sportsanime | Bonus Round 4: Official Art

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Bonus Round 4: Official Art

This round is CLOSED. Late fills can be posted, but they won't receive points.

Memorable canon moments, bizarre omakes, tantalizing magazine spreads—this is the round to explore them all. Bring out your screencaps, promotional art, and manga pages, and let's talk about what really happened.
Please read the rules carefully before posting!

RULES

Submit prompts in the form of a canon screencap from one of our nominated fandoms along with a ship. Screencaps can be from an anime or manga, as well as any other kind of offshoot media, e.g. official art, drama CD covers, light novel illustrations, magazine covers, and/or caps from games. Doujinshi, fan-made games or any other fan-created work should not be prompted, even if you receive permission. Only prompt screencaps that are taken from a piece of canon media.
Keep your prompt concise. Don't prompt a whole manga chapter, for example.
Upload the cap somewhere (imgur works well) and post here with the images themselves or a link to them.
Your prompt MUST include some kind of relationship. Platonic relationships are indicated by an "&" between the names (e.g., Riko & Momoi). Non-platonic relationships use "/" (e.g., Riko/Momoi). Please don't say "Any pairing," either!
Fill prompts by leaving a responding comment to the prompt with your newly-created work inspired by the cap.
Fills can be directly connected to the cap, e.g. panel redraws or writing fic that fleshes out the moment that was capped or that fleshes out what happened directly before/after, but fills can also be more indirectly linked. As long as the work is somehow inspired by the cap, it counts.
Remember to follow the general bonus round rules, outlined here.

FORMAT

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

Required Work Minimums:

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

There is no max work cap.

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. To place an image in your comment, use this code: <img src="LINK TO YOUR IMAGE" /> 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!

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

excessive butt mentions 111 words, 27 lines
BUTTS

It’s a sight that I love
It’s a sight I behold
Everyday I’m blessed
By the beauty of
Your butt

It’s my beacon of strength
It’s my beacon of hope
The symbol of victory
Is
Your butt

It’s so soft in my hand
Perfectly curved in my palm
I never want to let go
Your butt.

But I want to win
and I refuse to lose
So I shove it away
Your butt

I watch you fly
Ahead and over the hills
Flexing the muscles of
Your butt

And when you’re standing tall
Trophy in hand
and holding your arms out to me

The first thing I touch is
Your butt

Edited 2015-07-25 17:41 (UTC)

sexual content, future fic
1038

Kageyama kisses Oikawa, and comes away with a split lip for his trouble.

He barely has time to jerk away, to lick away the hurt and the iron tang, before Oikawa is yanking him back in and whispering, "sorry, sorry--," against his lips. The next kiss is gentle; Oikawa minds his teeth and lets his tongue soothe across the bruise on Kageyama's lips.

---

Oikawa Tooru plays games with the people in his head, and the people outside. It’s a matter of winning and losing; success or failure, and the rules are arbitrary. Sometimes Kageyama wonders if he keeps tally in his head, a petty scoreboard with hastily rubbed out chalk marks and redrawn lines.

Kageyama stares at his own hand of cards, and carefully lays them down. Oikawa throws down his cards onto the table of the kotatsu.

“Ah, looks like you win, Tobio-chan,” Oikawa says, heaving a sigh.

“I still don’t know why you wanted to play this, Oikawa-san,” Kageyama says, instead. He’s not sure how he’d won; Oikawa had only explained the rules to him half an hour ago, after dragging him into the warmth of his house, and wheedled him into a game.

He stares down at their cards, when Oikawa stands up and pads into the kitchen.

All he notices is that there are two King cards in his hand, and none in Oikawa’s.

---

Oikawa touches him with hands that hurt sometimes, with fingernails that bite softly into the insides of his thighs and rough callouses that drag with every involuntary twitch of his legs.

Kageyama tries not to move, not when Oikawa bears down on him like this-- pushes his legs apart until they ache from the stretch and mouths over the hardness growing in his shorts. “Oikawa-san,” he pleads, on stilted breath.

“Patience, Tobio,” Oikawa chides, as his hands drift up to hook into the elastic of his shorts. “Good things come to those who sit quietly--”

He opens his mouth and slides the cockhead across the flat of his tongue, past barely covered teeth, and Kageyama’s head knocks back against the wall, dizzy.

---

Kageyama learns to yield to the push, to come to the pull of Oikawa’s tide. Sometimes literally. Usually though, it’s just what he comes to call domestic life.

Oikawa is unpredictable, a loose cannon in Kageyama’s life-- disappearing for weeks on end as he’s whisked away on tour, before turning up at Kageyama’s apartment, at 1A.M. in the morning, with a bright “Yaho!” and a bag of takeout held out in one hand as some kind of peace offering.

It’s in these moments that Oikawa lingers, curls up in the warmth of Kageyama’s bed for days like he belongs there, and wakes up with a sly-eyed grin and sneaking fingers that dance up the length of Kageyama’s naked spine like he’s playing a familiar melody. When he pushes, he pushes hard, and Kageyama feels the bone-deep ache for days.

Then Oikawa disappears again. Kageyama never leaves.

It’s been years since they left high school, both of them, and Kageyama wonders if Oikawa is still keeping score.

---

“We only have a few minutes, come on, Tobio-chan-- don’t make me wait--” Oikawa breathes, his voice a low gasp. “Yes, there, hurry up, just put it in--”

Kageyama tilts his hips upward, pushes in and Oikawa groans, long and languid. His shoulders lose their tense set, and Oikawa drops his head against his arms, braced against the wall as he arches back. “Fuck me, Tobio-chan,” he says, voice laced with a teasing tone that borders on mocking, and Kageyama slaps a hand over his mouth, casting a desperate eye behind them, as if he might see anyone coming into the storage room at the Tokyo Metropolitan Gymnasium, to investigate.

“We could’ve done this at the apartment,” Kageyama whispers, accusing, his voice harsh from the strain. Why do you have to make things so hard, he wants to ask; what are you looking for?

But Oikawa just pushes back onto his cock, clenches down until Kageyama’s thrusts stutter, and by then, he doesn’t have enough presence of mind to protest any further.

---

Oikawa buys him flowers once.

They’re red and pink, with petals that would frill elegantly around the edges if they weren’t already half wilted from the thick summer heat.

“What’s this for?” Kageyama asks, bemused. He wonders if they need to be put in a jar, or if Oikawa will be offended if he just leaves them out. Pollen makes his nose itch.

“It’s romantic!” Oikawa says, pulling out a chair to settle himself at Kageyama’s dining table.

“They’re dying,” Kageyama says. He sets them in a glass, and the plastic wrapping crinkles under his hands. He stares at them; they look out of place in his spartan apartment.

Oikawa shrugs, slides his elbows onto the table and says, “Two sides of the same coin. Probably.”

---

Kageyama pushes him away, holds him at arm's length and Oikawa blinks at him slowly.

“What do you want from me?” Kageyama blurts out. He falters when he realises Oikawa is still standing there, watching him with no more than a cursory gaze, and tries again, “I don’t-- I don’t know what you want from me--”

Disappointment and irritation twine in him when Oikawa simply shrugs. “To be honest, Tobio-chan, even I don’t know,” he replies. His voice is light, thoughtful when he says, “Probably more than you can give me.”

Kageyama shakes his head. “I don’t understand--”

“Try,” Oikawa says, sharp. “That’s what the rest of us do.”

Kageyama stares him, and tries to tampen down on the rising feeling of frustration. He never understands Oikawa’s riddles and inclination to vaguery. But when Oikawa reaches for him again, a slow, coaxing grip that pulls him back into Oikawa’s orbit-- Kageyama relents.

He thinks Oikawa sounds a little lost when he says, more to himself than to Kageyama where he’s tucked under the crook of Oikawa’s chin,

“I really don’t know.”

---

Oikawa touches him with careful hands, with bird-bone fragile fingers that trace the curve of his ribs. Brushes a thumb over the cage around Kageyama’s heart.

Taps once. Twice.

496 words (they were gonna make out i don't know what happened rip)

Kageyama needed to know about this guy's setting. He was so well connected with his team. He was obviously the star player because his whole team adored him. It wasn't fair, why couldn't Kageyama be socially awkward and adored by his team despite it? What made this Kozume kid so special? Hell, even Hinata loved the kid. He glared intensely at the back of his head and frowned. How could he approach him without him running away?

Suga walked up behind him and slapped him on the back. "Kageyama, you're being scary again." He laughed and ruffled his kouhai's hair. "Just go up and say hi and stop thinking so hard."

Kageyama deflated a bit and dropped his crossed arms. "Okay." He marched over and stopped in from of Nekoma's setter. "Hi."

Kozume's eyes widened as he looked up from his game. "Hello?" His face showed flat out terror because Kageyama was somehow still intimidating without trying.

"Why does everyone on your team love you?"

"...They're weird."

Kageyama groaned and covered his face. "That's not helpful! I need to be a good setter, so I need to get my team to... You know, do what yours does! How are you so good at it?"

Kenma stared at him like he just said Mother 3 was being released tomorrow. "You're the genius setter... I just have a team with solid receives to back me up."

"No there's gotta be something else. You keep winning!"

Kenma shrugged helplessly. "Kuroo does this weird chant before every game, and I guess they all got brainwashed. It's weird. I don't know. Can I go now?"

Kageyama frowned intensely. "Let's hang out sometime. Actually, how about right now? There's no more practice, and we don't have school."

Kenma stared at him in disbelief. "I... What? There's... I can't; they're releasing a new game, and I have to-"

Kageyama nodded. "I'll go stand in line with you. We can talk."

"You're- Are you- I. Okay?" He tugged his hood up. "L-Let's go then..."

He followed after the other setter and frowned about how uptight he was. "Hey, what's wrong? We're going to get your game, aren't we? Shouldn't that be exciting? You're always playing something when we're not practicing."

Kenma jumped a bit and looked over at him in shock. "Yeah um... It'll be fun when I'm playing it, I just..."

"What? Is something wrong?"

"Uh... You see... Well..."

"Wait is it me? You're all tense and stuff 'cause I'm here? Alright, fine. How about I buy it for you as a peace offering?"

Kenma immediately lit up. "You'd do that?"

"Sure. Just tell me about your setting and stuff."

"Okay! Um. But. I was going to pick up some other stuff, too..."

"Sure, as long as I have enough. I spend all my allowance on volleyball, so I usually end up with a big buildup of money and splurge on really nice kneepads or something."

"Oh. Um. Still, thank you very much."

Word Count: 117 words / 25-30 lines

One battle, two sides
A six-army strong batallion
The yell for a toss, your battle cry
One victor.

A grueling
match point.

A desired
game set.

Your rhythm, disrupted
Their walls, impenetrable
Your resolve, weakened
Their victory, guaranteed

Arms pressed firmly against sides
Legs refusing to leap
A proud avian,
grounded.

An exchange between comrades
Defeat predicted in your eyes
It’s not over, it’s not over,
They tell you –
But you’ve stopped trying.

If there was ever a time to cry
If there was ever a time to regret
It would be when the ball
Touches the ground

The resonating thud
Mimics the beating of your heart
Flat-lining
As the ball rolls to a stop.

Game over.

x-o-x-o-x

Major tags: None
Additional tags: Trans character
Word count: 761

The sunset fought off the coming night well - Kinjou had never seen one last so long before. Though perhaps the lapping waves of the lake should have been drowned out by Tadokoro's voice, the evening summer symphony melted together in soothing accompaniment to his friend's prideful boasts.

"I'll try to take my time tomorrow so you don't miss the sights of Kanagawa, but I can't make any promises!" He laughed - it was hard not to join in. Some days went on as though they would never end, and races could cast a spell that made the weekend feel like a true eternity.

"I suppose I'll just have to," and something about a moment of forever made him pause, to make sure - she was right there too. His eyes drifted and dropped to Makishima as he said, "Be observant."

Tadokoro went on - but even as Kinjou raised his gaze again, he was aware of the way she stared up at him, her usually sharp and nerve-wracked eyes moved to something he couldn't easily call softer - but certainly edged with a quiet honesty. He wasn't supposed to see that.

Not out of some lie or mistrust - just what he wasn't supposed to know, just yet.

A strange echo erupted in the middle of their moment, and in the time it took for Kinjou to blink, Makishima had crossed past him and over to Tadokoro, the two of them yelling over the noise.

"Didn't I tell you to change that ring tone, it sounds like something you recorded while a customer was cooking in the oven!"

Both of them fumbled over his pockets, slapping each other's hands jovially, as Tadokoro said, "This is a recording of my gramma singing, I'm not getting rid of it for anything." He found his phone first and held it up for a moment, allowing the poorly recorded voice to go on with a grin.

"At least get a better recording!" Makishima dragged a hand over her face and back through her hair. "If you'd get something better than that block of concrete you insist on lugging around, it wouldn't be a problem."

Kinjou crossed his arms, uncomfortably self-aware.

"Hello?" Tadokoro practically bellowed into his phone. "Hello! What? What! What do you mean Sugimoto's- Wait, someone else showed up? No, no, we'll be back soon. I'll get there asap, Aoyagi, don't you worry." He grinned as though his junior was right in front of him, to which Makishima let out a resigned fond sigh - to which Kinjou smiled. The phone closed with a sharp crack and he was on again, "Looks like things are already a mess back at the hotel." He turned with a wave and a pointed stare at Makishima that Kinjou couldn't read, rather than an invitation, and the two of them were left in a measure of unsure silence as he jogged away.

The hum of cicadas returned, despite the interruption, and Kinjou accepted just whatever it was Tadokoro had given - for the moment. All three of them needed to learn how to accept gifts from one another, even if in some cases said gifts were more esoteric than others. There was a sound - he looked over to Makishima, her hands up in realization, and a crooked smile grew on her face, splintering the farther it went, as she realized he was looking straight at her.

"W-what? I was just - I was thinking, a bit, Kinjou!" She wheezed, in some awkward attempt of laughter. "Well, it isn't like Tadokorocchi really needs me to go with him over some mess like that, he loves dealing with them and I don't know what the hell I'm supposed to do, so I-"

"Makishima," he interrupted, finally, catching her tone. "Would you like to stay here with me until the sun sets?"

Makishima's shoulders fell at his words, as she allowed her arms to rest at her sides. With her, relaxation was not height and sturdiness, it seemed. Rather, she would slouch, and breeze along with the wind, like the branches of a weeping willow. Her vocal answer came much later than the one he had been looking for. "Sure."

There was no such thing as eternity, he knew, as the two of them slipped their feet out of their shoes and walked along the gentle tide. But there were quiet moments that told him more than words ever would - and someday, she'd look at him like before, with all the intention in the world. That was enough.

NSFW, sexual content

Don't get your hopes up too much, though.

http://i.imgur.com/cgeR8Sl.png

no major content warnings

awks

aaaa !!! thank you so much sar i was so nervous ;w;

Word Count: 411 words
No major archive warnings.
A/N: Written in a "letter-like" format.
-
-
To: Mihashi Ren

You look different the last time we met. Did you grow taller? Did you cut your hair? Is it the new school uniform? ~~that no longer bears the same crest and colors as mine.~~

I wondered what it was about seeing you again that brought joy to my person, but also made my chest constrict with something else.

We’ve always faced off against each other despite being on the same team before. There was one mound, and only one of us could be pitching there at a time. We both love the game and what we do; it was inevitable we’d become rivals.

But could we become friends too? Maybe even good friends?

You’ve always been alone out there on the mound. People might argue that isn’t true, you have your whole team our there too, but they were never behind you. Like a planet and its moons, we follow the same path, but are in entirely different orbitals.

That’s when I noticed it. What you lacked in Mihoshi, but found in Nishiura.

Friends.

Not the “fake” kind either, but true friends who support you and care about you. Not because you have the title of ace, that you earned by the way, but something more innate and intimate than that.

I finally understand why you answered the way you did. You’re not lonely anymore and I can see that now. Out on the field and after the match, I not only saw you, but your captain, your catcher, that wild card #5, and many more. That is what it’s like to be part of a team, Ren.

You’ve found something you were never given the chance at over here in Mihoshi. You deserved so much better from us, and from me. ~~I’m sorry, I should have done more, maybe reached out to you--.~~ What’s done is done, I hope we can leave the past in the past and continue to look forward from now on. It wouldn’t do either of us any good to stay hung up about previous misgivings, regretting missed chances and opportunities. I’m pretty sure you don’t need reminding of what happened back then too.

Looking at the “you” of old, the one alone on the mound, and then the “you” of now, who has a whole team behind him it’s clear what’s changed.

You’re different now, Ren.

The good kind of different, happiness is a good look on you.

- Kanou Shuugo
x-o-x-o-x

this is too cute . oh my gosh sar :") teshima actually looking thoughtful . but its a trick , he used ghost pepper sauce for this meal .

No major warnings apply.

different directions, but walking the same path
"I'll become the ACE!"

Major tags: None
Additional tags: Trans character
Word count: 864

It wasn't every day Teshima got to be on national television.

"And coming in from the Chiba Prefecture, representative of the Souhoku chain, we have Junta Teshima challenging today!"

He reminded himself that, as the applause beyond the paper screen made him break into a cold sweat. Walking around and through, the spotlight dropped on him, burning his skin until his face felt like it would melt off to match his frozen guts. He'd rehearsed this a thousand times over, but the wave and grin still doesn't feel right - the audience doesn't seem put off in the least, but he can't tell what they see - if their cheers of greeting are pityingly polite or what.

"Good evening!" he yelled, swinging the words up in tone to match his hand, pointing straight to the ceiling. Now that he'd actually posed, he began to realize just how foolish it probably was - maybe that wasn't something new challengers were supposed to do - something he didn't have the right to, but he tried to tell himself that he didn't care.

"Welcome to my cooking arena," the host floated over and took his hand, shaking it firmly, smiling knowingly at Teshima's clammy fingers wrapping around his. "Tonight, I look forward to the battle between you and my chefs! But just which one of my Kings do you plan to challenge?"

There were four Kings, now - just as there had been before, yet this was a new generation. One of them he had attended culinary school with, once upon a time - dreams of a restaurant of his own with her still lingering heavy on his heart, as he looked from Ashikiba. Kuroda he hardly knew - Manami he couldn't imagine attempting to challenge, for their talent and age - but there was one person here he knew too well - someone who had challenged his own mentor in foolish pride and been defeated three years before.

"I challenge Touichirou Izumida," Teshima answered, easy and smug. "It goes without saying, right?"

The host laughed, too aware of his own Kings' past challenges, and Izumida descended, smoke and light accompanying their elegant stroll to stand opposite Teshima.

"Well now! It's been quite some time since I met one of Tadokoro's kids." They held a hand at their chin, musing as they tapped their thumb. "As he used to like to refer to you bunch so much. Though I must say, I had thought they would send Naruko if it came to challenging me. I'm surprised."

Teshima put out a hand, mouth twitching at kids. He hadn't been a child in quite some time now. Only Tadokoro was allowed that. "A pleasant surprise at that, I'm sure."

They harrumphed, light and scornful, before taking his proffered hand. "It's more akin to finding a full grown chicken in my last egg," they answered, wrapping their strong fingers around his own tight enough to make him fear his bones would be crushed to dust. "Though if I have to use it, I will."

He grinned, too aware of the sweat burning at his eyes. "Happy to hear it! Not like we can afford to be picky."

"You certainly can't," Izumida interrupted, sliding their hand away. "That much is true."

The challenge starting - the ingredient being announced as mango of all things - calmly erratically speedwalking to the table and to his own kitchen - it all happened as a flash and blur of too bright light around him and Teshima wasn't quite sure how he ever thought it would be a good idea to convince Kinjou to let him challenge the Kings.

"What do you plan to do?"

The microphones weren't quite shoved in his face, but he batted at thin air instead of grabbing a knife for too many precious seconds, before pulling himself back together at the first table. "I'm gonna give Hakone something with a real kick!" He answered before he rightly put together his internal course menu, and was already cursing in his head as he started separating out the different mango. He couldn't take back his answer now - he wanted to live up to everything he said, and that was a hard leap into deep water.

"You want to give me something spicy?" Izumida yelled from across the arena, laughing audible over the clang of pots in his own ears. "I'll end up eating every bit of it before the judges touch it! You won't have a thing to spare."

Teshima slammed down a pot, shoved in sliced fruit, calculating easily through hundreds of books and lessons, pressure cookers and how well zest worked with ice cream - before he yelled back, "Yeah! Something Mediterranean!" That was absurd but if he was in deep, it didn't matter if he threw himself to the sharks with a grin on his face. "I was wondering what kind of socks you have, actually!"

"What?" Izumida actually sounded curious that time.

"Yep!" he spun around, tossing a knife into the air with blind abandon, just his luck saving him enough to catch it by the handle. "So I was plannin' on knocking them straight off you!"

Major tags: None
Additional tags: Trans character
Word count: 706

She couldn't help it - Captain Kinjou's sunglasses were a prize akin to the very Interhigh trophy itself. They gleamed like precious gems and even though Onoda could never ask for new glasses, she thought as her hands wandered closer, these lovely frames made her wish that she could. They looked like something out of an anime - like if she put them on, she'd be able to see power levels and truths totally unseen to the human eyes. Perhaps, if she wore them, she could see straight through Imaizumi and Naruko, to the bone, and witness any possible injury or need they had.

The sunglasses didn't fit well onto her head, and she struggled to make them fit behind her ears, still giggling as she did so, until she could look in the mirror with a wide smile. Nothing was different. The world was tinged in a lovely shade of violet, blurry and certainly different from her own prescription, but absolutely normal glasses.

"Onoda?"

She shrieked - hands reached up and caught her, as she toppled over the unfamiliar benches at the center of the room.

"K-Kinjou, sir! I, I'm so so so sorry, I," she fumbled, trying to remove his glasses without touching the lenses, but her hands wouldn't stop shaking, and she couldn't find a way to manage, having to roll into a miserable sigh at her own crimes. "I shouldn't have done this without asking."

Through his blurry glasses, she could have sworn he looked almost shocked at her tone, until he personally removed the frames and allowed her back her own. "It's fine, Onoda. Curiosity is no crime." He chuckled. "It isn't as though I haven't done the same thing before."

She tilted her head. "Really?"

He threaded his fingers together as he sat down next to her, leaning his mouth against his hands. "If you must ask ..." He nodded for a moment, raising a single eyebrow high and dangerous.

"D-did you steal someone's glasses?" Onoda slapped her hands over her mouth to stop her gasp. "Did you do something really bad and that's why you can never allow yourself to show emotion to us? Because you made some kind of pact in order to hide the impact you caused? Did you steal someone's magic glasses and now everywhere you look as punishment, you have to see the future of things that you can never stop whether you want to or not?" Years of anime flashed through her head, in a terrible fearful slideshow for her captain. She paused, chewing on her lip, wondering a thousand different things, and remembered how absurd she must sound. It's anime. It doesn't happen in real life.

"Actually," At his voice, she forced herself to look back to Kinjou, in spite of the embarrassment boiling in her gut. His eyes were shockingly wide, and she could see the genuine shock on his face this time. "Yes."

Onoda almost rocketed out of her chair. "R-really?!"

Another beat passed before his mouth twitched into a smile past his hands - and he started laughing. "No ... no." Her face fell and he stood up to match her, "I apologize, Onoda, but ... it was quite funny. I'm not laughing at you."

Sniffling, she asked, "So ... what did you mean?"

Kinjou looked away, with folded arms. "I suppose I do owe you a proper answer, for that." She nodded, and he chuckled. "No mercy for me today, then? Alright. I accidentally break my grandfather's glasses once, when I was a child. And I used to go around at the convenience store wearing as many sunglasses as possible. Once I walked straight into a wall and broke them, as well. My mother had to pay for the bunch to make up for it." The two of them finally walked out of the locker room. "I've had quite a few mishaps with glasses."

"Wow ... that's a lot more fun than anything I could have thought up," Onoda answered, chipper enough to cover up how much of a lie it was. It would have been cool if Kinjou had some kind of glasses-based curse - but it was still fun to speak with him about such silly mistakes.

No major content warnings apply, 493 words

Kanzaki Miki was a friendly girl who was popular and well-liked among both other children her age and the adults in the neighborhood. She had round brown eyes and a smile that it was believed could melt even the coldest of hearts, and she also loved bicycles more than anything else in the world.

Imaizumi Shunsuke was an odd child, too serious and too quiet to draw people to him naturally, and with a distant personality to match. He had narrow grey eyes and a frown that it was believed marked him out as the owner of one of those aforementioned ‘coldest hearts,’ and he was like Miki in one way and one way only--he also loved bicycles more than anything else in the world.

Based on this observation, Miki had very quickly decided that they would be friends.

“Imaizumi-kun!” Miki greeted brightly, waving from where she sat on the grass, bento perched in her lap. “Come sit with us!”

Imaizumi’s response at that time had been to make a face and turn away, not even gracing her with an answer as he walked off in the opposite direction.

“I don’t know why you bother,” one of the other girls said, rolling her eyes. “He’s not going to come, and even if he was, do you really want him to be frowning at us the whole time while we eat? He’s scary when he glares like that.”

“Imaizumi-kun isn’t scary,” Miki protested.

“Yes he is!”

“No he isn’t-- he’s nice!” Miki insisted. “I don’t think he’s had many friends before, but he’s a good person. And he likes bikes… have you seen his Scott? He’s got really good taste--”

“Miki, you would like anyone who you thought liked bikes,” the girl complained. “It’s like… a problem of yours.”

“That’s not true!”

“It is!”

“Well, you haven’t heard the way he talks about his bike,” Miki said, annoyance creeping into her tone, along with the strange urge to defend Imaizumi-- which was not any sort of problem, thank you very much. “He’s like a completely different person when he relaxes a bit, and is actually talking about something that matters to him. I think… I think he just doesn’t know how to act around people all the time.”

“Wait,” the girl said, blinking. “You mean he-- angry Shunsuke Imaizumi-- has actually talked to you?”

“Yes?” Miki said. “About his bike-- well, he was more talking at me I guess, but--”

“I didn’t even think he was capable of stringing more than two words together,” the girl said in surprise. “Are you going to try again… talking to him, I mean?”

“Of course,” Miki said. “He comes by the shop often, so I should be seeing him a fair amount.”

“And all he’ll talk to you about is… bicycles?”

Miki smiled, taking a sip of juice. “I don’t see any problem with it,” she said, in complete honesty.

i love this!!! this is so darling and captures the feeling of the prompt in an entirely different sense, i'm so overwhelmingly charmed

aaaaaahhhhhhhhhhh your yahaba is so good!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! yahaba's admiration for oikawa is so #relatable..... i really like the part where oikawa crooked his finger at yahaba? its a very nice image.... oh no i think i'm stuck in oiyaha hell thanks >-)o

thank you for the fill!!!!!! thank you for dragging me to hell!!!!!!!!!!!

Of course it would be Toudou. And Shinkai the enabler.
You're welcome :)

Hahaha, wonderful.

Tadokoro just doesn't seem to know what to think.

Word Count: 521 words
No major warnings apply.
Additional tags: Mentions of injury, blood, slightly graphic.
-
-

The alarm went off and jolted Rin out of his stupor. His mind was screaming at him to move, to get out of this dangerous situation.

To leave him behind.

But Rin didn’t understand. Everything was going according to plan, they went over everything during the debrief, but no one expected a fully-armed hired mercenary waiting to ambush them near their point of recon.

They were almost in the clear.

Rin could almost feel the hot water from a much-needed shower, and taste the hot meal that awaited him back at headquarters.

This. This was not supposed to happen.

“…R-rei?” Rin’s voice was barely above a whisper. His hands trembled and his footing faltered as he walked, then ran to his fallen comrade. He stumbled as he neared Rei’s crumpled body, and dropped to his knees. He carefully turned him over and paled at the amount of blood pooling on the floor.

“Rei! Hang in there!” Rin tried again, desperate to pull any kind of response from him.

Rei’s breathing was labored as his eyes fluttered open.

“R-rin?”

Oh, thank gods.

Rin ripped strips of cloth from his lighter jacket that he used to create, rather ill fitting but you had to make do with what you have, bandages for Rei. At least it would help stop the bleeding momentarily, or at least keep it from coming out at an alarming pace.

Rin helped Rei to his feet who sagged heavily against him, leaning most of his weight on Rin, and was fighting to remain conscious.

“We’ll take it nice and slow, okay? Our ride is waiting out there for us and we’ll get the medical team working on you stat.” Rin affirmed in re-assurance, whether it was for Rei or for himself. He wasn’t sure.

--

Rei was admitted into his own private room and some of the other agents have already visited him who wished him better health upon their departure.

Rin, however, had not step one foot into that room yet. His nerves have been fried ever since the last mission. He was the group leader, so he held himself accountable for all their mistakes, especially if it lead to an almost deadly confrontation like that one.

What would happen had Rei not been wearing his vest? It was standard procedure for all agents to wear them, but what if the shooter hit something else? Or fired multiple rounds and he couldn’t stem the blood flow, so Rei was bleeding out right there in from of him and –

Rin shut his eyes and his knuckle-white grip he had on the cheap vending machine coffee almost crushed the cup.

“Excuse me, sir?”

Rin looked up.

It was the nurse who was assigned to Rei’s room.

“The young gentlemen inside wishes for your company.”

How did he know he was out here?...

The shock must have registered on his face because the nurse just smiled knowingly and ushered him inside the room.

Tired, but beautiful and lively – so alive – amethyst eyes locked onto his, and the person in the bed expressed a small grin.

“Hey, Rin.”
.
.
.

“…Rei.”

Rated M for some sexiness and kissing and touching etc.

Thank you for this blessed prompt. I took a few liberties in terms of creating a backstory for this drabble.

2,104 words

The rivalry between Café Iwatobi and Samezuka Sweets went back farther than anyone could remember.

Located across the street from each other, probably as old as the little town itself, it was rumored that the two feuding families did this for a challenge, to see who could put the other out of business faster.

Luckily, the townspeople thoroughly enjoyed this spirit of competitiveness between the Iwatobi and Samezuka clans, and always made sure to give both shops enough business to keep them going.

Makoto Tachibana started working as a waiter at Café Iwatobi back in high school, taking it up as a part time job to earn some extra pocket money. His best friend Haru started out in the kitchen at around the same time.

Haru’s family had owned the café for a few years now, and by the time they both graduated from university, Haru made up his mind to take over as the head chef. When he asked Makoto to join him as manager and maître d', the brunet could hardly resist. Four years of attending university in Tokyo had already been too much for him. He wanted to go back home, to the quietness of his happy little town by the ocean, to everything he knew and loved.

It was the perfect job for him, and he accepted Haru’s offer wholeheartedly.

Only he didn’t know that the job would involve keeping Haru from ripping out the throat of Rin Matsuoka, the maître d' of Samezuka Sweets, on a daily basis.
Rin had a mouth on him that didn’t know when to quit, and he had a knack for knowing exactly what would set Haru off.

Rin made it a habit of coming to their café once a week, and ordering a three course meal. He took his time eating it, and then forced Makoto to note down his review of every item he had consumed.

The whole fiasco almost always ended in Haru charging at Rin, running out from the back, a soup ladle raised high above his head. Makoto would have to grab Haru before any blood was shed, and Rin was ceremoniously dragged back to his own shop by a very tired looking Sousuke Yamazaki, who always somehow showed up just in time to help Makoto prevent a disaster from occurring.

Makoto still hadn’t exchanged a word with the hulking, brooding mass of handsomeness with piercing teal eyes. All they did was mirror each other’s tired smiles, while manhandling their respective bosses and best friends.

Makoto often wondered why Haru and Rin had it in for each other. But when he finally discovered the reason, he wish he’d never known.

After one particularly heated exchange, which involved Rin criticizing the amount of salt Haru used in his grilled saba recipe and Haru returned fire by smacking Rin over the head with a spatula, Makoto finally solved the puzzle of their rivalry. Having calmed down the cheering crowd in the café, and served them free coffee and dessert for witnessing the unsightly spectacle, Makoto happened upon Haru and Rin in the back alley behind Café Iwatobi, making out furiously.

Gasping for breath and red with the shock of his discovery, Makoto ran backwards, and almost tripped over a small black cat with a teal ribbon tied around its neck.

If it wasn’t for the sturdy arms of Sousuke Yamazaki breaking his fall, Makoto was sure he would have broken his neck.

Still blushing profusely, Makoto thanked Sousuke for catching him, while the teal-eyed man smirked knowingly at him, puffing on a cigarette.

“So you finally figured it out, eh?” Sousuke looked up at the pale sky overhead, exhaling cigarette smoke.

“I-I never…I mean…I should have known, but…Ahh, I mean…How long have you known?” Makoto found himself looking at the way Sousuke smoked, as though he was entranced by the movement of his long, sturdy fingers and his beautifully sculpted forearms.

“Long enough, I guess. They’re not exactly discreet, you know.” Sousuke smirked at Makoto again, this time blowing smoke right into the brunet’s face, making him cough a little.

“Yeah…Well, I guess I’m not that perceptive.” Makoto didn’t know who he was more angry at. Himself for not figuring out such a big part of Haru’s life, or at Haru for keeping him in the dark for so long.

“I don’t think that’s true, Tachibana. Don’t be too hard on yourself.” Sousuke’s smrik changed into a smile as he said the words. A warm, beautiful smile. A hand reached out to ruffle Makoto’s hair, and before he could realize what was happening, Sousuke had put out his cigarette and was walking back to Samezuka Sweets, the little black cat in tow.

Soon enough, without either of them realizing it, they started taking their breaks at the same time, meeting each other in the small alley behind Café Iwatobi.

“So have you talked to Haru yet? About, you know…” Sousuke’s eyes always looked at the sky, tracing the patterns of clouds, following the white wings of sea birds in flight, reaching for the sun.

“Ahhh…No, not really. I figured, it’s his secret, and if he doesn’t want to tell me, then I’m not going to force it out of him.” The hurt of Haru keeping his relationship from him weighed heavily on Makoto’s heart, though he tried to drown it in his sunflower smile.

“But it’s bothering you.” Sousuke stifled his burning cigarette against the brick wall, and leaned down to have a quick chat with the two cats at his feet.

The black one with a teal ribbon around its neck, and the pale ginger colored one wearing a red ribbon, which had taken to accompanying Makoto on his breaks. Both cats were like mascots for their respective shops, and had done nothing but hiss and frown at each other until now.

That had changed ever since Makoto and Sousuke tentatively became friends with each other, and now both felines were cuddled together on the cobbled surface of the alley, meowing contentedly at Sousuke, feasting at the scraps of cold cut meat he fed them.

Makoto didn’t reply to Sousuke’s concern for him, though it lightened his heart considerably.

He bent down next to the raven-haired man, and joined him in petting the cats.

Before they parted ways, Sousuke presented Makoto with a small box bearing the Samezuka Sweets logo.

“New recipe. A chocolate and honey tart. I thought you’d enjoy it.” Sousuke looked like a schoolgirl confessing to her crush as he scratched the back of his head, his cheeks flushed pink, refusing to look directly at Makoto.

“Oh…Th-Thank you, Yamazaki-san.” Makoto accepted the little pink box in with hands, mirroring Sousuke’s blush.

“You can just call me Sousuke you know. Enough with the formalities, Makoto.” Sousuke’s eyes burned with some unknown fire as Makoto gaped at him.

“Right. S-Sousuke. Thank you.” Makoto found himself staring openly at the way Sousuke smiled at him before returning to work.

During their next meeting, they exchanged email addresses and phone numbers.
And after that, Sousuke invited Makoto to his apartment, to try out a few new recipes he was working on. And so that Kuro and Caramel could have a playdate together. Any excuse to see each other outside of work, really.

So it was that Makoto found himself lounging around on Sousuke’s couch on a Sunday afternoon, sipping at a small blue glass of matcha.

Sousuke was wearing a plain white t-shirt with dark jeans and a simple teal apron, checking the oven and mixing batter.

Makoto felt a little overdressed in his pale green button down shirt and khakis.

What did he think it was? A date?

He found himself blushing furiously at the thought of dating Sousuke.

Excusing himself, he ran into the washroom, and leaned over the sink to calm himself down.

Maybe this was a bad idea, getting this close to Sousuke.

What would he do if Haru found out about this? Would he consider Makoto a traitor for befriending the enemy?

And then the image of Haru pinned against the wall took shape in his mind-Haru with his fingers gripping Rin’s ponytail, the lower halves of their bodies gyrating against each other, their tongues visibly entwined together.

Makoto shook it off and tried to banish the impulse of grabbing Haru by the collar and demanding an explanation from his best friend.

However, the image of two men kissing passionately remained branded in his brain.

Only now, the two men were Makoto and Sousuke.

Sousuke’s knee shoved between Makoto’s legs, his tongue inside Makoto’s welcoming mouth, their bodies hotly pushed up together.

A strange feeling blossomed inside Makoto chest, and he felt so weak in the knees he almost fell down.

Struggling against the foreign impulses invading his mind and body, Makoto splashed some cold water on his face and returned to the kitchen where Sousuke was waiting for him.

“Are you okay Makoto? You look like you have a fever.” Sousuke’s voice was gentle and concerned, and his hand reached out to touch Makoto lightly on the forearm.

As though struck by a bolt of lightning, Makoto withdrew his arm, leaving Sousuke looking startled and hurt.

“Ahh…No, sorry, I’m fine.” Makoto regretted his action immediately, unable to express himself properly to Sousuke.

“O-Okay. Well, here you go. It’s a flourless chocolate cake, with a hint of lavender, topped with chocolate glaze.” Sousuke proudly presented his beautiful creation to Makoto.

The cake looked sumptuous and lovely all at once, decorated with a single sprig of dried lavender.

Sousuke had the gift to combine taste and sophistication perfectly, which was unmatched even by Haru’s impeccable cooking.

Though Makoto preferred Haru’s entrees, when it came to dessert, no one could top Sousuke.

Happily, trying to forget the indecent thoughts still swirling around in his head, Makoto helped himself to a mouthful of cake.

He smiled blissfully as he ate, and was glad to see the satisfaction on Sousuke’s face.

“Ahhh, hold on, you have a little glaze right here…” Sousuke’s thumb reached out for Makoto’s upper lip, slowly sliding across it to wipe the chocolate off.

Instinctively, Makoto’s tongue flicked out at the same time, and somehow Sousuke’s chocolate-covered thumb ended up inside Makoto’s mouth.

Makoto knew he should let go and walk away and never come back, but instead he sucked on Sousuke’s thumb intently, as if it tasted better than the cake.
And Sousuke let him.

The two cats took their chances, and leapt onto the counter to have a taste of the fresh-baked dessert.

Fortunately, Sousuke had enough presence of mind to put it out of their reach just in time with his free hand.

Disappointed, Kuro and Caramel decided to make do with the plain batter Sousuke had put aside to bake a pound cake for Makoto to take home.

A few minutes later, Makoto was sprawled on Sousuke’s roomy leather couch, his shirt unbuttoned, the fly of his pants unzipped, with a shirtless Sousuke on top of him.

Their first kiss tasted of cigarettes and chocolate and a little bit of matcha.

Makoto thoroughly humiliated himself by cumming in his underwear a little too quickly, as Sousuke’s hardness rubbed against Makoto’s erection, his tongue moving expertly inside Makoto’s mouth.

And somehow that led to them taking a bath together.

And Makoto spent the night at Sousuke’s, and had to call in sick for work on account of his butt being too sore, faking a cold over the phone to throw Haru off.

Despite Makoto’s protests, Sousuke took the day off as well, casually telling Rin over the phone that he didn’t feel like coming in for work.

Rin was still shouting at Sousuke when he hung up.

Days drifted past them, mesmeric, following each other harmoniously like the verses of a poem memorized in childhood. Time was measured in delicate cups of bone china filled to the brim with fresh-brewed coffee, in small stoneware tumblers teeming over with streaming matcha, in small chocolate and honey tarts decorated with lavender.

Their nights were mostly spent together, learning each other’s bodies, chanting out hymns of their shared pleasure in hushed voices.

Kuro and Caramel always joined Sousuke and Makoto on their dates, watching over their owners like a pair of benevolent deities.

When Haru finally came upon them in the back alley, with Sousuke’s hands up the front of Makoto’s shirt, teasing his nipples expertly, his teeth biting on the brunet’s earlobe, even the combined force of Rei and Nagisa and Rin could not keep him from jumping on Sousuke and giving him a nosebleed.

438 words. Warning: Mentions of nudity. (i don't know what happened, send jesus)

"Oi! What's wrong with you two? You'll never get a girlfriend if you just act like that!"

"But coach we didn't mean to, it just happened!" Tanaka whined.

Ukai shook his head at them and crossed his arms, keeping his gaze steady as he glared at the second years. "Real men would never look up a woman's skirt, even given the opportunity! You have to resist temptation until you're allowed that luxury by someone special to you!"

Tanaka wrapped his arm around Noya's shoulders and gave him a serious look. "What do you think, Noya-san? Are we real men?"

He hummed in thought as his eyebrows creased then slammed his fist into his hand. "We've never been confessed to! This has to be why! We need to become better men! Let's go, Ryuu!"
------

"Wait, Noya-san, how is looking at each other half naked going to help us become better men?"

"It's like he said, we won't have to resist temptation if we get that luxury from someone special!"

"Still, I'm not sure if I wanna take my clothes off... I wanted my first time to be special," Tanaka said while crossing his arms over his bare chest.

"Aw, come on Ryuu. It's for the greater good! We'll be real men!"

"Fine, fine, but you better take responsibility, Noya-san," Tanaka said as he pulled his pants off and flopped back to sit on the bed. "Alright, c'mon, your turn."

"Yeah! Here we go!" He hopped out of his own pants and struck a triumphant pose with his hands on his hips and a giant smile on his face.

Tanaka just frowned at him. "This doesn't feel any different than normal. We see each other like this all the time because of practice and when it's way too hot."

Noya deflated and dropped to his knees, his hands on the ground to support him as he stared at the floor. "You're right..." He looked up at Tanaka sharply. "Then we have to go further!"

Tanaka gasped and covered his mouth with his hand. "You can't mean...?"

Noya nodded gravely as he stood. "I do mean."

Tanaka touched his hand to his chest. "But Noya-san, that's indecent."

He clenched his fist and nodded in understanding. "I know, Ryuu, but we have to, if we're going to be real men."

Tanaka nodded back and stood, hands on his hips. "If that's what it takes... On the count of three?"

"Yeah. One. Two. Three." They both shoved their boxers down and wound up staring at each others completely nude bodies. "...You have a b-"

"Little bro, I'm home!"

"Shit, hurry and get dressed!"

laughtrack.mp3

no warnings apply

word count: 409

_____

It was one of those things that had happened in an instant; Yamaguchi's been by his side for a while, now. He's been through a lot with him, seen him a lot, talked to him a lot. So it was odd. This was all really, really, really odd.

Yamaguchi was usually the one trailing with a laugh and a trill of "Sorry, Tsukki~!" and that had been some variant of the extent of their relationship, the simple side of it, but.... it seemed that wasn't the case anymore. Maybe it was one of those cases where if you're so close to something, you don't see it grow or change-- Tsukishima has no idea when Yamaguchi became so.... cool, with the ability to take the wind out of his lungs and leave him reeling, but here he goddamn was.

Tsukishima stared, for maybe a moment or a millennium, as his brain flipped through possible response like the phrases were on the cards of a rolodex; it was difficult, it really was, to come up with a response to something you don't expect. It's even harder to come up with a respond to something that's so damn perspective-changing.

After a while, though, once Tsukishima's mind snaps back into place and he can finally for another thought or two, he looks away from the confused expression on Yamaguchi's face and settles for the slightest of smiles to pull at his lips. It's funny, really, how obvious it is that Yamaguchi has no damn idea how affecting his words just were, it's like he's almost one-hundred percent expecting Tsukishima to brush him off.

Maybe that's why his eyebrows raise and his mouth pops open a bit when he sees that subtle curve of Tsukishima's lips-- because it's unexpected. That's even more amusing, Tsukishima reasons, that Yamaguchi sees himself so far removed from considering his own words that he doesn't recognize the good impact they could have-- he didn't plan out his words this time, he didn't think it through. He just said what he was thinking at the exact moment, chest heaving and fingers curled in Tsukishima's collar and eyes having some kind of fire that Tsukishima has only seen in pictures of infernos.

What more do you need than pride!

Tsukishima's smile widened just a tad, and he closed his eyes, ignoring Yamaguchi's confusion once more in favor of his own musing.

Yamaguchi's words were.... far more cool than my endless ruminating.

Edited 2015-07-25 21:20 (UTC)

Aaaaahhhhhhh your Oikage is so intense, I love it!!!!!!!!!!!!!! All these little snippets give such intimate glimpses of their unconventional romance, it's so beautiful! Thank you so much for filling this!!!

oh noooooo! poor Rei, poor Rin...

Thank you for the lovely art!!

no archive warnings apply.
1149 words

Their debut interview is actually pre-recorded.

The interviewer motions for them to pass the microphone along, and Makoto launches into his practiced intro with a sheepish smile. Rin takes it from him when he finishes, flashing sharp, white teeth at the camera while he talks.

Rei fumbles with both his glasses and the mic in a move sure to get fangirls squealing, barely handing it over to Nagisa. He chatters, flashing peace signs at both the interviewer and the camera, almost like a pro.

And when it comes to Haru’s turn, he doesn’t even take the mic. He stares coolly at the camera instead, until the interviewer nervously asks him to introduce himself, please. Nagisa keeps the microphone fast in his hands.

“Ah, Haru-chan is our visual,” he winks. “He’s our secret weapon! Too cool for words.” Rin keeps his teeth-gritting to a minimum, and Makoto laughs nervously when the interviewer jibes about their feminine names.

Rin laughs, too. He’ll hear that one again.

Their music video concept is so stupid.

“Rin, just a little more intensity in the eyes!” the director calls. His costume is stupid--all of their costumes are stupid--itchy and uncomfortable, and his jewelry is so heavy he’d probably weigh an extra ten pounds with it. Haru walks around the set with the plastic sword at his hip banging into things, toned abdomen touched up with makeup.

Ridiculous.

And he’s going to get pruny fingers, at this rate. Rin doesn’t even know if their company will spare the money to CGI that out. So he grins his brightest, fierce eyes locked at the camera, and hopes that this is it, this is the take. People are dying of thirst somewhere in the world.

“Good, Rin!”

Makoto hands him a towel, and Rin drapes it over his head after drying himself off. He’ll have to go to makeup again. “Good job,” he smiles, and Rin’s eyes settle across the room, where Haru’s spaced out in a chair, waiting to film his take.

“Yeah,” he scowls, before coming up to meet his eyes. “You too.”

They’ve worked hard to be here.

They’ve worked so hard to be here, and Haru isn’t trying. “Haru, you’re not even dancing,” Rin frowns, pointing at the footage of their music video. “That’s barely our actual choreography.”

“He looks okay,” Makoto frowns, but it’s kind of true. “He’s hitting his marks when it counts.” Besides, Rin knows, it’s too late--their music video dropped already and Nagisa’s spent a sleepless, excited night following their skyrocketing view count.

“Wow, we’re at fifty thousand already,” he breathes, and Rei pushes up his glasses to check. Onscreen, Rin’s face winks at them among little waterfalls from painted vases, while Haru’s dead fish eyes flash at the sight.

“We are indeed,” Rei agrees, and Nagisa tickles his side until he gets a laugh out of him.

“Get a room, you two,” Rin grumbles, but watches the counter tick upward with the rest of them.

It’s their debut showcase that does it.

After hours of practice and hardly any rest, Rin’s temper is at its snapping point. He’s shouted at Rei, yelled over Nagisa, and argued so frequently with Makoto that the taller boy looks ready to cry.

Haru bumps into him while they’re crossing the floor, tape marking out center stage while Rin is trying to go from left to right. Haru, traveling from right to left, merely looks as dead-eyed as he always does, but with a tinge of annoyance to his blue eyes that Rin can’t stand.

“Get out of my way,” he snaps, and Rei freezes. Makoto pauses their music mid-chorus, kick, kick, kick, and Rin’s so mad about everything he’s ready to set something on fire. He’s tired, he’s exhausted, everyone is working so hard, and Haru is still staring at him.

“I could use a drink,” Nagisa says, false cheer coloring his voice while he pulls Makoto and Rei out of the practice hall after him. “Rin-chan, Haru-chan, I’ll see what the vending machine has, bye!”

Without their song and the squeaking noises of five pairs of shoes against the floor, it’s deafeningly silent.

“Why are you even here,” Rin starts, and his hair is sweaty and gross when he rakes a frustrated hand through it. “You don’t even do what we do! You don’t dance like I do--you can’t even sing like I do.” But it’s untrue, and Rin is being unfair: Nanase Haruka lights up when he’s performing for an audience, coming to life with a ferocity that he doesn’t have anywhere else. He can carry a tune and keep the beat, but when he’s onstage something in him switches on that Rin can’t replicate.

It’s just sheer star power, is what is. He’s in his natural element, and so beautiful that Rin wants to close his mouth and never smile again, unless Haru’s smiling back. Rin had replayed the sight of Haru’s stupid half-step, half-hearted headbanging dance move during his solo closeup and nearly broken something.

“You’re wrong,” Haru replies bluntly. “I want to debut as much as you do. And you know it.”

“You have a funny way of showing it!” And Rin’s stare is met with an equally fierce one, Haru coming alive like he’s onstage. But there’s nobody there: just Matsuoka Rin, kind of jealous but mostly tired and cranky; Rin who’s half-interested in the sight of Haru so ablaze he wants to push at him just a little further. “Do you just want to be famous?”

“Please, if that were the case, I wouldn’t be an idol singer.” Haru’s in his face now, even features and pointed chin so close to him that Rin can feel him breathing, chest still heaving from dance practice. “I’m free to share the love I receive onstage with STYLE FIVE. Isn’t that what you want, too?”

“God,” Rin manages, frustrated beyond belief. “Shut up.” And he fists his hands in Haru’s sweaty shirt and yanks him close, presses his mouth against Haru’s and feels the slight ghost of a smile. Kissing him is like drowning, like swallowing lungfuls of water and then remembering how to swim. “What’s so funny,” he mumbles, face flushed red when he remembers where and who he is.

“You’re the one telling me to shut up.” And Haru kisses him again before he can protest, hands locked at the small of Rin’s back.

“Um.”

Makoto’s voice breaks them apart, Haru’s hands unwilling to separate while Rin pushes himself away. “Oh my god--”

Rei blinks, and hands Rin’s favorite brand of juice to Nagisa. He cheers at the sudden gift, but Makoto still gives a cold can of juice to Haru.

“What,” Rin says flatly, like he’s done nothing wrong. He hasn’t. He so totally hasn’t.

“Well--” Makoto begins, when Nagisa winks at Rin before smiling at Makoto.

“Haru-chan, Rin-chan, your fanservice will be so easy now!”

Edited 2015-07-25 21:41 (UTC)

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Page 48 of 56

Bonus Round 4: Official Art

Bonus Round 4: Official Art

FILL: TEAM AOYAGI HAJIME/TESHIMA JUNTA, G

FILL: TEAM AKAASHI KEIJI/BOKUTO KOUTAROU/KUROO TETSUROU, E

FILL: TEAM NISHINOYA YUU/TANAKA RYUUNOSUKE, G

FILL: Team Tachibana Makoto/Yamazaki Sousuke, G

FILL: TEAM AOYAGI HAJIME/IZUMIDA TOUICHIROU, G

FILL: TEAM MATSUOKA RIN/NANASE HARUKA, M

FILL: TEAM Aoyagi Hajime/Izumida Touichirou, G

Re: FILL: Team Aoyagi Hajime/Izumida Touichirou, E

FILL: Team Tachibana Makoto/Yamazaki Sousuke, G

Re: FILL: TEAM Aoyagi Hajime/Izumida Touichirou, G

FILL: Team Tachibana Makoto/Yamazaki Sousuke, G

FILL: TEAM AOYAGI HAJIME/IZUMIDA TOUICHIROU, G

FILL: TEAM AOYAGI HAJIME/IZUMIDA TOUICHIROU, G

FILL: Team Imaizumi Shunsuke/Naruko Shoukichi, G

no subject

Re: FILL: TEAM KAGEYAMA TOBIO/OIKAWA TOORU, G.

Re: FILL: TEAM AOYAGI HAJIME/TESHIMA JUNTA, G

Re: FILL: TEAM Aoyagi Hajime/Izumida Touichirou, G

FILL: Team Tachibana Makoto/Yamazaki Sousuke, T

FILL: TEAM TACHIBANA MAKOTO/YAMAZAKI SOUSUKE, M

FILL: TEAM NISHINOYA YUU/TANAKA RYUUNOSUKE, T

FILL: TEAM AKAASHI KEIJI/BOKUTO KOUTARO, G

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

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

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