Aomine Daiki's Infatuation. - Aomine X Reader.

The Team 🗃

Diligently wrestling my way towards a pair of double-heavy doors, I almost trip over my own feet and pray that the inevitable fall doesn't break my neck. I feel my balance unsteady as my body falls forward. 'Oh no, this is the end.' I think to myself, squeezing my eyelids closed as if that would somehow lessen the blow.

"Whoa! Watch out there!" A deep, gravelly voice shouted in my ear just as I was about to hit the ground. He grabbed me, drawing me back from the edge of disaster.

"Sorry!" I gasped, immobile, my heart pounding.

"No worries!" He chuckled, rubbing the back of his head in that awkward way that men do when embarrassed. But his eyes? They were undoubtedly offering a different story.

"I am [y/n], by the way. It's nice to meet you under such normal circumstances." I was blushing a little, feeling simultaneously embarrassed and apprehensive. "I have these clipboards to drop off at the gym. Could you please point me in the right direction?"

"Imayoshi," he shot back with a smile that could only be described as a little wicked. "You certainly made a lasting impression there! Just set the box at the entryway here."  I felt a slight chill down my spine from his sly smile, but at least I didn't collapse onto the floor!

"On second thought. Guessing when Aomine will show up is like trying to grab smoke with your bare hands – completely unexpected and often impossible. Instead, take them inside and down to the left. Put them on the bench, [y/n]." I nod; I'm not going to argue, even though my instinct tells me to stay away from this person. He really does have the air of a cunning fox, as if he's constantly one step ahead. I turn away from Imayoshi and push the door open with my back. I'm not about to let go of this box; if I do, everything inside will fly out, and I don't intend to almost faceplant again.

I hurry into the gym, then suddenly pause. I'm struck like a wave by the sound of squeaky shoes on polished wood. I peer over the top of the box, my head poking out like a curious meerkat.

Walking across the court, I see a trolley full of orange and black basketballs and a group of students all kitted up in their uniforms. My heart begins to race at the same pace as a three-point shot being made from one side of the court to the other. I had no idea how much I missed this feeling until now! It's like a nostalgic jab in the gut – both invigorating and a little melancholy.

"Hey, you!" I was pulled from my thoughts like a fish out of water, almost jumping out of my skin. 

"Uh, yes?" I stumble, fumbling the box as if it were a bomb ready to explode. Really, please, if I could only keep my toes intact!

"On your way here, did you see a tall, tan, muscular idiot?!" The guy with blonde hair is virtually yelling at me, his thunderous voice echoing through the space around us. I mean, buddy, calm down! 

"No, sorry! I haven't seen anyone who matches that description." My response elicits a low, frustrated grunt. "That bastard! "Where the hell is he?" he yells, looking like he's about to throw a tantrum.

The noise inside the gym persisted as Imayoshi stealthily entered, unseen.

"Wakamatsu, stop complaining like a jealous girlfriend!" he remarks. "Aomine can do whatever he wants, as long as we don't lose a game," he quips, his familiar black hair and those creepy eyes locking onto the very vocal blonde, who we now know is Wakamatsu.

Who exactly are these people? Why do I continually find myself in the strangest crowds?

We now have Wakamatsu, Momoi, Imayoshi, and this tall, tan, muscular "idiot" who seems to be the talk of the town. I mean, who the heck is this guy?