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 TSUKISHIMA KEI/YAMAGUCHI TADASHI, T

[necessarian]

word count: 1,352
content warnings: alcohol mention, some crude sexual humour and crude language
notes: even if this prompt hadn't been tweeted at me the moment it was posted, i'd still say i was born to write an ennofuta scientist AU. and, because i should be studying for a quantum field theory exam, they're particle physicists. that's what i started with, and then idk this took its own direction. i'd also like to apologise for always making these two meet in restaurants. anyway now i'll stop rambling; hope you like it!

-

One confidentiality agreement and a few awkward handshakes later, Futakuchi can finally stop to take in everything that's happened in the six months since he submitted his thesis. He's in a Michelin-starred restaurant with Japan's best and brightest, surrounded by faces he can put to names he's seen on Nature papers and cited over and again in his bibliography. Not bad for someone still getting used to writing "Doctor" next to his name.

Since he started working on this project, he's been steering clear of the bigger names. There's something about particle physicists that makes him a little bit jumpy—maybe it's that they all have an intuitive understanding of the sort of high-level maths that has literally reduced Futakuchi to tears, or maybe it's that in his experience, the smarter you are the worse you are at socialising. So it's just his luck that he's been seated next to wunderkind Ennoshita Chikara, pre-eminent theoretical physicist and doctor since twenty-one.

It's probably because they're roughly the same age that someone thought it would be an honour for Futakuchi, and not the slap in the face that it actually is. They've met a couple of times while Futakuchi was working on the detector for the particle accelerator which Ennoshita and his collaborators used for their latest experiment, but he's not sure if Ennoshita remembers him.

"I don't think we've been introduced," Ennoshita says, confirming Futakuchi's suspicions. He waits until the entrées have been ordered to even consider starting a conversation—typical stuffy physicist, not that Futakuchi could say that properly without feeling like a hypocrite.

He steels himself for a long night. "Futakuchi Kenji," he says.

"Of course," Ennoshita says, "you were the fifteenth name on the paper."

"And not the last," Futakuchi says, before Ennoshita can say something weird and probably unintentionally belittling from his place as second co-author.

"I never implied that," Ennoshita says. "What was your role in the collaboration?"

Futakuchi takes a deep breath. "I designed and helped to build the detector."

"Oh, an engineer, then," Ennoshita says.

"Instrumentation," Futakuchi corrects through clenched teeth.

Ennoshita shrugs. "To be honest, I haven't actually read past the abstract. I only know the bits I contributed to."

That, Futakuchi had not been expecting. "Doesn't seem very professional," he says.

"What did you expect?" Ennoshita asks. "I don't know how long you've been a physicist, but unless you actually write or review a paper, you don't have much more than a superficial connection to it."

"Right," Futakuchi says. He kind of respects Ennoshita's bluntness. It's refreshing, after dealing with so much obfuscation from higher-ups. "So do you know anyone here?"

"Most of them," Ennoshita says, reaching across the table to pour himself some saké.

Futakuchi slumps a bit. He's still the odd one out, and sitting beside a genius makes him feel it even more acutely. Still, he and Ennoshita are definitely the youngest people there, and Futakuchi thinks that solidarity ought to count for something.

"Okay," Futakuchi says, "let's play a game. You point to an academic and I'll tell you what sort of nefariousness I think they get up to in their spare time."

"I don't know them that well," Ennoshita says. "Your guess is as good as mine."

"We'll both play, then," Futakuchi says. He gestures at an elderly man down the table. "What about him?"

"Writes erotic fiction," Ennoshita says. "Every male lead is an unlikely hero, a quiet guy who'd be more at home in a lab than on the cover of a magazine. He's been writing these novels for years, because he's never found love himself and uses fiction as an outlet for his fantasies."

"That's elaborate," Futakuchi comments.

Ennoshita quirks a smile. "Every scientist has a hobby. Storytelling is mine." He looks down the other end of the table. "How about him?"

Futakuchi takes a moment to think. "He crochets underwear. Really weird and twee stuff, too, like elephant cock socks—"

"You can't say 'cock socks' in a Michelin-starred restaurant!" Ennoshita whispers.

"—and," Futakuchi continues, "he's less ashamed of what he makes than he is that he makes it in the first place."

"Interesting," Ennoshita says. "I actually know him; he works in my department. I think he likes gardening in his spare time, but I'm not sure."

"So you picked him because you knew I'd get the wrong answer?" Futakuchi asks. That's kind of sly. He'd be lying if he said it didn't make him a little bit hot under the collar.

"Maybe," Ennoshita says, a hint of deliberate mystery in his voice. "Anyway, your turn."

Futakuchi looks up and down the table. On the far end, the first entrées are starting to arrive.

He points a finger to his own chest. "Me. What do you think my secret shame is?"

Ennoshita's quite obviously fighting a smile. "Hard to tell," he says. "You work in instrumentation, and if you have time to design a detector then you probably don't have much spare time."

"Hey!" Futakuchi says, barely even noticing as some food is placed in front of him. "It was my PhD thesis. Of course I devoted all my time to it."

"That's pretty impressive," Ennoshita says—and he sounds genuine. "Hmm. I think you don't have any strange hobbies. I think your secret is that you're actually a bit boring."

Futakuchi is, just for a moment, too stunned to respond. Ennoshita takes that moment and runs with it.

"What about me?" he asks. "What's my deal?"

Now, though, Futakuchi knows what he wants to say. "I think you tell stories."

"That's not fair," Ennoshita says. "I told you that."

"Wait, I'm not done," Futakuchi says. "I think you've been spinning me a story all night. I know we've met before, when I was working on the detector, and I don't buy that you didn't remember me. I think your dirty secret is that you've been fantasising about meeting me properly ever since then, and that you arranged to sit next to me tonight just so you could chat me up."

Futakuchi stops to take a deep breath. He's pretty proud of himself for working all that out, but he wonders if maybe he's crossed a line by putting all his cards on the table too soon.

Ennoshita is silent for a moment, a blush forming on his face. "You're only half-right," he says eventually. "When I found out that one of the co-authors on the paper was my age, I requested that he—that you be seated next to me at this dinner. I didn't know your name, though, and I didn't want this to get weird before it had even started, so I introduced myself like normal."

"So you haven't been fantasising about chatting me up for months?" Futakuchi asks, grinning.

"Not for months," Ennoshita says.

Futakuchi raises his eyebrows. "That's a bit vague," he says.

"Just minutes," Ennoshita says, completing his last thought. "Don't look so confused—you're a scientist. I believe you are aware of the law of attraction, Doctor Futakuchi."

Futakuchi's mouth drops open. "Did you just flirt with me using a Jurassic Park quote?"

Ennoshita doesn't meet his eye, turning to his entrée with a smile. "I'm impressed you picked up on that, actually."

"I'm just impressed," Futakuchi says. "You know, for a theoretical physicist, you're pretty smooth."

"That's a backhanded way of saying it," Ennoshita says. "Still, now that you're in the field—I presume you're looking for a postdoctoral position."

"Something like that," Futakuchi says. "Will you put in a good word for me?"

"I'll consider it," Ennoshita said. "What I was actually going to ask if you'd consider joining a collaboration I have in the works."

"Is this still about physics, or are you talking about—"

The word "sex" dies on Futakuchi's tongue in favour of something more tasteful.

"—or are you flirting again?"

Ennoshita turns back, giving Futakuchi an amused look. "A bit of both," he says.

"Well, we could probably do some great particle physics together," Futakuchi says, "but we might get better results starting with the law of attraction."

Re: FILL: TEAM NANASE HARUKA/YAMAZAKI SOUSUKE, E

[alphahelix]

Aaaaaahhhhh thank you so much!!!!!! The smut was [fire emojis] but the emotions took my breath away ; A ; do i feel sorry for Kise, whom Aomine doesn't even want to see..? Do i feel sorry for Aomine, who's so desperately l clinging to denial? Either way, I love this!!! Thank you!!!!!

FILL: TEAM AKASHI SEIJUUROU/NIJIMURA SHUUZOU, G

[otqps]

Warnings: None
Word Count: 843

He’s let Rin go before, unknowingly. The last time he went to Australia he had absolutely no choice, just letters to send and mope over the lack of a returned gesture.

He’s older now, more sure of himself, and maybe braver. Well. Only a little, since he hasn’t managed to force the words out yet, and Sousuke realizes he’s very clearly running out of time.
Going to the airport with Rin was a given, and the Matsuokas knew that, too – no one had blinked at Sousuke fitting into the car as well, he and Rin in the backseat, Kou and their mother in the front.

Rin’s bags are already checked. He has some time before security, and Sousuke – Sousuke really needs to tell him the truth.

“Can I borrow you for a second?” he manages to ask, low and nervous. Kou gives him a pointed look, and Sousuke frowns at her – of course she knows. She probably always has. It isn’t fair.

“Sure,” Rin says, easily, if not a bit curiously. Sousuke tugs on his arm just slightly, off towards some more secluded area – that’s hard to come by, and. Well. He should have said something earlier.

“Rin,” it’s not easy to swallow past his nerves, but he tries, “there’s something I want to say.”

Rin folds his arms, expectant, and gives him the nod to go ahead. Sousuke wishes this was easier, wishes he wasn’t so embarrassed to be taking even a moment away from his family.

“I don’t want to tie you down while you’re over there. You could find someone you really like, and that’d be okay, but – I don’t think they’ll ever feel how I do about you. It’s been a long time, and I’m sorry I didn’t say this sooner, I’m sorry I’m saying it now, but. I love you, Rin.” He adds, silently, ‘please don’t cry’.

Sousuke finds himself being pulled very abruptly into a hug – or rather, Rin just flings himself on Sousuke and puts his arms around his neck and there are definitely no sniffling sounds there, at all. Sousuke feels fairly helpless to do anything but wrap his arms around him in kind.
“I knew it.”

That’s not… exactly what Sousuke wanted to hear, but it’s not a bad thing, maybe? He hopes.
But then Rin starts laughing, or at least it seems like it, and Sousuke suddenly has no idea what to make of anything. He pulls back some, frowning, to see Rin’s expression – he’s teary-eyed, but smiling, and Sousuke… has trouble really thinking straight in the face of that; he’s too handsome, too open, and it makes his heart flip.

“I just – kinda figured, since we were kids, but you never said anything in your letters and I didn’t know, if you still… when I came back, and all. Even if it seemed like it.”

Sousuke sort of wants to punch him for that, because as much as he’s embarrassed and maybe a little frustrated over how obvious he was, it’s such a stupid worry – of course he still felt that way. He doesn’t know how it could stop.

“Yeah, well. You were right.” His jaw’s clenched a little, feeling uncomfortably scrutinized and wishing Rin would just give him some kind of /answer/ –

“Guess so. And you don’t have to look so upset. I love you, too. Since we were kids and you were a brat who never stopped being stubborn.”

– oh.

His cheeks go red, he’s pretty sure, and even though Sousuke isn’t going to cry, he wants to. Instead, he reaches out to thread his fingers with Rin’s, squeezing his hand tight and getting one back without any delay.

“I’m still stubborn.”

“I know,” Rin says, but there’s nothing but a fond sigh attached to his tone, “and you still barely understand teamwork, but we’ll work on it.”

That sounds nice to him. Maybe he was slow on the uptake for what kind of meaning a relay has, but he does want the rest of his life to be working with and alongside Rin, so he may need the practice.

“Sorry, though. It’s kind of – unfair to say I’d like you more than anybody in Australia.” … Even if he still feels like it’s true.

Rin just laughs, dropping his forehead against Sousuke’s collarbone and shaking it back and forth – nuzzling?

“I wasn’t gonna look, anyway, Sousuke.”

Ahh. Well. At least he’s not the only one.

They squeeze hands once more, heading back to Rin’s family with them still linked – Kou rolls her eyes, but she’s happy, and his mom just smiles so knowingly that Sousuke knows the back of his neck goes red.

There’s a silent agreement between he and Rin that, however tempting, their first kiss can wait until the next visit, when there’s no need to rush. Sousuke can endure that wait, probably, just as he can endure the gentle teasing from the Matsuokas during the car ride back.

Rin’s always worth it.

PROMPT: TEAM AKASHI SEIJUUROU/NIJIMURA SHUUZOU

[otqps]

Genichirou Sanada/Seiichi Yukimura (Prince of Tennis)

"Soft as your skin is,
Why so hard to let me in?"

Re: FILL: TEAM AKAASHI KEIJI/BOKUTO KOUTAROU/KUROO TETSUROU, G

[alphahelix]

THIS IS SO BEAUTIFUL, I'M EMOTIONAL

"he remembers how tooru dies only because he goes first--and learns a simple pattern. where tooru goes, hajime follows." AUGH THIS KILLS ME!!! IWAIZUMI ALWAYS FOLLOWING OIKAWA... GROUNDING HIM AND PULLING HIM BACK TO EARTH.. THEY ARE SO GOOD FOR EACH OTHER

"I dream about dying" "i dream about you" YOU'RE KILLING ME!!!!! oikawa being vulnerable to iwaizumi... iwaizumi's thoughts reflecting both their past lives and his love YOU'RE SO CLEVER ASDFGHHJJ IM WEAK

IM SO SORRY FOR THIS MESS OF A COMMENT I'LL STOP QUOTING EVERYTHING OTL

THANK YOU SO MUCH!!!!!!! YOUR WRITING STYLE IS BEAUTIFUL!!!

Re: PROMPT: TEAM HAIBA LEV/YAKU MORISUKE

[solfuric]

sorry for the awfully late reply! of course!

FILL: TEAM AKASHI SEIJUUROU/NIJIMURA SHUUZOU, G

[otqps]

Warnings: None
Word Count: 482
Ship: Kenma/Hinata

He has a best friend; Shouyou is something different, but fairly close, he thinks. He can’t always put words to it. Or, rather, he never really can, only can get close to approximating it and trying to discern the reason for the butterflies in his stomach.

He spends his time wanting to be nearer to Shouyou, which is hard, given they live fairly far. Trains make everything easier, but, not so easy that he can just go over after school or anything. That stings, a little.

They text, plenty -- he hears about Shouyou’s days, both good and bad. His heart aches a little (a lot) on the days where Shouyou sounds discouraged and sometimes outright upset, and he knows that he is no good with words, and the option to just put a hand over his friend’s isn’t there. So he’s stuck frowning at his phone, the “I’m sorry” and brief words of comfort just not enough.

Shouyou is so warm that he deserves better -- he’s bright and excited and Kenma often feels small in comparison, height forgotten. He enjoys it, though, deep down -- it makes him long for closeness in a way that he usually doesn’t. He thinks about it more than he’d ever want to admit, Shouyu’s hand in his own, Shouyou’s lips near his, or on his cheek, and most of all, Shouyou curled up with him. They could fall asleep after playing games, or after practicing volleyball, and maybe Shouyou would be the big spoon -- it seems nice. It seems nice to hold him, too, though, to tuck his chin atop Shouyou’s shoulder and keep his arms around his waist.

Kenma isn’t a cuddler, exactly, but Shouyou makes him want to be.

Sometimes they talk on the phone, too, but that makes it even harder. The sound of Shouyou’s voice, his laugh, all of that, makes his stomach twist and he just wishes -- wishes that Shouyou was next to him, knees bumping, shoulders brushing. That’s all he really wants.

He’s impatient for that, so it doesn’t really come as any surprise that when Shouyou does have the time to visit, Kenma jumps on it, truly. He says yes immediately, thrilled for the week of time they’ll have, and tries not to let his heart rate get away from him.

When he picks Shouyou up at the train station, and he gets arms thrown around his neck immediately, and can cling to Shouyou without any hesitation, receive a whispered, “I missed you”, Kenma thinks he’s never been happier.

And as the week passes, he finds that nothing fills him with a simpler sense of joy and achievement than waking up with Shouyou clasping onto him. It feels better, in some ways, than clearing a difficult level or finally beating a boss; it’s easy, peaceful, and perfect no matter the position or time of day.

FILL: TEAM AKASHI SEIJUUROU/NIJIMURA SHUUZOU, G

[otqps]

Warnings: None
Word Count: 488
ahh i'm really sorry :( i think this ended up being a little boring and all, i'm not sure how to write the love live! girls yet, but i really wanted to try ;_;

Honoka isn’t the type to contain much. She lets out her feelings, what she has to say, with little hesitation, usually. It doesn’t take her very long to confess, in light of that.

It’s with laced hands, pink cheeks, and some soft giggles that Honoka realizes once more that Kotori is melodious. She is all smooth skin that Honoka can slide a hand up like a scale, laughter that sounds like it belongs in a song, and so many of her words are soft and sweet like lyrics.

The rhythm of her heart, the pitch of her gasp, the lilt of whispered feelings… Honoka wishes she had the talent to compose something herself that could sum up just how lovely Kotori is.
More so than anything, though, that love culminates in a desire to express it to not just Kotori, but everyone. Just as Honoka has no ability to resist singing, no power to keep those things inside her, she has no capacity to restrain herself from making her love for Kotori known, either.

In her wildest dreams, she’s on stage, Kotori’s hand in her own, singing straight from her heart about the beautiful girl with amber eyes that didn’t want to leave her, who Honoka will never let go.

It will be the perfect combination of how free she feels now, in Kotori’s arms, and how she feels with a microphone in front of her.

It’s nice that she knows Kotori feels the same, too -- she can tell, Honoka catches the moments that Kotori looks over at her while singing a certain line of a song, something that makes her think of Honoka, and her cheeks darken whenever it happens. Hopefully it’s easily mistaken as being from heat, but it’s the idea that Kotori thinks of her, even on stage, just like Honoka does.

Once, they’re cuddling, trading soft, sweet kisses, and Honoka suddenly gets afraid. “Do you regret not going to do that costuming thing…?” It’s not really a question they’ve been asked, since it was clear, Umi had made it so, that Kotori had wanted to be told to stay -- but sometimes it feels unfair, like she’s stifling someone with so much talent in so many places, and it weighs on Honoka, honestly. Better to ask and be clear about it, she figures.

“No,” Kotori says, some sort of gentleness to her voice, like she understands how torn up Honoka is, like the very question itself flatters her, “I just want to sing with you.” She shuffles closer, pressing a kiss to Honoka’s cheek, smiling. “Forever and ever, Honoka.”

Honoka wants it, too -- wants the lifetime of sometimes exhausting rehearsals, sore muscles, tired lungs, but Kotori right there with her. And they’ll learn, together, how to deal with the trials that a relationship usually faces -- love’s highs and lows, communicating with each other just like trading off verses. They’ll make it.

FILL: TEAM NANASE HARUKA/TACHIBANA MAKOTO, T

[doxian]

tags: violence
word count: 623

Upon further reflection, fighting somebody who's thrice his size probably isn't one of Arakita's better ideas.

In his defense, he'd reacted purely on instinct when Fukutomi returned to Hakogaku's tent with a pink-purple bruise swiftly blossoming on one cheek and an unfamiliar nuance of emotion notched at his lip. (On his way out, Arakita had realized - with an unpleasant lurch of surprise - that it was shame.)

The instinct was to storm out of the tent and go sniff out the Sohoku fucker who'd dared to punch Fuku-chan. (Fighting people was easy. Addressing his captain feeling ashamed of himself is a much uglier beast that can be saved for later. Or even better: never.)

Beyond the flaps of their tent, the competition area is still buzzing with activity and excited conversation. Arakita would find this annoying at the best of times. In this mood, the obnoxious chattering fans the flame of his ire until he's snarling at people to get the hell out of his way. He earns more than a few glares and even a couple of shouts and swears as he shoves his way through the crowd of colourful jerseys none too gently, squinting against the glare of sunlight reflecting off the shiny fabric of the tents.

Zekken #75 isn't hard to miss, mostly because he's built like a house and can't help but stand out among the much leaner and lither cyclists around him - a single broad oak in a field of tall grass.

He's also really goddamn loud.

Arakita interrupts whatever involved discussion he's having with his skinny, green-haired teammate by jabbing him hard in the shoulder.

The sprinter turns around, looking confused when he's immediately faced with Arakita's fist. Arakita gets a brief glimpse of a straight nose and sharp eyebrows before his punch connects with the guy's jaw.

Arakita gets that one good hit in - it makes a satisfying noise like a meat tenderizer hitting a steak - before he's knocked off his feet and the back of his head painfully smacks against concrete.

"What the hell are you doing?!"

The sprinter holds him down, one brawny forearm braced against Arakita's chest. Arakita kicks his legs, furiously tries to push him off. As soon as Arakita starts trying to kick him, he merely twists his body so he's sitting on Arakita's legs and Arakita is left pointlessly struggling and whacking him on the back and arms, burning out his anger against the 200-plus pounds of bodyweight pressing him against the ground.

When Arakita tries to punch him in the face again he just moves so that Arakita's arm is trapped between him and Arakita's chest.

"Your captain injured our ace!" he bellows, loud enough to make Arakita's ears ring at this range. Arakita realizes he'd been yelling about what happened to Fukutomi this whole time. He also realizes that this guy hasn't once tried to hit him back.

He isn't trying to fight back.

This almost makes Arakita angry all over again.

"Tadokorocchi."

The other Sohoku guy's bleating voice emanates from Arakita's left at the same time one of the event officials calls out, clear and authoritative, from his right.

Zekken #75 gets up. Arakita gets up, too, feeling a little shaken.

Arakita turns on his heel and stomps off, unwilling to get his team disqualified over a fight but unwilling to apologize for it, either.

Arakita does wonder, though, whether this guy had been lying about Fukutomi. But whatever he'd done, Fukutomi must have had a good reason for doing it.

Back in the tent, met by his teammate's indignant demands to know where he went, Arakita just informs them that there's an additional reason why they call Tadokoro Jin the Human Bullet Train.

FILL: TEAM AKASHI SEIJUUROU/NIJIMURA SHUUZOU, G

[otqps]

Warnings: None
Word Count: 645

They’ve stayed together, for the most part. It’s not like either of them have seen other people, so far as Makishima knows at least, but sometimes he still worries. Toudou is handsome, even if he’s annoying, and there are genuinely plenty of people who’d want to be with him. He still doesn’t understand why Toudou likes him, even though they’ve been “dating” for about two years. It’s harder now especially, given Makishima’s in England.

He’s getting to visit, though, now -- to go back and see his friends on vacation, and of course, that includes Toudou, too. Toudou has actually promised to be his ferry from the airport back to Makishima’s place, even though he doesn’t need it, but Toudou can actually drive, now, so maybe he wants to show off a little.

Makishima spends the whole flight fretting; he remembers all the nice, loving things that Toudou’s said, all the laughter he’s had at Makishima’s hands, the kisses they shared before Makishima left… they’ll all fond memories, things that comfort him, a little, but there’s still never going to be any guarantee that he’ll step off this plane and be welcomed back just the same as he left. Toudou might care less, now, but not have been able to express that.

Honestly, he doesn’t really have any reason to suspect that. Toudou’s been talking about nothing else but how Makishima’s coming back, throwing out plans and chatting away, at length, about how much he wants a good, three hour long snuggle session, at least. He doesn’t have any evidence as to that being feigned. It still nags at his gut, though. Maybe in-person things will feel different, now, or unsatisfying. He doesn’t know. It’s not like Makishima’s dated a lot.

When the plane touches down, he sends Toudou a message to let him know -- he gets back exclamation points and happy faces, enough to fill two messages in return, and Makishima is frustrated with himself for not being at ease even in response to that.

The anxiety only grows each step off the plane he takes, and entering the actual terminal feels foreboding. He keeps going, though, towards the baggage claim, clutching his carry-on’s strap a little tighter with each passing minute. The second he steps into the claim, he’s latched onto -- it’s Toudou, of course, he doesn’t even feel that surprised.

Toudou’s arms cling around him, and Makishima hugs him back, actually, though it’s hard with a bag on his arm and even more difficult because he didn’t expect it.

“Hi,” Toudou says, with his face buried in Makishima’s shirt.

“Hey,” he says back, lips quirking up in a smile already. He can feel some tears sinking into his shirt. That’s okay. It might be a little mean, but that more than anything relaxes his nerves; it’s hard to fake crying at the sight of your boyfriend, after all.

“How was your flight?”

“Long.”

“How’s your condition?” Toudou pulls back, then, sniffling, but with a broad grin. He’s still close, reaching to steal Makishima’s hands and hold them tight.

Makishima laughs, the exhalation of fear, exhaustion, and all the genuine happiness he has from being here, and Toudou almost looks surprised. “I’m tired. Give me the night at least, Jinpachi, geez.”

Toudou tugs him towards one of the baggage carousels, shaking his head, and it does startle Makishima himself just how much he’s missed everything about his fellow climber.

“Fine, fine! You’re no fun, Maki-chan! You’re lucky I love you! I’ve been waiting for a race for so long, you know!”

And he is -- he’s very lucky. Especially because he knows that all that ocean between them, and no matter how many mountains they do or don’t scale, Toudou wants him in his life. That’s more than he ever thought he’d end up with, joining his high school’s biking club.

FILL: Team Fukutomi Juichi/Kinjou Shingo, T

[hachikocchi]

Tags: emotional manipulation, [slight implications of] cannibalism
Word count: 919

The rest of the team knew better than to interrupt the small amount of alone time that Midousuji had for himself. After the third years had left, he —the sole ace of the team— found himself taking on the role as both the backbone and the skin of Kyoto Fushimi. Like their jerseys, their bruises from his demands when it came to changing their training regimen left them purple, pink, and blue.

Most of the team, still strung together by the leftover bond of Ishigaki, often left to lick their own wounds together at the end of the day. Yesterday, they softened the blows to their ego with gari gari kun. Today was probably takoyaki. Probably, only because Midousuji hadn’t cared enough to tune into any of their conversations properly to make sure where they were going after the customary “thank you!” was said and “goodbye” was given. The only thing that mattered was that the team was gone and he was alone, long legs finally able to stretch languidly from the bench he was sitting on without the tension he placed upon himself when in the presence of his lesser teammates.

Then of course, the door to the clubroom creaked open and a barely familiar face looked in. A smile stretched a pair of thin pink lips wide open and Midousuji found himself grimacing, his own lips pulled down into a small snarl. Teeth for teeth, even if the reception was the opposite to the self invitation. It doesn’t scare Komari away and for a quick moment, Midousuji wondered if the time at the last Inter High had made him soft. The snarl deepened. Gum was shown. Komari only smiled wider, as if Midousuji’s annoyance and ire were everything he had wanted in the first place.

“Midousuji-kun, you’re not going for takoyaki?” The door closed behind him as the shorter male entered and made way toward the ace. There was no hesitance, despite the way Midousuji refused to pull back his legs or make space on the bench.

“Don’t be gross! Who would want to go out and eat food when it’ll be spoiled by filth?” Eyes narrowed, Midousuji leaned forward with both hands clenching each side of the bench as if to physically embody the disgust of being asked such a question. His head twisted to the side and with his nose upturned at the other cyclist, Midousuji sneered, “But why does the intruder care? ”

“Because it’s you, Midousuji-kun.”

Well, that wasn’t the reaction he was expecting. Pure, simple, and very straight to the point. Suddenly, wariness settled in and Midousuji straightened his back. The wooden bench squeaked just a bit under the added pressure of his fingers.

“Haaa? Don’t be disgusting!”

“But I mean it, you know? You can trust me.”

Distrust was not the issue, in truth, but rather the result of facts and experience. Everyone was simply under him when it came to the road and to training. They were fine with barely passing the minimum. Midousuji had only one option, one goal and that was to be the one who won. There could be no minimum.

“Gross! Why should I trust you? I trust no one on this team so what makes you so—special, Komari-kun?”

“Because I love you!”

Midousuji couldn’t tell if he recoiled because of the sheer glee on Komari’s face or because of his words. There were few people in the world that would ever saw those three words and mean them when he was part of the equation. Those people, he knew or had known, and were all family. They had reasons to love him. Komari didn’t.

And still the younger man inched forward, lips parted and breathing heavily through his mouth. Both of the blue haired man’s hands were outstretched, as if hoping the act itself would will Midousuji’s own into their palms. His hands stay clenched against the edges of the bench. Komari’s doesn’t fall.

“I love you so much, Midousuji-kun. I love the way you speak, the way you handle everything. You’re always so honest and hardworking.”

Midousuji shifted, eyes barely keeping themselves in their sockets. What was the other man seeing?

“I’ll dissect and rip apart all of those before you, Midousuji-kun, if you only just ask. And I’m not asking for much, Midousuji-kun.”


 Dangerous. This man, before him, is dangerous. Midousuji can press his lips together into a thin line, shocked to stillness if only because of the realization that there were only a few inches between them now.

“I just wanna be your favorite, won't you let me be your favorite?"

Komari was different from Mizuta. But the way they focused was the same. The degree? It was like comparing a candle to a hellblaze.

“Midousuji-kun?”

But he could use this. He could use Komari the way he couldn’t with Mizuta. The lack of hesitance, the overflowing sense of self confidence and understanding—Midousuji could use all of what is Komari to an advantage. He glanced away and then back, head still tilted up to the ceiling of their small club room with his nose upturned.

“You’ll do everything I say?”

When he looked back, Komari was smiling. His teeth was as sharp as Midousuji’s and a clean pearly white. Yes, Komari would be useful but Midousuji will have to be careful. Those that clean and wait patiently are predators and he’ll have to make sure he doesn’t lose a limb for his plans.

“Everything.”

FILL: TEAM LOVE LIVE!, G

[elts]

no major content warnings // 610 words
some swearing

“What is your problem, Arakita!?”

Toudou assaulted the other boy in the locker room immediately after practice, when others were still outside, and regarded him with furious look on his face.

“I knew you were a Neanderthal, pretty much everyone did, but I didn't even consider the possibility that you lack absolutely any delicacy and gentleness! Just what was that?! And...” He stopped yelling to regain his breath. “Why would you do that?” he finished more calmly. He expected Arakita to snap back at him, but his words were followed only by silence that let the accusation sink in as the question echoed in the empty room.

Hakogaku’s wolf squinted his nose unconsciously as he thought about the answer. Toudou might have found it cute (that was just ridiculous, no one in their right minds would ever describe him as cute), if it wasn’t for the overwhelming anger that outshined his other emotions at the moment.

“She interrupted the practice,” he replied eventually.

“Interrupted the practice? If I recall correctly it was you who had been whining about how tiring and problematic it was.” Toudou crossed his arms. “And it’s not a reason to yell at innocent girl to “fuck off” when she is making a love confession!”

“It isn’t like you were going to accept it anyway! You get tones of these!” Arakita also raised his voice at this point. His perpetual scowl deepened, but honestly, the climber didn’t care enough about the consequences now. He just had to let all his current frustration out and unknowingly the past emotions went along with the flow, finding their way onto Toudou’s lips too.

“That doesn’t mean you should be a dick to her! Do you even realize how humiliating it must have been? But of course, why would you care?” he huffed. “Do you feel something like sympathy sometimes? Do you even possess any positive human feelings, because-”

Oh no, he didn’t mean to say that.

He already knew Arakita’s softer side and how much he worked for Hakogaku’s team to accept and like him. Touching this subject and implying that his efforts went to waste was almost as much of a dick move as the blown up confession.

He recognized the moment something in the other boy’s posture changed. Arakita wasn’t radiating annoyance anymore and his scowl became more subdued. Toudou opened his mouth to apologize for overstepping the boundaries and take his words back, even if he couldn’t take back caused damage, but suddenly rough hands grabbed the front of his jersey.

He could only close his eyes, waiting for inevitable punch to come. He just hoped he’d have mercy and aim for his stomach, not face.

He felt pressure on his chest lessen. There it comes-

-not.

His eyes snapped open when gentle fingertips instead of clenched fist touched his cheek. Having his field of view filled with Arakita’s face, he couldn’t help wondering just why is he so close-

Ah, they are going to kiss, aren’t they? he thought unusually calmly for a person who is about to kiss their crush for the first time after an argument.

The other boy’s lips were surprisingly soft against his own, and he leaned forward to chase them when they disappeared much too soon for his liking.

“I do,” Arakita murmured. Toudou sent him a confused look, but then he remembered what he’d said before every single thought was replaced with a feeling of soft kiss.

“I know you do. I’d have taken it back, I you had just let me.”

He liked how natural returning to bickering felt. Like kissing had been something they’d been doing for ages.

(i'm not really satisfied with this, but whatever)

FILL: TEAM IWAIZUMI HAJIME/OIKAWA TOORU, G

[ennoshita]

no major content warnings, 1170 wc.

“Can you stop?”

Moriyama’s straw snaps in half as he looks up in alarm, blinking away the haze in his eyes to address Kasamatsu as clearly and as professionally as possible.

“Stop what?”

Kasamatsu scowls. “That,” he says, gesturing with one hand to the pile of mutilated straws in front of Moriyama. “What’s wrong with you?”

“Oh.” He drops the severed straw from his hands and clears his throat uncomfortably, leaning back in his seat as casually as possible while simultaneously trying to shrink away from Kasamatsu’s critical stare. Kasamatsu is his best friend by technical standards and Moriyama is willing to talk to him about virtually anything but this—

This being the very cute employee that definitely wasn’t there this morning beaming from behind the cash register at the steady stream of customers ebbing in and out.

“It’s nothing,” Moriyama says unconvincingly, clearing his throat again and pointedly looking down at his mountain of straws.

“Okay,” Kasamatsu replies with a shrug.

There’s a brief pause that follows with Kasamatsu idly sipping away at his drink while scrolling through his phone (combatting text messages from Kise, no doubt) and Moriyama staring at the table.

“Well if you insist on me telling you…” Moriyama finally says.

“I didn’t—”

“Don’t look back but there is someone very attractive currently working the cash register effortlessly,” Moriyama stage whispers.

Kasamatsu looks back.

“I said don’t look back!”

Kasamatsu, ever the obedient friend, shakes off Moriyama’s frantic gurgling noises and cranes his neck and torso to try and get a better look at cash register boy.

“I know that kid,” Kasamatsu announces as soon as he turns back around following Moriyama’s barrage of straws hurled at Kasamatsu’s head. “I’m pretty sure he’s in one of my classes. Izuki, I think?”

Moriyama sullenly picks at the plastic of his coffee cup.

“What?” There’s a disapproving frown on Kasamatsu’s face. “Just… go talk to him.”

Kasamatsu makes it sound as though it’s simple—as though he himself does not have difficulties formulating coherent sentences around the opposite gender let alone the person he likes nine times out of ten. Moriyama would certainly point out that Kasamatsu has no reason to act as though the romancing of beautiful people is an easy task simply because he has Kise but Moriyama hardly thinks Kasamatsu is above calling Izuki, was it? over here if particularly threatened.

“I absolutely cannot do that,” Moriyama says solemnly.

“Why not,” Kasamatsu asks, voice flat.

“Because all I know is that he is incredibly cute and has a smile that might blind me. I have no reason to go up to him except to ask for medical compensation for the cataracts his radiance has caused me.”

“That was gross.”

“You can’t call love gross, Kasamatsu. It only shows that you’re a romance-less fool.”

“Well,” Kasamatsu says, smiling smugly.

And Moriyama frowns because there’s no room for smug smiles and incomplete sentences when he’s having a crisis and—oh, Oh. Someone’s tapping his shoulder from behind and the feeling in his gut says turning around to address them is absolutely going to be the worst decision ever.

He turns around, full of self-hatred, and looks Izuki (and his nametag reads) Shun in the eye.

“Oh,” Moriyama says weakly, faintly.

“Haha,” Izuki laughs in response, holding a handful of unused straws and extending it to Moriyama. “You dropped your… straws.”

“Oh,” Moriyama says once more, weakly, faintly.

Izuki smiles and Moriyama wonders if this is punishment from kami-sama.

“Kasamatsu-san!” Izuki says in greeting to a Kasamatsu who is not so discreetly trying to stifle his laugh behind a fist. “I didn’t even notice you here. Ah—you guys came together then?”

“Yeah,” Kasamatsu replies with a nod before rising from his seat abruptly. “I have to go meet someone though. I’ll see you around, Izuki. See you, Moriyama.” He lifts a hand to wave and ignores the very pointed death glares Moriyama is sending in his general direction.

“Ah, see you around then,” says Izuki, still holding the straws in his hand. He looks very endearing with his cute coffee shop visor around his head and the way his nametag’s lopsided and just barely holding on to the threads of his shirt. “Then… Moriyama-san? I’m Izuki. I didn’t mean to startle you… Strawtle you?”

“Excuse me?” Moriyama finds himself saying out loud, weakly, faintly.

“Sorry, that one was no good.” Izuki smiles sheepishly before settling the straws on the table in front of Moriyama. His gaze lingers on the pile of severed straws and he looks at Moriyama, as though contemplating whether he dares to even ask.

“I,” Moriyama begins defenselessly, “you know.”

“I’m sorry, Moriyama-san, I don’t think I do.”

Moriyama’s words are dying in his throat and he wonders if it is appropriate at all to cough violently in front of someone you think is kind of cute. He figures it isn’t, so he swallows the lump in his throat and gestures to the straws with gusto.

“Well, you know,” he says again, despite Izuki very clearly not knowing (not that Moriyama knows either). “You have to cut the straws you see so the world sucks a little less, right?”

Izuki’s face is blank before it, all at once, lights up. He claps his hands together, eyes positively twinkling as he places his hands on Moriyama’s shoulders.

“That one was great!” he says with an unexpected vigor. He releases Moriyama to fumble with his pockets, frowning when he fails to find what he was searching for. “I must have left my joke book at home… You like puns though!”

“I like puns,” Moriyama states instead of inquiring, as intended.

“Me too,” Izuki says in reply, radiant as ever as he looks fondly (fondly?) at the straws with what Moriyama thinks might be a sense of understanding.

“My world also sucks less,” Moriyama begins, wondering to himself why his smooth factor drops to the frigid depths of hell around Izuki, “because you are now in it.”

Izuki looks up from the straws at Moriyama, confusion written across his features. “I don’t think I get that one, I’m sorry,” he says with a half-hearted frown. “Ah! Maybe you’re comparing me to a straw? Was that it?”

He thinks Izuki is cute. Endearing, too, and Moriyama also thinks he might like to take Izuki on a date. He also thinks asking Izuki on a date and having Izuki understand that it is a date might be difficult. The smile on Moriyama’s face falters and his left eye twitches.

“Well, Izuki, perhaps I can explain it to you tomorrow over lunch.”

“Ah?” Izuki blinks. “It’s that complicated? I’d love to have you teach me, Moriyama-san! Your puns really are top-notch if I can’t even catch onto them!”

“…Yes,” Moriyama says uneasily. “Sure, we can start with… puns.”

“Thank you for the invitation, Moriyama-san. Your kindness really does make you one of a kind.” Izuki grins in anticipation.

Moriyama laughs forcefully and realizes this is really only the beginning.

Re: FILL: team kageyama tobio/oikawa tooru, G

[kuramochi]

VIIIII THIS IS SO PERFECT I CAN'T. i love how you varied the text and the angles and that close up of miyuki's smile when it's so easily hidden by the catcher's mask is so niceeeeee.

Re: PROMPT: Team Arakita Yasutomo/Fukutomi Juichi

[stereosymbiosis]

this is gorgeous! thank you so much!

Re: FILL: TEAM AKASHI SEIJUUROU/NIJIMURA SHUUZOU, G

[fabflyingfox]

I'm so very I love I yes I perfect all right all right all right all right all right <3 <# <3 <3 [heart eyes into the sun]

Re: FILL: Team Oikawa Tooru/Sugawara Koushi

[stereosymbiosis]

[SCREAMS] i love love love this, thank you so much!!

Re: FILL: TEAM NANASE HARUKA/YAMAZAKI SOUSUKE, E

[milla]

I'M GLAD YOU LIKE IT <3

Re: FILL: team Nishinoya Yuu/Tanaka Ryuunosuke Rating: G

[stereosymbiosis]

omg i'm going to cry forever because this is so beautiful ;___; thank you!!!

FILL: TEAM KUROO TETSUROU/OIKAWA TOORU, M

[auber_jean]

RADIOACTIVE (POWER & CONTROL)


No major content warnings; Word Count: 1552


It’s a terrible idea, Miyuki knows it. From the thumping bass of music from the Top Forty spanning over the past ten years, to the humid room temperature rising from the constant bustle of bodies struggling to keep in time. He gets shoved to the side so many times that he’s stopped trying to count. He knows it well enough that he calculates seven different ways to escape; three including the front door, and four by using the defunct disco ball hanging from the ceiling as a distraction to the deeply intoxicated people he calls his classmates.

It’s a party, and Miyuki Kazuya doesn’t do parties. It’s cross of something between a reunion and a team-building exercise because his university baseball senpai’s have configured it into a tradition for all the new recruits. And although this is his second year at Waseda, Miyuki can barely count ten of his teammates, let alone name the extra individuals that managed to sneak their way into getting free booze.

The can of beer is already lukewarm in his hands, but he insists on holding onto it like some kind of anchor in this mess. Across the room, he watches as a group of guys trip over themselves and tumble to the floor after an attempt to start a congo line. And by this time, Miyuki is really starting to consider leaving.

“God, Kazuya. You’re such a bore,” a familiar voice calls from within the crowd.

Or not.

Miyuki flicks his gaze to the left, eyes falling on Narumiya Mei’s grinning face before he turns back to observe the crowd, ignoring the other boy in favour of watching the wriggling ocean of bodies moving in off-step beats. Because of course Mei is at the party, the other boy wouldn’t waste an opportunity to goad over their kouhai. Miyuki’s lips quirk upward. “As if you’re any better.”

“I can be a lot more fun than you.”

Miyuki raises his brows before frowning slightly as his glasses slip down his nose. “Do you want to test that theory?”

“Eager, are we?”

“No,” Miyuki shrugs, indifferent enough for Mei to hopefully leave without starting anything. “Just bored enough.”

“Did baseball leave you with no social skills whatsoever, or have you just never been to a party?” Mei leers, clearly amused with himself.

“And what? The great Mei-sama has come to take pity on the wallflower? You might want to be careful with your image there, ouji-san.”

The nickname amuses Miyuki as much as it pleases Mei. The other boy loves the dramatics and thrives on fanfare almost as much as he loves baseball itself, and Miyuki has long gotten used to tuning out Mei’s inanities whenever they appear.

When he turns to chance a look at his teammate, there’s a slight glimmer in Mei’s eyes. But under the poor lighting of the reflective disco ball, Miyuki can only guess what it entails.

“What?” Miyuki asks after a silent minute, brows raised.

“Let’s go outside,” Mei says as if he’s just made a decision, nodding towards the front door. He turns, walking ahead and weaving through the crowd, not bothering to check if Miyuki chooses to follow.

Miyuki frowns at the other boy’s retreating back, mentally weighing the options of following or staying inside to breathe in the crowded party air. He casts a look at the time, 12:15 a.m., figuring that the party isn’t in any position to be winding down regardless of how many people were left barely sober.

He escapes easily enough, bypassing his team senpai’s who are lined up against the walls, already two steps beyond drunk, garbling on about batting statistics and the team managers. As he makes his way through the kitchenette, he leaves his warmed beer can on the tabletop.

When Miyuki finally makes it outside, Mei is seated on the edge of the balcony, legs swinging to and fro in the same light-hearted manner that he’s had since middle school, glancing out into the lights scattered across the city of Tokyo.

“You know, as your partner, I’m going to tell you that hanging off the edge of a building eight stories up is a grave occupational hazard,” Miyuki announces, causing Mei to turn to him in mild surprise. “Also you’re drunk.”

Mei’s eyes narrow. “I’m not drunk.”

“Forgive me if I don’t find you convincing.” Miyuki moves from the doorway, stepping forward to stand next to where Mei is sitting, not too near and not too far.

“Whatever,” Mei mutters, pulling a carton of cigarettes from his pocket, fingers fiddling to light a stick before taking a deep breath and exhaling a stream of smoke into the air.

Miyuki watches him with mild disapproval. “That’s an awful habit.”

“As if you have any better ones,” Mei breathes out, as he gives Miyuki a side glance.

“Are you stressed or something?” Miyuki finds himself asking, because it’s not like the other boy to do things without a reason.

Mei gives him a strange look. “Is this you trying to be friendly? Because that was awful.” He taps his cigarette over the edge, watching as the embers fall. “Really, Kazuya. You should work on that.”

“Just like all the friends you have?” Miyuki offers brashly, smiling wide at the other boy’s indignation when Mei kicks at him lightly.

And Miyuki almost laughs, because he isn’t sure when the both of them had made a habit of staying together regardless if baseball was at the heart of it or not.

It’s been two years of being on the same university baseball team, and finally establishing the battery that Mei had been chasing him for. But for all the exaggerated gripe that Miyuki makes of it, the reality hasn’t strayed from his expectations, because when it comes down to it, Mei will do what he wants, when he wants, if Miyuki lets him.

He doesn’t give himself much time to rethink it in his half-drunken state of mind; but then again, Miyuki has always been a sucker for taking risks.

“Hey,” he says after a moment, a pitch quieter, as he reaches a hand out to touch Mei’s elbow.

Mei eyes him curiously, only half-trying to ignore the fact that Miyuki is still there. “Can I help you?”

Miyuki meets his stare, searching for some kind of a clue or indication that he isn’t reading into something that isn’t there.

“If you want to do something, Kazuya. Then do it,” Mei says, head tilted to the side and eyes observing him in a way that makes Miyuki’s insides burn.

It’s a minute that passes, and when Miyuki sees the slow rise of Mei’s lips in expectation, he makes his decision.

Miyuki’s feet move forward towards the other boy, hand reaching for Mei’s neck as he presses their lips together, slow and tentative until he feels Mei gasp, lips parting enough for Miyuki to push his tongue inside.

It’s not smooth, Miyuki can tell, because there’s a moment where their teeth click together, but Mei’s hands bunch the front of Miyuki’s shirt —cigarette long dropped to the floor— pulling them closer together, their bodies warm despite the outside chill. And it takes all of Miyuki’s reflexes to keep them steady on the edge of the railing.

It’s heavy breaths between them, and Miyuki can taste the tell tale flavour of smoke and alcohol on the tip of Mei’s tongue, licking into his mouth. Miyuki groans when Mei moves to pull away, only after leaving a slight bite on Miyuki’s lips, hot and burning.

“So, did you get what you asked for, Kazuya?” Mei breathes, seemingly content not to move away from the narrow space between them.

Miyuki exhales slowly, trying to appear more collected than he actually feels.

“Almost,” he says, before pulling Mei away from the balcony railing and pushing him against the wall of the apartment, his hands gripping on hips, fingers skimming at the other boy’s waist. Mei lets out a breath in surprise.

“You’re not going to retract that offer, are you?” Miyuki asks, letting his rationality have a moment despite how winded he feels.

Mei scoffs, hands already sliding into the back of Miyuki’s jeans. “Yeah, right. Stop talking, Kazuya. You’re wasting time,” he responds, before pressing forward and pointedly sliding his thigh between Miyuki’s legs.

He meets Miyuki’s eyes, the corners crinkled in amusement but his pupils are blown in a way that makes Miyuki sure that he isn’t the only one who is waiting for the next move.

“I better make it count then, Miyuki says, smirking before leaning forward the drag his tongue along the skin of Mei’s neck.

---

It’s minutes later, when their breaths are mingled, limbs caught up in each other with their foreheads pressed together in something like the bad ideas and hormones that they should’ve outgrown.

Mei stares at Miyuki head on, lips bruised and his face betraying nothing but faint amusement. “So, are you entertained yet?”

From the inside of the apartment they can still hear the thumping music, filtered with the loud eruption of yells. It’s ridiculous and un-calculated, but Miyuki honestly can’t stand to regret any of it.

So Miyuki laughs, breaths hoarse.

“Some party,” he murmurs, fingers hooked in the hoops of Mei’s jeans, and content to stay.

Re: FILL: team kageyama tobio/oikawa tooru, G

[hurristat]

HOLY COW THIS IS SO GOOD IM ABSOLUTELY SCREAMING AHHHHHHHH

FILL: TEAM HAIBA LEV/YAKU MORISUKE, G

[potclean]

No major content warnings apply. 647 words.

Peco surprisingly doesn’t say anything when he wins; he’ll probably just keep grinning till the world ends, Smile proposes to himself, as he watches Peco silently hobble along the footpath in front of the gymnasium. Peco turns back and stops walking, and Smile, a few steps back, stops too.

Peco somehow smiles even bigger, dimples deepening, eyes squinting, teeth bared, and Smile laughs a little. It’s a short simple thing, with no weight and filled with air, and Peco joins in with a deep hearty laugh that booms and leaves a sort-of clanging noise in Smile’s ears that he thinks he’ll never forget.

They wander around town: Smile climbs down stairs with quiet efficiency while Peco is all hoots and energetic shouts, hopping down the cobblestone steps. They wander through parks and streets and the beach and Smile wishes it would never end, but the sky is darkening and Peco yawns, saying he’s tired and how maybe they should find a place to sleep tonight because he “just doesn’t want to go home”. Peco gives Smile a thumbs up and Smile never knows what to do when Peco thinks things like this and says them aloud of all things.

Smile just nods and waits till Peco turns around to allow himself a small, small smile: it’s just a tiny crease of the lips that happens spur of the moment with no meaning, no meaning at all—but then Peco is turning back, asking him to hurry up and time starts moving a little bit again.

Peco waits a few seconds, with a fond smile on his face (definitely, definitely not meant for himself, Smile thinks, though he feels something warm in his chest) and continues walking down the residential street in front of them. Smile catches up to him in a few seconds and they maintain a comfortable silence; the slight clinking of Peco’s medal against his coat zipper was the only thing that made a sound in the cool light breeze.

It’s familiar path they walk, side by side, Peco humming some nonsensical little tune while Smile remains silent, just how it’s always been, how it always will be. Peco stops humming when they come in Obaba’s ping pong store. He turns to Smile with a little grin.

“You want to sleep here tonight?” Peco says, while rummaging through the umbrella holder to find a shining gold-looking key. Smile just raises his eyebrows but Peco just laughs — ”Obaba never could manage to find her spare key, ever since I started coming here, all those years ago.” Peco opens the door and the familiar, homely smell of ping pong balls and rubber fills Smile’s head. They both stand in the doorway, taking it all in — because after all, this is where they began (and Smile is pretty sure this is where they’ll end). Peco winds his hands with Smile like its the easiest thing in the world and they walk around the dark building, Peco pointing out posters and medals on the wall as if they’re historical artifacts while Smile just nods.

They stop in front of the photo of Smile, Peco and Sakuma and Peco turns his head.

“You know, I’ve liked you for a long time, Smile.”

(I have too, Peco.) Smile thinks this instantaneously, but no words come out of his mouth. He just nods. The warmth in his chest makes him feel too happy.

Peco laughs and swings their hands back and forth — “You don’t really have to say anything, because I already know.”

They stand in comfortable silence for what seems like ages to Smile but it’s nice, he thinks.

★

They fall asleep on top of the ping pong table holding hands and somehow they wake up underneath it. Peco laughs out loud when Obaba finds them in a tangle of limbs and Smile merely allows himself a grin.

FILL: TEAM NANASE HARUKA/TACHIBANA MAKOTO, T

[doxian]

tags: alcohol, mention of transmisogyny
word count: 826

Back when they were in high school, Tadokoro would never have predicted Makishima being a giggly drunk.

It could be worse, he reflects, finding himself on babysitting duty at some party yet again.

The party itself was his idea, and also not very important. A friend knew a few other friends who planned to go out, nothing special. Tadokoro invited Makishima because he always invited Makishima, but something about tonight felt different. Almost like a date. Maybe it was because Makishima had asked "so, pick me up at 8?" right before she'd hung up the phone. Maybe it was because Tadokoro had rolled up at her place in one of his flatmate's cars. Tadokoro never usually picked her up. Usually they always just met up directly at wherever their friends wanted to go.

Tadokoro wanted this to be a date, but he's pretty sure it wasn't. For it to be a date you had to decide as much beforehand, right?

But he'd still felt distinctly like it was a date even after they arrived at the bar. They found the group they'd come to meet and said hello to everyone. After that, it was easy for Tadokoro to split off from the rest of the throng and lose himself in chatting and laughing with Makishima.

Well. Not all that much chatting. It's a loud bar. And they see each other so often and keep so abreast of each other's lives that lulls in conversation are inevitable, but they never feel like lulls, they never feel empty. They don't always need to be speaking to each other to have a conversation, after all.

Tadokoro never needs a reason to stay close to Makishima, but tonight part of the reason is the looks she's getting. Makishima isn't wearing a dress, but she's wearing skinny jeans and banana yellow heels and some kind of flimsy, flowing, tunic-like thing Tadokoro doesn't know the word for, with a zig-zagging pattern on it that makes him dizzy. Her make-up is pretty, her earrings are dangling and sparkly and catch the light whenever she moves, and of course there's her iridescent hair and the fact that she towers over most of the other patrons here.

Some of the looks - as always, frustratingly - are hostile, but a good deal of them are of poorly disguised interest.

Neither type of look sits well with Tadokoro.

This isn't a date, he reminds himself. Guarding her safety or honor is one thing, but he had no reason to feel possessive.

And then Makishima finishes her cocktail, and then she decides that sitting at the bar is uncomfortable and ushers them to some a quiet corner where there's a booth. Somewhere on the way from the bar to the booth she begins slurring her words together, just a little, and after Tadokoro sits, she plops down right into his lap, giggling slightly and trying to hide it behind her hand.

Tadokoro's face gets hot. He can't remember when the touchiness and affection between them had changed from casual to charged. He holds her on his lap carefully, sliding a hand down to her lower back, and she loops her arms loosely around his neck and presses their foreheads together and more than once Tadokoro thinks she's going to kiss him, but she doesn't.

He finds himself absently carding his hands through her soft, bright hair, smoothing out the tangles and twirling the tips around his fingers as they continue to talk. It doesn't feel like any time has passed at all when one of their friends comes over to say they wanted to move to a different bar, did they want to come?

Neither of them did. On the way home, Makishima sobers up. Tadokoro makes a point to drive a modicum less recklessly than he had on their way there, but Makishima still looks a little green when they come to a stop in front of her apartment building.

She doesn't get out right away.

"Thanks, Tadokorocchi," she says. She doesn't look at him. Instead, she looks at her hands, twisting them nervously in her lap. Light from a streetlamp outside shines in through the window and illuminates her face, which is slightly hidden by her hair. Sometime during the drive, it had started raining.

Abruptly, Makishima looks up, like she's about to say something important.

She doesn't manage to meet his eyes for quite long enough, though, so when she says the words she's already dropped his gaze and her hand's already on the door like she's about to open it, but before she can leave Tadokoro takes her other hand in his and repeats what she said right back to her.

And then he kisses her, even as she looks at him in disbelief that he'd actually said it back, and they keep kissing until the rain lets up.

It hadn't been a date, but it didn't even matter, because Makishima loves him.

FILL: TEAM FUKUTOMI JUICHI/KINJOU SHINGO, G

[thebikiestdad]

Notes: hope this is ok!

Re: FILL: TEAM GRANDSTAND, G

[princesssid]

hehehehe. a friend convinced me to add more... so maybe... that'll happen... :>>>

<3 <3 <3