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not-a-big-slay · 2 months

Text

Until it doesn't hurt

kaz brekker x fem!reader

summary:betrayal leaves some wounds behind, but even more questions when you can't figured out from whom it really came from.

warnings: violence, cursing

type: fluff

part: 12/13

previous part: part 11 masterlist

a/n: please, please, PLEASEEUHH im SO SO SORRY! it has been almost a FUCKING YEAR SINCE THE LAST CHAPTER?! HELLO?! WHO TF DO I THINK I AM? i need to keep myself in line cuz this aint normal! i have been hiatus for soo long i need to pull it together. anywayy, its finished finally. its long ahh hell and im gonna be working on another part immediately so it wont be another 50 years dw. dont mind any grammar mistakes, english is not my first language and i have written one half of this in 2023, so i really dont feel like redoing it lol. i dare you if you can recognize where exactly i picked this draft up again. anyway, pleasee enjoy!!

also, sike, its not the last part hehe, there will be part 13 AND an epilogue

taglist (hi yall :'))

@chickencouncilrep

@venomsvl

@happy-nico

@twlegit

@ravenmedows

@blathena

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She had lost again.

That would be the third time tonight. Her change was getting thin and she predicted it would take one more game before she had to go kill someone for free again. So much for making a ton of money with this job. The girl watched her opponent spoon the coins from the table with one hand, laughing: "One more game and I'll have to dig up another grave, Y/N." Others laughed, so she wasn't the only one thinking that after all. It was logical, she really had to stop playing with grown men, they wasted away their old nights playing poker at this very table and she had other, young people things to do. It would be wise to get up and leave, no one would judge her for that. They would maybe even cheer her on, finally making a rational decision, no one ever seen that before when it came to her. Yet the thought of doing so was being blocked by a high indestructable wall, one that never goes away and will only be built higher.

If she does leave, she has to go home.

Her mother is probably fast asleep already, it is possible she could go to bed unnoticed and leave early in the morning. This option she used very little as Y/N never wanted to come back there. A year ago, after her mother left her blood soak through the wooden floor, Y/N made promise into her scars that she will never lay eyes on mother again. She successed in that for a year so far, becoming a hitman that was quite infamous in town. But her fame started growing from mockery, as she was really addicted to poker.

Her eyes gazed on Tim, the cemetary worker, the buryer as she liked to call him. He was one of the granpas at this table, but one of the peaceful people in town. He never wanted her to kill, just to help him with his work, although Y/N hated it more than the murders, she didn't like the aftermath of her work. Tim, being satisfied, started organizing the coins on the table. No, she cannot go home tonight.

"So what's it gonna be, kid?" asked the other player, Miyka. Her green eyes stared on Y/N's face, her wrinkles scrunched in excitment. Oh, how she hated all of them. The girl faked thinking about it before tossing dramatically her last money onto the table. "I bet 20." It didn't sound as good when she started that low, but it was all she had left. Intstead of the usual giggle and witty lines and jokes they threw her way before following up on her bad choices, they sighed, almost in dissapointment. It frustrated her, it seemed like they cared what she does instead of what amount of money she holds. It seemed like they cared about her. A wave of fear pushed her like a tsunami at this thought. People that cared ended up hating her, hurting her.

"What!" she snapped. Miyka looked at Lios, her brother, in concern, while Tim silently reorganized his coins. She looked around the table, frown getting deeper and frustration blooming wider. What was wrong with them. "Well, Y/N" Lios began, "We are just kinda...worried about you. That's all." Miyka took the word next- her previous question has been an obvious tease, the girl was dissapointed. "You clearly have nowhere to go, so you are spending your time here which is.... we get it, but." She sighed, trying to find the right words. "It's not good." Tim helped her and smiled at Y/N as if it would calm her. It did not in fact, she felt more and more anxious about their care, anxious situations made her angry. She wondered why she didn't kill them all instead of those free targets, she would never have to pay another debt again, because there would be no poker players left to play and her addiction would dissapear. "So that's it, huh? You ain't gonna play because you are scared I could actually win?" she said in her defense. Nonsense, she knew, but her heart was sweating and she was glad it didn't blow up yet. "We just care, Y/N, that-"

"Care?! Remind me Lios of just how many people I killed for you, then talk about caring for someone's life!" she spat as she stood up. Lios was more than content to her way of paying, she had no idea why he apparently cared when he could have another enemy at his feet if he just played one more game. Miyka tried to calm her down, touching her hand softly only for Y/N to flinch, hard. Her vision began to blur, the floor shook beneath her and sweat poured on her face. It was like the room was on fire, but she was the only one feeling it. Other people at the pub, being entertainted by the game or simply just hanging ot there, looked worried, some even disturbed by her behaviour.

What was happening to her?

She leaned on the table with her palms, the wood trying to ground her as she closed her eyes to not feel theirs. Voices of the players echoed her head as sounds in a cave and they felt distant, but still could make her more nervous with their caring attitude. They soon fell in whispers, driving her insane. Then, she caught one voice that silenced all the muttering, it was clear, quiet yet she felt as if its breath was in her ear. "Why play, when you can take a life for the exact amount of money laying on this table?"

She recognized the voice, it belong to the fourth player, Haltt. His voice was known only in the game. Hearing him say a sentence was unusual and therefore very powerful. It was deep, low, hard. It had authority and respect and it didn't need to ask for it. He had everyone's attention, he controlled the room with only his silent voice.

Y/N's eyes looked into his dark ones, she had to find them in the shadows floating around him, as if he commanded to them as well. "What are you saying?" she asked carefully, not knowing why. Haltt observed the table, his salt-and-pepper- although more salt than pepper- short beard surrounding his mouth as it counted the cash, then let out a little chuckle that brought goosebumps to everyone close to him. "920 Neredi. Being a hitman, a respectful hitman, would make this amount your pocket change." He grabbed the rest of her money she threw on the table and looked over to Tim. The buryer shook his head hesitantly, knowing what Haltt wants to do, but all it took was the man's neutral gaze for Tim to fold. Y/N watched him slowly scooping the money and anger took over. She pinned his hand to the table, not looking away from his face. She could hear people drawing breaths in fear, but she was free from all the anxiety now, she was grounded by his scary presence, she liked it even.

Haltt's head slowly turned to her direction, his eyes creating a straight path to hers, his eyebrows climbing up as he said softly: " You want this?" When she didn't respond, he stood up, took her hand off of his gently, not letting go as his freed hand reached behind his back, pulling out a gun. She observed quickly, it was an older model, it was small and only one bullet fit into it- however she knew a man like Haltt would only ever need one bullet- he then rotated her hand and placed it in her palm. He released her only when she seized it. Y/N let her hand warm the handle before looking up at Haltt again. "Then go make it." he finished his statement and sat back down in the shadows. Y/N checked the inside of the gun and she confirmed her knowledge about it.

She scoffed. "One bullet" Haltt nodded as if he answered to her statement. "That's all you need, I know your skills." his glass clincked when his rings touched it, raising it to his lips. She waited until he drank the remainings of his whiskey, having the suspision he might continue. "You kill the target, you'll get double of this." Her surprise was voiced by everyone around her, gasping and unbelievably whispering. Lios looked at Haltt, telling him he cannot do this. But Haltt only looked at her. "No one here wants you to play. You made them care, something a hitman shouldn't do." She squeezed her free hand into a fist, knowing his eyes are reading her like cards on the table. He leaned in: "Take your reputation back, make them fear you instead." he said quietly and it seemed only she heard it. He retreated back into his seat, letting her simmer in his words.

She knew people stopped perceiving her as a threat, a force to be reckon with, a fearful killer, and started to look at her as a 15 year old that sometimes threw tantrums. People smiled at her, old men laughed at her when they drank beer at the bar, as if she was their granddaughter doing silly things. Once, she was feared, but now she behaved like an old woman trapped inside a teenage body with gambling addiction and alcoholism. Everyone treated her as a kid she never was, but Haltt seemed to remember who she was 6 months ago, to trust her potential, her skills she never lost, but used them to not drown in debts, not to her job. She suddenly became so connected to him, she was hypnotized. The sound of the chatty room blurred again as she explored the gray ocean behind Haltt's eyes. He let her, grinning as he watched her back straighten and her nose breathing in deeply. Then came the question:

"Who is the target?"

Halt's smile stabbed through his cheeks as he answered.

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Inej didn't allow herself a break until she got the that exact building Y/N told her to. She was nervous to say the least. If everything goes right, Pekka Rollins will be dead. It was unbelievable to even think about. The moonlight caressed her back and the salty wind danced around her in excitment. Ketterdam is cheering for them, it will be better off without Rollins. She thought of ways how to carve his heart out, she wanted to make a heart-shaped hole, but it was too complicated making the curves, it would take too long and she didn't want him to die before she was finished. She needed something quick, but symbolic. After all, when the stadwatch will find his body, her work should be admired. Or Deln's work, she hated he will take credit for it, but it's definitely for the best.

Soon, the spider heard two sets of footsteps beneath her. She looked down carefully, confirming it's Y/N. In the dark, she couldn't much see her 'friend', but she could feel the disgust and fear Y/N had from above, suspecting he might not be an actual friend after all. Another secret of hers she wished to uncover after this is over. The way Jesper talked about this girl is riling up an interest in her. She wanted to get to know her better, her fate might not much differ from her own and she would like to hear her story, she would like to see why Kaz seemed to hate her so much. She also hoped Y/N will stay with them after this. For Jesper's sake and maybe for Nina's nerves as she looked worried about her.

As Y/N dissapeared into the alley, Inej grabbed her knife, Sankt Petyr, that she sharpened moments before. The wind picked up and she stood motionlessly at the edge of the building. She watched lightened windows in the Smeet Residence, hoping no one will think about looking outside tonight. The house reminded her of one she encountered at the southern colonies of Novyi Zem. It was in a horrible shape compared to this, but it was a haven for the citizens there, they admired it like people in Ketterdam admire The Exchange. It was luxurious given the state of the land.

Her train of thought stopped before it reached a station, because her ears picked up a subtle voice, then a laugh. The sounds got louder as they slowly approached her. Rollins must be pretty nervous of the meet-up if he talked to himself, or he was not alone. A slight panic rose in Inej's chest and she prepared to make the uninvited dissapear. If Rollins truly had some company, she would have to wait until he saw Y/N to take it out, otherwise he might see her and change his mind. If we won't do it, somebody else will brought out fire in her stomach. The girl was right, if they won't try the lovely dessert of revenge, others might eat it whole with no crumbs left. She suspected Pekka is the main character in many unfinished death threats and planned out vengeances.

The Wraith took a deep breath as her eyes closed, slowing down her rapid heartbeat filled with excitment. When she opened them, the bright windows from the residence, along with the dimmed lights on the streets aluminated two beings walking. One was definitely the leader of one of the most dangerous gangs in Ketterdam.

And so was the other one.

She silently gasped, panicking again, her heartbeat picking up. What the fuck is Kaz doing here? And why was he bent over with Rollins' hand around his neck. Even though they were right across her, Inej was oblivious to their conversation- well, monologue if she was more accurate- because she was way too busy feeling the plan fall apart. This wasn't supposed to happen, Kaz was meant to know nothing and then just cheer and celebrate once they'd be done. Why did he always took matters into his hands?.

When she came back to reality, they were almost in the alleyway. The spider quickly followed them, never taking her eyes off of Kaz's helpless form. Her hands always gently grazed any surface she incountered, her feet always landing on the tips of her toes, her moves inspiring every ballerina in Kerch, yet now her hands were sliding off roughly and she had to bent her knees to make the landing silent. Her fear of her friend manipulated her body and she almost fell over the edge when the sharp turn of the building made an appearance, luckily she awokened from the feeling and stopped herself.

She was above the meeting place now.

On her right was Y/N with the strange man. Y/N was anxiously pacing around, obviously worried as they all were, even the man next to her who stood still as a pole was taking almost unseeable shuttered breaths. When the girl faced her direction, Inej wanted to warn her of the unexpected turn of events, but she wouldn't be seen anyway. As it turned out though, she also wouldn't have the time to catch her attention in time as the target slowly showed up on her left side, Kaz still in his grasp. Up close she could see the knife he held to his neck, already cut into the flesh. The man on her right stopped breathing and tried to hide his widened eyes, Rollins smirked as he saw him, shaking his head in disbelief. But the tension really sparked up when Y/N finally saw them, her eyes instantly digging into Kaz, while his were already screaming at her. Only two words bound them all together as they appeared on every present mind.

Oh fuck.

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Silence started perhaps being uncomfortable for Deln, yet Y/N only cared about the boy 5 meters in front of her. He wore blood, a lot of blood. His face showed bruises for every Barrel rat and every drop of blood that fell next to his feet tore a piece of her heart. But the worst thing was his expression, it was no longer hateful, nor angry. His eyes sinked into her and they washed her with almost a relief-like feeling, like he was happy to see her, or maybe upset to see her here, in a dangerous street that will be painted red by more than one person. His gaze was soft, almost pleading her to either run away or get closer to him.

He was worried.

"I told you to come alone if my memory is still serving right." Deln began the conversation, dragging both of their attention to him. He earned a chuckle from Rollins and a response as he squeezed Kaz's neck, straightening him up: "Well, I thought I might get the lovebirds back together, eh?" The knife retreated back to his pocket, revealing a red line on the boy's neck. Y/N allowed herself to let one tear roll down her cheek as an apology to him. Pekka must have kidnapped him, because there was no other explanation on why was he present. Deln was confused, he didn't know Dirtyhands as far as she knew, nor about her time with Hertzoon. "Aw, look at 'em, already pining for each other." Rollins mocked and pushed Kaz off of his hand. Y/N had a hard time keeping it together.

Deln sighed annoyingly and the hitman was glad he kept the plan on track. It was hard to admit he was actually a big help to her. "Whatever, let's talk business shall we? It's cold tonight. Don't wanna be out late." he said offered and Rollins laughed in his face again: "What, gotta read the slaves a goodnight story?" If she wasn't still in shock from Kaz, the plan would skip to the killing part very quickly. "Well, not anymore since you took 'em all away, didn't you." the slaver stated and wiped the smile off of Pekka's face quickly. Y/N had to admit he played the role she made for him perfectly and let the conversation rest in his hands, as she continued to worry silently about the bloodied boy.

The Dime Lions' leader seemed to get upset about Deln's forwardness, he probably thought he could talk his way out of it with his disturbing charm. He put his hands on his hips and shrugged. "It ain't my problem you keep 'em in a dirty warehouse. I offered them a room with a comfortable bed and good money if they were willing to smile. That ain't no crime, lad."

"I'm not interested in your architectural opinion on my slave-keeping. I am upset you stole my property." Y/N was very invested in the conversation she almost forgot her role was against Deln. Her tied hands turned him to her side by the shoulder and pierced him with her eyes. "Don't speak of them like that." she warned and he simpy scoffed her off. It wasn't much, she must admit, but it was enough to voice her stand in this matter. "HA! And what do you think you'll be after we're done here? You will be lucky if I allow you to work in my brothel." the last sentence was a warning, he could be so much cruel to her, like he was in his house. She was present finally, all worry stepped aside to make space for the anger she held and the focus she held earlier tonight sat back down on her mind.

"You won't touch her."

Ready to speak, Y/N was taken aback by his raspy voice with scary undertone. He spoke to her like that, not long ago. It was almost unreal he was defending her. As much as it brought shivers down her body, Rollins was unfazed by the threat. "You can barely stand, boy. What can you possibly do to me." he stated the obvious and continued once he looked her way again. "Besides, she really isn't worthy of your protection." He put one foot in front of the other slowly, walking over to her. She was on alert, if she had the opportunity, she wouldn't wait anymore and strangle him with her tired hands and her desire to dig his grave. He stopped few steps from her and reached into his pocket again, pulling out something else than a knife this time. "Lost this?"

A thin, almost not visible in the dark, black string was held between his fingers. The bracelet she lost. The one Kaz gave her on the last day they saw each other. She lost it in Rollins' office. Her temptation to reach for it was unseen by Y/N as her first instinct was to look at Kaz, who also drowned in the vision of the string. She broke her promise, a childish one, sure, but it destroyed her still. It always served as a reminder of her failure. How she failed to warn him and Jordie, how she wrapped his heart around her finger without knowing it and allowed Hertzoon to shatter it. The girl promised herself to not mess up this promise, at least one thing she could keep. In the end, she lost it too.

How does she deserve to live after destroying all good in her life?

"Yeah, cruel isn't she? Do you really think she cares about you, or anyone for that matter?" he talked to Kaz that was still mesmerized by the sight in Rollins' hand. Deln was silently watching the scene, the situation out of his hands now, the plan off of track. "You don't know anything about her, boy-". " You're wrong." she interrupted him. He turned to her, waiting to elaborate, the string still lifted between his fingers as if he was trying to hypnotize them. "I told him everything." Y/N continued as she silently wished with the last bit of hope he would take the bait. He didn't:

"Everything, eh?" he echoed as he turned his back on her and focused on Kaz fully. As he reached his personal space, his hand streched to him, giving him the bracelet. The boy fixated on it, swaying with the wind due to his trouble standing on the one good leg for this long. Rollins watched him closely, feeling Kaz's hand taking it almost immediately. When his coffee-like eyes reached his snake ones, Pekka uncovered Y/N's lie:

"Do you remember Ms. Hertzoon?"

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"...You what?"

"Don't you dare be offended, you manipulated her and then left us. You're as bad as I am."

That made them punch her strongly in the stomach. Funny, Rollins wanted to watch her suffer, but was too lazy to torture her himself. They were on this for 2 hours now, or she at least thought so, she couldn't tell if the ringing was only in her ears. Rollins had her sit on a chair and then asked questions. The first were stupid and simple, almost like a small talk: Did she rob him, why is she back, when did she get back, etc. She earned 5 different punches in this round. Then the latter began. They wanted to know what happened after the con trick- as he called it- which resulted in her split lip and first blood drawn. Then another small talk, remembering all their time together and then, the truth. "Where is your mother?" it began and ended in countless of other painful things she couldn't be bothered to remember.

"How." he almost whispered, it was so dramatic that Y/N would laugh if she wasn't wheezing with every breath. "Oh, please. Like you care." she fully expected the hit for that one, though it still hurt like hell. "How!" he ordered her and watched her grow a grin with her painted-red mouth. She could still feel the little gun in her little hand, standing at the foot of her mother's bed. She watched her sleep for a moment before she truly aimed. Haltt was right, it did get back her reputation. He gave her the money and she counted every single coin to make sure it really was doubled. Fortunately, he was an honest man.

"One bullet was all it took."

To say she regretted it would be a lie, the biggest one in history maybe. She second-guessed it on her way home, sure, but she more doubted Haltt's promise than her actions. However, once she really saw her mother's chest rise and fall, nothing was easier than to pull the trigger. If she was a monster in her eyes, she would become one in her memory.

"YOU FUCKING BITCH!" was the last thing she heard from him, then her ears were filled with ringing and also pain when her nerves couldn't take it anymore. Everything went dark after a while, she was sure she couldn't breath and her eyes zipped themselves tightly, but even though she lost consciousness, she was sure she never stopped smiling while it lasted.

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He always suspected some part of her story was left out, it would be unwise to tell him everything and she was not stupid. While Kaz did predict that something happened with the mother, he didn't expect this. He answered her eyes as they asked for connection and tried to assure them of his unchanged opinion. So what? He also done horrible things, they all have, especially Rollins. Such a hypocrite, that man. When he finished re-telling the story of Y/N's torture, he retreated from the boy's space, fortunately for him, because Kaz would have no hesitation in twisting Pekka's neck. Everything was silent for a while, the wind whispered cold around them as they all studied each other. Kaz looked at the building's roof next to them, seeing only darkness, but feeling her presence. He hoped that whatever Y/N planned to do with Inej would be useful. And what did he know, maybe this situation is going extremely well for them.

"Well, that is truly shocking, but unfortunetely, Y/N's dead mom won't solve this conflict. So let's solve it ourselves, shall we?" The slaver spoke and grabbed the girl next to him by the bicep, dragging her with him closer to Rollins. Kaz took a small, unnecessary step forward as a move to help her. Seeing Deln's hand on her made the water rise around him, he could feel her discomfort and felt it himself. They stopped and he threw the girl in front of him lightly, so she wouldn't fall, but aggressively enough, so she would sway. "Pay me for the slaves and she's yours, as promised." the boy's fist turned white at that, wishing he could hang Deln's organs at the lamppost. "Hmmm" groaned Rollins in thinking. "How much do ya want?"

"3000 kruge."

"Pardon?"

Deln rolled his eyes. "It was 100 slaves you stole from me, every slave is expensive and believe me, I'm giving you a discount right now." Rollins nodded at his explanation. At this point, Kaz thought about getting out of there. He was being ignored and would be forgotten in a while. Rollins couldn't see him, Deln could, but he doubted he would care. However, she could too, and his heart radiated an unfamiliar feeling at the thought of dissapearing without Y/N. If this situation happened with anyone else, he'd be already at the Slat, drinking shots and drowning in silence of his room. Dirtyhands planned the escape, Kaz refused to go through with it. He refused to leave her. "Alright, alright. How about this." Rollins spoke his thoughts. "I'll give you half of what they make me from now on and if you ever wander in the Sweet Shop, you won't have to pay." Deln was silent, but he was clearly concidering it.

"Huh? Sounds good?" Smiling Pekka streched out his hand and waited for a handshake. Every set of eyes watched Deln's movement, from his step closer, closer to Rollins, closer to Y/N, until he squeezed Pekka's hand, reflecting his expression. "That's a deal, then." said the robber. "Deal." said the slaver. Kaz didn't know what that meant and from the girl's face, he could tell the confusion was shared. Although, he truly realized this wasn't part of their plan after Deln quickly reached for Y/N's belt with the same hand that just closed a deal, pulling out a small gun, one that could barely fit a bullet, and aiming it at the hitman. She was frightened, taking steps back, but she didn't got very far when Deln grabbed her by the collar, holding her close to his body.

"Like mother like daughter."

He was instantly on the move, as fast as he could, trying to prevent what was about to happen. The bullet was faster though. Before hearing the gunshot, they heard Deln's scream. Y/N felt to the ground and Kaz was at her side immediately. His eyes panicking, trying to find the wound while his heart sounded the alarms and awakened fear. Not like this. He couldn't lose her like this. He soon found the gunshot and without thinking threw his hands to press it down. They never made contact with it, Rollins' knife already found its way back to his neck, pulling him away from her. "You didn't think I forgot about you, did ya?" he laughed in his ear before Kaz threw his head back, hitting him in the nose. The grip got loose and he turned around, sending his anger and frustration in his fist. Rollins tumbled and he kicked him on the ground, getting him closer to the place he belongs.

Deln moaned in pain and the boy finally saw the reason. Below his bent over form, a puddle of blood formed and in it swam his thumb, right above Sankt Petyr. The corners of his mouth lifted a bit, he couldn't remember how did he survive all this time without Inej watching over him and the crows, it made him grateful she is back for now. His eyes were set to find Y/N again, but he only saw a red trace from where she laid. She must've gotten away. Good girl.

He couldn't follow her steps, because Rollins already got up from the cobblestones, ready to strike. He breathed heavily, supporting the place Kaz kicked him in with his hand. He couldn't understand why Rollins always came back into his life. He tried to avoid him all his time in Ketterdam, yet life always brought them together. Or death, he wasn't sure, maybe they were destined to destroy each other. Pekka Rollins was like a mosquito bite: itching to be noticed and when Kaz does so, he feels a brief satisfaction before the itch comes back and is worse than before. He was also as annoying. It needed to be finished right here and tonight

The boy braced himself and waited on the mosquito's move, straightening himself. Little did he know, the shadow from above already closed in on the man. Kaz watched as she kicked his knee from the back and caught his hair, stopping him from falling fully on the ground again. Sankta Lizabeta could be soon visible above his heart, the tip waiting to be pushed in. Only then, Dirtyhands quietly sighed in relief.

"He still can't do it without ya, huh? Tell me boy, when will you start being a man and do things on your own?" Rollins mocked them as he recognized the face, which currently held the future of his heartbeat. Kaz limped slowly closer, feeling Inej's eyes on him. He lowered his head once he entered Pekka's personal space dangerously deep. "When my brother will get his revenge in hell."

As soon as the menacing words reached Rollins, his lips twitched up at the sight of Sankta Lizabeta slowly painting an imaginery outline of the man's heart, being applauded by his blood-curling scream. Inej wasn't the one for torture, but he could see the bit of joy in her eyes and the relief on her face. She deserved to be the one that would free Ketterdam from this parasite and he let her have it, already searching for the bloody trail Y/N left behind.

His eyes alerted him when they caught it and he began to follow the path, slowly, limping as Deln's whines cheered him on.

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The stars were with her, sometimes changing their position or widening in her eyes as they waited to claim her. Salty waterdrops tapped her tired legs, reminding her of where she sat. She imagined death many times, it wasn't unusual for someone in her profession. She remembered Tim talking about the peace that comes with it, saying it is kind, so it would be easier for the soul to leave the body. For her, it was obvious. Everything would be kinder than life. However, nothing could prepare her for the last moments. Y/N realized that no matter how much you imagine it, it will always surprise you. The knowing that this is the last time she is going to exist in wasn't something her brain could comprehend. Maybe that was the mystery death held, that was the fuel for the fear in others, not understanding until it was too late.

Wind played softly with her hair while it kissed the bruises of her now untied hands, and she tried hard to feel everything at the same time. The clothes touching her skin, the numbness in her feet, her shaky breath as it entered and left her system, but mostly, she tried to memorize the pain in her stomache and the bullet inside her body. It was an intense feeling, so she wanted to feel it as much as possible, before it would fade and with it her heart.

The hitman got hit.

This is how her victims probably felt. She brought this feeling to numerous lives. Her mother felt this way too. Y/N couldn't decide if dying felt good or disgusting, but she could be certain it was lonely. Even if people surrounded her, it wouldn't be better. It was an experience for her soul, no one from the outside could empathize.

She wondered where her grave would lay as the slow footsteps got closer. Y/N heard him limp next to her and it seemed like the stars noticed him too, because they stopped moving once he sat down, as though they only wanted to be seen by her. He was visibly tired, still bleeding from his neck.

Maybe he was feeling the final presence too.

Maybe her starts would take them both.

Silence and the waves crashing made the space between them comfortable, maybe too comfortable for her liking. His breath was disrupting hers as it naturally tried to match the rhythm. The moment became so peaceful, she almost forgot about their history. It felt like nothing happened between them, they were just kids, sitting by the port, watching stars and listening to the ocean. They weren't Dirtyhands and Saskia. They weren't the Bastard of the Barell and Snowflake.

They were Y/N and Kaz. As they were always meant to be.

"Do you believe in faith?"

It felt like yesterday since he asked her that question. Every shared memory of them felt so close to her now, as if time was all messed up. Maybe death was already doing its job. Kaz was taking his time with the answer, breathing heavily, as if the air had to fill his words first before she could hear them.

"Yes...I do."

He exhaled, his low empty voice responding. Her lips lifted into a messy smile, her muscles were losing their power all over her body, but that didn't stop her from reaching into her coat and pulling out a folded, bloodied paper that her fingers swiftly grabbed from her slaver's back pocket before he could shoot her. It was almost bizzare, how a small, easily rippable piece made her revisit the demons of the past. She wondered if Deln wanted this all along. Maybe he wanted Rollins to kill her, so he could make his deal with him. Or maybe it was just faith, wanting to see how far she would go for a false sense of freedom.

"It doesn't mean anything." Y/N stated as she felt Kaz looking at the release paper. "I just needed proof that I'm not under anyone's influence anymore, but..." her eyes followed the ongoing waves. They looked like on a leash, as if someone released them, so they could explode onto the harbor's walls, only to pull them back again shortly after, reminding them they were still being controlled. It seemed torturous, humiliating. It looked like her. "...I will never be free of him."

Y/N couldn't look at the boy, even if his burning gaze could only be extinguished by an eye contact. He was right, she was a monster. She could see it now and she wouldn't hide from this fact. She would accept herself before her heart would stop singing. It was the least she could do with the very limited time, coming to terms with her own self.

The stars started moving again slowly as Kaz spoke: "He can't control you anymore..." His tone showed certainty. Inej had to claim her souvenir of revenge by now, but he still managed to squeeze out a scoff from the hitman. She couldn't believe he allowed himself to be so naïve. Rainbow won't repair the damage done by storm, same as killing Pekka Rollins won't erase his actions and the following conciquences. His influence made her do things beyond his leadership. It scarred her for life, and those scars bled onto others without the possibility to heal. She bled on him too. She killed his brother for fuck's sake.

"The things he caused precedes him." Y/N finally looked at Kaz, his eyes seemed to be glowing in her hallucinating mind. "I can't be changed." She whispered, knowing he would hear every single letter. The moon illuminated him perfectly. His features casted a soft look under its light and Y/N was glad this would be the appearence of him she would take to her grave. She was happy to become one of the stars that would continue to shine on him.

Suddenly, death seemed very pretty.

The girl saw his hand on hers before she could feel it. It was weirdly warm, even though he barely touched her. His eyes demanded her ears' attention as he spoke, slowly, so she could feel the words. "You don't need to be changed."

Her mind was confused. How could he even speak such things?

"I am a killer." she reminded him.

"Not by choice." he argued.

"I killed my own mother and enjoyed it." she was restless in making him hate her.

"Your mother's conciquences of her own actions." he dodged her attempt.

"I killed your brother." was when she knew she would win. It wasn't excusable. Nothing could possibly erase this from Kaz's mind, no apology was enough, she was certain. That was the reason she couldn't understand why Kaz's hand began to hold hers more tightly as his eyes studied the wound in her stomache, covered by her arm that desperately tried to prevent the blood from pouring out, but it became more and more hopeless. "You're dying and not doing anything about it." he aknowleged. Y/N smiled briefly, from pain and also from his slow understanding of her plan.

"I deserve it." she spoke weakly, every word felt heavy on her tongue and she was about to give in to their weight. He only observed her, as her body was slowly losing the ability to move, as her energy was being sipped by the waves below. It suddenly felt a bit scary for her, she was in the process of dying and it strangely ignited the last bit of her will to live.

Kaz did nothing, he only asked: "Why?" She looked at him, her eyes shooting fear. She guessed she would engage with every emotion before turning off. Maybe the nature granted this privilege to every person, so they would get to have the proper goodbye to their body.

"I never done anything good, I only brought pain." her lips responded, making Kaz nod slowly. Y/N gasped softly as the fear intensified. This feeling was unlike any before, like her life was slowly slipping through her body, through the wound. Her arm pressed tightly, as much as she could to slow down the inevitable, but it was too late. "Maybe it's time to change that." Kaz spoke. She wouldn't be able to change her ways if she died, the only thing she would remember about this life was how she made it difficult for everyone else.

Y/N sighed, death was almost touching her, heart was losing its music. She no longer felt the waterdrops on her legs and the stars dimmed their light. "It's too late."

The port beneath her began to sway, as if it would tip over to the ocean anytime. She gripped the concrete edge, slipping her hand from Kaz's to do so, trying to stop it from moving, only for it to sway more. She picked her eyes up at the sky, seeing only her five stars in the black treacle sky, as her body pushed closer to the waves.

Death awaited her.

Like those waves, Y/N was suddenly pulled back by someone's hands, feeling her body lift up from the port, supported in the air. Her form bounced with every other step and another warm breath kept mixing with hers. She imagined those arms were of an angel, bringing her to heaven. Or a devil, bringing her to hell. She gave into its touch nonetheless.

"I know you're not very good at keeping them, but would you promise me one last thing?" a voice asked her, a low and a tired one. One that could only belong to an angel the way it kept her dying heart beating. The girl could only hum, agreeing to the angel's request. The voice sounded serious, threatening almost, but she could hear the worry hidden behind it, as it spoke.

"Don't make me lose you."

---------------------------------------------------

Nina whined, having trouble with breathing as her hands shook from the need to be put down. She saved the Dregs numerous times from a certain death, yet Y/N exceeded her expectations. The heartender tried her very best to wake her heart up, while Jesper and Wylan panicked to pull out the bullet and seize the wound, so no more blood would be lost. What wasn't helpful, though, was Brekker, constantly yelling at them for trying harder. She understood that his anger was powered by the fear for that girl, but that didn't put out the urge to fill his face with more wounds, maybe a broken nose even.

"I swear, Nina. If she dies.." he exclaimed again, not helping the situation in any way.

"It will be on you!" Nina barked at him, frustration clearly visible not only on her tone, but her tired features. Her eyes shot to Jesper and Wylan an apologizing look as she saw their hands bloodied and faces worried. The door swinged open behind her, revealing Inej. Nina felt relief wash over her as she saw her. Kaz would maybe stop being such an asshole in her presence.

"Is she breathing?" Inej asked and immediately moved to Y/N's lying form, putting her cheek above her nose. "Barely." Wylan answered stressfully. Kaz's worry shifted to fear, Nina could sense that, even when her full focus was on the hitman's weak heart. She was barely alive, but the heartender was still surprised it could beat. She was strong and Nina hoped she would continue to fight.

Jesper gasped heavily and looked at her. "The wound's sealed!" he sounded so hopeful and it brought Nina some strenght to see him like this. She had to take quick breaths before tightening her hands in the air one more time, fastening Y/N's heartbeat. Fortunetely, it worked. "She's breathing again!" Inej said with a small smile, causing Kaz to limp closer to see for himself. His own wounds weren't yet treated, but Nina didn't even try to convince him. He had trouble looking after himself when one of them was hurt, she could imagine how much worse it was in this case, where his heartbeat's fire was on the brink of death.

She could feel the heartbeat pick up to a slow pace. It wasn't yet normal, but at least she didn't have to control it now. Nina put her hands down and fell down on an armchair beside her. Everyone in the room fell victims to exhaustion, Nina closed her eyes for a moment, just focusing on her breathing. Wylan was the first to stand up and slowly make his way out of the room with the words she'll be alright, Nina, you did a great job. Jesper followed, squeezing Nina's shoulder and nodding shortly at Kaz, before the door closed after him too.

"You either let me treat your wounds or you will go and get some sleep." she offered to the man, her eyes fixated on Y/N. She was glad he, at least, wrapped his neck in a bandage during this hard time, but he had other quite serious wounds she had to treat sooner or later. Kaz allowed himself to be predictable as he stared at the hitman and then slowly limped out of the room. Before he did though, he surprised her after all.

"Thank you."

Nina's head snapped his way and watched him leave, she didn't expect that. Inej sat next to her on the armrest, following her eyes to the laying girl. "You should rest as well, I know how tired you are." the heartender studied her features with a caring look. Her friend fought the sleep well so far, which she hated to see. "I'm not leaving you alone." the spider said with a decisive eyes connecting with hers. She knew the heartender couldn't sleep herself, as she had to look out for Y/N's heart. Nina flashed a defeated smile. She was grateful for her presence, she missed her a lot, but it would ease her mind if she went to sleep. However, knowing her stubborn mind, she scooted over to the very side, creating a tiny space for Inej to sit, which her friend accepted with a smile.

"Alright then. Tell me how you killed Rollins and DON'T spare any details."

------------------------------------------------

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promptthebear · 11 months

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I'm really sorry to hear about your mum, and your headcold! I hope you start feeling better soon, drink lots of tea! Would it be possible if I could please make a request for #25 “I can’t smile at you, I’m mad.” with Tryion? (also sorry I dont have emojis to send the bunny haha)

Thank you sweet anon! I mentioned a little about this in another post, but we ended up being able to do "Easter" dinner at the end of April so that was nice! I'm starting to get sick again though, so I will take your advice and have lots and lots of tea!

Easter Askbox Event- Tyrion x Reader

CW- Swearing, bc it's Tyrion. F!Reader, Reader is also implied to be a former Bolton or related to them. 2nd person, so reader is referred to as "you". Reader has long hair, but hair colour, eye colour, skin colour and body type are not mentioned.

The song Tyrion sings is this one, it's another old folk song from my choir days even though this is a more modern cover. Enjoy!

Tyrion was in deep shit, and he knew it.

He hadn’t meant to miss dinner again. He’d had every intention of leaving the hand’s office at a reasonable hour, but as always one thing lead to another and suddenly he was sitting in a dark office with the moon peeping through his window and his candles burnt down to stubs.

It wasn’t his fault that Joffery ruled the kingdom with all the skill and tact of a blind, inbred pig that had fallen into a barrel of ale. It also wasn’t his fault that the Small Council expected him to pull miracles out of his shapely arse on a daily basis, but he also knew that after dining alone for what was to be the fifteenth night in a row, you weren’t going to be in a forgiving mood.

When he arrived at your shared chambers,the only thing that greeted Tyrion was a cold fireplace and an eerie, oppressive silence. The dining table had long since been cleared, without even a plate of cold meats or bread waiting for him. He knew this meant you were mere moments away from giving into your Bolton roots and flaying off every bit of his sorry hide to make yourself a dwarven hearth rug.

With all the enthusiasm of a man going to the gallows, Tyrion approached the door to your bedroom. It was shut fast, the carved lions seeming to judge him from their wooden faces. As much as he wanted to turn tail and make for the farthest inn at the edge of the city, he knew prolonging things would only make matters worse. Taking a deep breath, Tyrion gently knocked on the door and prayed to whatever gods were listening that you’d at least make his demise a quick one.

When no answer came, he knocked again, a little louder this time. He knew you were there, and that you were listening. He could see a shadow cutting through the candlelight that shone out from beneath the door.

“Darling?”

Again, he was met with a bitter silence. Somehow, that stung worse than a biting word or scolding ever could. With a sigh, Tyrion reached for the door handle and was surprised to find it stayed stiff in his grasp. Not only were you refusing to speak to him, you’d locked him out.

“Dearest? Please, open the door. I know I’m horribly late, but how am I meant to make it up to you if you’re hiding from me?”

You didn’t want Tyrion to make it up to you. In fact, the only thing you seemed to want was for Tyrion to starve to death in front of this bastard door, as a reminder to your next idiot husband about what would happen if he crossed you.

All too quickly, Tyrion’s guilt gave way to frustration. He was tired. He was hungry, he’d walked up all those fucking stairs on his stunted legs and damn your stubborn hide, this was his tower! He had paid for the bed you were keeping him from and gave you the key for the door you’d shut in his face. If the blasted thing didn’t lock from the inside, he would’ve long since gone in there and made you see sense.

But that wasn’t going to happen, not anymore than the likelihood of Tyrion growing to the size of the Hound and putting his foot through the wood like it was wet paper. No, he was going to remain stuck out here until you had a change of heart or until the Seven Hells froze over, and at this moment the odds certainly seemed better on that second thing.

Cursing, Tyrion struck the door as hard as he could with his fist. It felt good, so he did it again. And again, punctuating each strike with “shit!” or “bugger!” or “fuck” in increasingly creative combinations. If you weren’t going to forgive him, at the very least he could annoy you into submission.

“Tyrion Lannister, you stop that this instant!”

“Let me in and I will!” Gods, did he ever sound petulant, no better than a child throwing a fit. Couldn’t you see what you’d reduced him to?

“Absolutely not. Your sorry arse can sleep in the stables for all I care.”

“If you don’t open this fucking door-” his voice had taken on a shrill whine that was a little too alike to Joffery for his tastes, but he didn’t give a shit. This was your fault.

“What? What exactly are you going to do from out there? Make some more dents? Wonderful, the woodcarvers guild will be so pleased”

“Fuck!”

In a fit of passion, he took off his boot and threw it against the nearest wall. It hit with a hollow thud, before sliding down and landing uselessly on the floor. Tyrion stood, shoulders squared and breathing hard. Then he heard it. A soft sound from behind the door, one that nearly shattered his sorry, shrivelled heart into a thousand pieces.

You were crying.

Immediately, the fight left him. He hobbled over, collected his boot and resumed his post at the door with his head hanging in shame. He had really done it this time, and if the first thing you did tomorrow morning was chuck him off the castle walls, he wouldn’t blame you. A simple apology wasn’t going to be enough tonight. If he had a prayer in Hell of getting back into your good graces, there was only one thing that he could try.

He always felt that his voice wasn’t much when it came to songs, but you loved it. He’d sung to you, the first time you’d met just after your betrothal. It was a song that made you love him then, so perhaps if he was lucky, it would work again.

“The water is wide. I cannot cross o’er. And neither do I have wings to fly. Give me a boat, that will carry two, and both shall row, my love and I”

His voice was shaking slightly, and he knew he was off key, but a poor offering was better than none at all.

“There is a ship and it sails on the sea. Loaded deep as deep can be But not as deep as the love I'm in. I know not if I sink or swim.”

No sooner had he stopped singing the last note, than he heard the sound of tumblers clicking in the lock. He all but sobbed with relief when you opened the door, falling to his knees and ready to beg for all he was worth.

Much to his surprise, you joined him on the floor, throwing your arms about his neck and burying your face into his shoulder. He held you tight, with a hand around your waist and one in your hair. You were crying still, but you were with him now, and that was all that mattered.

When your tears subsided, he pulled back slightly, trying to see your face. You ducked your head to the side, refusing to meet his eye.

“Beloved, look at me, please?”

“No.” your hair was loose and hung around your cheeks like a curtain. Your voice sounded thick and tight from tears, but with none of the anger from before.

“Why?”

“Because if I look at you, I’ll smile. I can’t smile at you, I’m mad.”

Tyrion chuckled softly and shook his head. He was by no means out of trouble yet, but hearing you jest meant he’d be married to you and alive for at least one more day.

“Well, how about this. We can talk about what an idiot I am, and once you’ve had your fill of that, I’ll write a thousand page sonnet about what a wonderful wife you are, and then if you find you’re still upset with me, I’ll kiss you until you’re happy again.”

“…what if it takes a lot of kisses for that to happen?”

Tyrion placed a quick kiss against your temple, then nuzzled his face against your own. Your familiar scent made him feel like he’d finally been let back into paradise.

“Then we better get started, shouldn’t we?”

#easter askbox event #tyrion x reader #tyrion x you #tyrion lannister fluff #tyrion lannister #got reader insert #got fic #got imagines

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6early--human · 15 days

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tell me abt amolad :3!

YIPPPPE

Ok ok this will probably get extremely info dumpy and spoilery so sorry about that 😅 i tried to make this as coherent as possible but i think i failed so bad at that XP btw this would have been out earlier its just i got distracted with re reading the comic for the 1003949499 time

but a matter of life and death was a webcomic that started around 2015/2016 and ended sometime in 2021 now i would try and explain the plot BUT IT WAS CANCELED BEFORE THE PLOT REALLY STARTED !?!?!?!

But basically its about how life and death navigates their relationship being complete opposites

life is often seen as loud brash and childish but when push comes to shove he can be a good level headed leader, (this is best shown when it flash backs to right before he locked up war ) he gets attached to every thing he creates witch is one of the main reasons him and death didn't get a long for most of the comic. Hes extremely emotional and says a lot very self deprecating things (my favorite example of this is the "i am just the canvas to make all the paint look good " line and that little bit of the character vote )

Then there's death .death and life are both similar in the way they are both kind of drowning in their self hatred. But death is a lot more "every one hates me and their constantly judging me" kind of self loathing. physically death is the 2nd oldest. He was originally made because the 2 gods (witch i forgot the names of but all you really need to know about them is that they are basically this worlds god and satan) noticed that life was lonely and they wanted to give him a friend but they couldn't decide on what his job would be so they kind of ....didn't finish him ?? Idk how to explain it but fast forward years eons even and life starts making us humans and now they finally have a use for this shell of a thing ...death .death wasn't really like by the others for most of his existence as he was extremely off putting. It was actually life who got the others to like him and they became really close but something happened that make life dislike death .

Ok some lore context before i get into what i want to talk about. Gods dont talk about their jobs and names dont really mean anything. Llife for the longest time life never knew that death.... was well death and once he found out he (death) convinced him to bring back the dead which is extremely against the rules something happen during that that caused life to lose his memorys

Anyyywhooo this post is getting to long and i dont have the energy to type more out i DID NOT mean for this to be so long thank you for reading this (if you get this far) :3

#🎭 rambles #alterhuman #fictionkin #amolad kin #amolad death #amolad #amolad life #infodump #hyperfixation

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nyandela-catalogue · 2 months

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︵︵୨୧ PINNED POST ୨୧︵︵

Gonna make this short and simple:

[edit: We post stuff that’s ~16+ rating max, so do with that what you will.]

Main fronters (lately) are Mark, Cesar, Adam, and Jonah

Bodily an adult (2002)

Alters will tag with their names (if they want to)

If you want to see our cool and pawsome vrchat/3d model-related tiktoks, you can go here: TikTok Page

We try to add subtitles when we can in our videos, and we’ll try to add good or adequate alt text to any photos we post on here.

Further links/info to where you can find other things we do are in one of the pinned posts on that page :)

Our Neocities :) (has links to our twitch, yt, etc)

@kinito-bonito <-KinitoPET blog

pronouns + emojis

VRChat groups

Official Nyandela County Spotify Playlist(tm)

Nyandela County AU/The Nyandela Catalogue

small statement on Alex Kister situation (HAS BEEN EDITED)

important post <-addresses harassment

blogs lore lol

post abt The Singing Reindeer

(more info below readmore since i dont want this to be 13 miles long -Mark📕)

———

Do not come to us asking for medical/system/relationship/etc advice, that’s not what we’re here for

We will post Mandela Catalogue and AU-related stuff here, as well as source-related posts.

We will not be seeking external sourcemates, as we have everybody we need.

However, if you wanna talk to us, go ahead- just make sure you clarify who you’re talking to.

We don’t do the “doubles dni” thing bc A) gatekeeping alters/sources isn’t something we believe in, and B) we don’t judge who you are. Just be nice lol

We block fairly freely. Don’t take it personal. Or, if you do take it personal, keep it to yourself honestly. We don’t need more bullying or harassment over misunderstandings.

Anyway, we’ll tag things as necessary and will always put warnings for flashing lights, fast movements, and/or other possible necessary warnings.

If you have any questions or concerns, feel free to drop them in the askbox :)

ANOTHER COUPLE IMPORTANT THINGS:

1 - Playful “flirting” is okay(as long as you’re of-age), but don’t try to date us. We don’t date outside of our system anymore bc of repeated trauma 🙃

edit: above boundary made more clear

2 - We will talk about trauma and possibly-triggering and/or dark topics. If that isn’t your cup of tea, the back button/door is right there.

3 - Don’t tell us what we can and can’t do. We likely don’t know you, so your opinion isn’t going to be held to the same value as someone we do know.

I think that’s everything for now… Thanks for reading. I hope you enjoy our blog~

-(Alt) Cesar🥀

#the mandela catalogue #introduction #pinned post #plurality #og #sorry if this comes off as mean but if you cant tell we’ve dealt with a lot of abuse and bullshit so… -Mark📕

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sickknotdoom · 3 months

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this is probably gonna sound like i'm blindly hating, but i don't like the new cometkid designs. hear me out - it just looks like they weren't thought out a lot? i wish more care were put into them. compare, like... chem, frosty, tella, berry... with jolly and violet and alphie. they don't have any sort of obvious theme about them, which is what makes the other cometkids cool! i wish they were developed more instead of just being thrown in there. it's moving really really fast compared to before and i think slowing down would just... fix a lot of it. because you'd have time to develop things and have more fun characters!

OKAY FIRST OF ALL I NEARLY FUCKING SHAT MYSELF BECAUSE MY TUMBLR SAID 15 ASKS but when i opened it only showed this one

anyway yeah. the earlier(?) cometkids actually seem well thought out and distinct from their parents. see marco, chem, and eve.

i consider these my three favorite cometkids both design wise and character wise, of course they resemble their parents (thats how genetics work) but theyre still remarkable, unique, and stand out. they also have fleshed out personalities; eves a rebellious troublemaker but still genuinely cares for her siblings, chem is a scientist like barry but instead of denying things they dont agree with they embrace possibilities, and marcos an exhausted programmer with genuine aspiration to work for an indie game team. now lets look at the new ones.

okay so here we have Yeehaw Jay, Girlboss Rem, and Emo Lightskin Carrie. i admittedly havent caught up with cometcare (i prolly should, but its moving so fast that im sorta scared to) but from what ive seen, normas personality boils down to Loves Scaring Her Siblings, and judging from how other kids are (levi not shutting the fuck up about crypto, tella being the equivalent of 2019 billie eilish stans, etc) it wouldnt be far off to assume that in the future the others will have one singular trait that dictates the entirity of their writing and design.

cometcares been moving super fucking fast as of recent, constant new panels and arcs with the artstyle feeling more and more rushed with every new update, so i wouldnt be surprised if the designs are also being given this treatment. youre definitely onto something with wanting the newer kids to be more developed rather than having a sole feature about them dictate everything. i feel like taking a breather would help let the creative juices flow in a more productive, captivating way.

cometcare in its current state feels like a content farm to distract the fandom from whatever genuinely emotional moments are coming up in the actual comic. people get so caught up in it that when an actually impactful update drops they act like its the end of the world. and also fans are just... expected to understand every single ship and know every single cometkid? no offense, but as a newcomer to the au, the pacing makes it hard to keep track of anyone but sly and blair, and even thats starting to get difficult. new side characters get introduced all the time and i have to question the relevance of anything that happens, which has made me hesitant towards trying to thoroughly read and comprehend it.

#sparklecriticism #sparklecare criticism #.png.svg

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autisticlee · 1 year

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I just had a school memory unlocked from a time a grown ass man, a teacher/principal sexulized me as a minor and blamed me for it.

when i was a teen, i tried very hard to be as feminine as I could to ~force myself to be a girl~ just to make everyone happy, since they were very unhappy with my boyish ways that didn't go away as i became a teen, like they expected would happen. so they bullied me into wearing a feminine mask, so to speak.

anyway, I dressed overly feminine for a few years and copied hayley from paramore as much as i possibly could, because i didnt know how to be a "girl" and she had a fun fashion sense and was very loved and adored. seemed like a winner, so i chose her to emulate. if you know her, you may know of her often wearing shorts with tights under them, and that became my go-to outfit choice for a few years in school. I didn't like having bare legs, so when it was hot out i'd wear shorts with tights or leggings under them (winter was bright color skinny jeans).

there was no rule against this in dress code. nothing about tights related to shorts. only that tights can't be snagged/ripped and you had to wear something over tights and leggings and they can't be worn as pants alone. also, shorts/skirts had to be finger tip length. which they were. i made sure all my shorts were long enough. they were tights like this with green denim shorts over them:

well, one day the principal randomly pulled me from my lunch table and took me to a quiet, secluded spot to complain about my outfit. "has no one told you what you're wearing is inappropriate? *gestures to my legs*"

me confused, replying ????no?? I've been wearing this for a few years. and him telling me to never come back to school wearing that again. I asked him why, but of course, he didn't have a real answer besides "it's not allowed," while staring at my legs the whole time. I said it's not in the rule book, i checked before wearing it, so he said something like it should be obvious that it's not allowed to purposely distract the boys and male teachers, that I was knowingly trying to attract them to me and be ~sexy- and that's not appropriate at school. 😬

I said I was just wearing what I wanted to for myself. because people complained I wasn't feminine enough, it was hot out, and i dont like to have bare legs showing??? why is the combination of shorts and tights bad?! the rules say leggings need to have shorts or skirts over them. I don't like skirts. I even showed him my shorts are the proper length. but he still decided I was trying to be a whore at school for some reason. 🤢🤢🤢🤢

i'm asexual. and the sex repulsed kind to top it off. the pure insinuation of such thing was enough to make me insanely nauseous.

I was very distracted and uncomfortable the rest of the day in every class. literally no one else was distracted by my COVERED LEGS, though, like that man claimed.

that was the only time i'd ever gotten any complaints or mention of my clothing in 3 years i'd been wearing that same kind of thing. no one else cared. it was the first time he'd even seen me! I felt so uncomfortable and the way he talked and stared felt so violating.

that was the final straw that broke my gender and caused me to go full transmasc mode at that time. I was so disgusted that trying to be a girl for everyone meant I was sexulized as a literal CHILD that I gave up. I only wore "boy" clothes after that and cut all my hair off.

fast forward, we had to do a final presentation before graduating and I learned he was one of the judges for that. we had a "professional dress code" we had to follow for it. girls were to wear nice dresses or skirts and guys button downs and ties and stuff like that. one girl (who I suspect was actually also closet trans, nb, or trans masc) got approval for girls to wear dress pants. so I wore the most boyish outfit I could. pants, button down, suit vest, and tie. basically just to spite that man and the gross way he talked and looked at me. I wasn't going to satisfy his weird need to sexualize teen girls. I can't remember his reaction because I had to focus on doing a presentation in front of a bunch of people and that was a pain in the ass. it was a sensory nightmare so my brain made that part foggy.

I basically stick with androgynous to this day, because of gross shit from men and boys like this who decided being a girl or feminine is a crime because it means you ~must be trying to attract them and make them suffer~ i'm uncomfortable exploring feminine things even if I want to. this is why it took so long to fully figure out and explore and come out with being nonbinary rather than trans masc. I have even more traumatic stories related to gross men who went after me and made me push femininity away as much as possible, like the freak that blamed me for making him be a pedo 🤢 but yeah, maybe those are for another day....

#autistic #gender #trauma #transgender #nonbinary #lee rambles #does tagging things even matter? do people actually see what you post here?#i've gotten 0 interactions so what's the point lmao #school trauma

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trickstarbrave · 1 year

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big problem i see with other poor people relating to each other is where you live and what is around you will define how you live when you are poor. and often times we have different privileges and experiences that come from our unique circumstances that we can be jealous of and build up in our heads as proof the other person is “secretly not as poor as us”

you can be extremely rural. going into town to get groceries will be an incredibly expensive experience, and in some places they will jack up the prices of prepared or imported foods that are standard everywhere else. to survive you have to learn to raise chickens and garden. hamburger helper is a luxury. you learned every scrappy method of cooking, learned to pick around mold in your food. you envy people who could eat fast food or prepared food regularly. sometimes if your chickens got sick or your garden failed, you wouldn’t get to eat at all.

you can be extremely urban, you never have free time to cook. you have to work multiple jobs to afford every increasing rent. sometimes your appliances simply dont work or you can only afford to rent from slumlords so they are filled with roaches and waste. you keep a clean microwave and minifridge, and even then you dont like using it, paranoid roaches have come back and moved in after you killed them 5 times before this. you have no money to sue your landlord, and no money to move out of the city unless you want to live in a small town out of your car and look for a job with no address. you envy people who have home cooked food and a safe kitchen to cook in.

you can be disabled. not enough for benefits, but enough your life is miserable. your medical bills and medications eat into your paycheck. you know cheap, prepared food and exclusively that. if you are made to choose between standing and cooking and not eating you will choose not eating. you envy the people who seem to have boundless energy to work multiple jobs, or have the energy to clean and cook regularly.

or you have no land and no place to live. you’re in your car. you shower in gyms and eat from fast food and gas stations. if you’re extremely lucky you’ll treat yourself to a snack of veggies and a packet of ranch. you wake up cold in the winter and hot in the summer. you have to lie about where you live, trying to save up money for a place to sleep that isnt in a vehicle or shelter. you envy people who just have a place to rest their head and the possibility of living in a place with any working kitchen equipment, even their own microwave. yeah, you’re urban, but you’re paranoid your car will be towed and you will be fined if you commit the crime of sleeping in the wrong place.

and there are so many in-betweens or mixtures of circumstances or things entirely unique i haven’t touched on. these are just things ive experienced or known people who have. the pure fact is we’re all still poor if we don’t know how we’re gonna get our next meal, or if a stroke of bad luck means we will lose everything. we are all poor, just in different ways, and what you might think is “not really poor” because they have luxuries you’ve dreamed of comes with its own set of difficulties. the grass is greener on the other side.

other broke people who might have it slightly better or worse than you are not the enemy. they are not keeping you down. they are not spiting in the face of your struggles by cooking with eggs from chickens they had to raise or by buying mcdonalds because they lacked the time, energy, or space to cook. but we can’t just say “well you could do xyz if you TRIED hard enough--” to judge them or tear them down without bothering to listen because we’ve decided they have it better than us.

the real people behind this are the rich fucks who make more in a day than you or your household does a year, who gamble on your future and decide any and all of us could die to keep their profits climbing higher and infinitely higher.

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tawakkull · 2 years

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ISLAM 101: SPIRITUALITY IN ISLAM: PART 6

Love is the name of intense liking. In Sufism, it is used in the meaning of affection toward God. Man uses love in either figurative or real meaning. Love in figurative meaning is to be attached to mortals. On the other hand, love in real meaning is to love God. Sometimes, figurative love leads to real love.

It can be said that the best example of this issue is the story of Laila and Majnun. Majnun becomes mad with his love toward Laila. He wanders through deserts. He becomes friends with gazelles in deserts because their eyes are like those of Lailas. One day a dog comes to his whereabouts and Majnun pays great attention to the dog while the others do not care. They ask him why he behaved that way. He answers: You do not know, but this dog came from the place of Laila. Eventually, when he meets Laila, he says, No, you are not Layla. and says, Go, Laila, because I have found Mawla-God. Thus, his figurative love turns into a real love.

It is also divine love that made Yunus Emre say, I need You and only You. Such people as Yunus Emre and Mawlana who are in love with God mean Divine love when they mention love. The expressions of love from now on should be understood this way.

In the first place, love is not a mental issue; it is spiritual. In other words, it is not possible to explain and understand it with clear expressions like the issues of Math and Chemistry; it can only be known in the conscience and feelings. In this respect, love is subjective in nature. Mawlana explains this: One asked, What is it to be in love? I answered, If you become like me, then you will understand. The pen was writing fast, but when it came to the description of love, it could not endure and split into two. Mind became unable in explaining love like a donkey stuck in mud.

Judging from the example given by Mawlana, we can understand being in love as a spiritual intoxication. When a drunkard leaves the pub and forgets which road to take, children make him a laughingstock. This drunkard is thus in the state of intoxication. The children, unaware of his pleasure taken from wine and from intoxication, follow him. All the public, except these who are intoxicated with the love of God, is on the level of a child. No one except those who have abandoned desires has reached maturity.

These words describe the situation of those who have not taken their share from divine love and who are drowned in the transitory dealings of this world: These children get on a stick and say This is our horse. Although they bear the stick, they brag out of their ignorance and imagine themselves riding a horse.

As in the expressions above, in the verses of Sufis, such similes as wine and wine house are often used. Those who do not understand the encapsulated meanings of these terms construed these expressions by looking at outer appearance; and miscalled and wrongly introduced them.

In fact, Supreme God decrees as, Their Lord will favor them with the service of a pure drink. (Al-Insan Surah, 76:21)

This dialogue highlights the difference of rank between lovers: Yahya b. Muaz says to Bayazid-i Bistami: I have drunk so much from the goblet of affection that I am at last enchanted. Bayazid gives this meaningful answer: I have drunk the wine of affection from bowls, but neither the wine gave out nor my thirst is quenched.

As is seen, this lover of God sees everything coming from the land of God. As is mentioned before, just as everything reminds Majnun of Layla, the lover also says, Everything reminds me of You, reaches God through existents, and becomes vanished. Moreover, people like Hallaj-ı Mansur may say, I am God presuming that they no longer exist. Of course, such words of lovers are contrary to the exterior of Sharia. However, they uttered such words when they were spiritually intoxicated. Mawlana likens the condition of such people to reddened iron saying, I am fire. However, he also makes this important warning: Dont you take the intoxicated as guide! In other words, while these people are on the right path, they are not the people to follow.

Let us return to the world of the lover The lover sees himself in this world as far from homeland. They evaluate the hadith: Love for ones homeland is from faith in relation to Sufism. They take the real homeland as Bazm-i Alast-when the souls were created; God asked them Am I not your Lord? They replied, Yes, You are our Lord. The expression refers to this event. They know it their greatest aim to complete their days in this dungeon of world and to reunite with Divine peace.

The lover is far from both grief and joy. He is always green and fresh without spring and fall. His state is reflected in this verse:

It is nice for me whatever comes from you.

Be it a rose or a thorn.

Be it a garment or a shroud.

Your fire is nice, so is your light.

The lover sees both favors and pain coming from God as a favor. Mawlana points this out: Whether he is a knowledgeable or an ignorant, or a vulgar, everyone can differentiate between favor and pain. However; just few can see favor hidden in pain, or pain hidden in favor.

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thatnarcissisticfeel · 1 year

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hi, thanks for answering, i appreciate it. also that you didn’t just call me toxic or some shit and tell me to fuck off. i’ve actually never thought of joining a discord server but it’s a good idea, thank you, i think i could try that. i guess on another account though to prevent anyone from accidentally finding out bc you know for yourself how it is. i’ll look up if i can find some kind of dbt workbooks online as well.

the journaling idea is good as well, i’ve actually been trying for a while but i end up rarely using it as a past experience left me with kinda bad trust issues about writing / drawing things down where someone could see them. but i guess i could try hiding it better this time or something. it’s just this thing that also sometimes venting like that actually ends up making me even more frustrated, as i realize i’ve already written about this exact thing countless times before yet still nothing has changed.

i’m trying not to make a too harsh judgement of my therapist yet, considering i haven’t been seeing her for that long, but… yeah. when i said that i’ve been going to therapy for years i meant going to a lot of different ones in this time. no one ever gets me. their advice is always so fucking useless. honestly at least this current one actually listens and doesnt make me feel uncomfortable or like i’m being judged. i think she’s the one i’ve been the most honest with because of that (and also because i just started telling her everything from the first session on already bc i’m tired of everyone always turning out to be nothing but a waste of time and money and effort), i generally lie to therapists esp my psychiatrist so i can get the meds i want (or else im 100% she’d just put me on some shit like antipsychotics, which ive been on in the past and i’d honestly rather kill myself than take them again, idk if you’ve tried them before but i basically felt r*tarded [idk how some ppl are sensitive of slur use like i personally dont care but i dont want your blog banned or smth] and tired all the time and it “”””helped”””” in the way that it made me too slow to be able to think about my problems. thanks psychiatry. not a traumatizing experience at all). i mentioned that i suspect i could have a personality disorder to her once or twice and she seemed to agree that it could be a possibility, but obviously no one can diagnose that fast. but i guess i’ll see. i really just want to know whats wrong with me, why do i think the way i do, why i can’t just be more fucking normal no matter how hard i try. but getting an actual diagnosis of a PD esp if it turned out to be this one would just mean i’d get treated even worse by every single doctor, not even necessarily a mental health one, bc physical doctors see all your records as well,, i’ve already been told my legitimate physical issues are just bc im depressed, or even if they dont straight up tell me they definitely treat me less seriously and i just know its bc i have mental illnesses diagnoses & im female.

i just … ugh. i feel so sick of it all and misunderstood. i know i can get genuinely abusive in arguments when someone upsets me but i really dont know how to stop or control myself. i hate that people act as if it’s all my fault. like everything i’ve gone through doesn’t even matter and i’m just an inherently evil person. like i didn’t have some kind of a terribly traumatic childhood, but i’ve always been either bullied or excluded by almost everyone i’ve ever met and all the social isolation honestly really fucked me up. i think that’s why i developed such a strong individuality complex as i’ve never been able to think all of it must be simply because i’m worthless. like fuck no, 99% of the people are dumb and shallow and ignorant towards reality of the world and i’m supposed to feel like i’m somehow worse than them? at least i have self awareness and my own thoughts. i mean i do think we’re all worthless because nothing in life has any value, so why should humanity be the exception? that still doesn’t stop me from hating everyone though. i may be a hypocrite but so is everyone else; and at least i don’t pretend to be a gOoD pErSoN. lacking empathy and not having morals doesn’t make me any less deserving of help even though i know how many people unironically believe people like me should just be shot. fucking brainless hypocrites, all of them.

but anyway yeah my point here is, fuck people who think anyone chooses to be this way. all of this has done nothing good for me other than made my life much harder. and not to mention unable to ever get genuinely close to anyone because what is the worth in a relationship if i can’t even bring myself to care about anyone? i don’t think “empaths” even realize how alienating it actually is. which is once again so ironic because THEY should be the ones to try to understand it, but no, they just generalize everyone and share the nonsense propaganda that we’re incapable of change.

so yeah, this turned into another vent but i really lack any people in my life who i could be honest with. i feel so lonely all the time. it’s not even really missing a friend group or romance or physical touch, it’s more of this feeling of feeling completely alone and that no one (other than a few people whose writings and actions i admire but they’re all dead) would ever be able to truly understand me. so yeah as cheesy as it is, sometimes it’s nice to be reminded i’m not alone by someone other than a generic social media post made by someone who’d 100% hate me if i told them even half this shit. can i maybe dm you sometime btw? i felt like staying anon while writing this bc i tend to get anxious with ppl at first but idk, maybe, if youre comfortable with that ofc

btw if its alright to ask can i ask how did you get diagnosed? what was the process like and how long did it take? did they suspect anything else at first? do you feel treated by ppl any differently now tjat you have a diagnosis of such a stigmatized disorder? (^ i mean these previous questions if youre diagnosed by a psych, if not its perfectly valid as well ofc) whats personally helping u to cope?

Good luck! I’m glad I could offer some help/reassurance. Maybe instead of a physical journal you could use a private blog or even just a notes app on your phone/computer if that sounds safer?

I do hope things improve with your new therapist and that things work out, it’s good that she at least agrees you might have a PD. Normally I’d recommend a therapist who specializes in PDs, maybe even especially NPD, but idk if that’s accessible for you and/or if you’ve already tried it and had no luck.

But again, I want to reiterate that you’re not alone, and what you’re going through and what you feel is 100% relatable to other pwNPD. I truly wish that more people understood us and the irony isn’t lost on me that it’s always “empaths” who are the ones who have the LEAST empathy for us. And I feel like the societal lack of understanding contributes to the more “ugly” or “stigmatized” traits of our disorder even more, tbh. Anyway, my point is that I definitely don’t mind at all if you vent, so please do feel free to DM me if you want to or feel more comfortable that way!

As for my diagnosis, it’s a bit messy — for context im a recent graduate from college and the bulk of my therapy came from campus services, where it was acknowledged I very likely had a PD especially within cluster B but I never got an official diagnosis while I was seeing the school-based therapist, and at the moment I’m trying to find a new therapist who can help me. At first we thought I just had a really intense form of rejection sensitivity dysphoria due to ADHD, then realized it was likely something else. So I’m a weird mix of “self diagnosed, but likely wouldn’t have admitted it to myself or realized it if a professional hadn’t pointed me in that direction.” Until I can find a professional im honestly just doing the best I can to help myself. Sometimes I get tempted to turn to substances to cope bc they make me softer and more open, and if you feel the same way I highly recommend avoiding this, ofc. I mostly use relatable music (lmk if you want my NPD playlist!) and DBT workbooks as a way to help myself, and I also just try my hardest to avoid or remove myself from situations where I might lose my cool and become toxic. Obviously this is easier said than done, but there are ways to do it. For instance, if I’m in a group chat where I feel like people are getting more attention than me, I’ll mute the group chat and maybe text someone from a different group one-on-one (not necessarily about my issues, just in general).I know that answer is pretty mild and entirely social media based lol, but it’s the best example I can provide.

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2-forthem-2-play · 7 months

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Im not a feminist im an equalist

ya so I have some questions.. ( as a bicurious male) okay as I explore this sexless existence

When I watch bisexual porn its just filled with hate, judgement and disrespectful sinarios

And then you have the gay community going on. About " your not Bi your gay" this all sound pretty counter productive to me

The kinsey scale showes everyone. Is bisexual

Animals are bisexual , monkeys dolphins just to name a few

Wouldn't it be better if we educated women . how to have fun with there bisexual husband

As I see it.. Being bisexual could in fact be good for a relationship

1) if a man spent a day as a woman

He would be more attentive

He would be more empathetic

Less gross

Would liston more

Just seeing how the " other half lives" could be good for a relationship

One problem ( as I see it ) is typical

Men just move to god damn fast

Let it be her show , dont dive in .. She is probably already freaked out

Dont just fuck a guy in a threesome

Start slow let her tell you what to do

Treat it like its her party ..maybe you only kiss the guy THATS OKAY , dont rush

Also if your a woman , DONT JUDGE THE BROTHER , Remember when you were in this position ( okay?) If A man made you go down on a woman and it wasn't your thing , man if he called you a dyke after you'd be boxing right!?

I say invite the gay guys over and go slow

52% of marriages end in divorce, I believe . ( aside from money) its the suppression of sexuality ( men aren't allowed to be bisexual)

Women are hell its encouraged

But if a woman is open to bisexual activity's in her mate he ( like men do) rushes the experience , essentially turning her off

Also making her feel. Ostracized in the experience ( Not okay)

They say that there is a reason the queen on a chess board moves. Anywhere she wants , but thats not to say she isnt accountable for her actions , being mean or disrespectful . is just evil to do to anyone vulnerable, especially if you love them. If a man is willing to be put on display , honor that take it as a way to become more close , in that situation teach him to be a better man, dont break him down

Hell if a woman did that.. What the hell would i need her for ive now got options , i think couples should be able to stop the situation at anytime equally , if she doesnt want to see that stop!!! Right now!! Same if he isnt comfortable ( that kinda goes without saying but still)

And you gay guys make friends with couples

First it increases your dating pool ..( and dont lie you all love fucking straight guys) but team up with couples ( with respect) doesnt that seem like a better party?

And as far as crossdressing goes

Dustin Hoffman said ( in the movie tootsie)

" I was the best man i ever was when I was a woman with you" if you as a man dressed up as a woman, _ ( in private im not a savage) you may learn to listen better, understand how much work a woman does for you ( do you even know how much time it takes to put on make up , shave, hell a womans clothing takes for ever ( and your bitching " come on were late" dude try it!!! Seriously!! See how the other half lives before you judge, also see what its like to be hit on by some one you find disgusting and Then be polite ( its a Bitch) for real

Why not spend a day being her ( again in private im not a savage) do a day in a lesbian relationship with your wife) i have a fake ass / pussy i got high once i got some oil a fingered myself .. Guess what i actually kind of got off

What that taught me was , sure women fake orgasms that doesnt mean they dont have fun ( dont take it so personal) just be in the moment

Just for once except It just aint about you and doesnt have to be all the time. The reason some women like gender bending is its connection

Just my thoughts

Ps .. Ya know you picked this woman to be with the rest of your life how selfish is it to say " oh I want a threesome with your friend" but yet your unwilling to fulfill a possible fantasy of hers. Come on bro you either trust her or not!! Damn it I cant stop.. ( sorry) if when you get married if her body belongs to you then shouldn't your body belong to her .. Hell if she wants to use your ass as a second clutch .. ( not to say she would) shouldn't she be allowed .?

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nabichoi26 · 1 year

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what anxiety feels like when living on it alone

the shift of the sun to the moon made me think how time pass so fast. i’ve always wondered why i have to live this earth at a certain stage, talked about being depress because of how i battle it all alone.

no one knows why, i remember my first panic attack back on the year 2018. when my dad already left me in another country surrounded by familiar but unfamiliar people, the amount of pressure i feel, the unwanted feeling i didn’t want to show to people because all along i decided to keep them on my own.

then my lola was the one i treasured the most, but soon she left. she distracted me from the pain i was feeling and i know she understand why i live life like that. reasons why i barely visit her is because if ever i do, i’d feel like my life would always turn into fables, to short stories, to poems. being with her grave was a safe spot for me.

i never got to tell the reason of my first panic attack, well i’ve always been in a shift of places. went from north to south people making me realize what’s wrong with my life and i was just seventeen, new in the world, trying to be okay, trying to save myself from the devastation i have gathered when i was young. the trauma i had, the pain i never realize that it was pain. there were alot of reason on my first panic attack, but i know my parents can’t do anything about it and that’s why i always wonder, will we have reasons to plot life together?

living on my own, surrounded by unfamiliar people i was scared to talk and i know they are too. as time pass by i tried to gain confidence but slowly i hesitate, anxiety of me thinking of possible reason why people never talk to me made me sad and hate myself. maybe these are reason, maybe i hated how i live, maybe im really not scared of death but im scared of the fact that i missed any good opportunities i have in my life. i’ve talked to many people with the same feelings but in different stories, we all dealt with this kind of pain in life but differently, i often ask “oh, why do i feel like the reason of my pain may seem to be less to how heavy it is for them”.

recently, anxiety has been with me again. not because of the amount of caffeine i have but rather because of how i always set my mind in a place whereas i always think i am not enough.

during my time in my internship i learned few things, i dont like it there. i just want the feeling of belongingness and i hate to think that people would judge me for who i am and i hate that fact. maybe i need to tell myself that a month as an intern was enough for me to realize what i am capable of and what i want in an environment, it was fun but i’m still looking for the reason “why” which make things complicated.

ending this post with, its depression month again. not because of my fucking hormones but rather i feel less of myself again. like theres alot of things i need to deal with, finish and do. another progress of change is needed.

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crosbyhorne9 · 2 years

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You Can Learn To Play Guitar With Online Lessons

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pens-swords-stuff · 2 years

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I checked your FAQ/masterlist and dont think this has been answered, so: HOW do you manage to write so fast?? any advice?? 600+ thousand in a year has me floored, really, that would be impossible for me.

In response to this post.

Well first of all, I think it's really important to emphasize that I didn't do this on my own. I co-write with my writing partner, so it was a joint effort! Since we split the load equally and write roughly the same amount, I would guess that my personal word count would be around 300k+ish.

But yes, I absolutely have advice! Keep in mind that every writer is different — so this may not work for you necessarily! This is just what worked for me and my writing partner. The most important thing is figuring out what works for you.

Write as regularly and as often as you can

This for me, was the most important thing. And believe me, I get it. I used to write once in a blue moon; I used to be lucky to write 5k in a year. I never thought that I was capable of writing two days in a row, let alone a month or a year. But this is not only important, it's possible.

I am never going to be one of those people who say "In order to be a good writer, you have to write everyday" because it's not feasible for everyone. For some people, this means writing a few times a week. For others, it might mean once a week, or twice a month. Whatever your pace is, that's fine. Find it, and try to honor it as much as possible. However, it is really important to build a habit, and here's why:

I talk about the importance of writing being a muscle that needs to be trained several times. By writing regularly and as often as you can, you are training your writing muscles to be better. The more you write, the easier writing will be.

I've found that writing every single day has made it a lot easier to ignore all of that. The stakes become lower because you're already writing a lot; there's less pressure. It becomes easier to accept our flaws, and find satisfaction in imperfections because you get used to just writing instead of editing as we go.

Things that have changed for me as I began writing everyday:

I stopped getting writer's block. I used to have it 24/7, now I haven't had it for 2 years.

I stopped hating my writing. I used to hate my writing so much. I couldn't write because nothing was good enough, I hated reading it because all I could see were the flaws. By writing every single day, it's become a lot easier to accept my writing for what it is. Do I think it's amazing? Sometimes, but not all of the time. But now I can write without feeling terrible or second-guessing myself.

I stopped editing as I go. We all know the problem: can't get past three sentences, because you spend 2 hours rewriting those 3 sentences to get them perfect. Writing everyday helps you learn how to ignore that urge until you don't have it anymore. It's essentially like writing sprints but on a longer level: you learn how to simply write and let things breathe and exist on the page without immediately editing.

I stopped judging my writing. I used to cringe at every single sentence that I've ever written because I thought that it was terrible. Now, I can read my own writing without judgment. I haven't cringed in two years. Is it perfect? No, there's always something that can be improved. But I appreciate my writing for what it is, and I even enjoy reading it!

I've gained intrinsic motivation to write, and let go of my need for extrinsic motivation. Through writing everyday, I managed to learn how to love writing for the sake of writing. I no longer need people to read my writing and give me praise to motivate me. Case in point: I've written 600k+ words with my writing partner in 2021, and we have not posted it anywhere. We aren't getting any sort of praise or validation from the outside world, and it is the most fun we've ever had writing.

I learned how to write even when I'm not inspired or motivated. One of the hard writer truths is that if we only write when we have inspiration to, we'll never finish anything or get to the places that we want to. Writing everyday, making it a habit and training our writing muscles makes it SO much easier to crank out some words and get a point across when we're not feeling it. I definitely haven't always been super inspired or excited to write in 2021, but being in the habit of writing makes it easier to push some words out, even if you don't have that spark.

My writing improved by leaps and bounds. Objectively speaking, my writing has gotten so much better. I've improved more in the past two years than I've ever improved in my entire life. And not only did I get better, it's easier to write and to improve now.

I actually write the really cool parts of my WIP that I've dreamed about for years. And yes, I write chronologically. Writing out of order doesn't work for me, so I had to get through everything that happened before that to get to the part that I've been dreaming and hyping up in my head. I used to always stop writing before I got anywhere remotely near it, so it was always just a really cool idea in my head. When I finally got to that point, it was glorious.

Once I've written out the scene that I've been perfecting in my head for years, it's even better than I could ever imagine. It's always a scary thought that it'll never live up to our high expectations. For me, it surpassed it. It is so much better written down than it was in my head, and now I get to read it. The satisfaction is incredible.

I no longer dread writing. Back when I never wrote, the idea and the expecation and the pressure for me to write was immense. I'm a writer, so I need to write, but I'm not. It gave me a lot of anxiety and dread, and I avoided it all the time. Now, I go to bed, excited to write more tomorrow. I wake up, and my first thought is how excited I am to write more today. I'm constantly writing in my spare time because I want to write. I'm not scared of it anymore.

I don't believe that you have to write every single day to reap the benefits like I did. I think writing as regularly as you can will work. Be sure to pick a realistic and manageable goal for yourself, and figure out what works for you!

Remember, all advice is subjective! So don’t take this too seriously. This is just one person’s opinion.

If you’d like to ask me for advice on writing or running a writeblr, please check out my Ask Guidelines and FAQ first.

Ask Guidelines | FAQ | Advice Masterlist

More advice under the cut!

Keep track of your word count

For me, it was incredibly motivating to see how many words I write per day. It can also show you interesting trends and stats, and seeing the cumulative word count that we wrote per month or year. It's also a good accountability tool too, and keeps me writing even when I don't want to, because I don't want to break my streak.

You can track it daily, or weekly, monthly, whatever works for you! I have a daily word count per project, and a daily cumulative word count where I add it all together.

You can use whatever tool you want. There are a ton of free (and paid) trackers out there that you can find by asking around or googling, you can make a spreadsheet, etc. I personally just use the word count channel I made on a private Discord server, and this was what made it possible for me to track it because it's so easy!

Love your WIP

Are you enjoying your story? Are you having fun writing it? Do you get excited when you think about it?

We're not always going to enjoy writing, and that's okay. But it's really important that no matter how bad the hard days get, that our WIP is full of things that we love. It's okay to be self-indulgent; it's okay to throw in our favourite tropes and techniques and archetypes. Find ways to be excited about it! Daydream, make pinterest boards or playlists, whatever it takes.

The more you enjoy your writing, the better it will be. The more you enjoy it, the more you'll want to work on it.

When your WIP gets stale, throw in something new

No matter how much you love your WIP, and no matter how much you are in the habit of writing, you're going to face a lull at some point. As much as you believe in your WIP, it might start to get stale, boring, you're just going through the motions, it's just not inspiring you anymore...

When this happens, try something new! For my writing partner and I, we tried writing out a sex scene for the very first time when writing was a slog. We discovered that we enjoyed writing it, and we spent all day nonstop writing, after pushing out minimal word counts for several weeks.

When one project was getting too comfortable and stale, we started another one to write alongside it, and we've tripled our daily word count. We write more for each individual project now, than we did when we had just the one.

Maybe it's trying out action scenes, incorporating a new character, switching POVs, starting a new side project... Whatever it is, when you're getting bored, try throwing in something new. It might be the spark you need to breathe life back into it.

Find a writing buddy to hold yourself accountable

Let's face it: Writing is really hard. It can be really isolating. I know that I would never have written 50k words, let alone 600k+ if I was doing it all on my own. If I didn't have my writing partner waiting for me to write, or to talk to when I was feeling stuck, discuss headcanons and ideas with... I don't think I would ever be able to write everyday.

Even if you're not co-writing like I am, find a writing buddy! Maybe you have a friend that is willing to check in with you and chat with you about your projects. Maybe there's a mutual on Writeblr, and you can send each other encouraging asks, and DMs to keep each other updated on word count. Maybe it's not even a single buddy, and you're just posting about it to your followers.

Whatever it is, having someone else to check in with, who can ask "hey, how's your WIP going? Did you write for it today?", or having someone to bounce ideas off of, and get excited with you can make a world of difference.

It's not always going to be easy writing regularly, and that's okay

Just do your best to get out a couple of sentences or something. Especially initially, when you're not used to writing regularly, you're going to get stuck a lot. Try to lower the bar; it's okay if it's the crappiest sentence in the world, just try to write something.

And also importantly, don't push yourself too hard! Give it an honest effort, and if it's still not working it's okay to take a break.

Be forgiving when you don't meet your goal

You real life obligations and mental health will always, always come first.

If you skip a writing day, that's okay! If you don't meet your goal, that's also okay. It's good to have goals and it's good to push to meet them, but you don't have to beat yourself up for not achieving it. You don't have to work yourself to the bone trying to make it.

Take care of yourself, you're doing your best. You're not a failure for missing the mark sometimes. Just give it another shot on another day, even if you stumble.

Every little bit counts

Even if you write just five words that day, it counts!

This one was a really hard one for me to swallow personally. After writing 2k+ per day for months, it felt disappointing to write less than 1k on a day. But that's okay.

No matter how many words or how few words you write, the main thing is that you are writing. If you wrote less than what you expected, that's fine! Try to reframe it and think of it in a "it was a hard day, but I managed to write five words anyway and I'm proud of myself".

Celebrate the victories

My writing partner and I celebrate every 50k we write. Before we were consistently writing 50k per month, we celebrated every 10k. My private discord server has milestones of "On this day, we wrote 50k!" because I want to memorialize our accomplishments somewhere. After we finish a really good chapter, we celebrate it together. We reread our projects every so often to talk about how good it is and how much we like it.

Maybe it's as little as patting yourself on the back. Maybe it's something more robust like rewarding yourself somehow. No matter what you do, find a way to celebrate a milestone, however you want to define it.

Keep your document open, even if you're not actively writing in it

Even if you're doing something else, just having it open can lower the barrier to writing. Sometimes I feel like finding our document, opening it up, waiting for it to load, finding a notebook, flipping to the right page, finding a pen, all of that can take up spoons.

If you already have it open and accesible, you can take advantage of it and write something whenever you have the slightest of inklings to. I procrastinate on writing a lot, and I'm not always inclined to do something. I split screen my internet browser and have my document open on one half of my screen at all times. This makes it so much easier to type a few things when I feel like it.

Squeeze writing in whenever and wherever you can

Writing doesn't have to be sitting down at your computer for hours to crank out a lot of words in a single sitting. I wrote on my phone a lot. Whenever I had a bit of a break, I pulled out my phone and wrote something. In between errands and tasks, I was writing on my phone, or jotting down an idea in my planner. Make your idea of 'writing' a bit more flexible; you'd be surprised by how many ways you can squeeze it in somewhere.

Again, this is just what worked for me and my partner specifically. You'll have to figure out what works for you, but hopefully this will give you a place to start trying things out.

Good luck!

Remember, all advice is subjective! So don’t take this too seriously. This is just one person’s opinion.

If you’d like to ask me for advice on writing or running a writeblr, please check out my Ask Guidelines and FAQ first.

Ask Guidelines | FAQ | Advice Masterlist

#writing #writeblr #writing advice #writing help #writing tips #word count #increasing word count #writing everyday #undine answers stuff #undine gives advice #another reason why I was able to write so much in a day #i am unable to be concise #if you couldn't tell from this post

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wh6res · 3 years

Text

three's a crowd | nomin

synopsis. picking favorites is impossible when you like neither of them.

warning. read at your own risk. abuse, bullying, poly relationship, yandere themes, manipulation, nonconsensual touching, noncon, degradation, smut threesome oop

disclaimer. i do not condone whatever tf i wrote in this nor does it reflect my beliefs or values or morals and such. it is all pure fiction and i also dont think jaemin or jeno would act like this in real life.

note. this was meant to be a new year's gift lmao i obviously got a lil carried away 👀 anyway a late happy new year to you all! we survived 2020, let's start living in 2021, yeah? lmao if covid lets us grr mwah!

the relationship you had with the two of them was a weird one, bordering on taboo, but it wasn't as if you willfully chose to be who they wanted you to be and it took jaemin's unwanted pining and jeno's intimidating demeanor for you to fall right into their arms.

it was a joint effort on their part, you couldn't've possibly stood a chance.

"this many?" the cashier asked. "are you sure?"

stepping back and studying the whole situation, you figured you only had your addiction to caffeine and procrastination to blame. it was a chain reaction you didn't even know will lead up to your inevitable doom.

if you hadn't been slacking off during your first semester of junior year college, you wouldn't be forced to overwork yourself trying to catch up to the looming deadlines, but to be able to 'work yourself to the bone' you need your boost of energy… and that was when you met one of them.

"uhm," you scratch the back of your head sheepishly as you eye the six glass bottles of iced coffee. sure, it looks bad and you kinda appreciate the look of concern the cashier throws your way but it was none of his business.

"yes. now could you, like, you know… hurry up? i'm in a little bit of a time crunch right now."

screw it. although you hardly snap like that with other people on a daily basis, it'll be a whole different conversation if you were under a significant amount of stress and today, unfortunately, is one of those days.

now can he just fucking stop asking questions and give you your six bottles of death drink to keep your fucking brain going so you can pass an eight-page essay tomorrow? thank you very much!

the guy snickered, the beeping sound of a barcode being read sounding a thousand times more annoying than it usually sounds as he keeps his hand busy by punching your items out.

you fail to notice how he studies you through the gaps of his lashes, finding you interesting rather than threatening as you stood before him with your messy hair and oversized hoodie.

"haven't seen you around university grounds 'till today," he tries striking another conversation with you. "you new? i'm jaemin."

this was your first mistake, you shouldn't have been so… downright rude when you met him. if you were granted the miracle of meeting him a 2nd time, you would've acted more nice, throwing yourself at his feet even to blend in with the rest of his fangirls you didn't even know about at the time. you would've done anything to make sure he never gives you a second glance, to never pique his interest.

jaemin is the pep squad captain. flying over colored blue mats and doing tumblings in the air with no ounce of fear. he was the best in his team, that much was evident when your friend dragged you into watching a pep rally practice. his landings were clean, balanced, and executed to the best he can at all times.

no wonder he was popular, his talent is outstanding and his looks are a bonus. his killer combo of a smile and wink after pulling off a tough flip is enough to send them squealing in their seats.

he spotted you that day and since then, he snuck the quickest glances at the bench during practices. recognizing you as the coffee girl he met during his convenience store shift. jaemin tries not to let his disappointment show too much when he doesn't see you, but of course, a pair of cold calculating eyes could see right through him.

"i saw that," his boyfriend said, hand darting forward to hold jaemin's gym bag for him. "you kept looking at the crowd. do you want to see her that much?"

"but she reminds me so much of you, jeno!" he retorts, pouting at the slight grumpy tone the other boy used. "i can't help it. she doesn't seem to give a fuck around me so she's quite interesting. maybe she can even be a great addition to our relationship!"

"well," jeno replies after a beat of silence, plastering a small smirk on his face before slinging an arm around jaemin's shoulder.

"convince me?"

you don't like jaemin's attention. not in the slightest. and it seems that was enough reason for the reign of terror his little fanclub has subjected you too.

it wasn't the petty elementary forms of bullying like pulling at your hair or calling you names. they pale in comparison to the other things they do to you—beating you up, messing with your homework, "accidentally" dumping their food trays on you.

and you weren't stupid.

you knew exactly who was behind it, knew how jaemin spectates the whole thing from afar so that he can swoop in at the end to play your knight in shining armor.

"oh, you poor thing. do you need help?"

the first time you accepted his "help" you ended up in a supply closet near the gym during your free period, cornered and weak as your cries for help drowns under the squeaking of shoes and the booming sounds of rubber balls hitting the floor.

if it weren't for jeno appearing out of thin air and prying the boy off of you, you would've been painted blue and red from the death grip he had on your wrist, neck, and waist.

you can still remember feeling the soreness of your scalp from when he pulled your hair too hard. remembered feeling his teeth gnawing at your lips as if he wanted to tear them off.

that time hadn't been the first time you saw jeno. you've shared a few classes with him and it strikes you how polar opposites they are with one another.

while jaemin likes to bask in his professor and classmates' recognition by confidently reciting his answers, jeno would rather keep to himself. liked sitting at the last row, near the window, so he'd be the first to go once the professor ends their lecture. while jaemin loved the attention of his fangirls, jeno preferred solitude. while jaemin is impulsive and wild, jeno liked to think things through.

it was within these reasons that you decided to do what you did. but your judgement of character has never been more wrong.

you approached jeno one day in the library, tried to make yourself appear as stoic and confident as possible. but your constant slouching and averting eyes was a dead giveaway.

you came to talk to him about what jaemin has been doing, hoping there's one person left in this entire school that isn't under the cheer captain's trance. the one reasonable person that has already saved you once and (hopefully) is willing enough to save you again. the only one that probably has a certain level of control over jaemin, if the supply closet incident is anything to go by.

but you've overestimated lee jeno.

"you should've just given jaemin what he wanted."

"but—but aren't you two lovers? isn't it bothering you?"

you try baiting him, only for an uncomfortable shiver to start crawling down your spine when he chuckled humorlessly, pushing his school materials to the side while pinning you with an unreadable stare.

how can a person make someone feel so small just by a gaze alone? it was nothing like you've felt with jaemin. this is way worse.

"the only thing that's bothering me is why you're not ours yet."

you feel cold fingers creeping their way under your shirt, going higher and higher until it brushes against your bra. and when your eyes meet, the look on his face was unmistakable—what are you going to do about it, huh?

you stood up in lightning speed, the chair you've been sitting on scraping loudly against the floor.

you've never ran out as fast as you did.

and jeno swears it'll be the last.

you tried everything in your power to ignore them for the next following weeks but it soon became useless when the two boys took it upon themselves to give you your space.

although judging by the pinpricks you feel on your back, and the constant weight of a stare you feel on your shoulders, you knew they weren't done with you yet. far from it. and for some reason, you just knew they wanted to lull you into a false sense of security first before striking again.

and while they continued to ogle at you from afar like a hawk circling its prey in a desert, you took it upon yourself to return the favor. not because you were the slightest bit interested in those creeps but maybe, just maybe, if you look hard enough you'll find a way out, a weakness.

but what you realized made your insides churn in great discomfort—although it may seem that jeno holds the reins in the relationship since his reserved nature fits the role, it's actually the other way around.

jaemin might appear too self-centered, too focused on himself to give a fuck about his surroundings but in actuality, he has quite a knack for reading people. even more so than jeno. and it was scary how he used it to his advantage, and paired up with his devoted fangirls? it was hell on earth.

you found it alarming how the two seem to magically appear wherever you are.

although you weren't in the least bit surprised. for some reason, you can't take your eyes away when jaemin's devotees flock around him (and jeno) in a circle.

it almost reminds you of a shoal of piranhas, waiting for their meal to drop into the water before ripping it to shreds with their teeth. only their "meal" isn't actual flesh but the carefully crafted words jaemin says that drive them into a sick frenzy.

one that has them doing everything in their power to satisfy him like the loyal dogs they are.

so this was how he got them to bully you?

"oh, that? don't worry! yangyang just ran into me during cheer rehearsal. no biggie. my cheek stung a little bit, though…" is what he said but really he's telling them "scruff him up a bit for me, why don't ya?"

"of course, i can't be the best all the time. haechan is just too good, maybe even better than me…" is what he said but really he's telling them "can you remind him where his place should be?"

all the while jeno did nothing to hold him back.

no matter how wrong jaemin is, how much of an asshole he is, jeno will stick by his side through and through. so as much as jaemin is a puppeteer that gets a kick for controlling people, jeno is as much at fault for looking the other way.

because in jeno's perspective, why the fuck would he do shit when he can just get off from the entertainment that comes with jaemin's sweet little mind games?

we lost :(

you had been busy sorting through paperwork for one of your professors in the faculty when your friend texted you the results of the intercollegiate cheer dance competition. a frown paints your face, heart feeling heavy at the bad news.

in all honesty, you still supported the pep squad—you just hated the captain and his boyfriend. they've been practicing non-stop for this and prior to the weeks of the competition, jeno looked a lot more tense and jaemin less smiley than usual. you swore you even saw the latter snap at one of his fangirls.

not to mention, they paid less attention to you, too, and it was the best three weeks of your life.

tension starts rising in your shoulders, fingers absentmindedly running through the edge of the papers you had been sorting until you became immersed with your thoughts.

jaemin must be in the worst mood yet.

and jeno too, probably. if anything, that guy gets triggered the most when something bad happens to jaemin or when he catches snippets of people talking shit about his oh so "perfect" boyfriend.

jeno is a lot scarier when jaemin is in one of his mood swings, you noticed. he steps up in the relationship to offer comfort to the other boy and for outsiders? it isn't a great experience to go through—being on the receiving end of jeno's ice cold stare is a position you don't want to find yourself in after that time in the library.

he is still as much a threat to your peaceful life like his lover.

you snap out of it when the blinding headlights of a vehicle seep through the closed blinds. you hear the gentle hum of an engine switching off as the headlights vanished as quick as they had appeared. that must be the cheer squad's bus.

as you look around the empty faculty room, something in your gut tells you to ditch file sorting duty for professor kim tonight and fucking get the hell out of campus grounds as quick as you can.

after haphazardly throwing the unsorted papers back into the cabinet, you groan aloud when the keys to the office drop out of your skirt’s pocket.

the indoor gym where the cheering squad practices is right across the hallway. you sure as hell don't want to bump into jaemin. or jeno, too, if he had decided to ride along the cheer squad's bus on the way home.

you kept looking for the keys underneath the cubicles, cursing aloud when you heard the telltale squeaks of shoes rubbing against linoleum. you almost hit your head against a table when you quickly got back up your feet, darting forward to shut the lights for the faculty room.

they can't know you're here. alone. and if it meant sitting in the dark for a few hours 'till they leave, meant going back home a little later than usual is what you have to do then so be it.

you try not to react so violently when the door you're leaning on jolts when someone from outside slams their back against it.

"it's not like we didn't do our best, right guys? i don't have regrets. it might sound fucking cheesy and although i'm sad myself, atleast we did what we can."

it's jaemin. his voice clear as day.

you try peaking, craning your neck up from your place on the floor. only to see the back of his head leaning against the glass section of the door. someone else joins in on the conversation, followed by coach park himself, and you slowly tune out whatever they're saying as you stealthily start scanning the faculty room.

you curse under your breath. is there no other exit other than this door? jesus christ! even classrooms in this university had two doors—

"what are you doing here?"

the switch flickers on, basking the once dark room with light. only when you hear an echo of your name being called, did you snap out of it and quickly picked yourself up from the floor.

"i said, what are you doing here?"

their coach asks, drilling the question as he looks at you skeptically with his arms crossed. you try not to look at the people behind him.

particularly, not at his cheer captain standing on his right.

particularly, not at jeno, who stands out like a sore thumb with his blue hair, a protective arm snaked around jaemin’s shoulders.

this isn't your lucky day, too, you guess.

"i was…" you cursed yourself for stuttering. "i was, uhm, i was file sorting for prof—professor kim, sir."

coach park looked like he didn't believe you as he narrowed his eyes in scrutiny. your nerves are going haywire and you can feel the sharp pins of their stare with how close they are.

you kept juggling your weight with the balls of your feet, hands fisting and unfisting behind your back. you want to leave. you have to leave.

"file sorting… in the dark?" he asked incredulously.

fuck this.

"uhm, you can ask professor kim himself tomorrow, coach. for now, uh, i'll be going now. i'm sorry you guys lost…"

originally, the exit is on the right side, at the end of the hallway. but no, you are not going to pass by those two while on your way out so you ducked behind a random student standing on the coach's left instead and practically ran away from the scene.

everyone had been too busy. too busy looking at your retreating form to even notice jaemin and jeno exchanging glances, too busy to notice the latter untangling himself from their captain to slip away unnoticed, his hurried steps filled with a burning purpose.

you didn't know why you ran, but you did. your shoes practically booming against the floor as you sped away through darkened hallways. you're sweating profusely, heart hammering in your chest. you can worry about professor kim tomorrow but right now you just had to—

"why are you in such a rush, pet?"

crashing into jeno felt like crashing into a wall. if it hadn't been for his arm quickly wrapping around your waist, then you would've landed on your butt before him.

with the small distance between the two of you, jeno could see as clear as day through your eyes.

jaemin was right.

it was addicting to stare into them.

especially when he can see every single one of your thoughts flying through your pretty little head. but hey, it wasn't their fault you were so easy to read.

jeno barely conceals the wicked smirk on his lips when your hands come up to his chest, trying to push him away but to no avail.

he can see your eyes shifting from shock, to confusion, until it finally settles on fear—to which it's slowly becoming a favorite emotion of his to see on your face.

"you know, jaemin is in a really shitty mood right now. and we were wondering, maybe you can cheer us up?"

no. this can't be happening.

"jeno, please." your dilated eyes and disheveled hair made his blood run south. "let me go. you don't want me. you don't need a third party in your relationship."

you yelp when he lets you go, literally shoving you against a wall—which you found out is actually a door, as it swings open as soon as your body crashes against it.

with jeno looming unforgivingly before you in his full height, the tears stung extra hard but you won't let them fall.

if he wanted to bask in the image of your weakness then it'll be something you'll deprive from him for as long as you can.

"i don't need a stupid bitch like you to tell me what i feel." he scoffs. "don't fucking kid yourself, you little whore—i don't want you. i'm not jaemin."

the echo of the classroom door shutting closed surged through you like a wake up call.

this is really happening.

you've always led a decent life, had done nothing too questionable and you've always thought maybe life will spare you if you lived quietly enough. but the feel of jeno's freezing hands crawling against your skin felt like life itself had spat at you in the eye and left you to rot in a ditch.

"i've always liked how you wore skirts," he comments. playing with the ruffled hem of the soft fabric as he purposely grazed his knuckles against your supple thighs. "gives me easy access, don't you agree?"

you scream when he flips your skirt up to reveal the innocent pink of your cotton panties. it was as if a switch had flipped inside of you and the will to fight started coursing through your veins.

"stop! jeno! i don't want this!"

his brows furrow, grunting as he struggles to push the waistline of your skirt up higher with how much you're thrashing underneath him. you buck your hips, tried curling in on yourself, anything to prolong what he wants to do to you.

with your legs trapped underneath his, you blindly reach forward, relying on your upper body instead to push and scratch whatever your palms and nails reached.

you continue screaming like a banshee until he shoved two fingers into your wet cavern.

"stop fighting me," he sounded strained, as if he's holding himself back. you feel him fisting the fabric of your skirt and you fear he's simply going to rip it apart.

you tried responding to him, only the sound had been muffled, gurgled by the flat of his fingers pushing down against your tongue mercilessly. when you reach forward to push him away, your hands land on the apple of his cheeks, nails digging through skin.

until it slips and—

you lie rigid when red scratch marks in the size of your fingernails slowly appear on jeno's skin, his head turned to the side as he paused. your actions slowly start sinking in to him as he shuts his eyes and bit his lip 'till it looked like it was about to bleed.

oh no.

"jeno—"

the slap he planted on your cheek left your ears ringing. all those hard earned muscles of his put to good use—if the tears hadn't fallen for the last few minutes, then it definitely started falling now.

the hit had been so strong, a few of your hair flew astray, the buzzing feeling of your skin tempting you to reach a hand up to soothe your abused cheek.

until jeno let out a low growl and your hand immediately drops limp against your body, afraid of whatever else he can do to you other than a slap.

"that's more like it," he whispers under his breath. you let out the tiniest of whimpers when his hand darts forward to fist your hair. "do you know what happens to bad girls? they fucking get busted up. do you understand me?"

his patience is nonexistent.

jeno slams your head against the floor when you don't answer because you thought his question had been rhetorical. it felt like your skull had been split in two as you wail in pain.

"are you fucking deaf—i asked you a fucking question!"

the hand that cups your jaw is painful as he squeezed your cheek with his blunt nails. your hand shoots up to wrap around his wrist, silently pleading for him to let up as you sobbed out loud. you started nodding as best as you can despite his firm grip on your face.

your reply was nothing short of pathetic. with lips forcefully pursed and the steady stream of your tears and snot rolling down your face, your response is gargled and hardly incoherent and jeno seemed to thoroughly enjoy your anguish if the condescending curl on his lips is anything to go by.

"look at you," he whispers, his face coming close to yours as he holds you down. there was something in the way jeno stared so intently that it made your skin crawl.

"i think you're prettiest when ruined like this."

with his nose touching yours, he felt too close, bordering on intimate as you felt his hand creep back up your thighs, trailing up with feather-like touches that made goosebumps appear on your skin.

you tried wiggling your legs underneath him but one sharp look from jeno is enough to make you stop.

the hand holding your face moves. coming down from gripping your face to encircling his hand around your neck.

"do you like it when i touch you? freaky bitch."

his hands trail further up, up, up until you felt him slotting a finger underneath your panties.

jeno didn't like how frozen you were underneath him as he pulls at the hem before letting go. the elastic snapping back against your skin.

the action evokes a strong feeling through the young male, promising to have you writhing and screaming and begging because by the end of all this, you'll be so needy and frustrated that you will have no choice but to give in to what your body wanted.

"jeno, didn't i tell you to play nice?"

someone stands by the door, the minimal light from the hallway creating a silhouette with his form but you knew who he was. that deep voice, with the same annoying flippant tone, is a dead giveaway.

you didn't know why you even hoped in the beginning. as if there'll be someone who can save you from these two.

you thought the flash of hurt in your eyes was quick to disappear but jeno noticed it quicker.

in a span of seconds, he pulled you up from your position from the ground and tugged you towards his lap. you haven't even gotten the time to settle on your new position when he already smashed his lips against yours.

it was messy. too much saliva. too much teeth. no tenderness to it at all.

the fabric of his jeans felt rough, not to mention the ice cold belt buckle made you severely uncomfortable as it seeps through the thin fabric of your skirt.

when you attempt to hover over his lap, jeno grunts as he snakes an arm around your waist, pulling you back down without your lips breaking away from each other. you didn't know why he let out a whine, but you understood the moment you fully sat down on his lap and you felt a tent on his jeans hitting your clothed entrance perfectly.

in a normal circumstance, you would've found everything hot and might've actually gotten off from it but not when it's him who’s doing this to you and you didn’t consent to any of this.

you start squirming again. palms lying flat against jeno's chest as you attempt to push him away and jaemin sees this as the opportune moment to slot himself behind you, caging you in between them.

“i want my turn,” he hisses and without an ounce of hesitation, jeno stops to do what he's told.

jaemin doesn't waste any second to grab your face, awkwardly craning your neck up to meet his lips in the same feverish kiss.

while jeno had been all teeth and aggression, practically forcing you to open your mouth and kiss him back, jaemin on the other hand is more soft, more romantic, you daresay. he seemed to like taking his sweet time by clutching your face, kissing you like he actually meant it.

he pulls away slightly, resting his forehead against yours as he murmurs something incoherent under his breath and then he's kissing you again.

you think you heard something along the lines of, "finally."

you've been too distracted by jaemin to notice jeno's nimble fingers quickly fumbling with the buttons of your blouse. it was only when you feel the sensation of his tongue laving against the swell of your breast did you turn away from jaemin, jerking backward in surprise.

"no—!"

your scream is cut off by a hand cupping your mouth. jaemin pulls your back towards his chest, molding your body against his as jeno licked and suckled all he wanted, thankful to have the other boy there to not worry about restraining you and keeping you quiet while he has his fun.

"ah, ah, ah," jaemin teases, going hard over the pleading and teary look you sent his way. it looked pathetic, he wasn't going to lie, but it doesn't mean he didn't love it. "just keep still and appreciate jeno's efforts to take care of you, alright baby?"

you don't like how he talked as if this was all a mutual thing, how he talked slowly like you were some toddler who didn't understand anything.

it's cruel how jaemin giggled and basked in your vulnerable state as he kept his eyes pinned on you while undoing the zipper of your skirt. your muffled cries of his name only serving to egg him on.

the way he stared was similar to jeno, too intently and intrusive, like he wants to burn your image of despair in the back of his head.

you whined involuntarily when jeno got bored of all the licking and thus decided to start biting and nipping at your chest instead. he was hypnotised by how responsive you were, how every little bite and nibble made you shudder.

it was a shame that jaemin had to cover your mouth. he didn't get to hear your pretty mewls but it wasn't as if he'd let the night end without hearing them loud and clear.

jaemin is fast in undressing you, feeling slightly betrayed by how quick your skirt and blouse fell under his hands.

you know what he wants, what he's going to do, and the tears fall harder when you can't dodge away from him. forced to endure and accept whatever they give you.

"you act like you don't like it but look how fucking wet you are," you bit your lip hard when jaemin starts circling the pads of his fingers against your clit, fascinated by how more juices streamed down your thighs.

"jeno, do you see this? fuck."

you can only blink in defeat, staring off to the side as you force down any noise bubbling up your throat, forcing yourself to think of anything else other than what's happening right now.

you try not to think about how they managed to tear all of your clothes off while they're left completely dressed. tried not to think about the fingers lazily drawing up and down your slit to collect your essence.

if they're doing this as a way to further humiliate you, it's working.

"slut," jeno mocked, a wicked curl on his lips when he wraps his fingers around your throat. the moment he dives down to claim your lips again is the same time jaemin pushes two fingers inside you.

"look at how wet you are because of me," jaemin whispers hot against your ear and you feel a sick churn in your stomach when you feel his smile against your skin.

he purposely drives his fingers in and out quicker, settjng a brutal pace, wanting you to hear the lewd squelching sounds. "hear that? do you hear that, darling? that's because of me—"

"don't go talking big now, jaem," jeno retorts, pulling away from your lips to start nibbling on the back of your ear. "i was here first. did you see how she fucking reacted when i sucked on her tits?"

you're quick to catch how jeno particularly loved degrading you. but how he talks about you as if you're literally not in front of him naked made you hit a new all-time low.

you felt… filthy.

his hands find purchase on your butt—only because jaemin has already claimed the front. for now.

you close your eyes tight when he painfully squeezes the flesh of your ass. you swear, his blunt nails will paint your skin black and blue.

"i'm the favorite!"

as someone who's part of a varsity team, you already knew a competitive nature runs through jaemin's veins. but never had you thought jeno would share the same sentiment. once again they prove that they're cut from the same cloth.

all of a sudden it wasn't all about claiming you as theirs anymore rather it was all about who can make you moan the loudest, who can make you cum the most, who can make you feel the dirtiest you can be.

you're absolutely terrified for the hours to come.

thankfully, they have yet to ask for your verbal opinion or validation. they let your body do all the talking—every repressed shudder and sharp gasp is enough.

but it's game over once they pop the million dollar question.

"who do you like best?"

you don't want to find out the consequences if you actually answered their question because you didn't know what could be worse.

jaemin's manipulation or jeno's aggression?

but it was all normal. trial and error is inevitable in order to build and mold you into the ideal lover for the both of them.

because adding someone new to the mix has never been easy—after all, three's a crowd.

#nct imagines #yandere nct #yandere kpop #nct smut #nct scenarios #yandere jaemin #yandere jeno #jaemin imagines #jeno imagines #jaemin scenarios #jeno scenarios #jaemin smut #jeno smut

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alltoolewis · 3 years

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30 with lando pls

"Ride me."- Lando Norris.

Summary- you and lando celebrate his highest placing poduim after you comfort his nerves before the Italian grand prix....

Words- 1808...

(Warnings- Alot of fluff & smut! 18+! You've been warned!)

------------------------------------

You couldn't believe how quickly it all flew by. It felt like just yesterday when you met him... you the new photographer for McLaren, who didn't have a clue about F1, moving away from everything you knew to travel round the world taking pictures of cars worth more than your credit card & him, the new rookie, who had so much confidence on the track but who had near to none when it came to speaking to women... until you came along & And now here you were... 3 years later, moved in together, traveling the world doing the thing both of you loved & what a better way than doing that together.

----

Your hands trembled just looking at him pacing the room,you could tell he was nervous.. I mean who wouldn't be, starting P3 in one of the most anticipated races of the calendar....

"Baby your making me dizzy" you giggled,slowly making your way over to him as he reaches for your clammy hand.

"Im sorry" he sighed, leaning into your touch as you pulled him closer "just nervous... I mean with all the pressure of me and danny starting up the grid & McLaren not having the season they hoped for, its just getting to me.. and you-" stopping himself, he looked deep into your eyes and for the first time you could see the panic and fear glossing his eyes like smoke...

"Im what baby?" You whispered, gently tracing your fingers though his newly combed locks, an action that you knew relaxed him...

"Your here..."

Confusion washed over you gently let go of him, taking a step back to watch his new fear wash over him..

"I can stay back here lando... if I'm the one making you nervous... I'm sure they wont mind me sitting out on this one, they have so many talented photographers, they won't miss m-"

Put of nowhere lando pulled you closer, locking your lips with his, taking all the unnecessary words out of your mouth.

"I'll miss you" lando mumbled against your lips, before pulling away pushing your forehead against yours...

"Your not the issue baby.. its just I know how dangerous this track is & I just don't want you to see anything that you shouldn't.... I couldn't cope with mysel-"

This time is was you to interrupt him, lifting up his chin to meet your.

"Lando I know the drill.... its not my first rodeo baby, every race is a dangerous one... I knew what I signed up for the minute I started falling in love with you & guess what... I dont regret one bit & you know why...?"

"Why?" He whispered, voice full of uncertainty.

"Because you.." you sighed, locking your lips with him again "are the best driver on that grid and you I've never been more proud of anything or anyone in my life.... your gonna be okay... and im gonna be right there for here for you, together forever eh?" You say, smirking as you see his face light up at your words, reaching out for your outstretched hand, locking your fingers as he repeated your words..

"Together forever"...

--------------

"How many more laps left??" You sighed, hands beginning to tremble as you looked at the monitor, lando dropping down to 6th after his pit.

"26" zac sighed as he sat next you, placing a hand on your knee "hes doing well you know.... he a supers-"

However zak never got to finish his praise as gasps fill the garage, looking up to see Max's car ontop of Lewis's. Heart skipping a beat as you realised just how close it was to being lando...

"I have to go- I... what if it was him.. he was so close to them he was only a second away... what if" you whispered all the possible scenerios as tear filled your eyes, causing zac to pull you closer...

"Listen... you can't live your life with what ifs (y/n).. it could of been him but guess what it wasn't andd look where he is know!" He smiles looking up at the monitor just as lando overtakes Charles, reaching p2.

"I mean you could leave... but Together forever I heard?" Zac smirks as he places a headset on your knee as he gets up to get back to his place... "just in case you want to pop in and check up on him... you stresshead"

As the lap count increased, so did your heart rate, as you seen lando still at p2 with 1 lap to go and a 2 second gap between him and perez. Hands hesitating to pick up the headset that remained on your knee like a safety blanket. Only picking it up as the mclaren garage erupts in applause, not only has lando picked up his highest ever poduim but Daniel won!

'Lets fucking go lads' lando screeches as you place the headset on, zac giving you a little nod, letting you know you can talk to him.

"Baby" you whisper through the mic, voice trembling with pride and emotion.

"(Y/n)!!! We did it! We fucking did it!!" Lando screams as he makes his way to the last corner..

"We lando?!? I didn't do anything but hid behind zac the whole time" causing lando to chuckle before the set goes dead and the garage yet again erupts... letting you know the mclarens have parked up.

Lando was the first one out, immediately running over to zac and the rest of the team, and although you could tell he was ecstatic, apart of you knew that he was gonna be disappointed about not getting p1... but he's a team player & at the end of the day thats all that matters.

After the hugs from the team, it was your turn to be pulled into your sweaty boyfriends arms, in the biggest bear hug you've ever been given.

"I'm sooo proud of you baby" you whisper, running your hand through is wet locks. Tears welling your eyes for what felt like the 50th time today.

"I love you so much" he screamed, picking your feet of the ground as he twirled you around, so fast you would of sworn he would of got the fastest lap!

"And by the way" he smirks, locking your lips with his "theres no me without you...."

However your sweet moment was inturpted as you get rudely pulled away from eachother by a certain ecstatic Australian....

"Alright love birds, plenty of that later" grabbing lando by the shoulders, pushing him towards the poduims "continue that later please, me and loverboy here have a shoey to do"

Your heart melts as you hear landos laugh, even from 10 meters away, but nothing made your race more than seeing him mouth the words anyone would dream about hearing.....

"Cant wait too rip them clothes off".....

And by lord did he keep his promise, not even being able to close the door before your 'mclaren 4' tshirt was pulled from your body.

"Ive been dying to do this from the moment I crossed that line" lando groaned as he pushed against the wall, using all his last energy, locking his lips with yours. Tounges fighting for dominance as he unhooks your bra, throwing it carelessly across the room.

Before you knew it you thrown on the bed, just as carelessly as your long forgotten bra.

"How the fuck did I get this lucky" lando moaned as he hovers over your already shaken body, eyes gazing over your bare body, filling with not only with lust but love....

Sitting up you, you lock your lips again....

"I should be saying that too you.." you mumble against his mouth, flipping your body ontop of his as your hands trace down his bare chest.

"Ahh taking in charge I see" he smirks, throwing his arms at the back of his head, as your unbutton his belt, seeing his hard cock push against the poorly made cotton.

"Only the best for my champion" you whisper, pulling down the last layer before getting to work. Lips locking over the tip, as you look straight in his eyes, making sure he can see the collection of pre-come of your tounge as it traces on his tip.

"Fuck doll..." lando wheezed as your hand goes up and down his shaft, his hands pulling your hair back as you take him deeper down your throat. His groans filling the room as your eyes welled up for a different reason this time as you feel his tip against the back of your throat, however you didnt have time to enjoy your meal for any longer as he pulls you away. Leaning down, he latches your lips to his, moaning as he tastes himself on your tounge.

"Dont want to finish in your mouth"

Laying back down, throwing one of your legs over his waist causing you to straddle him....

"Ride me." He demands, and like the good girl you were you took no time to fulfill his needs. Pulling out a condom from under the pillow he wa layed on..

"Dont judge me.. i knew this was gonna happen"

Lando chuckled as you slipped the condom on him, positioning yourself before sinking on him, Causing both of your breaths to hitch...

"Fuck (y/n)... how the fuck are you still this tight after 3 years of fucking you" lando moaned as your hips start to rock against his waist, finding your familiar rhythm as his hands find your waist. The sound of skin slapping could only be heard, as you allowed him to fill you up.

"Fuck lando" you yell throwing your hand back as he places his hand on your clit, matching the rhythm of your hips "dont stop" you scream as he picks up the pace.

Using his free hand to continue guiding your hips on his cock, pushing his hips up to meet yours.

Moans filled the air, both of you knowing full well that the rest of the mclaren could hear your 'private celebration' however neither you seemed to care as your screams filled up the room.

"Im so close" you sigh as lando continues to meet your hips half way, leaning down to meet his lips.

"Me too baby... fuck me too"

Without out any more warnings, lando let go, feeling his seed fill up the condom that was still thrusting inside you.

"Come on baby let go" lando yelled, hand moving faster against your clit as he, attaches onto your sensitive tits. Something that he knew could bring you to cum hust on its own...

"Fuck!!!" You scream as the pleasure washes over you, collapsing on his chest as you both tried to catch your breath.

"I love you so much" he whispered as he pulled your swollen lips into one last kiss..

"I love you too lando" you whispered back, leaning back into his chest as he begins to comb his fingers through your hair, a action that after 3 years of love he knew would instantly put you to sleep... and like everything that boy does, he never fails...

#lando norris #lando norris blurbs #lando norris blurb #lando norris imagine #lando norris smut #alltooNSFW!

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