#I liked some parts of that stream but.... well..........

[imthebadguyyy]

whose afraid of little old me?

pairing : f1 drivers x reader

fandom : f1

series : the tortured poets department

synopsis : your journey as a female driver alongside the rest of the grid.

warnings : angst

a/n : first time writing a platonic drivers x reader! let me know what you think! :)

you don't get to tell me about sad..

The press room was buzzing with anticipation as the Formula 1 drivers filed in for the pre-race conference. As the only female driver on the grid, you were well aware of the extra attention you garnered, but you had grown used to it. Today, you were seated between Lewis Hamilton and Charles Leclerc, both of whom you had become close friends with during your time at Mercedes.

The questions started out as they always did: race strategies, car updates, and general banter about the upcoming Grand Prix. You handled them with the confidence and poise that had become your trademark. Then, a reporter from the back of the room stood up, his tone less than friendly

"Y/N," he began, "there's been a lot of talk about the difficulties you've faced as the only female driver on the grid. Some say you're out of your depth and that your results reflect that. How do you respond to the criticism that you don't belong here and that it's just too hard for you?"

You felt a surge of frustration. This wasn’t the first time you’d faced such pointed and unfair questions, but today, it stung more than usual. Before you could respond, you felt Lewis shift beside you, a silent show of support. Taking a deep breath, you looked the reporter in the eye.

"You don’t get to tell me about sad," you said, your voice steady and firm. "You don’t get to tell me about the difficulties I’ve faced or what I can handle. I’ve earned my place here just like every other driver on this grid, through talent, hard work, and perseverance. Criticism and doubt are part of the journey, but I’m here to stay."

The room fell silent, the weight of your words hanging in the air. For a moment, the reporter looked taken aback, but before he could say anything, Charles spoke up.

"Y/N has proven time and again that she belongs here," Charles said, his tone protective. "She’s one of the most dedicated and talented drivers I know, and it’s about time she gets the respect she deserves."

Lewis nodded, leaning forward to address the room. "We’re a team, and we support each other. Y/N has brought incredible strength and determination to Mercedes, and I have no doubt she’ll continue to achieve great things. If anyone here thinks otherwise, they clearly haven’t been paying attention."

The support from your fellow drivers warmed your heart, and you saw nods of agreement from others around the room. Even drivers from rival teams like Max Verstappen and Lando Norris were giving you supportive looks.

The reporter, clearly outnumbered and outmatched, mumbled a quick thank you and sat down. The rest of the press conference went smoothly, with more respectful and genuine questions.

As you left the stage, Lewis put a reassuring hand on your shoulder. "You handled that perfectly, Y/N. Don't let anyone make you doubt yourself."

Charles grinned, giving you a thumbs-up. "We’ve got your back, always."

Walking out of the press room with your head held high, you felt a renewed sense of determination. You knew the road ahead wouldn’t be easy, but with the support of your teammates and fellow drivers, you were ready to face any challenge that came your way.

nothing makes me feel more alive...

The roar of the crowd at Silverstone was deafening as you took the final corner, the checkered flag waving wildly in the air. This was it. You were about to win your first Grand Prix, and not just any race—it was Silverstone, the home of British motorsport.

"Y/N, you’ve done it! You’ve won the British Grand Prix!" your race engineer shouted over the radio, his voice barely audible over the cacophony of celebration.

Tears of joy streamed down your face as you crossed the finish line. "Oh my God! We did it! We did it! Thank you, thank you so much!" you screamed, unable to contain your excitement.

As you brought the car to a stop in Parc Fermé, the realization of your achievement hit you full force. You had won. You had really done it. Climbing out of the car, you were immediately surrounded by your jubilant team, all eager to celebrate this historic moment with you. You jumped into their arms, laughter and cheers filling the air.

Lewis, who had finished third, approached with a wide grin. "Incredible job, Y/N! Welcome to the winners' circle," he said, pulling you into a tight hug.

Max, who had taken second place, clapped you on the back. "Amazing race! You deserve this," he said with genuine admiration.

The podium ceremony felt surreal. As you stood on the top step, the anthem playing, you looked out over the sea of fans cheering your name. You felt a wave of pride and accomplishment wash over you. When the national anthem ended, you picked up the bottle of champagne, the weight of it solid and reassuring in your hands.

Lewis and Max joined you, and the three of you shared a look before simultaneously popping the corks and spraying each other with champagne. The cold, fizzy liquid drenched you, but you couldn’t stop laughing, your joy infectious.

Grabbing the microphone for the post-race interview, you took a moment to compose yourself before speaking. "This is the best moment of my life. Nothing makes me feel more alive than being out there on the track, pushing myself to the limit, and achieving something I’ve dreamed about since I was a little girl. Thank you to my team, to the fans, and to everyone who believed in me. This is just the beginning."

The crowd erupted in applause, their cheers echoing in your ears as you continued to celebrate with your team and fellow drivers. This victory was not just a personal triumph, but a statement to everyone watching: you belonged here, and you were just getting started.

As you left the podium, still grinning from ear to ear, you were greeted by more hugs and congratulations from your team. Toto Wolff, your team principal, pulled you into a warm embrace. "I knew you had it in you," he said, his voice full of pride. "This is only the beginning."

Walking away from the podium, champagne-soaked and elated, you felt an overwhelming sense of fulfillment. You had proven to yourself and the world that you could do it. And as you looked out at the sea of faces cheering for you, you knew that nothing could ever take this moment away from you.

so i leap from the gallows and i levitate down your street..

The aftermath of the Spanish Grand Prix was a cacophony of disbelief, exhilaration, and redemption. For weeks, you had been the subject of harsh criticism from pundits and commentators, their scathing remarks suggesting you were a failure, a shame to the sport. They doubted your abilities, questioning your place on the grid. The words stung, but they also fueled a fire within you that blazed brighter than ever.

"So, I leap from the gallows," you whispered to yourself as you took the final corner, the finish line in sight. The car beneath you was an extension of your will, each turn, each acceleration a defiant answer to the doubters. You crossed the line first, your heart pounding as you realized what you had just achieved.

"Y/N, you did it! You won the Spanish Grand Prix!" your race engineer's voice crackled over the radio, bursting with pride and excitement.

"I did it," you repeated, the weight of your victory sinking in. "We did it!"

The cool-down lap was a blur of tears and joy. You had proven them wrong. The people who had criticized you, who had doubted your skill and determination, were silenced by the roar of your engine and the unwavering support of your team.

As you pulled into Parc Fermé, the roar of the crowd was deafening. Stepping out of the car, you were immediately enveloped in the arms of your team, their cheers and tears mingling with your own. You felt a sense of triumph that was almost surreal, a weight lifting off your shoulders.

Carlos Sainz, who had finished second, approached with a proud smile. "Incredible drive, Y/N. You showed them all," he said, pulling you into a congratulatory hug.

Oscar Piastri, who had finished third, hugged you tight"That was one hell of a race. Well done," he said, his voice affectionate.

The podium ceremony was a whirlwind of emotions. Standing on the top step, the anthem playing in the background, you felt a sense of vindication. The crowd’s cheers were a testament to your hard work and resilience.

When the time came to spray the champagne, you did so with a vengeance, soaking Carlos and Oscar as they laughed and joined in the celebration. The cold spray was a refreshing reminder of the moment you had seized, the victory you had earned.

During the post-race interview, you held the microphone firmly, looking out at the sea of fans and reporters. "For those who doubted me," you began, your voice steady and strong, "this is my answer. So I leap from the gallows, and I levitate down your street. I've faced the criticisms, the doubts, and I’ve come out on top. This win is for my team, for my supporters, and for everyone who believes that dreams are worth fighting for."

The crowd erupted into applause, their cheers a resounding affirmation of your triumph. As you left the stage, still soaked in champagne and adrenaline, you felt lighter than air. You had not only proven your critics wrong, but you had also proven something to yourself: that you were capable of greatness.

Back in the garage, Toto greeted you with a proud smile. "You were phenomenal out there. This is just the beginning," he said, his voice filled with conviction.

Walking through the paddock, the looks of respect and admiration from fellow drivers and team members were a stark contrast to the doubts and criticisms you had faced. You had leapt from the metaphorical gallows and soared, showing everyone that you were here to stay.

As you drove out of the circuit later that evening, the streets of Barcelona seemed to glow with a new light. The city's energy matched your own, vibrant and unstoppable. You had faced the gallows and emerged victorious, levitating down the streets of triumph and possibility. And you knew, deep in your heart, that this was just the beginning of an incredible journey

whose afraid of little old me? you should be...

The glitz and glamour of the post-race party in Monaco was in full swing, with drivers, team principals, and VIP guests mingling in celebration of another thrilling Grand Prix. You were enjoying the night, surrounded by the camaraderie of your fellow drivers and the electric atmosphere of the event.

As you made your way through the crowd, chatting with Carlos and Lando, a random guy who clearly wasn’t part of the usual racing crowd approached. He had a smug look on his face, his steps unsteady from one too many drinks.

"Hey, isn’t this the famous female driver?" he said loudly, drawing the attention of those around him. "Nice of you to join us, sweetheart. Shouldn’t you be somewhere polishing your car or something? Or maybe you’re just here because you look good in a dress."

His words were met with a few awkward chuckles from those who didn’t know how to react. You felt a surge of anger but kept your composure. Taking a deep breath, you stepped closer, your eyes locking onto his.

"You know," you began, your voice calm but laced with steel, "it’s funny you mention polishing cars. Considering you probably have never even seen the inside of one that’s been on a racetrack, I’d say your expertise on the subject is pretty limited. As for my looks, let’s just say I'd rather be known for my talent than for crashing parties and making snarky remarks to people I don’t know."

The room fell silent, the tension palpable. The guy’s smirk faltered, replaced by a look of surprise and irritation. Before he could respond, you continued.

"I’ve worked hard to get where I am. Every race, every victory, is a testament to my skill and dedication. You can try to demean me all you want, but it won’t change the fact that I’ve earned my place here. And by the way, the only reason you’re even noticed right now is because you’re making a scene. Maybe next time, you should think before you speak."

A ripple of laughter and applause broke out among the onlookers. The guy’s face reddened with embarrassment and anger, but he had no retort. He muttered something under his breath and turned away.

Lando, who had been watching the exchange with an amused grin, stepped forward. "You should be afraid of her," he said to the group, his tone light but sincere. "She’s not just fast on the track, she’s got the sharpest tongue in the paddock."

You smiled at Lando, appreciating his support. "Thanks, Lando. Sometimes people need a reminder."

Carlos nodded, clapping you on the back. "You handled that perfectly. That guy didn’t know what hit him."

With a sweet, innocent expression, you tilted your head slightly and asked, "Who's afraid of little old me?"

Carlos turned to the retreating guy, his tone serious and unwavering. "You should be."

The random guy's pace quickened as he disappeared into the crowd, leaving you, Carlos, and Lando laughing and feeling victorious. The atmosphere lightened, and you found yourself surrounded by friends and allies who respected and supported you. The sting of the random guy’s words faded quickly, replaced by the warmth of genuine camaraderie. You knew that the road ahead would have its challenges, but moments like this reminded you that you were more than capable of facing them head-on.

Later, as you stood on a balcony overlooking the glittering Monaco skyline, Lando joined you, offering a glass of champagne. "To standing up for yourself," he toasted.

You clinked glasses, feeling a renewed sense of determination. "To proving them wrong," you replied, taking a sip and savoring the sweet taste of victory and vindication.

is it a wonder i broke, let's hear one more joke...

The opulent ballroom of the Monaco casino was alight with the energy of a sponsorship party, a glittering event where drivers mingled with sponsors, team principals, and celebrities. You were making your way through the crowd, putting on a brave face despite the whispers and stares. It was supposed to be a night of celebration, but for you, it was quickly turning into a test of endurance.

One of the sponsors, a man named Richard, seemed to have taken a special interest in making snide remarks at your expense. His laughter echoed through the room as he made yet another joke about you. "Oh, look, it’s the token female driver! How many races did you have to finish to get this seat? Or is it more about how you look in the team’s gear?" he jeered, his eyes gleaming with cruel amusement.

The people around him chuckled awkwardly, unsure of how to respond. You forced a smile, trying to brush it off, but inside, you felt your confidence crumbling. You excused yourself, mumbling something about needing to use the restroom, and quickly made your way to the nearest bathroom.

Once inside, you locked the door behind you and let the tears fall. The pressure, the constant scrutiny, the never-ending need to prove yourself—it all came crashing down. You sank to the floor, sobbing quietly, feeling utterly alone in that moment.

Unbeknownst to you, Lewis Hamilton had been watching from a distance. He had seen the way Richard had been treating you all night and noticed the moment you fled. Concerned, he made his way to the bathroom, hesitating only for a moment before gently knocking on the door.

"Y/N? It’s Lewis. Are you okay?" he called softly.

Hearing his voice, you tried to pull yourself together, wiping at your tears. "I’m fine, Lewis. Just… give me a moment."

But Lewis wasn’t about to leave you alone. He opened the door slowly, stepping inside and closing it behind him. When he saw you sitting on the floor, tears streaming down your face, his heart broke. He crouched down beside you, his expression one of deep empathy.

"Hey," he said gently, his voice soft and soothing. "I’m here. Talk to me."

You looked up at him, your vision blurred by tears. "It’s just… it’s too much sometimes, you know? The jokes, the comments… I’m trying so hard, but it feels like it’s never enough."

Lewis reached out, taking your hand in his. "You are more than enough, Y/N. You are an incredible driver and an even more incredible person. Don’t let anyone, especially not some ignorant sponsor, make you feel otherwise."

His words brought fresh tears to your eyes, but this time they were tears of gratitude. "Thank you, Lewis," you whispered, your voice trembling.

He sat down beside you, pulling you into a comforting embrace. "I know it’s hard. I’ve been there, too. But you have to remember why you’re here. You’ve earned your place on the grid. You’ve proven yourself time and time again. And you’ve got so many people who believe in you, including me."

You buried your face in his shoulder, taking comfort in his presence. "I just don’t know how much more of this I can take," you admitted, your voice barely a whisper.

Lewis pulled back slightly, looking into your eyes. "You are stronger than you think. And you don’t have to face this alone. We’re a team, remember? We’ve got your back."

His words wrapped around you like a warm blanket, easing the pain and fear. You took a deep breath, feeling a bit more grounded. "Thanks, Lewis. I don’t know what I’d do without you."

He smiled, brushing a tear from your cheek. "You’ll never have to find out. Now, how about we go back out there and show them what you’re made of?"

With his support, you felt a renewed sense of determination. You nodded, allowing him to help you to your feet. As you both left the bathroom, you knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, you weren’t facing them alone. You had friends, allies, and a team who believed in you, and that made all the difference.

i was tame, i was gentle, till the circus life made me mean..

The press conference room was packed, the atmosphere buzzing with anticipation. You sat between two fellow drivers, trying to maintain your composure as the questions came one after another. Lately, the questions directed at you had become more personal and offensive, straying far from your performance on the track.

As the reporters took turns, a journalist from the back raised his hand and was given the microphone. He stood up, a smug look on his face. "Y/N, there's been a lot of curiosity among fans about what kind of underwear you wear under your race suit. Care to enlighten us?"

The room fell silent, the air thick with tension. Your heart pounded in your chest as you felt a mix of anger and disbelief. This was the final straw.

You leaned forward, your eyes blazing. "Are you serious? I'm here to talk about my performance on the track, not my underwear. The fact that you think it's appropriate to ask me such a disrespectful and invasive question speaks volumes about your professionalism—or lack thereof."

The reporter's face turned red as he tried to stammer a response, but you cut him off, your voice steady and strong. "I have worked incredibly hard to earn my place here, just like every other driver on this grid. I will not tolerate being reduced to such trivial and sexist remarks. If you can't treat me with the same respect you show my male colleagues, then you have no place in this room."

You stood up abruptly, the microphone falling silent as you walked out of the press conference, your head held high. The room was stunned into silence, the other reporters unsure how to react.

Lewis, who was sitting beside you, took the microphone next. "That was completely unacceptable," he said, his voice calm but firm. "Y/N is a talented driver who deserves respect. It's disgraceful that she has to deal with questions like that."

Carlos, seated on your other side, nodded in agreement. "We are here to discuss our careers and our performance, not to entertain inappropriate and sexist questions. Y/N handled that with grace, and she has our full support."

The room remained silent, the gravity of the situation sinking The other drivers on the stage exchanged looks of solidarity, making it clear that they stood with you.

Backstage, you leaned against the wall, taking deep breaths to calm yourself. The door opened, and Lewis and Carlos walked in, their expressions filled with concern and support.

"Hey," Lewis said softly, placing a reassuring hand on your shoulder. "You did the right thing. That was completely out of line."

Carlos nodded, giving you a small, encouraging smile. "You handled it perfectly. We're all behind you."

You smiled weakly, grateful for their support. "Thanks, guys. I just couldn't take it anymore."

Lewis shook his head, his eyes filled with determination. "No one should have to deal with that. We're going to make sure it doesn't happen again."

Feeling a surge of gratitude and strength from their words, you nodded. "Together, we can make a difference."

As you returned to the paddock, you felt a renewed sense of purpose. You knew that you had allies who respected and supported you, and you were determined to continue proving yourself on and off the track. The road ahead would still have its challenges, but you were ready to face them head-on, with your head held high and your team by your side.

then say they didn't do it to hurt me, but what if they did?...

The news hit you like a freight train. Mercedes had decided to drop you from the team for the next season. The decision came shortly after Lewis announced his departure to Ferrari, leaving you feeling isolated and abandoned. You had poured your heart and soul into your racing career, and now it felt like the ground had been ripped out from under you.

The paddock was a whirlwind of activity as the season drew to a close, but you felt like a ghost moving through it. Every smile, every cheer, felt like a reminder of what you were losing. You tried to put on a brave face, but inside, you were struggling.

One evening, after a particularly tough day, you found yourself wandering aimlessly through the paddock. Your thoughts were a chaotic mix of anger, sadness, and confusion. You ended up in a quiet corner, away from the prying eyes and constant noise, trying to hold yourself together.

Charles noticed you standing there, your shoulders slumped and your expression distant. He approached you cautiously, his concern evident. "Y/N, are you okay?"

You looked up at him, your eyes brimming with tears. "They dropped me, Charles. Mercedes just dropped me. And with Lewis leaving too... I feel so alone."

Charles stepped closer, his expression sympathetic. "I'm so sorry, Y/N. I know this must be incredibly hard for you."

You let out a shaky breath, trying to keep your composure. "Why did they do this, Charles? After everything, why now?"

Charles gently placed a hand on your shoulder. "They didn't do it to hurt you. Sometimes teams make decisions that are hard to understand, but it's not always about us personally."

His words were meant to comfort, but they only made the pain sharper. "But what if they did?" you whispered, your voice breaking. "What if they did it to hurt me?"

The dam broke, and the tears you had been holding back spilled over. Charles pulled you into his arms, holding you tightly as you cried. His embrace was warm and comforting, offering a safe space to release the torrent of emotions you had been keeping inside.

"It's okay, let it out," Charles murmured softly, his voice soothing. "You're not alone, Y/N. We're all here for you."

You clung to him, the weight of your grief and fear pouring out. "I gave everything to this team," you sobbed. "I don't know what to do now."

Charles held you tighter, his heart aching for you. "I know it's hard, but this isn't the end. You're an incredible driver, and there are other teams out there that would be lucky to have you. Don't let this define you."

His words, filled with sincerity and belief, began to cut through the fog of despair. You took a deep, shaky breath, trying to steady yourself. "Thank you, Charles. I just... I just needed to hear that."

He pulled back slightly, looking into your eyes with a gentle smile. "You're stronger than you know, Y/N. And whatever happens next, you're going to come out of this even stronger."

As the night grew darker, you found a glimmer of hope in Charles's words and his unwavering support. You knew the road ahead would be challenging, but you also knew you weren't alone. With friends like Charles by your side, and the rest of the grid, you could face whatever came next. And as you stood there, taking comfort in his presence, you began to believe that maybe, just maybe, you could rise from this setback and prove everyone wrong.

I want to snarl and show you just how disturbed this has made me...

The atmosphere in the Mercedes factory was tense as Toto Wolff stepped up to the podium, his expression somber. You stood among your colleagues, your heart pounding in your chest as you waited for the announcement. Deep down, you knew what was coming, but hearing it confirmed in front of the entire team was another blow altogether.

"Toto, are we ready to go live?" a technician whispered, adjusting the cameras to capture the moment.

Toto nodded, his gaze scanning the room. "Yes, let's begin."

The room fell silent as the live broadcast began. Toto cleared his throat, his voice steady but heavy with emotion. "Good afternoon, everyone. I come to you today with news that is difficult for all of us to hear."

You felt a lump form in your throat as you braced yourself for what was to come. Toto continued, his words echoing through the factory.

"After much consideration and evaluation, we have made the decision to part ways with one of our drivers," he announced, his tone measured. "It is never an easy decision to make, and it is one that we do not take lightly."

The room seemed to hold its breath as Toto paused, the weight of his words hanging in the air. You glanced around, noting the somber expressions on the faces of your colleagues. They were your teammates, your friends, and the thought of leaving them behind felt like a knife to the heart.

"And so, it is with a heavy heart that I must announce that Y/N will be leaving the team at the end of the season," Toto said, his voice faltering slightly. "We want to thank her for her dedication, her hard work, and her contributions to the team. She will always be a part of the Mercedes family, and we wish her all the best in her future endeavors."

The room erupted into a mix of stunned silence and whispered conversations. You stood there, trying to process the news, trying to swallow down the bitter taste of disappointment and betrayal. It was all you could do to keep from exploding in anger, from snarling and lashing out at the injustice of it all.

As Toto stepped down from the podium, you felt a hand on your shoulder. Turning, you met the sympathetic gaze of your teammate, Lewis. His eyes were filled with understanding and compassion, a silent acknowledgment of the pain you were feeling.

But as much as you wanted to scream, to demand answers, you knew that now was not the time. You had to swallow down your anger, to keep your composure in front of your colleagues. You had to be the bigger person, to leave with dignity and grace.

So you stood there, your jaw clenched, your fists tight at your sides, as the reality of the situation sank in. You would leave Mercedes behind, but you would carry the memories, the victories, and the lessons with you. And as you walked out of the factory for the last time, you vowed to channel your anger and disappointment into fuel for the next chapter of your racing career.

you wouldnt last an hour in the asylum where they raised me..

The news spread like wildfire through the paddock: you had been signed by Red Bull Racing for the upcoming season. As you made your way through the bustling crowd, you could feel the weight of judgmental eyes boring into you. People whispered behind your back, calling you a traitor, questioning your loyalty to your former team.

But you held your head high, a smirk playing at the corner of your lips. You had made your decision, and you weren't about to let the opinions of others sway you. After all, this was Formula 1—a cutthroat world where alliances shifted like the wind, and loyalty was a luxury few could afford.

As you approached the garage, you heard the murmurs grow louder. "Can you believe she signed with Red Bull? What a traitor."

You stopped in your tracks, turning to face the source of the comments. It was one of your former colleagues, his expression filled with disdain. "You're a traitor, Y/N. How could you do this to us?"

You met his gaze head-on, your eyes flashing with defiance. "It's a cutthroat game," you replied coolly. "You wouldn't last an hour in the asylum where they raised me."

The words hung in the air, a stark reminder of the ruthless world you had grown up in. You had fought tooth and nail to get to where you were, and you weren't about to apologize for seizing an opportunity to further your career.

Turning on your heel, you continued toward the Red Bull garage, feeling a sense of satisfaction wash over you. You may have ruffled some feathers, but you had made the right choice for yourself. And as you entered the garage, surrounded by your new teammates and friends who had stood by your side through it all, you knew that you were exactly where you were meant to be.

that I'm fearsome, and I'm wretched, and I'm wrong..

You sat in your motorhome, scrolling through Instagram after the chaotic Monza Grand Prix. The race had been eventful, to say the least, with a tense moment between you and Hulkenberg that had sparked controversy among fans and pundits alike.

As you scrolled through your feed, you couldn't escape the barrage of comments and messages directed at you. People were blaming you for the incident, calling you fearsome, wretched, and wrong. It felt like the weight of the world was pressing down on your shoulders, suffocating you with guilt and frustration.

But you refused to let the negativity consume you. Taking a deep breath, you opened the camera app on your phone and snapped a quick selfie. In the photo, you wore a determined expression, your eyes flashing with defiance.

You typed out a caption to accompany the photo, your fingers moving with purpose. "I'm fearsome, wretched, and I'm wrong," you wrote, the words a defiant declaration of self-acceptance and resilience.

With a sense of satisfaction, you hit the share button, knowing that your message would reach far and wide. It was a reminder to yourself—and to the world—that you were not defined by one moment, one mistake. You were a force to be reckoned with, flaws and all, and you weren't afraid to own it.

a/n : first ever platonic driver story! should I look into a romantic angle with anyone? any suggestions etc would be highly appreciated! happy reading and much love! as always, likes, reblogs, comments etc are always appreciated ❤️

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[liliannadelaphinehartifelt]

Alastor - [ DEVOTION Pt. 5 ]

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Back from the dead… Did you miss my loves? ;) Fair warning: this part is a bit tedious and emotional. Also, please go check out @lustylita. Their art is divine, and I'm addicted to seeing it! I bet you'll love their work, too!

WARNINGS; [ MDNI ] + [ MENTIONS & DESCRIPTIONS OF BLOOD & HORROR ] + [ PREGNANCY TROPE...I know but just deal with it for now... ] + [ANGST ] + [ CANNIBALISM ]

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There was so much blood; it was all you could see, painted over every surface you laid your eyes on.

It drenched your skin, trickling from your shaky hands to the void below your feet, filling the space drop by drop like an un-fillable pool.

A heavy smell of iron and decay engulfed your senses, pungent and nauseating. It was nothing like you'd imagined the color red to smell, far from the sweet scent of a blossoming spring rose or a freshly picked basket of crisp apples. The texture did nothing to offset the unsettling substance; it was lukewarm, thick, and seemingly unable to dissipate.

You tried wiping it away, smearing it on any other surface but your skin; however, more would congeal out of thin air. It was frightening, maddening even, and you became desperate to wipe it off with all your might.

Why wouldn't it just disappear?

Where was it coming from?!

Were you going to drown in it?!

An overwhelming shroud of dread consumed you, a scream of utter horror ripping from your chest as the blood beneath your feat rose rapidly, and all you could do was stumble in it: no doors, no openings, no light. Just an endless void produced a never-ending stream of horror that clung to you like glue. You'd never wanted to escape something so badly, falling to your knees as shock racked your minor form, "Let me out! Make it stop! Please, somebody, make it stop!"

Tears streamed down your face, disappearing into the sea of red, aiding nothing but your inner panic.

This had to be some nightmare. A terrible dream you'd awake from at any minute.

It had to be, or the distant screams that were emerging from the darkness would've taken shape into anything but the disfigured bodies floating around you. Each one more mangled the last, terror written over every corpse's face -what was left of it anyway- and you almost envied their deceased state. They'd long passed on, strangers to you, but ever present in these horrific nightmares that worsened the closer you got to giving birth. At least they were dead, fortunate enough to plague your nightmares and not endure this cycle of torture, but they were the sole reason you lost more and more sleep.

You knew this part of the nightmare well; those bodies would remain, but a familiar mix of voices would emerge. You recognized Alastor's sultry tone first, used to hearing it, but the childlike giggles that mingled after his words were newer to you.

"Curiouser and curiouser said little Alice…" he hummed in delight, earning another string of giggles and drawing your attention in their direction.

There he sat, an arm's length away from you, two small children nestled in his lap, their faces hidden behind the book in his hands.

"Alastor?.." you whispered, hoping to gain his attention, unsure if what you saw was real but desperate for a sense of safety. He didn't budge, continuing to read as if you'd never spoken, "The white rabbit scampered off faster and faster, leaving her to wonder and shout after him…"

The children in his lap swung their tiny feet excitedly, voices muffled as they inquired about the story, and Alastor chuckled at their enthusiasm.

What the fuck is happening?...

Anger and confusion consumed your thoughts, urging you to stand and stalk to where your husband sat. He still ignored you, eyes never leaving the book and his smile widening as you drew closer. It was then that you saw it: splatters of blood on his face, hands, and clothes.

Just the same as the night he went hunting, a memory you'd yet to forget, and it seemed your conscience refused to let it go. You tried again to gain his attention, stepping behind him to see the children he held, but he gave no answer, and their faces appeared to blur.

Two things were clear: their smiles mirrored Alastor's perfectly, and their white clothes were stained with blood. Your stomach twisted in knots at the sight, a deep unease settling over you as they reached for you, hands covered in red like Alastor's. Panic overtook you then, your horrified screams overlapping their cheery giggles and his constant reading.

It was all too much, too vivid, and scarring.

You needed to wake up, or you'd surely lose your mind.

So, you screamed, shutting your eyes tight to block out the sight and shrinking away from it in hopes of escape.

"Y/n!?.. Sweetheart, wake up. Open your eyes, come on now," Alastor sat up in your shared bed, gently shaking your shoulders and carefully shifting to hover above you. He awoke to the sounds of your sharp, frantic breathing, recently accustomed to the sounds that stemmed from vivid night terrors. This was your third nightmare of the week, a bad one from what he could gather out of your strained expression and the stray tears staining your cheeks; how he hated to see his darling wife in peril, harboring a deep resentment to whatever troubled your lovely mind but unable to console you completely.

Alastor did not care about many things, and seeing you frantic amid sleep was one of them. As beautiful as you were laying beside him, round with his children and ever so content to bear them, he knew the least he could do was soothe your troubles, even if they were his fault, to begin with.

"Ma chere, wake up. I'm right here…" Alastor tried again to rouse you, and this time, your eyes fluttered open at the sound of his voice. "A-alastor?…" you choked on a quiet sob, crying silently as his face came into focus, and though you wanted to feel comforted by his attentive nature, the only thing on your mind was the details of your nightmare coming to life.

Blood.

His, yours, a strangers?

It didn't matter where it came from, but the notion of how it stuck to your husband's skin and clothes that night he left your side as if he'd willingly bathed in it stuck with you far longer than anticipated.

Alastor studied your expressions carefully, not bothering to wear his glasses in the dead of night to see you when the pale moon gave enough light to do so, but oh, how it pained him to see you crying.

"My dear…shh, it's alright. You're safe and sound with me. No need to cry." He lay beside you again, sitting up just enough to caress your head into his chest. Though his words were sweet and loving, your tears only flowed faster hearing them.

It was as if you couldn't help yourself, wanting to feel secure in his arms but fearful of him simultaneously. Alastair had never treated you harshly, bad-mouthed you, or given any indication that he had anything negative to say about your character. So, why couldn't you let go of your anxiety around him, see him in your dreams as the lovely man you'd grown to love and marry, or scrub the image of that single night from your conscience?

He was hunting. He was hunting. He was hunting.

That's what you kept telling yourself, trying not to consider the other odd things that occurred that night, but it didn't prove easy. Night terrors became crying fits, and baseless doubts morphed into suspicions you weren't entirely ready to investigate.

You'd been with Alastor for too long and assumed you knew him like others since he was your husband and a soon-to-be father of your children. What kind of wife harbors unfounded fears toward their spouse? It broke your heart to consider such a fault in your character, adding to the ache in your chest as sobs dwindled into slowed buffs of breath, and after a moment of breathing steadily, you quieted down.

Alastor remained calm the whole time, humming a new tune he'd aired on his broadcast a few nights prior, but as your cries subsided, he resorted to muttering comforting words to you again.

"These nightmares won't last forever, darling." He kissed the top of your head, glancing down at your fully round stomach hidden under the covers. His shadows lurked closer as he stared at it, heightening his hearing range enough to act his habit of listening for any irregularities in the babies' or your heartbeat. Still, when he heard none, his focus returned to you entirely. "I know.." you mumble hoarsely, tired from crying and somewhat frustrated with your thoughts. The subtle flutters in your abdomen didn't help your predicament either, a prime signal that your restless dreaming had stirred a craving and, ultimately, another reason for you to be awake at an unusual hour.

So much for sleeping well while pregnant.

You thought bitterly, moving to sit up and gather your bearings before making any move to find a late-night snack in the kitchen. Alastor eyed you carefully, smiling softly at the sight of your small form emerging from the mass of covers, unable to stop admiring your delicate beauty that practically amplified itself as you got closer to giving birth. Your curves filled out the silk nightgown you wore nicely, your hair growing long enough to reach your back even while frazzled from sleep, and your skin seemed to always glow without blemishes.

What he favored admiring most was how you carried his children; small as you were, many thought twins would give you problems, but their assumptions couldn't be further from the truth. You, his darling wife, were more patient than most, and though you possessed a soft heart, your will was solid. That is why Alastor could not stand the thought of you being in turmoil. For eight months, he kept his regular life routine consistent, sparing any time he could to spend with you, but as of late, your terrors and mental state seemed unbalanced, which prompted the radio host to be home more often.

Alastor believed his constant presence was helping, comforting you in some way, but little did he know that your troubled behavior worsened because of it.

You finally sat up straight in bed with a bit of help from him, swiping away any tears left on your cheeks while catching your breath, but the latter task proved difficult as the movement in your belly doubled.

"Oh goodness…they never rest," you exhale sharply, trying to mask your annoyed tone with a flit of soft laughter, but Alastor picks up on your irritation immediately. It almost annoys you how fast he reads you, but you can't seem to tell he's the reason you've been acting off.

"Well, I'd be worried if they did, ma chere, but you seem rather fed up with it." he met your tired gaze, eyes alight with affectionate mischief, but you found nothing he said amusing at that moment.

Especially when the image of him covered in blood with the same look in his eyes crossed your mind.

"How could you say such a thing?!.." you snapped at Alastor, glaring his way before hurrying out of bed, snatching up your robe from the end of it as he tried to process your sudden outburst.

He'd never been one to be left dumbfounded, but you'd managed to leave him that way countless times in recent weeks. Unfortunately, it couldn't be prevented since the unruly nature of hormones made your gentle demeanor prickly.

He hated it, not knowing how to handle you and being very unsure of his ability to do so.

"A crude jokester you are, Al. I can not believe you!" you grumbled angrily, slipping on your robe and reaching for the door when it was secure around your body. He took a deep breath, standing out of bed, taking a moment to think. He reached for his glasses on the nightstand.

"My dear, wait-" Alastor called for you calmly, placing his glasses on with a heavy sigh, leaving his chest as you ignored him and left the room to trek downstairs.

Dramatic little thing, isn't she?

Hush up. It'll pass like all the other fits…

I wouldn't be so sure of that, my friend.

His shadows loomed in the darkest corners, embodying his hidden concerns but remaking still as he followed your path to the kitchen. He found you rummaging the cabinets, frustration peeking through your expression and flurry movements. You tried to keep from crying again as you searched for something to eat that would satisfy the lurking hunger pregnancy caused. Besides the medically recommended meals and traditional diets your doctor advised you to adhere to, you often opted for dishes Amgelique had told you to indulge in. Most included rarely done meats cooked by her, Alastor, or Rosie. She'd also given you specific fruits, herbs, and vegetables to ingest. All of which curves your appetite better than any doctor's diet.

Luckily, Rosie had stopped by earlier in the day with dishes shed prepared for you, and when the memory reoccurred, you rushed over to the fridge to find them.

There they sat, platters of food, some full of meat you couldn't quite figure out its origin, and others filled with various sweets and fruit. Alastor watched as a content smile adorned your face, returning your dark expression to its bright state. With a careful hand, you took a plate from the fridge, laying the other on your round belly while gently uncovering the platter. "One little bite, and it's back to bed," you whispered to no one in particular. Now, you were searching for a pan to reheat the food with, but your search halted, and you felt familiar hands rest on your hips.

You frowned, pouting stubbornly as his chest met your back.

Did he not understand you were angry with him at the moment?

"Al, please leave me be. Go back to bed and get some rest," you mumble dismissively, attempting to slip away from his embrace, but Alastor refuses to let you go. "No," he firmly states, peppering kisses along your shoulder and neck and stopping behind your ear, "I can't stand when you're upset with me, sweetheart. Let alone sleep when I know I've done or said something to offend you."

You try to hold a glare at the wall in front of you, swallowing an excited gasp as his lips find an overly sensitive spot on your neck, but it only takes a moment for you to cave. "Mmph..Al..," you whisper tentatively, relaxing into his taller frame as he passes a hand up and down your stomach. "Darling," he utters, voice smooth in your ear and breath cool against your neck. The endearing title makes your heart flutter, and your anger slowly dissipates hearing it. A light shiver racks your spine, bringing a coy smile to your face as you turn to face him head-on.

The dreamy look in his amber-brown eyes captivated you instantly, expressing the apology he was bound to give you -as ridiculous as the point of it was. Still, you accepted it, forgetting your hunger for a moment to hear what he had to say.

"It wasn't my intention to upset you, ma chere,"

You nodded, not avoiding the ginger kiss he placed on your forehead while running a hand through your hair.

"I shall be more careful with my words in the future. Will you forgive me this once?.." Alastor held your stare, letting the question linger before glancing at your swollen stomach. You followed his gaze, resolved to soften at the sight of his large hand lying atop yours, gently rising from the languid kicks produced by the children inside.

Your wedding rings glinted in the golden light of the kitchen chandelier, reminding you that Alastor was more than just a man who'd inadvertently hurt your feelings, but rather your husband who'd made an effort to apologize for his mistake.

Apologizing didn't come easy to him, nor did admitting his faults, so you forgave him despite feeling a twinge of unease about letting him off the hook.

"I forgive you, Al."

A tenderness enveloped your response, earning a soft smile that proceeded to a lingering kiss on your lips. Alastor leaned into your touch as your hands reached to cup his face; humming softly, you accepted his tongue into your warm mouth. You melted in his hold, trying to forget your nightmares, irrational anger, and suspicions as the kiss became intense.

His hands found your waist, keeping you close with cautious strength, trying his best to ignore the arousal he felt as your filled-out curves molded to his touch, but the sliver of restraint he had snapped when you moaned quietly into his mouth.

It was such a sweet sound, sending blood rushing to his cock faster than he cared to admit, and its effect didn't go unnoticed by you.

"I may have forgiven you, my love, but that doesn't mean you're completely out of the woods yet," you scold him playfully after pulling away from the kiss, giggling as he glares down at you, "And how, pray to tell, do I get 'completely out of the woods,' my dear?" You perk up, glancing at the plate on the counter, "Sharing a late-night dinner with me would be a good start."you suggest.

Alastor eyes the dish, immediately identifying the contents on it.

Rosie never failed to make the best meals for you, just like him and his mother, taking the time out to prepare prey he'd hunted down himself since he couldn't do it at home with you being there all the time, and trustworthy enough to not mention to you exactly what kind of meat you were being served.

After all, your children needed to be healthy, and Alastor was sure starting them off on a healthy diet similar to his would be beneficial in the long run.

He didn't mind a pair of miniature cannibals running around the house. If he played his cards right, you'd unknowingly continue to be one.

With all these factors in mind, your husband happily agreed to have a midnight meal with you,

"Well then, I have no choice but to join you, darling. I'll take care of the food, and you go lounge about in the parlor," he instructs, not leaving room for your assistance and being quick to get you comfortable until the meal is ready.

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

The next day, Rosie stopped by with Mimzy, another good friend of Alastor's, but not a close one to you. After all, she had openly admitted to pining for your husband at your wedding reception. Although she was very drunk at the time, you couldn't bring yourself to get the whole ordeal. However, you were still cordial to each other most of the time, and it just so happened Rosie had run into her in town, which led to them deciding to visit.

"It's nice to see you again, Mimzy," you greet her with a tight smile, letting Rosie help you sit on the sofa next to her as the stout blonde sat on an adjacent armchair before curtly responding. "It's been a while, hasn't it, Y/n? It seems you and Al have been pretty busy," Mimzy eyes your stomach, a cheeky grin plastered on her face as she refers to your current state, but the smile drops when Rosie cuts into the exchange.

"Now, now, Mimzy, don't be bitter," she throws her a slightly playful glare, ignoring the eye roll Mimzy gives in return as she focuses on you. "How are you feeling, dear? You're only a few weeks away, right?! Oh, I can't wait to meet the little devils!" her excitement pours off in waves, and you contract it without much resistance. Smiling wide, you express your thoughts while picking up the bundle of yarn you were crocheting into a pair of matching white onesies right before their surprise arrival.

"Oh, I feel wonderful! It's hard to breathe sometimes, and they kick quite a lot, but I suppose that means they're healthy!… I'm two weeks from what the doctor told us, but Alastors mother thinks I'll have them much sooner." You laugh, nervous about the delivery process but more than ready to give birth. Rosie squealed happily, hands clasped before her chest as she gushed over the news. "That's just wonderful to hear, dear! However, I agree with Al's mother about the due date. You look as if you're going to pop any minute!" Mimzy followed her light-hearted comment with a stiff grunt, "How exciting. Don't tell me all you have for them is…that?." The blonde motions a hand at your crochet project, clearly judging your lack of baby items, but before you can give her a snarky response, Rosie perks up again.

"Oh, that reminds me! Come this weekend, I will be hosting your shower, dear. Al and I arranged it some time ago as a surprise since there's a good chance you'll have them in a week. I'm spoiling it." She clapped eagerly, giggling at your shocked reaction, "I… I don't know what to say, Rosie? Th-thank you so much!" you shifted to give her a tight hug; she accepted it but pulled away to look you in the eyes.

"Al doesn't want you worrying about a thing. This party was his suggestion. I'm merely fulfilling a favor to friends…" she paused, lightly caressing your stomach with one hand before finishing her explanation. "…and my soon-to-be god niece and nephew."

You nod in agreement but raise a brow as confusion floods your features.

"Neice and Nephew?" you ask Rosie, and she sits up straight with a knowing smile. "Well, that's just my guess, honey. We can't be certain until they're out in the world."

Something about her words sent a chill up your spine, a stray suspicion creeping back into you, and curiosity filling your head as you recounted Alasror and his mother making similar comments.

They were so sure of the twins' genders that they never explained how they knew, but they were adamant that their assumptions weren't wrong.

How strange…

You peered at the onesies in your hand, fiddling with needles wrapped in yarn, in deep thought as Rosie and Mimzy chatted about the shower. More so Roise since Minzy grumbled about the whole ordeal…

For a while, you tuned them out, murmuring a response whenever they sought your input but generally reserved as they continued. Your mind was elsewhere, considering the reality of being a mother relatively soon and contemplating if your waning sanity would rebuild itself.

It was expected that you would feel fed up with pregnancy at some point; the aches, pains, and anticipation of it all would come to an end. You were grateful for it, but some ailments wouldn't easily be shaken off, and each one stemmed from an uncertainty you felt towards Alastor.

The nightmares.

The suspicions.

The guilt of losing trust in him.

The grudges cultivated from being lied to shut out of your husband's truths and treated so fragile as if you aren't already sacrificing your strength to make him happy.

You'd do anything for him. You'd done everything for him, yet in nine months, the small voice of doubt you chose to ignore for so long was now blaring like a siren.

He's hiding something from me…and they all know it.

You eyed Rosie as the thought crossed your mind, careful not to show your anger as it swelled in your chest, nearly bubbling over as the memories of her and everyone else reasonably close to Alastor doting on you for the past several months. All those smiles, the tidbits of odd advice, the cover-ups for when he was out late at night, and the absurd amount of times they'd all so clearly lied to your face.

It infuriated you…

You weren't stupid, quick to trust, but hardly a brainless woman.

Being treated like a porcelain doll, emotionally and mentally, was something you learned to endure since childhood. Your father believed it was for your good, that he was doing you a favor by sheltering you from the world's cruelty, and you hated it with a passion. Alastor was one of the few who knew this, but he'd blatantly begun to treat you just the same.

You were his wife, his supposed 'darling doe', but weren't nearly cherished enough to be told the truth?

To be a aware of whatever secret he was keeping?

He could proclaim his devotion loud and clear but shut you out in the same breath…

It hurt.

Plain and simple.

But one way or another, you'd get him to understand, make him see you as a confidant rather than a show doll to be kept in a glass cabinet, and come what may, you'd made up your mind.

You weren't weak and certainly not fond of being lied to.

xxxxxxxx xxxxxxxx xxxxxxxx xxxxxxx xxx

Fun fact: I finished Chapter 8 of this fic, and it's officially reached Novel level. Like 40 000 words type shit. I am beyond surprised at myself but proud nonetheless. I hope you don't mind the heavy angst in the following few chapters (including this one), but I had a purpose for this plot -not just straight smut. That isn't to say part 8 won't have any ;)... Anyway, give me some feedback on this one. I want to know where you guys think this story is headed...

TAGS ❤️: @rapturenyx @michi-keinz @shealizxx @nissrinina @destinyisastar @bubblegumheartsy @sailorsmouth @aestheticgals-blog @rameisa @ellesette

[ BONUS CONTENT + ]

I'm never making it to heaven if I keep obsessing over this psychotic deer demon. Credits to creator ❤️

#hazbin hotel #alastor #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor hartfelt #human alastor #alastor headcanons #hazbin hotel headcanon #alastor fluff #alastor smut #alastor x reader #ao3 writer #ao3 author #alastor the radio demon #alastor fanfiction #hazbin alastor #alastor x oc #alastor cosplay #fanfic writer #hazbin hotel fandom #hazbin hotel fanfiction #ao3 #ao3 fanfic

[causenessus]

cold kisses

part 0.2. TOO MANY COOKS

PLAYING FROM KODZUKEN'S STREAM . . . dark red by steve lacy

“and you’re sure you don’t want me to come in?” hajime’s eyes are pointed, narrowed on her as if he doesn’t believe her.

“if the fire department hasn’t come yet then we’ve avoided the worst case scenario,” she reassures him again with a smile. “thanks for keeping me company, haji. i’m pretty sure i would've lost it when i saw atsumu if you weren't there.”

his face twists in annoyance at the mention, “yeah.”

they’re standing outside her door as the conversation goes silent. no sounds reach her ears from behind the door either. “they are a little quiet–but maybe they’ve already cleaned up,” as soon as the words come out of her mouth they both laugh.

"i think it's more likely they all created some sort of chemical reaction and passed out but we'll give them the benefit of the doubt. call me if you need anything,” he gives her a nod before turning to make his way back to his dorm on campus. she watches him turn the corner before she unlocks the door with her keys, preparing herself for what awaits her.

as soon as she opens the door, her nose scrunches. the smell coming from what could only be the kitchen hits her instantly. she thinks it's savory first before it becomes overwhelmingly heavy and bitter as if someone had attempted to bake something but burned it to ashes. she slips off her shoes quickly, about to turn the corner when a bang against the wall makes her jump. a decoration around the wall shakes right next to her face and it catches her eyes before something hard hits the floor in front of her.

she accidentally screams, seeing oikawa’s body on the ground. there's a blindfold wrapped around his head and he doesn't move to take it off.

“oh my god.”

she almost thinks she's about to start crying as she kneels next to him. did he just die?

but then she sees the rapid fall and rise of her chest and lets out a shaky sigh. her hand reaches for her phone to call hajime but then stops. maybe she could call an ambulance? or maybe the fire department should come after all? then she hears a noise from the kitchen. she needs to check on kuroo and kenma first before calling anyone.

she tries her best to steadily rise to her feet again. pressing a hand against the wall to momentarily stabilize and prepare herself. she apologizes to oikawa quietly as she steps over his body, praying kenma and kuroo aren’t cooking blindfolded as well. she almost doubles over, imagining the kitchen being painted red and a knife somewhere on the floor.

she’s careful to look out for anyone else blindly running into the walls as she steps through the hallway, taking it slow and quietly towards the kitchen.

then she can hear kuroo.

“WHAT? I DON’T KNOW WHAT THAT MEANS YOU’RE GONNA HAVE TO TRY SOMETHING DIFFERENT!”

he’s yelling so loud she cringes, stopping for a second. she thinks she can hear a second voice as well, but just barely. as if they're talking in an entirely different room.

the closer she gets, the more it sounds like someone nearby is trying to talk but it’s being muffled by something. she turns the corner and the bright lights of the kitchen contrast the shadowed hallway she just snuck through.

her shoulders momentarily relax, seeing that there’s nothing red in sight.

well, actually, scratch that.

the kitchen is dusted in white like someone arbitrarily threw flour and two boys are standing in her kitchen in matching red tracksuits.

they decided to cook in their gym clothes from high school? despite her best attempts, she's never been able to convince them to harbor even the slightest bit of sentimentality whatsoever. she liked wearing kenma's jacket when he let her, but she wasn't entirely sure it would survive the night.

her eyes are drawn back to the two figures as kuroo starts yelling again, most likely due to the headphones on his head. she can’t see kenma; his back is turned towards her but he’s waving his hands around and she can’t hear him if he is saying anything. from what she can gauge, he's not blindfolded or acting as if he's hard of hearing, though.

oh.

then she pieces it together.

she’s seen this trend on one of her many doomscrolls.

three people cooking, one person deaf, one mute, and one blind.

and they've lost their blind person.

and kuroo can’t hear but kenma can’t even talk anyway.

she almost wants to turn around and leave; pull out oikawa with her and maybe they can make it back to hajime's dorm and pretend they don't know what's going on her apartment. she thinks about going back just to take the poor blindfold off his face.

then something loud is ringing. she almost thinks it’s the smoke alarm finally kicking in but it’s just the oven going off.

kenma and kuroo don’t notice it over their attempt to communicate with each other. she decides kuroo gets the benefit of the doubt since he can’t hear anyway but either kenma or her need to do something.

she can see faint smoke start to curl out of the oven and if the smoke alarm's going to kick in soon she'll end up stealing kuroo's headphones just to keep her sanity. she yells for kenma but he doesn't hear her over kuroo and the oven alarm.

she starts to make her way towards them, careful to step as carefully as she can through the flour–and was that a broken egg on the floor? she tries to keep herself focused on the task at hand, not even thinking about the camera set up in front of their countertop.

she almost trips, not seeing a stray cord on the floor underneath everything else littered on the floor. kenma finally seems to hear her when she squeaks and turns around quickly, catching her in his arms before she falls. then his eyes are wide and he’s trying to say something but there’s duct tape on his mouth.

“the oven!” she shouts at him, not entirely sure if she's responding to whatever he's trying to say. but he won't take the hand off her wrist and she tries to push it off to get to the machine in question before she’s pulled back and spun around by arms around her waist.

“kenma what the hell?” she’s yelling at him.

he holds her face so that she’s looking at him and is shaking his head, pointing at the camera.

it was a sort of unspoken agreement, they both didn’t want her on his streams in order to keep a barrier between their personal lives and individual jobs. it was possible that things might get a little messy if it was revealed they were living together. the media would have a feast coming up with stories and scandals between then and the conservatives would accuse them of sacrilegious–the second part wasn't the worst-case scenario but it was more trouble than it was worth and they both decided it was just best for her to stay off camera.

kuroo finally looks up from a vegetable he's been trying his hardest to cut with a serrated butter knife and sees her. his face lightens up, "Y/N?–"

“NO!” she yells over him, trying to prevent the stream from picking up her name.

kenma removes an arm from around her to snap at him and get his attention before he points at the oven. he tried to speak through the tape, giving kuroo muffled directions as if they would ever reach him through his headphones.

kuroo nonetheless immediately nodded, giving him a thumbs up like he for once in the past several hours has finally understood something kenma has tried to tell him to do. 

but none of them are thinking straight anymore.

or maybe, actually, none of them ever were.

kuroo opens the oven and it doesn’t click that there’s hot air blowing in his face and that he’s reaching out into said hot hair with a bare hand.

"kuroo oh my god," she sobs, not even trying to hide it anymore. she covers her face with her hands and can't bring herself to yell anymore.

he grabs the dish and then immediately snatches his hand back, screaming out a string of curses while the pitch-black concoction in the baking dish falls off the rack to the bottom of the oven.

kenma’s grip has loosened on her in his own state of shock and the camera is the least of her concerns when someome just burned himself like an absolute idiot. she pulls forward to grab kuroo’s hand, looking at how much damage he did to it.

“you all are so fucking stupid,” she can only chide, barely keeping herself together. kuroo hisses as she turns over his hand, making sure he didn’t injure himself anywhere else.

she hears kenma from the other side of the counter, most likely shutting off the stream equipment and kuroo finally takes off the headphones.

he walks back around the counter and she looks up at him. he's ripped the duct tape off his mouth and is running a hand through his hair, trying to give her a small smile.

he looks exhausted and she feels more than exhausted, dealing with this after everything else today. but his smile makes her feel a bit better so she returns it.

“sorry–that was a lot,” he talks softly, and she thinks it’s just nice that she can finally understand what he’s saying. “i was just trying to keep you off camera but that's all kind of gone off the rails. i’ll help you clean up, promise. is there something you want me to do first?”

“check on oikawa please,” she sighs, standing up with kuroo, still holding onto his hand. “make sure he’s breathing and see if you can bring him here.”

she takes care of kuroo’s hand first, running cold water over it and scouring all of their bathroom cabinets for something to apply to the blisters on his hand. she grabs the first ointment she sees, dabbing it on and tries her best not to hurt kuroo before she wraps his hand tightly. then she directs him back to the kitchen, wiping down their seats and instructing him to sit down where she can see him.

kenma brings oikawa back into the kitchen, the blindfold loosened to hang around his neck and as soon as he sits back down he rests his head on his arms and passes out on the island again.

she’s already started to clean up as much as she can from their mess, starting with salvaging what ingredients she can and returning them back to where they belong when kenma comes up from behind her, rolling up his sleeves and tying back his hair.

“what do you want me to do now?” he asks, looking around the kitchen, gauging how much they’ll have to clean.

“can you sweep? i'll take care of the rest,” she replies, dumping a stack of dishes into the sink. there were miscellaneous tools out on the counter, like a potato masher she didn’t even know they owned or what they would have used it for, but she doesn't trust anything that's been in their hands today.

they work in silence, both kuroo and oikawa passed out at the island. kenma’s only a few feet from her, his back turned towards her before he begins to speak up, “sorry for everything again–and that you had to help. didn’t you have something important today?” he stops what he’s doing to look up to her, waiting for her answer.

“it’s okay,” she shakes her head, “honestly, now that the worst of it is over, it's kind of funny. and it’s distracting me from what i’m about to have to put up with for the next few months.”

his eyes brighten as he finally remembers what was announced today, “you got told told who your partner is for the olympics, right?” he’s holding onto the broom with both hands, face slightly resting on the handle of it, watching her as she washes dishes. the pile of flour near him has been completely forgotten about, but he’ll finish cleaning it up later.

“yeah, i don’t really want to talk about it right now though,” she shrugs, washing her hands before drying them off. she turns to face him, a smile on her face as she takes a few steps closer. “besides,” she leans forwards just a bit, brushing a stray bang that’s fallen out of his makeshift ponytail from his face, “i’m cleaning the kitchen with my roommate at midnight after he nearly killed himself and his two friends trying to make something, what more could i ask for?”

he suddenly feels warm under his zipped jacket and swallows the lump in his throat before looking away from her. his face is red and he plays with the zipper of his jacket, trying his best to casually cool off a little without making it obvious the effect she has on him.

he hears her laugh before she steps away back to the sink and he forces himself to go back to sweeping. he tries to focus on the moment in front him like she said; they’re cleaning their kitchen together at midnight. this is totally not a domestic moment that his friends would tease him about if they knew what they were doing right now.

but he can’t help but think the next few months are going to be drastically different for him after that stream. 

prev. | m.list | next

extras <3

SORRY FOR THE DOUBLE TAG :( i just decided it was best to remake this post so that everything worked properly I HOPE I FIXED ALL THE TYPOS OR I'LL CRY

it's like i never learned from when i told myself i should stop writing this stuff at 2 in the morning

i fr only did dark red for this post's song bc you can just imagine "is something bad about to happen" as y/n opens her door 💀

y/n and iwa were sitting in a little board discussion room with her manager waiting to meet who her partner would be

iwa was allowed to come in because at this point some of y/n's management thinks he's actually part of the team so when he showed up with her they were like "yeah okay chill 👍"

then atsumu walked in and it took everything in her and a look from iwa to not fall to the floor screaming no

she's been partnered with atsumu before and he's always touchy and flirty so she doesn't like him a whole lot

manager reveal soon hmmmm i wonder who it could possible be as if i didn't put that in the notes of this smau

y/n and iwa were literally tweeting and replying to each other while they were out eating ramen and he looked up at her and just gave her a disappointed sigh when he saw her reply about "are u saying yes to my proposal"

suna and noya were watching the stream in the library after school but as soon as kenma was gifted 1k subs and they saw the message and oikawa was like "yeah this is a great idea we should totally do this 🌸" suna shut it off and was like "i'm going home before i watch a murder play out"

i'm ngl it was imagining oikawa suddenly hit the floor like he just died that made me laugh to myself in a cafe 😭😭 like it should not be that funny but it is to me i'm sorry

despite everyone having their own dorm they often crash at each other's for no reason

y/n stays over at suna and iwa's dorm the most

kuroo and oikawa both come over to kenma and y/n's apartment a lot

everyone tries not to step foot in tsukki and noya's dorm

kenma's stream was already going pretty well because of how absolutely insane it was but a girl suddenly appearing and then kenma trying to stop her from entering the frame only made it blow up more

as soon as kuroo woke back up he discussed with oikawa and kenma that IF they were ever to do this again who would wear what

kenma immediately said kuroo was getting his mouth taped shut which is very valid because he yelled a lot

but oikawa couldn't be blindfolded again and kuroo was like "wow okay so you wanna be the one who can't see"

kenma never said no faster

conclusion: they're never doing that challenge again

taglist: @rinheartshyunlix @kettlepop @eggyrocks @cr4yolaas @httpakkeiji @keioover @does-directions @calx-bdo @staygoldsquatchling02 @cherrypieyourface @iluv-ace @kitty-m30w @h3xi2g0n3 @mylahrins @thechaosoflonging @momoriii-i @localgaytrainwreck @a-pastel-edgelord @bugglesboop @polish-cereal @osakis-gf @whykirbo @phoenix-eclipses @faesix @ryeyeyer @starxq.zip @skylarkalchemist (form to be added to taglist! <3)

#kozume kenma #kenma kozume #kenma #kenma x reader #kenma smau #haiykuu smau #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu #hq #hq x reader

[oh-koenig-my-koenig]

It's the parts of König that she didn't see

a/n: I worked on this special for quite some time and it's finally time to get a glimpse of what was going on in metalhead!könig's head during his time with reader... a little thank you to all the peeps who have kept up with the series and a little summary before we head into the last few chapters <3 (i added links to the chapters as well where the situations took place that i'm referring to)

(the usual CWs apply: age gap 25/41; MDNI, nsfw, lots of smut, fluff and a bit of angst)

the part before: saying goodbye

It's the parts of König that she didn't see. From the first moment on when they met.

How he was kneading his fingers before he just blurted out the comment, complimenting her on the shirt she was wearing, there in the bar.

The surprise when she approached him again, to talk. The thinly veiled flirty-ness on both sides that didn't quite register in his mind.

The little shock shooting through him when he realised that she was that much younger than him. His thoughts racing to find a way to gracefully navigate the situation while the sound of her cheery voice seeped into him.

Giving her his number when he offered to take her to a concert because she had nobody else to go with, thinking she would surely have forgotten about it by the next day.

The surprise on his face when she actually sent him a message in the morning.

The surprise growing when she didn't stop texting him, after she fixed the thing with going to the concert together. The pictures she sent him, just telling him about her day.

A little ding from his phone every now and then. The disappointment he tried to not feel when it was another email and not a message from her.

When he went to the drugstore before the concert, to pick up condoms, because the ones he still had at home weren't any good anymore.

It isn't even a date, we are just going to a concert. Because she didn't have anybody else to go with.

He felt himself going a little crazy over this. Cursing himself out because he was a 41 year old man anxious about buying condoms. Sure, not because of what other people might think while he purchased them. But overthinking what the younger woman he was going on a date with (that wasn't a date) might think.

Unsure if she would even consider him in that way. He didn't really trust his gut, the little voice in his head that reassured him that she was surely flirting with him over text. Better to be prepared, right?

The way his mind went blank when he saw her again, picking her up for the concert. She was really pretty in her outfit, but the thing that took his breath away was her disarming smile with which she beamed up at him.

She was tiny. In his mind she was tiny. A grown ass woman, sure, but compared to him everybody was small and dainty. And she seemed even more so.

And he saw that every time he looked at her. He always had to look down, but there she was. Cheery and yapping about her day. Looking up at him every so often, just having a normal conversation. And he couldn't fathom how that happened.

How his heart sank when he nudged her playfully while they were waiting in line at the bar. Which made her almost topple over. Fuck.

Her reassuring smile. "I don’t break that easily." The realisation on her face when she heard how that sounded. She was so easy to read, like an open book.

The one part of him wanted to find whoever tried to break her before. The other part wanted to break her himself. Just a little bit. See hot tears stream down her cheeks as she came on his dick. Make her scream for him. Feel her body writhing against his.

Verdammt. He shook his head, making those intrusive thoughts go away, but they kept pestering him.

When he put an arm around her shoulders, more reflex than anything really, shielding her off from the other people in the crowd bumping into her.

He almost pulled back, the nervous feeling of uncertainty licking up his spine, when he realised what he was doing. But then she leaned into him. Relief flooded him, his hand coming to lie on her hip.

Her shoulders didn't even reach his pecs, her head grazing over one of them, when she looked up at him. And for a moment, he felt like the unsure guy again that he once was. The huge grin on her face pushed that feeling away, the spark in her eyes, the excitement in her expression infecting him instantly.

"Thank you for taking me to the concert."

"You're so very welcome."

And he told himself right there and then that it didn't matter the slightest what came out of this. Seeing her get excited over being at the concert had already made it more than worth it tagging along. And he hadn’t been at one in so long, he had forgotten how fun it is.

He was willing his thoughts to stay platonic when he had her on his shoulders so she could see the band onstage better. Her skirt inevitably riding up, his fingers digging into her supple thighs to steady her and the warmth of her clothed pussy against the back of his neck. Trying to think about anything else but his head between her thighs and failing miserably.

When she very obviously tried to rile him up as he was taking her home afterwards, pulling out the "old man"-card again which clearly was a jab at his age. And he tried to ignore it. Trying to ignore the tension too that he felt, in case it was just him getting the wrong idea.

But then she dropped the b-word. Brat.

One banter led to another, and the banter led to her lips on his. Oh fuck, her soft moans. That he swallowed up with each kiss. She tasted so fucking good, the slight hint of beer that they both drank not able to drown out her taste.

Pulling her into him, her taking a seat in his lap. When she grinded down on him, no force in the world would have been able to conceal his erection, but he still tried to keep calm. To not lose his mind which was costing every ounce of restraint he could muster.

When she invited him up to his apartment, the innuendo clear, he had to double-check. “Are you sure you want this?”

That sweet "yes please" from her lips while she stared into his eyes and he couldn't find anything but want in them was finally enough to convince him that he wasn't dreaming.

Him not being able to stop grinning the whole day after dropping her off at work the next morning. Getting lost in the thoughts of her.

How her smaller body felt against his. Her soft thighs and tummy against his hard muscles. The way she shivered against his lips, coming down from her orgasm. Her taste in his mouth. He just wanted to go down on her again.

He also fit into her, perfectly. Sinking into her pussy, slowly, squeezing him tight. But he fit somehow.

His need to fuck her harder when he planned to do her slow and sweet. Her permission to not hold back, repeating how she won't break easily, dismantling his resolve.

Her moans when he pounded into her. His fucking name on her lips as he pressed her down into the mattress and she came again. He just wanted her to say it over and over as her eyes rolled back in pleasure.

Anticipating her messages all day long. Only a few of them. Trying not to feel the disappointment that was slowly sinking in.

He did what he always did when he couldn't drown out the voice in his head. Working out until his muscles hurt more than whatever was plaguing him. The dark screams from his headphones boomed in his ears while he upped the speed on the treadmill.

Still not able to forget how his name sounded on her lips. How her hands grabbed him. How her body...

He shook his head. No, he had to forget about that, or else he would go crazy.

Maybe it just had been a one-time thing for her?

Maybe she regrets it now? Maybe she thought about the age difference again and changed her mind? Which is fine, of course.

Maybe he did something wrong? Maybe he came on too strong still, despite making sure how she felt every step of the way. Asking if he could wake her up with his mouth. Something that made him curse himself out now.

He finally got the courage to text her about it. And she wanted to meet him, drive around in his car.

When he saw the look on her face as she waited for him on the curb in front of her apartment building. She wore her feelings on her sleeve and he could see the guilty conscience from a mile away. Which made him crack a joke, just to see her smile again.

“König Private Chauffeur inc. – at your service.” And it worked to make her laugh as she got in the passenger seat.

Her explanations how she has been held up with work made him feel better, at ease, although the little voice in his head still didn't shut up entirely. He even confessed that he hadn't been dating the last few years. Explaining his insecurities away, more to himself really, like it made any difference. This whole thing never had been about him, she had just been busy with work, all the doubts only had been in his head. Overthinking it all.

When she reassured him that she didn’t regret it and that it wasn’t anything he did. The blush on her face as she told him that she had indeed enjoyed it very much.

Oh, his ego almost couldn’t take it, and he knew he was getting cocky, unable to hide it, teasing her about it just a little bit. Needing to hear again how she couldn’t stop thinking about it either.

How she teased him in retaliation, her lips on his neck, her hand in his lap, so brazen. “Need you deep inside me.” His restraint snapping in an instant because the imagination alone drove him crazy.

The picture she sent him of her tits, earliest in the morning the next day. He probably never received a better Good Morning text.

Like he wasn't already awake, lying in bed, his morning wood straining against the boxer shorts, only made worse because first thing he thought about was how he fucked her on the backseat of his car. And he wasn’t planning to do anything about it, the thought alone making him feel dirty…

Yet he reciprocated her gesture and sent her a pic of his junk, safely tucked away in his boxers. Her naughty messages coaxing him to do something about his hard-on, he let her instructions guide him until he made a total mess. Sexting, something he never did before either.

He then took the chance to invite her to his place in the evening.

Which led to him taking the cover off the mirror on the ceiling in his bedroom. He often thought it was really unnecessary that he put that there. Not today though, with the prospect of fucking her on his bed.

He was standing on the mattress, polishing the reflective surface, making sure it's spotless. Grinning to himself thinking about her face when she sees it. Her face looking up at the mirrored image as he went down on her. Seeing what he got to see. Oh yeah, it had totally been worth it, just for that.

The way she looked standing there in his living room, in her casual comfy clothes. Stretching to get one of the books on the higher up shelves. Almost prompting him to help her, but he didn't. Because she surely would have asked. And he didn't wanna invade her space, even though she was traipsing around in his.

The incredulous look on her face as he unpacked the Asian take-out he ordered for them. When she realised that he actually considered her dietary preferences, which didn't make him feel good about it, but rather made him think. Who had made her feel like she wasn't a priority before?

Content with seeing her munch on a spring roll. Knowing that he fed her, even if he didn't cook it himself. The little pang of possessiveness spreading through his chest. Telling him that he was already too deep into it, but he didn't want it to stop either.

The way his heart jumped when she laughed at one of his stupid jokes. Which made him want to grin back at her. And make another joke, just to do it all again.

He didn't know when the last time was that he laughed that much.

Oh and the filthy nasty hard sex. His need to take her in every room in his house, on every possible surface there was. Starting at the bar in his party room, propped over the sturdy wooden furniture. In his bed, in the shower. On the counter in his kitchen. Then in his bed again.

After they spent the whole weekend together, he didn't want to have her leave, but he also knew it would've been ridiculous to have her stay, so she went home again.

When he called her because she couldn't sleep and he just needed to hear her voice. And he would have been content with that, but he could have never refused when she asked him to help her come. Guiding her through it with whispered instructions, her sweet sounds and choked moans spurring him on as well.

When he came over to her apartment, and she had cooked for him. And she showed him the games on her computer and he couldn’t stop teasing her while she was ingame. Getting her to be more open with him, to tell him what she liked, building a trust between them.

When he broke the bed fucking her the next moment and he asked her to stay at his place, the shame and guilty conscience of destroying her furniture with his thrusts (ugh) were driving his offer. Not thinking about other implications or what it would mean to have her stay with him.

For example, that she would see his reading glasses. That he totally wasn’t hiding from her. But she didn’t mind them at all, quite the contrary, if the way she dropped to her knees was any indication.

When he tied her to his bed then, he made her come over and over again. Wringing orgasms from her body, reading her every move, as she writhed, crying out. Her sounds getting muffled by the panties he stuffed between her lips, shutting her bratty mouth up in the best way. Worshipping her the way he knew how to while at the same time punishing her for mouthing off at him. When he finally sank into her, he loosened the cuffs, her pussy warm and tight around him, her thighs shaking, her frame shivering as she pulled him in. Her lips pressed to his, their chests up against each other, the skin sweaty, but he just needed her closer.

Pushing into her, he was so close already, then she looked up at him, that familiar expression on her face as her mouth dropped open. He was done for, even before that image and the feel of her underneath him burned into his mind.

And it didn’t help when she asked him if they could do it without a condom. His brain almost short-circuited, when he hadn’t allowed himself to be that close with anybody in quite some time, not dating somebody exclusively as they put it, and he entirely lost it as she sank down on his length. Her warmth and wetness around his dick was divine, and he just desperately tried not to burst with how she was squeezing him.

The soft look on her face, the way her breath caught in her throat… Fuck, she was too beautiful.

She weaseled her way into his life and he unintentionally welcomed her with open arms, because he didn't have any defenses against her bubbly nature and her genuine smile. Like a bright beam of sunshine that was tickling his nose. Getting closer and closer until it felt unnatural to not have her by his side.

And he still couldn't believe that she just saw him.

She didn't say anything. But he could tell that she knew. Ever since they talked about his work, well, he talked mostly and she listened. Soaked in the little bits and pieces about him that he dropped while talking. She just saw him, without even knowing his real name.

He kind of was waiting for her to pack up and leave, but she didn't. She didn't run away when he had bad days. The ones with the night terrors too. They were few and far between while being with her, and most days he even managed to get out of his slump, so she probably didn't notice.

Except for that one time, when he snapped at her, though he didn’t even mean too, mad at himself, not at her, and he saw the expression on her face fall before she practically fled the room. On those days it was hard for him not to hate himself.

Running after her, apologising. And when her arms closed around his waist, her head rested on his chest, and she told him everything was okay, he could almost believe it.

She fell asleep on him, after they fucked. Her eyebrows were turned up, his face turned in his direction like she was looking at him, but her lids were closed, her breath steady, just the tiniest of snores dropping from her lips.

His hands pushing her hair back, his fingers caressing her cheek, so soft. She was so soft and warm against him. So alive.

That thought flipped the switch in him.

The cold feeling of dread gripped him from beneath, like icy flames licking up his body as the familiar sensation set in. He tried to breathe through it, not to wake her up. Softly caressing down her back. Pulling her a little closer against his chest, suppressing a shiver.

He thought, he could do it. Maybe he would be strong enough this time, to not go down that spiral. But the thought of leaving somebody behind still scared him too much.

Fuck, that's why he stopped. Stopped building connections to people. It had been a conscious decision, and an easy one at that. Not relying on anybody else, and more importantly, not having anybody rely on him.

What could he give her anyway? Other than a few orgasms.

She made the house feel lively, although it was a little messier. Leaving her things in his space. Bringing her kitty with her, the rascal turning everything inside out.

Sitting beside him on the couch. And it still felt like his space.

She managed to drag him outside, not just for walks in the greenery. She made feel him lively too.

This much younger woman. Warm, soft and tiny against his chest. Who fit so perfectly against him, like a puzzle piece. Who looked like she was smiling, even in her sleep. So alive.

He shouldn't have let it come this far. He has to leave either way, going on the next mission, and he can't have her waiting for him. It wouldn't be fair to her. She shouldn’t wait for him, and she shouldn't grief if he didn't return.

It hasn't even been a month, it will be okay.

She's gonna be okay. In the long run, she's gonna be okay. Maybe find somebody who was better suited for her. Younger. With less baggage. Somebody who was easier to love. Who deserved her.

So, he needed to say goodbye, even if it will make him miserable.

Hearing her cry through the door after he ended things made him wanna burst through it, for a moment at least. A pang of regret cutting through the resolve he had built, but he still left.

Driving home in silence, not daring to listen to music. The playlist she put together of their favourite songs still opened on his phone, and he closed the app instead of pressing play.

The silence was eerie, feeling almost suffocating when he sat in his living room. The room where they spent so much time. His mind wasn’t able to focus on the book he tried to read, his thoughts always coming back to her. In her apartment. With her new bed.

He sighed and went upstairs to his bedroom, getting his clothes off, when the hair tie she lent him fell out of his pocket. He picked it up and just looked at the little thing.

Fuck. I'm such an asshole.

With a groan, he laid down, trying to find some sleep, the thing that lulled him in being her scent that still lingered on the sheets. He should have changed them, was the last thing on his mind before he fell asleep.

So, he went on the mission. Like he had always done. Gone for weeks and months at a time.

Yet this time he took something from home with himself. Because everything reminded him of her... His favourite songs intertwined with the memory of her singing or humming along when they listened to them.

Remembering that she used his shampoo for a while, how his scent would be all over her, but still sweeter, more herself. He sighed and washed his hair, damning the shampoo and himself. Putting it in a ponytail, with the hair tie she gave him.

Smoking a cigarette. A bad habit that he had under wraps most of the time but couldn't shake when he was on duty. Remembering the one cigarette they shared, in front of the bar where they first met.

More than once he caught himself looking at a picture of her on his phone. At pictures of them together. And their similarities became as obvious as the differences he had used to convince himself.

His mind revolved around her whenever he had a moment to himself. Wondering how she was doing. If she thought of him as well. Probably not.

He thought it would have been a distraction to know that she would be waiting for him at home. That the responsibility of staying alive would have been too much.

Seeing the relieve on his family's faces every time he returned broke his heart. He didn't die, this time. Not returning anymore after his grandma died and barely having anybody to care for him in his new surroundings freed him from that.

And she would have brought that back. Or at least so he thought. Knowing that there wouldn't be anybody waiting at home, it made him more reckless. It didn't matter anyway if he lived or died. And while that thought soothed him before, it made him all the more anxious and bitter now.

When a grenade exploded just a little too close to him, it threw him back against a wall and his senses blurred for a moment. The dizzy darkness in front of his eyes vanished and the ringing in his ears turned into her laughter, and he knew that he was fucked.

One evening, after one too many glasses he finally confided in someone. Horangi just laughed and patted his back. "You're in love, my friend.", he simply said. The younger man who had an eye for what's going on always told him plainly how he sees it.

"I guess I am. And I fucked it up." Telling Horangi about how he broke up with her, and he just shook his head.

"Of course. You always find a way to destroy things most efficiently.", he said, not an ounce of judgment in his voice.

König scoffed, taking another drink. "Thanks, just what I needed to hear."

Horangi pulled up an eyebrow, the look on his face alone calling him out on his shit.

"Yeah, yeah, don't look at me like that.", König grumbled. He finished his drink, getting up to finally head to bed.

Horangi's hand held him back.

"You want her back?"

"I don't think she will take me back."

"That's not what I was asking, dipshit."

König sighed. "I want her back.", he said, the thought sobering him a little.

"Then you at least gotta try."

Another pat on the back and König makes his way to his room. Only one thought on his mind.

I gotta at least try.

for the sake of completeness: the Masterlist

also sorry it took me so long to update, i finally finished my degree which took more brainpower and time than anticipated :') i hope you understand <3 thanks for reading and tune in soon for the return of the king - i will try to update within the week <3

#metalhead!könig #she likes the dark #könig #könig cod #könig mw2 #konig #konig cod #konig mw2 #könig fanfiction #cod mw2 smut #könig smut #konig smut #cod smut #könig x reader #tw: age gap

[sonamytrash]

Little one

Levi x reader fic about the birth of your first child. All fluff.

Warnings: Pregnancy, birth, labour, discussion of birth.

(I'm not as well versed with human parturition as I am with animals, couldn't tell you how many animals I've delivered. But I've tried to keep the science out of it for the most part.) Enjoy!

The sky was a perfect shade of blue, untouched by a single cloud. A soft breeze rustled through the leaves of the trees, their delicate greenery dancing in the afternoon sunlight. It was the kind of day that made you want to throw open the windows and breathe in the fresh air to revel in the simple beauty of nature.

The sunlight streams through the tall, arched windows of the conference room, casting a warm glow across the polished wooden table. The air is heavy with the scent of freshly brewed tea and the faint sound of birds chirping outside. It was a beautiful afternoon in spring, and yet there was an undercurrent of tension that seemed to permeate the room.

The familiar scent of your shared home greeted Levi as he burst through the door. He calls out your name, his voice hoarse from fear and adrenaline. The quiet that meets his ears is unsettling before he hears movement and a cry of discomfort from upstairs.

He enters the bedroom to see your face contorted in pain, one hand clutching the sheets, the other resting on your swollen belly. You let out another anguished groan.

Levi rushed to your side, his heart in his throat. "I'm here. I'm here. I love you," he murmured, taking your hand in his. Your eyes fluttered open, and you forced a weak smile.

"You made it." You whispered, gripping his hand tightly. "It hurts, Levi." Your voice broke, and you let out a shuddering breath. He could see the sweat beading on your forehead, the effort it took for you to breathe.

Levi's brow furrows with concern as he watches you grip his hand and the bedsheets, the lines of pain etched across your features. Brushing a stray lock of hair from your flushed face, he leans in, his steely gray eyes filled with a rare softness.

"I'm here, I've got you," he assures you, his voice firm but gentle. He reaches down to rub your back, hoping to offer some comfort. "You can do this. You're the strongest person I know."

You close your eyes and let out a shaky chuckle, "That's something coming from humanities strongest." You reply, your humerus side still shining through despite the pain, right as you feel your body tensing as another contraction grips you. Levi holds your hand tightly, feeling helpless as he watches you suffer. Wishing there was something he could do to take away the pain, to make it all better, as many fathers have thought before him.

"Just focus on breathing. I'm not going anywhere." Glancing up at the midwife, he arches a questioning brow. "How much longer?"

The midwife examines you again, "Not long now, you're doing great." She comments reassuringly rubbing your shoulders, smiling at Levi.

"You can do this," he whispers, kissing your forehead. "You're almost there." He could see the tension easing from your body as the contraction faded, and he took the opportunity to rub your back again, hoping to ease some of the pain. Guiding you to sit back comfortably on the bed.

Nothing in this world had frightened him like this. No calibre of titan could ever cause him to feel so scared and so helpless as he did in these moments.

"You're doing great. Just a few more pushes." The midwife exclaims reassuringly from the foot of the bed.

"You're doing amazing." He says again, though he's not entirely sure you're listening to him at this point. He watches as the midwife guides you through the next push, feeling an overwhelming sense of pride and awe as he watches you bringing your child into the world. A level of strength he has never seen from another human before.

Another contraction makes itself known, and you let out a primal scream that seemed to shake the very foundations of the room. Levi holds you tightly, and he feels your body tensing, bracing himself for the final push for what feels like forever.

You let out a long, shuddering breath, your body relaxing into Levi's arms as the final contraction eased and the sound of a crying baby echoes through the room.

"Congratulations, mum and dad," the midwife says with a warm smile, deftly  cutting the umbilical cord and cleaning the baby up, bringing them to your chest. "You have a healthy baby boy." Levi's heart soars at the words, and he can't help but let out a shaky breath. Everything happens so fast, and yet time feels like everything around him is standing still.

Levi's eyes shine with unbridled adoration as he gazes upon his newborn son, a rare, tender smile tugging at the corners of his lips as the baby settles in your embrace.

While the midwife works around you attentively, making sure you're stable and comfortable. Levi feels a surge of protectiveness wash over him as he looks down at your child, marvelling at every detail: the downy fuzz on his head, the tiny fingers and toes, his little lips pursed.

Your eyes are filled with tears of joy and exhaustion as you gaze down at your son, your chest heaving with each breath, the pain almost a distant memory.

Levi wipes a tear from his own cheek, feeling a surge of emotion so intense it's almost painful. "He's perfect."

You look up at Levi and smile, your eyes glistening with tears of joy and relief. You reach out and gently touch your son's tiny hand, fingers entwining with his. "He is."

Levi's voice is low and gruff, barely above a whisper as he leans in, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. "You did it, love," he whispers, his voice breaking with emotion. "You're amazing. God, I love you." He says. Shifting closer, he carefully wraps an arm around you both, his steely eyes reflecting the pure adoration he feels for his new family.

Levi brushes his fingers over the baby's impossibly soft skin, marvelling at the feeling of life, of newness in his touch.

Levi's lips curve into a faint, amused smirk as he gazes down at the dark-haired newborn, the resemblance to his own features unmistakable.

"Looks like he takes after his old man, huh?" His tone is gruff but tinged with a rare fondness as he brushes a gentle finger across the baby's downy locks. "Hopefully, he's got your personality to balance it out." He says quietly not to disturb the perfect scene in front of him.

He looks down at the dark hair that covers your sons head, the same hair that he has. It's a tangible reminder of the connection they share, of the life you've built together.

"Hello, little one,"

#levi ackerman #levi x reader #levi aot #levi x y/n #captain levi x reader #levi attack on titan #levi ackerman x reader

[hearts4golbach]

Hii could you please write a Johnnie Guilbert x fem reader where they meet at a club and just get along really well then Johnnie takes the reader home and they cuddle.

At First Sight.

Johnnie Guilbert x Fem!Singer!Reader.

a/n: wrote this while watching fellas big titty minecraft mod stream. i hope that says a lot about my persona.

"it's okay, y/n. just shake it out. ready?" your lead guitarist whispered to you. you nodded, proceeding to follow his lead. you shook out all your limbs, counting down from 5, to 4, to 3, to 2, and ending with one.

he looked at you and raised his eyebrow. "alright, let's do this."

you and your band had finally made it out of the garage. you were playing in downtown LA at a bar/club. you took one final deep breath before walking out onto the stage.

those who were sitting and watching clapped, cheering for every one of you as you strutted to your designated spots. "how's everybody doing tonight?" you questioned as the applause subsided. some people cheered, while others shouted a response. "that's good to hear! we're a local band called (band name), and we're so happy to be performing for you tonight! our first song is called (song name). i wrote this song whenever i was going through a really rough time, and it got me through that dark place. i hope you all like it!" i started to get insecure, feeling as if i was talking too much.

you made it through your first song easily, as if you had done this a million times before. you looked through the crowd, making sure to take in the sincere looks on everyone's face. one person caught your eye. he was sitting with two people, a man and a woman. he had raven colored hair that was parted to the side. he had smudged eyeshadow and eyeliner that accentuated his bright blue eyes. he gave you a small wave. you felt your face heat up as you shot him a smile and a wave. you thought he noticed you were staring. you couldn't help but keep glancing at him.

you ended the song, causing the growing crowd to erupt in applause. the guy cheered for you as well, whistling and clapping a little louder than everyone else. everyone in your band stood up and took a bow, knowing each group performing tonight could only perform one song. you waved goodbye to everyone before walking off of stage, followed by the rest of your band.

"holy shit, y/n! i dare say that was better than we've ever done during our garage concerts!" your drummer hugged you tight. you squeezed her back, thanking her endlessly.

"how are you guys feeling? our first real concert?! i'm so proud of you guys." you congratulated everyone as you all began to pack up. you were tired and ready for a drink. you and the gang had spent all day rehearsing this one song so there wouldn't be room for mistakes. it was worth it, but damn.

you packed your microphone up and brought it out to the van. you said goodnight to all of the members, since they decided to just go home instead of staying. you weren't planning on staying long, though. you were planning on calling an uber after a few drinks.

deep down, you were hoping that cute boy from the audience would come find you. you walked out from backstage, heading straight towards the bar. you ordered your usual, jack and coke. you sipped on it while watching other performers from the bar.

"hey, i really liked the performance." a kind, deep voice called from the left side of you.

you turned to come face to face with the guy that hadn't left your mind. now, you could make out his piercings and tattoos that you couldn't see through the bright headlights. you took in every inch of him from his shoes to the very top of his teased hair. he was wearing black boots with casual ripped, black skinny jeans. he also wore a my chemical romance shirt with a leopard print leather jacket over top. you thought all of his visible tattoos were cute, and wanted to see more. he looked like someone that wouldn't be caught dead without jewelry. he had red and black eye shadow smudged all over his eye, as well as squiggles trailing down to his cheek.

"hi, thank you so much. that was our very first live performance. i'm glad you liked it." you over explained, your only goal being to talk to him more.

"really? damn, you're a fucking natural." he smiled, climbing into the seat next to you and ordered. "can i have another long island and one of what she's having?"

the bartender nodded before turning away to make the drinks. "i try," you laughed, "to be fair, we've been working on that one song all damn day." you finished off your drink and set it on the counter. "by the way, i'm y/n."

the man shook your hand, "Im Johnnie. it's really nice to meet you." it felt as if sparks were flying whenever the two of you touched.

you smiled, "it's nice to meet you, too." Johnnie set your drink in front of you. "oh, thank you."

"you said you wrote that song whenever you were having a rough time?" he took a sip of his drink, looking at you over the glass. you nodded. "those lyrics were fucking great, i really like the way you think about shit. or, at least from what i've head." he back tracked.

you were taken aback from the compliment. your face flushed. "wow, i don't know what to say. thank you." you couldn't help but smile at him. you pointed at his shirt, "you know, MCR is one of my biggest inspirations."

his grin grew, "no shit, me too."

"you make music?!" your smile grows as well. you begin to like Johnnie the more you learn about him. he nodded in response. you quickly pulled out your phone and opened up spotify. "can i see?"

"of course." he smiled, taking the phone out of your hand and typing in 'Johnnie Guilbert.'

your jaw dropped as you noticed how many followers he had. "holy shit, you're huge." he blushed, not knowing how to respond. "i'll definitely be checking your shit out whenever i get the chance."

"that means a lot coming from someone someone talented as fuck." he patted your knee, sending chills down your spine.

"oh, shut up. as if you're not? look at you!" you pointed at his followers again.

"fair enough," he gave in. "maybe we should write a song together." he finished off the last of his drink before ordering another.

your jaw dropped, "that's the best idea i've ever heard."

"can i get your number?" he asked cautiously, not wanting to overstep.

you rolled your eyes. "obviously," you took his phone and entered your number, setting up your contact before texting yourself. "there. i noticed you in the crowd, where are the people you were sitting with?"

"they're out in the floor dancing or something, i told them i was going to try and find you." he shoved his phone in his pocket before glancing over to the dance floor.

"oh, okay. can i ask you a question?" you sip your drink.

"anything."

"why were you looking for me?" you were simply curious. but, you wondered if he had a deeper interest in you as you did him.

"i thought you were gorgeous. you just seemed like my kind of girl." he sighed, his drink was almost gone at this point. "honestly, i'm the most fucking anti social person you'll ever meet. i felt like if i didn't come talk to you i'd be making a huge mistake, so i kind of pushed myself out of that box." your heart melted, and it showed on your face. "what?" he laughed.

"i can just tell you're such an amazing fucking person. you really know how to talk to me, even though you claim to be an introvert." you tease, rubbing his arm.

the blush on his face grew darker. "i'm getting tired. I'm thinking about ordering an uber home." he seemed to hesitate for a moment before finishing his thought. "do you wanna come with?"

you agreed without hesitation. the alcohol was clearly getting to both of you, but neither of you cared. he carefully intertwined his fingers with yours. it was far from awkward between you and Johnnie. you stood outside with him, the warm summer breeze refreshing compared to the stuffy club.

"there's this ukulele i've had for as long as i can remember. i've been writing songs on it also for as long as i can remember. music has been my passion my whole life." you rambled because Johnnie wanted to listen. "i've always dreamt of being up on stage, and now i'm finally climbing my way up."

"damn, i'm really proud of you, y/n. i know it's a huge step to be performing in front of strangers." Johnnie lit a cigarette, hitting it once before offering it to me. "do you smoke?"

"mhm," you hummed, taking the cig with your free hand. you took a long drag, staring off into the distance as you exhaled a large cloud of smoke. the nicotine buzz hit you, increasing the feeling of the alcohol in your system. "i know, i couldn't have gotten to where i am now without my best friends. the people in my band are the ones who really motivated me to actually get out there, you know?" he nodded.

the uber pulled up less than 30 seconds later. you crawled in the back with Johnnie. he gave his address to the driver. you leaned your head on his shoulder, the drowsiness wanting to take over. "do you think this is weird?" he giggled, wrapping his arm around your waist.

"do i think what's weird?" you looked up at him through your eyelashes.

"that we met less than an hour ago and.." he gestured down towards me. "i don't know. i don't think it's weird." he began to back himself up.

"i think i've heard weirder happen. i already really like you, and we've just met. i don't find that weird." you comforted him, caressing his arm gently.

he leaned his head on top of yours, "I'm glad, cause me too. I'm glad this isn't one sided."

you blinked and suddenly the uber driver was parked right outside of Johnnies house. unsurprisingly, it was an extremely nice home. Johnnie gently shook your shoulder, informing you you were at his house. he helped you climb out of the car before leading you up to the front door.

"your house is so fucking nice." you mention as you wait for him to let you inside.

"thank you, i have 2 roommates, so this isn't just my house." he admitted, opening the front door. "do you need anything to drink?" he was beginning to noticeably slur his words.

"no, i'm okay. thank you. i'm just ready to sleep, to be honest." you rubbed your eye as you leaned against the counter.

Johnnie grabbed a bottled water out of the fridge and cracked it open. "well, i'm glad we're on the same page." he chugged the water before leading you up to his room.

his room was fairly empty. there was a closet, but the door was closed. he had a computer set up on one side of the room and a neatly made bed on the other. the window was covered by dark black curtains and the desk was covered in makeup. he had a few stray cameras laying around on a side table, as well.

"i take it you do more than just make music." you mention, taking a seat next to Johnnie on his bed.

"uh, yeah," he scratched his neck, "i do youtube, too. and stream. i do it all, really."

"somebody seems busy as fuck," you yawned.

he let a small smile show on his face, "maybe a little. are you staying the night with me." you nodded in response, making sure he wanted you to, as well. "good. do you want something to change into, your concert outfit doesn't look very comfy."

before you could deny or accept, he was tossing you pajama pants and a t shirt out of his closet. you thanked him. "you are one of the sweetest people i've ever met, do you know that?"

"i think it's just the alcohol talking," he laughed, changing into pajama pants himself. you shook your head vigorously.

he laid down, not taking his time before pulling you up close to him. you took in the new scents on johnnies skin, making sure to take a mental note of every one of them. you buried your head in his chest as you draped your arm over him. he had one arm a wrapped around your back while the other hand was running through your hair. you quickly let yourself fall asleep. Johnnie comforted you in a way no one ever had before. you began to think you could get used to Johnnie being around.

#fanfiction #fanfic #johnnie guilbert #jake and johnnie #johnnie guilbert x reader #johnnie guilbert x you #jake webber #tara yummy #johnnie guilbert smut #hearts4golbach #fluff #club #emo fashion #2000s emo #emo #alt #goth

[fairy-writes]

Could you do something with gen narumi from Kaiju 8? Something with angst and eventual fluff? Maybe s/o going missing during a mission or something

A SPECTACULAR DAY OFF

Reblogs and Comments are greatly appreciated!!

__________________________________________________________________________

Fandom(s): Kaiju No. 8

Pairing(s): Narumi Gen x Reader

Word Count: 0.9k

Genre(s)/Tag(s): Gender Neutral!Reader, Defense Officer!Reader

Notes: I love Narumi, but nothing compares to my love for Hoshina (except for maybe my love of November 11, but that’s a whole other story (seriously, I wrote 6k about that man))

__________________________________________________________________________

Today was supposed to be your day off.

You woke up, the sunlight streaming through your window, letting you know it was likely well past noon. The window was cracked as it always was, and Narumi Gen was fast asleep beside you.

As lazy as he was, Gen actually slept very little. What with his career and gaming habits, it wasn’t unusual for you to find him up into the wee hours of the morning doing something or other. So you were delighted to see him relax and sleep in.

You trailed a finger between his eyebrows, down his nose, and over his slightly parted lips, resting your hand on the side of his neck, leaning in to kiss him.

Just as you pulled away, a hand cradled the back of your head and kept you close.

“Who said you could stop?” Gen’s voice is gravely and sleep-addled, thick with the remnants of dreams. His lips brush yours, and you can’t help but giggle a bit.

“Someone has to get up and make breakfast,” You tease, and he huffs, sharp red eyes opening to glare menacingly at you. However, you aren’t phased; instead, you wriggle out of his other arm, which is firmly wrapped around your waist. 

For being “Japan’s Strongest Anti-Kaiju Combatant,” he really was weak in the arms when he was sleepy.

It takes another thirty minutes of snoozing before Gen actually gets out of bed and ambles his way into the kitchen, where you’re flipping pancakes. A decent-size stack is already buttered and plated at the table, with a bottle of syrup sitting next to it and a bowl of chopped fruit to top it all off. The coffee pot is burbling on the corner of the counter, and two mugs are set aside for the roasted beverage later.

Gen’s handheld game console beeps and chirps as you finish up the pancakes, and he shovels them into his mouth almost as fast as you can make them. You watch him over your cup of coffee, his voracious appetite is as present as ever it seems. 

It’s blissfully quiet until your phone alarm blares and shatters the silence. You check the notification and scowl.

A kaiju.

It's just on the edge of your division lines, too. It was maybe fifteen minutes away? You sigh, set down your coffee, and look at Gen, who is shoveling the rest of his pancakes in his mouth, before you head out.

Today was supposed to be your day off!

When you come to, it’s dark, and you panic.

Are you blind?!

No… There’s a pinprick of light, and you are relieved to be able to see. You weren’t sure what you would’ve done had you been blinded. You wouldn’t have been able to do your job anymore had that happened. You would’ve been forcefully retired from duty, likely with honors, but that wasn’t the point. 

Where were you? 

You take in your surroundings, realizing very quickly that you are in a lot of danger. 

Three things. 

One. A building must’ve collapsed on you, and you were in an air pocket of sorts.

Two. Your earpiece was just emitting static. Broken maybe? 

And three. Your leg was pinned under some rubble. Pins and needles tingled up the pinned appendage, and you tugged half-heartedly. It’s no use. You were stuck. 

You press the button on your earpiece,

“Hello? Does anyone read me? I’m stuck and need immediate evac and medical assistance.” You say, but all you hear is static. With your leg pinned and your earpiece broken, you are forced to sit and wait.

Maybe search and rescue will find you? You can only hope and pray.

What feels like hours pass. 

You yawn for what feels like the umpteenth time, head lolling to the side as sleepiness overtakes you.

This really wasn’t good.

Wasn’t there something on the internet about yawning being a sign of lack of oxygen? Was your air running out? You could barely see as it was; there likely weren't any substantial cracks letting in fresh air.

Were you… going to die here?

No! You couldn’t! You had promised Gen that you’d stand by his side as an equal one day!

Even if you were never able to, you still didn’t want to die here. 

You begin to struggle, using what’s left of your suit’s power to try and shift the rubble. It does shift, only to fall even lower. You were never that powerful, but now you might never be. 

As darkness overtakes your vision, you call out one last time. 

“Gen… Please…”

When you come to again, it's to bright, fluorescent lights shining overhead and the beeping of a handheld gaming device. 

“You’re awake.” Gen’s voice is uncharacteristically quiet. You turn your head and see him. The nubbins of plastic feeding oxygen in your nose are uncomfortable, but you push through. 

“What happened?” You mumble, and he snorts, putting down his game and turning in his chair to look at you. 

“A building collapsed on top of you. You ran out of oxygen. My dumb disciple found you.” He said quickly and succinctly. 

Shinomiya Kikoru. 

“But how—”

“It doesn’t matter how. All that matters is you’re safe.” He cuts you off harshly, but his words and actions say the opposite. He’s treating you like you’re a doll. Typically, it would make you annoyed. But now? 

Now, you just want to sleep. You almost died, for heaven’s sake!

So you do, the entire time, Gen doesn’t let go of your hand. 

#narumi gen x reader #gen narumi x reader #narumi x reader #kaiju no 8 x reader #kaiju no. 8 x reader #fairy writes

[demifiendrsa]

Amazon Prime Video has announced that it is producing a six-episode live-action series based on SEGA / Ryu Ga Gotoku Studio's Like a Dragon (titled Ryū ga Gotoku in Japan and initially titled Yakuza in the West) game series titled Like a Dragon: Yakuza (Ryū ga Gotoku ~Beyond the Game~ in Japan). The episodes will debut on Amazon Prime Video in over 240 countries and territories in two batches on October 25, 2024 and November 1, 2024.

Overview

■ About

The series is a live-action adaptation with an original story based on SEGA’s global hit game franchise, Yakuza: Like a Dragon. Directed by the critically acclaimed Masaharu Take, the series will feature Ryoma Takeuchi as the lead character, Kazuma Kiryu. Like a Dragon: Yakuza is the latest addition to the Prime membership. Prime members in Japan enjoy savings, convenience, and entertainment, all in a single membership.

Released in 2005 by SEGA, the Yakuza game series was positioned as an entertaining game for adults, which found massive fanfare amongst its target audience. The series depicts the lives of fierce yet passionate gangsters and people living in a huge entertainment district, Kamurocho, a fictional district modeled after the violent Shinjuku ward’s Kabukichō, that acts as the backdrop of the gameplay. Like a Dragon: Yakuza showcases modern Japan and the dramatic stories of these intense characters, such as the legendary Kazuma Kiryu, that games in the past have not been able to explore. The much-loved game has captured the attention and hearts of fans not only in Japan but also internationally and will now be adapted, developed, and streamed worldwide on Prime Video.

In 1995 and 2005, spanning across two time-periods, Like a Dragon: Yakuza, an original crime-suspense-action series, follows the life, childhood friends, and repercussions of the decisions of Kazuma Kiryu, a fearsome and peerless Yakuza warrior with a strong sense of justice, duty, and humanity.

■ Cast and Staff Comments

Ryoma Takeuchi, Kazuma Kiryu Actor

“I am truly honored to be given the opportunity to play the role of Kazuma Kiryu, a beloved character and the game series. I strongly felt that I was willing to put my life on the line. Audience will enjoy the show’s human drama and conflict that unfolds around Kazuma Kiryu. Moreover, please take a look Kiryu’s intense fighting scenes with the Dragon tattoo on his back.”

Masaharu Take, Director

“I have poured out my heart, soul, and the experience that I have garnered over 35 years into Like a Dragon: Yakuza. The unbridled passion, talent, and countless hours of efforts from the entire team have helped bring this spectacular story to life in the form of a riveting series that will be launched this year, the year of the dragon. Please look forward to Kazuma Kiryu, played by Ryoma Takeuchi.”

James Farrell, Head of International Originals, Amazon MGM Studios

“We are thrilled and extremely excited to announce the Amazon Original action-drama Like a Dragon: Yakuza, based on the popular Japanese game series. The unfettered appeal for Japanese content from within Japan and other parts of the world has been growing exponentially. While Prime Video Japan continues to offer a variety of content across genres, adapting an internationally popular game franchise that has such deep resonance and layered characters presents a unique charm and makes for an extremely compelling watch. We are committed to augmenting our content library and are confident that Like a Dragon: Yakuza will strike a chord with audiences all over the world.”

Masayoshi Yokoyama, Producer and Studio Head, Ryu Ga Gotoku Studio

“Since the day I first put pen to paper on the original Yakuza‘s script, I’ve never once thought about revisiting any of my work on the series. It’s because I understand all too well the challenges and hardships that come with remaking a finished title. However, if I were ever sent to the past through some kind of cosmic joke, this is the experience I’d want to create. If I had to go through the wringer anyhow, I’d want to make the most engaging versions of Kamurochō and Kazuma Kiryu I could—and this show has it all. There is no question that Prime Video’s Like a Dragon: Yakuza will become another landmark release for the Like a Dragon series. While the games let you experience their world through the subjective lens, this adaptation will be the ultimately objective way to enjoy the show. I have no doubt that fans of the series will be drawn to how it brings the games to life and adds new surprises. Newcomers, I’m sure will find themselves invested simply in the gritty realism of the show. If anything, I’d love to watch this version alongside audiences all around the world—experiencing all of its intensity and soaking in every single second.”

#Like a Dragon Yakuza #Ryu Ga Gotoku Beyond the Game #Like a Dragon series #Like a Dragon #Like a Dragon TV #Yakuza #Ryu Ga Gotoku #Ryoma Takeuchi #Amazon MGM Studios #Amazon Prime Video #television #live action #live action television

[todayisafridaynight]

sequel to this cause Uh Oh !!!!!!!

#rgg #ryu ga gotoku #ryu ga gotoku 7 #yakuza series #yakuza like a dragon #jo sawashiro #ryo aoki #masato arakawa #snap sketches #if theres mistakes idc this is TWO DAYS LATE i have a COMMISSION TO DO and im GOING OUT WITH MY BRO AGAIN #we are SPEEDING THROUGH PLEASE FORGIVE ME #anyway. hey :) #part of me feels like this would have been better in b/w but OH WELL #part 95 of I Almost Trashed This but i didnt want to whenever people were already expecting it and saw me draw it SO. <:] #eveyrone from the stream lookin at this like 'snap what the hell did you do this is totally different' GIRLS I TOLD YOU IT'D BE TOTALLY DIF #ok not 100% diff but. i redid pretty much the whole thing #i still have the old draft actually LMAO i had to yoink soem bits from it but now i dont want to delete it... #there was just a lot i didnt like with the first one that i wanted to see if i could adjust to my liking and well. Good Nuff #theres SOME bits i dont like but thats more so how i drew it opposed to the thought or composition #ok maybe a lil bit of the latter but anyway. Enjoy :) #also you'll have me gutted like a fish before i try to learn how to draw croc skin like we'll just have to save that for another time #do i have anything else i want to say. no LMAO if i do im just gonna end up explaining all the composition and panels #and id rather leave that up to yall lookin to see if you wanna take anything Extra away from how i set things up SO :) #bye for now. i have to run around my house ☠️

[1spooky-dad]

I can't believe there's people watching qsmp who hear the Spanish speakers and just go "well i don't know Spanish and there's nothing i can do about that. Guess I'll never know what they say". When Tahlulla said "then learn" cause quackity said he didn't speak Spanish, that was at y'all. If you can watch a 6 hour stream you can download doulingo and do a 5 minute Spanish lesson.

#not to be agressive but #genuinely those who dont try to learn are actually missing out on So Much Content #qsmp #learning Spanish #even just bits where the translation fucks up. like during charlies violence arc yhe translation randomly said. Bucket #and its cause he was saying fuck it fuck it fuck it so it translated that into cangilón #i barely know spanish and even then i can manage to parse out what at least some of them are saying you dont need much #hell even just tune into a foolish stream cause hes actually been doing spanish lessons with leo and hes picking it up really well #and he says all of his thoughts on how or why parts of the language are how they are which kinda helps to understand it #like hes wrong sometimes very much so but its really really cool to judt sit and listen to a guy figure out how to speak another language #i played it while cooking the other day and when he would ask a question i also had id ask my roommate whos fluent #and just asking questions helps to learn. #sorry for the ramble im just fed up with the mentality that some foøks have with the spanish speakers #yes the translator is fucking rad but it doesnt catch everything and its kinda nicer to catch it as its spoken you know #leadning a new language is only hard at first. its very easy to become obsessed with understanding it

[oatbugs]

the forest looks like heaven today i woke up feeling the heaviest weight at the top of my heart

#yesterday on the study they said they were dating two others and it was going well and i cant imagine fucking you but #you have great tits. they got upset at me not inviting them to a party. my research partner told me to write a 1000 word essay on why they #should come. they spoke about how much they wanted theiir ex and they wouldnt tell me much about who theyre dating bc #they thought i still had feelings for them which. god. theyre right but the assumption is so arrogant #the streams r rly beautiful im walking to a date and shes gorgeous and some of my friends know her but i look #exactly like ive slept on my friends floor for the past few days so . aaa anyway #god after that whole call i just felt so deflated like i felt over it but now its all . back. like seeing them being happy w smn else #inflicts active misery upon me which means ii think im becoming a worse person bc of them. i called my friend and i just . idk i walked home #i kept wanting to weep but . woah the sun is so pretty #there are petals and dandelion seeds floating in the air #med school students walking to their lectures #she does biochem btw. the person im meeting now #there are two butterflies dancing together. i cant make this shit up the past few days have looked like actual heaven #ive spent them being on survival mode and not even bc of my studies like ok focus on log functions while the person kn the screen #tells u abt how if her ex were to call shed fold immediately and the new girl is a singer and its going well and maybe ill tell you #more abt it in a few months. SO YOU KNOW IT HURTS ! SO WHY WOULD YOU TELL ME YOUD MAKE OUT W ME AT THE CLUB WHY WOULD U FALL ASLEEP NEXT TO #ME WITHOUT CLOTHES ON ! WHY WOULD YOU CARESS YOUR OWN SKIN LOOKING AT ME IN THE MIRROR !!!! #anyway im like . sane. #i just . felt like it was over #i realised i kept seeing ppl who i thought were more attractive etc etc than her bc i needed to prove to myself #that im attractive enough to be liked or that i can be liked at all and a part of me wanted to prove it to them too #its just a horrible mindset to have and yh not only do they not care but they also bring out the worst in me actively like . I DONT KNOW #BUT THEN WHO ELSE KNOWS THAT THE GOLDEN HOURS IN TEHRAN ARE PINK AND LILAC WHO GOES TO TECHNO RAVES AT THE BASE OF DAMAVAND #WHO CAN PIN YOU AGAINST A WALL LIKE THEM !!! #anyway #standing up it just feels so #exhausting #like this the most exhausted ive felt from all this ever

[origamiyoda]

Knowing/learning the actual HL(2) story/lore is making me simultaneously more excited for hl2vrai and also sooooo fucking. scared.

#I know it's gonna be really funny. BUT. 90/10 rule. the tone they've set with the trailer. have u SEEN the gnome finale. #gets scared gets scared gets scared gets scared gets scared gets sc #the thing is with rtvs stuff is I'm like. OuHH they're comedians but dear God they're fucking. Excellent storytellers as well #MY POINT AGAIN. YOUVE SEEN THE GNOME FINALE. YOUVE SEEN THE TRAILER. YOUVE SEEN HLVRAI FOR GODSSAKE. REMEMBER BREAKING BAD. GESTURES. #The thing that keeps plaguing me. did gordon get to go home. did he leave tge videogame. or did that guy get stuck in stasis. #did he get to go home. did he get to go home. #I think about hl2vrai too long I go insane and get really scared and excited #Rewatchinf the gnome saga recently has REALLY . Really got me thinking. Idk #Pacing my room like I'm trying to solve a cold case. #dude it's gonna fucking rule I'm so excited. IM SO EXCITED. starts howling #hl2vrai #Leo yells #ALSO . LEARNING ABOUT HALFLIFE IS JUST FUCKING ME UP IN GENERAL #GORDON. ALYX. BARNEY. ADRIAN?????????? #fucking dies. #also cos I've been watching backlogs of VODS I've seen some of th other. idk more theatrical? streams they've done and I'm like. Oughugjjj #the I.M. MEEN stream. the. the Simpsons stream. they're good at what they do and I'm like. Jumping around #there's also th thought of like. Well they didn't follow hl1 tbh but like. THE TRAILER MAN. THEYRE DOINF SOMETHING #tommy as gman....... goes fucking NUTS #the implications of every part of th trailer & like. everything else are making me feel like the Charlie Day meme

[mothram]

#diana's music diary #🌨️ #okay I actually do feel better now #good morning :3 #sleep is the cure to all #yesterday I spent the day helping my partner set up her DAW so she could stream with it #and then also set up a cobblemon mod pack for us 😊 #it's not actually done yet but it's pretty much there #just needs some finishing touches #will maybe skim it a little today too idk #there are probably some unnecessary parts I added yesterday in my hyperfocus so idk #it went surprisingly well and smooth though #feel like I got some things done yesterday which is always nice #sleeping at a reasonable time works? what? #who would have thought...... #I'm still having a lot of trouble actually staying asleep actually but it's working either way somehow.. I'm used to being tired so it's ok #thinking about it the only bad part of yesterday was a panic attack near the end and being in pain... #that doesn't sound like a good thing but for me lately especially that's actually good. #let's try to make today fun and cozy and painless... #will make sure to take my pain medicine #if you are reading this I hope your day is good especially too n_n #also on the music... I think I'm on my touhou music shit again... been listening to Koishi music a lot and this one Alice album...

[causenessus]

cold kisses

part 0.3. USER 7193

PLAYING FROM KODZUKEN'S STREAM . . . feels by calvin harris

maybe he should have expected this. 

nearly all of his posts have been overrun with questions about y/n in the comments. the comments range from simple “who was the girl in your cooking stream??” demands to extremely specific ones detailing her exact hair color, height, and voice pitch as if he’s had another mysterious girl on a stream that he’ll confuse her for.

he’s been doing his best to avoid questions about her but it could only work for so long. now there’s only questions about y/n left in the chat and he’s not sure what to do. it was easy to ignore the questions when he wasn’t doing an entire question and answer live stream but he’d promised to do one soon and he thought having shoyo with him was going to help. 

it did for the most part, and everything seemed normal but he was at a loss for words when the chat started to flood with questions about y/n.

shoyo leaned closer to read a question outloud, “‘girl from the cooking stream?’ i keep seeing that, do they not know–”

a reflex kicks in and he slaps a hand over shoyo’s mouth, pushing him away from the screen again before removing his hand trying to act normal.

the ginger looks at him, a mix of surprise and confusion on his face. “sorry,” kenma apologizes quickly, shocked by his own actions. “no, they don’t know anything about her,” he answers, trying to make it clear that he wants to keep it that way.

but the chat is already too far gone, using this one mention to run wild with theories. he can’t blame them, really. sometimes they’re a little over the top and unnecessarily pushy as if they have no sense of respect but in this scenario what else could they talk about besides a mysterious person that just entered the picture? but that didn't mean he enjoyed dealing with it.

messages transition quickly from asking what they “don’t know about” to inferring that he has a secret girlfriend. he groans, looking away from the screen. his mind working fast to try and come up with an excuse or explanation; a single mention of her and they already think he’s dating someone. he’s sure that the internet would go crazy with this information as well, fabricating stories, scandals, and everything in between.

his phone starts to buzz.

speak of the devil.

it’s a notification from twitter, some unofficial update account that’s tagged him about having a secret girlfriend.

he needs to think.

he can see shoyo eyeing him out of the corner of his eyes and he knows he’s been silent for too long on camera.

god, someone was going to find out who she was soon, right? weren’t fans supposed to be good at doxxing each other?

but how does he play off being roommates with an olympic athlete? an olympic athlete whose currently being shipped to the max with the most typical copy and paste guy everyone has the hots for?

maybe it’d be better for him to leave it to a random fan to find out who she is and announce it to the world–no, then he’ll just look bad for hiding things after so much has already come to light. it’s best for him to come up with an excuse right now. if he said she was his girlfriend maybe he could ask them to leave her alone. maybe they’d listen to him.

it sounded like his best option but he couldn’t just make that decision on his own without talking to her.

but he also couldn’t stand up and the leave the room for an unprecedented amount of time after keeping quiet for so long.

he looks at the chat one more time, seeing the word girlfriend in nearly every message. if they already think they’re dating it can’t be that bad, right?

“kenma…?” shoyo breaks him out of a trance, touching him on the back.

kenma looks at him, unsure of what to say. he feels dizzy and his mind won’t stop whirring with thoughts and worries.

“you’ve been really quiet,” shoyo lowers his voice so that only kenma can hear him, “i think you need to say something.”

he glances at the chat again. still stuff about y/n.

she’d be okay with it, right? maybe if she isn’t he’ll just tell twitter that his girlfriend broke up with him because his fans are pushy little shits and he’ll agree with her word for word and then his fans will cancel him and he can move to another country and live a happy little life working in a cat shelter–

no. he likes his life the way it is now. he’s winged everything so far but he’s grown quite a small community for himself this way. he can do this. if y/n doesn’t agree, he’ll figure something out later.

“okay,” kenma finally speaks, dropping his hands that he’s been running through his hair absentmindedly. “since none of you guys are gonna leave this alone, yes. the girl from that last stream is my girlfriend, happy?” he watches his chat run wild with numerous exclamations. he thinks finally about his poor moderators. he’ll definitely have to give them something after this stream. “i’ve been trying to lay low about it because i didn’t want the world to freak out but now it’s out. just try and be respectful, okay? i love her a lot.” the words aren’t hard to say when they’re about her. he can say them honestly and play them off as a joke later, but for now he enjoys how nice it feels to say it.

he can see that shoyo has frozen up out of the corner of his eye. he needs to end this stream before either of them say something else they shouldn’t. he’ll answer a few more questions and slowly ease into a goodbye so that he can end the stream and debrief shoyo.

prev. | m.list | next

extras <3

this is a long chapter i'm sorry 💀 literally there's more but i tried to split this evenly into two chapters

kenma was literally just going through some random person's account who made edits of ice skating partners to self sabotage himself

yn wasn't sure when they'd be releasing partner pair ups and really freaked out when they were announced

she was texting everyone and tweeting a ton

she messaged her media girl like "hey i'm not comfortable with people sending me writing shipping me with atsumu can we please do something about it" and the girl replied, "what do you want me to do?? report them?? write you a message that you can tweet about your boundaries?? (yes) if that's what they want to write deal with it at least they like u"

and they wonder why she just posts whatever she's feeling on her main unless iwa tells her otherwise

noya has gotten distracted from the main topic of a chat to reply with a <3 to something nice y/n says multiple times

they're fr just best buds holding hand in the middle of a warzone where iwaizumi reigns over all

(the only two soldiers are suna and tsukishima)

suna's a lot softer without tsukishima around

he just feels like he needs his guard up around such a salty person

do not ask me why i made rofltropper an antagonist for no reason

kageyama was really just trying to finally do his english homework while waiting for hinata to come home and then he heard kuroo and oikawa start to yell

he was a little scared but then was like "if they can't reach me i'm safe" and they they slammed the door shut and his room shook a little

someone on the floor probably wrote up a complaint about them

taglist: @rinheartshyunlix @kettlepop @eggyrocks @cr4yolaas @httpakkeiji @keioover @does-directions @calx-bdo @staygoldsquatchling02 @cherrypieyourface @iluv-ace @kitty-m30w @h3xi2g0n3 @mylahrins @thechaosoflonging @momoriii-i @localgaytrainwreck @a-pastel-edgelord @bugglesboop @polish-cereal @osakis-gf @whykirbo @phoenix-eclipses @faesix @ryeyeyer @starxq.zip @skylarkalchemist @kunimix @sereniteav @kodzubaby (form to be added to taglist! <3)

#kozume kenma #kenma kozume #kenma #kenma x reader #kenma smau #haiykuu smau #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu #hq #hq x reader

[magentagalaxies]

in an unexpected turn of events i'm having to edit down the content in my aubrey monologues so that i can actually fit all four of them in my final performance for my standup class and on the one hand it sucks bc i really love some of the jokes i have to cut but on the other hand someday i'll be able to write more monologues and possibly expand upon this cut material so i can get a whole monologue on a topic that would've just been an aside

#the actual standups in my class who have only ever done a tight five having to stretch their new material to fit the 20 minute final #vs me‚ an extremely extra fag who's used to writing full-length scripts‚ realizing the 3 monologues i've timed already add up to 20 min #and i'm working on a fourth one that works better as an opener than any of the existing pieces so it has to get in #(it'll be short tho i'm making sure of it. it's just like ''here's some material about aubrey's relationship to zir mom!'') #(then immediate segue into the uncle reg bit) #got the catcalling monologue down to 5 minutes and 30 seconds when the first draft was nine minutes #(tbh i'm fine with most of those cuts i think they were mostly filler) #(there's a bit about androgyny that i liked that i cut but tbh it doesn't work as just one paragraph it needs more nuance) #the uncle reg monologue is having the ''dumped at the pride parade'' thing trimmed down which is funny bc that was the original premise #tbh i could probably stretch my toronto pride material ft. uncle reg to a full 20 minutes bc the first stream of consciousness was so long #i wrote it right after i myself got back from toronto pride and tbh i actually wrote it as the outline for a sitcom episode #so the monologue version is very reduced down bc there were so many details that didn't fit in #and i'm realizing the material about the person who dumped aubrey should be its own monologue that i'll do another time #and maybe even add in the rest of the sitcom-style story at some point bc tbh that's some of my favorite aubrey material i've come up with #and the cishetman monologue is getting the intro part about facetime trimmed a bit bc it meanders #and the ''sugar and spice and everything nice'' joke is being cut even tho i like it bc i actually have a ton more material in my notebook #that's just me riffing on how weird those expressions are. and the material isn't polished but i could make it something later #the song isn't being trimmed bc it has a very specific run time and imo is the strongest. so that's my closer #anyway thank you to everyone reading my aubrey updates i'll be sure to post the final 20-minute-special on youtube #and i hope i get to do more monologues soon so i can put the other ideas mentioned here (as well as some i haven't) out into the world

[divinekangaroo]

the melting point of gold - pettiot - Peaky Blinders (TV) [Archive of Our Own]

Ch 1 / ?

Between S6-E3 and S6-E4. The 36 hours between Ruby’s death and Ruby’s funeral.

Women are decorative. Men must be functional. This is a very special kind of lie.

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Inspired in part by @deadendtracks meta on Lizzie and Tommy around Ruby’s death.

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Tommy Shelby/Lizzie Stark, Tommy Shelby & Ruby Shelby, Charles Shelby, Charlie Strong, Frances, Oswald Mosley, Johnny Dogs, Esmerelda Gold, Adam (House of Commons Secretary) | Grief, Resisting Despair, Intrusive Thoughts, Intrusive Memories, Angst, Dysfunctional Family, Complicated Relationships, Anger Issues, Backstory, Gender Role Issues, Tommy’s Complicated Relationship with his Ethnicity, Unnamed Mental Illness, Manic Tommy, Sleep Deprivation, Mild Anachronism, Abortion, Child Abuse, Drug Addiction, Friendship, Extended Family, Funerals in a time of Infectious Disease, the Lasting Legacy of Catholicism, Tommy’s Metacognition Breaking Down, Ethnic Slurs, Sex, Lack of Communication, Hallucinations or Waking Dreams, Too Many Flashbacks

#Peaky blinders #my writing #peaky blinders fanfic #tommy shelby #tommy x lizzie #ruby shelby #I’ve finished this but its a beast to edit #so have broken into chapters because i kept over editing the first chunk #and finally went i have to post this to anchor some part of it #the worst about stream of consciousness is it never stops flowing #So the thing about why does the death of a daughter trigger flashbacks #because the death of a daughter is the failure of a father and a family #And so these walls of time and age and confidence built all come crashing down remembering his family and his father and his mother #and he goes from place to place in memory as well as location and time #reeling through all of it #and yet these temporally grounded peers he has looks at him like #just sit down a minute mate can you? #no no the inability to anchor the mind is an inability to anchor the body