Kuroko No Basket × Reader Oneshots

🏀 Finish what I started: Takao Kazunari

"What am I doing wrong?"

The more she scrolled down, comparing numbers to her own statistics the more she grew aggravated. The first to suffer her progressing anger was her phone screen, which nearly accumulated a scratch from her long manicured nails.

"Seriously. Tell me. Anyone."

Thanks to his peculiar ability to observe everything around him without having to angle his head, Takao noticed how his favourite person slowly slumped down until her chin was stuck to the desk. This was because of one thing, stress.

To defend his opinion, he always saw her always distressed about something. Be it unfinished homework. Or maybe that person who didn't apologise to her after they bumped against her at the train station.

But seeing how she held back tears of irritation told him that it was on a different level ofo stress.

"Where's Shintaro-chan?" She asked as she walked to him with her lunch box in hand. And new pink journal who'll suffer heavy pen nibs on it pages tucked under her forearm.

His answer was to shrug with fraud look of gloom. "His mom told him to stay at home 'cause of his fever."

"I wouldn't be surprised if you gave it to him." Unlike today, where had no one else to annoy, her tone was dead.

"How mean of you. [Y/n]-chan." He almost scored a glimpse of what was inside her pink unicorn journal, if her hand hadn't swatted his hand darting to reach hers. Remembering how pathetic she looked, he asked. "What did you mean when you said if you were doing something wrong?"

Last time he checked, she was the one brave enough in a class of thirty to submit her assignment in time. And an asshole enough to have pretty and completed notes and not share them to the class.

And with a new journal- that looked expensive- wasn't she supposed to be happy?

'Ah! A pen! She needed a pen.'

"Well," pulling out her phone, she opened it to an app with an orange icon. "I started self-publishing my stories-" he cut her off with a snicker. He recalled about the fanfiction she wrote and made him read in middle school.

"Why did I make you read all of those fanfics?" She groaned, pushing his back away from her.

"Gomene, [Y/n]. You were saying."

"Well, when eleventh grade started- I started this new book. Ex reader."

"Ex reader?"

"Otome or anime character x reader. Anyways," the grip on her phone worried him. It was nearly tight enough to pop the screen off.

"So where's the problem in that?"

Her tone dropped and she had never looked so dejected before. "There's just so many . . . UNSKILLED PEOPLE PUTTING SHIT OUT THERE WITH HORRIBLE PLOTS. HOW DO THEY HAVE MORE READS THAN I DO?"

"Oh crap," he regretted asking her now that she was fuming. But it was too late to pull the question back. The furious middle schooler who he thought was dead and long gone came back when he asked her that. "May-Maybe their stories are much better?"

"You tell me?" She picked her noodles out and dropped it in his open palm. An act of shutting him up.

"How many reads? How many reads do they have compared to you? It can't be that bad?

"Ten thousand against one. And I've been working on the book for two years." She mumbled, pinching the bridge of her nose to stop the tears she thought were dried out since last night.