for this bonus round, the theme is competition! pretty open-ended, prompts that are about some sort of competition! this round will end on july 31st!
Fills can be in any format, and you can fill your teammates prompts, but you cannot fill your own prompt.
You can post as many fills and as many prompts as you want! To participate, reply to this Dreamwidth post!
for your prompt post title, please use the following format:
PROMPT: TEAM [TEAM NAME]
for your fill post title, please use the following format:
FILL: TEAM [TEAM NAME]
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yurishippingolympics2024-07-16 11:56 pm
PROMPT: Team Griddlehark
FILL: TEAM ACE ATTORNEY
They’d been briefed about the outlines of their relationship, of course. Fed a first meeting story, acceptable pet names, appropriate levels of affection, all that. This was a risk for their bosses, after all, and they wouldn’t want a scandal on the pretty duo that was the face for NHN’s acquirement of seven main idol agencies and also Misa-Misa.
The official story, by the way, held that Kiyomi had been the one to ask Misa out, “charmed utterly by her beauty,” which Misa thought was sweet. Kiyomi disagreed. “As if I’d ever be so shallow,” she muttered while they stepped out of the limo.
“Oh, babe,” Misa said — quiet enough for the reporters to miss, but not for Kiyomi. “You’re plenty shallow.”
Kiyomi almost, almost glowered at her. Then she apparently remembered herself and pasted on her blandest smile.
Boring, Misa thought. They really shouldn’t have gotten Kiyomi Takada for this. She was good at keeping calm, sure, but she wasn’t an actor. Not like Misa.
Still, something about that crack in the mask made her stomach flutter.
The reporters had already been briefed to wait inside, but Misa spotted a few crouching in the bushes anyway. Creeps. She turned to Kiyomi—
And Kiyomi grabbed her hand.
This was entirely expected. Hand-holding was outlined within the acceptable codes of conduct; even a kiss on the cheek was okay. But Misa startled. Kiyomi’s bloodred nails dug almost-but-not-quite painfully into her palm.
“Are you alright, sweetheart?” Kiyomi whispered.
Oh. Ohhh. Oh, it was on.
“Yes, of course,” Misa whispered back, and stroked the flat of her thumb over Kiyomi’s knuckles. Reassuring, kind. “It’s just… been a while since any press events.”
“Well, we’ll be in it together,” Kiyomi said. Misa was quite sure she was the only one who could see the spark of cold, calculated brilliance in those brown eyes. “So don’t worry, love. Alright?”
And now I smile up at her, vulnerable but sincere…
“…Alright,” Misa said, and raised on her tiptoes to plant a kiss directly on Kiyomi’s forehead. Thankfully for their managers, she’d worn stain-free lipstick; Misa kind of wished she hadn’t, now. She’d love to see what Kiyomi’s face would look like with the imprints of Misa’s kisses all over her.
And there was the glower. Just for a split-second, before it was coolly tucked back into the facade of the professional yet devoted girlfriend.
Misa didn’t grin, but it was a close thing.
“Now let’s go in,” Kiyomi said softly.
Finally, Misa thought. Let the games begin.
FILL: Team Anime/Manga
“Dip me,” Cinder says under her breath.
The floor moves around them — lights whirling, bodies jostling for space. Winter refused to dance in anyway that wasn’t distressingly formal, so this is what they’re doing, brushing past each other as though touching is a game. Winter tilts her head inwards to catch the way her breath hitches as she looks past her, gaze fixed on something she can’t see.
“What?”
“Dip me,” she repeats, more urgent. “Dip me, she’s looking —”
“Oh my G-d,” Winter mutters, “do it yourself if you’re that desperate,” and Cinder glares at her for about two seconds before she takes her up on her offer. Winter has to bite down hard on her tongue to stop herself from yelping as she sweeps her feet out from underneath her, holding her low to the ground, and for a moment the lights above them spin gold and Cinder is staring down at her, eyes heavy-lidded, and —
She rights her barely a second later, scowling as they turn away through the crowd. Winter doesn’t even try to catch who she was looking at, still recovering from two very different kinds of swooping feelings in her gut.
“Good enough for you?” Cinder asks through gritted teeth.
Winter stares at her again. Something competitive in her rears its head, pushes up against her lungs — determination to find her footing again, probably, or irritation at being upstaged — “I’ll do it better next time.”
Cinder blinks at her, surprised. The lights flash red, blue. Her mouth spreads into a slow, lazy smile. “We’ll see.”
//
She does it better.
When she pulls Cinder upright, both of them turning red, Winter makes a show of tugging on her hands until she takes the hint and presses up against her, buries her head in her shoulder. It’s a little awkward, since Cinder is taller, but it takes the edge off the eyes watching them in the crowd. They move in a slow circle, bodies laced together — and it’s almost nice, she thinks.
It would be nice if Cinder weren’t talking.
“Next time,” she’s saying, “next time I pick the date location. Next time I stalk her socials to see where she’s going. This sucks. This sucks so bad.”
Winter is inclined to agree, but she doesn’t point that out. “I thought you liked clubs,” she says instead, spreading her fingers over the small of Cinder’s back.
Cinder huffs against her neck, sending heat shooting up straight through her spine. “I liked clubs because my ex likes clubs.”
“Well, excuse me for wanting you to have fun,” Winter says idly.
“Fuck you,” she mutters, but there’s no heat behind it.
//
“She’s going to some Vale restaurant,” Cinder announces, “that’s romantic, isn’t it? You want to be taken to a shitty Vale restaurant, sweetheart?”
“I’ll hang up,” Winter threatens. “I could find somewhere nicer to take you. We could go right now.”
Cinder snorts on the other end of the line. There’s the sound of a thud and fabric rustling, a body hitting a bed. “And do what?”
“Post it on your Instagram,” she suggests boredly. “It looks weird if we show up everywhere she does. I’ll take you on a nice date and you can brag about how much better I am.”
She scoffs. “See, but that fucks with her, doesn’t it? She starts to think maybe she’s the —”
“I’m not interested in your weird psychological fuckery. Come on, I’ll pick you up at seven. Dress nice.”
//
“‘Date with my one and only’,” Winter reads out, eyebrows raised. Cinder scowls up at her from her seat on Winter’s expensive couch, arms folded over her chest. “That sounds effective.”
Her scowl deepens. “I can beat that.”
There’s a challenge there, an expectation. Winter takes the bait. “And how will you do that?”
She stands up, takes the phone out of Winter’s hands. There’s no force behind it, more — comfort, brushing up against her boundaries and finding them malleable. “You like theatre, don’t you?”
“Where did you get that idea?”
Cinder raises her eyebrows at her over the phone, the mirror image of Winter’s surprised disapproval face. “Your sister. Duh. Favourite musical?”
“It’s not showing anymore,” Winter shrugs.
“Fine, I’ll find a pro-shoot and rent a cinema. Take good photos. Deal?”
Heat rushes up her spine. She bows her head to hide how hard she’s blushing, mouth working. “I — yes. Fine.”