#sports anime writing

[vela-pulsars]

not enough stonjourner art out there

[idrawprettyboys]

Wahoo! I think I actually managed to make this look okay! That background looks a lot better with Kenji and Mitsuo covering up a lot of it! xD Anyway, here are my racers in Chrome City! They look happy to be there. :) I might use this for a volume cover later, if I'm still happy with it when the time comes.

[winternet-s]

MISUNDERSTOOD ( slam dunk )

summary : After moving to Japan over a year ago, [Name] faces the challenges of xenophobia, cultural barriers, and fitting into a society that sees her as an outsider. As she struggles with isolation, an unexpected encounter with Hanamichi Sakuragi, the school's notorious red-haired delinquent, throws her life into even more chaos. Between harsh whispers in the hallways and the surprising friendships she forms, [Name] is about to discover that fitting in means more than just blending into the background.

notes : hey...🧍🏿‍♀️how you doing LMAOOO MY BAD Y’ALL I WAS UNMOTIVATED SO I HOPE YOU ENJOY THE READING 🎀 ! lowkey wanna make a hanamichi x reader but aargh idkk, karin is the bully’s name btw in case you forgot

wc : around 3k

MASTERLIST

III. THE DUAL

— Her gaze fell on Hanamichi, sharp and desperate, the kind of look that screamed, Why must you always make things harder? Her lips parted slightly as if words might follow, but none came, only a long, exasperated sigh that said it all. There was no need for explanation—the message was clear in the weight of her stare, a silent plea for him to stop whatever ridiculous scheme he was plotting before it spiraled completely out of control.

You pressed your palm to your forehead, inhaling sharply.

“Really? Didn’t I just say not to do anything stupid?” Your voice carried a tone of sheer exasperation, as though this situation had drained the last bit of patience she had left.

You glanced at Haruko, who was frozen in the doorway, her hands clutched tightly in front of her. The disbelief on Haruko's face was palpable, her wide eyes reflecting the shock of witnessing such a chaotic scene. Slowly, her expression shifted less startled and more... disappointed.

“You weren’t like this in my mind, Sakuragi-kun…” Haruko’s voice trailed off, her words soft yet firm, as though realizing that the image she'd built of him was crumbling.

You sighed heavily, already bracing yourself for the mess that would undoubtedly follow. You gave Hanamichi a sideways glance, your expression torn between irritation and resignation. "Great. Just great. Now she thinks you’re a lunatic," you muttered under your breath, crossing your arms as you waited for him to save what little he could of the moment.

Haruko who was standing frozen for a moment, her wide eyes locked on the crimson streak trickling down Rukawa’s forehead. Her heart pounded, not from admiration this time, but from a surge of worry she couldn't suppress. Her fists clenched tightly at her sides, her nails digging into her palms as she bit her lip.

"Sakuragi-kun..Everybody said that Sakuragi-kun was very bad and scary but I thought you weren’t that kind of person and wouldn’t do that sort of thing.."

You stand awkwardly near Hanamichi's gang, the air thick with a mix of tension and something else—an odd kind of awkwardness that’s hard to place. Your eyes drift to Rukawa, who remains utterly unfazed, the blood trickling from his forehead seemingly irrelevant to him. His expression is cool, detached, as though none of this concerns him. In contrast, Hanamichi is stiff beside you, his face flushed—not with anger, but with the unmistakable embarrassment of being in Haruko’s presence.

Caught in the awkward stillness, unsure whether to speak or stay silent. The tension feels like a rubber band stretched to its limit, but it’s not just about the fight anymore—it’s the quiet clash of emotions, embarrassment, and indifference that keeps everyone rooted in place.

“I misjudged you Sakuragi-kun !!” The young girl exclaimed before darting off in the opposite direction of Rukawa, leaving Sakuragi behind, wailing with exaggerated, almost comical tears streaming down his face.

You stared at the scene, completely lost. Everyone around you spoke so fast that the words blended together into an overwhelming blur. You furrowed your brow, glancing between the group and the direction the girl had run, trying to make sense of the chaos.

“Y-you guys speak too fast,” you muttered, sweat-dropping as you rubbed the back of your neck awkwardly. “I don’t fully understand what’s going on now...”

Sakuragi’s gang barely seemed to notice your confusion, too busy trying to calm their bawling leader, while Haruko was already a speck in the distance. You sighed, feeling more out of place than ever, the cultural gap yawning wide in moments like these. 

“I really need to catch up.”

–

A day had passed, and it didn’t take much to notice the strange shift in the redhead’s demeanor. Sakuragi, usually bursting with his trademark energy and overconfidence, seemed oddly down, his shoulders slumped as if carrying the weight of the world. There was a gloomy air about him that felt completely out of place. But the strangest part was his reaction to basketballs.

Whenever he passed by someone playing, his entire demeanor shifted. His jaw would tighten, and his eyes would narrow with an intensity that felt almost out of character. If the sound of dribbling reached his ears, his mood soured instantly.

And when his gaze fell on the players themselves laughing, shooting, and passing the ball it was as if a switch flipped.

Lost in his cloudy thoughts, Sakuragi’s foggy eyes barely registered the world around him. He didn’t even noticed the basketball hurtling toward him until it was too late. The impact was sharp and unforgiving, square on his face, sending him stumbling back slightly. Blood trickled from his nose, but to everyone’s shock, Sakuragi didn’t explode in his usual fiery rage.

The gang froze, wide-eyed, waiting for the inevitable outburst. But it never came. Instead, Sakuragi simply stood there, eerily calm. His hand reached up to touch his nose briefly, smearing the blood before his gaze dropped to the ball at his feet. Slowly, he crouched, picking it up in silence.

You could feel the tension in the air, thick and heavy. The two responsible for the accident stood a few feet away, shaking like leaves in a storm. They knew all too well the redhead’s reputation as a hotheaded delinquent, and his uncharacteristic calm only made their fear worse.

From where you stood, you had seen everything unfold in real-time. Your jaw dropped, your mouth hanging open in disbelief. It wasn’t just the hit or the blood that caught you off guard—it was his reaction. Sakuragi was unpredictable, sure, but this? This was something entirely new, and it left you just as stunned as everyone else around him.

Quickening your pace toward the group, your thoughts raced just as fast. The hold Haruko has on him is insane, you mused, barely able to process the scene before you.

Everything escalated in the blink of an eye. Sakuragi, ball still in hand, suddenly lunged at the two boys responsible. They yelped out hurried apologies, but it didn’t stop him. His gang tried to intervene, only to be met with his infamous headbutts as he powered through anyone in his way. Caught in the whirlwind of chaos, you felt compelled to speak. “Hanamichi, r-remem…” you stuttered, the unfamiliar word catching on your tongue. You paused, frustration bubbling. “Man, how do you even pronounce that…?”

At the sound of your voice, Sakuragi froze mid-motion, turning to look at you. His expression softened just slightly, and, to your surprise, he actually answered. “Remember!” he said, enunciating the word with exaggerated clarity. “R-re... remem-ber?” you said hesitantly, your accent dragging the word into unfamiliar territory.

Sakuragi’s jaw dropped, his expression torn between disbelief and agony. “No! That’s not even close! Are you even trying?!” He threw his arms into the air, groaning dramatically. Your eyes narrowed, a flicker of irritation bubbling up in your chest. “I am trying! You’re just not explaining it well!” you shot back, your voice defensive.

Sakuragi spun around, clutching his head like he was on the verge of losing his mind. “How hard can it be?! It’s one word!” Your cheeks burned, more from frustration than embarrassment, as you planted your hands on your hips. “Maybe if you stopped yelling at me, I’d actually get it!”

“Yelling?!” He whirled back to face you, his expression almost comically offended. “This isn’t yelling! I’m motivating you!”

You huffed, your lips tightening into a line as you fought to keep your composure. But your patience snapped when he mimicked you, his exaggerated pronunciation making your blood boil. “Motivating? You’re just being loud!” you snapped before switching to French, the words spilling out in a frustrated flurry. “Franchement, t’es insupportable! Tu crois que c’est comme ça qu’on apprend?!”*

Sakuragi blinked, his mouth slightly agape as he stared at you like you’d just grown a second head. “Huh? What—what did you just say?!”

“I said you’re impossible!” you shot back, still in French, crossing your arms as you glared at him. “Et franchement, j’en ai marre de tes crises!”*

His confusion deepened, his brow furrowing as he tried—and failed—to decipher your words. “What’s that supposed to mean?! Are you making fun of me?!”

You couldn’t help but smirk at his bewildered expression. “Peut-être,”* you teased, your tone light but your eyes glinting mischievously.

“That’s it!” Sakuragi threw his hands up in the air, his face turning redder by the second. “You’re doing it on purpose! Stop speaking in... in whatever that is!”

“It’s French, idiot,” you said with a sigh, shaking your head as you rolled your eyes. “And if you don’t like it, maybe try being less i-nsuf— whatever…” You trailed off, still fumbling with the word. The tension thickened in the air as you struggled to pronounce it, and the frustration in your voice only made it worse.

Sakuragi, standing just a few steps away, couldn’t help himself. He let out a loud, mocking laugh, throwing his head back dramatically. “Insufferable?!” he repeated, his voice ringing with disbelief, practically gasping in exaggerated horror. “You can’t even say it right!”

You bit your lip, doing your best to keep your composure, though it was hard to ignore the heat creeping up your neck. You spun around quickly, your back facing him now as you muttered, “It’s not my fault you’re so annoying.” The last word slipped out a little too loudly, but you didn’t care anymore.

But you knew him well enough to understand that he wasn’t about to let it go. “And by the way,” you continued, your voice a little softer now, tinged with a hint of exasperation, “Haruko hates you right now.”

Sakuragi froze mid-laugh, his hand still outstretched in the air, his posture suddenly rigid. His face contorted for a moment, the usual cocky grin vanishing as reality hit him harder than any of your words could. His eyes flickered away from you, and his lips pressed into a thin line, a flicker of something vulnerable—something you hadn’t seen often—crossing his features. It was rare for him to drop the facade.

“You don’t have to remind me...” he muttered, his voice softer now, barely audible. The usual bravado that defined him faltered, leaving behind only the weight of his own frustration.

Your stance softened too, feeling an unexpected pang of sympathy. But you couldn't let him off the hook entirely. “Hey, it’s not like you’re entirely innocent,” you said, teasing lightly, though the tone didn’t come out quite as playful as you’d intended.

Suddenly, the familiar cockiness was back. Sakuragi’s shoulders tensed, his hands balling into fists as his voice cracked in a way you hadn't expected. “And how could I not?!” he added, his tone switching to one of genuine exasperation, his earlier nonchalance giving way to something more raw. “It’s because of basketball that Haruko-chan h-hates me!”

The moment hung in the air, his declaration louder and more serious than his usual bluster. His words, tinged with frustration and self-pity, rang in your ears long after they were spoken. The atmosphere shifted as you stood there, sweat-dropping, your mind spinning in confusion.

You glanced around quickly, seeing the gang recovering from the earlier chaos, clearly used to Sakuragi’s wild antics. But as you observed him, caught somewhere between self-doubt and irritation, it was hard to reconcile the blustering fool with the person standing before you now.

Meanwhile, the absurdity of it all settled into the moment. How could things go from ridiculous to awkward so quickly? The gang wondered, as you were about to apologize a new figure came into view. A tall, broad-shouldered man stepped forward, his presence immediately shifting the atmosphere. He wore a simple T-shirt, tucked neatly into his sport pants, the fabric stretching slightly over his muscular build. His posture was upright, exuding a quiet confidence, while his serious expression and sharp eyes made it clear that he wasn’t someone to be trifled with as he moved closer, the group instinctively quieted, sensing the weight of his authority, even though they had no idea who he was just yet.

Without a word, he reached forward, gripping Hanamichi's collar with surprising strength and pulling him back. 

“Not another fight, please…” you pleaded, your hands pressed together as you stepped forward. Your voice was a mix of frustration and hope, hoping to stop things before they got out of hand again. You looked around at the others, but no one seemed ready to intervene—everyone was too caught up in the tension, and it was clear they all expected things to get worse.

Mito and the others were caught off guard by the new arrival’s towering height and his clear, undeniable strength. You couldn’t help but stare as he scolded his teammates, the sharp knock he gave one of them on the top of their head showing just how much authority he carried. The tension in the air seemed to thicken, but before anyone could fully react, things shifted in a way none of you could have expected.

Out of nowhere, Hanamichi—of all people—stepped right in front of the new captain, his head tilted to the side, brows furrowed like he was trying to figure something out. And then, in true Hanamichi fashion, he slapped the basketball right into the captain’s face, with an unceremonious thwack that echoed across the school courtyard.

The group—you included—froze in a collective panic, watching as the captain stood there, completely unphased.

“Bastard!! WHAT CAPTAIN!? WHAT’S THE BIG DEAL?!” Hanamichi shouted, still oblivious to the gravity of the situation. His voice rang out, causing everyone to flinch as he thrashed in the grip of his friends, who were now trying their best to keep him from causing even more chaos.

“Hanamichi!!” someone yelled in desperation, their voice tinged with panic.

“Stop! The opponent isn’t human!!” Nozomi cried, clearly trying to make Hanamichi realize just how serious this was. The shock and urgency in his tone made it clear: this wasn’t just another schoolyard scuffle.

"I HATE THE BASKETBALL TEAM THE MOST!! WHAT'S SO GREAT ABOUT SUCH A CRAPPY GAME!?" Hanamichi shouted, his frustration reaching its peak. As you observed the scene, you could feel the tension mounting between him and the basketball team. The team captain’s demeanor changed almost instantly, his expression hardening as his anger flared.

“A crappy game?” The captain’s voice dropped, becoming much deeper, colder. His knuckles cracked ominously as he prepared to charge at Hanamichi. “YOU SAID IT WAS A CRAPPY GAME!! YOU FOOL, LET’S GO!” He shouted, his fury matching Hanamichi’s. But his teammates quickly intervened, grabbing him in an attempt to hold him back, knowing full well the potential chaos this confrontation could lead to.

Still, the captain was blinded by rage, just as Hanamichi was, neither of them willing to back down. It was as if the world had narrowed down to just them and their burning resentment.

“They are draining…” you muttered out loud, a sigh escaping you as you took in the scene. The gang, still holding onto Hanamichi to prevent him from charging again, couldn’t help but agree with you, their faces showing clear signs of exhaustion from the escalating situation.

And just then, the captain’s face morphed into something almost frightening. His expression darkened, his eyes narrowing in a way that sent a cold shiver down your spine. The intensity in his glare made it clear that this wasn’t just about a basketball game anymore—it was personal.

—

The idea of the year—a basketball duel. It seemed simple enough, but so far, Hanamichi looked less like the fiery challenger everyone expected and more like a sad puppy. His hands trembled, his wide eyes glistening as if on the verge of overflowing.

As Akagi, the team captain, sternly explained the rules, Hanamichi's composure completely crumbled. A single tear rolled down his cheek, quickly followed by another, until the tears were streaming freely. He didn’t even bother wiping them away, standing there looking utterly defeated before the game had even begun.

You could only sigh, crossing your arms as you shook your head. “Really?” you muttered under your breath.

The sight was equal parts pitiful and ridiculous, and yet, entirely in character for Hanamichi. You sighed again, wondering what on earth was going through his head. Was he really scared, or was this some sort of elaborate act?

Before you could dwell on it too long, his demeanor shifted in the blink of an eye. The tears vanished as if they’d never been there, replaced by a familiar, cocky grin. His chest puffed out, and he crossed his arms with exaggerated confidence.

“HAA DON’T UNDERESTIMATE ME!” he barked, his voice loud enough to echo across the school grounds. “I’ll steal your ball soon!” You blinked, baffled by the sudden change. One second, he was a teary mess, and now he was acting like he’d already won the match. The sheer audacity of it left you speechless, though you couldn’t help but chuckle. 

You stand near the edge of the court, eyes fixed on Hanamichi as he stumbles through the game. It’s not basketball; it’s a circus. But it’s his circus, and he’s putting on a show for everyone, due to the fact that his way of playing was...special.

The crowd watches with varying reactions: cheers, laughter, and, of course, the sharp-edged commentary from Karin and her group just a few feet away.

“Is he even trying?” Karin scoffs, her voice loud enough to carry. “Looks like he’s auditioning for a clown show.” A couple of her friends giggle, nudging each other. You glance at them, irritation bubbling up.

“At least he’s doing something,” you say, your voice steady despite your growing annoyance. “Unlike people who just talk and do nothing.” Karin’s head tilts, a mocking smile curling on her lips. “Oh, sorry, what was that? Can someone translate? I don’t speak... whatever she’s saying.”

Nozomi, Karin’s friend, was standing slightly apart from the group, doesn’t laugh. She crosses her arms and glances away, as if disinterested in the whole scene. Before you can respond, a familiar voice chimes in.

“Want a translation?” Yohei says, sauntering over with Hanamichi’s gang in tow. He throws a lazy grin at Karin’s group. “She said... at... least... he’s... got... guts,” he says, drawing each word out painfully slow, like he’s speaking to a child.

Ōkusu leans in, hands on his hips. “Uuunnlike... youuuuuu,” he adds with exaggerated enunciation. Karin’s friends exchange awkward looks, clearly unsure how to react. Karin glares at Yohei but doesn’t respond.

Noma takes it a step further, mimicking her tone. “What’s that? Didn’t catch it? Should we slow it down more?” You bite back a smile, watching as their mockery turns the tables. Even Nozomi’s lips twitch, though she quickly hides it by looking away.

Karin huffs, rolling her eyes. “Whatever. You’re all idiots,” she snaps before stalking off, her friends scrambling to follow. “Good riddance,” Yohei says, flashing you a grin. “Don’t let them get to you.” 

A small, genuine smile forms on your lips, and you give them a quick, thankful glance.

"Thanks, guys," you say, your voice steadier now. The tension eases, and for the first time in what feels like hours, you feel a spark of warmth in their camaraderie. And they were quick to go back into teasing their red head.

MASTERLIST

–

FRENCH DICTIONARAY

1.“Franchement, t’es insupportable! Tu crois que c’est comme ça qu’on apprend?!”* : to be honest you're annoying ! You think that’s how we learn?!"

2. “Et franchement, j’en ai marre de tes crises": and frankly, I’m sick of your tantrums.

3."Peut-être,”*: maybe

—

Winnies notes : im french so it’s sm easier for me to write in these type of scenes 😔🫶🏾

[cupids-stimboards]

day 5 prompt: based off a mutual (extra) answer: @down2cowtown JUMPSCARE!

��� 🌈 🐮 / ⚾ 💕 ⚾ / 🐮 🌈 🤡

[rain-shoshana]

Arthur Hastings in a gentleman’s library.

[freebooter4ever]

geno front and center ^_^ also i asked the Coolest 90s animator ive ever met for critique on the geno renders and he called them 'drawings' and i havent decided if thats something i should correct or not yet. but if im fooling people into thinking they're drawings instead of 3D renders that's probably a good sign. but also a bad sign because does that mean recruiters will overlook it thinking its just concept art?

i hate computers.

but i think what i concluded was that instead of sending people just the one action render, i will send that PLUS a link to the turn around saved to my drive.

edit: just looking at it as its own image my portfolio as a whole still really screams 'girl' and 'colorful' doesnt it? sigh. people keep telling me i need to stop that but unfortunately unless i am being forced like in the case of following an art director i think its just gonna stay colorful.

[sireington]

what if: Wii Sports but manga structured with some similarity to the Splatoon manga?

Seems like a good idea, so I'll start spouting thoughts.

Over the white hot sand and cool blues, violets, and cyans of the waves, sits Wuhu Island! A tropical paradise with plenty of activities to do! Priding itself on its numerous sporting events and competitions, the greatest of the greatest come to Wuhu for the yearly tournaments. Here we meet our protagonist, an aspring athlete in hopes of becoming champion, it's...

Basic Mii guy! Along the way he'll make friends, make bonds, and defeat greater foes! Maybe even beating...

MATT, THE UNDEFEATED

anyways, that's all I got for now under a few minutes, feel free to add on to the ideas! Have a nice day!

[raytm]

there is nothing quite as homoerotic as sports anime.

[homvlily]

if you leave me

i’m scared i’ll find your body lying by the rugged road

your heart drawn still and your blood ice cold

i’ll no longer kiss the moon-mark on your forehead

or your snow-tipped paws in the safety of my bed

what if i forget the singsong sound of your cherubic cries

and the gentle blink of your topaz eyes

if you leave me early, i’ll never come to forgive

myself for losing your sole chance to live

@homvlily (2024)

[imbecominggayer]

Writing Inspiration And Prompt

Look at me donating my abandoned WIP stories onto you like the generous cult leader I am :)

"For a good stable time period Elias was your standard privlieged captain of the number one [INSERT SPORT TEAM] but all good things come to an end. Unfortunately. Elias received a message from someone called E-GIrl that said "I have blackmail and if you don't want it getting out you'll bring your team down to fourth place". Elias obviously didn't care for the wishes of a rando named after a Tiktok trend until Elias saw that this person really did have fucking solid evidence of their crimes. Elias was left with four options.

Option One: Purposefully Sabotage Or Convince Their Team To Fail Until They Reach Fourth Place.

Option Two: Become The "Close Companion" Of The Team Captains.

Option Three: Ignore The Demands And Kill The Blackmailer.

Elias chose option four. All of the motherfucking above.

Elias' plan goes as follows. Firstly, befriend/romance Reza Heyati, the leader of the second place team, since Elias has some inside information that Reza is planning to quit and he isn't looking to reason with a blackmailer. Obviously, Elias is going to struggle since he literally got into a huge fight with the guy a week ago since Reza accidentally triggered some traumatic memories when he made a sex joke about him and this random girl.

Secondly, abuse Alexei's superiority complex by offering to be his mentee in morality which won't be hard since the third-place champion is notoriously convinced that he is the greatest guy around.

Thirdly, sabotage his own team because diplomacy is not an option with Vanesa. He kind off blackmailed her about aforementioned traumatic secret. Ironic.

Finally, Elias has to silence the blackmailer. Literally. He did it once before. He isn't proud of that fact but god, this secret can never come out. He'd look so weak and pathetic if it did. Who even cares about the prison time?

I just combined Sports Anime with Mystery genre.

Please answer how my absolutely gay emotionally-constipated and traumatized baby who genuinely did something horrible yet sympathetic story will end :`<

[todorokis-girl]

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

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

masterlist

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Who?”

“Y/N, c’mon.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey, what’s up?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thanks, Kuroo. I’ll do my best.”

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

“Will do. And Kuroo?”

“Yeah?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

(part 2)

[recurring-polynya]

This weekend I was thinking about the lucky sandwich episode of Kuroko no Basuke and feeling strongly in my heart that Shin'ou has to have its own, gonzo cafeteria-based superstitions.

Then I got kinda sad because Shin'ou, being what it is, has no peer institutions, which means it has no rivalries and therefore, you could never set a sports anime there.

Now I want a sports anime-style, Shin'ou-centric filler episode more than I have ever wanted anything. I would probably set it in some post-TYBW era, and for stupid filler episode reasons, Renji and Hinamori would come back to coach their sad sack team out of last place. Hisagi would want to cover it for the paper. Kira would also be there against his will, because he's necessary for the whole "getting the band back together" vibe. Hitsugaya would probably also be there, also against his will. I feel like this lends itself naturally toward soccer, but I think that it would be honestly funnier if it were some obscure sport or something that is also just a skill like swimming or possibly even made up gym-teacher ass sport that would upset Ichigo to learn about.

Here is the best I could come up with for potential rivals:

It's intramural (kinda boring)

Some fancypants private school in the Seireitei (would think Shin'ou would have the obvious advantage here, altho it would be hilarious to make the "sport" be Science Bowl or poetry or something intellectual.)

Karakura High, for some reason (if this were a real filler episode this is what it would be so that Ichigo could be in it)

Harribel is always open to new ideas and Hueco Mundo has a school now. (Grimmjow has big would-never-play-a-sport energy but Harribel would make him be Nel's assistant coach. He would have to wear a hat and it would sort of float atop his weird hair)

Maybe Hell has a school??? Maybe now is a good time to be submitting filler episode ideas for the Hell Arc, which I expect to animated sometime around 2069?

Just really sucks, imo, that people from the Kidou Corps and Onmitsukidou also go through Shin'ou. Real missed opportunity there, Kubo.

P.S: God bless whoever maintains the KnB wiki:

[always-a-joyful-note]

You know. Thinking about it, the best thing the anime did for Tsumugi was give her professional attire. Like the clothes she wears on the CGs we see her in are cute, but I really think she looks best in the formal business style

[overtaken-stream]

Bros Ov3r Ho3s

Kicchou Fukuda x F!Reader

I'm ITCHING to write for Slam Dunk, also idc about his taste, he looks like someone who would enjoy spicy food. Shoutout to that tweet I saw on yt shorts with this convo it inspired me to write for a character I don't even enjoyed until I started writing this. (I only read manga so don't come at me if this is ooc I tried my best.) THE LACK OF SLAM DUNK CONTENT IS INSANE!!!!

Warnings: family, fluff, idiots in love, light pregnancy scene, a child is there.

Throughout the years spent with the basketball player, there was never a need to conceal secrets. Any actions or words that soured the relationship were swiftly addressed by both parties, although after spending this much time together, the mean remarks were non-existent, mutual understanding left little room for surprises or hurtful comments (Because you know the blunt words were not said deliberately, however, you found a curious amusement in his apologetic/awkward expression of realization, the ongoing teasing about how he broke your heart will never get boring).

Years of built friendship with Kicchou came to a standstill as you watched your friends advance into the new chapter of life with their partners from the sideline. But You were content with staying over at your friend's house, sleeping in the same bed while wearing his shirt, having breakfast with his parents, and having dinners at yours, the glances that the elders would give you two never really entered Kicchous's eyesight, he always seems lost in his mind at the end of the day.

Moving in together and attending his (now professional) matches became a natural progression in both of your lives, so did paying little attention to the way his arm rested across your tummy or his face nestled next to your ear, breathing deeply as you slept sideways, or how sometimes you would hug him on the couch with both legs wrapped around the torso, trembling from the pleasure you brought to yourselves.

(It's how it is supposed to be.) Your chest pressed against his back as he gets the dinner going with a cute Hello Kitty apron tied at the front. Breathing in his scent like it's going to quell your thirst, maybe it does.

(It's how it is supposed to be.) With your legs freezing in the middle of the night as he steals away the long blankets specifically bought to fit you both.

(it's how it is supposed to be.) His head lying gently on your enlarged belly, his hands and arms resting on either side of your hips as he sprawls out on the couch. The muted dialogue of the movie on TV slowly pushes him towards slumber, only for a gentle kick to wake him. Kicchou cranes his neck til his eyes catch your face smiling down at him and his heart skips a beat.

However, the one topic in conversation you had with your relative never really left your mind, unlike the rest of the day, it stuck after you got home, at the time it didn't mean much, it hasn't been dissected and thought out to the point that you don't recall your reply.

(``How have you and your husband been?``

``Husband?`` Since when did you have a husband? Your confused stare was met with the still curious expression of the woman.

``Yes, that nice man with the textured hair! And what's with that stare you're giving me? Still not used to being a family? Fu-fuh!`` Their entertained eyes light up with the tease. )

Now that you think about it, sure you've been living with him for nearly eight years and sometimes go overboard with your affections and sleep in the same bed as him, as well as have a baby together but he never formally asked you out. Going out and spending time together as friends rather than partners is different from dates.

These thoughts linger for a few days as your quiet demeanor attracts minor attention from Kicchou, curious side eyes during the day and the firm hold around your waist during the night meet you because of it, his concern holds out until you're finally ready to bring up the topic. You thank his understanding self.

It was morning, about nine AM, you held hot chocolate milk while standing on the right side of the baby's high chair, not paying attention to the mess the babe made on the small table. Oftentimes you can't stomach breakfast unlike Kicchou, who now sat and enjoyed the leftovers from dinner, spicy roasted chicken legs left their evidence on his face and fingers. It made you smile and gave you confidence in the question you were going to ask.

``Say... Kicchou?``

A light hum gives you a hint that he is paying attention to your question despite not meeting your gaze.

``We...`` your ears brighten up in fright as you await his response when suddenly his index fingers covered in spicy sauce point in your direction and his chewing stops.

``... Are we... Dating?`` Your eyes glance in his direction when he freezes in the middle of a bite, shoulders hunched with nimble fingers in the air and the chicken on the plate. His eyes, full of indescribable confusion suddenly widen as his eyebrows raise, along with his posture. His pause gives way to concern... What if... You are not his best friend...? Are you... With him? The silence is deafening as you think about the moments when both of you crossed the line that friends should not have crossed, the moments that you hold close to your heart, that's swiftly beating against your ribcage. It's the only noise you hear besides the chaos of the child next to you in this stillness. You try to not let the anxiety show.

You fail.

``We just bros.``

He hit his chest with the fist multiple, being mindful of the spice before peace signing you.

``Hm, C'mere.`` Despite the demand Kicchou sent your way, he got up with heavy steps, only coming closer to your now-shy self who hadn't moved since the crucial question was dropped.

``...Bros?`` You look at the grown man before you and then at the babe next to you who similarly looks your way with big eyes and messy mouth, paying attention to your conversation and shoving whatever food was left on their table in their tiny jaws without understanding a word, yet their eyes understand the implication, it is kind of embarrassing having someone else experience this conversation, even if they are a cute little screaming and crying creature you gave birth to.

Your heart is beating in confusion this time.

It wasn't until he was all up in your face that his mouth finally laid over yours, the spices burned as hot as his affectionate action, clinging onto your swelled mouth as you took in his soft and plump lips. A moment of love was short, yet it's impact far greater.

As his lips drifted away from yours, all the doubts that survived finally followed after him only to not withstand the spice.

It was a silly answer to a silly question you always knew the answer to, he knows it too, can feel it throughout the day and practice, it's something that lives in the heavy basketball his hands carry, something that your core can provide when the object can't and it put you to rest, he loves you as he loves basketball, so you love him in a way basketball can't. It's an addiction that does not cause harm, only fondness, and he will never need a cure for it.

It's a satisfying step in your relationship. It's how it's supposed to be.

``Can you leave some chicken for me?``

``... No.``

[theriverbeyond]

btw. the unwanted guest gave me a brain disease.