#kuroyaku weekend 2017

[bennflynt]

long distance older boyfriends for @kuroyakuweek

[priintaniere-archive]

※ PLEASE DO NOT REPOST/EDIT/USE WITHOUT MY PERMISSION ※

i wanted to draw kuroyaku for so long so the @kuroyakuweek gave me an excuse to finally draw them, thank you for organizing this ;_; // not following any prompt, let’s just say it’s for the free day prompt

 commissions infos | twitter (1 - 2)

[sunnyhydrangea]

Kuroo likes coffee and Yaku likes tea. Kuroo needs noise and Yaku needs quiet. Kuroo is analogue and Yaku thinks that’s bullshit. Kuroo is a mess and Yaku owns his own iron. Kuroo is a middle blocker and Yaku is the libero. Kuroo is tall and Yaku is still infuriatingly average (short). Kuroo likes the beach and Yaku likes the mountains. Kuroo looks bigger than he is and Yaku looks smaller than he is. Kuroo likes long hair and Yaku has likes short hair. Kuroo is in biochem and Yaku is in history. Kuroo’s clothes are always baggy and Yaku has a tailor.

They both like the same coffee shop.

Yaku is in love and Kuroo is oblivious.

University AU where they’ve never met before until they have to play on the same team and then they start seeing each other everywhere (or at least Yaku sees Kuroo everywhere)

[kuroyakuweek]

Kuroyaku Weekend 2017

The first Kuroyaku Weekend will be kicking off from August 11 till August 14, 2017! 

Join us in giving this underrated ship the love it deserves! Artworks, fics, cosplays, moodboards, playlists, headcanon lists - anything goes, just make sure you tag it as ‘kuroyaku weekend 2017’.

The theme for Kuroyaku Weekend 2017 is: Opposites. 

Free day will be on Monday, August 14, where any and all Kuroyaku works will be accepted regardless of whether they fit the theme or not.

The prompts listed below can be followed in any order throughout the whole event. It is not necessary to use them, but we do require that the main theme “Opposites” be incorporated in your work, with the exception of works submitted on free day (Aug 14).

day & night

hot & cold

awake & asleep

past & future

beginnings & endings

real & imaginary

canon & au

cats & dogs

chance & circumstance

sound & silence

love & hate

coffee & tea

rain & shine

infinite & finite

stop & go

key & lock

Rules:

Throughout the weekend, works submitted should reflect the overall theme of the event “Opposites”.

Works that do not reflect the theme can be posted throughout the weekend, but will be only reblogged on free day (Aug 14).

No ship hate!

Submit your own works only.

NSFW posts should be tagged as such!

Submission details to come in future posts!

For more information or any queries, feel free to drop us an ask!

banner made by @scissorsandglitter.

[puffandhuff]

mhmm... aren’t we comfortable, yakkun? shut up, you sediment

for @kuroyakuweek,  piggyback ride, ft opposite colours/clothes theme designs. (ref&insp. x x x) 

[snowdrxps]

Chapters: 1/6 Fandom: Haikyuu!! Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Kuroo Tetsurou/Yaku Morisuke Characters: Kuroo Tetsurou, Yaku Morisuke Additional Tags: Established Relationship, Domestic Fluff, Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, KuroYaku Weekend 2017, Snippets Summary:

a day in the life of Kuroo and Yaku, told in six moments.

7.45am: Morisuke’s alarm is blaring, as it has been for the last ten minutes, but Morisuke hasn’t budged at all in the same period of time.

[ryekamasaki]

Intense Chemistry - Day 1

@kuroyakuweek

This weekend’s prompts all follow the overall theme of ‘opposites’ and I hope you enjoy them!

Day 1: Cats & Dogs

Morisuke knows, after they finally move in together, that it’s only a matter of time before they circle back around to The Discussion. They’ve had it at some point every year for as long as they been together, though now it actually has a possibility of being different. This time it’s a real place for them to live, forever, not something temporary while they got through school or jobs until they had enough saved. This was the real thing, and Morisuke is grateful that they at least manage to get all their things unpacked before Kuroo brings it up.

They’re sprawled out over the couch after a day full of unpacking and not much less when Kuroo’s chest rumbles under his cheek. “We’re allowed to have a pet now, you know.”

Morisuke grunts.

Kuroo continues, as if it had been a real answer. “And we can afford it now, too.”

“Yeah.” Morisuke rubs his face into Kuroo’s shirt. He knows what’s coming next, though they’ve usually avoided getting too in depth with this talk in the past. It was easy to shut it down with rules about pets and the fact that they couldn’t support one, but now they can. “A cat?”

Kuroo speaks up as the same time. “A dog?”

Morisuke lifts his head slowly to look at Kuroo’s face. “You want a dog?”

They both shift as Kuroo shrugs his shoulders. “A cat could be nice, too, I guess.”

He stares as Morisuke shifts, perching in Kuroo’s lap instead of laying across him. “They both have different levels of care needed. We both still have jobs, I think a cat would work better. Unless you want to wait longer instead.”

“Hmm.” Kuroo yawns, and pulls Morisuke down to his chest again, ruffling one hand in his hair. “Let’s take a nap and think about it some more.”

And with Kuroo’s heart beating steadily under his ear, Morisuke agrees that’s a good idea. He falls asleep easily in Kuroo’s warm embrace, one of many naps in their new home together.

[sapphyrelily]

KuroYaku Weekend Day 3

Prompt: Sound & Silence

External link: AO3

The whisper of a breath. The lightest exhale.

Whoosh.

A dull thump as the body keels over, hits the ground. Morisuke’s eyes raise and scan the area, quickly darting forward for his kill.

Tetsurou watches his back from a distance, keeping an ear out for any disturbances, for any other people who might want to snatch the meat.

There is too little, these days. Every and anyone is fair game, and without someone to keep an eye out, it is too easy to get mobbed and killed.

A whisper of sand, a tap on his elbow, and Tetsurou pulls the mask back over his face as his partner nods to him. He holds the bag with the rabbit in it while Morisuke pulls the hood over his light hair, passing it back to him when he is done.

Another cursory scan of the area, a signal that they’re both ready, and they flee.

-----

Back in their temporary home, Morisuke strips the rabbit and prepares its meat, while Tetsurou sits at the entrance, watching, waiting. Every now and then, he’ll glance back, but his partner is efficient and smooth, and nothing is amiss.

(For now, for now, for now.)

His eyes are tired, and he can’t see far, not with the polluted sky above, nor with the light sparse and fleeting.

Behind him, a branch cracks and pops in the fire, and his muscles tense.

He forces himself to relax, to listen for suspicious sounds, to keep an eye out for anyone who might see the tiny glow of their fire, and dare to approach.

(No one is trustworthy. It’s every man for himself.)

The clack-clack of two stones against each other startle him, and he turns back to see Morisuke nod. Tetsurou casts a last glance about the area, then leaves his post, coming back into the warmth of the fire.

He is handed a strip of meat, still cooling, and dips his head in thanks. Morisuke smiles just the slightest bit, and he is overcome by the sudden urge to kiss him.

So he does.

He leans in, rubs their noses together, presses chapped lips together briefly, lightly, sweetly.

Never mind that they are sweaty and dusty from a day of hunting, never mind that they are worn and exhausted.

Sometimes, they need a treat to keep going. They may be one of the strongest groups, but they are still tried and tired, like the rest of them out there, like the remainder of humanity that has not died yet.

(The remainder of humanity that is all about itself, about keeping oneself alive and using others.)

(He almost can’t remember the times when they lived in peace and had plenty.)

(Sometimes, he wonders if it was all a dream.)

-----

Morisuke keeps one hand to the ground as he keeps watch, the other loosely curled around his throwing knife.

The ground is still, but it means nothing, not when they sit atop immovable rock. His fingers curl into fists as he curses himself for the millionth time, for being so stupid, for being so useless.

What good is he against an ambush, when he cannot hear anything?

(Useless, useless, useless.)

He flicks a glance back, over Tetsurou’s sleeping form, curled around the embers of their fire. His face is unguarded in sleep, the only time that he can be relaxed, the only time he can have rest.

Morisuke hates that he’s the reason his lover never rests. With one set of hearing ears between the both of them, Tetsurou’s senses are that much sharper, that much more acute. He’s told Morisuke before that it’s no big deal, that his senses have always been this sharp, but Morisuke can never bring himself to believe him.

(He’s a liability, and he doesn’t know why Tetsurou stays.)

His fingers wander out, pressing into the softer ground, keeping still.

The earth is silent, but that may mean nothing. People have learnt to walk quietly, so gently that their footsteps may never send jarring vibrations through the ground.

(It makes him afraid.)

(He can’t see far in the darkness, and his sense of touch is what keeps him sane.)

(He needs to know they’re safe, but he’s always on edge.)

What price do they have to pay, to find a safe haven?

-----

Some days, they run into other groups, other teams ravaging the land, looking to scavenge and survive.

This newest group they encounter is wary and tense, but trigger-happy, if the shaky one by the back is any indication.

Tetsurou raises his fist in greeting, in warning.

I will talk to your leader, one-on-one.

Carefully, slowly, one of the others raises his fist as well.

I will speak for them.

The rest of them, the members, they hang back as Morisuke hangs back, watching as their representatives meet in the middle, as they partially uncloak their faces to speak.

The wind whips up a frenzy around them, dust and sand obscuring his vision, and in his ears, the ever-present ringing. He can barely make out the figures through the dust, but the group behind the other band looks suddenly smaller.

There are three missing.

Morisuke keeps still, forcibly relaxing himself, spreading his feet out just a little more.

Faintly, faintly, the thrumming of the ground, footsteps receding. He can’t tell very well which direction they went in, but he assumes it is towards the little hill off to his right.

He shakes his head, brushing the dust off his hood, and though the remainder of the other group tenses, they do not do anything.

But with that one action, Morisuke has seen enough.

Tiny figures in the distance, one far away, one almost to the hill, one at a tree in between, swiftly ascending its branches. He can only hope that none of them have guns, or if they do, that none of them are good shots.

This group, they have each other, but Tetsurou is all he has left.

He keeps an eye on them, but it is difficult to split his vision as such. He can barely make out Tetsurou’s hand moving behind his back; the dust is still too thick.

A tiny thump beneath his feet, a flash in the edge of his vision, and he surges forward, careless.

He shoulders Tetsurou down, just as the other leader steps aside, and feels something hot and heavy shoot past his head, throw his hood back.

They hit the ground rolling, and he pulls his daggers out–

Not fast enough.

His right shoulder screams where something embeds itself, throwing it back, but he sucks in a deep breath, pulling his left arm back and letting the metal fly. He doesn’t check to see if it hits its target, instead twisting back to check on Tetsurou.

He needn’t have worried. His partner is on his feet, holding the group’s leader off with a crude stick, the wood thick enough to keep his opponent back for a moment. The rest of the group has either scattered or moved into a loose formation, a seemingly holey circle that they might escape out of.

He’s seen this formation before, he knows better.

They would have to fight their way out.

A jarring vibration from behind. He spins and drops, yanking the little knife out of his shoulder. Agony rips through him, and he almost loses his grip on the handle.

He rolls forward, leaning into the pain, into the blood that is surely pouring out of his wound. And as he rises on the balls of his feet, a tremor in the air. He twists, slashes, and a man goes down, clutching his shin.

Morisuke can see the man facing him rush forward, and he spins up and out of the way. Something slices over the top of his head, and he turns back to see another attacker, arm extended.

His arm jerks up, knocking their arm and weapon away, body twisting for the kick. As they bend over, he shoves them back, spinning to counter and slice at the one who was behind him. A punch to the solar plexus, a fist to the temple, and they fall. He sheathes a blade as he rushes back into the broken circle, scooping up a rock and hurling it at someone on Tetsurou’s other side.

The ground is shaking with too many movements, and he is confused, he doesn’t know where to strike.

Morisuke runs forward and fits himself back to back with his long-time sparring partner, pulling a dagger out of his belt. It’s barely enough to hold back against the metal pipe that comes towards him, and his shoulder screams at the effort.

He pushes the pipe off to the side as best he can, blades sliding together harshly, the person stumbling. He slams the handle of his blades into the side of the person’s skull as they tip forward, shifting out of the path of the falling body.

Something crashes into his head, making him stumble, and he turns back to see the skittish-looking one holding a large stick, about to bring it down again.

Morisuke ignores the throbbing in the back of his head, charging forward. The person stumbles back, almost tripping, and he knocks the stick out of their grip. A hit to the stomach, another to the face, and they crumple. He sheaths one blade and grabs the stick, looking around wildly.

He barely holds the stick up in time to fend someone else off, but his arm is trembling, his shoulder burning. His strokes are sloppy as he slashes at the arm of his newest attacker, but they fall back too quickly. The person pulls the scarf covering their face down, and their mouth moves almost too fast for him to understand.

“Stop resisting and die.”

“No.” He isn’t sure how loud he says it, because he’s never sure of his voice, not after he lost his hearing.

The attacker frowns at him, and he clears his throat, circling them warily.

He never thought he might need to speak. His voice must sound terrible.

“No. Leave us alone.”

The attacker looks even more confused, and Morisuke curses to himself. He glances around, hurriedly backing up until he’s back to back with Tetsurou again, holding the stick up. There is not much else he can do, if he cannot communicate properly. Luckily, there don’t seem to be many uninjured remaining.

His attacker looks as if he’s thinking, and Morisuke’s eyes slide off him, to someone else charging in. His reaction is slower now, and his arm hurts to raise. He is beginning to see stars, and the stiffness of his sleeve can only mean it’s soaked in drying blood.

Damnit, I wanted to live longer.

Maybe they should have run.

Everything’s in slow motion, but still he strikes out with the dagger, stabbing blindly at the person’s face, adjusting his stance as they fall back. He pants as they prepare for another strike, gripping the stick as well as he can.

An arm shoots out, holding his attacker back, and he sees that it’s the same one he was fighting before. He watches their lips move as they converse, and it’s confusing to him.

Morisuke keeps watching, but they don’t attack, retreating instead. He sees that the first one is calling out something, but he can’t see what, though he thinks he feels Tetsurou freeze up behind him.

He needs to stay awake. He can’t pass out.

He leans against Tetsurou for just a moment, closing his eyes.

-----

Tetsurou feels the weight leaning on him and sucks in a breath.

He’s locked in a stalemate with the leader of the other group, halting as one of the man’s team calls to him.

“Daichi-san, fall back.”

“You sure?”

A strategist. They had a strategist in the fray.

And their leader listens to him.

Tetsurou glances around quickly. Indeed, there are many fallen. Two or three he took out, and the rest must have been Morisuke.

Morisuke.

He can feel his partner slumping against him, and shifts his weight to let him lean on him better. If he is doing this, he must be severely injured. Morisuke never lets anyone see weakness until it is too late.

“We don’t fight those already disabled. This was a mistake.”

Disabled?

He thought he heard Morisuke speaking earlier, but he wasn’t sure. He was preoccupied.

“Shit.”

The other leader – Daichi – pulls back so quickly, Tetsurou almost falls. But Daichi doesn’t seem to want to engage further, and Tetsurou is only too happy to drop his weapon and support Morisuke.

Shit. His entire sleeve is soaked.

Tetsurou strips his mask off and folds it into a pad, pressing it over the gash in Morisuke’s shirt. His free arm goes around his waist, holding him against him, praying that he hadn’t lost too much blood.

(It’s unlikely, but he prays and hopes.)

(He can’t let Morisuke die.)

(Who would he have left if he did?)

“Hey.”

Tetsurou twists back to eye Daichi, and the man looks almost embarrassed, as does the strategist behind him.

“We’ll leave now. If we meet in future, we will pass by quietly, with no confrontation.”

“Why would I believe you?”

He sounds so bitter.

(He definitely is.)

“We didn’t know your friend is deaf. We don’t fight the disabled because we have our own who cannot handle the fights, and it is an unfair advantage.”

“How honourable,” Tetsurou sneers. “Difficult to find, these days.”

“We do our best.” Daichi bows again. “Our sincerest apologies for the mistake. May our paths not cross again.”

“Yeah. Bye.”

He watches them leave from the corner of his eye, gently lowering Morisuke to the ground, worrying at his lip. He can’t afford to worry about them now, even if they decide to come back and finish them off.

Please, please don’t die.

-----

He drifts in and out of consciousness, drinking when something cool touches his lips, trying to squeeze the fingers holding his own.

But first and foremost, he dreams.

Of fights and dying, of running away. Of struggling to stay awake when he is about to be cut down, of remembering important words, yet not being able to say them.

He dreams of never waking up, and the thought is tempting.

But he also dreams that he can hear again, and the look of joy when he calls Tetsurou by name, every syllable well-formed.

He dreams and dreams, and wishes it was real.

-----

Tetsurou is so afraid, whenever he has to leave to hunt and find water for them. But he has no choice, because he cannot care for Morisuke without supplies.

It has been a week.

He worries so much, but it is all he can do to hold on to hope. As long as Morisuke still breathes, still lives, he cannot give up.

He tended Morisuke's wounds carefully that first day, wasting precious water and clothes to wash and make bandages. More water went to feeding him, because he couldn’t feed him anything else in his state.

But Tetsurou refuses to give in, to begin to think that he might be lost to him. He cleans his wounds, physically fighting infection, cares for his body.

He is a wreck, but the physical work is the best that he can do, even if the waiting is driving him crazy.

-----

It is dark when he wakes, and his body aches all over. He tries to sit up, gasping when weight is put on his right arm. He quickly shifts his weight, wincing as he stretches out his hand, clenching and unclenching it to test it.

His fingers feel fine, and he rubs at his shoulder, at the stiff muscles, biting back a gasp as he prods an area and pain flares.

Fuzzy memories are returning to him, of a fight and injuries, and a sticky, stiff arm.

He had been injured. They had been going to die.

Morisuke looks over his surroundings, trying to digest the area in the dim light. He sees a pack not too far from him, perhaps another bundle of clothes behind the rock. His hands close around a thin blanket in his lap, fallen there from when he sat up.

But there is no trace or sign that there is anyone else in the cave.

He exhales slowly, trying to quell his anxiety, and slowly pushes to his feet.

No matter where he is or why he is alone, he needs to investigate for himself. His muscles are stiff now, but he refuses to remain helpless, in case the worst happens.

-----

Tetsurou is about to enter the cave when he hears it. A pop, of a stick bending and giving way. Fear floods his veins, and he presses against the entrance tentatively.

There are two reasons he can see, of why there is a fire. One, Morisuke is awake. Two, someone else had raided the cave while he was away, and is now using it as their hideout.

He prays that it isn’t the latter. No raider is so kind to leave an injured person alive in a potential safe haven.

Clutching the bag close to his chest, he bends low and sneaks in, footsteps as light as he can make them. He darts from outcropping to outcropping, moving deeper towards the glow of light.

He peeks out from behind a rock, jerking back when a rock clatters next to his face. His heart is pounding, and then he hears, too loudly, “Show yourself.”

God, he has never been so thankful for those mispronounced words as now.

Tetsurou edges out from behind the rock, rising to his full height, hands raised in surrender.

Their eyes lock, he hears a sharp inhale, and then they are moving forward, colliding, and he has never been so glad to feel one arm around his waist.

Tetsurou wants to pull him closer, but a grunt reminds him of the precarious position they are in, the bag of supplies squashed between himself and Morisuke.

It’s almost too funny not to laugh, so he does.

Morisuke looks at him weirdly, but Tetsurou only shrugs, pulling off the bag and picking up his lover instead, crushing him to his chest.

Legs wind around his waist, and arms circle his neck with a wince. Morisuke glares and headbutts him, but Tetsurou couldn’t care less.

He is finally awake.

He is alive.

Tetsurou buries his face in the crook of Morisuke’s neck, arms squeezing tighter, even as his knees grow weak and they sink to the floor. He feels arms and legs tighten around him in response, a hand gently tugging on his hair.

(A gesture so familiar, so beloved– He never knew he missed it, before.)

(But now– Now–)

(Now he can experience it again. It won’t be taken away from him, not anymore.)

They sit in the quiet, the only sound the slight crackle of the fire, clutching each other, revelling in a body still warm with life.

(And if they waste a few tears to wet each other’s necks–)

(Well, it’s no one’s business but their own.)

[scissorsandglitter]

words unsaid

Fandom: Haikyuu!! Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Kuroo Tetsurou/Yaku Morisuke, Kai Nobuyuki & Kuroo Tetsurou & Yaku Morisuke Characters: Kuroo Tetsurou, Yaku Morisuke, Kai Nobuyuki Additional Tags: Graduation, Post-Graduation Words: 1118 Summary:

There’s an ache in his chest, like a heart attack unwilling to give its last blow. The feeling sits wordless on his tongue, half open lips. Kuroo was never good at goodbyes.

Kuroo, Yaku & Kai (don't) say their good-byes at Nekoma's grounds.

HERE @ AO3

for free day :D

[ao3feed-hqrarepairs]

twenty-four hours

read it on the AO3 at http://ift.tt/2gz2tQj

by noyabeans (snowdrops)

a day in the life of Kuroo and Yaku, told in six moments.

7.45am: Morisuke’s alarm is blaring, as it has been for the last ten minutes, but Morisuke hasn’t budged at all in the same period of time.

Words: 454, Chapters: 1/6, Language: English

Fandoms: Haikyuu!!

Rating: General Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: M/M

Characters: Kuroo Tetsurou, Yaku Morisuke

Relationships: Kuroo Tetsurou/Yaku Morisuke

Additional Tags: Established Relationship, Domestic Fluff, Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, KuroYaku Weekend 2017, Snippets

read it on the AO3 at http://ift.tt/2gz2tQj

[ao3feed-haikyuu]

twenty-four hours

read it on the AO3 at http://ift.tt/2gz2tQj

by noyabeans (snowdrops)

a day in the life of Kuroo and Yaku, told in six moments.

Words: 451, Chapters: 1/6, Language: English

Fandoms: Haikyuu!!

Rating: General Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: M/M

Characters: Kuroo Tetsurou, Yaku Morisuke

Relationships: Kuroo Tetsurou/Yaku Morisuke

Additional Tags: Established Relationship, Domestic Fluff, Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, KuroYaku Weekend 2017, Snippets

read it on the AO3 at http://ift.tt/2gz2tQj

[kuroyakuweek]

Less than a month to Kuroyaku Weekend 2017, taking place from August 11 to August 14!

The theme for Kuroyaku Weekend 2017 is: Opposites. 

Works submitted for the weekend should incorporate this theme, with the exception of works submitted on free day, which will be on Monday, August 14, where any and all Kuroyaku works will be accepted regardless of whether they fit the theme or not.

Prompts can be found in the main post. Alternatively, feel free to drop us an ask! 

Work guidelines:

Artworks, fics, cosplays, moodboards, playlists, headcanon lists, anything under the sun is accepted!

No ship hate!

Submit your own works only.

NSFW posts should be tagged as such, with warnings if necessary. 

It would be ideal if NSFW posts are prefaced by a SFW preview, and the full work placed under a cut.

Submission details:

Tumblr posts: Make sure to include #kuroyaku weekend 2017 as one of your first three tags so that we can reblog it! You can also mention @kuroyakuweek​ in your post.

Submission: You can also submit your work directly to this blog’s submission page.

AO3: When posting your work to AO3, add it to the AO3 collection titled kuroyakuweek2017. For maximum exposure, make sure to share a link to your work on Tumblr as well, so that we can reblog it for you!

[ryekamasaki]

Intense Chemistry - Day 3

@kuroyakuweek

This weekend’s prompts all follow the overall theme of ‘opposites’ and I hope you enjoy them!

Day 1: Cats & Dogs

Day 2: Awake & Asleep

Day 3: Rain & Shine

Morisuke tries to stifle his laugh when he gets an eyeful of his two missing family members. It doesn’t work very well, and he has to try to turn it into a cough. Kuroo scowls at him, or at least, Morisuke thinks he does. It’s kind of hard to tell when Kuroo’s hair is plastered to his face, blocking out most of his features. Both he and the puppy are soaking wet, though only Kuroo looks really displeased by the situation. Morisuke hands over one of the towels in his hands, and smiles at the noise Kuroo makes in return.

It’s not easy, trying to dry off a wiggling, excited ball of wet dog, but Morisuke manages somehow. Mostly he’s grateful that neither of them are covered in mud or leaves or anything else harder to clean up than some dripping water. Kuroo makes his way to the bathroom to shower and change, and the puppy skids excitedly into the living room, pouncing on the chair in the corner. He settles down fairly quickly, and the kitten gives a delicate little sniff as she crawls down from the back of it to snuggle in between his front paws.

When Kuroo finally gets out of the shower, hair still damp but in warm, dry clothes, Morisuke is just putting lunch on the table. Kuroo makes a noise, a happy hum that means he’s a little surprised but pleased, and presses a kiss to Morisuke’s cheek before he settles carefully in his favorite seat. He wrinkles his nose a little when the steam from the soup hits his face, and Morisuke wonders if he even knows that he does it. It’s a cute little habit, and one of the many tiny things that make him Kuroo.

They nap on the couch after lunch, and it’s not until a few hours later that Morisuke wakes again, this time to the afternoon sun shining brightly into the living room. Kuroo is still asleep, drenched in a sunbeam, and he looks as happy as he ever does, like a cat that’s found exactly the right spot to nap and doesn’t intend on moving for hours. And while Morisuke loves the quiet pattering of rain, and the soothing feeling it gives off being snuggled up warm and dry inside, it makes him even happier to see Kuroo so at peace.

[sapphyrelily]

KuroYaku Weekend Day 2

Prompt: Chance & Circumstance

External link: AO3

You know all about it. The probability of meeting someone, whose heart would be attuned to yours, whose soul mirrors and complements yours. The probability of meeting someone who would be your best friend, perhaps lover, someone who was made to be your other half.

You know the probability; the chances aren’t high. In fact, they’re improbably low.

How could you find your soulmate, when the world had so many people in it?

-----

I believe in circumstance. In reality, in what’s in front of you. I don’t take stock in daydreams or fancies, because dreaming never leads you anywhere productive – it can only lead you to ruin.

Circumstance, I feel, can be wavered. Changed a little, depending on the events leading up to it. But it is still fairly set in stone. It has been planned for.

You can’t go wrong, if you believe in a solid plan of action, and execute it well.

Hmm? Meeting your soulmate?

Bah. It would never happen.

Believing in soulmates is like believing you can strike the lottery. Like believing in love at first sight. Like believing that you can accomplish something despite never having tried it before.

Perhaps the last is a little far-fetched.

But my point stands – you can’t trust chance. You can only trust in something more tangible.

-----

You hear all the talk in the castle, all the good and the bad. Being a servant is good for one thing, even if that thing is eavesdropping.

Then again, there is no good servant who doesn’t know how to eavesdrop. Gossip is the currency of the lower-born, after all.

Kitchen duty is your favourite, mostly because you can swipe a taste of the meals of the nobility, maybe an extra bread roll or apple. A bit of butter, if the cooks are really busy, maybe a boiled egg for partaking in later.

The cooks probably know, but no one has said anything.

Kitchen duty is also your favourite because you get to be sent to the dining hall as a serving boy, and everyone knows that meal times are the second richest in gossip. (The richest would be the private tea times taken behind closed doors, but you haven’t found the secret passages to those rooms yet.)

It allows you to hang back at the walls, catching snippets of conversation when you move forward to fill a glass or replace a dish.

And oh! The things you hear. They’re wonderfully scandalous.

The Duke of so-and-so has been seen with a servant girl, no, his wife’s lady-in-waiting! And wait, there’s more! They were sporting patches of colour on their skin, a handprint here, the outline of lips there.

Soulmates? Surely not, for how can one born to riches be bound to someone of the dirt?

Yet it is true, or so the ladies swear.

You are extremely amused by this talk, even if you despise the way they talk about the lower-born. As if being born into a family where you have little immediately desecrates your worth.

But it makes for great afternoon amusements, and with the information you have, perhaps you can barter for a little something: a favour, a bite of food, perhaps an hour off from your usual duties.

You like to think that it is chance that you stumble upon such gems, such bits of gossip privy only to the finely powdered ears of the nobility. No other servant you know is as rich as you when it comes to gleaning information, nor as shrewd or conniving. Everyone else has been caught at least once, but not you. Never you.

It’s enough to make your head swell with delusions of grandeur, but you know better.

It’s all just an illusion, a game you play to distract yourself from real concerns.

-----

I am content with what I have. I have a stable job, enough to eat, a place to sleep.

It’s enough.

Of course, it’s all been handed down to me, as my father did, and his father before him. We are stablehands, who keep watch over the king’s mounts, who treat them and care for them as we would our own children.

After all, each of these horses are worth more than my entire life’s wages.

It’s no easy life, but it is satisfying work, and that’s all that matters. Day in and out, completing the same routine.

It is good if the schedule is not messed up. It is good if the horses remain sound, in good shape and ready to go, should a messenger require them, should the king want them. It is well as it is, and I would greatly prefer that it stay this way.

-----

You are in the kitchens again, wheedling an apple from one of the cooks. Different day, same circumstance, and it’s a wonder that no one has kicked you out yet.

“Alright, out with ya.” The head cook bustles over and knocks your hand away from the food with her spoon. “Ya can only ‘ave one if ya do a favour, got it?”

You nod enthusiastically. Her ‘favours’ are never too big.

“Tha’ basket’s for the ‘orses. Them’s the good ones, an’ His Majesty wants ‘em fed first, so no pinching.” She glares to make her point, and you grin. The lady knows you too well.

“If yer good, the stablehand might give ya one. ‘e’s a good lad, I ‘eard.” She waves you off, turning back to the pot, and you know you’ve been dismissed.

You shrug and pick up the basket, grunting under its weight, easy smile falling when your back is turned.

You hate the stables, but no one needs to know that.

You’re only in it for the apples.

-----

There’s a great scraping and huffing coming from the entrance of the stable, and the horse I’m currying sticks his nose over the door to investigate. I finish brushing the last swirl on his flank and walk over to open the door, pushing him back when he wants to get out.

Oh. Apples. That explains his curiosity.

I wait for the boy to put his basket down, his face almost as red as the fruit he carries. His hair is an absolute mess, though how exactly it got that way from carrying a basket across the grounds, I cannot tell.

“Those for the horses?” I nod towards the basket, and in between wheezes, he nods.

“Put them over there, by that door. I’ll come along in a minute.”

He looks a little put out by my response, but I ignore it. If he’s hoping to filch one of the fruits, he can wait till he proves himself. I know the cook always leaves a few extra in there.

I push back into the stall and finish grooming the horse, cleaning his hooves out before I pack up the kit and step out. The boy is sitting by the door, polishing an apple with his tunic, and from the way his pocket sports an odd bulge, I know he has already taken a few of the fruit.

“Hey,” I call, and he looks up with a crooked grin. He has the nerve to tuck the apple into his other pocket, and his smirk tells me that he doesn’t care what I think.

I sigh. “I’m going to open the door, and you can put the basket inside. You can stay and help me cut them up for the horses, or you can go. I know you’ve taken some.”

“Who, me?” The boy places a hand over his heart with a gasp. “What false accusations!”

“Then do me a favour and remove yourself.” I leave the grooming kit on the floor as I unlock the door, turning to drag the apples inside by myself.

By the time I get the basket in and go back out for the grooming kit, the boy is gone.

Good riddance.

-----

You sneak back in through the kitchens after washing your face in the barrel outside. The stables are as disgusting as ever, and that you were dismissed as quickly as that is a miracle.

“Oi, lad! Come ‘ere and share yer bounty with us, I see yer pockets are full.”

…trust the cook to not miss anything. You can’t even run off, what with the entire kitchen staring at you. You walk over to her reluctantly, trying to ignore her huge grin.

“I take it the stablehand took a liking to ya. Nobody gets away with tha’ many on their first try.”

The stares make the back of your neck burn, and you croak out an unintelligible reply.

She doesn’t seem to notice, and slaps you heartily on the back. “Well then! Next week ya can take ‘em to the stables agin. It’ll be good work for ya, yer too skinny.”

You think you splutter a protest, but she’s having none of it, and the weight of expectations makes your head bow in reluctant acceptance.

-----

I hear the same scraping as the previous week, and a quick peek out of the stall shows the same servant boy with the apples.

Odd. The cook hardly sends the same one twice in a row.

“Hey, mister. Same place as last time?”

Gah. He’s looking over the stall door.

“Yes. Try not to take so many apples this time. We almost ran out last week.”

He tips an imaginary cap to me and shuffles off without another word. I raise my eyebrows, exchanging a look with the horse, but she’s not even looking at me. I huff and turn back to brushing out her mane.

If the boy wants to take the apples and not make conversation, that’s fine by me. As long as he’s polite and does his job well, I don’t particularly care.

-----

The stablehand seemed nicer, you think. You have no problem complying with his request, because you don’t actually need so many apples, but it was interesting to try and fool him.

In fact, he seems to be a fairly decent person, and you might make an effort to befriend him, smelly stables or no. You’ve never had a source inside the stables before, as far removed from the castle as it is. This might be an endeavour worth the risk.

If you manage to achieve all this… Well. Perhaps being a delivery boy wouldn’t be quite so bad, after all.

-----

It’s been several months now, and the routine hasn’t changed.

“Yakkun! Didja miss me?”

I sigh and place a hand on the horse’s flank, but she doesn’t startle. Even the horses are used to the scrape of the apple basket, and Kuroo’s loud voice following it.

“Not if you keep causing a ruckus like that.” I prop my arms over the stall door, pushing myself up so I can glare at him. “How many times have I told you not to yell in the stables?”

“Eh.” Kuroo waves a hand dismissively after setting the basket down. “I’m your favourite person, you don’t mind.”

“If you bother the horses, I definitely mind.”

“Touchy, touchy.” Kuroo pulls the door open, dragging the basket in. “I’ll start cutting them first.”

“I’ll be right there.”

Funny, how in the span of a few months, I didn’t just get a permanent apple delivery boy, but also a friend. He was really annoying at first, but now, he’s at least halfway decent.

I wash my hands before I step up to the cutting board next to him, a knife already ready for me to use. We cut in silence until the bucket is full, then Kuroo washes up while I take the apples to the horses.

“You comin’ along today?”

An old question, a worn routine.

“Maybe. I could meet you at the end of the row.”

“Hmm.”

Half an agreement, but Kuroo never joins me to feed them. Maybe he’s afraid of the beasts, maybe he doesn’t like the place, I’ll never know. But it’s not my place to ask, so I don’t, leaving the room instead.

-----

You hate the stables, but your new friend loves them. No matter how many times you come to this dreaded place, you can never bring yourself to like it, nor can you stay in it for long.

But today is a special occasion, a rumour you heard by chance, and you’re willing to stay behind a little longer, just for this.

The end of the row can be accessed from around the building, so you take the long way. It gives you a chance to check that your gift is properly wrapped, to make sure that your effort didn’t go to waste.

You reach the other entrance of the stables all too quickly, and you can see your friend’s figure quickly approaching.

You take a deep breath. You can be tolerant, if only for a few minutes.

You step forward, and hurry towards him.

-----

A hand dips into my bucket, snatching a piece of apple, and I stare in equal parts surprise and shock to see Kuroo there. He offers the treat to the stallion, flat on his palm, and the sight stuns me further.

I’ve never seen him in the stables, but he knows how to feed a horse?

“What are you doing here?”

“Feeding the horses with you,” he replies easily, and picks up another slice. “How many can they have?”

“Two,” I say, still a little dumbstruck at his presence.

“Close your mouth, you’re catching flies.”

I shut my mouth and hit him with the bucket. His wince makes the earlier shock worth it.

“Okay, but really, what are you doing here?” I hold a piece of apple out to the next horse, glancing at him. “You never come with me.”

“Am I banned from coming with you?”

“No, just– You’ve never come before, why now?”

“Maybe I’m just this nice.”

“That’s horseshit.”

“The one time I tell the truth, and you don’t believe me.” Kuroo sniffs, but it’s faker than the heavily made up faces of nobility.

“You don’t get to bust in here after half a year of refusing with no good reason, friend or no.”

Kuroo gasps. “Why, Yakkun, are you admitting we are friends?”

“Please die.”

“No, no way. The aloof stablehand admits to friendship! Man, I could get Alisa to polish the silver for me for weeks.” Kuroo laces his hands behind his head, walking backwards to the next stall. I scowl at his nonchalance as I follow.

“Do whatever you want, but out of my stable if you’re only here to make trouble.”

“Ye of little faith.” He shakes his head and picks a slice for the last stallion. “I come with only the purest of intentions.”

“Whatever those might be.”

“As I said: little faith.” Kuroo dusts his hands off and walks to the rain barrel to wash them. I roll my eyes at him as I give the stallion a scratch on his neck, taking my time to follow.

It surprises me again when Kuroo decides to walk back to the feed room with me, and with the way he was whistling, you’d think he was completely unaffected. But I can see the tiny crease in the bridge of his nose, the narrowing of his eyes, and I know that he isn’t as pleased as he makes out to be.

“Alright, out with it. Why are you still here and why are you acting so happy?”

Kuroo side-eyes me and I frown. He smirks just a little before relenting, “So a little birdie told me something.”

“Mmhmm?”

“A little kitty, but you know, details–”

“Spit it out, Kuroo.”

He stops walking, and I do too. I can see the horses next to us putting their heads over the doors, stretching their necks out in hopes of more apple, but I try to ignore them.

Kuroo’s neck is turning a mottled red, and he reaches into his tunic, pulling out a small package. “Happy birthday. It’s a bit squashed, but it’s the best I could barter from the cooks.”

I take it gingerly, unwrapping the brown paper. Three slices of cake, rich golden brown and oozing with honey.

I pry my gaze from the gift, gaping at him. “How…?”

“You’re welcome,” he tells me, then grabs my shoulders and turns me towards the feed room. “Eat those somewhere the horses can’t get them, yeah?”

“I– Just– Honey cakes?” My voice is too high, bordering on hysteria.

“You're only twenty once, right?”

“But honey cakes? Kuroo, that’s a bit much, even for you–”

“It’s your birthday. Just shut up and eat.” He pushes us inside the feed room, unhooking the bucket from over my arm. His fingers brush my arm, and the weirdest tingle spreads up from the spot. I rub at the spot absently, still staring at the cake.

“Yakkun. I’m gonna eat those for you if you don’t.”

“Oh, no, you’re not.” I twist away from him immediately, lifting a slice to my mouth. A single bite is like an explosion of flavour in my mouth: rich and sweet and sticky, all too delicious.

I can feel Kuroo watching me, and turn back to glare. “Stop staring.”

“You look like a mouse like that,” he says, and puffs out his cheeks. “Fat and fluffy.”

“Stop looking at me then.”

“I never said there was anything wrong with fat and fluffy.”

“Stop watching me eat.”

“I do what I like.” Kuroo crosses his arms, and I notice something odd.

“You’ve got flour on your fingers.”

“Huh?” Kuroo looks at his hands, blinking in surprise and wiping his fingers on his trousers. “Hey, it won’t come off.”

“When did you touch flour? That wasn't there earlier.” I wrap up the remaining slices and tuck them away, looking for a wet cloth for him to clean his hands with.

“No idea. There wasn’t anything when we came in either.”

“Huh. That’s weird.”

“Hey, you’ve got something on you too.”

“What?”

“C’mere.” Kuroo waves me over, catching my wrist and prodding at a bright red patch on my arm. “This thing.”

There’s that weird tingle again, and as I watch, tendrils of red creep out from under where Kuroo’s hand presses to my skin. “Uh. Kuroo.”

“What?”

It’s a split second before he notices, and then he drops my arm, as if burned, turning up his palms to stare at them.

Where a giant red handprint is printed onto my wrist, his palm is stark white, as if he dipped it in flour.

I reach out tentatively, and when he doesn’t move, I press a few fingers to his wrist. We both watch as the tingly feeling gives way to white blotches spreading across his skin, red crawling up my fingers.

Well. How’s that for a surprise.

“Uh. You can take your hand off me now…?”

I snatch my hand back, and neither of us make eye contact, looking elsewhere, anywhere but at the other.

“So, uh,” I cough lightly. “Do you believe in soulmates?”

“…Yaku, that’s literally the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard you say.”

“What do you want me to say?!”

“I don’t know!” Kuroo throws his hands up in the air. “This is awkward!”

“Glad to know you feel the same!” I fold my arms and glare at him. “I never thought I’d ever meet my soulmate, and now it turns out it’s just you.”

“’Just me’? I would inform you that I am a great catch, and everybody in the castle is after me–”

“No, they’re not. Stop lying to yourself.”

“At least I try.”

“Eww. No thanks.”

“I could say the same.”

Another awkward pause.

“Uh. So.”

“I should get going, maybe?”

We speak at the same time, and the semblance of normalcy it brings almost makes me laugh.

“Yeah. Go. I’ll see you next week, I guess?”

“Yeah. The head cook refuses to let anyone else bring the apples at this point.”

“I wonder why.”

“It makes less apples disappear during the rest of the week, but you didn’t hear that from me.” Kuroo winks, and I roll my eyes with a smile.

“Goodbye. Thanks again for the cake.”

“Ah, yeah. No problem.”

-----

You believe in chance, because chance is the only reason why you could have ever found your soulmate, irritating though he is.

(You have grown fond of him, but he need not know that.)

It was chance that made the cook send you with the apples. Chance that you kept going, chance that you touched his skin by accident, and discovered that you can paint each other in opposing colours.

You’ve always been lucky, but that was a chance you didn’t know you needed.

-----

I know what Kuroo says. Chance this and chance that.

Rubbish.

It was circumstance that brought us together. If we had never been in the same castle to begin with, if the cook hadn’t needed someone to bring the apples to me, if Kuroo hadn’t stayed to give me the cake…

But ifs are intangible, and those events have already happened.

And maybe we’ll argue forever on the logistics of how we finally discovered that we are soulmates, but it’s something that I don’t really mind.

After all, we’ve found each other now, and forever is just a milestone.

[scissorsandglitter]

in-between 5/5

adj. situated somewhere between two extremes noun. an intermediate thing.

for @kuroyakuweek​  BONUS

kuroo&/yaku, G. 5/5. slice of life. canon compliant.

moments in-between places, times, feelings - (seemingly unrelated) snippets of Kuroo & Yaku’s third year, leading somewhere ahead.

v. (leaving the team. nekoma’s gym) . 277 words.

[last one here @ ao3] - [from the start here]

--

Well, that’s it!. @kuroyakuweek THANK YOU SO MUCH for hosting this and giving me the opportunity to produce the content I’m always avoiding. I’m really sad it’s over (tho, I do have a fic in Spanish I WILL finish even if I’m late ha!). 

In any case, I hope you enjoyed this as much as I enjoyed exploring these boys ;;; I’m kinda sad this is the last one !

[ao3feed-hqrarepairs]

Ouroboros

read it on the AO3 at http://ift.tt/2fAy3Ah

by SapphyreLily

KuroYaku Weekend Day 1 - Day & Night

Nobody ever says why Day and Night keep coming and going as they do - until the cycle is broken, and you have to find out why all on your own.

Words: 1626, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Series: Part 1 of KuroYaku Weekend 2017

Fandoms: Haikyuu!!

Rating: General Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: Gen

Characters: Kuroo Tetsurou, Yaku Morisuke

Relationships: Kuroo Tetsurou & Yaku Morisuke, Kuroo Tetsurou/Yaku Morisuke

Additional Tags: Mythical Beings, personified night and day, KuroYakuWeekend2017

read it on the AO3 at http://ift.tt/2fAy3Ah