Bonus Round 5: Myth & Lore

[referees]

Summer's a time for swapping stories around the campfire. With that in mind, this round draws inspiration from the stories humanity have told each other over the centuries.

This round is CLOSED as of 7PM on August 4 EDT. Late fills may be posted, but they will not receive points.

RULES

• This round does not have prompts. Instead, we ask you to draw inspiration from the wide pool of mythology, fantasy, folklore, and fable. An urban fantasy or supernatural AU? A re-imagining of your favorite folk tale? Characters swapping ghost stories or playing D&D? As long as your fill in some way incorporates the fantastical and/or supernatural, it's welcome here.
• Your fill still has to be about a ship from one of our nominated fandoms. What ships you create work for is up to you, though.
• To submit your fill, simply leave it as a comment as a reply to this post.
• 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.

Remember, this is a NO-PROMPT round. Format your fill comment in one of the following ways:

If FILLING:

If FILLING as a TEAM GRANDSTAND participant:

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 (without brackets) 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) If no major content tags are applicable, make sure to state this-- even if including other additional tags 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 If no major content tags are applicable, make sure to state this-- even if including other additional tags 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 fills as you want!

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 IWAIZUMI HAJIME/OIKAWA TOORU, G

[sotongsotong]

Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru, Haikyuu!
no tags
553 words, sakura tree spirit!Oikawa + shrine keeper!Iwaizumi


“It’s a shame that you can’t leave this tree,” Iwaizumi says, attention divided between his task of sweeping the shrine’s entrance and the figure sitting on a bough of the thousand year old sakura tree still standing strong beside it.

“Trying to chase me out?” Tooru snidely inquires, and swings his feet, letting one of his geta slip off and drop on Iwaizumi’s head; the smirk on his face widens when he hears a yelp of a pain and a hastily cut off swear. He rests against the tree’s trunk, feels its knobbly texture welcoming his back like a bed. “That’s not very nice of you, Iwa-chan.”

Hajime bends down to retrieve the fallen geta. He looks up, glaring at Tooru. “What’s not very nice here is you dropping things on people’s head without their permission.”

“The rain doesn’t need any permission to fall, does it?” Tooru drawls. The sakura tree seemingly shivers in the afternoon gust, almost as if it concurs with his words and is shaking with laughter, possibly finding great humour in Iwaizumi’s predicament. “So, how is that any different for an object that randomly descends from the sky?”

“Don’t try being all philosophical just to throw me off track,” the shrine keeper scoffs, rearing his arm back, and launches the geta right toward’s Tooru’s direction.

He catches it easily with one hand, for the wind had swirled, encircling him in a protective cocoon of dense air that slowed the geta’s trajectory, and, ultimately, forced it to come to a floating stop in front of him. With a grin stretched wide on his face, Tooru wears it while replying, “Thanks for saving me the trouble of asking one of the youkai to get this back for me!”

Rolling his eyes, Iwaizumi resumes sweeping briskly, gathering fallen leaves and sakura petals into a pile that is to be burnt later. “If you could get off that tree, I’d take you to go see the fireworks during Tanabata. I think you’d like them very much.”

Tooru waves dismissively. “The view up here is plenty good already. I bet my perch is better than what any human will be able to see from down there.” His gaze slides away though, and Iwaizumi doesn’t miss it. “I’m not missing out on anything, really, Iwa-chan.”

“Who said you are?” Iwaizumi counters. He’s finally done and has set the broom aside; he too leans against the trunk of the sakura tree for a breather, relaxing as a breeze tickles his air and ears, appreciating the mildness of the day. “I just wanted to take you out on,” he coughs, “a date.”

“A youkai and a human on a date; how preposterous!” Tooru sniffs, but his smile is like fire, its warmth spreads to tip Iwaizumi’s lips upwards as well. “It’s like a forbidden romance out of some pretentious novel. Do you want me to drop my other geta to knock you back into your senses?”

“Ha, that’s rich coming from someone as bratty as you,” Iwaizumi laughs. He places a hand on the sakura tree respectfully. “May I climb up?”

The tree spirit merely pats the spot beside him on the branch he’s sitting on. “If you can make it, that is.”

“Try me.” And that’s all Iwaizumi says, for now, as he begins his ascend.

FILL: TEAM MIYUKI KAZUYA/MIYUKI KAZUYA, G

[catlarks]

tags: supernatural elements, (talk of freezing to) death; monster AU, Umi is a human, Eli is an ice spirit
Ship: Ayase Eli/Sonoda Umi (love live)
Word Count: 1,136


"Please," Umi says, as she drops to her knees on the stone path outside the shrine. Her sleeves flutter as she folds her arms before her, as she bends over them and bows her head in a gesture even spirits must know as a motion of respect. "Please, if you do not let me stay at the temple, I will freeze."

There's only silence from above her, thoughtful and waiting. Umi does not dare lift her head, will not chance the disrespect of peeking up at the maiden whose judgment she's hinging her life on. Pillars outside cut the wind and decrease the chill of one of the harshest winters Umi has ever seen, but the stones beneath her folded legs are no less frosted with ice, and outside the temple's protection, snow heaps up high across the hills.

The blizzard came upon Umi faster than she could have expected; her request is out of sincere desperation.

"You will freeze if you stay here," the maiden finally says. "I have no need for a stove, or for firewood."

"Please," Umi repeats, at last venturing to raise her head from its bow. "Anything is better than the hills at night. On the mountain I will be buried under the snow, and I cannot hope to see even the next dawn with my blood still flowing alive in my veins. Please, I ask this only out of necessity."

There's another pause, as the woman considers her plight. Umi spends that minute in contemplation of her own, watching the maiden's lovely, angular face, the sharp slope of her nose, the lines of her cheekbones, the sweep of her brows above cool, ice-blue eyes. She's perfect as a statue, more beautiful than any living girl Umi can remember setting eyes on.

But this is not the first time she's seen the ice mistress of the mountain, nor is it the first time she's wandered into the mountain shrine unannounced. The last time she was caught out in a blizzard she was only eight years old, cold and alone and too confused to watch where she was walking. She'd collapsed on the steps to the temple; she'd woken up inside, shivering and half-frozen, but alive, wrapped in a warm, thick blanket she'd never seen before in her life.

(Umi had taken the blanket with her, when she ventured back down the mountain in that long-past moment from her youth. She was too cold at the time to risk leaving it, despite knowing even at that age that to take something belonging to another was tragically unwise. Umi sleeps in the shrine blanket to this day.)

"Fine," the woman says. "Come inside."

Even with permission, Umi rises slowly. Her legs are stiff from their short time spent pressed against the stone, joints protesting any movement at all in such intense cold. The mistress of the mountain retreats, leaving Umi to follow in her wake through the entrance to the shrine. The building beyond is a single room, small and dark and lit only by a single candle placed at the railing where prayers are tied at holidays.

Umi doesn't know what to do with herself. There's nowhere to sit and no obvious place to stand; there is no fireplace just as the ice spirit warned, and the inside of the temple is barely warmer than the outdoors, though the wind that cuts through Umi's clothing has been silenced at last.

"I'm sorry," Umi says. "But... That is..."

She bites her tongue, uncertain how to clarify the things that she remembers, her vision of a beautiful woman tucking her into the softest blanket she's ever touched and sitting with her until she fell asleep. She's dreamed of the maiden of the mountain since she was eight years old, with such regularity that somewhere in her heart, she knew she had to see the woman again.

"I remember," the woman says, words breathed out as softly as the wind between bare branches. "The first time you asked for my protection. You were much smaller, then."

Umi sags at that, strings cut, the tension wound through her limbs unspooling all at once and leaving her weak and unsteady on her feet. She doesn't know what she would have done, discovering it was always just a dream. She feared, just a little bit, that this latest encounter was a delusion, same as the last.

"I won't keep you very warm," the maiden says. "If I wrap you in my arms the way you remember."

Umi flushes, fighting not to look away, to turn, to hide from the slow, secret smile that spreads across the shrine maiden's lips. It puts a warmth in her eyes that wasn't there before, a soft glow like sunlight off melting snow, glimmering faintly at first, but capable of blinding.

The maiden rolls her eyes, and in that moment she appears to be nothing more than a girl, making shelter in an abandoned shrine much as Umi has been forced to do. She spreads her arms, and gives a single, regal jerk of her head. The illusion of accessibility holds just long enough for Umi to enter the circle of the ice spirit's arms.

She's as cool as she promised, chilled to a temperature too low for any human to survive. But she's warmer than Umi expected — warmer than the winter air, warmer than freezing temperatures that would spell Umi's death through the night. She sniffles, and is abruptly aware that she's sobbing, shoulders shaking as her lungs suck in great nervous gasps of air.

"Oh, child," the ice maiden says, pulling Umi closer into her gentle embrace. "There's really nothing to cry over."

"I know," Umi whispers, against the fabric of the other girl's kimono. "I know, but I can't stop."

Slowly, the maiden lowers them both to the floor, rubs Umi's back until the shakes she's being plagued by smooth themselves out. She's exhausted, when she finishes crying. But the mistress of the mountain is still holding her protectively, and Umi dares to dream of falling asleep against the soft swell of her breast.

"Sleep," she's told. "Sleep, and in the morning all will be well."

"Will you still be there?" Umi asks. "Or will you disappear, melting away like last time?"

The smile she's shown then softens, pretty lips turned up at their corners. "I'll be here when you awake. And, perhaps, for longer still after."

There's something in the promise Umi doesn't know how to place, a hope that sets to fluttering in her chest like a nervous bird eager to be freed from its gilded cage. But she's exhausted; with soft hands stroking her hair and a cool arm curled around her back, she drifts into a sleep unplagued by dreams, deep as the winter night.

FILL: TEAM AKAASHI KEIJI/BOKUTO KOTAROU/KOZUME KENMA/KUROO TETSUROU, G

[makichansenpai]

Bokuto Koutarou/Akaashi Keiji Haikyuu!! Words: 2077
Tags Suicide, homophobic parents
Based on the Guam legend "Puntan Dos Amantes" (Two Lovers Point)

Akaashi tuned out the world. He couldn’t hear or feel anything.
 
Akaashi looked at his father; he was yelling. Then, he looked at his mother who was crying, clutching her chest and gasping for air as tears rolled down her cheek. Akaashi looked back at his father who was still yelling, then back at his hands. There was blood. Whose blood? Akaashi didn’t know. All he knew was that he had to get out of here. Out of this confining, suffocating building he had once called “home”.
 
Akaashi ran. He ran as fast and as far as his legs could go.
 
Akaashi kept running until his legs gave out. He took a couple minutes to calm his breathing. Once he had caught his breath, Akaashi looked around and took in his surroundings. Akaashi saw beautiful trees, some flower bushes, and a bit further in front of him was the ocean. He took his time taking in the beautiful scenery before him. Then he spotted a bench, and decided to sit there to clear his mind.
 
Akaashi sat down, and thought about what had happened.
 
Akaashi went home at the usual time he always does. As he took off his shoes, he heard his father, “Keiji, your mother and I need to talk to you. It’s important.”
 
“Yes, father,” Akaashi replied.
 
After he took off his shoes, and placed them on the shelf, Akaashi walked to the kitchen where his parents were waiting for him. His mother smiled at him, “Have a seat, Keiji.”
 
Akaashi nodded and sat in front of his parents.
 
“Keiji,” his father started, “this will come to be a surprise for you, but a high ranking officer had made a proposal.” Akaashi’s dad took a deep breath, and looked at him in the eyes, “he would like for you to take his daughter’s hand in marriage.”
 
Akaashi’s eye twitched. They know how I feel about arranged marriages. Why are they even bringing this up with me? They already know that I’m-
 
“I didn’t say yes, Keiji.” Akaashi came back to reality and looked at his father, confusion written all over his face. “I told him how you feel about arranged marriages, so he’s asking if you would at least get to know his daughter before deciding that you don’t want to marry her. That’s all he’s asking for at the moment.”
 
Akaashi knew what was going to happen, but he couldn’t stop himself, “Father, you and mother both know that I’m ga-“ Akaashi was cut off with the sound of his mother gasping, and a glass cup hitting his face. Naturally, the cup broke into pieces when it made contact with his face, and had even cut him on the cheek.
 
Akaashi was in shock.
 
“Dear, don’t this. He’s your son!” Akaashi heard his mother say.
 
“Get off of me, woman!” Akaashi’s father had yelled. The next thing he knew, Akaashi heard his mother scream, and saw her land on the ground with an ‘oomph’. She had started to cry; which is not a good thing (Akaashi’s mother has a hard time breathing when she cries, so people are always careful around her). It wasn’t long until she started gasping for air.
 
Before he knew it, Akaashi was in the process of tuning out the world.
 
“You are a man, and a man doesn’t love other me-"
 
“HEY! Are you okay?”
 
Akaashi was pulled out of his thoughts, and the world blurred. He squinted to focus his eyes, and laid his eyes upon a pair of wide, golden eyes. Akaashi glared at them.
 
“Woah there! I was just checking to see if you were okay.” The mysterious man said.
 
“Yes. I’m fine. Thank you.” Akaashi replied.
 
“Huh… so does this mean I don’t have to worry about the blood on your face and hands?” the man asked with a worried expression and a hint of humor in his voice.
 
Akaashi looked at his hands, then touched his face and flinched.
 
“That’s what I thought. Here, let me help you.” The mysterious man sat down next to Akaashi, and took out a first aid kit from the bag he was holding. He pulled out a small bottle of rubbing alcohol, some gauze, and bandages. Then he looked at Akaashi, “This is going to sting a bit.”
 
Before Akaashi could protest, the man had put some alcohol on the gauze, and started dabbing Akaashi’s face. Akaashi flinched from the sting, and the man started blowing on his wound to help with the pain. “You’re doing fine. Almost done.” Once the blood was cleaned, the man put a band aide on his cheek.
 
“Thank you,” Akaashi mumbled; embarrassed that a stranger had to take care of him.
 
The man grinned widely, “No problem!” Akaashi swore that he saw the man glow. “I’m Bokuto by the way! Bokuto Koutarou!” He said as he stuck out his hand.
 
Akaashi gave a small smile, and shook Bokuto’s hand, “Akaashi Keiji. It’s nice to meet you Bokuto-san.”
 
“Nice meeting you too, Akaashi!” Bokuto said with genuine happiness. “So what brings you to this area of town?”
 
Akaashi creased his eyebrows, “What do you mean?”
 
“Ah! I’m sorry if I offended you, but this isn’t exactly a good area. Well, this place is actually nice, but the other parts of town are very dangerous. I asked because you look like you’re from a high class family, and we don’t have those around here.” Bokuto explained.
 
Hearing Bokuto’s explanation, Akaashi took the time to take a good look at his surroundings. What Bokuto said was true. The cliff area they were currently at was breathtakingly beautiful, but the town was gloomy and reeked with crime. “Hmmm… something… just happened at home, and I ran without thinking. I just ended up here.”
 
“Aaahhh… drama. Sometimes, you just can’t avoid.” Bokuto said in a voice that says that he knows that all too well. “You did a great job finding this place though. It’s basically the only safe haven for people. Nothing bad ever happens here.”
 
Akaashi smiled, “Thank you, Bokuto-san, for helping me and talking to me. It means a lot, and it helped.” Akaashi stood. “I need to get back home now, but I hope to see you again.”
 
Bokuto got up and smiled, “Of course, Akaashi! I’m sure we’ll bump into each other soon again.”
 
With that, the two parted ways, unsure if they will ever meet again.
 
 
As fate would have it, Bokuto and Akaashi had met several times. Due to the fact that he had to get to know the officer’s daughter and family, he often had to go through the unpleasant part of town. The two would always meet at the same place, around the same time. Akaashi was happy with their random meetings. It was as if they were meant to happen.
 
A week had passed since Bokuto and Akaashi started meeting each other like that. Akaashi was on his way to the officer’s house as usual when it suddenly hit him. The reason why he enjoys his random meetings with Bokuto. The reason why he always thinks back to the day they first met. The reason why he actually looks forward to seeing Bokuto. Akaashi Keiji, as gay as he was, realized that he was in love with Bokuto.
 
Upon realizing this, Akaashi felt a tug in his gut. Instead of heading to the officer’s house, he went to the cliff. The place where he had first met Bokuto. Akaashi didn’t know why he suddenly went that way, but on his way there, he saw a familiar face in an officer uniform. For all Akaashi could have known, it was a soldier who was under that officer he was supposed to meet. Akaashi didn’t care. All that mattered was arriving at the cliff.
 
Once Akaashi arrived at the cliff, he saw a familiar frame. He smiled and called out to him.
“Bokuto-san!”
 
Bokuto turned around and saw Akaashi. His eyes widened, and he smiled. “Hey Akaashi! What are you doing here?” Bokuto asked as Akaashi made his way to him.
 
“As crazy as it sounds, I just ended up here again.” Akaashi replied.
 
Bokuto’s smile grew. “Same here. I was wandering around and ended up here.”
 
An awkward silence grew between them. Bokuto was the first to break it. “Akaashi…” Bokuto said sounding unsure. “I actually have something very important to tell you.”
 
Akaashi looked at him with slight confusion, and then smiled. “You can tell me anything, Bokuto-san. You can trust me.”
 
Bokuto took a deep breath, “I… I like you, Akaashi.”
 
Akaashi’s smile grew a little, “I like you too, Bokuto-san. You’re a great pers-“
 
“No!” Bokuto yelled, cutting Akaashi off. “I like like you. Like… I love you, Akaashi.” Bokuto said sounding desperate. “I love you. You’re pretty, nice, smart, caring, and most of all, you actually like me for who I am. Everyone is either afraid of me or mean to me.” Bokuto shut his eyes closed. “I don’t know. I… I just don’t know what to do.” Bokuto sighed.
 
Akaashi was shocked to hear all this. He honestly thought that his feelings would be one sided. How could a man with those glorious muscles and handsome face be gay? Akaashi assumed that Bokuto was as straight as a ruler.
 
Akaashi smiled fondly at Bokuto, and held his hand gently. “I like you too Bokuto-san. I actually just realized that not too long ago.”
 
Bokuto’s eyes widened. “Really Akaashi? You… you like me back?”
 
Akaashi gave Bokuto the biggest smile he could make, “Yes. I like you back. I love you, Bokuto-san.”
 
Before Bokuto could say anything, he heard a loud voice, “WHAT THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING, KEIJI?!?!”
 
Akaashi flinched at the sound of the voice. He and Bokuto looked to where the voice had come from. To Akaashi’s surprise, it was not just his father who was there, but his mother, the officer and his wife and daughter were also there.
 
Akaashi panicked, “This isn’t good Bokuto-san.”
 
“Akaashi, what’s wrong?”
 
“The man who just yelled is my father. He and my mother know I’m gay, but they still insisted that meet with the officer’s daughter. I knew I wouldn’t be able to love her. She’s a great person, but I can’t love her romantically no matter the amount of times we go out. The officer will most likely have my head, and my father would probably let him.” Akaashi let out as quickly as he could.
 
Akaashi knew that something terrible would happen, not only to him, but to Bokuto as well. That wasn’t something he could live with. Bokuto did nothing to deserve any type of punishment.
 
Akaashi was about to make a suggestion when Bokuto spoke, “Hey Akaashi. I don’t know about you, but I can’t live without you. I would rather die than know that you’re with someone else you don’t even love or suffering because of me.”
 
“It is the same with me, Bokuto-san. I would rather throw myself off this cliff.”
 
“We should do it.” Bokuto said. Akaashi looked at him, unsure of what he was talking about. “Let’s jump. I’ll be happy to do it if it means spending the afterlife with you.” Bokuto said looking into Akaashi’s eyes.
 
Akaashi nodded. “As long as we can be together, I’d be happy to.”
 
Bokuto and Akaashi faced each other and looked into each other’s eyes, having a private conversation.
 
“Keiji! You better not be thinking about doing something ridiculous.” Akaashi’s father said noticing the silence between the two.
 
Akaashi ignored his father, and concentrated on Bokuto. “I love you, Bokuto-san” Akaashi whispered, tears pooling his eyes.
 
“I love you too, Akaashi.” Bokuto said, wiping away the tears on Akaashi’s face.
 
Akaashi wrapped his arms around Bokuto’s neck, and pulled him down. Their foreheads touched, and slowly, their lips met. The kiss electrified Akaashi. He knew that this was a “until we meet again” kiss.
 
Their first and last kiss was disrupted by the sound of rushing footsteps and yelling. Bokuto and Akaashi ran to the edge of the cliff and jumped. As they fell, Bokuto held Akaashi close, and Akaashi had his arms around Bokuto’s waist. After a few seconds of falling, Bokuto and Akaashi soon crashed into the sharp rocks that were at the bottom of the cliff.
 
Bokuto Koutarou and Akaashi Keiji gave up their lives in the name of true love.

FILL: TEAM MIYUKI KAZUYA/MIYUKI KAZUYA, T

[catlarks]

tags: mild violence (of the dragon-fighting variety), supernatural elements; AU where Honoka is a knight and Eli is a princess. Or a dragon. Or a dragon princess.
Ship: Ayase Eli/Kousaka Honoka (love live)
Word Count: 1,216


A grin breaks across Honoka's face as she presses her back to the door, darting a look down the stairs she'd just ascended as if in fear of pursuit. But no one is there, and who would be? Dragons didn't take the stairs. Dragons swooped out of the sky like fearsome beasts, breathing fire and ravaging the countryside and roaring in defiance of everything that was good and right in the world.

Dragons were monsters, it was right at the top of everything knights were taught in their training.

Honoka moves slowly, though it hurts her to take such care, though it's possible only through the years of rigorous training the page master had put her through when she was but a child dreaming of her shield. Her gloved hand is on the door, fingers hooked through the metal loop of its handle. She takes a deep breath, scrunches her eyes shut. She twists the handle, and kicks the door open with a yell.

She bursts into the space before it, but when she stares into the room at the top of the tower, no one is there.

"But where's the princess?" Honoka asks the empty room, shoulders sagging as the wind drops out of her sails.

She was so stoked to have outsmarted a dragon, lying in wait until she saw the great graceful beast fly off into the further reaches of the mountains, working for hours to break the enchantments on the lower floors of the tower. Honoka isn't much for magery, but she's long since learned she can break anything, if she works at it long enough.

Nevertheless, Honoka is a curious sort. A room empty of princesses isn't enough to deter her; with no other options before her, she begins to snoop.

There's a bed in one corner of the room, against a squared-off section of the wall. Though the tower appears round from the outside, its interior dimensions are greater than Honoka realized, each floor a confusing jigsaw of rooms that open onto each other, or onto great vats of steaming ooze, pits in the floor, alternate dimensions, and ordinary closets. Honoka can only imagine what lies in wait filling the spare nooks on this final floor of the maze.

(She'd thought fighting a dragon would be swinging her sword about, dodging fire, diving beneath claws; that through feats of daring and agility she'd win the day. Serves her right for sneaking in, she supposes. It's not the first time she's been punished for trespassing.)

The bedroom, if that's what it is, appears deceptively orderly. There are no visible doors to lead to other rooms full of traps, just the bed, a desk, several bookshelves, and an armoire full of lovely princess dresses. For a long moment, Honoka considers trying one of them on, while she ponders the problem of what to do about the dragon. But that might constitute stealing, and a knight who stole from a princess would lose her shield for sure.

A roar sounds from outside and suddenly Honoka is back on her feet, knees bent, shield raised, sword drawn from its scabbard and brandished before her to keep the oncoming beast at bay. There comes another roar, this one a little more like a cough, or like a human clearing phlegm from his throat, but no dragon. As far as oncoming beasts go, the reptile Honoka is fighting is outright leisurely.

Her shoulders start to sag again, she's waiting so long. Nothing about the guts and glory of fighting a dragon is going remotely as she'd planned!

Then the monster lands on the windowsill, the broad, longer-than-her-armspan windowsill set against the room's farthest wall. For a moment all Honoka can see is the beast's soft, pale belly, her eyes lighting up with the opportunity presented to her. She can hear the furious back-winging as the creature keeps itself balanced on the ledge, can only imagine how it intends to fit such a great bulk through such a small hole, but her chance is there!

She rushes forward, sword raised, heavy boots thudding with each step she takes as she builds up to a run — before she skids to a stop, stilled by the thought that maybe the princess is with the dragon; maybe, if she stabs the dragon, the princess will go dropping to her doom.

There's another whoosh of displaced air, and the dragon disappears like smoke being sucked into a vacuum.

A girl stands in its place on the ledge, dressed in sensible (dragon-skin?) breeches and tall leather boots, as well as a loose white tunic that falls about her hips. Her blonde hair is tied up atop her head with a leather thong, held in a high ponytail to keep it out of her way.

She jumps down from the ledge, dusts her hands off on her pants, and stops, gaze settling on Honoka as realization dawns across her face. "You're the knight," she says.

"Y-Yeah!" Honoka manages, stumbling before her voice steadies into the shout.

"You're early," the girl says. "I wasn't expecting you to work out the way of getting into the tower until, oh..." She tilts her head to the side, as if considering. "About three days from now, I'd say. I was prepared for our engagement in three days' time, but as it is, I'm afraid I'm not ready at all."

"Ready?" Honoka echoes. And then: "Engagement?"

"Of course," the girl says, with a slow, spreading smile. "I've always wanted to meet a knight, but life in a tower is dreadfully lonely, not to mention busy, between all the alchemical experiments and hunting for food. I haven't had the time."

Honoka is gaping at her. She can feel her mouth sagging open, but she can't make it stop. "This is a game for you."

"Well, not a game, per se," the girl says. "More of a performance. I'd picked out just the dress."

"You're the princess," Honoka says.

The girl places her hands on her waist, and dips what looks suspiciously like a curtsy. "Guilty as charged. Would you consider yourself to have rescued me, considering the circumstance?"

Honoka, always ready to speak up, always prepared to blurt out an answer, is silent. The girl laughs, pushing her palm to her forehead as she stares up at the room's ceiling, laughing high and bright. "You're exactly as I expected, lady knight. But now, seeing as I am not in any imminent danger... Might I invite you for tea?"

Honoka considers, for a long, suspicious moment. Then she shrugs, sliding her sword back into her scabbard and lowering her shield to the ground. "As a knight, I've been taught to never refuse the hospitality of a lady. I would love tea. Do you have biscuits?"

The girl laughs again, and puts out her hand. "Ayase Eli, princess, alchemist, and dragon shapeshifter. Allow me to show you to the downstairs."

Honoka takes Eli's hand, shaking it quite firmly. When she lets go, Eli catches her by the arm, tucking her hand against the crook of Honoka's elbow. Though she's leading as she might with a lady at a dance, she has no illusions about who's truly guiding their engagement as they make their way down the stairs to the parlor.

Re: FILL: Team Nishinoya Yuu/Tanaka Ryuunosuke, T

[savetanaka]

Sorry but also thank you hehe! (Lmao, I'm crying, it was a cop-out because I originally wanted one of them to die because I'm awful but then I was too weak to write the scene lmfao).

FILL: TEAM IWAIZUMI HAJIME/OIKAWA TOORU, G

[sotongsotong]

Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru, Haikyuu!
no tags
445 words, Card Captor Sakura part 2 (kigurumi are like pyjama animal suits btw lmao)



“Iwa-chan!” Oikawa squawks. “How can you even move in that!?”

“Dunno, ask Makki later,” Hajime calmly says while he dodges a blast of water that almost bruises him on the shoulder, quickly pulling out a Clow Card to summon Firey in a bid to stall for time; he’s well aware that Firey can only last so long against Watery but it’s worth a try. “It’s pretty loose though, so I guess it works out in the end.”

It seems that Oikawa is still unsatisfied with his blasé attitude towards Hanamaki’s latest effort, for he yells, “But you’re wearing a freaking Godzilla kigurumi!” Without missing a beat, he leaps forward, landing beside Hajime, and flicks a spell parchment towards the rampaging Watery. Electricity sparks forth when he utters the command for it, briefly stunning the Clow Card.

Hajime turns to glare at him. “And what’s so wrong about that?”

The other boy stares, then, groans. “I know you love Godzilla and everything else pertaining to it with a force that could rival a diehard AKB48 fan at their live show, but this is still ridiculous!”

“Well, I think this is the best thing Makki has come up with so far!” Gesturing towards his kigurumi, Iwaizumi continues, “Plus, it’s really super comfy— compared to the tuxedo suit and cape he made wear last time, this is practically heaven-- stop looking at me so judgementally!”

“At least you looked dashing in the other one,” Oikawa sniffs. “Now you just look unfairly cute, it’s distracting.”

Hajime splutters. “Why you—“

Always on the worst sort of cue, Hanamaki pops up around the corner of the hallway door behind them, camcorder already hard at work. He snickers, letting his faint eyebrows wiggle. “Ohohoho, what’s this? Trouble in paradise?”

Matsukawa swoops in and settles himself on top of Hanamaki’s head. “Sorry to interrupt your lovers spat, but I think you two have more pressing matters to attend to.” He nods towards their front; Watery had recovered, looming ever closer with Firey following close behind. “Like that.”

“Thank you for your help, o’ Great Sun Guardian,” Hajime retorts dryly, moving forward to deal with the current situation anyway.

Matsukawa shrugs and smiles. “I do try.”

“Fight-o, fight-o!” Hanamaki cheers him on, kicks Oikawa on the hip to set him into action as well. “You too, Hanger Tooru! Don’t let Hajime-chan keep the limelight all to himself, you’re supposed to be rivals remember?”

Oikawa yelps, rubbing his hip while wrinkling his nose at the smug duo. “We’re not your daily primetime drama entertainment!”

He shakes his head as he joins the fray, just catching the cheeky end of a ”there’s barely any difference!”

Fill: Team Kuroo Tetsurou/Tsukishima Kei, T

[beltenebra]

Tsukishima-centric Gen Haikyuu!!
very vague mentions of sexual attraction, some passing mentions of Kuroo/Bokuto, Kagayama/Hinata, Suga/Asahi, telepathy, mindreading
Word Count 1015

The 'Everything is in canon except that Tsukki is telepathic' AU


Of course he liked music, who didn’t like music? Like most people, he has spent a lot of his early teens evolving his musical tastes and expanding his collection. Like many teens, Tsukishima walks around with headphones on a lot of the time.

Unlike most people and many teens, Tsukishima does this in self-defense.

He remembers very clearly when he first started hearing voices. He was eleven and for two days he thought he was going crazy.

The first day he spent arguing with himself, convinced he was hallucinating. He couldn’t possibly be hearing his teacher going over her grocery list during their silent reading time or his brother freaking out about his calculus test while blithely telling their mother that he was going to ace it, no problem.

The second day, the hallucinations persisted and he started testing it out. His mother was making breakfast while he and Akiteru sat sleepily at the table. Akiteru was filling her in on the details of his upcoming class trip and she was responding normally, making listening noises and occasionally asking questions but Tsukishima could hear a quiet but steady monolog.

I hope everything is ok with Hana-chan. I’m a terrible big sister, I should have known that she had another doctor’s appointment coming up. I didn’t even ask her how it went. I know she’s been worried but it’s hard for a first time mom. Oh god, what if something is wrong with the baby? I’ll have to call her as soon as the boys leave for school. It won’t be too early to call, will it? I was always up far too early with Akiteru. I guess we’ll see.

Tsukishima caught his mom’s eye. “How is Aunt Hanako doing?”

His mother stopped in her tracks, visibly startled. “She’s doing fine, Kei. I’m planning to give her a call later, I’ll tell her you asked about her.”

Huh, he thought to himself. I seem to be telepathic.

It got stronger as he got older but luckily he also got better at controlling it. He would visualize a wall with everyone else on the other side. His mother fretted that he spent too much time by himself but he liked to minimize the impact of others as much as possible. He couldn’t escape school of course but classes didn’t take up so much of his brainpower that he couldn’t shield himself from his classmates.

Volleyball was trickier. When he was concentrating hard on other things, like strategy or blocking spikes back into people’s smug faces, it was more difficult to keep himself completely shut off.

Mostly it was like a low level hum, background noise that was fairly easy to tune out but sometimes he got very distinct wisps of thought from his teammates.

Tsukishima knew way more about Sugawara-sempai’s private life than he wanted to. No, he had never considered that he could climb Azumane like a tree. Well, Suga could. He probably couldn’t - too tall to start with, not to mention the fact that Azumane would probably die of shock.

He knew that Tanaka was genuinely afraid of ghosts but would rather die than admit it. Tsukishima took perverse pleasure in collecting and recounting the most terrifying stories he heard for Tanaka’s benefit. In his defense, no one ever told him he had to use his powers for good.

Sometimes his abilities came in handy, he knew within five seconds of meeting Kuroo and Bokuto that they were completely crazy about each other. Sure, many people had inferred that but Tsukishima had an inside view of just how much tension had built up over the years. One of them was going to crack any day now. It made him pretty confident about his position in the betting pool.

Yamaguchi was the only person he had really talked to about it. Once it was distressingly clear that Yamaguchi was dead set on being his best friend he figured they had to discuss it. He took it remarkably in stride. ‘Wow, Tsukki! You really can do anything, huh! Yamaguchi thoughtfully did his best to keep his thoughts to himself when they hung out and what did seep through was comfortingly normal. With the occasional exception of course, Tsukishima wondered if he should encourage Yamaguchi’s unspoken desires for tattoos and a piercing or two.

Kagayama really was usually thinking about volleyball. And things related to volleyball. Like whether his math score would affect the next tournament, or Oikawa-proof strategies, or Hinata.

Tsukishima complained a lot about Hinata, he found his perkiness, positivity, and crazy amounts of energy genuinely annoying. Shortly after they met their new teammates Yamaguchi asked if Hinata’s mind was annoying too. The problem with Hinata was that when it came to his thoughts, he wasn’t annoying at all. He was the most straight forward person Tsukishima had ever met - he said what he was thinking. Basically all the time. Tsukishima couldn’t quite believe it at first. He actually had to stop and tune into Hinata specifically to be sure. But with Hinata, what you heard was pretty much it.

He heads into the club room and drops his bag in front of his locker, iPod thumbed off for now but headphones still firmly in place. Hinata and Kagayama were having a heated conversation while they changed. Hinata seemed to have the upper hand due to Kagayama’s distraction at Hinata’s increasing nakedness. Hinata hadn’t noticed.

Hinata turned to him with an earnest expression. “Tsukki, tell Dork-ayama that we’re going to crush Seijou next week and that the Grand King has nothing on us. Our new moves are unstoppable!”

Kagayama cast Tsukishima a sidelong look that clearly said ‘Help!’ and Tsukishima just chuckled. Hinata had no doubt in his mind, everything was just as he said. He shrugged, “Maybe you should listen to him.”

He could hear the echo of Kagayama’s shock and he suppressed the chuckle that bubbled up. Hinata was off and running, his chatter a soothing babble as Tsukishima put his headphones away and got ready to play.

FILL: Team Kozume Kenma/Kuroo Tetsurou, T

[underscored]

major character death, bokuaka, guardian angels au
8,581 words........

It isn’t often that angels are ordered to their superiors’ offices, and even more uncommon that they are called upon to recruit one more for their numbers. It is even rarer that a specific angel will be asked for to perform a recruitment—and the Recruitment Bureau doesn’t make it a habit to pick and choose.

So when Akaashi receives an e-mail from Kuroo asking for him, and particularly him to go to his office, he knows he that this is important. He rushes down the hallways, taking the second left and then a quick turn to the right. Akaashi raps on Kuroo’s door, and a sly, catlike voice rings out from the other end.

“Come on in.”

Akaashi pushes the door open. Kuroo is lounging behind his desk, reading his collection of human newspapers from the next week. He puts the paper down when Akaashi steps into the room, giving him a nod. “Nice outfit,” Kuroo says, and Akaashi flushes. Kuroo’s suit is, as usual, freshly pressed, with an obnoxious popped collar. It somehow manages to look good on him, which is even more distressing, and Akaashi is suddenly self-conscious of his plain grey and white getup.

During his mortal life, Akaashi would never have thought that heaven would be full of attractive people all wearing suits. Somehow, with someone like Kuroo at the helm of the Recruitment Bureau, this idea makes a lot of sense. Kuroo gestures towards the seat across the table and Akaashi sits down, noting how soft the cushions were, how smooth the velvet. Kuroo snaps his fingers, and a cup of tea and a saucer of four Tim Tam biscuits appear on the desk in front of Akaashi. He picks out one of the newspapers from the stack on his left, sliding it over and passing it to him. “Read the front page first.”

Akaashi skims the headline. It is from the New York Times, reporting on a terrible earthquake that will shake Brooklyn in two days to come. A chill runs through him as he reads the casualty list: one-hundred and ninety-five dead, over five hundred injured. He is about to turn the page of the paper before Kuroo suddenly pipes up, “You’re going to want to hear this from me.”

Akaashi sets the newspaper down, a sense of dread welling up inside him. Kuroo’s brow is crossed and his tone is uncharacteristically somber. Most of Akaashi’s superiors have been rendered apathetic towards the deaths that result in the birth of an angel: they consider it a cause for celebration. As one of the more recently dead Akaashi knows that this is not necessarily such. There are people back on earth who will mourn the now-angels’ deaths, family and friends who lie in bed unable to sleep because they miss them. Kuroo takes a deep breath.

“You know why you became an angel, right?”

Frown lines mar Akaashi’s forehead. “I saved my best friend’s life.” They had been out after a volleyball match in high school when a drunk driver swerved off the road onto the pavement, and Akaashi had pushed Bokuto out of the way and taken the hit himself. That had been six years ago. The uneasy feeling inside Akaashi grows, ebbing through his veins, and a freezing grip grabs hold of the back of his neck. This can’t be good. “Is this… This isn’t about Bokuto, is it?”

Kuroo nods, and Akaashi feels like he has been punched in the gut.

His lips part to speak, but no words come out. A jumble of thoughts run through his mind: Bokuto is now—no, will soon be dead—he will perish in an earthquake while he is presumably on holiday, and Kuroo has brought him here to tell him that his previous effort had been in vain—wait, no, that wouldn’t concern the angels otherwise—wait, what—oh. Oh. Akaashi’s eyes widen, and somehow, he manages to string a sentence together.

“He died saving someone and you want me to go and get him.”

Kuroo nods, flipping the paper to the centerfold. Akaashi’s heart clenches as he sees the photo on the page, one of Bokuto from his high school graduation, smiling at the camera with pride, glee, and a certain determination that burned in him, one that Akaashi had always loved. The headline reads, “Tourist Dies Trying to Locate Child in Neighborhood School; Koutarou Bokuto, 24, Remembered as a Hero.” Definitely angel candidate material, and the sort of human being Kuroo likes to recruit for their numbers. Still, Akaashi shakes his head in disbelief as he speaks, softly.

“You know how attached I am,” he says. “You know how much he meant to me. I sacrificed my life for his—wouldn’t you want someone else to pick him up? Someone who won’t get like,” Akaashi gestures to himself, “This.” He is aware that his display of emotion is far from that of most human beings, and universes away from Bokuto Koutarou’s, but he still feels like a disaster. He isn’t sure how he’s going to react when he sees Bokuto again, how he’ll express the words left unsaid. Akaashi bites the inside of his cheek.

Kuroo smiles back with a strange warmth. The look in his eyes is oddly soft, a far cry from his usual devilish glare and shit-eating grin. Even his tone is oddly gentle as he explains his reasoning, “I just thought it might be nice for Bokuto to wake up and see his best friend.”

Ah.

Akaashi swallows the lump in his throat. Memories of their high school days come rushing back; Akaashi talking Bokuto out of his mood swings on the court, Bokuto calling Akaashi late at night to see if he wants an extra lunch. Akaashi walking by Bokuto’s house every morning before volleyball practice, fetching their team’s ace before they show up at school together. He supposes it is only apt that he goes to pick Bokuto up one more time. Akaashi’s eyes meet Kuroo’s, whose smile is still unwavering.

“I take it you’re going to The Lake of Souls to retrieve him in two days?”

Akaashi just nods.



The Lake of Souls is calm, a layer of silver stardust cast over murky grey. Akaashi peers into it, barely able to make out his reflection on the surface, though he can still see white light peeking through from the bottom of the water. He’s made it here in good time. Akaashi removes his suit jacket and casts it haphazardly on the ground, taking a deep breath before diving in.

Angels don’t drown like humans do. They don’t need to breathe, don’t need oxygen to keep their bodies running and hearts pumping. Though with a human form comes human responses to situations, and being submerged in deep water is certainly uncomfortable. Akaashi does his best to hold his breath while he pushes through the deep water, passing by silvers of souls that have recently departed. Echoes of their final thoughts ring through his mind—their regrets, their hopes, their wishes for those that they left behind. Akaashi steels himself, trying to ignore the dull ache tugging in his chest.

Bokuto is in here somewhere. He’ll know him when he sees him. With that thought, Akaashi continues to push through the lake, swimming deeper and closer towards the bright light at the bottom.

Darkness is starting to cloy around the edges of his vision, and it feels like wind is being sucked out from his lungs. The voices around him grow louder, stronger; the cries of the dying are so lonely, so pained. Akaashi frowns, trying to block the words out, trying to fight against the heavy, heavy sensation of water crushing against his body. The glow grows brighter and brighter with every push against the current. He is almost there.

A flash of light suddenly jumps out of him, so bright that it is nearly blinding. He has to lift a hand to shield his eyes, and for a second, he almost feels like his heart’s stopped.

Bokuto is there at the bottom of the lake, shining with radiating light. He is curled in a fetal position, eyes closed and a soft smile etched onto his face, so peaceful that he could almost be sleeping. There’s a strange, choking sensation in his throat as he swims closer towards Bokuto, one that he can’t seem to ignore.

Akaashi wraps his left arm around Bokuto’s torso, almost like he is giving him a hug. A tight, clenching feeling digs into his heart as he kicks through the water, swimming upward and pushing up, gasping as he treads the surface and takes his first mouthful of air. His vision clears as air slowly reenters his veins, and Akaashi turns to Bokuto, leaning down to whisper into his ear. “You aren’t alone any more.”

Akaashi pulls away, frowning; he can’t help but feel a little silly upon whispering the words. Of course Bokuto isn’t alone. He’d never been alone. Not while Akaashi was alive because he was constantly surrounded by friends, and unless something had changed drastically after Akaashi’s subsequent death, that was likely to remain a constant. Then again, Akaashi can’t be sure. The death of a loved one could change people— he knows dying had certainly changed him.

Akaashi takes hold of Bokuto’s waist and begins to swim towards the shore, glad to be rid of the voices of the other recently dead. They will all find their version of the afterlife soon, be it reincarnation or heaven or hell, depending on what they believe in; not everyone is as fortunate to have died a death as virtuous as Bokuto’s, or as his own. Soon, they will be free from the anguish of having passed on. They reach the edge of the lake and Akaashi effortlessly lifts Bokuto up, carrying him further from the water and leaving him splayed out against the ground. He taps Bokuto lightly on the wrist.

“Wake up,” he murmurs. This is hauntingly close to what it used to be like in high school, when Akaashi would sleep over at Bokuto’s when they had volleyball practice the next morning. Both of them were once morning people, up and willing to face the day at six a.m.: now, Akaashi prefers to sleep in for as long as he can, downing cups and cups of coffee before he begins the day. It’s like peering through a window into another life. He gives Bokuto a light shake. “It’s me.”

Bokuto’s eyes flutter open, staring into the clear, blue, sky. Akaashi hesitates for a split second. What if Bokuto can’t remember him, or what if he doesn’t want to? The thought goes right out the window as Bokuto splutters on a mouthful of water, coughing silver liquid from his lungs. Akaashi leans in to support him, pulling him upwards and giving him a pat on the back. Bokuto turns to stare at Akaashi, jaw practically falling open. “A- Akaashi? Keiji? I thought you were dead. Are you an angel--“

The edges of Akaashi’s lips turn up in a small smile. “I am.”

And so are you goes unspoken between the two of them. For once in his life, Bokuto is quiet, gaze completely fixated on Akaashi. A callused hand reaches out to touch Akaashi’s face and a strange sense of warmth kindles inside him, like setting fire to coals that have been left there for years. Finally, Bokuto pulls away, eyes wide with concern.

“The girl. In the earthquake. Do you know about her? Was she okay in the end?”

Akaashi’s gaze turns to glance up at the sky. A light like a shooting star blasts across the horizon, pausing to form a single droplet of white liquid in mid-air that falls into the lake. Her final cries ring through the atmosphere, a heart-wrenching “Help me” followed by a quieter “Thank you”, and then silence. Akaashi turns back to face his childhood best friend: no, the best friend he’s ever had. There’s Bokuto’s answer.

Bokuto’s eyes well up with tears. He wraps his arms around Akaashi like he did when they were younger, buries his head in the crook of Akaashi’s neck, and starts to cry.

Re: FILL: Team Kozume Kenma/Kuroo Tetsurou, T (2/5)

[underscored]

“So, we’re here to fight ghosts and evil spirits and werewolves and stuff? That’s so. Cool.”

They are sitting on a couch in the lounge of the trainee department, going over the basics of being an angel and what it entails. Bokuto’s grin is so bright that it could run a third-world country’s electric mill for a week. Akaashi can’t help but smile back. Now that Bokuto has calmed down from the initial shock of dying young he seems to be quite enamored with the idea of being a supernatural crime-fighter, eyes brimming with glee as Akaashi goes through the manual. The uniform looks great on him as well: Bokuto looks great in his three-piece suit. Akaashi flushes, and the same warm feeling reawakens inside him.

For a moment, he ponders saying something, ponders leaning forward and pressing his lips against Bokuto’s ever-so-softly. Perhaps he could muster up the courage to admit “I used to have the biggest crush on you and it might be coming back.” A burning sensation ignites at the tip of his ears, and Akaashi hastily flips to the next page of the manual. No. This is probably the most inappropriate time possible to bring up old wounds. What is he supposed to say, anyway?

“Hey I just met you again, and this is crazy, but we’re both dead now, so date me maybe?”

Akaashi groans inwardly, and the tips of his ears flush even pinker. This is a clear sign that he’s been hanging out with Kuroo too much. Next thing he knows, he’s going to start declaring how kind he is to all of Heaven and Hell, or start actively keeping up with recent human Internet memes.

Akaashi shudders, fixing his gaze, and his thoughts back onto Bokuto. He can’t help but notice that the years have treated him well. Bokuto is no taller, and slightly less muscular than he used to be; Akaashi ponders whether he continued playing volleyball after high school, but decides not to ask lest he brings up old wounds. However, there’s an air of maturity that was never there, a realer, more solid confidence in his wild gestures as he bombards Akaashi with a litany of questions. Bokuto is babbling on and on about whether demons were real (“yes, we just covered that”) and why humans couldn’t see them (“because our job is to vanquish them before they can hurt anyone”). He suddenly steels his gaze, slamming a hand dramatically onto the side of the couch.

“Akaashi, I have a very important question for you.” Bokuto grins. “Do aliens exist?”

Akaashi has to cover his mouth to prevent himself from snorting. He leans in, whispering into Bokuto’s ear as if he is telling him a great and terrible secret. “Yes.”

Bokuto’s eyes widen with glee. He pumps both his fists into the air, yelling far too loudly for it to be appropriate.

“I knew it!” he exclaims. “Oh my god. If only Oikawa knew. I’m sure he’d do anything to learn the truth… Ah,” Bokuto says, his face falling with the thought. He turns to stare at the floor, shoulders suddenly slumped, looking far more like the high school student that Akaashi once knew. “I don’t think he’s ever going to find out, is he?”

Akaashi shakes his head, placing a hand on Bokuto’s back. The same sense of déjà vu from when they were at the lake returns to him, and they sit there for a moment in a wordless exchange. Even the name “Oikawa” is one he hasn’t heard in what feels like a hundred years. Akaashi says nothing, awaiting one of Bokuto’s downs or mood swings, waiting for him to make some sort of self-deprecating comment.

Bokuto breaks the moment with a smile. It doesn’t quite reach his eyes, but the act alone is enough to make Akaashi jolt. The Bokuto he had known would never have been able to get there without some coaxing, some weaning, and a good dose of pumping up. Akaashi twiddles his toes in his leather shoes while Bokuto speaks.

“I miss everyone. Is this how you felt when you first died too?”

Akaashi nods in return. “Yeah.” Even listening to Bokuto talk is enough to make him miss home all over again: his younger sister, his volleyball team, and his parents, strict as they were. He shifts slightly in his seat. “How were they doing… If you don’t mind me asking?”

“Right now? Pretty good!” Bokuto says, and his eyes light up a little. “Yukie graduated top of our class and went to Tokyo University, and we still stay in touch. Saru’s working at his parents’ store. We’re still quite close. The two of them really helped me get through life when you…” His voice trails off. “You know.”

“Ah.” Akaashi fiddles with the cuff of his shirt. Something doesn’t feel quite right: he knows in theory that he should be happy that everyone was doing well, but there’s a piece missing in the puzzle. “How about my parents? My sister?”

Bokuto gives Akaashi a thumbs-up. “Hinoka’s doing well. Your parents… They really loosened up. Last I checked, she had a boyfriend. And your parents know. Can you imagine that?”

Akaashi’s voice is fairly flat as he mutters, “Maybe.” A wrenching feeling twists inside him: he suspects that things may not have been that smooth, but he continues to speak. “Tell me more about you though, if you’d like. What have you been up to for the last six years?”

“Ah, I got a volleyball scholarship, so I went to university too! Who would have guessed, right?” Bokuto puffs up a little in pride, like an owl showing off its feathers, and Akaashi can’t help but think it’s endearing despite the stabbing feeling in his gut. “At first, I wasn’t sure if I wanted to keep playing, but I talked to Yukie and Saru and they said that was what you would have wanted. So I graduated… Somehow,” he laughs, “With a lot of help, it was kind of hard at first but it was worth it in the end.” Bokuto shrugs. “I’m not sure I’d have made it without Yukie, really. She’s a star.”

Guilt stabs into Akaashi like a knife. He examines the tips of Bokuto’s fingers, nails blunt and stubby where he’d bit them from years before.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you,” Akaashi says softly. He hadn’t thought about how everyone was doing back on Earth for years, and talking to Bokuto is bringing waves of remorse crashing back. “I wish that I’d been…” Alive? Not quite, because his being dead is the only reason Bokuto managed to live for six more years after. So Akaashi leaves the words hanging between them, his deepest wishes left unsaid.

Bokuto leans in, wrapping his arms around Akaashi and pulling him into a crushing embrace.

“Aw man! Don’t worry, I got through, right? Because I’m the best.” He pulls away, giving Akaashi a wink. “Besides, you’re here now. I never thought I’d see you again!”

Bokuto’s hug feels like warm sand on the beach, a summer’s day, and for a moment, the sinking feeling inside Akaashi ebbs. “Me too,” Akaashi responds as he pulls away, though Bokuto’s touch still lingers. It’s good to have Bokuto back.

He realizes this means he’s glad that Bokuto’s dead, and the sense of guilt returns, ten times stronger.

Re: FILL: Team Kozume Kenma/Kuroo Tetsurou, T (3/5)

[underscored]

It has been a few days since that exchange, and Akaashi hasn’t seen as much of Bokuto as he would have liked. Bokuto has been largely busy with induction, which means that he’s mostly training with Kuroo and his team. (The thought of Bokuto and Kuroo interacting is one that Akaashi had never considered, and he doesn’t want to think about it too much for the sake of his own sanity.) Meanwhile, Akaashi has been in and out of Heaven on quick search and destroy missions. He nips in to report back and pops out back to Earth. This means that he hasn’t even really had the chance to sit down with Bokuto for lunch—the most communication they’ve had as of late has been through the angels’ instant messaging platform.

Akaashi isn’t sure whether or not he’s missed Bokuto’s slew of unnecessary emojis.

Finally, Akaashi is done with his sudden slew of missions, and the head of Spirit Deployment has given him strict orders to take at least a one-week break. Akaashi’s first instinct upon being dismissed is to message Bokuto and ask if he’s free to meet up, but is met with no reply. Two hours pass and Bokuto has yet to appear online.

Akaashi squints at his phone screen. He guesses that Bokuto is probably still in training, or is busy chatting with Kuroo after he’s finished, going along with his plan to plot everyone’s inevitable doom. Akaashi sighs, flopping back onto his bed, dropping his phone by his side and staring at the ceiling. Well, if the latter is the case, it’s probably a good thing Bokuto is making friends. Even if said friends consist of somewhat questionable company. Akaashi sighs.

Speaking of company, Bokuto probably misses Yukie, Saru and the rest of their old friends. Akaashi balls up his fists and then unfurls them; he knows he’s certainly starting to miss them again, as well as his family. A sudden thought crosses Akaashi’s mind, and his eyes dart over to check his phone. Still no answer from Bokuto.

That probably suits him just fine. Akaashi sits up in his bed, puts on his shoes and walks out into the hallway. If he’s so nostalgic for home all of a sudden, he supposes he can whet his curiosity himself.

He passes by some of the lounges (and can hear two loud, guffawing voices that sound distinctly like Bokuto and Kuroo’s—well, that explains a lot) and takes a turn to the right, exiting the building and entering a tall, stately tower a few doors down from where the angels live. He comes face-to-face with mahogany shelves and shelves full of books, stretching farther than his vision can hope to see. On a massive high pedestal in the middle of the library lie millions of open tomes, self-writing quills recording every single moment in human history. Ahead of them sits a hunched-over, blonde man, and Akaashi walks up to him and offers a polite nod. “How are you doing, Kenma?”

Kenma glances up from the game console in his hands. Akaashi is pretty certain that Kenma hadn’t been alive any more when the PS Vita was invented, and he isn’t quite sure how he’d managed to get so addicted, but one thing that Akaashi has learned repeatedly since the moment of his birth is that it is useless to question people. Especially in the afterlife. Kenma raises an eyebrow at him, fingers still mashing the buttons of his game. “I didn’t think I’d ever see you in here.”

Akaashi flinches. Angels are flat-out banned from the archives hall for five years after they first arrive in Heaven, blocked out from it by a magical barrier designed to keep them from living in the past. He knows that most angels pay a visit to the archives hall in their fifth year of service—they check on their loved ones, or read the story of their own life. Most of them leave in tears, realizing that they can’t do anything to impact the people they care about any more. Kenma had flat-out told Akaashi when he’d first arrived to not bother until he was sure that he could handle it, and Akaashi was never one to ignore solid advice. Until now. Akaashi leans in against the counter, lowering his voice. “Did Kuroo tell you about Bokuto?”

A flash of understanding crosses Kenma’s eyes, and he sets down his video game. The sounds of slicing and dicing continue to blare out from the console as Kenma turns to face the computer screen at the side of his counter, punching in the names, “Bokuto, Koutarou” and “Akaashi, Keiji”. He turns the monitor around so Akaashi can see, and the words “D-94620” appear on it in a dark, serif font. Kenma gestures towards the hallway in the middle. “Room 980, down that way.”

Akaashi gets up from where he is standing. “Thank you, Kenma.”

Kenma just shrugs, picking up his game console and resuming his game where the magic had left off. The words ping me if you need to talk about it go unsaid between the two of them. Akaashi has to physically restrain himself from running down the hallway and settles on a quick march, eager to learn about what had happened after his death so many years ago. He reaches the specified location and steps into the oval room, eyes scanning the well-kept shelves of books for a familiar title. A part of him ponders reading up on his parents and sister, but he decides against it—he’ll take this one step at a time.

He pulls the tome with the words “Bokuto, Koutarou” engraved on its spine off the shelf before walking towards the couch in the center of the room. He thumbs the book’s blue velvet cover and gold embossed words, before opening it to a page in the middle. The tome somehow opens to the exact point in time that Akaashi is looking for.

Reading about Bokuto’s reaction to his death makes him want to physically throw up.

A chill travels up Akaashi’s spine. He isn’t sure why he wanted to learn that Bokuto hadn’t slept for days, or that he’d pulled out of school for the rest of the year in grief. There are photos of Yukie meeting Bokuto at his home, her coaxing him into getting out of bed, her having to physically drag him out of the house to meet the rest of their friends. Akaashi has to squeeze his eyes shut to stop himself from crying. Of course Bokuto would react this badly; Akaashi had given his own life to save his. Still, he can’t stop himself from reading, can’t stop the voice at the back of his head that whispers “What have you done?”

He flips the page, praying that he’ll soon read about a silver glimmer of hope. The first words to jump out at him are somewhat positive, and he heaves a sigh of relief.

Bokuto re-enrolls in school the next year, determined to finish up his education. Because of his circumstances he isn’t allowed to play high school volleyball any more, but he’s been offered a scholarship from a nearby university regardless. The only condition is that he must pass the entrance exams. There are photographs of him and Yukie hanging out near Tokyo University after her university classes, Bokuto nearly hidden behind a mountain of books while Yukie sips on an iced tea. Akaashi can’t help but smile at the image, and nearly laughs out loud at the next line of text: “Koutarou spent at least 30,000 yen on food, sweets, and other baked goods for Yukie as payment for her tutoring over the course of that year.”

The next photo is of Bokuto, Saru and Yukie together at a party, and then there’s one of him drinking with some new friends. Then there’s one of Bokuto lying face down, drunk-crying on Saru’s bed, blabbering about how much he misses Akaashi. Akaashi skims the caption, presumably spoken by Saru.

“You need to find another way to cope with your swinging feelings, dude.”

Remorse grips Akaashi with a cold, merciless hand. Everything he’s been shown about this new Bokuto so far implies that he’d learned to deal with Akaashi’s death somewhere between this point in his story and Bokuto dying himself, but Akaashi pushes on, continuing to read. There is a paragraph about Bokuto visiting a school counselor, begging her to help him deal with his highs and lows, and his recurring nightmares about Akaashi’s death. She lets him cry into her arms, before writing him a referral to a mental health professional. The same pang of guilt stabs through Akaashi once more.

He turns the page. At least the next image is of one at Bokuto and Yukie at a UVERWorld concert, their faces illuminated by the light of glowsticks. Akaashi’s heart stops when he realizes that Bokuto and Yukie are holding hands. The two of them look indescribably happy.

Akaashi feels himself paling as he continues to read about the couple. Bokuto and Yukie begin to date after his second year of university. It doesn’t last for very long, and the two of them decide they are better off as friends, but Akaashi can’t help but feel like he’s been slapped in the face. Of course Bokuto would date around; he’s always been extremely interested in both men and women, and people who identified as neither. Akaashi knows he should be glad—maybe—that Bokuto perhaps wasn’t smitten with him in return. That would have been yet another weight of grief that he would have had to deal with.

The next picture is of Bokuto kissing a dark-haired, slender boy, and Akaashi can’t help but wish it had been him in the photograph. Akaashi swiftly turns the page, only to see a selfie of Bokuto and Akaashi’s younger sister Hinoka, the two of them grinning into the camera at an unfamiliar café.

The text underneath the photo reads about how neither his family nor Bokuto had been able to face each other for years after the funeral, both sides not wanting to be reminded of Akaashi’s death. Then one day, Bokuto had sent Hinoka a text message, asking her if she wanted to meet for lunch. She’d accepted his offer immediately, and the two of them enjoyed baked rice and crepes over a fine Saturday afternoon. He’d told her to think of him as “your second big brother—not a replacement, but another one. You can rely on me!” Then another photo of the two of them, this time in a purikura booth.

A small wave of relief sweeps over Akaashi. At least she seemed to be doing all right from the photos, even if the early days after his death must have been difficult. He wonders with a jolt if she has learned that Bokuto has died too, and hopes that this boyfriend Bokuto mentioned would help her get through it. Akaashi would find a way to end him if he didn’t. Somehow.

He skims a picture of Bokuto holding the hand of one of his new friends as she is rushed to the hospital, and then a snapshot of Bokuto grinning at his university volleyball team, wearing the “Captain” armband proudly on his left bicep. Akaashi can’t help but swell with pride when he sees the photo of Bokuto and his parents smiling proudly at his graduation, along with his Facebook caption of “I can’t believe I did it!”

The Bokuto in this part of the story seems so much more sedate, more mature than the one he knew. He still has the old Bokuto’s energy, his life and emotion practically bouncing off the pages, but there’s another quality to him that was never there before. Akaashi toys with the edge of his shirt. It’s a good thing that Bokuto has grown up for sure, but Akaashi never been great at dealing with change.

There is a final photograph, one of Bokuto, Saru and Yukie in Narita Airport, captioned “On the way to New York!” Next to it is the newspaper clipping that he’d read a few weeks ago, the one from which he’d learned about Bokuto’s death. Bile gathers at the back of Akaashi’s throat and he slams the book shut.

His phone begins to buzz as though it is on cue—it is an instant message.

Bokuto K.: akaashi, come join me and kuroo! we’re talking about you and having a great time. he knows ALL about you in high school now!!!!

Akaashi feels his face flush. Oh god, no. The last thing he wants is for his boss to learn about the time he’d gotten into the shower and forgot to bring a towel. Or the time he’d gotten distracted by a cute boy while walking down the hallway and then crashed into a pole. He buries the waves of emotion from earlier, deciding that he’ll dissect and digest them in his own time. Right now, he has a best friend to handle, and a reputation to maintain.

Re: FILL: Team Kozume Kenma/Kuroo Tetsurou, T (4/5)

[underscored]

Bokuto passes the training regimen in almost record time, and it’s only a month before he’s given clearance for his first mission. He and Akaashi are sent down to Hong Kong to slay a demon who has been been terrorizing the streets of Kowloon, haunting its residents, looming over them with a specter of negative energy. The two of them chase the creature as it slinks down a small alleyway, cornering it at the end. Three magical bullets in the middle of its chest and bam bam bam it is dead and gone, crashing onto the ground and dissipating into spirit energy. Bokuto slings an arm around Akaashi, giving him a bright grin.

“We did it! I just killed my first demon. I’m so awesome,” he exclaims, leaning in and offering Akaashi a high five. “No, we’re so awesome. You were the one with the plan. Get it cornered, shoot it dead. And you shot two of those three shots that hit it…” Bokuto frowns, “Come to think of it I really didn’t do that much at all, did I?”

Akaashi shakes his head. “You helped.” With one bullet and a lot of moral support, but it was nice to have Bokuto back by his side. Even if this time, they were shooting demons instead of hitting spikes.

Bokuto purses his lips. This is normally the part where Akaashi has to talk Bokuto out of a funk, to remind him of the great things he did to help out, and of the great things he later has the potential to do. He is ready to swerve in with some more words and a comforting pat on the shoulder, but Bokuto shrugs, and the smile on his face returns. “I guess one shot in isn’t too bad for my first mission.”

Akaashi almost drops his gun in surprise. He slots the weapon back into his holster, turning back to face Bokuto. Bokuto is staring at where the monster used to be, watching as the remainder of its ashes soars into the sky. Finally, he pulls away, turning back to face Akaashi. “I’ve never been to Hong Kong. Can we look around and explore?”

The two of them soon find themselves wandering the streets of Tsim Sha Tsui, Bokuto marveling each and every time a human walks through either of them. Akaashi has to explain that even though they feel like they’re people, and can eat and sleep like regular people, they really aren’t; this is also to prevent someone from their previous life seeing them, or for someone to recognize Bokuto as the guy from the papers who died trying to save that kid. Bokuto nods, before whirling around and pointing at a barking dog.

“I don’t think that applies to dogs, though. Akaashi, Akaashi, he can see us. I’m pretty sure the puppy knows we’re here.” Bokuto says. The brown-haired mutt begins to bark even louder, and Akaashi squints. He supposes that Bokuto must be right. All dogs go to Heaven, but Akaashi hadn’t thought that the ones from Earth would be able to see angels as well. Bokuto nudges Akaashi on the side. “Let’s go pet him.”

Before Akaashi can respond, Bokuto is off, chasing the puppy down the street. He phases through groups of humans, walking through them like they aren’t even there, and Akaashi sighs. Perhaps some things don’t really change that much after all. Akaashi sighs, running after Bokuto. He has to admit that the idea of petting a dog isn’t entirely unappealing, though. When it comes to Bokuto, there’s something fresh and new almost every day. He’s missed it dearly.

The dog barks, weaving through the legs of a group of young men and then dashing down the street. Both Bokuto and Akaashi run through the men effortlessly, Bokuto laughing and Akaashi unable to keep a wide grin off his face. “We just want to pet you!” Bokuto exclaims, and Akaashi guffaws out loud. They run through a group of old ladies, and then through a couple and the park bench they’re sitting on. Akaashi pants. He knows that logically he can keep going, but his corporeal form is starting to feel a little out of breath.

“Are you sure—it wants to be—petted—”

“I don’t actually know!” Bokuto hollers, pausing in his tracks. They are smack in the middle of a busy street: people are jostling against them in all directions. Akaashi runs up to where Bokuto is, glancing around for any sight of the dog. The mutt barks at them cheekily one more time before ducking away. Bokuto huffs. “Dammit.”

Now Akaashi gets to give Bokuto his reassuring pat on the back, just like old times. “There are plenty of dogs up in Heaven. We can pet all of them.” Cats, too. Akaashi and Kenma had once wasted an entire day playing with cute baby kittens in a recreational room. It was awesome. Bokuto pouts, crossing his arms.

“Do you think he just didn’t like us?”

Akaashi shakes his head. “Bokuto, dogs love you, unless something has drastically changed. It was probably just shocked to see two people who were supposedly dead, that’s all.” Still, the chase had been fun if not tiring. He wipes some sweat off his brow—he’s all hot and sticky now, and he’s going to have to get this suit dry-cleaned. It was totally worth it. Bokuto slings an arm around Akaashi, and his heart starts to race as a small smile tugs at Bokuto’s lips.

“You’re probably right,” Bokuto says. “I had a good time, anyway. With you,” he adds in a softer voice, and something inside Akaashi melts. “It’s been so long since we got to just hang out like this.”

Akaashi somehow manages to stutter out a “Yeah.” He looks up at Bokuto—their faces are so close that they can almost touch. Bokuto is grinning again, smiling like the scorching Hong Kong sun. And perhaps it’s how good Bokuto looks in the suit, or perhaps it’s the adrenaline, but Akaashi suddenly cups Bokuto’s face, leans in and gives him a quick peck on the cheek.

It takes half a second for Akaashi to realize what he has done, and he stumbles backwards, eyes wide with shock.

“I—oh my god. I’m so sorry,” Akaashi stutters. Bokuto is gaping back at him, eyes wide. “I shouldn’t have done that. I really shouldn’t. I,” he can feel the tips of his ears, and his entire face turning crimson, “I know you aren’t interested, I know you still just died, I don’t know what brought this on,”

“Akaashi,” Bokuto begins, but Akaashi holds up a hand, not ready to let him speak.

“I—I’m so sorry.” Fuck. He’d been so selfish. He’d been so intent on keeping Bokuto to himself, on holding him so close to his heart that he hadn’t stopped for a moment to think about what was best for Bokuto. “Let’s pretend that never happened.”

“Why?” Bokuto responds, blinking back at Akaashi in shock. “Why didn’t you just tell me—”

“Enough,” Akaashi spits. Panic grips him in an icy fist. He’d been enjoying Bokuto’s company, liked having him around, had fun when the two of them were hanging out in his room after hours and watching movies that hadn’t come out yet. And he’s been so selfish, leading Bokuto to think he had his old best friend back when Akaashi wants this, wants more. “Let’s not pursue that thought.”

What about the people who Bokuto left behind? What about Yukie, and Saru, and both his and Bokuto’s families, who had to mourn not once, but twice for people they cared for? Guilt envelops Akaashi in a morbid cocoon and the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. So much for being an angel: he doesn’t even feel like he’s human.

Bokuto grits his teeth. “I can make my own decisions about what I want, okay? I know I enjoyed that. I don’t understand the problem,”

“You don’t know what’s going on,” Akaashi says softly. “You don’t understand just how wrong this is.” He can’t tell Bokuto about what he’s seen. It’s been far too soon after Bokuto’s death; he would be devastated if he were to start thinking about how their friends would react after he died.

Bokuto’s voice is angry, harsh. “We aren’t back in high school any more! Trust me, I can take it. I can make my own decisions about what’s right for myself. I handled myself just fine for years--”

Akaashi narrows his eyes.

“I’m sorry I died and left you to do it, then.”

Bokuto’s eyes widen, and a litany of apologies begins to fall from his lips, “Akaashi, I didn’t mean it,” and “Akaashi, I didn’t want you to feel this way,” but it is far too late. Akaashi feels like someone has shot his own magic bullets into him, bam bam bam, one two three, dead and gone; he snaps his fingers, and he is back in his own room up in Heaven, lying on his bed as though he had just woken up seconds ago.

Akaashi buries his face in his pillow, and cries.

Re: FILL: Team Kozume Kenma/Kuroo Tetsurou, T (5/5)

[underscored]

Days pass and Akaashi goes through the motions. He signs up for missions, solo. He gets lunch and dinner with the other angel who lives on his floor, or alone. He lies on his bed watching movies by himself, staring at the screen but unable to concentrate.

When he really doesn’t know what to do, he walks over to the volleyball court. He doesn’t set any balls, nor spike them; he just sits there alone and stares. His instant messenger program is peppered with notes from Bokuto, begging, pleading for him to talk. Akaashi doesn’t answer.

He can barely face Kuroo when they pass each other in the hallways, or outside. He knows that Kuroo and Bokuto have gotten extremely close in an extremely short period of time, and doesn’t even want to think about what Kuroo must think of him now.

It is Kenma of all people who grabs him in the cafeteria one day, tugging on the edge of his shirt with a, “Do me a favor and talk to Bokuto.” His eyes are narrowed and there is an uncharacteristic edge to his tone, and Akaashi stares at Kenma with utter surprise. Kenma sighs, adding a, “He’s been taking up a lot of Kuroo’s time. Angsting, wondering what he did wrong. Kuroo’s been telling him to talk to you.” Which is exactly what Bokuto has been trying to do—only he’s the one who isn’t reciprocating.

Kenma takes a sip of his carton of chocolate milk. “I don’t know what you saw in there, but so many angels have destroyed themselves by living in the past. Bokuto just wants his best friend back. I want to be able to talk to Kuroo without him worrying about either of you. Do us, and yourself a favor. Listen to Bokuto when you’re ready.” He finishes his chocolate milk, tossing it in a nearby trash can.

“Bokuto’s made his choice. It’s up to you to do what you will with it.” Kenma gives Akaashi a knowing glance.

And you can always talk to me.

With that, Kenma walks away, pulling his video game console out from his pocket. Akaashi can only stare at him, gob-smacked—this is the most he’s ever heard Kenma say at once. His heart is thumping loudly, and his insides are churning with a sense of unease, but he knows that Kenma is right. Akaashi pulls out his phone, and texts Bokuto.

Akaashi K.: I’m sorry. Talk soon.



They agree to meet at a quiet spot in the lounge, on one of the couches tucked away in a corner. Bokuto is fifteen minutes late, as usual; he mutters an apology to Akaashi who just shakes his head. He doesn’t deserve that much. Not after all he’s put Bokuto through over the last six years, and especially after what he’s put him through now.

Akaashi has always been a polite person. He says “please” and “thank you”, always finishes any food offered to him even if he dislikes the taste, and usually allows other people to finish speaking before he cuts in with an opinion. Then again, Bokuto has always had the ability to make him throw caution out the window, restraint to the wind. And even though Bokuto has parted his lips, clearly ready to say something, Akaashi knows it is important that he interrupts and speaks first.

“I’m sorry for ignoring you,” he says, hanging his head.

A tired smile appears on Bokuto’s lips. Now that Akaashi is so close to him he can truly see the toll this has taken on his best friend: angels don’t need to sleep but it certainly helps, and the bags underneath Bokuto’s eyes indicate that he hasn’t rested in a few days. He takes a drink from the paper cup he is holding, and Akaashi catches a whiff of coffee. “Thank you,” he says. “I’m sorry too, I shouldn’t have said what I did, I really messed up there, didn’t I?”

“No,” Akaashi says. “There were a few things that you said but… I ignored you. I felt guilty, so I pushed you away because,” he pauses, “I thought I was selfish for wanting more. I thought it was best for you. It was wrong and I’m… I’m sorry.”

There is a pregnant silence between the two of them. Akaashi shifts uncomfortably in his seat—this is exactly what Bokuto was angry about, and he’d just come out and said that he’d been doing it. Bokuto takes another sip of his drink.

“I used to think you were perfect when we were kids. I used to think Akaashi was so cool, Akaashi knew best! Hearing you apologize is so weird,” he laughs, and the edges of his eyes crinkle up ever so slightly. “Because, it’s Akaashi! Of all people! You didn’t do anything wrong, but now I think about it and you did a lot of things wrong, and you saying sorry it—uh—” Bokuto scratches the back of his head, “It means a lot.”

“You’re stronger now,” Akaashi admits. He looks down at his feet. “Less reliant on other people. I’m happy about that: I just don’t know how to deal with it, so I kept treating you the same.” His voice hitches in his throat. “I’m sorry. How…” He glances up, turning to face Bokuto and looking him in the eye. “How would you like me to treat you?”

“I know what you can do! " Bokuto says, leaning in closer to Akaashi and lacing their fingers together. Akaashi feels his heartbeat grow louder, stronger as Bokuto continues to speak, because Bokuto is here and Bokuto seems to have forgiven him and Bokuto is holding his hand. "Let me look out for you. You've looked out for me for so long. You even saved my life, and then grabbed my soul from the lake another time after that! I think,” he says, smiling, “I think you’re super awesome, and I want to be super awesome in return for you. That's where I'd like you to fit in." Akaashi feels the strange warmth in his chest return. He decides he likes it.

Akaashi squeezes Bokuto’s hand back, half in disbelief. “I… I don’t think I’ve changed that much. You are right. I’m far from perfect. In fact, I don’t think I deserve this at all.”

Bokuto shakes his head. “No, that’s not what I meant! That’s not true at all,” he says, taking a deep breath. “Okay, this is going to sound crazy, but when I ran into that school to try to find the little girl? I was thinking that it was the kind of thing that you’d do. So in a roundabout way, you brought me back to you.”

Akaashi winces. “Actually… That’s what I was feeling bad about,” he mutters. Bokuto blinks back at him, and Akaashi grips his hand. He toys with Bokuto’s fingers. “This is pretty heavy, but I think you deserve to know.”

Akaashi starts talking, and the words just can’t stop. He talks about the archives, the files, the stories locked away. He mentions how he looked up Bokuto’s archive to learn about his life, how it was then when he realized that Bokuto had grown, and changed, and he wasn’t sure how to act around him any more. By then, he is shaking; there are tears in his eyes and his voice hitches in his throat. And then he gets to the last part, the worst part of all.

“I feel terrible for being happy to have you back,” he mutters underneath his breath. “I realized how sad you were when I was gone, and I… I thought about how much I missed you when I first got here, and how I thought I would never see you again. Then I realized that I was happy even though you—you’re gone from everyone else.” And they’ll miss him, and they’ll cry, and they’ll wonder what life would be like if he was still around. Akaashi wipes a tear from his face. Oh no, he is crying. God. In all his years of friendship with Bokuto, he isn’t sure whether Bokuto has seen him cry: it’s always been the other way round. “I feel like I broke everyone’s heart once by dying, and now I’ve gone and done it again.”

Bokuto wraps his arms around Akaashi, pulling him in the tightest of hugs. Akaashi rests his head on Bokuto’s shoulder, taking in a whiff of his cologne. He smells different now, like cedar and citrus, but Akaashi still tastes summer and sunshine and something that he can’t quite place. Finally, they pull away, and Bokuto smiles.

“You didn’t ask me to run into that earthquake, yeah?” Akaashi shakes his head. He buries his head in Bokuto’s chest again, and Bokuto envelops him in another embrace. “And think about it. You said I came out stronger. Everyone on the other side will come out of it super cool and awesome too!”

Akaashi smiles, trying to choke back sobs. What doesn’t kill people makes them stronger, he supposes—and sometimes, what kills people does too, he supposes. The thought makes him laugh to himself. God, he really has been hanging out with Kuroo too much. He squeezes Bokuto’s hand.

“Then let’s get to know each other again.” Akaashi says, leaning in and kissing Bokuto square on the lips.

After all, they have the rest of eternity to do so.

(They aren’t alone any more.)

FILL: TEAM IWAIZUMI HAJIME/OIKAWA TOORU, G

[sotongsotong]

Kyoutani Kentarou/Yahaba Shigeru, Haikyuu!
no tags, mentions of injury
616 words, Touken Ranbu AU so swordboy!Watari & Kyoutani with saniwa!Yahaba


Yahaba admits Kyoutani and Watari into the honmaru’s repair room with a frown.

“You’re both in pretty bad shape,” he remarks, hands waving for them to settle on the tatami floor as he searches for bandages and ointment. Watari moves to assist, but he sends him scurrying back down with a furiously hissed what do you think you’re doing, you’re the one who’s injured!

Kyoutani, on the other hand, rolls his shoulder and remains seated on the ground. He’s quiet, but unusually quiet, Yahaba can see how he favours his right side when he shifts into seiza and that’s cause for a decent amount of concern; it usually means he’s trying to hide an injury so as to not project weakness, or perhaps, prevent Yahaba from noticing.

Well, he notices it anyway; Yahaba sighs and unrolls a cloth bandage. “What happened this time?”

“Kebishii,” Kyoutani answers simply.

The saniwa waits for further enlightenment, eye gradually twitching when the sword doesn’t continue speaking.

(Without really realising it, he’s accidentally torn a slight edge of the bandages in his grasp.)

Watari decides it’s his turn to sigh as well, and explains on Kyoutani’s behalf. “The Kebishii ambushed us while we were on the bridge in map 6-2. Kyoutani helped to delay their frontal assault line as the rest of us tried to retreat.” Here, he frowns. “But the enemy yari was just too fast, so…”

“Injuries are inevitable,” Yahaba concludes for him. He motions for Watari to come forward, puffball ready to begin dabbing ointment onto his injuries. “At least you only suffered medium damage.” He pointedly does not look at Kyoutani when he says this; Kyoutani does not look at him either, choosing to stare holes into the tatami mat instead.

Once he’s done treating Watari, he finally faces Kyoutani full on with his sternest expression.

“Tell me the truth: how badly are you damaged?”

Kyoutani’s eyes dart towards him for one flitting second, then, back to the floor. “Medium.”

Yahaba hisses and raises the puffball threateningly. “Do you want me to use the best but most stinging ointment on you? I vividly remember you hating it with your whole guts the last time I had to apply it.”

“Fine,” Kyoutani finally gives in and huffs. He seems a bit guilty when he states the true extent of his current condition. “Fatigued and borderline critical.”

“Is it bad enough that you need me to revert you into your original sword form for intensive healing?” Yahaba taps his pouch. “I have a token to speed the process up.”

Kyoutani tilts his head as he thinks, and slowly shakes it. “I can manage like this.” Then, in a smaller voice: “You aren’t gonna scold me for getting beaten up so badly?”

His words nearly startles a laugh out of Yahaba, and he starts working on patching Kyoutani up, a slight quirk on the sides of his lips. “No, I’m not, silly. You did good today by working to defend the expedition team, and not running off on your own to attack the Kebishii like the last time.” His fingers are gentle as he helps unbutton Kyoutani’s jacket, lightly running on the other’s skin as he assesses the bruises and lacerations. “No more I’ll fight on my own and die on my own bullshit, so I’m proud of you.”

The tips of Kyoutani’s ears redden. “Oh,” he says.

Watari squints at the both of them. “You two make a good couple; you’ve got the old married couple act down pat already.”

He leaves them both to burst into embarrassment and outrage, laughing as he slides the repair room’s door shut to the echoes of thinly veiled threats and outright intimidation.

FILL: TEAM IWAIZUMI HAJIME/OIKAWA TOORU, G

[sotongsotong]

Kyoutani Kentarou/Yahaba Shigeru, Haikyuu!
no tags
474 words, Touken Ranbu AU


“Clean out the stables.”

Kyoutani grunts in affirmation.

“Groom the horses too, make sure you don’t tangle their manes like last time.”

There goes another grunt.

“Oh, refill their feed while you’re at it; the buckets should be near empty by now.”

And yet another.

Watari inches closer towards the dining hall’s sliding doors; he doesn’t know what Yahaba’s trying to test Kyoutani for by piling those tasks on him, but he doesn’t want to get caught up in its aftermath. Then again, he sighs, someone’s got to at least talk their saniwa down from pushing the other sword against the wall— if it ever comes to that.

(He doesn’t want to spend a whole afternoon on mending the honmaru’s walls, just to see them collapse from Yahaba’s fury again.)

Watari watches with trepidation— and growing wonder— as Yahaba continues listing off things, and Kyoutani, in turn, continues being…obedient; all in all, they’re being surprisingly domestic, and Watari is very much eager to coerce Yahaba into spilling the tea during their drinking session later tonight.

Yahaba suddenly closes his task record book rather loudly. Watari perks up, ready for peacemaking action.

With a heavy sigh, Yahaba pinches the space between his eyes, massaging it. The suspicion is loaded in his voice when he asks, “What’s up with you? You’re so docile today, in fact, too docile. It’s almost too good to be true.” His face darkens. “You’re not hiding any injuries from me again, are you?”

Kyoutani lifts an eyebrow and snorts in return. He takes a while before he speaks, but when he does, it’s a slow mumble. “I’m not. Is it so wrong to try be on my best behaviour, “ a rough swallow, “for you?”

Watari’s ears nearly drop off.

There is a good bit of silence before Yahaba raises a hand and cuffs Kyoutani on his shoulder; it’s too light to be an admonishment, the gentle brush bordering far more towards affection than anything else. “You’re incorrigible.”

”What?” The other sword snaps. His cheeks defy him by reddening ever so slightly, so it’s not out of annoyance. Perhaps, embarrassment then, Watari notes shrewdly. “Where did I err this time?”

“You didn’t,” Yahaba says patiently, as if he’s expected this reaction from Kyoutani and is soothing him for it. “It’s just…you surprised me. A bit.”

“Ah.” Watari feels true smugness as he notices how the tips of Kyoutani’s ears have decidedly become redder as well. “Sorry.”

“Why are you apologising for being good? Idiot. Don’t make me cast a healing spell on you to cure your idiocy.”

“Am not. You’re the one who mistook the wrong sword for refining earlier and wouldn’t stop being guilty about it.”

“That’s—“

Watari creeps out once again; he’s heard enough for now, silently storing this conversation for future purposes.

(E.g— teasing Yahaba and Kyoutani.)

FILL: Team Aldini Takumi/Yukihira Souma,G

[nyatsuuuu]

No Tags, R63
Kuroo Tetsurou/Akaashi Keiji, Haikyuu

more HP AU...except with ladies, and Akaashi is a Beauxbaton

FILL: Team Kozume Kenma/Kuroo Tetsurou, G

[doxian]

major character death

794 words

bokuaka, poltergeist AU.

--

The apartment is on the cheap side because someone died there once, the property agent tells Akaashi. His budget is the very definition of “cheap”, though, so he takes it. Every apartment must’ve had someone die in it at least once anyway, so it’s not like it makes a difference.

But Akaashi notices the difference as soon as he unlocks the door for the first time. He isn’t psychic, doesn’t see dead people. He isn’t particularly attractive to spirits. But the sheer energy in the tiny space is unmistakable.

Also, all of the furniture in the living room floating in the air at once is kind of difficult to miss.

Akaashi doesn’t scream, or slam the door shut to run away, never to return. He stares at the small love seat and coffee table hovering in the middle of the room, watches a vase and a picture frame float past him like he’s remembering the details to refer to later, like a section of the wall that’s gotten riddled with damp or a swarm of ants that’s found its way in through a hole in the window.

Then he takes out his phone and snaps a picture.

The furniture doesn’t stop its dance as Akaashi drags his two suitcases - the only belongings to his name - into his bedroom and unpacks. Thankfully, the bed and the closet are fixed to the floor and to the wall, so those stay put even as the bedside lamp flails in the air, its cord still plugged into its socket, like a balloon tied to a string.

Akaashi finishes unpacking, sits on the edge of his bed, and sighs.

“This is going to be a problem.”

The next day, it’s the lights - flickering on and off in a choreographed rhythm. The day after that, its wind rushing through the living room like a localized tornado. One week later, Akaashi has a paper to write on next to no sleep, and he’s decided he’s had enough. The trouble is he’s pretty sure his landlord won’t allow breach of contract on account of ghosts.

It’s the lights again, today - not flickering, but swelling to full brightness before abruptly going out and then starting again, running from dim all the way up to stark bright.

Akaashi sits at his desk and sighs.

“Hello?” he calls. “I have a lot to do tonight and I’m tired, so I’d appreciate if you could stop that for a few hours.”

The flashing actually stops. Akaashi had never tried merely asking it to stop before, didn’t think the errant spirit would listen to him even if it heard him.

And then there’s a rush of air and a pale, shadowy outline of a boy resolves itself in front of Akaashi, floating in mid-air.

“You’re finally paying attention to me!” The boy crows, appearing to jump so high he touches the ceiling before hovering a little ways above the floor again. He keeps flicking in and out, blurry and then in sharp focus, but Akaashi thinks he makes out broad shoulders and a shock of messy hair - grey-white? Must just be the ectoplasm. Or whatever it is that ghosts are made of.

“Is that what all that was about?” Akaashi says, crossing his arms. “A simple ‘hello’ would have sufficed.”

“Yeah, well,” the ghost-boy looks sheepish, at least from what Akaashi can make out of his expression. “Usually people have a hard time seeing me! And I wanted to show you what I could do, y’know? Make a good first impression! All the previous tenants left after just a couple of days, I wanted to make sure I got it right this time.”

“…I have a feeling that you ‘trying to make an impression’ is probably what drove them away.”

The ghost looks crestfallen.

“Look,” says Akaashi. “This apartment is a steal and I don’t want to leave. And you seem okay. If you can keep it down when I need to work and sleep, I’ll stay.”

“Mmm, but I get so bored,” the ghost whines, flying around in a distressed circle. “If I can’t haunt then what am I supposed to do?”

“I’ll get you something better to mess around with than furniture,” Akaashi promises. “By the way, I’m Akaashi Keiji. If we’re going to be living together, we should probably know each other’s names.”

“Bokuto Koutarou!” says Bokuto, brightly.

That night, the apartment is peaceful and Akaashi gets his first proper sleep in days.

The following day, Akaashi brings home a volleyball as a present. Bokuto bounces it so high he almost breaks a light, but Akaashi figures he’d rather deal with broken pieces of furniture rather than hovering ones.

Re: FILL: TEAM CHIHAYAFURU, T

[psiten]

I'm so glad you liked it!!! And yeah, if *any* series is using magic, it's TeniPuri!

Fill: Team Grandstand, G

[yrindor]

Hinata Shouyou & Nishinoya Yuu & Sugawara Koushi, Haikyuu!!
Tags: no tags, Healer Suga, Tengu Hinata, Tengu Nishinoya
Wordcount: 463 words

Suga was woken rather abruptly by repeated shouts of "Sugawara-san! Sugawara-san!" and something, or rather several somethings jumping on his bed. He opened his eyes just in time to be clipped in the face by a stray wing. He groaned as he sat up.

"Hinata-kun, Nishinoya-kun, do you have any idea what time it is?" he asked, rubbing his eyes.

"We waited and everything!" Hinata said excitedly. "We've been here for hours."

"But we were good and waited until the sun was all the way over the horizon before we woke you up!" Nishinoya added.

"For which I thank you," Suga said, shooing the two tengu off of the bed so that he could rise.

Across the room, Nitori stirred. "Is something wrong, Papa?" he asked sleepily. "I thought I heard yelling."

"Uwaah! You have a nestling too!" Hinata yelled. "How long have you had him? Where'd he come from? What's his name?"

Suga laughed and ruffled the feathers on Hinata's head. "Everything's fine, Ai-kun," he said. "These are a couple of old friends who've come back to visit. I've known them since they were just nestlings themselves."

"They still sound like nestlings, Papa," Nitori said, and Suga chided him gently, but silently, he agreed with the sentiment. He couldn't believe it had been five years already since he had found the two young tengu in the forest, one with a broken wing from when he had tried to jump farther than his young wings would carry him, and the other bruised and dirty from where he had jumped right out of the tree after his friend. Suga had taken them both home with him and nursed them back to health, and they had come back to visit regularly since. They had grown a lot since then, but they still reminded Suga very much of children.

"So what brings you out here today?" Suga asked.

"There was something we wanted to tell you," Nishinoya said, preening his wings in an uncharacteristic show of nervousness. "It's, umm, well..."

"Noya's going to have nestlings of his own!" Hinata exclaimed.

"Really!?" Suga asked, unable to keep the surprise from his voice.

Nishinoya nodded and hopped nervously from side to side. "Asahi's looking after the eggs now," he said. "I should go back soon, he's probably worrying himself sick already, but I wanted you to know."

"That's wonderful news," Suga said happily. "Tell Asahi I say congratulations too. If you wait a minute, I'll pack you something for the way back."

"You're the best, Sugawara-san!" Hinata said happily as he and Nishinoya left with their hands full of steamed buns. "We'll be back again soon!"

"You should bring the little ones over at some point, Nishinoya," Suga said.

"I will, and Asahi too!"

FILL: Team Kozume Kenma/Kuroo Tetsurou, E

[doxian]

nsfw, trans (male) character in sexual situations, pregnancy (egg laying), mpreg, body horror, animal characteristics

608 words

human!Kuroo lays naga!Daishou's eggs.

--

fill here

Re: FILL: TEAM IWAIZUMI HAJIME/OIKAWA TOORU, T

[dynamite]

OIKAWA'S DAILY EGG CONTENT I'M YELLING THIS IS A DELIGHT

FILL: TEAM KURAMOCHI YOUICHI/MIYUKI KAZUYA, T

[tripsh]

iwaizumi hajime/oikawa tooru, haikyuu!!
ghosts, ghost hunting
724 words

Back when they were kids, Iwaizumi hadn't believed in ghosts.

Oikawa had, though. He'd always had a penchant for believeing in everything supernatural or otherworldly. Aliens, ghosts, demons, monsters under the bed--the list goes on and on.

Iwaizumi would always sigh, tell him those things weren't real. Oikawa would bicker with him, saying he was wrong. It was never a subject they could agree on.

At least, not until one night when they'd been at the park together. They were only thirteen, then, and the night had been normal, for the most part. Eerily quiet, maybe. A little creepy.

Oikawa had been clutching Iwaizumi's sleeve tightly as they decided to head for home. Not really afraid, just on guard. Iwaizumi felt the same when the warm summer night air shifted to something much colder out of nowhere.

Then, had been the first time they'd encountered a ghost. Its translucent figure trailing behind them when Iwaizumi looked over his shoulder. It was close, close enough to tell that whatever the figure was, it wasn't human.

They had run home, taking a few twists and turns from their normal route there in an attempt to lose the ghost, and when they collapsed onto Oikawa's bed--side by side and out of breath--the first thing Oikawa had said when he looked over at Iwaizumi was 'I told you so.'

After that, Iwaizumi couldn't really deny it. He had seen it with his own eyes. And then, things had changed after that.

You see, ghosts started making themselves more known in the world. There were peaceful ones, kind of like the one they'd seen that night, that didn't really do much, just existed. But then, then there were others. The ones who caused harm, who haunted and hurt people. Killed, even.

As they grew up in this new world, side by side with spirits Iwaizumi had once believed to be nothing more than stories, ghost hunting for money became a lucrative business. A new in.

It had been Oikawa's idea to take it up. They were only seventeen, then, sitting across from each other at a little cafe in town when he suggests it to Iwaizumi.

"We could do it, you know," Oikawa says, first kicking Iwaizumi's leg under the table, then curling his foot around Iwaizumi's ankle.

"Do what?" He's used to Oikawa's suggestions, his plans, but still needs to know what he's got in mind for them.

"Ghost hunting. You and me. We'd be good together, don't you think, Iwa-chan?"

He can't really deny it. They would be good together. They're always good together, whether it's at sports or something more dangerous like hunting and exterminating the malevolent ghosts that plague the world now.

"Yeah, we would." If you want to, I'm with you. We can do it.

So they do. It takes a lot of work and training, but they've always been ones for hard work and determination, so they do it.

And now--

"This is gonna be our biggest mission yet, Iwa-chan." Oikawa grins as he finishes gathering his gear.

They're somewhat renowned as proficient, talented ghost hunters, a few years after their start. And this is their chance to make themselves even more well known, their time to claim more power and recognition (and business) over rivals. (And Oikawa's got a pretty strong rivalry with that Ushijima--who always seems to get and take the best busts--as well as a new up and comer, Kageyama.)

But they were hired for this job, and they're going to make good on this opportunity.

"I know." Iwaizumi nudges Oikawa's shoulder as he comes to stand by his side, a silent way of asking are you ready? "Don't do anything stupid this time, Oikawa."

"Have more faith in me, won't you?"

He snorts. He doesn't need to be told that. He already has so much faith in Oikawa, knows that he wouldn't want to do this with another person. This is theirs, dangerous, but something they'll always step into together, ready to fight, to win.

Oikawa slides his hand into Iwaizumi's, swings their connected hands back and forth between them as they walk toward the door, head toward their mission. It's a message, a promise. And Iwaizumi swinging his hand back? That's just as much of one too.

As long as we have each other, we can do anything.

FILL: TEAM IMAIZUMI SHUNSUKE/NARUKO SHOUKICHI, T

[chiharu]

Manami & Arakita, violence, T, 732 words

Manami's first encounter with a mahou shoujo occurs two months into his first year at Hakogaku.

His parents, and even the Class Rep, always cautioned him against the dangers of cycling at night, but monsters and demons were rare in this day and age. Manami grew up believing that The Mountain Gods protected his home, but there's no denying the impact he feels when Manami's bike is thrown off course during his ride. Hissing, he rolls into the grass next to the roads and stares at the thing he had run into.

Under the moonlight, the offending creature hovers over the deer it had been feasting on. Its eyes are red and wild, and when it slithers over the dead deer, Manami recognizes the rare inkling of fear clawing at his subconsciousness. Manami's bike is too far to reach, so he watches breathlessly as the monster ascends towards him.

For the first time in a long time, Manami's heart beats as if it's about to explode.

I can't die here, Manami thinks the same time something bright hits the back of the monster. It makes an awful sound and stumbles away from Manami in pain. Manami catches sight of the silver arrow before it dissolves into the air, and then he's ducking again as the monster howls and launches itself at the top of the hill where a lone figure stands.

The monster roars when the stranger flips it over by the tail, throwing it a good distance away. With a wave of the stranger's arm, a series of interconnecting gears and ammunition appear in the air and circle around the monster. Manami can't take his eyes off the sight as magical machineries fire into the creature until it ceases to move.

After a moment, the body of the monster dissolves into nothingness, dissipating like fireworks in the summer sky.

Manami's eyes travel immediately to his saviour. His gaze lingers on the flare of the skirt over slim, boot-clad legs and sharp knees. Under the moonlight, Manami catches the silhouette of cat ears before the stranger disappears.









"Do you believe in magic?" Manami asks when Toudou spends five minutes fussing over him at morning practice. Manami had wheeled his bicycle home and collapsed into bed at 3 am, his mind swimming with flashes of pink and black. He's not surprised when the older boy pulls him aside in the locker room and demands to know why Manami cycled so poorly.

Toudou blinks at the question. "What are you talking about?"

"Maybe Manami met Nyara Hime," Kuroda snorts as he changes out of cycling clothes.

"Who is Nyara Hime?" Manami asks, spinning around so fast that he gets whiplash.

Shinkai appears then, fully dressed, as he sets a protein bar on top of Manami's head. "Nyara Hime is the magic girl that protects Hakogaku. Students have reported sightings for years, but no one has definitive proof that she exists."

"I heard that she gave a second year a black eye when he tried to kiss her for saving him," Izumida add.

"And I heard she's not a girl at all," someone chimes in.

Manami had always thought that magic was a thing of the past, when disorder and evil took on solid forms to punish people in the human realm. His grandmother said that magic girls were the last existing manifestation of purity in the world, and those who caught sight of them were both blessed and cursed. "Have you ever seen Nyara Hime, Toudou-senpai?"

Toudou takes a moment to contemplate this. "I may be thrice by the mountain gods, but I'm not actually magical. My beauty, on the other hand-"

"Shut up already," Arakita cuts in, throwing his bag over his shoulders as he leaves the club room. He looks just as tired as Manami feels. "Stop talking nonsense. Magic isn't real." Then he's gone, leaving the door swinging off the hinges.

"Just forget it," Kuroda says, nudging Manami a little with his shoulder. "You probably saw her in a dream."

Manami, too, is beginning to believe that he'd hallucinated the entire encounter last night when Fukutomi returns.

"What took you so long, Fuku?"

Fukutomi removes one of his racing gloves and nods at Toudou. "My apologies. Our group experienced a delay in our route. We had to move a horribly mauled deer off the road."

Re: FILL: Team Aldini Takumi/Yukihira Souma,G

[chiharu]

I'M IN LOVE WITH LADY KUROO

FILL: TEAM IMAIZUMI SHUNSUKE/NARUKO SHOUKICHI, G

[winterstuck]

no tags
Hikaru & Sai (Hikaru no Pokemon Go)
that pun is the entire reason this fill exists

link to comic

FILL: TEAM IMAIZUMI SHUNSUKE/NARUKO SHOUKICHI, G

[winterstuck]

no tags
Hinomaru & Tsuji (Hinomaru Zumou)
a magic sword and the ppl who wield them to fight au or something like that idk who else even reads this series so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

link to comic