#I want to make them a hat that you could take off
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୨ৎ 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓲𝓷𝓽𝓲𝓶𝓪𝓬𝔂 𝓸𝓯 𝓫𝓮𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓾𝓷𝓭𝓮𝓻𝓼𝓽𝓸𝓸𝓭 . . . ft. boothill
boothill x f! reader. established relationship (but still new). nonsexual intimacy. petnames.
boothill visits you a lot, knocking on the door to your apartment at least two or three times a week. sometimes he stays a few hours, sometimes he stays the night. it just depends really. but he always comes. and he always comes with a gift, a little stuffed animal, or a single flower he picked on his walk to your place. but it's always something. he made you smile, and that's all he wanted.
he had come to your apartment later in the evening this time. not being able to make it until well after sundown. he was honestly surprised when you opened the door for him, he had expected you to be in bed by now. but your door opened, and there you were, standing in the doorway, the light from the entryway behind you made you look like some kind of angel to him.
"well, hello there, pretty girl," he said. he couldn't help the silly grin across his face. "i got this for you" he held out a single premature dandelion.
"thank you," you smiled back at him, taking the bright yellow flower from his hand, and stepping to the side to let him in.
once the door closed behind him, and he hung his hat on the coat rack on the wall. he reached out to you, fingers curling around your hips to pull your body to him. "i missed you" he mumbled into your hair, before resting his chin on the top of your head.
"i missed you too—" your response was cut short by an absolutely awful smell. you took a breath in through your nose, trying to locate where the smell was coming from. "oh, goodness boothill ! when was the last time you washed your hair ?!"
boothill looked down at you, his brow raised, he seemed confused. "i dunno" he shrugged, "how often am i supposed to ?"
"more than you have been, clearly !" you exclaimed
"is it really that bad ?" boothill asked. he seemed genuinely confused. like he didn't smell the near nauseating scent coming off his hair.
you nodded your head, "come here" you said with a little sigh, walking into the kitchen, dragging a chair from the dining room table up to the sink. "take your jacket off and sit down here" you said, it came out more like an order than you intended it to. but boothill didn't seem to mind, he kicked his boots off, leaving them by the front door, he knew you didn't like outside shoes on your carpet, and shrugged his jacket off, hanging it up on the coat rack with his hat.
he followed you into your kitchen, sitting himself down on the dining chair you brought over to the sink. he watched from the spot as you put the flower he got you between the pages of a heavy cookbook, pressing it down like you did all the flowers he got you. you left the room for a second, and returned with a towel over your arm, and a bottle of shampoo and conditioner in your hands.
"what's that for ?" he asked, nodding to the toiletries in your hand
"you" you answered, setting them down next to the sink, "i'm gonna wash your hair"
boothill's brow raised, just for a second before he shrugged his shoulders "alright" he said "just be careful with it, took a lot of work to grow all this out. and don't get any soap in my eyes"
"i'll do my best" you reassured him with a little chuckle, wrapping the towel around his shoulders, securing it with a hair tie.
boothill watched your hands as you tied the towel in place, it was made of a fuzzy cotton material, warm and soft against the back of his neck. "so, what do you want me to do ?" he asked
"just lean back, relax. i got it" you tilted his head back, he had to slouch in the chair quite a bit for his head to be where you needed it, but it wasn't too uncomfortable. it wasn't like his body could get sore.
you gathered all of his hair, and pulled it over the edge of the kitchen sink, the black and white strands pooling against the stainless steel. you turned the water on, waiting for it to get to a comfortable warmth before using the attachment next to the faucet to spray his hair.
using your free hand to undo any tangles, you made sure every strand of his head was thoroughly soaked before setting the attachment back in its place, and reaching for the shampoo. "the only shampoo i have here is mine" you said, squeezing a generous amount directly onto his scalp "so you're gonna smell like me"
"that's okay," boothill hummed, "you smell good" his eyes were closed, his shoulders were back, his breath slow and heavy, a subtle smile etched on his lips.
you nodded, smiling down at him. "alright" you said softly. you used both hands to rub the soap into his hair, pads of your fingers gently massaging it into his scalp, making careful work to coat every inch of it in the sweet smelling suds. boothill's head twitched, a little laugh escaping him as you moved to scrub behind his ears. you pulled your hands away, "are you okay ?" you asked
boothill nodded "perfect, darlin'," he answered "just tickled"
you nodded again, going back to your work. boothill's mouth was shut tightly, pressing his lips together hard to keep from laughing as your fingers scrubbed behind his ears.
once his scalp was fully coated and scrubbed, you ran your fingers down the length of his hair, coating it too with the soap, until the entirety of his hair was covered in a thick lather. "i'm gonna rinse it out now," you told him, receiving only a tiny, slow nod in response.
you put your hand on his forehead, holding it up like a mini wall to keep the soapy water from his eyes as you used the sink's spray attachment once again to rinse the soap out of his hair. you were extra attentive, making sure you got every last bit of the soap out of his hair, as leaving any behind would make this whole process pointless.
boothill was completely sill, his face and body were relaxed, legs spread, his feet flat on the ground. he wasn't bouncing his leg, or tapping his fingers on his thigh. which is usually what he'd be doing anytime he had to sit still for anything.
when the soap was rinsed from his hair, you grabbed the bottle of conditioner, and squeezed about a quarter sized amount on your palm, and ran it through the ends of his hair, careful not to get any on his scalp. "it has to sit for a little bit" you said, rinsing any of the left over residue from your hands.
there was no response, not even a hum or a nod, from boothill. "boots ?" you asked. there was still nothing. you looked over his face, there was no sign that he had heard you at all, not even in the tiniest twitch in his face. now that the water was off, and you weren't so focused on his hair, you could hear the quiet snores coming from him. "oh" you whispered, realizing only now that at some point during the process of washing his hair, he had been lulled to sleep.
you leaned down, brushing your lips ever so gently on his forehead, leaving a feather light kiss on his skin. the rancid smell he'd come into your apartment with now replaced with a sweet floral scent, mixed with subtle hints of vanilla and fresh cotton. you spoke in a hushed whisper, cautious to not wake up, saying out loud for the first time; "i love you, boothill"
#ꨄ︎ . . . literature#honkai star rail#hsr#honkai star rail x reader#hsr x reader#boothill#boothill hsr#boothill x reader#boothill hsr x reader
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After a very long week of diving headfirst into this fandom I think it’s only right that the champagne bottle we smash into this here ship is a four thousand word Chuuya x reader. Here’s to what I’m sure will be another few years of this, everyone; hope everyone is down.
Candies
He was glaring at you.
You had no idea when he got on the train. You did not care enough to wonder. What you knew was that he— the man in the hat on the opposite side of the train car— had been looking at you for the past three stops, and while you were fairly certain that you had no idea who he was, you were almost as certain that whoever he thought you were had another thing coming from how intensely he was watching you. Sure, he had the decency to look embarrassed by his staring, but that in no way stopped him from looking at you like you had something to apologize for. It was disconcerting. It was borderline creepy. But neither of you moved, because it was a train, and the two of you would not see each other again anyway.
The train slowed to a stop. Most people filed off. You did not. Neither did the man. You checked your watch, head falling back as you considered the pros and cons of waiting for the next train. You would have to eat dinner late, but you would not have to wonder why exactly he seemed to hate you this much for nothing.
You heard the rustling of clothing next to you. “Excuse me.”
You opened your eyes to the man. You took him in, identified any features that might be helpful for a police report: cold eyes, reddish hair, too many layers. Pretty, but not reassuring. You pulled your headphones off, fearing the worst. “May I help you?”
A pause.
You smiled tentatively. “Is something wrong?”
“I’ll give you five hundred thousand yen if you’ll go out with me.”
You blinked. “Excuse me?”
Reality seemed to catch up with him. “Shit. Uh.” He pulled his hat off, fiddling with the brim as he lowered his eyes. “Is that too little? I can go higher.”
“Do you think I’m a hooker?”
“Huh?”
You leaned away from him a bit. “What kind of thing is that to ask someone? ‘What’s your price?’ Seriously?”
The realization seemed to strike him like a baseball bat to the head. He immediately backpedaled. “That’s not— shit, I mean, that’s not what I meant to—“ he stammered. “I— no, I didn’t mean anything like that!”
“Yeah?” You raised your eyebrows. “That work for most people, asking them what they charge for a night? For fuck’s sake, man.”
“Hey!” He sat up, defensive. “I never said I wanted to take you home!”
You crossed your arms. “Then what exactly are you trying to do?”
“Ask you on a date!”
“You sure have a funny way of doing it.”
He huffed, face red. “Look,” he grumbled, “I don’t ask many people on dates; I’m trying my best here.”
“You could just ask me,” you pointed out. “You could ask me in a way that doesn’t involve offering me money.”
He rolled his eyes, seemingly— and audaciously— annoyed. “I can’t just walk up to a stranger and ask them on a date. Why would you go? You don’t know me; what if I’m a creep? How do you know if I’m worth the time?”
An incredulous smile crept onto your lips. “And you thought that offering me money would make you seem less creepy?”
“At least then you have a reason to show up! At least then I have a financial interest in showing you a good time!” He buried his face in his hands. “It took me a while to get this far and my stop is next and I do not have the time nor ability to actually woo you.”
The absurdity of this whole situation— the sight of an extravagantly dressed pretty boy bemoaning his romantic failings— was starting to get to you. “This all seems like a lot for someone you just met.”
He sat up quickly, steam practically pouring from his ears. “Well,” he explained seemingly in an attempt to regain some composure, “I may not know you yet, but I know that I’ve never seen anyone who looks as good as you do, and we’re on a train; I may never get the chance to see you again if I don’t do something right this second.”
You grinned. “Really?”
“Really. I am fucking this up.”
“A bit,” you agreed. “But you’re bringing it back around, calling me hot.”
He brightened. “I am?”
You shrugged. “More or less, yeah.”
His hands were shaking. You wondered how long they had been doing that. “Well,” he mumbled, “does that mean your answer isn’t a hard no?”
You leaned back in your seat. “I can be convinced,” you said. “Try again.”
He cleared his throat. “Hello.” He made eye contact with you again, the sharpness you had assumed was being weaponized against you seemingly inherent in his gaze. You tried, for a moment, to make out what color his eyes were, but the answer seemed to elude you. “My name is Nakahara Chuuya.”
“Hello, Nakahara Chuuya.” You crossed your legs. “See, this is better. Keep going.”
He gave you a confused look. You liked him, you decided. “Well,” he continued, disgruntled, “I couldn’t help but notice you. You’re easy to see.”
“Interesting word choice, but alright.”
He shot you a look. “You’re nice to look at. Is that better?”
Your smile softened. “Much. Keep going.”
He looked down at his hat. “I was wondering,” he continued, “if you were already spoken for.”
You snorted. “Spoken for?”
“Single,” he amended, irritated. “Do you have a boyfriend?”
You stretched out your legs in front of you, thoroughly enjoying this. “I am both single and without boyfriend,” you assured him.
He nodded sternly. “Then, can I take you out? On a date?”
You considered it for a moment. “Yeah, sure.”
He blinked. “Really?”
“Really.” You leaned back in your seat. “You’re cute, and I don’t think you’ll murder me, and those are my two big requirements, so.”
He chuckled. “High bars. No wonder you’re single.”
“What can I say? I’m hard to please.” You dug around in your coat for a pen, holding your palm up towards you. “What’s your number?”
The redhead paused. “I don’t have a number right now,” he said. “I’m having trouble with my provider. I can give you a time and place, though.” He held out a gloved hand. “May I?”
You gave him the pen and your bare hand. Quickly, he scribbled down an address (someplace in Yokohama), a date (the next Saturday) and a time (six o’clock). As he finished, the train came to a halt at the platform, doors opening with a quiet hiss.
Nakahara Chuuya stood up, fixing his pork pie hat securely atop his head before straightening out his clothes and giving you a stiff nod. “I will see you then,” he promised. “If you’re late by more than fifteen minutes, I’ll assume you stood me up.”
You gave the strange man a smile. “I’ll come early, then.”
He averted his eyes. “Thank you.” And with that, he left you on the train with a date, a time, and a great deal of confusion.
Foolishly, you showed up. You lived neither in nor near Yokohama. Getting to the address the man had given you— which he wrote with poor penmanship— took you some time too. You went through the trouble of dressing as well as he had been the day you met him— which was more formal than you would typically be for a first date with a stranger you met on a train— and went so far as to plan to be there fifteen minutes early. You had no idea why you were so interested in the man. You had no inclination as to what possessed you to show up to meet a stranger in the first place; after all, his assumption that you might think of him as some sort of predator would have been a reasonable one to make. But you had an inarticulable feeling that told you that this meeting would be worth your time.
Or you just thought he was pretty. You weren’t sure which it was.
The address he had given you brought you to a small restaurant close to the Tsurumi river which, if its sign was to be believed, primarily dealt in soba. Despite your planning, you arrived a mere five minutes early instead of fifteen which, in your defense, was still early, but apparently not so early that your date did not beat you there. As you approached him, a look of bewilderment briefly crossed his face.
“Damn,” you joked. “I thought I’d get here first.”
He looked over your shoulder. “You came,” he said, sounding surprised.
“I did,” you confirmed.
“Alone.”
“I was unaware I was meant to bring a plus one on a date.”
“No, I just mean—“ He stopped himself. “Whatever. I’m glad you came.”
You held your hands behind your back. “So am I, though I’m feeling a bit self conscious now.” You looked down at your clothes, then back to his. He had dressed much more casually than you in a loose, short sleeve button up, loose pants and a large dark jacket. He had kept the hat and the choker— which you had not until that moment realized you remembered— but you looked too formal next to him. “I thought you would dress the way you did on the train.”
He gave you a once over. “You look fine,” he said. “You look great, actually. Don’t worry about it.”
A smile spread across your face. “You've gotten more confident since then, too. I just wanted to make sure I didn’t look totally plain next to you is all; you look so stylish.”
He paused, eyes cast down towards his feet. “Thank you. I drank before I came.” He opened the door to the restaurant for you.
You walked past him. “Thank you. Did you drive?”
“Nah.” He shut the door behind the two of you. “This place is out of the way enough to make it not worth the trouble to park. I walked.” He nodded to the hostess, who sat the two of you in a corner away from the door.
The restaurant was a hole-in-the-wall: exposed crossbeams, warmly lit, nearly empty despite it being a Saturday. You took your seat across from him as the woman set a cup of water in front of each of you, leaving you to your conversation. She made no eye contact with either of you before she left. You picked up your cup, taking a sip as he draped his coat over the back of the seat and set his hat beneath his chair. The gloves, however, stayed on. “How long was the walk?” you asked.
“Not far. A couple minutes.” His elbows came to rest on the table. “I can walk you back to your car if you drove, or to the train station if you need. Just let me know.”
“Thank you.” You took a menu from the center of the table, scanning it absently. “To be honest, I’m glad you asked me to do something earlier in the evening; I’m not super interested in being on my own in the dark.”
He hummed in agreement. “Nobody does. I have work to take care of later, but I can’t imagine wanting to stay out past twelve alone otherwise.”
You groaned sympathetically. “Terrible. What do you do?”
He paused. “I… it’s complicated.” He laced his fingers together. “I operate a shipping company under a parent organization operating out of Yokohama. I technically and practically own the shipping company, but I can’t legally operate it unless it’s under the parent organization, so I have all the stress of a business owner with none of the freedom.”
Your lips twitched nervously. “Are you on a list or something? Why can’t you operate a business?”
“What do you– oh.” The brief look of confusion left his face. “I’m a skill user.”
“A what?”
“You know,” he repeated, “a skill user?”
You stared at him blankly.
“I have a gift?”
“Isn’t that a dog whistle?”
“What? No!” He crossed his arms. “I have supernatural abilities.”
You considered it. “You know,” you mused, “I’ve never been on a date with a guy who came out as being possessed to me.”
He opened his mouth to protest, blinked. “Well,” he conceded, “I guess that’s what I’m saying, but that would be a bad assumption most of the time; most gifted users aren’t possessed.”
“Wait, seriously?” Skepticism and deep curiosity battled for supremacy in your mind. “By what?”
He shrugged. “A god, I guess?”
“You guess?”
“It’s complicated.” To your– and his– surprise, he laughed. “It’s funny; I can’t think of the last time I had to actually explain what my deal was.”
You cocked your head to the side. “Do most people just know?”
“More or less.” He shrugged again, looking towards the door. “It’s practical. I use it a lot.”
“I see.” You sat up, taking your cup and turning it over in your hands. “What does it do?”
He did not say anything for a second, brow furrowing. He looked back in your direction, holding out his hand. “Give me your cup.”
You did.
He set the cup down on the table. Slowly, as though it had been set in a pool of water, the cup began to float upwards. “My ability,” he explained simply, clearly taking pride in the way your eyes lit up in excitement and awe, “allows me to manipulate gravity for any object I touch.”
You reached out towards the cup, moving your hand above and below it. If there was a trick to what he was doing, you had no idea what it was. “That is so freakin’ cool,” you gushed softly. “How can you keep it from flying away?”
He was practically glowing. “Basically, I’m counteracting the force of Earth’s gravity for just this object by creating a second center of gravity that only affects the cup.” He pointed to a spot near the center of cup. “It’s around here. So long as the force of the gravitational field I'm creating is greater than Earth’s, the cup will naturally try and be as close to the center as possible. If the gravitational pull were too strong, the cup would go through that point–” he pointed towards the ceiling, “-- and through the roof before coming back down. But if the force is weak, it’ll stay right around the center.”
You took the cup, moving it towards you before letting go. As if attached to a string, the cup moved back to its place, the water inside is sloshing.
The pure, childlike joy on your face was enough for the man across from you to forget, for a moment, the price of his gift.
The date continued on. The two of you went back and forth on a variety of simple, surface level topics. You learned that Chuuya was a dog person and that he enjoyed fashion. He said he had been in Yokohama practically all his life. He told you about his coworkers– no details, but enough to get a sense for the type of Motley Crew they were– and how that day was an anniversary for something, though he never got around to telling you what it was an anniversary of. At one point, before your food had gotten to the table, you asked about his gloves, which he had apparently not realized he was still wearing. He explained that he wore them all the time– he said it made work easier– but that he did have the good sense to take them off.
“I’m not a monster,” he had insisted. “I don’t want to get food on them.”
The conversation was surprisingly easy. He was nervous at first and clearly inexperienced– an observation that you chose to keep to yourself– but funny and over dramatic in a way that made the discussions flow jovially between the two of you. He was a sailor-mouthed, irreverent, sensitive man, you found, and he seemed to take great pleasure in your company and a surprising interest in the more tedious parts of your life: your occupation, your friends, your earlier life, all of which he found strangely fascinating. Though you knew little of substance about him by the end of the meal you shared, you could not shake the feeling that the sort of things you learned– the simple, stupid things most people gave out as icebreakers– held more weight than you could understand.
But you were grateful, nonetheless. You enjoyed talking to him.
Despite your protests, he paid for the both of you, and the two of you left the restaurant cracking up over some embarrassing story about school.
“Three days straight?”
You waved him off, laughter still bubbling from your throat. “I know; it was stupid!” you cried. “I swear I was possessed; by the end of it I thought there was a chance– assuming I didn’t have heart attack first– that I was immortal.” You sighed, trying to regain composure; you were gigglier than normal. “But I passed the class, so fuck that guy.”
He set his hat back on his head, pushing it down to rest snugly. “Fuck that guy,” he agreed, having about as much success as you did in wiping the stupid smile off his face. “God– being a teenager fucking sucked.”
“Dude, amen to that.” You looked in his direction, tears from the cold and from excessive laughter in your eyes. “Chuuya,” you sighed happily, “I am having an excellent time.”
“What a coincidence,” he grinned. “So am I.”
You looked up at the sky, which was significantly darker than you thought it would be; you supposed that you had spent more time in the restaurant than you thought. “I shouldn’t walk back to the station any later on my own, though.” You slipped your hands into your own pockets. “So–”
“Can you stand to be out later if I can get you back to the train?” He cleared his throat, apparently hearing the eagerness in his voice as clearly as you did. It was the same eagerness he had when he first asked you here. “What time is it?”
You took your phone from your coat, flipping it open. “Nine-ish.”
“Nine?” He pursed his lips. “Shit, I— no, I can make that work.” He leaned his weight onto one side. “I have to get somewhere at eleven, but it’s not a formal thing.” He looked away, swallowing. “If you want to, I mean.”
You held out your hand to him. “Nothing in this moment would make me happier than spending more of my time with you, Chuuya.” You wiggled your fingers in invitation. “Where should we go?”
He was staring at you, at your body bathed in the warm light streaming from the restaurant’s windows, at your face which betrayed nothing but pure intentions, to your hand which you offered him freely. He wondered if you knew how easy it would be to kill you if he touched you. He wondered if that was something someone like you considered at all.
“Chuuya?”
He blinked, clearing his throat. It did not matter. He took your hand. “Sorry.” He was breathless. “Lost in thought.”
You let him pull you closer, nudging him playfully with your side. “You’ll end up swallowing a fly if you keep your mouth open like that,” you teased. “Do you really like looking at me that much?”
He straightened up, heat flushing his cheeks. “So what if I do?”
“Well, I don’t imagine it’d taste very good.”
He snorted. “Shut up.” He nudged you back, looking forward. “We can sit by the river for a while if you’d like; the streets will be sketchy here pretty soon but nobody goes by the part of the river we’re by.”
“Really? How come?”
He shrugged. “It’s impractical. Nobody important goes to the river, anyway.”
“Nobody important?”
“Huh? Oh, right; you’re not from around here.” He looked back in the direction of the river, starting to lead the two of you there. “The Port Mafia doesn’t dump bodies into the rivers; they throw them out by the dock.”
“The mafia?” You started. “What, like La Cosa Nostra?”
“What you do and don’t know is really confusing.” He rolled his eyes. “The Port Mafia is a smuggling ring operating primarily out of the city; it has nothing to do with the Italian mob.”
“Oh.” You squeezed his hand, following close behind. “That’s terrifying.”
“It is?”
“To know that people are just chucking bodies frequently enough that you know about it? And that there’s more than one group doing it?” You tittered nervously. “I mean, I’d heard a little about Yokohama, but I didn’t know it was that bad.”
He squeezed your hand back, looking over his shoulder in your direction. A wry smile crossed his face. “Huh. That’s funny.”
You walked a bit faster to stay beside him. “What’s funny?”
“That you think it’s weird. I guess it never occurred to me that it was strange.” He tugged you to his side. “You don’t need to be scared, though; I’ll protect you.”
“Oh, will you?”
He shot you a look. “What,” he challenged, “you don’t think I can?”
“I never said that,” you protested. “It was just a very old-fashioned thing to say.” You lowered your voice to a growl. “‘Don’t worry, dollface; I’ll protect you.’ It sounds like something you’d hear in a noir.”
He opened his mouth to argue, considered it. “I guess if you found that weird, that would be an odd thing to say, wouldn’t it?”
“A little, yeah.”
“Because what would you need protecting from?”
“Exactly.”
A funny look came onto his face. “That’s funny,” he repeated. “That’s…” He trailed off, slowing to a stop on the road.
You looked back at him. “Is something wrong?”
“Nothing,” he mumbled. “Just that…” Startling eyes– they seemed to shine under the streetlamps– met yours. “You said you stayed up for three days straight,” he said. “Do you sleep well now?”
You looked away. “I don’t know if I sleep well, exactly; I don’t sleep as much as I should, at least.”
“But it feels normal, doesn’t it? To not sleep much?”
“I suppose.” You turned to face him properly.
His gaze shifted from you to the sky. “You know, I just remembered something.” He started to walk again, pulling you behind. “When I was little, none of us– none of the people I hung out with– had much pocket money, so we made a game out of stealing from the convenience stores in town. The competition was to see who could pay for as little as possible without getting banned from the store. I was never really good at it because I was an easy to read kid, but I remember always going for those… what do you call them? Bonbons?” He made a circle with his thumb and forefinger. “The little wrapped chocolates. I’d always shove one into my pocket because they were always left out and who’s going to give a kid shit for taking a piece of candy?”
You followed beside him quietly, watching him.
He continued. “The other day,” he said, “I went into a convenience store for the ATM, and I must have withdrawn twenty thousand yen or something like that– a good amount. I bought a pack of gum before I left because I didn’t want to be the asshole that just uses an ATM and leaves, and I realized– I think I’d walked a block away when I did– that I had one of those candies in my pocket.” He led you off the path. “I guess I must’ve picked it up while I was paying for the gum. They weren’t even the good chocolates; they were the hundred yen ones, and I knew why I’d grabbed that piece– because nobody’s going to lose their mind over a hundred whatever yen– but I couldn’t for the life of me remember why I’d grabbed it.”
The two of you came to a stop by the riverbed. It was quiet for a Saturday. The water shone under the moonlight, and the man beside you– whose gaze was now transfixed by the reflection– stood next to you, seemingly lost in thought.
You never let go of his hand. “Being a kid kinda sucks,” you said, running your thumb over his clothed knuckles. “You usually don’t have many responsibilities, but you don’t know enough to know what you should and shouldn’t get involved with.”
He looked to you.
“And you get so jealous of the Huck Finn kids– you know the type: no responsibilities, nobody to tell them no– until you get older and realize– too late– that the habits you picked up when you were left to your own devices probably weren’t the healthiest, but by the time you put that together they’re so deeply encoded in your being that they’re a part of who you are and part of how you got this far, so even if they’re unhealthy it’s not like you can give them up now.” You shivered. “It’s frustrating, looking back and thinking about what you could’ve been.”
The two of you stood there, staring at the water. Chuuya wrapped an arm around your shoulders, trying, in vain, to keep you from the cold.
Finally, he spoke. “I don’t think I’ve ever had this kind of conversation with anyone before.”
You closed your eyes, leaning against him. “It’s funny,” you said. “I don’t think I have either.”
His voice was soft. “I want to see you again.”
“So do I.”
“Then we should.”
“We should.”
You did.
#Chuuya#chuuya nakahara#bungou stray dogs chuuya#bsd chuuya#chuuya x reader#chuuya x you#nakahara chūya#nakaharachuuya#bsd nakahara#chuya nakahara x reader#bungou stray dogs#bungou sd#bunguo stray dogs#bungo stray dogs x reader#bsd#very mild angst#but we’re starting off slow#fluff#mostly#chuuya is a loser#but we love him anyway
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Their comfort zone
Jake Lockley x afab!reader
Summary: Jake tried to re-establish connection with Steven's former steakhouse date. She was mean to them and now Jake seeks comfort in you.
Cw/triggers: Comfort, fluff, one or two curse words.
This has been requested via pm and wishes to stay anonymous. :)
"Wait, Dylan. Give Steven another chance, he didn't–"
"No. Whatever freakshow goes on in your head, I've already told you. Lose. My. Number!"
Jake took a breath. "Come on, I just told you about us."
There was a short sigh, then the call ended.
-
Jake slumped back, taking a moment to process the nerve wrecking call.
After a minute he dials another number - yours.
"Hi Jake." came your soft voice which made him smile.
"Hey there. Listen... I just had a rollercoaster of a call.. can I come over for a bit to clear my mind?" Jake's voice was soft, almost broken.
You've never experienced Jake this sad, only his tough, calm and menacing side, so this is a surprise.
"Of course, Jake. Is everything alright?"
"I'll explain everything once I'm there. Thanks by the way." He had a genuine smile on his face for your understanding.
Jake ended the call, getting dressed in his usual attire and his trusty hat.
It wasn't long until Jake knocked on your door.
When you opened it, Jake had a small smile on his face, not wanting to come off too hurt.
"Hey, thanks for letting me stop by."
You smile. "You know I'm always there for you guys." you stepped to the side, inviting him in.
While Jake made himself comfortable in your living room, you were in the kitchen, making tea.
Once you returned, you put both mugs down on the coffee table. "I know you guys prefer black coffee except Steven, but I thought tea might be better." you chuckle softly.
Jake smiled widely at you, taking his mug. "No it's completely fine. The tea is actually the right thing I need rightnow."
You sat down beside him on the couch, sipping on your tea. "So, what do you wanna talk about?"
"Well," Jake started, "you know the woman Steven was supposed to go on a date at the steakhouse?"
"Yeah. The one he accidentally forgot." you nod.
"Exactly," Jake gave a curt nod, "so, I called her, wanting to make her forgive us and give Steven another chance."
"What did she say?"
Jake sipped on his tea. "She was a total bitch about it, not letting me finish talking."
He continued. "She was so mean to us. Poor Steven was so done with her and Marc tried reasoning too, but she kept insulting us." Jake sighed.
Putting your mug down, you scoot closer to him, wrapping your arm around his shoulders. "Jake, she wasn't worth it. You all deserve better." you smile softly.
Jake put his hat down. "Really? You think that? I just want to be there for Steven and Marc."
"Yes I think that," you began running your fingers through his hair, making Jake lean into your touch, "you three deserve nothing but the best." you say gently.
Jake closed his eyes, smiling. "Holy shit, hearing you like that... I think we are falling for you."
You giggle. "Even Marc and Steven?"
"Even Marc and Steven." Jake admits softly, wrapping his arms around you.
Jake pulled back, looking at you with a soft expression. "Hey, do you mind if we stay for tonight?" his tone was sincere.
You smile. "Yes, of course!"
"Thanks, mi amor." Jake hugged you tighter, the three of them are looking forward on spending the night with someone who could understand them - you.
-------------------------
Wanna get tagged?
Tags:
@nekoyin @steven-grants-world @iolaussharpe-24 @buckyssugarchick @sugarplumz100 @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @krakenkitty @silvernight-m @lunaana-02 @ivystoryweaver @chaithetics @mooksmouse @heavydirtysoulsblog @faretheeoscar @deceasedream69 @sejanusxfan
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8:13 PM
lee jeno x reader
“These are so cute,” you mutter, lifting another one of the pictures off the table. The wedding is finally settling down a bit, a few people out on the dance floor while others talk amongst themselves at the tables. The rest of your tablemates have scattered around the room, leaving only you and Jeno.
Your boyfriend has his arm wrapped around the back of your chair, gazing down at the picture in your hands. “Mhm,” he hums, “should save that to a Pinterest board for our wedding.”
He says it so casually you almost choke on air. “Our wedding? You want to marry me?” you question. Now, you and Jeno have been dating for quite some time now. But not enough to truly, seriously talk about marriage. Nothing more than a few casual conversations about what the future could hold. Yet he says those words like you’re already engaged.
“Yeah,” he says, shrugging his shoulders lightly. “You do want to get married, right?” He seems a little tentative now. Like he’s worried that he scared you off.
You’re quick to ease the tension. “Of course I want to get married. I just didn’t think you’d bring it up so nonchalantly like that.”
He smiles back at you with that crinkle in his eyes you love so much. Removing his hand from the back of your chair, he reaches out to grab the picture from you. He looks down at it with admiration. “I can already think of the pictures we could use,” he admits. “Like that one of you sleeping in the laundry basket. That one is cute.”
You giggle at his statement. “Okay,” you concede. “But only if we get to include the one where you are blowing bubbles with that weird pinwheel hat on.”
He sets the picture down, ruffling your hair a bit. “I think someone has had one too many of these,” he teases, pushing your champagne glass further away from you. You roll your eyes at him.
Jeno goes to say something once again, but is interrupted by a tap on his shoulder. He turns around to see your little cousin, her eyes pointed bashfully toward the floor and rocking on her heels. “Hello Aria,” he says, provoking her to actually look at him. “Whatcha need?”
She looks at you hesitantly before looking back toward your boyfriend. “Can you…dance with me, Jeno?” she whispers. The question has you realizing that the song has now switched to something slower, a few couples adorning the dance floor. How cute, you think to yourself.
“Of course,” he responds, grinning down at the girl. Before she knows it, Jeno is scooping her up, carrying her to the dance floor. You can hear her giggles fade as they reach the other side of the room.
Taking a breath, you look back toward the table, grabbing your champagne glass and another picture. Your moment of peace doesn’t last long though, because someone plops down in the seat next to you less than a minute later. When you look up, you spot your grandmother. “It’s a shame you didn’t participate in the bouquet toss. I was hoping you two would be next,” she taunts, looking pointedly at you.
You set the items down, opting to run your hands over your face in embarrassment. “Ah, grandma!” you complain. “You know we don’t believe in superstitious stuff like that. We’ll get there in our own time.”
She nods in understanding, but still smirks. Leaning closer to you, she begins to whisper. “You two would make me some beautiful grandbabies.”
Now you’re really blushing. Thoughts of having a mini Jeno running around your grandmother’s house flash through your mind. You try your best to push them away. “Seriously, amma?” you exclaim, though there’s no malice in your voice.
She points across the room. You follow her movements to find Jeno with a bright smile on his face, Aria twirling around in his arms. He reaches down to brush a strand of hair out of her face. You can’t help but gaze longingly at the scene, wishing that it was a daughter of your own. Your grandmother calls your name once more and you turn back to look at her. “If the next wedding I attend isn’t yours, that boy is getting a serious talk from me,” she says smugly. Without another word, she scoots back in her chair, walking back toward her own table.
You steal a glance at the bride and groom’s table. They’re lightly making conversation, her head resting against his shoulder. His arm is wrapped around her shoulder with his hand hanging down to brush comforting strokes down her arm. Maybe that could be you and Jeno sometime soon.
Startled out of your thoughts once again, you see your boyfriend plop down next to you. Your cousin is nowhere to be found, likely back with her parents once again. “What were you and your grandma talking about?” he asks.
“Just about how she thinks you and I should be the next ones to be married. Said that we would make beautiful grandbabies.” you say, repeating her words with your own smirk.
It’s Jeno’s turn to blush, looking down at the floor. “We would,” he admits with a shy smile.
#lu writes#timestamp fic#lee jeno#lee jeno x reader#lee jeno imagine#nct dream#nct dream x reader#nct dream imagine
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christian didn't expect to be going home after this date tonight being excited for the next one to take place. he needed to text his friends and thank them for introducing him to maybe the most intelligent and interesting girl that he'd had the pleasure of crossing paths with so far in this lifetime. este was someone that he could see himself getting to know more. the spark between them seemed to be mutual too. christian raised an eyebrow as the girl in front of him checked him out from head to toe. "did you openly just check me out while i was staring right at you?" christian laughed as the girl mentioned she wasn't looking at him inappropriately and explained she was just looking to see if he'd brought his cowboy boots with him tonight or not. that made sense. although, of course, he wouldn't mind este checking him out either. she could do that whenever she wanted too - as long as he could do the exact same thing back. "trying's the most important thing there. we don't mind people drinking as long as they don't ruin the experience for everyone else around them. i have no doubts that you would be the fun kind of drunk though as opposed to one of those that gets mad at everyone around them." christian would normally have to call security on the people that tried to kick up a fuss when drinking too much. talking about a possible future between them wasn't something that scared him. wasn't the point of dating people to try and find the one? everybody out there was searching for a soul mate in some form. he didn't have much faith in a blind date maybe helping him discover the one but who was he to not throw caution to the wind and have one last go at searching for love? christian had kissed the girl behind the cover of his cowboy hat - something he wouldn't usually do on a first date but este seemed like someone he wanted to leave something with. he hoped it would make the girl relive the memory and think about him until they had their second date. este's hand cupped his cheek as his eyes stared right into the girl's as a ghost of a breath escaped from his mouth at the sight in front of him. she looked so fucking beautiful. christian was just about to pull back and move before este leaned in and kissed him a second time. "oh, you bet. i'll keep it safe up until that point." he pretended to take the kiss from his own lips and put into his back pocket to seal it there until they met up again in the near future. "don't let me forget, alright?" christian placed the cowboy hat back onto este's head again. she looked like the cutest cowgirl in this entire town. christian made sure it was sitting right on the girl's head before pulling back ever so slightly to examine it. "yeah, that's perfect. you pull off the whole cowgirl thing."
she thought she’d be leaving this date with a story to tell her friends about how terrible it was. that was her expectation, to go out with some random guy and have a pretty forgettable night. but somehow, christian was changing that. she didn’t feel awkward at all—in fact, she felt comfortable, which was rare for her on a first date. she found herself really enjoying her time with him. "i won’t believe it until i see it," she teased, curious, glancing down to check if he was actually wearing cowboy boots. she didn’t normally check out guys' shoes, but this was different. "just so i don’t look crazy, i wasn’t checking anything inappropriate, just seeing if the cowboy left his boots back at the ranch or not," she added with a playful smile tugging at her lips. it surprised her how relaxed she sounded, especially when, deep down, she was nervous about messing things up. "oh, i can for sure drink," she laughed. "i’ll be the drunk one there, i bet i can do that better than dancing," she joked, knowing she always tried to keep her drinking in check, especially with work or parents around. she loved her job and couldn’t bear the thought of people talking bad about her. but then she remembered her earlier slip-up—blurting out something about finding a boyfriend after barely knowing each other. if that didn’t scare him off, she didn’t know what would. still, christian didn’t seem freaked out. in fact, his response gave her a tiny sliver of hope, or maybe she was just imagining things, getting ahead of herself as usual. that was the thing about este—she read too many romance novels and started thinking real life worked the same way. and then there was that kiss. quick, unexpected, but enough to make her heart race. his lips had barely left hers before her hand moved to gently cup his cheek, just a ghost of a touch. but when he pulled away, she felt herself hesitate. "sure," she nodded, playing it cool, her hand dropping back to her side even though her mind was racing with thoughts far from innocent. and then, without thinking twice, she leaned in, pressing a quick, soft kiss to his lips, stealing another moment with him. "you can ask for it back when we meet again," she whispered with a smirk, her heart still hammering in her chest, already thinking about the next time.
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Enjoying my walk and after stopping for basically getting a crepe in the park (not exactly, but close enough!) decided that it is time
I do 'paper figures' of characters every time and I wanted to do isat since first playing it
I only got to finish rough sketch of what the pose could be not even adjusting clothes too much and poof they finished cooking!
Also I just liked how they look with that table behind them, a really cool table
#fanart#sketch#my art#paper figures#isat#isat siffrin#siffrin#I didn't even do a full cool sketch this time#I just really liked how they looked#For a quick sketch this one is good already#And I had bad ones!#Like a pf should not be TOO big otherwise it'll be a problem but not too small - my pen doesn't take that well#I've been making stuff like this for 8 years but drawing them in my sketchbook is a recent development#I want to make them a hat that you could take off#I did stuff like that before#That's why they're hatless#Upd. I finished themmm
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Gear 5 luffy's laugh is so contagious I just hear the drums and go insane how does this work. What did he do to me
#i still cant believe how much this new opening theme goes off.... DREAM SAVE ALL OF US 🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻 AAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH 💥💥💥💥💥💥#wait a second. the robot attacked 200 years ago. the void century was 800 years ago no????? what#oh see it was made 900 years ago.... but why did it attack 200 years ago then.... what happened#it is still so funny how they made evegapunk einstein but with some cunty long legs#200 years ago they gave rights to the gyojin!!! i see i see ✍️✍️also i still wonder why law and kuma have similar hat and pants designs#like there is NO WAY that much similarity isnt done on purpose. NO FUCKING WAY!!! I NEED ANSWERS!!!#are they annihliating cp ships akdhakskd yeah vegapunk letsgo#also the opening song is about dreams and the end one is about luffy reaching shanks...... havent got a clue why but there it is#talking tag#watching one piece#episode 1098#also is lucci named lucci bc it kinda sounds like luffy. SERAPHIM KUMA HAS HIS DEVIL FRUIT???? vegapunk could only make zoan fruits????#also wdym when cp0 acts it means its some historic event. lucci is like 25. where are the experienced people here#sentomaru works for vegapunk??? maybe i forgor about this tbh also do theu have a doffy seraphim??? the fact they have animal names....#stussy letting kaku get hurt akdhsjsn oh atlas has lamb ears..... and lucci said she is is prey... no..... the foresahdowing :(#lucci you fucked up she just gave luffy food... that a death sentence look what happened to kaido#episode 1099#<- oh my god btw. god. jesus.#why is akainu telling the cp0 what to do or thinks he can do that... thats the world gov... also thinkng about how garp should fight him#and not luffy.... because of ace you know... i still wonder how did sengoku know who ace's father was... there is only one man who knew....#everyone trying to stop them from fighting ajdhsksjks two rabid dogs fr#LUFFY TAKING OFF HIS JACKET WHEN LUCCI ASKS FOR HIS WANTED SIGN!!!! GO OFF KING!!!! SLAY!!! THE CREW SAW HIM!!! FINALLY!!!#i have been smiling since he started the transformation this is so sick...... i have got a case of the luffy brain#zoan fruits steal the personality of the user when they awaken ✍️✍️ luffy???? nami being the only one who saw gear 5 <3 twins manifesto#robin being so shook about luffy being a god ajdbjansk wdym devil fruits exist because people wish for them. fairy magic real????#WHAT DO YOU MEAN THEY ARE FROM ALTERNATE REALITIES WHERE SOMEONE DREAMT ABOUT THEM??? DOES HE TRAVEL THRU REALITIES FOR THEM???#jinbe has been making this face 😧 every episode three times it is amazing ajdhaksnsk poor man... now he sees a kid angel version of himself#after seeing hia captain turn into a god... he is gonna get a stroke OMG SENTOMARU WE JUST GOT YOU BACK#episode 1100#<- CRAZY. INSANE. OH GOD. ONLY 12 LEFT. THATS A WEEKEND!!! I CANT DO THIS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
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Their mind is a contradiction. They're angry at Frin. They want him to protect them again. They don't want to get them hurt. They're so mad. They're scared, they're confused. Their mind is going in circles, spinning out of control. But they don't know what to do. The only thing they can think to keep doing is to keep clutching onto Siffrin's cloak.
That's why is comes as a surprise when suddenly there's a different weight to it. Their eyes were closed at this point, too full of tears to really see anything anyway. But suddenly the cloak was no longer weightless, lifted by something. Now it was being lifted by them. Bonnie sniffles and really takes in the situation.
Siffrin had taken off the cloak. When was the last time that Bonnie saw them without it, aside from when they were going to bed? They wore it everywhere. It and their dumb hat was how Bonnie could easily find them in a crowd. He never took it off. But, he took it off now, so that must mean something.
They make a connection, and it's not pleasant. Frin was planning to leave them. It scared them, the reality that their friend, their family, was just going to leave because they couldn't handle them anymore. Bonnie knows they aren't a good kid. They've always been disobedient and loud and full of anger. They tried their best to not be a burden during their journey though. That way that group wouldn't leave them behind at some inn. But now they've shown that they're a big burden and Siffrin isn't going to put up with him. Because they're a bad kid. Because Siffrin doesn't love them enough to put up with them.
They want Nille. They wish she was here. They always do, but the feeling is so much strong right now. They pull the discarded cloak close to them, hiccupping between sobs. Nille would never leave them. She always puts up with them, even when they're always. And they thought that Frin would too. They thought wrong.
"If you hate me so much then, just go! I hate you Frin! I hate you, I hate you, I hate you! Leave me alone! I never want to see you again." Please, don't leave them. They're so scared, please don't leave them.
You are rejected in an instant. Of course you are. Of course. You knew you would be, of course you would be! Of course, of course, of course... It still hurts though. Just a little smack of your hand to shoo you away, but it may as well been a death blow. Urgh.
You... abide the request. You retract your hands. Reluctantly. You do not touch Bonnie anymore. Even though they technically are touching you. They're gripping your cloak like it is their only lifeline. Actually, you're not too sure you like thinking about it like that. In any case, you do not... 'return' the touch, if that's even a thing. In the mind of a child, you assume this form of contact just 'doesn't count.' And you're okay with that.
Still, your hands don't really know where to go now. They hover helplessly above Bonnie as they cry and cry and stars you're still crying a bit too and you can't really stand it anymore. But you don't know what else to do. You hate that you keep realizing that. You're so stupid. Anyone else but you would know what to do. It's you that's out of touch. You don't know what to do. But you have to do something. You have to. You have to!
So you do something.
If the cloak really is a lifeline to them, not that you're still thinking of it like it is one, and you're not to touch them... Okay, you have an idea. Your hands need something to do so you don't feel so incompetent. Tentatively, you shift so that they carefully undo your cloak. You tug, just a bit, just enough maybe, to get Bonnie to let go of it, or ease up, so you can move it. You know they will not like that you do this. You know. You just hope that they can stand it for long enough.
Instantly and all at once, you are cold. But it's fine. That's just a testament to how well-crafted your cloak is, you suppose. You, very carefully, drape it over Bonnie like one would a blanket. You avoid tucking them into it, or trying to do it up around them, or anything that would involve your hands getting too close to them. But maybe this is nice? You don't know. You rub your hand against your arm to warm yourself up a bit. Well, your hands are occupied now at least.
You feel very vulnerable without your cloak on. But it's fine. You're so used to shrinking into it and hiding away, but now you're very much exposed. It never really dawned on you just how safe and warm and nice it usually makes you feel until now. Hopefully that all translates well enough to Bonnie. Given the fact that you lack the words, the ability, the right, to express any of that yourself.
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the current state of the arg
sorry guys the art isnt arting D:
(btw if youre confused on why i drew turnip like that i was referencing the picrew he did ages ago bc idk it looked fun to draw anddd i dont like taking reference off real life images)
#i felt like just a lillll bit of a creep relistening to voice messages over and over to find a good quote but. yk what. it was worth it#i totally didnt take reference from the really cool face i used in that animation because im still really proud of it#idk if emi or TD have a sona but if they do im not aware of it and i didnt feel like asking so i just drew both of them as blank characters#im too stressed to scheme lol#maybe#just maybe#i need to stop drinking tea because the caffiene makes me anxious#...#naaaaahhhh#i dont really know what to do with myself atm because i dont want to work on the animation unless turnon is ok out of pure spite#this morning i was absolutely radiating stress#i have a friend who shows up so we can walk together to school and she could tell smth was off lol#i literally could not hide it at all even if i wanted too#i kept pulling my hat over my face thats the main way you can tell that im stressed#not that it really matters that you know that bc none of you are ever gonna witness that but. fun fact abt me ig#ugh#if turnon dies i am gonna cry so hard <333#and i wont finish the animation <333333333#(at this point just trying anything to get turnon back)#im gonna make a word doc#i make word docs when im stressed /hj#quick question turnip : is there a way to get turnon out of the situation he is in or is he just gonna die and theres nothing we can do#about it /gen#because i have a sneaky suspicion that we cant actually do anything about this#i swear to god#LETS LOOK ON THE BRIGHT SIDE!!#A DEFRAG MIGHT COME OUT TMR!!#its been 21 days and a defrag takes on average 20-25 days#ough#turnip and addon im gonna find where you live and i will burn your respective houses down
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Bringing your knitting to places is all well and good until people start asking when you’re opening an etsy shop
#my love it costs me £5 minimum and takes at least a week to knit a pair of socks and that’s optimistic#yeah i like making them so much that i don’t really care about the money but i also enjoy.. owning handknit socks#my godmother sent me a pair she made and i was like okay so i have to devote all my free time to this now#what’s REALLY fun is everyone loves the colours of this yarn i’m using but IT’S DISCONTINUED#i didn’t know when i bought it. it was part of a bundle of secondhand sock yarn#i found a website that’s selling off all their inventory of it so basically 1-2 balls per colourway#but i can’t find the specific one i’m using which is Really sad because it’s a gorgeous pastel rainbow#i mean i could absolutely find something similar. but do i want to#these are MY socks goddamnit. i swear to god this has got to be the first time in a really long time i’m making something for myself#and everyone’s like ‘can iiiii have one’ no. where the hell were you when i was obsessed with knitting hats#i love to knit hats but hate wearing them so was palming them off on all and sundry LMAO#personal
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why on earth do you even want a fe4 remake if you dont want anything to change just go play the original game.
#i want the story to be more fleshed out#someone on this subreddit thread im. vaguing lol mentioned that the castles functioning somewhat like the my castle system in fef would be#fun and i reallyyyyy agree or like a camp set up?#the long maps i want preserved bc . thats one of this games defining features#the secret spots id like to have some indication of there being Something There#not necessarily the sparkles lol but like#something like a random statue. a landmark that makes u go i wonder if theres a secret there and there is#i think fe4s mechanics could use a SERIOUS REVAMP and other ppl have mentioned the castle guarding mechanic is#interesting and fun but tehres only a few maps that really incentivize you to guard them#which is like. whats the point of using the slow armored units at all when the maps are too big to utilize them#and theyre only useful in a few battles#but also the take + defend format is really fun for a strategic rpg so i think they should use that more!!! make it interesting!#i could take or leave a personal avatar. i dont really get the hate for them they dont. add or subtract much to a story and i think the hat#for new mystery specifically is a) poor analysis of why it as a remake did not do well#esp in the light of shadows#and b) literally not even that big of a deal . genuinely.#ALSO WHY THE FUCK WOULD YOU WANT THE HOLY BLOOD TAKEN OUT OF THE GAME ITS A MAJOR PLOT POINT#ARE YOU AN IDIOT. I THINK MAYBE YOU JUST DONT LIKE THE GAME.#ppl also were talkign a lot abt 'redeeming' 'villians' which is like. i think some other major plot points may have flown over your head#... tbh the thing id hate is if visually it looked like the most recent games#the move to the switch has made for some of the most unattractive map and environment design ever esp coming off the tail of fates and shad#ws. fates is not a good game overall but its environment design is BEAUTIFUL and makes for very fun maps and shadows achieved the explorati#n mechanics three houses wanted to use so badly but sucked ass at#if they dont bring back pixelized icons im gonna be . not surprised but really bitter abt it#overall i just want the gameplay to be a bit more accessable and the story revamped (like how shadows expanded on gaidens story)#and anything else on top of that is extra experimentation which could be interesting or lame#i dont have strong opinions on that bc the thing i DONT want is for it to be the exact same#bc that defeats the purpose of a remake.#literally why do igo on reddit ever/#visually if it took a queue from octopath traveller i would be ecstatic
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The Youngest Ancient
An idea where the JL has gotten word from Green Lantern that a planet has been destroyed. That threat is headed for Earth.
We could blame it on Darkseid despite the fact that i don’t actually know if that’s within his power set. Bad guy of your choice. Keeping it vague works too.
Danny finding out that one of his planets is gone and he’s not having it.
~~
They were short on time. Monumentally short on time. Usually everyone would look to Batman in a situation like this. It wasn’t like his numerous contingency plans were a secret. The problem was time and an overall lack of information about the coming threat. All that was clear was the fact that Earth was in danger.
Not even a normal, run of the mill danger, but the planet bleeding out of existence kind of danger. Supposedly it could happen so fast that the citizens of Earth wouldn’t even know it had happened.
“There’s always begging an Ancient for help.” Constantine muttered, lighting another cigarette. As many members of the League as possible had gathered but brainstorming could only get them so far.
Multiple gazes snapped to him but it was Wonder Woman who spoke first. “You think petitioning the gods would be a wise course of action?”
“Could be the only course of action.” Flash muttered though no one looked happy about it.
“Nah, it’s a much crazier idea than that.” Constantine said flatly. “We’re not talking about any of those old hats we’re used to dealing with. I mean an Ancient. Their powers are next level stuff. Above the gods on the totem pole, if you will.”
Batman’s eyes narrowed. “You want to bring in a complete unknown.”
“I want the planet to fucking be in the same spot tomorrow, mate.” Constantine snapped back. They were out of time but he evidently had more practice at being reckless then the rest of the League. “Heard tales of a new baby Ancient. A likable kid that has many of the heavy hitters doting on `em. Word is the baby Ancient is rather agreeable. Makes deals. Likes to explore. That kind of thing.”
“Baby Ancient.” Superman repeated, clearly hearing the oxymoron in that title. “How does that work?”
“Well they gotta come from somewhere, don’t they?” Constantine shrugged. He didn’t know and he wasn’t going to ask.
“I’ve heard the same rumors.” Zatanna heaved a sigh, adding credence to Constantine’s claims. “Even if they can’t do anything themself, they might have enough pull with one of the other Ancients that can.”
Flash clucked his tongue. “We literally have everything to lose if we don’t do something. If no one else has any other ideas then we need to give it a shot.”
“How long do you need to prepare?” Batman asked, his frown obvious. He never fully liked ideas that he didn’t have a hand in.
Constantine sat up straighter, taking a pull from his cigarette and already looking exhausted. “Gimme an hour.”
“I’ll help.” Zatanna said, already standing.
“Forty minutes then.”
~
The light of the summoning circle was hard to look at. It was like a mini supernova right in front of them. The colors would have been amazing to look at if anyone could have opened their eyes to see it.
When it dimmed, leaving only a toxic looking green glow around the circle, a young boy floated in the center. His hair was white and flowed even in the tightly air controlled Watch tower. The freckles across his face seemed to glow just like his green eyes.
He was cute, and couldn't have been more than fifteen. He wore a skintight black suit, calf high white boots, and had a strange looking thermos hanging off his belt. So this was a baby Ancient. He looked utterly perplexed.
“Um…” He blinked, taking in every member of the Justice League slowly.
“Welcome to the Justice League Watch Tower.” Wonder Woman said, ever the diplomat. “We apologize for summoning you on such short notice.”
“Oh. Okay.” He was still blinking owlishly before his eyes locked onto one of the windows that currently had a vast view of space. The boy all but purred at the sight. “You can call me Phantom. What do you want?”
“You’re the new Ancient?” Constantine asked without as much tacked.
Phantom sighed, shifting to sit even as he floated. “So they tell me. I didn’t know there was going to be a superhero test.”
“We summoned you to request assistance if you are able to give it.” Batman said, taking over. “A threat is coming to destroy the Earth and we don’t have much time. Is there something in particular you would want in payment?”
“Besides souls.” Constantine muttered which subtly alarmed everyone within earshot.
“Destroy…Earth?” Phantom repeated slowly, head tilting. It was slowly occurring to everyone that maybe a baby Ancient really was too young to deal with something like this. “Why?”
Green Lantern sighed, arms crossed. “I’m likely the cause. Earth is the home base for Lanterns in this sector. The previous planet destroyed was also a home base.”
Phantom’s eyes jerked up, his full attention on Green Lantern. “Previous planet destroyed? Where?” He paused, “And when? I have been feeling a little off.”
No one knew quite what to make of the strange comment, but Lantern continued anyway. “A planet in the neighboring sector, 2813. It has been eight days, and before long, that threat will be here.”
“Is it possible you know of a way to prevent the destruction of Earth?” Wonder Woman asked, but Phantom seemed distracted.
He removed his gloves and was looking at the back of his hands. When that didn’t seem to tell him what he wanted, he tugged on his sleeve, making the fabric go invisible in small sections so he could easily look at his skin beneath it without the cumbersome task of rolling his sleeves up.
He was covered in glowing freckles, just like on his face, but one by one the League members took notice of the way they moved. Phantom would twist his arm one way and then another and each set of freckles would be replaced by a completely new set of glowing little spots. When that didn’t show him what he wanted, he kept looking, checking both arms first before moving down his chest slowly.
The League could do nothing but watch the strangeness before them as their follow up questions went ignored.
When he got to a spot under his ribs, Phantom screeched. “It’s gone!”
“Phantom…?”
Phantom looked out the Watch Tower window, his face morphing into one of fury. His eyes shined brightly and whatever he was looking for, he clearly found.
“T̢��̞̮ͭ̓ͫͦh̨̻̼͓͓̜ͭ̈͆ȃ̴̩ͅtͯ̚͏͇̮̖̙ ̡̭͎̝̟͇͙̏ͣ̑͛m̵̭͉͈̳̟͎͈̲̋̋o͈̮̫͓̪͔͐͠t͉̬̉͒̈́ͪ͠h͉̠̭͓̞͎̺͓ͥͥ͘e̅͗̔̿҉̞̪̺̮̗̜r͙̪̼͈̐̉͞ ̫̥̳̿̾͒͑͞f͔̟͈͍ͯ̊̏́ù̶̯̬̫͈͕c̲ͣ̓̿͠ͅk̦̘̖̭͕͉̹̥̈̍̈́ͤ͘e͚̬͗͡ͅr̛̤̩̺͂̃̇̉ͅ.”
To say the Justice League was surprised by the shift in the boys tone was an understatement.
“Yeah, i’ll stop your threat.” Phantom growled, easily leaving the summoning circle. He shifted right through the wall and directly into space without a care.
Silence filled the room, no one entirely sure what they’d done by summoning a baby Ancient. “So that happened.” Flash commented. “Are we still planning for doomsday?”
“We’ll see…” Constantine muttered. “Though if that kid gets hurt, might be bad for the universe.”
“Not what we wanted to hear, John.” Wonder Woman said, looking out the window. Nothing looked unusual to her.
~
In an hour's time, Phantom returned just as distracted as he’d been when he’d left. He remained seated in the air as he held what looked like a cracked marble in his hands. It was surrounded by a mist, and inside sparked with many different colors.
Phantom seemed to be sealing the crack, a smile on his face.
Batman was the one to approach, and if he was anxious it was hard to tell. “Phantom.” He greeted cautiously. “You’re back.”
“Uh huh.” Phantom said, eyes glittering happily at the marble. “I got rid of your problem. Earth is safe.”
“Got…rid of.” Batman repeated slowly, a tinge of disbelief in his voice.
“So we’re good?” Flash asked. “Good work, kid.”
“Yeah, he deserved it.” Phantom said, finally cradling the smooth marble in his palm.
Constantine was still smoking, but his eyes were narrowed. “Do i wanna know what you’re doin’?”
Phantom beamed. “I got my planet back! It was a little broken but i fixed it.”
“Your planet?” Green Lantern repeated, adrenaline hitting him. “The destroyed planet!?”
“Yep.” Phantom looked pleased with himself. “Now i just gotta set it back in time eight days to get everyone back on track and i can put it back where it belongs.”
“Put it…back.” Batman seemed to have trouble with the skill set of one teenager.”
It was Superman who slid closer with a disarmingly charming smile. “May i ask what kind of Ancient you are. I admit i don’t know much about them.”
Phantom perked up. “I’m the Ancient of Space!” He ignored Constantine’s groan from across the room. “I’m really glad you guys called me about this! It would have taken me a while to find a planet destroyed out of the natural timeline.”
“And you have time abilities?” Wonder Woman asked softly. Time and Space was a heady combination.
“Nope! But Clockwork does.” Phantom said. “He’ll do it for me.”
“Will he?” The Flash stared.
Phantom didn’t seem to notice the incredulous looks. As far as he was concerned, everyone was simply taking his explanations in stride. Tilting his head back his eyes shimmered with power. “Clockwork!” he called, voice reverberating oddly. No one missed Zatanna paling or Constantine cursing. No one had time to ask either before a tear appeared just to the right of Phantom. It split the very air apart in a green haze before a portal opened and a man floated out. Wrapped in a purple cloak, the man floated like Phantom did but had a ghostly tail instead of legs and off putting red eyes.
He had a staff donned with clock gears and mechanisms that ticked in an unsettling way. No one needed an explanation, which was good because Constantine wasn’t going to give one.
This was the Ancient of Time. They had two Ancients in the Watch Tower.
Phantom didn’t seem bothered and held out his marble with a smile. “Fix!” he asked cheerfully.
Clockwork turned from what appeared to be an adult man to an elderly man in the blink of an eye. “You know time is sensitive, Phantom. Not everything can be changed on a whim."
Phantom’s smile lessened. He looked back and forth from Clockwork to the marble and back to Clockwork again. “I’ll cry. Swear to the Ancients, i’ll start crying.”
The elderly Clockwork shifted back into the form of a young man. “Do you think tears will alter the timeline?”
Batman smiled, almost. He knew a mischievous teen trying to get his way when he saw one. That theory proved correct when Phantom honestly did begin to sniffle, eyes becoming damp.
“An asshole destroyed a piece of me.” Phantom said, lips wobbling. “I felt it. I didn’t feel good.”
Clockwork’s form shifted again, this time into the form of a young child. He heaved a sigh, “If you start weeping you’ll summon the others.”
Phantom nearly whimpered, holding out the marble still. Every member of the Justice League watched with bated breath.
Clockwork crossed his arms. “How far back do you want it?”
“Yay!” Phantom beamed immediately, impressing upon how young he must have been. “Eight days! Actually, maybe nine. That might be better for them. I’m sure the…Green Lantern…people… can explain that they lost little more than a week in order to be brought back. That’ll be fine, right?”
Green Lantern was too stunned by the question to answer but it was fine since it seemed to be rhetorical coming from the young Ancient.
Clockwork turned back into an adult and held his staff out over the marble Phantom held. There was no discernible change other than the hands on the staff’s clock face moving. Phantom was nearly bouncing in place which was interesting to see considering his feet weren’t on the floor.
“Thank you, Clockwork!” Phantom said, looking delighted and completely missing the way Clockwork just sighed fondly.
“Hurry along home before the yeti’s start to look for you.” Clockwork said in a fairly familiar tone.
“Yes, yes.” Phantom said distractedly, tossing the marble up in the air where it disappeared. He tugged at his black suit right over his ribs and did the same invisibility trick again. He shifted twice until he found the patch of skin that held the group of freckles he wanted.
No one was close enough to see for themselves, but Phantom crowed happily. “Good! It’s back where it’s supposed to be!”
“It’s back?” Batman asked, a hint in his voice saying he had a hundred more questions.
“Yep.” Phantom said. “It’s really annoying to me when someone destroys one of my stars or planets before their natural life cycles have worn out.”
“Is that a map of the galaxy on your skin?” Wonder Woman asked, charmed by the constellation of freckles across his nose and under his pointed ears.
“No.” Phantom said. “It’s a map of every universe on my skin. They overlap so sometimes i gotta hunt for the one i want a little.”
“Every…” Superman sounded like he had the wind knocked out of him.
“Come, Your Majesty.” Clockwork said, opening a shockingly green portal with his staff. “You’ve had your fun.”
“Okay, okay.” Phantom mumbled.
“Majesty?” Zatanna whispered, confusion coloring her tone.
Phantom whipped back around to look at her with a sheepish grin. “Ah, yeah. I’m the King of the infinite Realm. Let me know if anyone else messes with one of my planets! Bye now.”
The Ancients departed and Constantine started wheezing.
“I take it no one knew the baby Ancient was a king?” Flash asked, a very startled silence taking over the Watch Tower.
~~
I know i originally said that the planet had been destroyed but that somehow turned into it being eaten or absorbed or something so Danny got it back.
I really just wanted Danny to find a missing planet on his skin and freaking out over it.
Feel free to take this idea, though i’m sure something like it exists already. ^__^
Master List
#dp x dc#dp x dc crossover#Danny Phantom#The youngest ancient#justice league#Clockwork#Danny feeling the loss of a planet#whole solar systems on Danny's skin#star freckles
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THE HAT RULE, t. owens
word count | 1.7k words
pairings | tyler owens x meteorologist!fem!reader
summary | where tyler owens decides to show the reader what the hat rule is.
warnings | MINORS DNI!! 18+ ONLY!! HEAVY smut! reader doesn’t know the hat rule. not proofread. lowercase intended.
a/n | first of all, sorry for disappearing, i've had NO motivation to write on here, but i saw twisters yesterday and seeing glen powell in a cowboy hat changed me as a person, and also gave me motivation to write. i’ve never written a full smut so i apologize if this sucks, i've stepped out of my comfort zone for this one.
the first time you had ever encountered a tornado was a memory you were sure to never forget. growing up in new york meant rain and snow but no tornadoes. so when traveling to nebraska on a field trip in high school, you were unprepared when the sirens sounded, sending everyone into a frenzy. you had watched as the rain pelted from the sky, a funnel forming up above. you were mesmerized as your teacher pulled you to safety, a sort of thrill tearing through your body. from that moment on, you knew what you wanted to do. you went to college for meteorology, graduating near top of your class before going onto to work at a local news station. but it never quite settled the feeling that something was missing, until you stumbled across tyler owens’ youtube channel.
tyler owens had become a sensation, a daredevil who did more than just chase the storms, he rode into them. and that seemed to heighten that need of a thrill. so, you hit him up and to your surprise, he replied. and what had started out as a week off of work to storm chase with the daredevil, turned to going part time at your job and joining him on the road.
that was a season ago, and now you were sat at a dingy bar, sipping a beer with tyler and the team. the man himself was sat on the stool next to you, nursing his own beer and listening to lily speak. you ignored the slight butterflies that entered your stomach as he laughed. you had learned to never mix work and love, but something about tyler had you questioning that lesson. he looked mighty fine in his blue jeans and button up, supporting a cowboy’s hat on his head. you noticed your beer was gone, standing up you turned to your crew.
“i'm gonna get another beer, can i get anyone anything?” no’s were murmured around the group except for one.
“i could use another, how ‘bout i come with ya?” you shrugged, tyler getting up to walk with you. lily let out a low whistle, stopping at your glare.
“be my guest.” you two walked over to the bar top, signaling the busy bartender. “can we get two more, when you get a sec?” the bartender nodded, going to make a few drinks before he could grab their bottles.
“so, miss city girl, how you likin’ riding with us? ready to go back to the big apple yet?” tyler questioned, turning to look down at you slightly. damn the height difference.
“don’t think you’re getting rid of me that quick, i have a lot more storm chasing left in me, cowboy.” you winked, tyler laughing. you debated for just a moment before reaching up and taking the cowboy hat from his head.
“the hell you think you’re doing?” tyler questioned as you placed the hat on your own head, admiring your reflection on your phone.
“you wear this hat all the damn time, i just wanted to see if there was something special about it? maybe it has some magical powers or something.” the bartender came back around, beer bottles in hand. you thanked him, handing him some cash before turning back to tyler, who had an odd look in his eye. you quickly took off the hat, worried you had pissed him. you went to hand it back to him, when tyler shook his head:
“keep it on, it suits you.” tyler picked up his beer, beginning back to the table. the comment caused a light blush to dust your cheeks. shaking your head, you hoped it didn't show too much as you followed him back. you sat in your seat, confused by the odd looks you received from the crew. nobody said anything about the hat as the night went on, but that didn’t stop the odd looks.
by last call, it was you and tyler left of the crew. thankfully the bar was across the street from the motel, tyler paying the tab much to your protest, before setting off back to the motel. you had forgotten you still wore tyler’s hat upon your head, only remembering when you went to brush your hair from your eyes, your hand bumping the rim. “hey, do you know why everyone kept giving me weird looks after i put your hat on? and why boone and dani wouldn’t stop snickering?” tyler looked over to you as you climbed the stairs of the motel.
“you don't know?” you shook your head in response, tyler holding a bewildered look. “you don't know the hat rule?”
“there’s a hat rule?” tyler stopped at his door, which neighbors your’s and lily’s. “what?”
“you wear the hat, you ride the cowboy.” he deadpanned, your eyes widening and a heavy blush coating your cheeks.
“oh my god! i promise i wasn’t trying to imply that or anything. not there’s anything wrong with you, because you’re– well you’re you, and–” you fumbled over your words, stopping mid sentence when tyler laughed.
“hey, it's fine. if you weren’t trying to insinuate that, that’s fine. but if you were, well, now's your chance. and i’d be more than happy to show you how that rule works.” tyler walked closer, a minimal amount of space between you, just enough to allow you to choose whether you close that gap or leave.
you stood there for a moment, stunned at his offer. and without much thought, you closed the gap, hands going to grip his face and pull him closer to you. his hands moved to your hips, fingers digging into the fabric of your shorts. the kiss was feverish, all unspoken feelings surfacing. tyler began to pull away much to your dismay, one hand leaving your hip to fish out his keys from his pocket as he moved his other arm to hold your waist. he unlocked the door with ease, pulling you inside and shutting the door before pushing you up against it, the hat falling as he did so. he went to town on your neck, enticing soft moans and whimpers from your lips. the way he sucked at your neck and how he had previously handled you had conjured up a pool of wetness in your panties.
your arm wrapped around his neck, holding him to your throat, as your fingers tugged at his hair. he groaned against your skin, biting down ever so softly when you tugged on his hair. he gripped at your leg, pulling it up to give him better access to your cunt. he rubbed his clothed cock along you covered cunt, pleased with the moans that escaped your mouth.
“god, keep moaning like that and i might have to take you right here.” you blushed once more, pulling tyler to meet your lips once more. you pushed off the door, lips still connected to tyler’s as you blindly pushed him back to the bed. his legs hit the edge of the bed, tyler breaking the kiss as he pulled off your shirt, both of you kicking off your shoes and socks before lips were reattached once more.
you pulled back, tyler unbutton his shirt as you began to work on his belt buckle. “woah, easy, pretty girl. you’ll get a taste, don’t worry. the night’s still young. but for now, i gotta show ya what happens when ya wear the hat.” tyler pulled off his shirt, walking to pick up the forgotten hat, placing it on your head. “this stays on.” you nodded, eyes hooded as tyler pulled your shorts and panties down. “you’re even more perfect than i had imagined.” before you could question him, tyler pulled his jeans off, his boxers next as his cock sprung up. tossing them to the side tyler pulled you onto his lap as he sat on the edge of the bed, “you sure ‘bout this? i don’t have any condoms.” tyler asked, different from how he just was. you nodded, kissing him softly.
“i’m on the pill, and i trust you.” tyler nodded, holding over his cock as he slowly guided it along your pussy. you held yourself up as tyler’s thumb rubbing your clit, enjoying your whimpers. “please, tyler.” you begged, tyler aligning his cock with your entrance before guiding you down. you hand went your hat as your head rested on tyler’s shoulder, almost pornographic moans escaping from your lips. “oh my god.” he slowly eased himself into you, whispering praises as he did so.
“god, feels like you were made for me.” your cunt hugged his cock beautifully. when his cock was fully in, he allowed you to get used to the stretch, “tell me when you're ready.” you stilled for a moment, adjusting to his size. you kissed and sucked on his neck, slowly beginning to rock your hips. “fuck, let’s get this off of ya.” tyler’s hands skillfully unclipped your bra, tossing it to the side, fingers ghosting over your perky nipples. you pulled off his shoulder, giving him better access to your tits. “you’re fuckin’ beautiful, darlin’.” tyler attached his mouth to one of your nipples, enticing a soft moan. you continued to ride him, hips moving faster as you chased your incoming orgasm. your left hand gripped tyler’s shoulder, fingernails digging into his bare skin as your right hand held onto the hat that adorned your head.
as your orgasm inched closer and closer, your movements became more erratic, chasing your high. tyler moaned, whispering praises as your walls clenched around his cock. he knew you were close, mouth moving to your pulse point as he pounded into you, taking over. tyler clapped a hand over your mouth as your orgasm hit, muffling your screams so you didn't wake up your neighbors. his movements however did not slow as he worked you through your orgasm, chasing his own high. your legs trembled as he continued to pound into you, your second orgasm of the night approaching quickly. “fuck! fuck, ty-” you cut yourself off, body shaking as you hit your climax once more. tyler began to huff and moan, pulling you impossibly closer as he reached his own high. you blubbered, unable to form actual words as tyler’s hands roamed your body. you pulled back, kissing him roughly.
“goddamn,” he helped you off his cock, helping guide you onto the bed, “think you’ll be able to handle a round two?”
“don’t go thinking you can get rid of me that easily.”
#angelicsoka#tyler owens#tyler owens x reader#tyler owens smut#twisters#glen powell x reader#glen powell smut#imagine#glen powell imagine#tyler owens imagine
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WORTH YOUR WHILE
pairing. Tyler Owens x fem!reader
summary. as the local weather woman, you shared an interesting rivalry with your hometown storm-chaser. while you always reported on the dangerous weather from a safe distance, tyler barreled into it head-first. but things change the night of the county fair when you find yourself in the middle of a storm rather than in the safely of a newsroom.
warnings. dramatic fluff, hurt/comfort, description of tornados, a curse word or two, description of injury, slightly inaccurate meteorological info.
word count. 2.9k || masterlist
a/n. hopping on the glen powell bandwagon bc he and daisy absolutely killed it in twisters!! feel free to send me requests for tyler, kate, and javi!
“If you keep looking at him like that your face will get stuck in a scowl, which is really bad for television,” your friend said, leaning into your side. With a roll of your eyes, you managed to pull your attention away from the self-titled ‘tornado wrangler’ who had stirred up a fuss in the line for funnel cakes. People buzzed all around him as he signed shirts and took photos, never dropping his smile that you often dreamed about smacking right off of his face.
You had grown up alongside Tyler Owens, never as friends but as friends of friends. After you both split off for school to study meteorology, you returned to your hometown for very different reasons. Tyler started in the business of storm chasing, live streaming his adventures to people all across the internet who sensationalized the dangerous weather, and you scored a job as your hometown’s Weather Woman. Your job was to warn people about the threat of tornados while his was to drive head-on into them.
That was where you two drew your lines in the sand when it came to each other. He thought you were scared of taking risks while you thought his thrill-seeking was stupid and would eventually get him or one of his team members hurt. Those opinions on each other's job led to you two butting heads every time you encountered one another. His mere presence was enough to annoy you, especially at your favorite event of the summer, the fair.
“Look who it is,” Tyler’s voice sounded near you and your friend nudged your arm in the direction of it. You looked away from her just as he approached you, tipping his hat and flashing his teeth in a smile. “Didn’t know they still let you out of the newsroom these days.”
You crossed your arms over your chest, as the air of arrogance surrounding him nearly choked you out. “Don’t you have a tornado to chase?” you asked, wanting to end the conversation before it fully started. Unfortunately, he never seemed put off by your jabs, but he was assumed by them.
“I took the night off,” he replied. “I wanted to see if there was anything worth my while here tonight.”
You raised your brows. “Oh really?” He nodded, smiling brightly at you. “Find anything yet?”
“Maybe,” he shrugged. “It’d be easier if she answered my phone calls.”
Tyler disliked you a whole lot less than you disliked him. After you graduated and he started storm chasing, he tried at every given opportunity to get you to join his team. Even years later he still tried to, no matter how many times you told him the risk he was putting himself and his team in every time they barreled into a storm cell. He was relentless but you were happy where you were at. You wanted to help people when it came to severe weather, not make the storm look enticing for internet audiences.
“I already told you, I’m not interested.” Storm chasing was a dangerous game that you had no intention of playing. Being from the Midwest, you had lived through your share of tornados. Chasing them was not in apart of your career path.
His smile faded slightly before he seemed to snap back to himself. “All I’m saying is, we could use a mind like yours out in the field.” The compliment was nice, you could admit that to yourself, but it wouldn’t win you over. He knew that too. “But suit yourself.” And with that he walked off, meeting up with the rest of his team that joined him at the fair that night.
Your friend whistled lowly. “I don’t know how you do it,” she said.
“Do what?”
“Say no to a man like that.” You rolled your eyes once more as the line you were in moved. As she stepped forward to order, you threw a quick glance over your shoulder in the direction Tyler had walked off in. You saw him happily chatting with his team before glancing back at you for just a moment before you returned your gaze forward.
The rest of the evening passed in a blur of colorful lights, sticky heat, and enough fried food to make your stomach ache in the best possible way. Your friend left after a couple hours of roaming the prize barns and laughing at the kids screaming their heads off on the carnival rides, but you stuck around for a little longer, relishing in the sweet nostalgia the fair brought you.
Before you had taken a couple of well-deserved days of work, you and your team had predicted a storm front moving. Later that night was supposed to bring rainfall and a thunderstorm or two popping up around the county and neighboring areas. You thought you’d have plenty of time to roam the fair for a little longer until it hit, but you noticed the shift in the weather almost immediately. The sudden uptick in wind pricked the back of your neck as the distant rumble of thunder echoed above the fair chaos.
It was difficult to predict everything, that you had learned early on in your career. It also was hard to predict how quickly weather could change from bad to deadly. One moment you’re gazing up through the lights into the night sky, trying to gauge the incoming storm, and the next, the sirens are blaring across the fairgrounds.
The crowd of people running in every direction made the walkways hazardous. You were knocked into and jostled around as you tried to run toward the restrooms that doubled as storm shelters. They were clear at the opposite end of the walkway, but they were your closest option. You dodged and weaved through the swarms of people, trying to stay on your feet.
You only made it halfway to the shelter when you were stopped by the awful cries of a little girl who sat under the counter of one of the carnival games. She hugged her knees to her chest and called out for her mom, but no one who rushed by stopped. You didn’t think twice before you sidestepped the fleeing crowd and crouched down in front of the little girl. The wind picked up significantly, blowing the cheap prizes right out of the booths and sending everything flying around and knocking into people.
“Hey, sweetheart,” you raised your voice above the howl of wind and frantic people.
“My mom!” she cried harder. “I lost her. I don’t know where she is!”
You glanced back up at the sky. The lightning strikes illuminated the massive, dark mass moving in quickly. “Come with me, and I’ll help you find her, okay?”
The noise all around grew louder, frightening the little girl, along with yourself, but as you outstretched your hand, she took it, and you quickly pulled her to her feet before you both took off running. The speakers urged everyone to seek shelter immediately, but you watched as people raced in the opposite direction of the shelters, probably bee-lining to cars in an awful call. They’d never out race it.
“Charlotte!” Someone screamed and the little girl whipped her head around before she tugged hard on your hand. From behind you, the little girl’s mother appeared, immediately scooping up her daughter in her arms. “Oh my, God. Thank you!” she said, looking at you with teary eyes.
“We have to take cover,” you told her, gently pushing her forward. “The shelter’s just up that way.” She thanked you again before she took off with her daughter in her arms. You wanted to follow, it was stupid not to when the wind gusts became more powerful, rattling everything dangerously and making it hard to think. But there were more people unsure of where to go and what to do. Groups of kids who had been dropped off for the evening stumbling frantically out of the rides and still dizzy. You stepped from the path and tried to direct people as best you could, shouting in tune with the speaker and the sirens for them to hurry into the shelter.
It wasn’t until larger objects were plucked from the ground and tossed into the air like paper did you abandoned your aiding. The tornado screeched to life, ripping apart pieces of the show barns and rides with ease. You tried to close the distance between yourself and the shelter once more, but it wasn’t people in need that stopped you, it was a sheet of metal pried from the side of one of the food trucks. You tried to dodge the hurling objects, but the sheet came at you hard and fast.
It sliced your shin, sending a wave of pain up through the rest of your leg. You stumbled, determined to stay upright, but the wind was too strong for your limping figure, and you toppled against the concrete, slamming your knees against the ground before you rolled over into the lousy shelter of a game’s tent somehow still standing.
Panic started to set in as the storm raged around you, loud and monstrous. You covered your wound with your hands, unsure of where the blaring of the tornado ended and the fast-paced beat of your heart started, drumming in your ears and beating against your skull. You knew you couldn’t stay there, but leaving was just as dangerous as every attraction of the fair swirled around in the air. The cut from your leg painted your hands red and throbbed; it would only slow you down if you tried to run, creating even more of a risk.
You didn’t know what to do. All of your life, the storms you had faced you’d always been lucky enough to find shelter in plenty of time, from the cellar in your backyard to your high school’s basement created just for such an occasion.
Through the freight train sounding winds and your thundering heart, you heard a couple of voices that had to be close. Tearing your eyes away from the cut on your leg, you watched as another group of people sprinted down the walkway as someone yelled behind them to run.
In all of your life, you’d never been so relieved to see Tyler Owens’s face standing just a few feet away; he hadn’t spotted you, and for a terrifying moment you thought he’d be unable to hear you yell out above the screaming storm. But somehow, he did. His head snapped in your direction, rain-coated and windblown, looking both out of sorts and in his element.
“What the hell are you doing?” he yelled as he ran over to you, dodging flying debris that grew larger by the minute. The second he crouched down in front of you, his eyes flickered onto your legs, and the blood seeping out between your fingers as you tried to keep pressure on the wound.
“I thought I’d just hang out here,” you said, your sarcasm watered down by the fear clear in your teary eyes.
His brows furrowed, deep in thought for a moment as he looked between you and the distance there was still to cross to the only close shelter. Without saying a word, he peeled off his wet flannel, leaving himself in a shirt that was already nearly soaked through as the sideways rain beat down against the both of you. “I’m gonna tie this around your leg and then we’re gonna run, okay?”
You shook your head frantically. The ache in your legs was intense and you had already lost a good amount of blood, not enough to make you woozy but you were well on your way. It felt like your heart had crawled up your throat, making it hard to breathe as panic soaked you to the bone along with the rain. Everything around you seemed to be ripped from the ground, even the anchored tent you were under was seconds away from being picked up.
“Hey,” he said, grabbing a hold of your shoulders, shaking you slightly. “It’ll be alright. You gotta trust me, though.” The sincerity shined in his eyes, bright as the rest of the power around you flickered wickedly. With a nod of your head, you dropped your hands from your leg and let him tie the flannel around your cut. As he pulled it tight, you cried out in pain. “I’m sorry,” he kept repeating until it was knotted. Quickly, he jumped to his feet and helped you up, looping an arm around your waist as you slung an arm around his shoulders.
“Ready?” You didn’t get a chance to respond as the tent you were under was plucked from the ground, anchors and all, and flung backward into the tornado as it tore through the front entrance of the fairgrounds. Tyler took off, giving you no choice but to follow.
You two stayed low, trying desperately to avoid the flying objects. With each step your leg burned, but Tyler’s hold on you was strong, not giving any room for you to lag behind or slip away. It felt like hours of running, but it was no more than a minute or two before you reached the shelter. The only major injury between the two of you was your leg, otherwise, you both collected a series of little cuts and bruises from your journey.
Stumbling into the restroom, you were met with a hoard of scared fairgoers. You two managed to find a spot to slot yourself in with everyone else. He helped you lower yourself to the floor back in the corner just as the tornado was fully on top of you. You brought your knees up to your chest and covered your head. Tyler sat flushed against your side; you felt his hands rest over the top of yours as the building rattled violently. Squeezing your eyes shut, you refused to see the damage until the howl of wind subsided and people started to stir.
Once it was over, everyone stumbled out of the shelter, getting jumbled together as police and ambulances rushed to the scene. Amongst people pushing and shoving to find their loved ones and get the hell home, you and Tyler were separated and before you could look for him, an EMT caught sight of your bloodied leg and ushered you to one of the ambulances.
You sat on the back after the EMT stitched up your leg, looking over the torn-apart fairgrounds. Debris was littered everywhere, food trucks and carts overturned and some demolished, and rides were dislocated and strewn about in pieces.
You clutched the bloodied flannel to your chest, shivering in the loss of adrenaline and temperature drop, and watched the sea of people until a familiar face popped into view, looking a little frantic as he stumbled through the crowd looking like he was in search of something. His eyes finally settled on you before he quickly pushed his way through the crowd until he reached you.
“Hi,” you greeted, smiling tiredly.
“I was looking for you everywhere,” he said, sounding slightly out of breath. “I looked away for a second and you were gone and-” You continued to smile, and he stopped himself. “What? Why are you looking at me like that?”
“Nothing,” you replied quietly before clearing your throat. “I, um, I just wanted to thank you. And I’m sorry for ruining your flannel.” You gestured to the ruined piece of clothing resting in your lap.
Tyler was quiet for a moment, looking at the large bandage around your shin. “Don’t mention it,” he said, brushing off your thanks like he hadn’t just pretty much saved your life. “What were you doing out there anyway?”
You sighed, feeling a creep of embarrassment up your spine. You should’ve known better but at the moment you just wanted to help people and had little regard for your own safety, until your leg was sliced open, that was. “There were people still out there, trying to figure out where to go. I was trying to help.”
“That was stupid,” he said. “But brave. Stupidly brave, maybe.”
“Funny. I think I’ve said the same thing about you a time for two.”
His signature smirk slowly fell onto his lips. “Not to my face.”
“Oh, no. Never.”
Tyler laughed, gently patting your knee, lingering for a moment before he dropped his hand back at his side. Someone called out your name, and you spotted your friend running back through the crowd. She had called you as soon as you had made it to the ambulance and told you she’d come back to take you home.
“You should get some rest,” he said. “I’ll see you around.” As he turned around to walk away, you called out to him.
“Tyler, wait.” He paused. “You should try calling me again. Maybe I’ll answer this time.” Breaking out in a grin, he tipped his hat in another goodbye, leaving you with a new feeling stirring inside your chest.
Bonus!
Hours later, after you had cleaned yourself up, you were tucked into bed, reading by the lamp light knowing sleep was probably far off after the events of the night. You didn’t expect your phone to ring that late into the night, and when you glanced at it, you couldn’t help but roll your eyes at the caller ID, but that time it was something besides annoyance that you felt.
You answered, discarding your book on your nightstand. “You don’t waste any time do you,” you teased.
“What I can say,” Tyler said on the other line. “I know when I find something worth my while.”
#twisters#twisters 2024#tyler owens#glen powell#tyler owens x reader#tyler owens x you#twisters 2024 fanfic#glen powell x reader
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third times the charm
pairing: tyler owens x f!reader
word count: 3.8k
summary: life has a funny way of putting people in your path, and ultimately making them part of your life. but what happens when the one person you never want to see stumbles in over and over again, a disastrous tornado tearing up your path of moving on?
aka: the two times tyler owens enters and, consequently, leaves, your life at the wrong time, and the one time he comes at the perfect moment and finally stays.
warnings: reader is described in a feminine manner; why are we ignoring his bull rider trope? cause i'm not babes xx; angsty mainly, but fluff too; lovers to enemies back to lovers (sorry); this author knows nothing about tornadoes or weather so sorry
shoutout to megan moroney and her banger new album where this title and idea come from :)
-
i.
"What do you mean you're leaving?!"
Tyler shuts the tailgate of his red pick-up with a loud slam, the cowboy hat on his head nearly flying off with the force. Y/N stood just a few feet away, her arms crossed over her torso as her chest heaved in short, shaking breaths. The sunlight hits her just right, and the gold chain around her neck glimmers in the sunlight. It catches Tyler's attention from the corner of his eye-it had been burned into his mind from the moment he'd bought it with a chunk of his earnings from last year's rodeo. The chain was delicate, simple, but the charm had been the main appeal: it was gold, the same shade as the chain, but in the center of the small heart shaped pendant sat a capital 'T'. She'd worn it since he'd given it to her for a birthday present, and it had been the center piece of even their most intimate moments-her bare beneath him with only the glittering jewelry adorning her as he had her unraveling under his touch. Even the thought of it had heat traveling up Tyler's neck, and he swallowed down the feeling, along with all of the guilt bubbling to the surface.
"I'm leavin', simple as that."
"Ty, I-I don't understand. You get bucked off one time and you're giving up?! You've been riding since we were kids, I-"
He turns to her, emerald eyes blazing with an emotion he couldn't put a label on.
"I didn't just get 'bucked off', I almost got my head trampled in case you forgot!" His voice is laced with anger. He's not angry with her, he's angry with himself. After a series of unfortunate injuries in last month's local rodeo, Tyler knew he couldn't ride again, it would kill him. He'd spent the last few weeks in physical therapy and doctor's offices just to make sure the damn bull hadn't left behind more than scars.
It was better this way, he could leave his town behind, and forget about the deep, gut-twisting feeling of failure that sat like acid in his stomach. But leaving his hometown also meant leaving her.
Tyler had fallen for Y/N their junior year of high school, and they'd rarely been seen without one another ever since then. She was sweet and shy to his brash and confident, his biggest supporter-always sitting in the stands for all of his rides-whether he was the talk of the town or stumbling home, his shotgun rider, and the girl who wore his heart (literally and figuratively) on a chain around her neck. Looking at her now, with tears lining under her gorgeous eyes, he wanted to just forget all of his plans and pull her into his arms. He wanted to reassure her that he'd stay here, that he'd give her the life that he'd promised her-apple pie and babies, the perfect picket-fence life she deserved.
"Tyler, you-you can't be serious! W-What about your parents, your plans, hell, Tyler, what about me?!" Her shoulders now moved as she let out shuddering breaths, eyebrows furrowed as she grew frustrated. "Tyler Owens you promised me, you promised me a farmhouse, and a wrap-around porch, a-and babies! And now you're just gonna take off to God-knows-where to what? Storm chase?"
She stops and lets out a dry chuckle. She'd been 'chasing' with him before, vivid memories of him scaring her shitless chasing tornadoes in his truck, only to 'apologize' to her by making love in the backseat after the storm had passed. Through their time together, she, too, had grown to love the storms. Y/N took her camera into the storms with them, more than ready to capture the freakishly beautiful moments of pure disaster before it struck. She'd stand in the pouring rain next to him, laughing as wind whipped hair around her face. He'd snap a picture of her with her own camera that she'd set aside and she'd roll her eyes. They'd been happy, bonded by a mutual love of mother nature's chaos and one another. Now, she turns her back to face him, shaking her head as her bottom lip trembles.
"Ya know, I should've listened to everyone who told me to stay away from you in high school, that you'd just hurt me. I didn't believe them, not one bit, because I know you. You're running because you're scared. You don't have to run, Ty. You've never run from your fears, for God's sake you ride them! What the hell are you thinking?!"
Tears stream down her face, and Tyler feels his resolve slipping. He hadn't thought it through, not really, and now as she stands in front of him, he realizes he's only hurting her more and more. He needed an out, he needed to skip town, no matter who it hurt.
"I'm thinking that I'm a fuckin' failure at everything, no matter what I try! The only thing I'm good at is storms, chasin' them, getting close enough to see something! I fail at everything, Y/N/N, and if I stay, I'll just fail you, too. Over and over."
"Tyler, you've never failed me," she brings her hands to either side of his face, her thumb brushing a cut that still hadn't scarred over from his fall. Her eyes were blurry and her hands trembled. "Please, stay." Her voice was hardly a whisper, pleading desperately.
"You know I can't."
She nodded solemnly, wiping tears so she could take a final look into his eyes. She gave no warning when she launched her arms around his neck, all but hanging onto him like a child. He hugged her tighter than he ever had, and when she let go, he placed a final heated goodbye kiss on her lips. Y/N looks at him, her brain screaming pleas to make him stay, but she simply kisses his cheek before speaking.
"C-call me when you get there?"
He takes one last glance at her, taking her in completely, as if trying to memorize her. His eyes land on the jewelry adorning the spot just below her collarbone, the gold shining in the sunset, knowing he'd never see it on her again-if he ever even saw her again.
"You'll be the first person I call, baby."
Y/N's call never came.
She spent the summer miserable, but refused to take off the gold chain she hid under shirts. It burned her skin in a metaphorical sense, but she ignored it, just like the heartbreak that had festered into deep resentment for Tyler Owens. She'd decided to take off to the local university for a clean start, somewhere new, somewhere his ghost wouldn't haunt her. Things had begun to look up, and she found herself smiling again. The morning before her first day of classes, she almost took the chain off, but couldn't bring herself to do so.
When she spotted his tall figure sitting a row ahead of her in her Intro to Meteorology class, she pretended not to know who he was. It was only fair, he'd done the same to her. For a reason that neither of them could vocalize, they begin to hate one another. Without knowing it, Tyler had become the storm that had sparked her into chasing after danger forever, the one that had left destruction so fatal she wasn't sure if she'd ever recover.
-
ii.
"You've got to be kidding me."
Y/N rolls her eyes and nearly throws her laptop across her dorm room when she looks down at her field partner pairing. The name in bold stares back at her like some sick joke.
Tyler Owens.
She shuts her laptop with a force that could shatter glass and slams her face into her pillow to let out a scream that could have easily been heard four counties over. The universe had to hate her.
With one glance at her watch, she hops from her bed and packs her duffel, her camera slung around her other shoulder. After silently praying that this storm takes her away in one quick swoop, she opens the door to her room and stumbles down the stairs to the lobby, where he was waiting for her outside the double doors. She can already feel her skin flaming with anger when she catches sight of his towering frame, baseball cap thrown backwards over his head.
"'Bout fuckin' time sweetheart, thought the storm would pass before we even got out there!"
"Oh, kiss my ass, Owens."
She rolls her eyes and climbs into the red truck she had once been a permanent fixture in, feeling almost like nothing had changed since the last time she'd crawled into the passenger side. She had half a mind to let down the driver's side visor to see if her picture still sat inside it, but Tyler climbs in the second she thinks about it. The half hour drive is uncomfortable, silent, and laced with tension so thick both halves of the couple begin to wonder if the air supply is getting thin. But as the storm approaches, both of their eyes are locked on the massive twisting figure just ahead of them. Y/N reaches for her camera, focusing the lens as best as she can through the windshield of the truck. She sighs when the view is less than satisfactory. Without much thought, she begins to move the window crank on the door to let down the window.
"What the hell are you doin'?" Tyler's voice breaks their silence.
"What does it look like, Owens? Getting a better shot." Her body hangs halfway out the window, camera leaning out the window as she moves the lens and clicks.
"Get your ass in the truck, I'm not payin' your hospital bills when you fall out and I run over you."
She rolls her eyes and ignores him, almost her entire body hanging out the window.
"Okay, okay, get in the truck, I'll get you closer, Jesus."
She pulls herself back into the truck and rolls the window back up as Tyler moves forward down the muddy path, closer to the storm now building ahead. The wind and rain grow more intense, shaking even the bulky vehicle that could easily withstand even the most treacherous of conditions. The spiraling tunnel only moves at a more pummeling speed, and Y/N's sharp shout fills the air.
"Stop the truck!"
He hits the brake and before the truck even stops, Y/N's rolling out of the passenger side, camera raised as she captures a monster of a storm. Tyler finds himself silent, momentarily distracted-her hair blowing with the force of the wind, the smile drawn across her face, and the long sleeve button down she'd been wearing was slipping down her shoulders, exposing her tank top and-wait-he raises an eyebrow, his heart stopping. Against her neck sat a gold chain he knew too well. It stops him completely in his tracks, shocked that she still wore his initial around her neck. The sound of a roaring train pulls him from his thoughts and sends him leaning out his own door.
"Y/N," he's shouting over the loud winds. "GET YOUR ASS IN THE TRUCK!"
The barrel of wind only gets closer, the fierceness of wind making Tyler's heart race. The girl outside his truck, however, only smiles wider, raising her camera for another shot of the approaching storm.
"I'M FINE, TYLER. WIND'S NOT EVEN THAT BAD!"
Tyler huffs as his voice, raspy from yelling, shouts again.
"THAT WASN'T A REQUEST, SWEETHEART. GET YOUR ASS IN THIS TRUCK!"
She ignores his shouts, only squinting her eyes at the horizon as the wind picks up another notch, making the shirt now halfway down on her arms blow like a flag in the wind. Tyler gives her a minute to comply, hoping this was just a momentary phase of her being stubborn. After five minutes, Tyler cursed and stomped out of the truck over to her. He says nothing, picking her up over his shoulder.
"TYLER! WHAT THE FUCK?! PUT ME DOWN, ASSHOLE!"
He doesn't give in to her retorts, simply swinging her door open and shoving her into the passenger seat. He gets into his driver's side and slings his arm on her headrest, turning to back the truck around.
"What the hell is wrong with you?! Do you have some sort of sick kink where you get off on ruining my life? I had a perfect shot, it-"
"You had a perfect shot of getting sucked into a tornado is what you had, Y/N. You're gonna get yourself killed gettin' that fuckin' close!"
"Like you would care." Her voice isn't even a mumble, and Tyler hardly hears her over the sounds of the storm.
It sends a jab of pain through his heart he doesn't expect, and instead of saying anything, he lets her stew in anger in his passenger seat. When he drops her off at her dorm, she agrees to email him her half of the project, and a week later he receives it.
He opens the email to find exactly what he imagines, the most spectacular shots of a storm he's ever seen. After the report and photos are submitted, the two never speak to one another again. They both graduate under the same Arkansas sun, but lead different lives in the same area of the country. Y/N swears she sees his truck pass her every time she goes out to shoot, and he sees her in every girl that stands in a field with a camera.
Y/N would never admit that she has a burner account subscribed to his livestreams, or that she laughed and smiled as she watched him hoop and holler with his ragtag group of friends, memories of the chases they once went on filling her mind more fondly than painfully these days. And if she had one of the red and white shirts with his stupid cartoon face plastered against it, well, no one would ever know.
When Boone and the rest of his crew would stop for food and rest breaks, if Tyler saw her name plastered in a newspaper or magazine, he'd put it on the counter next to his plethora of snacks. He'd never admit he'd cut her articles out of them and kept them in a small scrapbook that lived in his glovebox, right next to the picture of her that once lived in his visor-only because a magazine cut-out clip of her lived there now, her smiling with a massive twin barrel storm behind her, the gold chain peeking from the shirt was wearing.
-
iii.
"Ty, man, this one's a beaut! She's unreal!"
Boone's voice filled Tyler's ears from the passenger seat, but as Tyler looked out at the horizon, his attention was far from the brunette that sat next to him. He saw her car before he saw her-the same rink-dink, decked out, black Subaru she'd had in college, meaning she was here on her own, not for business.
His green eyes darted to the field across from where it was parked, spotting her instantly as she stood in the tall grass, hair blowing as she brought her camera to her face, crouching down to get the perfect shot. She shook her head when she pulled back from it, enjoying the sight in front of her.
Tyler puts the truck in park and all but barrels out of the door, his boots taking him towards her, but not nearly fast enough.
"Jesus, who's that? And why's she got Ty all in a tizzy?" Boone leans over to Lilly, who gives him an incredulous look.
"That's Y/N Y/L/N, she's a storm photographer, apparently he's got some fan girl crush on her or somethin', he keeps her work in a binder."
"Holy shit! Tyler knows the Y/N Y/L/N?"
Tyler would've blushed and denied Lilly's statement vehemently, but he was too far away to hear. Instead, the whipping winds and the sound of Y/N's delightful laughter filled his ears.
"She's a beaut, huh?" Tyler's voice carries over the noise, falling on Y/N's ears. She takes a breath and turns to face him for the first time in years. She nods slowly.
"Yeah, she's gorgeous. Got some great shots."
Her throat feels dry as his eyes peer down at her. She finally braves a look up at him.
"Um, I'm not studying it or anything, just bored, really. I'll let you and your crew have her."
She gives him a small smile, but he notes it's genuine as she caps the lens on her camera.
"It was good to see you, Ty. Good luck."
"Y/N, wait. I-I need to ask you somethin'."
She pauses her steps, turning back to face the man in front of her. For a split second, he looks just like the younger version that had left her all those years ago-the hat, the belt buckle, but none of that same all consuming fear.
"Sure, go ahead."
"Why do you still wear it? I saw you, that time in college, and when you did that shoot outside of Kansas City, the picture they published of you, it-you can see it real clear."
Y/N stills, pushing back hair that's blowing in the wind as she looks at him. She could say a multitude of things-how she wore it because she'd gotten so used to always wearing it. That she wore it because she wanted to hold onto him the only way she could. She could lie and say that she used it as a good luck charm. None of them would be the truth, and she was sick of lying to him, so she simply told the truth.
"Well, all the best chasers, they carry their first storm with them, right?"
She pauses, realizing how vague that was.
"What I mean is, without you taking me through my first storm I never would've done this. I was terrified of them, and you and that stupid red truck of yours showed me how beautiful they can be, and now I capture their beauty for a living. I never would've had any of this without you, so-"
She shrugs, giving him a small chuckle. The silence suffocates as he looks at her.
"Tyler listen-"
"If you're gonna apologize, don't. I'm the one that should apologize, I left you all those years ago. That was real shitty of me, and I didn't give you a warnin' or a reason why. So, I'm sorry, for all of it."
She nods, giving him a smile. The quiet floods between them again, and she pushes back her hair again before she speaks.
"I-I watch your videos, y-your livestreams. You're still crazy, but it reminds me of when we used to chase, and you'd scare me to death, and then you'd, uh, 'apologize' for it and, sometimes it's like I'm there with you."
He laughs with her.
"I-I've got every newspaper and magazine clippin' you've ever been in. You're pictures they're-breathtakin', it feels like you're standin' in the field right there next to you. I guess that's just because I used to be and memories, ya know?"
She nodded, giving him a sweet smile, one that sends his heart racing. They both turn their attention to the horizon where the storm seems relatively calm, at least by their standards.
"Uh, Y/N? I'm sorry, I promised you somethin' all those years ago, and I never made good on it. I think about that a lot, and-just-I'm sorry."
"I forgave you a long time ago, Ty, we were kids." She pauses, tilting her head as she looks at the storm brewing. "Besides, I don't think I'm cut out for that life anymore, I like life on the road. I mean, where else do you get moments like this? The storms back home are wonders, but nothing like this."
"I agree with you there," he chuckles. His heart pounds, and the words slip out of his mouth before he can stop them. "I miss you though."
She cuts her eyes to his own, as if waiting for him to explain himself.
"You were my original chasin' partner, ya know? Plus, when things got scary, you never flinched, not really. This reporter I've got now? God help us all, can't stand much more than a strong wind."
Y/N laughs loudly before she shakes her head.
"Well, you might be in luck. I hate working for that magazine, I really, really do." She turns to face him, camera pulled close to her chest. "The Tornado Wranglers hiring? I'm looking for a job. I have a portfolio if you need it, references too."
Her statement is laced with sarcasm.
Tyler finds himself laughing now, a wide smile plastered across his face.
"I'm familiar with your work, have it on good graces that you're just what we're lookin' for. Lucky for you, we've always got room for one more, that is, if you'll have us. I gotta warn you, those over there are a handful."
"If they're anything like you, I'm likely to fall in love with them instantly."
Y/N doesn't register the words stumbling out of her mouth until they'd already filled the air between them. Without a word, Tyler grabs her hand, pulling her in closer than people who have a history like theirs should. His calloused fingers reach out to the gold pendant lying on her neck, moving it back and forth between its fingers. It had withstood their time apart-it was scratched and a little weather-worn, but, then again, so were they.
"The clasp broke about a year ago, the rest is all original. Pure gold, willing to sell it for a good offer. The guy at the pawn tried to undersell me, I know what I've got."
Tyler's chest warms, that sarcastic, witty humor he'd missed back in full force.
"Do you take alternate forms of payment?" He pulls her in by her waist with a cocky grin.
"Depends, Owens, what did you have in mind?"
He cocks his eyebrow, giving her a sort of contemplative look as his hands rest on the small of her back, hers around his neck.
"Well, I still owe you about-," He lifts his hand from around her and pretends to count on his fingers. "A billion apologies, we could chase this stunner of a storm, drop these characters back off at the motel, find us an empty field, and I could apologize like I used to...maybe?"
She shakes her head and pulls him in for a heated kiss. They're both smiling so hard its hardly a kiss, but the feelings are there.
"You've got yourself a deal, but I'm keeping the necklace."
"Wouldn't have it any other way, baby." He kisses her head, pulling her back towards his group of friends, who were now whistling at the pair, obviously catching the interaction. "Fair warning, after he finds out just who you are, Boone's likely to fall in love with you."
She raises her eyebrow, pulling away and heading towards the motley crew ahead of her.
"Guess you'll just have to chase me next."
-
taglist:
@fraaaaankiiiiieee
#tyler owens x reader#tyler owens#twisters#glen powell#Tyler Owens x you#glen powell x reader#glen powell x you
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I think its genuinely fascinating how Biden has somehow become the bad vibes sin eater for the party. I'm seeing people who were doing the whole "voting doesn't matter both old men are the same" pivot hard into voting as harm reduction. The anti voting rhetoric has COMPLETELY lost The Youths on tiktok. People suddenly remember the good things the Biden administration has done but don't associate Harris with any of the things they didn't like. In my swing state volunteers are signing up in droves. People feel ENERGIZED, the vibe shift pre and post Biden dropping from the race has just been insane
Y'know, that is a... good way of putting it. It's also why I'm quite sure that Biden has probably been planning it for a while. I don't think he was intending to step down, and didn't want to be forced out at the drop of a hat, but after he realized that the circus was never going to stop until he did, he did the honorable fall-on-his-own-sword thing and definitely, DEFINITELY spent some time choreographing this behind the scenes. Because while the roll-out has been very smooth, it could just as easily (as many of us were expecting) have been a total disaster, and that doesn't happen without SOME planning. It's also entirely possible that the campaign staff flipped from Biden to Harris are superhuman, to come up with a massive online roll-out, new branding, new signs (they had plenty of 'em in Wisconsin yesterday), new everything, but I'm guessing it's a combination of both. Biden has spent his entire political career being underestimated, and after we literally made a meme out of Dark Brandon juking the Republicans out of their shoes, we should definitely give credit where credit is due in how masterfully he pulled it off.
Because we have had eight years defined by the central question of Whether The President Is a God King Who Should Serve For Life (the MAGAts obviously think yes), the sheer idea of a president willingly giving up his power BEFORE he had to is also novel and admirable. It's sad that this is the case, but so be it. The Republicans also got a heaping helping of Be Careful What You Wish For that was undoubtedly brilliant; they've been yelling for years that Biden is old and frail and can't serve and should step down. Biden went "lol okay" and gave it to them, and now they're fucked.
Aside from that, on the most basic level, it's far, far easier to see the actual difference in the parties with Harris as the nominee, just because it shows that one party is willing to make progress and reflect the new demographic reality and social mores of America, and the other one is not. Now to be clear, Biden deserves an incredible amount of credit for coming out of retirement (he was ALREADY 77 years old when he became president and had had decades of a long and respected career in public service behind him) to fight, beat Trump, and deliver an incredibly successful presidency. He held the line against authoritarianism at home and abroad, he rescued the trashed American economy and managed a world-leading recovery from Covid, he stood up for democracy, he spent four years filling the benches with liberal judges to reverse even some of the Trump/McConnell hack job, he finally passed comprehensive infrastructure investment and the Green New Deal under the name of the Inflation Reduction Act -- and so on. Many of these priorities had been languishing for decades or were completely trashed under Trump, and he could not have done so much in just 4 years without all that age, skill, and experience. Hence why all the Ageism!!! was (aside from being a Republican/media smear job) dumb. He's able to do the job because he has had decades to study. Turns out that makes you actually pretty damn good at it.
Yes, Biden could not do as much as he wanted or originally planned, had to deal with MAGA Republicans and Joe Manchin/Kyrsten Sinema sabotaging him the whole time (lololol Manchin, possible possessor of the World's Biggest Ego and with Trump around that's saying something, popping out of obscurity to self-righteously announce he would not be willing to be Kamala's VP. YEAH ASSHOLE. LITERALLY NOBODY ASKED YOU. NOBODY WHATSOEVER. NO MATTER WHAT HAPPENS AT LEAST WE WILL SOON NO LONGER HAVE MANCHIN IN THE SENATE). And yes, Biden made some serious mistakes of his own, because he IS from an older generation and a different style of doing politics/different beliefs that no longer resonate with the younger segments of the electorate. But this old white Catholic guy at the age of almost 80 still managed to be the most progressive president ever, coming in at a moment of incredible domestic and international crisis and getting us safely to the other side, and all cynicism, criticizing, and caveating aside, he deserves an incredible amount of credit for that. I mean that absolutely, and I am very grateful.
As I said, willingly relinquishing that power takes guts, and when Biden saw the writing on the wall that he had to sacrifice himself, he took his time, he didn't jump too early, and he didn't jump too late. On the most basic level, it becomes a hell of a lot easier to make the "both parties are not the same" argument when one is running a (comparatively) young brown woman and the other is still running their loathed felonious old demented orange traitor. Most Americans are not plugged into policy minutiae and details. They look at Biden-Trump, they see two old white guys. When you take one of those old white guys away (who goes in a self-sacrificially heroic manner and in sharp contrast with the coup-happy fascist) and put Kamala Harris in there instead, it generates an obvious jolt. People can see for themselves that there is a real difference that doesn't rely on closely reading news and tracking complex policy, because as noted, most Americans simply don't. The brown first-generation American daughter of brown immigrants is a quantifiably different story from "old white guy career politician," which for better or worse is how Biden was seen, especially the old part. We needed that establishment expertise to beat Trump in 2020; I still think Biden is the only one who could have done it, and as noted, we owe him a great debt for doing so.
However.... 2024 is not 2020, and it is not 2016. There has been this HUGE and unbelievable swing to Kamala because she represents the antithesis of what the last eight years of Trump-induced anger, fear, panic, chaos, and hatred has stirred up. That's why people are so ready to rally around her, just as they were (I daresay) around Obama in 2008, after the exhaustion, chaos, war, and mounting economic misery of Bush. Trump has been out of office for the last four years, but his shadow over the American political landscape has been omnipresent. Now people know that we finally have a real chance at getting rid of him forever, and just as Biden was uniquely positioned to capitalize on that in 2020, so Harris is now. Which is why, however tough it will be, she has a real shot at winning. I can guarantee the Republicans know that, and are shit scared. Because the Black Lady Army of Democracy has indeed arrived in force to Get This Shit Done and I don't know about you, but I found that incalculably comforting:
Yikes! All lined up for Kamala pic.twitter.com/Dt4OCDp7WX
— Alex Cole (@acnewsitics) July 24, 2024
This, at the most basic level, is what scares fascists the most, it's exactly what we need now, and what Harris is uniquely positioned to mobilize, along with her gangbusters appeal to young voters:
This is the energy we need. This is what Biden saw and planned for and which he launched us into, and where all that experience and age paid off. This is why people, even people otherwise disengaged, disillusioned, or checked out of the tedious and mind-numbering drudgery and depression of American politics, are responding to it. Because it's easy to understand, it offers hope, and it tells a very simple story that is nonetheless long overdue:
Thanks so much, Joe. Go absolutely waste that orange fucker, Kamala. We got your back.
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