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honeyedmiller · 3 months

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Pretty Little Thing | Joel Miller

joel miller x oc!f!reader

rating: 18+, minors dni

synopsis: it’s summertime and you’re working at a retro diner on the outskirts of austin. you’ve seen many faces and heard many voices all in a passing blur; ones you’ve never really payed any mind to—until one handsome southern gentleman in particular catches your special attention, and he’s got a voice you’d recognize anywhere—one that’s gotten you off more times than you’d like to admit.

warnings: original female character, no outbreak (game) joel, joel has a hidden identity in this for a bit, joel is taller than reader, joel can pull reader’s hair, reader is mentioned to blush once, joel indulges in virtual sex work, joel has no kids in this, flirting, talks of masturbation, smut (protected sex, blowjob, consensual choking, spitting, hair pulling, many ass slaps, edging, squirting, name calling, ass play), no use of y/n.

word count: 5.3k

a/n: this is entirely self indulgent. sorry for the small writing hiatus, life has been insanely busy. thanks for being patient with me as i ease back into writing fanfic.

It was like clockwork.

Every day was the same.

The same regulars, the same orders being put in, the same rushes.

The lunch rush usually died down around two, which gave you time to prepare for the dinner rush before five.

It was funny, really. You never thought that such a tiny diner off of Interstate 35, tucked in a corner on the outskirts of Austin, would have such an attraction as it does.

Maybe it was the house favorite flapjacks you guys sold. Maybe it was the friendly hospitality you and your favorite coworker, Betty, gave to new and familiar faces. Hell, maybe it was the half-decent coffee and the low prices for everything that kept everyone coming in and coming back.

Either way, it was all the same every single day.

Until today.

Usually, there’d be no more than three stragglers from lunch, and no one would come in until around five.

The little bell above the door chimed as someone walked in, and Betty tapped you on the shoulder with a pleading look in her eyes.

You averted your gaze from the sugar pourers you were refilling, giving her a small smile.

“Honey, I’m sorry, I was about to take my break. Can you take that table for me? I need a cig after this morning’s rush.” Her blonde-gray hair was in disarray and her voice was scratchy and desperate.

“No problem. Enjoy your break.”

“Bless you, sweetheart.”

You brush off the straggling sugar crystals that stuck to your hands on your black apron, pulling out your pad of paper and pen before approaching the man that sat with his back facing you.

You muster up the best smile you can before stopping at the booth, ready to jot down his order.

“Hello sir, how are you doin’ today?” You ask, and he looks up from the menu with a grin.

The first thing you notice is his eyes. They’re a warm and inviting shade of hazel; a mixture of a beautiful green that reflects off of his tan skin and an amber as smooth as whiskey.

Then you notice his lips. Pink and plush. Kissable.

And then there’s the smile hidden behind the lips. Bright, pearly whites that take your breath away and make your heart palpitate, because god, why is he so handsome?

It’s like he won the genetic lottery or something.

The mustache above his lips and the scruff on his jawline matches his dark hair with a few silver strands peeking through; the only identifier of his prospective age.

His lips pull up into a smirk as he watches you shamelessly checking him out. Truthfully, you want him to watch you watching him.

He clears his throat and your eyes snap back up to his. You tilt your head to the side and study him for a moment further before he finally speaks.

“I’ll take a black coffee n’ the number three please. Eggs over easy.”

You write down his order and your brows furrow as he speaks. Something about his voice sounds so… familiar.

“Midday breakfast?” You tease, and he offers you a shrug and a grin. “It’ll be right out, sir.” You gingerly take the menu from him and walk back behind the counter.

His voice keeps ringing through your head as you ring in his order on the POS system. You couldn’t put your finger on it, but his voice was attractive nonetheless — deep and gruff, yet sweet and polite.

Where the hell have you heard that voice before?

And then it hits you.

Fuck.

Oh, fuck.

That man’s voice has brought you more orgasms than you can possibly even count.

In a desperate need to get yourself off one night, you explored your options until you came across a faceless account. It was his broad body and thick, muscular arms that caught your attention. And — yeah, okay, maybe his deliciously girthy cock, too.

The final nail in the coffin was that thick, syrupy Southern drawl that reeled you in and immersed you in a world full of pleasure.

His voice and groans alone have made you come harder than any man you’ve ever been with.

Your throat goes dry as you look back at him, tucked into the booth he chose to sit at, looking at his phone.

You mindlessly pour his coffee and bring it out to his table, legs seemingly floating in his direction.

You set the coffee cup down on his table. His large hand grabs the cup, making it look nearly miniature.

Your mind was fuzzy and your core suddenly had an aching throb as you thought of his hands exploring your body; what they’d feel like all over you and — god, get a fucking grip.

“Was there anythin’ else I can get for you?” You ask as nonchalant as you can muster up.

“Nope, that’ll do it darlin’. Thank you.” The crinkles beside his eyes deepen in the slightest as he tosses a polite smile your way.

“Food should be out in a couple of minutes.” You rap your knuckles on the table once before turning around to finish topping off the sugar pourers.

The chef chimed the bell indicating the handsome man’s food was done. You wipe your hands on your apron once more before sucking in a breath.

You decided to shoot your shot and call him out by his screen name. You were confident it was him.

You saw no wedding band on his finger, either, so what the hell, right? Worst that could happen is he rejects your advances.

You grab his plate from the kitchen window and head toward his table. Your palms start to sweat and you’re nervous as hell, because fuck, a face like that is hard to forget.

You set the plate down in front of him and he softly thanks you. You hesitate for a second before tucking a stray hair that had fallen out of your braid behind your ear, shooting a wink his way.

“Anytime, Mr. Ryder. Let me know if you need anythin’ else.”

He pauses before looking up at you again, eyebrows furrowing.

“How do you—?” He starts, clearing his throat as his eyes travel down your figure.

“I’m a fan of your work.” You shrug, passing it off like it’s the most casual thing in the world.

“I see,” He looks back at the now empty diner, gaze shifting back to you. “Wanna sit for a minute and chat?” His voice holds sincerity and — god, let it be — desire.

You nod and hold a finger up to him. “Just a sec.”

You walk back to the counter, catching Betty at a perfect time. She grins at you as she re-ties her apron around her waist.

You jerk your head back to Ryder. “The guy over there wants to chat for a few. Mind if I take a break?”

“Go ‘head baby. Not like we got a ton ‘a people to serve.” She laughs, and you shoot her a smile.

“Thanks, Betty.”

You untie your apron from your waist and walk back over to his booth. He gestures for you to slide into the side opposite of him, and you clumsily settle into the worn leather bench.

He chews on a piece of bacon before his gaze roams your face, seemingly studying you before he swallows.

“So, what’s the first video you watched?” He asks, and you feel your face burn with a blush. You thought he’d be more subtle, but it’s better to lay the cards on the table you suppose.

“Truthfully, I’ve scrolled all the way to the bottom of your page and have probably watched every single one.” You shrug at your confession, and that pulls a smirk out of him.

“What about your favorite?” His tone is almost challenging, but truthfully, he’s intrigued. Never did he think anyone could recognize him by just his voice.

Joel was careful not to show his face on camera. He wanted to keep himself a mystery—the gruff, sexy voice of a suave cowboy and his perfect body that he shared with the world—a secret.

“It’s probably gonna have to be the one where you’re pretty much just talkin’ the viewer through it and, fuck, this is kinda embarrassing but we’re already here,” You huff, and Joel shakes his head and urges you to continue. “When I watch that video, I’ve kinda timed it to make myself come the same time you do.”

“Not embarrassin’, sugar. That’s the sexiest thing a woman has ever confessed to me.”

“Yeah, well, when you got a voice like yours and a dry spell like mine, it’s the perfect mix for a most blissful—” Joel’s hearty laugh cut you off, and you couldn’t help but admire him from across the table.

He was so fucking handsome and you genuinely couldn’t believe you were seeing the man who’s made you come more times than you can count without even fucking touching you, in person.

“Can I see your notepad and pen real quick, baby?” He asks, gesturing down to your lap. You shuffle the items out of your apron pocket before sliding them across the table, and at the click of the pen, he starts to write something down.

You lick your lips and cross your arms over your torso, lolling your head to the side. He clicks the pen once more before sliding it back over to you with the notepad.

You look down at what he’s written, to see his fake name, phone number and an address.

“Whenever you get off, gimme a call n’ come over if you’d like. No pressure though, sugar.”

Holy fuck.

No way in hell you’re passing up this opportunity, so you shoot a smirk his way and tuck the paper into your apron pocket.

Play. It. Cool.

“I get off in about,” You look down at your watch, twisting your lips to the side. “An hour.”

You try to keep your voice steady, but your heart is thumping in your chest and your desperate, aching cunt.

“Sounds good,” He raps his knuckles on the wooden table before grinning at you, nudging your foot in the slightest before he finishes off his breakfast for lunch. “Just the check, sugar. Then I’ll get out of your hair.”

“I’d rather you pull it than get out of it.” You grin wickedly at the astonished man in front of you, sliding out of the booth.

You walk away to the counter before he can retort and ring the check up for his meal, but before you can bring it back to him, he slaps two twenties on the counter before you.

His thick fingers find their way to your wrist and give it a squeeze as he leans down to you and whispers his next words.

“Hope I can satisfy you in more ways than one, baby. See ya in an hour,” He straightens back up before looking down at the twin Jacksons staring back at the both of you, “Keep the change.”

He walks out without another word, without looking back, and it leaves you nearly winded.

“What was that all about?” Betty asks, sidling up beside you as she gently nudges your ribs.

“Looks like I got a hot date.” You half joke.

“If I was thirty years younger I woulda been all over that too, baby,” A hearty laugh escapes her and she shoots a wink your way. “Have fun tonight.”

The hour goes by surprisingly fast and you find yourself almost scurrying to your car after you clock out. You toss your apron into the passenger seat of your car and immediately roll down the windows.

The AC decided to give out on you about a week ago, and of course it was during a time where it was hotter than the devil’s fucking asshole outside.

You groan as you close your eyes, the heat already making you miserable. At least the diner had a good central air system.

You peel your eyes open to fish the paper out of your apron pocket with Ryder’s number and address on it, dialing the numbers scrawled across in blue ink.

After the second ring, his rich voice picked up on the other end of the line.

“Hello?”

“Hey Ryder. ‘M off work now if you still want me to head to your place.”

“Hey sugar. Head on over. There’s a spot in the driveway for ya.”

“See you soon.”

Nerves coursed through your veins as the line went dead. You type in his address into your phone, and to your surprise, he only lived fifteen minutes away.

You threw your car in drive and you were off, the hot air whipping through the cab of your car.

It was truly unlike you to do something so bold like this.

You never went to strangers houses, always ignored when you got hit on at the diner, rejected offers from several men for what would probably be a night full of mediocre sex—and yet, there was something about this man that you couldn’t shake off.

Even with just video evidence of this man’s gruff voice, veiny cock and skillful hands, you could just tell he knew exactly what the fuck he was doing.

It wasn’t long before you pulled up to a quiet neighborhood. His house was on the right hand side, and you pulled up into the driveway next to his black truck.

You took a deep breath before looking at yourself in the mirror of your sun visor before touching up with some lip gloss. You spray your perfume on your pulse points before deciding to stop stalling and finally get out of your car before psyching yourself out.

Your beat up work shoes scuff the concrete path leading up to Ryder’s door, and you swallow thickly before you knock.

Thirty seconds later, a now shirtless Southern gentleman answers the door, hazel eyes catching yours as you stare up at him in awe.

“Well fuck me.” You mutter under your breath as you study his handsome face and his thick, toned torso.

“Tha’s the plan, sugar.” His deep voice shoots straight down to your core, nearly making you audibly moan.

He steps aside to let you into his house, which is surprisingly warm and inviting. It’s cozy with its worn-in furnishings and family photos on the walls. It smells like him too; something earthy and musky and delicious.

He guides you into the living room with his hand on your lower back, touch sending a chill down your spine.

“Make yourself cozy, darlin’. Would y’like anythin’ to drink?”

“Whiskey, neat please. If you have it.” You respond, and he softly smiles at you before nodding and retreating into the kitchen. You can’t help but watch him walk away with the muscles clearly rippling in his back as he walks, all the way down to the back dimples he has.

There’s no fucking way this man is real.

You sigh and settle onto the couch, folding your hands into your lap after setting your purse and keys on the coffee table in front of you.

It’s only a couple of minutes before Ryder reappears before you, handing you a glass of amber liquid. You thank him and sip on it graciously, the smooth taste gliding down your throat and going straight to your already throbbing core.

He sits next to you and slings his arm over the back of the couch, allowing himself to get comfortable as if this occurrence is the most natural thing in the world.

Fuck, maybe it might be for him. You wouldn’t really be surprised considering the charm and suave demeanor he possesses.

“You can relax, darlin’. ‘M not gonna try anythin’ or touch ya without your consent.”

Your shoulders visibly relax at that, not even noticing they were tense to begin with. He didn’t give you bad vibes or scare you. He made you nervous—a feeling you haven’t felt with a man in a very long time.

“So,” You start, voice scratchy from talking so much hours prior and the burn of the whiskey affecting your throat, “You usually bring women home like this?” You’re half teasing and half curious, wanting to see if this really is a regular occurrence for him.

A deep chuckle rumbles through his chest and practically vibrates the whole couch. “No, sugar. You’d be the first t’ even recognize me just by my voice. Gotta say, ‘m pretty impressed with that. Guess you’re a regular viewer then, I take it.”

Now he’s the one teasing, but there’s a knowing tone in his voice. You didn’t even have to say it. He knows.

There’s really no point in denying how turned on he gets you, so you just… let it happen.

You feel a little looser with the whiskey swimming in your veins, giving you the bit of courage you mustered up within the past minute or so. You sink into the couch further, spreading your legs enough to keep the man curious.

He watches you wearily, eyes trained on your body and the signals you were emitting.

“You’re the only man that can get me off now. You’ve got me wrapped around those skillful fingers, Mr. Ryder.” Your voice sounds more smooth and sultry than you expected it to, but it was definitely working in your favor.

“These skillful fingers would love to show you a thing or two, baby.” His fingers twitch around the glass he holds tightly; clearly a form of self-restraint.

You didn’t want him to hold back anymore.

“Show me.” You say.

A small groan emits from the back of his throat.

You suck in a breath as your eyes notice his going completely dark, drowning in desire for you. His once bright hazel eyes have since been replaced with something deeper than a simple need to satiate.

It was fucking carnal.

He downs the rest of his drink and licks his lips, patting his jean-clad thigh.

“Sit on my lap. Back against my chest.” He commands, and you try to smoothly maneuver yourself onto him just as he’d asked.

Once you’re settled on top of him, he gently grips onto both of your knees to spread your legs apart so they’re on either side of his thick thighs.

Your lips part and you don’t even notice you’re breathing heavier until you feel a soft kiss on your shoulder.

“Relax, baby. ‘M gonna make you feel good. If you need me to stop, just tap my thigh twice and hard. Got it?”

“Yes.” You whisper, nearly shaking in anticipation.

“Good.”

And his hands are grazing up your legs to the inner part of your thighs, delicately tracing your skin. Goosebumps raise at his featherlight touch, and before you know it, he’s spreading his own legs wider to spread yours.

You were aching and damp even back at the diner as you sat with him in the booth, studying his handsome features. The cool air of the home hits the dampness on the cotton panties you wore.

Ryder’s fingers made their way up to the lace trim of your panties, causing you to softly whimper for him. You genuinely didn’t think you needed anyone to touch you so fucking bad in your life.

You didn’t want to come off whiny and absolutely desperate, so you kept your pathetic begging to yourself.

“So wet already, pretty girl. This all for me?”

You can’t muster up the words because your brain is simply mush at this point, and all you want is his fingers on you, and fuck, in you.

“You know I respect you, right baby?”

Respect you?

You’ve only known this man—physically—for a few hours, albeit knowing his voice and his body long before he’d even tell you his real name.

And yet, there’s a comfort in his presence. One that would have you willing to do nearly anything for him—with him.

And all you could do was meekly nod your head at his words, his Southern twang dripping in honey—buzzing into your veins.

You turn your head to look at him with a bewildered expression on your face, though, wondering why he’d ask such a thing.

He shoots you a devilish smile.

“Good, ‘cuz for the next few minutes it’s gonna look like I don’t.”

“Oh, fuck.” You mewl, tossing your head back onto his shoulder. He noses at your jaw, littering kisses and small nips all along your jawline and neck as he slides your panties to the side.

He slides his middle finger through your slick slit, moving up to circle your already sensitive clit. You shudder at the touch, clamping your eyes shut as you softly moan.

“Fuck baby, you’re drippin’ already. This what I do to ya? You get this wet when you’re by yourself and you’re bein’ a dirty fuckin’ girl gettin’ yourself off to my videos? Hm?”

His deep voice vibrates through your body, finger traveling down to your entrance. He teases you as he slips the tip of his finger into you—nothing more—and moves it back out.

He continues this a few times, and when you don’t answer him, he slaps your dripping cunt lightly. You gasp and grip onto his forearm that was wrapped around your torso.

“Answer me.”

“God, yes, I–I fuckin’ love your videos. You always get me this wet. Every time. You’re just so—fuck—goddamn hot.”

He chuckles at your blabbering. “Hot, huh? You think that highly of me?”

“Ryder,” You moan as he fully sinks his middle finger into you. He stops his movements and it takes everything in you not to rock your hips.

“Joel.”

“W-what?”

“I want you moaning my real name, baby.”

Joel.

That name is somehow very fitting for him, and lucky for you, it rolls off the tongue easily.

“Joel.” You test it, and his grip on you tightens.

“Atta girl.” He praises, sinking a second finger into you. You moan at the feeling, long fingers hitting spots yours never could. He curls his fingers to hit that exact spot and you cry out in pleasure.

You can feel Joel’s cocky smirk on his lips as he kisses your braided hair, likely in a complete disarray at this point.

The squelching noise that reverberated throughout his living room was truly obscene, but he didn’t seem to mind one bit. In fact, it seemed to spur him on as he twisted his wrist and worked his fingers faster, pressing into that spot inside of you that had you choking on your own moans.

Without warning, you felt yourself nearly at the brink of your orgasm—and Joel pulls his fingers out of you. You cry in desperation, the beautiful build up completely dissipated.

“Not. Yet.” Joel’s mouth was next to your ear, nibbling at your lobe as he worked you through the edging.

He didn’t stop after that, though. He kept the momentum going, sliding his other hand from your torso down to your swollen clit. He slowly starts to rub small circles onto the already overstimulated bundle of nerves, and you cry out a strangled moan as the feeling surges through your body.

“Now.” He says.

Your mind was going blank at this point and a pressure kept building and building and building—until you felt a huge gush, forceful and draining. Your eyes snap open to see clear liquid dripping all down the couch.

“Fuck, Joel I’m sor—”

“Don’t you dare apologize baby. You ever done that before?” He asks, and you shake your head no. He moans at your wordless response and readjusts himself beneath you, and you can suddenly feel how hard he is in his jeans.

Even through the denim he felt fucking big, and you knew you were in for it.

“Let me,” You start, shakily sliding off of his lap and onto the floor. “Let me take care of you.”

Joel watches you and the same muscle in his jaw ticks furiously. He nods without another word as you lean up to kiss the hot skin above his jeans, trailing your lips down to the hemline. You undo the button and zipper swiftly, and he lifts his hips to pull his pants and boxers down to his mid thigh.

Your hunch was correct: he’s fucking huge. You swallow as you take in the sight of his cock in-person rather than over a screen, and it was even better than you’d imagined all those times.

You gently grab the base of his silky flesh, giving it a soft squeeze as you move your hand to the tip. Your eyes flicker up to his, and he’s watching you intently. You smile sweetly up at him before bringing your head down to lick the pre come from his slit, moaning as you get a taste of the salty musk.

Joel’s hand flies to your head, threading his fingers through the loose braid as you slowly lick your way down the vein on the underside of his cock.

“So fuckin’ pretty,” You say, and he groans at your praise. “Even better than I imagined.”

You bring your tongue back up to the tip and take him in your mouth this time, going as far down as you could before you gagged softly.

“Fuck yeah baby, just like that. Doin’ so fuckin’ good for me,” He mewls as you set a faster pace, one of your hands coming to pump the rest of his cock you couldn’t reach with your mouth, the other gently fondling his balls.

You moan around him as his silky flesh easily glides onto your tongue. You enjoy getting him off like this; unraveling him inch by inch just as he’s done to you many times before.

He began to rock his hips up into your mouth, eyes rolling to the back of your head as you try your damndest to not forcefully gag around him.

“Mouth feels so goddamn good on me, honey. ‘M not gonna last much longer.” Joel confesses, and your tighten your lips around his cock to silently urge him to let go.

It was only another minute until his hips completely stilled and his pulsing cock was drained, salty spend coating your mouth in haste.

He groans loudly as he reaches down to cradle your jaw, slowly sliding your mouth off of him. You swallow his spend and sit back on your heels, looking up at him innocently.

“On your knees, baby. Ass up.” He pats the spot next to him on the couch, and you happily oblige. He pulls the skirt of your uniform up over your hips and slides your wet panties down your legs so you’re on full display for him.

You feel his hands slide over the globe of your ass, spreading you apart to get a good look at all of you. You suck in a breath for a second before you feel his fingers slide through your slick folds once more, teasing you so.

“You ever had a man touch you back here? Pretty little thing.” He asks as his thumb circles the tight ring of your ass.

“No.” You moan, closing your eyes as you press a cheek to the couch cushion.

“Hm. ‘S a shame. Feels real good.”

“Please, Joel.” You truly weren’t above begging for this man to touch you in any way possible.

“Please what, sugar?”

“Please—please touch me. Make me feel good. Even better than I already feel.”

You turn your head more to lock eyes with him staring down at you with a look of determination and hunger.

He keeps his eyes locked on you as he grabs his half-hard cock, reaching to the coffee table beside you both to grab the foil packet you didn’t even see until this very moment.

He rips it open and slides it on before sliding his cock through your slick folds. You sigh in pleasure as your eyes flutter shut for a brief second before you open them again as his tip notches your entrance.

“You ready baby?”

You nod your head, but he shakes his.

“Need your words this time darlin’.”

“Yes Joel. Please.”

He sinks into you slowly, his girth stretching you out so deliciously. It stung a little, because in truth, you’ve never been with anyone his size.

Once he’s fully sheathed into you, he shoots you that same wicked grin before letting spit slowly dribble out of his mouth and onto your asshole.

“Oh fuck me,” You whisper, moaning as his thumb circles the tight ring once again. “Please.” You say, and he hooks his thumb gently into you.

You feel so full like this, barely even able to comprehend the fact that you’re about to get fucked by your favorite adult content creator.

Joel starts to rock his hips slowly at first, moaning at how tight you are. He picks up his pace once you’re both comfortable and it feels like he’s punching your fucking gut.

It’s almost unbearable— but the pleasure outweighs the pain by a mile. He’s rocking his hips so hard that the couch starts to scrape onto the floor, nothing but skin slapping on skin. You feel a sting on your left asscheek and moan at the contact, realizing Joel had slapped you.

He does it again, and again, and again, until tears are in your eyes and you can no longer bear the sting.

“Pussy feels so fuckin’ good baby. Was meant to take this cock, hm?” He says through gritted teeth, and you can’t help but agree with him.

His hand slides up your back and reaches your hair, pulling it so your head tilts upward.

“So fuckin’ pretty like this. Love the way you feel around me.” He confesses, taking his thumb out of your tight muscle before wrapping his other arm around your torso once, only to pull you upright this time.

He’s pistoning into you as you lean back onto his body. His hand wraps gently around your throat as he scatters more kisses onto your jawline and up your earlobe.

“Can I?” He asks, and you choke out a meek yes.

His large hand wraps all the way around your throat, squeezing the sides. Joel turns his head down to look at you, all helpless as he fucks you relentlessly.

Your jaw hangs open and your eyes are squeezed shut, relishing in the all-consuming feeling of Joel.

Joel, Joel, Joel.

You open your eyes as you plead his name, feeling another orgasm burning within you.

He moves his fingers up from your throat to grab at your jaw, forcing your mouth open as he spits into it.

“Swallow.” He commands, and you don’t question him one bit.

He likes seeing you like this—submissive and practically breedable—and yet, he barely knew you. He knew he wanted that to change after this, though.

“Joel I’m gonna come.” Your voice is hoarse and desperate, trying so hard to keep the feeling of pleasure at bay.

It was no use, though. The way he was looking at you made you want to fucking risk it all, and when he finally bent his face down to kiss you, you knew it was a wrap.

You both moaned into each other’s mouths as your tongues tangled together, tasting each other and exploring one another.

It wasn’t long before the coil finally snapped for you, and seconds later, him as well. You both panted heavily as you were submerged in the post-coital bliss.

“You did so good, baby. Hopefully I lived up to your expectations.”

You huff a laugh at his words as he pulls out of you and shuffles himself down onto the couch, pulling you on top of him. He kisses the top of your head as he plays with your hair, a strange feeling blooming in his chest as you both enjoy the presence of one another.

One thing’s for sure and two things for certain:

You’re everything he’s wanted, and he didn’t even know how to tell you. There was no way he was letting you go now.

tags: @endlessthxxghts @punkshort @ilovepedro @nostalxgic @party-hearses

@joelsgreys @ozarkthedog

#joel miller #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel miller x reader #joel miller one shot #joel miller fanfic #joel miller x oc #tlou one shot #tlou imagine #joel miller tlou

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caitlinsclark · 2 months

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WHERES THE TROPHY? ¹ caitlin clark 𝘤𝘢𝘪𝘵𝘭𝘪𝘯 𝘤𝘭𝘢𝘳𝘬 𝘹 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳 | summary: caitlin can't admit the romantic nature of your relationship until she tosses away the bond you'd built. based on this concept! read PART TWO word count: 2.1k masterlist and tag list

The lines between friendship and relationship for you and Caitlin had been blurred worse than the eyesight of an 80 year old man with four pairs of glasses. The little fleeting moments of domesticity made you question where your friendship with Caitlin had strayed from the plot. At what point it forged from the paths of your other friendships, and it had become too much to ignore.

Like the time you caught her wearing your soccer sweatshirt straight from your closet, as if proudly displaying your last name was an occurrence she wouldn't even question. It knocked your heart into your stomach to find she had even taken to wearing it to her game days. So she could "always have your good luck with her" as she put it with a convincing pout when you asked for it back. And you were in no place to question it, even if you were always right in the stands waiting to send her all the good luck in the world.

Or when she'd held your face a smidge too intimately while feeding you a forkful of pasta, leaving you absolutely breathless. Her strong grip on your jaw guided you closer, almost instinctively as you wrapped your lips aroundthe fork in her hand.

She smiled smugly at your reaction, as if taunting you, which your entire audience watched gleefully from a live stream. Though she did not seem to care and you had to laugh forcefully and pull your hood up to cover the burning face you were stuck with, even minutes later. You couldn't help but notice the string of comments wishing to be in your place.

And how could you forget the most prominent tradition that she had started years ago during her first lowa game? Caitlin was a show off on the court, that was a fact. But you had learned that only stemmed from a deep down need of reassurance.

So when she makes a perfect logo 3 and points right at you to make sure you're watching, you think she's just fooling around and looking for attention. Until she uses her fingers to form a cute little heart in front of her face, a cheesy but heart warming smile accompanying it.

As a mere friend of hers, you tried not to let this tradition give you debilitating heart palpitations, though that possibility was already long gone.

But as the line blurred to indicate more than friends, you were doomed. It only got worse when Caitlin did it again, and again, and again. Until you had begun expecting it and returning the gesture back to her after every basket.

You'd think all of these acts, which some may call devotion, would come from a girlfriend. And in theory they did, but just not yours. Evil took a human form in the name of Connor, that guy had been hanging around Caitlin for far too long in your opinion.

Maybe hypocritical, as you've been waiting for her for 6 years but at least you got on the soccer team by your own hard work, not nepotism like some people! And he hadn't even been a good enough boyfriend to watch his superstar of a girlfriend at her last three games.

That's how you ended up sitting comfortably cheering on the girl from a foldable chair, court side inside the emptied arena. Caitlin was running drills and you were moral support. Every basket she made elicited a dramatic and rowdy cheer, mimicking a stadium's enthusiasm. She broke her focus to grin at you, her bottom lip trapped between her teeth bashfully.

"C'mere," You gestured to her shoe and she set her foot gently on your knee. You carefully began to tie the laces that had come undone and tapped her ankle when you had made a perfect little bow. She wordlessly put her other foot in the same place, careful not to lean her weight on you.

"So, are you gonna wish me good luck?" The arrogant smirk on her face annoyed you to no end, because you knew she had no doubt that you were going to do it regardless. Her correctly placed confidence in your admiration for her was frustrating to no end.

"Good luck," you both lifted your hands in unison, bringing them together in a high five as you stood up. When you were prepared to let go, Caitlin wasn't and she purposefully drew out the moment with your hands still in the air, linked. Hesitantly, she brought your hands down, still connected and you smiled shyly at the brunette, "You know you've got this, superstar."

Her confident smirk was replaced with a sheepish grin, practically melting at the genuine praise you sent her way, "Thank you."

You grinned at Caitlin as she started to back away, refusing to let go of your hands until your arms were stretched as far as possible. Even then, she held on for dear life to your fingertips for a few lingering moments before running off to the locker room.

Six minutes into the second quarter of the Fever game, you sense a sinister energy lurking around and are not shocked to see Connor making his way to a spot near you. Figures, the only game he comes to he's almost missed half of.

He settles next to you, too close for your own comfort so you make a spectacle of shuffling over. In the midst of this, a teammate had given Caitlin possession of the ball and you had more important things to worry about than the boy next to you.

As if it was second nature, Caitlin took a step back from her defender and the crowd watched in anticipation as the ball flew through the air before landing in the net with a satisfying swoosh. The crowd went crazy, though your girl only celebrated by lifting her fingers into a perfectly formed heart, one that had been practiced far too many times before.

Your heart soared in your chest, same as it did every time before. The moment was interrupted when you were reminded of Connor's agonizing presence by his reaction, which shouldn't have existed.

Seeing him smiling, almost lovingly, at her action reserved for you made a sick feeling twist in your stomach. In no world was that for him.

You tried to shove down the jealousy threatening to push its way out as you made the walk to see Caitlin at halftime. She was already waiting for you once you got the end of the bleachers, holding her hands out to help you down the last step.

Though you could've gotten down on your own, you basked in the opportunity and joined hands with her. And if she knew that you took a few extra seconds to hop down and release her on purpose, she pretended not to notice.

"I got you gatorade," You announced and she pretended to be shocked while you handed her the same flavor you did every halftime. She took it with a grateful smile, preparing to open it and reply.

That irritating, nagging, voice cut back in from whatever end of hell it came from, "I got you water, babe." He placed his hand on Caitlin's back, uncomfortably close to yours but you refused to move.

His eyes bored into yours, almost like he wanted you to back down.

"Cait always drinks a blue gatorade at halftime." Your shrug may come off as cocky but you didn't care enough to mask it.

You wanted to smack the grin off his face as he urged the water bottle toward Caitlin's face, "Better to drink water for now, right babe?"

There was no hiding the passive aggressive tone your words held, "Maybe if you had made effort to go to more than one game you would know she doesn't like," your eyes scanned over the object almost with disgust at his offer, "room temperature water when she's running around."

Though you expected Caitlin's agreement to accompany you, your gazes met for the first time since the slight standoff with her boyfriend and your heart dropped at the look she was giving you.

A tiny part of you, mostly a petty one, screamed for her to throw the water in his face and open the gatorade. You wanted to hit yourself, the most minuscule of "competitions" getting you riled up over your best friend. But with the way she narrowed her stare, leaning the slightest bit away from your touch, you could tell that you overstepped.

And when you were about to apologize, she took a step away and chugged the bottle of water. As she walked, she dropped the bottle of gatorade into the trash can and kept her back to you all the way until she reached the bench.

Your eyes closed in frustration, running a hand over your face and silently wished you weren't an adult so you could punch the grinning male next to you without repercussions. Though this was your doing and your jealousy.

The second half played out and you couldn't help but feel the slightest bit guilty for Caitlin's poor performance. She played with her emotions, and you had confronted her (questionable) boyfriend right before a big part of the game. Connor now sat a few rows in front of you, and it was distinguishable when Caitlin made a layup and pointed in his direction instead of yours.

The next few minutes passed painfully slow as so many ugly emotions built up inside of you. Most of all was anger at yourself for not being able to be happy for your best friend.

You sulked back to the locker room where you met Caitlin after every game. Maybe if you were lucky, she chose the nepo baby again and you could delay this conversation until you cried and convinced yourself today didn't happen.

"What was that out there? Are you trying to shove him out of my life?" She confronted with aggravation lacing her tone. She pulled her hair out of its confined tie, letting it lay against her shoulders. You got momentarily distracted and it showed.

"No, yes, I mean," Your frustration got the best of you and you loathed that your cards were being laid out on the table, "No, I'm not. That wasn't my place to say, I know. I just felt like this was our thing, okay?"

Cailtin's eye brows furrowed and the idea of having to clarify made you even more sick than before.

You gestured to the space between the two of you incredulously, "Basketball was our thing, it sucked that he was abruptly apart of it too. And you can't tell me that you weren't trying to get back at me toward the end."

Her nonchalant laugh made you want to shrink into a ball, it was enough that she didn't have to vocalize that you were reading into everything.

Caitlin ran her fingers through her hair and looked anywhere but at you, "He's my boyfriend, I don't want to choose between the two of you."

You couldn't respond, couldn't find it in yourself to tell her to choose, but also couldn't find the will to say she didn't have to. It wasn't her fault that you couldn't find room in your heart to like her and also be happy for her.

"Did you feel like it'd be only us forever," She said your name slowly as if your statement was impossible to believe, "We can both venture outside of each other and still be best friends. One of us would have to get a boyfriend eventually."

The conviction she spoke with stabbed straight through your chest.

Spoken like it was only a matter of time and no other options laid on the table. You were starting to realize that maybe to her, none ever did.

"Yeah," you tilted your head back momentarily to look at the ceiling, a bitter laugh escaping as your waterline gathered tears, "Yeah, we both could, but there's a reason only one of us did, Caitlin." Something in her began to soften, maybe it was the direct confrontation of what you had both skirted around for way too long now.

After a moment to gather yourself, you turned and left Caitlin standing with her gold painted award. The trophy in her hand felt dull in comparison to the one she usually walked away with, the one that was currently walking away from her tearfully.

this is in response to that bday post Caitlin made, bby you can do sm better </3 I was listening to the alchemy during this lol

#caitlin clark x reader #caitlin clark imagine #caitlin clark headcannons #caitlin clark fluff #caitlin clark fic #caitlin clark #wnba basketball #wnba #wbb #wbb x reader #iowa wbb

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noosayog · 2 years

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[Said Enough] Suna might have said too much but what's he supposed to do if you won't let him apologize?

wc: 1k

contents/warnings: angst(!!!) to fluff, quick drabble bc my Atsumu exes to lovers longfic isn't writing itself

“Oh,” you say. You stare at Suna and he watches you blink once before the last bit of light in your eyes dies out, irises glazing over.

Shit, he thinks. He’s running after you because he realizes what’s about to happen next.

All that comes out of your mouth is “okay. Um. I’ll just…” you don’t finish that sentence before running to the bathroom and locking the door shut.

He runs after you, but you beat him to it. The door slammed in his face, Suna rests his forehead against the wood and lays a flat palm on the divider between you two. “Baby…”

He doesn’t know what to say. He can hear your sobs and hiccups through the door, frustrated that he’s the cause but can’t get to you.

Scared to death thinking about what giving you your space could mean for the two of you.

“Baby, I’m sorry. Can you please open the door so we can talk?” but he knows it’s a lost cause. It’s been a lost cause since you beat him to the door. Turning around so that his back is against the door, he crumples down to the floor, head buried in his hands.

He should’ve known the second he saw the shutter in your eyes. He should’ve- fuck - he should’ve grabbed onto you to stop you from closing that door and shutting yourself away. He completely deserves to be single after the hurtful things he said to you tonight, and he wants a chance to apologize. Preferably, to your face. But with a literal wall between you two, you now have all night to think about what he said. All night to realize you deserve better. All night to conclude that you should leave him. Nothing scares him more than the look you’ll give him in the morning when you realize how much he doesn’t deserve you.

The rest of the night is spent periodically checking in on you and sending apologies through the walls. Your sobbing eventually quiets down into slow, measured deep breaths and but that brings little comfort. He can only hope you’re peacefully asleep and not awake to gather your thoughts and solidify your breakup speech for him.

–

Suna’s jolted awake next morning when the wall he’s leaning against suddenly shifts. He’s falling backwards as the door slowly opens, revealing your swollen cheeks and red eyes.

As if his nightmares have come true, there’s no uncertainty in your expression. It’s polite and shuttered.

“Rintaro,” you rasp, voice gravelly.

He’s already shaking his head.

“I think we should-”

He can’t let you finish that sentence. If this is the last chance he’s been waiting for, he needs to do something. So he puts both hands on your shoulders, gently, and looks straight into your eyes. It takes a surprising amount of courage to face that foreign look you’re fixing him with, and he realizes how lucky he has been to always be on the receiving end of your warm gaze and easy smiles.

“Please,” he whispers, almost begging. “Give me a chance to say I’m sorry.”

“I think you’ve said enough,” you respond, avoiding his eyes.

“Sometimes,” he starts. “Sometimes, I say too much and I’ll try harder to not do that. But more than that, I don’t say enough. I don’t tell you I love you enough and I don’t tell you how much I appreciate everything you do for me enough. I also don’t say I’m sorry enough but I want to stop doing things that I’d need to apologize for.”

You’re still not looking at him, but your lips are wavering and your eyes are watering.

“But I can’t change last night, so I want to apologize. I’m so, so sorry, baby. I’ll say it as many times as I need to.” As many times as you’ll allow me to.

His heart is palpitating and he can feel his pulse racing so hard, he can feel it through his veins. He wants to clench his fist to channel the nerves elsewhere, but they’re on your shoulders, and after last night, he can’t even think of treating you with anything other than the gentlest of touches. So you can understand how much you mean to him and how much he means to take care of you.

Yes, he didn’t mean any of the things he said last night, but he does mean to treat you well. He only hopes those intentions are enough.

Suna puts a hand on your cheeks and wipes the tears away with his thumbs, fingers lingering. Your tears don’t stop and the hiccups are starting again. You’re shaking your head at him and his heart drops. He hasn’t thought about what he would do if you don’t accept his apology. His voice is shaking a bit as he pleads his case.

“I… don’t want to break up,” the last two words whispered, as if he was scared that saying them aloud would give them power.

You’re sobbing, not saying anything, just shaking your head.

Suna doesn’t know what that means, only desperately hoping that you mean you don’t want to separate either. He throws his arms around you, tightly crushing you against his chest. He squeezes his eyes shut, bracing for impact, and he can hardly believe it when you reciprocate.

“You were so mean to me, Rin,” you blubber.

“I know, baby. I’m sorry.”

“I hate you,” you’re wailing right into his neck now.

“I know, I know. I love you.”

When your sobs finally settle down, you keep your arms around his neck. “Rin, I’m sleepy,” you murmur, nuzzling into him.

He hums, the relief and lack of sleep hitting him all at once. He’s just as unwilling to let you go as you’re unwilling to let him go, so he picks you up by the thighs and takes you to get the sleep you both missed out on last night.

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velvettte · 3 months

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series masterlist

nanami kento never called himself a bored man.

sure, he’d admit, his normal routine had gotten quite monotonous. every morning he’d rise at six a.m and go for a morning jog to collect his thoughts. he’d get back by seven to shower and wear his attire for the day — always some suit that he’d preplanned for the week, matched with his signature tie.

he’d make the commute to the office by eight, where he’s accompanied by his assistants and secretaries all greeting him a good morning and giving him his agenda for the day. he’d get into his private office and seclude himself, working for the entire day before returning home again.

nanami thinks he’s had the most boring day yet so far, that is, until you stumble into his office just as he’s about to leave.

you’re shivering, soaked from the rain, and your clothes stick to your skin. he can see every part of your silhouette in this dim light, and for a moment, he’s speechless.

“hello,” you say almost shyly, looking up at him with innocent eyes. “i’m so sorry for the intrusion but it’s pouring outside. do you know anywhere i could find a ride? or wait this out.”

almost cinematically, a thunderbolt ripples through the air, rain splattering against the glass paned windows.

you shiver a bit, and nanami has a sudden urge to cover you somehow.

you’re the most angelic person he’s ever seen, he decides, when the light hits your face just right. he sees your features, defined and perfect, accompanied with lips so plush, he’s unsure how anyone could ever resist.

“i could offer you one,” he says, taking off his blazer and draping it over your shoulders. “my car is just outside. it would be an honor to accompany you home.”

“thank you,” you beam, and his heart palpitates at how your smile brightens the whole place.

the two of you walk together, with him opening the door of his car to allow you inside.

he takes the turn out of the office building and turns to face you, bathed in city lights and looking ethereal. he feels lucky— his day wasn’t boring anymore.

“just another two rights,” you say, soaking in the warm air from his car. “my apartment should be around here.”

he follows your instructions, only to be led to a luxurious establishment. outside the plants were beautifully manicured, holding up despite the harsh weather.

“eden apartments,” he says, slightly in awe when you grin at him. “isn’t this where atlantis solution’s ceo lives?”

you smile even more, and he catches the slightest flush on your cheeks. “ah…that would be me.”

his heart nearly stops.

“well. thank you for the ride mr. nanami,” you say, and he wonders if this ride was a strategy or genuine interest. “i’m indebted to you. i look forward to seeing you all dry tomorrow.”

with that you wink and grin, walking into your apartments and leaving him there, a surprised man.

read part two

feedback is so appreciated!! send an ask or comment to be a part of the taglist <3

#ari scribbles #clause and effect #nanami x reader #nanami x you #nanami x y/n #nanami fluff #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk x y/n #jjk fluff #jjk drabbles #nanami drabbles #nanami kento x reader #nanami kento x you

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yogurtkags · 3 months

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❝ LONG LIVE ❞ — kageyama tobio

cw. manager fem!reader, friends to lovers, mutual pining, timeskip!tobio, the first years are graduating, light swearing (like once), possibly ooc word count. ~ 1.9k synopsis. tobio takes this seemingly last opportunity to tell you how he feels, aka procrastinator kags is in denial up until the last minute (you’re no better)

it didn't quite hit you just yet after karasuno's last match of the nationals, but it's all coming back to you now.

standing before the double doorway looking into the empty gymnasium, the memories filled with days and nights of blood sweat and tears come rushing back all at once. wins, losses, celebrations and disappointment — this place was a time capsule of the flavours of youth.

"oi kageyama, remember when sawamura-san didn't let us hand in our club application forms until we got along?" shoyo chirps, dodging a smack to the head from tobio.

tsukishima chimes in with a scoff, "don't lie to yourself, you still don't get along."

giggling, you lock eyes with yachi, recalling kiyoko telling both of you the story when you first joined the team as two new freshman managers. some things never change.

the six of you were a whirlwind of chaos — on the court, you were a force to be reckoned with, part of the monster generation. to you, they were the people that pushed you to keep going, the ones that effortlessly turn your frown upside down with their silly antics, even at the cost of your embarrassment. precious ones that lifted you up in tough times and cheered with you in the good.

god, you're already tearing up.

overwhelmed with nostalgia, you turn to them with glossy eyes and an airy chuckle, "guys, thank you for everything."

yamaguchi whines, lightly hammering his fists into your back, "stop it, you're going to make me cry!"

throwing your arm around his shoulder, your laugh bubbles out as the first tear falls, "i'm sorry, i'm sorry!"

tobio wants so badly to just reach out and brush the tears away from your face, you're so pretty, hell he'd even take you into his arms if he could. he's been doing a good job at pushing his feelings down but as the days towards graduation started looming, they've been crawling their way back up to the surface and he has no idea what to do with himself.

he watches and yearns for the day that you can be comfortable enough with him to initiate casual touches and physical affection. sometimes he wonders if you're avoiding him on purpose, you seem to be just fine with everyone else.

you catch your gaze wandering to tobio and find him silently staring off into space and looking almost deep in thought, the crease between his brows doing little to mask his inner conflict. he's been quiet for most of today, not that he typically has many words to say, but even cusses at shoyo were few and far between.

you give him the benefit of the doubt, perhaps the emotions of it all are getting to him and he's coming to terms with it. that doesn't stop you from worrying though, letting your eyes linger on him for a while longer before your attention gets pulled away by yachi — dragging her friend over to take a commemorative picture of all six of you, wanting to recreate the batch photo taken at one of the home games last season.

you find yourself situated between tobio and tsukishima again, donned with academic caps in the same arrangement as the last time, but something about the aura feels different now.

yachi’s friend is yelling at everyone to gather closer to fit in the frame, namely tobio, and your heart’s bursting out of your chest, “kageyama, move closer to her, you’re getting cut off!”

is it normal to have heart palpitations? in an attempt to get this over and done with, your thoughts race, hand clenching just thinking about what you’re about to do. you know what fuck it, throwing caution to the wind, you link your arm with his and pull him closer, briefly catching the look of surprise on his face.

you feel him stiffen next to you and you almost regret your decision in fear of making him uncomfortable, being this close to releasing your grip on his arm. it dissipates as quickly as it came though as he relaxes to your touch, almost leaning into you.

your flush as his side presses against yours. it's a welcome feeling, but your mind is short circuiting. for a second you forget that you're supposed to be posing for a photo, but a genuine smile comes as easily as breathing. this feels natural and as cliche as it sounds, you fit together like pieces of a puzzle.

harbouring feelings for tobio is uncharted territory — he wasn’t one for grand declarations, but rather the little moments that can easily slip past your fingers if you don’t pay attention. not that it mattered to you, your eyes were always on him. everything he did, every touch, drew your in like a moth to a flame, and you so desperately wanted to pull away to spare yourself the pain of rejection.

what once were innocent vending machine yogurt runs between classes became walking home together when practice ran late. you chalked it up to him being kind since your place was on the way to his anyway, though you'd be lying to yourself if you said you didn't hold on to the slim possibility that he just wanted to spend more time with you alone.

spending the last three years suppressing your feelings for tobio was akin to the struggle of closing a suitcase that's obviously overflowing. but it never made sense to pursue them, as much as you wanted to — you knew very well that volleyball is number one to him and he doesn't have space in his heart for devotion outside of that. no room for distractions. whatever happens, you'd be satisfied just having him in your life, yours or not.

but you just couldn't bring yourself to let go.

on the contrary, tobio firmly believes that you deserve better, better than him, more than a socially awkward dumbass whose entire personality is volleyball, someone who will treat you right and show you off like the glimmering gem you are.

he’s not well versed in anything other than the sport he’s dedicated most of his youth to — he’s always had difficulty juggling his passions with other commitments in his life and more than anything, he’s afraid. afraid of not being good enough for you.

after what seems like a lifetime in a span of a minute, the photos have been taken and you're reluctantly pulling away, shyly avoiding eye contact with tobio. you hate to admit that the close proximity was comfortable, you liked it a little too much. this only leads to you craving more and you're gutted that moments like this will be even harder to come by.

in hopes of distracting yourself from your thoughts, you begin to review the shots with shoyo, "kageyema looks constipated! aw i like this one, your smile is so pretty! wait why're you both blushing?"

unbeknownst to you, tobio's staring at the spot where your arm was interlinked with his. to him, you initiating the action felt like a silent declaration, that you were willing to take the step and just needed a little push. he had an idea.

later that evening, after a quick catch-up with your kouhai, it's about time to head home. with a heavy heart, you're reluctantly bidding goodbye to everyone and you're already feeling more tears threatening to spill over the surface. yes, you're being dramatic, there's literally a lunch meetup planned for next weekend.

you sneak a glance at tobio, and you're not surprised to find that he’s already looking at you with an unreadable expression, choosing to return him a small smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes. there's been some kind of an odd tension since the stunt you pulled earlier and you're not sure what to make of it.

“wait—” he’s calling your name, “…can i walk you home? for old time’s sake.”

for old time’s sake, you can't help but wince at the implications. damn that hurts, it sounds like the beginning of a goodbye.

not trusting your voice, you nod, letting him catch up before starting your journey again. you notice how close he is when he's falling into a step with you, the slight swing in your arm causing your knuckles to brush against his. none of you make an effort to withdraw, basking in the little contact like an anchor that binds the both of you together.

"so uh—" both of you speak up at the same time and your heads whip to look at each other, eyebrows raised and laughing.

you gesture with your hand to let him speak as his eyes return to the road ahead, internally thanking the darker night setting for the opportunity to gaze at his boyish looks and side profile. he's so pretty.

"so i wanted to talk to you about something." tobio stutters, "as you know, I'm not very good with words." with a soft smile, you nod, encouraging him to continue.

"do you know the feeling when you see a really cool spiker that you want to set the ball to? that's kind of how I feel about you."

slightly puzzled, you freeze in your steps to process his statement.

he waves his hands in a panic, "wait i'm sorry what i mean is— there's something really fascinating about you and i... want to explore that."

you almost miss it, but he adds, almost whispering, "i like you a lot and i want to try this out, if you'll have me."

stunned. pleasantly surprised. happy. disbelief. your mouth lightly falls open in shock, the script you initially planned in your head for this moment lost in the passing breeze, "i— of course, i feel the same way. to be honest, i just never had the guts to confess."

illuminated by the street lamps in the otherwise empty road, tobio's eyes shine with newfound hope, the flecks of blue almost glowing in the dim light, more beautiful than any ocean.

"but what about volleyball?" you can't help but ask, staring at his shoes in an attempt to ground yourself and shyly twiddling your thumbs, "i don't want to get in the way of your dreams."

shaking his head, he steps closer to you, wordlessly calling for your attention, look at me. "tch, you're more important to me than volleyball, dumbass."

his hands find themselves on your waist and before you even register, he's pulling you into a hug, your forehead clumsily bumping against his chin as he sputters out an apology. a small breathless giggle slips past your lips as you tuck yourself into the crook of his neck, sighing in relief.

“what?” he mutters, chuckling lightly as he tenderly rests his head atop of yours.

cheeks warm from the exchange, you wrap your arms around his neck, absentmindedly playing with the strands of his hair. your heart pounds with affection unspoken, yet so apparent.

"nothing, this has just been a long time coming."

the two of you will talk about this more in the days to come, but for now, you stay tangled in an embrace, savouring the first of many moments together.

notes. "long live" - taylor swift is karasuno's song and i will die on this hill (there's an edit on tt by @/starflix and i watch it everyday) also cid stop mentioning yogurt in every piece challenge failed (╥﹏╥) (dividers: @/cafekitsune) reblogs & interactions are always appreciated !

#ᯓ★ : written in the stars !#kageyama tobio #kageyama x reader #kageyama tobio x reader #haikyuu x reader #hq x reader

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