gojomyshayla

[gojomyshayla]

................Misty palace....................

( body guard! Jungkook × princess reader )

Summary: A princess of Satara, raised as an ornament in a gilded cage, meets Jeon Jungkook—her silent, storm-eyed bodyguard. Assigned to protect her, he becomes the only constant in her ever-changing, suffocating world. Over years of duty, silence, and stolen glances, an unspoken bond forms between them. But when her fate is sealed in a political marriage, one stormy night forces them to confront the truth and neither dares to speak.

Disclaimer: This is a fictional story inspired by historical Indian settings. It does not reflect real events or real people. Jungkook and other characters are portrayed in a purely imaginative context.

Trigger Warnings: Contains themes of arranged marriage, emotional neglect, mild violence, and gender-based discrimination. Reader discretion is advised.

Note: it's so humbling to see people ain't enjoying this 😝😝

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Prologue.... Chapter 1 (more chapters to come...)

You were seven years old when he first arrived at the palace gates of Satara.

Jeon Jungkook.

The name meant nothing to you then, just another foreign syllable added to the long list of people who came and went in your ornamental life. But his face stayed.

Even at fourteen, he stood taller than most of the men in your father’s guard, his shoulders already broad, jaw sharp despite the softness of boyhood still clinging to him. But what struck you the most—what made you peek around the pillars of the inner courtyard that day—were his eyes.

Not brown like yours, not black like the guards.

They were the color of monsoon rain.

Not just the color of rain, but the weight of it. As if every cloud that had hovered over your short, structured life had found a home in his quiet gaze.

He was to be your personal bodyguard.

Not because you were important.

But because you were being prepared.

A daughter who had to live long enough to be sold off was an investment worth protecting.

---

“Jeon Jungkook,” the court official had called, unrolling the scroll like a prophecy. “Trained in the Eastern Hill Ranges. Orphan. No land. No title. Sworn to the house of Satara until death.”

He had bowed then. Deep, precise, eyes to the floor.

You had been standing just behind your father’s chair, dressed in brocade and bangles too heavy for your wrists, your mother’s hand on your shoulder stiff like marble. They hadn’t introduced you, only gestured.

“That is the girl you’ll protect,” your father had said, without so much as looking at you. “See that she bleeds only when commanded to.”

You’d flinched at his words, even though they were delivered like everyday conversation. Jungkook’s eyes had flickered upward. Just briefly.

That was your first meeting.

Not a greeting.

Not an exchange.

Just an assignment.

_________________________________________

You tried to be indifferent to him.

You had learned already, even at seven, that the more you cared for someone, the easier it was for them to be taken away. Tutors were dismissed. Maids reassigned. Even your own wet nurse had been “rotated out” when your mother felt she was too attached to you.

So you didn’t speak to Jungkook for days.

But he was always there.

Standing by your classroom door while you recited poetry. Shadowing you during temple walks. Waiting by your bedchamber doors until the night lamp was blown out.

And the thing about silence was—yours recognized his.

You were taught to be quiet. Jungkook chose to be.

The first time you ever truly noticed him—not as a guard, but as a person—was the day you fell from the courtyard steps.

You were racing down, too quick in your anklets, when your foot caught on your dupatta and you hit the marble hard.

The palace echoed with your cry.

Servants panicked, rushing to help. Your lady-in-waiting screamed something about broken teeth and the difficulties you would face in marrying. But before anyone else could reach you, he did.

He knelt, wordless, lifting you gently, your sobs hiccupping against his shoulder. One of your bangles had cracked in half and your elbow was bleeding. You could feel the warm stickiness of it through your fabric.

He didn’t flinch at the blood. He didn’t speak.

He just carried you.

Through the garden. Up the stairs. Past the onlookers. All the way to your inner chambers, where the physicians would come later.

And that’s when you whispered, cheeks wet, voice trembling—

“You didn’t ask me to walk. Why?”

His voice was quiet, like footsteps on temple stone.

“Because you’ve been walking alone your whole life.”

From that day, you followed him.

Not in the literal sense—Satara’s rules didn’t allow a princess to chase after a guard like a puppy

but emotionally, spiritually, invisibly.

You watched him during sword training from your balcony.

You brought him water laced with cardamom in the afternoons and pretended it was for the other guards.

You asked about his home one day, and he said, “It was loud, i had two sisters and a mother. Father left as soon as my youngest sister was born."

That night, as you stood in your balcony, you looked at the bright seemly perfect moom and whispered a prayer for a home he would one day find again.

As the years unfurled, so did you.

Your figure began to blossom into the woman you were raised to be. Your eyes learned how to lower without seeming weak. Your voice turned softer, sweeter—coached into a melody men would pay dowries to own.

But inside, beneath the silks, you were fire and questions.

Why did your father never look you in the eye?

Why was your hand being promised like a treaty?

Why did the man standing silently behind you make your heart beat louder than the palace drums during festivals?

You never asked aloud.

Jungkook never broke rank.

But sometimes—just sometimes—he’d glance at you when you weren’t looking.

And sometimes you’d catch him.

---

On your sixteenth birthday, you were officially declared of marriageable age.

The court erupted in celebration. Princes from as far as Kashmir and Lanka sent gifts. One even sent a live tiger. Another sent a ruby the size of a lychee.

Your father announced that a suitor had already been chosen.

You’d never met him. You wouldn’t, until the engagement ceremony.

But he was older. A widower. Twice. With daughters of his own. His lands were prosperous, his ambitions larger than life.

And you—you were his next acquisition.

That night, you sat by the palace window, the storm rolling in over the Sahyadri hills, thunder grumbling like a warning from the gods.

Jungkook stood outside, soaked from the rains, still on watch.

You opened the window. "You’ll catch fever.”

“I don’t fall ill easily.”

“You’ve been out there all night.”

“You’ve been crying all night.”

Your breath caught.

He didn’t look at you. Just clenched his jaw and said, “I would fight the storm for you.”

You swallowed, voice shaking. “Then why can’t you fight the fate they’ve written for me?”

Silence.

Lightning split the sky.

And for the first time ever, Jungkook broke a rule.

He looked straight at you, his eyes unreadable, chest rising with something heavy, something dangerous.

“Because if I did... I wouldn’t be your guard anymore.”

And with that, he bowed low, and turned away..leaving you and your helpless heart behind the curtains of a storm.

[gojomyshayla]

.......A Misty palace..........

**********************************************

( bodyguard! Jungkook × princess! Reader!)

Summary: A princess of Satara, raised as an ornament in a gilded cage, meets Jeon Jungkook, her silent, storm-eyed bodyguard. Assigned to protect her, he becomes the only constant in her ever-changing, suffocating world. Over years of duty, silence, and stolen glances, an unspoken bond forms between them. But when her fate is sealed in a political marriage, one stormy night forces them to confront the truth and neither dares to speak.

Note: I HAVE RISEN FROM THE SHAMBLES GUYS, sorry for not posting for so long 😝— life just got busy but to compensate for my sins , i represent you de' ladies and gentlefolk a desi historical Jeon Jungkook ff👅🗣️🗣️ (also i always fumble with the titles ,please suggest me some 😭🙏🏻)

Disclaimer: This is a fictional story inspired by historical Indian settings. It does not reflect real events or real people. Jeon Jungkook and other characters are portrayed in a purely imaginative context.

Trigger warnings: Contains themes of arranged marriage, emotional neglect, mild violence, and gender-based discrimination. Reader discretion is advised.

Prologue: (more chapters to come....)

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡...............................Prologue..................................

It was a stormy night, the road clogged with huge streams of muddy, murky water, when the Princess of Satara was born.

A daughter.

Not a son.

The midwives exchanged glances, their hands trembling as they cradled the wailing infant. Outside, thunder cracked the sky in two. Inside, the walls echoed not with celebration, but a heavy noisy silence.

In a palace that had waited for a male heir, a daughter was disappointment .

A sigh. A burden.

She was not the roaring lion they had prayed for.she was a flickering diya in the wind.

Your father, the King of Satara, did not smile when he saw you. He barely touched you. A royal daughter was a bargaining chip, not a blessing.

Born not of love, but of duty.The beautiful, soft hearted princess was nothing but a bussiness trade for her father.

Even before you could sit straight without your lady-in-waiting’s hand at your back, your future had already been calculated to the decimal. You would be trained to hold your tongue, curve your smile, and wear the finest jewels as armor.

Your wrists bore bangles—figuratively, if not literally, the moment you opened your eyes.

And your path?

It led straight into the arms of a man ten years your senior, a prince from a rival kingdom, a widower twice over, and father to two daughters. His wives had “failed” to give him a son.

He would try again with....you woth time

But the universe had other plans.

A small beam of light in your dusky, fog-laced world. a small ray of hope you must protect, for it’s the very light that will guide you through even the fiercest storms..

Jeon Jungkook.

A boy with no royal blood, but a royal heart.

Your sworn bodyguard.

Your sword and shield.

Your eventual salvation.

[gojomyshayla]

✷Nightly wonders ✷

(gojo x reader)

Warnings: This fic contains NSFW/explicit content (18+), including detailed smut, strong language, teasing, dirty talk, praise kink, mild degradation kink (light mocking), possessiveness, manhandling (wrist pinning, holding down), oral (female receiving), and protected/unprotected sex (depending on interpretation). There’s also overstimulation and a hint of aftercare. If any of these themes make you uncomfortable, please proceed with caution.

Author’s Note: YO, I JUST UNLOCKED ADULT MODE—NO MORE PG-13, ONLY EXPLICIT CHAOS FROM HERE ON OUT. I’ve got the legal pass to be unhinged, and you bet I’m using it to write the most brainrotted, down-bad, absolutely feral fanfics imaginable.

Summary : All you wanted was to help your one and only best friend Gojo Satoru However gojo seems to have some other things in mind....

(i want him so fking bad)

The air in Gojo’s dorm was thick with the faint scent of his cologne—something fresh, clean, but distinctly him. The dim lighting cast seductive shadows across his chiseled features, accentuating the playful smirk he wore as he leaned closer, his breath fanning against your skin.

This wasn’t how the night was supposed to go.

You were here to help him with calculus, not to be pinned beneath him, half-naked and utterly at his mercy. But with the way his large, warm hands traced slow, torturous circles along your thighs, teasing, coaxing a gasp from your lips, you weren’t complaining.

A soft chuckle left him, low and amused. .

The night was thick with tension, the dim glow of the city casting seductive shadows over Gojo’s chiseled frame as he hovered above you. His hands, large and warm, traced slow, torturous circles along your thighs, teasing, coaxing a gasp from your lips.

“You always get like this when I touch you,” he murmured, voice dripping with amusement as his lips ghosted over your collarbone. His breath fanned against your heated skin, leaving goosebumps in its wake.

You never realised how a supposed study session turned into a full blown makeout .

Books long discarded . You were not laying on the bed of satoru's personal dorm room

half naked

Gojo satoru ,blessed with godly looks and generational wealth , who also happend to be the strongest sorcerer in the world ,was failing in calculus.

And you ,being the being his best friend decided to help after he kindly went up for help (he straight up went to your class and partially kidnapped you ) it was supposed to be just a teaching session keyword: just

but boy...

Well it didn't go like it should have...

You arched against him, desperate for friction, your fingers fisting in his soft white locks as he trailed wet, open-mouthed kisses down your torso. His tongue flicked over your sensitive flesh, a sinful smirk curving against your skin as your breath hitched.

“Gojo,” you whimpered, barely recognizing your own voice.

He clicked his tongue, his grip tightening as he pinned your wrists above your head. “Tsk. Use my name properly, sweetheart.”

You swallowed hard, heat pooling low in your belly. “Satoru... please we shouldn't do this" she begged totally not meaning it.

"Alright baby.." ,he withdrew his hand ,making you whimper.

"I thought you didn't want this sweetheart.", He mockingly laughed at you.

His low groan sent a shiver through you.

"No..I want..no need it please satoru.." ,you cheeks flared at your own words. You sound so desperate for him.

“That’s more like it.” His hands roamed lower, fingers tracing every dip and curve of your body, igniting every nerve ending along the way. The slow, teasing pace was torturous, leaving you aching for more.

He smirked at your desperate whimper, the smug expression only making your body tighten with anticipation. “So needy,” he murmured, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. “I love it when you beg.”

His mouth continued its descent, leaving a path of open-mouthed kisses and bites down your stomach, savoring every reaction he pulled from you. When his hands finally slipped between your thighs, you gasped, back arching off the mattress as heat surged through your veins.

“Satoru, please,” you panted, thighs trembling beneath his touch.

He hummed in satisfaction. “You’re so sensitive tonight.” His fingers pressed against your core, a slow, torturous pressure that had you keening. “Is this what you want?”

You nodded frantically, hips bucking in search of more friction. His chuckle was low and indulgent. “Impatient, aren’t we?”

He finally gave in, fingers slipping beneath the last barrier of fabric separating you. The first touch of his skin against your heat had you gasping, nails digging into his shoulders. He watched your every reaction with those piercing blue eyes, his smirk widening as he set a slow, delicious rhythm.

“Look at you,” he mused, voice thick with desire. “Falling apart just from my fingers.”

You barely had time to catch your breath before his mouth joined in, hot and wet, tongue working in tandem with his skilled hands. Your body trembled, pleasure mounting until you were barely coherent, his name falling from your lips like a prayer.

Satoru drank in every sound, every arch of your body, pushing you further until you shattered beneath him. And as you lay there, gasping, skin burning from his touch, he leaned in, pressing a lingering kiss to your lips.

“We’re not done yet, sweetheart.”

His hands gripped your thighs, spreading you wider beneath him as he pressed his length against your core, teasing, dragging himself against your wetness with a low groan. The heat of him, the sheer size, made your breath hitch.

“Satoru—” Your voice was cut off as he pushed inside, the stretch making you gasp, fingers clutching desperately at his arms.

His head fell forward, breath hot against your neck as he groaned. “Fuck, you feel so good.” He gave you a moment, letting you adjust before he rolled his hips, setting a slow, torturous pace that had you clenching around him.

The rhythm built gradually, his pace deep and controlled, making you feel every inch of him. Every thrust sent pleasure surging through your veins, his name spilling from your lips in a litany of gasps and moans.

“Look at you,” he murmured, lifting your chin so your eyes met his. “So perfect, taking me so well.”

His control snapped when you clenched around him, the sensation making him groan as he quickened his pace. The room filled with the sounds of skin against skin, ragged breathing, and the desperate moans you couldn’t hold back.

He shifted, angling his hips just right, hitting that spot that had you arching beneath him, a cry tearing from your throat. “Right there, huh?” he teased, but his voice was strained, his own pleasure catching up to him.

Your body tensed, pleasure coiling tight in your belly, pushing you closer and closer to the edge. “Satoru—I’m—”

“Come for me,” he commanded, voice husky and full of need. And with one final thrust, you shattered, body shaking, vision blurring as waves of pleasure crashed over you.

He followed soon after, groaning your name as he buried himself deep, body trembling above yours.

For a moment, neither of you moved, bodies tangled, breath mingling as you came down from the high. Then he pressed a lazy kiss to your lips, smirking.

After a few moments of peace you finally found yourself asking." Satoru...w..what are we?" Your voice cracked,

Satoru looked at you like you are several times more precious than all the stars combined together in the night sky.

"What do you want us to be sweetheart?", He

shyly tucked a strand of hair behind your ear

like he did not rearranged your guts minutes ago.

"I..I want us to be together Forever"

Gojo smiled at your words "we will.. forever"

[gojomyshayla]

(A Non-Sorcerer AU Gojo x Studious Reader Fanfic)

For more gojo content click masterlist

Summary :Gojo Satoru is the most annoying flirt in your university. You, the top student, have no time for distractions. Unfortunately, Gojo loves being your biggest distraction—until a bet and an accidental kiss change everything.

_________________________________________

The Walking Disaster Named Gojo Satoru

_____________________________

Your life was supposed to be simple.

Go to class. Take notes. Study hard. Get good grades. Graduate with honors.

It was a foolproof plan—until Gojo Satoru ruined it.

Tall, annoyingly handsome, and with an ego bigger than your entire textbook collection, Gojo was the human equivalent of a problem set you didn’t want to solve.

And the worst part? He was actually smart.

If he used even 1% of his brainpower, he’d be at the top with you. But no—he chose to waste it all on annoying you.

Like today.

You were peacefully studying in the library when—

“Hey, sweetheart.”

You sighed. “Go away, Satoru.”

“No can do.” He dramatically pulled out the chair across from you. “I missed you.”

You didn’t even look up. “We have class together every morning.”

“I know,” he said, propping his chin on his hand. “But a whole two hours without you? Agony.”

You slammed your book shut. “Shouldn’t you be studying?”

“Nah.” He stretched lazily. “I have you for that.”

You raised an eyebrow. “You what?”

“You’re smart. If I hang around you long enough, osmosis should do its thing.”

“That’s not how it works.”

He smirked. “Are you sure? Because I definitely feel smarter when I’m around you.”

You rolled your eyes. “You are insufferable.”

“You love me.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Your heart says otherwise.”

“I will throw this book at you.”

He grinned. “And I’d still call you beautiful.”

You groaned. Why was he like this?!

After weeks of Gojo-induced suffering, Geto (his best friend and your accidental therapist) finally made a suggestion.

“If he’s annoying you that much,” he said, “why don’t you make a bet?”

That’s how you found yourself standing in front of Gojo with an offer he couldn’t refuse.

“If you can go a whole week without flirting,” you said, “I’ll treat you to that expensive café you like.”

Gojo perked up. “Oh? And if I lose?”

“You leave me alone for the rest of the semester.”

A moment of silence. Then—

He smirked.

“Deal.”

Day 1:

You fully expected Gojo to crack within five minutes.

But when you walked into class, he just… nodded at you.

No wink. No comment. Not even a smirk.

Suspicious.

The whole day passed without a single cheesy pickup line. It was unsettling.

Day 2:

Still no flirting. But now? He looked miserable.

At lunch, he dramatically slumped over the table. “I feel like I’m dying.”

“You’re being dramatic,” Geto said.

Gojo groaned. “I just miss her.”

You raised an eyebrow. “I’m literally right here.”

“No, I mean…” He waved his hand vaguely. “I miss flirting with you.”

You rolled your eyes. “You’re pathetic.”

He sighed. “I know.”

Day 3:

Gojo almost cracked.

“Hey, can you pass me that—” He stopped mid-sentence, visibly struggling.

You smirked. “That… what?”

He clenched his fists. “Nothing. Forget it.”

“You were about to say something flirty, weren’t you?”

“No!”

“You so were.”

He pouted. “This is torture.”

Day 5:

Gojo was a mess.

By the time you found him in the library, head down and suffering, you almost felt bad.

“Satoru,” you sighed. “You know you don’t have to keep doing this, right?”

He lifted his head. “But then I lose.”

“You look miserable.”

“I just—I like making you smile. I like making you roll your eyes at me. I like—” He hesitated. “—being around you.”

Your face felt hot.

“You’re ridiculous,” you muttered.

He smirked. “Do you miss me too?”

“…No.”

“You hesitated!”

You smacked him with your book. “Shut up.”

---

After a few days , things got more intense You and Gojo often bickered, but this? This was next level.

“You stole my pen!”

Gojo gasped dramatically. “How dare you accuse me of such a crime?!”

You pointed at the pen in his hand. “That’s my pen, you idiot.”

Gojo smirked. “Finders keepers.”

You lunged for it. “Give it back!”

“Make me.”

Bad idea.

Because the second you grabbed his wrist, he tripped. And in the worst, most cliché way possible—

He fell. Right on top of you.

Lips brushing.

Eyes wide.

Time stopped.

Gojo’s face turned red. “Uh—”

You pushed him off. “Y-YOU IDIOT!”

He blinked, still dazed. Then—

He grinned.

“Ohhh,” he drawled. “So that’s what you wanted?”

You threw a book at him.

---

Despite everything, Gojo never actually confessed.

So one day, you decided to take control.

“Satoru.”

He perked up. “Yeah?”

You took a deep breath. “If I asked you out right now, what would you say?”

His sunglasses nearly fell off his face.

He opened his mouth. Then closed it. Then opened it again.

“I—wha—HUH?”

You raised an eyebrow. “Yes or no?”

His brain short-circuited.

“YES—WAIT—ARE YOU SERIOUS?!”

You shrugged. “Maybe.”

He gasped. “You’re flirting with me?”

You smirked. “Guess I learned from the best.”

Gojo blinked. Then, suddenly, he grinned.

“Oh, you’re so in for it now.”

[gojomyshayla]

No warning!

Gojo x senior!reader pt.2

Trope : one bed trope, oblivious reader , lover boy gojo. Slight grumpy x sunshine (gojo is the sunshine here)

Starring : second year!gojo , senior!fem!reader highschool geto and shoko

A/n man i love writing about highschool gojo being lovesick 😭

Summary : Gojo Satoru might act cool and untouchable, but when it comes to you—his sweet, oblivious senpai—he's completely whipped. He melts at the smallest things you do, but you never notice. When a mission forces you both to stay in a small inn with only one bed, things get even harder for him.

✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿

Gojo Satoru Has a Problem.

A very big problem.

And that problem is you.

From the moment he became a first-year at Jujutsu High, Gojo had been doomed. You were the kind of girl who made heads turn without trying, effortlessly charming with your kindness and intelligence. Strong, graceful, and so sweet—it made him feel like he was going insane.

The worst part? You were completely oblivious to the effect you had on him.

Every time you smiled at him, fixed his uniform, or called him "Satoru" in that soft voice, his heart short-circuited. But you never noticed. You just kept being your sweet self, completely unaware that the "strongest sorcerer" was actually the weakest when it came to you.

And now? He was stuck on a mission with you.

A solo mission with just the two of you.

Yeah. He was screwed.

---

The train ride to the mission site was peaceful—for you. For Gojo? Absolute torture.

You sat right beside from him, quietly reading a book while he pretended to nap, sneaking glances at you from behind his sunglasses. The way you absentmindedly chewed your lip in concentration, the way your fingers played with the edge of the page—it was unfair.

At one point, you sighed and stretched, your foot accidentally nudging his. “Ah, sorry, Satoru.”

He nearly died.

“N-no problem,” he muttered, turning his head toward the window to hide his red face.

You tilted your head. “Are you feeling okay?”

No, I am not okay, you’re too cute and it’s ruining my life.

“Pfft. Of course! I’m Gojo Satoru,” he said with a cocky grin, masking his internal crisis.

You just laughed. “If you say so.”

Gojo sighed. This was going to be a long trip.

"Satoru, why do you look so nervous? Are you scared that the mission won't go well?" You chuckled it's almost laughable how oblivious you could be .

"Nervous? Me? You wish.", he replied with a sumgness that somehow made your heart race faster..

Soon the two of you fell into complete silence. Not an awkward one rather a comfortable one .

---

The task itself wasn’t hard—just some low-level curses in a rural town. It should’ve been easy, a simple in-and-out job. But, of course, things never went as planned.

“We should stay the night,” you said, stretching your arms as you looked at the darkening sky. “It’s too late to head back now.”

Gojo groaned internally. Staying the night meant finding an inn. And finding an inn meant—

“We only have one room left,” the old lady at the front desk told you with an apologetic smile. “I hope that’s alright.”

Gojo nearly choked.

You, ever the rational one, just nodded. “That’s fine. Thank you.”

Fine?! FINE?!

He was about to share a room with you, and you thought it was fine?!

---

As soon as you both got to the room, you opened your bag and sighed. “Ah, I forgot my toothbrush.”

Gojo, who had been dramatically flopping onto the bed, sat up. “Want to share mine?” he teased.

You gave him a flat look. “That’s disgusting, Satoru.”

He grinned. “It’s romantic.”

You ignored him, instead pulling out a lollipop from your bag. “I guess I’ll just brush my teeth with this.”

Gojo watched in horror as you put the lollipop in your mouth. “That is not how dental hygiene works, senpai.”

You shrugged. “Sugar kills bacteria.”

Gojo sighed. He really was in love with a menace.

---

Gojo satoru.A man who is not only know to the scorcer world but also among the ladies.He away have women lingering around him is now nervous , the reason is you

As soon as you entered the room you saw something unexpected

The room was small, cozy, and had only one bed.

Gojo stared at it like it personally offended him. He could handle fighting Special Grade curses, but this? This was a battle he wasn’t prepared for.

You, on the other hand, were completely unbothered. You tossed your bag on the floor and turned to him. “I’ll take the floor,” you said, as if that was a normal thing to do.

Gojo frowned. “No way. I’ll take the floor.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Satoru, you’re taller than me. You’ll be uncomfortable.”

She’s worried about my comfort? His heart skipped a beat.

He quickly shook his head. “Nah, it’s fine. I’m used to suffering.”

You rolled your eyes, stepping closer. “Don’t be ridiculous. We can just share.”

Share?

Gojo.exe stopped working.

His brain short-circuited. Completely. Totally. Catastrophically.

He tried to act cool, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “O-oh. Yeah. I mean—if you insist.”

He was going to die tonight.

---

Soon they both settled down after their dinner that Gojo paid with his own black caed

Gojo barely slept. He stayed completely still, paralyzed, while you lay peacefully beside him, breathing softly.

Then, in the middle of the night—

You rolled over and cuddled into him.

His entire body went rigid.

Your arms tucked against his chest, your head resting near his shoulder. You looked so peaceful, your warm breath fanning against his neck.

Gojo was dying.

His heart was beating too fast, his mind screaming, but he didn’t dare move. If I move, she’ll wake up, and then I’ll never get to experience this again.

So, he just… lay there. Wide-eyed. Trying not to combust.

"She will kill me for sure" he said before wrapping his arms around him. He can't wait to share this with geto.

He admired her beautiful face , face illuminated by moonlight slipping through the slides of the window

---

The next morning, Geto and Shoko were waiting for them at Jujutsu High. The moment Gojo stepped into the classroom, looking dazed and sleep-deprived, Geto smirked.

“How was the mission?” he asked casually.

Gojo dropped into his chair and groaned. “The worst.”

Shoko raised an eyebrow. “Didn’t you two just exorcise some low-level curses?”

Gojo buried his face in his arms. “Yeah, but we had to share a bed.”

Silence.

Then—

Geto burst out laughing. “You shared a bed with her and you survived?"

Gojo turned Red "shut up curse eater"

Geto rolled his eyes and said "whatever lover boi"

Gojo was doomed

----

You had forgotten your notebook in the classroom.

It was early morning, and you didn’t expect anyone to be inside yet, but as you reached the door, you heard familiar voices.

Gojo. Geto. Shoko.

Curious, you paused outside the slightly open door.

“So, let me get this straight.” Geto’s voice was full of amusement. “You not only got to share a room with her but also slept in the same bed, and you’re still too much of a coward to confess?”

You blinked. Who were they talking about?

Gojo groaned dramatically. “You don’t get it, man. She’s not just any girl. She’s—” He hesitated. “She’s perfect.”

Your heart skipped a beat.

Shoko snorted. “You’re so down bad it’s embarrassing.”

“I am not down bad,” Gojo huffed.

“You let her cuddle you in her sleep and didn’t move a muscle because you didn’t want to wake her,” Geto deadpanned.

Gojo sputtered. “T-that doesn’t mean anything!”

Shoko laughed. “Oh, it so does.”

You covered your mouth, heart racing. They were talking about you.

Gojo Satoru—your annoying, arrogant, endlessly teasing junior—was completely and utterly in love with you.

And you had been completely oblivious.

Your face burned as you quietly stepped back. You needed to process this. Fast.

Because suddenly, you weren’t sure who was more doomed—Gojo or you.

✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿

[gojomyshayla]

Gojo x senior!reader

Warning: rotten fluff. slight angst (nothing serious) gojo got hurt:((. Gojo being a menace for society

Starring: second year! Gojo. Senior!fem!reader. Other characters like second year!geto and second year! Shoko

Summary: Gojo Satoru is a lovesick junior hopelessly chasing after his beautiful, tsundere senior. When a mission nearly kills him, she finally shows her softer side—proving that maybe, just maybe, she loves him too.

(The picture belongs to the rightful owner)

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Jujutsu High had seen its fair share of curses, battles, and absurd antics, but nothing—nothing—was as relentless as Gojo Satoru’s love for you.

"You think if I die in battle, she'd finally notice me?" Gojo dramatically slumped over his desk, his blindfold askew as he peeked at Geto Suguru and Shoko Ieiri for sympathy.

"Try actually doing your homework first," Geto sighed, flipping a page of his book.

"Or better yet, try shutting up," Shoko added, lighting up a cigarette.

Despite his endless charm, wit, and undeniably good looks, you—(L/N) (Y/N), Jujutsu High’s top senior—remained completely oblivious to his suffering. Or at least, that's what everyone thought.

You weren’t completely clueless. You knew Gojo Satoru had an annoying habit of hovering around you like a particularly persistent mosquito, popping up in your training sessions, stealing your snacks, and dramatically professing his love at the worst possible times.

What you didn't understand was why your heart always skipped a beat when he did.

It all started when Gojo was just a first-year, wide-eyed, cocky, and irritatingly charming. The moment he laid eyes on you— the stunning, intelligent, and way out of his league second-year—he was done for.

The problem? You had no idea.

Or at least, you pretended not to notice.

From the very beginning, Gojo trailed behind you like a lovesick puppy. He would “accidentally” bump into you in the hallways, dramatically declare his love during sparring sessions, and shamelessly follow you around campus.

You tolerated it, mostly because it was impossible to take him seriously. He was ridiculous, infuriating, and somehow… endearing.

“Senpai!” Gojo had whined during one of your early interactions, dramatically placing a hand on his chest. “What’s it going to take for you to fall in love with me?”

You gave him a deadpan stare. “A miracle.”

He grinned. “Good thing I’m Gojo Satoru. Miracles are my specialty.”

You rolled your eyes and walked away, but even then, you were fighting back a small smile.He made it almost impossible for you to find any boyfriend, he would just scare away any boy who would linger a little too much for his liking 

---

The first thing you saw when you walked into the classroom was Gojo sprawled across your desk, arms stretched dramatically, blocking any chance of you sitting down.

“Satoru,” you sighed. “Move.”

He peeked up from under his blindfold, a teasing grin stretching across his face. “Say ‘please’ first.”

You placed your hands on your hips, trying to look stern. It was impossible when he was looking at you like that—like you hung the moon and stars just for him.

“I’m going to count to three—”

Gojo immediately sat up, throwing his arms around himself. “Oh no, I’m so scared! What will my beautiful, terrifying senpai do to me?”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the small smile tugging at your lips. “ utahime is right .You’re insufferable.”

“And yet, you love me.”

You reached out, flicking his forehead lightly. “I tolerate you.”

Geto and Shoko, who had been watching the entire exchange from their seats, exchanged a look.

“She’s getting softer,” Shoko noted, exhaling smoke.

“Yeah,” Geto agreed. “It’s terrifying.”

--------

Studying was supposed to be peaceful. It was not—at least not when Gojo Satoru was involved.

You were flipping through a book, minding your own business, when you felt something lightly tap your cheek. You looked up to see Gojo twirling a candy wrapper between his fingers.

“What do you want?” you asked, already exasperated.

“Your attention,” he said shamelessly, scooting closer. “Also, I’m bored.”

“You could read,” you suggested, turning back to your book.

“You could kiss me,” he countered.

You choked. “Excuse me?”

Gojo laughed at your reaction, leaning back lazily. “It’s a valid suggestion.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “Try it and you’re getting thrown out of the library.”

“But senpai,” he whined, tilting his head cutely. “You’d really throw me out? Even after I brought you this?”

He held up a small bag of your favorite snacks. You stared at it, eyes sparkling.but you did not forgot he is gojo satoru, of course he wants something in return “What’s the catch?”

“No catch. Just wanna see you smile,” he said with a wink.

You rolled your eyes, but your heart melted just a little.

“Fine. Give me the snacks.”

"Give me a kiss first~.”

You huffed but relented. “Please, Satoru.”

"Kiss kiss~"

You let out a sigh and stood on your tip toes to give him a kiss.....on his cheeks of course 

Gojo grinned like he won the lottery and handed them over.his cheeks on fire

“See? That wasn’t so hard,” he teased.

“You’re lucky you’re cute,” you muttered under your breath.

“What was that?”

“Nothing.”

But Gojo heard it. And judging by the way his smile widened, you had just made his entire week.

----

“Senpai~” Gojo whined, trailing behind you like a lost puppy. “Can I have a bite?”

You sighed, looking down at the dango skewer in your hand. “Why? You literally bought your own.”

“Yeah, but yours looks better.”

“…It’s the same thing, Satoru.”

He leaned down, giving you a playful pout. “But it tastes better when you feed me.”

You huffed, pretending to be annoyed, but your cheeks warmed as you lifted a piece of dango to his lips. His grin widened before he bit into it, chewing happily.

Your heart fluttered. You quickly looked away, hoping he wouldn’t notice.

“You’re so cute when you’re shy, Senpai.”

You groaned, nudging him with your shoulder. “You’re impossible.”

“And you love it.”

Gojo’s Daily Attempts at Flirting persisted.

“Satoru, get off my desk.”

“But it’s so comfy.”

“Satoru, give me back my notes.”

“Say ‘Satoru, you’re the most handsome, strongest, and most amazing

---

After a few days,Gojo had been sent on a mission—a “routine” mission, Yaga had said. It was supposed to be easy.

But when he returned—unconscious, bloody, his usually bright presence reduced to something eerily fragile—you felt something close to panic grip your chest.

You had never seen him like this. Satoru was supposed to be invincible.

For days, you refused to leave his side.

You held his hand when he tossed and turned in his fevered sleep, whispered reassurances when he flinched at invisible threats in his unconscious state. You wiped his brow, murmured soft scoldings about how reckless he was, how much he scared you.

And then—

“Senpai…?”

Your heart clenched as his hoarse voice reached your ears. His eyes, still hazy, locked onto yours.

“Satoru.” Relief flooded you so intensely that you squeezed his hand without thinking. “You’re awake.”

He blinked sluggishly, then gave you the faintest, sleepiest grin. “Am I dreaming?”

You frowned. “No, you idiot.”

He hummed, his fingers weakly curling around yours. “Feels like a dream. You’re taking care of me… holding my hand… being all soft…”

Your face burned. “Shut up and go back to sleep.”

Gojo chuckled, but the sound was weak. “Okay… but only if you promise to stay.”

You hesitated for only a second before nodding. “I’ll stay.”

His grip on your hand tightened slightly. “Good. ‘Cause I love you.”

You inhaled sharply. But instead of scolding him like usual, you brushed his hair back and whispered, “I know, Satoru. Now rest.”

--------

The moment Gojo made a full recovery, he was unstoppable.

“She held my hand, Suguru.”

Geto sighed, rubbing his temples. “Yes, Gojo. You’ve mentioned that—about a hundred times.”

“She stayed by my side.”

Shoko took a drag of her cigarette. “Tragic.”

“She whispered my name.”

Geto groaned. “Please stop.”

Gojo leaned back, hands behind his head, a dreamy look in his eyes. “You guys don’t get it. This is destiny. Our wedding is practically inevitable. Just think about our wedding, honeymoon, cute babies-"

Shoko snorted. “You’re delusional.”

“I am delusionally in love.”

Shoko laughed at his claim "like she you choose you" 

Gojo pouted "you two are not invited to our wedding"

Meanwhile, outside the room, you covered your burning face with your hands.

Maybe… just maybe, you were starting to feel the same

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[gojomyshayla]

Hello friends ❤️✋

There is nothing left of our goal of $12,000 🎯💓

Less than $220 left 🚨💪

I really hope to achieve today's goal. 😔🇵🇸🍉

Please donate even a small amount of money in this urgent situation 🙏😞💚

Thank you so much 🍉🇵🇸

https://gofund.me/abbc2759

But please help the people in need guys!! Even if you can't donate , let's not forget the people suffering in Palestine!! repost it or share and let this campaign spread around the globe !!

[gojomyshayla]

Gojo satoru x wife! reader

Warning: nothing! Just pure fluff

A/n : this was my first time writing a gojo fanfic so I was not sure how to portray his personality 😭

Gojo Satoru treasures his beautiful partner and their cute son, Satoshi. Amid playful family moments and teasing banter, love deepens through soft yet intense passion, proving his devotion in every touch.

The first rays of dawn filtered through the sheer curtains, casting a gentle glow over the master bedroom. The soft hum of the city waking up was a distant murmur, but within the Gojo household, a different kind of morning ritual was unfolding.

You stirred awake to the familiar sensation of tiny fingers patting your cheek. Blinking away the remnants of sleep, your gaze met the sparkling blue eyes of your two-year-old son, Satoshi. His white hair, tousled from sleep, framed his cherubic face, making him look even more angelic.

"Mommy, up!" he chirped, his voice a delightful melody that never failed to brighten your day.

A soft chuckle escaped your lips as you sat up, pulling him into your lap. "Good morning, my little sunshine. Did you sleep well?"

Satoshi nodded enthusiastically, his grin widening to reveal the small gap where his baby tooth had recently fallen out. "Dreamed of flying with Daddy!"

Before you could respond, the bed dipped beside you, and a strong arm wrapped around your waist. "Flying, huh? Without me?" Gojo Satoru's playful pout was accompanied by a wink, his blindfold resting askew on his forehead, revealing one mesmerizing cerulean eye.

Satoshi giggled, reaching out to touch his father's face. "Daddy slow. Satoshi fly fast!"

Feigning offense, Satoru gasped dramatically. "Slow? Me? Never!" He scooped Satoshi into his arms, lifting him high above his head. "Whoosh! Look at you, soaring higher than the clouds!"

The room filled with the harmonious sound of your son's laughter, a symphony that made your heart swell with love. Watching the two most important people in your life share such pure joy was a sight you cherished every day.

As Satoru brought Satoshi back down, cradling him close, he pressed a gentle kiss to your temple. "Morning, beautiful."

You leaned into his touch, your fingers brushing against his. "Morning, Satoru."

Satoshi wriggled between you two, his eyes darting between his parents. "Family hug!"

Without hesitation, the three of you embraced, a tangle of limbs and love. In that moment, the world outside ceased to exist, and all that mattered was the warmth shared within these four walls.

Pulling back slightly, Satoru ruffled Satoshi's hair. "How about we make some breakfast? Pancakes sound good?"

Satoshi's eyes lit up like stars. "With strawberries!"

You laughed softly, sliding out of bed. "Strawberries it is. Let's get started."

As the three of you made your way to the kitchen, hand in hand, you couldn't help but feel a profound sense of gratitude. Life with Satoru and Satoshi was a beautiful adventure, one filled with love, laughter, and countless cherished moments.

-------

The kitchen buzzed with activity as the three of you embarked on your breakfast mission. Satoshi stood on his little step stool, his tiny hands eagerly reaching for the mixing bowl.

"Careful, buddy," Satoru cautioned with a grin, handing him a wooden spoon. "Stir gently, okay?"

Satoshi nodded, his tongue poking out in concentration as he mixed the batter. You watched with amusement, preparing the strawberries at the counter.

"You're doing great, Satoshi," you encouraged, slicing the berries into perfect halves.

Satoru sidled up beside you, his arm brushing against yours. "Need any help over here?"

You glanced at him, a playful glint in your eye. "Think you can handle the strawberries without eating them all?"

He feigned shock, placing a hand over his heart. "Me? Sneak strawberries? Never!"

As if on cue, Satoshi's giggle filled the room. "Daddy always eats them!"

You laughed, nudging Satoru with your elbow. "Busted."

Satoru leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a whisper meant only for you. "Can't help it when you're around; everything tastes sweeter."

A blush warmed your cheeks at his flirtatious tone. Even after years together, Satoru had a way of making your heart race with just a few words.

Before you could respond, Satoshi held up the spoon, batter dripping onto the counter. "All mixed!"

"Great job, sweetheart," you said, stepping over to ruffle his hair. "Let's pour it onto the griddle."

With Satoru's help, Satoshi carefully ladled the batter onto the hot surface, forming imperfect yet endearing circles. The sweet aroma of cooking pancakes soon filled the air, mingling with the scent of fresh strawberries.

As you set the table, Satoru leaned over, his lips brushing against your ear. "You know," he murmured, "watching you like this, being such an amazing mom... it's incredibly sexy."

Your breath hitched, and you shot him a warning look, glancing at Satoshi to ensure he hadn't heard. "Satoru," you whispered, "not in front of Satoshi."

He chuckled softly, his hand grazing the small of your back. "Can't help it. You're irresistible."

Before the moment could escalate, Satoshi called out, "Pancakes ready!"

Saved by your adorable son, you thought, smiling as you joined them at the table. The three of you dug into the fluffy pancakes, the room filled with contentment and love.

As you watched Satoshi smear syrup across his face in his enthusiastic eating, you felt Satoru's foot brush against yours under the table. Meeting his gaze, you saw the promise of later moments in his eyes, a silent understanding passing between you.

For now, you were a family enjoying breakfast. But the day held many more moments, some sweet, some intense, all shared with the man you loved and the child who was the embodiment of that love.

--------

After breakfast, the day unfolded with a series of delightful activities. Satoshi, ever the bundle of energy, insisted on a game of hide and seek. The apartment echoed with his giggles as he darted behind curtains and under tables, his attempts at concealment endearingly obvious.

"Where could Satoshi be?" Satoru mused aloud, his hand theatrically placed on his chin as he pretended to search the living room.

You played along, peeking behind the couch. "Hmm, he's such a good hider!"

A muffled giggle emerged from behind the curtains, the fabric trembling with Satoshi's barely contained excitement.

Satoru tiptoed closer, winking at you before pulling the curtain aside with a flourish. "Gotcha!"

Satoshi squealed in delight, launching himself into his father's arms. "Daddy found me!"

Lifting him high, Satoru spun him around, both of them laughing. "You're getting too good at this game, buddy."

As the afternoon sun cast golden hues across the room, the three of you settled on the floor with a collection of Satoshi's favorite toys. Building blocks became towering castles, and stuffed animals embarked on grand adventures orchestrated by your imaginative son.

At one point, as Satoshi narrated an elaborate tale involving a brave panda and a mischievous fox, you leaned back against the couch, watching the animated expressions on his face. Satoru sat beside you, his shoulder brushing against yours, a comfortable silence enveloping you both as you reveled in the simple joy of the moment.

"He's got quite the imagination," Satoru remarked softly, his eyes never leaving Satoshi.

You nodded, a smile tugging at your lips. "Takes after his father."

Satoru turned to you, a playful glint in his eye. "Oh? And here I thought he got his storytelling skills from his beautiful mother."

A blush warmed your cheeks at the compliment. Even after years together, Satoru had a way of making your heart flutter with just a few words.

Before you could respond, Satoshi crawled into your lap, holding up two stuffed animals. "Mommy, Daddy, let's play together!"

Sharing a knowing look, you and Satoru joined in, letting your son lead the way. The room filled with laughter and the occasional roar of a pretend dragon, the hours slipping by unnoticed.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm glow through the windows, you couldn't help but feel a profound sense of contentment. These simple moments, shared with the two people you loved most, were the ones you cherished deeply.

---------

The day had been filled with joy and laughter, and as evening settled in, a calm serenity enveloped the household. After a delightful dinner, Satoshi's energy began to wane, his earlier exuberance giving way to sleepy yawns.

"Looks like someone's ready for bed," you observed, brushing a stray lock of hair from Satoshi's forehead.

He rubbed his eyes, nodding drowsily. "Story time?"

"Of course, buddy," Satoru replied, scooping him up effortlessly. "Let's get you cleaned up first."

Bath time was a cherished routine, filled with bubbles, giggles, and the occasional splash war. Satoshi sat amidst the frothy water, his toys floating around him as he recounted his favorite parts of the day.

"And then the dragon said, 'Roar! I'm the king of the castle!'" he exclaimed, waving a rubber dragon in the air.

You laughed, rinsing the suds from his hair. "That was quite the adventure we had."

Once Satoshi was clean and wrapped snugly in his favorite towel, adorned with little panda ears, you led him to his room. The walls were painted a soft blue, decorated with stars and planets that glowed gently in the dim light.

Satoru settled into the rocking chair, Satoshi cradled in his arms, while you selected a book from the shelf. "How about 'The Brave Little Fox' tonight?"

Satoshi nodded, his eyes already drooping. As you read aloud, your voice soft and soothing, Satoru rocked gently, humming a lullaby under his breath.

By the time you reached the end of the story, Satoshi was fast asleep, his tiny hand clutching his father's shirt. You leaned over, pressing a tender kiss to his forehead. "Sweet dreams, my love."

Satoru carefully laid him in his crib, tucking the blankets around him. He stood there for a moment, watching the gentle rise and fall of Satoshi's chest, a look of pure adoration on his face.

You slipped your hand into his, giving it a gentle squeeze. "He's perfect."

Satoru turned to you, his eyes reflecting the soft glow of the nightlight. "Just like his mother."

Hand in hand, you left the room, leaving the door slightly ajar. The house was quiet now, the day's activities having lulled it into a peaceful slumber.

As you entered your bedroom, Satoru pulled you into his arms, his touch sending a familiar warmth through you. "Alone at last," he murmured, his lips brushing against your ear.

A shiver ran down your spine, anticipation building. "What did you have in mind?"

He leaned back, his gaze intense yet filled with love. "I think it's time I showed you just how much I appreciate everything you do."

Before you could respond, his lips captured yours in a searing kiss, igniting a fire that had been smoldering all day.

-----

The moon cast a silvery glow through the bedroom window, illuminating the space where you and Satoru lay entwined. The intensity of your earlier passion had given way to a comfortable silence, the only sounds being the soft rustle of sheets and the distant hum of the city night.

Satoru's fingers traced lazy patterns along your arm, his touch sending gentle shivers across your skin. "You know," he began, his voice a low murmur, "moments like these make me realize how lucky I am."

You tilted your head to look at him, your eyes meeting his in the dim light. "Oh? And why's that?"

A soft smile played on his lips. "Because I have everything I could ever want right here. A loving partner, a beautiful son, and a home filled with warmth."

Your heart swelled at his words, emotion tightening your throat. "I feel the same way, Satoru. You've given me a life I never dared to dream of."

He leaned in, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead. "I promise to cherish this, to cherish you, every single day."

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, and you nestled closer to him, finding solace in his embrace. "And I promise to do the same."

The two of you lay there, wrapped in each other's arms, the world outside fading into insignificance. In that quiet, intimate moment, you both understood that no matter what challenges lay ahead, together, you could face anything.

As sleep began to claim you, Satoru's voice whispered one last sentiment into the night. "I love you."

With a contented sigh, you replied, "I love you too."

[gojomyshayla]

A/n : ,you can clearly see who is my favourite character in haikyuu😭

Characters: this is a iwaizumi x reader fanfic . There are also some other characters

"My Queen"

Summary :Princess Y/N, trapped by royal duty, falls in forbidden love with her loyal attendant, Iwaizumi Hajime. When forced to marry another, they risk everything to escape the kingdom and build a life together. Through trials and sacrifice, they find freedom and a simple yet fulfilling love far from the palace's reach.

Warnings: Angst and emotional turmoil Power imbalance (royalty/servant dynamic),Controlling parental authority , mild violence (capture scene) , Elopement themes and Emotional intensity and vulnerability BUT HAPPY ENDING!!

Enjoy!! :)

*********************************************

The Kingdom of Solis was a golden paradise, its rolling fields kissed by the sun and its royal family revered by all. But within the grand palace walls, Princess Y/N lived a life that, while glittering on the surface, was nothing short of a gilded cage. Every word she spoke, every smile she offered, every step she took had been choreographed to perfection, a performance for her people, her court, and most of all, her father—King Alaric, whose belief in duty was as unyielding as iron.

Amidst the crushing weight of her responsibilities, the only light in Y/N’s life was Iwaizumi Hajime. He had grown up in the palace alongside her, the son of a knight who had fallen in service to the crown. Over time, Iwaizumi had risen to the role of her personal attendant. Their bond, forged in childhood, had only deepened with time, becoming something neither dared to name aloud. While the world saw a princess and her loyal servant, the truth was far more dangerous: they were in love.

It had started with fleeting glances and whispered words exchanged in the quiet corners of the palace. Then came the stolen moments in the hidden garden, where they could shed their titles and be simply Y/N and Hajime. He was her rock, the one who reminded her that she was more than a crown, more than the image her father had so carefully crafted. And she was his anchor, the one who saw past the armor he wore to the fiercely loyal, tender-hearted man beneath.

One such evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, Y/N slipped away from the watchful eyes of her handmaidens and guards, making her way to their secret meeting place. The garden was bathed in the soft glow of moonlight, and there, beside the pond, stood Hajime. His broad shoulders were tense, his hands clenched at his sides, but when he saw her, his expression softened.

“You’re late,” he murmured, stepping toward her.

“I had to sit through another lecture about tomorrow’s ball,” she replied, letting out a frustrated sigh. “My father is determined to parade me before every eligible nobleman in the kingdom.”

His jaw tightened, and she could see the barely contained anger in his eyes. “The Duke of Raelvis is coming, isn’t he?”

“Yes,” she admitted, her voice dropping to a whisper. “My father is convinced he’s the perfect match.”

Hajime cursed under his breath, running a hand through his dark hair. “This has to stop, Y/N. I can’t stand by and watch them try to take you away from me.”

“And I won’t let them,” she said fiercely, stepping closer to him. “You’re the only one I want, Hajime. The only one I’ll ever want.”

His hands cupped her face, his touch rough but tender. “You don’t know what you’re saying. If your father finds out—”

“Let him find out,” she interrupted, her voice trembling with emotion. “I don’t care anymore. I’m tired of hiding, tired of pretending. I love you, Hajime. Isn’t that enough?”

His lips met hers in a kiss that was both desperate and tender, a collision of emotions too powerful to contain. She clung to him, pouring every ounce of her fear, longing, and defiance into the kiss. In that moment, there was no crown, no kingdom, no rules—only them.

When they finally pulled apart, their foreheads rested together, their breaths mingling.

“It’s not enough,” he said, his voice breaking. “Not when your father would destroy me to protect your reputation. I can’t let you throw away your future for me, Y/N.”

“You are my future,” she said, her voice trembling. “I don’t care about the crown or the kingdom. I care about you.”

But their fragile moment of solace was shattered by a voice that cut through the night like a blade.

“Y/N.”

They turned to see King Alaric standing at the edge of the garden, his face a mask of fury.

“What is the meaning of this?” he demanded, his gaze flicking between his daughter and the man still standing too close to her.

“Father, I—”

“Silence!” he barked, his voice echoing through the garden. His eyes settled on Iwaizumi, cold and unyielding. “You dare to overstep your place, boy? Do you think you’re worthy of her?”

“This isn’t his fault,” Y/N said, stepping in front of Hajime as though to shield him from her father’s wrath. “I asked him to meet me.”

“And yet he came,” the king spat. “This ends now, Y/N. You will return to your chambers and prepare for tomorrow’s ball. As for him…” He turned to Hajime, his expression darkening. “If I so much as catch you looking at her again, I’ll have you banished—or worse.”

“Don’t you dare!” Y/N shouted, her voice cracking. “You can’t control my heart, Father. I love him, and there’s nothing you can do to change that.”

Her words hung in the air, heavy and defiant. But the king’s laughter was cold and bitter.

“Love?” he sneered. “Do you think love has any place in a crown? You will marry the Duke of Raelvis, and you will forget about this foolishness. That is an order.”

With that, he turned and stormed away, leaving them alone once more.

Y/N collapsed into Hajime’s arms, her tears soaking into his uniform. “What are we going to do?” she whispered.

“We’ll figure it out,” he said, though his voice was laced with doubt. “I won’t let him take you from me.”

That night, as they held each other under the moonlight, they made a pact: if the king forced her into a marriage, they would run.

The days that followed were a blur of tension and stolen moments. The ball came and went, with the Duke of Raelvis declaring his intention to wed the princess. The king was overjoyed, but Y/N’s heart was breaking.

On the eve of her betrothal announcement, she met Hajime in the garden one last time.

“Are you ready?” he asked, his voice heavy with emotion.

“Yes,” she said, though her heart was pounding. “Let’s leave tonight.”

But as they prepared to flee, the king’s guards found them. Hajime fought valiantly, his love for Y/N fueling his strength, but they were outnumbered.

Y/N was dragged back to the palace, where her father delivered his final ultimatum: marry the duke, or watch Hajime be executed for treason.

In the end, it was Hajime who made the choice.

“Do it,” he told her, his voice breaking as tears streamed down his face. “Marry him. Live. I’ll survive this, somehow. Just don’t let them take your life away too.”

And so, with her heart in pieces, Y/N stood before the court the next day and accepted the duke’s proposal.

But in the quiet corners of her heart, she knew her love for Hajime would never fade. And as she glanced at him standing silently among the guards, their eyes met, and she saw the promise in his gaze:

This wasn’t the end.

Their story was far from over.

---

Y/N stood in the grand hall, her fingers trembling as she clutched the edge of her gown. The court erupted into applause as the Duke of Raelvis took her hand, his arrogant smile stretched wide as though he’d won a prize. The weight of the crown she would someday wear felt heavier than ever. Her father’s approving nod from his gilded throne cut through her like a blade, a reminder that duty had won, that her love had been sacrificed on the altar of expectation.

But she couldn’t look at the duke, not when she knew Iwaizumi was standing among the guards, silently watching her. She didn’t dare meet his gaze—not yet. To see him now, to see his pain, might break her resolve entirely.

The feast continued, a blur of clinking goblets and hollow congratulations. Y/N moved like a puppet, nodding and smiling at all the right moments while her heart ached for the man she could never truly have.

Hours later, long after the court had gone to bed and the candles had burned low, she slipped away to the servants’ quarters. Her heart raced as she reached the door to Hajime’s room. She hesitated for a moment, her fingers hovering over the latch, before pushing it open.

He was seated on the edge of his bed, his hands clasped tightly together, his head bowed. When he looked up and saw her, his eyes softened, though they were heavy with exhaustion and sorrow.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he said quietly, rising to his feet.

“And yet, here I am,” she replied, stepping inside and closing the door behind her. “I couldn’t end the night like this, Hajime. Not without saying goodbye properly.”

His jaw tightened, and he shook his head. “Don’t do this to me, Y/N. Don’t make this harder than it already is.”

She crossed the room in a rush, her hands reaching for his. “I can’t let this be the end,” she whispered, her voice cracking. “I can’t spend the rest of my life pretending to love a man I don’t, while the one I truly love fades into the background.”

“You don’t have a choice,” he said, his voice raw with pain. “If you defy your father again, he’ll destroy us both. And I can’t… I can’t let that happen to you.”

“I’d rather risk it all than live a life without you,” she said fiercely, her hands gripping his. “There has to be another way, Hajime. Please. Tell me we can find a way.”

For a moment, he said nothing. Then he sighed, his shoulders slumping as though the weight of the world was pressing down on him. “There’s one chance,” he said slowly. “But it’s dangerous.”

“Tell me,” she urged.

“I still have friends among the knights, people who are loyal to me, not the crown,” he said. “If we leave the kingdom tonight, we can disappear. We’ll have to leave everything behind—your title, your family, everything.”

Her heart twisted at the thought of abandoning the only life she’d ever known. But when she looked into his eyes, she saw a future worth fighting for. “I’ll do it,” she said without hesitation. “I’ll leave it all behind for you.”

---

The next few hours passed in a blur. Hajime gathered what little he could carry—a cloak, a sword, and enough provisions to last them a few days. Y/N dressed in the plainest clothes she could find, a simple cloak pulled over her head to conceal her face.

As the first rays of dawn broke over the horizon, they slipped out of the palace through a hidden passage Hajime had used countless times during his training as a knight. The city was quiet, the streets empty save for the occasional patrol of guards. Hajime led her through the labyrinthine alleys with practiced ease, his hand never leaving hers.

When they finally reached the edge of the city, Y/N turned back for one last look at the palace. It loomed in the distance, a golden silhouette against the rising sun. Her chest tightened, but she knew there was no turning back now.

“Are you sure about this?” Hajime asked, his voice soft but steady.

She looked up at him, her heart swelling with love and determination. “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.”

---

The weeks that followed were grueling. They traveled by foot, avoiding towns and major roads, relying on Hajime’s skills as a former knight to keep them safe. Y/N, who had never known hardship, found herself learning to adapt to a life without luxury. Her feet blistered, her muscles ached, and she missed the comforts of home—but not once did she regret her decision.

Hajime, ever patient and protective, did everything he could to make the journey easier for her. He built fires to keep her warm at night, hunted for food when their supplies ran low, and held her close when the fear of being caught threatened to overwhelm her.

One night, as they sat by the fire under a blanket of stars, Y/N turned to him. “Do you ever regret this?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

He looked at her, his eyes filled with unwavering devotion. “Never,” he said. “As long as I have you, I have everything I need.”

Tears welled in her eyes, and she leaned in to kiss him, her heart full despite the uncertainty of their future.

---

Months later, they settled in a small village nestled in the mountains, far from the reach of the crown. Hajime found work as a blacksmith, his strong hands perfect for the trade, while Y/N helped tend the village gardens and care for the children. It was a simple life, nothing like the one she had known, but it was theirs.

Though they missed their home and the people they had left behind, they found solace in each other. Every glance, every touch, every whispered word of love reminded them why they had chosen this path. They had given up everything for the chance to be together, and it was a decision they would make again and again.

One evening, as they stood on the hill overlooking their village, Hajime wrapped his arms around her from behind, resting his chin on her shoulder.

“Do you ever think about what we left behind?” he asked softly.

“Sometimes,” she admitted, leaning into him. “But then I think about what we’ve gained. And I wouldn’t trade this for anything.”

He smiled, pressing a kiss to her temple. “You’re my queen, Y/N. Always.”

“And you’re my everything, Hajime,” she replied, turning to kiss him. “Always.”

As the sun set behind the mountains, painting the sky in hues of gold and crimson, they stood together, their hearts full, knowing that no matter what challenges lay ahead, they would face them as one.

[gojomyshayla]

*characters: oikawa x fem! Reader. Other characters like iwaizumi, matsukawa and hanamaki are mentioned too.

Summary: Oikawa Tooru, haunted by unspoken feelings for you, reunites at Seijoh's 10-year reunion. Through heartfelt confessions and a long-awaited kiss, love rekindles, promising a shared future.

Warning: slight angst, oikawa being scared of rejection. Slight suggestive content ,intense emotional content.

HAPPY READING!!

★“all yours my love” ★

_________________________________________

Oikawa Tooru had never been a man who let the past weigh him down. He was the type to move forward relentlessly, setting his sights on the next big goal, the next perfect spike, the next impossible serve. But as he sat on his couch, staring at the invitation in his hands, he felt an unfamiliar pang of hesitation.

The glossy card read:

"Aoba Johsai High School Reunion – 10 Years Later. Join us to reconnect, reminisce, and relive old memories."- iwaizumi

Old memories.

He chuckled bitterly, tossing the invitation onto the coffee table. The memories of Aoba Johsai weren’t something he had ever truly left behind. Even now, he could still hear the echo of volleyballs slamming against the polished gym floor, the sound of sneakers squeaking during intense practices, and the unmistakable roar of the crowd after a well-earned point.

But the memories that lingered most were quieter, softer, and far more personal.

He closed his eyes, leaning back against the couch, and let his mind drift to you.

You had been an integral part of those days—not just to him, but to the whole team. The acting manager, though never officially titled as one. You were the one who brought order to chaos, who handed out water bottles during timeouts, who soothed tempers with a calm word, and who patched up scraped knees and egos alike.

To Oikawa, you had been more than that. You were his friend, his companion, his anchor. When the pressure became too much or the burden of being the team’s ace threatened to crush him, it was your presence that steadied him.

And yet, despite all the time you had spent together, he had never told you how he truly felt.

Not when you sat beside him after practice, quietly listening as he vented his frustrations. Not when you cheered louder than anyone else at matches, your voice cutting through the noise of the crowd. Not even when you stayed late to help him work on his serves, the gym illuminated by nothing but dim overhead lights and the glow of your unwavering support.

He hadn’t told you because he was afraid.

Volleyball was everything to him back then. He lived and breathed it, sacrificing sleep, relationships, and even a semblance of a normal teenage life in pursuit of greatness. The thought of letting himself fall for you—of letting you into the carefully constructed walls he had built around himself—was terrifying.

So he had buried his feelings, convincing himself that there was no room for anything but volleyball.

But now, ten years later, he couldn’t help but wonder what might have been. Did you ever feel the same way? Had you waited for him, even as he threw himself into his dreams and left everything else behind?

He reached for the invitation again, his thumb brushing over the embossed lettering. The thought of seeing you again after all these years made his chest ache with equal parts anticipation and dread.

Would you even want to see him?

He glanced at the clock. The reunion was two days away, and he still hadn’t decided whether he would go. But deep down, he already knew the answer.

Because no matter how much time had passed or how far he had run, the memory of you was something he could never escape.

And maybe, just maybe, this was his chance to make things right.

__

The gymnasium of Aoba Johsai High School hadn’t changed much in the past ten years. The glossy wooden floors still gleamed under the bright overhead lights, and the faint scent of varnish and old memories lingered in the air.

Oikawa Tooru adjusted his tie as he stood just outside the entrance, his fingers fidgeting with the knot in a way that betrayed his nerves. It wasn’t that he was afraid of the reunion itself. He had always been good at charming crowds, slipping seamlessly into conversations, and winning people over with a smile. No, his nervousness stemmed from one thing—one person.

You.

He inhaled deeply before stepping inside, the familiar hum of chatter washing over him. Laughter echoed through the gym as old classmates reunited, their voices blending into a symphony of nostalgia. Oikawa scanned the crowd, his sharp eyes flitting from face to face.

"Still making an entrance, huh?" a familiar voice called out, pulling him from his thoughts.

Oikawa turned to see Iwaizumi Hajime grinning at him, his arms crossed over his chest. The sight of his best friend was both grounding and bittersweet.

"Iwa-chan!" Oikawa exclaimed, his trademark smirk slipping into place. "Did you miss me?"

"Not even a little," Iwaizumi replied, though the warmth in his tone betrayed him.

The two embraced briefly before pulling apart, their easy camaraderie picking up as if no time had passed. Soon, they were joined by Matsukawa and Hanamaki, who wasted no time teasing Oikawa about his perfectly tailored suit and the aura of a man who was "trying too hard."

"Of course he’s trying too hard," Hanamaki quipped, nudging Matsukawa. "It’s Oikawa. He probably spent hours practicing his smile in the mirror."

"Not hours," Oikawa shot back, feigning offense. "Maybe just one or two."

As the four of them fell into their old rhythm of banter and laughter, Oikawa found himself relaxing—at least, on the surface. Beneath the playful facade, his nerves hadn’t settled.

He kept glancing toward the gym’s entrance, his heart skipping a beat every time someone new walked in. He told himself he wasn’t looking for you, but he knew that was a lie.

"You’re awfully distracted tonight," Iwaizumi observed, raising an eyebrow. "Who are you looking for?"

"No one," Oikawa replied too quickly, his tone a little too casual.

Iwaizumi gave him a knowing look but didn’t press further.

---

The night wore on, and Oikawa found himself surrounded by old classmates, each eager to catch up with the famous volleyball player who had left Seijoh to conquer the world. He smiled, nodded, and answered their questions, but his mind remained elsewhere.

And then, it happened.

You walked in, and for a moment, everything else faded.

You looked different, of course. More polished, more confident, with a maturity that suited you. But in all the ways that mattered, you were still the same. Your smile was as warm as he remembered, and the way you greeted people—kind, genuine, without a trace of pretense—made Oikawa’s chest tighten.

He couldn’t move, couldn’t speak. All he could do was watch as you worked your way through the crowd, greeting old friends with laughter and hugs.

"She’s here," Iwaizumi muttered, following Oikawa’s gaze.

"Yeah," Oikawa said, his voice barely audible.

"You going to talk to her, or are you just going to stand here all night?"

"I—" Oikawa faltered, his usual confidence nowhere to be found.

Iwaizumi sighed, clapping a hand on his shoulder. "You’ve had ten years to think about this, Tooru. Don’t blow it."

Before Oikawa could respond, your eyes met his.

The smile that spread across your face was like a punch to the gut. It was soft, familiar, and filled with a warmth that made his heart ache. You raised a hand in a small wave, and he felt his lips twitch into an automatic smile.

You started walking toward him, and for a brief, terrifying moment, Oikawa considered running. But then you were there, standing right in front of him, looking up at him with those same eyes that had once been his safe haven.

"Oikawa," you said, your voice warm and steady. "It’s been so long."

"Too long," he managed to say, his usual charm faltering. "You… you look incredible."

You laughed softly, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. "Thank you. You’ve done well for yourself, huh? Still chasing dreams?"

"Always," he replied, his voice quieter than usual.

There was a moment of silence, heavy with unspoken words and emotions neither of you seemed ready to address. Around you, the reunion buzzed with activity, but for Oikawa, the world had narrowed to just you.

"Are you going to tell me about all the amazing things you’ve done," you teased, breaking the silence, "or are you going to keep staring at me like that all night?"

Oikawa chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. "Maybe a little of both."

You rolled your eyes, the gesture so familiar it made his chest ache. "Some things never change."

"No," he said softly, his gaze locking onto yours. "Some things don’t."

--

As the evening wound down, small groups of classmates began peeling away from the main crowd, exploring the familiar halls of Aoba Johsai. The reunion committee had thoughtfully opened up parts of the school for nostalgic wanderings, and soon the event began to feel more like a journey into the past.

Oikawa found himself walking beside you, your footsteps echoing in the empty corridors. The two of you had fallen into a comfortable rhythm, your conversation punctuated by quiet laughter and the occasional shared memory.

"It’s weird being back here," you admitted, glancing at the lockers that had once been your second home. "It feels smaller somehow."

"That’s because you’ve grown," Oikawa teased, slipping his hands into his pockets. "In more ways than one."

You gave him a sidelong look, your lips curving into a wry smile. "Still the charmer, huh?"

"Always," he replied, though his usual bravado was tempered by something softer, more genuine.

Eventually, your path led you to the gym, the heart of so many of your shared memories. The lights were dimmed, but the space was unmistakable—the polished wooden floors, the towering nets, the faint smell of sweat and determination lingering in the air.

"Wow," you murmured, stepping inside. "It’s exactly the same."

Oikawa followed, his gaze sweeping over the familiar surroundings. He could almost hear the echoes of his younger self—barking orders, laughing with his teammates, gritting his teeth after a tough loss. And there you were, always in the background, a quiet but constant presence.

"You remember this place, don’t you?" you asked, turning to face him.

"How could I forget?" he replied, his voice tinged with nostalgia. "This gym was my entire world back then."

"You weren’t the only one who lived here, you know," you teased lightly. "I think I spent just as many hours here as you did."

Oikawa chuckled, leaning against the wall. "You didn’t have to. No one asked you to stay late, to clean up after us, to listen to me rant about Ushiwaka or whatever else was stressing me out."

"I wanted to," you said simply, your tone matter-of-fact.

He looked at you then, his expression unreadable. "Why?"

You blinked, caught off guard by the sudden intensity in his voice. "Because I cared. About you, about the team… about all of it."

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The weight of your words hung in the air, settling into the space between you.

Oikawa pushed off the wall, taking a tentative step closer to you. "You always gave so much," he said softly. "And I don’t think I ever said thank you."

"You didn’t have to," you replied, shaking your head. "I was happy to help."

"Maybe not," he murmured, his gaze dropping to the floor. "But I should have. I should’ve said a lot of things back then."

---

The two of you wandered toward the bleachers, your movements slow and deliberate as if neither of you wanted to break the fragile intimacy of the moment. You sat down first, and Oikawa joined you, his shoulder brushing against yours.

"Do you remember the first time we beat Shiratorizawa?" you asked, a wistful smile tugging at your lips.

Oikawa’s face lit up with a grin. "How could I forget? I thought I was going to pass out from excitement."

"You almost did," you teased, nudging him playfully. "I had to shove a water bottle in your face to keep you from hyperventilating."

"Well, you were always good at keeping me in check," he said, his voice warm. "I think I relied on you more than I ever realized."

You turned to him, your expression soft. "You had a lot on your shoulders back then. Being the ace, the captain… it wasn’t easy."

"No, it wasn’t," he admitted. "But I don’t think I ever told you how much it helped, knowing you were there."

You smiled, your gaze dropping to your hands. "You didn’t need to say it. I knew."

Oikawa leaned back, his eyes drifting to the ceiling. "You always did have a way of understanding me, even when I didn’t understand myself."

---

The gym was silent now, save for the faint hum of the overhead lights. The two of you sat in comfortable stillness, the unspoken weight of your shared past settling around you.

"I’ve been thinking a lot about those days," Oikawa said suddenly, breaking the silence.

"Yeah?" you prompted, turning to look at him.

"About everything we went through, everything I put myself through," he continued, his voice low. "And about you."

Your breath hitched slightly, but you kept your expression steady. "What about me?"

He hesitated, his fingers gripping the edge of the bleacher. "I think I took you for granted back then. I was so focused on volleyball, on proving myself, that I didn’t stop to think about what I had right in front of me."

You blinked, startled by the vulnerability in his tone. "Oikawa—"

"Tooru," he interrupted gently, his gaze locking onto yours. "Call me Tooru, just like you used to... *He wishpered,

his voice almost vulnerable.

"Tooru," you said softly, the name familiar yet strangely intimate.

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "I don’t know if I ever told you this, but you were my rock back then. When everything felt like it was falling apart, you were the one thing that kept me grounded."

You swallowed hard, your heart pounding in your chest. "You don’t have to say this—"

"I do," he cut you off, his voice firm but gentle. "I need you to know how much you meant to me. How much you still mean to me..y/n I-i was a fool back then..for pushing you away."

Your breath caught, your mind racing with emotions you hadn’t allowed yourself to feel in years.

The gym, the memories, the weight of his words—it was all too much, and yet, it was everything you had been waiting for.

The cool night air was a stark contrast to the warmth of the gym. You and Oikawa had left the reunion behind, walking aimlessly through the quiet school grounds until you found yourselves on the small hill behind the gym. It was a place you used to escape to during stressful days, a quiet retreat where you could see the stars undisturbed by the glow of the city lights.

It was no surprise that Oikawa remembered it.

The two of you sat side by side on the grass, the silence between you punctuated by the gentle rustling of leaves in the breeze. Oikawa had shed his blazer, draping it over his lap, and he leaned back on his hands, gazing up at the sky.

“Still as beautiful as ever,” he said, his voice soft.

You turned your head, expecting to see him looking at the stars, but his gaze was fixed on you.

Heat crept up your neck, and you looked away, hoping he couldn’t see the flush in your cheeks. “You’re laying it on thick tonight, aren’t you, Tooru?”

He chuckled, a low, warm sound that sent a shiver down your spine. “Only because it’s true.”

The quiet stretched between you again, but this time it felt heavier, weighted by everything unsaid. You could feel him watching you, his presence as overwhelming as it was comforting.

“Do you remember the night before the finals against Shiratorizawa?” he asked suddenly, his voice breaking the silence.

You frowned, searching your memory. “Of course. You were so worked up you couldn’t sleep.”

“I was terrified,” he admitted, his tone uncharacteristically vulnerable. “It felt like everything was riding on that match. Like if I didn’t win, I’d let everyone down.”

“You didn’t let anyone down,” you said firmly, turning to face him. “You gave it your all. We all saw that.”

He smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Maybe. But that night, I wasn’t thinking about the match. Not entirely.”

“What do you mean?”

He hesitated, his gaze dropping to the ground. “I was thinking about you.”

Your heart skipped a beat. “Me?”

Oikawa nodded, his expression unreadable. “I wanted to tell you something that night, but I couldn’t. I was too scared. Scared it would distract me, scared it would distract you, scared it would change everything.”

“Tooru…” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

He looked up, meeting your gaze with an intensity that made your breath catch. “I liked you, Y/N. I’ve liked you since the first time you called me out for being an idiot during practice. You were the only one who saw through the act, the only one who wasn’t afraid to tell me the truth.”

Your chest tightened, the weight of his words sinking in. “You never said anything.”

“I couldn’t,” he said, his voice breaking slightly. “Volleyball was my life back then. I didn’t think I could afford to let myself feel anything else. And then, before I knew it, high school was over, and I thought I’d lost my chance.”

You stared at him, your mind racing. The Oikawa Tooru you knew had always been confident, even cocky, but the man sitting beside you now was vulnerable, raw, and heartbreakingly sincere.

“All this time…” you began, your voice trembling. “Why didn’t you say anything? Even after we left high school?”

He laughed softly, a bitter edge to the sound. “I told myself you’d moved on, that you deserved better than some guy who was always chasing a dream.”

“That wasn’t your decision to make,” you said, your voice firmer now. “You should have let me decide that.”

Oikawa looked at you, regret etched into his features. “You’re right. I should have. But I’m here now, and I can’t let this chance slip away again.”

He reached for your hand, his fingers brushing against yours. The contact sent a jolt through you, and when you looked into his eyes, you saw the depth of his feelings—unspoken for so long but now laid bare.

“I don’t know where this will lead,” he said, his voice steady despite the emotion in his eyes. “But I want to try. I want to be honest with you, to make up for all the times I wasn’t.”

Your throat tightened, and for a moment, you couldn’t speak. The weight of his confession, the years of unspoken emotions, pressed down on you like a tidal wave.

Finally, you squeezed his hand, a small but decisive gesture. “I waited, Tooru. For so long, I waited for you to say something. But I won’t wait anymore. If you’re ready, then so am I.”

A soft, disbelieving laugh escaped him, and he brought your hand to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss to your knuckles. “You have no idea how much that means to me.”

The stars above seemed to shine brighter as the two of you sat together, hands entwined, finally allowing yourselves to embrace the feelings that had been hidden for far too long.

They looked at each other ,an unknown affection reflecting in their eyes...it felt like nothing else matters at that moment to Oikawa..not money, status or even vollyball.

He took her face in her hand and lifted it towards him."y/n, may i?" He whispered ,his cold breath heating you on your face

You nodded ,not trusting your voice. You wanted him, you wanted your tooru.You too have waited for this exact moment for the last 10 years.

Oikaws didn't need anything else to know.he leanded forward and gentle pressed his lips on yours .He remainder still for a few moments then moved his lips. His movements were so soft and delicate like you were some porcelain doll he knows should be treated gently.

After what felt like hours he finally broke off the kiss as his lungs were out of oxygen..he leaned against your forehead .Both of your out of breath.."oikawa..i..I love you. Always had..please..let me be your.."

Oikawa looked at her with his deep chocolate eyes and replied with a genuine smile in his face

"I am all yours sweetheart"

[gojomyshayla]

part 2. Part 1 Prologue

_________________________________________

Genre : brother's best friend, childhood friends to lovers

Warning : tooth rotting fluff!

Characters : iwaizumi x oikawa's sister reader .

(Timescape where iwaizumi is an athletic trainer and is married to reader :p)

Epilogue: A Set for Forever

The soft glow of the setting sun bathed the small yard in golden light. Laughter echoed in the air, mingling with the rustling leaves as you sat on a blanket spread across the grass, your husband beside you.

Iwaizumi Hajime leaned back on his elbows, watching with an easy smile as your son, Yuuji, waddled across the grass. The toddler’s giggles were infectious, his tiny hands reaching out for the volleyball Hajime had brought out earlier.

"Look at him go," Hajime said, pride evident in his voice. "He’s got my coordination already."

You chuckled, nudging him playfully. "He also fell on his butt five minutes ago trying to chase a butterfly. He’s got some of my clumsiness too."

Hajime laughed, pulling you closer as you rested your head on his shoulder. It had been two years since you’d said your vows, standing under an arch of flowers with tears in your eyes as Hajime promised to love you forever. Life since then had been a beautiful whirlwind—balancing work, family, and the joy of raising your little boy together.

As if sensing your thoughts, Hajime pressed a kiss to your temple. "I still can’t believe this is real," he murmured. "You, me, Yuuji... It’s everything I ever wanted."

You smiled, your fingers intertwining with his. "Me too."

The sound of a car door slamming broke the serene moment, followed by the unmistakable voice of Oikawa Tooru.

"Your favorite uncle is here!"

You both turned to see Oikawa striding into the yard, his arms laden with gifts and a dramatic flourish in his step.

"You know, he’s not going to remember half of these toys," Hajime called out, smirking.

"That’s not the point," Oikawa retorted, setting the bags down. "I’m here to make memories, Hajime. Memories!"

Yuuji toddled over to him, arms outstretched. "Unka 'Tooru!'"

Oikawa melted instantly, scooping the toddler up and spinning him around. "There’s my little star! You’ve grown so much since I saw you last week!"

"Last week," Hajime muttered, shaking his head.

Oikawa plopped down on the blanket, Yuuji still in his arms. "So," he began, grinning at you and Hajime. "When’s the next one coming?"

You choked on your laugh as Hajime shot Oikawa a warning glare. "We’ll get back to you on that," Hajime said, deadpan.

Oikawa shrugged, completely unfazed. "Well, whenever it happens, I’ll be ready with more gifts. Yuuji can’t be the only future volleyball star in the family!"

"Don’t pressure him, Tooru," you said, laughing as Yuuji grabbed at his uncle’s hair.

"Pressure? I’m inspiring him!" Oikawa replied dramatically, shifting Yuuji onto his lap.

Hajime leaned toward you, his voice low. "Remind me why we let him into our lives?"

"Because he’d show up even if we didn’t," you teased, making Hajime chuckle.

As the sun dipped lower, painting the sky in hues of pink and orange, the four of you sat together, basking in the warmth of family. Oikawa regaled Yuuji with exaggerated stories of his volleyball glory days, Hajime chimed in with sarcastic commentary, and you watched them all with a heart full of love.

It wasn’t the perfect picture—there were occasional late nights, spilled milk, and the chaos of parenthood—but it was your picture. And it was beautiful.

Leaning into Hajime’s side, you sighed contentedly. "Do you think we’ll ever get a quiet moment again?"

He looked down at you, his eyes soft with adoration. "Probably not," he said, kissing your forehead. "But I wouldn’t trade this for anything."

Neither would you.

As Yuuji laughed and reached for the volleyball, with Oikawa egging him on and Hajime’s hand resting on yours, you realized that this was your forever.

And it was perfect.

[gojomyshayla]

___________________________________________

Gerne: brother's best friend, childhood friends to lovers. Secret dating

Character: iwaizumi x oikawa's sister! Reader

Warning : suggestive content, oikawa being a menace for society,

Chapter 2.....

Chapter 1 Prologue

✯♡Off the court ♡✯....

*********************************************

Dating Iwaizumi Hajime was like being wrapped in a constant embrace of warmth and strength. He was everything you had dreamed of—caring, passionate, and deeply loyal. The months you’d spent together had been a whirlwind of stolen kisses, quiet moments after practice, and secret dates that you both tried to keep hidden from Oikawa.

Your brother, for all his charm and charisma, was fiercely protective. He had always kept a close eye on you, and though he adored Iwaizumi as his best friend, the idea of the two of you dating was... uncharted territory.

But tonight was different.

Your parents were out of town, leaving the house empty except for you. Iwaizumi had been over countless times, always under the guise of helping Oikawa with practice or just hanging out. But this time, he was coming over for you.

___________________________________________

The knock on the door sent your heart racing.

You opened it to find Iwaizumi standing there, looking effortlessly handsome in a black hoodie and jeans. His usual gym bag was slung over one shoulder, and his smile was a mix of nervousness and excitement.

"Hey," he said, his voice soft.

"Hey," you replied, stepping aside to let him in.

The house was quiet, the faint hum of the heater the only sound. You led him to the living room, where you’d set up snacks and a movie to keep things casual. But the way he looked at you—his eyes lingering a little too long, his hand brushing yours as he sat down—told you that neither of you was really interested in the movie.

As the film played in the background, you found yourself leaning closer to him, your head resting on his shoulder. His arm slid around your waist, pulling you closer.

"Are you nervous?" he asked, his voice low.

"A little," you admitted, tilting your head to look at him.

His hand came up to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing lightly against your skin. "We don’t have to do anything you’re not ready for," he said, his sincerity making your heart swell.

"I know," you whispered, leaning into his touch. "But I want this. I want you."

That was all the encouragement he needed.

___________________________________________

The first kiss was slow, tender, but it quickly deepened. His hands moved to your waist, pulling you onto his lap as his lips trailed down to your neck. Your fingers tangled in his hair, eliciting a low groan from him that sent a shiver down your spine.

He paused, his forehead resting against yours as he caught his breath. "You’re sure?" he asked again, his voice thick with emotion.

"I’m sure," you said, your voice steady despite the fluttering in your chest.

He smiled, and in that moment, you knew you were safe with him.

The next moments were a blur of heat and passion, every touch and kiss more intoxicating than the last. He was careful, attentive, making sure you were comfortable with every step. And when you whispered his name, a soft plea on your lips, he responded with a tenderness that left you breathless.

___________________________________________

Hours later, you lay tangled together on the couch, his hoodie draped over you like a makeshift blanket. The movie had long since ended, leaving the room in silence except for the sound of your steady breathing.

"I could stay like this forever," you murmured, your head resting against his chest.

"Me too," he replied, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on your back.

But the peaceful moment was shattered by the sound of the front door slamming open.

"Y/N! I’m home!"

Your heart stopped.

Iwaizumi sat up, his eyes wide with panic as Oikawa’s voice echoed through the house. You scrambled to fix your clothes, frantically trying to come up with an excuse.

But it was too late.

Oikawa appeared in the doorway, his eyes narrowing as he took in the scene before him. You, disheveled and blushing. Iwaizumi, equally ruffled and looking like he wanted to disappear.

"What. The. Hell," Oikawa said, his voice dangerously calm.

"Tooru, I can explain," you began, but he cut you off with a raised hand.

"You don’t need to explain," he said, his eyes narrowing further as he glared at Iwaizumi. "I think it’s pretty obvious what’s going on here."

"Listen, Oikawa, it’s not—" Iwaizumi started, but Oikawa turned on him, his usual playful demeanor replaced with something far more serious.

"You’re my best friend, Hajime. And this—" he gestured between the two of you—"is something you should have told me about."

There was a tense silence as the three of you stared at each other. Finally, Oikawa sighed, running a hand through his hair.

"Look," he said, his voice softer now. "I just... I don’t want her to get hurt. She’s my sister, Hajime."

"I would never hurt her," Iwaizumi said firmly, his voice steady. "I care about her. A lot."

Oikawa studied him for a moment before turning to you. "And you? Are you happy?"

You nodded, your eyes meeting his. "Yes, Tooru. I’m really happy."

He sighed again, his shoulders relaxing slightly. "Fine. But if you ever hurt her, Hajime, I swear I’ll—"

"I won’t," Iwaizumi interrupted, a small smile playing on his lips. "I promise."

Oikawa rolled his eyes but couldn’t hide the smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "You’d better not. Now, get out of my house before I change my mind."

___________________________________________

As Iwaizumi left that night, his hand lingering in yours, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of relief.

It wasn’t the ideal way for Oikawa to find out, but at least now, you didn’t have to hide.

And as Iwaizumi kissed you goodnight on the porch, you realized something else: no matter what challenges lay ahead, you were ready to face them. Togethee,

[gojomyshayla]

Chapter 1 Prologue chapter 2

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Gerne: brother's best friend, childhood friends to lovers. Secret dating

Character: iwaizumi x oikawa's sister! Reader

Warning : there isn't really anything triggering but still 13+ ,oikawa.

Enjoy reading!!

✯♡Off the court ~♡✯

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The gym was alive with the rhythmic thud of volleyballs hitting the court, sneakers squeaking against the polished floor, and the occasional bark of instructions from Coach Irihata. It was another grueling practice session for Aoba Johsai High School’s volleyball team.

Iwaizumi Hajime wiped the sweat from his brow, his breathing steady despite the intensity of the drills. He scanned the gym, his eyes naturally drifting toward the far end where you, Oikawa’s younger sister, stood.

Your presence was like a balm to the chaos—a gentle, calming contrast to the boisterous energy that Oikawa and the rest of the team exuded. You were the team’s first-year manager, a role you’d taken on with enthusiasm and grace.

As Oikawa’s little sister, expectations had been high, but you had exceeded them effortlessly. Where Oikawa was loud and flamboyant, you were soft-spoken and serene. It wasn’t just the team that adored you; even the typically stoic Coach Irihata had a soft spot for your kindness.

But for Iwaizumi, it was different.

---

The realization hit him like a well-placed spike during a practice match.

It had been a particularly close game, the tension in the gym palpable. Oikawa was in his element, commanding the court with his usual flair. But even with his leadership, the team had narrowly scraped by with a win.

You had been waiting on the sidelines, your hands clasped together as you watched intently. When the final whistle blew, you sprang into action, handing out water bottles and towels with a warm smile for each player.

When you approached Iwaizumi, your eyes sparkled with pride. "You were incredible out there, Iwaizumi-kun," you said, your voice as soothing as a lullaby.

"Uh, thanks," he managed, the heat in his cheeks betraying his usual composure.

From that moment, he couldn’t stop thinking about you.

---

It wasn’t just your kindness that captivated him; it was the way you carried yourself with an effortless grace. The way your laughter lit up the room during breaks. The way you gently teased Oikawa, softening his edges in a way no one else could.

But with those feelings came complications.

For one, you were Oikawa’s sister. Pursuing you felt like stepping into a minefield. And then there was the fear—what if you didn’t feel the same? What if confessing ruined the easy camaraderie you shared?

So, Iwaizumi kept his feelings locked away, content to admire you from afar.

Or so he thought.

---

One evening after practice, as the rest of the team trickled out of the gym, you stayed behind to clean up.

"Need a hand?" Iwaizumi’s voice cut through the quiet, startling you.

You turned, surprised to see him still there. "Oh, Iwaizumi-kun! I thought you’d left with the others."

"Nah," he said, scratching the back of his neck. "Figured I’d stick around."

The two of you worked side by side, the silence comfortable yet charged with an unspoken tension.

"You don’t have to do this, you know," he said after a while, his voice soft. "Staying late, cleaning up... You already do so much for the team ,just like you did when we were children"

"I want to," you replied, your eyes meeting his. "You all work so hard. This is the least I can do."

His heart skipped a beat at your sincerity.

"Still," he murmured, "you’re too good to us."

You laughed softly, the sound wrapping around him like a warm embrace.

---

A few weeks later, the team faced a particularly tough practice match against a rival school. Tensions were high, and even Oikawa, usually so composed, seemed rattled.

After the match, the gym was heavy with the weight of their loss. Oikawa slumped on the bench, his head in his hands. The rest of the team milled about, too exhausted to speak.

But then there was you.

You approached Oikawa first, a towel in hand. "Don’t beat yourself up, Tooru," you said gently. "You’ll bounce back. You always do."

Oikawa looked up at you, his expression softening. "Thanks, Y/N-chan," he mumbled, his usual bravado stripped away.

Then you turned to Iwaizumi.

"You were incredible out there," you said, your eyes filled with unwavering admiration. "You always give it your all, no matter what."

Something in the way you said it made his chest tighten.

As the team began to disperse, Iwaizumi found himself lingering, his gaze following you as you packed up your things.

"Y/N," he called out, his voice steady but laced with nervous energy.

You looked up, surprised. "Yes?"

"I... I just wanted to say thanks. For everything you do. For the team. For me."

Your cheeks flushed, and you smiled shyly. "It’s nothing, really. I just want to help."

"No, it’s not nothing," he said firmly. "You’re amazing, Y/N. And I..."

He trailed off, his courage faltering.

But before he could say more, Oikawa’s voice echoed from the doorway.

"Y/N! Hurry up! I’m starving!"

You laughed, the moment shattered.

"Coming, Tooru!" you called back before turning to Iwaizumi. "Goodnight, Iwaizumi-kun."

As you left, Iwaizumi stood there, frustration bubbling within him.

---

The next day, he couldn’t take it anymore.

After practice, as the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the gym in hues of gold, he cornered you.

"Y/N," he said, his voice unwavering.

You blinked up at him, startled. "Iwaizumi-kun? Is something wrong?"

"I like you," he said, the words spilling out before he could stop them. "I’ve liked you for a while now. Not just as the team’s manager or Oikawa’s sister, but as you."

Your eyes widened, your lips parting in surprise.

"Iwaizumi-kun..." you began, your voice trembling.

He braced himself for rejection, his heart pounding in his chest.

But then you smiled—a soft, radiant smile that made the world fade away.

"I like you too," you said, your cheeks flushed. "I’ve liked you for a while now. I just didn’t know if you felt the same."

Relief washed over him, and before he could stop himself, he stepped closer.

"Can I...?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

You nodded, and in the next moment, his lips were on yours. The kiss was gentle at first, a tentative brush of lips, but it quickly deepened as the tension that had been building for weeks spilled over.

Your hands found their way to his shoulders, gripping tightly as his arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer. The gym, the world—everything faded away until there was only the two of you.

When you finally pulled apart, breathless and flushed, Iwaizumi rested his forehead against yours.

"I’ve wanted to do that for so long," he admitted, his voice low and husky.

"Me too," you whispered, your smile lighting up the dimly lit gym.

As the two of you stood there, wrapped in each other’s arms, Iwaizumi couldn’t help but think that, for the first time, he’d truly won.

[gojomyshayla]

♡ Fanfic directory ♡

********************. ^⁠_⁠^.*********************

Haikyuu 🏐✨

Kuroo Testuro

Sweatered hearts

A university student’s rivalry with her charming academic competitor, Kuroo Tetsurou, turns into unexpected romance as they are paired for a semester-long project, gradually moving from teasing to mutual affection.

More coming soon.....

Hajime Iwaizumi

Beyond the game

A lifelong friendship with Iwaizumi Hajime blossoms into love as subtle moments and unspoken feelings come to light during high school. After an intense volleyball match, a heartfelt confession changes everything, transforming your bond into a deep, romantic connection.

Off the court

A short series of hajime Iwaizumi and the sweet sister of oikawa tooru,

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Epilogue

My Queen

Princess Y/N, trapped by royal duty, falls in forbidden love with her loyal attendant, Iwaizumi Hajime. When forced to marry another, they risk everything to escape the kingdom and build a life together. Through trials and sacrifice, they find freedom and a simple yet fulfilling love far from the palace's reach.

More coming soon....

Akaashi keiji

Forever in love

A long time ago ,In the flourishing kingdom of fukurodani, lived a princess who ,for the first time , along with her personal guard ( her best friend/lover) went to a village fair . Follow the journey of the lives of akaashi keiji and (insert name) where they change from friends to lovers

Oikawa tooru

All yours my love

Oikawa Tooru, haunted by unspoken feelings for you, reunites at Seijoh's 10-year reunion. Through heartfelt confessions and a long-awaited kiss, love rekindles, promising a shared future.

Jujutsu kaisen 🔮🪄

Gojo satoru

A Family man

Gojo Satoru treasures his beautiful partner and their cute son, Satoshi. Amid playful family moments and teasing banter, love deepens through soft yet intense passion, proving his devotion in every touch.

Whipped

Gojo Satoru is a lovesick junior hopelessly chasing after his beautiful, tsundere senior. When a mission nearly kills him, she finally shows her softer side—proving that maybe, just maybe, she loves him too.

Whipped pt2

Gojo Satoru might act cool and untouchable, but when it comes to you—his sweet, oblivious senpai—he's completely whipped. He melts at the smallest things you do, but you never notice. When a mission forces you both to stay in a small inn with only one bed, things get even harder for him.

The walking disaster named gojo

Gojo Satoru is the most annoying flirt in your university. You, the top student, have no time for distractions. Unfortunately, Gojo loves being your biggest distraction—until a bet and an accidental kiss change everything.

Nightly wonders

All you wanted was to help your best friend Gojo Satoru However gojo seems to have some other things in mind...

More comming soon.....

[gojomyshayla]

(this is a short series named " off the court" featuring our slay king Iwaizumi hajime and our sweet reader who also happen to be the sister of Oikawa Tooru

(unedited)

Prologue:

Chapter 1

Warning : nothing much! It's just pure fluff (a rat named kazuki) :p

Childhood: The Foundation

The summer heat was relentless, but the trio didn’t care. The backyard volleyball court that Oikawa had roped his dad into building was their personal haven. Oikawa, ever the self-proclaimed genius, was “coaching” his younger sister, Y/N, with an enthusiasm that bordered on bossiness.

"Y/N-chan, you’re too slow! You have to dive for it, not just shuffle like a crab!" Oikawa shouted, mimicking a clumsy sidestep for emphasis.

"I’m trying, Tooru!" she called back, her tiny frame moving as quickly as it could toward the ball.

Hajime, who had been tossing balls from the other side of the net, rolled his eyes. "She’s five, Oikawa. Chill."

Oikawa spun around, hands on his hips. "Excuse me, Iwa-chan? Greatness doesn’t have an age limit!"

"Neither does drama, apparently," Hajime muttered.

Meanwhile, Y/N had managed to hit the ball back over the net, her face lighting up in triumph. "I did it!"

Both boys turned, their banter forgotten. Oikawa ran over, scooping her up and spinning her around. "Y/N-chan, you’re amazing!"

Hajime smiled, watching the siblings with a warmth he didn’t fully understand. He didn’t know it yet, but somewhere in his young heart, he was already starting to see Y/N as someone special.

___________________________________________

Middle school: growing up

By the time they reached middle school, things had changed. Oikawa was still dramatic and obsessed with volleyball, but now he had a following of admirers who swooned over his every move. Hajime had grown taller and more muscular, his quiet strength contrasting Oikawa’s flair. And Y/N? She was no longer the little girl trailing behind her brother. She was starting to come into her own.

"You’re trying out for the volleyball team?" Oikawa asked, his eyebrows shooting up in surprise when Y/N mentioned her plans over dinner one night.

"Why not?" she replied, shrugging. "I’ve been around volleyball my whole life. And besides, I think it’ll be fun."

Oikawa grinned. "That’s my little sister! Don’t worry—I’ll make sure they know you’re my sibling. You’ll have a legacy to uphold!"

Hajime, sitting across the table, smirked. "Or she could make her own name. Ever think of that, Oikawa?"

Y/N giggled, appreciating Hajime’s support.

___________________________________________

Crush: kazuki

It wasn’t long before Y/N found herself swept up in the excitement of middle school. As the team’s new manager, she got to spend more time with her brother, Hajime, and their teammates. But she also found herself noticing someone else—Kazuki, one of the team’s setters.

Kazuki was kind, funny, and had a smile that made her heart flutter. He often stayed behind to help clean up, chatting with her as they gathered stray volleyballs.

"You’re really good at this manager stuff," Kazuki said one evening, flashing her a grin.

Her cheeks warmed. "Thanks. I just like helping out."

From across the gym, Hajime watched the exchange with a strange tightness in his chest. He didn’t know why it bothered him so much to see Y/N laughing with Kazuki, but it did.

"Jealous, Iwa-chan?" Oikawa teased, nudging his friend.

Hajime frowned. "Of what?"

Oikawa smirked knowingly but didn’t say anything.

___________________________________________

Realisation:

The crush on Kazuki didn’t last long. One day, Y/N overheard him talking to his friends about her.

"She’s cute, but she’s Oikawa’s little sister. Can you imagine the drama if anything happened?" Kazuki laughed, shaking his head.

Y/N felt her heart sink. She walked away quietly, not wanting anyone to see her tears.

Later that day, Hajime found her sitting on the swings at the park, her eyes red. He didn’t say anything, just sat beside her and waited.

"He doesn’t like me," she finally whispered, her voice trembling. "Not really."

Hajime clenched his fists, anger bubbling in his chest. "Then he’s an idiot," he said firmly. "Anyone who doesn’t see how amazing you are isn’t worth your time."

She looked up at him, surprised. "You really think that?"

"I know that," he said, his gaze steady.

For the first time, Y/N saw Hajime in a new light. He wasn’t just her brother’s best friend. He was kind, dependable, and always there for her. Her heart fluttered, and she wondered if she’d been looking in the wrong direction all along.

___________________________________________

The shift between them was subtle but undeniable. Hajime started noticing little things about Y/N—the way her laughter lit up a room, how she always tried her best even when things were hard, and the way her presence made him feel at ease.

One evening, after a particularly grueling practice, the three of them walked home together. Oikawa was chattering away about his latest serve, but Hajime and Y/N lagged behind, their steps in sync.

"Thanks for earlier," she said softly, glancing up at him.

He shrugged, his ears tinged pink. "That’s what friends are for."

Her smile was small but genuine. "You’re more than a friend, Hajime. You always have been."

His heart skipped a beat, but before he could respond, Oikawa turned around, waving at them. "Hey, hurry up! I’m starving!"

They shared a look, the unspoken understanding between them growing stronger with each passing day.

___________________________________________

The Beginning of Something New

By the time middle school ended, Y/N and Hajime both knew their feelings had changed. But they also knew they weren’t ready to say it out loud—not yet.

For now, they were content to steal glances across the court, share quiet moments after practice, and support each other in ways that didn’t need words.

And though Oikawa remained oblivious to the growing bond between his best friend and his sister, he continued to be the dramatic, overprotective older brother they both loved.

Little did any of them know, this was only the beginning of a love story that would last a lifetime.

[gojomyshayla]

--a/n : this is a kuroo x fem reader , it's for all the academic girlies who need a kuroo in their life ;)

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Summary: A university student’s rivalry with her charming academic competitor, Kuroo Tetsurou, turns into unexpected romance as they are paired for a semester-long project, gradually moving from teasing to mutual affection.

Sweatered hearts

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The grand, ivy-covered campus of tokyo University was always bustling, but on this particular morning, you couldn't help but feel the weight of the competition hanging in the air. As the first light of dawn crept through the tall windows of the library, you settled into your usual spot, a cozy corner hidden between towering shelves of academic texts. Your oversized sweater, a soft shade of pastel blue, hung comfortably over your frame, and your pretty skirt fluttered slightly as you tucked your legs beneath the table.

You had always been the type of girl who preferred to blend into the background. You loved studying, reading, and enjoying your own little world of academia. You were known for being the “quiet girl with the cute style,” someone who didn’t stand out much—except when it came to your grades. In the classroom, you excelled, and though you preferred to work in silence, you had earned a reputation as one of the top students in your field. But you didn’t seek the spotlight. You never wanted to be the center of attention. That role belonged to someone else.

Kuroo tetsurō.

He was the definition of perfection in the eyes of the university. Tall, handsome, effortlessly charismatic, and, most annoyingly to you, an academic rival. Every lecture you attended, every seminar you signed up for, there he was—competing for every answer, every grade, with that smug look on his face like he already knew he'd won. And if that wasn’t enough, the way he’d occasionally turn toward you with that playful glint in his eye… It was almost like he was challenging you to keep up. But you weren’t one to back down.

Despite his dominance in the academic realm, there was something about kuroo that unsettled you—something that made your heart beat just a little bit faster, your breath catch in your throat when you’d accidentally bump into him during a class or a study session. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t feel a strange pull toward him, even if he made you feel like you were constantly chasing after him, always a step behind.

Today, however, you weren’t thinking about kuroo. You weren’t thinking about the way his eyes seemed to light up every time you shot down one of his arguments in class, or how his smiles seemed to carry an edge of mischief whenever he caught you off guard. Today, you were focused, determined to bury yourself in your studies and leave the rivalry at the door. It was just another day to prove yourself, and you had work to do.

But as you flipped open your textbook, ready to dive into the material, you couldn’t shake the feeling that this day might turn out to be a little more complicated than you had planned.

---------------------------------------------

It was a rainy Monday morning, and you were running late. Between the downpour and a stubborn traffic light that refused to cooperate, you barely had time to grab your usual coffee before class. The line at the campus café was agonizingly slow, and by the time you reached the front, you were a bundle of nerves, clutching your oversized sweater like a lifeline.

“Medium latte, please,” you said hurriedly, tapping your foot as the barista rang up your order.

With a quick glance at your watch, you grabbed the cup the moment your name was called and made a beeline for the lecture hall.

It wasn’t until you took your first sip, sitting at your usual desk, that you realized something was wrong.

This wasn’t a latte.

It was black coffee—bitter, scalding, and utterly unpalatable.

“What the—”

“Enjoying my coffee?”

You froze mid-sip, recognizing the voice immediately. Turning slowly, you found yourself face-to-face with kuroo testuro, who was leaning against the desk behind you with a smug grin plastered across his face. In his hand was a cup identical to yours—except his had your name scribbled on it.

“Wait—this is yours?” you asked, holding up the offending drink.

He nodded, gesturing to his own cup. “And this is yours. Pretty sure you’re the only one on campus who drinks a latte with three pumps of vanilla.”

Your eyes narrowed. “You switched our coffees?”

He shrugged. “Technically, you grabbed mine first.”

“And you didn’t say anything?”

“Well,” he said, smirking, “I thought it might be fun to see your reaction.”

You glared at him, your cheeks burning. “You’re unbelievable.”

“Come on,” he said, taking a sip of your latte. “It’s not that bad. Though I have to say, your drink tastes like a sugar bomb.”

“And yours tastes like burnt sadness,” you shot back, setting the cup down with a grimace.

Kuroo laughed, the sound annoyingly warm and unbothered. “Guess we’re even, then.”

“Not even close,” you muttered, crossing your arms.

Before you could argue further, the professor walked in, silencing the room. You turned back to your notes, determined to ignore kuroo for the rest of the day ---------------------------------------------

The semester-long project was announced with little fanfare, but as soon as the professor called out the list of partners, your stomach dropped.

“Kuroo testuro and [Your Name].”

Your hand shot up instinctively. “Professor, there must be a mistake.”

The professor adjusted his glasses, looking mildly annoyed. “There’s no mistake. The pairs were chosen deliberately. You and Mr. Kuroo will make an excellent team.”

You turned to glare at him, who had the audacity to grin. “Guess we’re stuck together, sweater girl,” he whispered, leaning closer.

“Don’t call me that,” you hissed.

For the rest of the class, you fumed in silence, barely listening as the professor outlined the project requirements. A semester-long partnership with kuroo sounded like torture. He was messy, overconfident, and had a knack for pushing all your buttons. The fact that he was annoyingly handsome only made it worse.

The first meeting set the tone for what was sure to be the most frustrating three months of your academic life.

You showed up to the library with a neatly typed plan, complete with color-coded timelines and a list of tasks. Kuroo showed up ten minutes late, carrying nothing but his phone and a lopsided grin.

“Didn’t realize we were building a rocket,” he said, flipping through the binder you handed him.

“It’s called being organized,” you snapped. “Try it sometime.”

He raised an eyebrow. “This is a group project, you know. Maybe you should leave some room for me to contribute.”

“Oh, don’t worry,” you said, crossing your arms. “I’m fully prepared to carry this team.”

“Wow,” he said, leaning back in his chair. “You’re even bossier than I thought.”

“And you’re even lazier than I thought,” you shot back.

Despite the rocky start, you managed to get through the first session without murdering him. Barely. Kuroo agreed to do some research on the topic, though you had serious doubts about whether he’d follow through.

To your surprise, he did. At your next meeting, kuroo showed up with a stack of papers and a surprisingly thorough understanding of the material.

“See?” he said smugly, sliding the papers across the table. “I’m not completely useless.”

You skimmed through the notes, unwilling to admit that they were actually good. “Not bad,” you muttered, grudgingly.

“Wow,” he said, clutching his chest. “Was that a compliment?”

“Don’t let it go to your head,” you said, rolling your eyes.

As the weeks went on, you fell into a rhythm. Kuroo’s work ethic was inconsistent at best, but when he did focus, he was surprisingly insightful. You hated to admit it, but his input actually made the project stronger.

Of course, that didn’t stop him from being a pain.

“kuroo” you groaned one afternoon, as he fiddled with a paperclip instead of paying attention. “Can you focus for five minutes?”

“I am focusing,” he said, flicking the paperclip at you.

“On what? Annoying me?”

He grinned. “That’s part of it.”

You glared at him, but the truth was, you didn’t entirely mind the banter. Somewhere along the way, the constant bickering had shifted. It wasn’t just rivalry anymore—it was something... lighter. Almost fun.

One late evening, while you were both buried in textbooks, kuroo leaned back in his chair and sighed dramatically.

“What now?” you asked, not looking up.

“Just wondering,” he said, his voice casual. “How does someone so small make such a big fuss about everything?”

You threw a crumpled piece of paper at him. “How does someone with such a big head still fit through doors?”

He laughed, the sound echoing through the empty library. “Touché.”

For a moment, the silence between you was comfortable. You glanced up and caught him staring at you, his expression softer than usual.

“What?” you asked, tugging on the sleeve of your sweater.

“Nothing,” he said quickly, looking away. But the faint smile on his lips lingered, and you couldn’t shake the feeling that something had changed.

The partnership was still a challenge—kuroo’s laid-back approach clashed constantly with your need for control—but it wasn’t the nightmare you’d expected. If anything, it was starting to feel like the exact opposite.

---------------------------------------------

The library was eerily quiet, save for the occasional rustle of paper and the soft tapping of kuroo’s pen against the table. The two of you had been sitting in the same spot for hours, surrounded by textbooks, half-empty coffee cups, and the distinct tension that always seemed to follow your interactions.

You were scribbling furiously in your notebook, your oversized sweater sleeves brushing against the edge of the desk. Every so often, kuroou would glance at you, his pen hovering over his own notes, but he wasn’t writing.

“Are you going to help, or are you just going to sit there pretending to be useful?” you asked, not looking up.

“I’m thinking,” he replied, leaning back in his chair. “Unlike you, I don’t just write down every random idea that pops into my head.”

You paused mid-sentence and gave him a withering look. “Excuse me? My ‘random ideas’ are the reason we’re ahead on this project.”

“Sure,” he said, smirking. “And my edits are the reason your ideas don’t sound like rambling monologues.”

Your jaw dropped. “Rambling monologues?”

He shrugged, his grin widening. “If the sweater fits.”

You threw your pen at him, hitting him square in the chest. He laughed, the sound deep and genuine, and for a moment, you forgot to be annoyed. There was something disarming about the way he laughed—like he didn’t have a care in the world.

“Careful,” he said, tossing the pen back to you. “You might hurt my feelings.”

“Do you even have feelings?” you shot back, catching the pen.

Kuroo tilted his head, his smile softening. “Depends. Do you?”

The question caught you off guard, and you quickly looked away, pretending to focus on your notes. “Of course I do. Unlike some people, I’m not a robot.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” he muttered, but his tone was light.

The silence stretched between you, heavier this time. You were used to the bickering—it was practically second nature by now—but this felt different. Kuroo wasn’t teasing anymore. When you finally glanced up, you found him staring at you, his expression unreadable.

“What?” you asked, tugging at your sleeves nervously.

“Nothing,” he said quickly, looking down at his notebook. But the tips of his ears were red, and you couldn’t help but wonder what was going on in that head of his.

Later that night, as you packed up your things, you noticed a folded piece of paper tucked into your notebook. Frowning, you unfolded it, your heart skipping a beat when you recognized kuroo’s messy handwriting:

You’re cute when you’re focused. Don’t let it go to your head.

You stared at the note, your cheeks heating. When you looked up, kuroo was already halfway to the door, his backpack slung over one shoulder.

“Did you—”

“Good night, sweater girl,” he called over his shoulder, not looking back.

You stood there for a moment, clutching the note and wondering what the hell just happened.

The following week, kuroo didn’t bring it up, and neither did you. But things started to feel... different. He was still annoying—still smirking when you stumbled over your words and still arguing over every tiny detail of your project—but now, there was a softness to his teasing.

When you muttered something under your breath, he actually leaned in to listen. When you forgot your favorite pen one day, he handed you his without a word. And when he thought you weren’t looking, you caught him staring again—though this time, he didn’t look away.

You found yourself lingering a little longer during study sessions, noticing the way his hair fell into his eyes when he was focused or how his laugh made your chest feel strangely warm.

You hated to admit it, but maybe—just maybe—kuroo wasn’t as terrible as you thought.

---------------------------------------------

The rain hammered against the library’s large windows, a relentless downpour that blurred the world outside. The storm had rolled in faster than expected, trapping you and kuroo inside the building well past closing hours.

You sighed, sinking into the corner of a sofa near the study area, tugging at the sleeves of your oversized sweater. The fabric was warm, but it did little to soothe the growing tension in the room. He sat a few feet away, sprawled out with his long legs taking up most of the floor space.

“This is your fault,” you muttered, crossing your arms.

Kuroo tilted his head, eyebrows raised in mock offense. “My fault? You’re the one who insisted we stay late to triple-check the data.”

“Well, maybe I wouldn’t have to triple-check it if you didn’t keep messing up the calculations.”

He scoffed, sitting up straighter. “Messing up? Excuse me, but if anything, I saved this project when you wanted to ditch the original hypothesis.”

You glared at him, your cheeks heating. “Because it was flawed! If we’d followed your lead, we’d have nothing to present!”

The argument fizzled out as you both sat in brooding silence, the sound of rain filling the void. You glanced at your watch—nearly midnight. The janitor had locked the doors hours ago, leaving the two of you stranded until morning.

Kuroo sighed heavily, breaking the quiet. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

You narrowed your eyes. “And you’re insufferable.”

Despite the biting words, neither of you could hold back the small smiles creeping onto your faces. It was always like this—banter that somehow never felt entirely hostile.

“I can’t believe I’m stuck here with you,” you said, more to yourself than to him.

“Well, at least I’m good company,” he replied, leaning back against the couch with that signature cocky grin.

You rolled your eyes, pulling your knees up to your chest. “Sure, let’s go with that.”

The silence returned, but this time it felt... different. Kuroo’s gaze lingered on you longer than usual, and you couldn’t help but notice how his sharp features softened in the dim light.

“You’re quiet all of a sudden,” you said, attempting to break the awkward tension.

He didn’t respond right away. Instead, he shifted closer, his expression unusually serious.

“I don’t hate you,” he said abruptly.

You blinked, caught off guard. “Uh, okay? Good to know.”

He chuckled, running a hand through his hair. “No, I mean... I never hated you. Not really.”

Something in his tone made your heart skip. “Could’ve fooled me,” you muttered, trying to sound indifferent.

Kuroo let out a low laugh, shaking his head. “I know I act like an ass sometimes. Okay, a lot of the time. But it’s not because I hate you.” He hesitated, looking anywhere but at you. “It’s the opposite, actually.”

Your breath caught in your throat. “The opposite?”

“I mean... I like you. Like, really like you,” he admitted, his voice dropping to a near whisper. His ears were visibly red, and he avoided your gaze, fidgeting with the hem of his sleeve. “And I know I probably shouldn’t have teased you so much or picked fights, but it’s hard to figure out how to act when you’re... well, you.”

Your heart was pounding now, a mix of confusion, disbelief, and something you couldn’t quite name. “Wait. You like me?”

He finally looked at you, his expression vulnerable in a way you’d never seen before. “Yeah. I do. And if you’re going to make fun of me for it, just get it over with.”

For once, you were at a loss for words. Your brain struggled to process the idea that kuroo tetsurō—your infuriating, arrogant, handsome rival—had just confessed to liking you.

“I—uh—” You cleared your throat, your voice embarrassingly shaky. “I’m not going to make fun of you.”

His eyebrows lifted slightly. “You’re not?”

You shook your head, biting your lip. “No. Because... I think I like you too.”

The silence that followed was deafening. Kuroo stared at you, as if he couldn’t quite believe what he’d just heard. “You do?”

You nodded, your cheeks burning. “Yeah. Even though you’re a pain in the ass.”

His face broke into a grin, the kind that made your stomach flip. “Well, that’s a relief. Because you’re a pain in the ass too.”

You let out a laugh, the tension between you dissolving into something warmer. Kuroo reached out hesitantly, his fingers brushing against yours.

“So, what now?” he asked, his voice softer.

“I guess we figure it out,” you said, meeting his gaze.

His hand fully closed around yours, and the two of you sat there, the storm raging outside but a calm settling between you.

“Also,” you added with a smirk, “you’re still going to lose to me on the final report.”

Kuroo laughed, leaning closer until his forehead rested against yours. “We’ll see about that, sweater girl.”

And when his lips met yours moments later, soft and unhurried, you realized that maybe being stuck with him wasn’t so bad after all.

---------------------------------------------

The next day, you walked into class feeling a little off-kilter. You hadn’t slept much after last night’s storm—or kuroo’s confession. It wasn’t every day that your academic rival turned out to be… something else entirely. And now, you had to face him in public, surrounded by classmates who’d be quick to notice any strange behavior.

You adjusted the hem of your skirt and pushed open the lecture hall doors, trying to appear casual. But as soon as you stepped in, you froze.

There, leaning casually against a desk, was kroo testuro. And he was wearing one of your oversized sweaters.

Not just any sweater—the pink one, your absolute favorite, the one you’d accidentally left in the library last night. On him, it looked absurdly small, barely skimming the waistband of his jeans and stretching tight across his broad shoulders.

Your jaw dropped. “What the hell are you doing?”

Kuroo looked up, a grin spreading across his face. “Morning, sweater girl.”

You stormed over, ignoring the giggles and murmurs from your classmates. “Why are you wearing my sweater?”

“Solidarity,” he said, shrugging. “Thought I’d show some team spirit.”

“Team spirit?” you repeated, incredulous. “You look ridiculous.”

“Do I?” he asked, tilting his head. “Because judging by everyone’s reactions, I think I look pretty good.”

You glanced around, and sure enough, half the class was staring, a mix of amusement and curiosity on their faces. Someone in the back was whispering something about couples sharing clothes.

Your cheeks burned. “Take it off, kuroo.”

“Now, now,” he teased, leaning closer. “You wouldn’t want me stripping in the middle of class, would you?”

You groaned, smacking his arm. “I hate you.”

He laughed, straightening up and adjusting the sweater like it was his new favorite outfit. “You don’t, though.”

You wanted to argue, but before you could, the professor walked in, cutting off any chance of further confrontation. Mingyu shot you a wink before sauntering off to his seat, leaving you fuming—and oddly flustered.

---

After class, you cornered him outside the lecture hall.

“kuroo, I swear to god, if you wear my clothes again—”

“I thought you liked the way I looked in it,” he interrupted, leaning casually against the wall.

You spluttered, completely caught off guard. “I—what?!”

“You were staring,” he said smugly.

“I was not—”

“Totally were.”

“kuroo testuro, I will—”

“Alright, alright,” he said, holding up his hands in surrender, though the grin on his face didn’t fade. “I’ll give it back. But only if you admit I look good in it.”

Your eye twitched. “You’re insufferable.”

“And you’re adorable when you’re mad,” he shot back.

You wanted to stay mad, but the warmth in his gaze made it impossible. His teasing wasn’t the same anymore—it wasn’t about competition or one-upping each other. It was softer now, laced with affection.

“Fine,” you muttered, crossing your arms. “You don’t look terrible”

“I’ll take it,” he said with a laugh.

---

In the weeks that followed, your relationship with kuroo became a strange mix of familiar banter and new, uncharted territory. He still annoyed you constantly, showing up to study sessions with obnoxious smirks and half-baked ideas. But now, those moments ended with quiet smiles and lingering touches.

He started bringing you coffee in the mornings, claiming it was “just to keep his partner awake,” though he always remembered your favorite order. You caught yourself doodling little hearts in the margins of your notes whenever he leaned in too close, his cologne distracting you.

The teasing never stopped, but it shifted. When he “accidentally” knocked over your stack of papers one day, he helped you pick them up without a word, slipping a sticky note between the pages: You’re still the smartest person I know.

When he missed a point in a debate, you handed him a scribbled note mid-argument: Don’t forget to mention the stats from page 5. He read it and smirked, throwing in a compliment about your “incredible resourcefulness” that made the whole class laugh—and left you blushing.

---

One evening, as you walked across campus together after another late-night study session, kuroo tugged on the sleeve of your sweater.

“Hey,” he said, his voice softer than usual.

You turned to him, tilting your head. “What?”

“Do you think people are starting to notice?”

You frowned, confused. “Notice what?”

“That you’re mine,” he said casually, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

Your heart skipped a beat, and you tugged the sleeve out of his grip, trying to hide your flustered expression. “You’re impossible.”

“And you love it,” he said, grinning.

You didn’t deny it.

And he is absolutely right you don't...in fact you love him more than anything

----the end---------

[gojomyshayla]

A/n: This is an iwaizumi x reader fanfic.hope it helps to keep up with your delulu-ness ;))

Warnings : my bad grammer , slight suggestive scenes ( I know you pervs gonna read it anyways -) ) ,my knowledge in vollyball.

Summary: A lifelong friendship with Iwaizumi Hajime blossoms into love as subtle moments and unspoken feelings come to light during high school. After an intense volleyball match, a heartfelt confession changes everything, transforming your bond into a deep, romantic connection.

ENJOY READING!

Beyond the game

*********************************************

From the moment you met Iwaizumi Hajime, your lives were entwined. It wasn’t an accident that you became best friends. In fact, it seemed inevitable. From the day you both toddled around the same playground, laughing and exploring together, there was an unspoken bond that bound you in a way no one could understand. You had always been inseparable—no matter how much time passed, you found yourselves back in the same place, always.

When you were younger, Iwaizumi was the protector. No one dared to hurt you in any way, because if they did, they had to answer to him. You’d laugh it off, rolling your eyes at his overprotectiveness, but deep down, you appreciated it. He wasn’t the type to make a scene, but when it came to you, something in him always changed. Whether it was the way he’d walk you home from school every day or how he’d glare at any boy who dared to look at you for more than a second too long, it was clear that no one—not even the boys who tried to flirt with you—would get close.

You’d smile, give them a polite "no thanks," and then retreat behind Iwaizumi, who, though silent, had an aura of danger that sent even the bravest souls running. You never thought much about it, never questioned his intentions. He was your best friend, your protector, the one person you could always count on.

And then, things started to change.

---------------------------------------------

High school started, and you knew things were different right away. Both of you had entered with high expectations—academically and socially—and you were ready to take on whatever came your way. The transition wasn’t easy, but having Iwaizumi by your side made it bearable. He was still the same Iwaizumi, cool, collected, and indifferent to everyone around him.

You decided to join the volleyball team as the manager, not just because you loved the sport but because it would give you even more time to spend with him. Iwaizumi had grown into an exceptional player, and you were proud of him, but there was an underlying desire in you to be closer to him. Being part of the team meant you’d get to see him in his element, and that, in turn, would bring you closer.

He was never the type to openly share his thoughts, but somehow, you could always read him. The way his brow furrowed when he focused on a drill, the way his lips curled into a rare smile when you brought him his favorite drink during practice—those small moments were your silent communication, and you treasured them.

Yet, as you continued to spend time with him, something started to shift. It was subtle at first—an extra linger in his gaze, the way he’d sometimes catch your eye from across the gym and quickly look away. But as time went on, you began to notice it more. There were moments when he’d brush your hand just a little too long when passing a water bottle or lean just a bit closer when he handed you his jersey after practice. Each touch seemed intentional, even if he never said anything about it. You weren’t sure if you were imagining it or if he was doing it on purpose, but the line between friendship and something more felt more blurred with every passing day.

One late afternoon, after a particularly intense practice session, Iwaizumi was exhausted, but you noticed him standing at the edge of the court, staring into space as the rest of the team celebrated their hard work. You had become accustomed to his quiet demeanor after games, but there was something different about the way he stood there that evening. The usual Iwaizumi was the one who threw himself into the hustle, relishing the victory. Tonight, though, there was something else in his eyes—something that made your chest tighten.

“Hey, Iwa,” you called out, walking over to him. You tried to keep your voice casual, but something in you was desperate to break through his wall.

He didn’t immediately answer, his focus still on the floor in front of him. But when he heard your voice, he turned, meeting your gaze with an intensity that stopped you in your tracks. For a split second, there was something in his eyes—something raw—that made your heart race.

“Everything okay?” you asked, suddenly nervous.

“Yeah,” he replied, but his voice lacked conviction. “Just... tired.”

You tilted your head, studying him. "Tired of volleyball? Or something else?"

Iwaizumi hesitated for a moment, his jaw tightening. “I don’t know,” he muttered, his voice rough, almost uncertain. “It’s just... a lot sometimes. The pressure, you know? The team... they look to me, and sometimes I just wish I could escape it all.”

You could see the frustration written all over his face. You hadn’t seen him like this before—vulnerable, uncertain. He’d always been the one who held everything together. For once, he wasn’t the strong, indomitable figure you knew.

You took a step closer, placing a hand on his shoulder in an effort to comfort him, but you could feel the heat radiating off his body. He didn’t shrug you off, but there was a noticeable tension in his posture.

“Iwa...” You began, but you didn’t know how to finish the sentence. The words were there, but they didn’t feel like the right ones. “You’re doing great. You don’t have to carry all of this on your own, you know?”

For a moment, neither of you spoke. His eyes lingered on yours, an unspoken understanding passing between you. It was only then that you realized the truth—you had always known Iwaizumi, but you’d never known him this way.

---------------------------------------------

The next few weeks felt different. Every time you were near him, there was a palpable tension in the air. The touches were more frequent, more purposeful. The lingering gazes were longer, heavier. It was almost as if the two of you were standing on the edge of something you couldn’t quite name but both felt inevitable.

It wasn’t just Iwaizumi. You could feel it too, the way your heart would race when he was close, the way your stomach would flip when he smiled at you. The feeling that had always been there between you—comfortable, easy, a friendship that ran deeper than anything—was morphing into something else. Something complicated.

Then came the night that changed everything.

It was the night of the big game—the final match before the regional championship. The gym was packed with students, teachers, and parents. The air was thick with anticipation, and the players were all focused, ready for the game of their lives. As always, you were there on the sidelines, clipboard in hand, organizing the team’s supplies and keeping everyone on track. But your eyes were constantly drawn to Iwaizumi. He was in his element, dominant, powerful, the star of the show.

You watched him as he served, as he spiked the ball, as he dove to save a point. Everything about him was mesmerizing. But it wasn’t just the game. It was the way he interacted with you. Every time he needed water or a towel, he’d seek you out, his eyes locking onto yours, and for a moment, everything else faded. The world around you disappeared, and it was just the two of you, caught in a quiet, unspoken connection.

The game was intense, but you were used to this by now. It was the feeling afterward that would stick with you—the way Iwaizumi rushed toward you, his eyes sparkling with excitement after the final, victorious point. The entire team celebrated, but all you could focus on was him. He was panting, sweat dripping down his face, but when he looked at you, he didn’t say anything. Instead, he walked straight toward you.

Before you could react, his arms were around you, pulling you into a tight hug. His grip was firm, his body warm, and for a moment, you lost your breath.

“We did it,” he whispered, his voice strained with emotion. “We actually did it.”

You laughed, breathless, your heart racing. "Yeah, you did."

You didn’t know what came over you, but in that moment, with him holding you like that, everything you had been avoiding seemed to spill out. The pressure that had been building for weeks, months, exploded inside of you. You pulled back slightly, your hands resting on his chest, and your eyes locked with his.

“Iwa…” You whispered his name, unsure of what you wanted to say.

He didn’t wait for you to finish. Instead, in one swift movement, he leaned in and kissed you.

The kiss was nothing like you expected. It was hard, passionate, hungry, as if the restraint he had been holding back for so long had finally snapped. You responded immediately, your hands clutching at his shirt, pulling him closer. His lips moved against yours with urgency, as though he couldn’t get enough.

When he finally pulled back, both of you were breathless.

“I’ve wanted to do that for so long,” he admitted, his voice rough, his forehead pressed against yours.

You couldn’t speak, only nod, your heart pounding in your chest.

“I’ve been scared,” he continued, his eyes searching yours. “Scared that I’d ruin everything between us.”

“But you didn’t,” you whispered, smiling softly, “You never could.”

And with that, everything changed. The years of friendship, the quiet love, the moments of unspoken tension—it all came to fruition. There was no going back now.

You were no longer just best friends. You were something more. Something neither of you had the words for—yet.

---------------------------------------------

The weeks following that night were a whirlwind. Everything about your relationship with Iwaizumi changed, but it didn’t feel wrong. It felt right in ways you couldn’t explain. You spent more time together outside of practices, learning each other’s quirks in ways you never had before. And every moment felt like a new discovery.

The world had started to shift around you, and with each new challenge, each new kiss, each new shared secret, you both began to realize that love had been there all along. It had just been waiting for the right moment to bloom.

But the path ahead wasn’t without obstacles. As much as you tried to keep your newfound relationship quiet, the whispers started. The team noticed, the other students noticed, and before long, you and Iwaizumi were no longer just the best friends people knew. You were a couple.

At first, it felt overwhelming. It wasn’t just about the game anymore—it was about navigating the delicate balance between love and friendship, between public expectations and private desires. But through it all, you had each other. You always had. And that was enough.

It wasn’t just about the volleyball matches or the long practices. It was about the quiet moments in between, the ones when no one was watching, when you both let down your guard and allowed yourselves to be vulnerable. With every touch, every kiss, you grew stronger, more certain that what you had wasn’t just a passing feeling.

It was love. And it was real.