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pitchsidestories · 3 months ago

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look at us now II Renée Slegers x Reader

romantic masterlist | platonic masterlist | part two I word count: 2689

summary: former lovers reunite at Arsenal.

author's note: hi, our first Renée Slegers fanfic, let us know your thoughts on it. As always this is purely fiction, enjoy. 🤍❤️

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“So, you hired another assistant coach without telling me?”, Renée asked incredulously, well aware that except for her, the room was full of very important looking men.

One of them nodded sternly: “You needed another one. We made the decision for you.”

Renée closed her eyes for a brief moment and took a deep breath, fighting the urge to protest. She was Arsenals new head coach after all.

With forced calmness, she asked: “Who is it?”

“You know her already.”

Her eyebrows knitted together in confusion. She opened her mouth in order to ask what that was about to mean when you finally made your appearance. You had waited all morning in anticipation to surprise your former teammate with your presence.

“Hello Renée.”, you greeted her as you walked into the room.

Recognition flashed across her face, followed by genuine excitement. She got up from her chair, beaming: “You!”

Before you knew what was happening, she wrapped her arms around your neck and pulled you into a way too tight hug.

“Yes, it’s me. Don’t strangle me, please! That would be sad first last workday at the Arsenal.”, you laughed.

“You’re so stupid! I missed you so much.”, Renée giggled but finally let go of you.

For a second, you stood there and took each other in and it almost felt like nothing had changed since you played together in Sweden.

“I missed you too but now every player and staff member are staring at us which is kind of awkward.”, you admitted, nodding towards the door where the first pairs of eyes tried to figure out who the newest addition to the team was.

“They’re just curious about you. Let me introduce you.”, Renée suggested, leading you out of the conference room.

You followed patiently.

“Renée, who’s that girl you almost couldn’t let go of?”, Beth asked, blinking innocently at you.

“That’s y/n. She’s the new assistant coach and we used to play together for Linköpings.”, Renée explained. You didn’t miss the slight hint of pride in her voice.

Your eyes found another Swede between the players.

“Actually, I played with Stina too.”, you added.

The striker smiled at you: “Good to see you again.”

“You too. And I can’t wait to get to know each of you.”, you said towards the crowd.

Renée turned to you: “You will love them.”

“Oh, I’m sure of it.”

“Come on, I’ll show you around.”

Suddenly, your hand was in Renées as she dragged with her towards the football pitches. You could still feel the eyes of your new players on you as you followed Renée.

The eyes of Stina's teammates were expectantly drawn to her once the two of you had left the room.

An edgy laugh escaped the blonde’s lips: “What? Why are you all looking at me now?”

“Tell us!”, Beth commanded grinning.

The Swedish striker began to play nervously with her blonde hair: “Well what do you want to know?”

“About our new staff member and Renée of course!”, Leah replied thrilled.

Using the same excited tone as her, Beth added: “Obviously.”

“Not if she was a good baller or had a good sense and understanding of the game.”, Stinas eyes flashed in amusement.

“Actually.”, threw Kim in who was unlike the rest of the players indeed interested in that side of you.

The England captain clicked her tongue disapprovingly: “No, Kim.”

“We want the tea, Stina.”, Alessia told her.

She paused dramatically, during which everyone held their breath tensely, before admitting:” Yeah, they used to date.”

“When they were players or did, they continue to date once she became the head coach?”, Leah asked the forward curiously.

Stina cleared her throat and answered in a serious voice: “They ended it once Renée retired and took the coaching job in Rosengård.”

After this revelation the room fell silent for a second before Beth concluded with a heavy sigh:” Oh, that’s sad.”

“They seemed okay with it.”, the Swedish striker remarked.

Meanwhile Renée and you were walking along the training pitches, it was a cold day, but the golden afternoon sun warmed your faces. It was where you heard yourself say: “I’m glad that you don’t seem to mind that I took the job, Renée. Considering how things have ended between us in Malmö.”

“We mutually agreed to end this relationship.”, the Arsenal head coach remembered, while the smile disappeared from her face.

“True, it was the best solution at that time.”, you nodded.

Slowly, as the sunlight disappeared, the warmth returned to Renee's dark eyes, confessing:” I’m just happy to see you again.”

“Same. Nothing more.”, you agreed.

“That’s good.”, she observed.

At the end of your tour, you wished her goodbye:” So, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Yes. See you tomorrow.”, Renée waved at you, her gaze following you until you were gone.

With a heavy heart the Dutch woman reminisced about all the wins and losses you had shared together in Sweden until her career ending injury put an end to it. Like a disco ball, Renée had put the shards that had caused the separation into each other to turn the pain into something bright.

She was content with her work, so love life wasn't a big issue until you came back into her life and made her wonder if maybe she should expect more from life.

The next day, you entered the training ground in a cheerful mood. “Good morning, Stina!”, you greeted your former teammate warmly.

“Morning.”, Stina beamed brightly back at you.

There was no time for small talk as Kelly Smith approached you: “Y/n?”

“Yes?”, you asked surprised. Sometimes you still couldn’t believe that you were working with her. Not only was she a legendary player for England but also for the whole of womens football.

She still smiled politely at you: “I think Renée is looking for you.”

You nodded once: “I’m coming.”

Renée was already on the pitch, one foot on a ball and her arms folded over her chest as she waited for the players to arrive.

You caught her eye from the other side of the field and smiled at her.

For a split second, Renée lost her balance on the ball, stumbling forward but catching herself quickly.

It all went by so fast, you had no time to worry about her.

“You’re good?”, you called out to her, teasing.

You had the feeling that somewhere behind you, Kelly was holding back laughter.

Renées cheeks had turned a slightly darker colour: “Yeah, of course.”

“Kelly said you wanted to see me?”, you said as you finally crossed the pitch.

“I do.”

You leaned forward, whispering: “I saw the dinner invitation in the locker room.”

The corners of Renées mouth quirked up: “Good. Are you free tonight?”

“Yes, I am. Will Kelly and the boys join us too?”

“No, it’s just us.”

Somehow your brain stopped working in that exact moment. You weren’t prepared for you and her. You had been thinking of nice little staff dinner where you had the opportunity to get to know everyone better. Being alone with Renée made your heart race a little.

Hesitantly, you accepted the invitation: “Alright… I guess I’ll go back to work.”

“Okay.”, Renée nodded.

Luckily, the players entered the pitch at that moment.

Beth who had caught the end of your conversation, stared at Renée with hopeful eyes: “Is that a date?”

“No.”, the head coach replied matter-of-factly.

Victoria elbowed Beth in the side: “Stop seeing things, Beffy.”

“I don’t”, the winger protested.

Kim rolled her eyes: “Yes, you do. You’re delusional.”

“You will see.”, Beth said full of confidence before Renée sent them to warm up.

Against your better judgement, you found yourself in a tiny but charming restaurant that night.

“The dinner is so delicious, Renée.”, you said, taking a sip of your wine.

She smiled at you almost shyly: “Glad you like it.”

“Next time we should bring the whole team and staff here.”

Her face turned a bit more serious: “Yes, we should. But first I wanted to talk to you alone.”

“About something specific?”

“No, just to catch up.”, Renée explained whose cheeks were slightly reddish in colour, you weren’t sure whether it was the wine or her nervousness.

Instead of looking into her curious dark chocolate brown eyes, you stared at the wine glass in front of you as you confessing: ”I left Sweden because I needed a change.”

“A change?”, she repeated your words in a sincerely interested tone.

For a moment, you paused while the waitress lit the candle in the centre of the table, the flickering light made the conversation even more intimate: “To heal from heartbreak. What about you? What did I miss?”

“Not much. I tried to focus on football after leaving Rosengård.“, the football coach admitted casually. Whilst Renée undid her low hair bun so that her dark brown hair fell in waves over her shoulders.

With an amused smile on your lips, you remarked in disbelief:” That doesn’t sound like the fun Renée I knew from Linköping.”

Memories of her with a big cigar in her mouth and a ridiculous hat after winning the Swedish league came to your mind.

“Hey, I’m still fun.”, protested the Dutch woman, pointing her fork at you.

You cleared your throat and replied more seriously:” Yes, the players seem to think that too.”

“I take that as a compliment.”, she responded happily.

“You should, they’re really great to work with so far.”, you acknowledged.

Her radiant grin was infectious:” I think they like you too.”

“Only Beth is a bit annoying with..”, you began, thinking about the huge interest the English striker had in your private lives.

Renée waved your worries off:” Yes, I know. But that’s just how she’s, she only has good intentions.”

“I guess that’s true. I mean would be crazy if you still would have -.. , right?”, you started to ramble.

She lifted an eyebrow at you: “Would have what?”

“Feelings after a mutual breakup.”, you finished your previous sentence flustered.

The brunette spoke your name gently.

“Yes?”, you glanced at her expectantly.

Fiercely and passionately, Renée continued: “Of course I do. I didn’t break up with you because I didn’t have feelings for you anymore, I broke up with you because I suddenly was your coach, and it was wrong to date a player.”

Afterwards, there was a dramatic silence at the table. “Well, I’m not a player anymore.”, you said matter-of-factly.

“I’m aware of that.”, she answered with a wistful smile.

Slightly sheepishly, you asked her:” Was that why you wanted a dinner with me alone first?”

“To see if we could get back together? No. I wanted to know how you’re, what you’ve been up to?”, the football coach tried to be professional again.

“Now you know.”

“I do.”, Renée confirmed, playing with the idea to order some dessert for both of you as it was a speciality of this restaurant.

Much to her disappointment though, you stood up:” Thank you for the dinner, it was a nice catching up.”

“Yes, I agree.”, the brunette waved at the waitress, signalling that she was ready to pay for the two of you.

The first game of the year and also the first game in your new job was against Crystal Palace a few days later. To your delight, the girls played great, winning the game 5:0 and building their confidence in this first game.

“Great win, girls.”, you clapped your hands as the referee blew the final whistle.

Renée appeared on your side.

“That’s exactly what we wanted to see.”, she agreed.

“Oh yes, well done everyone.”, you smiled and handed out water bottles to the players. They high-fived you, done but happy while Renée said a few words to the players.

Happily you watched as the players rightfully celebrated their win until an elbow to your side made you look up.

Renée was grinning at you: “Good job from you too.”

“From me? I didn’t do much yet.”, you said, feeling heat rise into your cheeks.

“You did everything I expect from my assistant coach. Arsenal made the right decision, we’re a good team.”, Renée said softly.

You nodded, smiling gently at her: “Yes, we are.”

“Come on, let the girls celebrate.”, Renée said, nodding in the direction of the sidelines so your players could have the pitch to themselves.

You didn’t follow immediately. Instead, you pointed to a few reporters that stood on the side, waiting for their first interviews. “The media already calls for you.”

“On my way.”, Renée winked and disappeared into the direction of the cameras.

Just when you were wondering when exactly she became so comfortable giving interviews, Leah stepped into your field of vision.

“Leah? Shouldn’t you celebrate with your teammates?”, you asked jokingly.

She shrugged with a smile: “I was about to. It’s not everyday that you score a goal as a defender.”

“I know. That’s why you need to enjoy every second of it.”

“Oh, I will.”

“Then what are you waiting for?”, you laughed.

Leah pushed you gently towards the rest of the team: “Celebrate with us!”

There was no way you could decline now, so you agreed and followed along: “Alright.”

A few minutes of jumping and hugging several players later, Renée found you on the pitch again.

Her eyes glowed with amusement: “Did they manage to get you to celebrate with them?”

“I couldn’t say no to that.”, you admitted

“Of course not.”, Renée laughed.

“See?”

She winked at you: “Enjoy your first win.”

You toasted to her with a random water bottle that somehow had ended up in your hand: “To many more wins.”

“Yes, please.”, she laughed.

“Y/n! Come with us!”, Beth interrupted your conversation and waved you over.

“Where are we going?”, you asked.

“It’s a surprise.”, Mariona replied instead of Beth, smiling excitedly.

It was already night when you got home and when you saw Renée's number light up on your mobile phone, you held your breath for a moment, although you didn't know exactly why.

“Sorry, I hope I didn’t wake you up.”, she apologized quietly as you answered her call.

A soft chuckle escaped your lips: “No, I was still awake, the Arsenal players can stay in pubs forever let me tell you that.

“Oh, I know, they did that to me too once.”, the Dutch woman remembered fondly.

“Kim and I left at the same time.” Teasingly you added:” So did you call me because you have come up with a masterplan against Chelsea or is it something else?”

“It’s something else. There’s something I need to talk about with you”, Renée admitted.

Your heart began to race: “Sure.”

“I kind of miss what we had back when.”, the head coach confessed.

The moment she said that you caught yourself reminiscing about memories of the past “Me too. We had some good parties with the team back then too.”

“Y/n.. I meant us. You and me.”, Renée clarified.

You felt the hope rise in you: “Do you think we could start again?”

“I don’t know, would you even like that? Or would you rather want to keep it professional.”, she began to nervously ramble.

You had heard yourself thinking out loud: “Pretty sure both can work this time.”

“Yes, but I want to know what you want.”

“I want to be with you. Renée, you’re an idiot, why are you standing outside in the cold?!”, you whispered into the phone, your eyes wandering off to the window where you noticed her in flesh and blood under the golden glow of the streetlamp light.

“In case that you say yes. What did you expect me to do? Go back to bed?”, Renée questioned with a warm laugh.

Soon you got up to go to the front door: “Wait, I’ll let you in.”

“Thanks.”, she replied relived.

“You look like you’re freezing, come inside.”, you observed while you let her inside.

The brunette thanked you once more, kissing you, her icy lips melting on yours as the door closed behind the two of you.

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ltwilliammowett · 1 year ago

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Old naval slang

A small collection of terms from the 18th - early 20th century that were and probably still are known among sailors.

Admiralty Ham - Royal Navy canned fish Batten your hatch - shut up Beachcomber - a good-for-nothing Cape Horn Fever - feigned illness Cheeseparer - a cheat Claw off - to avoid an embarrassing question or argument Cockbilled - drunk Cumshaw - small craft - Chinese version of scrimshaw Dead Marine - empty liquor bottle Donkey's Breakfast - mattress filled with straw Dunnage - personal equipment of a sailor Flying Fish sailor - sailor stationed in Asian waters Galley yarn - rumour, story Hog yoke- sextant Holy Joe - ship's chaplain Irish hurricane- dead calm Irish pennant - frayed line or piece of clothing Jamaican discipline - unruly behaviour Knock galley west - to knock a person out Leatherneck - a marine Limey - a British sailor Liverpool pennant - a piece of string used to replace a lost button Loaded to the guards - drunk Old Man - captain of the ship One and only - the sailor's best girl On the beach - ashore without a berth Pale Ale - drinking water Quarterdeck voice - the voice of authority Railroad Pants - uniform trousers with braid on the outer leg seam Railway tracks - badge of a first lieutenant Round bottomed chest - sea bag Schooner on the rocks - roast beef and roast potatoes Show a leg - rise and shine Sling it over - pass it to me Slip his cable - die Sundowner - unreasonable tough officer Swallow the anchor - retire Sweat the glass - shake the hour glass to make the time on watch pass quickly - strictly forbidden ! Tops'l buster - strong gale Trim the dish - balance the ship so that it sails on an even keel Turnpike sailor - beggar ashore, a landlubber claiming to be an old sailor in distress Water bewitched - weak tea White rat - sailor who curries favor with the officers

Sailors' Language, by W. Clark Russell, 1883 Soldier and Sailor Words and Phrases. Edward Fraser and John Gibbons, 1925 Sea Slang, by Frank C. Bowen, 1929 Royal Navalese, by Commander John Irving, 1946 Sea Slang of the 20th century, by Wilfried Granville, 1949 The Sailor's Word Book, by Admiral W.H. Smyth, 1967

#naval history #naval slang #18th - 19th - early 20th century #age of sail #age of steam

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alanisstonedd · 7 months ago

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okay bluecollar!rafe but yall. can we make it MARINE!RAFE?? or more specifically MARSOC!rafe* who works for ward at cameron construction co. on leave?? like hello i need him bad guys.

cw: MDNI smut, cursing, stuff in public, food play, cum eating, military stuff, ass play, manhandling, 1 mention of fighting, recording

*marsoc: Marine Forces Special Operations Command - basically what COD men do

like he starts off as a standard private officer after enlisting when you guys graduate high school. he works his way up from private to corporal to sergeant major, and then eventually to captain, colonel, then general. i mean hes fucking unstoppable, hes blowing thru these ranks like nobodys fuckin business, and he not stopping anytime soon baby he in his primeeee.

he moves on to MARSOC and leads a small team on SPEC-OP missions in like borneo. hes literally the best of the best. his full file is like 4 pounds, full of successful recon missions, confirmed kills, successful captures of enemy targets, accurate tracking efforts, successful counterterrorism efforts, successful hostage rescue and successful direct action raids. when theres a REAL threat? they call LT Cameron. callsign? RAIDER

NOW. when baby comes home on leave he works at the family construction company ward owns, building giant beach houses for rich kooks. he eventually inherits cameron construction when ward gets too old to work and he helps ward retire bcs of the cash from being the most elite soldier in the US military. bae is tannnn bcs of construction work ofc, but also since being in the military he likes to go on runs and be in nature to clear his head. and yall alr know hes yatteddddd, both sleeves done by his boy at home on the cut, who happens to be a very talented tattoo artist (barry...)

strictly keeps a buzz for deployment but will grow out a mullet when hes home. signature gold chain is always on, and has a tat on his ring finger for you and maybe one on his forearm. does he have both ears pierced with fake diamond studs in? yes.

is currently in the blueprint stage for a beach house he wants to build you on figure 8 (and one in florida... and will probably start planning another one if he ends up having a long ship-out next deployment) even tho he despises rich fucks and is suchhhh a country boy. i mean hes like pogue!rafe but hes more of a mudding, dirt biking, bonfire, shotgunning beer, lifted truck, bar hop, football game kind of guy. and the most elite soldier in the US military ofc.

takes you on stargazing dates and fucks you in the truck bed, a big beach towel set down and his head in your neck while he ruts into you short and fast. occasionally gets into bar fights when some dick is tryna say sum to u. is such an ass man and will smack and grope that shit wheneverrrr whereverrrr - has zoned out of convos with people while feelin HIS booty up + loves to grip your pussy with his big ass paw when no one is looking.

has a super firm grip due to years of being a marine and WILL manhandle ur ass around - into various positions, onto the bed or couch or counter or etc., up over his shoulder when you gettin on his nerves. gets actually animalistic when yall fuckin, and yk that boy a munch. growls and grunts sooo loud the whole time.

will take you to the dock and fuck you on the family fishing boat. will christen any new bar yall go to by fucking you in the gross bathroom and carving both your initials in the wall with his pocket knife that ward gave him when he was 15. is kinky af but lets u bring it up bcs he feels awkward talking about it. is sooooo nasty - will eat his cum out of you with his whole mouth, eyes locked on yours, sucking your lips into his mouth. then, when it’s not enough, he drags you up to sit on his face and rubs your clit, watching you clench and letting his cum drip from you right onto his tongue.

will stick a thumb in your ass during doggy, while reaching for his phone bcs the way u throwin that ass back on him? yall bout to make another movie. loves watching you clean him up after round 5, when his dick is covered in his and your cum - will not let you miss a spot, even where it dripped down over his hefty balls to his ass. and he rarely shaves - uncut.

if it’s a hot day, he’ll turn the ac off and find you so he can lick the sweat off every crevice of your beautiful body while he’s fucking you over the counter. both of you completely butt naked bcs it’s hot. has a sweet tooth - will interrupt you while you’re baking and strip you, laying you on the counter like the dessert you are and eating the frosting off his favorite parts. get especially excited when it comes to sweets on your nipples.

honestly if that aint a FEASTTTT i dont know what issss

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vintagetvstars · 6 months ago

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Leonard Nimoy Vs. Avery Brooks

Propaganda

Leonard Nimoy - (Star Trek, Mission: Impossible) - actor, director, musician, writer, photographer and mensch whose hotness as spock CHANGED THE WORLD

Avery Brooks - (Star Trek: Deep Space Nine, Spenser: For Hire) - ben sisko absolute all time tv dilf and have you heard him SPEAK... the stage background absolutely shows and it truly makes him a standout in a legacy franchise *full* of incredibly talented people. also frankly top 3 all time sexy bald guy

- No Negative Propaganda Please -

Master Poll List | How to submit propaganda | What is vintage? (FAQ)

Additional propaganda below the cut

Leonard Nimoy:

This is the Spock website, come on

youtube

its leonard nimoy......

Avery Brooks:

youtube

Avery is a certified TV sci-fi hottie as Benjamin Sisko in Star Trek: Deep Space Nine. The first black star trek Captain, he also negotiated his signature look - the bald head and goatee - against haters who thought a Captain should always be clean-shaven. Thank God for that, because he looks devastatingly hot in a a goatee (a phrase never before uttered). He went on to direct several episodes of DS9, use his pleasant voice to record music and multiple host documentaries, and mostly retire from acting to teach as a professor.

TW: Flashing Lights

youtube

with that wonderful stentorian baritone voice he could move from intimidating commander to gentle and compassionate space dad...benjamin sisko is a man of many qualities, thoughtful, morally complex, understatedly hilarious, a lil unhinged, really really excited about baseball, and avery brooks never fails to breathe life, depth and dimension into the character and also did i mention his voice. fun fact he was a professor of theater arts at rutgers while filming deep space nine and would occasionally teach classes via vhs tapes recorded on set, complete with starfleet uniform. he also directed a number of ds9 episodes including notable ones like "rejoined" and "far beyond the stars", and performed many of his own stunts as sisko. stunt coordinator dennis madalone said, "of all the stars that I've worked with on all the Star Treks, and all the other shows that I've been on other than Star Trek, I've never seen an actor so physically capable of just doing everything...every time I'd bring in a stunt double, he'd be angry, sitting on a bench, because Avery was doing so great." he's also a distinguished stage actor and an accomplished musician and singer who's performed everything from jazz to opera. science has yet to discover whether there's anything this man can't do.

youtube

#vintage tv stars poll #tv men quarter finals #leonard nimoy #avery brooks #Youtube

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nobodygotyoulikehoshina · 25 days ago

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LOOK BACK | Hoshina Soshiro

Chapter I

➢Summary: You weren't one to stick to tradition. Never were you, and never will you be. And if it meant following Hoshina Soshiro even to the pits of hell, you wouldn't hesitate on breaking any custom or practice. Too bad he never bothered to look back, where you always were.

➢Content: romance, angst, friendship, humour, violence (cw: mentions of death, fighting, blood, injuries, alcohol, cursing, possible mental distress from the characters, some gender stereotypes). will expand with the story.

➢ Pairing: Vice-captain! Hoshina x Platoon Leader! Fem! Reader

➢Genre: childhood best friends to lovers

➢Wc: 2084

➢notes: hello! nice to meet y'all in my first anime fic ever. i hope you enjoy it, and any support is appreciated. if you wish to be added to the series masterlist, don't be afraid to comment or message me. enjoy the read <3 (english is not my first languange, so feedback is appreciated).

You don’t know what might have been out of your life if you hadn’t joined the Defense Forces.

Sure, your family’s business, a humble kendo dojo, was always an option, but you never felt like doing that for the rest of your life. Indeed, you loved your family above anything, but you also had never been one to always stick to tradition in that sense. If you had, you would have never picked up the blade.

Or followed Hoshina Soshiro to the pits of hell.

If his family origins went back centuries, all the way back to the Muromachi Period, then yours did as well. Once a noble clan of samurais, no one in your family managed to produce warriors as fierce and talented as the Hoshina’s, and being based in the same region, it was a matter of time until you became a vassal family to his. Your ancestors aided the Hoshina’s for centuries as companions, loyally following them to their deaths in the never-ending battle against kaijus.

You couldn’t tell what was about Hoshina Soshiro that made you want to follow him anywhere. Whether it was a genuine liking of his person or that protectiveness for the Hoshina’s was engraved on your DNA, it didn’t matter because, either way, you have been trailing behind him ever since you both were five years old.

“Platoon Leader (L/N) here, permission to enter, sir!” you announced yourself in front of the open wooden doors of Vice-captain Hoshina’s office.

“Oh, Platoon Leader (L/N), what a surprise to see ya at this hour,�� he turned back at the entrance with his ever-present grin. “Please come in, and close the door behind ya”.

You did as commanded, closing the door with one hand and holding a stack of papers on the other.

“Now now, what brings ya to my office so late at night, hm?” he had moved to the front of his desk just to lean on it while looking at you, arms crossed over his chest in a playful stance.

You lifted the papers in your hand a little bit. “To bring this report to you, sir. A couple of rookies in my platoon thought it funny to sneak out on an on-duty night to go out to the bar. Let’s say they didn't get too far.”

Hoshina’s smile grew wider. “And ya got stuck doing the incident report, I guess?”

“That is correct, sir”.

Hoshina clapped twice, a sound that was amplified by the silence of his office at midnight. “My my, what a dependable leader ya’ve become, (Y/N). Leave it on my desk and I’ll give it a look in the mornin’.”

You shot him a dirty look for his teasing, and he responded by sticking his tongue back at you. In a couple of strides, you reached his desk, brushing past him, and placed the report on it. For mere seconds, you could feel the warmth from his jacket.

You went back to your initial position, giving him a half-hearted salute. “That’s all, Vice-captain Hoshina. If there’s nothing you need from me, with your permission, I’ll retire for the night, sir.”

“Actually,” he interrupted before you could grab the door handle, “I do have a reminder for ya.”

You turned back at him, confused. “A reminder, sir?”

“Yes, a reminder, (Y/N), dear,” Hoshina looked smug. “A little reminder that ya can address me informally when ya are with me”.

Your heart skipped a bit, but you caught yourself in seconds. “We are on duty, Vice-captain. I’m afraid that doing something like that would earn me some push-ups, would it, sir?”

“Nonsense,” he dismissed your arguments with a wave of his hand, “we are alone in here. Nothin’ to worry about”.

You raised an eyebrow towards your friend. “Weren’t you the one that told the recruits to be careful since we can hear everything said around here?”

For a second, you could see his half-open eyes crinkle with mischief. “There’s no mics in here. Vice-captain privileges.”

“Oh?,” you questioned him even further, “Sounds a little suspicious to me, sir. Thank you for the reminder, but I’ll still take my leave for the night. If I may.”

With a defeated sigh, Hoshina dismissed you with a hand gesture and you turned your back to him while opening the door. As you were closing the wood slab, you stuck your head back in the office.

“Good night…Hoshina-kun.” You didn’t stay to see if he responded.

As you made your way back to your personal quarters, eager to change in your sleepwear, a certain someone never left your thoughts.

God, Hoshina Soshiro never changes.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Life in the Third Division was chaotic, to say the least.

If it wasn’t the constant danger of a kaiju attack looming over Tokyo, it was the incessant drama that ensued housing hundreds of officers and staff 24/7 that threatened to shorten your lifespan. In a life of continuous near-death experiences, you realized that, no matter how many times you had been grateful to be able to open your eyes to another day, you would always prefer to kill yourself over mediating another petty fight between your subordinates. Today's offenders?

Two officers and a broken BS5.

“Platoon Leader (L/N), ma’am, with all due respect,” one of the young officers pleaded before you, “but what officer Watanabe here is saying is a mountain of crap”.

“Crap?!” the other officer exclaimed, turning to his comrade, almost as if forgetting you were there. “You bastard! The only one spewing crap here is you!”

Cue more shouting in your office. With all the reports, strategy meetings, and training on schedule for that day, you had no time to be dealing with this type of moronic quarrel. You felt a vein on your forehead pop the more these men kept insulting each other, not even caring anymore of hearing your opinion on the matter. But your patience finally met its end when Officer Watanabe turned to grab his comrade’s jacket to start a real fight.

You didn’t know how Captain Ashiro managed to do this all day. Hell, how even Hoshina did it.

You hit the palm of your hand loudly against your desk, rattling the stationary on top. “Enough, you two!”. Startled by the sudden sound, they separated from each other, at least looking a little embarrassed from being reprimanded that way.

“Officer Watanabe, Officer Sato,” you addressed both of them in a stern voice, “you both have been behaving way out of line for officers of the Defense Force. Causing disturbances in public spaces, breaking public property, and even almost starting a brawl in front of a superior officer. All those actions by themselves entail considerable punishments”.

“But, Platoon Leader (L/N),” Officer Sato tried to interrupt but you cut him off first.

“No buts, Officer Sato, or I’ll have to add insubordination to the list of offenses. This incident will be brought up to a disciplinary committee with its due evidence, and they will be in charge of deciding an appropriate action. Until then, you will be placed on administrative leave until further notice”.

Officer Watanabe started turning red from anger, opening his mouth to speak up when a voice cut him off from the entrance of your office—a very well-known voice.

“My, my, ya heard Platoon Leader (L/N),” Hoshina leaned against the doorframe of your office, his teasing grin on display, “The Third Division doesn’t take offenses lightly, I’m afraid. Now if there’s nothin’ ya have to discuss with Platoon Leader (L/N), I’ll see ya at the disciplinary hearing”.

Hoshina wasn’t one to shoot threats directly, but there was no other way to interpret his friendly yet demanding tone. Seeing no point in refuting their superior (ironically they were just about to do that to you), both officers saluted and left your office. That left you and your childhood best friend alone.

“Now, those are quite the troublemakers, aren’t they?” Hoshina commented while shutting the door.

You scoffed. “You think? They are one misconduct away from being dishonorably discharged from duty, sir.”

“There are good ones and there are bad ones,” Hoshina shrugged, sitting on the small couch in one of the corners of the room. He made himself comfortable before turning to you once again. “And yer still with the ‘sir’ talk!”

“I’m afraid I don’t have Vice-captain privileges, sir” you counter, truthfully since your rank still wasn’t that high to be given that kind of liberties. “Either way, are you here for something, sir? I don’t remember having to report you anything”.

Hoshina brought one of his hands to his chest, acting wounded by your words. “Why? Isn’t wanting to enjoy my best friend’s company enough reason to visit ya, (Y/N) dear? Has the rank difference affected our relationship so much?”

Your heart fluttered at the use of the word relationship, although there was no other synonym to describe your bond and it definitely didn’t cover the implications you wish it did.

Once more, you pushed your feelings aside. “Not when you are in charge of running a whole military division, Vice-captain Hoshina. So, if there’s nothing I can help you with, sir, I’m afraid it’ll be my pleasure to remind you to return to your duties”.

Hoshina sighted in defeat, crossing both arms and legs while pouting (which you definitely didn’t find cute at all!). “Yer no fun, (Y/N), dear. I came to tell ya that off-duty days were posted. So ya might wanna check that out.”

You loved your job. Truly. You didn’t think that there was something more fulfilling than fighting for the safety of the country. But you, like any worker to ever exist, couldn’t deny the pleasure of rotting away in bed to forget work and the stress of military life. So, ignoring Hoshina’s snort at the speed at which you opened your email, you searched for that HR notice. Right there, in front of your very eyes, laid that spreadsheet for the month with your, and everyone’s, day off marked on the calendar. Scanning the countless names on the file, you finally landed on yours, eyes wide open in surprise.

“So,” Hoshina interrupted your slight panic, “drinks at my place or yours?”

You glared at him. “How about none, sir?”

“C’mon, (Y/N). Don’t be a bore. It’s been forever since our days have synced up like this. When will we get another chance like this, huh?

The truth is that you really wanted to spend your free days with Hoshina. He has been your friend for almost all your life, and you preferred his company over anyone’s. Nevertheless, ever since you both joined the military, far away from the expectations of both of your families, your romantic desires towards the man felt harder and harder to control, but you managed to keep them in place. For the time being.

You looked at your friend with a suspicious gaze. “With all due respect, sir, why do I feel you had something to do with this arrangement?”

Hoshina’s normally closed eyes opened in surprise for a fraction of a second, before he shot you his signature peace sign pose. “Oops, I guess I’ve been caught”.

This dude…, you thought to yourself.

“Fine,” you conceded. “My place, but you bring the booze. And I expect the expensive one, sir”.

“I can’t disappoint one of my best soldiers, Platoon Leader (L/N), can’t I?.” He saluted at you while opening the door to exit your office. “Keep the good work, (L/N), and I shall see ya rewarded”.

You rolled your eyes at him. “Good afternoon, Vice-captain Hoshina, sir.”

The man in question was about to close the door when a thought came back to him, prompting him to peek his head inside your office once more.

“Oh, one last thing,” he said, watching your gaze intensify in annoyance. “The day after tomorrow, there’s a programmed exercise with Number 10 suit. I’ll send ya a formal request for you to be there, so keep an eye on it!”

“Me?” you questioned, “Are you sure?”

“Sure as day, dear,” he answered.

“Why though, sir?”

He smiled like you had just asked him the silliest question. And, to him, it was.

“Because I trust yer eye better than anyone else’s”

And he left you there, alone in your office, with no doubt that you would keep following Hoshina Soshiro wherever he went.

Even if it went against all rational thoughts.

next chapter ➢

taglist: @hana-patata @kokoiinuts

#nobodygotyoulikehoshina #kaiju no. 8 #hoshina #soshiro hoshina #gen #narumi gen #kaiju no. 8 fanfic #hoshina x reader #kn8 x reader #narumi x reader #hoshina soshiro x reader #narumi gen x reader #hoshina smut #hoshina fluff #hoshina angst #hoshina fanfic

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fullfriendnerdclutch · 8 months ago

Text

Archive: Rent-a-Cop Part 1 - 3

"It’s supposed to do what…? …Are you serious Captain?” Officer Grant Johnson sighed looking at his commanding officer with incredulity.

“Johnson, remember you volunteered for this. Now if the professor’s machine works like he says it does, its value to the force will be immeasurable," The Captain typed in some more information onto the panel, going back and forth between some hand-written instructions, furrowing his brow.

“Fine… So you scanned me in or whatever, now what?”

“Just a minute! I need to finish calibrating the damn thing or God knows what it’ll do to you!” Johnson rolled his eyes but nodded, running his hand through his salt and pepper hair impatiently.

“Okay okay… Just remember we do well enough without some freaky gizmo though. I’ve put away some of the baddest guys in this city in my day…” Officer Johnson patted his gut with a chuckle. “…I suppose I have been getting a bit soft though,"

“Well why don’t we see what we can do about that?" The Captain lifted what looked to be a simple wireless microphone.

“Load profile: Grant Johnson.” The machine behind them made a small noise, Officer Johnson looked to it then the Captain and shrugged.

“Reduce age by half, increase muscle mass 300%, and reduce body fat ratio by 80%—”

The Captain cut off and gaped at the sudden change in his subordinate. Gone was the weary looking Officer with the pot-belly looking forward to an ever closer retirement. In his place was a mountain of a man, who looked half bodybuilder/half cop. Johnson just stared at the Captain.

“…What? How long do we wait?”

“What do you mean what? You’re huge!”

Officer Johnson narrowed his eyes at the Captain then looked to his arm, pulling back the sleeve and flexing his massive biceps; it must have been around 24 inches.

"It doesn’t look any bigger… definitely not 200% bigger. And what was with the command to halve my age? You trying to send me back to highschool?” He chuckled a deep, rich, masculine laugh.

The Captain stammered a moment before looking back to the hand-written notes, thumbing through them before speaking into the small microphone again.

“Recall self prior to last command," that did it. Grant yelped, looking back to his arm, giving it a small poke then looking back to the Captain.

“Holy shit! Captain! Look at me! I can’t believe it! That machine is nuts!” The Captain frowned lightly but nodded.

“Yes, yes. The possibilities are endless, but we’ll need to make sure we note any Officer’s previous self to their changed self… I think we’ll just keep this to ourselves until we can learn a bit more about it.”

“Aww– Fine… Too bad though, with this thing I’d be right back in the swing of it. All those bastards I’ve spent my career taking down would just be the beginning; I could be back on the beat full time.”

“Well, we’ll see. For now lets get you back to normal, lock this place up and head back upstairs. Don’t want anyone in the precinct getting nosy down here…”

The captain returned Officer Johnson to normal then the pair left; all without taking note of the surveillance camera silently blinking above their heads.

In the security room, rookie cop Noah Bartlett stared at the camera footage. He’d been benched and given desk duty after none other than Officer Grant Johnson had accused him of being on the take…

Nevermind the fact that he was, afterall there were several local crime bosses who paid good money for any tip or advantage they could get against the cops….

An idea slowly formed in Noah’s mind as he looked to the wall at the master security keyring and a smile grew on his face… He wondered how much they would pay for a chance to rent that machine and use it on Officer Oh-So-Perfect Johnson…

"You understand, Captain Diaz?"

The older cop replied in a dull monotone "Yes,"

"Yes....what?" the rookie replied, smirking vindictively

"Yes Master Noah,"

"Good," he pulled the machine's microphone close to his mouth and read off a little notecard he had prepared

"Captain Diaz won't consciously remember the events of the last 10 minutes or so. Captain Diaz will return to his office, wait one hour then call Officer Johnson in, and then follow the previously given instructions,"

With that, the Captain wordlessly walked out, while Officer Bartlett quickly reset the room to how it was, before hurrying back to his desk in the security room.

Rico Antonetti was one of the mid to upper level mob figures in the city and he and Officer Noah Bartlett had worked out a few arrangements before getting caught by one oh-so-squeaky-clean Officer Grant Johnson.

Noah had reached out to the mobster and informed him of the department's prototype machine. Rico was skeptical so the two worked out an appropriate demonstration.....

Precisely one hour later, Noah looked up to see Officer Grant Johnson on one of his monitors, step into the Captain's office and take a seat

"Listen Johnson, we've got a tip off about some new little bordello Antonetti has setup downtown. It might be bogus, but I need you to go in and investigate,"

"Sure Cap, let me get a team together and we'll be able to hit the place by tomorrow nig---"

"NO! Er......no, that will be too late, these places move around and we don't know how many ears Rico has in the department. If we want to hit him while this info is good, we need to do it tonight and I need you to go by yourself,"

"Uhh....that sounds more than a little bit risky, don't you think, Captain?"

"Yes, or at least it would be, if we didn't have our department's new toy," the Captain said sternly

"Oh....yeah, I guess so then. If you think it's that serious...."

"I do, let's get you prep," quickly replied the Captain as he stood up from his seat and opened the door briskly

Noah almost giggled with glee as he watched the two depart the Captain's office and head to the storeroom where the Professor had dropped off the machine. Everything was going according to script so far

"Alright Johnson, you ready?" The Captain picked up the wireless mic, flipping the machine on

"Yes Sir," Grant smiled, giving his somewhat rotund belly a gentle pat goodbye

"Load Profile: Grant Johnson." once more the machine whirred to life, humming softly and awaiting input. "Subject will recall self following this set of commands: Reduce age by 60%, increase muscle mass by 200%....."

The Captain's voice and face then seemed to go a bit slack and he took the microphone and opened the door to exit the room

"Err...everything alright, boss?"

"Yes, wait there, I need to check something,"

Captain Diaz quietly made his way down the hall to the security room, he opened the door where Officer Bartlett sat grinning

"Welcome Cap, I'll take that," he reached out, grabbing the mic and looking back to the video feed of the new, younger, buffer Officer Grant Johnson sitting patiently

"Subject will not recall self following this new set of commands. Change sexuality to homosexual. Increase libido by 300%. Reduce work ethic by 75%. Add behaviors: narcissism, arrogance, exhibitionism, bullying, domineering, perversion, and of course, corruption," Noah watched as the posture and attitude of Officer Johnson shifted. The man in the monitor crudely rubbed his genitals through his uniform pants and impatiently checked his wristwatch before noting the mirrored window in the room and stepping up to flex in front of it

"Perfect, now reduce subject employment standing to rookie, erase all experience of previous service and update it to 3 months," the stripes on Grant's uniform vanished, "Subject will continue flexing in the storeroom until Captain Diaz returns," there was no change in the cocky behavior on the monitor, but Noah knew Grant would stay like that as long as needed now

"Load profile: Carlos Diaz. Subject will believe that Officer Grant Johnson has always been as he is now and has not been changed by the machine. Subject will load in each member of the department's profiles overnight tonight and make the same changes to their recollection as well. Subject will not consciously remember the events of the last hour and will return to scold Officer Johson for being where he shouldn't be, then send him out,"

Captain Diaz silently left the security room and Officer Bartlett returned to his monitor. He watched smiling as the Captain entered the storeroom and clearly yelled something at the now rookie Grant Johnson. Officer Johnson replied by gripping his own groin and flipping the Captain off as he left.

"Now then, tonight should go on as planned,"

Grant drove down the street slowly. It was dark and while he may not have given a shit about what he was doing, he was still a cop. He saw the kid on the corner signal to someone as soon as he showed up. But that was fine, let 'em get their shit out of there, it would be less work on his part.

He parked a couple houses down from the address his tightass Captain had given him for this supposed brothel and slowly approached. From the front it looked like any other kind of shared housing in one of the city's projects

He eyed the door, strangely it was left ajar. He carefully slipped inside, having to squeeze his muscular form through rather tightly so as not to risk moving the door any further

The first floor was dark but as he peered up the stairs, he saw the second level was well lit......if anything's going down, it's up there

He thought he moved quite silently but in reality he was rushing and the house creaked under his weight with each step. When he reached the top, he saw a hallway full of closed doors, save one left half open with light pouring out of it

He crept towards it, growing annoyed at what a waste of time this was turning out to be. He paused by the door when he heard a young man speaking on the phone

"Yeah....yeah he's comin' so I called like you told me to....yeah, you're sure about this?.....Naw naw, I'm good for it.... Alright, alright, then do whatever it is you're gonna do, I'll let you know,"

The young man hung up the phone, Grant furrowed his brow at what he'd heard.....it sounded like something might actually about to go down....Looks like showtime. He stepped forward, kicking the door open and entering the room with his gun drawn

"DON'T MOVE!" yelled Grant with his deep baritone voice with that hint of coarseness from his smoking habit

The room looked like a simple one bedroom unit, hardly the sex den he was expecting. On the bed seated a rather handsome college-aged jock, he had his arms raised and was watching the police officer, but he didn't seem startled. Grant frowned and looked around the room before stepping to the man and patting him down; finding no weapon, he put away his firearm.

"We got a tipoff about prostitutes working out of this address to supply the mob. You know anything about that?"

The young jock paused for a moment looking at Grant just long enough to begin annoying him, before finally answering tentatively

"Of course Officer.....that's what I'm doing here," Grant just stared a moment......did this little twunk just admit to being a whore?

"You're a hooker?"

Sensing Grant's confusion, the young man smiled and nodded. He stood and approached the cop

"Yeah.....Rico said I was your favorite after last time, so it was my job to......cover your protection fee...." the jock's hands were a bit rough but his puppy eyes really caught his attention and radiate this submissiveness Grant cannot resist. He softly stroked Grant's chest and stomach, causing the ripped Officer to moan and shudder in delight

"Oh...oh yeah, now I remember you," Grant's stated with more conviction, his memories betrayed him as it created false imagery of the time he's sitting in the mob-run nightclub with all the male strippers dancing to tease him

The rather handsome hooker simply smiled impishly, his hand caressing lower, which caused Grant to growl in beastly burst of lust, pushing the young man back onto the bed

An hour or so later, Grant called in to Captain Diaz, the tip had been bullshit it seemed. The Captain was pissed but Grant didn't care. Meanwhile, Officer Bartlett popped open a bottle of wine when he received a call from one very convinced and very interested crime boss....

-------

Check out my spin-off from this beloved series originally made by coyote-r

More to come later this week

#male shapeshift #male muscle growth #archive #coyote-r #older to younger #criminal tf #police tf #revenge tf #rent-a-cop series #tech tf

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devil-in-hiding · 9 months ago

Note

Listen brother you literally singlehandedly turned me into a fuckin Price WHORE how the fuck did this happen how did i fall into this trap 💀 but you did it soooooooo just hear me out... HEAR ME OUT! price, this larger than life man who's dedicated his life to his job, this man who's written off the idea of even thinking about having a family cause he thinks he's past his prime or whatever the fuck and he's stuck in a hard place precisely because he's so proud of his accompliments as a captain while thinking that he's failed as a man at the same time. Then someone assigns him an assistant (see where i'm going with this), trying to slowly ease him into thinking about retirement and he protests so much. It's the nail in the coffin for him. He loathes the mere thought of someone invading his space and making him feel so brittle and incompetent but he doesn't have the authority to reject high command's decisions and so he agrees with gritted teeth and fire in his eyes

Then you show up and you prove to be good at what you do, but you're also everything he's low key ever dreamed of and he's STRUGGLING trying to come to terms with the fact that he'll never have you. That he's too old and that you two are in entirely different stages of your life, that he'd hold you back and that someone else would be far better suited

BUT JUST SPARE THE THOUGHT for him recognizing that you've developed a huge crush on him. Gigantic. You're suddenly so flustered around him, very unprofessional. You mess up constantly but he is by no means mad!!!!!

If anything you made his life so much sweeter omg he's SO cocky about it and he's UNBEARABLE!!! He's the definition of "I still got it ;)" and he's trying to rile you up on purpose... but he'd never go farther than some flirty comments and lingering touches. He's locked in his duty and convinced you'll move on soon. Still flattering tho

But then your crush doesn't fade. It's not going away.

It's. Not. Going. Away!!!!!!

ITS BEEN A FULL YEAR

And he's just "!!!" completely shuts down because why the hell are you still interested in him? Have you seen yourself? Have you noticed the looks you get? The looks HE gets as your boss????

But he's also thinking whether you'd like to be married, whether you'd like to have kids......and soon that's all he thinks about and all he talks about

DO YOU HEAR ME 😭😭😭 sorry this got so fucking long when its so stupid but i needed to say this

anon i love you, this is literally art because yes this is my wavelength of Price x assistant!reader

head over heels for him 10 months in after countless nights of forcing his stubborn ass to go to his quarters and get some sleep after finding him slouched over his desk, hat askew and snoring

early mornings where you are are still bleary eyed and nodding off as you try to write his calendar, only to find yourself on one of the couches a little later, surrounded by the four of them, Price seated next to you, one of HIS blankets draped over you

it’s very much a beautiful sweet cat falling for the old army dog who would bite off anyone’s hand who comes near HIS feline

he truly expects for your feelings to fade one day, more than prepared for you to find a partner, god half the base eyes you up and down as you obediently trot after him, heart in your eyes as you gaze at his strong shoulders

but that day never comes, you’re there every morning with his cuppa and a smile that is just for him, genuine and sweet.

He isn’t sure how he was deemed a worthy enough man for you to enter his life, by he’ll be damned if he lets this slip through his fingers

#anons #cod john price #captain john price #john price x reader #i need this man biblically #heart and soul

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ic3dior · 3 months ago

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You know how ice has like, one of the the highest ranks you can get in the navy without being SECNAV by the events of TGM while maverick stayed a captain because he didn’t want to give up flying?

I bet ice felt the same in a way, but he was more attached to the plane he was flying rather than the concept of flying in general

I was doing some research and the last F-14 Tomcat was retired from service in 2006 from VF-213. Now this next bit doesn’t entirely comply with fact, but in the topgun universe VF-213 is Fist of the fleet, ice and sliders canon squadron. (In actual fact fist of the fleet is actually VF-25 but let’s ignore that)

So I hc that ice stayed at Commander (since captains oversee the general command of a ship instead of flying the missions) until the tomcat was retired, had one go on the new f/a-18 superhornet on a flight sim and upon deciding it wasn’t the same as the tomcat, he accepted a promotion to captain the same day. Also if we take into account that it usually takes 20-25 years for an officer to get promoted to captain and safely assume ice joined the navy somewhere around the late 70s early 80s, (flight school = 4years so pilots are immediately an Lt when they join the fleet and say it took ice somewhere between 3-4 years so get selected for topgun after that) it also fits the service timeline for getting promoted to captain.

And then after being promoted to captain, ice just gained promotion after promotion and ended up being promoted to COMPACFLT about 1-2 years before the events of TGM. (I hc ice was only on his first term during tgm and that since HE DOESNT DIE YALL, he would take office a second time to keep all maverick baby daggers out of trouble before becoming SECNAV after that.)

#pete maverick mitchell #top gun 1986 #top gun maverick #icemav #tom iceman kazansky #ao3 #top gun fandom #top gun fanfiction #top gun iceman #headcanon #us navy #navy

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fandomnerd9602 · 8 days ago

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Home on the Run (1)

Yelena Belova x Venom!Reader

Set during Thunderbolts*

It all started back when Yelena felt alone. In truth, she had you, Venom, her symbiote Lash and of course her symbiote hybrid children Natalie and Alex.

But kids grow fast. You and Yelena became so wrapped up in being parents that everything else, including each other, sort of fell away. Natalie had started fourth grade and Alex had just started kindergarten.

Her purpose, her whole reason for retirement was gone for most of the day. Natalie was even starting to hang out with friends at sleepovers every weekend.

Yelena and Lash began taking covert ops jobs for Val, director of the CIA. A real pain in the ass for you and Venom.

The two of you had settled quite nicely into the roles of domestic bliss but Yelena hadn’t.

Yelena was shrinking away from you and Venom. You found her passed out in your shared bathroom with a bottle of vodka after a mission.

“Lena? Baby?” You tried to stir her awake.

Lash, the olive green symbiote, slowly emerges out of Yelena, “momma sad”

“How sad, Lash?” You try to ask only for Yelena to wake up.

“H-Hey” Yelena mumbles.

“Hey yourself” you close the door behind you, Yelena winces from the sound, “the kids don’t need to see you like this”

“vot der’mo” she mumbles.

“What’s wrong, Lena?” You gently ask, sliding against the wall across from her, “baby please…you can talk to me and Venom.”

“I don’t think I can” she whispers, her voice dripping with pain.

“No more ops” your command snaps her out of her head.

“What?”

“I can’t stand to see you like this. Our kids shouldn’t have to see this!”

Venom emerges too, “My love, we worry about you. This drinking of yours is destructive and-”

“I’m fine!” She tries to get up but stumbles a little. Lash holds her to the tub. “Ops are…me. I’m not a hero. I’m not an Avenger. I’m a—a…”

“Mother. Wife. Incredible lover.” You spitball to her, earning a sad smile from your wife. “Let’s drop the kids off at Alexei’s for the weekend. Maybe we can go somewhere. Just you and me”

“That would be..” Yelena’s phone buzzes with another op from Val. The mere sight of that burner phone makes your blood boil a little.

“Last one” she says

“Last one” you agreed. But how did you agreed? Last mission or last chance to make this relationship work?

As Yelena went off on her final op, you dropped the kids off at Alexei’s apartment. The children loved their grandpa and his tale of beating Captain America, not that Steve or Sam can ever recall that.

You collapse on the couch as Alexei sits down next to you. “You and Yelena are fine, yes?”

“We’ve drifted a little”

“Ah Melina and I are in similar boat.” Alexei shrugs. “But it happens when powerful women grow restless and yearn for battle!”

“I think you may have some kinks, Alexei” Venom chimes

“Nyet” Alexei mutters. “You found your place, being homemaker. Lena still is looking for hers. Best to guide and help her rather than to flee, yes?”

“Yeah.” You look to your symbiote pal. “We have to go”

You jump into your Honda Odyssey as Venom looks to you, “whats wrong, buddy?”

“Val is currently heading toward impeachment. What do guilty people do when they’re about to be figured out?”

“Clean house” Venom’s eyes go wide, “we have to get to Yelena’s location. I snuck an AirTag into her suit before she left.”

“You did what?”

“Never mind just drive!”

You hit the gas and speed away. Alexei looks around before making a call.

“Melina…can you watch the grandkids for a couple hours?…yes I am aware what time it is” the older man intones before jumping in his Red Guardian limousine.

You and Venom parachuted to the location in the middle of the desert. An old OXE base. Well parachuted is a loose term. The two of you jumped out the plane and Venom formed his symbiote wings to stealthily land a few feet from the base.

“Looks like someone already broke in” venom remarks as the two of you sneak in. The power was out. The base looked abandoned.

“No elevator access” you looked around. Venom shot out a tendril from your back and forced the elevator door open. Beneath the two of you laid only a mile and half tunnel downward of pure darkness.

“No elevator either”

“Lena…what have you gotten yourself into?” You jumped down into the dark. Venom shot tendrils into the wall to slow your descent.

You and Venom slowed down before landing on top of an elevator. You proceeded to cut open and punched out the elevator doors, exposing an underground room.

The two of you saw a woman wearing a white mask who was phasing in and out while trying to override a door.

“What’s this all about?” Venom says.

“No time.” She says, “I need this door open now!”

You and Venom go to the door in question and begin to lift it, straining due to the heavy nature of a steel oven like door.

The woman hits the right wire and the door shoots open. Yelena and a couple other rush forward. An explosion behind the group knocks your wife right into your arms and hurls you all into a wall.

All you saw was darkness. The feeling of dirt and rocks all around you. Distant screaming and wailing. Shrieks of an inhuman species.

“(Y/N)?” Venom’s voice spoke to you.

A brief flash caught your eye. White hair. A nightmarish ghoul of a face. A king in black.

Then it was gone.

When you came to, you saw a strange man’s hand accidentally touching your wife’s. Yelena bolted awake in your arms like she had experienced a night.

“(Y/N)? Venom?” Your beautiful bride looks at you both surprised. “What are you-? How did you”

“Long story” you gently helped her to her feet. You caressed her cheek. She gently sighed.

“We came to save you” venom smiles as he forms next to you, locking eyes with Yelena. This was the first real moment of tenderness that you had been able to share in so long. Her eyes spoke volumes of how she missed this.

“Oh dude” the strange man said, sounding a little spaced out, “that’s crazy. An alien goo head.”

“I am Venom,” your symbiote looks at the man, “one half of the Lethal Protector! Who are you?”

“Bob”

“Oh great,” a Captain America wannabe you later found out was named Walker spoke up, “aliens now?”

“What’s Dollar Store Captain America doing here?!”

“Venom. Behave.” You gently intone before looking to Yelena. “You got some explaining to do”

“So do you, malysh” she says right back.

To Be Continued

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#marvel #marvel fluff #marvel imagine #mcu #mcu imagine #mcu fandom #yelena belova x venom reader #venom x reader #venom symbiote #venom #yelena belova x reader #yelena belova #florence pugh #thunderbolts*#thunderbolts

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ghostlynightpanda · 1 month ago

Text

Setting the Standard

English is not my first language, so if you find mistakes, feel free to contact me!

Synopsis: Atsumu Miya, known for his cocky and competitive nature, slowly shifts from his usual show-off demeanor to genuine efforts to impress his team’s new manager. As their relationship develops, she struggles with whether his actions are sincere or just another game.

warnings/content: Miya Atsumu x fem!reader, fluff, 9.683 words

The gym buzzed with the sharp rhythm of sneakers squeaking against polished wood, the familiar thud of a volleyball echoing through the space. Inarizaki High's volleyball team wasn't just known in their prefecture—they were a powerhouse, feared for their precision, coordination, and ruthless energy on the court.

But inside the gym, where banners hung high and sweat clung to skin like a second layer, the atmosphere wasn't always warm.

"Oi, Suna, stop dragging your feet like we're playin' in a retirement league!" Atsumu Miya barked from his side of the net, spinning a volleyball in his hands.

"Maybe if you didn't call for a set every five seconds like a spotlight-loving maniac," Suna deadpanned, not even looking up from where he was stretching.

Atsumu rolled his eyes, muttering under his breath, but didn't push it further. The rest of the team barely blinked. This was just how Atsumu was—sharp-tongued, endlessly competitive, and, in the words of most of his teammates, an exhausting bastard.

But no one could deny it: he was brilliant.

He moved like the game was built for him, each set an extension of his instinct, each serve a threat to the scoreboard. He demanded perfection, and when he didn't get it—well, his temper was just as famous as his skills.

Most of the team tolerated him. Few liked him. But they accepted him, in that quiet, unspoken way athletes do when someone's skill earns them a place whether they deserve it personally or not.

Truthfully, most of them found it easier to get along with Osamu.

The calmer, quieter Miya twin was kneeling by the ball cart, checking equipment while casually dodging one of Atsumu's careless serves that had rocketed across the court.

"Ya gonna start a fight before warm-ups are done, or can we have one practice without you yellin' at someone?" Osamu drawled.

"Not my fault they can't keep up," Atsumu muttered, bouncing the ball again, shoulders tense.

Captain Kita walked into the gym then, clipboard in hand and expression unreadable as always. His presence had the immediate effect of a cold breeze—cutting through the heat, settling everyone into place.

Practice was about to begin. There was no need for a pep talk. Inarizaki didn't need motivation.

They had skill. Power. Purpose.

What they didn't have—at least, not yet—was someone to balance the sharp edges they all carried.

But that would change soon.

Practice began with its usual rigor. Kita stood at the sideline, calling out the rotation. The team moved without needing much direction, the routine drilled into them after months—years—of relentless training.

But halfway through warm-ups, Kita raised his hand.

The ball bounced to a stop. Conversations cut short. Even Atsumu turned mid-jump, freezing in place.

"Before we continue," Kita said, his tone as calm and commanding as ever, "there's something I need to tell you all."

A few glances exchanged. It wasn't like Kita to interrupt unless it was serious.

"We might be getting a new manager."

A beat of silence followed.

Then—"Might?" Atsumu asked, tossing the ball up and catching it lazily. "What, are we test-drivin' her or somethin'?"

Kita gave him a look that shut him up immediately.

"She's volunteering to help, not auditioning for your amusement."

Several heads turned towards Atsumu with knowing smirks. He huffed, looking away, muttering something under his breath.

"She should be arriving soon," Kita continued. "When she does, I expect all of you to treat her with respect. She's not here to clean up after you. She's here to support the team. If anyone causes her to quit before she's even started—"

His eyes swept across the gym, settling briefly on a certain setter before moving on.

"—you'll be running laps until your legs stop working."

A low whistle from Ginjima broke the tension. "Got it, captain."

Kita's voice dropped a little, thoughtful now.

"I won't be here next year. When I graduate, this team is going to need someone to hold it together. Not just on the court."

The weight of his words settled like a quiet echo. Everyone respected Kita—not just because he was talented, but because he carried the team. The unshakeable presence, the calm in chaos. The idea of Inarizaki without him felt... unfamiliar.

"I don't see anyone here ready to lead the same way yet," he added bluntly, eyes sharp but not cruel. "Which means, until one of you proves otherwise, we need someone who can keep the rest of you in line."

Atsumu let out an exaggerated yawn, arms stretched overhead. "Tch. Dunno what you're talkin' about. I'm very manageable."

Osamu snorted from behind him. "Yeah. Like a wild dog's manageable."

Before Atsumu could respond with something snarky, the gym doors slid open with a quiet clack.

Everyone turned.

There you were—standing a little hesitantly at the threshold, in a neat uniform, clutching a clipboard against you chest. Your expression was open, bright, a little nervous but unshakably warm.

Kita nodded towards you. "That's her."

You stepped inside, bowing politely, your voice clear but gentle as you introduced yourself.

"Hello, everyone. I'm Y/N, your new manager—if you'll have me."

Atsumu raised an eyebrow, arms crossed.

Kita didn't smile often, but there was the faintest, approving shift in his posture as he turned to the team. "Don't scare her off. That's an order."

The gym smelled like sweat and determination, the kind of sharp air that clung to ambition and effort. It felt oddly… welcoming. Or maybe that was just how you chose to see it.

The team offered a mix of responses: a few nods, a polite chorus of "nice to meet you," and some curious glances. They didn't seem unfriendly—just unsure.

You could work with that.

One boy, with half-lidded eyes and a tired expression, gave you a lazy wave. "Hope you know what you're getting into."

"Suna," Kita said warningly, to which he just smirked.

Another one—tall and broad-shouldered with short hair—smiled. "I'm Ginjima. Don't worry, we're not all scary."

"Speak for yourself," a shorter player muttered under his breath.

You laughed softly, tucking your clipboard to your side. "I've managed worse. Or at least, I like to think I have."

That's when you noticed him.

Blond hair. Golden eyes. A subtle scowl like it had made itself a home on his face. He was leaning against the ball cart, watching you like he was already two steps into trying to mess with you.

You offered a smile.

He didn't return it.

"Don't mind him," a voice murmured from your side.

You turned to see a boy with the same face—but a different energy. Calmer. Colder, but not unkind. This must be the twin.

"Osamu Miya," he said, offering his hand.

You shook it. "Nice to meet you."

He leaned in a bit, his voice low. "That one's my brother. Atsumu. He's an idiot."

You blinked. "Direct."

"Just a warnin'," Osamu said. "He's gonna test ya. Push your buttons. Loud, demanding, and convinced the sun shines right outta his own ass."

You choked back a laugh.

Osamu went on, sounding like he'd said this a hundred times before. "Don't let him get away with anythin'. Or next thing you know, you're doin' his errands and cleanin' up his ego."

You glanced at Atsumu again. He was still staring. Like he expected you to trip over yourself any second now.

You raised your eyebrows at him.

He narrowed his eyes.

Game on.

Kita gave you a quick rundown of your responsibilities—tracking water bottles, keeping an eye on injuries, managing towels and uniforms, updating the schedule board. Nothing too overwhelming, especially since you were used to staying organized and multitasking.

You got to work immediately, weaving around the players during drills. You handed Suna a fresh towel before he could ask. Noted a small scrape on one of the first-years and pulled out a bandage. Jotted down the updated practice match date Kita mentioned offhandedly.

Quiet efficiency. That was your strength.

And Atsumu noticed.

He watched from across the gym as you moved, graceful but grounded, all warmth with a spine of steel. You weren't fawning over anyone. You weren't flustered. You didn't bat an eye when someone cursed under their breath or bumped into you.

And when he finally walked up, cocky grin in place, spinning a ball in one hand, you barely looked up.

"Hey, Manager-chan," he said, dragging out the title like it was a joke. "Think ya could grab my knee tape from the locker room? My legs are worth protectin', after all."

You looked up slowly, smiled politely, and said:

"Sure. Right after I get everyone else's stuff. You're at the bottom of my list right now."

The smirk froze on his face.

You turned and walked off before he could reply.

The team went quiet for a second before Suna burst out laughing and Osamu let out a low whistle. "That's gonna be interestin'."

Ginjima nudged Atsumu with his elbow. "Did you just get manager-zoned?"

Atsumu stared after you, mouth slightly open, and for once in his life, speechless. But you didn't even notice the way his gaze lingered. You didn't care about his reaction. Or about him at all, it seemed.

— — — — —

It didn't take long for you to feel like you belonged.

Maybe it was because you worked hard. Maybe because you didn't treat anyone like they were larger than life. Maybe it was because you knew when to be serious and when to just let the boys be dumb high school boys.

Whatever it was—within a few weeks, you weren't just the manager. You were their manager.

They still cursed under their breath when Kita's drills got too intense, but they made sure to thank you after every match, accepted your help without grumbling, and even started competing over who could make you laugh more during water breaks.

You were part of the team. On and off the court.

And somehow, you ended up becoming the unofficial tutor too.

"I'm tellin' ya," Osamu groaned, flopping down at the desk in the empty classroom, "this teacher's got it out for me. I swear. There's no way this many trick questions is legal."

You stifled a smile, passing him a worksheet. "It's not a trick question, Osamu. You just need to actually study the formulas instead of trying to wing it on vibes."

He grumbled something incoherent in response.

Across from you, Suna leaned on his arm, lazily scribbling down answers as you explained a concept again. "She's right, you know. You've got vibes and snacks, that's about it."

"Least I ain't a roach who copies homework five minutes before class."

You laughed, turning the page in your textbook and pointing something out to Osamu. "Focus. Midterms aren't going to pass themselves."

"Yeah, yeah…"

The sound of footsteps in the hallway drew your attention.

Atsumu walked by the open door, pausing when he spotted the three of you inside. His brows knit slightly as he leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed.

"Since when did this turn into a cram school?"

Suna didn't even look up. "Since Osamu started failing math."

"I'm not failin'," Osamu defended quickly. "Just… hoverin' on the edge."

You smiled at Atsumu. "You can join, if you want."

He scoffed. "Tch. No thanks. I ain't need help from someone who treats quadratic equations like they're a fun hobby."

"Suit yourself," you said calmly, turning back to the notes. "But when you bomb the test and Kita finds out, don't come crying to me."

Osamu smirked.

Atsumu opened his mouth like he wanted to snap something back, but then he paused. You weren't even looking at him anymore. And that bothered him more than he expected.

Later that night, Osamu and Suna were packing up their things while you erased the board.

"She's scary," Suna said casually, bumping Osamu with his elbow. "In a responsible, 'please do your homework' kinda way. Like Kita."

Osamu chuckled. "Yah, but she's good. Real good. Kinda weird how she puts up with all of us."

You pretended not to hear that part as you grabbed your bag, flipping off the lights.

But just outside the room, you found Atsumu leaning against the wall, phone in hand, doing a terrible job pretending he wasn't waiting for something—or someone.

You quirked an eyebrow. "Lost your way to the gym?"

He glanced up, shoved his phone into his pocket. "Just makin' sure you didn't fall asleep with all that nerd talk."

"How thoughtful."

His tone was light, but something in his expression was… unsure. Like he wasn't used to being left out of something and didn't quite know what to do about it.

He walked beside you, hands in his pockets.

"Ya really like doin' all that stuff, huh?" he asked after a beat.

"What, managing? Tutoring you slackers?"

He shrugged. "Yah. I dunno. You don't get paid or nothin'. You're just always there. Like ya actually wanna be."

You looked at him. "I do. That's kind of the point."

He didn't answer right away.

"…Don't ya get tired of it? Babysittin' everyone?"

You smiled at that, a little softer. "I don't see it as babysitting. I just like helping where I can. And besides…" You looked ahead again. "You guys aren't that bad."

Atsumu didn't reply, but he stole a glance at you, something unreadable in his eyes.

He wouldn't admit it, not even to himself yet—but something was shifting.

And it had started with the realization that he didn't like the way you smiled at Suna and Osamu like that.

Not one bit.

— — — — —

Atsumu Miya was used to being watched.

Whether it was by opponents sizing up his infamous serve, coaches noting his sharp instincts, or girls peeking through gym doors just to catch him wiping sweat from his brow—he'd always had eyes on him.

He liked it. Thrived on it.

So when you joined the team and didn't even blink the first time he landed a flawless jump serve, he chalked it up to nerves.

The second time, he figured you just missed it.

By the third time—when he purposely aimed it just right to send the ball singing past the receiving line, then glanced your way to see… nothing?

He started getting annoyed.

You were talking to Suna. Smiling. Laughing. Not even pretending to be impressed.

So naturally, he doubled down.

It became a pattern. Atsumu would do something ridiculous—throwing extra power behind every serve, calling for tosses he didn't need, fixing his hair more times than seemed physically necessary—and then glance at you out of the corner of his eye.

And every time?

Nothing.

You'd cheer for the whole team equally. You'd compliment a clean receive from Akagi or a good dig from one of the first-years. But when it came to Atsumu?

You gave him a polite nod. Maybe a quiet "nice work" if he really earned it.

That was it.

No gushing. No lingering glances. No obvious signs of awe. You treated him just like everyone else.

And it drove him insane.

"Is she broken?" he asked Osamu one day, half-whispered, after you'd walked past without even looking at his perfectly styled bangs.

Osamu didn't even glance up from his rice ball. "Nah. She just doesn't fall for bullshit."

Atsumu bristled. "It ain't bullshit."

"You fixed your hair with your phone camera during warm-ups."

"So what? Presentation matters!"

Osamu just gave him a look—the kind that said: you're making a fool of yourself, and I'm not stopping you—before taking another bite.

You weren't mean to him. That's what really messed with Atsumu. You weren't cold, or rude, or dismissive. You still offered him water after drills, reminded him to rewrap his fingers when he forgot, and even once told him his tosses had been looking tighter than usual.

But you didn't treat him like a star. You treated him like a teammate.

And he didn't know how to deal with that. Every other girl acted like being around him was a privilege. Like they had to earn his approval.

But you? You didn't act like he had anything to prove.

Which, in a completely frustrating twist of fate, made him want to prove himself anyway.

After about a week of failing to dazzle you with the usual Miya Special™—perfect serves, hair flips, smug grins, and enough shirt-adjusting to rival a modeling shoot—Atsumu realized something horrifying.

You didn't care.

Not about his float serve. Not about the way he rolled his sleeves up before practice. Not about the slightly-too-tight compression shirt he "accidentally" wore.

And he didn't get it.

Everyone cared. Everyone always cared.

But not you. You treated him the same as the other players and the same as his brother, who he was definitely better than (in his opinion). And that felt… wrong.

So he tried something new.

The next day, you arrived at the gym to find a bottle of your favorite tea sitting neatly on your clipboard. No note. No explanation. Just there.

You looked around.

Osamu was stretching. Suna was half-asleep. Ginjima waved at you. Nobody seemed to claim it.

But you accepted it with a small, confused smile and a quiet, "Thanks…?"

From across the court, Atsumu flushed and looked violently interested in re-taping his fingers.

From there, the gestures started coming.

Small things. Clumsy things. Things he clearly thought would go unnoticed but that the entire team immediately caught onto.

You: "Who organized the ball cart today?" Atsumu: (pretending to be indifferent) "Dunno. Ghost, maybe." Osamu: "You even labeled the towels with her name, dumbass." Atsumu: "IT'S CALLED BEING THOROUGH."

Atsumu casually "dropped" a bag of fresh melonpan on your desk like it meant nothing.

You narrowed your eyes. "Is this a bribe?"

He scowled. "What?! No! Just... I was there. Thought you might want it."

You took it. "Thanks, but uh… I'm allergic to melons."

Atsumu deadpanned. "Shit."

The team took notice. Immediately.

Suna started keeping score. "Day 5 of the Atsumu courtship ritual," he murmured during practice. "New move: setting the net up early."

"I always set the net—"

"No, you don't."

Ginjima had a running bet with another second-year about how long it would take you to catch on.

Aran pretended not to hear the gossip, but his amused glances said otherwise.

Even Kita, when he overheard Atsumu volunteer to sweep the gym, blinked once and asked: "…Are you sick?"

Atsumu glared. "I'M FINE."

And you? You noticed. Of course, you did.

But you also knew better than to react too quickly to anything Atsumu Miya did. He thrived on attention. On knowing he'd gotten to someone. So, you played your part: polite, unbothered, immune.

Even when he tied your shoelaces before practice with a smug little wink. Even when he stood outside your class holding your forgotten clipboard. Even when he "accidentally" dropped his lunch tray next to yours in the cafeteria.

You didn't give him what he wanted.

Because he wasn't showing himself, not really. He was still showing off.

The tea was sweet. The bread was thoughtful.

But all of it felt like performance. Like he was still trying to win you over with the same tricks he used on everyone else. And you weren't interested in the mask he put on for crowds.

So, you kept treating him the way you always had. Kind. Firm. Fair. Unimpressed.

It drove him crazy.

And that's exactly when Atsumu Miya, king of confidence, started to panic.

It started innocently enough, as these things tend to do. Atsumu had decided that if the usual flashy displays of skill weren't working, he needed to try something smarter.

His idea?

Charm you with sheer thoughtfulness. Or at least, what he thought was thoughtful.

"Hey, I noticed ya were carrying a lot of stuff this morning," Atsumu said, suddenly appearing next to you with a somewhat strained grin, holding out his bag. "Want me to help carry that for ya?"

You raised an eyebrow, glancing at the bag. "...It's just a few notebooks and a water bottle. I'm fine."

Atsumu's smile faltered a little. He quickly recovered, tossing the bag back onto his shoulder. "Right. Right. Well, I'm just sayin'—I can always be more helpful. Y'know, I'm good at this stuff."

"Okay, good to know," you said, already looking back at your phone to check the time for the next practice.

His attempt was so clumsy that even Omimi, who was standing nearby and pretending to be busy with his own stuff, shot a glance your way. Atsumu hadn't even tried to make it look natural.

"Yeah, no, we're good," Suna chimed in lazily from the corner, barely lifting his head. "Atsumu, you're really not fooling anyone."

Atsumu, not one to back down easily, tried again.

"So," he began a few days later, during a water break after an intense drill. "Ya thinkin' of tryin' any new moves at practice? I've been workin' on some real advanced stuff—might show ya later."

He tried his best to sound mysterious, but when you glanced up from your clipboard, his attempt at a smirk felt just a little too forced.

You thought about it for a moment. "Nah, I think I'll just watch. I'm sure you'll be great," you replied without a hint of sarcasm, but still not giving him the kind of attention he craved.

"Are you really doin' this?" Osamu asked, shaking his head as he came over to sit beside you.

"Do what?" you replied innocently, knowing exactly what he was referring to.

He waved vaguely in Atsumu's direction. "He's been tryin' to win you over since day one. He thinks you're gonna fall for this." He made a vague motion with his hand, mimicking Atsumu's gestures. "But we all know it's just Atsumu being Atsumu."

"Yeah, he's a pain," you said with a small chuckle. "But he's not a bad guy. Just really… extra."

Osamu shot you a sly look. "Extra? That's puttin’ it lightly."

You glanced over at Atsumu, who was dramatically holding up the ball as if he were preparing for a grand performance. You raised an eyebrow as he turned your way, smiling confidently like he had just unlocked the secret to the universe.

"Alright, you ready for this?" Atsumu called over to you, motioning for you to watch as he stepped into position. "Prepare to be impressed."

He launched into the air with the sort of flair you usually saw from celebrities, executing a near-perfect serve that would've made anyone in the gym gasp… if they weren't all so incredibly unimpressed.

You casually took a sip of your water bottle, completely unfazed, and gave him a small, polite clap when he finished.

"Nice one, Atsumu," you said with a blank smile, not even trying to hide your lack of enthusiasm.

Atsumu stared at you, dumbfounded. "Did… did you just…?"

You shrugged. "What? You asked if I was impressed. I said nice serve. You're not the only one who can do a good one, you know."

Ginjima snickered from the sidelines. "Busted."

That night, as practice ended and the gym cleared out, Atsumu went to extreme lengths to salvage his pride.

After a long, loud discussion with Osamu—who had pretty much given up on helping him at this point—he came up with a plan. A bold plan. A plan that, frankly, he wasn't sure would work.

He waited until you were about to leave the gym, collecting your things from the sidelines, and casually strolled over.

"Hey," he said, as if the conversation had never been anything more than totally normal.

You looked up, half-expecting another round of awkward "Hey, look at me" displays.

But this time, he seemed… different.

"I was thinkin'," he continued, scratching the back of his head. "You've been helpin' the team out a lot, so I figured maybe we could, I dunno… grab some dinner? I'll treat, since you've been working your butt off, and all."

Your eyebrows lifted, surprised by the sudden shift. He was actually asking—not performing.

You looked at him, deciding to throw him a small bone. "Dinner, huh? You sure you're not just trying to impress me again?"

Atsumu blushed, muttering something under his breath. "You're… not makin' this easy, ya know."

You gave him a friendly grin, the faintest hint of amusement in your voice. "I never said I would."

The rest of the team watched the exchange from the corners of the gym, all the while silently rooting for the sheer trainwreck they were witnessing.

But for once, Atsumu didn't feel like he had to impress anyone.

— — — — —

That night, you found yourself sitting across from Atsumu at a small, cozy restaurant a few blocks from school. It wasn't the kind of place he would normally choose—he would usually go for something flashier, more attention-grabbing—but you'd picked it, and to your surprise, he'd agreed without complaint.

Atsumu fiddled with the chopsticks, clearly nervous. He was trying, but the old, cocky Miya charm was still lurking beneath the surface.

"So," he started, trying to sound casual, but there was a slight tension in his voice. "I was thinkin' about what you said earlier… y'know, that I should be less flashy. Guess I... might've gone overboard."

You raised an eyebrow, taking a sip of your drink. "You think?"

He shot you a look, and for the first time in forever, you saw him a little less certain of himself. His usual arrogance was still there, but it was cracked. "Well, yeah, I guess," he said. He scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. "I've always kinda been the show-off. Guess I didn't realize I was overdoing it."

You shrugged, setting your glass down. "I don't mind. You do you."

"But I wanna do you," he muttered under his breath.

You didn't respond right away, choosing instead to poke at your food, trying to ignore the little twinge of surprise at his words.

"Alright," he continued, trying to recover. "Let's talk about somethin' else. You're from a different class, right? Osamu always talks about how you're a genius in history or something. Got a secret for it?"

You couldn't help but laugh at how casually he asked. "A genius? No. I just study."

"Yeah, study." Atsumu tilted his head, clearly not buying it. "I can barely get through the first chapter without my brain deciding to take a nap."

You smiled, leaning back in your chair. "Well, maybe you should stop making history a competition and just focus on understanding it. That's what works for me."

Atsumu sighed dramatically, pushing his food around on his plate. "You make it sound so simple. But like, I'm more about making history than studying it." His grin was back, but it didn't quite reach his eyes.

There was a pause in the conversation, and Atsumu took a deep breath before continuing. "Look, I know I'm not really your type." He said it so matter-of-factly that it made you stop mid-bite. "I know I come off as… well, let's be real, kinda an idiot sometimes."

You blinked, surprised by the sudden vulnerability in his voice. "Where is this coming from?"

"I've been trying too hard. I'm always trying to show off, y'know? I thought I could just impress you. But you're not the type to fall for that stuff, and I—" He hesitated, running a hand through his hair. "I guess I didn't think this through."

You set your chopsticks down, considering his words. "Atsumu... you don't have to impress me. You're already you."

He paused. "And what if me isn't good enough?"

"Then you're doing it wrong," you said, your voice calm. "If you're going to be anything, just be real with me. I'm not asking for perfect serves or a flashier personality. I'm just asking for you to show up and not try so hard to be someone else."

He stared at you for a long moment, a little surprised. Then he gave a slow nod, the cocky smile returning to his face, but softer this time. "Guess I'll try that," he said, his voice almost shy now. "So… no more showing off?"

You smiled. "No more showing off."

Atsumu leaned back in his chair, clearly processing. He let out a soft laugh. "Well, this is new. Me, being the one who's tryin' to figure you out." He grinned, though it lacked his usual bravado. "You really don't want the 'Miya Atsumu Experience,' huh?"

You shook your head, amused. "I don't need an 'experience.' I just need a teammate who shows up, someone who's... not acting like they're on a reality show."

He chuckled, looking more at ease now. "Guess I'm just gonna have to stick with the basics, huh?"

"Pretty much," you agreed, your smile genuine.

The meal went by a lot smoother after that. Atsumu relaxed a little more, and the conversation drifted from volleyball to school and even to the more personal stuff—family, friends, and the things that made him tick outside of sports. It felt... oddly normal. Not like a date, but like two people finally being real with each other for once.

You even found yourself laughing at one of his ridiculous stories about Osamu stealing his socks.

At the end of the meal, Atsumu paid the bill without a second thought, though he tried to hide it behind his usual swagger.

"You know, next time, you can pay," he said, leaning back against the chair with a cheeky grin. "I'll let you treat me."

You rolled your eyes, standing up. "I'll let you buy me dinner next time when you stop acting like a drama queen every time you step onto the court."

He chuckled, tossing a couple of bills on the table. "Deal. But don't think this means you've won."

You didn't need to look at him to know his grin was back in full force, that unmistakable confidence returning. But there was something different this time—something less forced, less like he was trying to get your attention and more like he was just... enjoying your company.

As you both walked out of the restaurant, there was a strange sense of calm between you two. You weren't sure if this was the start of something else—something deeper—but it was the first time you saw Atsumu as more than just a showoff.

— — — — —

Days went by after the dinner, and things between you and Atsumu took on a quieter, more nuanced tone. He wasn't flaunting his skills in your face anymore, nor was he bombarding you with overly flashy gestures. Instead, he seemed to pay attention to the little things—things you'd mentioned casually in passing, without even realizing how much they mattered to you.

It started with a bottle of water. Not just any bottle, but one that was your favorite brand—a specific one that you liked when you were working on homework or practice. It appeared on your desk during practice, next to your clipboard, no note, no words exchanged. You paused, staring at the bottle for a second.

It wasn't the showy kind of gesture you'd grown used to—like the melon pan he thought would impress you by bringing you food. This time, though, he actually paid attention to what you liked. There was no fanfare or big entrance, just a simple action.

The next time you mentioned you had a tough test coming up, Atsumu quietly handed you a study guide he'd apparently found from a tutor he knew. You blinked, looking at the paper, then up at him. His usual confident smirk was softened, like he was uncertain whether you'd appreciate it or not.

You raised an eyebrow. "You… studied for this test?"

He rubbed the back of his neck. "Well, no. But I figured you'd want something more than just a couple of notes scribbled on a napkin." He shrugged, trying to sound casual, but the slight blush on his cheeks betrayed him. "Just thought you might find it useful."

You couldn't help but be a little surprised. Atsumu Miya—the guy who always seemed to care more about his image than anything else—was actually being thoughtful. And you had to admit, you did appreciate the gesture. But you couldn't shake the feeling that he still wasn't being fully genuine. Maybe it was too soon to trust these small acts.

So you gave him a small nod, a quiet thanks, and went back to your work. He smiled, but it didn't have the usual smug edge. There was a subtle warmth in it that he hadn't shown before.

As the weeks passed, it became obvious to everyone else that something was different between you and Atsumu, even if neither of you acknowledged it outright.

Atsumu still acted like his usual self around the team—loud, teasing, and always being an idiot—but now, he was more mindful of you. He kept his distance, but not in a way that felt forced. He didn't crowd you like he used to, didn't demand your attention in the same over-the-top way. It was like he was waiting for you to decide if you were going to engage with him on your own terms.

One afternoon, after a grueling practice, Atsumu approached you while you were packing up your things. He wasn't as loud as usual, his voice softer, a little less confident, and his posture more reserved.

"So, uh, y'know how you said you like ramen?" He began, rubbing the back of his neck.

You looked up, puzzled. "Yeah?"

He fumbled a bit before pulling out a small coupon. "Well, the place across the street's got a deal going today. I thought maybe, uh, if you wanted, we could go grab some. You know, after practice. You're always working hard and… well, I figured you'd like it."

The awkwardness was almost palpable, but for some reason, it didn't feel uncomfortable. It just felt honest.

You smiled slightly, but you didn't jump into the invitation right away. "I've got homework. Maybe some other time?"

He blinked, clearly disappointed, but masked it with a shrug. "Right. Gotcha. Just thought it might be nice." He smiled awkwardly before stepping back, trying to act casual again.

Despite yourself, you found your thoughts lingering on him more than usual. It wasn't just the ramen invitation. It was how he'd been subtly weaving his way into your routine—quietly watching, listening, and trying to show that he cared. You'd never seen him like this before, and it made you wonder: Was he really changing, or was he playing a game with you?

You had to admit that Atsumu's recent gestures hadn't gone unnoticed. They were kind, thoughtful in their own way—but every time you started to soften toward him, a voice in the back of your head reminded you that he was the same guy who had tested you when you first became the manager. The same guy who'd tried to impress you with tricks and superficial gestures, hoping to win your attention. And now? Now, he was acting like he cared.

But was it real? Or was this just another game for him?

You weren't sure.

That night, as you lay in bed, thinking about his offer, his gestures, his almost sheepish smiles, you couldn't help but feel torn.

Was he just trying to break you—testing your boundaries, seeing how far he could go to get under your skin now that you weren't interested in his flashy exterior?

It had been so easy to dismiss his behavior at the beginning. He was loud, cocky, too full of himself. But now… now it was harder to read him. Was he still playing games? Or was he actually serious?

You sighed and closed your eyes, knowing deep down that you weren't ready to take the next step until you figured out his true intentions. The last thing you wanted was to get hurt by someone who was still playing the same old game.

A few days later, Atsumu couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong.

He'd been trying, hadn't he? He'd done everything right, at least according to his logic. Subtle gestures, paying attention to what you liked, being patient. He had even held back when he wanted to show off. He wasn't acting like the Atsumu everyone knew.

But you weren't giving him the time of day. You were polite, but distant. He'd seen that look in your eyes—the one that said you weren't sure about him.

So, with that nagging feeling pushing him forward, Atsumu approached you after practice, when everyone else was busy packing up or getting ready to leave.

You were just finishing up putting your things away when Atsumu stood in your path. For once, there was no teasing grin, no cocky remark—just the usual, brash Miya Atsumu, but with something more vulnerable underneath.

You didn't look up immediately, but you could feel his presence. "What's up?" you asked, a bit distracted as you zipped your bag.

"Hey," Atsumu started, his voice more serious than you were used to. "Can we talk for a sec?"

You froze, glancing up at him. There was an intensity in his eyes that made your chest tighten, as if he'd been carrying something for a while, and now it was finally about to spill out.

"Sure," you said quietly, setting your bag down.

Atsumu hesitated for a moment, as if trying to find the right words. He rubbed the back of his neck, looking like he was unsure whether he should even ask. But then he just went for it.

"I don't get it," he admitted, his usual confidence nowhere to be found. "I've been trying, haven't I? I've been—well, doing what I thought was right. Subtle stuff, the little things you like, not... not showing off anymore." His eyes met yours, searching for any sign that you understood. "But... you're still acting like I'm just... another guy trying to get your attention." He looked away briefly, his frustration evident. "I'm not just messing around. You've gotta know that."

You exhaled slowly, your heart pounding in your chest. This was the moment you had been avoiding, the one where you had to be honest with him.

You shifted on your feet, trying to gather your thoughts. You could feel the weight of his gaze on you, like he was silently asking you to give him an answer.

The truth. The one thing you had been keeping hidden from him.

"I—" You stopped yourself, struggling to find the words. You didn't want to hurt him, but you couldn't lie anymore. "I'm just... not sure, Atsumu."

His expression faltered, and you felt a pang of guilt. He took a step closer, trying to read you. "Not sure about what?"

You swallowed, gathering the courage to finally speak what had been weighing on you. "I'm not sure if you're being serious. You've always been the type to show off, to get attention. And I—I just don't know if this... you, now, is real. Or if it's just another game to you."

Atsumu's eyes widened, and for a moment, he looked taken aback. He opened his mouth, then closed it again, as if processing your words. "You think I'm playin' you?" he asked, his voice quieter now, like the wind had been knocked out of him.

"I don't know," you said softly, almost whispering, "I just... after everything, it's hard to tell. You've never shown interest in anyone like this before. You always go for the easy wins, the attention. And I don't know if I'm just another one of your... challenges." You glanced away, biting your lip. "I don't want to be that."

The silence between you two was thick, almost suffocating, but it wasn't uncomfortable. It was raw, honest in a way neither of you had expected.

Atsumu finally exhaled slowly, his shoulders slumping just slightly. "So you think I'm just messin' with you," he said, more to himself than to you. It wasn't a question, but a statement of disappointment.

"I don't know, Atsumu." You shook your head, feeling the weight of everything that had happened between you two. "You've done all these little things—things that are... nice. Really. But I don't know if it's real. And I don't want to get hurt if it's just a game to you."

Atsumu stood there for a moment, processing your words, his usual bravado slipping away entirely. He wasn't the cocky, showy Miya Atsumu in this moment. He was just a guy, trying to figure things out.

"I see," he finally answered, his voice quieter than usual, before turning around and leaving the gym.

You watched after him with a surprised expression, having thought he'd try to talk to you further, maybe attempt to make you understand that you were wrong. But just leaving like that? That wasn't a reaction you had anticipated.

— — — — —

The rest of the day passed by in a blur of routine for the team, but Atsumu couldn't focus on anything. He had spent the entire evening locked in his room, the door shut tight as if the world outside didn't matter anymore. His usual cocky smirk, the confidence that defined him, had been replaced by something entirely foreign to him—confusion and frustration.

He replayed your words over and over in his mind: "I'm just not sure."

Atsumu had tried, hadn't he? He had made a real effort. But now, all of a sudden, he was second-guessing everything. Was it all just a game to him? Had he been too reckless in the past to even know how to be real with someone?

Osamu, as always, pretended to not care, but even he could tell something was off. Atsumu had locked himself away, barely responding to anyone. Osamu gave him a few hours of space—figured his brother would bounce back like usual, maybe work out his own thoughts—but it was clear that Atsumu was brooding, far more than normal.

After dinner, Osamu couldn't take it anymore. He pushed open Atsumu's door without knocking, ignoring the annoyed grunt that followed.

"Atsumu," Osamu said, not bothering with pleasantries. "Get out of your room."

Atsumu didn't even bother looking up from where he lay sprawled on his bed, staring at the ceiling with an unreadable expression. His arms were behind his head, his legs tangled in the sheets.

"Go away, 'Samu," Atsumu muttered, his voice flat, like he hadn't slept in days. "I'm fine."

Osamu stood in the doorway, arms crossed, unimpressed. "Yah, you look real fine. You've been sulkin' in here like a goddamn child."

"I'm not sulkin'," Atsumu replied with a sharp, defensive edge, though his tone lacked the usual fire. "Just thinking."

Osamu was silent for a moment, his gaze scanning his twin, then sighed. "You've been 'thinking' for hours. Something's wrong. I know ya, Atsumu. You're actin' like... well, not like you."

Atsumu didn't respond. The silence hung thick in the air between them, and Osamu could see how much his brother was struggling, even if he refused to admit it. Atsumu wasn't one to let things bother him, to let anyone see him vulnerable, and this was the first time in ages that Osamu could sense something was off.

Osamu leaned against the doorframe, his arms still crossed. "You wanna talk about it or do I need to drag ya outta here kickin' and screamin'?"

Atsumu let out a frustrated sigh, finally sitting up on the bed. "I don't get it, man," he said, his voice almost too quiet, like he didn't want to admit the confusion he felt. "I thought I was doin' the right thing, ya know? Like, with her. I—I've been tryin', but… She doesn't believe me."

Osamu raised an eyebrow. "Y/N doesn't believe you?"

"Yeah," Atsumu replied, running a hand through his messy hair. "She thinks I'm just playin' her. That I'm not serious, that it's just another game."

Osamu stepped into the room, closing the door behind him. He didn't say anything at first, just walked over to the bed and sat down next to his brother. He could tell how much it bothered Atsumu, even if his twin wouldn't admit it.

"So, what exactly happened?" Osamu asked, his voice more patient now.

Atsumu turned to face him, his expression open for once. "I told her I was serious. That I wasn't messin' around. But she thinks I'm just... I don't know, playing some game with her. She doesn't believe I can be real."

Osamu sat there for a moment, processing the words. He could understand why you'd feel that way, considering how Atsumu had always been. He'd never shown interest in anyone for real before. His confidence, the way he flaunted his skills—those were just part of the show, the persona he hid behind.

But Osamu knew his brother better than anyone. He had seen the way Atsumu had changed around you. And as much as he didn't want to admit it, Osamu understood that Atsumu wasn't just messing around this time. He was trying.

"That's what happens when ya treat everything like a joke," Osamu finally said, his voice uncharacteristically soft. "You build a reputation for being all flash, no substance. People don't know how to tell if you're serious or not." Atsumu's face twisted with frustration, but Osamu continued, not letting his brother off the hook. "You want her to believe in ya, huh? Then you gotta show her. For real. No more games. No more pretending to be someone you're not."

"I am showin' her!" Atsumu snapped, but there was no fire in his words, just a hint of desperation. "I've been trying, 'Samu!"

Osamu cut him off with a shrug. "Just keep tryin' then."

"Seriously?"

"Yes," Osamu said with a small, knowing smile. "You don't have to do anything extraordinary. You just gotta stop hidin' behind the act and show her you're serious. You wanna show her you care? Then start actin' like it, not like some show-off tryna get a reaction."

Atsumu leaned back against the headboard of the bed, exhaling deeply. "I don't know if I'm ready for that."

"Well, you're gonna have to figure it out," Osamu said, standing up and heading toward the door. "If you want her to take ya seriously, you've gotta start being the person you really are. And I'm not talkin' about the Atsumu Miya everyone knows. I'm talkin' about the guy who cares about her."

Atsumu stayed silent as Osamu left, his twin's words sinking in. Maybe Osamu was right. Maybe he had been so wrapped up in trying to impress you, he forgot what really mattered.

He wasn't used to this kind of vulnerability. But if he was ever going to get the chance to prove himself, he'd have to start somewhere.

— — — — —

The next day, you arrived at practice feeling the weight of everything that had happened. Atsumu had left without a word, and though you tried to put it out of your mind, you couldn't shake the feeling that you had said something wrong, something that might have pushed him away for good.

As you were walking through the gym's entrance, you caught sight of Osamu leaning casually against the wall, arms folded, watching you as if he'd been waiting for something. You tried to avoid his gaze, but of course, he noticed.

"You're looking a little tense today," Osamu said, his tone casual but with a slight edge of curiosity. "Everything okay?"

You hesitated. There was no way to lie to Osamu—he saw through everyone's facades, especially when it came to his brother. "I—uh, yeah. I guess I just… I don't know."

Osamu tilted his head, the usual smirk on his face replaced by something more serious. "I know what happened yesterday. With 'Tsumu."

Your heart skipped a beat. You didn't know if you were ready to have this conversation. "I didn't mean to upset him."

Osamu pushed himself off the wall and took a step toward you, the look in his eyes softening. "You didn't upset him. He just…" He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Look, Atsumu's a pain in the ass. He's always been a pest, always tryin' to get under everyone's skin. But he's also honest, in his own weird way."

You furrowed your brow, not entirely following. "What do you mean?"

Osamu's expression shifted, his usual carefree demeanor replaced by a kind of quiet seriousness. "I mean that when he's messing around, trying to get your attention, that's just his way of testing things. He doesn't know how to do things differently, not when it comes to someone he actually likes. He's used to people reacting to his tricks or his charm—because that's all he's ever done. But when he actually tries... when he's being nice, doin' little things for ya, paying attention to what ya like—he means it."

You blinked, surprised by the sincerity in Osamu's words. "I… I didn't know."

Osamu shrugged, a little smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Of course you didn't. You probably think he's just playin' some game, right? But if he's not showing off, if he's not tryin' to impress you with his serves or his looks, then that's him being real. And if you don't notice that, it's not his fault. But it's also not your fault. He's not exactly the easiest guy to read."

You glanced down at your feet, guilt creeping in. Had you been too harsh? Had you been too quick to judge him as just another show-off?

Osamu's eyes softened as if reading your thoughts. "Ya have to understand something. Atsumu doesn't know how to be subtle. He's got this big personality, and when he likes someone, he doesn't know how to make it easy. But if he's actually tryin' to be nice to you? You can trust that it's real. He's not doin' it to play games."

You nodded slowly, taking in his words. "But what if he just thinks I'm a challenge?"

Osamu shook his head firmly. "If he thought you were just a challenge, he wouldn't be so damn persistent. He would've moved on to someone else by now. Trust me, you're not just another conquest. You've got him thinkin', and that's something he's not used to. If he wanna impress you, it's not because it's easy. It's because he actually wants ya to see him for who he is. All of him."

Your mind raced as you processed Osamu's words. You had underestimated Atsumu, assumed he was just another player trying to win over a girl with flashy gestures. But if Osamu was right, then maybe there was more to his actions than you had originally thought.

"And you're sure about that?" you asked, still unsure.

Osamu nodded, his usual teasing grin returning. "I'm sure. Like I said, Atsumu's a pest, but he's never been anything other than honest when it counts. If he's tryin' to be nice to ya, then it's because he means it."

You stared at him for a moment, trying to decide if you were ready to believe it, to trust in Atsumu's sincerity. Finally, you exhaled and gave Osamu a small, uncertain smile. "Okay. I'll think about it."

Osamu's smile softened, and with a knowing wink, he clapped you on the shoulder. "Good. Now, go make sure my idiot twin doesn't mess up any more of his attempts to win ya over. You're the only one who can make him figure his shit out."

You laughed softly, the tension that had been in your chest easing just a little. Osamu was right—Atsumu's way of showing interest might be messy and confusing, but maybe that was just part of who he was. And if he was trying to be real with you, maybe it was time to stop questioning it and start paying attention.

The training had just ended, and the gym was emptying out. The usual post-practice chatter filled the air as players gathered their things, but you couldn't shake the thought of Atsumu from your mind. Osamu's words from earlier kept replaying in your head: "If he's trying to be nice to you, then it's because he means it."

You waited a few moments until most of the team had already dispersed, and then, with a deep breath, you stepped outside the gym, making your way to the back. You had decided it was time to talk to Atsumu.

It didn't take long to find him. He was leaning against the side of the building, his arms folded, staring at the ground with his usual smirk nowhere in sight. He looked like he'd been waiting for something—waiting for you, perhaps.

He didn't notice you at first, and when he did, his posture stiffened, and he turned away slightly, as if unsure of how to act. You stopped a few steps away from him, taking in the scene. The air was cool, a gentle breeze brushing your hair, but the silence between the two of you felt heavy, like there was more to this moment than just a simple conversation.

Atsumu cleared his throat first, breaking the quiet. "What do you want?"

You hesitated. There was so much to say, but you weren't sure how to start. Finally, you spoke, your voice soft but steady. "I wanted to talk to you. About what happened the other day."

Atsumu shifted, glancing at you from the corner of his eye. "You sure about that? 'Cause I'm pretty sure you already made it clear what you think."

You shook your head quickly. "It's not that. I didn't mean to make you feel like… like you were just playing around. I just didn't know if you were serious about any of this."

He straightened, looking at you more fully now. There was a flash of vulnerability in his eyes, a rare sight, but you didn't miss it. "Yeah?" He took a slow step closer, but not too close—just enough to bridge the gap between you both, as though testing the waters. "So you thought I was just messin' with you?"

You nodded slowly, taking a deep breath. "I did. But Osamu said something to me today. He made me realize that… maybe I've been looking at you all wrong."

Atsumu's brow furrowed. "Oh yeah? What'd he say?"

"He said that when you try—when you actually put effort into something—it's because you mean it. You're not just playing games." You met his gaze, holding it for a moment before continuing. "And I guess… it was just easier to keep my distance and assume you were playing around. That way, the risk of me getting hurt was lower. I'm sorry."

Atsumu didn't respond at first. His lips twitched slightly, as though he was trying to hide his emotions. "So, what? You think I'm actually serious about this?" he asked, his voice quieter now, less teasing.

You nodded, feeling the weight of the moment settle around you. "I do. And I'm sorry for not seeing it earlier."

There was a beat of silence before Atsumu stepped a little closer, still keeping a bit of distance. He scratched the back of his neck, looking slightly awkward. "You know, I didn't expect you to just fall for me or anything. But when you... didn't react the way I thought you would, I didn't know how to handle it. I guess I tried harder, and..."

"And?" You encouraged him softly.

Atsumu looked at you directly now, his usual cocky smile replaced with something more genuine, more open. "And I guess I just wanted to prove that I could do things differently. I'm not perfect, but I'm tryin', okay?"

Your heart gave a little jump at his sincerity. This wasn't the Atsumu you'd seen before—the brash, overconfident one. This was someone who was actually putting himself out there.

"I believe you," you said, your voice barely above a whisper. "I just wasn't sure if it was real, you know?"

Atsumu exhaled deeply, running a hand through his messy hair, and for the first time, he looked more vulnerable than ever. "Yeah. I get that. But I'm not the guy who does things halfway. So… if I'm sayin' this, then I mean it."

Before you could respond, he took another small step forward. His eyes searched yours, as though waiting for your permission, and you felt your heartbeat quicken in your chest.

There was something electric in the air between you two—something unspoken. It wasn't about the showy gestures or his usual antics. It was about the quiet honesty that had been there all along, the part of Atsumu you hadn't seen until now.

And without thinking, you reached out, placing a gentle hand on his arm, giving him the smallest of smiles. "Then… let's see where this goes."

Atsumu's expression softened, and without a word, he closed the last gap, his gaze flicking down to your lips for a brief moment before meeting your eyes again. Slowly, carefully, he leaned in.

The kiss was brief, chaste, and soft, as if both of you were still unsure of the new ground you were treading. It wasn't passionate, but it was real—no tricks, no games, just two people who had finally taken down their walls and decided to be vulnerable with each other.

When you pulled back, you found yourself smiling, and Atsumu mirrored it, his usual smirk returning but with a softness you hadn't seen before.

"So, this is what it feels like when you're not acting like a complete idiot," you teased lightly, your heart still racing.

Atsumu chuckled, his hand gently brushing your cheek. "Yeah, guess I'll have to get used to it, huh?"

You laughed softly, feeling the tension melt away between you two. For the first time, things felt simple—real.

Masterlist

#haikyuu #miya atsumu #atsumu x reader #miya atsumu x reader #miya atsumu fluff #miya twins #inarizaki volleyball team #atsumu fluff

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pitchsidestories · 3 months ago

Note

Renee fic when? 😇😇

Hi anon, maybe we'll manage to post the Renée fanfic by Friday, but at the latest and more realistically it would be early next week. To sweeten the waiting time here's a short snippet of the oneshot 🤍❤️ update: the full story can be read here.

“Tell us!”, Beth commanded grinning. The Swedish striker began to play nervously with her blonde hair: “Well what do you want to know?” “About our new staff member and Renée of course!”, Leah replied thrilled. Using the same excited tone as her, Beth added: “Obviously.” “Not if she was a good baller or had a good sense and understanding of the game.”, Stinas eyes flashed in amusement. “Actually.”, threw Kim in who was unlike the rest of the players indeed interested in that side of you. The England captain clicked her tongue disapprovingly: “No, Kim.” “We want the tea, Stina.”, Alessia told her. She paused dramatically, during which everyone held their breath tensely, before admitting:” Yeah, they used to date.” “When they were players or did, they continue to date once she became the head coach?”, Leah asked the forward curiously. Stina cleared her throat and answered in a serious voice: “They ended it once Renée retired and took the coaching job in Rosengård.” After this revelation the room fell silent for a second before Beth concluded with a heavy sigh:” Oh, that’s sad.” “They seemed okay with it.”, the Swedish striker remarked. Meanwhile Renée and you were walking along the training pitches, it was a cold day, but the golden afternoon sun warmed your faces. It was where you heard yourself say: “I’m glad that you don’t seem to mind that I took the job, Renee. Considering how things have ended between us in Malmö.”

January fics:

ex's and snow (Leah Williamson x Reader)

she's a keeper (Mary Earps x Reader)

what is this feeling (Alexia Putellas x Reader) (1), (2)

more than a pretty face (Alessia Russo x Reader)

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buttercandy16 · 4 months ago

Note

Hii, can you please do Villain Agatha Harkness x Shield Agent reader?

Agatha kidnaps Reader when Reader was on a reconnaissance mission and all her teammates can hear over the radio is how Reader struggles to avoid being captured. Villain Agatha wants to have Reader's full attention

Love over Duty

PAIRING(s): Agatha Harkness x ShieldAgent!Reader

SUMMARY: Thrown in a mission to stop an evil witch with a supposedly redeemed evil witch, what could go wrong?

WARNING(s): Dark Themes

A/N: I don't think this is what anon was really asking for and i'll probably write a new one that fits with anons request, but for now, the reader being a shield agent inspired me to write this. So, thank you muchly!

The Quinjet hummed low, the vibration a constant backdrop to the murmur of your team’s preparations. Sitting across the cramped cabin, Agatha Harkness leaned back in her seat like she belonged there, a sly, knowing smile curling her lips. She was out of place among you and your team, her cool composure and midnight gaze contrasting sharply with your tight-knit unit’s precision and control. Fury had sworn that she was your best weapon against the dark witch wreaking havoc across the globe, but trusting her didn’t come easily.

Not to you.

Her lavender eyes followed you constantly, every movement observed with a smugness that crawled under your skin. You were the team’s second-in-command, always focused, always sharp. But the way she looked at you, like she’d peeled back every layer you kept hidden from the world—it made you feel exposed in a way you hated.

“Keep staring, darling,” she said finally, breaking the silence, her voice cutting through the dull murmur like silk over steel. “I don’t mind.”

“I wasn’t,” you shot back flatly, tightening the straps of your tactical vest.

“Sure you weren’t.” She crossed her legs, the fabric of her black coat falling away to reveal the sleek boots beneath. “It’s cute how you try so hard to ignore me. But I can feel it, you know.”

You narrowed your eyes at her, jaw clenching. “Feel what?”

Her smirk deepened. “How much you already want me.”

“Focus,” your captain growled from across the cabin, breaking the tension. You felt your face heat as Agatha’s throaty laugh followed you to your station.

The mission hadn’t even started yet, and she was already making it unbearable.

The dark witch’s magic spread like a sickness across the globe, destabilizing entire governments and reducing cities to rubble. No one had yet survived an encounter with her to tell the story, and all magical traces only left more questions—odd pulses of energy, erratic weather, nightmares rippling across entire regions.

When Fury brought Agatha in, he’d admitted it was desperate. She was one of the few people powerful enough to even begin to understand the dark witch's methods. Agatha’s "redemption," as she called it, was still murky territory. No one was sure what compelled her to switch sides—or if she truly had.

Days into the mission, the weight of Agatha’s presence became inescapable. She seemed to slide effortlessly into the gaps in your team. She always had the answers—spotting hidden traps, deciphering magical signatures, dismissing your concerns with that infuriating smirk.

But she was particularly persistent with you.

“You’re tense,” she said one evening, watching you clean your weapon. You were alone at camp; the others had retired, leaving you on watch.

“Don’t start,” you warned without looking up.

“You should let me help with that,” she said, ignoring your tone. She crouched beside you, her hand brushing yours as she picked up a spare magazine. The warmth of her skin sent a spark up your arm, and you jerked away.

“I don’t need your help.”

“But you do.” Her voice softened, the playfulness slipping away to reveal something heavier, darker. She leaned in, her lips almost brushing your ear as she murmured, “You’re wound so tight, darling. It must be exhausting to fight me every second of the day.”

Your breath hitched, but you kept your focus on the rifle in your lap. “I’m not fighting anything.”

Her chuckle was low and dark. “If you say so. But I’ll wait. I’m very patient when it comes to things I want.”

The following weeks were chaos.

Your team fell apart piece by piece, and though there was no concrete evidence to tie her to it, you couldn’t shake the suspicion that Agatha was at the center of it. Disagreements turned into fights. Perfectly calibrated tech malfunctioned at the worst moments. Some of your teammates grew paranoid, plagued by vivid nightmares they swore weren’t natural.

When you woke from a dream of your family—burning alive while you were forced to watch—the sound of your screams sent your team rushing into your tent. Agatha followed them in, moving as if she had no reason to be alarmed.

“Nightmare?” she asked softly, her voice strangely gentle as she knelt beside you.

Your skin felt clammy, and your hands shook as you grabbed the edge of the cot. “I’m fine.”

She tilted her head, dark curls framing her face. “No, you’re not. But you will be.”

Her hand brushed against yours as she stood, and for once, you didn’t flinch.

You’d never wanted to believe it, but she was undeniable. A cold night by the campfire became the turning point. Agatha sat beside you, uninvited, as the others slept. She spoke little that night, her gaze flicking between the fire and you. The usual teasing remarks were absent, replaced by a thoughtful quietness you hadn’t seen before.

“I don’t believe in second chances,” you muttered, surprising even yourself. The words slipped out before you could stop them.

“I know.” Her voice was low, barely above a whisper. “That’s what I like about you. You have your rules, your righteousness. And you’d burn yourself alive to keep them.”

“You don’t know me.”

“But I do.” She looked at you then, her lavender eyes almost mournful. “That’s why you terrify me. And why I adore you.”

You laughed bitterly, shaking your head. “Adore me? You don’t even—”

“I do.” She leaned closer, her lips brushing the curve of your jaw as she whispered, “I know every stubborn inch of you. Every layer you try to hide. And I love every single one.”

Heat shot through you, your resolve fraying with every word. When she finally pulled back, her eyes boring into yours, you were left breathless.

You couldn’t deny it anymore: she’d wormed her way into your heart. The mission had become more about surviving Agatha than surviving the dark witch. You should have known how dangerous it was to let your guard down around her, but it was too late.

It all came crashing down in that cursed castle.

When the dark witch stepped from the shadows and her hood fell, your knees almost gave out.

“Agatha?”

She tilted her head, smiling—not with warmth but with something predatory. “Surprise, darling.”

The truth hit you like a truck. Every strange event, every bit of chaos that ripped through your team—it had been her all along.

“No.” You staggered back, disbelief clouding your senses. “You…you lied to us. To me.”

Her laugh echoed in the hall, sharp and mocking. “Lied? No, darling. Everything I said was true. My feelings for you? Completely real. But I did say I’d win this war by any means necessary.”

Her magic surged, disarming your team, binding them in glowing tendrils of energy. When she turned back to you, her gaze softened, that false tenderness piercing through the chaos.

“But you, my love,” she murmured, stepping closer. “You’re different. You’ll see why this is right. Why we’re right.”

Your heart shattered. Her words felt like poison, weaving through the love you still couldn’t destroy.

“Agatha…” Your voice cracked as you aimed your weapon at her.

She didn’t flinch. “You won’t hurt me.” She cupped your cheek with one gloved hand. “Because you love me. Even if you won’t admit it yet.”

Her lips ghosted over yours, and when the tears began to fall, they burned like fire.

Your finger hovered over the trigger, trembling as her face stayed inches from yours. The rest of your team struggled against their bindings, shouting your name, pleading for you to come to your senses, but their voices sounded distant—muffled by the rapid pounding of your heart.

“You lied to me,” you said again, your voice breaking as the truth choked the words.

“Maybe,” she admitted softly, tilting her head as if weighing her confession. “But I wasn’t lying when I said you’re the only thing I truly desire.” Her hand slid along the barrel of your gun until her fingers gently circled your wrist, coaxing your aim away. “You don’t belong with them, darling. You belong with me.”

Her touch sent a jolt through you, a mix of rage and longing that left you breathless. Every instinct told you to pull away, to fight, to resist—but your body betrayed you. Your weapon slipped from your hand, clattering to the cold stone floor.

A wicked grin tugged at her lips as she leaned in closer, her magic swirling like a storm behind her. “I knew you couldn’t hurt me,” she purred, her thumb brushing away the tear streaking down your cheek. “Even after everything. That’s what makes you so precious.”

“You’re wrong,” you whispered, barely recognizing your own voice.

“Am I?” Her free hand settled against your waist, pulling you closer, and her lips hovered just over yours, agonizingly close. “You were made for this—made for me. You’ve been fighting it, fighting me, but it’s pointless now, isn’t it?”

She kissed you then.

It wasn’t soft or tender; it was a claiming, a searing collision of lips that left you drowning in her. Heat and darkness curled around you like chains, and you felt yourself sinking deeper and deeper.

Somewhere in the back of your mind, a voice screamed at you to fight, to push her away, to remember everything she’d done—but her kiss silenced that voice, snuffing it out like a dying flame.

When she finally pulled back, her lips curled into a satisfied smile as you stood there, dazed and trembling.

“See?” she murmured. “I was right all along.”

Your legs buckled, but she caught you effortlessly, cradling you against her chest as if you were fragile, as if she hadn’t just shattered you in ways you didn’t think possible. Her magic swirled around the two of you, cutting you off from everything else—your team, the mission, the world.

“Let’s leave them behind,” she whispered into your ear. “They never really understood you, not like I do. They’d betray you the moment you slipped up. But me?” Her fingers tilted your chin up to meet her gaze, her lavender eyes burning with an intensity that both terrified and enthralled you. “I would burn the world down for you.”

The days that followed were a haze.

She whisked you away to some hidden realm—a dark, sprawling fortress carved from stone and shadow. There were no windows, no clocks, no sense of time. You couldn’t even tell if it was day or night, only that every moment was hers.

Agatha didn’t need chains to keep you; her magic made sure of that. The castle itself obeyed her commands, the walls shifting to keep you from finding a way out. She didn’t keep you locked in a cell, though—no, she wanted you to feel at home.

You hated her for it. And yet, her care was insidious. She’d appear at odd hours, bringing warm food, soft blankets, or whispered reassurances that you couldn’t help but latch onto in your confusion. Her magic was everywhere, dulling your mind and wrapping you in a sense of safety so false it made your skin crawl.

Still, there were moments when her cruelty slipped through, sharp and cutting like shards of glass.

“You’re thinking of them again, aren’t you?” she’d ask one evening, her voice as calm as ever while you stared out at nothing, lost in thought.

You stiffened. “I’m not.”

“Oh, but you are.” She appeared behind you, her hands sliding around your waist as she rested her chin on your shoulder. Her touch sent shivers down your spine, and you hated how easily your body responded to her. “Your little team. The ones you think will come save you.”

“They will.”

Her laugh was dark, amused. “I’d like to see them try. Do you really think they care? After you hesitated back there? After they saw you drop the weapon?”

Her words dug into you like claws, pulling apart the fabric of your resolve. She turned you to face her, and the way she looked at you—possessive, hungry, almost reverent—made your chest tighten.

“You’re mine now,” she said, her voice low and final. “The sooner you accept that, the sooner you’ll see how much better it is here with me.”

Her lips found yours again, and this time you didn’t resist.

She wanted to break you. That much was clear.

But in some twisted, horrifying way, she loved you. Not just as a prize or a possession, but with a depth that bordered on obsession. It was in the way she touched you—her hands lingering as if memorizing every inch of your skin. In the way her eyes softened when you finally let yourself cry, her fingers carding through your hair as she murmured, “There, there, my love. It’s okay. I’ve got you.”

She knew exactly when to push and when to pull, when to smother you with love and when to strip you bare with her words.

“You’re the only thing that matters,” she told you one night, lying beside you in the massive, canopied bed she’d conjured for you both. Her fingers traced lazy circles along your arm, her magic humming faintly against your skin. “The world can burn for all I care, as long as I have you.”

And as the days turned to weeks, your resistance crumbled piece by piece.

You hated yourself for it.

But you couldn’t bring yourself to hate her.

When the time came to fully join her—to stand by her side as she unveiled her plans to the world—you didn’t hesitate.

Agatha’s smile when you took her hand was brighter than the sun. “You’ve made me so happy, my love.”

Your heart clenched, the shadows of your betrayal pressing down on you, but you pushed them away. You couldn’t go back now. Not after everything.

Not when her hand felt so warm in yours.

Agatha finally had what she wanted: you. And with you at her side, the world would bow—or burn.

The air in the throne room crackled with energy as Agatha stood at its center, her presence commanding and undeniable. You were at her side, the shadows dancing across her face and casting her sharp features in a sinister, ethereal light. Around the room, magical constructs—nightmarish creations of her design—moved like sentinels, guarding the space where she intended to enact the final phase of her plan.

"Are you ready?" she asked, turning to you with a look that sent a shiver down your spine. Her voice was soft, but it carried an edge that demanded loyalty.

You swallowed hard, your gaze flitting to the towering window where the sky churned unnaturally, her power distorting the very fabric of the world. You weren’t sure if you’d ever truly feel ready, but your heart and mind were no longer your own. You nodded.

"Good," she purred, her hand caressing your cheek. The touch sent a flood of warmth through your body, but it only deepened the void inside you where guilt and doubt festered. "With you at my side, there's nothing I can't accomplish."

Her fingers curled under your chin, tilting your face up so your eyes met hers. That look of devotion, almost manic in its intensity, was impossible to break away from. "You’ve chosen wisely, darling," she said, her lips brushing against yours in a feather-light touch. "This world will kneel before us. No more war, no more suffering. It’ll be perfect. Don’t you want that?"

Her words stirred something in you—hope, twisted and malformed, warped by her manipulations. You wanted to believe her, to cling to her promises of a better world. But deep down, something fragile and human still screamed against the suffocating darkness.

"I do," you whispered, though your voice felt like it belonged to someone else. "I want to believe you."

Agatha’s smile widened, radiant and terrifying. She kissed you again, this time with a ferocity that left you breathless. "And you will, my love. Soon, you’ll see I’ve done all of this for you."

The day of reckoning began at sunrise—or what should have been sunrise. The sky was an unnatural shade of deep purple, fissures of light and shadow splitting the horizon as Agatha summoned her magic into a pulsating sphere high above her fortress. It crackled with dark energy, absorbing the power from every corner of the globe as her control expanded.

You stood beside her, dressed in darkened tactical armor that she had crafted for you, a blend of your old life and her domain. Your team’s absence hung like a heavy weight on your soul, but you hadn’t seen or heard from them since the castle’s takeover weeks ago.

As you watched Agatha weave her spells, you couldn’t shake the growing unease gnawing at you. The world was breaking apart under her power, and even though she looked at you with such overwhelming love, her madness was undeniable.

"Tell me something," you said softly, your voice barely cutting through the din of energy surging around the room. "Why me? Why go through all this trouble?"

Agatha froze mid-motion, her hands glowing faintly as she lowered them. Her head tilted, and for a moment, you thought she might lash out at you. Instead, she stepped closer, her expression softening with something close to vulnerability.

"You’re the only light I’ve ever known," she said simply. Her hands cupped your face, her thumb tracing your jawline as she spoke. "The world is ugly and cruel. No one can be trusted. But you… you were different. You burned so brightly, so purely. Even when you hated me, I could see the goodness in you. And I couldn’t let it go."

Her words hit something raw inside you, but they carried a disturbing undercurrent of possession. You weren’t sure if she loved you or if she simply couldn’t stand the thought of losing you. Maybe it was both.

When your team finally arrived, you felt their presence before you saw them. The tension shifted, a familiar, sharp energy cutting through Agatha’s magic. Her attention snapped to the entrance as the sound of boots echoed down the long corridor.

"You called them here," she hissed, rounding on you, suspicion flashing in her eyes.

"I didn’t!" you insisted, hands raised defensively.

She didn’t look convinced, but before she could press further, the double doors at the far end of the room burst open. Your captain stormed in first, weapon raised, followed by the rest of your battered but determined team. Their faces were gaunt, their eyes blazing with fury as they took in the sight of you standing by Agatha’s side.

"Stand down!" your captain shouted, his voice ringing through the chamber. "We’re here to bring you home. This isn’t who you are!"

Your chest tightened, your gaze flickering to Agatha, whose sneer deepened as she raised a hand to conjure a barrier between them and her.

"They don’t understand you like I do," she whispered, her tone dripping with venom. "They’d throw you away in a heartbeat. They don’t deserve you, my love."

"You’re wrong," you said, though your voice faltered.

"Am I?" she pressed, her hand gripping yours tightly. Her magic rippled through you, intoxicating and numbing all at once. "Tell me, darling. Who’s been by your side this entire time? Who understands the depths of who you are? They abandoned you. I saved you."

The weight of her words crushed down on you, but your captain’s voice cut through the haze. "You don’t have to do this. Whatever she’s done to you, we’ll undo it. You can come back to us. Please."

For a split second, you hesitated.

Agatha noticed.

Her grip on your hand tightened painfully, and her magic surged, coiling around you like chains. "Don’t listen to them!" she snarled, her voice sharper now, desperate. "You’re mine. You belong to me. And if I have to tear this world apart to prove it, I will."

The choice was suffocating, unbearable. You could feel the pull of your old life, the camaraderie, the trust you once had with your team. But then there was Agatha, her presence a blazing inferno of passion, possessiveness, and twisted love.

You opened your mouth to speak, but the words that came out weren’t your own:

"I choose her."

The devastation on your team’s faces would haunt you forever. But as Agatha pulled you into her arms, her triumphant laughter echoing through the chamber, you knew there was no turning back.

You belonged to her now—utterly, irrevocably. And the world would kneel before you both.

The world did kneel.

Agatha’s conquest unfolded with a relentless, merciless precision. With you at her side, she unleashed her magic across nations, bending governments and armies to her will. The fissures she created in reality itself carved through cities, marking the end of resistance. Darkness swept the planet, but to her, it was a new dawn—your dawn.

And you were her beloved crown jewel.

You couldn’t pinpoint the moment you stopped struggling. Maybe it was during the endless nights spent at her side, wrapped in her arms as she whispered dreams of your eternal reign. Maybe it was the way she smiled so sweetly at you, like you were the only thing in the universe that mattered. Or maybe it was her power, subtle and insidious, weaving its way into your very soul until it became impossible to know where she ended and you began.

Your team tried one last desperate attack against her empire.

It was brutal, swift, and inevitable.

You saw them fall, one by one, as Agatha watched with a calm, satisfied smile. She let you witness the devastation, ensuring you were there to deliver the final blow that shattered their hope entirely. When the captain, battered and broken, looked up at you with disbelief and betrayal in his eyes, his final words carved into you like a brand.

"We were your family."

You hesitated for a fleeting moment—but then Agatha’s hand brushed yours, and the doubt faded like smoke on the wind. You struck the blow that ended him, the silence that followed so deafening you thought the earth had swallowed you whole.

Agatha pulled you into her arms as your knees gave way, cradling you like a child. "Hush now, my love," she cooed, her fingers threading through your hair as tears slipped silently down your face. "It had to be this way. They would never have let us be together."

You couldn’t speak.

Her lips ghosted over your ear, her voice soothing, almost tender. "This is the world I promised you—a world where we can be free. No one will ever stand between us again."

Years passed, though time in the world she’d created seemed to move differently. Her kingdom stretched far and wide, a dark utopia shaped by her vision and your unwavering place at her side. The sun rarely broke through the constant storm-churned skies, but Agatha insisted it was beautiful—a reflection of her power and devotion.

You’d become a myth among her people: the warrior who stood beside the dark queen, her chosen beloved, as much a god in their eyes as she was.

Still, late at night, when the castle was quiet, and her magic draped around you like a suffocating shroud, you couldn’t stop the ghostly echoes of the life you’d left behind from haunting you.

"What are you thinking about, darling?" Agatha’s voice would break the stillness, soft but edged with a hint of suspicion.

"Nothing," you’d reply, your voice hollow.

Her hand would tilt your face toward hers, her expression unreadable as her lavender eyes searched your own. There was always an edge to her affection, a warning that you belonged to her and her alone.

She kissed you then, as if sealing that ownership—a kiss that left you drowning in the storm of her power, drowning in her love.

It didn’t matter that a part of you still whispered of regret, still longed for something lost.

She had won.

And in the end, so had you.

A dark queen and her devoted consort, ruling a broken world, eternally bound by love, obsession, and betrayal.

_-_-_

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