#Team dynamics

[whumpdaydreamerx]

Caretaker or team member immediately hugging and latching onto Whumpee once they’ve been rescued or returned home.

Whumpee groaning or hissing at the pain from contact. Caretaker apologizing profusely, hurrying to let go. But Whumpee doesn’t budge, just holds on tighter. Tucking their face into Caretaker’s neck, reminded of the reason they endured their torture.

[ri-an-nie]

the Japanese Legal Defense (Combat) Team

introducing the ~*Japanese Legal Defense (Combat) Team*~

featuring:

A sword-wielding defense attorney,

a people-throwing judicial assistant,

an innocent defendant turned lawyer, victim of violence!

obligatory Kazuma smile at the end

[bleedingintogold]

The medic leaned over his captain, wiping away the sweat on his forehead with a damp cloth. The man himself was out cold, as he had been for the past day. Tan skin had become a pale shade and a strong body had been reduced to a limp shell of itself. Heavy breathing became the only thing that showed he was still alive and struggling to be.

He wasn't getting better.

The wound had festered and the infection must have gotten into his bloodstream. Medic had been too late to notice and the captain had been too occupied trying to keep as many of his men alive as he could whilst completing their mission. The platoon stopped advancing yesterday when their captain collapsed right in front of them.

But the general had had enough. One man wasn't enough reason to abandon their assignment.

"He can't even sit up by himself, sir! He won't survive if we-" "We aren't bringing him. He will stay here," "With all due respect sir, this platoon needs their medic with them-" "I said that your captain is staying here. Not you," The medic's heart dropped when the general's words started to register. He was being ordered to leave behind his captain. His brother by everything but blood. "Look at him, medic. I doubt he will still be alive by tommorow. You're wasting your supplies," "General! He isn't dead yet! He just needs time-" "Time that we do not have, soldier. We will move by sunrise tommorow. We are advancing without him,"

A small whine answered the general before the medic could, making both men turn to the weak body on the cot. The general sighs as he walks to the young man's side, placing a gentle hand on a too warm forehead. The captain's eyes were hardly open, but he was conscious and had heard the whole conversation. "I'm sorry, son. You were a good soldier and one of my best men. But this mission is of higher importance," "My men...take care of 'em, sir," "I will. For your own good, you need to let go. You don't need to hold on anymore, son. You've done your part," The medic's hand trembled as he watched the two high ranks.

"m' sorry, sir...dying...is not as easy as I thought," "I know. Which is why I will help you. You don't have to suffer like this anymore, son," The general said as he passed the medic a small packet of white powder. "Sir?" "It's cyanide. Mix some into water and feed it to him tonight," "You're...you're asking me to kill him, sir?" "He's in pain, soldier. You're going to do him a favour,"

The captain was partially conscious now but he had seen the powder. Medic made the mistake of meeting the captain's eyes, seeing the fear in them under the haze of sickness. "I will allow you to bury him properly before we depart. Make sure it is done by sunrise," the general said before leaving the tent.

-----

Medic cradled his captain's upper torso, the mixed concoction of poison ready in a canteen. The captain's head laid limp against Medic's shoulder. Medic noticed that his captain was trembling.

No, wait. It was him.

He was trembling.

A weak voice pulled the medic out of his haze. "Medic...I...I don't want to die," a voice he didn't recognize said, soft but shaky. "But...you're in...pain. You won't survive anyway-" "I don't wanna die...please...I'm scared..."

Medic put the canteen down, instead wrapping his arms tightly around his captain. The captain was built bigger than medic, but he seemed incredibly small in his brother's arms. "Okay. Okay. You're not going to die, alright? I'm not...I won't do it," "But...the orders..." "Fuck the orders. I am a medic. Your medic. My task is to keep the men alive, not kill them,"

The captain didn't answer, savouring the warmth of his brother holding him.

[cpt-winters]

Forced Surrender - Leader Whump

"I knew you'd come."

Whumper's lips curled into that familiarly sickening smile as the metal gate rolled back, creaking on its hinges as Leader approached.

"I'm here, so let them go," he ordered.

Whumper's fingers waved a vague motion to the henchmen behind, promptly followed by kicking and scrapping against the gravelled ground.

"Get the hell off me!" Teammate One shouted, jerking against their restraints.

Three froze in their tracks, eyes widening as they landed on Leader. "Leader? What are you.."

"We had a deal," Leader answered, steely gaze refusing to break under Whumper's tangible glee.

"What? No- You can't-"

He stood rigid as the henchmen pushed his team past him, holding Whumper's gaze as he got to his knees.

"Leader-" Teammate Two started, desperation seeping into their voice. "Leader, don't do this!"

He set his jaw, composing himself from his teammate's distant pleas as Whumper drew closer, cuffs in hand.

"Leader! Please!"

Leader let out a breath as he drew his wrists together, offering them up to Whumper. He closed his eyes as cold metal wrapped around his skin, the light click of the cuffs a death sentence.

[valenteal]

So Dabi and Toga joined the League together and Dabi and Compress work together really well, like know one another’s moves and can communicate great in battle. And Dabi is Tomura’s lieutenant and basically the guy actually in charge of planning and coordinating while Tomura’s got the vision and the resources. So I propose that the loyalty of the League is split between them. Cause like, what if Dabi joined and brought other recruits with him. Toga and Compress definitely, maybe Magne and Twice too. And that’s part of why Tomura lets him get away with so much and put him in charge of recruiting. Cause let’s be real, Dabi fries way too many people for him to keep that job if doesn’t already have some successes under his belt.

Anyway this post is a mess and I’m just gonna keep typing my train of thought about this and see where we end up now.

I just really love the partnership between Tomura and Dabi. It’s kinda hidden and definitely never explicitly stated, but Dabi is indisputably Tomura’s right hand man. Kurogiri follows his orders. But Tomura respects Dabi, and Dabi respects Tomura even if they suck at showing it. They listen to each other and are able to work together, sharing responsibility and trusting the other to be able to handle their shit. There’s still some friction of course, Tomura doesn’t trust Dabi’s interests to always align with his own and Dabi is only following Tomura because their interests align at the moment. And with like half the League being more loyal to Dabi than Tomura he’s gotta be a bit worried about a coup. That fear fades with time once he establishes that he actually cares about the league and shows it better than Dabi but it probably really affected their relationship at the beginning. Thus Tomura’s clumsy attempts to assert dominance over him

Also Dabi and Compress are totally tight. Pretty sure they were partners in crime before joining the league. Like imagine the possibilities with their quirks. Evidence disposal, theft, smuggling, intimidation, scams together the two of them could do anything! Compress has his anonymity, Dabi had his incredibly recognizable and scary face… they would be great.

[promptsforyourwhumpfic]

Whump Prompt #1342

Submitted by @red-river-potato01 - thanks!

Character A is the black sheep of the team and isn't very well-liked by most of the others. Because of this they often lash out at the others since all they ever get is negative feedback. When the rookie Character B joins, A assumes they'll be like the others, especially when the team warns B about them. Yet to their surprise, B ignores all that and is nice to A. A isn't sure what to think, but they soon become very protective of B, enough so that they put themselves in harm's way for them...

[amityandeir]

"F1 is a team sport"

Yeah and it shouldn't be????

IN MY PERSONAL OPINION (putting this here so don't you dare bitch about it)

F1 should stop pushing the 1st and 2nd driver narrative so much and go back to actual competitiveness within the teams. It's all team orders this prioritizing one driver that when they should just put out a team of two drivers capable of fighting both the other teams and each other. It annoys me to no end, drivers like Checo, Oscar, Mark, Bottas etc. deserve to have their side of the team prioritise them and not be told to just shut up and take the scraps the team throws at them.

Yes there will probably always be a more dominant driver in a team, I'm not saying ignore that, but I'm saying have that driver race their teammate. If they can't even deal with that then tough luck, but it shouldn't mean we're disadvantaging their teammate to make up for it????

I've said it before, and I'll probs say it again a million times, I hate team orders, they should be forbidden. I want infighting in the teams and I think team rivalries should just be part of the sport.

Drivers like Max, Lewis, Michael or Seb dominated over their teammates and they would've (again imo) won even without the occasional teamorders, which just shows it can be done.

If I hear "but they have to maximize points for the team" or "but they have to support X driver in his fight for the championship" I will lose it. The team gets the same amount of points no matter who's in front most of the time. And sure the drivers should be supported in their fight, I fully agree with that, having their teammates do a bit of defensive driving etc., but NOT BY COMPLETELY THROWING ASIDE THEIR TEAMMATE.

Why is it so hard for teams to just treat drivers equally and give them the same support, obviously fitted to their situation, without disproportionately advantaging one of them???

And before people start saying that's not what the teams are doing, first of all that's still the way it's portrayed to us considering how people speak about drivers like Checo, and second of all just look at teams like McLaren, which yes has brought this rant on, who didn't even manage to not treat at least one of their drivers as an afterthought before they even got the balls to commit to a first and second driver dynamic.

[whump-in-the-closet]

My congrats on the follower milestone. For the whump ask thing, perhaps this dialogue?

“My dear Leader, you think you have all the choices right now but really you only have two. You or them? Choose carefully.l

thanks im continuously surprised by how many people put up with my shenanigans <2

cw: creative license was used for this prompt oops, branding, forced to choose, creepy whumper, prisoner whump, team whump, mentions of past torture, implied flogging, restraints and manhandling

Leader had stopped caring. About anything, really. So when the guards chained his hands above him, he let them.

He was past caring. He stared at the tiles with dead eyes. His heart pulsed slowly, each moment dragged out. It was funny, how quickly, everything could fall apart.

Very human fingers brought him out of his mind, grabbing his chin and forcing his face upwards. 

Leader stared at Supervillain. Once– it felt long ago, but it couldn’t have been that long– he would have jerked away from the touch. Snarled a curse. But now he simply couldn’t bring himself to care. So, he took it.

Some of that sentiment must have betrayed itself in Leader's expression because Supervillain's grip tightened, nails breaking skin. “Tired, hm?" They dropped the young man's chin and ran a hand through the strands, the touch deceptively soft before tightening. Supervillain yanked Leader's head up by his hair, forcing him to look straight ahead. "Pay attention."

Two guards brought in a cauldron of burning coals, an iron ominously sticking out. Leader again felt its phantom pain, his side throbbing under its memory. He winced. He couldn’t help it. That– that had hurt. For days. 

There was a brief flicker of sarcasm.

Been there, done that.

It had been a while since Supervillain had resorted to anything so violently painful.

He could take it. 

He’d taken worse. 

Still, Leader did not look at the iron. Or the coals. He stared straight ahead and tried to remember how breathing worked. 

Supervillain smiled down at him like they knew something he didn't. Once the thought appeared, he couldn’t get rid of it. Something was different. Bile worked its way up his throat.

Something was wrong. 

Leader suppressed a shudder.

Before he could take another breath, the other shoe dropped.

A fourth guard carried a bleeding figure into the room. She dropped her burden unceremoniously onto the cold tiles before the cauldron with the branding iron.

The captive's head hit the floor with a sickening thud. They didn’t move. 

Supervillain glanced from the new arrival to Leader, wondering idly when he would make the connection. 

Leader's eyes widened in horror.

Supervillain's smile lit up the room. "Ah, yes. Took you long enough to put two and two together." They leaned in to whisper in Leader's ear. "I found them...oh so alone. A shame, really."

To Leader, the world was spinning and it wouldn’t stop. His vision blurred. 

Surely the captive, with terrible lacerations down their back, barely conscious, visibly shaking– surely, that wasn’t, of all people, Whumpee. 

God. 

Leader made a strangled noise in his throat– a silent scream– like someone had punched him. 

Supervillain stepped back, more than pleased with themself, and beckoned to their guard. They whispered something and the guard nodded. 

Leader couldn’t rip his gaze away from the shaking form that was left of Whumpee. 

Oh.

Oh god.

Leader hadn’t realized he was crying until the tears blurred his vision. He had failed his team. He had failed at the one job he had.

Leader threw up then. His throat burned. Then again, so did his eyes. “Whumpee?” he whispered, the name barely loud enough to be heard. 

No response. 

“What did you do to them?” This too, was whispered. 

No one answered that, either. 

The guard grabbed Whumpee, hauling them to their feet roughly. They cried out when the guard's hands dug into the lashes on their arms.

Leader stiffened. “Let go of them.” Some of the old command worked its way into his voice. 

Supervillain lit a cigarette and flipped the lid of their lighter closed with a flick of their wrist. They nodded to the guard, ignoring Leader.

Immediately, two more guards grabbed Whumpee, shoving them to their knees and bending their arms to awkward angles behind their back. 

Whumpee flinched, shrinking away from their touch. "Please-- P-please don't---"

And Leader snapped. 

That was Whumpee they were manhandling. One of his team. Someone who had stood by him through thick and thin. Someone who had, once, trusted him.

Leader lunged forward. “Don’t touch them! Don’t–” another lunge, the chains digging into his wrists, “Touch them!” 

Supervillain exhaled a breath of smoke. “What an unusual display from you,'' Their voice was sharp, “Pull yourself together.” 

Leader did not pull himself together. He continued to yank against the restraints, all semblance of aloofness gone. “Supervillain, let them go! I’ll do anything. Please!” 

And he meant it. 

Supervillain crouched down beside Leader to exhale another breath of smoke. This time, in Leader's face. “My dear Leader, you think you have all the choices right now but really you only have two." They lowered their voice. "You or them?"

Leader paled to the color of bone. “You– you can’t be serious."

"You remember the branding iron, don't you?" Supervillain's smile was shark-like, bright in the darkness. “You know what that’s like.” They pressed a cold hand against Leader's abdomen, their nails digging into the sensitive skin.

The brand’s phantom pain spread through his entire rib cage, lacing around his bones and coating them, again, in fire. 

Leader stiffened, blood turning to ice in his veins. Fuck. His mouth went dry as he looked from Whumpee, limp in the guard's grip, to the branding iron, red-white against the coals. Again, the floor dropped out from below him, leaving him spiraling.

It took all of his strength to find his voice. "I'll take it."

Supervillain stood up. They grinned. "You know what? You've managed to fuck up my plans so many times...yes, I think I'd like to watch you fuck up for once."

Leader didn't understand. "W-what?"

Supervillain ruffled his hair, patchy and bloodstained. "You never had a choice, dear."

Leader lunged against the chains. “No!” he shouted. “No! I said I would do it--”

His wrist made a snapping sound even as he threw himself again, and again. His voice gave out, cracking into a sob. "Fuck you--"

The guards chained Whumpee to the wall, tightening them to the point until stones dug into Whumpee's raw back.

Leader cursed every foul name when Supervillain picked up the branding iron.  "Don't-- Don't you dare!"

But when Whumpee screamed his name, begging him to make it stop, please, Leader went feral. He struggled frantically-- uselessly. He had never been more useless. The chains did not relent and the hand that held the brand was steady. Crimson blood traced a silky path down his arm, dripping to the tiles.

Whumpee's pleas fell on deaf ears. 

There was the horrible smell of burning skin. 

And a scream.

Leader would never forget that scream. 

Supervillain pulled the brand away, and Whumpee slumped forward, unconscious. Supervillain undid their restraints and let them collapse to the ground, stepping around them with a flicker of disgust. 

They ordered the guards to undo Leader's chains. “There’s not much damage he can do in here," they said.

And they left Leader alone with the battered captive, their still form twitching under the curling remnants of agony. 

Leader dropped down beside Whumpee, knees hitting the floor with all the force of a guillotine dropping. He worked quickly, taking off his own shirt and ripping it apart– first bandaging the brand and then trying to stem the blood from the flogging. It was a messy job and he did it poorly, with only the expertise of having previously done the same work on himself. 

Whumpee's eyes remained closed. 

Despair crouched inside Leader and it smiled. It smiled like Supervillain. Leader cried then. Hoarse sobs that ripped his vocal chords to shreds. 

Whumpee stirred. They exhaled softly– a small groan escaping their lips. They squeezed their eyes shut like they were still hoping this was some nightmare they could escape. 

Leader's voice was gone. He could say nothing. Provide no comfort. No reassurance. It was with hesitant movements that he moved Whumpee's head onto his lap, shielding them with his body as much as he could.

Please tell me you’re alright. 

Tell me we’ll be alright. 

Whumpee's entire body shook.

Nothing was alright.

[todorokis-girl]

Getting back with your ex? - Suna Rintarou (pt 1)

(part 2) After a painful breakup and years apart, Y/N and Suna Rintarou are forced to work together again in the world of professional volleyball. When an unexpected injury and a work trip to Okinawa bring them closer, unresolved feelings and old wounds resurface. Amidst professional obligations and personal turmoil, they must navigate their complicated past and uncertain future. Can they overcome their history and find their way back to each other, or will the lingering pain keep them apart forever?

masterlist

I shake slightly as I walk into the Olimpic team training area, bag and binder in hand. The imposing structure of the stadium looms above me, filled with the echoes of bouncing volleyballs and distant shouts. The Japan media agency was recently activated to manage the promotions and media activities for the team, and I was assigned as their specific manager. Lucky me. Kuroo deserved to be beheaded, it was his job to promote them anyway, he could do it by himself! Ok, that would be unrealistic, and I’m just pissed. Kuroo did NOT deserve to be beheaded.

Taking a deep breath, I try to steady my nerves, but I only shake more the deeper I get into the stadium. Anyone would be thrilled to work with them—actually, everyone was thrilled. I think I was the only one not foaming at the mouth to manage them; yet I think that was my downfall. Damn you, indifference. In reality, I wasn’t indifferent. In any other circumstance, I’d foam at the mouth like everyone else for the job. Yet, Suna Rintaro was a member of this team. Of course he is. I would’ve given my left arm for it to have been Osamu instead.

Suna and I dated in high school. If anything was known about me in those days, it was that I drooled for my boyfriend. As the manager for the Inarizaki team, I most definitely gave him preferential treatment, and Osamu loved to bitch about it. I missed those days.

I was head over heels, down on my knees for this man. And then he became a professional volleyball player. To quote him directly, “I don’t have the time for you.” Yet weeks later, I started seeing magazine articles of him out with different models. No time, my ass. Just say you don’t love me and move on.

I took the deepest breath I could muster and walked into the court area, laser-focused on making it to the coach first. The court was a whirlwind of activity, players diving, spiking, and shouting encouragements. My heart pounded louder with each step. I needed to ask for the remaining time from practice to talk and get to know the players as much as I could. When the coach finally spotted me, he looked me up and down with a scrutinizing gaze, then stared into my soul. Intimidating man. I smiled and extended my hand to him once I was close enough.

“Hello, sir, I’m L/N Y/N. I’m the team's new media manager, Kuroo Tetsuro had called to notify ahead of time. I was told I could have the last hour of practice to talk to the team and get to know them, if that’s okay with you, of course.”

He narrowed his eyes, his gaze piercing through my façade of calm, and gave a deep sigh. “Yes.”

I smiled and stood back, giving him the space to address the team when he thought it prudent. “Everyone, head to the showers and meet this young lady in the conference room in 10.”

A chorus of “Yes, sir” rang around the court, followed by the sound of sneakers squeaking on the floor. The players began to disperse, casting curious glances my way. Before anyone could properly look at me, I bowed to the coach and attempted to make a run to the conference room after being given directions.

“Y/N.” I stopped in my tracks, my eyes widening as I recognized the voice of Suna.

“Who?”

“Y/N, c’mon.”

“I really don’t know who you’re talking about. I don’t know this... Y/N, was it?”

“I can see it’s you. I know it’s you. I’d recognize your back anywhere.”

I spun around immediately, ready to chew him out for what he was insinuating, but I was met by his bright smile, almost as if he was expecting it. His eyes twinkled with mischief. “Yeah, no doubt about it. That’s my girl.”

I stopped the words that were about to spill out of my mouth and replaced them with a different set. “I’m not your girl anymore.” I looked down at my watch, more for symbolic effect than to check the time. “I will definitely be telling Coach Foster if you’re late to the conference room. You have five minutes left.”

Without giving him a chance to process what had happened, I turned again and headed pointedly to the conference room, my steps echoing my determination.

As I marched towards the conference room, my thoughts were a whirlwind. The confrontation with Suna had set my nerves alight, but I couldn’t afford to lose my focus. The team’s future media presence rested on my shoulders, and I had to be professional, no matter how tangled my past with Suna was.

The conference room was a stark contrast to the bustling court. It was quiet and orderly, with a long table in the center surrounded by sleek chairs. I set my bag and binder down, pulling out my notes and arranging them meticulously. I had just enough time to compose myself before the players started trickling in.

First came Sakusa Kiyoomi, his expression inscrutable as he took a seat at the far end of the table. He gave a curt nod, acknowledging my presence without a word. Next were Hinata Shoyo and Bokuto Koutarou, chatting animatedly and filling the room with their infectious energy. They greeted me with enthusiastic smiles, making me feel a bit more at ease.

Finally, Suna walked in, casual and confident, as if our earlier exchange hadn’t affected him at all. He took a seat near the middle, flashing me a knowing grin. I ignored him and turned to face the team.

“Thank you all for coming,” I began, trying to keep my voice steady. “As you know, my agency has been hired to manage your media presence; Kuroo Tetsuro will handle the rest of the coordinations or team promotions. My goal is to help each of you shine, both on and off the court. I’ll be working closely with you to develop your public personas and ensure you get the recognition you deserve.”

I paused, gauging their reactions. Most of the team seemed receptive, though Sakusa remained impassive. Suna leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, watching me with an unreadable expression.

“To start, I’d like to get to know each of you better,” I continued. “Understanding your personalities, interests, and goals will help me tailor our approach to suit you individually. We’ll go around the table, and each of you can share a bit about yourselves. Let’s start with you, Hinata.”

Hinata beamed and launched into a lively account of his journey in volleyball, his eyes shining with passion. His enthusiasm was contagious, and soon, the rest of the team was sharing their stories, laughing and bonding over shared experiences. Even Sakusa offered a few guarded sentences, and I could sense the walls between us beginning to crumble.

When it was Suna’s turn, he spoke with a confidence that bordered on arrogance, detailing his rise to fame with practiced ease. I couldn’t help but notice the glances he threw my way, testing my reactions. “I even had a girlfriend once, with me all the way to the start of my professional career; can’t believe I let ‘er go” I met his gaze evenly, refusing to let him see how much he affected me.

“Thank you for sharing, Suna,” I said, cutting him off before he could drag out his story any longer. “It’s clear that each of you brings something unique to the team, and I’m excited to work with you all.”

I glanced at my notes, ready to move on to the next part of the meeting. “Now, let’s talk about some of the upcoming promotional events and media opportunities. We have a few scheduled interviews, photo shoots, and public appearances. I’ll need your cooperation and input to make sure we present you in the best possible light.”

The discussion flowed smoothly, with the players offering ideas and feedback. Despite the initial tension, the atmosphere gradually became more collaborative. By the end of the meeting, I felt a sense of accomplishment. We were laying the foundation for a successful partnership, and I was determined to prove myself as their media manager.

As the team began to disperse, Suna lingered behind, his eyes following me as I gathered my things. I braced myself for another confrontation, but he simply leaned against the table, watching me with an amused expression.

“You handled that well, Y/N,” he said, his tone surprisingly sincere. “I wasn’t sure what to expect, but you’ve still got that fire.”

I paused, meeting his gaze. “I’m here to do a job, Suna. That’s all.”

He chuckled softly, shaking his head. “Sure, if that’s what you want to believe.”

“What I want to believe? You think I asked for this position?” I was appalled that he was suggesting I deliberately choose this to seek him out.

He gave me a cocky grin and without another word, he pushed off from the table and walked out, leaving me standing there with a mix of emotions. I took a deep breath, pushing aside the memories and focusing on the task at hand. There was a lot of work to be done, and I was ready to face it head-on. Suna was NOT going to make me lose my head. He let me go once, and I had given him all of myself, it wasn’t happening again. Kuroo was definitely getting an earful ‘don’t be so dramatic, It’s gonna be fine’.

I huffed to myself finally stepping out of the room and on my way to my car, my hand automatically reaching for my phone, if I had to vent, Kuroo was getting it.

As I reached my car and slid into the driver's seat, I quickly unlocked my phone and dialed Kuroo's number. The phone rang a few times before his familiar, lazy voice answered.

“Hey, what’s up?”

“What’s up? Seriously, Kuroo? You dumped the Olympic team’s media management on me, that’s what’s up!”

He chuckled, and I could practically hear his smug grin through the phone. “I knew you could handle it. You’re the best we’ve got.”

“Flattery isn’t going to save you,” I snapped, gripping the steering wheel. “You could have at least warned me about Suna being on the team. Do you have any idea how awkward that was?”

There was a brief pause, and then Kuroo sighed. “I’m sorry, Y/N. I didn’t think it would be that big of a deal. You’re professionals, right? Just… don’t let him get to you.”

“Easier said than done,” I muttered. “He’s still as infuriating as ever.”

“Look, just focus on the job. You’re great at what you do, and the team needs you. Besides, Suna’s just one player. Don’t let him distract you.”

I took a deep breath, trying to calm myself down. “Yeah, you’re right. It’s just… complicated.”

“I know. But you’ve got this. If anyone can turn this team into media darlings, it’s you.”

“Thanks, Kuroo. I’ll do my best.”

“That's my girl,” he said with a note of pride in his voice. “Keep me updated, okay?”

“Will do. And Kuroo?”

“Yeah?”

“Next time, give me a heads-up, will you?”

He laughed. “You got it. Take care, Y/N.”

I hung up and took a few moments to collect myself before starting the car. The drive home was a blur, my mind occupied with thoughts of Suna and the daunting task ahead. By the time I pulled into my driveway, I had resolved to put all personal feelings aside and focus solely on my work.

The next morning, I arrived at the training facility early, armed with my binder and a renewed sense of determination. Today, I had individual meetings scheduled with each player to discuss their personal branding and media strategy. I hoped to gain a deeper understanding of their personalities and how best to present them to the public.

Hinata was first. His energy was infectious, and his enthusiasm for the sport shone through every word he said. We discussed his goals and how to leverage his vibrant personality to connect with fans.

Next was Bokuto, who was equally charismatic but in a more boisterous way. His love for the game was palpable, and I made notes on how to highlight his dynamic presence in interviews and social media.

Sakusa was a bit more challenging. He was reserved and guarded, but I managed to coax out his interests and preferences. We discussed ways to showcase his quieter, more introspective side while still appealing to the team's fanbase.

Finally, it was Suna’s turn. He sauntered into the conference room with his usual nonchalance, sitting down across from me with a smirk.

“Let’s get this over with,” he said, leaning back in his chair.

I ignored his tone and focused on my notes. “Alright, Suna. I want to understand your goals and how we can present you to the public. What are you hoping to achieve with your media presence?”

He raised an eyebrow. “You really think people care about that stuff?”

“Yes, I do. Your fans want to know more about you than just your performance on the court. They want to connect with you as a person.”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Fine. I want to be seen as a serious athlete. I don’t want all that fluff and nonsense. Just focus on my game.”

I nodded, jotting down his words. “Got it. We’ll highlight your dedication and professionalism. Anything else you want to add?”

He studied me for a moment, his gaze intense. “You still care about what people think, don’t you?”

I met his eyes, refusing to back down. “It’s my job to care, Suna. And it’s yours too, whether you like it or not.”

He smirked again, but there was a hint of something softer in his eyes. “You’ve changed, Y/N. You’re tougher now.”

“I had to be,” I replied, packing up my things. “Meeting’s over. Thanks for your time.”

As I walked out of the room, I couldn’t shake the feeling that Suna was watching me, his eyes lingering longer than necessary. I pushed the thought aside and focused on the task at hand. There was still a lot of work to be done, and I was determined to succeed.

Over the next few weeks, I threw myself into my work, coordinating interviews, photo shoots, and public appearances. The players gradually warmed up to me, and we began to build a cohesive media strategy that highlighted their unique strengths.

Despite my initial apprehension, things started to fall into place. The team’s media presence improved, and their popularity soared. Even Sakusa, with his reserved nature, began to open up in front of the camera.

Through it all, Suna remained a constant challenge. He was professional during our meetings, but there was always an undercurrent of tension between us. Yet, I couldn’t deny that working with him pushed me to be better, to stay focused and not let my emotions get in the way.

One evening, after a particularly successful interview session, I found myself alone in the conference room, reviewing the footage. The door creaked open, and Suna walked in, his expression unreadable.

“Hey,” he said, closing the door behind him.

“Hey,” I replied, not looking up from my notes.

He walked over and sat down across from me, his gaze fixed on my face. “You’ve done a good job with the team.”

“Thanks,” I said, still focused on my work. “We’re not done yet, though. There’s always room for improvement.”

“Yeah, but you’ve made a difference. Even I can see that.”

I finally looked up, meeting his eyes. “What do you want, Suna?”

He leaned back in his chair, his expression softening. “I just wanted to say… I’m sorry. For everything. High school, the way I ended things. I was a jerk.”

I blinked, taken aback by his sudden sincerity. “Why now?”

“Because I’ve had a lot of time to think. And seeing you here, working so hard, made me realize how much I messed up.”

I sighed, feeling a mixture of relief and frustration. “I appreciate the apology, Suna. But it doesn’t change what happened.”

He stays silence his eyes seeming to be inspecting my face, as if looking for something else “I know, I still wanted to try” 

I studied his face, searching for any hint of insincerity. But all I saw was genuine regret. “Fine”

He smiled, a real, honest smile that made my heart ache with nostalgia. I hate that I genuinely miss him. 

As he stood up to leave, I felt a weight lift off my shoulders; but a certain, different desire settled in me. I watched him leave, and closed my eyes for a second. It seems watching him leave was all I knew how to do. 

I turned back to my notes. There was still a lot of work to be done, and I was ready to face it head-on, no matter what challenges came my way; but maybe I needed Kuroo to come along with me more often, even if he was busy getting the schedules and making the plans. 

One afternoon, after hours of looking through notes and interview footage, I found myself in the staff lounge, nursing a cup of coffee. The room was quiet, a stark contrast to the chaos outside. I was lost in thought when the door opened, and Kuroo walked in, looking as tired as I felt.

“Hey,” he said, flopping down in the chair next to mine. “How’s it going?”

I sighed, rubbing my temples. “Busy. Exhausting. But good. The team’s doing great.”

Kuroo nodded, taking a sip of his own coffee. “You’re doing an amazing job, Y/N. Glad I choose you to help me out, I don’t know how I’d do it without you”

I smiled, feeling a bit of the tension ease. “Thanks, Kuroo, I apreciate the apreciation; what are you doing here anyway? Mister sports promoter not have a big fancy office at a big fancy building?”

He raised an eyebrow and turned to face me, the scrutiny in his eyes heavy “I want to wear gym clothes every once in a while, and I cant do that at the office. Miss sports media manager” I smiled and nooded, showing I understood. 

I mean, he was right, one of the couple of upside of working in the training arena was the ability of being able to show up in sweats and leggings, as it was the most proper attire. 

He chuckled, leaning back in his chair. “But seriously, if you need anything, just let me know. We’re in this together, even if I am technically your boss”

“Actually,” I said, glancing at him, “I was thinking if you could come along to a few more of the meetings. Having you there would make things a bit easier.” My voice filled with hope. 

Kuroo looked at me, his expression thoughtful. “Of course. I’ll rearrange my schedule. All the player meetings or someone in particular?”

I felt like a deer caugh in headlights “well… uhm…”

“So just Suna Rintarou?” he asked with a knowing tone, and I couldn’t deny it; I just hoped he would agree to it and not pull the ‘I’m your boss’ card, not that he ever did “Sure, I’ll do the meetings with Suna and pass along the info” 

“Thanks, Kuroo,” I said, feeling a wave of relief wash over me.

He grinned, standing up. “Alright, I’ll leave you to it. Let me know when the meetings with Suna are”

“Will do,” I replied, watching him leave the lounge. As I turned back to my coffee, noticing it was cold. 

I was going to start seeing Suna a lot less often, no more weekly meetings with him, and I would try to make my time in the office a little more unnavailable to him by doing them exclusively during practice hours. This was something high school me would’ve come up with, and I knew that, but I don’t currently have the mental space to come up with something better. 

(part 2)

[acer-whumpstuff]

When a whumpee who’s usually always laughing and joking can’t laugh or joke at THIS.

Everyone thinks whumpee can handle any pain because they always laugh or joke through it, looking on the bright side, keeping everyone else in good moods.

Whumpee who finally experiences the horrors and can’t laugh at it. Or a team who experiences a huge loss and turns to Whumpee to make them feel better and they just have… nothing. No jokes, no hope.

Hard to tell who’s more freaked out in that moment, Whumpee, or Whumpee’s friends

[teamdarkweek]

Many of us have loved including things Rouge can teach Shadow and Omega about life and the world, but I think we should not neglect the things that they can teach her:

Shadow is possibly well versed in medical care and treatment due to his time on the Ark. He could be a fantastic nurse, if his bedside manners weren't so poor.

Omega has access to the internet at most times. He'd probably be really annoying about correcting her. Actually, maybe she shuts off the internet sometimes.

Shadow might have a large amount of world war ii/ early cold war knowledge, not often called on but still insightful.

Omega can read people's body language with hawk-like precision. Combined with her knowledge, they make a great team at scanning a room for anything susicious, providing he has the attention for it.

They are both excellent at intimidation. I think as time goes on she will use that tool more than manipulation/ buddying up to people to backstab them, as once her reputation is known she finds it harder to trick people

[dex1o]

some lineart of my main genshin team sleeping that i dont know if i'll finish or not. colouring is hard leave me alone

[pipefoxart]

My overworld 'team' is really more like Xiao and his cheerleaders if I'm being honest

[bleedingintogold]

A leader whose strength has always been his team. He never had people that he felt so connected to before, people who he trusted would always have his six, who he could be vulnerable around, who would never leave him behind.

Until they do.

He can only watch as eyes that once looked at him with belief, with a gaze that told him that they were always on his side, turned to disgust. When hands that once stitched his wounds and massaged sore muscles are the same ones that hold the whip to hurt him, fists that beat him and draw blood. Arms that had once hugged him when he needed warmth are the same pair that hold him still as he's branded as a traitor for something that he had never done.

It had been so easy for them to turn on him, as if all those years together spent by the fire, bonding over food and banter meant nothing.

The leader who they had once loved like a brother lays in the basement cellars, starved and cold and sick. He stopped eating, only ever partially conscious when they torture him for information that he does not have. They keep him there while the wounds they inflicted fester and slowly kill him, all hoping that he'll at least survive to see the day that his proper punishment is dealt.

But then the real traitor steps up out of guilt, after seeing what had been done to the man that had been falsely accused. After they had seen a good man treated as though he was worth less than the dirt on the bottom of his team's boots when all he ever did in his life was for his people.

The leader, broken and dying on a hospital bed, lives just a few moments long enough to hear the apologies of his team, his brothers and sisters. Cries that beg him to pull through as though they hadn't been the very ones who put him here.

Still, he forgives them.

Taking a few more weak breaths as the world that has always failed him finally gives him mercy.

[cpt-winters]

me and my friend are going absolutely feral for the team leader battle aftermath story. it’s so, so, sooooo beautifully written. the emotions and imagery are outstanding. I am completely immersed! we’re both dying for more. and tysm for writing and posting <3

Aw, thanks sm <3 This is the last one lol hope you and your friend enjoy!

Collapse Aftermath - Leader Whump

He tried to stay upright. He really did, but the second Leader's knees buckled any effort to grip onto composure was lost.

"Whoa, hey-"

A quiet groan was the most objection Leader managed at the arms locking around him, flaring the wound in his side.

Colourful exclamations of panic from his teammate morphed into something distant as he slumped against the other, short breaths the only thing to be heard above the heavy heartbeat- not his own, thudding against his ear.

Heavy limbs of no use to him, Leader could only shudder as Teammate lowered him to the floor, the painstaking care doing nothing for the torn skin that screamed in protest until the ceiling above finally flooded his vision.

"...ear me?"

His eyelids drooped beneath the harsh fluorescent tubes glaring down, a distinct chill settling around him as his head lulled to the side.

"Shit, shit! Hey- Can you hear me?"

Leader mustered some vague groan, frantic tapping against his cheek tugging back on his thread of consciousness. He failed to bite back his half-strangled cry, no warning coming before the firm pressure pushed into his side.

"Fuck! Why didn't you say something?" Teammate's wide eyes flickered from their captain's wound to his paling face.

".. 'thought I had it h.. handled," he gritted out, biting back another wince.

"This- this is not handled boss!"

Dark spots blotted the face looming above him in and out of focus, nothing but Leader's choked breaths occupying the space between the pair. "Yeah.." he whispered, eyes threatening to fall closed.

"No, no. Come on Leader, eyes on me," Teammate encouraged, shaky voice accompanied by incessant tapping resuming on the side of Leader's face.

Sluggishly swiping at it only yielded his own hand caught in Teammate's, guided down toward his side.

"Just keep that there, okay?" They carefully laid his palm across the soaked material, drawing a shaky breath. "I'll get help just- just stay there."

Leader's glazed eyes followed Teammate as they scrambled to their feet.

"I'll be right back. Right back," they promised, giving their captain's limp form a final glance before sprinting out the door, rushed footsteps fading down the hallway.

3/3 (Part One, Part Two)

[whumperofworlds]

We all like Whumpees who are sick/overworked, now get ready for:

Whumpees who KNEW they were sick/overworked and tried to tell their Team Leader, but Leader brushed it off and told them to go back to work.

Perhaps the team was short staffed, and Team Leader needed Whumpee badly. Or maybe the team had an important mission, and they need all the manpower for it, therefore Whumpee couldn't afford to take even one day off for rest.

It wasn't until Whumpee collapsed in the middle of a mission due to being pushed too far. And they needed to be rushed to the infirmary/sick bay.

Cue guilt from Team Leader. If they at least gave Whumpee a day off instead of pushing them that hard...