sportsanime | Bonus Round 1: Quotes

Entry tags:

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!

Page 75 of 137

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

WHINES because I'm not allowed to fill this!!

Mentions of implied sexual content
1072 words

When Sakurai’s mother calls a month into his first year of university to check up on his well-being, he doesn’t know where to begin.

He’s definitely going to mention that he has a wonderful roommate by the name of Aomine Daiki, who spends so much time playing basketball but never makes time for studying, leading him to force and bribe Sakurai into tutoring him the day before midterms. It definitely does not annoy Sakurai that Aomine leaves all his clothes and trinkets lying around haphazardly for him to trip over, giving him wonderful bruises in the shape of perfect circles due to the very hard basketballs. And he definitely does not force Sakurai to eat with him just so Aomine doesn’t have to cook for himself.

Roommate situation? Peachy.

His classes are a different story.

Sakurai enjoys being an art major. His love for manga inspired him to draw, which evolved into his current interest in illustration. The first year gives Sakurai a lot of room to explore other classes as well, so one of the classes he takes as an elective is astronomy.

It’s considered a bird course, an easy course, and Sakurai is a diligent and studious student so he knows that with hard work, the class will help bring his GPA up. It’s an added bonus, since he’s always been interested in knowing about the stars and planets, and how these seemingly huge balls of gas make up a small portion of such an infinite galaxy.

What he doesn’t realize prior to taking this course, is that he will spend most of his time listening to two of his classmates arguing over the entirety of the semester.

Sakurai tries, he really, really tries to stay focused, but it doesn’t help that the green haired man particularly enjoys debating with his fellow seat mate, who always wants to sit beside him no matter how much green haired man protests.

“Midorima, Midorima, Midorima--actually, can I call you Shin-chan?” the raven haired boy asks.

“No, you will not, Takao,” Midorima (the green haired man, Sakurai notes) states irritably. “Cancer was ranked 11th today and I am positive being around you, a Scorpio, will bring me more bad luck.”

Takao laughs and says in a muffled tone, “Oha Asa also said Cancer’s lucky item is a close friend, so I am ready to be your sacrifice! No need to thank me. Today, my company is all yours.”

Midorima scoffs. “Don’t be absurd. As if I need your company for the day.”

Sakurai is definitely not finding their every conversation interesting, oh, not at all. He takes a second to turn around and peek at their faces. Midorima may have scoffed, but his cheeks are sporting a light pink tinge. Sakurai doesn’t understand how a human being is able to simultaneously display irritation, joy, and embarrassment all at once.

When he turns his attention on the raven haired boy, he sees that Takao is already staring at him with a raised eyebrow. Sakurai squeaks and quickly turns around, opting to awkwardly scratch his elbow--oh shit--wait, maybe his back? Or would his hair be more natural? His hands are flailing at this point, which the professor mistakes for Sakurai raising his hand to answer the question just asked.

“Shin-chan--I mean Cancer--I mean--I’m so sorry!” Sakurai frantically apologizes, quickly standing up and bowing in angles over 90 degrees. The class is laughing. He hears Takao howling the loudest. When he quickly tries to survey the damage around the classroom, he catches Midorima’s red, glaring face and slowly slumps down in his chair.

Despite having that one traumatic experience, Sakurai cannot seem to stop eavesdropping on Midorima and Takao’s conversations. His excuse is that they are always sitting behind him and they aren’t exactly the most quiet people in the world, so Sakurai simply hears, despite not always wanting to.

One time, Takao teases Midorima by saying, “Hey Shin-chan, did you know Cancer’s lucky item today was some mind blowing sex?”

Midorima responds with a rough cough. "I'll maim you, Takao."

It’s Sakurai’s turn to blush and sink even lower in his chair. Since the whole fiasco a few weeks ago, he’s been forced to lay low. This is the first time that they mentioned something so intimate. He’s praying his hair covers his ears enough, since they have the tendency to turn extremely red upon embarrassment.

Luckily, there were no snide remarks or snickers. He’s just hoping that this semester will be over with so he can be free from the two of them.

The professor announces at the beginning of class that the lesson is going to be about supernovas.

Sakurai and the rest of the class are opening up their textbooks to the assigned readings when he hears Takao speak in a really bored tone, “So… Do you want a blow job after this, Shin-chan?”

A couple of seconds pass before Midorima sighs dejectedly. “Yes.”

Sakurai lets out a deep breath he didn’t know he was even holding. He’s listening way too intently now, a myriad of questions pouring through his head--when did their relationship progress to this? Has he been missing some vital signs? He has always known that Takao fancied Midorima, but he never expected Midorima to show any interest. Maybe some, but not to this extent.

“Great, come to my room again later. Maybe we can invite the apologetic mushroom over there to join us,” Takao hums.

“I’M SO SORRY. I WILL NEVER LISTEN IN ON YOU AGAIN!” Sakurai panics and continuously apologizes to an amused Takao and a wide-eyed Midorima who’s quietly trying to hide behind his notebook.

“Sakurai… Is there a problem?” the professor asks in annoyance.

“Yes, I’m so sorry, but I would like to be excused for the rest of this class, and possibly my life.”

The astronomy course may have been the most traumatic experience of his life, and for a few weeks after the class ends, Sakurai avoids the night. He avoids looking at the sky in general, in fear he will see Cancer and Scorpio’s constellation in the form of Midorima and Takao’s jarring faces, haunting his everyday life.

However, he sees them walking together a few months later, hands intertwined and faces bright. He didn’t pick up much from the class, but Sakurai believed that Scorpio and Cancer together emit the brightest light that puts to shame every constellation he knows.

I know we haven't met but I'd like you to know that I just burst out laughing on the train because of this.

Sugawara’s smile faded.
IM CRYING MAYHAPS

I WANTED TO QUOTE MY FAVE LINES BUT THEN ID PROBABLY QUOTE THE WHOLE THING BACK TO U
LISTEN....THIS IS AMAZING UR AMAZING IM IN LOVE WITH YOUR WRITING BYE

Major Tags: None
Word Count: 1,075

I hope you like Kinjou meta, because this pretty much just swerved really hard in that direction and barely came back.

-

When Kinjou lies awake in his new apartment, in those last few minutes between consciousness and sleep, he always thinks of practical things. Problem sets from his physics class. That last practice with the Yonan cycling team. The content of the quiz he knows is forthcoming in his first Monday class.

But sometimes, when the rigors of his daily life aren't company enough in his last waking moments, Kinjou thinks about the bike club back in Chiba, and wonders how everyone is getting on.

-

Kinjou is a practical person, and has always been good with saving money.

It takes until midway through his first year of university, but even after the occasional round of karaoke with the team or dinner out with friends, Kinjou finds he has enough cash saved up to buy a used car. It opens up new possibilities. No longer must he rely on expensive trains and the dictates of their schedules for transportation – now he can go anywhere he wants, at any time, under his own power.

It's a little bit like getting his first bike all over again.

The very first trip Kinjou takes, on the first weekend available to him, is the slow, familiar drive back to Chiba. He remembers each turn from driving with his mother, and once he gets close in the city he remembers the roads themselves, mind full with the knowledge of just which gear he'd be in, when he'd speed up, when he'd shift, how he'd tackle a course that he's ridden so many times before on his bicycle in private training.

Before he even pulls into the driveway at his mother's house, before he tastes her home cooking or sees his old room or smells the floral scent of the candles his mother sometimes likes to burn, the roads themselves tell Kinjou he is home.

-

The fact that Kinjou has brought his bike is not a surprise. When his mother comes out to greet him, he catches her eye sliding to the rack strapped on the back of his car, and doesn't miss the way her welcoming smile ticks a hair wider so that he can just hear the, Oh, Shingo that doesn't quite make it out of her mouth. It was always expected, that the very first purchase he made after the car itself would be a bike rack.

What's more of a surprise is how that next morning, when Kinjou sets off on a short ride just to wake himself up and keep himself from feeling lazy, his legs carry him of their own accord toward the high school campus. He doesn't intend to visit, but as he finds himself approaching the shallow front slope up to the school, it feels entirely correct to be there.

Kinjou wheels his bike around the main building toward the back of the school, taking advantage of how empty the grounds are first thing on a Saturday morning and taking his time. The clubhouse looks exactly as it had the last time he'd been there – still as a student, no longer precisely as a captain – and the impulse rises in him to prop up his bike in the racks outside and just... Walk around for a while.

While the wheel of his bike is still raised to slot into the rack, the clubhouse door bangs open so loudly that steady as he is, even Kinjou's hand almost slips in handling his bike.

"Captain shades!" Naruko's familiar voice exclaims.

Kinjou turns toward him just in time to see Naruko shoving his hand, presumably with the clubhouse keys, deep into one of his pockets.

"Or I guess, not captain any more," Naruko amends, scuffing one foot against the asphalt before strutting up to Kinjou. "But you have still got the shades! The heck are you doing here?"

"I could ask you the same thing," Kinjou says, precisely because he thinks Naruko would rather he wouldn't.

"Forgot something," Naruko replies promptly, flashing Kinjou the toothiest bite of a smile. "I haven't seen you since graduation. Hell, I didn't think I'd ever see you again!"

He laughs, that familiar repetitive bark of a sound, and darts a hand out to pat Kinjou twice on the back – hard. Kinjou can't remember whether Naruko was so presumptuous when he was the captain, but it feels... Little different from those familiar days, not yet so many months before.

"Did you get lonely or somethin', miss the old place?" Naruko asks.

"Something like that," Kinjou says, not dishonestly. If this is where his pedaling took him, then – maybe he did. "I didn't intend to make a visit this soon."

"Staying away from us on purpose," Naruko says, rubbing his chin and nodding smartly, like it makes perfect sense. "Typical captain shades. You haven't changed at all, Kinjou."

"Since you've brought it up," Kinjou says, "I'd hazard that, neither have you."

Naruko laughs again, and grins even wider. "So yeah, if you're just checkin' out the place when you thought nobody was gonna be around, what were you even planning to do? Just ride laps or something?"

Kinjou doesn't have an answer to that. But before he can devise a passable substitute, Naruko's eyes light up with a revelation of delight.

"Hey, hey," he says, too loud, nearly shouting in his excitement. "Race with me. You've got your bike, I've got my bike, it's a beautiful Saturday morning – c'mon, captain shades, lemme show you how much better I got. If you're not careful, I'll leave you in the dust!"

Kinjou laughs himself then, low and just a little bit startled, and then finds he's almost smiling. "You aren't going to challenge me to ten laps, like you've done with Tadokoro, are you?"

"If ten laps is what it's gonna take to beat you," Naruko says, "then ten lap's it's gonna be."

He's fired up and it's catching. Kinjou's smile stretches wider into a more confident grin and he shrugs, lifting his bike back out of the rack. "Who says even ten laps will be enough? But I can give you that much. Just riding here was hardly a warm-up — let's go."

"Yesss," Naruko says, pulling his fist toward himself in a pump of delight. "Let's fucking do this!"

Kinjou laughs again, more warmly than before, swinging his leg over his bike for the familiar ride that feels entirely like a second coming home.

-

Rei Ryugakazi/Rin Matsuoka

“I already explained this. I don’t like you. True, I don’t like most people, but I especially dislike you. I could start my own religion based on how much I dislike you.”
― G.A. Aiken, What a Dragon Should Know

Hanai Azusa/Abe Takaya, Oofuri

A friend is someone who knows all about you and still loves you. – Elbert Hubbard

kuroo tetsurou/akaashi keiji; haikyuu

"I promise not to love you like an after school special
and that my kisses will always be barbaric." – What I’ll Tell Them | Caitlyn Siehl

Yamazaki Sousuke / Matsuoka Rin, Free!

Wait
They don't love you like I love you

"Maps" by Yeah Yeah Yeahs

Ennoshita/Futakuchi/Yahaba (Haikyuu!!)

"All this time I was finding myself, and I didn't know I was lost."
-- Aviccii (Wake Me Up)

HOOOOOO BUDDY im trying really hard not to grin like a doof in class this is so good and warm and happy.

I love the little details about Naruko treating kinjou less like a captain and more liike a friend!! i love everything abt this especially the kinjou meta i love kinjou meta so much.

(it also helps that naruko/kinjou is my smoll ship that i go too hard for so this is. A blessing upo n my day to read this bc this is the exact dynamic i like to see them have!)

Edited 2015-06-03 00:53 (UTC)

PFFAHAHAHA this is delightful, and p. much exactly how this would go down, let's be real.

no major content warnings but marked t for alcohol & mild language
1300 wc. of "why did i do this why did i do this why did i d"

BECAUSE I SHIP TIHSI AND WILL ACCEPT THIS AS A PROPER REASON TO WRITE IT.
ALSO I DEFINITELY JSUT WENT MY OWN WAY WITH THE PROMPT IM SORRY

He always leaves first.

It’s instinctive, something Tsukishima jumps the gun on because he doesn’t want to be the one left behind, left reeling from the aftershock, wondering when it went wrong—wondering what went wrong, if anything at all. It’s a muted sort of paranoia born from reading people constantly, from reading people too well. The little quirks, mannerisms, fill his mind and before he knows it, he can figure out what someone wants from him before they can find out for themselves.

So he leaves. It’s easy. It’s simple. He clears his mind of stray thoughts, empties his entire ribcage of every fucking wasted memento and uses his own two legs to walk out. His bones have always been rigid, muscles have always been stiff—it isn’t hard for him to keep from looking back (so he leaves, leaves just like that).

When Tsukishima is twenty-one, his brother gets engaged. When he is twenty-two, his brother gets married. He can count the failed relationships he’s been in on both hands by then (and he can remember every name, every laugh, every single kiss too) and he holds his breath when his brother talks to him about commitment, about soulmates, about finding the one.

It’s hardly defeat when Tsukishima figures there aren’t enough deities in this world to grant every single person with the one. It’s only defeat when Tsukishima realizes he might still be looking.

(The first ends with a misunderstanding, and that’s really where it all begins. But he sees them falling in love with someone else before they manage to realize. So he leaves, gives them the push in the right direction and blocks their name, their number, pretends to delete their dumb pictures.

The following are messier, harder. There are still some words he thinks he shouldn’t have said, maybe some things he shouldn’t have done. In his second year of university, he crashes into an almost forgotten face from a volleyball game seared into the very back of his memory and tries not to laugh.

“You piss me off,” he says while Tsukishima’s cheeks flush from alcohol and other bad decisions. Laughter, he remembers it. Louder than necessary, almost reedy.

That one ends the same. He leaves when he thinks it might end in flames.)

-

“You still piss me off,” Tendou says, like that’s a proper greeting to someone you haven’t seen in years. He looks smug as he props his arm up at the bar and rests his cheek against the palm of his hand, gaze never once leaving Tsukishima’s face. “You’re even more sullen than I remember you being.”

“Please don’t talk like you’re familiar with me,” Tsukishima says plainly, sipping idly at his drink, pursing his lips and setting his gaze forward.

“Please don’t talk like you’re familiar with me,” Tendou repeats, in a tone too mocking to belong to a twenty-something wearing a business suit. “Don’t you ever get tired of being so closed off? That’s a thing you’re supposed to grow out of, allegedly. You know, that angsty teen phase.”

Tsukishima rolls his eyes.

“Hey, you piss me off,” Tendou repeats, “but I guess it means something if that’s still a thing—our thing.”

He freezes, holds his drink mid-air and turns his head to look at Tendou, to frown at him. “Our thing?” he echoes.

Tendou is pensive but hardly affected. “You’re right. That sounds cheesy as hell.” A pause. “Oh? What? Did I actually get to you that time? Stir up some fond old memories about when you used to piss me off?”

People are easy to read: they’re open books, pages filled from corner to corner with looming script about them, their essence. Tsukishima is not easy to read, has never been easy to read; he’s never felt compelled to go out of his way to let others in and he figures in some fucked up sense, that’s perfectly fine too because Tendou’s never needed an invitation.

“Shut up,” he says.

“No snarky comeback. I’m going to take that as a win for me,” Tendou says cheerfully. He shakes the ice at the bottom of his glass and stares forward, at the bottles lining the wall in front of them.

The bar’s almost empty—it usually is—and Tsukishima can’t help but wonder what cruel god decided it’d be funny to bring Tendou back into his life on a whim. He’s complaining, he thinks, but deep down, he knows he isn’t. Anticipation is something he’d like to dispel from his system, maybe to save himself from assured disappointment, but he’s almost waiting for Tendou to yank him out of his own head to shake him free of the negativity he’s been tattooing against his veins.

“You left without saying a word, yeah? What an asshole. Annoying.”

Tsukishima is quiet, distracting himself with the half-depleted liquor in his glass.

“Not going to say a word now either, huh?” Tendou’s expression sobers; his trademark smile (distant, hazy) still lingers but his gaze steels. “So caught up in being miserable, you thought you’d save me the trouble of dealing with you. You’re an asshole.”

“You said that already,” Tsukishima replies.

Tendou grins. “Yeah, well, can’t say it enough. You’re an asshole for leaving and an asshole for not saying it now.”

“Saying what now?”

There’s a sullen frown on Tendou’s face now, childish downward tugs of the corners of his lips as he narrows his eyes. “Seriously?” he says with a sigh before crunching on a cube of ice lackadaisically. “I can tell so you might as well say it—you missed me, didn’t you?”

(Tsukishima Kei can no longer count his failed relationships on just two hands. He can remember every single one of them, from the cadences of their laughter to the sensation of their kisses. He can’t lie to Tendou and he knows it too—he might have missed him always swooping in to fill the gaps Tsukishima left behind; he might have missed him reading expressions, taking silence for answers, and weaving Tsukishima in the carefully left spaces of his life. He might have missed Tendou the most.)

“Stubborn too,” Tendou says with a hoot. “Fine, don’t say it. Be a brat. I already know. You missed me, Kei, and since you’re being so very talkative, I’ll reward you by telling you I missed you too.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Tsukishima says briskly, maybe in vain.

“Don’t ask for the impossible.”

The silence that sits between them is both stifling and familiar. Tsukishima is quiet as he slides his phone across the bar table to Tendou, wordless.

Tendou glances up from his long-empty glance at Tsukishima before laughing. “You think I want to get back in touch after you left me like that?” he asks incredulously, but Tsukishima can already see the way his fingers are curling around the phone out of the corner of his eyes. “Well, you’re right. Man, you still piss me off with how you know everything about everyone.”

He could correct Tendou, let him know kindly that it’s the complete opposite if they’re being realistic but he’s preoccupied with trying to hide the faint smile on his lips as he divides four years into days and wonders if that’s the answer to finding what he’s looking for.

“Don’t pull a fast one on me again,” Tendou says warningly, “or at least—you know, drag me down with you. I might prefer that.”

This time, he doesn’t leave first; he doesn’t leave alone.

-

He is twenty when Tendou laces their fingers together for the first time and squeezes Tsukishima’s hand like it’s nothing, like it’s easy. He is twenty when he finds himself thinking that it might just be as simple as that.

(He is twenty-four when Tendou grabs him by the tie and pulls him forward to kiss him, fierce and confident, like it’s nothing, like it’s easy. He is twenty-six when he kisses back like it might just be as simple as that.)

Major Tags: None
Word Count: 825

Gives you bonus gender headcanons, which I am led to believe you may be in favor of.

-

Toudou has already told Shinkai what she thinks of Arakita. She voiced her opinion weeks ago in that way she has, flicking the blunt words off the edge of her tongue like it isn't really her problem if she dislikes someone. They should be the one to conform to her comfort, when she's always so accommodating of everyone in any other way.

And besides, what's the point of her liking Arakita, if Arakita is only going to wash out of the cycling club in all due time?

It's what Toudou tells herself, every time she watches Arakita slouch into the clubroom with his grimace already on. He's too loud, too rude, too disrespectful, his very presence a disturbance to the natural order of the club. She eyes the upperclassmen to see what they make of the interloper, smiling inwardly every time she hears any criticism of Arakita's form, or any complaints about his attitude.

Her seniors don't like Arakita either, and that's vindication enough to have Toudou patting herself on the back. But then Arakita doesn't wash out – he's still there, week after week, doing his time on the rollers even as Fukutomi ticks it up to four hours and he's sloughing off buckets of sweat – and Toudou can't help but scowl. She can't accept so easily that she was the one to be wrong.

"Arakita," she says one afternoon, when they're walking back to the dorms after practice and she's made the mistake of doing so alongside Arakita's exhausted trudging.

She gets a slant-eyed, suspicious look for her troubles.

"No hard feelings," she continues. "But I just really don't like you."

Arakita's mouth twists into an uncomfortable, contorted shape, and there's a beat of silence before he bites out, "The fuck? What the hell are you tellin' me that for?"

"It only seemed prudent to be honest," Toudou says. "And if you are going to stick with Hakone's road racing club, that makes it necessary for me to inform you that I do quite dislike you."

Arakita makes a disgruntled snort, and then laughs. "As if I give a single shit what you think about me."

"You — what?" Toudou says, momentarily thrown off. "Of course you care."

"Nah," Arakita says. "I really don't give a fuck what you think at all."

Toudou is speechless, stunned into silence by the unthinkable possibility that someone really doesn't care about her opinion. She's the superior cyclist and the superior student – she's the one who has something to offer the team and the school. Arakita not valuing that is incomprehensible.

"You have to," Toudou insists, when she finds her voice again. "I understand that you may be intimidated by my natural good looks and charm, to say nothing of my ability on a bicycle, but that doesn't mean you have to lie to me."

"I'm not lying," Arakita says. "I just think you're kinda a prissy brat."

"A prissy—" Toudou says. "That's absurd. I am very down to earth, and nothing of the sort."

Arakita lets out a rattly, condescending laugh, too loud and too sharp so that the sound almost hurts Toudou's ears. "Tell yourself whatever you want, princess, that ain't gonna make it true."

Toudou huffs, then reaches out to grab the door to the dormitory building before Arakita can fail to get it for her. She's fumbling for the words to prove to Arakita that he's wrong, that she's incredibly well-liked and that for him to think otherwise puts him in the drastic minority. She has her own personal fan club and everything, for goodness' sake. But her dorm room is one way down the hall, and Arakita's is the other, and their conversation has already eaten up the entirety of their walk.

"The fuck are you still doin' here?" Arakita asks, speeding up as Toudou tails him down the wrong hall of the building.

"I'm proving you wrong, of course," Toudou sniffs.

"Wrong?" Arakita echoes. "That ain't gonna happen."

"Never say never," Toudou chides, falling into step with Arakita once he slows and stops trying to shake her off. "My company is highly desirable, you should consider yourself lucky that I've decided to gift you with it."

Arakita snorts, but says nothing. When he opens the door to his dorm room Toudou breezes past him to walk inside, and he only grumbles and rolls his eyes – he doesn't actually order her to get out.

"So tell me," she says, looking around at the mess and the clutter and forgetting somehow that she was the one to dislike Arakita first, "What do you like to do for fun? I'm sure once I've proven I know how to have a good time, your opinion of me will entirely reverse."

"Tch," Arakita says. "Don't try so hard. But here—" He tosses her a game controller scooped up from the floor. "—If you're dead-set on not fuckin' off, you can be player two."

YEEEEEEEEEEEEEESSSSSSSSSS THIS IS SO GOOD YES

I'M ACHING THIS WAS SO GOOD ; A ;

you're very welcome, i hope no one looked at you funny.

whispers there will be MORE

Iwaizumi Hajime / Oikawa Tooru, Haikyuu!!

When we grew up
Our shadows grew up too
But they’re just old ghosts
That we grow attached to
The tragic flaw is that they hide the truth

That you’re enough
I promise you’re enough

“You are enough”
These little words, somehow they’re changing us
“You are enough”
So we let our shadows fall away like dust

"You Are Enough" by Sleeping At Last

SCREAMS

I COULD WRITE A NOVEL FROM THIS

Azumane Asahi/Sawamura Daichi/Sugawara Koushi , Haikyuu!!

"No, no. That's too much responsibility for me. I gotta— I gotta find a way out of this." -Jean-Ralphio Saperstein

IM SCREAMING THANK YOU SO MUCH REE I LOVE THIS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

TENTSUKKI READING EACH OTHER SO EASILY!!! TENDOU NEVER NEEDING AN INVITATION!!!!!1 TSUKKI ALWAYS LEAVING FIRST!!!!

HONESTLY I WAS THINKING THIS PROMPT WAS KINDA :/// BUT AHS;LDKJFDSKMFD,VNCBAJKFDKSLFK YOU FILLED IT SO WELL

Major Tags: None
Word Count: 1,393

I can't believe Mels and I just both really wanted to kill you. Or write Makishima in dresses. Mostly the second one.

-

"This one, Tadokorocchi," Makishima says, as they stride into the next store down the line.

Tadokoro follows in Makishima's wake with the tired persistence of a manservant, subservient to Makishima's will when it comes to shopping. This isn't the arena he excels in. All of his brashness goes right out the window the moment someone asks him whether he prefers an a-line or empire-waist dress, or his opinion on boot-cut versus skinny jeans.

Makishima is the one who loves clothes. Tadokoro only loves to see them reveling in the fashionable possibilities.

"Hold this," Makishima adds, plucking something off the rack almost as soon as they're in through the door. It's a slinky something that gets draped over Tadokoro's arms, the material near slippery enough to slide through his fingers.

"Is this a dress?" he asks, face scrunching up in confusion. "It looks like. You know."

Makishima glances back at him over their shoulder, while flicking through the hangers on another rack of clothes. Their eyebrows go up, and their mouth twists into a sliver of a smirk. "Know what, Tadokorocchi?"

Tadokoro leans closer, whispering to them from behind his hand. "It looks like, y'know, lingerie."

Makishima laughs, a scoffing little bark of mirth, and turns back to the hangers. "It's an evening gown. If it was a babydoll for the bedroom, the skirt would be shorter."

Tadokoro makes a sound like an animal being kicked, feeling his face light on fire.

Makishima pats his arm sympathetically, before draping another selection over top of it. They're still smiling, but this time they have the grace to drag one hand across their face in a politely concealing gesture. "I wasn't going to buy anything like that today. Unless you wanted me to."

"That's fine!" Tadokoro yelps, loudly enough that it's nearly a bellow. "You don't have to!"

As he breathes in again, consciously dialing down his volume, he's very aware of the salesgirls at the front of the store shooting a few curious, confused looks in their direction. He's embarrassed all over again – this is a classy shop, and the last thing he needs to do is barrel through it like he's tossing riders at the rodeo. He stands out even when he does nothing, surrounded by dainty little round racks and delicately-posed mannequins, his back broad enough to block out an entire display just by turning.

But the colors are garish enough for Makishima's tastes, and that puts Tadokoro somewhat more at ease.

While Makishima continues to browse the aisles, Tadokoro turns over the garments left in his hands. They're slinky and flimsy, near-weightless in his big hands like he could rip them down the middle with only a little bit of force. His fingers find the tag on the first dress and flip it over, before his eyes nearly bug out of his head.

"M-Makishima!" he stutters.

"Hmm?" they murmur back, turning their head from two aisles over. "Do you like that one?"

Tadokoro thinks a working family of four might like that one, when its price point could feed them for three weeks.

"It's fine," is what he says, too-fast and too-gruff. "Did you find anything you like better?"

"I have a few other contenders," Makishima says, holding up their hands so that a dress dangles to their either side. "Don't tell me you're getting impatient already, Tadokorocchi, we've only been in here ten minutes."

"Of course not," Tadokoro insists. "But I thought you wanted something red."

Makishima nods, and hums to themself, like that's a very valid point Tadokoro is bringing up. He pats himself on the back for doing something helpful. He also remembers the conversation they had earlier, before ever setting out for the store – about how Makishima doesn't have enough feminine things, and how they want to go shopping again, and how much they would like it, if Tadokoro got more handsy in tugging those garments off of them when they go from dressy-casual to tumbling into bed.

Tadokoro believes Makishma's actual words were more along the lines of, "I want to buy something you can rip me out of – like a present you're eager to tear into even though you already know what's inside."

He chooses not to remember exactly, because he thinks Makishima followed it with something stupid and terrible like "And everyone likes opening presents, don't they, Tadokorocchi?" while their mouth did that funny thing it sometimes does and no amount of cheesiness could stop Tadokoro from flushing an ugly red.

"How's this?" Makishima says, cutting into Tadokoro's thoughts as they hold up a heap of red fabric, like twitching a cape before a bull. "Come on, I want to try everything on."

Their hand closes on Tadokoro's wrist as they stride past him through the racks, leading with dogged persistence toward the changing rooms at the back of the store. The attendant eyes them, taking in the spindly mess that Makishima makes in front of Tadokoro's stolid bulk standing behind them, and he sees it on their face – that weird little calculation, the one salespeople always make when Tadokoro comes into a store for women with Makishima.

He realizes he's scowling at them only when the attendant turns too fast and absolutely rushes to unlock one of the changing room doors.

"We always get such prompt service when I'm with you," Makishima drawls, as they slip into the stall.

Tadokoro only grunts, biting back the protest that's on the tip of his tongue of, "They were staring at you."

He's gotten somewhat better, over the years, at minding his words. Silence falls between them after that, broken only by the rattling of clothes hangers inside the changing room and by the swish of fabric being moved around. Tadokoro listens to the soft, fluid sounds of garments being shifted, imagines Makishima's clothes coming off and one of the dresses coming on and all over again his face is too hot not to be red.

"Tadokorocchi," he hears after another minute. "Would you... Give me a hand?"

The stall door pushes open, and Makishima's hand darts out to grab him by the arm. They're stronger than he expects every time, pulling him into the stall without any resistance. Their hair is pulled up into an elastic, piled messily at the back of their neck and all Tadokoro sees is the dress.

Cherry-red and strapless, it stretches tight across Makishima's chest where they lack anything like a bra to give the front a softer shape. Their arms are bared farther than in their cycling jersey allows, the tan of wiry forearms giving way to paler biceps and smooth, snowy shoulders. The line differentiating Makishima's tan is as clear as if they were wearing opera gloves. The dress nips in at their waist and spreads wider over hips, before they're turning around and presenting the bare plane of their back.

"I can't get the zipper," Makishima explains, impatiently. "It's too far down, with the low back."

It takes Tadokoro a minute, to realize there even is a zipper at all. He tells himself that it's because it's the invisible sort, with the tiniest dangling pull, and not because his eyes are riveted on the moles along Makishima's shoulder blades. He draws the zip up a little too quick.

"There," he mutters, gruff but softly proud.

Makishima turns, as Tadokoro's hands fall away, the funniest expression pulling at their mouth. "It's good, isn't it?"

Tadokoro remembers the price tag, and swallows. Tadokoro looks at Makishima's narrow waist and narrow hips and familiar, bony chest underneath too-thin red fabric, and swallows again – for an entirely different reason.

"It's great," he says.

They turn away from him, taking a long moment to admire themself in the dressing room mirror, so that Tadokoro can look over their shoulder and see the start to their smile reflected in the glass. They trail a hand down their sternum over the fabric, and raise their gaze to meet Tadokoro's where it's reflected in front of them.

"Maybe I won't let you rip it after all."

"Oh thank god," Tadokoro breathes out before he thinks to stop himself.

But Makishima only laughs, softer than their usual, and reaches back to pat his arm. "You can peel me out of it instead, and take all the care that you like."

OGHHH FUCK I MEANT TWENTY-FOUR INSTEADOF TWNETY-SIX.. AND PROBABLY JSUT GOING TO REPENT FOR ANY TOHER TYPOS BUT!!!!!!!! I GM GLAD OH YM GOD!! I WAS SCARED I MESSED UP THE PROMPT BUT I JSUT WANTED TO WRITE THEM AND UR PROMPT WAS BEAUTIFUL AND I LOVE FLO SO!!!

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

Page 75 of 137

Bonus Round 1: Quotes

Bonus Round 1: Quotes

Re: PROMPT: TEAM AOYAGI HAJIME/TESHIMA JUNTA

FILL: TEAM AKASHI SEIJUUROU/NIJIMURA SHUUZOU, T

Re: PROMPT: TEAM NISHINOYA YUU/TANAKA RYUUNOSUKE

Re: FILL: TEAM OIKAWA TOORU/USHIJIMA WAKATOSHI T

Re: FILL: TEAM OIKAWA TOORU/USHIJIMA WAKATOSHI, T

FILL: TEAM FUKUTOMI JUICHI/KINJOU SHINGO, G

PROMPT: TEAM HINATA SHOUYOU/KOZUME KENMA

PROMPT: TEAM GRANDSTAND

PROMPT: TEAM KUROO TETSUROU/OIKAWA TOORU

PROMPT: TEAM IMAIZUMI SHUNSUKE/NARUKO SHOUKICHI

PROMPT: TEAM GRANDSTAND

no subject

Re: FILL: Team Aoyagi Hajime/Teshima Junta, G

FILL: TEAM IWAIZUMI HAJIME/OIKAWA TOORU, T

FILL: TEAM FUKUTOMI JUICHI/KINJOU SHINGO, T

no subject

Re: FILL: TEAM OIKAWA TOORU/USHIJIMA WAKATOSHI, T

Re: PROMPT: TEAM NISHINOYA YUU/TANAKA RYUUNOSUKE

Re: PROMPT: TEAM NISHINOYA YUU/TANAKA RYUUNOSUKE

PROMPT: TEAM IMAIZUMI SHUNSUKE/NARUKO SHOUKICHI

Re: PROMPT: TEAM IMAIZUMI SHUNSUKE/NARUKO SHOUKICHI

PROMPT: TEAM YOWAMUSHI PEDAL

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

FILL: TEAM FUKUTOMI JUICHI/KINJOU SHINGO, T

no subject