#he serves to make teammates' life difficult | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

tawnfawn · 1 year ago

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intoxicated | könig

summary: you get along with everyone on your team, except for könig. you think he hates you, but his perceived distaste for you only makes you want him more. you're able to keep your composure until you're partnered up for a mission, where everything seems to go wrong...

tags: könig x fem!reader smut. cod. pure filthy, shameless smut. sex pollen. proofread. MDNI. 5,000+ words

cw: dubcon (due to sex pollen but there's clear consent before and after). unprotected sex (reader IS on birth control, wrap it before you tap it), p in v, oral m!receiving, fingering, accidental drug use (sex pollen), dom!könig and sub!reader, light humiliation kink, heavy praise, size kink if you squint, overstimulation, mutual pining, violence, killing.

MDNI. NSFW BELOW THE CUT

You crept around the corner of the warehouse with your rifle, watching König’s six as you progressed. The other KorTac members were stationed on site as well, giving quick updates through comms as you progressed. Details were scarce, except that in the warehouse, a Russian terrorist group was producing a bioweapon capable of mass destruction—and anyone inside was KOS.

Of course, the bioweapon in question was…dubious, to say the least. A strong aphrodisiac, the contractor had explained, much to the astonishment of your team. During the briefing, you’d managed to keep a straight face, but not all of your teammates were as courteous.

“So let me get this straight—you want us to risk our lives for…Viagra?” Horangi had questioned, exasperated. Your lips pursed at his crudeness, but it was exactly what you were thinking too.

The scientist’s face flushed. “N-no, this is much different,” he snapped. As one of the architects of the bioweapon, he was clearly offended. “It is much, much stronger. Exposure to just one dose will cause severe arousal: heart palpitations, excessive sweating, overheating. Imagine…” He seemed to be struggling to find the words. “Imagine a brain overload, yes? Rational thinking…disappears. Victims may lose all motor control. Too long without treatment can result in heart failure, aneurysms, seizures, stroke, and sometimes death.”

“So what is the treatment?” you interrupted, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Sex,” the scientist answered, shifting uncomfortably on his heels. “It was designed to be, ah… difficult.”

Your jaw clenched, and your eyes darted to König. He was staring down the scientist, narrowed eyes betraying no emotion. While everyone else struggled to keep their bafflement hidden, his sniper hood obscured any hope of reading him. Just my fucking luck, you thought when you were partnered with him.

It wasn’t that you disliked König; it was just that you found it so much more difficult to talk to him. With the rest of your teammates, you were fine. A natural people reader, you were comfortable with the rest of them, relying on body language and the details they let slip to learn more about them. In fact, you considered yourself to be pretty close with them—unsurprising, given that in your line of work, your life rested in their hands and vice versa. But König was… different. You didn’t distrust him, per say, but outside of the battlefield, he was quiet. Reclusive. No matter how many times you’d tried to get him to open up, he barely interacted with you, despite talking to the others. You’d chalked it down to being the newest on the team at first, but now that you’d served over a year and a half together, you were frustrated. Shouldn’t that be well enough time to open up at least a little bit?

You knew your thinking was illogical. Your job was to hunt targets and invade bases, not deep dive into your coworker’s soul, but you couldn’t help the way it took over your mind. Your need to understand him had become a bit of an obsession. You constantly found yourself looking at him, trying to discern any emotion his eyes betrayed. You listened intently for any of his input in person or on comms, no matter how menial it was. You studied his body language, taken note of any habits or gestures. You’d even memorized the way he reloaded his guns.

It was…embarrassing, to say the least. But could you blame yourself? He was so tall and strong and imposing that even just standing next to him made you, a normally very confident and intimidating woman, feel small. Such was the reason that you pushed yourself extra harder whenever you were paired up with him, making sure he knew you were valuable, a force to be reckoned with. Your excellent performance had made you two quite the duo, often clearing out legions of enemies in mere minutes. And you had to admit, seeing him absolutely obliterate enemy lines made you feel some type of way…

But not like that, of course. You were just…curious. When he finally opened up to you (and not if, but when), your obsession would stop, and everything would be fine. At least, that’s what you told yourself.

Today, however, there were a lot less enemies than you’d expected. Sure, there were quite a few soldiers stationed around the warehouse (which your team had incapacitated quickly), but inside, save for some scientists and the occasional guard, it was eerily empty and quiet.

“It’s fucking cold,” Horangi’s voice rang out from your radio. You sighed and brought the device to your lips.

“It’s fucking Russia,” you stated. “What did you think it’d be? Beachy?”

König’s quiet chuckle sounded from in front of you, and you couldn’t help the pride that swarmed in your heart. Heat burst in your cheeks, but you tried to brush it off.

“Fuck off,” Horangi replied. “East side clear.”

“West unknown,” you said. “Standby.” You tucked the radio back into your pocket, following your teammate.

You both peeked around the corner to the last room. It was filled to the brim with lab equipment—beakers, bunsen burners, flasks, microscopes—all sitting atop of large resin tables. Bright, fluorescent lights bounced off the sterile grey walls and ceiling, creating a dull glare that was almost depressing. Neat racks of tightly sealed vials and test tubes peeked through glass cabinets on the walls, parallel to the large sinks below. Across the room was a row of unfamiliar-looking equipment, and next to that, an enormous whiteboard boasting messily scrawled notes, diagrams, and equations. A bag of what looked like takeout sat on a nearby desk next to a crumpled napkin and a perspiring styrofoam cup. It was almost exactly what you’d imagined a stereotypical laboratory to look like, albeit a bit messier and more lived in. A singular man stood working at one of the tables, frantically scribbling on a notepad with his back facing toward you. König motioned for you to stay put as he crept forward. You complied.

Then the man dropped his pen.

“Xyй,” he cursed and turned around to pick it up. Of course, when he turned around, he saw König’s gigantic form pointing a gun at him, and he screamed. You fired your suppressed pistol, but not before the scientist hurled a glass vial at König. It shattered against his tactical vest as the dead scientist crumpled to the ground, releasing a burst of lavender-colored smoke that curled into the air and quickly dissipated.

König ripped off his tactical vest, coughing violently, but it was too late—the substance had already entered his lungs, likely reaching his bloodstream by now. He stared at you, blue eyes wide with—for the first time you’d ever seen—fear.

“Oh, fuck,” he muttered, and he staggered to the wall, crashing down to the floor.

“König?” You stared at him, stricken. His eyes were closed, and he was stock still—stiller than you’d ever seen him—and for a long, hard moment, you thought he might be dead.

Then his eyes snapped open. His pupils were dilated and blown, a sea of black barely tinged by blue irises. He stared at you, unmoving, before letting out a groan and bringing his hand over his face.

“Oh, fuck,” you whispered. You grabbed your radio. “M-man down!” you stammered into it. “König’s been exposed. West side clear. Requesting med evac in thirty minutes. Going dark.” You turned it off, not bothering to listen to any input. The rest of your team knew what this meant. As did you.

In the time you’d been on the radio, König had torn off all of his other gear, leaving himself in just his shirt, pants, and boots. He was panting, his chest heaving with each breath, ungloved hand still hiding his masked face as he cursed in German.

You crossed the room in seconds and kneeled at his side. “Hey, it’s gonna be okay, König, just breathe—”

“No,” he breathed. His voice was deeper, raspier than normal, and the unbridled heat in it sent a shiver down your spine. His hands were clenched into fists, body tensed as he fought the invisible infection. “Go. Now.”

“You know I can’t leave—”

His hand fell to his side, letting his eyes meeting yours for a split second. “Please,” he groaned, starting to tremble as you drew closer. “I—I can’t—”

His gaze strayed lower, and you followed it to the growing bulge in his pants. You gulped, unmoving, and he grabbed your arm. The force of it was enough to make you still.

“Go,” he insisted, his accent even thicker than usual. “I’m not—I cannot control myself.”

“I’m not gonna leave you here!” you argued, swatting his hand away. “You’re my teammate. You could die.”

“I will hurt you,” he retorted. All the muscles in his body were tensed, clearly on overdrive. Even his eyes were watering. “Please, maus. I am not gentle.”

Something inside about his statement made your thighs clench together, but you tried to ignore it. Tentatively, you brought your hand to his chin, pulling his face towards you. His skin was feverish, and your heart twisted in sympathy. “Let me help you,” you pleaded, and he inhaled sharply.

“It feels like I’m burning,” he hissed, and you frowned. His black compression shirt was nearly soaked with sweat, and you grabbed the fabric, pulling it up. He pawed at your arm weakly, but you shushed him.

“You’re overheating. Take it off,” you ordered, and finally, he let you pull it over his head, sagging back against the wall as you threw it to the side.

You’d seen him without a shirt before—it was hard not to with this kind of job, what with donning injuries all the time—but this was different. His head was thrown back as he panted, toned chest heaving with each breath, and you could see all of the muscles in his chiseled abdomen clenched, glistening with a thin sheen of sweat. It was… erotic. Just looking at him made you feel dirty. You felt the thrum of something other than worry in your abdomen, and you swallowed.

“Leave me,” König growled, but it sounded more desperate than commanding. You shook your head at him.

“Not letting you die, König.” You began to rip off your gear, tugging off your tactical vest and discarding your weapons.

König grabbed your wrist. “What are you…?”

“Wanna help you, okay?” you said softly, trying to catch his eyes as they darted over your face. “Are you gonna let me?”

He took in a deep breath, his other hand in a death grip on his thigh. “I-I don’t want to hurt you,” he repeated, but it was starting to lose its original harshness. He was fading, and fast.

“It’s okay,” you murmured. You placed your hand on his bare chest, feeling the way his heartbeat stuttered and stammered under your touch. He cursed in response, the hand on your wrist twitching, clearly fighting the urge to touch you. In a split-second decision, you swung your right leg over his lap and straddled him, careful not to grind against him, waiting for an answer first. He let out a choked noise and grabbed you by the hips, his tight grip making you gasp. “Yes or no?” you breathed.

“Ahhh, maus.” The low groan he let out was nearly animalistic. “Yes,” he begged, and that was all you needed to hear.

You started grinding on his lap gently, trying to restrain yourself from going further. You wanted to be mindful of his sensitivity, but König simply huffed in annoyance and used his tight grip on your hips to tug you all the way down into his lap—allowing you to feel everything. The imprint of his hard, throbbing cock made you dizzy; you couldn’t resist pressing against it, moaning softly at the delicious friction it granted your clit.

“Scheiße,” König murmured, his thighs twitching underneath you. You felt bad, knowing he was probably dying for some real contact, so you decided to give it to him.

Your heart raced as you reached for his waistband, unbuckling his belt and sliding his pants to his knees. His cock was straining against his briefs, a wet patch forming from precum, and you quickly removed those as well, watching his hardened cock spring up and then fall slightly, its weight making it unable to reach his stomach. Your mouth went dry. Fuck, he was huge. You supposed it made sense: as an exceptionally large man, it was logical to have a proportionally large cock, but the sight of it still shocked you.

“Maus,” he whispered, breaking you out of your trance. He stared at you apprehensively, and you wrapped your much smaller hands around his cock, hearing him suck in a breath. You took a moment to marvel at the sheer size of him—your normally average-sized fingers looked miniature in contrast, unable to even fully wrap around his length. You felt your own arousal seep into your underwear, and you leaned down to kiss his tip.

The moan he let out turned you on even more than before, and you wasted no time teasing him, spitting into your hand and pumping his cock a few times before bringing the tip into your mouth, swirling your tongue over the slit before pushing him further down your throat. His cock was so large that you had to fight not to scrape your teeth against it, flattening your tongue under the base of it.

His hand fisted into your hair, pulling slightly every time you moved your lips up and down his shaft, twisting your hand in tandem. Your other hand gripped onto one of his thick thighs, feeling his leg twitch as he struggled not to buck his hips up into your mouth. Each strained noise and curse you coaxed from him only encouraged you more, your own whimpers muffled against his cock as you did your best to fit him down your throat.

After only a few minutes, you felt him twitching in your hand and sped up your pace, determined to pleasure him as much as possible. Curses fell from his lips as he finished, hot spurts of his release shooting down your throat. You swallowed it quickly, continuing to pump your hand up and down his still rock-hard shaft.

König, however, pulled you off quickly, eyes wide and dark with an almost fearful desperation as he stared at you. “The poison. It’s still…”

You looked back down to see his cock still twitching in your hand. “It’s okay,” you said, starting to lean back down, “I’ll just—”

“No!” He pulled you back up by the neck. You blinked at him in shock, and he stared back, pupils blown wide like black moons. There was a fiery hunger in his eyes as he looked at you, one you’d never seen before. The sheer want in his gaze sent a cold shiver down your spine. No one had ever looked at you like this before—like you were prey.

“König?” you asked nervously.

Instead of answering, he began to unbuckle your belt, and you gasped as his hand reached under your waistband to cup your clothed core, index finger tracing lightly over your clit. You fought back a mewl, chest seizing as you shut your eyes from the pleasure.

“So wet,” he marveled. He pushed your underwear to the side, smearing your arousal over your soaked folds as you whimpered, bucking your hips into his hand. “Just from sucking my cock?”

His switch in demeanor startled you, and you moaned as one of his large fingers pressed into your weeping hole, curling inside you with precision. His hands were so much bigger than yours; the stretch was making your knees weak. He quickly found your G-spot, taking care to press against it as you arched into him. “Oh, oh, fuck, König,” you whimpered, coaxing a dark chuckle from him that made you clench around him.

Your thighs clenched around his hand, but he pried them apart with ease, forcing you to straddle him and rendering you helpless to his ministrations as he slowly dragged another finger in and out of you. With each achingly slow push into your dripping hole, he made sure to curl them just right, long fingers able to reach that sensitive spongy spot inside you effortlessly. His palm laid flat against your clit as he stroked your walls, letting you sloppily grind into his hand as he murmured praise into your ear.

“Does that feel good, liebling?” he asked, drinking in each of your breathy, pleasured noises with satisfaction. “You like making a mess on my fingers, mm?”

You simply whimpered, too embarrassed of your flustered state to form a real response. He seemed to pick up the hint, giving you a cocky smirk through his mask. “Ohh, it’s okay, maus,” he cooed, but his soft words were laced with a smug condescension that made your cheeks burn. “You look so pretty like this, all dumb on my fingers. I wish I could’ve seen it earlier.”

You whined again, desperately grinding down on his palm for more friction. His slow pace was torturous, giving you just enough to feel pleasure but not enough to build it. It was mean. It was twisted. It was agonizing. You were eating it up.

“Please,” you tried, teary eyes boring into his. “Can you—can you please—”

“Can I what, maus?” He cocked his head, darkened eyes twinkling with mirth. “Tell me, or I can’t help you.”

You know what I want, you wanted to shout at him, but you knew that wouldn’t work. “Please,” you begged, “I need more."

“What more do you need, maus?” he asked again. “You have a mouth. Use it.”

“Need you to—” You whimpered pitifully, dropping your head into his shoulder. “Please, need you to go—go harder.” You nearly sobbed out the words, desperation winning out over your embarrassment. You were mortified at your teary, shaking voice, but he seemed to revel in it, squeezing your thigh in appreciation.

“Oh, is that what you wanted?” he teased, and you could hear the smirk in his voice. “You could have just said so.”

He set a steady pace with his fingers, bullying them inside of you hard enough to make you squirm against him. With each thrust, he curled them just right, sending your eyes rolling back and mouth falling open in heavy pants as you mewled into his shoulder. You were grateful to be spared of his intense gaze; you didn’t think you could look at him in the state you were in. It was mortifying just hearing the sounds of his fingers pumping in and out of your gushing cunt.

“Oh, maus,” he cooed into your ear as you trembled, keening at the stretch of his fingers. “You’re just so beautiful like this, you know. So fucking desperate and pathetic. I wish I could see you like this all the time.”

Would I like him to finger me like this all the time? Hell yes, you thought to yourself, but you couldn’t find the words to tell him, only able to whine and nod vigorously into his shoulder, lost in the feeling of his fingers inside you. You could feel yourself starting to reach the edge of your climax, grinding harder and harder into his palm and gasping with each spark of pleasure it gave your throbbing clit. You were so wet that you were starting to wonder if you’d been infected, too; each time he hit your g-spot just right, you felt more and more slick dribbling out of you and down your thighs. It was driving you insane.

“K-König!” You managed a cry of his name right before you came, clenching around his fingers as you bucked your hips into his hand. Breathy whines fell from your lips, your thighs shaking and seizing as you squirmed in his hold, feeling an almost overwhelming wave of pleasure wash over your body. The feeling was so intense it was almost painful; you hadn’t had an orgasm in so long, and the effect was palpable. His arms held you tight, keeping you grounded while you shuddered in his grasp, his big fingers determined to prolong your ecstasy.

When you finally came down from your high, you couldn’t look at him, mortified at your messy state. His fingers were still knuckle-deep in your arousal, and you could feel more of your slick dripping down your thighs, wet and uncomfortable. You kept your head buried in his chest shyly while your happy cunt stayed spasming in his hand.

“Okay, schatz?” he asked softly, using his free hand to tilt your head towards him. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

You stared up at him, mouth open. There were practically hearts in your eyes; your adoration was clear to him, and he laughed at your expression, cradling your cheek with his hand. “Aww, schatz.” He clicked his tongue, a smile audible in his voice. “You’re so sweet.”

Your cheeks burned red at the words, and you blinked rapidly, unable to look away. His piercing blue eyes stayed trained on yours, but there was a warmth in them that soothed you. He petted your cheek, lifting his hood to press a kiss to your forehead.

Your mind felt fuzzy. All you could think about was your need to be filled by him, and you pawed at his hard cock, wrapping your fingers around the base of it. A hiss of pleasure escaped him, and you kept your eyes on his, wide and pleading. “Please fuck me,” you whispered, still trembling in his grasp.

König’s eyes darkened, and he tugged off the rest of your bottoms quickly. His strong hands lifted you to hover you over his cock, and you shuddered with anticipation, head spinning. He rubbed the tip through your dripping folds, coaxing out a gasp as it brushed over your swollen clit. You tried to push him inside, squirming, but his tight grip on the bottoms of your thighs kept you in place, and you whined his name, hoping he would take pity on you.

“Bitte, König,” you begged, and he practically growled at the words, mercifully allowing you to sink onto the tip of his cock and drawing out a desperate mewl. Even with how wet you were, he was so, so big that he was practically tearing you in half.

“K-König—”

“Hush, liebling,” he soothed, and you moaned as your core clenched around him, beacons of pleasure ripping through you from just the feel of him. He waited for you to relax and then pushed in farther as you gasped at his length.

“Mmph! König—” You keened as he continued to push himself into you, waiting each time to make sure you were okay. You could feel his hard cock twitch with each thrust, and you knew it must be difficult for him not to go straight into fucking you, that he was holding himself back to be more gentle. The thought only made you moan louder.

Tears slipped down your cheeks when he finally bottomed out, and he wiped them away with his thumb. “I’m sorry, maus,” he groaned, no doubt feeling the way you clenched around him. “You’re just—so tight—”

You wanted to tell him to it was okay, but from your already fucked out mind, all that came out was a dumb whimper of his name. In response, he pulled up his sniper hood to kiss your forehead, to which you whined and chased his lips with your mouth. This made him chuckle, and he guided your lips to his, coaxing out a soft moan as his tongue met yours. He tasted wonderful, and you mewled into his mouth, feeling even more worked up from the way he kissed you: hot and desperate and sweet, like the world was ending and you were the last ones in it.

“Mein maus,” he growled, suddenly thrusting up into you and making your eyes roll back. His hips snapped against yours, setting a pace that sent your thoughts reeling. “Taking me so well, doing so good for me, hm? Du bist mein schatz, ja?”

“Yes, fuck—yes,” you babbled, barely able to understand what he was saying. His unusually rough tone was fogging up your dumbed-out mind, the contrast between his sweet words and punishing pace reducing you to nothing but a crying, creaming mess. You’d never been this wet for someone before. “Yes, yes, yes, I’m yours, please—”

“Good girl,” he moaned, pushing you up and down his cock with dizzying strength. Your legs tightened around his waist as he thrust up into you, high-pitched and pitiful noises falling from your lips at a shameful volume. He was using you like a toy, you thought, and the notion of it made your pleasured cries even louder.

“Mmm, yeah? Mmm?” He mimicked your breathy moans, and you could hear the grin in his voice. Normally, you’d be mortified, likely retorting with some witty insult, but now? Now with the way he was fucking you, all you could do was whine in pitiful response.

“So needy for me,” he groaned, punctuating each word with a deep thrust. The sheer force of him made your eyes roll back, and you felt that tight coil in your belly close to snapping.

“Fuck, König—” You panted heavily, your legs starting to give out. “K-König, oh my God, I’m gonna—”

“I know,” he cooed, pulling you closer to his chest so your clit could find purchase on his toned abs. “Doing so good for me, schatz. Such a good girl, getting off on me like this. Like the way I feel, mm?”

His sweet praise became your tipping point, your orgasm hitting you like a freight train. You cried his name, mouth falling open in shock as your legs kicked out, your cunt weeping and convulsing around him as you keened. You gasped for air as your orgasm rocked through you, the pleasure suddenly becoming all too much as he continued to drill himself into your gushing cunt.

Tears streamed down your cheeks as you sobbed from the overstimulation, but he didn’t let up his pace, pressing chaste kisses to your lips to soothe you. “Wonder how many orgasms I can get from you,” he murmured. You could hear the smile in his voice as he panted. “How many more, mein schatz?”

“I—I don’t know!” you cried as his pelvis dragged against your clit, sending shocks of electricity through you. “I don’t—I can’t—”

He groaned as you trembled in his hold, pretty blue eyes boring into yours. “You can do it for me,” he replied. “I know you can. Isn’t that right, liebling?”

“Ahh—König—” The juxtaposition of his soft kisses and brutal pace was making your head spin. Too overwhelmed to answer, you just clutched onto his shoulders tighter, crying out every time his skin brushed against your puffy, overstimulated clit. It was painful. It was overwhelming. It felt so fucking good.

“Hush, mein schatz,” he coaxed, holding you closer as you clenched around his cock, babbling incoherently as he fucked up into you. “You’re doing so good, I promise.”

The answer was two. Two more earth-shattering orgasms before he finally went soft, coming inside of you twice before either (1), his dick just gave out, or (2), the poison wore off. Either way, by the end of it, you were exhausted and fucked out, still recovering from your cock-drunk state as he cleaned you up.

“I’m sorry, maus,” he apologized, sounding genuinely remorseful as he gently wiped your soaked thighs with a clean cloth he had found in the room. “I’m so sorry, I don’t—I don’t know what came over me.”

“Drugs,” you supplied, staring at the ceiling in exhaustion. “Really bad drugs.”

“Yes, drugs,” he agreed, carefully mopping your folds as you sighed. “But still—I am sorry. I was…overzealous. I hope I did not hurt you too bad.”

“I’ll be a little sore,” you admitted, glancing at the bruises his fingers had left on your waist and hips. “But I’ll be fine, trust me.”

He sighed, somehow managing to look resigned even with the sniper hood. “I should not have been so hard on you. I’m sorry.”

“Honestly?” you murmured, blinking at him sleepily. “That was the best sex I’ve ever had.”

He froze for a moment. “What?”

“Not that I’ve had a lot of sex,” you said quickly. “But still, that was the best I’ve ever had. Probably will ever have, now that I think about it. You must be very experienced. Oh God, I should not have said that out loud. I am—I am so sorry.”

Even with his sniper hood on, you could tell he was blushing. “Oh, um—it’s okay, maus.” You could hear the shyness in his voice. “I do not consider that to be my best performance, but I will take it as a compliment.”

“Your best performance?” You stared at him, mind running through everything that had just happened. You’d had sex before, but that—that was a whole ass experience. You’d never even dreamed about anything that good. “Christ, what’s your best performance, then?”

“Well,” he replied, sliding your soaked underwear back up your legs for you, “I would have taken you out on a date first, at the very least. That would be the proper way to court you.”

“Court me?” you repeated, sitting up straight. “I didn’t know you were so well-mannered, König.”

He looked away from you, shifting awkwardly from his spot on the floor. “I try to be courteous before sticking my dick in people.”

It took you a moment to realize he was joking, and you laughed—actually really laughed out loud. His awkward humor was charming you, and you felt warmth swell in your chest as you listened to him speak. You grinned at him, his eyes crinkling in a smile back.

König still smiled, but a hint of sadness pervaded his gaze. “Ah, schatz.” He hesitated. “I would have liked to make love to you,” he sighed, “but I did not imagine these would be the circumstances. I was hoping to take you on a date first, get to know you better.”

“You wanted to what?” Your eyes widened, and you blinked in confusion. “But…I thought you didn’t like me.”

König practically jolted in place. It was like you’d electrocuted him. He stared at you. “Why would you ever think that?”

“You talk to everyone but me,” you said softly. “I thought you didn’t trust me. Thought you hated me.”

“Hated—?” He shook his head vigorously. “No, I wanted to speak to you. You just…made me nervous. The others do not.”

“I made you nervous?” The words fell from your lips with shock, your eyebrows furrowing. “How would I—how did I ever make you nervous? You’re like three times the size of me!”

König shrugged, sheepish. “You’re very pretty. And you seemed…kind, and well-connected with the others. I have trouble finding that connection. I didn’t want to say the wrong thing to you and fuck it up.”

“So you said nothing at all.” You were quiet for a moment, turning over the information in your mind. “Wow. I was way off.”

“Yes,” he agreed, “but it is okay. I’m sorry for making you think I disliked you, schatz.”

“It’s okay,” you chuckled, shaking your head in disbelief. You ran a hand through your hair, beyond shocked at everything happening. You couldn’t believe you’d fucked your colleague, the one you’d had a crush on for who knows long, and also discovered that he didn’t, in fact, hate you. “At least I know now.”

“Next time, I will be better,” König vowed, helping you tug on your pants. “More gentle. I will do things right, I promise.”

“Next time?” You hesitated, biting your lip. “There will be a next time?”

“Of course there will,” he answered, adjusting his tactical gloves. “Did you not hear what I said earlier?”

“Um…which one?” He’d said a lot of things earlier.

He helped you to your feet, towering over you as he cupped his large hand under your jaw. Your heart stopped in your chest as you looked up into his eyes, his large frame dwarfing yours beyond comparison. “Du bist mein schatz, ja?” he repeated, gloved thumb tracing over your bottom lip. His very soul seemed to ooze confidence. “That’s what I said, no?’

With the way he was making you feel right now, you didn’t think it was even possible to say the word no. “Y-yes,” you stammered, adoration clear in your eyes as you gazed up at him.

He chuckled and pressed a kiss to your forehead. “So there will be a next time. Unless, of course, you don’t want to.”

“N-no, no, no, I definitely want!” you said quickly. You stumbled over your words in your eagerness, and your cheeks flushed in embarrassment. “I would like that a lot.”

“Good,” he said, patting the top of your head. Normally, you’d be furious at such an action, but considering his height, it seemed more practical than condescending. “Now come, schatz,” he said, adjusting his vest. “Time to deny everything to the rest of the team.”

Oh, fuck. You sighed. “Yeah…I forgot about that.”

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azsazz · 2 months ago

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Over Ice (Part 8)

Hockey!Rhysand x Reader

Summary: Anon Req: She’s walking around Campus and BOOM right smack dab into Broody McBrooder!! She THEN finds out he’s the tutor for one of her hardest courses (personally Psych would be a good one) and they become super duper close with him and the team!!!

Warnings: N/A

Word Count: 3,580

(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4) (Part 5) (Part 6) (Part 7)

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Rhysand feels her before he sees her.

That fucking prickling at the nape of his neck like the tip of a burning blade being pressed to his skin. It’s hot, and if he weren’t already sweating, he surely would be with the ire that’s directed his way.

“Don’t look now,” Azriel mutters from beside him where he’s stretching his hips before the big game. Across the ice, the Porcupines are warming up for the game that will start in no time. It’s an important one, but Rhys says this about all of the Bat’s games. He’s been trying to slip into the mindset he’s always in before games, the one where his focus and only focus is scoring goals, but the eyes he feels watching the way his hips cant back and forth as he stretches his groin make igniting that competitive fire in him difficult.

He peeks over his shoulder despite his teammate’s warning, ignoring the scoff Azriel huffs in response. Rhys can practically hear his friend rolling his eyes as he sinks even deeper into the ice.

His eyes clash with the crimson ones he’s seen too much of the past week. Amarantha sits in the stands beside her friend, smiling at Rhysand like a feline, like he’s still hers to mess around with.

Fuck. He didn’t expect to see her around, especially after you and him made your fake relationship all but clear to his ex-girlfriend on Halloween night.

The memory alone makes his stomach clench. Rhysand runs a tongue across his lips as if he can still chase the feeling of you from them. He thought about the kiss you shared for long after you left, and not even the beer nor the shot of fiery whiskey that followed could erase the taste of you from his lips.

“What the fuck is she doing here?” He groans, kicking a leg in front of him and leaning forward. Normally, the stretch would feel good, but with Amarantha behind him and drinking him in like he’s a tall glass of hers, Rhys feels more than uncomfortable.

“I told you not to look,” Azriel responds, rising to his skates. He offers Rhys a hand, and the pair make their way across the ice to the tunnel that leads to the locker room.

He was right, he absolutely shouldn’t have looked. Now he’s not only going to be dodging opponents, but Amarantha’s heavy stare, too.

“What are we doing this weekend?” Cassian asks, sidling up beside his friends. Of course, he’s already wondering what the move is, when the weekend is two days away. He’s not as serious as Rhysand is about hockey, with his blasé attitude. If Cassian can get out on the ice, hit a few guys without serving a penalty or two, he’s as happy as can be. “We should hang out.”

For Rhysand, hockey is his life. Everything else, including the freedoms that most college students prioritize, like parties and hooking up, comes second to the sport he loves.

Well, hooking up has reared its head into Rhysand’s first place spot every once in a while, and he’d be a fool not to reap that particular reward, but look where it’s fucking got him. With a stage-five clinger ex in the audience and a fake girlfriend that’s he’s all but blackmailed.

“We hang out every day,” Rhys answers, reeling over what the hell he’s going to do. He winces when he decides that he a little more blackmail might be in the both of your futures. “We live together.”

While you’ve agreed to pretend to be his girlfriend to prove to his delusional ex-girlfriend that he’s no longer interested, Rhys hadn’t forced you into attending any of his games. He didn’t think that Amarantha would actually show up to them, especially since she never showed any interest in hockey past the jersey she ripped off Rhysand’s body the night they hooked up.

“Humor me,” Cassian replies with a crooked grin, taking his seat beside Rhys at his locker. Rhys ignores his friend, shucks off his gloves, and roots around his locker for his phone to shoot off a text before Coach Devlin makes it into the room for a pre-game pep-talk.

Rhysand: Need you to come to my game. Amara alert.

He started referring to her as that after the unfortunate first meeting where you had pretended to be his girlfriend and called her the wrong name. It brings him a little bit of cruel humor that eases his shoulders that are tight with tension. If you don’t answer, if you have other plans, like a date, he’s screwed.

Rhys hand clenches around his phone instinctively at the thought. He doesn’t like the thought of you out with anyone else, even if you are only in a fake relationship for the sake of warding off his ex. The idea of you laughing at someone else’s jokes, intertwining your fingers with theirs, kissing them, makes his muscles grow tight and fire flash in his veins.

“I’m busy,” he answers lamely to his roommate, who’s shoving the damp hair from his face and awaiting his captains answer obediently. Cassian frowns, but Rhys’ eyes are glued to his screen, awaiting those three little dots to appear that show you’re typing.

It’s true. He’s tutoring you tomorrow night, has a major psych paper of his own that’s due on Friday morning, and then the team is on the bus that afternoon for two consecutive games against the Grizzlies. It’s going to be a draining weekend, but if the team can manage to beat the Stags this weekend, the lack of sleep he’s going to be dealing with will be worth it.

It almost always is.

After a minute of tapping his skate impatiently on the ground and suffering a scythe-sharp glare from Azriel who is trying to get into his own headspace for the game, you respond.

You: Do I have to?

Rhys chews his lip as the thinks. No, you don’t have to, but what kind of supportive relationship would he be in if his girlfriend didn’t show up to his game? Especially when his ex-girlfriend is there and will definitely take notice of your absence?

Rhysand: Please? It’ll be fun.

You: For who?

He bites back a smile. He likes your witty attitude more than he should. Everything that comes out of your sassy mouth surprises him, and he imagines the way the corner of your mouth curved in that self-satisfied smile as you sent the message.

I’ll owe you one, big time, he texts, refraining from adding an innuendo that will surely make you not show up to his game. So, what if he wants to get a little cheeky with his fake girlfriend? At least you know how to give it right back.

You: Like, more than you already do?

The door bangs shut as Coach Devlin steps into the room. Rhysand flicks a look over his shoulder and releases a breath when he sees him conversing with one of the assistant coaches. If Devlin spots him on his phone before the game, there’s going to be hell to pay.

Rhysand: Please. I’ll do anything you want.

You: Deal. You’re lucky that I’m already on my way with Mor.

Relief has his shoulders dropping. Rhys should probably figure out his cousin’s sudden interest in attending his hockey games, but when it’s serving him as well, it isn’t worth questioning.

“Well, are we still planning on hitting Rita’s tomorrow night?” Cassian asks. Rita’s is a dive-bar that for some reason the Velaris Universities hockey team has been going to for decades. Rhys doesn’t know why it’s a thing, since the place is run-down and the beer tastes like watered down piss, but it’s tradition for the team to go the night before big away games.

As the captain of the Bat’s, Rhysand should go. Going to Rita’s the Thursday before game weekends is tradition as much as it is superstition. Which means that the team is there most weekends during the season, which can be utterly exhausting. It’s not required, and he’s pretty sure that the superstition aspect of attending has been proven wrong more than a handful of times, but if he doesn’t show up, the team will give him hell, and it’ll look like he doesn’t care. He hasn’t missed one outing there yet, but this semester is stacking up to be his most difficult, between trying to keep his near-perfect GPA, overseeing an entire hockey team, whilst volunteering to help plan the teams winter philanthropy.

Tack on tutoring one of the prettiest girls he’s ever seen, and Rhys expects himself to drop dead from exhaustion at any second.

“Dunno if I can make it,” Rhys says, shoving his phone back into his locker and collapsing on the bench. “I have a tutoring session.” He’s more than ready to shake off this skittish feeling and get his head into the game. Amarantha’s appearance has already affected him more than he wants, and he doesn’t have a good feeling about the game right now.

You saying that you’ll be attending loosens some of the knots in his stomach.

“Oh,” Cassian waggles his brows suggestively and Rhys rolls his eyes. “A study date?”

“I didn’t say it was a she,” Rhysand snaps back quickly. He’s all but praying that Coach Devlin finishes his conversation quickly so that he can get onto the ice and focus on something that doesn’t involve his girl issues.

“Neither did I.”

Rhys really doesn’t know why he decided to room with Cassian for the past two years.

“Didn’t you just see her on Monday?” Azriel asks as he finishes his pre-game ritual. It involves the utmost silence—which he never gets since the locker room is filled with adrenaline-fueled college boys—and the charm of his necklace clutched tightly between his fingers.

Rhys shrugs. “Yeah, but she needs a lot of help.”

Cassian grins suggestively, and Rhys braces himself for the remark that’s about to roll off his tongue. There’s a fifty percent chance it’s going to be something about Rhys offering her a hand, and a fifty percent chance Cassian will say something about the kiss you shared, but no matter what comes out of his mouth, Rhys knows it will be one hundred percent inappropriate.

Thankfully, Coach saves the day, grunting at all of the players to quiet down so he can make one of his famous pep talks that aren’t at all famous and more barking out orders than talking.

“Alright, boys.” Coach’s presence demands attention, and the locker room goes so quiet Rhysand swears he can hear Amarantha’s high-pitched voice through the concrete. A shudder works its way up his spine and his stomach twists into uneven knots. “This is an important game. I want everyone on their toes. Keep your eyes peeled for open shots, pass accordingly, and don’t tarnish my good name.”

It's the same speech Coach gives before every game, and Rhys can recite it word for word. It’s concise, to the point, and carries enough of a threat that every player in the locker room knows that if they play like shit, there is going to be hell to pay at tomorrow’s practice.

That bad feeling worms its way back into his mind, coiling his muscles with tension. Fuck, if he doesn’t get his head straight, he’s going to play like shit and Coach Devlin won’t have any of that.

Rhys slams his eyes shut, shoves all of the warring thoughts from his mind, and hones in on Coach Devlin’s voice.

Rhysand’s head hasn’t been in the game since there were eighteen minutes and twenty-three seconds left on the clock. He knows this because it’s when he spotted you in the bleachers and his focus latched onto you, causing him to miss a pass from Cassian and a Porcupines player to slam into him.

Only his first mistake of the night.

He’s playing like shit, and everybody knows it.

“Dude, what the fuck?” Azriel grunts as he slides up to Rhys’ side as the play resets. He’d fumbled the puck, badly. By the time he recovered, successfully managing to steal it back during a scrum with a few Porcupines players, he had no ample time to shoot, and his shot dinged off of the goalpost.

“I don’t know,” Rhys mutters, cursing himself. It could just be a bad day, but Rhys doesn’t allow himself to have those. He has to be in tip top shape in case recruiters show up to their games, because they’re the deciding factor in whether he gets any interest from a national league, which is what he’s been working towards since he was four.

He knows. He knows exactly what’s fucking with his head. At first, it was his ex in the stands, but as soon as he caught sight of you, all thoughts of her were fucking obliterated.

You’re wearing that mutilated jersey Mor made you. The one with the hem cut to the high heavens and the collar snipped to the valley of your breasts. He doesn’t know if he wants the shirt so long that it reaches your knees or if he wants to peel it off you completely.

To your knees, definitely to your knees. There are too many people around for the latter. He’d rather see that show in his bedroom while you straddle his lap.

His number on the back of the jersey isn’t helping him keep his mind from latching onto those impure thoughts, either.

Rhysand’s entire weekend was spent replaying the kiss you shared on Halloween. How soft and perfect you were. The hint of fruity lip gloss and tequila that painted your lips was a prominent taste in his mouth for hours after.

He could hardly focus on his homework, at hockey practice. Coach reamed him out after his mistakes had cost the team a two-a-day, and he’s doing the same right now when he told himself that he wouldn’t let you distract him.

And with the way your eyes sparkled when you caught sight of him on the ice only reminds him that while you’re more than upholding your end of the bargain, he still hasn’t had asked coach about getting you that athletic training internship with the team. By the look on coach’s face, cheeks red with anger, jaw clenched so tightly that if Rhys didn’t know he already had a few fake teeth from his own days as a hockey player, he’d worry that he’d grind them into dust.

“Cunningham,” Coach says gruffly when he and Azriel slide onto their spots on the bench. The crowd roars as the second line chases the puck across the ice, playing keep-away from the Porcupines as they search for an opening to take a shot.

Rhys forces his eyes on the puck when he notices his gaze wandering your way. He catches sight of your worried face, your brows pulled together and mouth turned down in a frown. You chew on your lip and it’s fucking tantalizing. He wants that lip trapped between his own—

“Get your head out of your ass.” Coach’s voice appears in his ear and he startles. Fuck, Devlin just caught him openly staring in the stands instead of focusing on the game. He’s totally going to have sprints in his future. “I have no problem benching my captain,” he emphasizes, like the title alone should bring a shroud of shame. It has its desired effect, Rhys ducks his head. He wouldn’t be surprised if he gets a smack to the back of his helmet with Coach’s clipboard. He’s seen it happen before. “The Porcupines aren’t even that good for fuck’s sake, and they’re beating us 2-1!”

He can feel the frustration emanating off his coach in waves. It does nothing to ease the moral of the rest of his teammates, who glance at him from down the bench. Rhysand isn’t making a good impression on his team tonight, and everyone can tell. His cheeks burn with embarrassment.

Come on, asshole, he scolds himself, lifting one of the water bottles to his mouth. The cool water is refreshing, and he gulps down a few sips before tilting his head further back and squirting the liquid down his neck.

“Yes, Coach,” he responds like a scolded child.

When it’s his turn to hit the ice, the mantra he’d been shouting in his head over and over slips away as easy as the terrain beneath his skates. He’s all too aware of the pairs of eyes that follow him as he stakes toward the center mark on the ice for the puck drop. Amarantha’s viper-like gaze sends the hair at the nape of his neck standing, which is a feat in itself because it’s soaked with sweat.

It’s your eyes that give his heart an erratic jump, but Rhysand blames it on adrenaline for the beginning of the second period.

He focuses, shoves away every thought that doesn’t revolve around this game right here and now from his head. He thinks about coach’s threat back on the bench as he gets into position for the puck drop: Get your head out of your ass. I have no problem benching my captain.

So, like the good captain he is, he pulls his head right out of his ass and gets to work.

He wins the faceoff, sending the puck shooting to Azriel, who takes it up the ice with ease. As a Porcupines player closes in on him, his hazel gaze locks on Cassian, who’s two paces in front of the player chasing him down.

Rhys makes himself open as Cassian slams the puck around the rink, using the side boards as a guide. He’s there to catch it behind the opposing goalies net and pushes off the side of his blade, scooping the puck onto the edge of his stick and slamming it into the net right between the goalie’s trapper and his shoulder.

The arena erupts in cheers and Rhys grins. Pride screams down his veins and fills his body with a high that he revels in. His teammates on the ice skate his way, clapping him on his shoulders and helmet, congratulating him on his goal. The worries that had been consuming him eke away now that he’s tied the game.

He can’t help himself, seeking you out in the crowd. Mor is turned to the people sitting beside her, but you’re staring right at him, and his heart gives an extra hard pound in his chest. He tosses a wink your way, and his grin turns feral when you roll your eyes and raise an unimpressed brow.

Oh, you want to see another? He can make that happen.

“Nice shot, bro,” Cassian says, skating beside him to reset in the neutral zone.

“Thanks. Let’s keep them coming.”

Nothing eventful happens within this shift. Then, he’s off the ice, and Rhys’ focus is fully on the game. He feels back in his element, more than ready to prove to you just how good of a player her can be.

It strikes him, how he wants to show off not only for his coach, team, potential scouts, but that he wants to do it for you. He likes the way your eyes follow him across the ice, the way that you’re shouting at the refs when he gets a whistle blown on him even though he’s pretty sure you have no idea what’s going on. It’s cute, the glare you’re shooting at the zebras in his honor as he takes a turn in the penalty box for high-sticking.

He catches a few things that his team can improve on, and his determination only skyrockets. The minutes are winding down, and with the power-play the Porcupines are on, they manage to score and Rhys is out of the box. His eyes flick to the clock: one minute left.

Light work.

The puck hits the ice with a clack and Rhys is locked in. There’s a skirmish for possession, and ultimately, it’s the Porcupines that come out on top. They manage to get it into the Bat’s zone, but the violet-clad players don’t make it easy for them to shoot. Cassian takes a shot to the thigh and he grunts in pain but manages to snag the puck and shoot it up the ice to where Rhys stands between two opposing players.

Before the puck even touches his stick, he’s shooting up the ice, calculating the little black circle’s trajectory. He looks to his left, to his right, all while avoiding the slashing sticks the Porcupines players are trying to dislodge his play with. But he’s too quick. There’s no one around, and the players following him are no match for Rhys’ speed.

His focus zeroes in on the goalie. Through the cage, the player wears a look just as determined as Rhys, but he latches onto that sliver of nerves like a fucking leech, and Rhys knows that he has him.

One, he shuts everything out. The sounds of the crowd fade away, and it’s just him and the net.

Two, Rhys readies for the shot. The goalie creeps to the front of the blue paint and he grins. He has him right where he wants him, faking left and shooting right.

Three, the puck hits the back of the net, the horn blows, and victory is his.

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Over Ice Taglist:

@saltedcoffeescotch @acourtofbatboydreams @mrsjna @velarisdusk @bionic-donut @tenshis-cake @eleganttravelercloud @lilah-asteria @serena05 @bwormie @soph1644 @house-husband-of-castlemurdock @tothestarsandwhateverend @topaz125 @judig92 @se7enteen--black-blog @thecraziestcrayon @cherry-cin @itsinherited @justafictionalnerd @bookishbroadwaybish @405rry @w0nderw0manly @bbykaixx @marina468 @taechvita @marigold-morelli

#rhys acotar #rhysand/reader #acotar #azsazz #acomaf #acowar #rhysand x reader #acotar hockey au #over ice #hockey!bat boys #hockey!rhysand

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caligvlasaqvarivm · 3 months ago

Note

I’m always curious about Kankri being redeemed in any way (maybe because he can become the sufferer). Obviously to do so would be simply punting him to reality and force him to live it, no help from his shoddily-made support structure. But I’m curious how you would go about doing it

Given their role thematically in the story, I'm actually usually not on the train of "fully redeem the dancestors", but I do like giving them some catharsis and reckoning, a place in the fight against LE. One last chance to do something good with their lives/afterlives before the end, and a(n implied) new start as wigglers born into the new universe.

So to that end, in my head, the "turnaround point" for Kankri - the inciting incident that makes him have a mental breakdown that results in him finally taking some accountability for his shitty actions - is having a conversation with Eridan.

In my head, the Dancestor reckoning happens gradually, alongside a series of retcons where the dead trolls are brought back one or two at a time, and deal with their emotional issues a little more with every cast member added back into the party.

The TL;DR series of events is: Terezi asks to bring back Vriska, Vriska asks John to punch out Tavros before she can kill him, Tavros's influence makes Gamzee ask for Equius and Nepeta to be brought back, Equius asks for a redux of Aradiabot, Aradiabot grabs John by the arm and gets him to undo her death and Sollux's fall into depression, Sollux asks for Feferi to be brought back, and then Karkat asks for Eridan.

We know from (Vriska) that the Game Over/Alpha Timeline characters still exist post-Retcon, so those characters would also be continuing their character arcs, just in the afterlife prepping for the LE fight. For example, I think Meenah's reckoning should be delivered by (Karkat) - after having had so long to reflect on his own failures as a leader, he would be perfectly poised to scream at her for hers, which would also serve to make this confrontation a final thesis for Karkat as a whole - what leadership means (caring about your team) - and a conclusion to the Meenah/Karkat dynamic.

So when I say that Kankri needs to talk to Eridan, I mean Eridan and not (Eridan). Full character development, all his teammates are alive, taken full accountability and responsibility for his actions, team good guy Eridan. And as I noted in this essay, Eridan with full character development is actually more annoying than regular Eridan, because he's also the "Devastating: Worst Guy You Know Made An Excellent Point" guy. In bulleted form:

He's still an advocate for murder. Murder is literally what kept his friends alive long enough to play the game, and playing the game itself involves genocide, so he would be the Token Evil Teammate who reminds the team that, hey, murder is an option - and enemies will be considering it. Even at his very best, he's going to struggle with empathy and have an extremely blase view of violence and murder - those were literally just facts of his life through his most formative years.

This also makes him a TOTAL downer, as he's the tempering voice that reminds them that decisions have consequences, and utopia requires sacrifices, and nothing is ever worth fighting for that won't eventually need to be fought for. Like I said, worst guy you know, excellent points. In fact, he's out here volunteering to do the murdering when the situation calls, if nobody else wants to get their fins dirty. He's really good at it.

He's still an idiot who doesn't listen to people. He's perfectly fine at taking orders, but having a conversation with him is still really difficult. I feel like if you make Eridan too smart, mentally flexible, and socially aware, you lose a lot of his Eridan-ness, and I think these characters, fully realized, are more of themselves, not less. I also don't know how you could reasonably expect to fix these traits. He's just Like That.

He drops his fake pro-Empire stuff, because that was basically all just empty posturing in the first place, but...

Now he's a pretentious-ass hipster who judges you for liking Trollor Swift and Troll Marvel. Given that Jake's indiscriminate taste is actually linked to his deficit of Hope (he has little conviction, he's wishy-washy), Eridan coming into full Prince of Hope regalia involves getting even more annoying about his taste in media (shittons of conviction, refusal to budge).

He is also a wizard. He will not shut up about this.

And finally, I think he'd still be out here using slurs. First of all, because it'd be really funny, because he's literally not casteist, but second, because there's two types of "it's equality" - the kind where nobody ever says anything offensive, and the kind where "offensive" stops being a relevant concept because true equality has been achieved. Think of the discourse surrounding the reclamation of slurs IRL, or how the "it's equality" meme gets used - this idea that words can be stripped of power by changing the context of who's saying them, or that objectification/discrimination stop being problems if they're applied evenly across the board, instead of limited to specific groups. I think that this is the exact type of nuanced idea that Homestuck would tackle and its fandom would get incensed about, which is why I think it should stay.

Eridan's role, thus, becomes a sort of "unpleasant truths" kind of character. Violence, both physical and verbal, is unpleasant as hell, and the natural instinct is to avoid it. The problem is, in any true discussion of what society should look like, they're topics that can't be avoided, and are even sometimes necessary not just to recognize, but to utilize (no revolution is bloodless, etc.). Eridan - an extreme personality - is going to represent the uncomfortable extreme of the debate. And by that I mean he's going to be saying slurs and talking about murders and is still going to be unquestionably a force for good.

The reason I'm going so in-depth into this is because Kankri very much represents the opposite: using "polite" language and couching it in the language of courtesy, activism, and liberal ideology, Kankri hides - and worse, spreads - his classist, ableist, misogynistic, puritan beliefs. He enforces the class divide and actively works against his teammates' best interests.

He whines that the lower blood castes should stop complaining about oppression, because others have it worse. He tells the team feminist that misogyny isn't real, then slut shames her. He tells the guy with brain damage that he's making other neurodivergent/TBI people look bad, exacerbates Latula's shame around her inability to smell, and actively guilt trips Cronus into ignoring his epiphany and self-reflection. Kankri is only an activist in that he actively makes everybody worse.

But why does he act like this? Well, it's due to the fact that he was probably culled, and on-sight at that, like Karkat would've been if anyone found out about his mutant blood. Kankri doesn't seem to have a symbol or lusus, either, two thinks Karkat only had because the Signless's followers prepped them for him, so the chances are very high that Kankri was culled since he was hatched. Given the way he discusses culling with Latula, and viciously despises being mothered by Porrim, it's clear he has some really complicated feelings regarding having his agency dismissed. Thus, his work to hamper his team - at least some of which is wilful on his part, as he'll outright cast aspersions on Horuss or Cronus's beliefs for being "imaginary" even as he encourages them to commit to them - is motivated by something quite simple: power, attention, entitlement, and control.

When he goes on his grand lectures, he frequently slips and reveals that he sees himself as a great, unquestionable spiritual leader, often trying to place other characters in subordinate positions to himself - Karkat is his "pupil," and his monologues, I mean, sermons, I mean, diatribes, are spoken as if from a position of authority. He outright tells Meenah that this is what he believes himself to be.

It's a very Seer sort of problem - both that of hubris and that of willful blindness. If you chart out the actual "end goal" of his beliefs, it appears to be a world in which Kankri himself is both the biggest victim and most important voice in the room. He regularly disparages those with actual disadvantages (Damara, Porrim, Mituna) while playing up the false problems of those who don't actually have them (Horuss, Cronus). Those with disadvantages should have their voices amplified - except lowbloods should stop whining and misogyny isn't real. And those with real power should check their privilege - but won't somebody think of the poor highbloods who have ~emotional problems~? Kankri will, and all the highbloods need to do is bend the knee and treat Kankri as their specialest boy.

In short, he's using his intellect, rhetoric, and forceful personality for selfish, emotionally-driven pursuits. The actual substance of his arguments is ephemeral and contradictory because that's the trick - the point is NOT to further equality, but to verbally browbeat his conversation partner into submission. In other words, you can't beat Kankri in a regular debate, because the moment you start trying to actually engage in a debate with him, he wins. The moment you start lunging at his arguments, he's got you in his red-texted labyrinth. The moment you start treating his points like they merit genuine discussion, you're in the pews of Kankri's church, and he's up at the pulpit.

And Eridan is the destroyer of faith. He's also an idiot who doesn't listen to people.

I don't really know exactly how it would play out, but I know in my heart. In the pit of my soul. That Eridan would call Kankri several slurs, (correctly) point out that Kankri's celibacy is stupid because it's clear he has feelings for Cronus and Latula, (correctly) point out that his pro-equality stuff is stupid because he calls violets "Royal-V"s, (incorrectly) accuse Kankri of hitting on him, (correctly) point out that the entire point of a slur is that it hurts and insults the person it's used on, (correctly) call Kankri several more slurs, (correctly) point out that Kankri just wants attention, especially from highbloods, (???) go on an unhinged rant (maybe more) about being a wizard, being a murderer, and being a murderer wizard, (???) insult Kankri's taste in music, and finish it up by (correctly) revealing that Eridan and Karkat are moirails who make out sometimes.

I think Kankri would start crying.

#full stop this is the conversation that didn't happen that i want to see most in all of homestuck #homestuck #eridan ampora #kankri vantas #i think it's especially important it be eridan because eridan is a sea dweller #and kankri is a huuuuge wader/sea dweller liker #so having a sea dweller CORRECTLY point out that kankri is a wader and casteist and chew him out for it #WHILE calling him a bunch of slurs #gang i dont know how kankri's ever gonna emotionally recover from this

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depravitycentral · 1 year ago

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Yandere! Tooru Oikawa General Profile

Yandere! Tooru Oikawa x fem! reader

Tw: kidnapping, mentions of stalking, non-consensual touching, mentions of non-con, possessiveness, mentions of murder, threats, one brief mention of eating/eating enough, extreme dependency, allusions to neglect, this one's a little sad because I think Tooru could only become yandere for someone he's known for quite a while like a friend, brief mentions of physical violence, manipulation, Tooru is mean to a fan so reminder to never meet your heroes, fem reader, MDNI

I do not condone any of the actions described in this post - this is fiction and should be treated as such. If you or a loved one is in a similar situation to anything contained in this post or my blog in general, please seek help. You're in charge of your internet consumption; please make responsible choices. With that, enjoy!

WC: 10K

DARLING PROFILE:

Sweet

First and foremost, while Tooru deeply respects and loves Iwaizumi, his teammates and his often insulting banter with them, there’s nothing that melts his heart more than genuine compliments from those he cares about.

Of course, he’s used to women fawning over him; telling him how handsome he is, how talented he is, how wonderful and amazing and rich he is.

And it feels nice in the moment, making his ego swell and a smirk slip onto those pink lips of his, but Tooru wants more.

He wants real compliments, praise for things that are more personal, things that only a true companion could know about. He’s tired of false flattery, of people telling him such sweet words just to get close to him for his status, his wealth, his pretty face.

He wants someone who is kind just to be kind – someone who means what they say when they compliment others.

It makes his heart race in his chest, something about their sincerity making him freeze up when his darling tells him how dedicated and passionate he is for putting in so much effort into volleyball.

It makes his breath catch a bit when they smile and sigh and tell him how proud they are when he cuts off his practice early, so that he isn’t spending hours afterwards serving and hitting until he breaks down.

He wants a darling that will be sweet and feed his somewhat precarious ego, and he’ll eagerly return the favor. He’s pouring compliments on them left and right, drowning them in kind words designed to get them flustered and bashful and so fucking adorable.

He just finds it endearing, and it’s a nice break from the usual women he meets. His darling is different, special, perfect, after all.

Perceptive

Although time has helped Tooru become more comfortable with himself, he’s still a bit hesitant to show his true self to others.

He’s worn a persona for most of his adult life, even starting way back in high school – he’s charming and smooth, always acting happy and suave.

And for the most part, he doesn’t mind – but with a select few of his friends and close companions, the world doesn’t get to know the real Tooru Oikawa.

His darling, however, is one of the very few who are on this list – and having a perceptive darling would make him fall much, much quicker.

His darling needs to be someone who is capable of catching clues as to the man that lives behind the mask; the one that still doubts himself, the one who needs constant encouragement, the one who just needs to be wanted and loved and appreciated for his hard work and his actions.

His darling needs to be able to help slowly push past the façade that he’s crafted over the years, and while they don’t need to see everything, they need to be able to make Tooru feel comfortable enough to actually be himself.

Someone who is able to pick up on his emotions, even when they aren’t terribly obvious, would be immensely attractive to him. It makes him feel seen and heard in a way that’s difficult to come by as a famous athlete, and the moment his darling showcases this ability, it’s only a matter of time before Tooru’s feelings are developing in full force.

It’s just refreshing to not have to pretend to be someone he isn’t – he’s just Tooru, not Oikawa the athlete.

It only further proves to him that his darling is made for him – they’re able to read and understand him like most people don’t, and what other possible sign could there be that they’re perfect for one another?

Honest

While Tooru’s darling must be kind, they must also be someone who isn’t afraid to tell him the truth.

All the women he meets in his daily life want to use him – whether it be his money, his fame, his looks, very few are honest about their intentions with him.

And while it makes him feel good to be wanted by so many people, Tooru often finds himself exhausted from all the effort and analysis he must undergo in order to really understand someone’s intentions.

And so, a darling that’s upfront about how they’re feeling and what they want is very, very attractive to him.

He tends to overthink and hyperfixate on things, and having a darling who leaves nothing unanswered calms his anxiety monumentally.

He doesn’t have to guess with them – he knows he can trust their word, that they won’t easily lie to him, that what they’re saying is exactly what they’re thinking.

It makes his heart flutter when they tell him that his hair looks good today, or when they tell him that they want to catch lunch sometime and hear about his latest game.

It makes him feel wanted and understood in a way that’s rare in his daily life, only furthering his obsession and fixation on his darling.

Calm

Tooru can be a bit childish. Even well into his twenties, this still rings true – he gets jealous easily and feels challenged by small comments and doubts of his ability.

His anger can get easily sparked by the right person, and having a darling that balances out these characteristics is a necessity for him.

A calmer darling helps keep him grounded, making sure that he keeps his head and doesn’t make any rash decisions.

They act as a sort of grounding rock for him – they’re able to bring him back to Earth with just a few words and a light touch to his shoulder, reminding him that some things aren’t worth his time or effort.

It’s useful, of course, but Tooru also finds it incredibly attractive when his darling is able to handle situations calmly on their own – he likes how confident they seem, how they’re able to logically think their way through a situation and not allow their emotions to get the better of them.

It’s awe-inspiring, if he’s being honest, and with every situation and interaction they successfully navigate with a smile and an even tone, Tooru only finds himself growing more and more impressed, becoming more and more interested in them until eventually it becomes all too much, their calm nature becoming something he grows dependent on in order to regulate himself.

Having his darling around becomes a necessity rather than simply a pleasure – and thus, his dependency is born, his reliance on his darling becoming one of the main facets of his obsession.

How lucky for his beloved.

GENERAL YANDERE TRAITS:

Possessive

It’s no secret that Tooru has never had to seriously work to get women. He’s attractive, a professional athlete, wealthy, famous – all in all, he’s a catch to countless fans, any of whom would be more than willing to be his partner.

And while he’s dated around, had a few serious boyfriends and girlfriends, he’s never really found the one.

For a long time, he seriously wondered if there was something wrong with him; he’s nearly 30, meeting countless new people everyday, going on dates every weekend with someone new, and he still hasn’t found a worthwhile connection with anyone long term. So why have all his friends begun slipping pretty rings onto their partners’ fingers, inviting him with a too-wide smile to attend their new house-warming party, or even posting a baby bump photo with far too many emojis?

He’s skeptical, and so while his confidence in his attractiveness doesn’t diminish by any means, Tooru slowly becomes less convinced that he’ll end up with a long term partner, a spouse, anything beyond a summer fling or a good, few month spark.

However, once his feelings for you develop, a sudden ray of hope is placed into his life. Suddenly, the prospect of dying alone doesn’t seem as imminent – how can it be, when you’re around?

How can he feel sad about his future when you’re so sweet and smart and pretty and god, that fucking smile –

He’s fallen head over heels before he even knows it, and while he exists in a somewhat honeymoon state for a while after the realization of his feelings, full of longing and dreamy smiles with red tinged cheeks and erratic heartbeats when he lays his eyes on you, quickly other feelings accompany. Ugly, disgusting feelings that Tooru hasn’t felt to such extreme degrees since high school, and never in the context of romance.

Namely, every time he sees you out in public, the adoration for the way the sunlight reflects off your hair is diminished by the coursing jealousy in his veins as he watches other men ogle you.

When he’s got you laughing at some joke he’s telling over your weekly lunch, he can’t fully enjoy the lilting sound because that damn waiter keeps coming back and asking if you want water, his body way too fucking close to you to be truly professional.

He’s suddenly acutely aware of just how beautiful and stunning you are, and how much male attention that gives you. He doesn’t blame you – no, of course not – because you’re simply perfect, and how are you supposed to know everyone wants a bite of you? No, Tooru sees you as much more helpless than that; you’re naïve, and it’s really only a matter of time before another man attempts to steal you away from him.

He knows it’s inevitable that you’ll be approached by someone else, and while they probably won’t be as handsome, wealthy, or athletically gifted as Tooru is, would you be swayed?

Is it possible that another man could win your heart, even with the setter right there in front of you all but begging for your adoration and love?

As time passes, Tooru slowly begins believing that it absolutely could happen, that any day now you could be pried away from his iron clad grip, no matter how hard he fights it. And so, he more or less panics.

He’s never really had to worry about keeping girls before, and how does it even work?

What should he do?

What should he say?

How short a leash is too short to keep you on?

He’s lost, quite frankly, and extremely embarrassed about it, because only immature, insecure men get jealous over their partner. Only men not confident in themselves panic over the thought of their beloved leaving them, and Tooru hasn’t felt crippling insecurity like this in years.

And yet, just one thought of you smiling in the direction of another man has him gritting his teeth, his arms flexing as his nails dig deeply into his fisted palms.

And so, Tooru decides that to keep you his, he’ll just have to show the world – through extravagant gifts, of course.

Suddenly there are bouquets of flowers arriving for you nearly everywhere you go – you wake up to deliveries at 8:00 sharp, a bouquet of sunflowers with a small note written in looping letters as these flowers grew, so did my dedication to you.

Necklaces with chains you’re fairly sure are made of real silver have the initial T and O engraved into them, winding around a heart and what almost appears to be a knife, though you’re not sure. Anklets, too, arrive, with sayings like angel or darling (one even featured babygirl, though you were quick to throw that particular piece of jewelry to the back of your closet, half amused at the – presumably – joke, half disturbed at the prospect of his sincerity).

You’re not sure who these gifts are coming from initially; you don’t know anything off the top of your head that would do something like this, until very suddenly it all clicks – the way Tooru looks so smug when you receive flowers while you’re out at lunch with him, the tulips your favorite color while the delivery man reads off the card Tooru had instructed him to. It pieces together when you see him sign legal forms or checks, that familiar signature and those initials jogging your memory. You only put the pieces together after Tooru’s need for your focused attention grows to new heights – physical touchiness, particularly in public spaces.

He’s always been clingy as a friend, but suddenly his hand is always at your waist, fingertips pressing in too tight for comfort.

He’s always liked hugs, but now his hugs feel strangely intimate; he’s pressing against you, burying his nose into your neck and audibly inhaling, a sigh falling from his lips as he periodically squeezes your body in his arms.

His hand is resting at the small of your back when you’re standing next to him, a steady palm to guide you through crowded spaces – though sometimes he ‘forgets what he’s doing’, as he tells you, and his hand ends up cradling the curve of your hip, dipping down to the flat of your tailbone, or jumping up and almost seeming to lightly, oh so airily trace the outline of your bra straps through your top.

(He hasn’t quite mustered up the courage to actually grope you in public, if only because he’s scared that you’ll be put off by him, and although he deeply, desperately wishes to touch you in such an intimate way, he’s a bit nervous that once he begins, he’ll never be able to stop.)

The physical affection grows extreme, his hands never leaving your body, reaching the point where it’s difficult to simply explain it away as platonic, as Tooru just being Tooru.

And yet, when you bring it up to him, those brown eyes go all wide, his mouth tilting down into a frown as he tells you he’s sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable! If you want I won’t touch you at all, I’d never want you to be unhappy around me; although, haven’t you noticed how all those creeps that used to hit on you don’t bug you anymore when I’m with you? Maybe it’s a good thing – I can be your hero and keep all the freaks away from you!

(The sincerity and conviction in the pouting of his lip and the creasing of his brow will have you swaying immediately, merely brushing off his words as being an attempt at humor rather than the truth.)

He’s not trying to be purposefully manipulative, but the words are falling out of his mouth before he can stop it, your face slowly changing as you consider his point, slowly nodding and smiling lightly, telling him he’s absolutely right, thank you Tooru, I don’t know what I’d do without you.

And just the sound of his name alone has him doubling down, touching you more, his possessive streak only growing exponentially with every permission you give to his tendencies, with every smile and giggle and fleeting touch.

How can he be expected to control himself when you look at him like that, all doe eyes and beaming smile and fuck, your hand is on his chest, if you’d just slide it down ever so slightly, following the thin line of dark brown hair you’d find a place that really, truly can’t resist you. God knows he’s tried.

Obsessive

Tooru’s always had a tendency to hyperfixate.

He’s a bit of a perfectionist, wanting to become the master at whatever he chooses to invest his time in, and once his feelings for you solidify, you are suddenly at the top of the list, very narrowly beating out volleyball.

Suddenly, Tooru finds himself yearning to learn every bit of information about you he can, every scrap feeling precious no matter how insignificant.

Sure, maybe it’s not the most important thing, but knowing how you like your toast makes his chest swell with pride.

(Do you like it lightly toasted? Darkly toasted? With butter? With jam? With peanut butter? With or without the crusts? It’s all important, so that one day when he’s routinely surprisingly you with breakfast in bed you’ll smile at him and exclaim how it’s just so perfect, giving him a soft, loving kiss and feeding him a bit of the toast, wiping away the jam from the corner of his jaw and licking it off your thumb, telling him to join you in bed because it’s so big and lonely without him and you’d been dreaming of you, Tooru, and you’ll never guess what we were doing…)

He’ll admit that maybe knowing the order you get dressed in the morning isn’t the most imperative piece of your daily life, but he’ll still recite the order in his head every night as he lays in his bed, staring at the ceiling and imagining if your routine to get undressed is the same.

He’s not picky with the information he learns, approaching every opportunity with enthusiasm, excitement, and a disturbing amount of eagerness.

And the way he goes about collecting this information isn’t limited, either – he’s not particularly partial to stalking you, if only because he’d rather you be acknowledging him and aware of his company, and because it’s difficult to simply blend in as a well-known athlete.

Rather, he falls back on some equally morally gray methods – it’s not hard to get his hands on a few for-hire personal hackers, his money spreading like water as he gets into every internet browser you’ve ever used, the history in every app you frequent, your camera roll, your documents, your notes apps and reminders.

Hell, even your settings are at his fingertips, eager brown eyes flicking through the different ways you have your backgrounds, profiles pictures, even the way you group your apps.

It’s all so interesting, his thumb endlessly scrolling through the information over and over until time starts to blur, four hours having passed without him even noticing.

He’s pouring through your watch history on all your favorite streaming platforms, compulsively watching your most viewed shows and movies over and over until he can nearly recite every line, eagerness and excitement lacing his voice with every word that leaves his mouth.

He’s analyzing anything he can get his fingers on, endlessly fascinated and entertained by anything and everything that even remotely pertains to you. You’re like some drug he’s found himself addicted to, his body physically craving you, the desire to always be thinking of you and with you nearly suffocating.

But he’s a busy man, and he doesn’t want to scare you off, so he can’t just constantly be around you, constantly following you or pressing for your attention – it would scare you, he’s sure, so he settles for almost living vicariously through you.

By watching your favorite shows and looking at your search histories, it’s almost like he’s next to you, like he’s spending time with you, like he’s an active part of your life. It’s almost like you’re together, the thing he yearns for more than anything.

And even once you’re under his roof, stolen and kept soundly by his side, Tooru’s obsessive tendencies don’t disappear – now that you know, now that you’re aware of the depth of his infatuation, why should he bother hiding just how much he knows about you?

Why should he take the time and effort to mask just how expansive his knowledge on you goes? Sure, it may scare you a bit, but he simply can’t hold himself back anymore – you have to let him show you just how dedicated he is to you.

You must let him cook you your favorite meals (perfectly done, even strange flavor combinations you don’t remember mentioning to him), let him rub your back (with that one exact movement he knows you love), let him play music for you (your favorite songs, of course), and let him buy new clothes for you (they’re the perfect sizes, your favorite colors, your favorite styles).

He just wants to please you, to get you looking at him with admiration, fondness, joy, and he’s willing to put every scrap of information he’s gleaned about you to use.

He wants to spoil you and make you the happiest you’ve ever been, all so you’ll smile at him and compliment him, so that you’ll praise him and kiss him and tell him that he’s perfect, you’re everything I could ever want Tooru.

He craves your validation, so please, please let him please you – let him stare at you for hours at a time, taking in every detail of your face, every mannerism of your movements, every inflection of your voice.

It makes him happy, makes him feel needed, wanted, like he’s actually contributing something, like he's treating you like a good, loving, loyal man – please, let yourself need him.

Because he needs you more than you could ever know.

Clingy

Of course, while Tooru’s jealousy and obsessiveness regarding you is certainly not an easy load to bear, by far the hardest part of being the center of his devotion is the touching.

He’s always been clingy, even back before his feelings for you had developed – as friends, he was texting you near constantly, all kinds of stupid videos and jokes making your phone light up with notifications at the most inconvenient times.

He’s always been physically affectionate with you, whether it be hugs or ruffling your hair or lighthearted shoves, the actions never feeling forced or unnatural or strange. But once his feelings develop, things change.

The clinginess doesn’t change – no, if anything it just gets stronger, the urge to be around you and have your attention and feel you growing more and more pressing by the day.

No, the thing that changes is the atmosphere that comes alongside his growing desperation.

What used to be a small, casual hug of greeting when you meet up to eat becomes a very tense three second hug, his hands settling firmly at your waist and his brown hair tickling your neck with how deeply he buries his face against you.

(Often you think you can hear him sniffling, as if he was smelling, as if he was breathing you in, but the moment passes too quickly for you to really be sure.)

What used to be a casual holding of hands when he guides you through a crowded space becomes him snaking his fingers between yours, his palms clammy and sweaty, his fingers gripping onto yours tight, tightly enough to sometimes be painful.

What used to be flirtatious comments with very little meaning that he’d occasionally throw your way just to tease you become real, all traces of a joke erased from his tone as he tells you that you’re more beautiful than any flower after you mention how lovely the nearby flowerpot is.

Things slowly begin feeling different the longer his infatuation carries on, to the point where you will have to actively start dismissing these changes as merely being in your head – of course Tooru isn’t acting weird when he pulls you against his hip so that you’re walking side by side down the street.

Why would that be weird?

Sure, the street is nearly deserted so there’s no chance of running into anyone, and sure there’s no cracks or holes in the walkway to warrant you having to be careful, but it’s not weird.

(Just don’t look down – the dress pants he’d donned for the occasion – your date, he likes to think – do a very poor job of hiding just how your body heat is affecting him, of just how the way you fit against his side is making him feel.)

You’ll slowly get the feeling that Tooru is pushing your boundaries, every day finding a way to poke and prod just a bit more, to blur the lines of friend and boyfriend just a hair, just to see how far he can get without you calling him out for his behavior.

And when you eventually do reach your limit, wherever it may be, don’t breath too heavy a sigh of relief – because while he’ll try to tone it down as much as possible (he has to, because when you look so upset with him it makes his heart physically ache, the words of agreement already slipping out of his mouth because he’d do anything to get you smiling at him again), his clinginess is nothing compared to how it is once he’s stolen you away.

Once you’re living under the same roof as him, things will very, very quickly get out of hand. Any semblance of personal space and boundaries you may have are merely a suggestion to him, something of the past that can be plowed right past because now you’re his, and he’s yours.

Now there’s no reason to try and hold himself back – you know how he feels now, the level of desperation with which he wants you, so why should he bother trying to save his decorum or keep things platonic? He’s waited for so very long to touch you as he pleases, and while he won’t force anything too extreme on you, you will be subject his physical affections.

He’s constantly got a hand on your body, whether that’s resting on your shoulder, your waist, your thigh, your cheek, your ass, anything at all. He’s always hugging you, letting his long arms wrap around your shoulders as lets out a sound much too similar to a moan to be comfortable, pressing his body directly into yours so that he can feel every inch of you against him and feel more connected to you.

He’s always pressing kisses against your hands and legs, letting his lips travel from your fingertips up to your elbows, down over your shoulders to your belly button, down the slope of your thighs and finishing on the curve of your ankle, those brown eyes half lidded in far too much passion as you shiver in disgust.

He’s always trying to get you to return his affections, too – it’s great to hug you and sit you in his lap, but he wants you to want it, to want him, to want his touch.

He tries to keep all the affection pleasurable for you, to have you happy and smiling and craving the human contact, because the only thing worse than you rejecting his love is you rejecting his touch.

And so it’s not uncommon for him to whisper to you as he’s got his arm hooked around your waist, lying on his side with you spooned up to him if you’re enjoying this, does this feel good for you?

(His voice is unsure, hesitant, almost afraid, your response the difference between his heart breaking or beating out of his chest.)

He’s incredibly vulnerable when he’s touching you, his desperation and the raw need he feels for you bleeding out of him in ways that make it absolutely impossible for you to ignore. How can you? When he’s mindlessly playing with your fingers as he tells you about the upcoming game this weekend, he can’t stop marveling at the softness of your fingers against his calloused ones, his skin brushing yours even as you try to pull away.

When he’s clutching onto the shirt – his shirt – adorning your figure as he holds you against his chest on the couch, you’ll notice how his grip doesn’t falter for even a moment, staying steadfast and firm and strong. Frankly, even with all the rage and betrayal you feel towards Tooru, his touchiness and clinginess will likely be the source of the growing pity you feel for him.

Because really, isn’t he just so pathetic? He’s an absolute mess unless he's touching you – anxiety overwhelms him, panicked thoughts about whether you actually love him, about whether he’s even worthy of your love, whether he’s a talented player or an number of other insecurities that suddenly come racing to the surface.

So really, while it’s not ideal, you’d best get used to his handsiness – it’s intense, to say the least, and while he’ll never force himself onto you, he will force his affection onto you.

It’s better for you to simply let it happen – enjoy the human contact while you can, because when he leaves for the long, long trips for series of away games, you’ll find yourself missing your captor’s touch.

Isn’t it all just so sick?

DEALING WITH RIVALS:

Tooru is, unfortunately, a naturally jealous man. He’s always been both envious of others and painfully aware of his own shortcoming in every aspect of his life. Volleyball, friendships, even his own love life have left him with a bitter taste in his mouth, always acutely aware of what other people do better, what they have, frustration eating him alive because why can’t he be better or have what they have?

It’s unhealthy and as he’s gotten older he’s gotten better at keeping the jealousy at bay, but he’s still victim to the green-eyed monster much more often than he’d care to admit.

And where you’re concerned, this natural tendency only gets worse, his possessiveness flaring to worrying degrees when another man so much as looks at you.

(His jealousy is actually one of the major reasons why he even realized that his feelings for you transformed from platonic to romantic, his love for you changing from laughing at your jokes to wanting you gasping and writhing and needing him.)

Though, while desperation guides Tooru in most ways regarding your relationship, he still has enough of a grip on his lucidity to know that being jealous of every man that interacts with you is neither reasonable nor attractive to you.

Surely, other men must want you – you’re gorgeous, after all, sexy and perfect and everything he could ever want. Other men must see these qualities in you too; if they didn’t, they’d be stupid in Tooru’s opinion.

And yet, particularly in the beginning of his obsession, Tooru tries desperately to fight the rising jealousy he feels for you.

It’s not normal to want to throttle the man you make eye contact with on the street – you didn’t even speak, just merely catch eyes for a brief moment. So, instead of marching up to the man and socking him in the face like he wishes, Tooru just grits his teeth, pulling you closer to his side and asking you a question, hoping to distract you from ever even thinking of that stranger again.

Instead of yelling at the waiter that smiles just a beat too long at you after you order your meal, he just squeezes his hand into a fist, smiling tightly and asking you about coming to the important game he’s playing this weekend, emphasizing that he always plays much better when you’re there.

He’s always trying to play off his jealousy, but the result of his constant bottling of his emotions means that when the bottle finally fills, it overflows – Tooru isn’t normally scary to you, but when the jealousy finally explodes, you’ll find yourself unnerved by one of your closest friends, the man he becomes seeming utterly unfamiliar to you.

The volleyball stadiums are always loud after Club Atletico wins, and you’re sure no matter how many times you come to these games you’ll never get used to the noise.

It’s not hard to slip out of the bleachers and navigate back towards a hallway deep in the bowels of the stadium, the winding halls leaving anyone else surely confused. But you’ve met with Tooru after these matches enough times to know the path like the back of your hand – which is why the presence of another person makes you immediately cock a brow.

The man’s looking at his phone, his face visibly confused, and as your footsteps catch his attention, he looks up at you with relief. He’s quick to ask you how to get back to the main seating area, because he’d wandered off to find a bathroom and now he was truly lost.

The explanation and the exasperated expression he wears gets you chuckling a bit, a smile forming on your lips as you explain the directions to get back upstairs.

He looks lost merely three directions in, and immediately you’re laughing a bit again. He's pocketed his phone by this point, a hand coming up to scratch at the back of his neck sheepishly, his voice shy as he asks you to repeat the instructions.

You only get about midway through before a hand places itself at your waist, a sudden pulling motion sending you stumbling back slightly and knocking into something firm and tall. Immediately you jump, looking up to be met with the strong jaw of Tooru, his lips set into a thin line and his brown eyes narrowed on the stranger.

The stranger immediately sucks in a gasp and splutters something out about being a huge fan, I’ve even got your jersey on! You were so good out there, those sets were insane –

He’s cut off a harsh laugh from Tooru, and your confusion only deepens. Tooru turns to look at you, a soft smile quirking up his lips.

Will you go get a towel for me? I’m awfully tired.

You blink but slowly nod, unsure where this sudden request was coming from. As you walk off, Tooru watches you, all the while ignoring the nervous fiddling of the man in front of him.

As soon as you turn the corner towards the training rooms, Tooru’s smile drops and he turns back to face the man. His voice is cold and condescending as he sighs.

Are you always this irritating to talk to?

The stranger’s jaw drops a bit, his nervousness back in full force as he takes a step back, one hand playing with the hem of the jersey.

Oh, uh, sorry, I was just getting some directions from your friend but I’ll be going now…

His steps are quick and rushed as he tries to take off down the hallway, but he freezes when Tooru’s voice calls out again.

Next time, you should save yourself some time and not bother talking to someone so obviously out of your league. It makes you look awfully pathetic, just so you know. Get going, I’m sure your mom’s worried that you haven’t come home to her basement yet tonight.

At that, the man starts moving again, and Tooru notes with a distinct sense of pride that his shoulders are shaking slightly, no doubt both his confidence and idolization of Tooru shattering.

Tooru takes a deep breath and looks up towards the ceiling, letting his eyes close briefly.

It’d been an extreme response, he’ll admit – you’d been standing a good three feet away from the man when he’d happened upon the scene, the man visibly thankful for the directions Tooru could hear you giving, but it didn’t matter.

It couldn’t matter, not when the adrenaline of the game was still rushing through his veins, not when the excitement and giddiness of seeing you was still potent, not when he’d been looking forward to hearing your praises and maybe even getting a hug, the jersey of his that he’d insisted you wear making you look particularly alluring today.

(Seeing the lettering of his last name across your back certainly didn’t hurt, his uniform feeling too tight and too hot.)

The jealousy had just sudden hit him in the moment, a rushing sort of anger that left him only barely able to realize that he needed to get you away now, that the words he’d be spewing at the unfortunate man who’d stolen your attention would surely leave you pissed beyond repair.

He breathes deeply, the anger still swimming in his veins, though releasing it out onto that poor fan was probably not the best choice.

Soon your footsteps are echoing in Tooru’s ears, and his eyes immediately fly open to watch you walk down the hallway, towel in hand and a worried expression on your face.

Are you okay, Tooru?

Your voice is an angel’s, he’s sure of it, and when you look at him with such worry and sincerity, it nearly makes his knees buckle. You’re so damn pretty, and as he gulps and nods, thanking you for the towel, he can’t help but feel a bit smug.

You’re his, damnit, and while telling the man off and losing a fan probably wasn’t the best price for this feeling, Tooru wouldn’t trade it for the world.

And when you go in for a hug, pressing yourself against him (pressing all of yourself against him), Tooru can only wrap his arms around you and return the hug, keeping his grip tight even as you try to pull back.

He’s a jealous man, yes, but when you smell and feel and look this good, can he really be blamed?

TAKING HIS DARLING AWAY:

Stealing you away isn’t something that immediately occurs to Tooru. He’s got a bit of a hectic schedule; being a professional athlete means an absurd amount of time away from home, an odd sleeping schedule, and a high amount of security needed to ensure his safety.

And frankly, he just doesn’t want to kidnap you – he’s a control freak in many ways regarding you, what with his extreme clinginess and the jealousy constantly eating him alive, but he doesn’t get any pleasure from the idea of controlling you.

And so, he holds off for as long as physically possible to keep from snatching you up for himself – there’s something incredibly alluring about you when you feel free and happy, and he’s terrified that if he were to kidnap you, all those smiles and your pretty laughter that gets his heart racing would disappear forever.

He’s not particularly delusional, and he’s sure you wouldn’t reciprocate his feelings if he were to drug you and have you wake up in pretty, lacy chains.

He’s not stupid, and he likes the concept of being able to go out with you far too much to really desire kidnapping you. He likes showing you off too much; his jealousy is all consuming, sure, but being able to parade you around on his arm and show the world that you’re with him is enough to stroke both his ego and his pride, making him suck in an uneven, stuttered breath.

He likes being able to take you out for spontaneous luncheons and dinners, swinging by your modest apartment (one he insists you could do better than, if you’d just let him pay your rent like he keeps offering) in his fancy black car, winking and telling you to hop in, pretty girl, we’re getting Italian! And if you eat the whole pasta bowl I’ll be so impressed I’ll even buy you some of that fancy gelato I know you love.

(Really, he’ll buy it for you no matter what, but he likes the idea that you’re eating enough, that you’re truly feeding yourself, that you’re healthy and safe and still alive and still his his his -)

He likes that he can just shoot you a text and tell you to pack for a tropical destination, requesting your presence at the nearest airport in less than an hour because he just got an extra ticket to the training camp his team is attending in the Caribbean.

He likes the excitement of it all, the way your eyes always get so big and wide and cute when he tells you about the latest adventure he’s dragging you along with or the latest thing he’s planning to buy for you.

He likes the way you always get so bashful and starstruck, utterly shocked and so grateful that you struggle to get your words out, because god the attention feels good.

Seeing you smile at him like that will never fail to send shivers racing across every inch of his body, his fingers trembling and a lump forming in his throat because oh please please please never stop looking at him like this…

It’s just too good for him to willingly end, and he’s terrified that the moment he makes a move towards keeping you in a more secure location, the magic of your happiness and fondness towards him will disappear, leaving you bitter and spiteful towards him.

And really, that’s the worst possible scenario for him – with the exception of one very, very large scenario that could actually convince him to fully kidnap you. That is, when you tell him gently one evening over cocktails and a platter of cheese, meats, and olives that you’re leaving Argentina, he goes very still and very pale.

It’s a mixture of terror, rage, and genuine panic that envelopes him, that leaves him scarily quiet for the rest of the evening, that gets him gripping the steering wheel of his car so tight that his knuckles turn white.

It’s that same horrible, gut-wrenching mixture of emotions that compel him to drive back to your apartment late that same night, his face blank as he uses the spare key you’d given him a while ago to quietly enter, already holding the chloroform soaked rag in his pocket and approaching your bedroom fast, his footsteps almost eager enough to wake you up.

All too soon he’s got your limp body in his backseat, brown eyes glancing frantically between the road in front of him and your form in the rear view mirror, a new mix of foreboding and excitement making his gut twist and turn.

You’ll be angry, surely, but Tooru knows this was his only choice – you were leaving him. What else could he have possibly done?

Being Tooru’s captive will often leave you feeling disoriented, as if you’re walking along a familiar path that’s been left to decompose and rot. Everything feels different and alien and wrong – leaving you with a false sense of comfort that’s shattered at every turn.

It’s strange, because you know Tooru – he’s been your friend for years, but as you come to terms with the extent of his obsession with you, the man you thought you knew slips away from view, leaving you with this husk of him, looking the same but acting nothing like him.

There’s still traces of him – in how he talks to you late at night, curling your body up beside his as he plays with your fingers, his voice a murmur in your ear as he rants about his teammates, the topic feeling so normal and familiar that it almost makes you cry.

There’s traces of him when he puts his hand on your back to guide you into another room, the familiar curve of his palm making your body want to relax and lean into him only for the sudden squeeze he gives you to jolt you right out of that comfort, to remind you that no that isn’t his phone corner poking into your hip like you’d always thought.

There’s traces of him, but by and large Tooru just becomes too much – he’s too touchy, too demanding, too insistent that you be looking at him and only him. He’s always got his hands on you, pressing into your skin or playing with your hair or tracing the shape of your lips and cheeks.

(It’s more of a comfort for him rather than a sexual desire – of course, he very much wants to have you naked and trembling and moaning his name like a prayer, but when he pulls your body against his or rests his forehead against your back, it’s mostly just to make sure that you’re still there, his anxiety about being away from you and losing you calming down just a hair because you’re right fucking here.)

He’s always got those eyes trained on you, watching your every move like a hawk, making shivers roll up your spine no matter how much you get used to the feeling of being observed.

(Being watched while bathing was, admittedly, the most difficult adjustment. He hasn’t forced himself on you – something you’re beyond thankful for - but it’s still jarring to be running the soapy water over your body while he watches from beside the bathtub, his cheeks tinted pink and his voice soft and worryingly husky as he tells you that he’s always loved the scent of your soap, did you know I could smell it back when I used to hug you? That’s why I always put my face against the right side of your neck – you always put extra there. Did you do that for me?)

He’s always talking to you, his voice alternating between teasing with comments that are just a tad bit too sincere to feel like a joke and low and heady, like there’s something on the tip of his tongue that he desperately wants to tell you but just can’t quite force out.

(The compliments he gives you remind you of the old Tooru, but there’s always a certain level of detail added to them that makes your skin crawl – he’ll tell you that you’re so beautiful, your face is perfect, when I sleep it’s all I see…)

It’s scary and weird and his clinginess will have you wanting to scratch your eyes out and claw at him just to get a bit of space, but the reality is that as time passes you’ll slowly grow more and more conflicted about your feelings towards him.

He’s kidnapped you, stolen you away and locked you up away from the rest of the world, and he’s spent countless months collecting fragments of your hair and your old toothbrushes and taken photographs of you and countless other things you’ve yet to discover.

But he treats you well, all things considered, and the more time passes from the kidnapping, your rage slowly cools until all that’s left is an overwhelming pity for the man who claims to love you more than he loves himself.

Because really, isn’t Tooru awfully pathetic?

Isn’t it sad that he needs you so badly that he can’t function unless you’re around, unless he’s felt your touch, unless he’s heard your pretty voice say his name?

Isn’t it pathetic that he keeps you clutched so tightly to his chest at night that you can hardly breath?

You’ll be feeling sorry for him before you even realize it, some part of you desperate to recognize him as your Tooru, as the man you’ve come to love and care for as friends.

Eventually that part of you will win out, and while Tooru feels a bit guilty for having essentially conditioned you into accepting him, it doesn’t really matter – because you want him now. You’re choosing him, accepting him, needing him like he needs you, and that’s really all he could ask for – he just wants you to love him, and while the methodology may be a little dirty, Tooru’s only ever cared about results.

Because when you smile at him again and hesitantly press your lips against his, he swears he’s died and gone to heaven – because you finally, finally want him too.

PUNISHMENTS:

Similarly to his feelings regarding kidnapping you, Tooru isn’t the biggest fan of punishments.

His dependence on you is so strong and so deeply inlaid into his person that harming you just feels wrong, carnally evil in every form of the word. The concept of physically harming you makes him feel sick and his hands immediately rush out to clutch onto you, to tuck you against his chest, to lift a finger to your pulse point to make absolute sure that you’re still with him.

He’s terrified that you’ll somehow die or abandon him, and even just a simple scratch or a light bruise would be too much for Tooru to handle. And so, punishing you is absolutely off the table – his ultimate goal is for you to develop positive feelings for him again, to maybe even love him, after all.

But Tooru is only human, and so while he won’t ever physically lash out at you or force you into any severe, serious punishments (or humiliating ones, luckily enough), he will fall back onto something more subtle, something more purposeful – he’s not necessarily manipulative with you in your day-to-day life, but he’s not embarrassed to play every single card in his favor in order to get you feeling positively disposed towards him, even if he doesn’t deserve it.

It starts off genuinely unintentional - because he really values honesty in your relationship. He wants you to be honest when you’re telling him that you love him, that he’s pretty, that you need him.

He wants things to be real and raw – except, you’re still so angry with him, your eyes so betrayed when you look at him, and it makes him want to rake his nails into his skin because that pain would feel so much better than how your hatred feels.

And so, after the first few times you try to escape the nice penthouse he’s gone through the trouble of decorating with things he knows you love, Tooru starts getting a bit desperate.

Can’t you see that he only stole you away because it was his only choice?

Can’t you understand that he didn’t want to do this, but there was no other way to keep you safe and secure and his?

He starts panicking, terrified that despite all his efforts to be kind and inviting and spoil you (both with material goods and constant affection, though you haven’t asked for either), you still won’t ever return his feelings, or even harbor positive feelings towards him ever again.

And so, with furrowed brows and a sinking feeling in his gut, he turns towards fake tears and only half-true words to get you feeling bad for him, to get you wanting him like he wants you to. Like he needs you to.

Tooru’s initially not sure what to say when he walks through the front entrance of the penthouse.

It’d only been a weekend tournament; a simple Friday, Saturday, Sunday round-robin type event that was a few hours away – nothing horribly long. And yet he’d been so, so eager to return to you, to feel your body against his and hear your voice and smell your scent and just see you that he’d literally sprinted from the car, all the way up fifteen flights of stairs to his apartment.

And this is what he walks in on?

You, with a dull butter knife in your hands, the metal bent and warped while you stare at him with wide eyes and a heaving chest?

It’s painfully obvious what’s going on – you were trying to get the door open, pushing and pulling so hard with the knife that you’d nearly broken it.

You’d nearly broken it trying to get away from him, in other words. His duffel bag drops to the ground, his fingers frozen and trembling as he stares wide eyed at you.

Angel? What – what’s going on?

You don’t respond, too nervous and scared of how he’ll react to make a move. But Tooru recovers first, rushing forward and swatting the knife out of your hand before pulling you into a much too tight hug.

His hands are still shaking as one rubs up and down your back, the other situated on the crown of your head.

Were you trying to leave me?

You start to answer, your lips moving to speak against the fabric of his shirt, but he cuts you off.

Were you trying to get rid of me? To run away from me?

And there’s something in his voice that makes your shoulders shake, a sudden bout of rage simmering through you.

Yes, Tooru, I’m trying to get out of this stupid fucking apartment that you keep me trapped in! Please, you have to let me go, this is wrong! This isn’t right – this isn’t healthy! You have to understand! How do you not-

He cuts you off with a small sob, and although you know you shouldn’t, some part of you pauses for just a fraction of a second. Your voice stalls for just a moment, but Tooru jumps into the brief moment of silence.

Stop it! Stop it, please, don’t say that.

He’s sniffling, pressing his cheeks against your head and clutching you even tighter.

You’re right, I know you’re right. I’m a monster and a freak for doing this to you. I know that, I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry. Please, you don’t understand – I hate that I’ve done this to you. I hate that I’ve made you sad and forced you to stay with me, but you have to understand that I can’t stop.

He sobs again, and you notice his voice is wobbly and something wet is touching your ear.

I can’t stop myself – I can’t stop wanting you and needing you, and I think I would die if I never saw you again. Please understand, I’m pathetic but I need you to stay sane – just, just let me love you like we used to, okay? Please, I promise I can take good care of you – I can make you happy! Just give me some more time…

Something in your chest feels tight at his words, and before you know it you’re reaching around his torso yourself, your movements hesitant as you loosely hug him back. He gasps lightly against your hair, and you can feel him swallow.

I hate you. Your whisper is soft and quiet, and although the words make his chest ache, Tooru smiles.

I love you, he tells you, pressing a kiss against your hair.

You both stay like that for a while, only the distant sound of traffic from many stories below you filling the empty air of the entryway. You don’t know what to say, or even what you could say – Tooru’s a monster, yes, but there’s something about the rawness of him in this moment that makes you yearn and ache for the old Tooru, the one you knew before he started developing this ‘love’ he claims to have for you.

Something about him feels familiar and unbearably sad, and when you pull back and he stares at you, those brown eyes puffy and tear-stained, you can’t find it in yourself to fully pull away.

Because isn’t he still Tooru Oikawa? Isn’t he awfully pathetic? Isn’t it sad how badly he craves you, how his every touch and word and look make you feel as if you were the most precious thing on Earth, as if you were the most prized woman he’s ever met?

It’s wrong and you can hate yourself for it all you want, but as he sniffles and bites his lip and lets his fingers dig into your sides, you won’t be able to deny it: you couldn’t leave him, even if the door was wide open. He’s a monster, sure, but maybe so are you for liking the way you’re so unconditionally needed by someone as famous, beautiful and successful as him.

Meanwhile, Tooru can’t help but internally rejoice at the feeling of you in his arms, at the feeling of you hugging him, and at the knowledge that he can literally see your walls breaking down, getting one step closer to you truly accepting him – to you truly loving him.

Even if the tears he’s manufactured are fake, it doesn’t matter. All that matters is you.

And after the next tournament, when he comes home and you’re lying on the couch reading the same book for the tenth time rather than picking at the locks, Tooru decides that perhaps the show he’d put on (or rather, exaggerated, as he truly was desperate for you to not leave him) was worth it.

Anything for you is worth it – as long as you keep looking at him and touching him and wanting him.

OVERALL DANGER:

6/10

What makes Tooru dangerous is the fact that he’s absolutely dependent on you in every sense of the word. Over time, his self-worth becomes intertwined with your opinion of him, with your presence and role in his life.

He’s not exaggerating or being obnoxious when he tells you that he absolutely needs you – he can’t go for more than a few hours without feeling your skin against his, otherwise he gets anxious and jittery and on edge, snapping at others and pacing and worrying so much that it makes his chest physically ache.

He can’t go more than a few minutes without hearing your voice, otherwise he has to see you and be near you to make sure that you’re still with him, that you haven’t left him or abandoned him or any number of other things. He just needs you, so much so that it honestly scares him.

He’s not particularly violent or condescending, and aside from the kidnapping and forced touching, life with Tooru honestly won’t be so terrible. Sure, he hugs you too tight and kisses you too hard and clings to you in a way that makes your skin crawl, but eventually you’ll grow to become just as dependent as he is on you.

Because when he’s your only human contact, can you really afford to be so picky? When he’s the only one you can see and speak with and feel, you’ll slowly become complacent and even happy when he’s around.

Stockholm Syndrome will eventually make you a willing captive, and Tooru couldn’t be happier – you’re finally treating him as a lover, embracing him and letting him dote on you and care for you, and what more could he really ask for?

You’ll eventually just give up the fight – he’s a pathetic, sad man with such deeply rooted insecurities about himself and his abilities that the pity will nearly drive you mad.

And all the while, Tooru will welcome you with open arms – you can pity him as much as you like, as long as you stay with him.

Please.

#yandere haikyuu #yandere oikawa #_haikyuu #_tooru oikawa #_lee's profiles #yandere tooru oikawa

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nickeverdeen · 10 months ago

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What about five x fem!reader (platonic) where reader brings five to go to her room with her and see something important that she hid there and that could be useful for a mission. While reader is searching for it very focused, five is wandering in her room, seeing her stuff and posters but he stops when he spots some antidepressants between her stuff on the dresser and well... he doesn't know how to feel about that.

Five Hargreeves x fem!reader (platonic) where he finds antidepressants in her room while she’s searching for something

You and Five have a strong platonic bond, built on trust, mutual respect, and understanding

You often collaborate on missions, relying on each other’s skills and abilities to accomplish your goals

Despite your differences, you share a deep connection and enjoy each other’s company

You trusts Five enough to confide in him about personal matters, including the contents of your room

You bring Five to your room to show him something important you hid there for a mission

You are focused on finding the item, rummaging through your belongings with determination

Five follows you into the room, curious about what you’re hiding and eager to assist you

As you search for the hidden item, Five wanders around your room, taking in the surroundings

He notices the posters on your walls, getting a glimpse into your interests and personality

Five’s curiosity leads him to explore further, examining the items on your dresser and shelves

Among your belongings, Five spots a bottle of antidepressants on your dresser

He pauses, feeling a mix of surprise, concern, and curiosity about why you have them

Five wrestles with conflicting emotions, unsure of how to react to this unexpected discovery

Five struggles to reconcile the image of you as his capable friend with the reality of you needing antidepressants

He feels a pang of concern for your well-being, wondering if you’re going through a difficult time

Despite his initial shock, Five respects your privacy and doesn’t pry into your personal life without your consent

Five reminds himself that everyone has their struggles, and it’s not his place to judge or interfere

He silently supports you, recognizing that you may have your reasons for taking antidepressants

Five decides to focus on the mission at hand, trusting that you will confide in him if you need support

Throughout the mission, Five keeps a watchful eye on you, subtly checking in on your well-being

He offers his support in subtle ways, like being an attentive listener and providing encouragement when needed

Five makes a mental note to be there for you if you ever decides to open up about your struggles

The discovery of your antidepressants prompts Five to reflect on your friendship and his role as your friend and teammate

He realizes that there’s more to you than meets the eye and resolves to be more supportive and understanding

Five appreciates the trust you have placed in him and vows to be there for you, no matter what challenges you face

The incident strengthens the bond between you and Five, deepening your friendship and mutual respect

Five learns to appreciate the complexities of human emotions, realizing that vulnerability doesn’t diminish one’s strength

You and Five continue to work together as a team, facing missions with renewed determination and trust

You share a silent understanding that you can rely on each other, both on and off the field

Five feels privileged to have you as a friend and teammate, knowing that you’ll always have each other’s backs

You and Five make a pact to support each other through thick and thin, no matter what challenges you encounter

You understand that true friendship means accepting each other’s flaws and supporting one another through life’s ups and downs

Five’s discovery of your antidepressants serves as a reminder of the importance of empathy, compassion, and understanding in your friendship

Five respects your boundaries and doesn’t bring up the topic of antidepressants unless you choose to discuss it with him

He understands that some things are private and personal, and he doesn’t want to intrude on your privacy

Five trusts that you will reach out to him if you ever needs someone to talk to or lean on for support

You know that you can count on Five to be there for you, even during your darkest moments

Five makes a mental note to check in on you more often, making sure you know that he’s always there to lend an ear or a shoulder to lean on

Despite the initial shock of discovering your antidepressants, Five decides to approach the topic with sensitivity and openness

He subtly broaches the subject during a quiet moment, expressing his concern for your well-being and offering his support

Five assures you that he’s there for you, no matter what you’re going through, and encourages you to lean on him for support if you ever need it

Five gently suggests the idea of seeking professional help or talking to someone trained in mental health support

He emphasizes the importance of self-care and getting the help you need to navigate your emotions and struggles

Through your conversation, you and Five work together to normalize discussions around mental health and remove the stigma associated with seeking help

Five encourages you to build a support network of trusted friends and allies who can offer you additional support and perspective

He emphasizes the importance of surrounding oneself with people who uplift and support them, especially during challenging times

Through your shared experience, you and Five learn that vulnerability can be a source of strength and connection

You bond over your shared struggles and experiences, realizing that you’re stronger together than you are apart

The incident deepens yours and Five’s bond, fostering a sense of trust, understanding, and mutual respect between you two

You’re grateful to have Five by your side, knowing that he’ll always be there for you, no matter what obstacles you face

You and Five emerge from the experience with a renewed sense of purpose and commitment to supporting each other

Five feels grateful to have you in his life, knowing that you bring joy, laughter, and companionship to his world

#request #headcanons #the umbrella academy #five hargreeves #five hargreaves x you #five hargreaves x reader #five hargreeves x reader #five tua #tua five #number five x reader #five x reader #number five

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suzukiblu · 11 months ago

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Beginning of another old YJ animated WIP I just dug back up; cut for length. I had this fic idea back when the first season was still airing (AND IT TURNED OUT TO BE A VERY IRONIC ONE LATER ON, hahaha), and I never got very far with it, buuuuut . . . well, I still kinda wanna write it, so hey, why not revisit the concept!

“We need to talk,” Batman says abruptly, sweeping into the living room like the black crack of night, dark and foreboding and completely out of place during a Saturday afternoon video game marathon. M'gann squeaks and Wally yelps and they both fall off the couch in surprise, taking the popcorn and nearly Artemis with them. Robin startles up so fast anyone who didn't know better would think he was the speedster, Superboy jerks hard enough to make the steel sofa frame creak in protest, and Kaldur stands to careful attention and looks to Batman.

That’s his job, after all.

“Is there a problem with last night's reports?” he asks reflexively, but the aura Batman is cloaked in . . . no. That feeling is not about reports, or their last mission, or anything less than utmost disaster. Robin's fingers scrape along the part of his glove that his computer's holographic screen pops out of in an obvious nervous tic, which Robin is not supposed to have–which Robin goes to great lengths to never have, especially in front of Batman.

But Batman is looking at them with a chilling expression and Kaldur understands that tic better than he wants to, because Batman and bad news that makes him wear an expression . . .

“I'm so sorry,” Batman says as he steps forward and crouches down and sweeps Robin into an embrace, and that fast Robin looks shocked and terrified, and Wally falls right back off the couch he'd just gotten back onto, and M'gann's shaking hands clap over her ears like she's trying to muffle a sound–or trying to block something out of her head, some distant and clinical part of Kaldur thinks. And with Batman out of the way, he sees his king standing in the hall just outside the doorway with the Flash, his own expression tight and just barely pained.

Kaldur’s heart sinks like a stone.

“Who died,” Robin says, panic in his voice, small and just thirteen, fingers digging in against Batman's shoulders. The Flash darts into the room and looks down at Wally with this horrible, sorrowful look on his face and pulls him to his feet, gripping his hands tightly in his own.

King Orin does not move from the hallway and does not change that blade-sharp pained expression that cuts into the core of everything that Kaldur has ever served or believed in, and does not stop looking at him with it.

It is not difficult to understand Robin's reaction, with his king looking at him like that.

“Batman?” Robin says, young and afraid, and Batman is still holding him smother-tight and does not speak. “Batman, what–Br–say something!” he yells, but Batman just shifts and drags him even tighter against himself, tight enough so Robin vanishes inside his cape. If not for the low whimper he hears from beneath its dark folds, Kaldur would almost think he wasn't there at all; that Batman was simply injured and curled in around himself to protect the wound.

And Batman still does not say anything. Neither does the Flash, even as he grips Wally's hands tighter in his own, even as he stays horrible and sorrowful, and Kaldur can only look to his king because there is nowhere else.

But his king says nothing either.

“Guardian called from Cadmus,” the Flash says finally, quietly, watching Wally as he speaks. Kaldur feels very young, suddenly and irrationally; as young as his teammates all look right now, as young as Robin sounds. He has enough time to feel a flash of alarm for Superboy–what if there was a flaw in the cloning process, what if something is wrong with–“They found something on sublevel 53.”

“There wasn't a sublevel 53,” Robin says, voice cracked and sharp like a broken toy, and Batman . . .

Kaldur will swear it on his own life: Batman flinches.

“There wasn't!” Robin snaps, struggling in Batman's grip and breaking out from beneath his cape, defiant and still terrified and oh, he is so small, Kaldur thinks as he watches the other boy stumble back, hit the sofa and try to disappear into his own much too small cape. “I would've seen it, I would've found it–”

“Most likely Desmond had that memory adjusted,” King Orin cuts in shortly, and Robin grins in horror.

“Wh–but Supey got the G-gnomes to let us go, they were barely in our heads at all!” Wally protests, yanking his hands out of the Flash's. His edges look blurred–Kaldur thinks he might be trembling. He feels as if he should be himself. They have faced terrible things in their lives, all of them, but the way that his king is looking at him in this moment . . .

It’s a very, very terrible thing, that look.

“Superboy lost line of sight on the targets before acquiring them,” Batman says, short and sharp. Kaldur blinks, slowly, thinking, that's strange, why should that matter? Thinking, WHAT targets? Superboy didn't have targets in Cadmus. The only thing he had to do was help them fight Desmond and help them . . . get . . .

“I don't get it,” Artemis says, frowning warily, and Batman's lips thin and M'gann covers her too-pale face with hands that won't stay quite the right shape.

“The source material for Project Sidekick was put in stasis and transferred to storage. There was a power surge this morning that interrupted the sedative dose,” King Orin says as he finally steps into the room, quiet and grief-sharpened. “The genomorphs heard Kaldur'ahm trying to wake up half an hour ago.”

“Oh,” not-Kaldur realizes, and sits back down.

#young justice animated #young justice #wip: project sidekick

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luboy7rt · 7 months ago

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After Mission Drinks - Keegan P. Russ x GN!Teammate Reader

(A bit of angst, no happy ending, sorry, feel free to ask for one though and I might write a part 2? Keegan and teammate Reader have feelings but they are on the same team and both know it is indeed against the rules to be in a relationship with someone on their team.) (I tried only using you/your pronouns)

Keegan was quiet as usual as he sighed, Hesh had gotten shit-faced during a celebration bar trip, poor Elias and Logan attempting to ‘ease’ him so they left early. Just him, Merrick, Kick, and you now. Less people to worry about as he sipped his beer, Kick and him were placing ‘bets’ on what would happen next between some woman and her boyfriend..? Keegan assumed he was her boyfriend with the way they were bickering. Kick placed down a bet that he was willing to pay for a whole round if they broke up by the end of the night after he caught the guy checking out another girl. Keegan bet against it though, it was a simple glance, after all, the guy hadn't done anything that bad. Keegan glanced away from the fight to an agitated Merrick, who seemed ready to leave, having had spent enough hours at the bar. “..Getting ready to leave already?”. Keegan pondered under his breath, adjusting his mask over his nose, as he glanced over at you as if to question if you were also leaving.

“Hm?” You glanced away from the fight, zoning into the conversation while making eye contact with Keegan. A bit too intense for the many years you both have known each other. You held it for another beat of silence before breaking it to look at Merrick who spoke and Kick who was also shit-faced and stumbling.

“Fuck yeah. Thinkin’ about heading off now. Text me when you all are finished, I'll pick you up” Merrick offered, as he was one of the designated drivers tonight, seeing as Elias had already left. Merrick was their best shot at getting back to the barracks tonight. Kick shot up to go join the other man, claiming something in incoherent drunkenness for Merrick to come back, placing five bucks..? Five bucks wouldn’t cover a round but Kick placed it on the table for Keegan. Who simply slipped it into his wallet, he wasn’t paying for a round but he would indeed keep the five.

“Yeah, Thanks” You waved him off to busy peeking your head noticing everyone was now gone, leaving just you and Keegan. “...My entertainment…” You murmured under your breath, everyone leaving meant not seeing any more stupidity between them, like Logan and Hesh getting shit faced and babbling on about their childhood stuffed toy that Elias 'kidnapped’ years prior, and Elias just sighing at his sons’ dramaticness (Elias didn’t even kidnap the toy, one of those two lost it and refused to admit such a thing).

“If that's your entertainment I think you need a hobby” Keegan deadpanned to you, cracking his neck as he waved Merrick and Kick off, the bar suddenly seemed dimmer, as if all the lights faded softly as you became his main focus, as he chuckled quietly under his breath. The bartender had shifted away from the two of you to go serve other customers.

“I have hobbies. Something about you tells me you don't” You raised an eyebrow under your mask, glancing over Keegan's form. Earning a look from Keegan, You were basically saying Keegan didn't have a life outside of being a soldier… which was maybe true but you didn't have to say it like that.

“Oh yeah? Bold coming from you.” The two of you made eye contact once again, as Keegan traced the edge of the glass he was drinking out of, his gloved hand grazing over it as if to capture your attention who took a deep breath. As you two didn't cut eye contact, like a million times before.. You both held it deeply. Both of you knew… subtly that your relationship was.. complicated.

The secret looks, glances, how well you both truly know each other after so many years of working together, the bond and trust you both have built up together. Just.. everything was so difficult. Keegan was the first to break away, deciding he didn't want to stare into your pretty eyes for too long. You kicked him out of his thoughts, your leg nudging Keegan's under the bar stool, quite harshly actually. “You're in your mind again” You ‘informed’ him, as rested your hand on Keegan's shoulder. “Whatcha thinkin’ about?” You questioned him gently, settling comfortably where you sat, your hand pulling Keegan's shoulder to face each other once again.

“Nothing. Don't you have a drink to finish?” Keegan huffed back quietly, forcing his face back into his own drink, faking being distracted by drinking as if to not answer your question. You only rolled your eyes in response but did pick up your drink once again, your hand slipping off Keegan's shoulder, painfully slow as Keegan stiffened.

You both were always like that, back and forth, snide comments, maybe even subtly flirting. Yet you both had a tension that could only be seen as romantic interest in one another, it made Keegan's blood boil. How could he fall for a teammate, you both knew the rules. Yeah, Task Force Stalker bent the rules sometimes on missions and shit, but never like this… Keegan knew he would never have the guts to.. do anything with this knowledge.

Keegan’s hand grazed your own hand as you both attempted to grab the water on the counter. Your gloved knuckles brushing over each other, both of your breaths catching in your throats and you both made eye contact once again, staring into each other's eyes without a word between you, neither having the voice or words to say anything. But.. they both knew, you knew. You both knew how you felt about each other yet over the decade you have known each other you both never once voiced it and never will.

“..Are you alright?” You asked, tilting your head as you leaned forward against the bar counter as Keegan took a swig at the beer, his heart.. racing? That was new. He needed to end it, thinking of anything to do so, imagining you doing something downright embarrassing or stupid to try and lose feelings. This never worked though, and never will.

“Yeah, yeah.” Keegan scoffed back, crossing his legs over each other as he sorta.. blocked you out. Why did it have to be you? was all Keegan could think about, his eyebrows furring as he did so, eyes glaring at the counter of the bar. Keegan knew the rules well, no romantic/sexual relationships with teammates. It was a fair rule, rules were needed within the military's strict protocols, and it could put a lot at risk.

Keegan knew he would never voice his thoughts to you or anyone in this world. He was willing to take this ‘confession’ to his deathbed. But… It was comforting to know you might feel the same way, your fingers still touching, but it was hidden by Keegan’s jacket that rested on top of it… How you both hesitantly took your hands off each other when someone came too close, it was almost painful when your fingertips grazed over his own, yet you both backed away when you and Keegan deemed it inappropriate.

Were you both... Content? No. Keegan wasn't content, he wasn't actually sure how you felt. The man was hard to read, well over the years, it had gotten quite hard for you to understand Keegan. Maybe it was these feelings clouding his judgment. Keegan… wanted more, so much more. He wanted you.. but for now? He was willing to simply be your battle buddy until the end. Perhaps in another lifetime, you both would be something more.. permanent, but for now. You were only co-workers and friends, you will never be more. Keegan swallowed deeply at the thought of it all, a bit of sweat dripping under his masked jaw, he was.. even hesitant to lock your pinkies together, yet he did it as it seemed.. natural. Keegan's lips thinned into a straight line as he frowned as he felt like his heart hurt... But you both knew you would never do more than these unspoken acts and glances.

(NOTE: Please Do not repost my work on this site or any other site, I prefer this stays to my account only, thank you, and feel free to comment, reblog, or like though!)

(I know this isn't like my usual content (As I usually post headcanons, but I felt like writing a one-shot, I'll be back to posting my usual content soon, this is my first time writing a full story-ish thing, so feel free to give advice! Thank you, it would be welcomed. :)

#Cod ghosts x reader #Keegan Russ x gn reader #Keegan Russ x male reader #Keegan Russ x female reader #Keegan Russ x reader #Cod x reader #Call of duty x gn reader #Call of duty x male reader #Call of duty x female reader #Cod x gn reader #Cod x male reader #Cod x female reader #keegan russ headcanons #Keegan Russ / reader #call of duty x reader #call of duty ghosts #keegan russ cod #cod ghosts

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cuso4tong · 5 months ago

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I used the astrolabe to analyze the mclennon relationship.

I use john's astrolabe as the main disk, I haven't learned astrolabe very long, so my skills are not very good, please forgive me. In addition, my English is not very good, so I rely a lot on translation software, so my sentences may not be very smooth.🥺🤲

Sun Pisces: john has a high level filter on paul, will be crazy to give, have fantasies about each other, but will have a showman personality when it comes to getting along

Moon Virgo: will analyze each other's behavior according to various details, relatively pessimistic about feelings, Yan control, while scolding while loving, the longer two people get along, the more they can't run away

Lilith Taurus: (john's darkest side) is possessive, very materialistic and enjoys greed

Ascendance Scorpio: Manipulative, wants to sleep with paul when he's upset, but also very clever, wants to torture him

The sun in the 4th house: there is the idea of wanting to marry each other, and this phase is more like accompanying family members and partners for life, rather than simple lovers falling in love

Moon in the 10th house: feel that you can learn from each other, and want to marry each other.

Jupiter in the 6th house: Think that each other is a good teammate, two people support each other and cooperate, each other's behavior can heal themselves

Saturn in the 6th house: enthusiasm to help each other, but deny each other's efforts, always think that the other party can not reach their own standards, think that the other party's talent is not as good as their own, just through the day after tomorrow to make up for some

Lilith in the 6th House: Hope that the other person can serve themselves, john does not want to pay

Chiron in the 8th House :john is a typical lack of love, emotional distortion and difficult to get true emotional satisfaction

Sun Moon Chong: john has low self-esteem and conceals his thoughts. He obviously cares about (loved) a lot, but maybe because of some very, very small misunderstanding, he directly thinks that paul's character is wrong and can't get along with him anymore, and he directly refuses to listen to the other side's explanation

The sun and the king of Heaven: a reality, a fantasy, because of practical reasons (after having their own inner ideal, dream) to take the initiative to withdraw

Sun to Sea King: john deludes himself, addicted to each other's body, smell, and confused about the relationship between the two people

The moon hits Venus: john thinks he loves but cannot, paul has no emotional feedback, so he denies the relationship and feels that the other side does not understand him

Moon over Mars: Possessive, impulsive, will talk passionately with paul endlessly, and strong sexual attraction, want to do crazy with each other

Moon and Jupiter: very spoil each other, willing to spend a lot of money, two people get along with the way is soulmate

Moon over Saturn: john is emotionally dependent on each other and has low self-esteem to suppress his emotions

Venus and Mars: Very emmm aspect, strong sexual attraction, very want to sleep with each other

Venus and Jupiter: john will be tolerated by paul in many places, he thinks paul is his noble person, and john is willing to explode gold coins. The two people get along very happily

Venus and Saturn: The relationship between two people has a sense of contract, paul is very exclusive to john, but john is more confident with this

Mars over Jupiter: john thinks paul is very passionate, the two enjoy sex, and john is a little religious

Jupiter and Saturn: john believes that paul's happiness comes from realizing his ideal, pursuing a sense of accomplishment, and making his ideal come true. He thinks paul is a man with a plan

#mclennon #beatles #john and paul #astrology

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ineylesian · 1 year ago

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i’ve seen a lot of cod hc posts on tiktok recently- the ones about ghost are just???? so many people are saying he’d be an outright abusive partner and since you’re really good at writing him i just wanted to know what you think.

yeah, i’ve definitely seen my fair share of them too.

in the new, reboot version of modern warfare two, simon “ghost” riley does not have a cannon past. the 2009 version is what many people look to as ghost has a series of comics dedicated to his story, which include many clauses that can be used to make headcanons. i’m about to display some of what are technically my own headcanons here, but i want to debate certain points made about ghosts based on logic.

“GHOST WOULD BE ABUSIVE.”

— ghost would not be an abuser. he is a man built off of the horrors induced by his father and wants to be nothing like him. ghost lets old habits die hard along with his father, and wouldn’t dream of laying a hand on anyone he cares about. it’s not his style, at all. any and all pent up violence he holds against his upbringing is taken out on his enemies.

“GHOST DOESN’T CARE ABOUT OTHERS.”

— many people say ghost doesn’t care for others’ emotions whatsoever. this can be proved false, considering how he develops quite a bit of altruism throughout reboot mw2, as we can see in missions like “alone” and the cutscene “no one fights alone.” ghost is very capable of providing support to those he sees struggling and cares about the welfare of those close to him. he even decides to humor soap in “alone”, he knows his teammate is in a rough place and tries to help him relax out of free will. we can also see this point dispelled in the ghost comics, as simon willingly helps pull his brother out of addiction and helps him get his life together.

“GHOST WOULDN’T TOUCH ANYONE OR LET ANYONE TOUCH HIM.”

— something that’s on the more difficult side to discern is whether ghost allows himself to be touched/and or touches others. in the ghost comics, he was violated many times, which, in my opinion, falls into line with things more related to sexual trauma. ghost doesn’t serve much of a reaction when he‘s touched in the reboot, rather it seems he’s just not used to it happening. many people think ghost is horrifying and want to stay as far away from him as possible, which is why he isn’t touched often. as for others, i think it would take a while before he’s comfortable with the idea of casual touch, as adding to the last point, not many people get that close. being social isn’t something ghost is super big on, so he wouldn’t touch others unless he’s sure the timing is appropriate and they’d be alright with it.

“GHOST WOULD NEVER BE IN A RELATIONSHIP.”

— being in a relationship with ghost takes a lot of encouragement. this is something beyond causal ideals, which opens an entirely new door in his head. ghost does not allow many people to get close to him, choosing to act closed off to prevent others from finding too much out. he doesn’t talk much, so the effort of others to peruse him is uncommon. however, if you happen to find him intriguing and push, he wouldn’t be so fast to shut you down. of course, people genuinely wanting to get to know him is a rare concept, and he’ll be quizzical as to why you’d choose him to talk to out of everyone else. he might even ask you why, and if you decide to flatter him, he might just laugh.

— building a relationship with ghost requires a lot of trust, and frankly, he has to be sure you’re not trying to stab him in the back (if we’re consulting the comics, this has happened numerous times). ghost believes in actions over words; throwing yourself in the line of fire for others means so much more than promises. when he’s sure he can trust you, prepare to be accompanied by him a lot more often.

— something i definitely agree with that i see on some headcannon videos is what happens after ghost commits to a relationship. there’s no magic light switch that turns on in his brain when he becomes someone’s partner, and he treats life the same way that he usually does for a while. having had such a rough childhood, ghost most likely wasn’t interested in relationships as he wasn’t stable enough to handle them. because of this, he’s not entirely sure where his duties lie and has to learn that it’s more than just loyalty that brings two people together. when ghost sees how happy you are to simply be around him, he makes an effort to see you more. the fact that you care about what he thinks touches him, and he learns to be more social outside of the field because of it. it takes a lot of time and built trust for him to be open to things like taking his mask off and sleeping in the same bed, but he’s definitely capable of it, just as he’s capable of being a human being, as many people fail to see.

#arqhms #🐚 arqhmssummer23 #call of duty modern warfare #simon ghost riley #ghost mw2 #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley #ghost x reader #cod mw22 #simon riley x you #simon riley headcanons #ghost headcanons #simon ghost riley headcanons #simon ghost riley x you

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justtrash202 · 1 month ago

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Teenager! Nigel Uno

Building off the Teenage! Sector V headcanon, here’s my take on Nigel as a teenager.

These headcanons reflect my personal interpretation of him—his personality, style, relationships, and how his childhood traits have evolved over time. This is something I’ve been working on for a while, and I’m excited to share it! I hope you enjoy this little glimpse into my version of Teenage Nigel. (This will be updated as it develops ^^')

Appearance: Nigel is 5'4 1/2" with a lean, wiry frame that complements his sharp and composed demeanor. His smooth, fair skin and slightly pale complexion reflect his focused and disciplined nature. His iconic bald head remains unchanged, serving as a timeless and distinctive feature. Nigel's outfit exudes a balance of maturity and practicality: he wears a red button-up shirt, neatly tucked into khaki pants, and pairs it with a black, unbuttoned blazer that adds a sense of authority. A black belt with a gray buckle provides a polished touch, while his black loafers, a sleek upgrade from his childhood brown ones, complete the look. Adding to his refined style, Nigel sports a black wristwatch with a gray face on his left arm—a subtle detail that hints at his meticulous attention to time and detail, as well as the possibility of hidden KND tech for quick access. Finally, his iconic black sunglasses rest confidently on his face, symbolizing his sharp, strategic mindset and adding an air of mystery to his presence.

Personality: As a teenager, Nigel has matured into a more composed and thoughtful version of his younger self while retaining his serious and determined nature. His time in the Galactic Kids Next Door (GKND) has deepened his sense of compassion, balancing his once rigid, all-business demeanor. While his leadership skills remain sharp, he’s learned to approach challenges with patience and measured judgment, valuing teamwork and support. Nigel is no longer as high-strung, focusing on nurturing those around him while still pursuing his goals with determination. Now a more approachable and empathetic leader, he listens before speaking, knowing when to be stern and when to offer reassurance. Though still a meticulous strategist, his experiences have shaped him into a leader who leads through understanding as much as intellect.

Headcanons

Obsessive Organizer: Nigel thrives on order and precision. He organizes his day with color-coded schedules, to-do lists, and planners to balance his school, GKND, and personal life. His friends often tease him for being too rigid, unable to adapt when things don’t go as planned. Despite their jokes, Nigel firmly believes his structure is essential to his success, helping him control every aspect of his life.

Struggles with Relaxation: For Nigel, relaxing feels unnatural. His idea of unwinding usually involves reading strategy books or planning hypothetical missions, which is more work than relaxation. His friends encourage him to take it easy, but Nigel struggles to stop working. He feels guilty when not being productive, making it difficult for him to relax, whether it’s watching TV or hanging out without feeling like he’s wasting time.

Takes School Too Seriously: Nigel feels the weight of academic pressure as the only Sector V member in a private school. He throws himself into studying, debates, and academic competitions, earning praise from teachers but eye-rolls from his friends. While his friends try to get him to relax, Nigel sees school as a competition for self-improvement, where perfection is expected. His intensity often makes him seem out of place socially.

Gravity Mishaps: Despite his intelligence, Nigel often underestimates gravity’s effects. After spending time in space, he forgets the physical limitations of Earth. Whether throwing objects too hard or trying zero-gravity stunts, his overconfidence leads to mishaps. His teammates find his gravity mistakes both hilarious and endearing, but they often lead to embarrassing situations. Nigel’s lack of awareness creates funny moments that highlight his occasional overestimation of his abilities.

Respected by Teachers, Feared by Peers: At school, Nigel earns respect from teachers for his intelligence, leadership, and work ethic, becoming a role model. However, his sharp wit, no-nonsense attitude, and high standards for others often make him intimidating to peers. They tend to avoid him unless necessary, finding his expectations overwhelming. Despite this, Nigel remains committed to doing things the right way, even if it means distancing himself from his classmates.

Still Hates Swimming: Despite all his space adventures, Nigel’s dislike of swimming remains. The unpredictability of water makes him uneasy, and he avoids swimming unless absolutely necessary. His aversion is a running joke among his friends, who try to convince him to embrace swimming, but Nigel stays firm in his resistance. Swimming still causes him more anxiety than any space mission, making it an ongoing challenge for him.

Student Council President: As president of the student council, Nigel takes his duties seriously. He views the role as valuable leadership training, similar to his experience in the GKND. He applies his meticulous planning and strategic thinking to governance, aiming to make a real difference. His dedication often clashes with peers who see the position as a title, but for Nigel, it’s a serious responsibility he takes to heart.

Advisor to Kuki and Abby: Though not part of the Teens Next Door, Nigel lends his expertise to Kuki and Abby when needed. He offers tactical advice, plans, and guidance from his extensive GKND experience. His strategic approach is invaluable, even if his calculated methods frustrate them at times. Despite his serious nature, he enjoys helping the girls, even if it means stepping into dangerous situations with them.

Keeps a Tactical Notebook: Nigel always carries a small, worn notebook filled with strategies, mission ideas, and personal observations. This notebook is his personal database, a habit formed from his GKND days. He uses it for everything, from school notes to potential threats, keeping track of everything that might matter. His friends joke that he’s a walking encyclopedia, but to Nigel, it’s an essential tool for staying prepared.

Trouble Adjusting to Earth's Simplicities: After years in space, Nigel often struggles with simple Earth tasks like using a phone, cooking, or driving. He asks his friends for help, which they find both amusing and endearing. His lack of familiarity with basic conveniences highlights his time away from Earth’s routines. While his friends enjoy teasing him, they’re also happy to help him adapt to the little things he missed out on.

Excels in Academics: Nigel excels academically, consistently ranking at the top of his class. He pours his energy into studying, competing in academic events, and impressing teachers with his knowledge. However, this makes him a target for teasing, particularly from Wally, who calls him a “teacher’s pet.” Though he’s often mocked, Nigel takes pride in his academic achievements, seeing them as part of what sets him apart from others.

Keeps a Photo of Sector V: Nigel keeps a weathered photo of Sector V in his locker, a reminder of the bonds and experiences that shaped his childhood. This photo symbolizes his roots, reminding him of the loyalty and friendship at the heart of his leadership. Whenever school life gets overwhelming, Nigel looks at it for comfort and motivation, reaffirming that his leadership is built on trust and shared adventures.

Can’t Cook to Save His Life: Despite his intelligence and abilities, Nigel’s cooking skills are non-existent. He once tried cooking for Lizzie, but it ended in disaster, with a mess in the kitchen and an inedible meal. Lizzie kindly suggested they order pizza instead, and this mishap became a running joke. Although Nigel dislikes admitting it, he knows he’s better off leaving cooking to others and sticking to takeout.

Second to Get His Driver’s License: Nigel, second only to Abby, earned his driver’s license with his typical thoroughness. He studied the rules, practiced diligently, and passed the test flawlessly. However, his methodical driving style isn’t thrilling for his friends. He follows every rule, checks mirrors, and drives well within speed limits, earning teasing from Wally about his slow pace. Despite the jabs, Nigel believes safety and precision are far more important than speed.

Designated Driver: As the responsible one in the group, Nigel often takes on the role of the designated driver. While he doesn’t mind this responsibility, he secretly wishes his friends would let him enjoy the night too, without always relying on him to drive. His friends know they can count on him to get them home safely, but Nigel longs for a chance to relax and not always be the responsible one.

Has a Secret Sweet Tooth: Nigel’s disciplined, health-conscious nature hides a secret—he has a sweet tooth. Despite his usual resistance to indulgence, he can’t resist cookies, ice cream, or sugary treats. Kuki often catches him sneaking sweets when he thinks no one is looking. It’s a small guilty pleasure that Nigel rarely admits to, but when stressed, a few cookies or ice cream bring a rare, contented smile to his face.

Relationship with Lizzie: Nigel and Lizzie have a complex but enduring relationship. Their on-and-off dynamic has tested them both, but over time, they’ve learned to understand each other like no one else. Lizzie helps Nigel relax when he gets caught up in work, while he provides structure and focus for her. Though challenging, their deep connection and respect make them stronger individuals, committed to their unique bond.

Struggles with Emotional Vulnerability: Despite his emotional maturity, Nigel struggles with vulnerability, especially about his fears. As a leader, he’s used to being composed and strong, which makes admitting weakness hard. However, Lizzie offers a safe space for him to open up, albeit slowly. He’s learning to embrace vulnerability with trusted individuals, though it’s a continual process for him, one he’s committed to improving.

Coffee Enthusiast: Nigel has developed a passion for coffee, treating it as a hobby rather than just a caffeine fix. He experiments with different beans and brewing methods, always on the lookout for the perfect cup. Lizzie supports his interest, enjoying visits to coffee shops with him. Though she doesn't share his passion, she encourages his experiments, and he enjoys the ritual that coffee has become for him.

Coffee as a Reward: After a tough day or challenging task, Nigel rewards himself with his favorite coffee. It’s a small indulgence that allows him to relax and recharge. Lizzie knows that, when stressed, a good cup of coffee is the best way to help him unwind. Whether it's black coffee or a complex brew, Nigel savors these moments, acknowledging his hard work and taking time to rest.

Fluent in Five Languages: Nigel is fluent in five languages: English, Spanish, French, German, and Italian. His interest in language began as a way to connect with different cultures but became a lasting passion. He enjoys watching foreign films, reading international books, and conversing with people in their native languages. His linguistic skills provide him with a unique perspective, helping him understand the world in a way few others can.

Not Great at Small Talk: Although Nigel excels at formal speeches, he struggles with small talk. As student council president, he’s comfortable addressing groups, but casual conversations make him awkward. He prefers discussing ideas, strategies, and plans, which sometimes makes him appear distant. While his friends appreciate his focus and intensity, they know he’s more suited to structured conversations than spontaneous chats about everyday topics like the weather.

More Self-Aware: Nigel is becoming more aware of how his pursuit of excellence affects his relationships. He’s realizing that his drive for perfection can distance him from friends like Wally, who sometimes feel overlooked. While still learning to balance his ambition with personal connections, Nigel is committed to improving his relationships. He’s beginning to understand that success is not just about achievement but also the strength of the bonds he shares.

Not Into Sports, But Active: While not interested in traditional team sports, Nigel keeps active through individual activities like yoga and running. These exercises help him maintain both physical fitness and mental clarity, providing calm and focus. He enjoys the solitude they offer, allowing him to clear his mind and concentrate on personal goals. Nigel values discipline and mindfulness, preferring these activities over the chaos of team sports.

Decent at Texting: Nigel is a thoughtful texter, taking his time to craft well-considered responses. He avoids one-word replies, instead favoring clear, concise communication. He rarely uses emojis, seeing them as distracting, and prefers to stick to the point. While his friends might find his style dry, they understand it reflects his focused, purposeful approach to communication. For Nigel, text messages are about getting information across efficiently.

Reluctant Socializer: Nigel enjoys spending time with close friends but dislikes large social gatherings. He prefers intimate hangouts where meaningful connections can be made, and he avoids crowds. Hosting a party or mingling with many people makes him uncomfortable. Instead, he enjoys quiet nights with friends, working on projects or having deep conversations. For Nigel, it’s not about the number of people but the quality of relationships.

Picky Eater: Despite his adventurous experiences, Nigel is surprisingly picky with food. He prefers simple, familiar meals like pasta, sandwiches, and pizza, avoiding anything too exotic. His friends often tease him about his limited tastes, but Nigel sticks to what he knows. He doesn’t enjoy trying new foods unless he’s sure he’ll like them. His pickiness is part of his unique personality, and though it’s a quirk, his friends accept it.

Trivia Master: Nigel is a trivia master, always ready with an obscure fact or bit of knowledge. Whether about history, science, or languages, he’s full of random information, which comes in handy during social situations. His friends often joke that he’s a walking encyclopedia, and although it can be overwhelming, it’s one of the traits that define Nigel. He uses trivia to keep conversations going and break awkward silences.

Always Second to Last Show Up: Nigel’s punctuality is a bit of a joke among his friends. He’s always the second-last to arrive at events, often caught up in tasks or projects. His focus on work leads him to lose track of time, though he’s always quick to lecture others about being late. Despite his timing quirks, his friends have learned to accept it. His lectures, however, continue, even if he doesn’t follow his own advice.

No Nicknames: Unlike others, Nigel avoids nicknames, preferring to address people formally by their first or last names. He reserves this formality for everyone, except Wally, whom he calls by his full name, and Abby. For Nigel, it’s about keeping things professional. His friends know this is just part of who he is—no nicknames, just straightforward interactions, even if it makes him stand out in a group full of casual, nickname-heavy relationships.

Word-Based Intimidation: While not physically imposing, Nigel is incredibly skilled with his words. He can reduce someone’s confidence to nothing with a well-placed comment, using his sharp wit to control conversations. Whether exposing embarrassing details or manipulating a situation, Nigel’s verbal prowess makes him formidable. He doesn’t need to resort to physical strength; his ability to turn a conversation in his favor is often enough to leave a lasting impact.

Secret Helper: Nigel prefers working behind the scenes, quietly supporting his friends without seeking recognition. If a friend is struggling, he’s the first to step in and fix the issue without anyone knowing. Whether covering a shortfall in a fundraiser or taking care of a problem, he ensures his friends succeed, though they often don’t realize the extent of his contributions. He finds satisfaction in being the unseen force behind their achievements.

Minimal Affection: Nigel shows his affection through small, subtle actions rather than grand displays. He’s not one for hugs or public proclamations of love, preferring instead to demonstrate his care with a pat on the back or a quiet gesture. While not overtly affectionate, his actions speak volumes. Those close to him understand that these subtle expressions are his way of showing love and support, even if they’re not grand or obvious.

Dislikes Surprises: Nigel doesn’t like surprises. He thrives on structure and predictability, so unexpected changes unsettle him. If a plan is altered or something unexpected happens, it causes him stress. His friends know that giving him a heads-up about surprises can help avoid anxiety. He prefers to know what’s coming, and surprises feel like disruptions to his carefully planned life. It’s not about controlling everything—it’s about comfort in structure.

Quietly Competitive: Nigel is competitive, though it’s often not immediately obvious. He enjoys proving himself, and when others underestimate him, it fuels his desire to succeed. It’s not about winning for glory, but about showing his capability. He can get frustrated if someone doubts his abilities, and while he might seem reserved, his competitive nature is strong. It’s a quiet drive, one that pushes him to meet challenges head-on, even in subtle ways.

A Bit of a Perfectionist: Nigel is a perfectionist, always striving for the highest standards in everything he does. Whether it’s academic work, missions, or personal projects, he expects excellence from himself. This desire for perfection often leads to frustration, especially when things don’t go as planned. He’s his toughest critic, constantly pushing himself to do better. While this mindset drives him to succeed, it can also create pressure, leading to moments of dissatisfaction when results fall short.

Very Protective: Though he doesn’t always show it, Nigel is fiercely protective of his friends, especially those closest to him, like Lizzie. He’ll go to great lengths to ensure their safety, whether it’s covering for them, taking risks, or handling difficult situations. He’s not impulsive but will take calculated steps to keep them out of harm’s way. His loyalty runs deep, and while he may not make a big display, his protectiveness is always present when needed.

Not a Morning Person: Nigel is not a morning person. He’s groggy, grumpy, and generally uninterested in having long conversations when he first wakes up. He likes quiet mornings and needs some time to process before engaging with others. It’s best to leave him alone for the first half hour after he wakes up, as he’s not ready for interactions. His mood improves as the day progresses, but mornings are usually marked by his need for solitude.

Dislikes Compliments: Compliments make Nigel uncomfortable. He doesn’t seek recognition or validation, preferring to focus on the task at hand rather than basking in praise. If someone compliments him, he’ll often deflect it or redirect attention back to the work. It’s not about humility—he simply prefers to let his actions speak for themselves rather than engage in self-promotion or recognition, which he finds unnecessary and distracting from his goals.

Reluctant to Ask for Help: Despite being a capable leader, Nigel prefers handling problems on his own. Asking for help feels like a weakness to him, though he’s learning that it’s okay to lean on others. He only asks for assistance when he trusts someone deeply, knowing they can handle the task without judgment. Even then, it’s not easy for him to admit that he needs support, but he’s gradually realizing it’s a natural part of leadership.

Sarcastic Sense of Humor: Nigel’s humor is dry and sarcastic, and often goes over the heads of his friends. He delivers witty comments with deadpan precision, adding to the humor. While some might not catch on right away, those who do enjoy his wit appreciate the way he uses sarcasm to lighten the mood. His humor helps diffuse tension during difficult moments, though it’s often layered with subtlety, making it a unique form of expression for him.

Nigel relationship

Sector V

Hoagie (Numbuh 2): Hoagie and Nigel share a bond that goes beyond friendship—it’s a brotherhood forged through years of teamwork, shared experiences, and mutual respect. While their personalities differ—Hoagie’s laid-back, inventive nature contrasting with Nigel’s focused and serious leadership style—they complement each other perfectly. Hoagie’s inventive genius often helps Nigel find solutions to problems that would otherwise seem insurmountable, and Nigel’s leadership brings structure to Hoagie’s creative chaos. They’ve seen each other through thick and thin, having fought side by side in countless battles. Hoagie is not just Nigel’s best friend, but his emotional anchor, someone who makes him laugh, challenges his thinking, and helps him stay grounded. Though they occasionally clash in their approaches to leadership, their bond is unbreakable, and they always have each other’s backs when it matters most.

Kuki (Numbuh 3): Nigel has always seen Kuki as a younger sister, someone he’s protective of but also incredibly fond of. Her free-spirited, vibrant personality brings light and joy to their sometimes serious and stressful environment, and Nigel often finds himself balancing her impulsiveness with his own more calculated and strategic nature. While he appreciates Kuki’s infectious enthusiasm, he feels a strong sense of responsibility toward her well-being, always making sure she’s safe and that her sometimes reckless actions don’t put her in danger. Despite their differences—Kuki’s playful nature versus his serious approach to leadership—Nigel deeply cares for her and often serves as both a guide and protector, stepping in when things get too chaotic for her. Their sibling-like relationship is one of unwavering support and loyalty, and Kuki knows she can count on Nigel when she needs him most.

Wally (Numbuh 4): Nigel’s relationship with Wally is rooted in mutual respect, trust, and a shared history. While Wally and Nigel have very different personalities—Wally’s fiery, impulsive nature often clashes with Nigel’s more methodical approach to leadership—they share an unspoken bond that goes beyond just friendship or teamwork. Their connection is one of deep understanding, built on years of working together and facing challenges as a team. Wally, like Hoagie, is one of Nigel’s closest allies, but their relationship is also more professional due to their shared roles as leaders. Despite their occasional disagreements or differences in approach, Nigel trusts Wally implicitly, knowing that when it comes down to it, Wally will always have his back and vice versa. There is an unspoken communication between them, an understanding that they don’t need to explain everything in words because they know each other so well. Their bond is one of respect, loyalty, and a shared commitment to the mission.

Abigail (Numbuh 5): Nigel shares a strong, sibling-like bond with Abigail, who he sees as one of his closest allies. Her level-headedness and practicality offer him the grounding he often needs, especially when he becomes overly focused on the intensity of his duties as a leader. In many ways, Abigail is his voice of reason, offering advice that helps him balance the weight of leadership with the everyday challenges they face. Their dynamic is rooted in mutual respect, trust, and a shared sense of responsibility for the team. While their personalities may differ, they have a deep understanding of one another, and Nigel knows he can always rely on her for support, perspective, and even a dose of tough love when needed. He often turns to Abigail for guidance, knowing she’ll provide honest and thoughtful feedback. In return, he looks out for her, recognizing how hard she works and how much she sacrifices for the mission and her friends.

His family

Monty: Nigel has always shared a close, supportive bond with his father, Monty, who has served as a role model and idol in his life. Growing up, Monty’s unwavering dedication to the KND inspired Nigel to follow in his footsteps, instilling in him a strong work ethic and sense of responsibility. Monty is the one who encouraged Nigel’s early leadership skills and allowed him the space to develop into the leader he is today, offering guidance while respecting Nigel’s independence. Their relationship is built on mutual respect, trust, and a shared passion for the KND’s mission. Monty is a constant source of inspiration, reminding Nigel of the importance of family and legacy. While Monty’s role as a KND legend often looms large, Nigel cherishes their moments together and always looks to him for advice when the weight of leadership becomes heavy.

Mrs. Uno: Nigel has a loving and deeply emotional connection with his mother. She is the steadying force in his life, offering a sense of stability and unwavering emotional support. Whenever Nigel feels the pressure of leadership or is overwhelmed by his responsibilities, she is the one he turns to for reassurance and guidance. Their relationship is filled with quiet moments of understanding, where words aren’t always necessary, but her presence alone provides Nigel with a sense of calm. While Nigel’s commitment to the KND often keeps him occupied, Mrs. Uno remains a crucial part of his life. Her belief in him never wavers, and she continues to be an essential pillar of support, even if she sometimes feels overshadowed by his dedication to his KND role. The bond they share is one of unconditional love and mutual admiration.

Grandfather: Nigel’s relationship with his grandfather is one rooted in respect and admiration. While their interactions are not as frequent as those with his immediate family, Nigel highly values the wisdom his grandfather imparts. His grandfather’s legacy within the KND is something Nigel takes great pride in, and he cherishes every moment spent learning from him. Though their bond is not as emotionally close as with his parents, Nigel looks up to his grandfather as a source of family history and tradition. He is a steady reminder of the strong foundation that has been laid before him, and Nigel often finds himself reflecting on the past as he carries the family legacy forward.

Benedict Uno (Father): Nigel’s relationship with Benedict, is fraught with tension and emotional distance. Benedict’s past as a villain and his role as an enemy of the KND is something that Nigel cannot reconcile. He deeply resents Benedict’s actions, particularly his involvement with the Delightful Children from Down the Lane, and struggles to understand how someone so close to him could stand for everything he opposes. Their interactions are cold, and his strained relationship leaves Nigel feeling conflicted, as he knows that family ties are important but cannot overlook the pain Benedict’s choices have caused. As a result, their connection remains distant, and Nigel continues to distance himself from Benedict’s influence.

Numbuh 10: Nigel shares a friendly and professional relationship with Numbuh 10, although their bond isn’t especially close. While he respects her contributions to the KND and acknowledges her skills, he keeps their interactions cordial and professional, mainly due to his awareness of potential tension or jealousy with Lizzie. Nigel is mindful of the dynamic between the two women and goes out of his way to avoid anything that could create conflict. Although they don’t share a deep personal connection, there is mutual respect between them, and Nigel values her support and input within the team. He makes sure to keep the relationship strictly professional to avoid any misunderstandings or unnecessary complications.

Lizzie: Nigel is deeply in love with Lizzie, though their relationship can sometimes be complicated by their differing perspectives. Despite their occasional disagreements, their bond is built on a deep emotional connection that goes beyond just romantic feelings. Lizzie has a grounding influence on Nigel, helping him relax and unwind when his responsibilities begin to take a toll. Her calming presence offers him the balance he often needs to stay focused and emotionally steady. Though their personalities can clash—especially when Nigel becomes too absorbed in his duties—Lizzie’s love and support remain a constant in his life. She is his rock, the one person who can challenge him in a way that helps him grow while also providing the comfort and reassurance he needs. Nigel relies on her more than he admits, and he values her unwavering support, often seeking her out when he’s unsure or overwhelmed by his leadership role.

#codename kids next door #knd #teenager au #nigel uno #numbuh 1 #sector v #character profile

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absolutelynotsanebaby · 1 year ago

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“Meet Again” by northpen – AO3, completed, 124,176 words, 5/5 chapters, MCD.

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12308709/chapters/27981705

Thousands of years into the future, Cole and Zane meet their friends again.

“in memoriam” by Wheezing_Joe – AO3, completed, 5,809 words, 1/1 chapters, Jay/Cole.

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/39786801

Jay wishes he'd known the apartment was haunted before he moved in.

“Even if it’s just us, we’ll be okay” by muflier_En_Fleurs – AO3, completed, 79,625 words, 22/22 chapters, Jay/Cole.

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/39414522/chapters/98642373

"Your wish is yours to keep." Left in shambles after an unwanted revelation, Jay tries to pick up the pieces of his strained relationship with Nya and Cole. However, the release of a certain djinn only serves to make his life more difficult. Maybe the whole situation would be easier if his hand didn't keep landing in Cole's comforting grasp. A rewrite of Lego Ninjago season 6, where Cole replaces Nya as the love interest.

“A Night We’ll Remember” by muflier_En_Fleurs – AO3, completed, 14,804, 2/2 chapters, Jay/Cole.

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/series/3375289

“I’ve never liked the fucking holiday.” Cole raises his free hand and widens his stance. “The only thing it’s good for today is settling my debt!” Moving on from having a djinn kill you in another life isn't easy, but Cole makes do. It helps that he has his boyfriend there too. But as the Day of the Departed approaches, Cole feels the call of a master he thought was long put to rest. A rewrite of the Ninjago special, "Day of the Departed", with some character development for Cole, and a few cute scenes of the new boyfriends.

“An Impromptu Little Brother” by Leonardo_Charles_BlueWood_21 – AO3, completed, 9,778 words, 1/1 chapters, Kai & Lloyd.

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26238865

Kai had been through a lot. He'd learned a lot and seen a lot and changed a lot throughout his time being a ninja. But there was absolutely nothing could have prepared him for the aggravating annoyance that was the ten-year-old son of Lord Garmadon. or Kai tries this whole 'being patient' thing, learns a thing or two, and Lloyd gets a big brother.

“Earbuds” by Pyro_Kat – AO3, completed, 84,396 words, 7/7 chapters, Kai/Jay.

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13854819/chapters/31868667

The city of Ninjago is protected by the six ninja: Green, Red, Blue, Gray, Black, and White. Kai loves working as the Red Ninja, and honors the bonds he's formed with his teammates more than anything else. Things start to get complicated after he accidentally discovers Blue's identity- and, after he realizes Blue doesn't recognize him, a little awkward as well. Along with all of this, a new criminal organization on the rise is pushing the strength of the ninja's bonds, threatening them to fall apart. So uh basically ninjago is gotham now and miraculous ladybug-inspired identity hiding hijinks ensue. (ok hand emoji)

“The benefits of not taking yourself so seriously” by TEARSoverBEERS – AO3, completed, 45,241 words, 7/7 chapters, Jay/Cole

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24259543/chapters/58464097

At first Cole startles, and he's just happy his reflexes don't kick in and punch Jay in the face. Jay doesn't even seem to notice Cole's distress. His face is relaxed, head leaning against one arm to get more comfortable. The fond smile shows as much in his eyes as in the quirk of his lips. Like he is looking at a kitten or a fluffy duckling. Not big, rough and sweaty unshaven Cole. "Hey." He says, voice as soft as his gaze. "Hey," Cole responds, his just-woke-up voice as croaky and throaty as a frog with a cold. And he'll blame that sleepiness when he doesn't immediately react to push him off when Jay leans in and kiss him. ----------------------On a mission to a foreign island Jay is bitten by a "love bug" and now he's entirely sure he's in love with Cole for at least a couple of weeks. The whole situation would be a lot easier to deal with if Cole wasn't also already in love with him.

“Five Times that Kai hid an injury…” by Feliadox – AO3, completed, 11,892 words, 7/7 chapters, Kai & Team.

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23133499/chapters/55358005

....and the One time he couldn't.

“All the ways to say “I love you”” by Leonardo_Charles_BlueWood_21 – AO3, completed, 9,518 words, 1/1 chapters, , Cole & Team.

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25417207

Cole loves his team. They're his family and he does everything in his power to keep them safe and steady. He does his best to let them know he cares about them in every way but one. Or Seven times Cole couldn't quite say "I love you," and the one time he could.

“Take a Deep Breath, Everything Will Be Okay” — AO3, completed, 4,583 words, 1/1 chapters, Nya & Kai.

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26396584

Kai and Nya are siblings, and best friends. They love each other and would move mountains for one another, but their relationship isn't free of turmoil or misunderstanding.or Kai and Nya's parents "leave" and they figure stuff out

“Cool Down” by Leonardo_Charles_BlueWood_21 – AO3, completed, 4,741 words, 1/1 chapters, Kai & Zane.

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25916767

Kai is the Fire Ninja. His elemental power has always worked extremely close with his emotions. His feelings and heart drive who he is as a person and they drive his elemental power as well. He is a walking furnace half the time and sometimes the furnace inside him is provided with too much fuel and he has a hard time getting it all under control, which can often result in him losing his temper or control of his powers. Zane is the Ninja of Ice and a nindroid. He is the most calm and collected of all the ninja and it is a mystery to everyone as to just how his elemental power actually works. His nindroid abilities allow him to see things that others don’t and he uses his powers to help Kai when his own become too much. Or Zane gives Kai hugs to help him cool down.

“Stole Spark” by Rina_Calavera – AO3, completed, 17,032 words, 17/17 chapters, Nya/Jay, Kai & Team.

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23958154/chapters/57621964

When your enemy wears your face, it opens you up to intense dangers. Kai goes out on a mission in a sour mood, and it doesn't improve…..mostly because he never made it home in the first place.

“Gently Break It” by grungekitty77 – AO3, on-going, 62,982 words, 2/4 chapters, Kai/Skylor, Kai & Team.

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/33751588/chapters/83895433

While fighting in the Slither pits, Kai is approached with a lucrative job offer. Having never been told that Mr. Chen of Noodle House fame was someone that he should distrust, Kai accepts the live-in position on Chen's private island, completely unaware that he is walking into trap designed to twist hearts and minds. What if Chen had been a little more proactive before the Tournament of Elements? He is a cult leader after all, and cults have a way of sucking people in. “The Ice Emperor and the Earth Dragon” by McFaneLy – AO3, completed, 44,531 words, 14/14 chapters, Cole & zane, no happy ending.

“The Ice Emperor and the Earth Dragon” by McFaneLy – AO3, completed, 44,531 words, 14/14 chapters, Cole & zane, no happy ending.

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24355681/chapters/58732870

Getting thrown into a far off realm hadn’t been a purposeful decision on Cole’s behalf, but it wasn’t one that he’d change. Following Zane into a desolate wasteland of snow and ice with a broken mech, a corrupting scroll; and nothing else, he’d rather be trapped with his brother than still be at home and wondering about his well-being. Whether he’d lost him all over again. Then a stranger disrupted the fragile routine they’d established, and Cole was still willing to protect his waylaid brother.

“Wax and Wane” by Raven6229 – AO3, on-going, 112,582 words, 11/35 chapters, cole & team.

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/46619770/chapters/117404779 -

Becoming a ghost wasn't the end. It wasn't some beginning, either. Rather, it was just the next phase of Cole's life. And, sure as the moon in the sky, that comes with ups and downs, forming and fading, waxing and waning. Love and loss. It wouldn't be okay, not all the time. The moon wouldn't always shine. But he'd never have to face the darker days alone. Then, when the moon was full, they could enjoy its light together.

“Sharpen the Scythe, Before He Reaps” by InfiniteOrangeTheThird – AO3, on-going, 21,112 words, 5/8 chapters, cole & team.

Link:https://archiveofourown.org/works/47017648/chapters/118449190

The first time Cole saw himself in the mirror, he almost didn’t recognize his reflection. Green mist where his face was supposed to be, his skin see-through like a dusty window, even his black gi tainted in an otherworldly glow. He looked in the mirror, and a ghost stared back. But in the end, his sacrifice was worth it – they defeated the Preeminent, they exiled the (other) ghosts from Ninjago, and most important of them all, Lloyd was safely back with the team. And with no imminent threat on the horizon, maybe it was time he began his journey to self-acceptance. Being a ghost should come with some benefits, after all. Even if sometimes the cons seem to outweigh the pros.Even if it feels harder and harder to hold onto his humanity with each passing day. Even if the others seem to be forgetting about him a lot more frequently recently. -Or, an incredibly self-indulgent Day of the Departed rewrite because less than an hour of Ghost Cole Angst wasn’t nearly enough to satisfy me. (And because I like to watch my boy suffer.)

“Chips and Salsa” by SibillaScribbleso8 – AO3, completed, 31,823 words, 6/6 chapters, Cole/Zane.

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12407508/chapters/28232733

Without any evil to fight and not even a lot of crime to deal with Cole feels a little too idle. This prompts a spontaneous trip to visit with his father, which might be just as quiet if Zane hadn't asked to come along. Now is he not only reminded of a past crush he THOUGHT he forgot about, his father isn't helping in the slightest. Or perhaps, he's helping too much.

“Morning Sun” by SibillaScribbleso8 — AO3, completed, 25,759 words, 7/7 chapters, Cole/Zane.

Link:https://archiveofourown.org/works/15001211/chapters/34769009

During their search for their Master, Cole follows a lead to a mage who could possibly give them information on where to look. However, facing her alone was a mistake, one he's forced to deal with when he ends up with a curse. The clock is ticking as a plant grows in his chest in response to his romantic feelings toward Zane. Cole is desperate to find a solution, one that doesn't involve confessing his feelings or removing them completely. With the help of Pixal and some other friends from his past, they might be able to manage it. Maybe.

“Four Times Cole Helped The Guys with a Nightmare” by DietCokeIsLife — AO3, completed, 10,376 words, 5/5 chapters, Cole & Team.

Link:https://archiveofourown.org/works/42952500/chapters/107914725

And, the one time they helped him. Set after Hands of Time. Fluff inside!

“Lost Souls Trilogy” by DietCokeIsLife — AO3, Series, completed, 275,162 words, 3/3 works, ensemble.

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/series/3535066

Work One:

Takes place right after Season 5. When Jay accidentally pushes Cole into the water, the ninja are sure their brother is gone forever. After they begin to see signs that Cole may not be as gone as they thought, they will do anything to bring him back, even if it means risking their own well-being, traveling between realms, or calling on the help of a former arch-enemy…

Work Two:

Sequel to Lost Soul! Takes place after Skybound and is loosely based on Day of the Departed! After receiving a distress call, the ninja travel back to the Departed Realm only to find themselves caught up in a civil war that has Morro right in the middle of it. The ninja have to face fears and old enemies, but the stakes are even higher whenever they notice Cole acting strangely...

Work Three:

Triquel to Lost Soul! Things are far from perfect for the ninja as they- and the rest of Ninjago- adjust to having a newly revived Morro on their team. But, when an attack leaves one of them grievously injured, the ninja find themselves forced to travel into the Departed Realm yet again to seek help from the most unlikely of sources- and end up facing the ghosts of their pasts.

“Broken and Broke” by HarpforHim — Ao3, completed, 3,129 words, 1/1 chapters, Cole & Jay, Jay / Nya.

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/40130859

“I can’t stay here, Cole. Without her it’s… It’s too hard.” Jay shook his head. “Everyone misses her, sure, but not like I do… She was my Yang! I was going to marry her!” Choking back a sob, his expression crumpled. “I was gonna… I was…” Set after Seabound, Cole finds himself trying to pick up the pieces of his shattered team. In the end, even the Master of Earth and all his super strength can’t hold together the cracks and keep the Ninja from crumbling. (Or, the story about how Jay left the monastery and went to live at the lighthouse. Spoilers for Crystalized.)

“Play to Win” by Sadisthetic — Ao3, completed, 7,371 words, 1/1 chapters, Cole & Jay.

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/46263796

Instead of having the ninjas walk the plank, Nadakhan has something worse in mind. When he calls for a special edition of Scrap-N-Tap, it's Cole versus Jay, and for lack of a choice, the two comply. Cole really, really doesn't want to fight. Jay tells a small lie.

“Rain, Rain, Go Away, Come Again Never” by Luna_Rec28 — AO3, completed, 5,500, 1/1 chapters, Cole & Jay.

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/41808435

Cole's fine. The transition from ghost to human is kinda rough, but it's fine. The only issue is...water. After avoiding it for so long, how is he supposed to go back to the way he used to be? Cole's struggling, even if he doesn't want to admit it…Jay notices.

“Nightmares” by Lloydskywalkers — fanfic.net, completed, 1k+ wods, 1/1 chapters, Cole & Jay.

Link: https://m.fanfiction.net/s/13062719/1/Nightmares

Cole is floating, his limbs loose and his head weightless. It's a feeling he's gotten used to, recently, of not exactly being corporeal, but this is different. He feels off, hazy, as if he's pushed himself too far in training again, or he's been hit one time too many in the head. (Written for Ninjago Angst Week Day Two

“Sleepsong” by Lloydskywalkers — fanfic.net, completed, 4k+ wods, 1/1 chapters, Cole & Lloyd.

Link: https://m.fanfiction.net/s/13429389/1/Sleepsong

There are several immediate problems following the defeat of the Preeminent, one being the complete lack of an engine, and a second being Lloyd's painfully obvious need for three days worth of sleep. Cole's just hoping his new status as a ghost doesn't end up the third of those problems, but he's not much for hoping.

#ninjago #ninjago fanfic recs #fic recs #cole ninjago #kai ninjago #nya ninjago #zane ninjago #jay ninjago #morro ninjago #cole brookstone #jay walker #kai smith #nya smith #zane julien #baby's fic recs

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a-araiguma-a · 5 months ago

Text

Between the serving and Her smile

Chapter 3. Ups and Downs

Fandom: Harry Potter Pairing: Oliver Wood x fem!OC, Charlie Weasley x f!OC, <?> Warning: fluff, mutual pining, friends-to-lovers drama, first love, jealous

Summary: He was the captain and keeper of the Gryffindor team, and his quest to win the Quidditch Cup became an obsessive goal. All his thoughts revolved around tactics, training and strategies, but sometimes his own heart reminded him of another, equally important side of life. He believed that love and Quidditch could coexist in his life. He swore to himself that he would do everything possible to preserve these two treasures, even if it required the impossible from him.

Start - Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6 - Chapter 7 - Chapter 8

At the same time, Oliver Wood was full of determination and ambition, eagerly awaiting the chance to showcase his skills on the field. After making it onto the Gryffindor team, he finally felt that his dream was starting to come true.

Training became the most important part of his life at Hogwarts. Under the leadership of Captain Charlie Weasley, he learned discipline, tactics, and teamwork. Charlie was a true leader—quick, attentive, and a skilled Seeker. He always knew how to motivate the team and direct their efforts in the right way.

"Remember, we need to feel the game, anticipate the opponent's moves, and act decisively," Charlie often said during practice. "Don’t doubt your actions, and be confident in yourself."

Oliver listened to his advice with respect and tried to perform to the best of his abilities. His determination and hard work didn’t go unnoticed.

The practices were intense. Spending a lot of time in the air, perfecting his technique for defending the hoops, as well as working on endurance and speed, training early in the morning or late at night, regardless of the weather or fatigue. However, for Oliver, it wasn’t a burden—he loved Quidditch and felt alive when he was on his broom.

The first major match of the season—Gryffindor versus Ravenclaw—proved to be a real test for Oliver. The tension was palpable from the start of the game, and Oliver was determined to prove himself. But just as he was getting into the game, a Bludger, seemingly guided by ill intent, struck Oliver right in the head. Losing consciousness, he fell from his broom. Madam Hooch immediately stopped the game, and he was rushed to the hospital wing. Despite this, the match continued, but without the main Keeper, it was difficult to defend the hoops. Charlie wanted to catch the Snitch quickly and end the game, but Ravenclaw ended up winning.

Margaret, Sophie, and Emma, watching the game from the stands with the other supporters, were disappointed by the loss but also worried about their classmate, so they went straight to visit Oliver in the hospital wing after the game. He spent a week in a coma, but upon waking, he showed even more enthusiasm for training and promised that next time he would do better and be more careful.

The match against Hufflepuff went smoothly. The Hufflepuff team was known for its resilience, but under Charlie's leadership, the team confidently defended the hoops and batted away bludgers until Charlie caught the Snitch, securing Gryffindor's victory.

The stands erupted in cheers as Charlie raised his hand with the golden ball. Margaret and her friends jumped with joy, shouting along with the other supporters. For Oliver, it was his first major victory, and he felt the adrenaline coursing through his veins. Receiving numerous praises from his teammates, he was especially pleased to hear Charlie’s words of approval.

"Great job, Oliver," Charlie said, clapping him on the shoulder. "You’re getting better and better. Keep it up."

"Thanks, Charlie. I’ll do my best," Oliver replied, his eyes shining with joy.

Soon, the games became an integral part of Oliver's life at Hogwarts. He knew this was only the beginning of his Quidditch journey, but each match, every word from Charlie, and the support from his friends strengthened his confidence in his abilities, and he was determined to reach even greater heights.

At each stage, the competition was fierce, and the games were thrilling. Slytherin, which had dominated in previous years, continued to play with intensity and confidence, once again becoming the season’s finalists. Despite their best efforts, Ravenclaw couldn’t break Slytherin’s winning streak, and they finished second. Gryffindor came in third, while Hufflepuff took fourth place.

Thus, the school year came to an end, and the atmosphere in the castle was bittersweet. Everyone knew that this time they would be saying goodbye to those who were leaving the school forever—friends they had come to know and bond with. The graduation ceremony and the farewell ritual were the most significant events at the end of the school year.

The seventh-year graduates prepared for this day with special reverence. They were not just receiving their diplomas but also symbolically saying goodbye to Hogwarts, which had been their home for so many years. This year, one of the graduates was William Arthur Weasley, known to everyone as Bill. He was one of the best students in Gryffindor, known for his intelligence, bravery, and excellent leadership as both a Prefect and Head Boy.

When the day of the ceremony arrived, the weather was perfect. The sky was clear, the sun shone brightly but not too hot, and a light breeze added freshness to the air. The students gathered in the Great Hall. The headmaster, Professor Albus Dumbledore, stood on the stage, his eyes twinkling behind his half-moon glasses. When everyone was assembled, he raised his hand to call for silence and began his speech.

"Today, we bid farewell to our graduates," he began, his voice warm and full of pride. "They have faced many challenges and adventures, experienced the joys of victory and the hardships of defeat. And now they are ready to take the next step in their lives, leaving these walls but always remaining a part of Hogwarts."

After Dumbledore's speech, the diploma ceremony began. The graduates came to the stage one by one to receive their diplomas, each met with applause and support. When Bill Weasley received his diploma, the rest of the Gryffindor students applauded especially loudly. Bill was not just a good Head Boy—he was an example to many, inspiring them with his hard work and dedication.

After all the diplomas had been awarded, it was time for the farewell ritual. The seventh-year graduates gathered by the lake, where the enchanted boats that had brought them to Hogwarts before their first year were waiting for them. Now, they were to board these boats once again, but this time to symbolically leave the school.

The other students, including Margaret and her friends, gathered by the lakeshore to see off their older peers. There was a mix of sadness and joy in the air. It was a moment of farewell, but also a moment of embarking on a new chapter in life.

Bill, along with the other graduates, slowly stepped into one of the boats. He turned to take one last look at the castle, and a gentle smile spread across his face. He knew this day would be one he remembered for the rest of his life, as would everyone who stood on the shore watching the boats depart.

The boats began to glide across the lake, moving smoothly over the water. The students left on the shore watched them go, sending off the graduates with warm looks and quiet wishes of good luck. The lake’s water, reflecting the rays of the setting sun, shimmered with a silvery hue, and the boats soon disappeared into the light mist that enveloped the distant shore.

Margaret stood beside Emma and Sophie, feeling tears well up in her eyes. It was a touching moment that reminded her that her own time would come one day, but for now, she still had a few more years at this amazing school, and she was determined to make the most of them, enjoying every moment.

As the boats vanished from sight, the students slowly began to disperse, returning to the castle. But in the heart of each of them remained the memory of how they had bid farewell to their friends heading into adulthood, and the knowledge that one day, their path would also lead them to this shore, to take one last look at Hogwarts, their first home.

Summer holidays became a much-anticipated time for Margaret to rest and once again immerse herself in her beloved books. Though Hogwarts had become her second or third home, she still gladly returned to her family in London. But, as always, her thoughts continued to revolve around magic. Her free time flew by as she studied new topics awaiting her in the next school year. Books on Transfiguration, Defense Against the Dark Arts, and Potions filled her days. Margaret enthusiastically studied spells and alchemical formulas, delving into the world of magic and discovering new facets of her abilities.

Her room, filled with books and notes, became a true sanctuary. A summer spent studying not only brought her joy but also gave her confidence that she would be ready for the new school year.

The relationship between Margaret and Miranda had noticeably improved. They spent more time together, and Miranda tried to become a real mother to the girl. They cooked meals together, took walks in the park, and discussed the books Margaret was reading. These shared moments brought them closer, and Margaret began to feel that Miranda genuinely cared about her.

"I’m glad we’ve grown closer," Miranda said one evening over tea. "I always wanted us to have this kind of relationship, and now I feel we’re becoming closer."

Margaret smiled, feeling warmth from these words. Despite all the difficulties, Miranda had indeed become an important person in her life.

However, her relationship with her father remained complicated. Bennett sincerely tried to reconnect with his daughter, but years of estrangement and accumulated resentment didn’t fade away so quickly. Their conversations were often awkward and reserved, but Bennett didn’t give up. He started inviting Margaret for walks, tried to discuss her studies with her, but often felt clumsy and didn’t know how to start a conversation.

"How’s your studying going, Margaret?" he asked one day as they sat in the garden.

"It’s going well, Dad," she replied, smiling slightly but feeling the conversation hang in the air. "I’m preparing for new lessons."

"That’s wonderful," he nodded, then fell silent, unsure how to continue.

"You… You’re a smart girl, Margaret. I’m proud of you."

These words touched Margaret, but she still felt a barrier between them. Her father was trying, but she couldn’t immediately forget all those years when he had been cold and distant.

With Mr. and Mrs. Fairchild, Margaret still experienced inner turmoil. Despite their care and love, she couldn’t shake the fear that they might disappear from her life again. The closeness with them was pleasant, but at the same time, she felt uncertainty, afraid to get too attached.

"We’ll always be here for you, Margaret," Mrs. Fairchild said one day, noticing how her granddaughter had withdrawn into herself. "We won’t leave you."

"I know," Margaret replied, but deep down, she still had doubts. The fear of being alone, as had happened before, was too great.

And so, September arrived once again. Margaret found herself back on the familiar Platform 9¾, ready for a new school year. Familiar faces surrounded her as students bustled about, loading their belongings onto the Hogwarts Express, hugging parents and friends, and preparing for the journey.

Margaret looked around, and her heart filled with warmth at the sight of familiar faces.

"Margaret!" Sophie exclaimed from the crowd. "I’m so glad to see you again!"

Margaret was about to step closer when she suddenly noticed two familiar redheads. It was Charlie and his brother Percy, surrounded by their family. Beside them were two younger boys, almost copies of Charlie, only smaller. This brought a smile to Margaret’s face, and she quietly laughed, imagining the Weasleys filling up all of Hogwarts.

"Even more Weasleys," she joked as she joined her friends. "It seems their family will never end. The younger brothers’ red hair and cheerful faces were just like Charlie’s."

"And that’s great," Emma replied, laughing. "More Weasleys means more fun!" This brought a quiet laugh among them.

Charlie noticed her gaze and the smile on her face and approached her.

"Looks like our family clan is growing," he said with a grin. "These are Fred and George. They’ll be starting at Hogwarts soon too."

Margaret laughed and waved at the boys, who immediately stared at her with interest.

"It’s nice to see familiar faces," she said, feeling that everything was falling back into place. "This year is going to be even more exciting."

"No doubt," Charlie agreed. "Gryffindor awaits us."

Margaret smiled back, feeling the anticipation for the new year grow stronger.

"We have so much to do this year."

Together, they headed toward the train, ready for a new school year among friends, wondering if it would bring many new adventures and discoveries.

#oliver wood imagine #harry potter #harry potter imagine #oliver wood x reader #oliver wood x you #x reader #x y/n #charlie weasley x reader #percy weasley

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crispychann · 8 months ago

Text

Unspoken :

A Tooru Oikawa fic!

Word Count : 3206

Genre: Slight fluff, angst

Humans, the one thing we love to do the most is to regret things. Of course, this is ironically speaking. Overthinking and letting an opportunity pass, wanting to never leave the comfort zone, thinking about the consequences, and more reasons lead to regrets.

What was the one thing you regretted not doing in the last semester of your school life? Was it procrastinating too much and having heaps to study before the exam? Or was it not spending enough time with other people outside your close friends, whom you would never see again? You’d like to be optimistic, but let’s be honest. It would be difficult to keep in touch with others, even your best friends. It’s not going to be the same as school. Or do you regret the several missed opportunities where you could have talked to Oikawa but backed away because you were scared?

You mostly regretted the last thing—not talking to Oikawa Tooru when you had the chance to. Nay, plenty of chances. You’ve always thought Oikawa was amazing. You attended all his matches mainly to support your school. The matches were always very intense, and you admired every player. They were all talented and deserved to win.

At first, you visited because you had heard about the intensity of these matches. The way everyone at school, including your best friends, spoke about it made it even more intriguing. They were not wrong. These volleyball matches were very intense, often against powerhouses, always keeping you on the edge of your seat.

During these matches, it was impossible not to notice the captain of Seijō, Oikawa Tooru. Oikawa is the kind of setter who knows his team inside out. He is fiercely competitive, always aiming to be the best, yet he balances this with genuine care for his teammates, understanding their strengths and weaknesses, and bringing out the best in each of them. He is an even better captain who always tries to keep the team spirit high, especially during tough situations. He knows his play, and he knows he’s good at it. What’s even more amazing than all this is his serve. His serve sends shivers down his opponents' spines. Even experienced players wish they never had to receive it. His serve streak is almost impossible to cut off.

Despite his massive talent, he continues to work hard and move forward. He practices till late every day and is never satisfied until he sees the results. Iwa, his best friend, basically drags him off the court every evening; otherwise, Oikawa wouldn’t leave.

Phew, that doesn’t even cover half of it. Okay, maybe you know a little more than necessary as just a mere spectator of the game. Only because you found Oikawa charming. Honestly, who wouldn’t? His presence is magnetic; you can't help but be captivated by the way he carries himself, brimming with confidence and playful charm. His smile always tinged with a mischievous glint, is infectious, lighting up any room he enters.

You admired him.

You wish you were as passionate as Oikawa about something but you just hadn't found that out yet.

It was not that long ago since you came across an empty volleyball court. Impossible you thought to yourself. You wanted to take a little peek inside to see if there was actually no one there. You opened the door carefully as you didn't want to make any noise and draw attention to you. Technically speaking it was your gym as much as it was the team’s. But everyone knows who needs the gym the most. The volleyball team obviously.

To your surprise, you were quite right. The gym was empty but the nets were still up and trolleys of balls were left outside the court instead of the store room. That was the perfect opportunity to address your curiosity. You have always wondered how it feels to hold the ball. You’ve never held a volleyball in your lifetime. You did not know if it was heavy or light. Are the balls so light that the spikers smash them to the ground effortlessly? The way it is served and the way that it is received? You were curious about everything. You were nearing the end of school. You wanted to try this out as volleyball was your school’s spirit after academics of course. You slowly approached to trolley and picked up a ball.

It was not as light as you expected it to be but it was not too heavy either. ‘Mmm not too bad’. You first tried to play with yourself. You just tried to hit the ball with your forearms, trying so hard to not drop it. ‘That wasn't that difficult, maybe I'm a natural’ you whisper to yourself. Now that you had boosted your ego, you wanted to serve from one side of the net to the other side. How hard could that be? You quickly threw the ball up in the air and slapped it real hard with your palm. BAD CHOICE. VERY HARD AND PAINFUL.

‘Son of a-’ you started to swear but you had to stop halfway because you heard someone laughing from behind where the storeroom was. Was it someone from the team? The coach perhaps? It was too embarrassing for you to turn around now.

‘You want to serve the ball to the other side of the court, not hurt your palm during the process’ a voice added. You had to turn around to avoid being rude. You were going to graduate soon and it is not like the whole team saw you anyway. ‘Can’t be that embarrassing’ you said to make yourself feel better.

Turns out it was just Oikawa who saw you and had a good time laughing from behind.

You knew a lot about him. How he plays, how he handles his team and how he reacts when he wins and loses his matches but you’ve never heard him speak. You had been in the same school for years yet neither of you had made a single conversation with the other till now. Surprising because you both are in the same year level but yet your worlds seem miles apart.

You turned around, cheeks burning with embarrassment, to find Oikawa leaning casually against the doorframe, a playful smirk on his face. “Need some help?” he offered, his voice friendly and inviting. “Uh, yeah, that would be great,” you stammered, feeling a mix of excitement and nervousness. Here he was, Oikawa Tooru, offering to teach you how to play volleyball.

He walked over, taking the ball from your hands. “First, you need to hold the ball like this,” he said, demonstrating the proper grip. “And when you serve, you want to hit it with the base of your palm, like this.” He tossed the ball up and effortlessly served it over the net.

You watched in awe as the ball sailed perfectly to the other side. “Wow,” you breathed. “That was amazing.”

Oikawa chuckled, handing the ball back to you. “Your turn. Don’t worry, I’ll guide you.”

You took a deep breath, trying to calm your racing heart. Following his instructions, you tossed the ball up and hit it with the base of your palm. The ball made it over the net, barely not as gracefully as Oikawa’s serve.

“Not bad for a first try,” he said encouragingly. “With a bit more practice, you’ll get the hang of it.”

“I think I'm just seven years too late for that” you chuckle.

“Who says you can’t catch up? Arent you a natural y/n?” he retorted.

He had clearly heard you talking to yourself before.

“Can’t argue there Tooru. You better watch your back” you continued the banter. He couldn't contain his smile.

“I’m truly scared now” he replied. Before you could say anything else you heard another voice at the entrance of the gym “You better be scared Tooru because you were supposed to leave 30 minutes ago like you promised” Iwa deadpanned.

Before you could comprehend what was going on Tooru dashed to the bleachers to grab his kit. You did not blame him. Iwaizumi is a scary man. scary only because he cares for Oikawa and his teammates so dearly. Unlike Oikawa, you have spoken to Iwaizumi several times. You used to share a table with him a few years back. The good old days. If it wasn't for all the intense practices and matches the school went to, you and Iwaizumi could have been good friends. He’d miss some of the classes due to the matches and the other times he’d leave the next minute after the bell goes off to his practice. However, you still had fun with him when you sat together. You could almost call him a friend.

“Y/n, oh gosh how long has it been?” Iwa yelled out from the door walking towards the both of you. You could hear the excitement in his voice”

“Iwa!” you waved at him. Oikawa was surprised by this interaction. He didn't know that you both already knew each other. “Just when I was about to introduce to each other haha. Did not see this coming” he said to Iwaizumi.

“Neither did I Tooru, because y/n never used to set foot in the gym back when we used to be classmates. I practically used to beg her to.”

He was right. It was a few years ago but Iwa always tried to get you to come see the practice match and spend some time with him. You’d always come up with an excuse to avoid going to the gym. Mainly because you were lazy. Secondly, at the start of high school, you had to muster enough self-esteem to enter a gym teeming with boys, where the overwhelming presence and energy could be felt from a distance. The thought of all their eyes turning toward you as you entered was something you couldn’t bear then, and still can't now.

You couldn't help but feel guilty. That could have been the beginning of a beautiful friendship. A beautiful friendship that you never gave a chance to.

Your eyes gave it away. Iwa had to fill in the silence.

“I’m obviously kidding Y/N. please do not feel guilty. Besides you come to most of our matches now. I am very happy that you support us so please do not feel guilty” he said sweetly.

“I’m glad I started coming to the matches Iwa, honestly they are so worth it” you finally responded politely.

Iwaizumi grinned and gave you a nod before finally turning to Oikawa. “Home. Now” he ordered to Oikawa and slowly made his way back to the door and decided to wait for Oikawa.

“I’m sorry our practise sesh was cut short by Iwa Chan y/n. It was nice meeting you today,” he said hurriedly but you could also sense the genuineness from his tone.

“It’s alright, Tooru. I really appreciate the help. It was nice finally talking to you,” you replied with a smile.

He nodded, glancing at Iwaizumi who was waiting impatiently at the door. “We should do this again sometime. Maybe when Iwa isn’t around to drag me away,” he joked, winking at you.

You laughed softly, feeling a warmth spread through you. “I’d like that. Maybe I’ll even get better at serving.”

“I have no doubt you will,” Oikawa said, his eyes twinkling. “Just keep practising. And hey, if you ever need a coach, you know where to find me.”

A smile crawled upon your face.

As he started to walk away, he turned back one last time. “Goodnight, Y/N. And don’t be a stranger, alright?”

“Goodnight, Tooru. I will try my best” you chuckled, watching as he jogged over to Iwaizumi.

Iwaizumi gave you a small wave and a smile before they both exited the gym. You stood there for a moment, processing everything that had happened. Your heart was still racing, but this time it wasn’t just from nerves—it was from mere excitement and a possibility of something. Maybe a friendship, maybe an inspiration or maybe something more.

It had been three months since that had happened. Even though Tooru said not to be a stranger, you were one. You went to all of their matches and cheered them on like you usually would. You would want to approach Oikawa in the hallway but you were always scared to do so. What if he was just being friendly? What if he was just trying to be polite? What if he actually has so much on his plate that he forgot about the whole interaction that we had? Why hasn't he approached me? You couldn't get these negative thoughts out of your head.

The school halls became a battleground of stolen glances. You'd catch sight of him laughing with his friends, his smile as radiant as ever, and your heart would skip a beat. Sometimes, you’d notice him looking your way, a fleeting glance that made your pulse race. It happened during class changes, in the cafeteria, and even during matches. You’d be in the stands, cheering along with the rest of the crowd, and sometimes, during a timeout, you’d see him scan the audience. Your eyes would meet for a brief second, a silent exchange that spoke volumes. In those moments, you felt a connection, a pull that urged you to break through your hesitation.

But the doubt remained. What if you were misreading everything? What if his smiles and glances were just friendly, nothing more? The uncertainty kept you frozen, unable to take that step forward.

The final match of the season was the most intense yet. Seijō was neck and neck with their opponent, and every point was fiercely contested. During a timeout, Oikawa looked over to the stands, his eyes searching. When they found yours, he smiled—a small, private smile that seemed meant just for you. Your heart soared, but the insecurity held you back.

After the match, the team celebrated their hard-earned victory. You stood on the sidelines, clapping along with everyone else, your eyes fixed on Oikawa. He was surrounded by his teammates, laughing and talking animatedly. You saw Iwaizumi give him a knowing look and nudge, pointing in your direction. Oikawa’s gaze followed, and for a moment, you thought he might come over. But then he was swept up in the post-match excitement, and the moment passed.

The days turned into weeks, and your silent longing only grew. Each time you saw him, the urge to talk to him intensified, but you never ended up doing it. You imagined conversations in your head, what you would say, how he might respond. But when the moment came, your courage faltered, and you would retreat into the safety of your routines.

Finally, the last day of school arrived. The halls were filled with students saying their goodbyes, reminiscing about the years they had spent together. You felt a pang of regret as you realized this was your last chance. You took a deep breath and decided to take one final look at the gym, hoping to find Oikawa there.

The gym was empty, the nets down, and the lights dimmed. You walked slowly, your footsteps echoing in the quiet space. Memories of the past few months flooded your mind, and you couldn’t help but feel a deep sense of regret for all the missed opportunities.

As you turned to leave, you heard a familiar voice. “Y/N.”

You spun around to see Oikawa standing in the doorway, his expression a mix of surprise and relief. ��Tooru,” you whispered, your heart pounding.

He walked over, his gaze never leaving yours. “I was hoping to find you here,” he said softly. “I guess we both had the same idea.”

You nodded, swallowing hard. “I didn’t want to leave without saying goodbye.”

Oikawa hesitated, then asked, “Why didn’t you ever approach me?”

You looked down, feeling the weight of his question. “I… I don’t know,” you admitted. “Why didn’t you?”

He sighed, frustration evident in his voice. “I don’t know either. But I’ve wanted to for so long.”

You looked up, meeting his eyes. “Me too. There were so many times I wanted to talk to you, but something always held me back.”

A moment of silence passed, filled with the weight of all the unspoken words and missed opportunities. “Why did we have to meet this late, huh?” you said, your voice tinged with sadness.

“Timing,” Oikawa said with a bitter smile. “Timing is always a bitch.”

He paused, then continued, “I’m going to play volleyball in college. What about you?”

You shrugged, feeling a lump in your throat. “I haven’t decided yet. Everything feels so uncertain.”

He nodded, his expression softening. “You’ll figure it out. You’re incredible, Y/N. Don’t ever doubt that.”

“Thank you, Tooru,” you whispered, tears threatening to fall. “Good luck with everything. I know you’ll be amazing.”

There was a long pause, both of you standing there, the air heavy with everything left unsaid. Oikawa broke the silence first, his voice gentle. “Do you mind if we… hug? Just as a friendly goodbye?”

You smiled, feeling a mix of relief and sadness. “I’d like that.”

He stepped closer, his arms wrapping around you in a warm, comforting embrace. You hugged him back, holding on tightly as if trying to make up for all the missed chances in this one moment. The hug was long, lingering, filled with all the unspoken words and what-ifs. You could feel the regret and longing in the way he held you, and you knew he felt it too.

As you stood there, wrapped in his arms, you both understood the significance of this hug. It wasn’t just a friendly gesture—it was a farewell to what could have been, and a tentative promise for what might still come. The regret of missed opportunities weighed heavily, but there was also a sense of closure, of acknowledging what you had shared, however fleeting.

Finally, Oikawa pulled back slightly, looking into your eyes. “You’re going to do great things, Y/N. I know it.”

“Thank you, Tooru. So will you,” you said, your voice thick with emotion.

He released you reluctantly, and you both stepped back, the moment hanging in the air. “It was really nice getting to know you, Oikawa,” you said softly.

“It was really nice getting to know you too, Y/N,” he replied, his eyes reflecting the same mix of emotions.

Just before you turned to leave, he reached into his pocket and handed you a small piece of paper. “Here’s my number. Maybe we can keep in touch.”

You took it, your heart swelling with a mix of hope and sadness. “Thank you, Tooru. I’d like that.”

He smiled, a hint of the mischievous glint you had come to admire. “Take care, Y/N.”

“You too, Oikawa.”

With one last lingering look, you both turned and walked away, parting ways with heavy hearts. As you left the gym, you felt the weight of all the missed chances pressing down on you. But there was also a glimmer of hope—a possibility that maybe, just maybe, you could reconnect and build something new.

#oikawa tooru #tooru oikawa x reader #fanfic #haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #seijoh #ahoba josai #iwaizumi hajime #volleyball #anime #oikawa x reader #oikawa fluff #haikyuu oikawa #Spotify

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