Bonus Round 4: Quotes

[referees]

A shipping olympics favorite, this round uses quotes of all sorts to fuel your creative endeavors.


This round is CLOSED as of 7PM on July 21 EDT. Late fills may be posted, but they will not receive points.

RULES

• Submit prompts by commenting to this post with a quote attributed to a specific person or character, along with any ship/ot3/etc. from one of our nominated fandoms.
  • Example: "You must be the change you wish to see in the world." - M. Gandhi
  • The quote can come from anywhere. Famous people, poetry, songs, books, movies, your neighbor, etc.
  • Your prompt MUST include some kind of relationship. (This is not the sports anime gen olympics.) Platonic relationships are indicated by an "&" between the names (e.g., Makoto & Rin). Non-platonic relationships use "/" (e.g., Makoto/Rin). Please don't say "Any pairing," either!
• Fill prompts by replying to the prompt with your quote-inspired fanwork.
• Remember to follow the general bonus round rules, outlined here.

FORMAT

Bonus round shenanigans all happen in the comments below. Brand-new works only, please.

Required Work Minimums:

• 400 words (prose)
• 400px by 400px (art)
• 14 lines (poetry)

There is no max work cap.

Format your comment in one of the following ways:

If PROMPTING:	If FILLING:	If FILLING as a TEAM GRANDSTAND participant:
PROMPT: TEAM [YOUR SHIP] Replace [YOUR SHIP] with the name of the team you belong to, including Grandstand or Sports Teams Write it exactly as it appears on the team roster or your team will not receive points Place the prompt's relationship in the first bolded line of the comment. Including the canon isn't required, but it's nice. Below that, place applicable major content tags (when applicable; otherwise write "no tags" or "none") Visual example	FILL: TEAM [YOUR SHIP], [RATING] Replace [YOUR SHIP] with the name of the team you belong to Write it exactly as it appears on the team roster or your team will not receive points Replace RATING with the rating of your fill (G - E) Place applicable major content tags and word count before your fill (when applicable) NSFW FILLS: Please cross-link these fills and use clear tags in your comment. Written/text fills should be hosted at AO3 ONLY as a new, unchaptered work. Art/visual fills can be hosted anywhere. You may include a small safe-for-work preview of the fill in your comment. To place an image in your comment, use this code: <img src="LINK TO YOUR IMAGE" alt="DESCRIPTION OF YOUR IMAGE"/> Visual example	FILL: TEAM GRANDSTAND, [RATING] Replace RATING with the rating of your fill, G - E, as explained in the rules Place applicable major content tags and word count before the fill, where applicable NSFW FILLS: Please cross-link these fills and use clear tags in your comment. Written/text fills should be hosted at AO3 ONLY as a new, unchaptered work. Art/visual fills can be hosted anywhere. You may include a small safe-for-work preview of your work in your comment. To place an image in your comment, use this code: <img src="LINK TO YOUR IMAGE" /> Visual example

Posts not using this format will be understood to be unofficial discussion posts, regardless of what they contain. They, like all comments in this community, are subject to the code of conduct.

SCORING

These numbers apply to your team as a whole, not each individual teammate. Make as many prompts/fills as you want!

For prompts: 5 points each (maximum of 50 prompt points per team per round)

For fills:

First 3 fills by any member of your team: 20 points each
Fills 4-10: 10 points each
Fills 11-20: 5 points each
Fills 21+: 2 points each

All scored content must be created new for this round.

Etc.

If you're hunting through the prompts looking for what to fill, a good trick is to view top-level comments only.

Have a question? Check The FAQ first. If you still need help, feel free to contact the mods. Happy fanworking!

Comments

Fill: Team Kuroo Tetsurou/Tsukishima Kei, G

[beltenebra]

no major tags relationship study, thinkiness, sap
word count: 502

“He's clearly a great athlete, but I mean, it must be so difficult to play with him.”

Kuroo gritted his teeth and turned the urge to scowl into a carefully crafted smirk accompanied by the eyebrow tilt that subtly suggests that you might be a complete moron and casually replied “Not really” like a champ instead of punching the jerk in the face like he really wants to.

Every time someone, a classmate, a player from another volleyball team or a different sport, the girl who works the morning shift at the coffee shop on Wednesdays, not so delicately implies that Bokuto must be a pain in the ass teammate/classmate/friend/whatever, Kuroo desperately wishes he had less self control. But the punching would definitely upset Bokuto and probably wouldn't reflect very well on Kuroo either.

The truth is that for him, everything about Bokuto is startlingly easy.

Kenma is his childhood friend and they've known each other forever and Kuroo knows he can tell Kenma anything and visa versa. Even then they still have to make those minor adjustments for each other, they are both pretty cerebral people and neither of them mind being thoughtful about their friendship but the first time Kuroo met Bokuto he couldn't believe making new friends could be that easy.

When they first started hanging out after their first summer training camp a million years ago in junior high Kuroo had actually been worried by how well they got along. There was the volleyball of course but they genuinely enjoyed each other's most stupid jokes, Kuroo never felt pressure to find cool things for them to do, Kuroo never had to be the cool one. Bokuto just liked him. Boundlessly and enthusiastically.

Intellectually Kuroo could see how Bokuto might seem like a lot for someone to handle. His energy, careless affection, and complete lack of any sort of indoor voice were overwhelming for some people. Combined with his low moods – when he was needy, or melancholy, or frustrated – Kuroo could potentially understand how people might write Bokuto off as too much work. But everyone who wasn't useless (in Kuroo's expert opinion) would stick around long enough to learn that Bokuto was the most supportive teammate – always excited for his teammates successes and constantly helping them improve, that he could be very engaged in learning if he was really interested in the subject material, and that if you were lucky enough to be someone he loved – that you would never doubt it for a second.

For them crossing the line from friendship to dating was as easy as breathing, just as easy as their friendship had been and a million times better. Kuroo had known since the first time he met Bokuto that all the other man really wanted was to be loved – it was that simple. Kuroo had always thought of himself as kind of a complicated person but it seems that when it comes to Bokuto that's all Kuroo wants too.

Re: FILL: TEAM IMAIZUMI SHUNSUKE/NARUKO SHOUKICHI, G

[psiten]

I am in awe of this precious, perfect combi. Thank you so much <3 As always, this is beautiful!!!!

FILL: TEAM Miyuki Kazuya/Sawamura Eijun, G

[sawakise]

no tags!
445 words.

Sawamura Eijun comes in like a challenge: eyes blazing with heat and body language screaming determination so loud that everyone’s eyes are forced upon him, wondering what he’s going to do next and when he’s going to do it.

Miyuki didn’t wake up that morning expecting a storm to show up—but it’s interesting, a breath of fresh air from the dullness of daily routine, and Miyuki has never been more grateful for being in the right place at the right time as he is now.

“Rei-chan, let me catch for him,” Miyuki calls out and Takshima raises an eyebrow but with a smile on her lips, as if she’d known that this would happen. The middle school brat with thunder in his veins turns to look at him and Miyuki’s heart skips a beat, in a way that he can comfortingly blame on adrenaline and excitement.

He smiles and Sawamura flinches, as if Miyuki had personally attacked him.

**

Sawamura comes back in their baseball uniform and if he’s being scouted by Takishima, then there’s nothing truly poetic about how he might not even make it to Seidou. Still—he continues on, as strong as ever, and yells about dead balling Azuma and Miyuki loses it, because he’s abrasive and boisterous but still so tense when he takes to the mound.

Relax, Miyuki thinks as he positions his mitt, just throw it right here and—

He winds up—his expression shifts halfway and Miyuki can see the fear in his eyes—and throws the ball to the ground.

Oh. Miyuki thinks as he catches it. Oh.

Azuma laughs but it sounds far away.

“Time out,” Miyuki calls and Azuma groans, rolls his eyes, but lets him because—he’s just a junior high kid, Azuma.

“You’ve got good sense,” Miyuki laughs after Sawamura explains his reasoning. Without much thought behind it, he puts a hand on Sawamura and, craving more, loops an arm around his shoulders and tugs him close.

“You’ve got a horrible personality,” Sawamura spits back.

Miyuki, for one, is offended.

“I,” Miyuki says and puts a hand on his chest, “for one, am offended.”

Sawamura stiffens, as if worried that he truly offended Miyuki, and Miyuki’s mortified to find this cute instead of interesting, endearing instead of intriguing.

(He’d go on, but he doesn’t have a thesaurus with him.)

“Let’s take him out together,” Miyuki whispers like a conspiracy, low and in Sawamura’s ear, and pulls back with a grin. Sawamura stares at him, lips gently parted, but eventually his lips thins out to a firm line as he nods.

Determination.

“I like you,” Miyuki says before he can help it, “partner.”

FILL: Team Kuramochi Youichi/Miyuki Kazuya, G

[kitaiichis]

major content tags: no warnings!

so truly this could have spiralled so incredibly beyond my control but as it is, this is the eleventh hour and a lot less polished than it could've been.....oop. it's not getting any better though lmao so here it is all the same.

birds of a feather
1300 words, AO3


Once the third years retire at the end of the summer, Kuramochi and Miyuki end up rooming with each other to nobody else’s surprise but their own. And it’s not like Kuramochi has any reason to complain — Miyuki’s far from the worst person anyone could live with. He keeps his things organised and, for the most part, in his own space.

He sets alarms at reasonable hours of the morning and doesn’t haul everyone else in his immediate vicinity (read: Kuramochi) out for a run by sheer virtue of being awake. He doesn’t ramble Kuramochi’s ears off, either, though Kuramochi’s beginning to think he might prefer it if Miyuki did.

Actually, Miyuki barely ever speaks out at all.

Which is not to say that he doesn’t say anything, because he does, teasing jabs and nasally laughter keeping Kuramochi up at night when Miyuki’s still at his desk burning through lamplight at half past two in the morning, analysing old scorebooks.

“Go to bed, idiot,” Kuramochi calls from his bunk, back turned to Miyuki.

“In a minute,” Miyuki says. Kuramochi doesn’t believe him. He groans when he rolls over to face Miyuki, debating whether throwing his pillow at Miyuki’s face would diffuse anything except his own rising frustration. It wouldn’t, but Kuramochi does it anyway, prefacing the throw with a deceptively calm, “Oi.”

And when Miyuki’s head twists up to him Kuramochi swings his arm, pillow flying straight into Miyuki with a satisfying — though muffled — thump. Miyuki makes no move to stop it; Kuramochi watches him watch the pillow soar towards him wide eyes. The pillow falls onto Miyuki’s lap without further fanfare.

Blinking, Miyuki reaches up to take off his glasses and rub at his eyes. Then he looks back at Kuramochi and sighs.

“Was that really necessary, Kuramochi?”

Kuramochi snorts. “If it didn’t get through the first time, I can do it again.”

“Don’t throw my pillow.” Miyuki frowns.

“So kill the lamp and get to bed already,” Kuramochi says. He’s rapidly losing whatever patience he had left for Miyuki’s dodging.

Miyuki goes back to his scorebooks. “If the lamp’s bothering you so much, we can trade bunks. It’ll be darker if you take the top one.”

Kuramochi knows that — he’d hogged the top bunk his entire time at Room 5. But taking the bottom bunk means hearing whenever an idiot climbs down from their bunk to stay up and run themselves into nothing when they think Kuramochi’s not alert enough to stop them. And, consequently, being within grabbing range to yank said idiot away from the desk and the door.

“Miyuki,” Kuramochi says.

Miyuki hums, just loud enough for Kuramochi to know he’s listening.

Kuramochi gets out of bed and climbs up to Miyuki’s bunk.

“Night,” Miyuki calls, assuming the matter settled and done with.

Except he’s wrong, because Kuramochi only climbs high enough to grab Miyuki’s pillow before heading back to his own bunk. Sits himself crosslegged, pillow on his lap and elbows on top of that, chin tucked against his hands. Miyuki looks back at him.

“Kuramochi.” He sounds tired. Kuramochi’d be more surprised if he didn’t. “What now.”

“Same thing it’s always been,” Kuramochi answers. He doesn’t look away from Miyuki so Miyuki turns away first, picks up the nearest pen and spins it with his fingers. Miyuki’s absolute crap at pen spinning, and he only ever tries practicing when he’s slacking off in class.

Staring at his hand, Miyuki says quietly, “You know I sleep late.”

Kuramochi sits up and stretches his arms behind his head, yawning.

“Yeah. Like an idiot. So tell me why you’re up this time and we can all move on with our lives.”

Miyuki flinches, and Kuramochi rests his arms back on the pillow, suddenly guilty without understanding why.

“Miyuki,” he says. Soft, questioning.

“My bad, Kuramochi,” Miyuki laughs, throws him a grin even more tired than his voice. “Guess you’ll just have to deal with me a little longer, then.”

Ah. Realisation settles inside Kuramochi hollower than he’d hoped; he slides Miyuki’s pillow under his arm as he stands up, walking over to Miyuki at his desk.

“We’ve been using the same fabric softener,” Kuramochi says, depositing the pillow on top of the one already on Miyuki’s lap. Miyuki just stares at him, guarded and bewildered. Kuramochi adds, “For our laundry.”

“I know that,” Miyuki answers slowly.

Kuramochi continues. “You started using mine after you went through all of yours. Bought the same kind even after that ran out too, even if it’s more expensive. We’ve basically been sharing laundry smell through wordless agreement.”

“That softener smells nicer,” Miyuki says. “Also, the way you phrase words is disgusting.”

“Thank you,” Kuramochi interrupts. Does his best attempt at impersonating Miyuki, except he usually sounds too angry for the pseudo-cheer to carry over well.

“Anytime,” Miyuki replies. Kuramochi flips him off, poking him in the forehead with the same finger.

“I’m saying I don’t mind,” Kuramochi says.

Miyuki doesn’t answer.

“Living with you. Sharing laundry. Hauling your ass to bed at ass o’clock in the morning.” Kuramochi’s rattling off points before he can help himself. “This. All of it. I don’t mind.”

A pause, then Miyuki laughs again; a thin,wan sound.

“You’re more patient than people give you credit for,” Miyuki says. “Always looking out for everybody else.”

“What, you think I — you think I go out of my caring about people?”

When Miyuki looks at him Kuramochi can’t see anything but honesty on his face, and he doesn’t know what to do with that. “I know you can’t help caring. That’s why people like you.”

“People don’t just like me,” Kuramochi shoots back, dry. “People don’t usually like me, actually.”

“They should,” Miyuki continues, like Kuramochi hadn’t said anything, except obviously he had, because Miyuki hasn’t stopped answering everything he’s been asking of him.

Miyuki repeats, “They should. You’re the kind of person people rely on.”

Sucks for Miyuki, though, because he’s not the only one who can be obtuse.

“Not enough to get you to sleep for once, apparently.”

If Miyuki’s got an answer to that, he’s not saying it. So Kuramochi says something else, not unrelated:

“Miyuki. I don’t half-ass anything, yeah? And I don’t do anything I don’t care about, either.”

“I know,” Miyuki finally admits.

Kuramochi sighs, bonks the top of Miyuki’s head softly. Then he grins. “So act like it, already.”

Standing up, Miyuki grabs onto Kuramochi’s hand on his head, flips it palm up before placing his pillow over it.

“That’s yours, you know,” Kuramochi says. Miyuki nods. He knows.

“But they’re almost the same anyway, aren’t they?” When Kuramochi doesn’t say anything Miyuki adds, “You know, shared laundry smell and all.”

Kuramochi groans, following Miyuki to the bunks after switching off the lamp. He doesn’t utter a word of complaint when Miyuki takes the bottom bunk, just climbs up to the top and hands Miyuki his eye mask.

“Goodnight, Kuramochi,” Miyuki says, not taking the mask.

“Hah,” Kuramochi leans over until his head’s hanging off the bunk, too, phone flashlight directed down to the bottom bunk. Tucked up with blankets covering everything but his face and the tips of his fingers, Miyuki smiles up at him. “Yes?”

“Miyuki,” Kuramochi says. “It’s too early for this. Late. Whatever, just take the thing.”

“Don’t need it,” Miyuki calls up to him.

Kuramochi drops the eye mask on his bunk anyway, watching with tired amusement as Miyuki darts a hand out from the blankets to arrange the mask primly beside his pillow. Kuramochi’s pillow. Whichever.

Squinting up at Kuramochi, Kuramochi shifts the flashlight away from Miyuki’s face as Miyuki says, “Alright, then. There. Goodnight, Kuramochi.”

“Yeah,” Kuramochi says, turning off the flashlight on his phone and settling back under his own covers. “Night, Miyuki.”

FILL: Team Kyoutani Kentarou/Yahaba Shigeru, E

[kiyala]

sexual content
word count: 835

here

Fill: Team Kuroo Tetsurou/Tsukishima Kei, T

[beltenebra]

no major tags, mild swearing
word count:520

Tomoe was a perfectionist. That was a big part of the problem.

It wasn't that Heath didn't always push himself to be his best and he certainly wanted to keep improving and redefining his limits as a runner. But he also knew that to improve you had to start by admitting the things that weren't as good as you wanted them to be.

Tomoe had always been the type to blow right past all of that pesky analysis and right into working harder, training longer, being better. He must have been so confused when things with Riku fell apart – for the first time in his life he was confronted with something that all of his talent and determination couldn’t fix. He didn't want to think about it so he ran.

Kyousuke, on the other hand, thought far too much about his failings. Watching his friend metaphorically fall on his sword to keep the stride club intact was one of the most painful things Heath had ever done. Kyousuke was not one to shy away from taking responsibility and action but Heath could (and often did) imagine myriad different ways they could have handled the situation without losing Kyousuke. Kyousuke had convinced himself that he wasn't worthy of their friendship so he ran.

Heath did his best not to resent his best friends for leaving him holding the reins of a broken team, suddenly responsible for the clubs mantle of success and a handful of traumatized underclassmen. He was a little less generous when it came to their relationship. Heath was not the one given to dramatic gestures but sometimes he just wished he could scream it over the PA system: “In your high and mighty quests to do what you think is right you assholes broke my heart!"

He doesn't think it would go over very well. Tomoe would give him that wounded deer look and refuse to talk about it and quietly affirm that he was right and they were better off without him. Kyousuke would apologize and say that everything was his fault and point out that weren't they now much better off without him?

And Heath would wonder why he even bothered. But as hardheaded as those two were, Heath was stubborn in his own way and he was no stranger to obstacles to be overcome. Especially if it's something you really want. Someone you really want.

So he would keep trying. He would keep tagging along after Kyousuke around campus asking if he wanted to run together, wheedling homework assistance out of him, generally reminding him that Heath wasn't going to stop caring about him any time soon. He would keep messaging Tomoe, asking about his training, telling him rambling stories about stuff around school, dropping little bits of information about Riku, and showing Tomoe that he wasn't going to let himself be ignored.

He knew that for Tomoe and Kyousuke it might seem that either you were in love and it was golden, perfect, and untouchable, or it wasn't and so you weren't.

Heath didn't mind hard work or struggle. He would show them.

FILL: TEAM Miyuki Kazuya/Sawamura Eijun, T

[sawakise]

no tags, ig minor swearing
650 words.

Sawamura laughs while he’s retelling a story of something funny that happened at practice, Kuroo doesn’t really know because Sawamura’s voice is soothing and Kuroo wants to fall asleep to Sawamura murmuring sweet things in his ears while stroking his hair as his head lays on those thighs, goodness gracious, and then he focuses on the lips because hey, maybe lip reading is a thing while your mind races with weirdly domestic things instead of the sexual deviant that you self-proclaimed you are, especially as a youthful teenager.

It is not a thing, Kuroo realizes when he envisions Sawamura’s lips against his. It is most definitely not a thing.

Thankfully, he manages to clear his head to catch the tail end of the story and appropriately responds. Sawamura nods, as if Kuroo said something particularly noteworthy, and Kuroo gives into the temptation to mentally fist pump and hoot loudly.

It’s alright, Kuroo thinks as their conversation lulls, he’s got great questions. He wrote them down as little slips of papers in his hoodie’s pockets and the crinkle of the paper is rather comforting. His palms are sweaty—which is great, because now he can push his thumbs into his pockets and hunch over, clearly the epitome of cool. Sawamura arches an eyebrow but says nothing and Kuroo pretends not to break out into a cold sweat.

“You know,” Sawamura says as they wait for the streetlight to turn, a quiet night in the city streets of Tokyo, “I really enjoyed the dinner with you.”

“Oh yeah?” Kuroo says, a grin spreading across his face, his heart skipping a traitorous beat. ‘With you’, Sawamura had said, ‘with you’! “That’s great—I did too.”

“The food was great and the company was even better,” Sawamura says in a tone that Kuroo can only describe as teasing.

“Aw,” Kuroo says and nudges Sawamura’s shoulder with his own, “that’s so sweet.”

“I, uh,” Sawamura says and clears his throat, turning to look at Kuroo head on, a blush high across his cheeks. “I like you. More than a friend.”

In the most ungraceful way possible, Kuroo’s mind short-circuits.

Surprisingly, what the fuck is not actually the first thing that flops into his empty mind. Instead, due to his mind hitting panic mode, and due to him understanding that panic mode requires those slips of paper that are crinkled in his pocket: it’s:

“What’s your favorite animal,” Kuroo shouts a bit too loudly and Sawamura stares at him, eyes wide and bewildered.

What the fuck is the second thing that flops into his empty mind, followed by strong mortification. Sawamura looks like the epitome of regret and no—Kuroo is not projecting, okay, maybe a little, hell, he’d probably, well, no, if Sawamura said that to him he probably wouldn’t care, but Sawamura isn’t him and he’s not Sawamura and—

“Don’t tell Bokuto I said that,” Kuroo whines because he just presented his hopeful significant other with the best blackmail material ever. Is that how all relationships start?

“Wow,” Sawamura says, which sums up Kuroo’s entire romantic life or (possible) lack thereof. “To answer your question, I guess, the cat? Since—“ Sawamura’s cheek flushes, “that’s your animal motif, right?”

Oh my god, you like me, Kuroo thinks, possibly says because Sawamura’s cheeks get even darker, and reaches out with sweaty hands to grab Sawamura’s own.

“I like you too,” Kuroo recovers with the grace of a fish flopping around on land, leaning in close enough so that their noses are barely a centimeter from touching. “I really do.”

“Great,” Sawamura says weakly. He squeezes Kuroo’s hand though and by the time Kuroo gets home after dropping Sawamura off at his door—Sawamura pecked him quickly on the cheek and then fled inside—his cheeks hurt from smiling.

“I am the luckiest person alive,” he shouts, sends to Kenma, and then dances across his apartment.

FILL: Team Kanzaki Miki/Tachibana Aya, M

[luckycricket33]

mental illness (depression), prescription drug use (medication is being used correctly, includes discussion of side effects), with implied poor eating/exercise habits, though that isn't the focus of what's going wrong here
word count:</> 410

"You were out all night," Akaashi pleaded, desperation fraying his voice along the edges. "I was so worried about you. You need to get back in bed right now. You need to eat. To sleep."

"Aww, Akaashi, I was totally fine! I brought both our extra battery packs and everything. Look! I named this Tauros after you."

"I wasn't talking about your phone!" he responded shrilly. "What about your body? How far did you walk?"

"I'm not tired! I keep telling you, don't worry about me! Anyway I caught this egg and hatched a bulbasaur from it last night, so..."

Akaashi was close to sobbing and screaming into his hands. Their house straddled the pockets of woods and major roads that marked areas as suburbs. It wasn't safe at night. Nothing was safe for Bokuto. Akaashi couldn't get mad at the phone app, though. He would have gone out and walked for miles instead of sleeping even without the excuse.

"And back before the sun fully set there was this group of younger kids roaming around and I bought them all ice cream. It was the best! You should've seen the looks on their faces Akaashi, they were so happy."

---

Bokuto pauses another episode of Doctor Who as the credits begin to roll. His eyes kind of hurt. He's not sure when he started watching, today; just whenever he got up. He'd woken up that morning (afternoon?) on the couch already, so, might as well.

Akaashi swung by earlier with his meds and some onigiri, and some water. They ate (breakfast? lunch?) together.

"I have to go back to work now, but I'll just be in the office upstairs. Will you be okay?"

"Yeah I'm not going anywhere. There's plenty more seasons of this show to watch. And you'll come back again when you're not busy anymore, right?"

"Yeah," Akaashi had said. "I'll be right here."

Bokuto didn't like his medication. It made him slow. He slept all the time now, which was supposed to be better than getting no sleep, but he wasn't so sure about that. His insight and brilliance and productivity just vanished into thin air, and he could barely keep up with maintaining routine at work. He wanted to be bouncing off walls again. And he wanted Akaashi to come back. Bokuto sighed and hit play, letting the tv take over and occupy him when he really most wanted another person to sit by his side.

FILL: Team Kuramochi Youichi/Miyuki Kazuya, G

[kitaiichis]

major content tags:no warnings!

& then there's you
35 lines, AO3

— oh you, your
twisted words, your
careful eyes. i know:
you did not mean
to push them away. only
to be alone,
with me — no,
not with me. but here
i am, coincidence
perhaps, but accident?
never. you see,
here is the truth: i am
always running,
away or towards. you,
right where you
are, always
where you need to be —
how do i explain
you set sunrises
alive beneath my skin,
wanderlust desire shifting
in and out
of my reach. to settle
somewhere safe is everything
i dream about. you,
called home. i looked
for some way to tell you
i look at you to see
nothing but light longing
to touch someone else. i search always
for some way to explain
your name, the only word
i know when someone
asks about
love.

FILL: Team Kyoutani Kentarou/Yahaba Shigeru, G

[kiyala]

no tags
word count: 443

Yukio wants to collect Ryouta's laughter the same way he once used to collect the wrappers of the candy his grandmother used to slip him whenever his parents weren't looking.

It's just as sweet, he thinks, turning his face away as Ryouta burst out laughing again. He doesn't need to look to know exactly what he'll see; Ryouta's head thrown back, his eyes shut, his shoulders shaking with his laughter because that's just the kind of person that Ryouta is—the kind who puts his entire being into something. Perhaps it's because of the way Ryouta copies people, adjusting the way his body moves to mimic his mannerisms, or perhaps there's another explanation entirely, but Yukio likes it all the same.

Then again, he likes a lot of things about Ryouta. He likes all the things that are shine through to the core of who he is, no matter what kind of game he's playing, no matter who he might be copying. The things that stay the same; the determination in his eyes, the smile on his face, the easy way he has around people, whether he's known them for years or is only just meeting them for the first time.

He looks back, and Ryouta is walking beside Kuroko, still speaking to him, but their eyes meet anyway. There's a small smile on Ryouta's lips, and Yukio knows that it's for him. They do that sometimes, sharing smiles and casual touches in the place of words that neither of them are brave enough to say just yet. It doesn't matter, when the meaning is just as clear in Ryouta's eyes, or the gentle touch of Yukio's fingers against the back of Ryouta's hand.

Kuroko must understand what's going on, because he makes his excuses and goes over to walk with Kagami instead. Ryouta falls in step with Yukio easily, like it was his plan all along. He's always good at making every movement seem so natural and Yukio is—

Well, he thinks. He supposes he's in love.

"You always get this smile on your face," Ryouta murmurs, quiet enough that they're the only two who are able to hear, "whenever you hear me laughing. I'm not sure if you're aware of it."

"I am," Yukio replies, equally soft. He looks up, smiling with a mix of embarrassment and fondness. "I like the sound of it. I like everything about it."

"I laugh a lot, when I'm with you," Ryouta tells him, brushing their fingers against each other. "I'm happy in general."

"I'm glad," Yukio replies, and twines their fingers together this time, letting them swing between them as they walk. "So am I."

FILL: Team Kanzaki Miki/Tachibana Aya, G

[luckycricket33]

no major content warnings



pilot your bf around

Re: FILL: TEAM OIKAWA TOORU/SUGAWARA KOUSHI, G

[sotongsotong]

ROARINGGG!!! I LOVE THIS A LOT N I LOVE HOW OIKAWA SHOWS HIS CARE AND!!!! BLEARY SUGA!!!!! *heart drops so low it can feel my knees* sleepy sons. . . .

thank you so much fr pushing through with this!! ;;u;; also sends extra hearts ur way, I hope you'll be able to recover frm ur art block soon!

Re: FILL: Team Kominato Ryousuke/Kuramochi Youichi, T

[sotongsotong]

OOOHHH N I C E *double thumbs up*

I love dat smear n dat little short piece of Ryou-san teasing Miyuki n holy shit I never knew this was a need but now it is a Need.

Thank you so much fr this ♡

FILL: Team Kyoutani Kentarou/Yahaba Shigeru, G

[kiyala]

no tags
word count: 438

"This is going to hurt," Tatsuya promises and it shouldn't sound enticing the way it does, but Atsushi can't help it when that's just the way he feels about every single word that comes out of Tatsuya's mouth anyway.

He's never been one for caution, for taking care. Not with others and not with himself, either.

"So we'll call it a lesson learned, then," he murmurs, licking his lips. He likes to indulge himself and it's no different with this either. "You graduate. You leave. It hurts. I don't care."

"You say that now," Tatsuya chuckles, and his fingers are cold as they rest on the sides of Atsushi's face, drawing him in, but instead of being close enough to kiss, they stop just far enough apart. Atsushi can feel Tatsuya's words ghosting over his lips, burrowing their way into him. "You always pretend to care less than you do, though. I know you."

"No you don't," Atsushi lies, and he leans forward, closing the distance between then. Even with Tatsuya's hands resting on his shoulders, it's not enough to stop him. Then again, Tatsuya isn't really trying either.

Tatsuya might know him, but Atsushi knows him too; knows that all that Tatsuya is doing is asking to be talked into this himself, to be convinced.

Kissing him deeper, Atsushi does his very best to be convincing.

He pulls Tatsuya into his lap, until their chests are flush against each other. Tatsuya feels delicate in his hands, like a precious thing that Atsushi can't get enough of. He doesn't bother trying to pace himself; he dives right in, tasting Tatsuya's mouth until it's the only thing that matters to him, a mix of sweetness and spice. He chases it with his tongue, drawing Tatsuya closer and closer, until they're as close as they're going to get and Atsushi feels like he's trying to pull Tatsuya into himself. Like he could consume Tatsuya whole, if he tried hard enough.

He thinks that Tatsuya would let him. For all his caution and care, he's just as wild under the surface and Atsushi knows it. He loves it, does all that he can to draw it out, because it's comforting to know that Tatsuya isn't any better than he is. Perhaps, given enough time, Tatsuya will stop pretending otherwise.

For now, though, they cling to each other, kissing and throwing caution to the wind. The future can wait. Tatsuya can say, I told you so, if that's what he wants. He can take as much pleasure in it as he'd like.

Right now, the only thing that matters is having this.

Re: FILL: Team Kanzaki Miki/Tachibana Aya, T

[sotongsotong]

SLAMS BOTH MY FISTS ON SOME FORM OF WALL OR TABLE. I AM IN LOVE WITH THIS, RYOU-SAN'S EXPRESSION N DAT FUCKING KNIFE N KURAMOCHI HOLDING HIM BACK!!! *LOUD ADORING NOISES* also ur art is so full of nice curves and the colour accents are just mmfff *does the Pacha "Just Right" meme*

Thank u so much fr this!! ♡

Re: FILL: Team MIYUKI KAZUYA/SAWAMURA EIJUN, G

[snowysatoru]

hello this has killed me :')))

FILL: Team Kyoutani Kentarou/Yahaba Shigeru, G

[kiyala]

no tags
word count: 441

There's something about the way Tatsuya looks at him that makes a chill run through Atsushi's spine.

It's cold, in the way that the rest of Tatsuya is cold; made of ice that burns, that leaves scars across any skin that it touches.

Atsushi feels like his hands and mouth are covered in scars that only they can see. Scars that will never go away and he doesn't care if they don't. All he wants is more, to press Tatsuya down and do all that he can to add to the collection.

Except right now it's Tatsuya pinning him down instead, not with his hands, not with anything more than his eyes.

He's not like Akashi. This isn't the same kind of power; Atsushi doesn't even think anything can exist at the same level of power as Akashi's eyes and what they can do, but he's more interested in Tatsuya's right now anyway.

He feels like they're stripping him bare, laying him out with all of his thoughts, all of his secrets, all the things that he tries so very hard to hide beneath his bored demeanor, beneath his repeated assertion that nothing really matters to him anyway.

Tatsuya is getting to know him too well. The problem with falling for someone, Atsushi muses to himself. He's bared too much to Tatsuya without meaning to, his entire soul out like treats for Tatsuya to sample, to taste, to pull apart.

"You're squirming," Tatsuya murmurs, his lips spreading into a smile, like he's thrilled by the very thought of it.

He probably is.

"You're staring at me," Atsushi returns. He squirms again, making it more obvious this time, just for the way that it makes Tatsuya's smile grow even wider. "I can't help it. There's something about your eyes."

"Tell me," Tatsuya breathes, stepping closer, until he's standing in front of Atsushi. Even with Atsushi sitting down and Tatsuya standing up, Atsushi's just a little bit taller. Tatsuya looks up at him, brushing his hair back and looking up through his lashes. "Tell me about my eyes, Atsushi."

"It's like you're looking right through me." Atsushi hums. "Like I couldn't lie to you even if I tried, because you know me too well."

"Don't I?" Tatsuya chuckles, stroking his fingers through Atsushi's hair. "You're mine to know, after all."

Atsushi likes that thought. He turns his face, pressing a kiss to Tatsuya's fingers, taking hold of his hand and bringing it closer to his mouth, kissing each and every knuckle. "Does that mean you're mine, too?"

Tatsuya smiles, leaning forward and replacing his fingers with his lips. "What do you think, Atsushi?"

Re: FILL: TEAM IMAIZUMI SHUNSUKE/NARUKO SHOUKICHI, G

[soup]

!!!! Aaaaa this is so cute!! Super cute Yachi and the llama and awww Yamaguchi ♡ Thank you so much!!

Re: FILL: TEAM Miyuki Kazuya/Sawamura Eijun, T

[soup]

o m g this is so so so cute!!! Short-circuiting Kuroo is the best Kuroo tbh (ahem) I love everything about this but esp "Kuroo recovers with the grace of a fish flopping around on land", perfect. Thank you so much!!!

FILL: TEAM Kobayakawa Sena/Shin Seijuro, E

[amisgurumis]

words: 1340, tags: gore, body horror, dissection, graphic descriptions of body parts, face fucking (but not the sexy kind)

http://archiveofourown.org/works/7150448/chapters/17162788

In other news, I can't believe this is the only thing I chose to fill during this round

Fill: Team Azumane Asahi/Sawamura Daichi/Sugawara Koushi, M

[putsch]

death, major injuries, blood, violence, gods au, vague religious elements
word count: 1532



he no longer feels anything as they scream and scream and scream.

once, he did. the great god of war would descend upon the field, picking the side of those with clear values to defend their home or take what was rightfully theirs. more often than not he enjoyed the side of the underdog, but there are times when powerful warriors rise to the ranks and kuroo could never say no to fight alongside another who shared such bloodlust, genius, and power.

a shame, those days are long gone. when he looks into the minds of the soldiers now, there is none of the honor he craves.

snakes fill the battlefield, lying through their fangs of rights and laws when all that fuels them is greed.

kuroo doesn't even go down to the fields to lead the souls of the dead along. it's a mark against him to ignore such a large piece of work, but so be it.

( he's afraid if he goes with them, he'll be sucked into death's arms as well. )



he still goes to the battlefields if only just to watch.

panic and fury growl at his sides, the overgrown beasts looking to him for permission, for a meal, for anything at this point.

"stay, stay." he tells them, watching the western tribe crumble to the invading southern village. the snarl, miserable, and walk away. kuroo should feel worse about disappointing his children, but he can't. the scent of blood and clash of metal are an overplayed classic left in the hands of amateurs to ruin.

( maybe if he had been more involved, maybe if he kept doing the things he should, maybe humanity could've stayed on the right path, maybe he wouldn't have lost all the heroes he so dearly watched over, maybe, maybe, maybe. )

the north is next.



prayers, as they come, press at the back of his mind, a warm tendril of duty reminding him why he was given immortality and a throne high above. different types of prayers tend to press on him in different ways, giving him a sense of what the prayer says before he even takes a closer look.

kuroo takes another drink of wine, and wants to ignore them all for another day. yet one is oddly shaped in the way it touches him, something clearly different than the nipping of invaders looking for bounty.

with a heavy sigh, he closes his eyes and listens.

for my men, the voice begins, for their families, so we can protect them, so at the end of all of this, we may return home with our minds in tact and find peace. there's an odd chuckle, as the voice dips quieter, lower. please, i don't want to lose any more of them if i don't have to.

oh.



kuroo can't remember the last time he went to one of his own temples, stared up at his own face carved in pitch black obsidian.

"are you a priest here?" says the now-familiar voice. kuroo turns and finds a young general, cheek scarred and face chiseled to make him far too old for his twenty four years. he wonders how many more scars are on him, hidden beneath layers of cloth and armor.

"that i am." kuroo smiles, tugging the hood of his disguise around his face. "and who might you be, praying in our halls so late at night?"

the man bows. "sawamura daichi, of the northern battalion."

"the young general." he smiles, stepping into the space between them. "i've heard so much about you."



by the time the sun rises, they have discussed everything from the merits of axes over spears to the lack of sugar and how truly, meat can be considered a dessert in such dire times as long as you cook it right. he learns the mirth of sawamura's laugh, and how well it matches the filtered orange light through the temple pillars.

"by the way, i never got your name."

"tetsurou." he says on reflex, and yet the name is so old and unused that on his tongue he almost doesn't recognize the sound of it. how odd.

"that's a good name." sawamura says, smiling with something too soft for a man of war to have.

kuroo swallows thickly.



the first attempt of southern tropes to take a northern harbor are handily destroyed.

that night, he meets sawamura and his men for drinks in the barracks, recounting old tales of the gods, soaking in the attention from so many who so much want to hear from him, enjoying the way they seem to practically glow the longer they're around him.

sawamura especially.

"there's a danger in such brown eyes", he later mumbles to panic and fury, who definitely do not shake their heads at him.



the northern battalion sawamura leads is small, ragtag, full of men too young for such bloodshed, and yet they keep winning.

he hears the southern generals raging, sending in more prayers and sacrifices in hopes for the winds to turn in their favor. they press and press on his mind more with each passing day, each hour.

kuroo prefers to spend his time sparring with sawamura, both of them going too hard swinging their practice swords, bruises littering both their arms, sweat dripping down their backs. for a man who acts like he's nothing special, he keeps up with kuroo's human form like it's nothing, smiling with blood-covered lips around his name.

it shuts those prayers well up, and kuroo has never felt more alive.



the next battle goes about the same as the first, and kuroo can't wipe the grin off his face while he watches the breadth of sawamura's back.

he's the best general kuroo's seen in action in too long, fighting for each and every man in his command as if they were is own flesh and blood, knowing exactly what to say and when to say it to keep them moving. he's oddly humble for a man so powerful, learning to wield every weapon to make sure they can use everything in their small arsenal, filling the holes of their troop that the others cannot. he's so sturdy, so quiet, going in for the kill as gruesome as any other hero he as ever known. kuroo had no part in any of this, and it makes his heart do strange things that he forgot hearts could do.

surely, the other gods will tease him if they heard the way he sighs, watching the arch of sawamura's ax as he brings it into his enemy's neck, the blood going everywhere before he tosses the body aside and pushes forward. it's a work of art.

it's why he misses the thrown spear until it hits it's target in sawamura's shoulder.

( that's always the problem of trying to focus on just one thing in a web of calculated chaos, that you forget to look where the next thing is coming from. )

kuroo's ichor freezes in his veins, the battlefield silent in his ears as sawamura stumbles before him in slow motion. it doesn't have to be a fatal wound, but in this arena, it certainly is. kuroo's attention is snapped back to the battle at large, and the other soldiers smell the opportunity for glory in sawamura's blood.

no.



his armor is glorious, thick reds and blacks with the finest detailing taketora could forge deep in his fiery home, a piece any man would be proud to wear into battle, screaming for attention and blood and fury.

kuroo doesn't waste his time with the frivolity of it.

he arrives on battlefield in a wisp of smoke before sawamura, catching the first solider off guard with a dagger to his throat and making sure his following allies fall the same way. he picks up their weapons and gets ready for war.

"tetsurou...?"

"rest, sawamura." he whispers, pressing his hand to his cheek, and hopes that in his state, sawamura does not notice how he shakes. "you cannot fall here."

"how are you, where did you--"

"shhh", kuroo says more forcefully, kissing his forehead. "leave this one to me in your honor."

sawamura looks rightfully dazed, even moreso as panic and fury descend at his side, panic scooping him up and placing him onto fury's back.

"wait," sawamura panics, gripping with his only good hand onto fury's fur, "what's going on, tetsurou!"

"go." he commands, and fury and panic do.

the soldiers on both sides seem to freeze, the southern troops out of horror, sawamura's out of confusion, the air of the battlefield shifting after thousands of years without him truly standing in the thick of it.

kuroo turns, he twists the sword in his hand, let's it bubble and morph into a scythe far more fitting for the rage in him, for the death he's about to bring, for the sake of the first champion he loves, for the sake of all the ones before he's let down.

his grin is wild and disgusting in the way a god of war should be.

"it's going to be a bloodbath, boys."

FILL: Team Kuramochi Youichi/Miyuki Kazuya, G

[kitaiichis]

major content tags: no warnings!

definitions of flight
50 lines, AO3


(i.)

here: portrait of a boy,
landscape of letting go. leaving
aches only if you forget
to live without them. impossible
to live within. besides?
never. after
all — memory is
only faded space, empty
time. long ago
someone whispered, please.
what follows next left
or lost. the voice
of someone a boy once
couldn’t live without.


(ii.)

there: picture it,
togetherness. a hand
open, reaching for
you. a hand,
closing. accepting. some things
cannot be changed. if
this is one of them
we may never know. how
birds learn to fly —
two-steps trust
and faith. when
they leap, they land
without falling. this is
all for our promise
of further flight,
better skies. chasing closer
to the sun.


(iii.)

where is
the moment i find
you are
words i never knew
to say — i
love you. love,
twilight zone of
uncertain smiles, echo
happiness. say
you’ll stay. say it
like there’s nothing more
you want me
to believe: that
we are more
than everything that happened
before. this
is only a place
for us
to begin to fly.

FILL: Team Kyoutani Kentarou/Yahaba Shigeru, G

[kiyala]

no tags
word count: 472

Kise misses him so much that it settles in his bones like an old ache that he's carried for years, instead of something that has only lasted for a couple of months.

He has Kasamatsu's entire repertoire of moves memorised; the same way he does with every single other thing he's stockpiled over his years of playing, but there is always more detail attached to the moves that belong to people that he particularly cares about.

When it comes to Kasamatsu, it feels like he has every single mannerism memorised; whether it's important to basketball or not. He can shut his eyes and immediately think of the way Kasamatsu looks when he's smiling, the way his voice sounds when he's embarrassed, the way his lips feel when they're pressed against Kise's . . .

He shakes his head, pulling himself out of it. He's in the middle of a game right now, and he can't afford the distraction, even if he's just practicing against his own teammates. He can't let the ache back into his heart right now, when this is one of his only breaks he'll get from it.

He manages to keep it bay for the rest of the game, but it's back in full force the moment he steps off the court. He sits down with his bottle of water, and pulls his phone out of his gym bag. He's about to send a message to Kasamatsu, asking about the next time they can spend some time together, but he's thrilled to find that Kasamatsu's already sent him a text to ask the very same thing. He mentions a restaurant that's close enough to both of them, if Kise wants.

Kise doesn't want that, though. He doesn't want to share Kasamatsu with the unwitting public, who don't realise how lucky they are to have his presence. He wants Kasamatsu to himself and he sends a reply to that effect. Kise's parents are away for the week anyway, and he adds in a reminder about that, hoping that Kasamatsu will get the hint. He does.

Later that afternoon, when Kise gets home from practice, Kasamatsu is already standing by the gate of his house, waiting for him. They greet each other with casual enough nods, but the moment they're inside with the door locked, it's a different story.

Kise presses himself close to Kasamatsu, like even the smallest amount of space between them is unacceptable. He kisses all over Kasamatsu's face, committing every detail to memory no matter how many times he's already done so.

"Kise," Kasamatsu laughs softly, pulling away.

"I missed you," Kise murmurs, and kisses him again. "It's not even when I use your moves in a game, you know. I want you with me."

"I know," Kasamatsu sighs, and kisses him back. "I'm here now, though."

Re: Fill: Team Kuroo Tetsurou/Tsukishima Kei, G

[kitaiichis]

The truth is that for him, everything about Bokuto is startlingly easy.

ahh, this is such a nice fill! i love how it contrasts kuroo's dynamic with bokuto to his dynamic with kenma, but in a way that still emphasises how effortless, how central they are to kuroo :")) thanks so much for this fill!

Re: FILL: Team Kuramochi Youichi/Miyuki Kazuya, E

[kitaiichis]

believe it or not i speak nothing but The Truth (tm)