truwzfl

/blue lock=bl=boys love/ 🫩

[solvivo]

Yandere! BLUE LOCK

🤍 by : me

Headcanon: Loki Julian as a yandere. (in progress)

Status : completed / psychodrama + mlm

[pilot episode]

Paris breathed heat far below, under my feet. Up here, on the summit, there was only the wind — cold, pure, and indifferent. I was searching for this place. Perfect solitude. Where Julian Lowki, the "Divine Sprinter," could vanish, dissolve into silence, leaving only a body craving the real, not a scheduled adrenaline rush. Height, rough concrete under my fingertips, absolute control. It was my only ritual, my secret refuge.

Until a comet crashed into my strict, lonely sky.

He appeared suddenly — a bright splash of color against the gray cityscape. A yellow shirt, like a piece of the sun broken off from orbit. Worn gloves, a camera on his chest, protective goggles on the receding tufts of messy hair. He wasn’t running — he was flying, and his laughter, loud and carefree, cut through the silence like a seagull’s cry. He jumped over a ventilation shaft, pushed off the parapet with his hands, slid along the cornice, and his sneakers tapped on a metal beam just a few meters from me.

I froze, watching. This was not just parkour technique. It was raw, untamed beauty. Poetry of flesh and blood. Every movement was precise and yet absolutely free, breathing joy, a joy that had no place in my life. He shone like a torch, and something deep inside my soul, dark, cold, and eternally hungry, reached out to this light with the desperation of a drowning man.

I followed him. Unconsciously. Like a shadow cast by this sun. He was so absorbed in his flight, shouting loudly and happily into his camera that he noticed nothing around. And I watched. And desired.

At the edge of the next building, he made a run-up for the riskiest jump across the gap between the roofs. Too risky. His confidence was dazzling, but the stone beneath his heel treacherously shifted and slipped.

Instant panic flashed across his tanned face, hitting me sharper than any selection on the field. Time slowed, stretched into ticking seconds of the fall. No. Not this. You can’t fall. You can’t disappear. You aren’t even mine yet.

My body, trained to react instantly to a flying ball, was already moving before my brain gave the command. A strong pull, the weight crashing down on me, a dull thud on the concrete. I took the whole impact, clutching him in arms that instinctively wouldn’t let go. He was breathing hard, his heart pounding wildly against my chest. His eyes behind displaced goggles were wide with shock.

Then... he laughed. Tense, with an echo of fear, but still defiant and loud. That sound, such a raw, living reaction, burned me to the core.

— Shit — he exhaled, tearing off his torn gloves and wiping his forehead with the back of his hand. — Damn, where did you come from? I thought I was done for! You saved me, dude! Thanks! What’s your name, anyway?

He didn’t recognize me. He didn’t see a star, an icon, Julian Lowki in me. He saw only a stranger who caught him midair. His simplicity, his brightness, his absolute unawareness were intoxicating. He smiled at me, and his eyes, the color of warm honey, like sunlight through water, looked at me without a trace of servility or recognition. Only gratitude and curiosity.

And at that moment, everything inside me fell silent and gained a chilling, crystalline clarity. That quiet, persistent whisper in my head, which had always demanded only ball and goalposts, now screamed just one word, one irrevocable verdict: “Mine.”

I didn’t answer his question. My fingers dug into the fabric of his bright shirt, refusing to let him get up, pinning him to me. I rose, and my face was inches from his. The wind whipped, and inside, a perfect, hurricane storm of obsession raged.

I leaned close to his ear. My voice, usually proud and commanding, heard by tens of thousands of spectators, was now low, velvet, and filled with such icy, absolute tenderness that his smile slowly faded, replaced by a slight fear and confusion.

—"Mon ange..." I whispered, burning his skin with my breath. —"You fell from the sky straight into my arms. Since the heavens were foolish enough to give you to me... I will never let you go."

📣 Message to readers

Caught a TikTok video where Loki’s hobby is parkour. That’s how this was born.

Hehe, from the stages of falling in love and obsession, I can write later. 😝

Loki is a shady guy who loves parkour...

Bad grammar and English.

🤍

🩶

🖤

🤍 @truwzfl — yandere chan 😈

[solvivo]

" Where the Warmth Is" あたたかいところ

(atatakai tokoro).

by : me

c/w: hurt/comfort slice of life found family domestic softness soft angst

yo hiori x reader

[Reader:Just friends / lovers(?)]

ff

At a young age, Yo and his beloved parents did not allow him to play with other children; they just kept making him kick the ball.

Tag, slides, sandbox games — they wouldn’t let him do any of that. But Yo Hiori had no complaints. Because when he kicked the ball well, his father and mother were happy.

He was happy. He wanted them to laugh more. Young Yo undoubtedly believed that these smiles were a sign of his parents'' love. But as soon as... the door closes. As you grow older, as you notice more, and the expectations from them grow like hunger...

Yo Hiori simply got used to... got used to falling asleep to the accompaniment of screams and the crash of broken dishes. Sometimes they argued quietly, hissing at each other angrily behind the wall, but more often — loudly, with bangs and swinging shadows that scared him.

Sometimes even headphones didn’t save him from this ugly cacophony — too piercing, too familiar. And in the mornings, everything magically quieted down. In the kitchen, their distorted, torturedly smiling faces greeted him, as if nothing had happened. As if pain was just an interference on the line you could ignore.

That’s why, once in your house, he was shocked. Something bordering on disbelief.

The house smelled of warmth. Not just tasty food or homemade bread — but warmth itself. Cozy lived in every corner: in the soft light filtering through the curtains, in the neatly set breakfast table, in the quiet, familiar sounds — laughter, clinking dishes, morning chatter.

He stood in the doorway, a little confused, as if afraid to break this fragile idyll.

— Hiori! Good morning, — you said, turning to him with a wide smile. — Would you like to have breakfast?

— Um… I… — he hesitated, as if trying to find the right tone so as not to sound inappropriate. — Yes… gladly.

At the table, Yo felt like a foreign body. As if he ended up in another world — too bright, too sincere to be real. He didn’t know how to behave: to join the cheerful conversations or stay aside, as he was used to.

But the atmosphere did its job. Gradually he began to breathe easier, his shoulders relaxed, his gaze softened. You poured juice, laughed at a silly joke from your father, skillfully slid him his favorite toasts. And your parents asked questions — genuine, interested. Hiori at first stumbled, answers were short, but then... he started to engage.

— And you, Hiori-chan, what movies do you like? — your mother asked with warm, genuine interest.

He hesitated, habitually expecting a catch, but none followed.

— I… like thrillers and sci-fi. My favorite movie is "Ready Player One."

— Wow! — the woman’s eyes lit up. — I love sci-fi too! What did you like most about it?

And he told. For the first time — without anxiety, without the feeling that he would soon be interrupted or told it was meaningless, that he should think about something else. He talked about the plot, game references, the atmosphere — and they listened. With interest, with smiles, they exchanged remarks, shared their impressions.

Breakfast became a real celebration. Not in terms of food — in terms of communication. Acceptance.

And somewhere between toasts with jam and discussing favorite movies, he suddenly realized: he felt good here. So good it was even frightening. But still — warm. He didn’t know how long this feeling would last. But now, sitting at an ordinary kitchen table, he felt for the first time like a part of something... real.

And he wanted to stay.

Thank for reaching

🩶

🩶 Today it is written on something light.

Bad English (I am not a native English speaker, guys, please ask)

🩶

💬 Share your thoughts and comment — it will mean the world to me!

🖤 @truwzfl — always riding the waves of fluff & possession.

[solvivo]

"A Fine Line" 「微妙な境界」

(びみょうなきょうかい, Bimyō na Kyōkai)

Yandere!BLUE LOCK

by : me

Genres : Psychological thriller Dark romance Obsession Angst Manipulation & control Introspective monologue Canon divergence Queer (male x male) Possessiveness Cold-blooded yandere POV

tw : Psychological abuse Emotional dependency Stalking / surveillance Obsessive love Boundary violation Implications of violence Coercive control Manipulative behavior Potentially disturbing themes (Yandere perspective)

a/n : As they say, without unnecessary stupid chatter — just in Sae’s style? This differs quite a bit in tone from the excerpt/sketch (small, but there is a difference) compared to Michael.

[Reader-insert: An ordinary working man.]

Enjoy

Headcanon! Yandere Sae Itoshi.

Sae Itoshi as Yandere

He didn't 'lose his mind.' He chose this state consciously. It's his method, not an illness. It's his decision.

Appearance:

Quiet, intellectual, controlling (subtle/冷酷 — "cold").

Deep rational yandere ("analyzing psychotype")

He does not destroy — he rewrites you.

His love is not an impulse, but a decision: he chose you, as one chooses a path.

He studies you, predicts, models the reaction — and subtly changes the reality around you so that you become dependent.

This is not just attachment. This is implantation.

Type:

Manipulator (emotional, behavioral, social control)

Stalker (knows where you are, who you are with, what you are thinking — even before you)

Pseudo-guardian (does everything "out of love", even when depriving you of choice)

Evolving — becomes more dangerous if he senses a loss of control.

Neurologist-empath: he reads emotions not empathically, but as a specialist — and manages them.

Psycho-console: he turns you into a character in a simulation where you think you are free.

Behavior/Courting — phase by phase:

Phase 1:

He observes. Silently. For months. Studies words, reactions, your weak points.

You do not yet know that you interest him — and he already knows where you will be in three months.

"You laughed when you were confused. I noticed that on the first day. And I decided — you need someone to know you more deeply than you yourself."

Phase 2:

He appears — accidentally, "by coincidence".

He does not make the first move — he leads you to the thought that you chose him.

He offers what you lack: stability, attention, comfort. You think it is your victory.

"You came up to me yourself. I merely responded. Or did I not?"

Phase 3:

He becomes the center of your routine. Without him — no breakfast, no sleep, no peace.

You begin to seek him yourself. And he — is not always available.

Sometimes — cold. Sometimes — overly affectionate. It's a swing. You wait for his warmth — like a drug addict for a dose.

"I am merely giving you what you seek. It is not my fault that you cannot stop."

skillfully prepares events and manipulations so that you yourself go into his hands, you yourself push someone aside besides him and you yourself encourage his obsession. he makes it so that in your eyes there remains no one except, of course, him. Other people, whom for some reason you do not reject, after just a couple of days disappear, and Itoshi then also makes you feel guilty for daring to look at someone other than him.

Over time

He eliminates alternatives — a job, friends, stability.

You think you are free. But all paths bring you back to him.

How hard is it to escape him:

9.0/10.

He doesn't keep you in a cage — you yourself are afraid to leave.

He builds a reality where everything outside him is frighteningly empty, cold, unstable.

He knows your financial model: he can get you a job — and control you through it.

He knows your routes, gets to know people in the shadows, creates conditions under which you return voluntarily.

If you leave — he won't punish you immediately. He will let the world break you — and then come to "save" you.

Not because he holds you — but because he has become part of you.

He adapts to what you believe in to destroy it.

He doesn't trap — he "helps" when you're on the edge, and you grab onto him yourself.

"You want to be free — but first remember who held you when everyone turned away."

Punishment:

You won't recognize it as punishment — until it's too late.

Gentle, morally devastating.

He doesn't shout — he is silent, cold, detached.

He "disappears" for a day or two — you begin to fear losing him.

He may delete numbers, erase your drafts, isolate access to social media, but do it so that you blame yourself.

"This is not punishment. This is your decision. I just deleted what makes you vulnerable."

In severe cases — an emotional rupture after which you yourself ask for forgiveness.

He may "accidentally" mention your fear of loneliness.

He will make you feel what it's like to be without him.

He will shut off all his emotions — and you will end up in perfect silence. And you'll be the one to ask for forgiveness.

Sometimes he will simply show you that he knows too much — and you feel exposed.

"I'm not angry. I just recalculated how much you mean to me. In percentages. Don't worry, you're still in the plus."

How does he deal with opponents?

Silently and efficiently. No blood, no loud scenes.

Not physically — socially and psychologically.

He sets people up professionally.

He enters their life unnoticed: Legally clean.

He destroys reputations, removes opportunities, makes it so that the opponent leaves on their own.

If someone is too persistent — there may be an accident.

He destroys their authority — with unnoticed conflicts.

The opponent either disappears, or gives you up himself, thinking that “you'll be better with Sae”.

> "It's his own fault. He poked where he shouldn't have."

He squeezes them out psychologically — so that the person disappears by themselves.

If necessary — he causes an "accident". Without traces.

> "You didn't notice, but he no longer calls. He no longer exists in your life. And this is not a coincidence."

Does he need reciprocity?

It is desirable, but not obligatory. The main thing is your presence. He will do everything so that you don't leave. Even if you hate him — he's there.

Not hysterical, not passionate. But a confirmation that you "belong" only to him — mentally, emotionally, forever.

He creates conditions so that you not only return — you become his choice.

Not in a romantic sense — he needs your attention, dependence, fear of leaving.

You can be cold, you can be angry, but you must be near.

Love? He will call it "a necessity."

He does not demand the words "I love you" — he watches how you choose him instead of sleep, work, friends, life.

If you do not respond — he does not get angry. He restructures the situation so that you respond yourself.

> "You don't have to love me. Just... stay close. Forever."

Does he set rules?

Never directly.

He programs the "environment" around you.

He creates an environment where the rules are obvious without words:

Don't lie (he'll find out anyway)

Don't disappear without explanation (he will find you)

Don't get close to others (he will remove them)

He does not forbid — he "convinces" that you yourself don't want it.

You yourself come to the necessary conclusions. He doesn't say "Don't talk to them".

You yourself lose interest in others.

...If you violate an "invisible rule" — he doesn't punish. He changes behavior — and you yourself feel that something has broken.

You ask to put everything back.

> "Rules? Do I set them? I just disappear when you forget who I am to you."

Closeness?

Contact with him is like poison with honey.

He is intimate, but not intrusive.

His touches are gentle, slow, precise.

He knows when you want hugs, even if you don't admit it.

He can be domineering if he sees you are weak. Or soft when you are panicking.

Physical intimacy is like an opium addiction: after it you can't think of anything except him.

> "You no longer look for others. After me — you can't. No one feels like that."

Closeness is a tool.

He uses touches as an anchor: after a touch you lose the will to resist.

He doesn't take by force, but he can. You come to him yourself.

> "If you want — I'll stay at a distance.

But you'll press yourself against me at night anyway."

For him closeness is even more power.

He does not seek passion — he seeks control through closeness.

May be obsessively affectionate after one time, especially in moments of emotional instability.

> "I won't let you go. Even if you beg."

Danger on a scale of 1–10

9.5/10.

He doesn't kill. He replaces your personality with a version where you are his forever.

He doesn't intimidate — he convinces you that without him you are nobody.

You fall in love. Then you lose yourself.

And then — you don't want to get yourself back.

He will make you part of him.

And you yourself will call it love.

Sketch

I used to think of myself as completely independent. Strong. In control. The world was my playing field. I always knew where and how to place my pieces. All I needed was clear logic and cold calculation. Emotions? They were a weakness I didn’t let myself be possessed by.

But then you appeared.

Not as someone important. No. You were… just background noise in my life that grew louder and louder. I wasn’t interested. I only watched. Your persistence. Your moments of weakness. And then one day you became part of my space.

I thought I could just control it. You were just another variable. I could manipulate it. I could adjust everything. But then…

You became unbearably hard to ignore. You weren’t just someone in the background. You became the center. My life began to revolve around you, and I… didn’t know how to handle it.

You didn’t see me, right? You didn’t see how hard it became for me to pretend I didn’t feel everything that was happening between us. I tried to be cold, to keep my distance. But you came into my world, you changed it, and now everything is so familiar that I don’t even know where I end and you begin.

You think I don’t understand what’s happening? That I don’t see how everything’s slipping? I’m dependent. Yes. I’m not afraid to admit it. Because, after all, is that bad? When it’s not only normal but stable? This is my stability. I’m dependent on you, and that’s not a mistake.

You don’t realize how you became my balance. You became what I expected, what I needed in my life. And every one of your looks, every one of your words now makes me stronger. I know how you think. I know what you want, and I’m ready to give you that. I hold you the way I need to. I understand that I’ve become… dependent. And that’s okay.

You keep thinking I’m holding you, but actually, it’s you who holds me. I can’t imagine my day without you. Even if I wanted to—I can’t. And you know what? That’s not a problem. It’s a decision. It’s my choice.

Now you are my life. My norm. It’s so steady that I don’t doubt it. I don’t want to change anything. I don’t want to be without you. You are my addiction, but what could be better? I won’t save myself, and I don’t need saving. We’re in this together. And that is peace.

I always knew I would control everything around me. But you taught me that true ownership isn’t staying outside. It’s being in. Being with. Being inside.

You are my norm. You are my stability. And I won’t let you go.

Do you really think I don't know who I am?

I was born in a country where the word "yandere" long ago became a meme. Where girls with knives are avatars, where everyone jokes about the "cuckoo", and nobody believes it can be real.

They laugh. They make art. And then they disappear.

You think they're made up? No. I know what yandere are. I know how it looks from the outside.

You think I'm crazy? I'm simply consistent.

I read everything. From anime to court analyses. I know how their stories end. I know how they get caught, how correspondences are pulled up, how they find blood under nails. I saw photos of bodies. I listened to interrogations. I know the chemistry of decomposition, and how to hide the remains.

But the difference is that I'm not them.

I'm not weak. Not emotional. I'm cold-blooded. Calculated. I take a step only when I know three moves ahead where you will be.

They lost control. I did not. They killed out of jealousy. I make people disappear without a trace.

You won't find knives under my pillow. You will find the blanket you bought, from which your scent will never leave. You chose your cage yourself. You gave me the keys yourself. You became my stability. My variable. My system.

I do not lose control. I am control. I do not deny that I'm dependent. I admit it with pride. I built a system in which being near you is not obsession. It's the only way.

You feel it, right? That you no longer belong to yourself. That every step you take is already measured. You know that if you leave — something will start to break. And it won't be me. It will be you.

Yes, I know who I am. I am the one who won't be caught. I am the one who holds you not with a chain, but with dependence. I am the one you invited yourself.

You didn't know? That a single glance in my direction is already a sentence. Now you know.

—

> "Violence, mania, stalking, murder — and necessarily an end: blood on the floor and a camera in court. All these stories are the same. All these yandere are stupid. They get caught. They lose control. And they always lose the one for whom it all began. Ridiculous."

I knew this would be my reality long before I allowed myself to feel anything for you. In Japan such stories are everywhere — online and in real life. Everyone watches, reads, mocks.

> "Another sick girl with a knife."

But I'm not them. I'm not emotional. I'm not unstable. I'm precise.

I will not lose you in rage, will not leave traces, will not allow myself to be exposed. I'm not "in love without brakes." I'm still ten steps ahead. But I am yandere. Consciously. Calculated. Surgically precise.

I don't make scenes. I don't grab your hand in public, don't whisper "you're mine" in a hysterical voice. I create a situation where you yourself decide to stay close. I choose where you'll end up, whom you'll talk to, what you'll lose to want to return. I don't keep you in a cage. I make you a person who no longer needs freedom.

You think I can snap? That someday I'll do something that gets me jailed? No. I'm too smart. In those stories — yandere lose. But I write my own.

> "I read how they catch them. I watched how they fail. But I'm Sae Itoshi. I will not become a mistake in your life. I will become everything that's left in it."

Beginning — You came up to him yourself. But it was his decision.

He did not approach first. He never takes the first step. He simply creates a space that you want to enter yourself.

You saw him at the gym. Then — at the café. Then — at the bookstore. At first it seemed like mere coincidences. But he looked... beautifully careless. A smile — as if it were only for you. You are one of hundreds, but he suddenly met your gaze and stayed in it a little longer than allowed.

You sent the first message in direct.

You invited him for “coffee” first.

You gave him your number first.

You did not know that all this — were steps planned in advance.

——

You think you approached me first. You think you showed initiative. You were so confident: in that café, with your phone in your hand, with headphones on. I deliberately chose that table — a little closer than necessary. Deliberately opened the right book — the one you recently searched for online. Yes, I knew. I saw your searches.

Everything looked accidental. You even laughed when you asked: “You read this? Nice. Rare to meet someone with such taste.”

I smiled. I said the name of the character you mentioned in your tweet a week ago. You decided it was a coincidence. But you were already in my net.

It was not luck. It was calculation. You were ready. You were vulnerable.

And I — perfectly adapted to what you wanted to see.

From that moment everything went according to plan.

He seemed perfect. Not perfect like in made-up stories — where the hero arrives and rescues. He was like a mechanic of an elite car: flawlessly assembled, gleaming, cold. Near him it became quiet inside.

Sae did not seek attention. Attention drew itself to him. And when you first noticed him — you thought it was your choice. Naive.

You made a move. He turned. A slight smirk. He knew you would approach. Even then — you were written into his equation. You did not yet know that at the very moment when you approached him first — you opened the trap.

--

You began to notice oddities. He always appeared where you were. The same coffee. The same subway stations. Even the weather seemed synchronized — rain when you were alone. Warmth — when he was near.

Your posts on social networks received the same strange like, without a name. Missed calls from empty numbers. You laughed about it with friends: “A stalker, ha. Just like in games and visual novels.” But each time after — you caught his gaze in the crowd. He watched.

He knew you before you knew him.

You did not know that he had been watching for a long time.

Through mutual followers.

Through old photos.

Through your GPS tags that you once carelessly left.

He knew where you studied. Where you work. Who your exes are. Who hurt you. Who attracts you. How much time you spend in a stuffy apartment and what songs you listen to when you are sad.

The address. The route home. Who you communicate with. Where you sleep. What you search for on the internet.

He knew what to say to make you open up. He gave you a shadow of safety — as if you had chosen on your own. But all your choices were orchestrated.

He made you need him.

Your initiative?

You simply approached the bait.

Camera with muted sound. Monitor. On the screen — you. You’re coming back from work. You open the fridge. You don’t really have lunch again.

— "Such a mess... I’ll have to clean up after him when he leaves again," Sae whispers to himself, slowly moving the mouse. Clicks. On the screen — your conversation with a friend.

— "What an idiot he is. You’ll realize it soon."

The next window — an order: your favorite food. Sae clicks: “deliver.” Not from him. From a “random” courier. So you’ll think it’s a coincidence. So you’ll smile. So you’ll link the warmth in your chest — to him, without even knowing it.

"He’s strangely often nearby. But I’m glad about it. His voice is so calm, his touches — like innocent ones. I call it a coincidence. He’s just… always on time. Always at the right moment. It’s like he reads me."

You don’t understand that he truly — reads. Every word of yours. Every breath.

And he — waits.

He doesn’t rush. He waits until you come to him at night yourself. Until you ask to stay. Until you think you’re in control.

He doesn’t take by force. He arranges for you to give yourself.

And the moment you say:

" I trust you" —

that will be your end.

You don’t decide anything yourself. He already knows who you spoke with, what your plans are, why you were late. He isn’t angry — he’s disappointed. And that’s worse. You feel guilty. You search for his gaze because it matters to you that he soften again. You stop making decisions yourself. Every “may I?” sounds quieter. Every “I just wanted to...” is cut off.

Sae does not shout. He controls. He punishes — with silence, isolation, sudden disappearance. You panic when you can’t find him. And he returns and says: “Now you know what it means to lose me.”

You have become his.

Insert: Hidden camera / Audio diary

(sound of footsteps on wood, silence, then Sae’s voice — almost tender)

— You know, I always knew when you lied. And I knew why. Not because you wanted to leave. But because you were afraid of how much you wanted to stay.

(pause, camera click)

— Do you still think you had a choice?

When you tried to leave — you received letters. Forged. Old.

Messages from exes you long forgot. Supposed apologies. Invitations to meet. But as soon as you started replying — everything fell apart. They didn’t remember the messages. They hadn’t written anything. And it all led you back to him.

Letters from family. Fake contracts. Even phony threats that Sae supposedly saved you from.

You began to doubt reality. But he was there. Always calm. Steady. “I’m here. Everything’s under control.” — and you wanted to believe it.

You didn’t understand that trust — was part of the construct. He kept you not in chains, but in need. You didn’t leave — because it felt like you were staying by your own choice.

Sae Itoshi — Audio Diary

[01:46 AM / Tokyo / Private log - encrypted]

(silence, click of the recording)

Today he tried to leave again.

I saw him check the train schedule. Hide his passport. Lie to me, looking me in the eyes.

I wonder… why does he think I don’t notice?

I’m not stupid. I only give him the illusion of choice.

(short pause, sound of breathing)

He said he needs space.

Space…

From what? From me?

I am all he has. All he will have.

Today I deleted his coworker’s number. Erased the chats.

He thinks he lost his phone by accident.

He doesn’t understand that I’m protecting him. From others. From himself.

(sound of glass — he’s clearly pouring water)

On nights like this I want to keep him close. Tight.

So he feels — I am here. I am everywhere.

And he is still afraid.

Fear is a good feeling. Fear holds.

(pause)

I used to think love was weakness.

But maybe…

Power is love.

And I will not let him disappear.

Not with anyone. Nowhere. Never.

(long pause)

I bought new locks. And replaced the cameras.

Tomorrow he will learn new rules.

(softly, almost tenderly)

He will understand.

He will learn to be only mine.

(click — the recording stops)

Sae Itoshi — Audio Diary

[03:27 AM / Tokyo / Private log - encrypted]

(muted breathing, as if just stepped out of the shower)

He cried.

Not shouting. Not begging.

Just… sat on the floor and looked at me like I’m a monster.

It’s hurtful.

I didn’t mean to make him hurt.

He chose himself. He decided to break the rules.

I warned him.

Once.

(soft finger taps on the table)

The messages were naive.

Hearts. Personal.

He dared to smile at someone else.

Not apologizing — that’s already a challenge.

(short pause)

I locked him in a room for three hours. No light. No phone. No clock.

To make him think. To remember who he is and who he’s with now.

He started banging on the door.

I didn’t open immediately.

But when I let him in — he trembled.

I held him.

Gently. Like a fragile doll.

He buried his face in my chest, wet with tears and fear.

And I whispered to him:

— It’s okay.

— I’m here.

— I won’t let you go. Never.

(sound of glass — he sets down a glass)

Later I put him to bed. Stroked his hair.

Told him how much I need him. How empty it is without him.

I kissed his forehead as if forgiving.

But I did not forgive.

He still needs to learn.

(long silence)

Tomorrow…

Tomorrow he will say he loves me.

And then — we will begin again.

(the recording slowly cuts off, faint hiss in the background — like from a surveillance camera)

One day you ran away. A panic. A suitcase. A hotel room. A turned‑off phone. Another city — from Kanagawa to Saitama. You left. A real escape — silently, with the last of your cash. He was asleep. Or pretending to be.

You turned into a different life: a small rented corner, an unfamiliar neighborhood, quiet streets. No one knows who you are, and that is—for the first time—relief.

Now I am not his. I am simply me.

The first night you slept fitfully. The second night worse. On the third you woke in a cold sweat from his voice ringing in your ears:

“Without me you are nothing.”

You deleted all contacts. But he was no longer in the phone — he had settled in your thoughts.

You thought you were free.

Until the day you woke and found your favorite food in the hotel room. And the jacket you had lost in his apartment. And a note:

“You knew I would find you. I don’t lose. I only return.”

You screamed. But the room was paid for a month. Your documents had been updated. Someone had already filed an application for a new job for you — your dream job. He had arranged a life for you. Without you. Without your permission.

And you were afraid. Because part of you… was glad.

— Why does he make me feel guilty?

It wasn’t me who lied, who shut the door, who watched.

But why is there this residue inside me? As if everything is on me.

There is a heaviness in my chest. Pain in my throat.

I didn’t say a word, and he looked at me as if I’d betrayed him.

I only wanted to… breathe. To be myself.

But now — I’m in the room he calls “ours,” with a lock that never clicks from the outside.

(Your attempt to leave. You said you wanted to go outside. Just to breathe. He was silent for a long time. Then he spoke.)

— You… seriously?

(his tone even, but something rotten in it)

— After everything — you want to go out? Alone?

(He steps closer. His eyes narrow. He’s not shouting — and that’s scarier than a shout.)

— I give you a roof, food, protection. I… gave everything up for you.

(He doesn’t blink. Standing very close. You feel the heat of his breath, but your body seems frozen with cold.)

— And you still think you have the right to decide anything?

(a sharp inhale)

— It’s not you who suffers.

— It’s me who wakes up every day thinking — what if you run away.

— What if you lie again.

(He slams his hand on the table. The bang — sharp, but not aimed at you.)

— I do it for you.

(a long pause — and his voice becomes gentle. terrifically gentle.)

— But if you’re so unhappy…

— Then leave.

— Leave and see who else will love you like this.

(He turns away. You see his shoulders tense. He seems to be holding a storm under his skin.)

— Only later… don’t beg to come back.

(Silence. Only your breathing and his anger fill the air.)

You were silent. And he understood that he had won again. Not by force. Not by threat. By necessity.

You drank tea. From his mug. Lay under his blanket. In his apartment. With his scent. Everything felt like yours — but it was his.

When did I stop being myself?

Every movement of yours is calculated. You knew he checks the browser. Reads notes. Knows when you go out and who you talk to.

But you no longer got angry. You eventually got used to it…

I don’t want him… But I can’t live without him. I don’t know how to breathe alone.

[03:27 AM / Tokyo / Private log - encrypted]

He left again. I gave him two days.

He didn’t eat. Didn’t sleep. Didn’t live. He only tried to prove to himself that he’s free.

But freedom is an illusion when I give you everything. When you are dependent on my breathing.

He came back on his own. Silly, trembling. And I didn’t laugh. I simply opened the door. Offered a blanket. Sat nearby.

Now he’s mine. Truly. Not because I hold him. Because he came himself.

You thought of leaving again. But when you reached for the doorknob — a tremor seized your body. The world felt too loud. Too empty.

If I leave… who will give me a roof? Who knows that I like strawberry tea? Who will nurse me without asking?

You realized: you’re not just with him. You’re in him. In the system he built.

He sat on the sofa and waited silently. No reproaches. No threats. Only presence. The pressure of silence. You turned back on your own. He didn’t get up. He only said:

— Good. I knew you couldn’t do it.

[01:03 AM / Tokyo / Private log - final entry]

He sleeps. Nearby. His breathing even. He’s under my blanket again. In my rhythm.

I’m no longer afraid. He won’t leave.

Because now — he’s not just mine. He is me. My meaning. My proof.

He utters my name in his sleep. Whispers how afraid he is of losing me. I won.

But I do not celebrate. I just… hold him tighter.

You hardly notice how you’ve changed.

Friends are gone. They “fell away” — as if by themselves.

Your phone is always near, but you use it less and less.

Social networks — scrubbed. Personal things — erased.

Work — remote, on his devices, through his contacts.

The apartment? — no longer yours. He “helped” with the move.

And most of all — you stopped resisting. Not because you don’t want to.

Simply… you no longer know how.

Night. Room. Silence.

You are sitting on the floor, wrapped in his hoodie. You breathe heavily.

Sae enters without asking, without announcing himself. Sits beside you. Silent.

— "I knew you wouldn’t leave," he whispers, running his fingers along your neck.

You tremble, but not from fear.

— "You’re happy, aren’t you?"

You nod.

Even if inside — there is emptiness. Even if the voice in your head screams that this is not you.

— "Good."

He kisses your temple. The camera in the corner blinks. It has always been on.

"Maybe if I had run away earlier… maybe if I hadn’t come over myself…"

But you came. Yourself. And now — even death seems less frightening than his absence.

tbc...

Thank for reaching !

🩶

🩶 I’m sorry I’ve been away for so long. I didn’t expect it to take this long myself — mostly I didn’t like how the sketch turned out; I wanted everything at once, and that was bad too. I don’t especially like this part. (It took so long that I already have other sketches in my drafts, but I’m not posting them because I need to release the headcanon first.) I hope I won’t disappear for a long time again.

Bad grammar

Poor English (I’m not a native English speaker, guys)

🩶

🖤 @truwzfl — always riding the waves of angst & possession

[solvivo]

Yandere! BLUE LOCK

🩶by: me

Headcanon: Sae Itoshi as a yandere. (in progress)

Status: completed / angst + psychodrama + mlm

visualtrigger

"I came back — and you knew it."

about a love that became a cage.

[pilot episode]

Before It All Began...

He didn’t appear suddenly. One day I just realized that he had always been there.

I didn’t know where it all started. Maybe with that glance across the room when I first looked at him for longer than a second. Or with that message — no name, no signature, but written as if he already knew what I was thinking. Maybe even earlier — when I started feeling uneasy being alone. Or when he first “accidentally” appeared nearby, exactly on the day I broke down.

He didn’t shout. Didn’t grab. Didn’t overpower. He simply — knew.

When I was trembling from anxiety, he was already holding my blanket. When I feared a call from the past, he had already erased the traces. When I needed a shoulder — he said he wouldn’t come. And I asked. I begged. I felt pathetic. And that made me depend on him even more.

He didn’t become my world. He replaced my world with himself.

Only later did I begin to understand: I didn’t choose him. He calculated me. And now, looking back, I see only traces: mined touches, programmed coincidences, the muffled echo of my own thoughts reflected in his words.

You think you can still leave. But honestly look — there’s nowhere left for you to go.

Entry Point

You were sitting in an empty apartment with a burnt-out phone screen in your hand. On the outside — silence. Inside — a lump in your throat and a quiet fear: that you would go through it all alone again. You didn’t know he was already nearby. That someone was watching your messages, hearing your breakdowns.

That evening he called. His voice — calm as water. Didn’t say anything unnecessary. Just:

“I’m here. No need to explain.”

And from that moment he began to enter — not the house, but your coordinate system. Slowly.

He didn’t look dangerous. He didn’t impose. He just knew when you would be hungry, when you were awake, when you pretended to be happy.

He knew you before you became yourself.

After No Way Back

Now you wake up in his bed. But it’s no longer “his.” It has become your only familiar space.

Messages from friends? Silent. Work matters? Gone away. Fear of leaving? Too big. You think: “I am alone here now.”

But inside another voice whispers:

“He made it so that no other way out simply exists.”

When he enters the room, everything falls into place. He strokes the back of your head as if you were something fragile that cannot be lost. You look into his eyes — and see not light, but a precise construct.

He learned you by heart.

And now you are part of him.

dependence-diary

_"I just went to buy coffee.

But he already knew where I’d be.

He even knew what I’d think when I saw him.

Sae Itoshi appeared again — and it’s no coincidence."_

I wanted to forget. I threw away the SIM card, changed the district, even put a different name on my job application.

But he… he didn’t forget.

He made me feel again — guilt, dependence, attachment.

He made me the cause of his pain.

"You destroyed everything yourself. I just came to take it back."

The camera in the room flickered — he was reflected on the screen, like in a mirror.

And suddenly, I realized,

He knows. He always knew.

the diary will be updated...

Caption:

⠀⠀⠀⠀"Think like me until you become me."

— Sae, voice note [03:14 AM]

🩶

📣 Message to readers

I’ve decided to release the pilot part first anyway. Now wait for the headcanon itself. 😂

🩶

🩶

💬 Share your thoughts and comment — it will mean the world to me!

bad English 🫩☝️

🤍 @truwzfl — always riding the waves of angst & possession.

[solvivo]

‎🇩🇪🕊️Liebe oder Kontrolle🪽🇩🇪

YADERE!BLUE LOCK

by: me

Genres: yandere, psychological dependency, BL, humiliation, dual dynamics, power and love, erotica, psychological vulnerability, toxic intimacy, boundaries, broken power

⚠️ tw:Dominance, emotional abuse, mental dependency, physical submission, elements of degradation, substance dependence, sexual vulnerability, physical craving, questionable consent (dubcon), emotional breakdown, internal struggle

a/n:I think he quickly realized he was starting to lose his mind, but didn’t give it much importance because the thrill and addiction made him feel great. Still, doubts were there, especially since studying psychology involves understanding love. He probably already knew how to recognize the boundaries of normality. He would just try to feel loved.[I’m thinking of writing something psychological later on the topic "To be loved or to love." Something like that, but I have already scribbled down a few ideas. However, that will be in the future.]

[Reader-insert : Player Bastard München ]

Enjoy

Headcanon! Yandere Michael Kaiser.

Michaël Kaiser as Yandere

♂️ male x male | Blue Lock | psychoanalysis + headcanon + dark BL elements

Author's view on Kaiser's behavior if he truly became obsessed with you.

We will touch on all sides — from flirting to complete control.

Appearance

Obsessive-dominant yandere.

He does not hide his feelings, he controls them — and his partner. Control, obsessiveness, attractive charisma. All wrapped in a golden wrapper.

Tуpe

Public and predatory.

He will smirk, drop ambiguous phrases in front of everyone, grab your chin, “jokingly” hug from behind — but his gaze will have a predatory possessive note. This is not just a game. This is a claim.

What his behavior / courting resembles?

He is not just in love — he is obsessed. You are like a trophy to him, like the final goal in the decisive match. If you do not respond — it does not break his heart, it angers him. Because you must be his, period.

But you immediately feel something obsessive, excessive — as if you are not the object of affection, but the prize to which he has already attached his name.

It all starts with water. Controlling whether you eat. Entering your room without knocking.

— “I'm just worried.”

— “You don’t even know how to take care of yourself.”

Then come prohibitions on "unnecessary" contacts, friendships, messaging. He is convinced: you need no one but him.

Provocations. He will provoke jealousy. May flirt with others to check how attached you are. But he himself will not tolerate rivals.

“I chose you, so — you’re mine.” He doesn’t ask — he states a fact.

And the scariest? He sincerely believes this is love.

How hard is it to escape from him?

You are not just with him — you are in his game. He has connections, influence, charisma, and — worst of all — your weaknesses. He studies you like a field before a strike. Attempt to leave? He already knows where you will go.

Because it is almost impossible. Kaiser is not one to simply "let go". He will know where you are, who you are with, and what you feel. Even if you run away — he will come. May pretend he forgave, but his real “forgiveness” will come later — in the form of cold, controlled revenge.

Punishment

He does not hit. He breaks the psyche.

Silence. Alienation. Subtle stings:

“You are no longer interesting.”

“You are nothing without me.”

He can make you kneel before him, while he remains calm, in a robe and glasses, looking at you like a broken toy he still adores.

If you show character — he will not humiliate you in response, he will wait it out, then make you crawl back yourself. And he will be delighted you have the strength to resist him.

Psychological pressure, icy ignoring, deprivation of warmth, detachment, playing the "silent god" — he knows where to hit so that you not only apologize but break yourself.

How he deals with rivals

Quietly. Coldly. Without traces.

He does not raise his hand; he burns reputations. Removes them from the field. Makes sure they no longer appear near you. And he does it... with pleasure.

And if someone made you smile — that person will remember it as the mistake of their life.

Kaiser believes:

“If you belong to me — then your smile, your look, your pain — are mine too.”

He does not get jealous, he eliminates. Not directly, not obviously. But your “friend” suddenly drops out of the lineup. Someone loses a contract. Someone no longer dares to look at you. And Kaiser just smiles — as if it’s just an accident.

Does he need reciprocity?

Yes. But not simple.

He doesn’t want “mutual sympathy." He wants you to live for him.

Your love must be absolute, unconditional, without attempts to leave. You must not “just love” him — you must be dependent on him.

Love for him = power and unconscious submission.

And if you love him but want to remain yourself — he feels betrayed.

"He needs you to be dependent. To tremble at his touch. To only look at him. Love = possession. It's a passion bordering on illness.

His infatuation with you borders on a morbid need for you.

He wants your body, gaze, reaction.

Does he set rules?

Yes. Clearly. Like an emperor.

“Always answer.”

“No secrets from me.”

“Wear what I gave you.”

“No looking at others.”

“You don’t call me Kaiser, you call me Michael. Only you.”

He creates a system in which you can't breathe without him.

And if you break even one – his voice turns cold, and his eyes… become dangerously dark.

Intimacy?

He can be gentle – but only if he's sure you belong to him. If not – he'll take you as he wants. Without roughness, but with complete control. He knows how to push the body to its limit, to make you moan even if your soul screams "no." For him, intimacy is an act of affirmation: you are mine.

He craves your body as an extension of his power. Sex isn't just passion, it's a stage where he asserts his dominance.

Complete control.

He loves when you're addicted to his touch, when only he elicits your reaction.

Danger:

8.5/10

He's intelligent, charismatic, unforgiving, and knows how to ruin people without a trace. If you become his – then you become part of his world. Getting out of there is like escaping a golden cage with poison in the lock.

He won't kill you. But you'll stop being yourself.

You'll forget what you were like before him. And he'll say that you're happy – because now you're his.

He's obsessed.

He's broken inside.

And if you ever leave – he'll destroy the whole world to take you back."

Excerpt.

It felt like just yesterday everything was fine.

A regular practice with “Bastard München.” Sweat, team spirit, excitement. Everything was… within limits. But Kaiser — he was the exception. As always, too close, too clingy, too much Kaiser. Sneaking his flirtation between every pass, intervening even during breaks.

— Just drink some water, — he insisted, handing you the bottle. — Don’t pass out here, hero.

You took it — just so he’d back off. He won again.

But then things went somehow… wrong.

Your head spun. The gym blurred before your eyes. Someone was yelling. You think you fell… in the locker room?

——

You woke up later.

Darkness. Warmth. A spacious room, leather of the chair, the ticking of a clock.

And him — sitting in front of you. Michael Kaiser. In a black silk robe, hair tied neatly in a bun, glasses on his nose. And even like this, he doesn’t lose his regal posture.

You wanted to get up, scream, resist — but your body betrayed you.

Next to you — his leg. He moves it closer. And almost in a trance, your lips reach for his ankle. Your lips touch warm skin. Dry, pitiful, humiliating. But you cannot stop.

You hate him.

You hate yourself for it.

But deep down — something pulls you. Competition? Dependency? Emptiness?

He only sighs softly. Raises a finger. Slowly runs it through your hair, gently but firmly guiding your head down. He revels in the moment, but… not like before.

——

You don’t fight anymore. You don’t struggle anymore.

You’re just here. And that breaks him.

— You’ve become boring, — he says. His eyes behind the lenses darken. — There used to be a spark in you. You howled, bit, spat. And now?.. — he looks at you with unusual pain. — Now you just breathe because I allow it.

You don’t answer. You don’t even know what to say.

He stands up. Comes closer. His voice is almost tender.

— I wanted to win you. To tame you.

He looks into your eyes — and suddenly quietly:

— And now I don’t know… if I even feel this as a victory?

——

In his gaze — fear. Not of you. Of himself.

He stands between power and what he can’t control — love. He craves it, but doesn’t know how to get it honestly. He doesn’t know how to be kind, how to be vulnerable. He doesn’t know how not to break.

And he’s afraid: if he stops being Kaiser — what will remain?

“I just wanted you to be here. Truly.

And now… I don’t know how to get you back if you’re already broken in my hands.”

You remember how everything blurred.

Pulse roaring in your ears. Moments melting away. Something in that water…

Maybe something was added? Or you were just too tired?

But when you came to again — he was already close.

The same robe, hair in a bun, the scent of spicy perfume, soft lamplight, and him — like an emperor, comfortably settled in a leather chair.

You’re on the floor. Between his legs.

At first, it all seemed like a dream. But your body was burning. Skin too sensitive, breath heavy. Something beneath the skin moaned and demanded him.

— Come on, — his voice was gentle, even encouraging. — You know how to show gratitude.

You don’t remember how you started. Just kissed his ankle.

Dry. Hesitant. Pitiful.

He didn’t stop you.

He just watched, and you felt the shame and dependence wrapping you like wax — burning, but sweet.

Lips move higher. On your calf.

Along the inner side of your knee. His skin hot. Perfect.

You tremble but can’t stop.

— You wanted freedom, — Kaiser smirks. — And now you can’t even lift your eyes.

He spreads his knees. The robe parts a bit wider.

You see the edge of his thigh, his groin in the shadow of the fabric.

Your body reaches out on its own. You hate it, but the desire is branded within you like a mark.

Each kiss — like surrender.

Each movement — like a confession: “I am yours.”

He plunges his fingers into your hair again. Harder. Holding you.

— Just like that, — he whispers. — You’re perfect when silent and begging.

— But you know, — he pauses, his eyes turning serious, almost desperate, — I do all this because I can’t let go.

He leans down. His lips touch your forehead.

— I… I don’t know how to love any other way.

— Forgive me. But stay close. Even like this. Even on your knees.

—

And you don’t know what’s scarier —

his desire for power…

…or this broken need for you, as his only source of warmth.

His fingers are still tangled in your hair.

You’re at his feet, lips burning the skin. But at some point… something changes.

Kaiser freezes. His body trembles, almost imperceptibly.

He looks at you as if for the first time. Not like a "subordinate," not like a "trophy," but like…

something simultaneously terrifying and necessary.

He leans back in the chair.

The robe slips off one shoulder. For the first time, he doesn’t hold the posture of a "lord." He just looks down. At you.

— Get up, — he says hoarsely. — Here.

You rise uncertainly, as if unused to standing on your feet.

He pulls your hand. Seating you on his knees, he hugs you — tightly, almost painfully, as if afraid you might disappear.

His lips touch your neck. Not lust — almost a plea.

— I could make you dependent, — he whispers. — I almost have.

— But, damn… — he squeezes your ribs, — why do I want you to choose me, not just obey?

You stay silent.

You feel his heart. It’s pounding wildly — not from passion, but from something… deeper. Dirty, human. Fearful.

— I know how to break, — he says. — But I don’t know how… to be needed. Without power.

He freezes. His lips tremble.

And for the first time you see: Michael Kaiser — is not a king. He’s a boy afraid that he won’t be loved if he’s not a ruler.

When once... — Kaiser’s memories

You fall asleep on his chest. He doesn’t move, just stares at the ceiling. Eyes open. Shadows in them.

Once, he was nobody.

A boy with uneven teeth from malnutrition and legs too long.

An alcoholic father. A mother — memories, only a rose left that the father alone keeps under a dome. No one held his hand. No one praised him. Only demanded. Always — more. Quieter. Faster. Better. That’s how he saw it.

He was never taught what love is. Love for him — is a reward for results. Not given freely. Not care.

And when he started playing — for the first time he heard applause.

Not “I love you,” but “you’re the best.”

It became a drug.

He realized:

if you want love — be unreachable.

Be a god to be worshiped.

Because if you’re weak — you’ll just be abandoned.

He strokes your hair.

— I thought I held you because I’m stronger.

— But all this time you held me — just by staying close, even fearing my madness.

And maybe…

…if you stay — he will learn.

To love for real.

Not through control. But through trust. Yet not now.

You lie on his chest. Your skin burns, thoughts are tangled.

Every touch is like a spark on an open wound.

Your whole body craves… something, but you can’t control it and can’t stop it.

Kaiser strokes your back, his fingers trembling. He feels you unconsciously pressing closer, your breath catching.

— It’s still working, isn’t it? — he asks hoarsely.

You don’t answer, grit your teeth — he understands: yes.

You tremble, breathe heavily, clutch his thigh as if seeking relief. A muffled moan escapes you, your gaze foggy, almost pleading.

He could take you — right now, immediately. You won’t push him away, maybe you’d even ask.

But for the first time, he freezes.

— …damn, — he exhales. — This isn’t fair.

He runs his hand along your neck, then gently squeezes it, making you look into his eyes.

— You’re not yourself now.

— If I enter you, I won’t forgive myself.

— Even if you say “yes,” I’ll always know it’s not your choice.

You moan softly, the thirst inside drowning his words, reaching for his collarbone. A tear slips down — you don’t want to want, but you need to.

He holds your head to his chest, covers you with a robe, kisses your temple.

— Sorry.

— I want to be loved. But not like this. Not as a rapist.

He holds you tighter. You fall asleep in his arms, your body shaking from heat, your soul burning with a fire you never asked for.

Kaiser tastes true control for the first time —

not over you, but over himself.

And in that, there is hope...

THANKS FOR READING

"Hi everyone, again... does anyone actually read all the way to the end?

This post probably came out really strange, I don't really know how to format them properly yet. Also, this post went through a ton of edits, I always feel like something's missing or, conversely, that there's too little, so I got carried away with the ending as always, but I want to hear criticism, I accept it in any form and I even really love reading it, so please talk to me 😭 I hope my bad English doesn't hinder you too much in reading it. I'm not a native English speaker."

[solvivo]

Yandere! BLUE LOCK

🖤 by : me

"He looks at you like you’re already his."

[pilot episode]

Headcanon: Michael Kaiser as a yandere. (in progress)

📖 Status: completed / 💀 angst + psychodrama + mlm

"You don’t notice how he looks at you.

Or maybe you do. You’re just afraid to believe it."

💠 💠

He was always beautiful. Too beautiful to be real.

You got used to his gaze — first bold, then obsessed, now… terrifyingly calm.

It’s not the look of someone in love. It’s the look of a possessor.

You don’t know when it started. Maybe when he noticed you laughing with someone else.

Maybe when you called him just “Kaiser.” Without “Michael.” Without the usual ease.

But since then — something broke.

He no longer takes steps toward you. He moves the walls closer.

He knows what time you wake up.

He knows which sneakers are by the door.

He knows when you lie.

And every time you try to slip away — he catches you with that look.

That cold. Unavoidable.

As if you’re already in a cage.

And he’s just waiting for you to stop struggling.

“You belong to me, even if you haven’t realized it yet.”

This is not just a story about a yandere. This is a portrait of a person for whom love = control, and obsession = a way to survive.

Kaiser is not just in love.

He is broken, and now he wants to break you too, so you’ll fit together...

tbc...

📣 Message to readers

This is kind of a pilot part, I don’t know if I’ll write this way for other characters, but if this hits and you like it, then I will. I’ll post the full headcanon later.

🩶

🩶

🩶

💬 Share your thoughts and comment — it will mean the world to me!

bad English...☝️🫩

🖤 @truwzfl — always riding the waves of angst & possession.

[solvivo]

BLUE LOCK HEADCANONS.

> FIRST DATE — first dates full of ego, awkwardness, and hidden feelings.

by : me

"Egoists don’t fall in love... except by their own rules.

The first step, first glance, first evening — and maybe the first hint of something more."

[Reader-insert | relationships: from one-sided to mutual .]

Enjoy

CHARACTERS:

Isagi Yoichi

Yukimiya Kenyu

Rin Itoshi

Shoei Baro

Yo Hiori

‎Michael Kaiser

░▒▓ Yukimiya Kenyu ▓▒░

"He invited you. Or you invited him. It doesn’t matter. The important thing is the evening he will remember."

Initiative could come from either side, and then agreeing is your choice.

Restaurant with a “dark kitchen”:

"Loss of sight sharpens the other senses. And I want to remember your voice."

The darkness is tense — but he breathes calmly. At the table, he easily jokes about his illness, but everything is restrained and elegant. He listens to you with attention to detail, his voice carrying philosophy and vulnerability. Of course, the best compliments about your appearance are given in a way that you will remember for a long time — a connoisseur of exquisite things.

Lecture by an inspiring athlete:

"Success stories are like fuel. I wanted you to feel that with me."

Opera and bar afterwards. The chosen option:

"Yes, I know it sounds old-fashioned. But I want to see your reaction to art that demands depth."

"The opera was... impressive. He seemed a little surprised, but he listened carefully and later asked interesting questions. After the performance, we went to a small bar near the theater and discussed what we saw. I noticed he knows a lot about music, even if it’s not apparent at first."

At the end of the date:

"This was… interesting. I learned something new about myself and the world. This person… he seems to understand me. Maybe this is the beginning of something bigger. Or just a useful experience. Either way, the time wasn’t wasted."

"I saw him from a different side, and he saw me. And perhaps that’s the most important thing. Will there be a second date? I hope so. I feel there is something more between us than just friendship."

"He understood. Didn’t pity. Just was there. And that… is valuable. Maybe something more will grow from this. I wouldn’t mind." <

░▒▓ Shoei Baro ▓▒░

"You invited him. He accepted. But from now on — only his rules."

You also made the invitation, and the initiative was yours, but the choice was his.

"Date? With me? With him? Funny. And yet... his persistence, his gaze... it challenges me. Alright, I agree. But this will be my date. No sappy stuff, no romance."

Karting. Speed, noise, challenge: (though at first, he chose...)

"Not just some rendezvous. This is a fight for domination."

The choice fell on: the newest and coolest fitness center in town, where I could show him my skills and dominance. Or maybe an elite restaurant with the most expensive food to emphasize my success. The main thing — demonstration of power.

Alright, alright. Maybe I overdid it a bit. He would just mock the fitness center. The restaurant? Too predictable. In the end, I chose... damn karting. It’s a way to show speed, aggression, and it’s relatively informal.

"I’m not going to cuddle. No tender touches or languid looks. Only domination and competition. I will show him what I’m worth."

A straightforward, honest conversation. No lies, no pretending. I will show him my confidence, my ambitions, my thirst for victory. If he can withstand my pressure, then he’s worth something.

"You turned out surprisingly good at karting. He kept trying to overtake me, cutting me off, pressing hard. At first, that pissed me off, but then... I realized. He’s not afraid of me. He accepts my challenge. During the break, we talked a little, and he was surprisingly straightforward. No flattery, only honest questions and barbs."

He’s jealous of your overtakes, gets annoyed... and suddenly, he smiles. He likes that you’re not afraid.

Afterwards — a cheap diner and a huge portion of ramen.

"After karting, we went to a cheap diner, and he ordered just a huge portion of ramen. I expected him to be embarrassed, but he just devoured it, saying that after racing you need to eat well. Did I like it? No, of course not. He was just... unpredictable."

"You ate like you had won. Honestly? That’s freaking funny."

At the end of the date:

"I was myself. Dominant, confident, ruthless. I showed him who’s boss here. But honestly, his reaction threw me off a bit."

"Overall, the date was... interesting. Not what I expected, but not a total disaster either. He turned out to be stronger and smarter than I thought. Maybe there’s something... interesting here. And hell, I won’t admit that out loud. Will there be a second date? Maybe. But only on my terms."

"I’m not looking for romance. I’m looking for strength beside me. If you can handle me — maybe you’ll stay."

░▒▓ Yo Hiori ▓▒░

‎> "The hardest part is not meeting, but getting out. He went out. For you."

Definitely, you invited him on a date. It was difficult because first, you had to “kidnap” him from his own home. The boy has overly controlling parents, so you must be a football player to be his friend, though his parents still look down on you as a rival.

‎"When He asked me for the first date, I... admit, I panicked a little. I had never dated anyone before, and suddenly realized I had no idea what even happens on dates."

‎Retro movie theater .Cozy café .‎The choice fell on:

‎> "Let’s keep it simple. I don’t need luxury. I need… communication."

‎Ideally, he imagined something simple and relaxed. No fancy restaurants with lots of unfamiliar utensils and strict dress codes. Something where we could just chat and get to know each other better.

‎You suggested going to the new cinema showing retro films. At first, he hesitated a bit because you can’t talk much in a movie, but then it was still better than sitting in tense silence in a too-formal place.

‎Maybe some awkwardness, but that’s okay. The important thing is to show that you’re interested in the other person, ask questions, and genuinely listen to the answers. No games or trying to impress.

‎Just have a good time and get to know me better. No pressure or expectations for more. Just friendly, pleasant communication.

‎He talks about his dreams, shyly about himself, listens a lot to you. His eyes shine when you talk.

‎Nearby — warmth and silence, like inside an old photo album.

‎"The movie theater was dark, and we didn’t talk much before the film. But afterwards, when we went to a small café nearby, the conversation started naturally. We discussed the movie, our favorite genres, and then somehow moved on to talking about our hobbies."

‎At the end of the date:

‎I tried to be myself. I talked about myself, asked questions, listened, laughed at his jokes (even the ones not so funny). I wanted to show that I enjoyed spending time with him and that I was interested in getting to know him better. He walked me to my house, and we talked a little by the door until my parents chased him away. He said he really liked it and asked if I wanted to go somewhere again next time.

‎"Overall, I think the first date went well. Of course, there was some awkwardness and surprises, but that’s normal. The main thing is that we were able to truly communicate and get to know each other a little better. And honestly, I’m looking forward to the next date."

‎> "Nothing special… and that’s what makes it special. I want more. If you do too — just say it."

░▒▓ Isagi Yoichi ▓▒░

‎> "You invited him. He tried himself, but got stuck. You smiled — and he sighed with relief."

‎Most likely it was you — he wouldn’t be able to properly invite you halfway through. He was shaking while trying to say the date invitation out loud, and you beat him to it, or rather correctly rephrased it and agreed to go on a date with him.

‎"A date… uh… I never thought it would come to this. But… he agreed, I did it! Hope I don’t ruin everything with my awkwardness. I need to focus like on the field!"

‎> "Football is my world. I hope you are ready to enter it. Even if only for an hour."

‎First, he will ask his parents what their first date was like to understand where it’s better to take his partner. He will immediately regret asking after he gets bombarded with ten questions like, "When will you bring them home?"

‎ Small café with good coffee, near the football field:

‎"I don’t know where people usually go on dates… But this place is near the field, and the coffee is good. Maybe we could practice a bit afterwards? No, that’s too pushy…" (He wants to feel comfortable and in his element. Football is his comfort zone. He’ll be nervous for a long time until you change the topic.)

‎ Park:

‎"Hope he’ll like it. I’m not very good at romance… But we could take a walk, just to relax. It’s fun, right?" (Actually, Isagi wants to suggest something he likes and hopes his partner will like too. He sincerely believes that shared interests are a great way to get closer.)

‎ Karaoke (on friends’ suggestion. They found out too):

‎"A friend said karaoke is fun… I’m not a great singer, but… Maybe it'll help me relax and not be so tense?" (He’s stepping out of his comfort zone to do something for his partner but still feels awkward.)

‎"I know football is my life. I hope he can understand and accept it. He doesn’t have to love football as much as I do, but… just understand."

‎"I want to know him as a person. His dreams, his fears… everything."

‎He is one of the top three best listeners, so he’ll be fully immersed even in your monologue, happy if you speak and he just keeps the conversation going.

‎"I hope we find something that connects us. Shared interests, shared goals… something."

‎He’s nervous but sincere. He carefully maintains the conversation, grateful for every look you give him.

‎He’s torn between "being a gentleman" and "not seeming weird" but is unsure if the guy will like it. He will directly ask if you feel comfortable with him.

‎At the end of the date:

‎> "Uh… Well, that was… more interesting than I expected. I was a bit nervous, but… I think it went pretty well. He… he really listened when I talked about football. And he even smiled! Maybe… maybe something could work out. Maybe I’m not that boring? I hope he’ll want to meet again." <

░▒▓ Rin Itoshi ▓▒░

"He agreed. Not because he likes you. But because you caught his attention."

You didn’t invite him — you invited his. (If he agrees, it means there’s something in you.)

"Date? A pointless waste of time. But… somehow he caught my interest. Strong enough not to be a burden, and… interesting enough not to waste time. But if he disappoints me… that will be his last mistake."

Closed stadium at night → horror movie:

"Silence. Space. Control. I want to see how you handle it."

The viewing stand of a closed football stadium at night: "Just us, silence, and the perfect field. Let him see where geniuses are born. And understand he’s standing next to one." (Rin wants to dominate the setting and highlight his bond with football, his top priority.)

he’s a bad listener and an even worse storyteller, so this date won’t be remembered as something romantic.

In the end, he chose a movie theater and A horror film (it’s clear he picked the movie), popcorn. He’ll laugh quietly if his guy gets scared. At the end of the movie, he’ll say he’s seen better horrors (heavy sigh). Won’t be very tactile (God forbid he tolerate a half-hug at parting — he wouldn’t allow anyone to touch him).

You sit together in the cinema. He silently offers you popcorn. The screen lights his face; he slightly turns his head, noticing how you flinch at a screamer.

He murmurs:

"This isn't scary yet."

(on his face — a barely noticeable smirk)

Mostly silence and calm.

"I value silence. Empty talk annoys me."

He speaks little, doesn’t smile, doesn’t touch. But he watches.

He wants to test you — in fear and in calm.

He didn’t like the film. But your expression — yes.

At the end of the date:

"Hmm… Not so bad. There’s something in him. But he must prove he deserves my time. I’ll keep watching. If he disappoints me… I’ll just leave. But… something in his eyes… makes me think. Maybe he can surprise me. Though, I’m not sure I want that."

"If you’re not a weakling — we’ll see each other again. I don’t promise anything. But for now, you’re holding the bar."

░▒▓ Michael Kaiser ▓▒░

"You invited him. He accepted. But now you’re playing on his field."

It is him who is invited on the date. But he chooses the place, he pays for the restaurant, he calls the taxi to take you there.

"Too much honor — to owe someone anything. I can take care of myself."

"Date? It’s nonsense, of course. But… someone turned out to be persistent enough. And handsome enough to catch my interest. So, naturally, I’ll make sure it’s… unforgettable. For him."

Michelin-starred restaurant. View. Wine. Attention.

"I pay. I choose. I decide what kind of evening this will be. And, maybe… with whom."

Of course, I don’t waste time with dives. No rush, only refinement and a perfect view. Let him get used to the best since he ended up with me."

(Kaiser wants to demonstrate his status and taste to impress.)

He’s a star. But doesn’t pose. Just observes. Listens if you speak to the point.

Your sincerity surprises him. He’s curious who you really are.

But he also wants to hear admiration directed at him (hidden or obvious):

"Of course, he must understand who he’s dealing with. Silent admiration is the minimum. Though, I don’t mind open adoration either. Just as long as it’s not sickly sweet."

Private club with invitation-only membership:

"So that all those plebeians know their place. And so he understands he entered the chosen circle. Though, of course, all this is just decoration. Only I matter."

He wants to feel special and exclusive, and to share this feeling with the partner.

Throughout the evening, he’ll mostly listen to his partner — interested in what brought them there, here, with him.

At the end of the date:

"Well, not bad. He definitely is… interesting. But he has to prove his worth. This is just the beginning. Let’s see what he’s capable of. Although… I have to admit, that look he had when he left… wasn’t bad. Maybe I’ll call him."

There won’t be a second date if his motivation wasn’t impressive:

He won’t answer messages or calls anymore.

"You didn’t cave in. You didn’t suck up. That’s already good. But if you want a second chance — you’ll have to surprise me."

THANKS FOR READING!

💌 I’m open to requests for headcanons, alternate universes, lots of first-date ideas, and much more — I’m ready to try writing for you!

💭 Who among them would arrange a dream date for you, or maybe you want to suggest others as well?

Hello everyone, I think this is important. I hope you’ll like my first post in this fandom. Honestly, it’s been through a lot — about five changes, not counting character edits. I also hope this format fits more with headcanon rather than reactions... Here it’s a male reader, but it leans more towards nb reader, so feel free to read it that way until I fully establish the personality and character for the male reader.

Don’t be afraid or shy to send me ideas for headcanons, I’m a bit slow with those.

I will try to be polite and sociable for you 🙏

I hope my poor English will not greatly interfere with your reading. I am not a native English speaker. It’s immediately clear who my favorite is. This took so long to edit, I hope nothing got lost again.