𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚

___ _ _ _

The spotlight was hotter than you expected. Brighter than expected. If you had to look into the spotlights for a second longer, you would probably go blind. It poured over your shoulders, glinted off the fabric of your gown, and turned the massive hall into a blur of gold and shadow. Applause thundered around you as your name echoed through the speakers.

You’d won. Somehow, you’d actually won.

Who could have guessed at the beginning that you would win an art prize with your manga about basketball in Japanese secondary schools?

You steadied yourself at the podium, heart racing, trying to remember the speech you had practiced in front of your mirror a dozen times.

Near the back of the VIP section, slouched like he’d rather be anywhere else, sat Daiki. Black suit. No tie. Top buttons undone. He looked bored. He also hadn’t taken his eyes off you once. He had insisted on accompanying you. Why? You didn't really know yourself. Because he never did things like that.

You thanked your team, your supporters, the people who believed in you before anyone else did. Your voice grew stronger with every word.

And then you caught sight of him again: Aomine leaned back in his chair, one ankle resting on his knee, expression lazy—almost unimpressed. But you knew that look. The slight lift of his brow. The faint smirk playing at his lips.

He was proud. He just wasn’t the type to clap too loudly about it. A mischievous thought sparked in your mind: If he was proud of a girl, not even his, you had to make yourself his girl on your own!

You remembered a joke Aomine used to make in the changing cabin. You inhaled slowly.

“And of course,” you added sweetly into the microphone, “shout out to Maya, who designed this amazing gown just for me to wear tonight…”

The crowd gave a polite cheer. Then you tilted your head slightly, gaze locking onto Aomine.

“And shout out to my boyfriend… for helping me out of it later.”

For half a second, the room went silent. Then it exploded. Whistles. Gasps. Laughter. Cameras whipped toward him.

Aomine blinked.Once.

Then he leaned forward, elbows on his knees, staring straight at you with a look that could’ve melted steel.

He wasn’t embarrassed. He wasn’t flustered. He looked entertained. And dangerously interested.

You finished your speech somehow, legs steady only through sheer willpower.

___ _ _ _

Backstage was chaos—reporters, congratulations, flashes—but you barely processed it before a large hand wrapped around your wrist and pulled you gently but firmly aside.

You were pressed against a quiet hallway wall. Aomine stood in front of you, towering, one hand braced above your head.

“You talk real big on stage,” he murmured, voice low and smooth like midnight.

You swallowed, heat rising up your neck, “Did I?”

A slow grin spread across his face,“You just put me on blast in front of half the industry.”

“You didn’t look upset,” you replied, heart pounding.

“’Cause I’m not.” His thumb brushed lightly along your jaw, “Just didn’t expect you to have that kinda mouth on you in public.”

Your heart thudded. Aomine leaned closer, breath warm near your ear. “You sure you wanna make promises like that?” he asked quietly. “I don’t half-ass anything.”

That was him: Confident. Blunt. A little arrogant.

But when it came to you, there was something possessive in the way he held you—not controlling, just certain. Like you were his choice, and he didn’t lose.

You lifted your chin.

“Are you saying you can’t keep up?”

A sharp chuckle left him.

“Keep up?” His eyes darkened. “I’m the only one who can.”

For a moment, the hallway felt too small. Too charged. Then he pulled back just enough to look at you properly, fingers adjusting a loose strand of hair that had fallen over your face.

“You looked good up there,” he said, quieter now. Honest. “Real good.”

The teasing edge faded just slightly.

“And you deserved that win.”

It wasn’t dramatic. It wasn’t flowery. But from Aomine, it meant everything. You smiled softly.

“Thanks for inviting your self and tagging along,” you said.

He scoffed lightly. “Like I’d miss it.”

Then that lazy grin returned, “But we are leaving early.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah.” He slipped his hand into yours, fingers lacing confidently. “You made an announcement. I don’t like disappointing people.”

You laughed as he guided you toward the exit, ignoring the stares, the whispers, the flashing cameras.

Aomine Daiki didn’t care about public opinion.

He cared about winning. And tonight?

You won and scored yourself a boyfriend.

Kagami Taiga

The ballroom lights shimmered like a thousand tiny stars, reflecting off the polished floor as your name echoed through the hall.

You barely registered the applause at first.

All you could see was him.

___ _ _ _

It was such a surreal experience. Less than a year ago, you had met the Wunders. As an exchange student, you didn't always have it easy, but the young people had quickly become like family to you.

And now you were sitting here. In the USA. At the award ceremony for the best young American basketball player. Ryouta joked that it felt like someone had written a fairy tale for Kagami. But actually, it was you who was living the fairy tale. All of this just for him. Kagami Taiga. Your boyfriend. Admittedly, it hadn't been long, but that made it all the more exciting. Kagami admitted once, he could hardly wait to discover what other sides of each other you would find.

Well, sometimes you should be careful what you wish for ;)

___ _ _ _

After the player awards had been presented, the surprise of the evening was about to begin.

Being on the road with the boys was always... well, chaotic. To put it nicely. You had just gathered everyone back together and manoeuvred them to the table when the presenter's voice came on.

"On behalf of the organisers, we have one more prize to award! It's for the best international team integration and the creation of a multinational team. A team from Tokyo did this particularly well. And formed our very own basketball superstar, Kagami Taiga."

Your eyes grew huge, your mouth agape.

Would the Vorpal Swords also receive an award?

This group of emotionally disturbed and easily angered basketball freaks had actually managed to build something magical together: a basketball family.

"We invite Miss Y/n L/n to the stage to accept this award on behalf of the organisation. We greatly appreciate Ms L/n's tremendous commitment to youth sport. Thank you for polishing Taiga Kagami!"

You looked over. At your table near the front sat Taiga, broad shoulders straining slightly against his tailored black suit, crimson hair carefully styled for once. He wasn’t used to events like this—award galas, cameras flashing, people whispering your name with admiration.

“You worked too hard for this,” he’d said. “I’m not missing it.”

Now you stood at the podium, heart pounding, trophy cool against your palm.

You thanked your team, your family, your supporters. The speech you gave was flowing smoothly… until you glanced back at Kagami.

He looked nervous. Proud. Completely out of place and proud—and completely yours.

A sudden spark of mischief lit inside you. You leaned closer to the mic.

“And of course,” you said sweetly, “shout out to the designer who custom-made this dress for tonight…”

A few polite laughs rippled through the crowd.

Then, channeling the bold, playful energy of Nicki Minaj’s iconic award speech—yes, the one where she thanked Donatella Versace and gave a certain shout-out to Michael B. Jordan—you added:

“And shout out to my very handsome date… for helping me out of it later tonight.”

The entire room erupted. The boys spit out their water. Within a few minutes, Midorima had gone from lettuce green to tomato red. He wouldn't be seen in public with you for the next few weeks. That was certain.

Cameras instantly swiveled toward Kagami. For a split second, he froze.

Then—Red. Crimson red. From the tips of his ears to the collar of his shirt.

You had seen Kagami face down national champions without flinching. You had seen him block impossible shots, glare down opponents twice his size.

You had never seen him look this flustered. He shot you a look that was equal parts embarrassed and challenged.

You smiled innocently and finished your speech.

The moment you stepped offstage, he was there. Not storming. Not dragging you away. Just… there.

“You really had to say that?,” he muttered, voice low so only you could hear.

You tilted your head,“What? It was funny.”

“You basically put a spotlight on me.”

“You can handle spotlights,” you teased. “You’re a big deal athlete now, remember?”

He huffed, but there was no real irritation in it. His hand found your waist naturally, grounding, warm.

“You think I won’t follow through now?” he asked quietly.

Your breath hitched—not because the words were explicit, but because of the promise beneath them.

Kagami wasn’t flashy. He wasn’t smooth.

He was sincere. And when he committed to something, he meant it. You leaned closer, fingers brushing the lapel of his suit. “Guess we’ll have to leave before the afterparty gets too crowded,” you murmured.

His eyes darkened—not with anything crude, but with focus. The same look he wore before a game-winning play.

“Yeah,” he said simply. “We will.”

As you walked out together, fingers intertwined, the noise of the gala faded behind you.

Tonight wasn’t about the cameras. Or the applause. Or the headlines.

It was about the way his thumb traced slow circles against your hand. The way he opened the car door for you, still slightly pink but smiling. The way his gaze lingered—not on the dress itself, but on you.

___ _ _ _

The spotlight was hotter than you expected. Brighter than expected. If you had to look into the spotlights for a second longer, you would probably go blind. It poured over your shoulders, glinted off the fabric of your gown, and turned the massive hall into a blur of gold and shadow. Applause thundered around you as your name echoed through the speakers.

You’d won. Somehow, you’d actually won.

Who could have guessed at the beginning that you would win an art prize with your manga about basketball in Japanese secondary schools?

You steadied yourself at the podium, heart racing, trying to remember the speech you had practiced in front of your mirror a dozen times.

Near the back of the VIP section, slouched like he’d rather be anywhere else, sat Daiki. Black suit. No tie. Top buttons undone. He looked bored. He also hadn’t taken his eyes off you once. He had insisted on accompanying you. Why? You didn't really know yourself. Because he never did things like that.

You thanked your team, your supporters, the people who believed in you before anyone else did. Your voice grew stronger with every word.

And then you caught sight of him again: Aomine leaned back in his chair, one ankle resting on his knee, expression lazy—almost unimpressed. But you knew that look. The slight lift of his brow. The faint smirk playing at his lips.

He was proud. He just wasn’t the type to clap too loudly about it. A mischievous thought sparked in your mind: If he was proud of a girl, not even his, you had to make yourself his girl on your own!

You remembered a joke Aomine used to make in the changing cabin. You inhaled slowly.

“And of course,” you added sweetly into the microphone, “shout out to Maya, who designed this amazing gown just for me to wear tonight…”

The crowd gave a polite cheer. Then you tilted your head slightly, gaze locking onto Aomine.

“And shout out to my boyfriend… for helping me out of it later.”

For half a second, the room went silent. Then it exploded. Whistles. Gasps. Laughter. Cameras whipped toward him.

Aomine blinked.Once.

Then he leaned forward, elbows on his knees, staring straight at you with a look that could’ve melted steel.

He wasn’t embarrassed. He wasn’t flustered. He looked entertained. And dangerously interested.

You finished your speech somehow, legs steady only through sheer willpower.

___ _ _ _

Backstage was chaos—reporters, congratulations, flashes—but you barely processed it before a large hand wrapped around your wrist and pulled you gently but firmly aside.

You were pressed against a quiet hallway wall. Aomine stood in front of you, towering, one hand braced above your head.

“You talk real big on stage,” he murmured, voice low and smooth like midnight.

You swallowed, heat rising up your neck, “Did I?”

A slow grin spread across his face,“You just put me on blast in front of half the industry.”

“You didn’t look upset,” you replied, heart pounding.

“’Cause I’m not.” His thumb brushed lightly along your jaw, “Just didn’t expect you to have that kinda mouth on you in public.”

Your heart thudded. Aomine leaned closer, breath warm near your ear. “You sure you wanna make promises like that?” he asked quietly. “I don’t half-ass anything.”

That was him: Confident. Blunt. A little arrogant.

But when it came to you, there was something possessive in the way he held you—not controlling, just certain. Like you were his choice, and he didn’t lose.

You lifted your chin.

“Are you saying you can’t keep up?”

A sharp chuckle left him.

“Keep up?” His eyes darkened. “I’m the only one who can.”

For a moment, the hallway felt too small. Too charged. Then he pulled back just enough to look at you properly, fingers adjusting a loose strand of hair that had fallen over your face.

“You looked good up there,” he said, quieter now. Honest. “Real good.”

The teasing edge faded just slightly.

“And you deserved that win.”

It wasn’t dramatic. It wasn’t flowery. But from Aomine, it meant everything. You smiled softly.

“Thanks for inviting your self and tagging along,” you said.

He scoffed lightly. “Like I’d miss it.”

Then that lazy grin returned, “But we are leaving early.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah.” He slipped his hand into yours, fingers lacing confidently. “You made an announcement. I don’t like disappointing people.”

You laughed as he guided you toward the exit, ignoring the stares, the whispers, the flashing cameras.

Aomine Daiki didn’t care about public opinion.

He cared about winning. And tonight?

You won and scored yourself a boyfriend.

Kagami Taiga

The ballroom lights shimmered like a thousand tiny stars, reflecting off the polished floor as your name echoed through the hall.

You barely registered the applause at first.

All you could see was him.

___ _ _ _

It was such a surreal experience. Less than a year ago, you had met the Wunders. As an exchange student, you didn't always have it easy, but the young people had quickly become like family to you.

And now you were sitting here. In the USA. At the award ceremony for the best young American basketball player. Ryouta joked that it felt like someone had written a fairy tale for Kagami. But actually, it was you who was living the fairy tale. All of this just for him. Kagami Taiga. Your boyfriend. Admittedly, it hadn't been long, but that made it all the more exciting. Kagami admitted once, he could hardly wait to discover what other sides of each other you would find.

Well, sometimes you should be careful what you wish for ;)

___ _ _ _

After the player awards had been presented, the surprise of the evening was about to begin.

Being on the road with the boys was always... well, chaotic. To put it nicely. You had just gathered everyone back together and manoeuvred them to the table when the presenter's voice came on.

"On behalf of the organisers, we have one more prize to award! It's for the best international team integration and the creation of a multinational team. A team from Tokyo did this particularly well. And formed our very own basketball superstar, Kagami Taiga."

Your eyes grew huge, your mouth agape.

Would the Vorpal Swords also receive an award?

This group of emotionally disturbed and easily angered basketball freaks had actually managed to build something magical together: a basketball family.

"We invite Miss Y/n L/n to the stage to accept this award on behalf of the organisation. We greatly appreciate Ms L/n's tremendous commitment to youth sport. Thank you for polishing Taiga Kagami!"

You looked over. At your table near the front sat Taiga, broad shoulders straining slightly against his tailored black suit, crimson hair carefully styled for once. He wasn’t used to events like this—award galas, cameras flashing, people whispering your name with admiration.

“You worked too hard for this,” he’d said. “I’m not missing it.”

Now you stood at the podium, heart pounding, trophy cool against your palm.

You thanked your team, your family, your supporters. The speech you gave was flowing smoothly… until you glanced back at Kagami.

He looked nervous. Proud. Completely out of place and proud—and completely yours.

A sudden spark of mischief lit inside you. You leaned closer to the mic.

“And of course,” you said sweetly, “shout out to the designer who custom-made this dress for tonight…”

A few polite laughs rippled through the crowd.

Then, channeling the bold, playful energy of Nicki Minaj’s iconic award speech—yes, the one where she thanked Donatella Versace and gave a certain shout-out to Michael B. Jordan—you added:

“And shout out to my very handsome date… for helping me out of it later tonight.”

The entire room erupted. The boys spit out their water. Within a few minutes, Midorima had gone from lettuce green to tomato red. He wouldn't be seen in public with you for the next few weeks. That was certain.

Cameras instantly swiveled toward Kagami. For a split second, he froze.

Then—Red. Crimson red. From the tips of his ears to the collar of his shirt.

You had seen Kagami face down national champions without flinching. You had seen him block impossible shots, glare down opponents twice his size.

You had never seen him look this flustered. He shot you a look that was equal parts embarrassed and challenged.

You smiled innocently and finished your speech.

The moment you stepped offstage, he was there. Not storming. Not dragging you away. Just… there.

“You really had to say that?,” he muttered, voice low so only you could hear.

You tilted your head,“What? It was funny.”

“You basically put a spotlight on me.”

“You can handle spotlights,” you teased. “You’re a big deal athlete now, remember?”

He huffed, but there was no real irritation in it. His hand found your waist naturally, grounding, warm.

“You think I won’t follow through now?” he asked quietly.

Your breath hitched—not because the words were explicit, but because of the promise beneath them.

Kagami wasn’t flashy. He wasn’t smooth.

He was sincere. And when he committed to something, he meant it. You leaned closer, fingers brushing the lapel of his suit. “Guess we’ll have to leave before the afterparty gets too crowded,” you murmured.

His eyes darkened—not with anything crude, but with focus. The same look he wore before a game-winning play.

“Yeah,” he said simply. “We will.”

As you walked out together, fingers intertwined, the noise of the gala faded behind you.

Tonight wasn’t about the cameras. Or the applause. Or the headlines.

It was about the way his thumb traced slow circles against your hand. The way he opened the car door for you, still slightly pink but smiling. The way his gaze lingered—not on the dress itself, but on you.

⊹˚˖୧ hyōma

he isolated himself at first but eventually opened up to his close friends. he took a lot of time off from professional soccer, the most out of the four on this list.

heartbroken would be an understatement. every aspect of his life just feels wrong without you. eating, sleeping, grocery shopping, attending events ... it all just feels off.

I’ll be honest, he cries a lot. he isn’t ashamed about it, though. he’s trying to work through his emotions and knows that he eventually needs to get help once he’s ready.

he starts to rely on his friends and goes to therapy, which he wasn't used to; but he knows that it's what you would want for him.

his friends and family don’t avoid talking about you and you’re not a “touchy subject.” chigiri encourages them to think about you and reminisce on all of the memories. you’ll always be a part of him.

he does end up dating someone new, but he really has to force himself. his mother and sister were so worried about him, and he's trying to move on to ease their concern.

still wears your wedding ring for almost two years. the new girlfriend is not happy about it, but when she brings it up, chigiri snaps.

“what, so insecure that you’re jealous over someone who's dead?”

it causes an argument, but he ends up putting it in the safe a few months later, mostly so people don’t assume he’s married to his current girl. she stays with him for the money, but he never proposes.

hyōma visits your grave every week at first, so he can talk to you and be alone. as he starts to heal, it's about every four months going forward.

— THOSE WHO CAN’T MOVE ON.

⊹˚˖୧ rin

he ends up being completely listless and closes himself off even more from people than he was already. he never stopped wearing his wedding ring.

rin is enough of a loner as is. when he finally found you, he knew that there could be no one else for him. it would be impossible for him to move on.

his family is worried about him, but he's always been this way, really. they're not going to push him to start another relationship.

he relies on soccer and working out to distract himself. constantly blaring music through his headphones so he can't think, working himself to exhaustion every single day. no breaks, no women.

being exhausted and always wanting to sleep usually backfires though, because he almost always dreams about you. usually nightmares because of how much he misses you, but he feels so relieved and content when he has a nice dream.

as the years go on, the nightmares subside and the good dreams are much more frequent.

rin visits your grave about every month or two, depending on how he's feeling and what his soccer schedule is like. always excited to share his achievements with you, and he can still imagine just what your voice sounded like and how proud you would be.

⊹˚˖୧ reo

losing you completely devastated his life. he moved in with nagi after it happened; you were the one thing that was more important to him than his best friend, and now you were gone. and nothing could undo it.

he kept all of your belongings at his house, except anything that your family wanted. he couldn't bring himself to get rid of anything. he brought some of your jewelry, books, perfumes, and plushies to nagi's place. reo's own home now sits cold and unlived.

I kinda feel like he would slut himself out in an attempt to ease his pain. he was lonely, vulnerable, and attractive. he would fuck friends, acquaintances, randoms — some of which he didn't even know their names.

reo still wore his wedding ring except on nights that he was looking for hookups. even when he did have it on, it's not like that stopped most people who were trying to get close to him for his money, anyway.

nagi would try his best to support reo, but they were both pretty awful at communicating their emotions. reo relied on nagi to a toxic extent, becoming even more possessive over his friend now that he didn't have you to care for.

on really bad nights, he'll cuddle up with nagi and cry into his chest for hours, even years after losing you. luckily reo doesn’t drink often, or these nights would be even worse.

reo visits your grave for most holidays or whenever he’s feeling lonely, always making sure that you have a fresh and pretty bouquet that reflects the seasons.

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notes. thank u for the request, nonnie! I hope that u like it :) likes, reblogs & comments much appreciated!◞♡ do not copy, repost, modify, or translate my writing anywhere for any reason.