Bonus Round 1: Quotes

[referees]

Bonus Round 1: Quotes

SASO 2015 is over, but this round is perpetually open to new fills (no new prompts).

PLAY BALL! For this round, we'd like you to take inspiration from songs, sayings, poems, and other kinds of famous words.

Because this is our first full round, please read this post carefully before proceeding!

This round ends at 7PM on June 13 EDT. Countdown Timer.

RULES

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

FORMAT

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

Required Work Minimums:

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

There is no max work cap.

Format your comment in one of the following ways:

If PROMPTING:	If FILLING:	If FILLING as a TEAM GRANDSTAND participant:
PROMPT: TEAM [YOUR SHIP] Replace [YOUR SHIP] with the name of the team you belong to, including Grandstand or Sports Teams Write it exactly as it appears on the team roster or your team will not receive points Place the prompt's relationship in the first bolded line of the comment. Including the canon isn't required, but it's nice. Visual example	FILL: TEAM [YOUR SHIP], [RATING] Replace [YOUR SHIP] with the name of the team you belong to Write it exactly as it appears on the team roster or your team will not receive points Replace RATING with the rating of your fill (G - E) Place applicable major content tags and word count before your fill (when applicable) NSFW FILLS: Post written/text fills directly to the round with clear tags. Please link to art/visual fills. You can include a small safe-for-work preview if you'd like. To place an image in your comment, use this code: <img src="LINK TO YOUR IMAGE" /> Visual example	FILL: TEAM GRANDSTAND, [RATING] Replace RATING with the rating of your fill, G - E, as explained in the rules Place applicable major content tags and word count before the fill, where applicable NSFW FILLS: Post written/text fills directly to the round with clear tags. Please link to art/visual fills. You can include a small safe-for-work preview if you'd like. To place an image in your comment, use this code: <img src="LINK TO YOUR IMAGE" /> Visual example

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

SCORING

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

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

For fills:

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

All scored content must be created new for this round.

Etc.

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

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

Comments

FILL: team sawamura daichi/sugawara koushi, T

[kayable]

No archive warnings

There’s an old, dilapidated lighthouse on top of the rocky cliffs and it calls to them, an imposing white tower, looming above the sandy shores. And there’s a boy with bright, wild eyes and even wilder hair, whose hand is clasped tightly around Hajime’s wrist. He’s laughing and calling Hajime's name, urging him to move faster up the rocky shore like the pair of reckless teenagers they are.

The tang of salt is stronger up here as they make their way up the rocks, so strong he can almost taste it on his tongue, mingling with the sticky sweetness of vanilla ice cream they had devoured on the pavement below.

They’re both a little breathless when they reach the lighthouse, winded from the climb with the echoes of their laughter ringing in their ears. The heavy wooden door bars them from entry but it doesn’t take much for the rusted lock to give way and it creaks open. Tooru holds it open and grins at him, equal parts a question and a dare. Hajime looks at him, bright against the late afternoon sky, the heady late summer heat making him reckless and Hajime smirks wild and free and says, “Let’s go in then.”

They race up the stairs, chortling like children, shoving at each other good-naturedly in order to get to the top first.

"I win, Iwa-chan!" Tooru sings with a little victory sign, making a leap across the doorway into the gallery.

"Shut it, Trashykawa," he grumbles, his words softened by the wide smile stretching across his face, "What did you drag me out here to see anyway?"

Tooru blinks. "Didn't I tell you? Oh well." He shrugs. "I guess it'll be a surprise then~"

"If you've dragged me out here to do nothing but freeze my ass off, I'll hit you," he threatens but he sits down, dangling his legs off the platform.

"So mean, Iwa-chan," Tooru whines, settling down beside Hajime and leaning against his shoulder.

They sit in a comfortable silence for a while watching the glow of the sky bleed away in a rush of dimming colours.

"Did you know, Iwa-chan,” Tooru starts conversationally, “that even though lighthouses were used as a warning for dangerous waters, they started out as a way for sailors to find their way back to the port,” he looks at Hajime, eyes intense and a little sad, “to lead those lost at sea back home where they belong.”

The sky has gone completely dark now and the glitter of stars stretch across the velvet fabric of the night. Out here, free from smog, the stars look just that much brighter and more beautiful, Hajime thinks.

His eyes drift towards the lantern, wide and imposing behind them like the beacon it is for wandering ships in the night and Hajime knows that this is Tooru’s way of saying thank you, a way of addressing the unspoken words between them, from a time when they had both been a little lost.

And suddenly, there’s a lump in his throat because it’s so important for Tooru to understand this too and Hajime has never been good at expressing his thoughts because – because usually, Tooru just knows, but this is too important to go unsaid between them so Hajime stops, clears his throat and tries to say it the only way he knows how.

“Hey,” he starts, pointing up into the night sky. “What’s the name of this star?”

Tooru looks at him confusedly. “Iwa-chan, I know you know what that star is, we–”

“Just humour me,” he says, insistent.

Shooting him another weird look, Tooru says, “Merak.”

“And this one?”

“Dubhe,” Tooru answers, starting to look a little miffed. He had always been impatient, Hajime muses.

“Last one, Shittykawa,” he says, and the name earns him another look. “What’s that one?”

“That’s…” he says hesitant, a faint note of soft wonder in his voice. “That’s Polaris.”

“Yeah,” Hajime agrees, relieved that Tooru gets it. “That’s the North Star. And as long as you can find it, you won’t ever be lost.” He pauses, throwing a smirk at Tooru as he adds, “Good thing, you had a thing for aliens, huh?”

“Iwa-chan stop being mean,” he whines but there’s a soft smile on his face and Hajime knows that Tooru understands what he means because what Hajime knows is this: the lighthouse may be for lost ships in the night but he needs no lighthouse, no north star, for Tooru has always been his guiding light and Hajime his.

The stillness of the night settles around them like a comforting blanket, the lull in conversation letting them recalibrate and readjust to one another, until they can feel each other’s presence in their very bones.

Remembering that they apparently came here for a reason, Hajime looks to Tooru and just as he’s about to ask, a flash of light catches his attention from the corner of his eye. He turns his head and gasps, just in time to catch a long, vibrant streak of light flying across the sky.

"I thought you might like it," Tooru says smug and gleeful, his melancholy mood wiped away, “It may not be peak viewing season for them yet but the Perseids are-” He’s chattering excitedly, hands gesturing wildly in the air with a familiar brand of enthusiasm reserved for volleyball and celestial beings. It’s a familiar ramble that Hajime just tunes out.

Instead, he finds his eyes drawn to Tooru, whose ridiculous hair is flipping around his face in little tufts, eyes bright as he traces the paths of the meteors. It’s like the entire cosmos reflected in his eyes, shining bright like the stars, like fire burning, and it’s everything Hajime has ever loved and will ever love about Tooru. He doesn’t think he can love anything, or anyone, more.

“- and if you’re lucky you can see sixty or more per hour, Iwa-chan, sixty-”

"Tooru," Hajime interrupts. "It's nice."

"Nice? Just nice Iwa-chan? You're such a brute." He pouts indignantly but even in the darkness Hajime can see that he's blushing, splotches of colour high on his cheeks.

Hajime hums and raises his hand to trace the curve of his cheek, the nape of his neck, warm even in the chill of the night breeze. He presses his fingers against Tooru’s skin, playing with the strands of hair covering his nape and Tooru melts into his touch, leaning towards him.

“I love the stars,” Tooru whispers, a breath away from Hajime.

He smiles, “Of course you do,” and meets him halfway.

(What he doesn’t say is this: Tooru is a star, bright, brilliant and unstoppable in its ascent – exploding across the sky in bursts of colour, and should he ever lose his way, Hajime will always, always be there to guide him back home.)

FILL: TEAM KUROO TETSUROU/OIKAWA TOORU, T

[auber_jean]

A FAREWELL TO ARMS

No content warnings; Word Count: 2588



Post high school, the Generation of Miracles had dispersed and gone their separate ways towards adulthood. Their legacy became a myth. One for the books to note a place in time where they were teenagers talented beyond their years. It was only a matter of time until their bodies gave up on them and all that was left were their minds to make different paths for themselves.

Kise had taken the future in stride. As soon as graduation past, he packed his bags and made himself the most desired face on every billboard in the country. Modelling was second nature and he embraced the world with a smile on his face and indifference on his lips. Basketball was left to the wayside, tucked deep and close to his heart along with the things that he never wanted to put a name to.

He kept in contact with Kuroko, messaging the other boy about his schedules with the usual light-hearted fanfare that kept his high school character like a familiar charm. Kuroko responded in kind, giving sparse but detailed updates on the rest of their friends. Momoi did the same, sending Kise messages to fill in the details about who was out doing what and why, without so much as a prompt from Kise himself. It had always been the two of them who strived to keep the Generation of Miracles together, and Kise cannot begrudge them for trying. And he’s sure that a part of them was expecting him to try and glue them back together instead of disappearing.

But Kise is long done with disappointments because he carries too much of them as it is.

~~

When he meets Momoi at a cafe on one of his free days, she looks at him in earnest, eyes gleaming with the same concern that she had when they had all walked away from Teiko with their backs turned, never to look back. It’s the kind of look that makes Kise feel like he’s been brought back to the past and that the five years he’s grown hasn’t cemented itself against those memories.

“Why don’t you ask?” she says, voice forced down to something neutral.

He takes a sip of his latte, setting it down on the table, eyes watching as the liquid settles down from the movement. “I don’t need to, Momoicchi. You keep me well-informed as it is.” He feels his lips stretch into something akin to a smile, cracking at the corners.

Momoi stares at him, eyes gauging him with the same calculative skill that got him into this mess in the first place. “He asks about you, you know.”

“Yeah?” and Kise can barely keep himself from scoffing. “Because he’s never asked me himself.”

“What happened between you two?” Momoi finally asks Her hands circle around her tea cup, fingers woven together in patience and something heavily resigned. It’s a movement that Kise is used to seeing when Aomine would pull another one of his antics all throughout high school. But now, Kise wonders when those things became applicable to him too.

Kise is sure that Momoi has heard Aomine’s side of the story, questioned it enough without finding a sufficient answer. The two of them had always been close, and Kise has no reason to resent her for it. Aomine needs stability in the way that he himself has never has.

Kise smiles bitterly, taking a sip from his cup one more time. “I couldn’t tell you even if I tried.”

~~

It’s a month later when he sees Momoi again. This time her voice is happy as she unloads a month’s worth of intel, sharing laughs with every anecdote to sugarcoat the bridge between them.

Towards the end of it, Momoi’s voice drops a tone lower to briefly mention that Aomine is back in town. She stares at Kise after the words are said, trying to read the lines on his face and gauge his reaction. But Kise has met this gaze for years and has fine-tuned himself to escape it when he truly wants to.

Instead, Kise breezes over the information with a wave of a hand and a silently buried hope that Momoi can’t tell the difference in his smile.

Later that day, Kise walks into another photoshoot sheathed in the Fall season’s new catalogue, and works each frame with downturned lips and a disinterested frown that reminds him of one person alone.

~~

It’s at a product launch party that Kise sees Aomine again. And when their eyes meet, Kise feels the same twist in his stomach that warned him about fire and a game that would both swallow them whole.

Between magazine interviews and photoshoots lined up for days, Kise had forgotten about Momoi’s reminder; Kise can only curse himself slightly for being so obtuse about it. But he hasn’t made it through the entertainment business without learning how to school his behaviour into a hundred ways to suit him. Aomine or no Aomine, Kise is still working, and he can make a job out of everyone and anyone he wants.

But it’s Aomine who meets him halfway across the room, his face still pinched in the way that marks his constant state of annoyance. It’s not as charming as Kise remembers, and he appreciates the small victories in knowing that they’re no longer the same kids they were five years ago. He inwardly wishes that Aomine would think the same.

When Aomine is within hearing range, Kise lets himself smile, something with the same emotion he had years ago; young, naive and too much hope.

“Aominecchi,” he finds himself saying, the nickname slipping from his lips like a well-worn badge.

Aomine stops in his steps when they’re just a metre apart. His eyes are still stone cold, weathered with age and cynicism etched in like an armour. It’s the same magnetism that made Kise stick around despite it all.

“Kise,” Aomine nods in greeting.

“What are you doing here?”

“My sponsors wanted me to show up,” the other man grumbles, nodding towards the promotional photos of a sportswear brand that line the walls of the room. Kise almost laughs at himself because he doesn't know how he didn’t put two and two together earlier.

Aomine, unlike the rest of the Generation of Miracles, had followed through with his basketball ambitions and had been steadily making his way through the ranks to play at pro-level. Momoi had mentioned his achievements here and there, but Kise had long learnt to avoid the major broadcasts and sent his congratulations in neutral gifts that could only resemble an indifferent acquaintance.

“You?”

“Making connections. My manager thinks I should expand into different brands.”

Aomine snorts in amusement. “Your face is already all over the city.”

Kise turns to him then, head tilted and eyes studying, trying to find something that could betray whatever Aomine is thinking. “Some people want to keep me around,” he says, levelly.

From the corner of his eye, he sees Aomine straighten.

“You look well,” is what Aomine says after a minute.

And it takes all of Kise’s might not to callously scoff at the segue. “‘Well’, Aominecchi? Five years later and all you can say is ‘well’?”

Aomine goes still then, hands shoved in his pockets with the same false bravado and it pains Kise to realise that some things haven’t changed. “Is there something else you want me to say?”

Kise shrugs, taking a flute of champagne from a passing waiter, wrapping his fingers around it deftly before taking a sip to pass the time. He doesn’t know what he wants to hear, whether it’s an apology or a curse, neither of them have ever functioned in a way that could be considered normal. And now it hardly feels like the time to fix years of bridges burned.

“Don’t think too hard, Aominecchi. It doesn’t suit you,” Kise says after a while, avoiding the other man’s eyes.

The sounds of party go on behind them, drowned out to a faint murmur of background noise that only seems to fill the empty space between them. From the other side of the crowd, Kise can see his manager signalling to him with a frantic wave, probably concerning another potential advertising deal.

Kise downs the last of his champagne before depositing the empty flute on the tray of a passing waiter. “Well, that’s my cue. I’ll see you around Aominecchi,” he says, giving a slight wave, and weaves through the crowd fast enough to never hear if Aomine calls after him.

~~

It’s way past midnight when Kise returns to his apartment, feeling the tiredness spread through his body as he drags himself onto the couch.

Kise enjoys the parties in moderation, because it’s hard to work in the industry and not learn to have an affinity for mingling with the fashion world’s best and worst. He guards himself for it, calculating every encounter and every smile with a glimmer of earnestness and the skill of give and take— but now all he can think of is Aomine’s stare and weighted words.

He switches on the TV and scrolls through the channels of midnight television until the screen blurs under his sight. He presses the remote button once more as the TV switches itself to the sports channel, broadcasting the latest announcements for basketball and like a curse, Aomine’s face appears on screen with the details of his return and success.

Aomine answers the interview in the same way he always has, aloof and borderline annoyed that he has to bother with the press. But then a reporter asks—

“What brought you back to Japan?”

The digitised image of Aomine’s face frowns and there’s a flicker of emotion in his eyes that Kise can only associate with a history of wins and losses.

“I have some unfinished business. That’s why I came back.”

It’s then that Kise feels the rise of one too many drinks bunch at his throat, and he barely manages to pull himself off of the couch soon enough to reach the bathroom.

There’s a retch in his throat that has nothing to do with throwing up; instead his mouth is dry and his vision starts to blur.

But Kise can only stare at his reflection in the mirror, eyes squinting under the fluorescent lights, mouthing the words, “Was it me?” over and over again until his breaths run short and he finally drags himself to bed.

~~

Maybe there is a time and place for both of them where things would work out. Some parallel where the both of them weren’t bored by the way their lives never presented them a challenge.

When it comes down to it, Kise can’t remember who did all the chasing. It was always the two of them on this long plain of a semblance of a relationship, constantly treading the lines of rivalry and infatuation. And it’s that reality that hits Kise, because all that ever bound them together was the game, and it’s the only thing that they know how to do.

Maybe it wasn’t about who fell in love first, because by the end of it, they had both realised that they were in pieces from the start.

~~

They run into each other a lot more after the party.

And Kise finds himself counting the times each week when Aomine appears at a brand meeting or at a broadcasting station for a TV show filming. At first, he hopes it’s just a sick joke and it’s only for the period of hype surrounding Aomine’s return. But it’s only after almost three months of silent nods and unspoken conversations that cloud over them, that Kise has enough.

It’s after a design meeting that Kise pulls Aomine away to the broadcasting station rooftop. The sounds of their feet echo as they scale the stairs, and in the back of Kise’s mind, he wonders if it was always this easy to get Aomine to follow him. Instead he shakes off the thought, fingers burning as he shuts the metal door closed.

“You can’t do this, Aominecchi,” Kise says, exasperated as he finally meets the other man’s eyes. “You can’t just keep appearing at my workplaces like you have a right to be there.”

Aomine stares back, lips tight. “If I don’t, when will I see you? You don’t answer any of my calls, Kise. What are you trying to do?”

“Don’t make this my fault. Don’t you fucking dare,” Kise bites out, unable to keep the anger out of his voice.

“Then is it mine?” Aomine asks, face frowning. “We both left, Kise. It wasn’t just me.”

Kise knows that Aomine is right, and for once he can’t pretend that he didn’t separate from the rest of them as a precursor to being left behind first. But whether it’s enough of a means to let the both of them to try to mend the fragmented relationship that lies between them, Kise doesn’t want to think of it.

The silence stretches between them, and from below the building they can hear the sounds of slow convoyed traffic crawling by. But to Kise it all becomes background static, and he barely registers how many turns of the changing traffic signals pass.

“Just— let me be around, okay,” Aomine starts tentatively, as if he’s still trying to string the words together. “I’m shit at this and I can’t fix things straight away.”

Kise scoffs, “There’s nothing to fix with me, Aominecchi. Fix yourself.”

“Is that how you want to do this?” Aomine calls back, voice raising in the way that he never really grew out of. “I’m trying, Kise. This is me trying for fuck’s sake.”

“Look, if Momoi put you up to this—“ Kise finds himself saying, mumbling excuses as they come along.

“Kise,” Aomine says, just above a whisper. He steps forward, until there’s only a small space between them. “I want to do this.”

Kise meets his eyes, flat and heavy. “We don’t end well, you know that.”

“You don’t want to run as much as you say you do, Kise. I know that at least,” Aomine says, voice firm. And Kise doesn’t want to put a time to when the both of them became transparent to each other, and he’s never hated it more.

Kise feels his shoulders sink, struggling to keep his face straight because he doesn’t want to lose— not this time. “So what will happen then, Aominecchi? What are you looking for?” he asks, voice resigned. He’s so tired of fighting.

“You,” Aomine says simply, as if that’s all it really is and that there isn’t a rift between them. But Aomine has always been simple-minded and Kise knows that the other man’s stance won’t change.

Kise wants to laugh but his mouth just feels dry, and the words leave his mouth without anger. “It won’t be easy.”

“That’s too bad then,” Aomine mutters as he reaches for Kise’s hand, his body slack in mild defeat, but the clarity in his voice still strong. “Because I’m in love with you anyway.”

Kise feels the cool slide of Aomine’s skin against the palm of his hand like both a grim reminder and a flicker of a promise. He lets out a deep breath, the barest rise at the corner of his lips as he uses his free hand to turn Aomine’s face to him.

“Okay,” he says, voice breathless before pressing the faintest of kisses against the corner of Aomine’s lips. “Okay.”

FILL: TEAM LOVE LIVE!, G

[elts]

no major content warnings // ~443 words

“Hey, Tsukishima, block for me!”

Shouyou cornered the other boy. The second day of summer training camp with Nekoma and Fukurodani was nearing to the end and self-practice just started. He wanted to use the trip to get closer to him, and couldn’t help growing frustrated as Tsukishima kept ignoring his attempts and brushing him off.

“Hah? No, I don’t want to.”

“C’mon! My spikes are very strong, you know? You’ll improve too!”

“For your spikes to be strong you must hit them first.” Well, Shouyou couldn’t really argue with that, but he’d be damned, if he gave up now.

“I’m getting there!”

“Yeah, sure.” Tsukishima dodged his hand when he tried to stop him from leaving. All Shouyou could do was watch helplessly the widening distance between them.

He didn’t know when he stopped considering him only as a jerk he was forced be on the team with. It wasn’t like the blond has gotten nice since he met him though. He was still a jerk, but Shouyou noticed the statement was incomplete. He was so, so much more than that.

It started with small things. Wrinkles on his forehead when he was watching him and Kageyama stay late for yet another practice. A grimace when he heard Daichi talking about his brothers. A little smile directed at Yamaguchi when the other wasn't looking. Shouyou never brought it up as Tsukishima apparently was set on keeping his uncaring façade, but it was enough to motivate him to befriend his fellow middle blocker and learn his past, his likes, his dislikes, his motives, his laughter maybe. His everything.

But Shouyou didn't know how to do it outside volleyball, so practices were only option.

“Hey, glasses-kun! How about practising with me again today?”

The ginger boy’s head shot up in surprise. Fukurodani’s ace and captain approached Tsukishima with an expectant grin. Again? After a moment bewilderment came realisation.

Oh, I see. He must have expected that. No wonder he’d rather block for someone stronger-

“Sorry, I’ll pass.”

Huh?

“Oh, really?” The wing spiker’s eyebrows shot up, but he unceremoniously turned around to pester Nekoma’s captain instead.

Shouyou was puzzled. He knew Tsukishima wasn’t the most enthusiastic about volleyball here, but surely he did practise a little, right? That was the sole purpose of the camp. If he wasn’t going to even try, what was the point of coming? He was tempted to say something, yell a little maybe, stop his teammate, but he was tongue-tied. Understanding him was always beyond Shouyou’s reach, so what could he do?

How do I get closer to you? he thought, as he watched the door close behind the blond.

(tsukihina tfw)

FILL: TEAM TSUKISHIMA KEI/YAMAGUCHI TADASHI, G

[necessarian]

word count: 1,164
content warnings: brief mention of choking
notes: it’s my first time writing these two! how exciting. i really wish i could have written a httyd au for this perfect prompt. instead, the following happened:

-

On Lev's first day in the volleyball club, he introduces himself as the ace and immediately proves himself either painfully lacking in self-awareness or a shameless liar. The third years meet at lunch and try to pretend they're not worried about him by making puns with his name. Most of them are in English, because it's good practice for the assignment that's due next week. Kuroo imagines a tree with Lev growing from its branches, and Kai tells him that if he's going to make jokes like that he can just Lev.

Next week, Morisuke hands in his English essay and finds himself with another assignment: teaching Lev to receive.

"It makes sense," Kai says. "He needs to learn to receive, and you're the best we've got."

"You're competent," Kuroo says, "and god knows he needs that in his life. It won't be for long, if his big talk is worth anything."

Morisuke doesn't feel competent. In Lev's sixth week in the volleyball club, they're still going, staying late after practice. Lev is still calling him "Yaku-san," which is no less weird, especially given that Kuroo has all-but-officially abolished honorifics in the club, and given that everyone calls Lev by his first name—Lev insists, though. Lev insists on a lot of things, not all of which are reasonable. And he's still not making progress.

(Morisuke is no less fond of him for it, and perhaps that's the worst part.)

It's one evening in Lev's seventh week in the volleyball club, when they're finishing up in the gym, that he falls apart. Morisuke doesn't even see it coming—one minute, Lev is picking up balls with his usual dutifulness, and the next, he's slumped down beneath the net, lying on his back.

"Yaku-san, what's wrong with me?"

And Morisuke doesn't know how to respond to that, because he can't count the number of times he's thought to himself, what's wrong with Lev? It's guilt that drives him to crouch down next to Lev, but it's compassion that forces him to speak.

"There's nothing wrong with you," he says.

Lev sits up and pulls his knees in to his chest. "Then why aren't my receives getting better?"

"They are," Morisuke says. "It's just that—" He pauses, waves his hand up and down, from Lev's head to his feet.

"You just gestured to all of me," Lev says, despondent and verging on offended.

"I didn't mean it like that," Morisuke says quickly. "It's just that, there's so much of you. There's a reason why most liberos are,"—he pauses, swallowing,—"short, like me."

"Because you're closer to the ground!" Lev says. "I know. I just want to be good at it so badly. What's the point of an ace who's no good at receives?"

(The point is that Lev can spike incredibly well when he's in the right mood, and that his blocks have improved so much, and his serves are fairly powerful—and maybe not everyone can be good at everything.)

Midway through the year, they have their usual training camp, with Karasuno joining them for the first time. Lev's getting better, and he's getting on with the newcomers too. It isn't that Morisuke doesn't get on with people, or even that everyone thinks he's a grump with a short fuse so he doesn't bother making new friends anymore because they'll inevitably end up thinking he's a pain to be around, but there's something that gets to him about seeing Lev spending so much time with all of these people, some of whom Morisuke's known for years.

It's only after training camp ends that he realises he was jealous.

He's not going to think about it, though. It doesn't do well to dwell on these things, especially not when you can change them.

One night, two weeks after training camp, Morisuke asks Lev if he wants to get dinner after their evening practice.

Even though it's nothing unusual, there's a gleefully scandalised look on Lev's face. They get yakisoba across the road and sit under the blossom trees on school grounds—it's not very romantic; the leaves have all fallen off in preparation for winter.

And out of the blue, Lev says, "I'm glad we're friends."

Morisuke nearly chokes on his noodles. "What makes you say that?" he asks. He sort of doesn't want to know the answer.

Lev grins back at him. There's something green stuck between his teeth. "Well, even though you were just teaching me to receive because Kuroo-san asked you to, you still want to hang out with me. And I think that's cool, even if I don't really understand why."

The way Lev will say whatever he's thinking without bothering to filter it for anything embarrassing first is sort of spectacular. Morisuke tries to frown at him. He fails.

"You really don't understand?" he asks.

Lev shakes his head.

Morisuke waves a hand around. "You know," he says. It's too vague. He's not impressed with himself.

"I don't," Lev says, "but like I said—that's fine."

(Next time, Morisuke tells himself. Next time he'll say it out loud, properly. Next time maybe he'll understand what exactly he's been trying to say.)

Two weeks before Morisuke graduates, he stops by volleyball practice for the last time. It's odd without the other third years there, but Morisuke's always been close with the underclassmen. If he wasn't used to it, he'd be a little bit terrified by so many tall people flocking around him. As it is, he finds it more comforting than anything.

"It's kind of weird without you," Shibayama tells him. Morisuke wonders if that's only because he's their starting libero now.

"It's exhausting," Kenma says. He doesn't need to say much more—Morisuke remembers what it was like when the third years left in his second year, with the weight of responsibility handed down and passed around like it should have been easy, which it wasn't.

"What do you miss most?" Lev asks.

"You know," Morisuke says, gesturing with a wave in Lev's direction.

Lev notices. "Did you gesture to all of me again?"

The pride in his voice is hard to miss. Morisuke can't believe Lev remembered that, from so long ago.

"That's just silly," Inuoka says. "He means all of us."

"He was just waving a hand around," Shibayama says. "He means the club."

Lev pulls a face, and Morisuke wishes that there wasn't a good thirty centimetres between them, because he wants to look Lev in the eye and tell him that he's right, that Morisuke did just gesture to all of him, because as much as he loves volleyball, sometimes he's so unbearably fond of Lev that he wants to scream it, wants to yell it at the top of his voice, wants to paint it on the walls of the gym.

Instead, he purposefully doesn't respond.

(Two weeks later, just after Morisuke's graduation, he finally says it.)

[milla]

AHHHHH SO CUTE...TY SO MUCH ;w;

[catlarks]

You're welcome, I'm glad you liked it!!

PROMPT: TEAM NANASE HARUKA/YAMAZAKI SOUSUKE

[milla]

Makoto Tachibana/Haruka Nanase OR Rin Matsuoka/Haruka Nanase (Free!)

"...running down to the riptide
Taken away to the dark side
I wanna be your left hand man" -"Riptide" by Vance Joy

PROMPT: TEAM NANASE HARUKA/YAMAZAKI SOUSUKE

[milla]

Nozomi Tojo/Eli Ayase (Love Live!)

"Ass, titties, ass-n-titties
Ass ass titties titties, ass-n-titties [...]
You need soap and water, soap and water
Soap and water, soap and water"

- DJ Assault "Ass-n-titties"

PROMPT: TEAM NANASE HARUKA/YAMAZAKI SOUSUKE

[milla]

Nico Yazawa/Maki Nishikino (Love Live!) OR Sousuke Yamazaki/Aiichirou Nitori (Free!)

"If you can't have the reality, a dream is just as good." - Ray Bradbury

FILL: TEAM FUKUTOMI JUICHI/KINJOU SHINGO, G

[catlarks]

Major Tags: None
Word Count: 636

I feel like maybe this should've gone all of one place with Nozomi, and it's not quite where I went, but I hope you enjoy!

-

"...And of course, it's all because of my many loyal fans," Nico is saying, one hand pressed demurely to her breast. She ducks her head, then looks up at the imaginary camera, flashing her best Nico Nico smile. "I never would have come so far as to accept this award without all of their love and support."

From somewhere behind her, there comes a cough.

Nico freezes midway through the process of pulling her hands up to her face, the "Nico Nico nii~" she was about to break out with falling to ash on her tongue. She holds very, very still, unwilling to turn around, unwilling to continue rehearsing her little speech for when she wins her first popularity award as an idol.

The noise comes again, sounding less like a cough and more like a snort, like smothered laughter just starting to bubble up from someone's throat. There's another little giggle, and then a full-throated chuckle. Nico spins around all at once and points her finger accusingly at the doorway.

"You!" she shouts.

Nozomi pauses where her head is just peeked around the doorframe, and rather than pulling back and pretending like she hasn't been caught watching she simply shrugs, and steps further into the room.

"Me," she says, as a self-satisfied smile blooms across her face. "Aren't you happy to see me, Nico-cchi?"

"Happy?" Nico exclaims. "Happy about having you sneak up on me, you harpy? Of course I'm not happy!"

Nozomi crosses her arms under her chest, and pouts. Nico can feel her hands clenching at her sides while her face burns, cheeks flaming so hot that it would be impossible for Nozomi not to have noticed.

"That's not very cute, Nico-cchi," Nozomi says, taking another step further into the room, and then one more. "If you're trying to thank your loyal fans, you should be cute, don't you think?"

"Sh-Shut up!" Nico yells, stumbling a step back. "You have no idea what you're talking about!"

Nozomi takes a final step before her hand darts out, faster than Nico could have expected when usually Nozomi is nothing but slow, sly grace, her fingers closing tight on Nico's wrist. She should have remembered how fast Nozomi can be when it matters to her.

"Let go!" she shrieks, tugging back on her hand. "Witch! Monster!"

"Hush," Nozomi says, paying little mind to Nico's shrill protestations and continued name-calling as she bends slowly down until her face is on Nico's level. "Tell me again about how you appreciate all the love and support you've been given."

"Not from you!" Nico yells.

"Hmm," Nozomi hums, and lets go of Nico's hand.

Not expecting it, and still pulling back against Nozomi's grip, Nico nearly falls over herself when Nozomi releases her. She stumbles, catches herself on the edge of the table, and shoots Nozomi a reproachful glare.

Nozomi only smiles at her, calm and unruffled, and reaches into the front of her blouse to pluck out a single tarot card. She holds it between her first and middle fingers, before tilting it to show Nico the face. "Your fortune says you ought to be a bit more grateful," she says. "Especially if what you're practicing is acceptance speeches."

"I wasn't," Nico says, but the last of her fight has drained out of her. She turns her face away, scowling darkly and refusing to look at Nozomi. "It's none of your business."

"I like to make these things my business," Nozomi says. "And who knows, maybe one day I'll see you make that speech, polished up of course, on a proper stage."

She laughs again, kindly enough that Nico almost wants to hit her for it, and turns to walk out of the club room without another word and with Nico's eyes glaring angry, impotent holes into her back.

FILL: TEAM FUKUTOMI JUICHI/KINJOU SHINGO, T

[catlarks]

Major Tags: None
Word Count: 686


Maki is the one who starts it.

Nico is running her mouth like she often does, prattling along about her vast popularity and what a talented idol she is and how her charm is comparable to none other, until her words finally do start to slow and the steady stream of self-congratulation tapers to a trickle and then trails into silence.

Maki thinks, maybe Nico is only allowing herself to take a breath. Maybe there's a second act coming, from the infamous "Nico Nico Nii~" of all people. Maybe Nico has been struck dumb, with the way she's gone and pressed her lips together, firm and unexpectedly serious.

Maybe she really is as cute as she claims, when the polish of her persona starts to wear through and the sharp-eyed cleverness is revealed underneath. There's something arresting about having Nico just looking at her, without the vapid smile plastered across her face and without any empty words falling from her lips.

That's when Maki leans forward, deft, pianist's fingers catching against Nico's cheek, and presses her mouth gently to Nico's mouth.

The curtain of her hair swings down, falling from behind her ears and shielding around her face, as she presses a slow kiss to Nico's lips and feels her heart leap inexplicably into her throat. Nico's mouth is too slack underneath the gentle pressure of her lips, until suddenly it's not, until Nico is grabbing her arms at the elbows and pressing back with such fervor that Maki gasps into her mouth.

She's surprised, but not above taking a perfect opportunity when she sees one.

Nico is nicer this way – no pretending. Maki brushes their mouths together, licks across Nico's lower lip, curls her tongue into Nico's mouth with soft precision. She's careful with each motion, testing, untrusting of her reception and secretly delighted by each soft hum, and murmur, and press of lips back. Each kiss has her breath coming the tiniest bit faster, until her composure threatens to crack and she wills herself to pull away.

For a single long moment Nico only stares at her, heavy eyelids blinking slowly like her vision is failing to focus on what there is to see before her. Then Nico screams.

"Maki!" she yelps. "I didn't— You weren't— It isn't like this was going to—"

Then she snaps her mouth shut, cutting off abruptly and shooting Maki the most poisonous of glares. "If this is something you're trying to pull over on me," Nico says. "I'll have you know that I am not falling for it. No matter how sweet your kisses are."

Nico's eyes are narrowed, but as she continues to spear Maki with a look, the suspicion and wariness begin to drain from her face. "What are you trying to pull?"

Maki fails to restrain herself from rolling her eyes. "I should have kissed you longer. I miss the quiet already."

"That does not answer my question!" Nico declares.

Maki breathes in slowly, and then out again, taking the pause she thinks is necessary even as Nico works up farther for being forced to wait. It's a matter of great self-control, keeping the smile of amusement off of her face.

"It seemed like the appropriate opportunity," Maki says. "That was all."

Nico stares at her again, with such intense scrutiny Maki nearly expects to catch aflame for her transgression against Nico's dignity, before Nico huffs loudly and looks off to the side. "It wasn't terrible. So I guess you weren't wrong."

"Is that your way of saying you'd like to try it again?" Maki asks.

"Do you?" Nico shoots back.

But that's the point where Maki's sensibilities catch up with her, and she can only stutter out, "I d-didn't say that!" before crossing her arms over her chest and pulling a little further away.

"Well neither did I," Nico insists.

But Maki catches Nico glancing at her lips on and off, as they continue the inconsequential conversation Maki had pushed aside before, and she thinks that perhaps both of their answers are more clear than either of them is immediately willing to admit.

PROMPT: TEAM FUKUTOMI JUICHI/KINJOU SHINGO

[catlarks]

Fukutomi/Kinjou/Arakita (yowapeda)

“He must have known I'd want to leave you."
"No, he must have known you would always want to come back.” — J.K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows

PROMPT: TEAM FUKUTOMI JUICHI/KINJOU SHINGO

[catlarks]

Nozomi/Eli (love live)

"You can buy a peach. But where can you buy an orchard in full bloom?" — The Peach Orchard, Akira Kurosawa's Dreams

PROMPT: TEAM FUKUTOMI JUICHI/KINJOU SHINGO

[catlarks]

Kinjou/Arakita (yowapeda)

“In a perfect world, you could fuck people without giving them a piece of your heart. And every glittering kiss and every touch of flesh is another shard of heart you’ll never see again.” ― Neil Gaiman, Fragile Things: Short Fictions and Wonders

(I sat on this quote all BR because I didn't know what ship to apply it to, and here in the eleventh hour I'm just gonna be self-indulgent.)

PROMPT: TEAM FUKUTOMI JUICHI/KINJOU SHINGO

[catlarks]

Ishigaki & Midousuji (as well as Ishigaki / any other kyofushi, if you're so inclined) (yowapeda)

“Imagine smiling after a slap in the face. Then think of doing it twenty-four hours a day.” ― Markus Zusak, The Book Thief

PROMPT: TEAM FUKUTOMI JUICHI/KINJOU SHINGO

[catlarks]

Eli/Umi (love live)

"I look at you and it is like my throat being cut." — This House Has No Basement, Catherynne M. Valente

(Look, I'm very sorry, but I love this rarepair and I have my fingers very, very crossed.)

FILL: TEAM NANASE HARUKA/YAMAZAKI SOUSUKE, G

[milla]

warnings: None
word count: 432

Kise collapses on the asphalt with a fluttering gasp, his laughter and words tangled and caught in his breaths. He's spread-eagle, sweating, with eyes shut to the singing sun.

"You beat me again, Aominecchi," he manages to whine, rolling onto his side to face where Aomine is seated with legs crossed, looking ever bit as composed and unbothered as ever. Kise flashes him a victory sign, grinning widely. "But you only beat me by ten points! Are you sure you're not just going easy on me?"

Aomine scoffs and wipes his forehead with his wristband. He has the ball in his hands, and its weight is a comforting shield to the brilliant and ever-annoying shine that is Kise Ryota. "You think I'm the type to go easy on your ass? Nah- but even if I did, the only one who can beat me is me."

Kise rolls his eyes and sits up properly. The rise and fall of his shoulder calm, though his skin still glows from exertion. "You keep saying that- but I'll beat you one day, Aominecchi."

"You keep saying that," Aomine mimics, raising the pitch of his voice slightly. But there's a hint of a smirk in his expression, and he turns his head to hide it. Kise whines and cries and begs for another round, claims that next time is the moment, is determined to prove his worth. But all Aomine thinks about is the closeness in their scores, how Kise continuously surprised and surpassed, how his heartbeat roared in his ears with delight.

Really, as much as he tries to ignore Kise's pleading, underneath the disinterest and exasperation, Aomine wants to feel the fire in his blood that Kise sparks, the rush of exhilaration he so rarely felt these days. His heart beats and beats and burns, and he wonders just when Kise got so close, his eyes wide and curious and concerned, his breath as warm as the summer air, like some goddamn sun spirit, flaring ever brighter.

"Aominecchi?"

Aomine wonders, as he tugs Kise even closer by his jersey, just when Kise got so good, when he got to be such a challenge, when he turned from weak to strong. Aomine wonders, as he pulls their lips together, just when Kise will fizzle or if he'll continue to grow and consume.

When he gets that shuddering sigh and soft hands on his jaw, he thinks the answer is something he's willing to wait to hear. He hopes it's the latter, because he thinks he's finally found what he's looking for.

PROMPT: TEAM FUKUTOMI JUICHI/KINJOU SHINGO

[catlarks]

Abe/Mihashi (oofuri)

“Since I was young, I have always known this: Life damages us, every one. We can’t escape that damage. But now, I am also learning this: We can be mended. We mend each other” ― Veronica Roth

PROMPT: TEAM FUKUTOMI JUICHI/KINJOU SHINGO

[catlarks]

Oe/Chihaya or Oe/Sumire (chihayafuru)

“It gives me strength to have somebody to fight for; I can never fight for myself, but, for others, I can kill.” ― Emilie Autumn, The Asylum for Wayward Victorian Girls.

PROMPT: TEAM FUKUTOMI JUICHI/KINJOU SHINGO

[catlarks]

Imaizumi/Teshima (yowapeda)

“People have an annoying habit of remembering things they shouldn't.” ― Christopher Paolini, Eragon

PROMPT: TEAM MATSUOKA RIN/RYUUGAZAKI REI

[niaocat]

Rin/Ai (Free!)

"I've been beaten down, I've been kicked around,
"But she takes it all for me.
"And I lost my faith, in my darkest days,
"But she makes me want to believe.

"Well I had my ways, they were all in vain,
"But she waited patiently.
"It was all the same, all my pride and shame,
"And she put me on my feet.

"They call her love, love, love, love, love Ai."

~She is Love (Parachute)

(sorrynotsorry give me all the cheesy RinAi)

FILL: TEAM MATSUOKA RIN/RYUUGAZAKI REI, M

[niaocat]

I hope I did this brilliant prompt some sort of justice....

contains inferred sexual activity and ~excitement~ of a NSFW variety (but nothing graphic although if OP would fancy an explicit continuation I wouldn't be hard to convince...)

Vibrations (440 words)

Sousuke could hear it.

His phone wasn't the only thing vibrating that night.

Kisumi: I can't wait for tomorrow!

Sousuke glanced at his phone, but ignored the cheerful message. If he ignored the message, maybe he could ignore the images filling his head, too.

Kisumi: Sousuke!

Kisumi: Soo~usuuu~ke!

Kisumi: I'm so excited!

Kisumi: Aren't you excited? (・◇・?)

Asking if he was excited was a loaded question, considering the circumstances. "Excited" was a bad word all around; Sousuke wished Kisumi would stop using it. He really didn't want to think about ~excitement~ in any context. He buried his face in his pillow, but couldn't stop himself from glancing up as his phone buzzed again.

Kisumi: If I'm not up by 8, will you please knock on my door?

Shit. That one required an answer. Sousuke debated for a minute, then heaved a resigned sigh and picked up his phone. He gathered himself; tried not to let any ~excitement~ cross his mind or influence his texting as he typed the completely serious message,

Sousuke: That depends, can you stop texting me while you're masturbating?

Maybe that would get him some peace. Maybe. And besides Sousuke's own need for sleep, Kisumi would never manage to get up at eight if he didn't call it quits soon. Any and all ~excitement~ aside, it would be best for all parties involved if the strawberry-haired boy would just—

Sousuke's phone vibrated, interrupting his mental tirade.

Kisumi: Touche.

Sousuke waited, listening. He gave the other a chance, he really did. But when the sound didn't stop, he snapped and typed out angrily,

Sousuke: I CAN STILL HEAR YOUR VIBRATOR.

Kisumi: Well I have needs, you know! |(￣3￣)|

Scowling furiously, Sousuke threw his phone at his pillow and listened, with his eyes closed, to the persistent hum drifting through the thin walls. It only took him a moment to reach a decision— a decision that, if he was honest with himself, was inevitable.

Sousuke swung down from the top bunk, shaking his head to scatter any want of sleep that lingered. Rin gave a sleepy murmur as the other's feet hit the floor, lifting one corner of his pillow to peer out with hooded eyes.

"On your way to fuck the clownfish?"

"He's clearly asking for it." Sousuke was glad for the darkness, although his roommate could probably tell how ~excited~ he was even without seeing his blush or his trousers.

"Great..." Rin groaned, retreating under his pillow again. "Now I get to be kept up by that instead of this."

"Shut up. It isn't as if I'm getting any sleep, either."

FILL: TEAM LOVE LIVE!, T

[elts]

no major content warnings // ~460 words

Sonoda Umi both hated and loved being in Eli’s presence.

The blonde was as cool as the rumours said, but the younger girl found this trait refreshing rather than intimidating. To her she was like a soft breeze on a hot summer day or cold shower after particularly tiring practice.

And that was her biggest problem.

Even though Eli had joined Muse quite long time ago Umi could still sense some uncertainty and distance between her and the rest of members. If she hadn’t had her figured out at all, she could think the school council president was too mature to get involved in their shenanigans, but she knew it wasn’t the case. Quite the opposite actually.

During one of the few quieter moments on their training camp in Maki’s house, catching the opportunity of spending some time with her alone, she’d asked her about it directly. Eli had only smiled softly and confessed to being scared of attachments.

“I’m flattered Honoka asked me to sing with everyone, but I planned to not join any clubs in my third year. I just don’t want to feel guilty when I leave Otonokizaka and, possibly, Japan, because my friends miss me. I… I really don’t want to miss anyone too,” she had said then.

That’s why Umi could never tell her she loved her.

She wasn’t cruel enough to make the blonde shoulder the burden right before graduation. She reckoned she’d leave the Muse right away or, at least, avoid Umi outside the practice. Not because of disgust or discomfort, but because of her kindness. She’d try to push her away with the most classic “it’s not you, it’s me” on her lips.

So the archer kept silent and settled on watching.

She watched as Eli ran her fingers through her bangs while squinting her nose at an exceptionally ridiculous request addressed to the students council. As her face brightened when she offered her help with the rest of appellations.

"I love you" never left her lips.

She watched as she laughed like a little child at something Honoka said that Umi didn’t quite catch. Her joy seemed to lighten up the clear sky above them even more and the younger girl felt a smile making its way on her face without permission.

I love you.

She watched as the third years left the school for the last time. Some crying because of sadness, some because of joy.

Eli looked back right then, locked her gaze with Umi’s and never broke the eye contact. Umi only smiled in response and offered her a little wave.

She felt like every single unsaid confession had left an unhealed scar on her throat.

And Eli could see the bruises clear as day.

(ah, i love them)

Re: FILL: Team Abe Takaya/Mihashi Ren, T

[oodal]

I WAS NOT EXPECTING THIS AND THIS WAS CUTE AND HILARIOUS AT THE SAME TIME and you nailed my personal head canon of shiba being really smart and chatty but also anxious at times omg thank you sO MUCH

Re: FILL: TEAM KUROO TETSUROU/OIKAWA TOORU, T

[chifuyu]

THIS WAS SO BEAUTIFUL!

[clutches chest]