he only pulled you back into his arms, his wings wrapping around the two of you in a feathery cocoon. His golden eyes softened, the playfulness giving way to something more sincere as he pressed his forehead gently to yours.

“Seriously, though,” he murmured, his voice a little quieter now, “I’m sorry if I made you feel ignored earlier. I get caught up in the crowd sometimes, but you’re always the one I come back to. You’re the one I want, dove.”

Your heart melted at his words, and you leaned into him, letting the last bits of annoyance fade completely. “You’re lucky I love you,” you muttered, your voice muffled slightly against his chest.

He chuckled, the sound rumbling in his chest. “I know. But hey, I’m pretty lovable, right?” He leaned back just enough to look at you, a smirk returning to his lips. “So, are we good now? Or do I still have to make that five-star breakfast tomorrow?”

You smiled up at him, shaking your head. “You still owe me breakfast. I’m holding you to that.”

Hawks grinned, his wings ruffling in excitement. “Deal. I’ll even throw in some bonus wing cuddles. How’s that for a peace offering?”

You laughed, rolling your eyes again but letting yourself sink into his warmth. “Fine. You’re forgiven. But those pancakes better be perfect.”

He puffed out his chest proudly, his wings fluffing up behind him. “They’ll be the best damn pancakes you’ve ever had. Guaranteed.” Then he paused, as if something just occurred to him, and with an overly dramatic sigh, he added, “And if they aren’t, well… I guess you’ll just have to teach me.”

You narrowed your eyes playfully. “You mean I’ll end up cooking breakfast?”

“Exactly!” he said with a wink, completely shameless. “See, teamwork makes the dream work!”

Shaking your head, you playfully swatted at him as he laughed, his wings drawing you closer again. “Don’t push your luck, bird brain.”

He grinned wider, leaning in to steal another kiss. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

[simpforsolas]

i wrote up this whole rant yesterday about how I didn't find the Solas arc satisfying in this game, and seeing the ama and interviews today, I think I understand why that is lol.

yes, Solas carried this game. Yes i loved every time he was on the screen. yes his arc made me cry. NO it was not satisfying. and i'm just gonna go ahead and copy paste my rant explaining my feelings the best i can.

(i wrote this yesterday before all the revelations)

Solas's writing wasn't successful to me not because I think he was written out of character, necessarily. I think that every individual instance of his character being written on-screen was fine, but to me, his character was missing the wider context that put the isolated actions we saw of him in the game into perspective

The entire point is that the Dread Wolf/Fen'Harel persona that we see is a mask he wears. And that's fine, I like it! But what makes a mask interesting is to see what it's masking, and Rook doesn't really get to see that unless you choose the reedem ending. I guess what I'm getting at is that I craved to see more Inquisition-style Solas, in particular Trespasser Solas who was so remorseful but stuck in his ways, who stuck to his path but said stuff like "I would treasure the chance to be wrong once again, my friend." All these different sides are real sides of Solas, but because the game didn't really show us all these sides then we're left with a lopsided picture and now I have to deal with all these fools misinterpreting him all over the internet

I can still interpret it my way well enough, but the thing is that's my interpretation and it's a valid interpretation of the source material itself, but other people's interpretations are also valid because the game didn't really get more into his motivations other than "it's all mythal." But if you go back to inquisition, you can see how passionate Solas is about his ideals! His banter with other party members and his approval and dialogue you get with him really suggests that he actually CARES about his goal at an idealistic level, it's not just about regret. I like the regret! I like the history with Mythal!! I just wish it was more of something in his backstory that shaped him to who he is today and is something he needed to work through in order to finally see things clearly, instead of being the one magical thing that had to happen for him to get his "redemption"

I'm also rather frustrated that the right answer was just going straight back to the status quo, when we KNOW the veil is falling apart and shattered and an unnatural wound inflicted on the world that turns spirits into demons, prevents the world from achieving the magical/technological wonders it once had, keeps elves from immortality, and creates this fear and class difference between mages/non-mages and people who understand the fade and those who don't. Like when I replayed Origins i was struck by how many plot points are basically "the veil is weak here which means that there are demons here and they killed hundreds of people!!!!!!" Things like that are still going to be a problem hello why was none of this addressed 😭😭😭 I wish we could've validated the problems Solas's plan resolved to fix instead of saying "you just need to move on man this is just you taking your issues out on the world" because it WASN'T THAT

'm also really frustrated that we don't see a SINGLE big plan of Solas's go right because I know my man, I BELIEVE in my man, I know that he was smart and clever and had wins!!! I don't mind him fucking up but when all we ever see of him are major fuck ups it annoys me because COME ON. He's the DREAD WOLF. He knows how to make plans and carry them out. He saved thousands of slaves during his time, he fought and won countless battles, he locked away the Evanuris! Sure things fell apart in the actual veil part but he was able to trick all of them and did succeed in locking them away. The only thing we actually see him accomplish in this game is escaping regret prison, which is instantly seen as less cool because Rook gets out after like five minutes, and taking down the archdemon which was pretty hot but that wasn't about trickery, that was him engaging in straight up physical fighting in his wolf form. Anyway it frustrates me because now people in the fandom can rightly laugh about him being stupid and having bad plans. Yet I can't help but go back to inquisition and listen to his advice, dialogue, etc, and he's always so thoughtful and wise! So i just find it hard to believe that this man is incapable of taking a win. even if he kept all the Ls in this game but they had included a few more wins i wouldn't even be mad but it was literally just a collection of Solas's Ls and it frustrates me because I think he's better than that

i'm just worked up about this because i've been seeing takes about solas from people who used to like him but this game made them hate him, and the fact that the source material from datv as an isolated game actually supports their perspective is driving me insane. cuz if you ask me a lot of solas's character and motivations between dai and datv are actually at odds with each other. even if the surface characterization is absolutely on point, there was just so much context and scope that we're missing in this game. i can't handle it

[corseque]

On the scale of 1 (Rise of Skywalker) to 10 (Shadowbringer/Endwalker), where would you place Veilguard?

critical post

I’ve burst into enraged tears like 5 times since I finished it, which is not nearly even close to as many times as Rise of Skywalker, but still 5 times too many. Just the shallowness of the writing, the obviousness, the incredible frustration at the simplicity, the ignoring so much of my favorite character in order to make a stupidly simple plot work, the horrendous time I had trying to ignore Rook’s annoying stupid fuckass pov while just trying to self-insert myself into the end of my favorite fictional character of all time’s story after waiting 10 years. I screamed in frustration that I had to hear the painfully obvious commentary these brand newcomer characters who I did not give a shit about, explaining to me like a toddler how I should feel about revelations I have been writing about for 10 years, especially when what they were saying was stupid as fuck. I cried at the thought of so many cutscenes and so much effort went into stories I found very forgettable and went nowhere, while they were able to only scrounge up like 10 total animated shots reuniting Solas and Lavellan. I mourn that I could not make any decisions in a BioWare game. I mourn Solas’ story so much, and probably will for years. I will never get over the way they talked down to him and never listened to him for even a second, lest they actually have to write a branching path into their game. I hate that the theme was regret but Rook regrets nothing ever so (shrugs) regret doesn’t affect them or mean anything to them. I mourn the loss of the voice and point of view of his people, the ones he was fighting for, the ones who are alive. I mourn that it turns out that he’s just a stupid feral dog who is 100% wrong about everything always and he always has been from the beginning of time. I cried that the game said the answer was that Solas should NOT try to help his people and they never even discussed it as a philosophical question or the ethics of it or anything, or playing as a character so dense they never once even wondered if accidentally freeing the gods killed more people overall than the veil coming down would have. (We avoided this question like the plague, lest we feel less like purely Good Heroes who could talk down to the gods with righteous fury). I mourn that I’m never going to know what would have happened without the Veil. I feel so stupid for thinking that elves or spirits as factions would appear in any capacity with lines and perspectives in this game. I’m so angry at how safe and smoothed over everything in the setting is, and how it felt like the main characters never struggled with anything and have nothing to say. I can’t believe Dragon Age is so shallow and unsatisfying and head-empty. I mourn that the story of Dragon Age is Over to me and I will never play another game.

I’ve also cried a few times at the completely separated and individual imagery and music in the last scene. I’ve cried that my favorite character didn’t die in any world after 10 years of being at death’s door. I’ve cried at the thought of him being a little worm spirit, and that I was right about him the whole time. I cried when activating Felassan’s crystal in the final fight and seeing all the buffs. I cried when I turned the page and realized the default inquisitor was exactly the same as my personal Lavellan, down to hair style, eye color, hair color, vallaslin removed. I cried when I realized Solas thought he should have died as a spirit rather than be born. I cried that the main story Dragon Age has been telling the whole time has been about the reconciliation and freeing of my favorite fictional character. I cried that Solas and Lavellan got married in the end, when I genuinely wasn’t expecting either of them to even be alive. They’re both still alive and in love in every single world. I can’t wrap my head around that.

I have no idea where to put it. It’s a few high highs but some intolerably low fucking lows. It could have been so much worse but the bar is on the fucking floor. I go back and forth between moderate enjoyment to just being so angry. It could have been so much more and I do not know who to bite for it.

I have no idea.

[official-cvntified-gay]

Jealous, Jealous Girl (Regina George x Reader)

(𝙥𝙖𝙧𝙩 𝙩𝙬𝙤) (𝙥𝙖𝙧𝙩 𝙩𝙝𝙧𝙚𝙚)

I definitely don't have "Jealous Girl" on repeat while writing this. If you have any requests feel free to send it my way<3

﹒⪩⪨﹒

Summary: Now that she has the teacher's attention, seems like she's not the only one who has and wants it.

Regina was left confused. The situation keeps repeating over and over in her mind. She can't help but wish for more of those. She felt how good it feels to be on the receiving end of your affection.

She can't get enough...

"Ms. George?" She shook her head slightly to get out of her head. She looks up at you, tilting her head but not saying anything.

"I asked you a question." You cross your arms, looking at her with a hint of annoyance in your tone and face.

"What's the question again?" You immediately look away from her, "anyone else who'd like to answer my question?" You look around the room.

"Yes, Ms. Jones?" Your enthusiasm for another student stirred something in her; she couldn't help but roll her eyes at the now-speaking Ms. Jones. She squinted her eyes at the girl who seemed too proud of herself when you gave her praise. The girl tried to intimidate Regina, but Regina, being Regina, just looked at her. She scanned the girl up and down before she gave her a disgusted look.

"Thank you for paying attention, Ms. Jones. And that was a very well-thought-out perspective," Regina scoffs at your words. You look in her direction, and she looks away from you. She was muttering something under her breath.

"What was that? Ms. George?" You said, ridiculously sweet that she tasted the sarcasm in there.

"Nothing, miss" You let out a soft, light chuckle. Regina's annoyed face disappeared when she heard your soft chuckle, she let out a small smile. But it quickly fell when you mouthed "Brat" under your breath while looking straight into her eyes.

"Going along with Ms. Jones's perspective-" Your words didn't make sense to her, but she listened to your voice. Her mind replayed the image where you called her a brat in front of everyone.

But Regina noticed the competition. That Alissa Jones wants her as an enemy. Regina smiled to herself; she didn't need to compete with her. She could quickly destroy the girl if she wanted to.

But gosh, she wanted to compete with the attention that you seem to be giving her. She wants to be the one you're smiling at when she gives you a good answer.

Not only does she crave your validation, but she also craves you...

Never in her life had she thought she would crave someone's attention, and that someone. But here she is.

Regina made it her mission to always answer in your class. She craves to hear those "Very good" and "Well done" repeatedly. Gretchen and Karen would sometimes ask why she was studying for your class. The questions were turned down because of her glare.

But their curiosity grew, and Regina was not interested in history. So, seeing her prepare for that class is peculiar to her friends. Regina even asked for the class syllabus so she could study in advance.

She always sent Alissa some proud looks after every recitation and a compliment from you. Not only did she revel in your praise. She also marvels at the disappointment of Alissa.

She would always stare at you when you were just sitting in your seat. Regina would not look away when you caught her stare; she knew that you knew that she wanted you.

Yet, you did nothing

It left her frustrated; your actions when alone with her assure her that you feel the same. But why aren't you doing something?

"Class dismissed. Ms. Jones? Stay for a moment," that seems to wake something inside her. She gave the girl a mean look, but she was greeted with a smirk. She looked at you, but your eyes gave her nothing.

She felt something tug in her chest.

She walked out of class, defeated. She turned her head back to see you talking to Alissa. Nothing inappropriate, but it still burns her.

She saw how you didn't even look in her direction. She gave everyone a hard time that day. She ensured that whoever was staring at her was shooed and called out. She even snapped at her friends at lunch.

God, she hated the effect you have on her, but god, she wants you.

So be it.

After that day, every time you would call her. She'd be in her head or purposely ignoring you. She knew better than to get on your nerves and anger you in front of the class, so that she would feign an apology every time.

She loves how you bite the inside of your cheeks when she answers you sarcastically every time you call her out. Or how you squint your eyes at her whenever she counters when you call her out.

She loves how you try to calm yourself down when she presses your buttons. Regina doesn't seem to care. But damn, does she want to ruin Alissa for always trying to get you to notice her.

And how she hated it when you would move on to the next student when she gave you an attitude.

But she thought wrong.

How you wished to shut down that smart mouth of hers every time she would spite back. Every single thing that she did is always in your mind, and you hate how you can't do anything about it.

Regina made sure to get on your nerves. She always turns in her work late- even when there's a test. She'll always be the last one to turn in her test. And you knew her best works, and recently, this is not it.

She'll watch in amusement when you shake your head when you check her paper; it's either an almost empty paper or a paper full of wrong answers.

You wonder what's happening to Regina. This is so unlike her.

One day, Regina came to class late. She went to her seat in the middle of your discussion. You cleared your throat when Regina took her seat. She gave an annoyed sigh and murmured an apology because she was late. You decide to ignore her before you get into a bad mood because of her behaviour, you continue with your discussion.

You almost forgot that she came late this morning. So you decided to give her a chance to answer your question.

"Ms. George!" Your voice raises slightly as this is your fourth time calling her name. Regina looks at you, uninterested, playing with her perfectly manicured nails.

"What?" She crosses her arms, challenging you. You bite your lips momentarily, taking a quick, deep breath to compose yourself.

"I've called you four times already." You said, voice low and steady. The sound of your heels echoed throughout the room as the students noticed the serious tone in your voice. You rarely get angry.

As you approach Regina, she gives you an innocent and uninterested look as if she did nothing wrong in the past week. When you're in front of her desk, she looks up at you.

"So?" Regina questions like it's not a big deal. But she gulped when she saw the look on your face. Her world seemed to freeze, and she almost quivered in her seat. Her breath quickened as she realised the consequences of her actions

She regretted those actions...

She thought of many different things to take back her actions and make it up. She also wished for the ground to open up and consume her.

"See me after class, Ms. George"

She's fucked...

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

(𝙣𝙤𝙩 𝙥𝙧𝙤𝙤𝙛𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙)

Be Aggressive. B.E Aggressive

After a few scribbles and doodles on my notebook. Finally here's part 2! And here I am writing instead of reviewing for my midterm exams tomorrow😭

𓆩ᥫ᭡𓆪𝙜𝙚𝙚𝙨𝙚 𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩

・❥・ @isawxxp @pyro-les

[novlr]

How do you write an unreliable narrator in a way that actually feels clever and not just confusing or annoying? I want readers to realize something’s off without hitting them over the head with it, and still keep them hooked enough to want to figure it out.

I’m an absolute sucker for an unreliable narrator. I find them completely frustrating and endlessly entertaining. When you read a book, and you just know that something doesn’t quite add up, and you start to question the nature of the reality of the story you’re reading? Mwah. Chef’s kiss.

Sometimes unreliable narrators are obvious. Other times there are just hints. It could be a detail that contradicts an earlier scene. A character who reacts oddly to what should be normal. And then, slowly, you realise you can’t trust the very person telling you the story. An unreliable narrator transforms readers from passive observers into active participants, forcing them to become detectives in their own reading experience.

What is an unreliable narrator?

An unreliable narrator is the voice of your story whose credibility has been compromised. They might be lying deliberately to conceal a truth, or completely unintentionally. What makes them fascinating is that they are telling their version of a truth or attempting to create one, even if that truth doesn’t match reality.

Unlike traditional narrators who serve as trusted guides through a story, unreliable narrators force readers to question everything they’re told. This means that the real story often lives in the gaps between what the narrator says and what the reader comes to understand is actually true.

It’s like a friend telling you their breakup story; their version of events might be completely honest from their perspective, but you know you’re only getting one side of the story. Unreliable narrators remind us that truth is often subjective, and that everyone is the hero of their own story.

Types of unreliable narrators

There is no definitive type of unreliable narrator, so the first step is to understand their role in the story and what you want their version of the truth to mean. Here are some common types:

The deliberate liar consciously misleads readers.

The self-deceiver believes their own false narrative.

The mentally compromised has their perception affected by illness, injury, or trauma.

The naïve observer lacks the experience to understand what they’re seeing.

The morally ambiguous has values that skew their interpretation of events.

Each of these types of unreliable narrator serves a different purpose and will change the tone of your narrative. For example, a deliberate liar is often used in thriller and mystery stories where readers must untangle truth from deception, while a naïve observer might be used for dramatic irony. A mentally compromised narrator might lead readers through a haunting exploration of perception, reality, and the self, whereas a self-deceiver might highlight wider social issues in their story world as their illusions gradually crumble.

So, how do you actually write an unreliable narrator?

Writing an unreliable narrator is a delicate balancing act. You need to give your readers enough truth to keep them invested, enough lies to make them question everything, and enough clues that they can piece together what’s really happening. The trick isn’t just about deceiving your reader, but about making that deception meaningful (and entertaining).

Let’s look at some of the more universal techniques:

Build credibility before breaking it

Start by establishing your narrator’s voice as trustworthy. Let readers settle into believing what they’re told. This makes the eventual revelation of unreliability more impactful. Show your narrator being accurate about small details or making reasonable observations before introducing elements that challenge their reliability.

Leave breadcrumbs

Plant subtle inconsistencies throughout your narrative. These should be small enough that readers might miss them on first reading, but obvious enough to create that satisfying “aha” moment when the truth is revealed,, like contradictions in the narrator’s version of events, other characters reacting to the narrator’s version of reality, or something that runs counter to the reality of the reader.

The power of perspective

Remember that unreliable narration is fundamentally about perspective. Your narrator isn’t necessarily lying; they’re telling their truth, even if it doesn’t align with objective reality. Show how their personal biases, experiences, and limitations colour their interpretation of events.

Build tension through uncertainty

Use your narrator’s unreliability to build tension. When readers begin to doubt the narrator, every new piece of information becomes suspect. This creates a self-perpetuating cycle of uncertainty that keeps readers engaged. But make sure you keep it balanced. Give readers enough reason to doubt your narrator without completely destroying their credibility too early.

The art of the reveal

The trickiest part of writing any unreliable narrator is deciding what the best time to reveal it is. And it does have to be considered carefully. Do you want a dramatic singular reveal, a gradual reveal with an “aha” moment, or to never explicitly confirm it, leaving readers to decide?

Remember: the goal isn’t simply to trick readers, but to explore deeper truths about perception, reality, and human nature. The best unreliable narrators make us question not just the story, but our own assumptions about truth and reliability. So make sure you consider that when you decide whether you need a reveal or not.

Keep your inconsistency consistent

Even unreliable narrators need to follow internal logic. Their unreliability should make sense within the context of their character and the situations they find themselves in. A narrator with memory issues should consistently show those issues. A deliberate liar should have clear motivations for their deception.

[kirkwallguy]

Idk if you've posted about it before and I missed it, but I saw ur tag mentioning you have a critique on datv's treatment of transness and I'd genuinely be interested in hearing about it :)

hi, yes i have but it's been a while since i last talked about it! i've been meaning to write a long essay on my issues for a while but it would require actually playing the game and i don't want to do that. here's a long rant that got away from me though:

i've complained sometimes about various stereotypes or missteps in the way specific trans characters are represented, but i'd be able to ignore that if it weren't for my main issue, which is that trans characters just aren't properly woven into the world, leaving them feeling alienated in a way queer characters in previous games never were.

it's very clear that the writers haven't broken down their own perceptions of gender and the various cultures surrounding it enough to say something insightful, which is fine because most people haven't, but when people defend the game on the sole basis that its depiction of transness is revolutionary i do have to take some issue. there are books from the 60s that take a more interesting approach to deconstructing gender lol. veilguard may feel progressive in the landscape of aaa video games but i don't think that means it should pass without critique and i don't think that we should have to settle for this when it's possible to do so much better.

the easiest and most frequently discussed example of not properly incorporating transness into thedas is the use of language in the game. you've probably seen the endless arguments about whether taash calling themself nonbinary is an anachronism, and though i'm sure some of the arguments are in bad faith i think people overestimate how many people (on here specifically) are arguing from that perspective. it's been extremely frustrating to be called transphobic by cis people over this when i'm coming at it from the perspective of someone who has actually studied shit like this.

this is a problem throughout the game but it's easier to examine codex entries for this post than go through entire scenes. i've talked about hating the language in this codex entry before, but it really annoys me so let me complain about it again lol.

acknowleding that trans as a prefix means "change" is actually a good start here and if wasn't for how this codex entry continues i'd just shrug and move on, but i really hate the absolutist way it uses the very modern "affirming" and "was always" narrative and language as though it's universally agreed upon. you can argue that this is subjective and what taash was told (though which shadow dragon is talking to them like a GIC psychologist lol?), but when the entire codex entry feels like an educational pamphlet for clueless cis people it just comes across as very odd.

and then the rest of the codex entry just abandons any attempt at making the words "work" etymologically and gives extremely bare-bones descriptions of them. some of these words are younger than me, i saw them being coined on various forums and corners of the internet. is it representation if you say the word and put absolutely no effort into representing or even discussing the agender/bigender/demigender/others experience? in another post i compared this to being like if they did a lord of the rings remake and confirmed legolas as being bisexual by making him wear a bi flag pin with no extra context - of course people TODAY use that flag to signal their experience with bisexuality and there's nothing wrong with that, but to link modern language/signals with an experience that has clearly existed since before either of those things were invented comes right back around to being oddly invalidating, as though these experiences wouldn't exist without modern english speaking understanding of them.

as for the argument about whether or not it's anachronistic: i don't personally think you need to adhere to a binary of modern / historically accurate language and culture to make queerness work in a medieval-ish fantasy setting. the previous games (for all their faults) managed a pretty established status quo where they didn't aim to portray a utopia with a widespread queer culture while also not being gratuitous with their homophobia. and as much as queer x-topias can be interesting when done well, i think this is a good thing for a big budget fantasy game - unless you're EXTREMELY in the know about gender roles and queer theory etc, how can you hope to portray a queer utopia? some people write books whose sole point is to portray a world without gender roles or homophobia and they still misstep, i don't think it's the casual inclusive background thing a lot of fantasy authors believe it to be. it would have gone the same way as origins' claim that men and women are treated the same; maybe you make queer people hold hands in the street without being questioned and nobody makes negative comments about your romance option, but do you subconsciously assign gender roles to jobs? do you portray the majority of npcs adhering to western cishet gender norms? what is the ratio of monogamous f/m relationships portrayed compared to other relationships? these are all things people just straight up don't think about when designing a world and they will accidentally create a society that is welcoming of queerness in THEORY while actually replicating our own cishet patriarchal values.

i don't think veilguard is attempting to be a utopia, i don't think it's attempting to be anything but a finished game, but i see people defending it on the BASIS of it being a utopia fairly often.

taash's arc is another pretty big example of this struggle to examine gender in real life beyond the writers' experiences, namely white canadian. it's a deeply racist attempt at a multucultural narrative where one culture (which has already been demonised throughout the series, including in veilguard) is portrayed as less welcoming of queer people while the other culture, which is still a society with binary gender roles despite being a matriarchy, is portrayed as being instantly and unquestionably accepting.

there's a LOT of potential in an arc for a character like taash if they'd been written by someone with actual interest (and probably experience) writing about the queer experience of existing within two very different cultures. the qunari ARE a culture who are fairly big on binaries but they have an established acceptance of transition that would make their understanding of gender fairly fluid, meanwhile the lords of fortune seem ideal on the surface but human/(our) culture has so many hidden binaries that you don't notice in everyday life unless you're the one being alienated by them.

this could have been a chance to slightly turn the racist Othering of the qunari on its head by showing our own society from the perspective of perhaps some aqun-athlok characters taash befriends, a codex entry about an aqun-athlok character from the past that taash finds and takes inspiration from (maybe they start out aqun-athlok then reject the gender binary entirely?), or even from shathann, perhaps as a character who has explored her gender in the past or decides to explore it as a result of taash. (imagine if shathann was actually aqun-athlok herself, having adopted taash, and some of her complicated feelings about the qun involved the fact that her identity was more accepted there. just SOMETHING to balance the scales a little.)

then again, not even rivain gets to be the fully "progressive" society and taash has to go to the shadow dragons for their gender education. i think it's funny that someone seemed to be projecting an ultra-progressive modern activist group image onto the shadow dragons, i think i've said before that they remind me of all the modern au fanfiction about les amis from les mis that i used to read as a teenager, when they're supposed to be a ruthless abolitionist group. i think this choice was largely to facilitate interaction between the factions but it does feel a little odd given the other racist elements in taash's arc.

there's also the issue of the actual topic of medical transition being avoided. we have tarquin and mae, two characters who have seemingly undergone some kind of medical transition. we have top surgery scars in cc. but there's no discussion of how this transition happens - is hrt magical as krem suggests and is that the only option? is surgery affordable? do different countries and cultures have different levels of advancement in medical transition? these are things i'd want to see written about in codex entries, not lists of various identities that anyone can find by googling a list of genders.

i'm a little disquieted by the avoidance of medical transition given everything happening irl, but it's maybe the issue i understand the thought process behind the most. it feels like a very safe attempt at not veering too far into what happened with krem / the decades of weird fascination with trans bodies. my feelings on this entirely hinge on whether or not the dragon king does actually have top surgery scars lol, for my sanity i'll say he doesn't.

anyway, this all sucks because i've seen SO many fans do better for casual oc posting or fanfic. i've seen so many amazing ways trans culture and hrt and surgery could work in thedas and it's depressing that the writers couldn't even attempt to do something interesting with it. i know there was a lot of crunch that impacted the quality of the writing but i do also think some of these issues would have persisted if they'd had all the time in the world.

[tuesdayisfordancing]

Unfortunate as it is, copyright law is the only practical leverage most people have to fight against tech companies scraping their work for commercial usage without their permission, especially people who also don't have union power to leverage either. Even people who prefer to upload their work for free online shouldn't be taken advantage of; Just because something is available for free online doesn't mean that it's freely available for someone to profit from in any way, especially if the author did not authorize it.

Okay Nonny. Bear with me, you’re not gonna like how I start this and probably not how I finish it either, but I do have a point in the middle. So.

There is in fact long established precedent for people being allowed to profit off of various uses of others’ work without permission, in ways that creative types in general and fandom specifically tend to wholeheartedly approve of. Parody, collage, fanart commissions, unauthorized merch, monetized reaction or analysis videos on youtube, these are significantly clearer cut examples of actually *using* copyrighted material in your own work than the generative ai case. And except for fanart commissions and unauthorized merch, which mostly live off of copyright holders staying cool about it, these are all explicitly permitted under copyright law.

Now, the generative ai case has some conflicting factors around it. On the one hand, it’s not only blatantly transformative to the point where the dataset cannot be recognized in the end result (and when it overfits and comes out with something not sufficiently transformative, that’s covered by preexisting copyright law), it also doesn’t exactly *use* the copyrighted work the way other transformative uses do. A parody riffs off a particular other work, or a few particular other works. A collage or a reaction video uses individual pieces of other works. Generative AI doesn’t do that, it comes up with patterns based on having looked at what a huge number of other works have in common. Like if a formulaic writing/art advice book were instead a robot artist. But on the other hand, the AI that was trained is potentially being used to compete in the same market as the work it was trained on. That “competition in the same market” element is why fan merch and fanart commissions rely on sufferance, rather than legality. That’s part of fair use too. So perhaps there’s some case to be made against AI from that perspective. *But*… the genAI creations, while competing in the same market as some of their training data, are *a lot more different from that training data* than a fanart is from an official art. To a significant degree the most similar comparison here isn’t other types of transformative work it’s… a person who learns to write by reading a lot. They’ll end up competing in the same market as some of *their* training data too. But of course that doesn’t *feel* the same. For starters, that’s *one person* adding themselves to the competition pool. An AI is adding *everyone who uses the AI* to the competition pool. It may be a similar process, but the end result is much more disruptive. Generative AI is going to make making a living off art even harder - and even finding cool *free* art harder - by flooding the market with crap at a whole new scale. That sucks! It’s shitty, and it feels hideously unfair that it uses artists’ work to do it, and people have decided to label this unfairness “theft”. Now, I do not think that is an accurate label and I’ve reached the point of being really frustrated and annoyed about it, on a personal level. Not all things that are unfair are theft and just saying “theft” louder each time is not actually an argument for why something should be considered theft. An analogy I like here: If someone used art you made to make a collage campaigning against your right to make that art (I can picture some assholes doing this with, say, selfies of drag queens), that would feel violating. It would feel unfair. It would suck! But it wouldn’t be theft or plagiarism.

…*And* on whatever hand we’re on now, my own first thought *was* “Okay well, on the one hand when you look at the mechanics this is pretty obviously less infringing than collage or parody, which I don’t think should be banned, but… maybe we can make a special extra strict copyright that applies only to AI? Just because of how this sucks.” And you know, maybe I’m wrong about my current stance and that’s still a good idea! But there seems to be a lack of caution regarding what sorts of rulings are being invited. It seems like some people are running towards any interpretation of copyright that slows down AI, regardless of what *else* it implies. Maybe I’m wrong! I’m no expert. Maybe it’ll be fine and maybe I’m just too pissed at anti-ai shit to see this clearly. I really wish the AI people had done open calls requesting people to add their work to the datasets, for which I think they would have gotten a lot of uptake before the public turned against AI. Maybe if we do end up with copyright protections against AI training that’ll happen and everything’ll be drastically improved. I dunno.

But I get fucking nervous and freaked out at OTW sending DMCA takedowns as a form of agitation for increased copyright protection and I think that’s a reasonable emotional response.

[pandemonini]

some rambling about nagi and reo's relationship because I'm bored

The discourse around these two is once again piping hot with the release of chapter 306. Originally I wanted to make a whole essay complete with exhibits about this but I honestly feel too lazy so I'm just going to go off in a rant instead. (Maybe I'll do the essay some day, though. They deserve it cause their relationship is more complicated and in-depth than most BL I've read).

I want to preface this by saying that as annoying as I find the whole biased pov issue between the fans of the two, this kind of thing isn't exclusive to the two of them when it comes to fandom. It's almost always the case that whenever there is a pair of flawed characters interacting, there is a tendency to have a bigger bias for one of them regardless of the actual canon interactions and whatever issues the two of them may have. But I will say that I find it more frustrating in this case because for once I can't even blame the author for being vague or inconsistent. Kaneshiro is Very clear and consistent with the way he writes these two more so than anyone else in the series imo, it's why they're my favourites, and then I'm like 'oh let's see what everyone else thinks' and then immediately regret my choice.

The thing about Nagi and Reo's relationship is that a lot of Reo's earlier actions, especially at the starting point of their acquaintance, would've come off way worse if Nagi was a girl. Showing up in front of his house unannounced in a fancy car, chasing him around school grounds, basically wearing him down into agreeing with him, none of that would've been okay if Nagi was a female character. When Reo says that he forced Nagi into playing football, it's obvious that atp he's become conscious of the fact that his earlier actions weren't entirely healthy approaches to interacting with someone and getting them interested in your hobby. And this is a more realistic viewing but it gets even worse when you consider their social standings, Reo being the scion of a billionaire while Nagi doesn't even have any family members around to protect him. But the general response to Reo actually apologising for those things was utter dismissal of the words, because Nagi himself disregarded them and only ever expressed gratefulness to Reo.

But here is the thing: as a reader, we're not always supposed to see things from the characters perspective, that's why we have literary techniques like dramatic irony. We, as the readers, are supposed to perceive that as a moment of reflection for both of them where they finally become transparent about their feelings. That Nagi disregarded that apology isn't proof that Reo didn't do anything wrong, because Nagi the character would not think that way. Nagi sees him as the light of his life, rightfully so because at the end of the day, the mistakes Reo made back then don't define their entire relationship, which clearly means more to Nagi than even football. That was always the case because what brought color to Reo's life was football, but it was Reo who brought color to Nagi's, football is just an extension of that.

It brings me back to what Nagi' voice actor said, about how Nagi ultimately feels more strongly about Reo than Reo does about him. This was ALWAYS the case, because the transactional nature of their relationship is something Reo established whereas Nagi was clearly becoming emotionally attached to him very quickly and very hard. And it's part of the really good nuances in their relationship that this isn't immediately obvious, owing to the way Reo is more expressive and passionate while Nagi is more stoic and subtle.

A lot of people like to point to that scene in the prequel chapter where Reo says Nagi is irreplaceable as a moment of foreshadowing, and they're not wrong about that, but they Are wrong about what this moment is foreshadowing, or at least the full context of it. Because the fact of the matter is that Nagi NEVER replaced Reo, so it couldn't be foreshadowing THAT. So what was the foreshadowing about? It's actually very obvious but it's the kind of thing a good chunk of fans like to overlook, and it's how Reo was ONLY talking about Nagi's value in the context of football, not about Nagi himself, as a person. He says, verbatim, that he would not have approached Nagi if it weren't for his football talent. What this scene foreshadowed is Reo's attachment to Nagi growing far beyond the boundaries of that quid pro quo situation--that the moment he felt that HE was being replaced, it mattered to him not because of the defeat he experienced, but because he lost Nagi Seishirou because of it.

I always loved the Second Selection arc because it would've been so easy for knshr to just reduce that situation to a pompous rich boy losing the toy he picked up, but instead he made sure to keep it more grounded, to treat the characters actually realistically: two teenage boys with wildly different yet so similar personalities ending up inevitably clashing because they never properly parsed through their feelings or established the boundaries of their relationship (which isn't exactly atypical for teenagers). But lo and behold, the fandom did all the work for him in terms of placing 100% of the blame squarely on the shoulders of one of them.

Going back to what I said about how this kind of situation where two characters are paired and then have a disagreement between them always being reduced to a mess of biased discourse, what I always hate about it is that it completely diminishes what I personally find most enjoyable when I read something, and it's character growth.

For all that the non-reddit dudebro side of fandom likes to call out the reddit dudebros for always just caring about who wins the most games and not about the characterisation, a lot of them seem to think the only maturing Reo had to do is him getting better at football and his self-esteem that ended up in shambles after the fallout with Nagi.

Which, okay, let's address that.

There is no arguing that what Nagi did then was WRONG and that he owed Reo an apology way sooner than he ended up giving it, but I also feel like we're not considering exactly WHY Nagi walking away hit Reo so hard. And again, I don't even know why there is a misunderstanding here when the text very straightforwardly explains an important reason for why Reo had a catastrophic breakdown was because this moment was the first time he had something actually taken from him, when all his life he was used to just owning whatever he wanted. And I have no idea why it has to be explained how that's a REALLY fucked up and unhealthy way of thinking about another person. We literally see Reo during that monologue thinking about all the awards and toys he would receive growing up, THAT is what losing Nagi is being compared to. When I say that their relationship was always complicated and they're always been flawed, I'm not talking about Reo being too unforgiving or potentially unreasonable. Reo had all the right in the world to be furious at Nagi for walking away like that, that was NOT the issue. Reo's fault with regard to that whole thing is that he himself established that relationship of mutual benefit (that's actually more to HIS benefit since Nagi had yet to genuinely enjoy football up to that point, he enjoyed being with Reo but that's something Reo didn't seem entirely conscious of) and then got angry when the person on the other hand didn't play by his unwritten rules.

And again, YES Nagi should've handled that better, but I genuinely believe that no amount of him gently explaining himself would've stopped Reo from freaking out. Because Reo inherently had that issue, stemming from his unhealthy family life where clearly his parents thought shoving material wealth in his face is enough affection on a normal Tuesday, where he tied his own value to ownership and to winning. It was always ingrained in his psyche that he is perfect, that he HAS to be perfect, and so Nagi leaving would've always been "Nagi is abandoning me to be with someone better" in his head and would've set him off. And that's where the self-esteem issues come from, that's why you don't just spoil your kids endlessly in a materialistic way. It fucks up their perception of normal human interaction.

(Sounds familiar doesn't it? It almost seems like Nagi and Reo parallel each other, sharing similar problems yet in contrasting ways.)

I don't have any grand statement to finish this off with other than that I don't understand how you can love Reo without paying attention to how he grew out of his very real flaws, that stripping him of those flaws and mistakes just takes away so much of the high that came with that emotional speech him and Nagi had when Nagi lost, why it was so significant to have him say the things he did. How the two of them came full circle to the very beginning of their relationship, the mistakes they made, and how much they meant to each other, and watching that culminate into another heartbreak because unfortunately that's also a normal teenage experience.

Neither Nagi nor Reo are master manipulators out to abuse each other. They both did objectively wrong things, the mistakes they made don't define their relationship but they didn't just go away with the wind either. They never started off the right foot, and in the toxic environment of Blue Lock, it was inevitable that it would come crashing down when Reo still didn't let go of his insecurities and Nagi still let fear keep him from fully embracing football and Reo.

Reo and Nagi didn't fail because they depended on each other. They failed because they never defined the nature of their dependence, never fully became in sync with each other, just enough to work briefly but end up bumping against each other and tripping at a critical moment.

(P.S. if you happen to see this and get mad that I mainly focused on Reo' faults in this, just go to any other tag to read someone bitching about Nagi. Trust me, you'll find them.)