Bonus Round 6: Remixes

[referees]

The event's almost over, and you've made it this far, congrats! This round encourages you to look back at everything the SASO has made and use it as inspiration.

This round is CLOSED as of 7PM on August 18 EDT. Late fills may be posted, but they will not receive points.

RULES

• Choose a fanwork created by other participants in a previous main or bonus round of SASO and create a new piece based on it. You could create a fanart of another work, an FST inspired by a piece’s style, retell another person’s fanfic from another point of view, create a new fanfic inspired by a great piece of art... go wild!
• You cannot remix your teammates' works.
• You must have permission from the original creator. There's a blanket permissions post here (feel free to add yourself to it!), or you can leave a comment on their original post asking for permission.
• You must include the dreamwidth link to the original work in your post.
• Since all fills are based on previous works, there will be no prompts for this round. Simply post your fill as a comment in response 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 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 Kanzaki Miki/Tachibana Aya, G

[luckycricket33]

no major content warnings, mild cartoon violence/physics
original fill by krankran, BR4



i loved the panel where toudou just bounces off the frames of the space he's occupying, i think it's so clever

FILL: Team Kyoutani Kentarou/Yahaba Shigeru, G

[kiyala]

Imaizumi Shunsuke/Kinjou Shingou & Makishima Yuusuke; Yowamushi Pedal
no tags
word count: 508

remix of catlarks's fill

Kinjou is, to put it mildly, confused by the package in his hands.

The art is, without a doubt, beautiful. Kinjou doesn't expect anything different, considering that it's Makishima who drew it. Kinjou is familiar with Makishima's drawings, though they usually take a different form. Still, he's touched that Makishima would share this work with him as well, even if he is a little puzzled by the actual content of it.

The three books in the envelope are printed in wonderful quality, but that's not such a surprise in itself. Makishima has a habit of collecting his fashion sketches into similar sorts of books, and he works with a good printer, who knows what they're doing.

It occurs to Kinjou that said printer must have seen this art, too, and he's glad that whoever they are, he doesn't know them personally. He hopes that it's also the case the other way around, because Makishima has done an incredibly good job at capturing his likeness.

Imaizumi's too, and that leads Kinjou to the most pressing question of the entire matter: why Imaizumi?

He ponders over it as he lies in bed that night, and sleep eludes him as he tries to pick apart Makishima's motivations behind drawing the pictures, and writing the stories that go with them. Perhaps Imaizumi has feelings for him, and Kinjou has just never noticed. It wouldn't be Makishima's style to mention them if he noticed, but this sort of roundabout method of talking about it without actually talking about it does suit him.

He tries to be cautious of it the next day at school. He keeps an eye out for the way Imaizumi acts around him, to see if he can pick up on whatever it is that Makishima has noticed. Imaizumi doesn't seem to be acting unusually, though. There's nothing in his behaviour to indicate any kind of interest, outside of what Kinjou would think appropriate for someone interacting with their captain.

He doesn't know how to bring it up with Makishima, but his friend raises an eyebrow with an expectant look, and the way Kinjou averts his gaze must say enough.

"Heh, so I take it you liked your present."

"It was definitely not what I was expecting," Kinjou replies. "The art was lovely as always, though. I'm unsure why you gave… him… rabbit ears in one of them, but it was still nice."

Makishima gives him a sidelong glance. "I didn't send them to you so you could talk about my art style, Kinjou."

"Then why?" Kinjou asks him. "Of the eight times I spoke with Imaizumi this morning, he seemed to be perfectly ordinary. As ordinary as he can be, at least."

"eight times," Makishima repeats, raising an eyebrow, as if this is significant information. "How many times did you speak to Onoda? Or Naruko?"

"Twice, each," Kinjou replies, and then pauses. "Oh."

"Oh," Makishima repeats.

Kinjou sighs quietly, pulling his sunglasses off and pinching the bridge of his nose.

Makishima, it would seem, knows him far too well.

FILL: Team Kyoutani Kentarou/Yahaba Shigeru, G

[kiyala]

Makishima Yuusuke/Toudou Jinpachi; Yowamushi Pedal
no tags
word count: 468

remix of catlarks's fill

Makishima raises an eyebrow at the package that arrives at his doorstep, but he thanks the delivery person all the same before he carries it back inside. He isn't expecting anything in the mail just yet and that only leads him to the one very obvious conclusion: trouble.

His suspicions are confirmed when he opens the box and finds the note at the top from Toudou. It doesn't surprise Toudou at all that he would find Makishima's address somehow—Makishima might have managed to avoid giving it to him, but enough of his friends back home have it, and Toudou is always incredibly determined when it comes to getting what he wants. Makishima wonders whether it was Kinjou, or Tadokoro.

He refuses to admit that he's actually smiling at the thought of Toudou bothering his friends for a mailing address. He refuses to admit that he's smiling at all, for being touched by Toudou's gesture.

Then he looks at the actual contents of the box, and he isn't smiling at all.

He pulls out headband after unsightly headband, and dies a little inside with each one. They're plain enough to begin with, but each one he pulls out gets progressively more decorative and ridiculous. They're all perfectly suited to Toudou, of course. Makishima doesn't doubt that each and every one of them would look perfectly good perched on top of Toudou's head.

It doesn't explain why Toudou's sent them all the way here. Makishima sighs heavily and packs all of the headbands back inside, and finds some tape to close it again.

He could just send them right back to Toudou, he thinks to himself. He has Toudou's address and even if he didn't, Toudou's written it on the side of the box.

Almost as if he's hoping it gets sent back to him.

Makishima buries his face in his hands and groans. Perhaps he's just playing into Toudou's hands. Toudou clearly hasn't gotten his hands on Makishima's number but this, at the very least, opens a communication channel between them, however slow and tedious it might be.

He should just ignore the box entirely. If he doesn't reply, then Toudou might just assume that he'd sent it to the wrong address, and he would give up.

No, Makishima thinks with a sigh. He knows Toudou better than that.

He knows that Toudou isn't the kind of person to give up. Nothing's going to stop him from trying to stay in contact with Makishima. Something as simple as ignoring Toudou isn't going to do the trick.

Makishima glances around his room, wondering if there's anything of his that he could fit into the box before he sends it back.

Besides, it's not like Makishima truly minds. Without Toudou right here with him, he can admit at least that much.

FILL: Team Kyoutani Kentarou/Yahaba Shigeru, G

[kiyala]

Hanamaki Takahiro/Matsukawa Issei; Haikyuu!!
no tags
word count: 461

remix of saffroncity's fill

Hanamaki Takahiro is in love.

He's never tasted a creampuff more delicious that the ones that he finds at this particular bakery. It's called You Knead This Cake and Hanamaki is in love with the fact that it has a pun in its name. He's probably in love with the whole bakery at this point, because just thinking about it makes him happy, like he's developed some sort of pavlovian response to the place. Even just walking down the street towards the bakery is enough to make him happy, to have him already looking forward to the taste of fresh creampuffs and the content feeling he gets from just standing in the bakery, which he's pretty sure is quickly becoming his entire place in the world. Even before the store itself actually comes into sight, Hanamaki is already looking forward to seeing—

Well.

Hanamaki Takahiro might be in love with the bakery itself, sure, but he's also got a bit of a thing for the actual guy who runs the place.

(Ask Oikawa, and he'll huff and insist that Hanamaki is head over heels for the guy. Oikawa doesn't know what he's talking about. Oikawa also doesn't know how to shut up about the guy who helps run the store. Oikawa is always so quick to shut up every time Hanamaki takes the time to point this out.)

Oikawa calls him Eyebrows-chan, when they're not at the store, because he's determined that Incredibly Hot Pastry Chef Guy is has too many syllables in it to be a viable nickname for the guy Hanamaki has a crush on. Why they can't just refer to him as Matsukawa, seeing as how it's his actual name, Hanamaki doesn't know. At the very least, Oikawa never says it to his face, but that's probably because he's too busy flirting with Iwaizumi instead. Or trying to, anyway. Hanamaki takes great delight in watching Oikawa get brushed off. There aren't very many people in the world who can do it the way Iwaizumi does. The guy is clearly talented.

For the most part, though, when Hanamaki has the time to sit at one of the tables instead of rushing off to class, he ends up doing his best to focus on his work instead of sneaking glances at Matsukawa. It never works, but it's always worth it for the way his breath catches in his throat whenever he looks up to find Matsukawa already looking in his direction.

They smile at each other, before averting their eyes, and Hanamaki tries to pay attention to his books again.

One day, he'll gather the courage to maybe ask Matsukawa out, or even just to sit together when Matsukawa has his break. One day. Hopefully, that day will come soon.

FILL: Team Kyoutani Kentarou/Yahaba Shigeru, T

[kiyala]

Imaizumi Shunsuke/Naruko Shoukichi; Yowamushi Pedal
bodily fluids? (spoilers, it's dog shit)
word count: 486

remix of aplty_poetic's fill

The whole courtship thing isn't going very well.

Naruko is frustrated and confused, as he goes over his carefully annotated list of ideas, with almost every single one of them crossed out in red pen with a giant FAILED written beside it.

Sticking glue all over Imaizumi's bicycle handles hadn't worked. Filling his helmet with hair gel so that it all stuck to his head when he put it on, while objectively hilarious, had been a failure as well. So has every single other thing Naruko has tried to communicate the fact that maybe—just maybe—he was starting develop something of a crush on Imaizumi.

It wasn't a big deal, despite the entire list of things to try, despite how much thought and care Naruko put into every single attempt at courtship. It wasn't really a reflection on his feelings at all; it was just the fact that Naruko liked being flashy and attention grabbing. Especially when it was Imaizumi's attention that he was grabbing.

The thing that really sucked, though, was the fact that none of it was actually grabbing Imaizumi's attention at all. He was grabbing everyone else's attention and sure, that was great too, but it wasn't what he wanted.

Especially not when it led to weird conversations with Kinjou about how he wanted Naruko to keep any and all pigtail-pulling behaviour out of the cycling club, which, weird. It's not like Imaizumi had pigtails anyway.Even if he'd looked really cute with them, if he did.

Teshima seems to get it, though. He pats Naruko on the shoulder and grins. "You're dealing with an elite, remember. He has his head so high that he isn't going to notice anything until he steps in it."

Teshima, Naruko thinks to himself, is actually the genius that he claimed to be back at their training camp.

He doesn't know how he's going to get Imaizumi to step in his feelings, but he can definitely get him to step in something, and maybe that's a good enough start.

One of his neighbours has a dog, so that part is easy enough to take care of. Naruko debates over how he's going to transport it to Imaizumi's doorstep. A paper bag would probably do, but Imaizumi is pretty fancy. A paper bag probably isn't fancy enough for him.

He settles on a box, and leaves a note on top of it, just to make sure Imaizumi knows who it's from. He takes it to Imaizumi's doorstep, puts it down and then rings the doorbell before sprinting into a nearby bush to hide and watch.

Imaizumi takes a moment to answer the door, looking around before he notices the box.

Naruko grins to himself as Imaizumi reads the box, then looks inside.

Except then, Imaizumi just leaves it there, walking back inside and shutting the door behind him with a loud slam.

Naruko sighs heavily. Back to the drawing board.

FILL: Team Kyoutani Kentarou/Yahaba Shigeru, G

[kiyala]

Imaizumi Shunsuke/Sugimoto Terufumi; Yowamushi Pedal
no tags
word count: 436

remix of catlarks's fill

Sugimoto is such a genius that he even amazes himself sometimes.

He hums happily to himself in the kitchen as he puts the bento box together with the utmost care. He's arranged the food to match the colours of the Sohoku cycling club jerseys and it looks absolutely amazing, if he can say so himself. He is, after all, experienced at this sort of thing. He's probably even the best in the whole world.

He hopes that it won't give him away. This is meant to be an anonymous gift from a secret admirer, after all, and it wouldn't do to have Imaizumi guess that it's from him just by the fact that the bento has been put together so masterfully. He knows that he's shown off his bento to Imaizumi and the others in the past, though, so he knows that there is a slight risk of it.

He knows exactly what to do about it, though: a note to stick on the top of the bento, not signed with Sugimoto's name, but from a secret admirer. That will throw Imaizumi off his scent, Sugimoto is sure, and then he'll be safe to watch from a distance as Imaizumi is flustered by his secret admirer, then slowly but surely wooed over the course of increasingly intricate bento arrangements. Imaizumi seems to like bunnies, so Sugimoto is already planning on working his way up to his grand masterpiece: an entirely bunny-themed bento with seaweed cut into the shape of bunnies, onigiri with bunny ears, the works. His trial run hasn't gone very well, but Sugimoto knows that perfection isn't something that can be rushed. He'll just work his way up to it, and then he knows that Imaizumi's heart is guaranteed to be his.

He gets to school early, knowing that Imaizumi will be too busy with early morning practice to be checking his locker just yet. He knows that today is a good day to start with the gift bento because Imaizumi is usually so focused on getting to school early for practice that he'll forget to take his bento with him on his way to school and will usually end up having to buy something from the cafeteria instead.

Sugimoto has worked that into his genius plan already. Imaizumi will be so grateful to his secret admirer for saving him money hat he won't help but fall in love with them.

In fact, Sugimoto thinks proudly as he leaves the bento in Imaizumi's locker, he's so good at this whole secret admirer thing that maybe he's the best at this sort of thing, too.

FILL: Team Kyoutani Kentarou/Yahaba Shigeru, T

[kiyala]

Arakita Yasutomo & Toudou Jinpachi; Yowamushi Pedal
headcanon pronouns, swearing
word count: 450

remix of catlarks's fill

The gift is a last minute thing, because Arakita has wasted the whole weekend being stubborn about the fact that Toudou isn't getting a birthday present from him. It's not like he cares about her at all, so he doesn't se the point in wasting his time, money or effort on something that she's probably just going to deem ugly and throw out anyway. It's bad enough that her birthday falls on a school day, and the rest of the club—and probably rest of the school, in general—will be forced to put up with her demanding special treatment for it. Like she deserves any kind of congratulations for being born.

Except, as night falls and Arakita finishes packing his things for school the next day, he starts feeling a little guilty for it. It's not like he'd snub anyone else in the cycling club on their birthday and sure, Toudou's ego could probably stand to get taken down a few pegs, and she probably won't even notice that he hasn't gotten her anything because she'll get a mountain of gifts from her admirers instead, but it's the principle of the thing. Arakita might be rough around the edges, but he's not an asshole. Besides, as much as he hates it, Toudou is a f—

F—

Fucking annoying teammate, he finishes angrily. But a teammate all the same. He isn't going to ignore her on her birthday.

He goes out to town, glad that he still has some time before the shops close, and looks around for something that Toudou might like. It doesn't matter if she deems it ugly, he supposes. He knows that it'll make her happy all the same. That's all he really cares about, in the end.

It's late by the time he gets home, but he's happy with what he's got, and he's about to sit down and wrap it all up when he realises that he's forgotten to buy any kind of wrapping paper. He buries his face in his hands with a loud sigh, before he looks around his room to see what he can use instead. There's a roll of duct tape sitting on his desk. He could just wrap the entire thing in duct tape and call it done—except he has another idea.

Toudou keeps asking to borrow his mathematics notes, Arakita thinks to himself with a grin, and there's a whole bunch that he doesn't need any more anyway.

Five minutes later, he looks at the monstrosity of calculus notes and duct tape. He's certain that Toudou's going to complain about just how ugly it all looks when she sees it tomorrow. Arakita finds that he's already looking forward to it.

FILL: Team Kyoutani Kentarou/Yahaba Shigeru, G

[kiyala]

Arakita Yasutomo/Kinjou Shingo; Yowamushi Pedal
no tags
word count: 407

remix of catlarks's fill

Being friends with Kinjou is weird.

It's the kind of thing that just happened to Arakita without fully realising. Perhaps it's because he's too used to how everyone was back at Hakone, but Kinjou is incredibly easy to get along with. He's fairly unobtrusive, happy to be left to his own thoughts and equally happy to leave other people to theirs, but there's something burning under the surface that Arakita can relate to. He likes that about Kinjou, he thinks to himself. In fact, he's pretty sure he likes Kinjou a lot.

He doesn't dwell on it too much, because their friendship is mainly centred around cycling. They don't really have much of a need to interact outside of that, but he finds himself swapping numbers with Kinjou, at first so they can organise times to meet up early in the morning to get some practice in before going to class. Their actual friendship somehow develops from there, to the point where it's increasingly common for Arakita to check his phone after class and find that Kinjou's sent him some kind of anecdote from his own lecture, or a question on a topic that they're both interested in, which leads to a discussion that they both contribute to over the day, texting each other in between lectures and tutorials and labs.

Sometimes, he even gets food with Kinjou, and it doesn't feel weird at all. Nothing about being near Kinjou feels forced, and the more it happens, the more Arakita likes him. That feels like it comes pretty easily too.

It doesn't really occur to Arakita that he's in too deep until Kinjou sends him a photo of a cat. There's a caption, saying that Kinjou wanted to show Arakita his new friend. It leaves Arakita grinning down at his phone, already thinking about the next time he can go and visit Kinjou, and if he'll be able to meet the cat for himself.

He doesn't stop grinning for the rest of the day, and it earns him funny looks from the people around him, who are far more used to seeing him scowling, but he finds that he really doesn't care.

His phone has a new message later that afternoon, from Kinjou, inviting him over for dinner and explicitly mentioning that the cat is still there, if Arakita would like to meet it too.

From there, Arakita finds that he just ends up grinning even more.

FILL: Team Kyoutani Kentarou/Yahaba Shigeru, G

[kiyala]

Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou; Haikyuu!!
references to mental health issues
word count: 494

remix of miyukitty's fill

Akaashi sends Bokuto to university with a deep kiss and a carefully wrapped package pressed into his hands.

"Don't open it until you get to your dorm," he says, and there's no way that he'll know if Bokuto cheats and peeks before then. Bokuto nods anyway, because he wouldn't dream of doing anything other than what Akaashi wants him to. His words are getting caught in his throat and he's choking on them, his breath already coming much shorter, and he feels like he's teetering on the edge of a downward swing already.

Akaashi notices, because he's good like that. He places his hands on Bokuto's shoulders, warm and firm and comforting, and leans in to kiss him again. "I love you, Koutarou. I want you to remember that."

Bokuto nods, still unable to get any words out. He knows that he's going to need reminding, time and time again, over the next few months. Probably just over the coming week. The thing is, Akaashi knows it too. He's prepared for that, and he's always ready to remind Bokuto, as many times as he needs. Akaashi's always been an amazing person, always so patient, so find, and Bokuto doesn't deserve—

He shakes his head, just a little bit, in an attempt to dispel the negative thought. It isn't welcome right now, when Bokuto still has Akaashi standing right in front of him. Usually, they wait until he's alone and he doesn't have anyone else to help chase them away.

"Koutarou," Akaashi tells him, and his soft, steady voice is enough to chase the thought away for now. "I love you. I'll miss you. Open your present when you get there, okay? I'm going to text you later to make sure that you have."

Bokuto nods, and presses his lips to Akaashi's so firmly that they both stumble a little. They regain their balance though, and they wrap their arms around each other tightly.

He waits until he's sitting on his new bed in his new room before he tears open the carefully folded wrapping, to find a book underneath. It's hand-bound, and very carefully put together. On the front, it reads, 100 Reasons Akaashi Loves Bokuto. There's a bookmark attached to the spine, made of ribbon, with a heart charm at the end.

Bokuto finds himself tearing up already, and he flips through each page, with a new, handwritten reminder of just how much Akaashi loves him, and why.

He's sobbing by the time he reaches the end of it, and he hugs it tightly to his chest, because it's the best present that he's ever received. He already knows that it's going to come in handy, when he's doubting himself and there's no one around to help him chase the negative thoughts away.

His phone lights up with a message from Akaashi: Did you open it?

I did. THANK YOU, he replies.

Akaashi simply replies with a heart emoji. Bokuto smiles. It's enough.

FILL: Team Kyoutani Kentarou/Yahaba Shigeru, G

[kiyala]

Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru; Haikyuu!!
supernatural themes, reference to character death
word count: 459

remix of miyukitty's fill

Iwaizumi starts leaving incense on the windowsill one month into moving to his new apartment, because he's certain that he's not the only one there.

His grandmother has always been incredibly spiritual, and he remembers listening to her stories when he was young. He knows how to sense a ghost's presence when he feels it, just from the stories alone. He remembers everything that his grandmother has taught him, about respecting those who have deceased but are unable to pass. Better to appease them, he remembers in her voice, than to anger them by denying their presence.

It makes his apartment smell like a temple, he thinks to himself, cracking a window open before he leaves the house. By the time he gets home, every night, the incense has burned up. On the days that it rains, he returns home to find the window closed.

"Thank you," he says to the room in general. He feels something brush his cheek, and he holds his own hand to it. It's not warmth, he doesn't think, but it's still the sensation of being touched.

The ghost doesn't go out of their way to make their presence known, and Iwaizumi doesn't mind that. Their cohabitation is something quiet and peaceful, and he finds that he likes that.

Still, he's curious.

He starts doing research, sitting with his laptop on the dining table as he searches into records from around the area, until it leads him to a single name. Even without the trail of research that has led him to it and confirmed it for him already, Iwaizumi reads the name and it feels right.

"Oikawa Tooru," he murmurs, and the room suddenly feels different. The presence of the ghost feels more pronounced, but Iwaizumi knows that it's not angry. Surprised, perhaps. It's probably been a long time since the ghost has gone by the name.

"Oikawa," he says, a little louder this time, looking up from his laptop and glancing around the room, as if he can actually see the ghost. He feels like he detects movement from the corner of his eye, but every time he looks, it's somewhere else. "I'm. Uh. Iwaizumi Hajime. It feels weird to say this, but it's nice to meet you, I guess. Thanks for letting me share this place with you."

He thinks he hears a soft chuckle, and feels a phantom hand brushing through his hair. It makes him smile, shutting his eyes.

He lights another stick of incense before he goes to bed, and he doesn't know if naming the ghost has made him more sensitive to its presence, but he swears he can feel the way that it—no, he—follows him from one room the next, before he finally goes to sleep.

FILL: Team Kyoutani Kentarou/Yahaba Shigeru, G

[kiyala]

Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru; Haikyuu!!
no tags
word count: 449

remix of nyatsuuuu's fill

"Do you remember," Iwaizumi murmurs, his voice low, rough like the rocks along the bank of the river, "the way I would always finds you crying, at this very place?"

"Hush, Iwa-chan," Oikawa replies, and his voice is smooth like spider silk. "It's rude to remember someone as powerful as I am by their weaknesses."

"You'd come here to hide all the time." Iwaizumi does even try to hide his smile, as he watches the flow of the river. "Back when you were still small enough, you'd hide under the large leaves just here and you'd cry so much that you'd be shaking with it."

"Iwa-chan," Oikawa protests, but he's laughing. He wraps his fingers around Iwaizumi's wrists, tugging him close. "You've always been such a bully, always dredging up the worst memories when I want someone to think well of me. Why can't you just accept that I'm perfect and leave me be?"

Iwaizumi's smile grows wider, and he presses a kiss to Oikawa's neck. "Perfect, huh? You used to blow your nose on my sleeve, because you never thought that your tails would be pretty enough."

"I know better now, though, don't I?" Oikawa asks, as four of his nine tails brush along Iwaizumi's sides.

There are few things in the world that are as satisfying as this, Iwaizumi thinks to himself as he lets Oikawa's tails surround him, holding him close until there's nothing separating their bodies. He's had the opportunity to watch Oikawa outgrow all of his doubts, becoming something much more powerful than any of the people who doubted him. He can feel the proof in Oikawa's presence itself, because it emanates from him with every step that he takes, but it's more than that. Iwaizumi can see it from the way his confidence shines in his eyes, the way he holds his head high. Oikawa is proud, and Iwaizumi might frequently complain that he's too proud, but he knows that it's all well deserved and hard won.

"You always knew better than to listen to anyone, though," Oikawa hums, and his lips are curved into a smile as he presses them to Iwaizumi's. "You always believed that I'd become who I was. Just like I knew that you'd become the big, strong brute that you are."

"Brute, huh?" Iwaizumi asks, wrapping his arms around Oikawa's waist and lifting him off the ground.

With a laugh, Oikawa kicks his feet until Iwaizumi lets him down. Then, with a mischievous grin, he lifts Iwaizumi up as well with just as much ease, throwing him over a shoulder.

"I'm taking you home, Iwa-chan," he declares, and laughs while Iwaizumi kicks and protests the entire way back.

FILL: Team Kuramochi Youichi/Miyuki Kazuya, T

[kitaiichis]

kuramochi youichi/miyuki kazuya, daiya no ace
major content tags: no warnings!
708 words, AO3

a remix of serena/sotongsotong's kuramiyu inception AU. advance notice, this is... a very, very loose remix. more inspired by the original fill than anything else, lmao. apparently my words wouldn't form themselves into anything that wasn't experimental in this eleventh hour, orz orz.


process of elimination


here is a question: who are you?

(youichi’s fast on his feet, a real hummingbird quick kinda mover; always has been and maybe he always will be, past and present both left for dust behind him to go for broke on the promise of tomorrow instead. and what a promise tomorrow is, thrumming electric through his veins and lighting him up just as bright from the inside, out. from the outside, in. life, for youichi, is lived riding out the horizon on the crest of every dream there is to be dreamt, every moment yet to be made.

see, miyuki’s like that, too, heart and head tangled together to spill over everything else, reckless and calculated, both the dreamer and the dream. separate, they are formidable; together, indomitable. the way they fit a two-fold flight risk, less like need and more like want, miyuki’s voice carrying out bad ideas then carried out with youichi’s feet, youichi’s hands.)

A. someone real
B. a dream
C. the truth
D. all of the above


here is a question: who do you dream about?

(wind at his back and someone youichi can believe in by his side, someone who leaves their faith with youichi over anywhere else, anyone else. “it’s gotta be you,” miyuki laughs, “i can’t think of anyone else stupid enough to go through with this.” and youichi? youichi laughs too, thoughtless and thoughtful, lightweight in his lungs and loaded in his chest. “look who’s talking, mr. here’s-another-bad-idea.”

he doesn’t disagree, though, and miyuki smiles. miyuki’s always smiling, but sometimes the smile means more than others. maybe some days youichi’s looking closer than the rest.

“well, lucky for you, i never said you were gonna go through this alone.”

and youichi might be a dreamer but he’s still got both feet on the ground. still got both eyes looking forward. so really, it’s not like he could call himself anything close to ambitious, but. youichi’s still a dreamer, and miyuki’s always had a dream. for now, that’s enough. right now, youichi thinks it always will be.

“like i ever thought i would.”)

A. someone real
B. a dream
C. the truth
D. all of the above


here is a question: who do you run from?

(there are certain things youichi doesn’t speak of, unsaid places his words don’t let themselves reach anymore. everyone’s got things they’re trying to hide. but this, this isn’t one of them; youichi and miyuki, shoulder to shoulder, pressed close on a bunk bed barely fit for a single person. because miyuki might not know everything—hell, sometimes he talks like he barely knows anything—but he knows what matters, and he knows how to talk when it matters.

where youichi matters, anyway.

but right now he’s not saying anything, eyes slipping shut as the rest of his face follows suit, tipping into youichi’s side, sliding steady and sure into sleep. miyuki’s phone rings. youichi doesn’t answer, lets it ring itself into silence, ears shut out from anything other than the sound of miyuki’s breathing, skin sinking into the gentleness of miyuki’s heart beating close to his own.)

A. someone real
B. a dream
C. the truth
D. all of the above


this is a question: who do you love?

(it happens before youichi can think to stop it, before youichi realises he wouldn’t even if he could. it happens like this, youichi waking up to warm sheets and cold toes, the frame of miyuki’s glasses falling from the crook of his nose to nudge against youichi’s cheek, instead. they’re in miyuki’s bed, sun flooding from the windows, undeterred by open curtains they’re always forgetting to keep closed. miyuki must’ve woken up sometime before youichi did, because his eyes are open, barely, peering up at youichi while the rest of him stays exactly as he is, unmoving. unwilling to break every moment that passes, unwilling to force youichi into waking up completely until he wants to.

it happens like this, youichi reaching up to tug miyuki’s glasses away from his face, setting them aside as miyuki still doesn’t move, not a single breath between them as youichi leans in closer, closer, closer.)

A. someone real
B. a dream
C. the truth
D. all of the above

FILL: Team Kyoutani Kentarou/Yahaba Shigeru, G

[kiyala]

Hanamaki Takahiro/Matsukawa Issei; Haikyuu!!
no tags
word count: 425

remix of putsch's fill

"You look beautiful," he murmurs, and Takahiro smiles, glancing over his shoulder. "That colour suits you."

"Does it, now?" Takahiro asks.

"I think that all colours suit you." A hand comes to rest on Takahiro's back, warm and familiar. "This one especially."

"Issei," Takahiro laughs, using a name that has otherwise been lost into the ages, replaced by epithets among the mortals, because of all the pieces of information that they seek, this is never among their number. "How would you know?"

"I know," Issei replies, and he's smiling as he trails his hands down Takahiro's arms and takes his hands, their fingers linking together. He's using his soothsaying voice, and it's one that Takahiro loves listening to. "I know that it matches the colour of my eyes."

"You don't even know what that looks like," Takahiro laughs, but he presses a kiss to Issei's lips all the same. "I'm glad you like it, though."

"I like whatever you wear," Issei replies easily. "I like it better when you don't wear anything at all."

"Tch. Live as a hermit, and you lose all sense of decency."

"I don't think hermits live together," Issei laughs, his breath warm against Takahiro's lips.

"Whatever it is we're doing, then," Takahiro amends. "You've lost all your manners."

"I never had any." Issei wraps his arms around Takahiro's waist. "Besides, you're one to talk, oh corrupting influence."

Takahiro makes a soft offended sound against Issei's lips. "Please. Just because the kingdoms of old refused to believe that their precious soothsayer could do any wrong. They had to blame someone."

"To be fair," Issei hums, "they were right. I'd rather spend my days in bed with you than in the courts of kings, seeing into their future. That sort of thing always ends the same way. At least you're more interesting."

"Ah, you certainly have a way with words, oh great soothsayer." Takahiro presses a kiss to his shoulder with a grin. "It's too late anyway. I've firmly been written as the one at fault, in this story. I can hear it being passed along on the wind, you know. There are still people who search for you. No matter how hard you try to hide."

"I suppose it's not quite hiding unless there's someone seeking," Issei sighs. "What can you do? If someone is desperate enough for answers that they come looking… then at least they deserve something genuine. Until I'm found, though, it looks like I'm all yours."

Takahiro smiles, sharp and possessive. "My dear soothsayer, you always are."

FILL: Team Kyoutani Kentarou/Yahaba Shigeru, G

[kiyala]

Kyoutani Kentarou/Yahaba Shigeru; Haikyuu!!
no tags
word count: 415

remix of miyukitty's fill

The beaststone is a perfectly smooth sphere, spinning effortlessly between Kyoutani's fingers as he plays with it, and Yahaba can't stop watching. It's beautiful, he thinks to himself, taking in the earthy shades trapped in the stone, the way the light of the campfire reflects against it, making it glow even redder.

"You're staring," Kyoutani mutters, but his fingers don't slow. Yahaba doesn't stop staring, but simply hums in agreement. He is staring, after all. Whenever Kyoutani is around, there's always a lot to take in.

"I thought…" Kyoutani says slowly, breaking the silence once again, "when you first kept staring at me like that, I thought you were trying to figure out how to attack me, or something."

"You're paranoid," Yahaba tells him.

"I'm careful," Kyoutani corrects. "With good reason."

This time, Yahaba looks up and meets Kyoutani's eyes. They're a gentle amber, and in certain light, Yahaba thinks that they match his beaststone. "I'm not going to attack you, Kyoutani."

"You'd be surprised," Kyoutani snorts, "how many times I've heard that from people right before they attack me."

"Are you going to attack first, then?" Yahaba asks, raising an eyebrow.

Kyoutani kneels up, but he tucks his beaststone into his pocket instead of using it to shift. Instead, he crawls across the small space between them, until he's on all fours, pressing Yahaba into the soft dirt just beside their campfire.

"I don't have to attack you," Kyoutani murmurs, and Yahaba's heart thuds in his chest so loudly that he can hear it echoing in his ears. Perhaps Kyoutani can hear it too. "You're… different."

"Well," Yahaba smiles, doing his best to hold onto his bravado even in this position. "I do like being told I'm special."

"That's not the word I used," Kyoutani points out, the tip of his nose brushing along the column of Yahaba's throat. He could bite Yahaba's throat out, if he wanted. Yahaba relaxes under him, knowing that it's not going to happen.

He supposes that Kyoutani is different in his own way too.

"You stare at me when I'm in my beast form." Kyoutani sounds like he's thinking out loud, rather than speaking to Yahaba. "I know that you like it. But you keep staring at me when I'm in this form too."

"Both," Yahaba manages to say. "I like both."

Lifting his hand off the ground, Kyoutani strokes the back of his fingers down Yahaba's cheek. His skin feels warm against Yahaba's.

"I like you too."

FILL: Team Kyoutani Kentarou/Yahaba Shigeru, T

[kiyala]

Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru; Haikyuu!!
interspecies relationship, fade to black
word count: 436

remix of miyukitty's fill

"Hajime," he murmurs with a smile, as he's pressed back against the thick, wooden doors of their chambers. "Hajime, please. You're making it difficult for me to breathe."

"Not yet," Hajime replies, his voice pitched low. He's not going to give Tooru space to breath just yet; or perhaps he means that Tooru's breath isn't yet as short as it will be, once Hajime is done with him. He could mean either, and Tooru knows that they're equally true.

Hajime presses himself closer, as he begins to transform. Tooru watches with fascination as the wings grow out of his back, as his horns protrude from his skull. They break through Hajime's skin with every transformation, and Tooru always finds himself preoccupied with the way the blood beads on the curving, pointed ends of his horns, the way it trickles down the side of his face. Tooru cups Hajime's face with one hand, fingers stroking through the blood.

With a quiet laugh, Hajime leans in, careful of his horns, and presses a kiss to Tooru's neck. Sighing happily, Tooru lets his head lean back against the door. He hears a scraping sound, looking up to find Hajime bracing himself against the wood with one clawed hand. Tooru reaches for the other, their fingers interlocking, and Hajime pulls back just enough to grin at him before he leans back in.

His tongue is warm on Tooru's neck; warmer than it usually is, when he's just in human form. It makes Tooru shiver, the air of the room feeling far too cold in its wake. Hajime sucks a mark under Tooru's collar, bright red against his skin. Tooru grabs at one of Hajime's horns, trying to guide his head further up. Licking his neck, Hajime pulls away with a chuckle.

"I'm not going to mark you above the collar, Tooru. What would your kingdom think?"

"They'd know my husband is good at giving me what I want," Tooru urges, tipping his head back further, watching with satisfaction as Hajime nearly leans in again, making a soft sound of desire at the back of his throat.

"Your husband," Hajime says slowly, squeezing Tooru's hand in his own, "is plenty good at that without leaving marks that everyone can see. What would they think, if they knew that you let me transform fully into a dragon behind closed doors?"

"Imagine what they would think," Tooru smirks, "if they knew how good I was at bringing a dragon to his knees?"

"You should show me how," Hajime murmurs, his breath hot against Tooru's ear.

With a gentle smile, Tooru does exactly that.

FILL: Team Kyoutani Kentarou/Yahaba Shigeru, G

[kiyala]

Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou; Haikyuu!!
no tags
word count: 409

remix of miyukitty's fill

It's a good day today, Keiji thinks as he shuts his eyes and feels the breeze against his face. The wind is light and playful, just like Koutarou's laughter as it echoes through the town, the sound of it bouncing between buildings down tight alleys and reaching Keiji where he sits on his perch, at one of the highest points.

It's where Koutarou finds him, climbing up the stairs and then onto the roof when the stairs won't take him high enough. His footing isn't as light as Keiji's and he isn't as used to being up here, but he manages well all the same. He isn't afraid of being blown away, because he trusts the wind. He controls it, after all.

"There you are," he greets as he takes a seat beside Keiji, brushing a kiss to his cheek. "I was searching for you."

"You probably didn't have to look for very long," Keiji murmurs with a smile. He's a creature of habit. It comes from his profession, he thinks. Having his mind open to the future means that he needs to ground himself in the present. He does so with order, with routine. Koutarou helps, a strong arm winding around Keiji's waist to pull him close.

It's a bright, sunny day with very little wind today, but Keiji knows that there's a storm edging into the end of the week. It's going to bring darkness and heavy rain, and Keiji could very easily push it away, with the right words, with a gentle touch, but there are only so many times that he can distract Koutarou and have it work. Sometimes, the negativity needs a release too. Keiji knows what will come if it's left to build up, and he want that less than he wants a storm that will blow its way through the town and then calm itself down once given the chance.

"You're thinking very hard," Koutarou whispers, like he's afraid of breaking Keiji's concentration. "Should I leave you on your own with your thoughts?"

"Don't," Keiji replies immediately, holding onto Koutarou a little tighter. He brings their lips together, kissing Koutarou firmly. "I want you here."

Koutarou smiles and holds Keiji's face in both hands, kissing him back. Koutarou isn't a subtle person at all; Keiji can feel his happiness through his entire body, just the same as he feels it in the gentle breeze that swirls around them and tousles his hair.

FILL: Team Kyoutani Kentarou/Yahaba Shigeru, G

[kiyala]

Kozume Kenma/Kuroo Tetsurou; Haikyuu!!
no tags
word count: 449

remix of miyukitty's fill

The flames of the sacred fire dance like nothing that Kenma has ever seen in his life and he sits there in front of them, transfixed by the colour, and the flicker of something more that he sees in the fire.

He's heard stories about the volcano god; he's made Kuroo tell him each and every tale that he remembers, then turned to the others when Kuroo could not think of any more. He knows that the beliefs of the Flame Tribe don't align with his own, but he's long since stopped believing that one has to be right over the other. Perhaps the volcano god exists, Kenma thinks to himself, just as his own gods do.

"You keep staring at the fire like that, and it might consume you itself," Kuroo murmurs, resting his hand on Kenma's shoulder. He pulls his mask off, just so he can flash Kenma a crooked smile. "And then I would be incredibly upset. I don't want you to end up an offering to the volcano god."

"Is that something that you do?" Kenma asks, proud not only of the fact that he keeps his voice even, but that he manages to sound a little bored. "Sacrifice people to your god?"

Kuroo laughs. "Not for a long time. You can relax. I think the volcano god might have lost their appetite for flesh. It doesn't seem to make a difference, these days."

Kenma draws a breath. The tribe, from what he can tell, seems to have accepted him now. There were a few who didn't, who refused to. Those who were older, who thought themselves powerful enough to challenge their chieftan's decisions.

He doesn't see them around any more. He hasn't asked any questions, and Kuroo hasn't volunteered any answers either. Kenma wonders just how Kuroo knows that the volcano god isn't interested in flesh these days, but the thought makes him a little uncomfortable. There's still a lot that he needs to learn here, and it doesn't matter that the people around him live their lives to different rules to those that he has been raised with himself. Kenma knows that they're good people. Given time, he thinks, he could come to like them.

Kuroo sits beside him, an arm wrapped around Kenma's shoulder, drawing him close.

"If you listen carefully," he murmurs right into Kenma's ear, "you'll hear the volcano god speaking to you through the fire."

Shutting his eyes, Kenma listens. He can hear the crackling, the sound of others speaking around the fire.

He feels Kuroo's breath against his ear before he hears the whispered, "This is your home, too."

Kenma elbows him gently, but find that he's smiling.

FILL: Team Kyoutani Kentarou/Yahaba Shigeru, G

[kiyala]

Akaashi Keiji/Kuroo Tetsurou; Haikyuu!!
kidnapping themes, death themes
word count: 422

remix of nyatsuuuu's fill

"You'll stay with me, won't you?" he asks and his voice is the darkness that surrounds Akaashi. It's impossible to tell where it comes from, because it feels like it comes from everywhere, all at once.

It feels like it comes from within Akaashi, himself.

He shuts his eyes, opens them again, and thinks that he can make out a figure in a place that has no light. Not a monster, but a man. Akaashi can make out the movement as he leans closer. This time, he feels breath against his ear, against his neck, and he's surprised to find that it's warm, when everything else here feels so cold.

"You don't have to go back. You could just keep me company forever. I'll take good care of you."

There's a certain pull in the words. It takes hold of Akaashi's heart, tugging gently, as if to convince him that nothing would be better than staying.

With a deep breath, Akaashi shakes his head in an attempt to clear it.

"That's not going to work on me, Kuroo-san."

He knows that as the god of the underworld, Kuroo's very voice is filled with magic that convinces mortals to stay with him. As they should, when they make their way to him.

Akaashi, on the other hand, is no mortal, and hasn't found his way here through the natural course of the world. He's no longer certain whether he's happened to stray off the path and found himself here, or if Kuroo has bewitched him away. All he knows is that he needs to leave. Even if everything in him cries of reluctance to do just that. He knows it has nothing to do with the magic that fills Kuroo's voice as he speaks.

"Light," he requests, and waits until Kuroo acquiesces.

There's blue flame burning in the palm of Kuroo's palm, throwing everything around them into cold light. Kuroo's eyes glow crimson, and Akaashi can see something that looks like smoke swirling around Kuroo. He knows better, though. He knows that it's fumes made of the last breaths of every soul he's claimed.

He's one of the most dangerous gods that Akaashi has ever come across, and the fact that he doesn't want a fight only makes him more dangerous. He wants more than that and Akaashi is happy to spill blood, he's happy to test his strength.

He isn't sure whether he wants to let Kuroo under his skin, but he's beginning to worry that it's already too late for that.

FILL: Team Kyoutani Kentarou/Yahaba Shigeru, T

[kiyala]

Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru; Haikyuu!!
self harm, religious imagery
word count: 445

remix of sotongsotong's fill

It starts as an infection.

Oikawa looks at the black tips of his wings and feels the tremble begin in his lungs, coming out as a shaky gasp before making its way through the rest of his body. His fingers are shaking as he touches the tip of them to his wings. He jerks them away, as if the infection can make its way to his skin, even though he knows he can't. He knows exactly what it means when wings turn black. Everyone here does, and there's nothing he can do about it.

Nothing, but to delay the inevitable.

Beside him, nestled among the clouds, Iwaizumi sleeps on. Oikawa reaches out, as if to touch the pure white wings folded close to Iwaizumi's back, but pulls his hand away at the last moment. He doesn't deserve it, he thinks to himself bitterly. He has no right to touch another's wings, when they're purer than his. Better not, in case he spread his own sin to Iwaizumi.

He sits there, wings carefully folded one on top of the other to hide the worst of the blackness, and considers his options.

He considers using a blade, he considers using his fingers, and, a little desperately, he thinks of using fire.

Scissors, he thinks to himself, standing and treading carefully so that he doesn't wake Iwaizumi. He'll find the sharpest pair of scissors he can and give his wings a trim. That isn't so unusual. Nobody will think him strange for it. Wing upkeep is important, Oikawa knows. He's spent so much time on it, always so precise, always so careful but it's still clearly not good enough, when his wings are turning black.

He grits his teeth and withdraws to a quiet corner among the clouds, where he knows that not even Iwaizumi will find him. He cuts, just as precise and careful as he always is, but the blades of the scissors cut deeper. They cut higher, so close to the bone that Oikawa finds himself whimpering for it. He feels the sting of pain, of shame, and knows that he deserves all of it. This is his penance. Perhaps, he thinks a little foolishly, if he makes it hurt enough, the black feathers won't grow back. Perhaps he just needs to prove that he's learned his lesson.

A few days later, though, they're back again and a cry of frustration bubbles in Oikawa's throat before he clamps his hand over his mouth to keep it in. Iwaizumi can't know.

No matter what, he thinks desperately, as he picks at his wings with his own fingers, Iwaizumi can never find out. It's better that way.

FILL: Team Kyoutani Kentarou/Yahaba Shigeru, G

[kiyala]

Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru; Haikyuu!!
no tags
word count: 429

remix of dynamite's fill

Oikawa sets up shop with a smile curving his lips and the feeling that he's waiting for something. The mint that he grows in one of the planters on the windowsill laughs at him as he waters it, but there's an underlying sense of excitement in that, too. The plants, after all, are connected to him. They might know thing that they don't always feel like sharing with him, but they feel what he feels.

Right now, it's the sharp taste of anticipation that sits on the very tip of his tongue. He lays out all of his wares and smiles pleasantly at each and every single customer that walks through the door of his shop. It's never quite the right one, he thinks to himself, but he hides that thought behind his glasses, behind his smile, and does what he does best; he draws out exactly what each of his customers need. A bitter tea for one, until his grimace turns into a smile. A small, carefully wrapped package of dried fruit for another, for her to hold in her mouth until she finds her voice again.

None of them are Oikawa's customer, though, and that's okay. Oikawa might not be very good at waiting, but he knows that it will be worth his time. He taps his wand against the rim of a cauldron, letting it bubble away as it produces a mint green potion for unrealised potential, then checks on his second cauldron, checking on a lavender concoction that is meant for strength.

There's no bell attached to the door, but Oikawa looks up at the precise moment that his next customer walks in through the door anyway. Their eyes meet for a moment, and Oikawa thinks that the green of his eyes suits the green of the store. His customer looks away, but Oikawa does not. Around him, his plants are singing to him, this one, this one, this one, and Oikawa wonders how it's possible to feel reunited with someone that he's never met before in his life.

He lets the man wander the store without a word, resolutely ignoring Oikawa. His breath is coming in soft pants, like he's hiked the entire way up the mountain just to come here. Oikawa wonders if he feels the pull too, or if he's still just wandering, just as lost as whatever part of him he's trying to find.

He watches, barely hiding the fact that it's what he's doing, and feels he empty space in his chest twinge, as if it's finally found its twin.

FILL: Team Kyoutani Kentarou/Yahaba Shigeru, G

[kiyala]

Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou & Kozume Kenma/Kuroo Tetsurou; Haikyuu!!
hogwarts au
word count: 432

remix of nyatsuuuu's fill

Kuroo has been looking forward to this moment since the very beginning of the school year.

It's taken months of waiting, months of training and hard work out on the quidditch pitch, but they're finally at the finals of the quidditch house cup, and it's a showdown between Slytherin and Gryffindor. As if the centuries old house rivalry wasn't enough to have Kuroo excited, there's also the fact that he's captain this year. Just the same as Bokuto is the captain of his team, and there's no better feeling in the world than being able to battle it out on the quidditch pitch with his best friend and fellow seeker.

Kuroo walks over, with his broom in his hand, ready to wish Bokuto luck for the game. He's beaten to it, though. Walking onto the side of the pitch, where all the teams are gathered, Akaashi's Ravenclaw robes stand out among the green and silver, the red and gold.

Not that Akaashi cares one single bit. He clears his throat and says, "Bokuto-san."

Just like that, Bokuto turns and Akaashi is immediately the centre of his attention. Kuroo knows that he isn't going to get a word in, so he doesn't even bother clearing his throat to try.

"I wanted to wish you good luck for the game," Akaashi tells him, and then reaches for the front of Bokuto's quidditch uniform, pulling him into a kiss.

Everyone around them politely, if a little uncomfortably, averts their eyes. They know, from experience, that as with most things that he does, Bokuto has plenty of enthusiasm when it comes to kissing.

Kuroo waits.

He waits a little longer.

He throws a hopeful look towards Kenma, who resolutely ignores him and turns his full focus to his broom.

He sighs quietly, shaking his head and giving up. It doesn't matter anyway. Bokuto probably doesn't need Kuroo's luck, when he has plenty of Akaashi's already.

Besides, he'll get his chance later. As captains of their respective teams, they shake hands before the game begins. Bokuto's lips are distractingly pink. Kuroo glances despairingly in Kenma's direction again. Only to be ignored, again.

"Good luck," Kuroo tells Bokuto, as they clasp each other's hands. "We're going to win, though."

"We'll see about that," Bokuto replies with a grin.

As they walk back towards their teams to get ready to begin, Kenma clears his throat and looks up at Kuroo.

"If we win, I'll kiss you like that after the game. In your dorm. With no one else around."

"Deal," Kuroo replies immediately, suddenly even more determined to win.

FILL: Team Kyoutani Kentarou/Yahaba Shigeru, T

[kiyala]

Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru; Haikyuu!!
character death, necromancy
word count: 434

remix of sotongsotong's fill

Iwaizumi feels himself floating, and he thinks that he can hear the gentle sound of water lapping at a bank somewhere.

He doesn't know if it's a memory, if it's his imagination, or if it's the river of souls. His eyes feel too heavy to open them and check anyway. He's content where h is, floating in nothingness. There's no light calling him across to anywhere other than where he is, and he knows that there's a good reason for that. If there was ever a light in his life, Iwaizumi has left it in the living world. He doesn't really know what Death hopes to achieve by separating them like this but at the very least, he can tell that every time Oikawa wakes him once again, his magic has improved a little more.

He doubts that this is by chance. He isn't entirely sure how much time passes in between each revival, but he knows that Oikawa is getting stronger. He's getting more practice at raising the dead than he ever did before, and Iwaizumi isn't sure whether he should take blame, credit, or both.

Perhaps neither, he thinks, because he can sometimes see the way that Oikawa is working himself to the bone. There's no one around to stop him from doing that, these days, and Iwaizumi can only hope that his reminders for Oikawa to take care of himself will linger even when he's not there in the living world once again. He's powerless to do anything more than that, right now. Just the same as Death is more or less powerless to call him over to the other side. There's no point in only claiming half a soul, after all, and Iwaizumi wonders if Death knew that this is what would happen, when only one of them died. He imagines that Death would; even though he's no longer alive, he's still learning things. One of the first lessons he's learned is the fact that the gods always know what they're doing. Especially when it seems like they have no idea.

The sound of water gets a little louder, and Iwaizumi feels like he can hear it rushing in his ears. He feels a sensation of warmth surrounding him and it's one that he recognises. Tooru's magic, he thinks to himself fondly, coaxing him awake once again. Iwaizumi feels stiff already, even when he isn't yet back in his body.

He feels Oikawa's magic pulsing inside him like an artificial heartbeat and he comes back to the living world for a little longer, wondering what he's needed for this time.

FILL: Team Kyoutani Kentarou/Yahaba Shigeru, G

[kiyala]

Manami Sangaku/Onoda Sakamichi; Yowamushi Pedal
no tags
word count: 447

remix of spacewives's fill

Manami falls from the sky in a flurry of feathers and hits the ground with a loud thud.

His quiet grunt of pain is drowned out by a nearby cry of alarm, and he squeezes his eyes shut with a sigh. He hopes he hasn't landed on anyone this time.

"An angel!" the voice cries out. "It's an angel!"

Manami tests the movement in his fingers, relieved that they still move just fine. His back hurts, though, and he's landed on his wings. He blinks his eyes open, trying to look around him without actually moving his head. It doesn't quite work the way he hoped it would, but then a round face leans over him, wearing even rounder glasses.

"Excuse me, angel-sama?"

"I'm not—" Manami begins, but then pauses. The boy looks so earnest, like he genuinely believes that he's just seen an angel fall from the heavens. Manami wonders what kind of person sincerely believes that angels have the feet of giant chickens. "I'm Manami."

"I'm Onoda Sakamichi, it's very nice to meet you," the boy replies. "Are you okay? That looked really painful."

"It was really painful." Manami smiles at him. "But how lucky, that I have someone so nearby to come and make sure that I'm okay."

"Do you need help getting up?" Onoda asks, crouching down beside Manami. His hands hover, like he isn't sure where to touch, or whether he should, at all. "If your back hurts, you might do even more damage to it if you try to sit up on your own!"

"Okay," Manami smiles. "Help me sit up?"

Onoda nods, getting his hands under Manami's shoulders and then carefully lifting him up. Manami bites back the gasp of pain. The fact that he can actually feel the pain at all is probably a good sign, he thinks. He stretches one wing out, and then the other. The rest of the Hakone flock are going to tell him off for running out of energy in the middle of a flight like that. It'll be his own damn fault for wanting to fly through the mountains before flying with the rest of the pack. Harpies are argumentative by nature, and Manami already knows the awaiting lecture off by heart, from all the times he's heard it before.

"Are you going to be okay?" Onoda asks uncertainly. "I don't know what it's like when angels fall but if you need somewhere to stay for a bit, maybe until you feel a little less sore…"

The flock is going to be incredibly annoyed at him, but Manami smiles anyway. "I wouldn't mind sharing something to drink with you, if you have anything."

FILL: Team Kyoutani Kentarou/Yahaba Shigeru, G

[kiyala]

Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru; Haikyuu!!
mortal/immortal relationship
word count: 437

remix of sotongsotong's fill

Loving a mortal is like doting on a small, insignificant specific speck on the ground, when his rain encompasses the entire region, no, the entire country.

Tooru loves Hajime all the same. That alone is enough to make him important enough to be worthy of Tooru's time and attention. Even if it still feels a little strange.

He's jealous of his own raindrops for touching Hajime's face, when he wants to do it with his own hands. He hates the way that his own winds will blow past Hajime, ruffling his short hair, playing with the hem of his clothes. Hajime might have come to think of all of it as Tooru, and he's correct in his assessment, just as much as he isn't.

The weather is part of Tooru, of course. An extension of him, and a way to make his presence known, whether that be to Hajime or to everyone else in the area.

It still feels like a stand-in, when Tooru is bound to the sky by his duties. He'll have to wait until he's done before he can spend time physically being with Hajime, and he knows that the more he turns his attention to Hajime alone, the more he'll have to wait.

He still can't resist the urge, anyway. It's never anything big. Some carefully directed raindrops here, a gentle rumble of thunder in response to whatever Hajime says to the sky. Tooru keeps an ear out for all of it; the yelled curses whenever Tooru is feeling particularly petulant and reminds Hajime of his presence with an incredibly specific downpour, the casual greetings as Hajime turns his smile to the sky as if he knows that Tooru is watching, and the whispered confessions of, I miss you, or it's been a while, that are never outright requests to come and visit, but Tooru has learned to read between the lines long ago.

Hajime doesn't need to know any of that, though. He doesn't need to think of Tooru as a god far older than he looks; he's happy to play the petulant, teasing young man that fits Hajime's expectations. When he grows, and when his needs for what he finds in a partner change, Tooru will too. He already knows that; they've been playing this game since Hajime was too young to remember . They'll be playing it until Hajime doesn't remember any more.

Tooru pushes the thought from his mind with a particularly strong gust of wind, and turns his attention to Hajime, on the ground below, waiting for him.

With a smile, Tooru lets himself fall like the rain.

FILL: Team Kyoutani Kentarou/Yahaba Shigeru, G

[kiyala]

Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru; Haikyuu!!
no tags
word count: 440

remix of sotongsotong's fill

Iwaizumi's dreams always have a certain taste to them that lingers in Oikawa's mouth, clinging to his tongue and not quite letting go.

He swallows hard, his tongue darting out to lick his lips, and wonders if Iwaizumi will stay up late tonight, or if he'll be in bed soon, so they can see each other again. There's nothing for him to do but wait, and so he does, wandering from one mind to the next, finding dreams that he can eat before moving on. He always returns to the corners of Iwaizumi's mind, though, waiting. Eventually, he knows that his patience will be rewarded.

When someone first falls asleep, they don't dream. It's time for Oikawa to get to work, using the window of time he has before Iwaizumi's REM cycle kicks in and he finds himself in his dream world. Over all of the visits that Oikawa has been paying to Iwaizumi's mind, he's made sure to give this dream world a particular feel to it. He wants it to be pleasant, to be comforting, and for that to happen, he needs to do a bit of maintenance.

He pulls the niggling doubts from the recesses of Iwaizumi's mind, where he doesn't even realise that they're sitting and poisoning the rest of his thoughts. They squirm in Oikawa's hands and he looks down at them, clicking his tongue critically before swallowing them whole. He's not interested in the way that they taste, but they still burn on their way down. Oikawa coughs, patting his own chest to help it down, before glancing around and searching for the next.

There are the standard fears; the fear of failure, the fear of not being good enough, the fear of not being liked, and Oikawa eats them all, wishing that he could tell Iwaizumi just how unfounded each and every single one of those thoughts are. He supposes that it's easier to just outright remove them. Perhaps it will leave Iwaizumi more confident for it. Oikawa thinks that's good enough.

By the time Iwaizumi is in REM, the hard part of Oikawa's job is complete. Iwaizumi finds himself in the same cotton candy dreamland that he's growing accustomed to. Oikawa can see the recognition in his eyes as he takes in the pastel colours and the sense of softness and comfort.

Iwaizumi's gaze wanders across the scene before him, until it finally lands on Oikawa. With a smile, Oikawa waves.

"You again," Iwaizumi murmurs, but it doesn't sound like a bad thing.

"Yes," Oikawa replies, walking over and sitting down beside Iwaizumi, so close that their shoulders are touching. "Me again."