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halfvalid · 1 year ago

Text

nobody but you

ABOUT

alternate title: the jealous character trope is actually kinda fun to write

rating: teen+

characters: live action!roronoa zoro | fem!reader | live action!vinsmoke sanji | live action!straw hats ensemble

pairing: live action!roronoa zoro x fem!reader

word count: 3.5k

description: sanji flirts endlessly with you while dining at the baratie. zoro is displeased.

tags: strawhat!reader, female reader, fluff, kissing, no use of 'y/n', establishment of relationship, flirting, alcohol consumption, pda

author’s note: i got like ~5 requests to write this so here you guys go! this was a popular one lmao. the story is a vague spinoff to my other fic pretty in that, but it doesn't have to be read to understand this one.

You’d volunteered to deal with the docking fees for the Going Merry, locking up the pirate ship as the rest of the crew entered Baratie. You were just five or so minutes late entering after the restaurant the rest of the Straw Hats had gone into. You’d never seen anything like it before—an eatery right in the middle of the ocean, in the shape of a giant fish.

You stepped into the building cautiously, glancing around the wide expanse of the main room to try and catch a glimpse of your friends. The restaurant was big, with a mezzanine that you’d entered in and stairs leading down to the first floor. The host, a fishman who was standing at the reservation desk, glanced up to take a look at you.

“Ah, you must be with the pirates,” he said pleasantly. “Right this way, miss.”

You nodded, wondering how Luffy was intending on paying for the bill of such a place as you scoped out the area. It was far nicer than anything you would’ve expected—but then again, he’d somehow managed to score the Going Merry from Kaya back in Syrup Village, so you figured he’d work something out.

Finally, you caught a glimpse of the rest of your crew, tucked away in a circular side booth that the fishman led you to. Luffy brightened upon seeing you, waving you over with a hand so excitedly you feared it was about to flop around like rubber. Considering his powers, that was a more than likely situation, actually.

“Thank you,” you told the host, then turned towards your friends. “No food yet?”

“You didn’t miss much,” Usopp said, a little snicker in his voice. “Just the waiter getting our drink orders. He was flirting the heck outta Nami.”

“Oh?” you asked, a smile flickering up your lips. The only open space in the table was between Zoro and Nami—you gave Zoro a confused look, and he gestured down to his swords, which were caught in the ledge between the chair and the wall. You snickered. “Ro. You’re such a loser.”

“Shut up,” Zoro muttered, hand on your waist as you climbed over him to get to the empty seat. It stayed there for a moment longer, even after you’d arranged yourself in the seat, before he finally dropped his hand. Usopp made a face that you pointedly ignored.

“What’d you guys order?” you asked instead. If there’d been a menu available, the waiter had probably taken it away; still, there wasn’t much variety in the East Blue, so you could expect there’d be a lot of seafood and not much else.

“One of everything,” Luffy responded brightly. “So we’ll be able to try the whole menu!”

“You sure that’s a good idea, Cap?” you asked, brows raised. Luffy shrugged.

“I don’t see why not.”

“Quit it with the nickname,” Zoro muttered. Neither him or Nami had gotten any more receptive to it since you’d first started calling Luffy it. Usopp didn’t seem so keen on it either—if only because he fancied himself Captain Usopp. Luffy liked it, though, and that pleased you enough to keep using it.

“I’ll get you to start saying it eventually,” you teased, nudging Zoro in the arm. He shook his head, but there was a suggestion of a smile on his lips as he glanced away. “Just you wait.” You turned to Nami, eyes sparkling. “What about the waiter, though? Was he cute?”

Usopp laughed at that, and Nami gave you a disparaging look. “Come on,” she started. “Not you too. Zoro was all—”

The sound of footsteps cut off her speech, and you glanced up to find a lean, blond man pausing by the lip of your table. He held a silver plate, upon which perched a variety of different drinks—beers, milk, water. “Here are your drinks,” he said, voice lifting with an accent you couldn’t quite place. “And appetizers.”

He had just finished placing the last of the drinks balancing on his forearm on the table when the waiter glanced up and registered you sitting there. His expression instantly changed, the crease of his mouth softening into a pleasant smile, his previously-dull blue eyes bright and sparkling. “Well, hello there. An addition?”

“Yeah, sorry I’m late,” you said. The waiter flashed a grin, white ivories shining under the fluorescents.

“Oh, absolutely no problem. They say those who are late are fashionable, and you, madam, certainly fit the bill,” the waiter said. Your eyes widened, glancing over to Nami to find her shaking her head, but the waiter didn’t stop there. “I’m Sanji. What can I get for you to drink? We’ve got a wide selection of fine wines that might suit your taste.”

“Oh, um—” you started, glancing at the rest of your crew again. Usopp was hiding his snicker, and Nami was giving you a tired look. Assumedly this had been the man who’d tried it on her, too—to unfortunate ends, probably, considering how Nami was. Not that this would be any more effective on you. Your eye was already captured by a particular green-haired swordsman, after all. “I don’t really have anything in mind.”

Sanji looked pleased about that, clasping his hands together around his platter. “Ah, let me guess, then. A bayberry or red currant wine, perhaps? Fruity, tart, full of flavor.” he winked. “A feisty drink for a feisty girl.”

“Can’t say I’ve tried it, but sure,” you said, the faintest smile on your lips. “I’ll let you know how I like it.”

Sanji grinned, looking rather satisfied with that, a delighted little smile on his lips. “One red currant wine, then. I’ll have it right out. And would you also like to order a meal, or…” He glanced over at Luffy, presumably referencing your captain’s more-than-outrageous order. “Are you all set?”

“I think we’re set, thanks,” you assured, and Sanji nodded. He flashed you another bright smile before turning on his heel back off to the kitchen.

Usopp finally let out the laughter he’d been keeping in, choked sounds emitting from his throat as he thudded his chest with a fist. You rolled your eyes, but it was good-natured, letting Usopp laugh.

“Well, at least I’m not being singled out,” Nami said with a sigh, and you exchanged a sympathetic glance with her. She patted your hand comfortingly, then scrutinized the water Sanji had gotten her. “At least he didn’t put it in a flute.”

“Zoro, you’ve got competition!” Usopp called, still laughing from the entire ordeal. You glanced to your side, to where the swordsman sat. Zoro had stiffened sometime during the conversation, jaw clenched and arms wound tightly across his chest. He hadn’t even touched the beer that Sanji had set in front of him, eyes fixed carefully to a spot beside Luffy’s head and refusing to look over at you.

“He’s a waiter,” Zoro said crisply. “He buses tables for a living.” With that, he grabbed his bottle, popping the tab and taking a swig.

“I don’t know, man, did you see the way he took down those pirates?” Usopp turned to you, all excited again. “Oh, you missed this whole thing! Two pirates were fighting over a seat or something, and Sanji just demolished both of them! You would’ve loved it.”

“He is a really good fighter,” Luffy agreed. Their words did nothing but seem to annoy Zoro further.

“Can we not talk about the restaurant personnel? Surely you can think of more interesting topics of conversation.” His tone was sharp, and all icy, and you inched your hand closer to his leg to tap his thigh in question. He glanced down at your touch, but didn’t deign to say anything else. He just picked up his beer again, nursing it while the rest of the crew continued on with their conversation.

Despite Luffy changing the subject, Zoro didn’t speak, and you kept peeking glances over at him in concern. Your feelings for him had just continued developing ever since Syrup Village, although neither of you had reasonably talked about the closet incident since it’d happened. What with the reveal of Kuro and the escape from the marines and all, there hadn’t exactly been time to. But you’d been on good terms, and the actions he made around you—pressing a hand to your waist as you moved past him, turning towards you first mid-conversation, shoving you down when the marines had fired their first cannon at the Going Merry.

Before you could whisper to him and question what his silence was about, though, Sanji reappeared, carrying two platters filled to the brim with plates. They were laden with different types of meat and vegetables, sauces glinting under the light and hot steam still billowing.

He set the dishes on the table, somehow managing to arrange them so they all fit on the countertop. Sanji set down the last plate then turned to you, placing a glass and a bottle of dark crimson wine on the table in front of you. He had to lean over Zoro to reach, and Zoro flinched, but still didn’t say anything as Sanji uncorked the bottle and poured you a glass.

“Tell me what you think,” he said, all smiles again. “I’ll be embarrassed if it isn’t to your liking.”

You picked the glass up, swirling it carefully inside the glass before leaning down into the cup to take in a full sniff. You tilted your head back to take a small sip, moving the liquid around your mouth to fully savor the flavor before finally swallowing. The wine was sweet, light rather than rich with a delicate tartness that burst on your tongue. You glanced up just to see a giant grin had stretched up Sanji’s mouth, brightening his face up considerably.

“What?” you asked.

“Not often do I see a patron who knows how to taste wine properly,” Sanji answered with a little duck of his head. “A lady of class, I see. How do you like it?”

“Not too strong. I like the tartness,” you answered. “A good recommendation. Thank you.”

Sanji gave you a little bow, hand flourishing to the side as he dipped his head. “I live to serve.”

“Yeah, well, why don’t you serve me another beer?” Zoro said abruptly. Usopp coughed, and you could see Nami elbow him out of your peripheral vision. Luffy just looked confused.

Sanji’s face fell almost immediately after Zoro had spoken, his eyes flickering away from yours. “Of course. I’ll be right back,” he said, a tight smile at his lips. He ducked out of the booth, and Zoro let out an irritated noise, tongue flicking against from the roof of his mouth.

Usopp snorted, fully this time, and you turned to glance over at him—he and Nami were both hiding their gazes, though you could see smiles cracked along their lips.

Zoro glared at them. “Shut it.”

“Not saying anything!” Usopp said, though he half-hid behind Luffy like Zoro was going to lunge over the table to get to him. That didn’t seem… entirely unlikely, actually; Zoro’s right hand rested firmly on the handle of one of his swords, fingers ready to pull the blade at any second. You watched him out of the corner of your eye, wanting to say something. But not in front of everyone else. It wouldn’t be appropriate, you decided.

Eventually your meal wound down to an end. Zoro got less and less tense throughout it, though you were fairly certain that was due to the drinks he was having rather than any actual reassurance. Sanji, thankfully, came back with the bill in the middle of a conversation you really didn’t want to think about—Luffy and his marine grandfather was not something your mind wanted to dwell on—only for him to disappear again.

Just moments later, a man with a braided mustache came storming out of the kitchen. Luffy did some more of his Luffy nonsense, and, honestly—you were getting too tired about all of this to pay any close attention. You spared a glance over at Zoro again. His face was as blank as ever.

“Okay,” Usopp said slowly, a few delayed seconds after who’d undoubtedly been the head chef yanked Luffy out of his seat. “I’m ready to check out whatever’s outside. Let’s go.”

“What about Luffy?” you asked, perplexed.

“He’ll find his way out of that,” Nami said with a sigh. She stood up, knocking back the rest of her drink. Since she wasn’t exactly wrong, you got up, glancing over your shoulder at the last of the group that remained seated. “Zoro?”

Zoro was staring into his now-empty bottle of beer. He still seemed off, the line of his mouth creased downwards, jaw set tight. “Yeah,” he said finally, standing to his full height and slipping out of the booth. He offered you a hand, helping you down from your seat, but said nothing more.

The four of you headed out to the mouth of the Baratie fish, which boasted a bar decorated with neon lights. You found a place to sit by the fish’s bottom lip, and you turned in your seat, staring out at the sea. The water was dark with the night, peaceful ripples moving across the water that sent shimmering waves across the blue.

“I’m gonna get a drink,” Usopp said. “Come, Nami?”

“Huh?” Nami glanced up, and you turned to watch the exchange. “Oh, I’m okay, Usopp. Thanks, though.”

“No,” Usopp insisted, a smile still pasted on his face as he jerked his head, not very discreetly, in your and Zoro’s direction. Nami seemed to realize, then, eyes going wide before she got up from her seat.

“Actually, on second thought, I’ll join you,” she said, far smoother than Usopp had been. “God knows you don’t have any money to pay for a drink.”

She breezed past him, ignoring the offended gape Usopp left in her wake before he was scrambling to follow her. You turned your attention towards Zoro—he was lounging in the seat across from you, one hand on his swords with his legs crossed. “Hi,” you said carefully.

He stiffened. “Hey.”

You pursed your lips, mulling over the ways to go about the conversation before ultimately deciding to spit it out. “What’s wrong?” At his raised brow, you were prompted to continue— “During dinner. You were acting weird.”

Zoro shook his head, dropping his gaze from yours. You could see the faintest trace of freckles spattered along his cheeks, the yellow glow from the lanterns reflecting off his skin. “Nothing’s wrong. Just… the waiter.”

“The waiter,” you repeated. Zoro shifted, legs uncrossing and hand tightening around his swords again. His voice was low the next time he spoke, and you could barely hear him, having to lean forward to catch all of his words.

“He was flirting with you.”

Your breath hitched, but you tried to keep your tone casual. “He was flirting with Nami too,” you said, glancing up to meet his eyes. Zoro still wouldn’t meet your gaze, staring out into the East Blue behind you.

“That’s different.” Zoro’s eyes finally lifted, long eyelashes casting shadows on his cheeks as you met eyes. You shivered, gooseflesh suddenly prickling up everywhere on your skin—the back of your neck, up your spine, down your arms and legs. “I don’t like Nami.”

You tilted your head to the side, meeting his gaze. The words sent a little rush through you; a rush you got practically every time Zoro looked in your direction, actually, which was only a little bit annoying. The amount of influence a man you’d known for, comparatively, not that long had over you had you rolling your eyes all the time, but… you trusted Zoro at this point, as uncooperative as he and Nami had been throughout your entire journey.

“You’re jealous of a waiter.”

“Don’t—” Zoro sighed. “Don’t put it like that.”

“But it’s true. You’re jealous of a waiter,” you said, unblinking. Zoro rolled his eyes, teeth resting along his lower lip in an almost-bite. You snickered, tone sloping upwards to become more teasing, almost sarcastic. “How the mighty have fallen. From me practically begging you to say I looked nice in a dress to this.”

“Okay, that’s enough,” Zoro said, uncrossing his legs to lean over and press his hand over your mouth. You laughed, surprised, as he leaned over you, eyes sparkling at the reaction. “Not another word.”

He removed his hand, giving you a look. You betrayed his trust almost immediately. “Of a waiter.”

“Do you want me to put the hand back?” Zoro threatened, but you were full-on laughing by now, and he couldn’t do anything but watch. The sounds escaped from your mouth, ringing out in soft, lively hiccups. He shook his head, hand falling to his side as he watched you, a ghost of a smile tugging up the side of his mouth.

“Sorry, Ro,” you said, unable to suppress your grin even as your laughter died off. “It’s a little funny, you have to admit.”

“I’d like to hear you talk if someone was flirting with me,” Zoro muttered, so quiet you could barely hear. You had to stifle another laugh.

“Okay, well, unlike you, I don’t get territorial over people I haven’t even talked about my relationship with, but I appreciate it.” You nudged him. “It’s kinda cute.”

Zoro seemed lost in the first half of your sentence, and you could practically see the cogs whirring in his head. For a moment, you were worried that the closet had been a one-time thing—but no, he’d mentioned just earlier that he liked you, so clearly something else was the matter.

Your worries were answered in just another moment. “...We’re supposed to talk about our relationship?”

“Zoro.” You gave him a look of disbelief, forced to suppress another laugh, though this time it was out of incredulity. “Yes. Have you ever dated anyone before?”

Zoro made a face at that. “Keeping that to myself, thanks.” He dropped his chin, glancing down at where you were, still leaning over you so you were forced to crane your neck to stare up at him. He tilted his head to the side. “So what kind of talking are we supposed to be doing?”

“You know, the establishment of being exclusive; a cementation of our feelings; what the relationship entails; where we want it to go…” You paused, watching as his eyes flickered down your face. Your words were going in one ear and out the other. “You’re not listening at all, huh.”

“Not really,” Zoro said, not sounding very apologetic about it. His free hand came to cup the underside of your jaw, tilting your head up just so. “Is the talking really that necessary?”

You shrugged, trying to keep your cool. “Eventually.”

“Eventually,” he repeated, stretching out the syllables of the word as he quoted you. “So we can do it another day.”

You bit the inside of your cheek to hide your smile. “What were you thinking?”

Zoro was slotting his lips over yours before you could say another word, his fingers digging into the hinge of your jaw to allow him better access. You smiled into the kiss, lips curling upwards and open to let him lick into your mouth.

It wasn’t too risqué, but Zoro took your breath away all the same, an appreciative murmur low in his throat as he kissed you. One of your hands wrapped around his wrist, tugging him insistently downwards so you could get a better angle at his mouth, sucking gently at his lower lip. He nearly stumbled, losing his center of gravity before steadying himself, one hand coming to rest on your ribcage as the kiss deepened.

“Guys!” Usopp’s voice came somewhere from the right, high-pitched and excessively scandalized. You felt Zoro scoff into your mouth.

“You realize you’re in public, right?” Nami deadpanned, plopping down in the seat next to you. You nudged Zoro’s head away, his hand still on your jaw, half-craned over your figure. Nami looked unimpressed, eyes flickering from Zoro to you and back again. “Get a room. Go back to the Going Merry for all I care.” She extended a hand, placing a mug of beer on the table before you before handing you a matching one. “I got you drinks. You’re welcome.”

“Thanks,” you said, leaning up to press one final kiss on Zoro’s lips before turning to take the glass Nami had outstretched. Usopp groaned, covering his eyes with one hand and lifting a giant cup of something with the other. It was so big you wondered how he’d even been able to carry it. You eyed him. “You’re going to pass out drinking that.”

Usopp made a face at you. You just laughed.

“Sorted out your issues with the waiter, then?” Nami asked, turning to fix a knowing look on Zoro. He rolled his eyes, effortless as ever as he settled back down into his seat.

“Still don’t like the waiter.”

“You’re ridiculous,” you said, and Zoro scoffed, picking up the mug Nami had gotten him. You could see the smile behind the glass rim, though, even as he clearly tried to hide it, and matched it with one of your own.

Zoro ducked his head to smile into his beer. Usopp made a gagging sound. “God,” Nami muttered, but their criticisms might as well have been deaf to your ears by then.

All you could see was Zoro.

#one piece live action #one piece netflix #opla #reader insert #x reader #opla roronoa zoro #opla zoro #roronoa zoro #roronoa zoro x reader #roronoa zoro x you #one piece live action x you #one piece live action x reader #opla fanfic #opla fanfiction #opla zoro x reader #kiki writes!

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hauntedhowlett-writes · 8 months ago

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the harder the rain, the sweeter the sun

pairing: storm chaser!joel miller x storm chaser!female reader

rating: explicit (18+ MDNI)

word count: 6.5k

summary:

Storm chaser-turned-weatherman Joel Miller hunts down his old crew in an effort to serve his wife with divorce papers. When a storm interrupts his efforts, he finds himself falling back into old routines and old feelings.

A Twister (1996) AU

author’s note: are you someone, like me, who was fucking obsessed with the movie twister and at one point made it your entire personality (maybe even at too young of an age)? then this fic is for you! this may be one of my favorite fics ever and i hope you enjoy it, too. please consider reblogging or commenting or even dropping into my ask box if you like the fic, i would love to hear from you!

amazing title art by @atinylittlepain

tags/warnings: explicit sexual content (18+ only, minors do not interact), explicit language, undefined age gap, able bodied reader (actions include running, lifting, climbing), no reader physical characteristic descriptions, dual pov, established relationship, estranged marriage, mentions of divorce, alternate universe - movie: twister (1996), not a direct rewrite of the movie but pretty close, storm chaser!joel, storm chaser!reader, natural disaster action scenes, mild angst, mention of reader’s parent’s deaths, praise, dirty talk, pet names, oral (f receiving), unprotected p in v, cum eating, minor character death.

masterlists: all characters | joel miller

support for palestine

The first person to notice Joel’s truck pulling up to the makeshift weather station site is his brother, Tommy.

“Look what the cat dragged in!” He says, hands on his hips. Joel gets out of his truck and Tommy envelops him in a strong hug. “Had no idea you were comin’ out here.”

“I didn’t plan on it,” Joel admits. He waves the envelope in his hand. “But I can’t get her to sign ‘em unless I track her down myself.”

The expression on Tommy’s face drops and he nods, clearing his throat. “She’s around here somewhere.”

“Probably hiding from you,” another voice chimes. Tommy’s wife, Maria, jumps from the back of a nearby pick up truck where she had been fixing a satellite. “Welcome back, Joel.”

“I ain’t back,” he grumbles, giving her a quick hug. “How’re you, Maria?”

“Sweaty,” she replies. “Heard you got yourself a nice channel gig. Must explain the suit.”

Joel looks down at his outfit of tan slacks and a matching suit jacket over a white button up shirt. He tries to think of a response, but another familiar voice calls out his name.

“The prodigal son returns!” Tess shouts. Her short hair has grown out since the last time he’s seen her, but the ever present camera around her neck remains the same.

He notices movement from the back of one of the vans. You emerge, wiping your hands on a grease stained rag and for a brief moment, a bolt of longing courses through him like a lightning strike.

“Joel,” you say, a smile on your face that doesn’t reach your eyes. “Wasn’t expecting you out here.”

“You won’t answer any of my calls,” he replies. A tense silence falls over the group until Maria nudges Tommy in the ribs and drags him off while Tess mumbles an excuse about checking the radio and escapes in the other direction. “Have you looked at the papers?”

“Yeah.”

“Is there a reason you haven’t signed them?”

“Been a bit busy,” you say, gesturing to the camp. “I got something you’ll want to see.”

You brush past him and Joel sighs, rubbing a hand across his face in exasperation before turning to follow you to one of the trucks. You pull yourself up into the bed and stand beside a large metal container.

“She’s here, Joel,” you say proudly, hitting one of the buttons. The lid on the unit pops open. “ELLIE.”

“No shit?” Joel asks, climbing onto the truck for a closer look. He picks up one of the spherical sensors, holding it up for inspection. “I’ll be damned. You really did it.”

“We did it,” you respond quietly. The expression on your face is painfully familiar, that combination of pride and sadness that he’s grown accustomed to in the last few years. He murmurs your name, tries to think of something else to say, but a shout interrupts his efforts.

“We’ve got action!” Tess yells.

The camp explodes into a flurry of movement. Equipment is packed away with speed and efficiency while anything else that isn’t fragile is tossed into the nearest truck or van. Joel watches it all and remembers when he used to be part of this machine, calling out orders and getting on the radio for coordinates as he hit the gas and peeled out in a cloud of dirt and dust.

He’s so caught up in it all that he almost forgets why he was here, and when he remembers you still haven’t signed the papers he curses, running for his truck and taking off after you down the rural roads.

“You comin’ with, brother?” Tommy’s voice crackles over his truck radio.

“She didn’t sign!” Joel says back.

“Keep lying to yourself, Joel!” Maria calls back.

It’s a race against time and God, the storm clouds overhead dark and churning ominously. The air is filled with static, lightning striking in the distance. Joel can feel it all in his veins, the adrenaline thick as he keeps speed with the rest of his former crew. The honk of a horn draws his eyes to the rearview mirror, where a gleaming black Surburban is gaining speed on him.

“Son of a bitch,” he snaps. He grabs the radio. “We got company!”

The Surbuban pulls up beside him, a woman in the passenger seat that refuses to look his way. Marlene, once a lab mate of yours and Joel’s in the early days of your career, is now the face of FEDRA’s corporate sponsorship. Sold out for shiny toys, Joel once said.

“What’s Marlene doin’ here?” Joel asks.

“Bet she’s wondering the same thing about you!” You chime in.

The convoy of uniformed vehicles speeds past him, the old trucks his crew still uses no match for them. In his distraction, he narrowly misses a fallen tree limb, careening off the dirt road with a loud bang.

“Fuck!” He shouts. His tire has gone flat.

This is the last thing he needs.

You watch Joel through the window of the little diner you’ve all made a stop at once the storm broke up on the radar as you had been driving to catch it. He’s across the street at the mechanic to get a new tire, having driven in on the spare that Tommy circled back to help him put on. You twist the plain gold band on your finger, lost in thought.

“Hey,” Tess says, sliding onto the stool beside you. “How are you doing?”

“Fine,” you reply quickly. Her keen gaze makes you fold. “Weird. It feels weird.”

“Yeah, I know. He’s in a suit.” She takes a sip of her drink. “Never thought I’d see the day.”

“He looks good.”

“Sure, if you like ‘em with a stick up their—“

“What’s channel four doing here?” You ask, cutting her insult off. The news crew is unloading their gear from their van as the anchor speaks to Marlene, who’s gesturing to a piece of equipment that looks suspiciously similar to the culmination of your life’s work sitting in the bed of your truck. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” you snap, racing for the door.

“This is ABBY, the first unit of its kind. It’s built to give us a look inside of the funnel, allowing more precise storm prediction that could mean a world of difference for preparation and survival,” Marlene says proudly. “Inside are hundreds of sensors that, once deployed, will spiral inside of the tornado and report back real-time, accurate measurements.”

“Hey!” Joel barks, coming up to the scene from the opposite direction. “What the hell do you think you’re doin’?”

“Cut!” The anchor yells as Joel crowds in close to Marlene.

“You really think you can get away with rippin’ off our idea?” Joel snaps.

“I only took your idea and made it a reality,” Marlene responds, holding her hands up placatingly. “Face it, Joel. Your team doesn’t have the same resources to get this idea off the ground. Literally.” She laughs. “Besides, what are you doing here? I thought you retired.”

“That’s where you’re wrong. ELLIE isn’t just a dream anymore. We’ve got her here.”

Marlene’s smile falters. “Is that so?”

“Yep,” Joel says. “And she’s going to be the first in the air.”

“We’ll see about that, Joel.” She steps back, addressing her crew. “Pack it up. Let’s hit the road.”

You stand there together watching as they pull out of the parking lot and back onto the two lane highway. When they’ve disappeared from sight, you give Joel’s shoulder a tentative pat.

“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” you tell him. “Hopefully you’re right.”

The look he gives you is serious, a furrow between his brow that you used to smooth with your thumb, back before things fell apart. You smile at the memory. The tension eases from his shoulders and his lips curl up the slightest bit, as if in response.

“Sorry to interrupt,” Tommy says, breaking your attention from his brother. “But we got another development on the radar.”

“Alright, let’s get her,” you reply, breaking away from them to get to your truck. Joel is still standing there when you chance a look over your shoulder. “You just gonna stand there, or are you coming?”

“You still haven’t signed the papers!” He shouts back.

“I can sign them in the truck!”

He curses but jogs after you, coming up behind you and beating you to the driver’s door. “I’m drivin’,” he says.

“No,” you argue. “This is my truck.”

“You think I forgot how to drive this thing?”

“I think you’re out of practice!”

“You’re wastin’ time, just get in the fuckin’ truck,” he snaps. You roll your eyes and do as he says.

Some things never really change.

“You have to get ahead of it!” You shout. Hail pelts the roof of the truck and bounces off the windshield as Joel drives down the dirt road. Wind whips through the trees and lightning flashes in the fields while the clouds churn and peak at threatening speed.

“I know!” He shouts back, both hands tight on the wheel. “I can’t fuckin’ see anythin’!”

“Just cut across the field!”

“I can get us further ahead on the road!”

“We’re going to get stuck alongside it!”

“Do you want to drive?!”

“I’d love to!”

Joel huffs, accelerating faster. The clouds gather more tightly, stretching from the sky towards the earth. He glances out of his window and catches a glimpse of the storm, his heart pounding as he watches the funnel organize. He watches it for a moment before slamming on the breaks, the truck fishtailing as it comes to a screeching halt.

“What are you doing?!”

Marlene’s team speeds by with angry honks of their horns, but Joel’s attention remains fixed on the tornado. “It’s goin’ to shift its path.”

“Are you sure?” You ask, squinting.

“Look at it, it’s a sidewinder. It’s headin’ left,” he confirms. He throws the truck in reverse, speeding back towards the road they passed. The rest of the team has caught up and follows them down the one lane road.

“There it goes!” You shout, smacking the dashboard in your excitement. You grab the radio. “Alright, tell us what you’ve got, Maria.”

“F2, shifting south. Repeat, shifting south. This thing is unstable,” she says, voice crackling over the speaker. “You guys have a shot but you’re going to be cutting it real close.”

You look at Joel, and he sees that spark in your eyes, the determination he’s always admired, even loved, and he knows he can’t say no. Not to you.

“Let’s get it.”

“We’re running out of time,” you tell him, binoculars held up to your eyes. “We’re not going to make it.”

“We will,” he insists. Joel brakes after another half of a mile and you’re out of the cab before the truck even comes to a complete stop.

The rain immediately drenches you, soaking through your clothes and wrapping you in an icy chill. You’re removing the tethers that hold ELLIE securely to the truck bed and turning the unit on when Joel joins you.

“We have to get it on the ground!” You shout, barely audible over the wind. One of the tethers is stuck, strap not coming loose from the buckle no matter how hard you pull. Joel jumps into the bed and tries to help but with the rain and wind, both of your hands keep slipping.

Joel looks up, eyes going wide. His hand wraps around your bicep, pulling. “We have to get out of here!”

“But ELLIE—“

“Now!” He shouts.

A sound similar to a freight train reaches your ears and panic courses through your veins. Joel pulls on your arm again and this time you follow, jumping from the truck and running as fast as you can. He reaches an arm back towards you, grabbing your hand and tugging you along. He veers to the left, the two of you sliding down a muddy embankment and landing in a ditch.

“Get up,” Joel urges, helping you to your feet. “We gotta get down over there by that bridge, come on!”

Together you trudge through the mud, wind picking up speed around you as the cyclone draws closer. You have your arm held up to shield your eyes from debris and your other hand in front of you, gripping Joel’s jacket tightly.

You make it beneath the cover of the bridge, a slight reprieve from the wind and rain. Joel squeezes his body tightly to yours, pressing you against the dirt and shielding you from the storm. You open your eyes, peering past his shoulder to where you can see the edge of the wide tornado base and the debris it kicks up in its wake.

Suddenly, the world grows quiet. The air goes still, the rain slows from a downpour to a shower. You can feel Joel’s chest heaving with breath against yours, cadence of it matching the pounding of your heart. He backs away slowly and lifts his hands, gently cupping your face.

“You okay?” Joel breathes, eyes searching. You wrap your hands around his wrists and nod. His thumb strokes across your cheekbone, slowly, before he releases your face. “Good. That’s…good.”

“Hey! You’re alive!” You both look up to find Tess at the top of the embankment, hands on her hips. “Tommy owes me twenty bucks!”

“He should know better than to bet against me,” Joel says. His attention returns to you. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”

Back at street level, you assess the damage. Your truck has been flipped, the ELLIE unit dented but still intact. More notably, the sensors didn’t deploy.

“Fuck,” you curse. “All of that and it didn’t even open.”

“There’s always next time,” Tess assures you.

“You know…we could all use a shower….and a meal,” Tommy says. You shoot him a look.

“No.”

“Come on,” he needles. “You’re covered in mud. We’ll need to get your truck towed somewhere for repairs.”

“I said no.”

“We haven’t had anything but shitty diner food and granola bars for four days,” Maria adds.

“You must really want a hot a meal if you’re willing to face Uncle Bill.”

“That a yes?” Tommy asks. Everyone watches you expectantly.

“Fine,” you sigh. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Joel rides in the van with Tommy and Maria while you go with Tess in her truck. It doesn’t take long to reach the familiar ranch style home that sits on four acres of farmland, complete with a barn that’s become more for show than for function in your Uncle Bill’s older age.

When the van pulls up to the house, Bill’s husband, Frank, is outside on the porch, sitting in a rocking chair with a drink in hand. He waves as Tommy honks to announce their arrival.

The front door opens, Bill’s large frame filling the doorway. His beard has grown since the last time Joel saw him, and it seems as though his ever present frown has too. Joel watches you run up the porch steps and wrap your arms around both men, though Bill is quick to shove you off when he sees the state you’re in. Despite the reaction, Joel can see the ghost of a smile on his lips.

Joel stays towards the back of the group as they approach. He won’t go so far as to say he’s hiding, but it’s a near thing. Handshakes and hugs are exchanged right up until Bill catches sight of him.

“Joel,” he says, crossing his arms.

“Uncle Bill,” Joel replies.

“Just Bill is fine.”

Joel clears his throat, avoiding the man’s gaze. you appear behind him, breaking the tension.

“I’m going to take a shower and then I can help you with dinner,” you tell Bill.

“Who said I was feeding you?”

“Frank did.”

“Sorry, honey!” Frank yells from the kitchen.

Joel escapes Bill’s attention with your distraction, darting into the kitchen to join the others. He helps Frank peel and dice potatoes while Maria and Tess make biscuits and Tommy helps Bill grill up a towering plate of steaks and burgers. Despite his outward show of annoyance, your Uncle Bill is a good guy who always takes care of the crew when they come rolling into his driveway, half starved and exhausted.

“Didn’t expect to see you back,” Frank comments, tone light.

“Didn’t expect to be back,” Joel replies.

“What brings you here, then?”

“Got tired of waitin’ on her to sign the divorce papers.”

Frank hums in response and Joel braces himself for a speech but a minute passes in silence. Then two minutes. Frank sets his potato peeler down and leans his hip against the counter, facing Joel.

“It’s a real shame,” he says, shaking his head and staring out the window to where Bill and Tommy are laughing together. “You two were really good together.”

Joel doesn’t reply, because what is there to say? Frank is right. You and Joel were good together. Where Joel was hotheaded, you were calm. Where Joel took things too seriously, you were more carefree. But perhaps the greatest difference between you two was where Joel let fear stop him in his tracks, you let it drive you.

It’s what started the arguments in the first place. He started feeling like he was getting too old, too worn out for chasing storms. He wasn’t as sharp as he used to be, not as quick, and it was starting to hang heavy over his head. Thoughts of retirement came to him more frequently and each time he brought it up, it would ignite an argument until he just didn’t have it in him to fight anymore. It was just easier to walk away.

“Shower’s free,” you announce as you enter the kitchen, no longer caked in mud.

“My turn,” Joel says. Frank gives him a sideways glance but doesn’t say anything about his silence and swift exit.

Dinner is ready when he's finished with his shower and he takes a seat in the open chair beside you. The whole scene, the normalcy of it, makes Joel feel like a ship returning to port after rough seas. He missed this -- the inside jokes, the playful ribbing, Bill's annoyed huffs and Frank's wide eyed stare as he listens to you recount the events of the day. You even pat his knee when you notice his leg bouncing beneath the table, like the gesture is second nature, even though you haven't done it in the two years since he's left.

He helps with the dishes after everyone has finished eating and puts away what little leftovers remain. Tommy and Maria decide to go to bed in one of the guest rooms while Tess remains in the living room, watching a rerun of Jeopardy with Frank. Joel notices that you're nowhere to be found, but he has a feeling he knows exactly where you've gone.

He leaves the house through the back door, heading through the field towards the barn. The sun is setting, casting everything in an orange glow as the sky begins to turn shades of purple instead of blue. The old wooden doors creak as he pries them open and steps inside the building, the smell of hay hitting him in the face like a wall.

There's a loft, accessible by a ladder, that he knows you've made your own. It's been your escape ever since you were a kid, when you came to live with your Uncle Bill after a storm that destroyed your home and ripped your parents from you. He climbs up to the loft, hoisting himself onto the platform.

You're sitting on the wood floor, a quilt from the house spread out beneath you. You’ve brought a lamp up with you, warm light beating back the rapidly oncoming darkness. You look up when he stands.

“Hey,” he says, stepping closer. He kneels onto the quilt with you.

“Hey.”

You shift your weight until you’re lying on your back and Joel does the same beside you, his shoulder brushing yours. You’re both quiet for a long moment, sounds from the field drifting in through the cracks in the wood.

“When will it be enough?” Joel finally asks. You sigh.

“Not this again,” you complain.

“What is it about retirement that scares you so damn much?”

“Retirement doesn’t scare me. I could take the easy way out, too. I could make a pretty little weather woman for some local news channel, but that’s not what I want. It’s never been what I want.” You take a deep breath. “So stop acting surprised that I won’t change for you or anyone else, for that matter. And if that’s something that you can’t love about me—“

“It ain’t about not lovin’ you. I love you. I have always loved you. I will always love you,” he interrupts, lifting himself so that he can look at your face. Your eyes are glassy, streaks of wetness stretching from the corners to your temple. “But I can’t ever be enough for you.”

Your expression changes, shifting from sadness to surprise to anger. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“I’m gettin’ older, I’m not as good at this gig as I used to be.”

“That’s why you left? Because you think you’re…what? Holding us back?”

“Wasn’t I?”

“No! You big fucking idiot,” you snap. “I can’t believe this.” You sit up, shoving his shoulder and knocking him onto his back. You throw your leg over him, settling over his lap. His hands settle on your thighs, a reflex that hasn’t faded. Your expression is stern as you stare down at him. “You will always have a place with us. With me.”

Joel lets your words sink in, the light of them illuminating the dark parts of his mind that had convinced him you were better off without him. He slides a hand up your belly, over your chest, curling it around the back of your neck and urging you forward.

You come to him easily, your lips finding his.

It feels like coming home.

Joel’s mouth is eager as he kisses you, devours you, hands hot on your skin and leaving goosebumps in their wake. You missed this, the feeling of being consumed by him, from your body and down to your soul.

He rolls the two of you over, easing you down onto your back and hovering over you. You gaze up at him, noting the deeper creases by his eyes and the grey that has started to become more prominent in his hair and the only thought that comes to you is how beautiful he is.

Joel leaves wet kisses on your neck in three spots — just below your ear, right over your pulse, and just above your clavicle, a pattern he established years ago. The warm air chills the spots he’s left behind as he moves lower, down your chest, pushing up your shirt to give the same attention to your belly. It makes your stomach flip, the way he peeks up at you with dark eyes when he reaches the waist of your jeans.

Instead of moving lower, his focus returns to your breasts. He moves the cups of your bra down to reveal your tight nipples, warm tongue circling each bud in turn. You squirm beneath his weight, cry out when his teeth scrape the sensitive skin. You can feel the smile that graces his lips.

“Still so sensitive,” he says. You gently whack his head in retaliation. “Quit it. Be a good girl or you won’t get your reward.”

“Yes, sir,” you murmur.

“That’s it, knew you could be good for me.” He squeezes your breast in one large hand. “Just needed the right motivation.”

He sits back on his heels and makes quick work of unbuttoning your pants, tugging the zipper down before curling his fingers into the waistband and dragging them down your thighs along with your underwear. Barrier discarded, he settles on his belly between your thighs, face close enough to your core that you can feel the quick brush of his breath on your needy cunt. You wiggle your hips, hoping to spur him into action, but a strong arm holds you still and you let out a low whine.

“What’s the matter, pretty girl?” Joel asks, fingers lightly tracing your skin. “Somethin’ you want? Somethin’ you need?”

“You,” you mumble.

“Louder.”

“You, Joel.”

He kisses your inner thigh, stubble scratching the sensitive skin and making you shiver. Your breath catches in anticipation as he draws nearer to your heat.

The first swipe of his tongue through your folds is like a bolt of lightning to your system, every nerve ending lighting up and your blood coursing hot in your veins. He starts off slow, just the way you like it, broad circles over your clit until you’re squirming in his hold. Then he dips lower, thrusting the tip of his tongue inside of you while his nose continues to nudge your aching clit.

He brings you to the very edge of release before backing off, just enough that you don’t tip over before he’s ready for you to. It drives you crazy, has you cursing his name and begging for him in equal measure, but he’s nothing if not stubborn, generous yet greedy.

“Joel,” you cry, his name a plea. “Are you going to let me come?”

“Of course, sweetheart,” he says. His chin is shiny with with spit and slick when he looks up, eyes a little wild and hair messy from your fingers. “But not yet.”

“Fuck!” You snap, head dropping to the wood floor with a thud as he presses two thick fingers inside of you, curling them with each drag from your body. His mouth rejoins the effort, lips wrapping around your clit. It’s too much and so good, that wave of pleasure finally coursing through you as you shatter from his ministrations.

He works you through it, tongue gentle and fingers stilling inside of you, your cunt pulsing around them. When your muscles finally relax, he sits up, holding his hand up to your face and pressing his fingers to your lips. You open your mouth obediently, the earthy taste of your release exploding across your taste buds as you lick the digits clean.

“Missed this,” Joel murmurs, watching you intently. “Missed you.”

“Missed you,” you reply. You reach your hand up, running it down his chest until you’re cupping the prominent bulge in his jeans. “Missed this, too.”

He laughs, shoulders shaking with the force of it. It pulls a smile from you, your beautiful man so carefree, no sign of that troubled wrinkle between his brows and his cheeks flushed with life, the same way they are when he’s coming down from the adrenaline of a chase. He unbuttons his jeans, shimmies the denim down just enough to free his cock.

Joel grips himself at the base, flushed head peeking from his fist. He teases your entrance, slipping his length through your wetness and bumping your still sensitive clit. Your back arches and a moan escapes your lips, one that Joel echoes himself as he slowly, slowly, slowly pushes inside of your tight heat.

“Joel,” you whisper, fingers curling tight into the quilt beneath you. “Joel.”

“I know,” he says. “God, I know.”

When his hips are flush with yours, he leans forward, elbows on either side of your head propping himself up. His cock fills you so perfectly, the stretch almost too much to bear as he starts to move. Each purposeful thrust has you seeing stars, has you gasping and moaning his name. He silences you with his lips, so messy and uncoordinated it can hardly be called a kiss. You clench around him, desperate to keep him inside of you with each drag from your body.

“Feel so fuckin’ good,” Joel groans. “Can you come for me, baby? One more time?”

“Mhm,” you hum. He picks up the pace, quick strokes that hit your g-spot with impressive precision. You feel the knot of your release grow tighter, tighter, until it finally unravels, every nerve ending lighting up like you’ve been struck by lightning. You wrap your arms around his shoulders, holding him close as he presses deep, cock twitching and spilling inside of you.

Joel presses his forehead to yours as you both catch your breath, sweat cooling on your skin as minutes pass. When he lifts his head and stares down at you, it’s with a smile on his face.

“That was—“

“Yeah,” you agree. “See? You still got it, old man.”

“Nevermind, I still want a divorce.”

You laugh, loud and carefree. For the first time in years, you feel a sense of peace.

A sense of home.

The two of you get caught in an unexpected downpour as you leave the barn and Joel follows the sound of your laughter as you run through the field back to the main house. Inside, you press a kiss to Joel’s lips, water dripping to the floor beneath you. You’re smiling and he swears he’s never felt more alive, even when chasing the biggest storm.

When you break apart, you whisper that you’re going to take another shower and change. Joel tells you he’s going to clean up the mess to avoid Bill’s wrath. Another kiss, and another, until you finally break away and shut yourself in the bathroom down the hall. He stands there for a moment, lost in thought, until the sound of the shower running spurs him into motion and he goes to search for a towel to clean up the water that’s pooled in the hallway.

As he passes by the living room, heading for the linen closet, he notices the TV is on, the room illuminated in its flickering glow. He stops in the doorway and Frank looks up at him, a knowing smile on his face.

Joel smiles back.

For now, it’s their little secret.

The next day, Bill deems your truck operational. It has a fresh new set of dents and scratches, but it’ll otherwise drive despite the abuse. You spend some time inspecting the unit and determine the lid latch is a little too secure, which explains why the sensors couldn’t deploy. Joel helps you loosen the bolts, the simple task taking twice as long with how often he distracts you when your crew members aren’t looking. You replace the latch with another tether strap that can be quickly released on deployment.

When all is said and done, everyone takes turns saying goodbye to your uncles. Frank tells you to be safe and Bill tells you to not be stupid, which is essentially the same thing. You watch as Joel receives a handshake from Bill that’s a tad too firm, if the grimace on his face is anything to go by.

“Alright, let’s head out,” Maria says, eyes scanning a computer screen. “Radar’s got something forming about twenty miles north of here.”

“What kind of something?” You ask.

“A big something.”

Joel catches your eye and gives you a wink.

“Let’s go get ELLIE into the air.”

The sky ahead of you is pitch black, clouds churning ominously. There’s a certain liminality when you’re driving into a storm that never ceases to amaze you, the image in the rearview mirror bright with sunlight but a foreboding darkness ahead of you.

“You okay?” Joel asks, drawing your attention. His hand rests on your thigh, fingers tapping against your knee. “Not gettin’ cold feet, are you?”

“About this?” You nod towards the sky. “Never.”

“That’s my girl.”

“Guys? You won’t believe this,” Maria says over the radio. You grab the transmitter.

“What is it?” You ask.

“There’s two cells. Radar maxed out.”

“They’re funneling back,” Tess adds. “This isn’t looking good.”

“You saying we can’t do it?” You ask.

The radio is quiet for a moment before Tommy says, “If anyone can, it’s you two.”

“What are we up against?” Joel asks.

“Cell one is measuring at the cusp of a three, cell two is reaching four,” Maria continues.

“Joel.” You tap his arm. “Look.”

A funnel has formed ahead of you, still teetering in the air and not quite making contact with the ground. It’s only a few miles ahead and Joel hits the brakes as he takes it in.

“What’s the trajectory of this?” He asks.

“Northeast.”

It’s heading your way. You both scramble from the truck, climbing into the bed to prepare ELLIE — Joel removing the tethers while you turn the unity on. The wind picks up speed as you work, dust from the road whipping around you and making it difficult to see.

“Let’s get her down!” Joel shouts. He jumps to the ground and together you ease the equipment onto the ground, removing the lid tether. After what feels like ages, ELLIE is ready and you both return to the truck.

Joel turns the truck around and drives in the opposite direction of the cyclone’s path. He stops and you can hardly breath as you watch the storm tear across the landscape.

“This is it!” Tess shouts through the radio.

You grab Joel’s hand as the funnel nears ELLIE, the wind making the unit shift and sway. You swallow nervously.

“It’s too light,” you murmur.

“No it’s not,” Joel says confidently.

Closer and closer the funnel moves, but ELLIE doesn’t lift from the ground. You’re biting your lip so hard that the taste of copper blooms across your tongue.

“We’ve got a shift!” Maria says. “We’ve got a shift, due north. Due north.”

“Fuck!” Joel shouts, slamming a hand on the steering wheel.

“Guess who just showed up?” Tommy adds.

Far across the field, a familiar caravan of black vehicles speeds towards the cyclone.

“What channel are they using?” You ask. There’s a brief silence until Tess calls back, “Six. Why?”

You switch the channel. “Marlene, you have to anchor the unit.”

“I’m a little busy right now,” she calls back. “Trying to make history over here.”

“Listen to me. Unless you manage to position your unit right under a touchdown, it’s not going to get picked up. And if it doesn’t pick up, it doesn’t deploy.”

“Maybe that’s just an issue with your unit. I can assure you ABBY will succeed where ELLIE failed.”

“Goddamnit,” you snap, tossing the transmitter down.

“Can’t fix stupid,” Joel says. He hits the gas, bringing the truck back to ELLIE. “Let’s load her back up, maybe we can catch the second cell.”

Pack loaded once more, you return to the cab. Joel is about to put the park in drive when you place a hand over his chest.

“Do you see what I see?” You ask.

Joel watches the twister, then Marlene’s team. He grabs the radio.

“Marlene, listen to me. That monster is going to shift and if it does, you’re in the path of destruction and that base is too wide for you to get out of there. You have to hang back now.”

“Radar isn’t showing a shift. I’m not missing this chance,” Marlene replies.

“You gotta look at the funnel action, too. Not just the radar. You’re goin’ to get yourself killed!”

“Clear this channel, Joel. I’ve got work to do.”

“Fuck!” Joel snaps.

Sure enough, the cyclone shifts its path, a minute change with dire consequences for Marlene and her team. The twister barrels toward the caravan, vehicles lifting from the ground.

“Oh my god,” you whisper, bringing a hand up to cover your mouth.

“I know,” he says. His throat bobs around a pained swallow. “We did what we could.”

Joel switches the radio back to your team’s channel, a flurry of panicked voices filling the cab. Maria’s voice snaps your name.

“Do you read me? The second cell has organized, five miles east moving north along 80.”

“Copy that,” you say as Joel drives in her suggested direction. “What’s it looking like?”

“Too soon to tell but the cloud base is massive.”

Joel drives parallel to Maria’s path suggestion, racing to get ahead of the storm. The funnel begins to form, dropping down from the restless clouds. It’s one of the biggest you’ve seen, more of a column of wind than a tapered cyclone. The strength of it grows as it hits the warm air, touching down with a contact point as wide as the funnel base.

“Wind speed is measuring at an estimated 270 miles per hour. We’ve found ourselves an F5,,” Maria says. “She’s slow, but strong. Movement only measuring at ten miles per hour, still heading east.”

Joel changes direction, heading towards the storm from the back, rather than trying to get ahead of it.

“ELLIE needs an anchor,” you remind him.

“I know,” he says, looking over at you. “I’m giving her one.”

“We’re using the truck?”

“You got a better idea?”

“No, no, go ahead. Can’t wait to explain this one to insurance.” You unbuckle your seatbelt and take the radio one more time. “We’re sending the truck up with ELLIE. If this works, get ready for the best data in history.”

“Roger that,” Tess replies. “Ready for the feed.”

Another mile ahead, Joel gets the truck speed up to fifty miles per hour before setting the cruise control. He unbuckles his seat belt and you follow suit, throwing the passenger door open and holding onto the grab handle.

“One,” Joel shouts. “Two!”

“Three!” You finish, jumping from the cab. You hit the ground hard, rolling through your landing, the air punched from your lungs. When you’ve caught your breath, you get yourself on your hands and knees, frantically searching for Joel.

He’s kneeling in the road, watching as the truck continues to barrel towards the twister. You crawl to him and he pulls you close, an arm around your waist to hold you up beside him.

“Go, go, go!” He shouts.

The sound of brakes squealing has you looking back over your shoulder to see your team has arrived. They gather behind you, Tess snapping photos at rapid speeds, Tommy recording video, and Maria’s eyes glued to her computer. You look ahead, just in time to watch the truck disappear into the swirling mass of debris.

Everyone is silent for a long moment, waiting. Watching. Hoping.

“I’m getting a read!” Maria shouts. “She’s up! ELLIE is flying!”

“Oh my god,” you murmur. “Joel, we did it.”

“You did it, baby,” he says.

The twister doesn’t last long. Its power wanes, the cyclone breaking up and retreating back into the sky. You have no idea where your truck has landed, but you don’t care. You and Joel stand up, your legs shaky from the rush of adrenaline. He takes your face in his hands, pulling you into a kiss.

“You owe me one hundred dollars, Tommy!” Tess shouts.

Joel pulls away with a laugh. “What did I tell you about bettin’ against me?”

“Does this mean you’re back?” Maria asks.

The arm around your waist tightens, pulling you closer.

“Yeah,” he says, smiling. “I’m back.”

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