#dummytag

[stephanericherthanyou]

sway (kagahimu, 163)

Neither of them has ever really learned ballroom dancing, but a slow dance at a wedding isn’t anything close to that level of difficulty. They start out with Tatsuya’s hands on taiga’s shoulder and Taiga’s on Tatsuya’s waist, swaying to the music, but as the song goes on Tatsuya just leans his head on Taiga’s chest, feels him breathing in time with the music and holds him tighter. He might have had a little too much good wine, and this might have already been a long day. He can feel Taiga’s quiet laugh, and the deeper inhalation of breath before he whispers into Tatsuya’s ear.

“You okay?”

“A little tired.”

“We should go soon,” says Taiga.

He rubs circles Tatsuya’s back slowly with one hand, gently like a basketball rolling around the rim. Tatsuya’s happy Taiga’s doing the driving tonight—and that they’re here together, like this. He smiles into Taiga’s chest and they sway like riverbank plants, for just a little longer.

[stephanericherthanyou]

touch (aomido, 109)

Midorima isn’t as resistant to touch as Aomine had thought he was. When he knows it’s coming and it’s the right kind of touch he’s more than receptive, turning his palm toward Aomine’s and slipping his finger in the waiting gaps, leaning into a carefully-placed caress on his shoulder like a cat who’s decided that he’s kind of okay. And in a lot of ways it’s cute, both the unexpectedness of the reactions and the reactions themselves, the way Midorima softly smiles and the corners of his lips spread like ripples on a lake when he thinks Aomine’s not looking—and when he catches Aomine’s eye, the expression stays.

[stephanericherthanyou]

only for you (alex/masako, 221)

The only one who has a special ringtone on Alex’s phone is Masako, a song from a movie they’d gone to see on one of their first dates—corny as hell, but Alex never said she wasn’t. Masako doesn’t know it of course; even when she’s not calling Alex from across the ocean she’s calling from across a city or a few blocks away (even though she will never admit to getting lost in LA, she always does) or somewhere she can't hear it.

Alex loses her phone somewhere in the apartment; it’s too disorganized and her vision is too shitty to bother with a manual search and it’s on the loudest volume. So Masako calls it from her own phone and it begins to ring, the strains of the familiar melody fuzzy through the couch cushions. Alex fishes around for a few seconds and then picks it up.

Masako’s frowning. “Did you change your ringtone?”

“Only for you,” says Alex.

Masako blinks, and then it registers on her face—it’s the bright sheen of embarrassment mixed with happiness that brings out the brightness of Masako’s brown eyes and the contours of her cheeks. It’s so cute that Alex hugs her and Masako mutters something under her breath and feigns pushing her away, but she’s the one who kisses Alex first.

[stephanericherthanyou]

air (aomine, 184)

He’s never tried it before—it’s always seemed out of reach; he could jump and his fingers could scrape the backboard but he couldn’t quite tip the shot in or stop his opponent from getting it in; he’s never had quite enough lift. But today, spinning the ball on his finger, it seems like he does. It seems as if he might be able to dunk if he tries, if he jumps high enough—and so he leaps off the ground.

The air beneath his feet is different than before, not just thin enough to fall through but thin enough and not giving way regardless; the air above him is not pushing down as much. And he raises the ball in his hand and when the time is right he feels it; he begins to fall but pushes down, keeping himself aloft just long enough to slam the ball through the hoop. The sting of the metal against his hand is raw enough that he lets go instantly, but what’s done is done. He lands on his feet with a grin on his face.

[stephanericherthanyou]

hair (kagahimu, 219)

He asks before the first time he does it, and even asking is crossing a line he’s not sure he’s allowed over quite yet, on an old bridge that may have fallen into disrepair.

“Can I move your hair?”

And Tatsuya knows, despite the awkward and ambiguous wording, what he means; he bites his lip and nods and his expression is so fragile right now that Taiga’s still not sure he should touch it. He reaches out, softly tracing a line across the border between Tatsuya’s bare forehead and his bangs—and then he pushes the curtain of hair aside and lets the light filter in on that part of Tatsuya’s face. Tatsuya’s holding his gaze steady on Taiga’s face still, and Taiga meets it—as much as Tatsuya hates this part of his body, as much as he hides it from the world, he is trusting Taiga to see it ((and this is the first time it’s been more than a few seconds). Taiga leans forward and places a kiss on the newly-exposed part of Tatsuya’s forehead where the skin’s slightly lighter from never seeing the sun. Tatsuya tightens his grip on Taiga’s free hand; Taiga squeezes back. When he moves his lips away he lets go of Tatsuya’s hair, and Tatsuya’s expression relaxes just a little bit.

[stephanericherthanyou]

evening (haraseto, 148)

Seto’s actually a little bit more active in the early evening than usual; he takes off his sleep mask and moves around, in transition from nap to nap the way the sky transforms from light to dark, blue to red to blue again or grey to darker grey.

He likes to sit and play his ukulele (unless Hara’s had time to mess with it and retune it all wrong, in which case he just tunes it himself because he’s got fucking perfect pitch) and it’s actually kind of cute to watch a big guy like him and a tiny instrument like that. And sometimes Hara tells him so.

Seto doesn’t really believe him, snorting and ignoring him while continuing whatever song he’s playing at the moment. It’s a nice sort of ambient soundtrack, until it gets too ambient and shrill. Then, Hara decides, Seto’s not so cute anymore.

[stephanericherthanyou]

unforgiving (masako, 108)

This kind of loss, a close game against a worse team, is the hardest kind to swallow, a large pill when her mouth is too dry even with a whole glass’s worth of water inside. And that it’s in a tournament no less, right before the semifinals—that makes it even more despicable. And she knows that perhaps she shouldn’t blame herself too much, that it won’t do any good, that there were too many unexpected variables—but she should be able to construct a team that can withstand those. Because life isn’t fair, and basketball in particular is unjust and unforgiving, which she knows all too well.

[stephanericherthanyou]

adoration (aomido, 233)

Aomine’s still laid up with a sore ankle when he and Midorima are finally both home, and besides limiting what they can do together it also means he won’t get to play against him. It’s not something he’s looking forward to missing, but as he sits on the sidelines playing with the cuff on his shirt he realizes it’s been a long time since he’s seen Midorima play live without being directly involved in the game. And he’s still rooting for his own team, but he can’t help getting caught up in watching Midorima, because damn.

He dominates the court, and the rest of the players on his team just sort of fill in around him where they need to be—his blocks ring louder than anything else; his passes are clear and crisp and he doesn’t make them when it’s unnecessary. And his shots swing like ideal pendulums through the hoop, swishing silently and matter-of-factly as they always have, but it’s still a goddamn wonderful sight, the absolute path of the ball and the way his arms extend, long and beautiful, the look on his face.

Midorima’s team wins, and Aomine’s not surprised at all. They take a cab home together, and even though they’ve got the whole backseat Aomine stretches his arm out and pulls Midorima close.

“I adore you; you know that, right?”

It’s too dark to see his blush.