#it tried to autocorrect to “back on tumbling"

[anuncannyvalleygirl]

I'm on day five of quitting nicotine and I keep telling myself that this is ridiculously easy but I also just logged into Tumblr for the first time in months as a distraction so, you tell me how it's really going

[shastelly]

Noche Buena Part 2

Oi! Autocorrect was a witch in this...hopefully got it fixed now...

Yep not even the same style in the second part of the drabble...oh well...and yeah I’ll do another part...

Keith spun through the hall. Lance wasn’t in his room, he wasn’t with Blue, he wasn’t in the training room (okay that was a long shot, but it’s where he would have gone if he was upset), and there was no sign of him. At some point his concern has morphed into worry and about 10 minutes ago into fear. He didn’t really know why, but he needed to find Lance now.

He was half way to the control room when he heard something from one of the halls, a soft sound drifting to him. He followed and could soon make out a melody and soft singing. Lance had a really nice voice. Whatever he was singing was in Spanish, but it sounded reverent, peaceful.

He found an open door in a corridor he’d never been in before. Lance was seated on the floor in the middle of an open room. There was a viewport and soft light from a nearby nebula filtered in on his face lighting the tears on his cheeks, like sparkling gems. He felt his heart slowing the fear seeping away, but a lingering sadness remained.

“Keith?”

Lance didn’t even turn.

“How’d you know it was me?” Keith frowned.

“I know your footsteps.” Lance shrugged. “Why are you here?”

“I...” Keith’s mind blanked, what real reason did he have for following Lance.

“I’m not going to go train. I’m sorry I yelled, but I’m not going back, you can’t make me.” Lance crossed his arms over his chest.

“That’s not why I came.” Keith offered.

“Oh, okay.” Lance turned to him, confusion plain on his tear streaked face.

Keith kneeled down next to him. “I was kinda, well, worried about you?”

Lance gave him a half smile, “Are you asking me?”

“No. I was just...you weren’t acting like yourself and you were...” Keith gestured awkwardly at Lance’s face.

“What?” Lance frowned sending another tear sliding down his cheek.

Before he could think about it, Keith’s hand shot out and gently wiped the tear away, “Crying.”

“Oh.” Lance’s cheek warmed under his hand faintly rosy.

“What made you cry?” Keith pulled his hand back, but sat on the floor next to Lance letting their shoulders brush together.

“I’ve never not been home on Noche Buena. I’ve never missed it. My whole life this night has always been about family. I miss them, but more than that...I can’t help think what my mama must be thinking. She knows how much it means to me, she knows I’d be there if I could...what if she thinks I’m dead? What is it doing to her, to all of them? What if I never get to go back home?” Lance’s words tumbled over each other and out of his mouth as more tears poured from his eyes.

“I’m sorry, Lance. I didn’t know. I guess I haven’t really thought about Earth or what people there are doing or thinking.” Keith rubbed his hand on Lance’s back. “I’m not an expert on family or Noche Buena, but when I was little Dad and I would celebrate Christmas and well...it’s about hope right? Hope and promises, and stuff like that?”

Lance had stopped crying and was gazing at Keith, eyes wide. He nodded.

“Well, then, if it means that and it’s important to her too, and if she’s anything like you then I’d just think that especially on a holiday like that she wouldn’t be giving up on you...that she’d be thinking about you and wishing you were there...but, you know, like hopeful and knowing that’d wherever you are you’d do the same?” Keith came to a stop, no more words coming to mind. He looked nervously at Lance who had yet to speak.

“Lance?” Keith stomach clenched, maybe he’d overstepped?

“Thank you.” Lance suddenly wrapped Keith in a tight hug.

Keith tried to relax after the initial stiffening at the hug. He brought his hand to Lance’s back and patted. He could feel tears soaking into his shoulder and Lance was definitely crying again. Keith changed the patting to a hug and leaned his head down against Lance’s and waited for the tears to end.

[canyousevmyheavydirtysoul]

Lemon Tree. (Brendon Urie x Reader)

You and Brendon were sitting at the dining table in your house, surrounded by a multitude of snacks and scattered assignments and study notes. These weekly study sessions had been the norm for the past year and a bit, alternating venues between your house and his.

It all started in freshman year – the two of you had sat next to each other on the very first day, and instantly clicked. Neither of you were particularly social people and kept a fairly small circle of friends, preferring rather to have chilled hang-outs at home than scatter to whatever party was happening that night, so it was no surprise that you became close friends.  

The study sessions originated after Brendon came down with a bout of stomach illness mid-way through the second semester. He was out of school for the better part of two weeks and ended up missing a ton of work as a result. So, you offered to tutor him through the work he missed, and it stuck.

Brendon, in particular, was ever-so-thankful for the fact that the sessions had become a regular thing, because – as his friends knew and constantly teased him about – he had a major crush on you. And (even though he wouldn’t admit it) a fairly large chunk of his ‘studying’ during the sessions consisted of him just staring at you in adoration, thinking about what it would be like to date you but not being able to work up enough courage to actually ask you out on a date.

At this exact moment, you were chewing on the end of your pen, frowning slightly at the page in front of you as you mentally fought through a math problem, while Brendon gazed at you fondly.

“Marry me,” he muttered softly.

You snapped your head up and looked at him in surprise. “What?”

Brendon then realised that he’d spoken his embarrassing thoughts aloud, and began panicking internally. Fortunately, he came up with a cover rather quickly, and he replied calmly.

“I said ‘lemon tree’. I just now noticed that you have one,” he pointed his pen at the lemon tree in your backyard, visible through the window; you turned to look at it and nodded in understanding, “What did you think I said?”

Turning back to look at him – his eyes a bit wider than usual and glasses slipping down his nose as he pushed his hair back – you blushed tremendously, humiliated at yourself for thinking that he would ever say what you’d thought he had said.

“N-nothing,” you whispered, averting your gaze and clearing your throat as you reached for some Doritos.

Exhaling softly, Brendon closed his eyes for a moment as relief flooded over him. After stealing another glance at you, deep in thought, he picked up his pen and got some actual studying done.

~

“…so I totally chickened out and said that I never noticed she had a lemon tree,” Brendon recounted his mortifying experience to Spencer while the two exchanged books at their lockers, “which is a total lie, ‘cause she’s been making me lemonade for the past two summers.” Brendon scoffed at himself and held his hands out. “I mean, how stupid was that?”

“Pretty stupid, dude,” Spencer sighed and shook his head, clamping a supportive hand on his friend’s shoulder, “And if you ever want to end up with her, you better find a not-stupid way to ask her out. Like, soon. Very soon.”

Brendon looked at Spencer in confusion, prompting the blue-eyed boy to roll his eyes and forcefully turn his friend around, facing him in the direction of you.

Brendon watched in horror as Pete Wentz approached you, hurriedly bending down to collect your pile of books that had tumbled from your grasp. When he stood back up, he handed you the books, along with a dazzling smile, and you instinctively reached up to touch your hair as your cheeks heat up and you thanked him.

Your study partner stared at the two of you in contempt, while his friend advised him.

“Soon, dude. We already lost half of our band members to that douche; you don’t wanna lose your girl, too.”

~

“So that means that the final answer should be x equal to five with y equal to eleven,” you checked your answer before looking at Brendon expectantly.

“Uh,” he creased his brow as he looked at his answer, “I got x as eight and y as twenty.”

You hummed contemplatively and pursed your lips as you leaned over to read through Brendon’s problem solving.

There was silence as you looked over the numbers, and Brendon saw this as his opportunity to finally ask you the question he’d been dying to.

“What’s going on between you and Pete Wentz?” Brendon blurted out.

Stunned by the question, you angled your head to look up at him with arched brows. “Um… nothing?” you chuckled as you straightened up. “Why?”

Brendon inhaled deeply. “I…saw you two at your locker on Tuesday. You looked, I don’t know… cosy.”

A snigger slipped past your lips. “He picked up my books for me and I thanked him. Don’t know how that’s considered being cosy but okaayyy.”

There was silence for a few moments before Brendon broke it with another question.

“So do you like him?”

You dropped your pen on the table and looked at your study partner in incredulity. “Why are you asking me all this?”

“Do you?”

“No.”

“So if he asked you out, you wouldn’t say yes?”

“No!” You shook your head and laughed. “Isn’t he the same guy who broke up your band?”

Brendon nodded enthusiastically as he frowned at the memory.

“Exactly. You’re my best friend, Bren. I wouldn’t betray you by dating the enemy,” you assured, pinching his cheek for good measure.

Leaving you to once again look over the math, Brendon sat there debating over whether or not he had just gotten friend-zoned. In all likelihood, he probably had, but that vodka shot Spencer had made him do before coming over was really doing its job at picking away at his inhibitions, and he figured, screw it.

“(Y/N)?”

“Mm?”

“I was wondering,” he started, “would you like to go on a date tomorrow?”

“Hmm…” you narrowed your eyes as you thought, “N-“

“Lol autocorrect; I meant ‘how are you?’”

Utterly thunderstruck and slightly amused, you looked at the boy with a confused face. “…those aren’t even remotely the same…and this is real life…and I was going to say that I’m not sure if I’m free tomorrow but YES.”

“But-“ Brendon, still believing you’d rejected him, prepared to convince you to say yes, but upon realising that you had, he relaxed. “Wait… yay.”

You giggled and shook your head. “Fuckin’ dork.”

Brendon smiled sheepishly as he tried to internalise his extreme excitement over the fact that he’d finally scored a date with you.

“Oh, and for what it’s worth,” you added, “You really don’t need those other band members. I think you and Spence will be juuuuust fine on your own.”

_______________________________

Thank you for reading x

Taglist:

@darknessdancing

@raversam

@username-number-01834

@moosesmoose

@underscoredarcy

[amyspeaks]

2021... and I’m back on Tumblr. It’s been so long that my phone autocorrected Tumblr to tumble.

This used to be one of my favorite apps circa 2008 maybe. Before Instagram had made its appearance, Tumblr was the place to be at.

A majority of my posts were “reposts”, posts of someone else’s posts, pictures, songs, videos, to depict my thoughts and feelings. Sometimes I like to revisit them to reminisce being young and naive. They bring back memories that I’ve forgotten — some I wanted to forget at one time, and some I’m happy to remember.

I’ve since then abandoned Tumblr and Facebook and my focus has primarily been on Instagram as a form of expression. But lately, I’ve even strayed away from that. I tried to dabble on Wordpress — the website/app for blogging. I found it was too complex for me to get my mind around. I just wanted it to look pretty and be able to jot down my thoughts, and I couldn’t get past the first step. Maybe it was the millennial in me, but I haven’t went back to it since. And here I am... back on Tumblr, good ole tumblr.

A part of me is scared that someone that knows me will find this virtual diary. Maybe I secretly want it found? I do have a hard time opening up in general. Most everyone that knows me will think of me as bubbly and cheerful, which is true. But if only they knew the thoughts that go deep down inside into my complex and wild emotions, revealing the layers i so hate to reveal.

Well. Here goes the first post!

[theemightypen]

9, 40 and 41 for Éothíriel please :D

The rest are under the cut! :)

9) “There’s a leaf in your hair…” (Canon)

The King of Rohan is staring at her.

Lothiriel cannot fathom why he is; he is friends with her father, of course, and with her brothers, but they have exchanged perhaps five words at most. She is not a beauty, not in the high, otherworldly way of her new Queen, nor in the golden, fierce way of his fair sister, but she knows she is not unpleasant to look at. (Or, if she is, everyone has been very good at keeping it from her.)

And yet the king is staring at her, as if she has suddenly grown a second head.

It is…disconcerting, to say the least.

“You are blushing,” her sister-in-law murmurs, low enough for just Lothiriel’s sensitive ears. “Would you tell me why?”

“Aly, please,” she begs, dropping her gaze. “Don’t tease me so.”

Alycia frowns, but pats her hand under the table subtly enough. “Alright. For now.”

Lothiriel tries to eat her meal as gracefully as she can, but every time she looks up he is still staring. On one such time, she meets his sister’s eyes as well. The White Lady of Rohan had been intimidating at first–so fair! So brave!–but she has come to know her cousin’s betrothed very well, and likes her very much.

So of course, Eowyn reads the distress in her face, follows her embarrassed gaze to her brother. Who is promptly elbowed–rather viciously, from what Lothiriel can tell–in the side.

Finally, he seems to realize he’s been making her uncomfortable, grimacing into his wine glass as Eowyn whispers Valar-knows-what into his ear.

Still, she feels ill at ease. Why had he been giving her such scrutiny? She is not much like the other ladies of the court. Too soft-spoken, taking the most pleasure in small, intimate groups of those she already knows than the loud, raucous celebrations the end of the War dictates…Lothiriel rarely calls attention to herself.

Her father offers her a sympathetic smile when she slips from the table–Amrothos would usually call her out, or Elphir would join her, but both are absorbed in conversations with various members of the famous Fellowship.

The garden is a quiet relief after the loudness of the hall. Lothiriel could sit all night, alone, under the stars, and wish for nothing else in all the world.

But it is not to be.

The footfalls that announce someone’s presence are light, controlled. The walk of a soldier, she thinks, and turns to face them, expecting her one of her brothers, or even Faramir.

But no. It is the King of Rohan, once again.

“I owe you an apology,” he says, startling her. “I should not have stared at you so.”

Lothiriel gulps. He should not be frightening–he is a king, a friend to her family, remarkably tender with his sister, and prone to sincere smiles when talking with Merry and Pippin–and yet there is something about him that makes her face flush, her pulse race faster.

“I am not accustomed to such attention,” she admits in a quiet voice. “But you need not apologize.”

His small smile only makes her face heat further, and she is grateful for the relative darkness of the garden. “Will you let me explain, at least?”

She nods, rather curious herself.

He reaches out towards her and her breath nearly stops in surprise–what is he doing, does he not know how improper it is for a man to touch an unwed maiden’s hair–only to wince when something catches, tugs a few strands of her braid out of place.

“There was a leaf in your hair,” he says, holding the offending item up for inspection. “And as I have never seen you anything other than perfectly poised, I could not imagine how it came to be there.”

Flushing deeper still, she tucks the loose strands back behind her ear. “I am fond of the outdoors, my lord. Even we Gondorian princesses are permitted some imperfections.”

His laugh is perhaps the most charming thing about him, and she finds herself wanting to bottle the sound, to keep it for times when things are less easy, less happy.

“I am glad to hear it,” he says, and offers her his elbow.

Her fingers tremble, but she laces her arm through his all the same.

40) “You call that music?” (Canon)

“You call that music?”

Lothiriel startles, the harp tumbling noisily to the floor.

Eomer merely grins as his wife glares at him, crossing the room to sit on the carpet at her feet.

“I am trying to do something productive today,” she says. “Would that you would do the same.”

“I have been productive all morning, swete,” Eomer argues, holding the harp out of her reach. She’s such a little thing, his wife, and it is an easy thing to tease her like this, using his longer arms to his advantage.

She huffs, blowing a few strands of hair out of her face. “Please, Eomer. I have tried every instrument I can think of, and the harp is the only one that seems to not fail me.”

Eomer frowns, looking down that the stringed instrument in his hands. “I still do not see why you can’t just sing.”

A flush enters her cheeks–even after a year in the Riddermark, there are still parts of her that are so Gondorian–and she frowns at him. “It is not proper for a lady to share her voice with a large assembly.”

“In Gondor, perhaps,” he says. “But we are not in Gondor.”

“I am well aware,” she says with a roll of her eyes, but he knows she isn’t truly irritated by how she leans willingly into the touch of his hand on her cheek.

“And you have such a lovely voice, Lothiriel,” he wheedles. “Surely it is more…improper not to share it? Every Eorlingas would agree with me.”

Lothiriel blinks. “I…had not thought of it like that.”

Sensing victory, he rises to his knees, crowding her back against the chair. “I would be happy to help you practice.”

Her eyes are dark as always, but the pupils are blown-wide–he suspects his are, too. A week of marriage, a year of marriage; either way, she was as desirable as ever. “And how should we go about that, husband?”

She gives a shriek of surprise when he stands suddenly, tugging her into his arms.

“Vocal warm-ups,” he says, before dropping her onto their all-too-inviting bed.

Lothiriel laughs, bright and warm, and opens her arms up to him. “By all means, instruct away.”

Eomer does not need to be asked twice.

41) “Damn auto-correct….” (Modern AU)

Not for the first time, Lothiriel curses her brothers, vodka, and Friday nights all together.

“I think my head is going to split open,” comes Pippin’s voice, from somewhere in the vicinity of her couch.

“Mine’s already cracked,” says Merry, who Lothiriel can just make out sprawled across the sleeping bag left over from her one attempt at camping. “Remind me to never challenge Legolas to a drinking contest again.”

Lothiriel manages a snort, despite the pack of wargs currently pounding behind her temples. “Gimli could have told you that, Merry.”

There’s a knock at the door and they all groan. Eowyn’s amused face appears, with Faramir not far behind. “Good morning, you three.”

“The light, the light!” Cries Pippin dramatically. “Turn it off!”

“That ‘light’ is the sun,” Faramir says. “It lacks a switch, I’m afraid.”

Eowyn comes to sit beside Lothiriel and gives her hair a stroke. “On a scale of 1-10?”

“Oh, a 15 easy,” Lothiriel says. “Thanks for coming to pick us up.”

A sudden stillness falls over the room.

Something like panic creeps up Lothiriel spine. The headache suddenly seems minor, unimportant. “What?”

Wordlessly, her phone appears in view, presented by a clearly-struggling-with-laughter Faramir.

“What,” Lothiriel repeats again, “did I do?”

She looks at her phone, feeling on the verge of vomiting–and not from the hangover.

“Oh,” she says. “Oh, no.”

In her phone, Eowyn’s name (which is accompanied by a horse, heart, and sword emoji) is directly next to Eomer’s name (which is accompanied by the much less flattering grouchy-faced emoji).

“Damn auto-correct!” She cries and then winces, as her head throbs in response.

“It might have been better that you did call Eomer instead, Lothiriel,” Pippin offers tentatively. “After all, I don’t think Eowyn could have carried you out of the bar after that last shot.”

Lothiriel groans, burying her face in the pillow. “Oh, Valar.”

“And I don’t think you would have been waxing poetic about Eowyn’s biceps, either,” Merry says. “No offense, of course, ‘Wyn, but I think your brother has you beat.”

“None taken.”

“Kill me,” Lothiriel whines, grasping Faramir’s hand in desperation. “Please, if you love me at all, you’ll take this pillow and smother me with it.”

“I’m afraid he can’t,” Eowyn says, sounding horribly, awfully cheerful. “Because you have a date in approximately twenty minutes.”

Lothiriel shoots up, nearly knocking her forehead against Faramir’s. “I have a what.”

“With Eomer. At the coffeeshop on the corner. In twenty minutes,” Eowyn says. Her eyes narrow in a way that Lothiriel has long since learned tends to indicate a hidden death threat. “And since he was kind enough to bring you and these two drunken hooligans–”

“Hey!” Protests Pippin. “I prefer the term ‘wastrel’, thank you!”

“–home last night, I suggest you go. And explain yourself.”

She’s out of the door in under 15 minutes, the hangover still pounding dully behind her temples, but it’s less nauseating than the guilt and panic swirling under her breastbone. Of all the people to call–Eomer! Damn autocorrect! She must have been much, much drunker than she thought–she’d done so well up until now, to not let him (or anyone else, especially Eowyn) know she very much would not mind being pushed up against a door–or a table, or any available flat surface, really–and be kissed senseless by him.

Every nerve in her body is on-edge when she opens the door to the coffee shop. His arched eyebrow is as familiar–and attractive–as ever and she makes one last attempt to smooth down her likely horrible looking hair before settling into the seat across from him.

“So,” she says, “I’m…sorry?”

“For which part?” He asks. “Calling me at 2 in the morning? Singing with your head out the window of my car? Calling me a ‘grade A Rohirric beefcake’ in front of my sister and her fiance?”

Oh, Elbereth. “All of it?”

Eomer snorts. He fixes her with a look then, and this one’s. Oh. It’s…different, somehow, with a hint of vulnerability in his dark eyes. “What about the part where you tried to kiss me?”

Lothiriel’s stomach drops to somewhere near to the depths of Moria. Or lower, maybe. “I. Um. Yes?”

That vulnerability shutters away, and Valar, she knows this look–irritation, anger, and yes, a little bit of hurt, too. She’s said entirely the wrong thing.

“Of course,” he says, bitterness in every tone, “of course you regret that–”

“Eomer,” she interrupts, drawing courage from Elbereth knows where to reach across the table and take one of his hands–warm and calloused and attractive, something must truly be wrong with her, to be so entranced by his hands–”I only regret that I was falling-down drunk when I. When I tried to kiss you. That’s not something I think would have been pleasant for either of us.”

His hand is stock still in hers for a moment and she cringes, tries to pull hers back–maybe she can tell him that she’s still drunk, or that this has been some kind of weird fever-dream–but then his fingers are laced through hers and he’s. Oh. He’s smiling. A real, honest-to-goodness Eomer Eomundson smile, complete with crinkled eyes and that one dimple she’s-never-noticed-not-once.

“Another time, then,” he says, voice pitched low, and Valar, if she doesn’t want to launch herself across the table to test the truth of his words. But this is a public place, and her head still hurts, and part of her isn’t entirely sure she hasn’t dreamt the entirety of the last hour up.

“Maybe breakfast first?” She asks.

Eomer nods, his hand still warm around hers.

“What do you like here?” She asks, suddenly curious.

The spark of mischief in his eyes is utterly, utterly terrifying. “I don’t know. I hear they have great grade A Rohirric–”

She flings her napkin at him and he laughs.

[thekuroiookami]

KnB (Kagami x Reader): Butterfly on my right shoulder - Part 2

Kuroko glanced over as Kagami anxiously checked his phone for the hundredth time. The taller boy frowned unhappily.

“Are you expecting a call, Kagami-kun?” Kuroko managed to sound only mildly curious.

“Erm, I- it’s not a call exactly, but maybe a message? I don’t know,” he finished glumly.

Kuroko looked suspicious. “Is it important? Like something from the bank, or your parents?”

“No. It’s nothing like that. Never mind, I should have known better than to hope for something like that…It’s been more than a couple of weeks.” He hefted his bag over his shoulder, face downcast. “Come on, let’s go home.”

On the way back, Kagami didn’t notice Kuroko anxiously casting looks his way, too deep in his morose thoughts. When they reached the familiar street corner, Kuroko finally gave up and yanked on Kagami’s hair.

He yelped in surprise. “OW! What was that for?”

Kuroko sighed. “Kagami-kun, I don’t know what’s bothering you. But you should know it will turn out okay. And that you have friends who care.”

Kagami’s expression softened. “I know. Thanks, Kuroko.”

“Then I’ll see you on Monday. Take care.”

They bumped fists and parted ways. Just as he entered his apartment, flicking the lights on, Kagami’s cellphone pinged. He almost dropped it in surprise when he saw the message.

You: Sorry I took so long. I know it’s sudden, but are you free tomorrow?

He scrambled to type a response.

Kagami: No worries. What time did you want to meet?

You: About two. There’s a small omurice restaurant near the court you were playing in. I know the jii-san there, so if you wanted to bring your own food, that would be ok.

He made a mental inventory of his fridge. A trip to grocery was definitely in order. He needed mackerel, shallots, milk…wait. What did one even make for a situation like this? More importantly, what did you like to eat? He decided to risk it and just ask you.

K: I know the place. By the way, is there anything you like to eat in particuler?

The anticipation was killing him. What if you said something impossible, like sushi?

You: I’m not very fussy. I don’t like bitter stuff though. Also, I think your autocorrect is malfunctioning.

He let out a small exhale of relief. At least he knew what to avoid now. He focused on the last part of your text.

K: What do you mean? It’s werking fine.

There was a stretch of interminable radio silence. He was growing more and more puzzled until his phone finally buzzed again. He actually dropped it this time when he saw an incoming call. Brushing his damp palms on his shirt, he picked it up.

“H-hello?”

“Kagami-kun.” Your voice washed over him like a cool wave. “I just realized this, but…is it that you can’t spell kanji correctly?”

He froze. His ears began burning, slow and sure. “How…how did you know?”

You paused for a second. “I noticed this already, but you kept adding -desu to everything after you found out I was older. And your spelling is atrocious. Did you not grow up in Japan?”

He flailed a bit, forgetting there was no one to see his explanatory gestures. “It’s just hard to remember, ok? And yeah, I lived in America for a bit. But is this why you called?”

There was a shrug implied in your voice. “It was too troublesome to text, and I thought I might as well enjoy hearing you growl a bit.”

He was fully blushing now. The subject needed to be changed, NOW. “Ahem. So are you sure there’s nothing else you want to eat, ___-san?”

You sounded thoughtful. “Hmm, not really. Just do whatever you do best. I won’t be too mean, I promise.”

Kagami’s reply was dry. “Gee, thanks. I guess I’ll see you tomorrow afternoon, then.”

“Yeah. I’ll look forward to it.” You hung up, leaving only a dial tone behind you.

He stared at the phone for a few more seconds, chest still echoing with warmth. “Me too.”

XXX

You looked up from your position near the counter as Kagami walked into the tiny restaurant.

“Oh, you’re here.” You took in the bag he was carrying. “That looks like a lot of food.”

The wizened owner of the establishment beamed in recognition. “Oh my, is that you, Kagami-kun? It’s been a while. Are you on a date? How nice!”

Before the embarrassed red-head could sputter out anything, you shook your head at the twinkling old man. “Jii-san, you shouldn’t tease him. We’re having lunch today. As for dating, we’ll see.”

You walked over and tugged on Kagami’s sleeve. “This way. There’s a table in the corner.”

After seating himself, he flashed a quick glance at you. You were gazing out of the window, lost in thought. His heart thumped when your eyes came back to his.

“Sorry to keep you waiting.” He began unpacking the bag. “Are you hungry?”

“A little. Did you really make all of this?” Your eyes widened at the array of food being set out before you.

He smiled a little, proud at getting a reaction out of you. “I have to cook for myself a lot. Here.” A bento with perfectly made egg-rolls, fried rice and vegetables was set before you.

“Ja, itadakimasu.” You picked up the chopsticks and bit into a roll. You looked up at Kagami, impressed. “It’s really good, Kagami-kun. I’m surprised.”

His face stretched into a happy grin, eyes crinkling at the corners. “So you’ll forgive me after all?”

Your lips kicked up at corners in amusement. “Maybe. You might have doomed yourself with this food though. What if I insist that you make lunch for me forever?”

His cheeks heated up. “I…wouldn’t mind.”

You blinked in surprise, not at all expecting that answer. You decided to change the topic before it got too awkward. “So, are you playing in the Interhigh this summer?”

He brightened. For a while, you listened to him talk cheerfully about his team, Kuroko, the coach and how he was looking forward to the matches.

You interrupted with a question. “So how are you planning to win if everyone knows about Kuroko-kun’s misdirection abilities? Surely they’ll be expecting it.”

He paused midway through a bite. “I don’t know yet, but I have faith in my senpais and Kuroko. We’ll figure something out.”

Your expression turned melancholy. “That sounds nice. To have people you trust so much.”

Kagami hesitated, and spoke cautiously. “Say, I’ve been wondering for a while now…but what was it that you had to stop doing? Was it something like what you were doing at the rink?”

You turned your eyes down, gaze unseeing. “That’s…”

“You don’t have to tell me anything if you don’t want to. I just asked because you seemed…down.”

You sighed and looked out of the window, gathering your thoughts. Eventually you faced him again.

“It’s alright, I don’t mind telling you. Yes, I used to figure-skate, but I had to stop.”

“Why?” He watched your face carefully as your mouth became a hard line.

“I…a series of unfortunate things happened, I got injured, and long story short, I can’t skate competitively anymore. It would damage my ankle beyond repair if I tried. It’s…hard for me to cope right now.”

Ah. That’s why it looked so familiar. That was Kiyoshi-senpai’s face I saw there.

His voice was rough with sympathy. “I’m sorry. I can’t imagine how that feels.” He really couldn’t bring himself to think about not being able to play basketball ever again. Just sitting still with a sprained leg had been too much.

You smiled, but your eyes were still bleak. “It could be worse. I just need some time to sort my feelings. That’s why it took me a while to contact you. I was waiting on the doctor’s report. And then for a while, I was just…not myself.”

He felt a strange wrench in his chest as the colour leached out of your face. The need to reassure, comfort and protect you was strong, but how was he supposed to stop you from hurting yourself?

Kagami came back to reality when you spoke again. “…ne, would you mind playing for me again?”

He blinked at you, confused. “What?”

“Can I watch you play basketball again? Not now, but another time.”

“S-sure. I’d like it if you came to watch. But I have a request too.” He was proud of himself, managing to get all the words out without giving away how fast his heart was beating.

It was your turn to look curious. “What is it?”

“I want to watch you skate. Like a full routine and stuff. Desu.”

You frowned a little. “You do realize I won’t be participating in competitions anymore, right? And stop treating me so formally. I don’t really need to be addressed as a senpai.”

He set his jaw and looked directly at you. “I know, but if it won’t strain you, I want to see you skate a full routine. That’s my request, ___-san.”

You were mildly surprised.

He didn’t seem like the type to care about much beyond basketball…And he’s still calling me by my last name. At least he’s not doing the other stuff anymore.

“I’ll be doing an exhibition soon, so I can send you an invite if you really want to see me skate. You could bring friends too.”

He jerked his head in a nod. By mutual consent, the lunchboxes were packed up and you both wandered outside, content to walk aimlessly in each other’s company. Kagami was initially a bit uneasy, but soon he settled into the comfort of your companionable silence.

“Thanks for lunch again, Kagami-kun. You know you didn’t really have to do that.”

“I know.” He said it under his breath, gaze directed into the distance.

You considered him for a moment, eyes dark. “It’s strange, we’ve only met twice before this, but I feel so relaxed around you. Like I’ve known you my whole life. I wonder why that is.”

He whipped around in shock. The words came tumbling out before he could stop them. “But I feel anything but relaxed around you!”

There was a moment where you both stared at each other. Then Kagami blushed as per usual and you had to hide a laugh behind your hand. “Pfft. Kagami-kun. You never cease to surprise. Ah well.”

You nudged his arm with an elbow, smiling a little into his face. “I would be worried if you felt too comfortable around me, so keep going.”

He surprised you by pulling you into a tight hug, hiding his face in your hair. At first you stiffened, then when you realized he wasn’t making any other movements, you gradually relaxed into him. Kagami was a blanket of heat and security, his frame reassuringly solid against your softer curves. He mumbled something.

“…it’s not fair, your heart should be racing too.”

Before you could say something to confirm or deny this, Kagami looked up towards the sky in trepidation.

“Don’t tell me it’s…” A gust of wind was all the warning you had before the rain began in earnest. Before long, you were both soaked through, hair dripping and clothes glued to your skin.

He looked at you in a worried grimace. “My apartment is nearby. Do you want to come dry off there?”

You hesitated for a second. He caught on to your line of thought and gestured wildly.

“Ah, I promise not to do anything weird! I wasn’t suggesting anything like that, I swear. If it helps, my mentor is staying with me at the moment, so we won’t be alone.”

The situation wasn’t getting any better, and you figured that this was a calculated risk, why not.

He started as you slipped your fingers between his. He looked back and forth between your linked hands and your face a few times. You tightened your grip, making him draw a breath.

“Lead the way, Kagami-kun.”

His arm was awash with sensation by the time he got home. You were as cheerfully detached as ever, looking around at the tidiness of the room in an admiring fashion. Your eyes lingered on the medal displayed proudly on the cabinet. Kagami stamped down on his self-conciousness and went into his bedroom.

He came back out with a pile of thick, fluffy towels and clothing. “Here, the bath’s that way if you want to…” He trailed off as he took in your appearance.

Oh crap, I didn’t look at her all the way here because I was so embarrassed and I forgot her clothes got wet…

Your skirt, originally a loose flowy thing, now outlined the line of your legs, dipping enticingly. Your thin cotton blouse was equally bad, clinging to every imaginable surface. And was that pink he saw through the white fabric?

He shoved down the memories that thought brought with it when you looked at him questioningly. He shoved the towels in your direction, eyes screwed shut. “Please change quickly!”

You took the fluffy mass and looked down at yourself. “Ah. Be right back.”

A bit later, Kagami had managed to bring his nerves back under control. He stirred in some cream into the steaming mug, wondering what Kuroko would have to say about all of this. Probably that was not a line of thinking he wanted to go down.

He almost dropped the spoon when your voice broke into his reverie. “Is that hot chocolate?”

All the hard won calm scattered like leaves in the wind. Kagami’s jaw became a little slack as he realized he was not immune, at all, to the sight of you in his oversized t-shirt. There was an illegal length of leg showing, toned and slightly scarred. You tugged self-consciously at the edge of the top.

“Please say something, you’re making me nervous.”

He jolted and then felt a rush of heat in his core as he took in your pink face. The combination of his musky scent from the clothes and his abrupt stillness made you jittery. It only increased when he held out the mug to you, face unreadable.

“That will warm you up. Please drink.”

You took the cup reluctantly, still worried about his odd reaction. You set the mug down on the nearby coffee table, sitting down with legs crossed. Kagami sat down with a drink of his own, face still inscrutable.

You reached out and brushed your fingers against his arm. “Kagami-kun, is everything okay?”

In a blink, he turned around, grabbing your wrist. The second instant saw you pinned to the floor before you could process it, one hand still trapped. Your eyes widened as Kagami’s face dipped close enough for you to feel his breath.

“____-san, you shouldn’t touch me without warning. It’s hard enough to control myself. I’ll just hug you again.”

Colour suffused your cheeks. Your senses buzzed with awareness at his proximity. Your free hand stretched out to his face, unable to help yourself. Kagami made a sound somewhere between a groan and a rumble when you lightly touched his lower lip.

His tiger eyes darkened as you traced up his face to cup his cheek. “I don’t mind. Hugs, that is.”

When he possessively gripped your hand, you looked back at him in anticipation. His eyes moved to your mouth, his gaze intense. Your eyes drifted closed, your head tilted up. He moved even closer.

“Taiga, there you are, I’ve been- Oh my.”

Kagami jumped backward like a bullet at the sound of Alex’s voice. You sat up, startled by the crash he caused as he bumped into the table.

He went back to his stammering, red-faced self. “A-Alex, you- WHERE WERE YOU ALL THIS TIME?”

She shrugged, her expression brightening as she laid eyes on you. “Taiga, where have you been hiding this pretty girl? And how long have you been going out?”

You on the other hand, were just bewildered. You were quite tall, but Alex was a veritable Amazon, towering a good three inches over you. Combined with her golden hair, statuesque figure and general presence, it was just intimidating. Also, she wasn’t wearing much in the way of clothes.

Kagami shut his eyes in a long-suffering sigh. “For the love of God, Alex, put some clothes on.”

She shrugged into a hoodie that made the situation slightly more tolerable. “My bad, I was taking a nap. Are you ever going to introduce us, Taiga?”

You inclined your head as Kagami made the introduction, eyes still shut. You ran a considering gaze over Alex when you understood who she was. You weren’t sure if you liked the idea of her walking around half-naked in Kagami’s house, even though he didn’t seem too pleased with it.

You slanted a glance his way. Unbeknownst to you, he was silently cursing Alex’s terrible timing and considering making her Himuro’s or even Aomine’s problem. You had become withdrawn after Alex’s surprise and he could imagine how it looked.

I bet she thinks I’m some sort of sleazy dude that has random women at his house. Why, Alex, why?

Alex, cheerfully oblivious as ever, pulled out a box from the shelf. “Hey Taiga, now that ____-san is here, let’s play this. We finally have enough people to make it interesting.” She held out a box of Jenga.

Kagami tried to refuse, but Alex insisted, saying it was her last couple of days in Japan anyway, and he should indulge her. He finally gave up, turning to you with an apologetic look. You gave him a nod of reassurance and the game started.

An hour later, you and Alex were fast friends and Kagami never wanted to see another wooden block again. Alex stretched her arms above her head, sighing.

“Well, that was fun. It’s getting late though, ____-san needs to go home. Taiga, walk her back.”

Kagami shook himself out of a Jenga-induced haze. “Yeah, sure.”

You excused yourself to change back into your clothes, during which time Alex gave Kagami several significant looks he didn’t understand. She shook her head at his denseness when you returned.

As Kagami moved to put on his shoes, you stopped him. “It’s fine, Kagami-kun, my house isn’t that far. You don’t need to walk me.”

His face was stubborn. “No, I can’t let you go alone.”

You sighed. “You don’t need to. It’s really close. Like…two floors above yours.”

There was a moment of silence all round as Kagami absorbed this fact. Alex began laughing hysterically.

“Really? All this time, you were living upstairs and Taiga never ran into you?”

You shrugged. “I have no idea why. Maybe our schedules are just really different?”

Kagami came forward and gripped your wrist. “I’m still walking you to the elevator, though.”

In front of the lift, he hesitated. You waited until he finally spoke. “So…I had fun today. I hope you did too?”

The hopefulness in his tone made you smile. “I did. Would you like to meet again and spend time together?”

His gaze snapped to yours. “I-If that’s okay with you, yeah.”

“Then I’ll see you later, Kagami Taiga. And don’t worry, I like Alex too.” He flushed, and looked away as the elevator pinged.

You took advantage of his momentary distraction to rise up on your toes and pull his head down a little. His eyes flew open when your lips pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. He clapped a hand to the spot, cheeks burning.

You stepped away, slightly blushing as well. “I...will hold you to that promise, Kagami-kun. Show me DVDs of your games the next time I come over.”

He was still speechless.

The next time? Holy…there’s going to be a next time. What will that be like?

He said it just as the doors closed. “Yeah, I promise.”