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ahsokaismyqueen · 3 months ago

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Orange Juice Pairing - Tyler Owens x Female!Reader Summary - When it's time to interview a group of storm chasers for your new book, you get sent back to your hometown. You never would have guessed one of the people you'd be interviewing would be your ex boyfriend. And you might still be a little in love with him. Word Count - 13k my god I'm sorry Playlist Warnings - 18+ ONLY. Tyler Smut. Language

Everything looked the same, but somehow different.

You hadn’t stepped foot in this town in ten years, and you were nervous as hell to be here now. This town held a lot of memories and people that you hadn’t visited in a long time. If your agent had told you where you had been going before putting you on the plane, you probably would have asked if there was somewhere else, some other storm chaser group that wasn’t based in Arkansas you could interview. She believed that she was doing a nice thing, surprising you with a trip to your hometown.

You didn’t have the heart to tell her that it may be your hometown, but it also was home to your worst memory.

A sigh left your lips as you pulled up to a familiar gas station, and pushing the memories out of your mind, you put the car in park.

The Tornado Wranglers. That was the group of chasers you would be talking to. Your agent had insisted that they were the best of the best. Apparently they had a very large YouTube following, and their leader was, “charismatic and oozed charm”, according to your agent. He was also the hottest cowboy she’d ever seen.

Those words brought a faint smile to your face, and you pulled out your phone to text her.

Landed, and am currently waiting at the gas station.

A few moments later, a response came through. Any sign of hot cowboys yet?

You let out a laugh. Not yet, but I’ll keep you informed.

Your fingers settled on the door handle. There was no reason to put this off anymore. You were here, and you were going to have to face what was out there, for better or worse. You opened the door and climbed out of your car.

It smelled the same. The gas station had been updated to be more modern, but the faint scent of gasoline and rice from the farms remained. Walking inside, you found little had changed. There was an updated register, a few more products offered, but that was about it. When your eyes caught sight of your favorite candy, a grin spread across your face, and you found yourself reaching for them, even though you hadn’t had them in years.

You didn’t recognize the cashier, which you were grateful for. A part of you had almost expected everyone you knew to pop out of nowhere as soon as your feet touched the ground. Now you realized how ridiculous that was. In fact, you might go this whole trip without setting eyes on a single person from before. Thanking the cashier, you made your way back outside right on time to see a large red truck turning in followed by a camper that was blaring a Tanner Adell song. You couldn’t see the driver of the truck because of the cowboy hat and sunglasses that partially obscured his face, but the guy in the passenger seat recognized you at once. “Hey! That’s her!” You could hear him say it since his window was open.

The guy pulled to a stop, and the one in the passenger seat ran around the front of the car. His hair was dark and shoulder length, but covered with a baseball cap, and the bottom half of his face supported some facial hair. He was dressed much like you expected a tornado chaser to dress, shirt and shorts in different shades of dark green with a bandana around his neck. “Hey, I’m Boone.” He said, holding out his hand for you. “I gotta say, I’m a big fan.” He said the last part in an almost whisper, like he didn’t want anyone else to hear him.

Which, considering you wrote romance books, he probably didn’t. Not the first man to say something similar to you, you nodded with a sincere smile, shaking his hand. “It’s nice to meet you. You guys are the Tornado Wranglers I’m assuming?”

“Yeah, that’s Dexter and Dani.” He said pointing to two people that were exiting the camper behind them. “There’s Lily.” He said, pointing to a girl getting out of another car that you hadn’t even noticed. “And this is our fearless leader, Tyler.”

At that moment, the world around you slowed down. In fact, you were pretty sure all the air was sucked out of your lungs. It couldn’t be him. Out of every person in the world you could be working with, it couldn’t be the one . . . But he took off his cowboy hat, and even though it had been ten years, he was unmistakable. You would know that face anywhere, after all, you saw it all the time in your dreams.

For a moment, you thought he might not recognize you. It had been ten years, you’d both changed in that time, but the moment his eyes landed on you, he knew exactly who you were. He said your name, pure disbelief in his tone as he took a step forward.

You nodded, unsure of how to respond. The two of you hadn’t left on the best of terms, but there were so many years before that. So many beautiful memories that you’d never be able to forget. Half of you wanted to run and hide, the other half (okay maybe more like three fourths) wanted to run into his arms. How could you do that though when you were the one who left?

Tyler didn’t hesitate though. You watched as a slow grin formed on his face that turned into a bright smile, a smile that never failed to make your heart skip a beat, and the next moment he was hurrying towards you. Within seconds you were wrapped up in a hug so tight your feet weren’t even on the ground anymore.

God it felt good. You slid your arms around his neck, hugging him back just as tight, and let out a little laugh as he spun you around. Your eyes closed automatically, and you realized at that moment while you may have written about the way Tyler made you feel, it was nothing compared to the actual emotions. You remembered how his arms always felt like home, and it was no different now. They must have some sort of magic, because no matter how long it had been, they brought your mindset right back to the teenager who was crazy in love with her boyfriend.

After what was probably too long, Tyler put you back on the ground, slowly and a little too intimately for the strangers his team thought you were. In fact, he didn’t even fully let go of you, keeping his hands on your hips. You found yourself unable to let go of him too though, your hands resting on his forearms as he stared at you in disbelief. “I can’t believe you’re here.”

“I can’t believe you’re here.” You said, squeezing his arms. “You’re a storm chaser?” It made perfect sense when you thought about it. Tyler had always had such a good instinct for weather. You couldn’t count the amount of times during school when he told you football games were going to get canceled because it was going to storm. He was never wrong. You just never expected him to quit bull riding.

“Yeah, got a meteorology degree from U of A and everything.” Tyler said, and your breath caught in your throat. Not just because his thumbs had started stroking your hips, but because of his words too.

Tyler had done it. He had done what you had always known he was beyond capable of doing. The shy smile on his face, the love, care, and pride you still, and always would have for him rushed to the surface. Overwhelmed with emotions from the past, you felt tears fill up your eyes as you looked at him. “I’m so proud of you, Ty.” You told him, and you meant every word.

There was no other way to describe it. He was beaming, and god you had forgotten how beautiful that smile was. It was like the sun, almost too bright to look at.

“I get the feeling you two know each other?”

You had forgotten that little aspect of being with Tyler. How everything else would disappear the moment he looked into your eyes. You took a step back from him, letting go of his arms even though every part of your body wanted you to keep touching him. His hands lingered on you for a moment, but then he let go as well. “I guess you could say that.” Tyler said, “this is the girl that broke my heart ten years ago.”

“Wait,” one of the girls, you were pretty sure it was Lily, stepped forward. “I thought that girl’s name was-”

They knew your name. Tyler had talked about you enough that they knew who you were. “That is my name. My writing name is a pseudonym.” You admitted. Heat rushed to your skin, but there was no malice in Tyler’s voice or face. He was just looking at you with a fond smile, as if lost in the same memories you found swirling around in your mind.

“So, you’re a big time writer now, huh? You always did tell the best stories.” Tyler said.

“Man, you should read them. In fact, now that I think about it, one of the main guys kinda reminds me of-” Boone started to say, but you cut him off.

There was no way you were ready for that conversation. “So, um, where did you guys want to talk?” You spoke up, trying to change the subject as subtly as you could.

The look Tyler gave you said he saw right through your bullshit, but he didn’t comment on it, just grinned mischievously at you. “How about Frankie’s?”

Of course he would suggest Frankie’s. It was the bar that the two of you used to go to all the time after rodeos. There were a lot of memories of playing pool, laughing with friends and dancing to whatever band was playing there. While you weren’t sure you were ready for all those memories to hit again, the draw of going back there with Tyler was too much. “Okay,” you agreed. “I’ll meet you guys- ”

“No need for that. You can ride with me.” Tyler said, patting the large red truck.

Being in an enclosed space with your ex boyfriend definitely didn’t seem like a good idea. “Oh, that’s not-”

“It’s really cool. You’ll want to take a peek. He customized it all himself and everything. This baby can drive straight into a tornado.” Boone said while Tyler continued to grin at you.

“Research is what you’re here for right?” Tyler asked you.

Yes. That was a good reminder for yourself. You were here to learn about the essentials of storm chasing for your next book, not to spend all your time thinking about how good Tyler looked after ten years. “Right,” you agreed, and then watched as Tyler walked all the way over to the passenger seat and held it open for you.

“Well, in that case, right this way ma’am.”

————————

To your slight surprise, Tyler kept everything professional in the truck. He showed you all the features, and you couldn’t help but be mesmerized by it all. It was impressive, not only what he had thought of, but had attached himself. “Is this normal? I mean do a lot of storm chasers have vehicles they’ve rigged up?”

“Nothing like this.” He said with pride in his voice as he grinned over at you. “I spent years putting this thing together.”

“When you do something, you always go big.” You teased, smirking at him. “Remember that time in high school when we just wanted to fill the principal's office with ducks, and instead you said we should fill the whole school?”

Tyler scoffed. “Of course I do. I got a month of detention for that because Belinda ratted me out.”

“You did stand her up for a date.” You reminded him.

“Yeah well,” Tyler glanced over at you again. “You needed me.”

Your cheeks heated as the memories of that night flooded your mind. It hadn’t been long after your Dad had passed. You had gotten stupid drunk at a party that he hadn’t wanted to go to. You had been walking home, stumbling home really, when a familiar truck pulled up beside you. It turned out that Tyler had been waiting nearby for at least an hour after feeling like something was off.

He held you in his arms in that truck for hours while you cried, letting out emotions you’d been holding back for months. Then he took you home and snuck into your bedroom to hold you some more. The next morning you told him you didn’t want to be just friends anymore. He told you he hadn’t wanted to be just friends for a long time.

The two of you were inseparable from that moment until the day you left. Almost as if he could sense where your mind was, a palpable tension filled the truck.

You weren’t ready to talk about it though.

Thankfully you were saved from any further discussion as your phone went off with a text. It was from your agent, checking in again.

“Boyfriend?” Tyler asked.

You shot him a look, trying to bite back a smile. “That’s not very subtle of you.”

He sent you a look right back. “Wasn’t trying to be.”

“Agent.” You answered, choosing to ignore his response. “Who I now have to awkwardly tell that the ‘hottest cowboy she’s ever seen’ is actually my ex-boyfriend.”

“So you really had no idea?” Tyler asked.

You shook your head. “Not a clue. I didn’t even know where I was going until I got to the airport and she sent my travel information.”

“Gotta say . . . I’m surprised. I never thought you’d step foot in the town again.” He said, pulling into the small parking lot.

Glancing up at the building, you bit your bottom lip. “I wasn’t sure I would either.”

Frankie’s was exactly what you would picture when you hear the words, “small town bar”, but as soon as you walked in, you couldn’t help but smile at the familiarity. It was big for a small town bar, featuring bars on both sides of the room, plenty of tables, as well as a couple of pool tables, and a stage with a small dancing space in front of it. Most of the furniture was wooden and looking a little rough, but they kept the lighting dim enough that it wasn’t very noticeable. There weren’t a whole lot of people, but there was no band playing, and it was a weekday night. It put you a little more at ease.

“This place hasn’t changed a bit.” You said, looking around.

Tyler shook his head in agreement. “That’s why I love it so much. Feel like I’m right back into my early twenties when I walk back in here.”

“That was a long time ago for you.” You teased.

He clutched his chest, scrunching his eyes at you and giving you a wounded look, but there was a playful edge to it. “Ouch. So you do still have some bite to you.”

You smirked at him. “You bring it out in me.”

Tyler’s frown turned to a grin as he placed his hand on the small of your back, sending chills down your spine. “Let’s grab a booth for everybody.”

The next several hours consisted of you asking the Tornado Wranglers crew every question you wrote down as well as thought of. They not only answered honestly, but never talked down to you like you were stupid for not knowing something either. You loved the relationship that they clearly had with each other. They treated each other like family, with their own strengths and weaknesses that the other members of the team either supported or built upon. You knew immediately it was something you were going to want to include in your book. Not only that, but they were hilarious, and since they knew who you were, they seemed to be ribbing Tyler extra hard.

“All right, you know damn well that was an accident.” Tyler said, pointing a finger at Dexter who was laughing hysterically along with the rest of the table.

“I don’t know, it doesn’t sound like an accident to me Tyler.” You said, raising your eyebrows at the man sitting next to you.

Tyler narrowed his eyes at you and bumped your knee with his under the table. “Now don’t you start.”

“Hey, don’t be rude to our guest.” Dani said.

“Too late for that. He hasn’t even gotten her a drink yet.” Lily spoke up, shaking her head at him in disappointment.

“Oh, you don’t have to-”

Tyler shook his head. “No, they’re right.” He started sliding out of the booth. His hand reached up and gave your shoulder a squeeze. “I’ve got you.”

“I notice he didn’t ask you what you wanted to drink.” Dexter said with a little grin after Tyler made his way to the bar.

You bit your bottom lip. You hoped he remembered. “We’ve known each other a long time.”

“Okay, now that he’s gone.” Boone leaned forward, putting his hands on the table. “One Last Rodeo. Theo. He’s based on Tyler isn’t he?”

Heat rushed to your face. So Boone definitely had read your books. Looking back on it, it was pretty obvious that your first book had been based on Tyler. You were heartbroken, and trying to find a way to get it out on the page. The book was your way of coping with your breakup and how you wished it would have ended instead of the way that it did. By the time someone wanted to actually publish it, you realized how obvious the similarities were, and it was one of the reasons you wanted to write under a fake name. Since Boone had read your book, and now knew that Tyler was your ex . . . It couldn’t have been hard to put together. Still, you couldn’t bring yourself to admit it outloud. “A writer never tells her secrets.” You said.

They were all grinning at you though. “Oh, look how flushed her face is.” Dani said.

“It’s definitely about him.” Lily said.

You opened your mouth to deny it, even though it seemed pointless, but before you could you were interrupted. “Here you go,” he said, sliding back into the booth and putting a glass filled with an orange drink in front of you.

“What is that?” Boone asked, “some kind of tropical-”

“Orange juice.” You answered, smiling over at Tyler. “You did remember.”

Tyler gave you a look of disbelief, like he was insulted. “Of course I did.” When he saw the confused looks of his friends he explained, “she doesn’t drink.”

“Twelve years sober.” You said. “Not something I’m against anyone else doing, it’s just not for me.” Tyler slung his arm over the back side of the booth closest to you, and you had to fight the immediate urge to lean back into his embrace. The rest of the team was smirking at you, and you lifted the glass to your lips to take a sip. “So I’ve just got one more question for you guys.” You said trying to change the subject.

“Fire away.” Dani said.

“Why do you guys do it?” That was what you really wanted to know. “I grew up here. I know how dangerous, how scary these things can be. Why do you guys willingly risk your life for something that seems to have no real reward?”

There was silence around the table for a moment, and you made sure to avoid Tyler’s face. When you had written these questions, you had no clue he was one of the ones you’d be asking, and this question hit a little too close to the reason for your breakup. You didn’t think you could look at him if he answered.

“We like to help.” Lily said. “That’s a factor. We sell these shirts, and we use the money to get people stuff like food and water.”

“Then there’s just the beauty of it. Yes, it’s dangerous and destructive, but there’s also something incredible about it as well. There’s so many factors to tornados we don’t understand. Seeing them come together in person is . . . Indescribable.” Dexter added, while they all nodded their heads in agreement.

“There’s the adrenaline too.” Boone spoke up with a grin. “I’ve never felt more alive than when we’re chasing.”

Your body tensed at his words, memories of your last argument with Tyler trying to invade your mind. Once again, you felt sure he could sense what you were thinking as you felt his gaze on the side of your face.

“It’s hard to put into words without actually seeing it.” Tyler said. “You should come on a chase.”

That made you look at him, your eyes wide in shock that he would even suggest it. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Why not?” Tyler leaned towards you. “Scared?” He asked with a smirk.

“Yes.” You answered honestly.

“Ah, you’d be perfectly safe with Tyler. He’s got a knack for these things.” Boone said, and you looked over at him to find him grinning at the two of you. “You’d barely be in any danger at all.”

You didn’t doubt that, but heading straight into something that could be so destructive had never been your thing. Hell, you hadn’t even gotten on a horse until Tyler talked you into it. “Still, any danger is too much danger for me.”

Tyler shrugged. “The offer is there if you change your mind.” Tyler said, and you knew him well enough to see the flash of disappointment on his face.

Weirdly, you felt a little disappointed in yourself too.

————————

For the past hour, you’d been pacing around your motel room. Tyler had driven you back to your car, then followed you to the motel that funnily enough, him and the rest of the Wranglers were staying at as well. It was the only motel in your hometown, but knowing that Tyler was a few doors down from you made you anxious.

God, seeing him again had been your worst nightmare and best daydream all rolled into one. It was so easy to think that after ten years you were over someone. Then you see them again, and everything comes flooding back. All the beautiful memories and all the mistakes you wish you could take back, and there were a lot of mistakes you wished you could take back with Tyler. You’d never loved anyone the way you loved him, and you didn’t think you ever would. Seeing him again had reminded you of that.

Letting out a sad sigh, you sat down on your bed. Then there was Tyler’s invitation and disappointment. You hated disappointing him almost as much as you hated disappointing yourself. It had taken several years of therapy and hard work to not be so scared of ending up with the same fate as your father. You had grown though. You had learned about yourself and the things that caused those reactions. While getting close to a tornado was definitely dangerous, you knew that Tyler would take care of you. You also knew that you didn’t want to miss out on any more experiences in your life because you were afraid.

You stood up, not allowing yourself another moment to try and talk yourself out of it, and left your room, knocking at the one three doors down.

Tyler answered, clad in his white t-shirt and jeans, and smiled when he realized it was you. “Hey, what’s up?”

Good lord was there ever a moment when this man didn’t look incredible? You swallowed, then nodded. “I changed my mind.”

He leaned against the doorway, eyebrows raised in confusion. “About what?”

You took a deep breath. “I wanna go on a chase.”

Tyler beamed.

————————

It took three days for a storm to come through that Tyler felt good about. They had done some chasing in that time, but Tyler hadn’t brought you along because he said they hadn’t been the “right one”. The wait made you anxious, but you trusted Tyler’s instincts, and every night they were back at the motel ready to tell you about their day. You thought that they might eventually get bored of all your questions, but they were not only great, but amazing storytellers as well. You could see why their YouTube channel was so popular.

Not that you spent a whole day watching it while they were gone or anything.

Finally though, the day arrived and you found yourself standing outside by Tyler’s truck waiting for the team to join you, your heart pumping a little faster than normal. “Morning!” A voice called, pulling your attention away from inspecting Tyler’s truck again, and you saw the man in question heading towards you with a paper sack in one hand and an iced coffee in the other. “Haven’t talked yourself out of this yet?”

You shook your head. “Nope. I’m doing this.” You smiled as Tyler handed you the coffee and bag. “Did you seriously get-?”

“Your breakfast sandwich and coffee? Yes, you need fuel for the road.” Tyler used his now free hands to open the door for you. “Hop on in, and let’s get going.”

“Wait,” you said, glancing around. “Is everyone else meeting us there?”

Tyler leaned against the door, and you watched as he looked at the sky behind you, then turned his gaze back to you. “Nah, I gave them the day off. I didn’t want you to have to deal with pressure from them if we get there and you decide not to do this.”

You bit your lip. He was always so thoughtful. Back when he knew you, he would have had to drag you to this truck kicking and screaming, which he never would, and the fact that he wanted to save you some embarrassment in case you decided not to do this was just like him. Unable to help yourself, you reached out and gave his hand a squeeze. “Thank you.” You said sincerely.

“Well,” you inhaled sharply as Tyler took a little step closer to you. “I’ve got to admit, getting you alone for the day also played a factor.”

Your eyes widened and a shy smile formed on your face even while your mind was spinning. Over the past few days there had been brief moments where you thought Tyler might have been flirting with you, but you talked yourself out of it. Now though . . . Was there actually a chance this man still wanted you? He couldn’t. Not after how you had treated him. It didn’t make sense. “You might end up regretting that, you know?” You told him.

Tyler reached up, and your whole body froze as he brushed some hair behind your ear. “I’ve never regretted a moment I’ve been with you.”

His response took the breath from your lungs. “Ty . . .” You didn’t know what to say. Your heart was beating so fast it hurt. How could he possibly not regret that night? The night that you broke his heart?

“I’ve missed you calling me that, you know?” He smiled at you, and then took a step back. “Come on, let’s get going.”

Once again, you wanted to say something, but what? Nothing sounded right in your mind. So instead you hopped up in the truck and watched as he closed the door behind you.

————————

“Can I be honest?” You asked him several hours later.

“I didn’t realize you ever weren’t.” Tyler joked, sending you a smirk.

You swatted at him playfully. “I didn’t expect all the waiting. What happens if nothing comes?”

“Oh, something’s gonna happen.” He insisted, looking at some clouds in the distance. “Don’t you have any faith in me?”

While he was kidding, you didn’t stop the serious words that slipped past your lips. “You know I have all the faith in the world in you.”

Ty’s smile turned from something joking to something genuine. “Even after all these years?”

You smiled at him. “It never stopped. I always knew you were destined for great things.” You admitted, and it was the truth. In fact, you’d never been more sure of anything in your life.

“Just not riding on the back of a bull.” He replied, and though he winked at you, the mention of one of the reasons from your breakup filled the air with tension.

Then the question that you had been dying to ask since you first saw him burst from your lips. “Why did you quit?”

Tyler looked at you then, and you knew that look well. He was reading your expression, your eyes, your body language. He’d always been able to tell what you were thinking simply by looking at you, and this time was no different. “It wasn’t because of you.” He said, reaching over to place his hand on top of yours and giving it a gentle squeeze. “I mean, you were part of the reason, but it was more about me realizing you were right, and I could do more with my life.”

He knew you had been carrying that guilt of wondering if you were the reason he quit something that he had loved so much. He told you that you weren’t, but you still frowned, looking out at the darkening sky miles away. “I wish I’d said it differently.”

There was silence for a moment as you two watched the storm, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It felt more reflective, and your thoughts were only confirmed when he spoke up. “Do you ever wonder where we’d be now? If you’d stayed?”

If only he knew . . . “I guess that depends.” You bumped your shoulder against his. “Would you have proposed by now?” You teased, but a part of you wanted to know the answer.

Tyler grinned at you, an adoring look on his face. “Oh definitely.”

A flush heated up your face as a pleased smile fell on your lips. “Then I guess we’d be married and driving each other crazy.”

“Not to mention being driven crazy by the kids.” Tyler added.

You let out a laugh. “After ten years, you still want three kids?”

“Three is a good number.” He defended.

You rolled your eyes. “You know I have this friend now. She just had her fourth. Going over to her house almost makes me not want any at all.”

“That’s because she has four. Three, perfect number.” Tyler said, holding up three fingers. “Four?” He added a finger. “Now that’s just asking for trouble.”

“Especially if they were your kids.” You added, grinning over at him.

“Ah, we could handle them.” Tyler said with a wink in your direction.

A vision formed in your mind of what he was describing. Three kids, all of varying ages, but in your mind it was two boys and one girl. The boys would be almost an exact copy of Tyler, blonde hair and blue-green eyes, dimples and charming smiles. Troublemakers, but also sweethearts who cared deeply and loved life to the fullest. Then the little girl. She definitely had a majority of your features but with Tyler’s smile. She would have Tyler so wrapped around her finger it would almost be embarrassing. Then there’d be Tyler and you, watching all the craziness unfold from your back porch with a glass of sweet tea in your hands. You were happy. You were loved, and you were home.

At that moment, you realized you never wanted anything so badly in your life. You wanted it so badly your chest literally ached with it. Looking over at Tyler made it hurt worse. You thought being away from him would make the love you had fade, but it turned out, the opposite had occurred. In fact, seeing him watch the sky with a content smile and talking about what could have been made you realize you loved him more now. You had loved him in high school, you’d loved him in his early twenties, but this was different. You were different and so was he.

The question was . . . Would he take you back if you tried? You knew you didn’t deserve it. You were the reason the two of you broke up. If you were in his shoes, you didn’t think you could forgive yourself. Tyler had always been a better person than you though.

Was it worth a shot trying?

“Hey,” Tyler pulled you out of your thoughts, lifting your hand and pointing it to something in the distance. “Do you see those clouds?”

You looked out to where he was pointing your hand and frowned. Those definitely looked dark, and they were . . . “Are those spinning?”

“That’s the updraft, and it’s cycling.” He told you.

“And that means . . .”

“That means-” Tyler stood up, put his baseball cap back on his head, and held out his hand to help you off the bed of his truck. “We’ve got a winner.”

————————

You were going to throw up. At least it felt like you were. Not five minutes after you guys reached the storm did a tornado touchdown. Tyler said it was rated for an EF1, so it would be safe to drive into. Well, as safe as driving into a tornado could be. As fast as your heart was pounding, and as sick as you felt you might be, you leaned forward to get a better look out the window. You couldn’t deny the beauty in it. “I’ve never seen something so amazing and scary at the same time.” You admitted.

“It’s incredible isn’t it?”

As nervous as you were, the look on Tyler’s face made you smile. God you hadn’t seen him this excited since he had been on the back of a bull. “It is. Especially when it doesn’t look like it’s going to kill me.”

Tyler laughed, and he pulled to a stop. “Nah, this is just an EF 1. This and the truck are going to keep you completely safe.” Tyler said, reaching to tug at the harness he had secured so tightly to your body that you felt like you couldn’t take a deep breath.

As you watched the tornado race forward, you felt your heart rate start to kick back up and took a deep breath. “And you too right?” You asked, biting your bottom lip.

He parked the truck and faced you, a rare serious expression crossing his face. “You know I wouldn’t let anything happen to you.”

At that moment, you realized you did. Tyler would never willingly put you in danger. He cared about you too much. If he said it was safe, it was. “I do.” You agreed, taking a deep breath, well, as much as you could in this harness. “Let’s do this.”

The grin came back to his face full force as he started pressing buttons on his truck, anchoring it down into the ground as the tornado got closer and closer. “You’re gonna love this.”

”Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god.” Even though you knew you were safe, there was nothing quite like a tornado heading straight towards you while you’re stuck in place. “Tyler . . . This is crazy.”

It was getting closer and closer. Only yards away, and your heart was pounding harder and harder in your chest. You didn’t even think. Your hand reached for his, gripping it tightly as the tornado hit the truck.

Tyler gave your hand a reassuring squeeze, “look up.” He called over the wind, and you did as he asked, leaning towards your side of the car to see out the window.

It was the most incredible thing you’d ever seen. You could see all the way up the funnel to the clouds above as the vortex passed over you. You’d never seen anything like it in your life, and a laugh of disbelief left your lips as you watched it pass over you. When it was done you looked over at Tyler, shock all over your face. “Was that real? Did that actually just happen? Did I just see inside a damn tornado?!”

Letting out a chuckle at your questions, Tyler nodded. “You sure as hell did.”

You let out another laugh yourself and started unbuckling all of your straps. You needed one last look to convince yourself that you had done it. Once you were free, you hopped out of the truck, running around the back to watch it keep going through the field behind you. You heard the truck door close again, but you didn’t turn around, still mesmerized, until you felt Tyler’s hand on your shoulder.

“So, how do you feel?” He asked.

His question was loaded for so many reasons. Years ago, he never would have gotten you close enough to even see a tornado, much less let it speed over you. You were so proud of yourself for doing this, but also sad. How many other life experiences had you missed because of how your father’s life choices had traumatized you? There was no good way to answer his question, so you just did what you wanted to. You jumped up, latching your arms around his neck, and your legs around his waist.

Of course he caught you easily, laughing as he spun you around and held you close. One of his hands rested on your back, while the other cradled your head against his shoulder. After a moment, he let out a content sigh. “I’m so proud of you.”

You clutched tighter to him. He had no idea how much those words meant coming from him. Tyler had seen you at your absolute worst, when you had no one but him. You had clung to him then, leaning on him more than was healthy until you knew that you couldn’t anymore. It made you want to cry, knowing how far you had come and that Tyler could see it. You pulled back to look at him so he could see your watery smile too. “I’m proud of myself.”

The butterflies in your stomach were doing somersaults as he looked at you. His fingers tightened in your hair, and you felt his arm muscles tense against your back. There was tension in the air, no doubt about it, and you found your eyes drawn to those familiar soft lips. You wanted to kiss him. A part of you wondered if it would be the same, or even better because you both were older. You weren’t sure, but either way, you wanted to find out. When you saw his eyes glance at your lips too, you knew he was thinking the same thing. Unable to help yourself, you let your fingers tangle in his hair, pulling yourself the slightest bit closer to him until your noses were brushing.

Then his phone rang.

Whatever spell the two of you had been under broke. Tyler slowly let you down to the ground, but reached for your hand, tangling your fingers with his and keeping you close. “Hey, Boone, what’s up?”

You glanced down at your hands with a soft smile. Tyler’s hands were big and calloused from work and bulls, but they felt nice. You brushed your thumb on the outside of his palm, and he gave your hand a squeeze.

“Yeah, we got one. She handled it like a pro.” Tyler told him, grinning over at you. There was a bit of silence for a moment as the phone conversation continued. “Let me ask her, and I’ll let you know? All right, sounds good. I’ll see you soon.” He hung up the phone and tugged you a little closer again. “Feel like celebrating seeing inside your first tornado?” Tyler asked.

————————

Three hours later you found yourself in new clothes, freshly showered, line dancing between Dani and Boone. You were almost crying from laughing so hard, and your face hurt from smiling so much. It blew your mind that two weeks ago you were sitting in your apartment in South Carolina feeling alone and stuck with writer's block. Now you were back in your hometown, having a blast, writing faster than you had in years, and desperate to get back together with the man who was watching you from the booth, an adorable smile on his face. Feeling a little bold after your almost kiss, you sent him a wink as Boone spun you around, causing his smile to widen.

“You guys are disgustingly cute.” Dani said as the song slowed down and the three of you started to exit the floor.

Heat rushed to your face, and you found yourself asking the question you’d been wanting to ask for days. “Why have you guys been so nice to me anyway? Tyler’s your best friend, and I’m his ex. I broke his heart, but you’ve been nothing but kind to me since the start.”

Boone and Dani exchanged a look. “Yeah, you’re right. If it had been another one of Tyler’s exes we probably would hate you.” Boone said, shrugging his shoulders.

“But you were the one who got away for Tyler, and he’s never said anything but great things about you. Plus,” Dani reached out and patted your shoulder. “It's kinda obvious the two of you are still in love with each other.”

The words hit you like a truck, and then you felt stupid for not realizing it before. You looked at the man sitting at the booth again. This time he was talking to Dexter, his expression animated, and his hands moving wildly with his words. Of course you still loved him. You never stopped. You buried it, hid from it so you could try to better yourself. When you left, you knew you weren’t good enough for him, you probably still weren’t, but now you knew you could love him like you were supposed to. If he was open to it. Boone and Dani made it seem like he was. He had given you signs that he was at least interested . . . The only question was how could you show him that you wanted it too?

An idea hit, and a small smile formed on your face. “I’ll catch up with you guys in a minute okay?” You said to their confused faces and headed to the DJ stand. You gave him twenty bucks, which he gladly took, and promised your song would be next. By the time you’d made it back to the booth where everyone was seated, Never Leave by Bailey Zimmerman was playing.

You approached Tyler, who was looking at you curiously as you held your hand out to him. “Dance with me?” You said, biting your bottom lip.

A surprised, but happy smile formed on his face. “Yes ma’am.”

It was not your and Tyler’s first dance. Probably wasn’t even your hundredth, and dancing with him was as effortless as remembering how to ride a bike. One of his hands rested on the small of your back while the other took yours. You placed your hand on his bicep, giving his arm a squeeze. You didn’t want to say anything. The lyrics of the song could do all the talking for you. Tyler led you around the floor with ease, and as the song went on, you could see the moment the words started to sink in. He leaned forward, his forehead pressing against yours, and he whispered your name so reverently it made you close your eyes.

“Just listen,” you said softly, tightening your grip on his hand, letting the song say the words you wanted to. Tyler’s arm pulled you even closer until it was almost hard to dance, your bodies pressed against each other. Your heart was pounding so hard you were sure he could feel it against his chest, but you didn’t care anymore. You were laying it all out there now.

As the song ended, you felt Tyler’s lips against your forehead, soft and lingering. Warmth exploded throughout your body, and you pulled back to look up at him.

“Come back to the hotel with me?” You asked, your thumb caressing his arm, almost pleading with your voice.

Tyler’s hand reached up to cup your cheek, and you immediately leaned into his touch, your whole body craving it. “Are you sure?” He asked.

You nodded. There was nothing you were more sure about right now.

He took a step back from you, grabbing your hand and tugging you back to the booth where everybody else was sitting with knowing eyes. He told them that the two of you were leaving. You tried to ignore them, but you couldn’t help but grin when you saw them giving you a thumbs up or silently cheering as Tyler had his back turned.

The ride was quiet, but it wasn’t uncomfortable, it was more filled with tension, and the two of you kept glancing at each other and smiling. He never let go of your hand either until he parked at the motel and came around to open your door. Before you could get down though, he stopped you. “This is what you want right? I don’t want to misinterpret what I think is happening here or pressure you in any way-”

You placed your hands on his face and leaned closer, interrupting him with your first kiss in ten years.

For a moment, he didn’t respond. It was clear you had surprised him, but then his hands gripped your hips, and he was kissing you back.

It was even better than you remembered. It had been good back in late high school and your early twenties, there was no doubt about it. Something about now was different though. Maybe it was because you were older, maybe it was because it had been so long, or maybe it was because you felt healed. Whatever it was, kissing Tyler now blew every kiss you’d had before out of the water.

It was a short kiss, chaste, just to reassure him that you did want him, but when you pulled away the two of you were still breathless. “Am I crazy or was that incredible?” You asked, your hands sliding down his face to his chest.

Tyler laughed, but nodded, his own hands dragging down your thighs and resting on your knees. “It was,” he replied, but then a smirk fell on his lips, “but we can do better.”

Not one minute later, you were trying to open the door to your room, Tyler’s large hand low on your stomach as his lips left soft kisses on your neck from behind. You could barely concentrate as heat pooled where his hand rested, and you could not get the key in the door as he kissed a certain spot on your neck. “Ty,” you said through an exasperated laugh. “If you keep doing that I’ll never get us in this room.”

He took the key from your hand, but didn’t stop kissing your neck. You closed your eyes in pleasure as he did, letting him take over the door situation, and in a frustratingly short amount of time, you heard the door knob turn. Your eyes snapped open, turning in Tyler’s arms to find him smirking at you again.

“How the hell did you do that so easily?” You asked, weaving your arms around his neck as he carefully backed you into the room.

He shrugged, shutting the door behind him. “Guess you were just too distracted to focus.”

You playfully glared at him, “I was not-” but you let out a gasp as he suddenly spun you around, pinning you to the door with his body.

He didn’t say anything for a moment, just smiling at you as his hands rested on your hips, his thumbs brushing under your shirt to touch heated skin. “You were, but it’s okay. I liked it.”

Well he had certainly become more confident in the years apart. Not that he ever wasn’t, but you could definitely tell a difference. However, you had gained a little bit of confidence too, and you smirked at him. “Oh, I can tell.” You replied, pushing your hips forward to press against the hardness you felt.

Tyler bit his lip at your movements, his hands gripping your hips harder. “We don’t have to do anything. I want you to know that.”

It drove you crazy, how he could go from being sexy and confident to sweet and respectful within a minute. You slid your arms up his chest and around his neck, tugging his head down to yours. “I want to.” You told him. “Do you?”

He let out a breathless chuckle, “You have no idea how badly I want to.” Tyler said, “I’ve wanted to since the moment I saw you at that gas station.” He told you, his nose brushing against yours.

Tyler had been wanting to get together with you for that long? Your heart started thumping wildly in your chest, and you let out a sigh as his warm hand slipped up the back of your shirt pressing you against him. “You know, I don’t look the same as I did ten years ago.” You admitted, a little bit of insecurity leaking out as you thought about the last time the two of you were together.

He shook his head, and his hands left a trail of heat as they slid down your back to grip your thighs. “You look better.”

Your hands slipped into his soft hair. “Now, I know that’s not true.”

You let out a nose of surprise as Tyler used his grip on your thighs to lift you into the air with his body, smirking up at you. “I think you’re forgetting . . .” His lips found a spot on your neck that he had always kissed, a spot that made chills explode over your body and made a soft moan leave your lips. “I know this body better than anyone.” He whispered in your ear.

Tyler was right. He had been with you more than anyone else, seen every part of you bare. So what if you didn’t look the same as you did in high school. You were sure he didn’t either. Based on what you felt against your body though, you didn’t think that was a bad thing. You let your hands trail from his hair down his neck and to his chest, noting how his body flexed under your touch. “I think I might need a refresher on yours.” You teased, biting your lip as you played with the buttons on his shirt.

He raised his eyebrows, a smirk on his lips. “Oh, is that what you need?”

With fingers that were much steadier than what you felt, you unbuttoned a couple of the top buttons from his shirt. It wasn’t much, but enough to slip your hands into and touch his heated skin. It was the first time you had touched him, really touched him, in so long, and it made you ache for so much more. You pressed your forehead against his, “Right now I need everything you’re willing to give me.” You admitted honestly.

“Well then,” Tyler’s hands slid down to your ass, holding you close as he started carrying you to the bed. “It’s a good thing I’m willing to give you everything.” He said as he placed you gently on the bed.

His words made your heart stop for a second and a huge swell of affection for him filled your heart. You wanted to tell him that you still loved him then. That you wanted to give him everything too. The words wouldn’t come though. Not yet anyway.

So instead, you tried to say them with a kiss. You sat up, grabbing his face in your hands, and tugged him down to meet your lips. The first time you had surprised him, and it took him a moment to respond. That was not the case this time. He kissed you back at once, moving your lips in a dance the two of you knew well. While the first kiss had been sweet, this one was full of passion and tenderness. You let out a little sigh when his lips parted and attempted to pull him closer. It had been so long since you had gotten to really touch him, and you didn’t want to waste another second not doing it.

He complied, climbing into the bed on top of you, settling between your thighs and letting out a strangled groan as you pushed your hips up into him. He pressed his own against yours and you let out your own moan at the delicious friction.

The sound made him pull away however, and you frowned, since that was the opposite of what you wanted right now. You watched him as he sat up, his gaze traveling over your body with such intensity you could feel your face heating up. Tyler’s hands rested on your stomach finally, tugging up your tank top so slowly it made you want to just yank it off yourself so his hands could be all over you. Waiting turned out to be worth it though, because as soon as your shirt was off, he started kissing down your neck. Your eyes closed as his lips went lower, and you arched your chest against his mouth as he got closer to one of the spots you wanted his mouth the most.

“Have you been with other guys?”

That made your eyes snap open. Those were not the words you expected to come out of his mouth when he was about two seconds away from putting his mouth around you. “W-What?” You said breathlessly.

But he didn’t seem upset or anything, just genuinely curious. In fact he was grinning at you, his hands resting on your bare hips. “It’s been ten years. You have, right?”

“Is now really the time for the, ‘how many people have you slept with since me?’ conversation?” You asked, raising your eyebrows at him.

Tyler leaned down, pressing his lower body against yours again as his lips hovered over yours. “I don’t care about the number.” He said, shaking his head. “I just want you to know I’m about to kiss the memory of anyone else from your body.”

His words took your breath from your lungs, but you tried not to let him see how much they affected you. Your arms slipped around his neck, fingers sliding into his hair. “You’re talking a lot of game for someone who hasn’t initiated a single kiss.” You teased.

He chuckled,close enough that his lips brushed yours for the briefest moment. “Isn’t it better if you have to wait for it?”

A soft smile fell on your face then as you ran your fingers through his hair. “Ty, you haven’t kissed me in ten years. Haven’t we waited long enough?”

He leaned back so he could look at your face, smiling at the look you were giving him. “Yeah. I think we have.”

Finally, he leaned forward and kissed you, setting your whole body on fire with the intensity of it. Your lips parted almost immediately, and his tongue slipped into your mouth, exploring you thoroughly. His hands did the same, heat trailing after them everywhere he touched.

You knew then, as the two of you kissed and your body, and heart, felt close to combustion, that this was it for you. You had been with other men in your time apart, and none of them had ever come close to making you feel like this. Back when you and Tyler had first started dating, you thought he might have been the one, but now you were sure. So no matter what happened tomorrow, or even after that, you knew that Tyler Owens was going to be it for you.

To your shock and surprise, you didn’t find that scary at all.

A breathless sigh left your lips as he slowly pulled away, and he smiled down at you, brushing some hair out of your face. “God you’re beautiful.”

You had always remembered what he was like in bed, how sweet he could be, but hearing it again was a different story. He had always made you feel so comfortable and sexy, you were so glad to know that none of that had changed. “I missed you.” You blurted out, heat rushing to your face at the confession.

But his smile just widened, leaning down to press a kiss against your jaw. “You’ve got no idea . . .” He started kissing down your neck again. “How much I’ve missed you,” he said, and you couldn’t help but squirm a little as he kissed down your stomach, your breath coming a little faster as his kisses got lower and lower. Your hands tangled into his hair, biting your bottom lip and arching up into his hand as he started unbuttoning your jeans.

You lifted your hips as he slid your jeans and underwear down the rest of your body, casting them aside somewhere in the room. You didn’t really care where. Tyler kissed back up your body, pausing for a moment on your bra, the last article of clothing you were wearing. After giving him an encouraging nod, he unclasped it, tossing it somewhere too, leaving you completely naked.

He stared at you, and you felt heat following everywhere his gaze went. His gaze didn’t make you uncomfortable though, it made you feel . . . Desirable. While his eyes looked you over, your eyes watched his face, biting your lip as your hands slid up and down his arms. “You know you’re wearing too many clothes.”

Tyler grinned down at you. “You wanna help with that?”

You sat up then, returning his smile. “I would love to.” You took your time, slowly unbuttoning his shirt and taking in every bit of skin that was revealed. Tyler had been fit when the two of you were dating, but now? He looked like he’d come straight out of a magazine. Once his shirt was unbuttoned, you let your hands trail down his chest as you leaned forward to press a kiss to his neck. You felt his whole body relax as your hands slid back up his hard muscles to push his shirt off him, and you trailed your lips across his shoulder and down his arm.

As soon as his shirt was off him, you made your way back up his arm, pressing gentle kisses every few inches until you reached his face again. He was smiling at you, and you couldn’t help but press a peck against his lips, then another until he had his arms wrapped tightly around you, holding you against his warm chest. Letting out a sigh, you kept your forehead against his for a second, soaking the moment in.

“I never thought we’d be here again.” Tyler said, shaking his head as his hand dragged up and down your bare back.

“Me either.” You admitted, letting one of your hands comb through his soft blonde hair, “but I’m glad we are.”

Tyler didn’t say anything, but leaned forward to meet you in a kiss that said everything he needed to. It told you how much he missed you, the familiarity of his lips moving in rhythm with yours. It told you how badly he wanted you when his tongue slipped into your mouth to caress your own. Then his lips weren’t the only thing showing how much he cared as he gently laid you down on the bed, never letting your lips disconnect.

It was illogical, but you hoped his lips never left you again. You were drowning, no, floating in him, submerged but safe in the warmth of him as his body laid on top of yours. Your legs automatically wrapped around his hips, and a moan left your lips as the two of you came into contact.

Tyler pulled away then, but he didn’t go far, leaving kisses down your chin and neck. “You keep making noises like that, and this is not going to last as long as I want it to.”

You let out a breathless laugh, tugging at his hair. “The noises are your fault, Owens. You’re the one with no-” you let out a gasp as his lips found your breast, pleasure burning straight to your core. “-Self control.” You panted.

He gave your nipple a gentle bite, causing you to whimper, before he pulled away to look up at you. “Sorry, what was that about self control?” Tyler asked with a smirk playing on his lips.

“That you have none.” You said, arching your hips up to rub against him for a moment, making him groan against your skin. “But I don’t think I have any either when it comes to you.”

His smirk turned into a smile, and his lips found your breast again, immediately shooting even more pleasure through your body.

Nobody really talks about what it’s like to have sex with someone you used to date years ago. Tyler knew your body so well, he knew exactly how you liked to be touched, and what spots would drive you crazy. It was so easy to fall back into it. On top of that though, the two of you had been with other people in the last few years, and you had more experience and confidence than the kids you used to be.

There was no hesitation in Tyler’s hands as they explored your body, and none in yours as one dragged down his back and the other tangled in his hair, holding him against you. You let out another moan as his hand moved from your inner thigh and a finger slid inside of you.

He let out another groan as he discovered how wet you were, and leaned up to press his forehead against yours as he added a second finger in. “Are you already ready for me, sweetheart?”

You nodded, bumping your nose against his. “Do you have a condom? I wasn’t anticipating-”

“Having sex with your ex-boyfriend in a motel room?” Tyler grinned as he reached into the back pocket of the jeans you forget he was still wearing and pulled out his wallet, reaching in to take out a condom. “Guess it’s a good thing I’m always prepared.” He said with a smirk.

You rolled your eyes playfully, but secretly you’d never been more thankful. If the two of you had to stop now to run out and buy condoms, you might’ve lost your mind. You slid your hands down his well defined chest, biting your lip at the muscles you felt there before stopping to rest on the belt of his jeans. “You’re still wearing too many clothes though.” You reminded him.

“Weren’t you supposed to be helping me with that?” He asked, raising an eyebrow at you.

Narrowing your eyes at him, you started undoing his belt. “It’s not my fault you distracted me with how hot you are.”

He laughed, moving your hands out of the way to get his jeans off faster. “Why do you think I got your clothes off so fast? Can’t get distracted if they’re already off.”

“Guess I’ll just have to remember that for next time.” You teased, sliding your hands back up his chest to rest on his shoulders. It was only when his body froze that you realized what you said. The two of you stared at each other, and you had no clue what to say about your implication of a next time. You didn’t even know if he’d want a next time . . .

Tyler didn’t let the moment linger though. He shoved the rest of his clothes off and leaned down to kiss you, hard, and all consuming in a way that erased every thought from your head except how much you needed him. Your legs wrapped around his waist, and you let out a gasp as your hips came into contact.

You had forgotten how big he was.

Almost as if sensing your thoughts, he pulled away slowly from your lips, barely leaving a centimeter between them as his finger trailed up and down your slit for a moment. “You can take it. You’ve done it before.” He whispered, and then slipped three fingers inside of you. The sudden intrusion sent your nails digging into his shoulders and heat exploding across your body. “If you can take that, you can take me.” He assured you, pressing a soft kiss to your lips.

He was going to ruin you. Part of you thought he already had, since every other time you’d had sex, he was always on your mind, but now you were sure of it. Nobody was ever going to get you more turned on than Tyler Owens. You nodded, because it seemed like he was waiting for an acknowledgment, and attempted to pull him closer with your legs when his fingers slid out of you. “It’s just - it’s been a while.” You admitted.

Tyler gave you a gentle smile. “For me too.”

His words shocked you for a second, but then you realized they shouldn’t have. Tyler had never been a one night stand kinda guy. As confident as he was, even before the two of you had started dating, he’d only ever dated girls he felt a genuine connection with. The fact that he still felt that with you enough to want to do this had emotions clogging up your throat. You let your hands trail down his body again, taking the condom from his hand and slipping it on him, your gaze never leaving his face as you enjoyed the sight of his reaction to you touching him. “Then let’s not wait anymore.” You said, guiding him towards you.

He didn’t need any more encouragement. He pressed forward, and you let out a sigh as he slipped inside of you, your head falling back against the pillow. It was a tight fit, there was no doubt, but he moved slowly, showing, once again, how well he knew your body. Any time you tensed up, he paused, though you could feel by how tense his muscles were how much he was holding back. “That’s right,” he would tell you when your breath started to come faster. “Remember how well you take me?”

Oh God you did. He fit inside of you like no one else. Even years later he filled you up just enough to not be painful, but more than enough to be satisfying. Another gasp of air left your lips as he pushed more inside of you, and you could tell he was almost completely in.

“You’re doing such a good job.” Tyler said, leaving another kiss against your skin. “Made just for me.” And while his voice was soft, it was also strained from effort.

You opened your eyes as you felt him push forward again, and dug your nails into where they had rested on his shoulders once more as he pushed completely inside of you, letting out a sigh of pleasure as he did.

There was nothing like this. Absolutely nothing. You moved your eyes from the ceiling to find him looking at you like you’d just hung each star in the sky for him alone. “Tell me what you’re thinking.” He said breathlessly.

Did he really expect you to be able to think right now? You couldn’t think enough to have a filter if you opened your mouth, and you knew that was partially what he wanted. So you let the words slip from your lips. “I’m thinking about how no ones ever felt as good as you do.” He rewarded your words with a little thrust of his hips that had you gasping. “I’m thinking about how you’ve ruined me for anyone else.” Another thrust, this one harder, and you tightened your legs around him. “And I’m thinking about how much I missed you, Ty.” You said softly, letting out a whimper as his hand slid up to your breast, cupping it and letting his thumb caress your nipple.

He didn’t say anything for a moment. Just watching as your hips jerked against his, desperate for the pleasure only he could provide, his eyes locked on your face as if he was committing it to memory. “Would you believe me if I told you I was thinking about all those things too?”

You didn’t have to think about it. You nodded, moving your hands from his shoulders to tangle in his hair. “I know.”

Tyler leaned down to meet your lips in a bruising kiss as he thrust inside of you, starting a slow and steady pace that continued to pick up speed with every passing minute until you couldn’t keep up the kiss any longer. Your head fell back against the pillows, and your eyes closed in pleasure as his warm, calloused hand traveled down your body to where the two of you met. “Eyes on me sweetheart.” He said, and pressed his thumb against your clit.

“Fuck, Ty!” Your eyes snapped open and your chest arched into his, tugging on his hair at the overstimulating sensation. His hips stuttered for a moment as you felt yourself clench around him, but he kept up the movement of his thumb, tracing circles around it. The pleasure was almost too much. You could feel it building inside of you, desperate for release, and you clung tightly to him. “I can’t- I’m-” You couldn’t even get the words out, too overwhelmed with feelings.

“It’s okay, you can let go.” He said, “I’ve got you.” He assured you, never ceasing his pace or his finger.

His words triggered your release, almost as if you’d been waiting for permission and you moaned out his name as it washed over you. You clung to him like he was a liferaft, holding you in above water as you clenched around him. You heard him groan your name, saying how good you were, and within seconds you felt his body tense, falling over the edge with you.

As the pleasure faded from your body to satisfaction, you didn’t want to let him go and groaned in discontent when he pulled back and out of you. He chuckled and leaned down to press a soft kiss to your forehead. “I’ll be right back.”

You sighed, opening your eyes as you watched him head into the bathroom, unable to believe that you had just had sex with such an attractive man, even if he was your ex. He was more than an attractive man though, or just your ex. He was Tyler. The boy you gave your heart to ten years ago who never gave it back. A tender smile was on your lips as he came back to you with a damp washcloth and started gently cleaning you up.

“You okay?” He asked, the hand that wasn’t cleaning you up resting on your thigh and rubbing the skin there.

“I will be once you get back in bed.” You replied, and your smile widened at the pleased expression on his face. You let out a laugh as he tossed the washcloth aside and hurriedly climbed into bed, spooning you against his back.

He nuzzled into your neck, leaving kisses against your skin as he made himself comfortable against you, and shivers exploded across your body as his hand rested on your stomach. “Comfortable?” Tyler asked, pressing another kiss to your cheek.

Being in his arms again? Comfortable didn’t even begin to describe it. As cliche and embarrassing as it sounded, for the first time since you’d come to your hometown, you actually felt like you were home. “Perfect,” you replied, scooting back even more into him.

And you meant it.

————————

You woke up cold, but oh so satisfied. Part of you wondered if last night had been a dream, but you knew that your body couldn’t lie like that. You definitely had the post sex ache. You stretched your limbs out and rolled over, wanting to curl back into Tyler and maybe sleep for a few more hours, but you were met with nothing but sheets.

Frowning, you opened your eyes, letting your fingers drag across the fabric. It was cool, so he’d been gone for a while. It was only when your eyes drifted up to the pillow did you notice the scrap of paper.

Stay.

It was written quickly, almost as if an afterthought, and you frowned at it. Did he really think that he had to ask? You got out of bed, and found a tshirt in the floor. Slipping on your underwear and the tshirt, you sat down at the small table and grabbed your laptop. You’d been writing like crazy lately on a new book, and you’d definitely woken up feeling inspired this morning.

You weren’t sure how long you sat there typing. It was a great distraction from your thoughts, and when you got into the zone, it could be hours before you realized you hadn’t stood up from your chair. You weren’t so in the zone though that you didn’t hear the doorknob start to turn.

Tyler entered, once again looking entirely too good in his dark brown button down, jeans and cowboy hat. He carried a familiar brown bag and cup of iced coffee in his hand and held a cautious smile as he looked at you. “Brought you some breakfast.”

You held out your hands to take it from him, eagerly sipping at the iced coffee as he sat down at the seat across from you. “Thank you, I needed this.” You said, leaning back against your chair. He was watching you, that cautious look still on his face making you nervous. Was he regretting last night? Was he trying to figure out the polite way to tell you it had all been a mistake?

“What are you thinking?” He asked, and the sudden question threw you off, you didn’t even have the chance to think about throwing up a filter.

“I’m thinking that I hope you’re not regretting last night. I’m also thinking that you’re too far away.” You admitted, frowning at the distance between the two of you.

His whole body seemed to relax at your words and the smile that you knew and loved fell back onto his face. He held out his hand to you, and without hesitation you took it, returning his smile as he tugged you out of your chair to sit sideways across his lap. You buried your face in his neck, letting out a contented sigh as he wrapped his arms around you, and held you close. “Better?” Tyler asked, one of his hands tracing up and down your outer thigh.

You nodded, tightening your arms around him. “Much better.”

The two of you sat in silence for a few moments. You knew the conversation that needed to be had, but you had no clue how to even begin to start it. Should you blurt out how you feel? Should you ask him how he was feeling? Tyler beat you to the punch though with a statement that stopped your mind in its tracks.

“I read your book.”

Your body froze as your brain took a moment to process his words. Once they did, heat rushed to your face, and you pulled away to look at him. “How did you even-”

“Boone. He gave me a copy pretty much right after you showed up.” He said, and his hand gave your thigh a squeeze. “I noticed some . . . Similarities.”

You bet he did. More than enough to be embarrassing. You bit your lip, knowing the question that he wanted to ask, and decided to go ahead and give him the option to ask it anyway. “What do you want to know?” You finally said.

For a moment it wasn’t the new Tyler that you’d been getting to know over the past couple of weeks that was looking at you. The confident, caring, intelligent tornado wrangler. It was young Tyler, the bull rider who wanted nothing more than to ride his fears and bring you along for it. “I guess I’m just wondering why they got their happy ending, and we didn’t.”

Just because you anticipated it, doesn’t mean it hurt any less. “Ty . . .” You placed your hand on top of his, gripping it in yours. “I wrote that book two years after our breakup. I wasn’t ready to be her then. There were . . .” You took a deep breath. “A lot of things I was still holding onto.”

“But if I had quit when you asked me to-”

You were shaking your head before he could even finish his sentence. “I never should have asked you to do that.” You let go of his hand to take his face in your hands to encourage him to keep his eyes on you. “Tyler, our breakup had absolutely everything to do with me, and nothing to do with you.” This confession had been sitting on the tip of your tongue for years now, and you finally had the courage to say it. “I looked at you, riding those bulls, and all I could see was my dad. It scared me.” You admitted, caressing his cheek with your thumb. “Drunk, constantly concussed, and soon to be dead either from one or the other. I know that’s not you now, and I should’ve known it back then, but I was too damaged.”

Tyler looked sad, his hand still caressing your skin. “I would have fought for you.”

“I know.” You said, and you did. You knew that Tyler would have fought to stay by your side until the end if you hadn’t pushed him away.

“You were everything to me back then.”

God it hurt. Remembering the look on his face when you had walked out that door. You still had nightmares about it, but like you had struggled to learn, there was nothing you could do about it now. The two of you sat there for a moment before you finally got the courage to ask the question you’d been wanting to. “What about now?” You asked. “Think we can make it?”

A small, disbelieving smile formed on his face. “Is that an option?”

You nodded. “At least I hope it is. That ball’s in your court Tyler Owens. I’m the one that broke your heart.” You said, sliding a hand down to rest over his heart. “So . . . is that an option?” You asked, biting your lip as your heart started thumping heavily against your chest. God what if you’d just said all that and spent the best night of your life with him for Tyler to say it wasn’t worth the risk? That’d you’d done damage beyond repair?

Tyler didn’t give you time for your thoughts to get any more out of control. “Oh, it’s definitely an option.” He said, and his bright smile had your heart fluttering. “In fact, I’d say it’s my preferred option.”

You could barely believe it, even after last night. “You really want to give me a second chance?” You asked in disbelief.

His smile turned soft, and his hand covered your own on his chest. “Sweetheart, I’d give you all the chances in the world.”

And then, because you didn’t know what else to say, you leaned forward and kissed him.

Once again, everything was the same, but somehow different. A better different.

#tyler owens #tyler owens x reader #tyler owens x you #tyler owens imagine #twisters imagine

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stylesispunk · 6 months ago

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'The other side of the door'

Not outbreak!Joel Miller x f!reader

summary: Joel is giving you the silent treatment until you come back home hurt, and he wasn't there.

w.c: idk.

warnings: angst, miscommunication, mentions of a broken arm, fluff.

a/n: this is me after having an outburst about not writing again. If this flops I will have another one and I'll take a break forever. Reblogs and comments are always appreciated 💌

dividers by: @/saradika-graphics

It was 2 a.m., and you were sobbing on the cold bathroom floor like a little girl, asking for her mother to kiss the tears away. The pain on your now broken arm was unbearable, but the stillness in your heart was worse, enveloped in a shirt that belonged to your brother-in-law instead of your boyfriend because he didn’t pick up the phone after the officers called him.

Instead, Tommy picked you up, rushing to you the moment he saw you by the ambulance with a sling around your left side and a bandage on your forehead.

“Oh my god! Are you okay? Where is Joel?” He said something, touching your face for some sort of answer, but you stopped listening to him after Joel’s name was mentioned.

“I don’t know where Joel is.” You said it monotonously.

Tommy's face paled as he realized the gravity of the situation. "It's going to be alright; we'll find him," he said, though his voice trembled with uncertainty.

“He didn’t pick up the phone,” you said again. “He hasn’t talked to me in a week, Tommy.”

“My brother can be grumpy sometimes; you know him,” he said, trying to find a way to make you smile, but you felt just ashamed.

You didn’t mean to be hit by a car on the on the way home, but everything happened so fast, and your mind was everywhere but focused on the road ahead of you.

“What if I call him?” he offered.

“He turned off the phone after my call,” you said, standing up slowly with the help of the paramedic.

Tommy helped you into the backseat of his truck, making sure you were secure before he slid into the driver’s seat. The drive to your house was quiet, save for your occasional wince of pain and Tommy’s sighs of worry. He kept glancing at you through the rearview mirror, his concern evident.

Once home, Tommy guided you inside, supporting your weight gently. He settled you on the couch and handed you a glass of water. "You need to rest," he said softly. "I’m sure you both will figure this out in the morning."

You nodded weakly, too exhausted to argue. The pain in your arm was a constant reminder of the accident, but the ache in your heart was a dull, persistent throb. You clutched Joel’s shirt tighter around you, its familiar scent providing a small comfort.

“Do you want me to stay here and beat him once he arrives?” He asked jokingly, making you smile for a mere second.

“No, I don’t think that’s necessary,” you said, managing a weak smile despite the situation. “But thank you, Tommy.”

He chuckled softly, sitting down beside you. “I just want to make sure you’re okay. Joel can be stubborn, but he loves you. I’m sure he’ll come around.”

You leaned your head back, closing your eyes for a moment. The exhaustion was overwhelming, but sleep was still a distant hope.

Tommy stayed with you for a little while longer, making sure you were comfortable. He adjusted the pillows around you and tucked the blanket more securely. "You should get some sleep," he said gently. "I'll stay until you do."

You nodded, too tired to argue, but you couldn't shake the feeling of emptiness. You tried to focus on the comforting presence of Tommy, the warmth of Joel's shirt, and the hope that things would be better in the morning.

Eventually, Tommy rose from the couch. "I'm going to head out now. You can call me if you need anything, okay?"

You managed a small nod. "Thanks, Tommy. I really appreciate it."

He gave you a reassuring smile, though the worry never left his eyes. "Get some rest. We’ll figure everything out in the morning." He squeezed your shoulder gently before heading to the door.

You listened to the sound of the door closing and the silence that followed. The house felt impossibly quiet and empty. The weight of the evening pressed down on you, and tears welled up in your eyes again.

There was Joel’s shirt on the couch, and you clutched it tighter with your left arm, breathing in the faint scent of him. The memories of the accident replayed in your mind—the screeching tires, the impact, the confusion. But what hurt the most was Joel’s absence, his phone turned off, and the uncertainty of where he was or why he hadn’t answered.

You stood up, walking upstairs towards your and Joel’s bedroom, but instead of lying on the bed, you walked to the bathroom, closing the door behind you, and slid down, sitting on the floor. Tears began to flow down your cheeks.

Joel wasn't home. Now that you needed him, he was out somewhere, still avoiding you.

You sat on the cold bathroom floor, your back against the door, and let the tears flow freely. The pain in your arm was nothing compared to the ache in your heart. You felt abandoned, hurt, and utterly alone.

As the minutes passed, you lost track of time, consumed by the overwhelming sadness. The sound of your sobs echoed off the tiled walls, and you didn’t hear the faint sound of a key turning in the front door or the footsteps on the stairs.

Joel moved through the house with a growing sense of urgency, the emptiness and silence amplifying his fear. It wasn't until he stepped inside the bedroom that he heard you wiping from the bedroom.

Gently, he opened the door and saw you sitting on the cold floor, clutching to your own arm and sobbing uncontrollably. The sight broke his heart, and he immediately kneeled beside you, his presence startling you from your sorrow.

"What the hell happened?" he asked softly, ignoring your plea. He didn’t understand why you were this hurt when, in the morning, you were perfectly fine.

"Go." You whispered, ashamed of yourself for being hurt and crying.

"Now you want to talk?" you asked, standing up carefully and using the wall for support.

Joel reached out to steady you, his touch gentle but firm. "Please, just tell me what happened," he said, his voice filled with concern.

You took a deep breath, trying to steady your emotions. "I was hit by a car on my way home. It happened so fast, and I was so scared. The officers called you, but you didn't answer. Tommy came instead."

Joel's face paled, his eyes widening with shock and guilt. "I had no idea. My phone died, and I was out of town.”

You could see the sincerity in his eyes, but the hurt and anger you felt couldn’t be ignored. "You haven't talked to me in a week, Joel. I needed you, and you weren't there."

Joel's shoulders slumped, and he looked down, his voice barely above a whisper. "I know. I’ve been a fool, and I’m so sorry. I let my pride get in the way, and I hurt you because of it. Please, let me make it right."

You looked at him, and the regret was evident on his face. It mirrored your own feelings, and slowly, the anger began to melt away, replaced by a longing for things to be better. "I just needed you," you repeated, your voice trembling.

Joel took a step closer, his eyes filled with tears. "I'm here now. I promise, I’ll never let you down again.”

"You didn't seem to care about me for the last week, Joel."

"Lo—"

"Don't you dare call me that now. I'm mad at you," you interrupted, your eyes flashing with anger.

Joel looked stricken, his mouth opening and closing as he searched for the right words. "I know I messed up. I know I've been distant, and I'm so sorry. But please believe me, I do care about you more than anything."

You took a step back, needing space to think and process everything. "If you care so much, why did you ignore me? Why did you shut me out over missing dinner?"

His heart broke at the sight of you, staring away from him with dried tears on your cheeks. He didn't have words left to make this better, nor a way to ask for forgiveness or soothe your heart after breaking it without real intention behind it.

He was angry at you for missing the dinner, and he wanted to get it back at you.

But this? This wasn't what he wanted.

"I can't say how sorry I am," Joel continued, his voice cracking.

"Well, don't say it then," you snapped back.

"Love—"

“No! I'm tired, and everything hurts. My arm is broken, and I feel so humiliated right now. I just want to go to sleep,” you cried out, the words pouring out in a torrent of emotion.

"Okay, let me help you,” he said, reaching out to touch your shoulder, but you stepped back from him.

"No, everything you have done for the past week makes me cry," you said, the weight of your words hanging in the air. "You make me cry," you sobbed into your hand, trying to sweep the tears away.

Lifting your gaze, you looked at Joel, who seemed to be conflicted. His brown eyes, now glassy with unshed tears, almost made you give in.

"Could you please sleep in the guest room tonight?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Joel's face fell, but he nodded slowly, understanding the need for space. "Okay," he said softly. "I'll be in the guest room. If you need anything, anything at all, just call me."

You nodded, too drained to respond further. Joel hesitated for a moment, then turned and left the room, the weight of his footsteps heavy on the floor. As he reached the bedroom, he turned towards you.

“Do you want to know why I was so mad at you for missing that dinner?” He asked, his voice low and filled with a mix of regret and vulnerability.

You looked at him, the exhaustion and pain making it hard to process everything, but you nodded slightly, curious despite yourself.

Joel took a deep breath, his eyes locking onto yours. “It wasn’t just about the dinner. It was because I had planned to ask you to marry me that night.”

The words hung in the air between you, heavy with emotion. You stared at him, the weight of his confession taking a moment to sink in. You felt your heart beating so fast.

“Joel,” you started, your voice trembling. “I had no idea.”

“I know,” he said softly. “And that’s on me. I should have talked to you instead of shutting you out. I’ve been a fool, and I’m so sorry for everything.”

The revelation left you feeling even more conflicted. The pain of the past week, the accident, and now this. You didn’t know how to respond, so you simply nodded, feeling the tears welling up again.

Joel took a step back, giving you space, but not without planting a gentle kiss on your forehead, just next to the bandage. “Goodnight,” he said gently, before turning and walking to the guest room.

After that, you lay down, clutching Joel's pillow tightly against your chest, the familiar scent providing a small comfort amidst the chaos of your emotions. As you closed your eyes, the weight of the day slowly began to lift.

The night dragged on, each minute feeling like an eternity. You tossed and turned in bed, unable to find comfort. The weight of Joel's confession and the emotional turmoil of the past week kept you from sleeping peacefully. The silence of the house was deafening, and the pain in your arm felt almost secondary to the ache in your heart.

Around 3 a.m., unable to bear the loneliness any longer, you decided to go to the guest room. Moving slowly and carefully, you made your way down the hallway, each step mindful of your broken arm. The pain was a constant reminder of the day’s events, but the burning desire to be near Joel overpowered it.

You opened the guest room door quietly, the creak of the hinges making you wince slightly. Joel was lying on the bed, his back turned to you. You carefully slipped into the room, trying not to disturb him too much. The guest bed was slightly too small, but you managed to settle in beside him, positioning yourself so as not to jostle your arm too much.

Joel stirred, his eyes fluttering open. He blinked, his gaze shifting to you. Confusion and surprise crossed his face as he saw you lying next to him. He sat up, pushing himself on one elbow, his brow furrowed in concern.

“What are you doing here?” he asked softly, his voice still heavy with sleep.

You shifted slightly to face him, your voice barely above a whisper. “I couldn’t sleep... I needed to be close to you.”

Joel’s eyes softened, and he reached out carefully, his hand brushing against your cheek. “Are you okay? Does your arm hurt?”

“It hurts,” you admitted, your voice trembling. “But I just needed to be near you, to feel like everything might be okay.”

Joel nodded, understanding the depth of your need. “I’m sorry for everything,” he said again, though his tone was gentler this time. “I know I’ve hurt you, and I’ll do everything I can to make it right. Please, just let me be here for you.”

You reached out and took his hand, feeling curiosity creeping up. “About the proposal,” you began. “Are you planning to ask me soon?”

Joel's eyes softened, and he looked at you with a mixture of hope and vulnerability. “I was planning to ask you that night,” he admitted, his voice low and filled with regret. “But now I don’t feel like I deserve you.”

You searched his face, seeing the sincerity in his eyes.

Joel took a deep breath, his expression serious yet tender. “Now, I want to make sure we’re in a good place before I ask you. I want it to be right, and I don’t want to rush into it just to fix things. But I can’t deny that I’ve been thinking about it a lot.”

You smiled softly in the darkness, your heart swelling with emotion. “I would love for you to ask me now,” you whispered.

Joel chuckled softly, a sound that was warm and comforting in the quiet of the night. “Even with the broken arm?” he asked, his voice light with affection.

You nodded, your smile widening. “Even with the broken arm, I know we have things to work through, but I’d still say yes.”

Joel’s laughter was gentle, filled with relief and affection. “You never cease to amaze me,” he said, brushing a gentle kiss against your forehead. “Alright, then. I promise that when the time is right, I’ll ask you properly. For now, let’s focus on getting better and being here for each other.”

You nestled closer to him, feeling the comfort of his embrace. “I don’t need a fancy proposal in a fancy restaurant, Joel. I just want you,” you said softly.

Joel’s expression softened even more, his hand gently stroking your hair. “And you have me,” he said, his voice filled with sincerity. “No matter what, I’m here for you. We’ll get through this together, and when the time is right, we’ll take the next step together too.”

You let out a small, playful sigh. “Okay, if there isn’t a ring on my breakfast tomorrow, I’ll be mad,” you joked, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

Joel laughed softly, the sound a comforting balm to your troubled heart. “I’ll keep that in mind,” he said, his tone light but warm.

He took a deep breath, his gaze steady and sincere. “So, would you like to marry me?” he asked softly, his eyes searching yours for a response.

The question hung in the air, tender and unexpected. You looked at him, your heart swelling with emotion. The warmth and love you felt in that moment made it clear that you were ready to take that next step.

With a smile that spoke of both relief and joy, you nodded. “Yes, Joel. I would love to marry you.”

Joel’s face lit up with a mixture of happiness and relief. He pulled you into a gentle embrace, his arms wrapping around you with tenderness to avoid hurting your broken arm. “I’m so glad,” he murmured into your hair. “We’ll make it work, I promise.”

You snuggled closer to him, the sense of security and love filling you with a peaceful calm. As you closed your eyes, the laughter and playful banter gave way to a hopeful, contented sleep, wrapped in the warmth of his presence and the promise of a future together.

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phantomrose96 · 1 year ago

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What the hell happens in the pikmin game?? Those little colourful bitches have been around for ages, but i never bothered looking them up, i just figured they were cute little mascots of some game. But your posts are making me question everything. Is it a horror game? (I know i could just google it, but asking you is funnier)

Yeah you're right asking me is much funnier :)

Pikmin is a fun and relaxing game! You play as a little astronaut man who gets to spend his days growing Pikmin, who are sweet and peaceful little plant creatures with leaves, buds, or flowers on their heads. You can corral them around with a little trumpet, like a bouquet of flowers following you through the pretty and whimsical landscapes of planet PNF-404 :)

Wait did I say fun and relaxing?

Sorry, typo.

It's a brutal skill-based survival game (❁´◡`❁)

So then maybe you're wondering, what's up with the Pikmin? What was that about growing a bunch of little flower guys? Well growing the Pikmin is super important!

It's super duper important mainly because you need to replace the Pikmin who die in the carnage of battle for you!

Battle against what?

Everything.

See on PNF-404, Pikmin are the bottom of the food chain. Just about every living breathing creature on this planet is orders of magnitude larger than the Pikmin and munch Pikmin by the hundreds for breakfast. Predators will do this instinctively. They will do this unprompted. They will do this while you're not looking. They will do this endlessly until every last Pikmin is dead.

So... what good are the Pikmin? What chance do they stand?

Really easy. Pikmin are the most violent creatures in the entire game 🥰🥰🥰.

How else do you survive when you're small and fragile other than incredible violence? Pikmin can exist out and about in swarms of up to 100. And the only way to survive predators as small little leaf creatures is to beat those predators to death with incredible mob violence before they can kill all of you.

Pikmin don't die like plants. They die like warriors.

And sometimes, this is the hardest mechanic to handle. Left to their own devices Pikmin will seek to shed blood. It's up to you to call them away from orchestrating their own demise, their own pursuit of the glory of Valhalla. It's in their nature. It's in their plant-blood.

And they go down hard. They shriek when snapped up in the jaws of predators. They glub and wail when drowning in water. They trill out screams when on fire. They choke and cough in poison. They die instantly to electricity. And you'll know a Pikmin is well and truly dead once it lets out a final whimper, and a ghost drifts away from where it once stood. This can happen by the dozens. This can happen to all 100 at once.

So wait, wait I've gotten far ahead of myself. Why the violence? Why the death? Why the fighting? What was that about a little astronaut man?

Well your astronaut man is Olimar, an honest and simple family man who's a freight ship captain from his home planet of Hocotate. He's a truck driver! He's just a guy taking his first vacation in years.

And a meteorite strikes his ship, tearing it to pieces as it crash-lands on a completely uncharted planet. Welcome to PNF-404...

And so you're Olimar. A truck driver. A nice dad. A victim of capitalism with the world's worst boss. Out on vacation.

Your ship is destroyed. No one is coming for you. No one will save you.

The oxygen on PNF-404 is poisonous.

You have 30 days before your life support system runs out.

You have 30 days until you die a brutal and lonely death.

Your only hope is to find every scattered missing piece of your ship--30 of them--strewn across the planet, return them to your ship, and repair it, before your 30 days are up.

But this is simply impossible. You're one tiny little man. You wouldn't be able to lift a single piece of your ship, let alone 30 of them, let alone doing so while fending off the wildlife hellbent on killing you.

But the Pikmin seem to like you...

So all that death? All the carnage and destruction? It's all in the effort to repair Olimar's ship before he suffocates. You pave a path of destruction decorated with the bodies of any creature that stands before you and your missing ship pieces.

The Pikmin do it. The Pikmin trust you. The Pikmin follow your command and die by your command. After all, you're growing their species. Oh did I forget to explain that part? The "how" of how growing Pikmin works?

Simple. Pikmin are grown from the corpses of the creatures they kill :).

If you kill something, the Pikmin take it back to their base and process it for pieces, and grow new Pikmin from it. That's how you get all the nice little flower creatures following you around. :)

Is it good enough? Can you sleep at night knowing that 50 creatures who trusted you implicitly were slaughtered under your misdirection? All to retrieve a hunk of metal which is 1/30 of the hope of getting you home alive? 100 slaughtered? 200? Day 30 is approaching. Things are looking bleak.

You're Olimar. Day 30 has arrived, and you haven't fully reconstructed your ship. You have no option to stay. Your life support has run out. You watch the Pikmin you've left behind, as you attempt to start up your ship which has not been safely repaired.

You try to take off, and try to make it home.

It does not go well.

But at least the Pikmin have another corpse to carry.

#pikmin #and maybe. if youre me. you are 6 years old the first time you get Olimar killed #because your sweet and well-meaning aunt bought the colorful little creature game for you for christmas #for your family's new game cube #chrissy talks pikmin

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erwinsvow · 8 months ago

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rafe carrying kook trio reader because her feet hurt from wearing heels 🥹🥹

wait soooo obsessed with this visual ♡

a little too drunk and entirely too trusting, like always, you end up stumbling next to rafe and kelce on the way back to rafe's truck from the party. top was a fallen soldier, sticking behind with whatever girl he was now using to distract himself from his ex.

"how fuckin' far did he park?" rafe grumbles, questioning why he ever let topper drive his car.

"you know he sucks at parking. always does this shit, leaves the car a mile away," kelce adds, and you start giggling, holding onto his shoulder for support while you lean forward.

"i-if he can't park, how did he get his lic-ow!" you trip over a rock, your heels hitting the pavement hard. a shooting pain runs through your ankle, sobering you if only for a minute.

you think you should have broken a tooth on the concrete. instead there's a rafe-sized handprint on your upper arm from where he caught you, sure to turn into a bruise tomorrow.

"jesus, kid, can you be careful? y'worse than top."

"ow," you repeat, trying to set your foot down gingerly. the pressure hurts, and you hover on heel, bouncing around, gripping rafe's arm tightly. "it hurts, rafe."

you look up at your friend, wondering how he caught you so fast. you don't know why you're telling him, not sure what you're expecting him to do.

"shit. c'mon, hold tight." in one movement he lifts you up into his arms, carrying you like a bride. you loop your arms around his neck, staring at the side of rafe's face while he carries you to the car. you think about a couple things—how just felt sober but now feel surprisingly floaty and giddy, how quickly he decided to carry you, how the moonlight shines on his face and how handsome he looks.

the alcohol was getting to you. you really were just as bad as topper.

but you let your brain run its course, resting your head on his shoulder while he brings you up. he opens the door, setting you gently into the backseat.

you think he's gonna close the door and get into the driver's seat, but instead you watch with big eyes while he hands the keys to kelce.

"you drive. m'gonna make sure she doesn't puke back here."

"yeah, sure," kelce responds, and you miss all the sarcasm in his voice.

"shut it. just drive."

in the backseat, rafe moves your feet into his lap, undoing the strap of your heel and rubbing the swollen skin of your ankle.

"thanks, rafey," you mumble against the carseat, eyes fluttering shut.

"yeah. anytime kid."

#oh i love him #kook trio reader #rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #this prompt was almost as lovely as you are

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artisticdivasworld · 20 days ago

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I'll Be Gone for the Holidays!

The holidays can be a challenging time for truckers, especially when you’re out on the road instead of gathered around the dinner table with loved ones. But being away from home doesn’t mean the season has to lose its magic. In fact, truckers have a unique opportunity to celebrate the holidays in their own way, bringing joy not only to themselves but to the people they meet along the way. One…

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avocado-writing · 5 months ago

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hi!! I read your fics and I love your writing style! I was wondering if you could do something with a human reader, maybe she works in a bookshop or she’s a teacher? And it’s all cute because he finds her genuine??? Maybe some angst because she finds herself in danger? Idk sorry I’m rambling I just wanted something with a human reader 🧍🏻‍♀️💐

the place where the pages meet

logan howlett x bookseller!reader

4k words, rated explicit.

cocky!logan; awkward!reader; excessive book references; threat of physical violence (quickly averted); anti-mutant language & sentiments; smut (oral - reader receiving, penetrative sex). minors dni. thank you @saradika-graphics for dividers!

The sky is heavy with the promise of rain, and you suck your breath in through your teeth. It’s fifty-fifty on days like these: either people will seek shelter in your little store, or they’ll scurry away with the fear any purchases they make will get soaked and ruined.

God damn it, what kind of fool opens an independent book shop in New York?

You’re the kind of fool, apparently. Still, it’s your home, both figuratively between all the old paperbacks and literally with your tiny apartment on the top floor. Barely more than a studio, but enough for you. A piece for yourself carved out of this world.

Outside it starts to pour. You sigh. Well, at least you know you’ll get one visitor today.

Charles, your dear friend and long-time financial supporter of your store, had called earlier to let you know that the usual face wouldn’t be coming to grab his order. It’s a shame, you like Ororo, enjoy sitting and sharing a pot of oolong with her on quiet days. Also she could have chased away this terrible weather for you. Ah well.

“Who can I expect?” you’d asked.

Charles had laughed, a warm and friendly sound.

“Ahh, you’ll know Logan when you see him.”

You don’t know what you’d do without Charles. Between orders of rare books for his personal collections and en-masse copies of classics for the kids, he pretty much keeps this place running for you. Bless that man, honestly, because you’re not sure where you’d be without him.

The sound of someone pulling up outside has you putting down your book and turning towards the shop window.

A pickup truck parks up by the kerbside and you watch the man in the driver’s seat emerge into the rain. He cuts a fine figure, tall and strong, but you don’t get a good look at him until he walks through the front door.

Oh no, you think, he’s handsome.

Leather jacket now pocked with raindrops, very obvious white vest beneath it showing off his broad chest. He shakes like a dog to get the moisture out of his hair as he stamps his boots on the doormat, pausing only briefly to scrutinise its no admittance expect on party business slogan.

“Logan?” you ask. He looks up and when his eyes first meet yours? Oh, a fire is sent down your spine.

“Yeah,” he confirms, looking around to take in the place. You can’t tell if he’s impressed or not. He has a remarkably neutral face, careful, the sort of man who doesn’t want to give anything away about himself.

“You’re… here for Charles’ books?”

He’s sauntering over to the counter now. Cocks an eyebrow. It goes right through you. Fuck.

“That’d be me.” There’s a beat. “Why, you think someone’d try and steal them?”

“People can steal books!” you say, defensively.

“People named Logan who you’re clearly expecting?”

You bristle, because he’s got you. Something flickers over his face for a second: a smile.

Oh no, you think, he’s handsome and he’s an asshole.

Huffing, you fish the box out from under the desk and groan with effort as you lift it up. Logan takes it from your grasp as if it weighs nothing at all. Your fingers touch as you do. You try to ignore it.

“Thanks,” he says, easily.

“Mm. Mind the rain. It’d be a shame if you slipped.”

A proper smile crosses his face then, but he turns away too quickly for you to let it sink in. The bell on the door chimes as he heads back out into the rain.

Well, you hope you never see him again.

By the same time next week, you’re really hoping you see him again.

You’ve sort of not been able to get him out of your mind. He was kinda prickly, sure, but a welcome break from the mundanity of your life, and pretty good looking to boot. It’s probably just a pipe dream. You’re sure it’ll be Ororo again, and you can go back to the easy pattern of seeing your dear friend. That’s okay. You’re fine with it. Who needs a handsome man? You have your books, you have your store, you’re happy.

Yeah. You’re happy.

Imagine your surprise, then, when you hear a motorbike outside your shop.

You must be blessed with street parking, because Logan pulls up right outside again. Same jacket, same well-worn jeans. He catches your eye through the window and you’re sure they glisten. You pretend to be engrossed in your book but it’s not fooling anyone, the words swim into soup on the page as you see him approach.

The door goes; he approaches the counter. Closer this time, you can smell him. Tobacco and leather. Fuck it’s good.

“You should wear a helmet,” you say, trying to be flippant. Logan lets out a single, solitary note of a chuckle from deep in his chest.

“I’ll be fine. Thanks for your concern, though.”

You feel your cheeks heat up and try to hide it by looking for Charles’ order again. It’s a single book, a first edition you had to go through the backwater book depositories to hunt down. You’re the best at what you do, though, so it was no real problem. It’s why he always comes to you.

“Here you go. Let him know I’ll try and find the sequel if he’s interested, too.”

“Sure.”

Once again your fingers touch as you hand the book to Logan. No. No, this is too quick! You want to keep him here for a little while longer. He looks so out of place between the wonky shelves and hanging plants, it’s just perfect.

Your mouth tries to say two things at once: can you tell Charles I’ll have his other order ready same time next week, and, do you like to read often?

Instead what comes out is, “can you read?”

You must wince when you ask the question, because Logan stands there transfixed. Baffled, just for a second.

“Can I… read?” he repeats slowly.

I’ve failed you, I’m so fucking sorry I didn’t stop your mouth in time, says your brain.

“I didn’t mean… of course you read… I just… I didn’t want to assume… maybe you didn’t like books… erm…”

“Yeah, I read,” he says softly, as if you are an old dog and he is putting you out of your misery. You fucking wish he would. Jesus Christ, it’s like you’ve never spoken to another person before.

You can’t find a way to recover this. Your cheeks are on fire. You’re going to explode and burn down your store. Oh authors, you are so sorry for using all these works as kindling.

You expect Logan to turn on his heel and walk out but he… doesn’t. Instead he takes a step back so that he can look at the shelf nearest to the desk. Runs his fingers across the spines before picking one. It’s slim, no more than the width of his finger; he puts it on the counter and fishes his wallet out of his pocket.

In the Miso Soup by Ryū Murakami. You ring him up, punching the price into your old cash register, give him his change. His palm is soft as you drop coins into it.

“See you next week,” he says, stashing both his book and Charles’ inside his jacket.

“Okay,” you say, amazed you’re able to get any words out, and watch him walk away again.

He does see you next week.

The sun’s out, so he’s sans jacket, and oh fuck you can see how his arms are like treetrunks. The way this man has you reacting is unhealthy. You try and focus on the hardback in your hands but all you can picture is those veins which are bulging on his biceps, begging you to come and get to know them better.

“You’re always reading huh?”

His voice makes you jump a little, you’re not expecting him to be so close. You look up. He slides his sunglasses up into his hair. Fuck it’s the hottest thing you’ve ever seen.

“Would you trust a bookstore owner who didn’t read?” you ask, bristling with the need to defend this little shop and your place in it. He holds his hands up in the universal sign of peace.

“Not an insult, just an observation.”

You sink back from attack mode, walls still a little high, but definitely coming down.

“How did you get on with the Murakami last week?”

Logan takes a moment to consider this, trying to piece his answer together in a way which won’t offend you.

“I liked it until the last chapter.”

You sit up in your chair.

“Yes! A lot of people say that. It feels like it ends sort of abruptly, but if you just appreciate it for what it is, it’s a good book.”

He smiles a little as you speak. You fucking love talking about books, to a degree some people find absurd. You don’t want to babble though, so you force yourself to end your observations there.

Logan nods at the book in your hands.

“What are you reading now?”

You lift up your book so he can see the cover: A. S. Byatt’s The Djinn in the Nightingale’s Eye.

“It’s very good! Byatt has such a wonderful way of writing. I love fairy tales and there’s such a wonderful voice in this one. They made the titular story into a movie a couple of years back, it’s quite good actually, it has Tilda Swinton in it.” You’re floundering. Don’t stray too far from the normal lines of conversation. Mouth, for fuck’s sake stay on course, begs your brain. It doesn’t. Instead you ask, “do you… like Tilda Swinton?”

Logan raises an eyebrow and you know this is a man who has never once had to consider the question of whether or not he likes the actress Tilda Swinton.

Mouth still talking. MOUTH STILL TALKING, your brain screams. It’s true. It is. You were too busy being horrified to notice.

What your mouth says while being unchaperoned is, “There’s a little single-screen theatre nearby doing a showing of it this week, actually, do you wanna come with?”

DID YOU JUST ASK HIM OUT. DID YOU JUST ASK HIM OUT?!

Logan doesn’t seem to know what to make of that. He seems just as shocked that you’ve asked as you are. But then, just as you want to cast yourself into the street so that a passing garbage truck might take pity on you and sweep you away, he smiles. It’s slow, but it makes him look so much hotter.

“Sure, why not.”

Oh mouth you genius. I shall never doubt you again.

“Oh, okay, great! Uhh, are you free Friday?”

“I can be. What time’s the screening?”

“Seven. Meet me here at six-thirty?”

“It’s a date.”

Fuck, it is a date, isn’t it. It’s a date!

Logan stands there, awaiting something. You’re confused for a beat, then go up on your tiptoes, aiming your mouth towards his.

“As much as I appreciate the gesture… Charles’ book, honey.”

Hmmm, okay. Still time for the earth to just swallow you whole then, actually.

You sort of don’t expect him to turn up. You wouldn’t go on a date with you, all awkward edges and uncomfortable words. And he’s… the coolest fucking guy you’ve ever seen.

Of course he won’t turn up. Of course he won’t.

He turns up.

He’s waiting for you outside the store, leaning against a lamppost, dressed in flannel and smelling like subtle cologne. You can’t help lighting up when you see him and hope you’re dressed suitably - your nicest pair of dungarees and a tight-fitting jumper.

“Hey! You made it,” you say.

“‘Course I did,” he replies with a little smile. Oh, you’re giddy.

“C’mon, it’s not a long walk. It’s a nice night too.”

He lets you chatter as the two of you make the brief journey, content to have you talk his ear off about business and books. He’s happy to answer any questions you ask him about himself: what he does for a living, how he knows Charles, if he’s got anything else on his to-read list. The two of you skirt around the most obvious thing: if he lives at the mansion, he’s definitely a mutant. You can’t quite get the courage to ask him about it. Seems easier to just let it lie, so you do. It’s not that important anyway, you think, you like Logan, with or without any extra bits.

When you arrive at the little hole-in-the-wall cinema, he gets the tickets and the popcorn and the drinks. You do your best not to feel absolutely pathetic by his side. Surely everyone here knows you’re punching above your weight with this absolute grade A specimen of a man? You’re so busy looking around the foyer to make sure nobody is staring that you almost don’t realise when he takes your hand in his.

“You with me, honey?” he asks, soft, low. You swallow thickly and nod because for once, you can’t find the words.

It’s not a very full screening, which is just fine, because you’re happy to be alone with Logan in the dark. You share a bucket of popcorn and a secret little thrill runs up your spine every time your fingers brush together. When that’s finished, he puts his arm around the back of your chair and you snuggle up against his side, cursing the damn plastic cupholder in the middle forcing you to keep a distance.

One hundred and eight minutes. They’re not enough. You want to be here forever. But eventually the credits roll, the lights come up, and Logan has to pull his arm back; you hope the reluctance in the withdrawal of the gesture isn’t just your imagination.

“What did you think?” you ask, standing up and stretching. Logan follows suit, mulling over the question.

“It was… cute,” he decides. “I can see why you like it.”

You beam.

“I can lend you the book if you want. It goes into way more detail about the main character’s life at the start, it’s very stream-of-consciousness but I really enjoy it? It’s different to the other stories before it but definitely worth reading. I think that…”

You’re outside now, under the streetlights, fingers tangled easily with his, and when he stills you’re pulled to a stop too.

“Hmm?”

He drops his grip on your hand so that he can put one under your jaw, tilting your head to get a better look at you. Your heart beats violently. He can definitely feel it. He knows. You don’t care. Fuck, he’s so near.

“You talk a lot, huh?” he asks. It’s not unkind, the smile on his face is one of fondness, and all of your skeleton turns to jelly as you fucking melt under the affection in his gaze.

“Please shut me up,” your beg comes out as a whisper, and he does.

His lips are rough against yours, guiding, but sweet. The hair on his face tickles your cheeks. You wrap your arms around his shoulders and bring him down to kiss him with more enthusiasm. This is not a public-appropriate display of affection, and someone honks their car horn at you both, but it just serves to make you laugh against his mouth and keep going. His hands slide onto your hips and hold you tight against him. Possessive. Wanting. Covetous.

“You know,” he says when he pulls back for air, still running his lips along the line of your jaw to the hinge beneath your ear, “when Charles told me I should go and get those books, he said I’d like the person who runs the store. Didn’t expect you to be such a gorgeous little thing, though.”

You, gorgeous! Logan thinks you’re gorgeous! You could do a fucking cartwheel in celebration. You don’t though, you’d probably give yourself a concussion.

His hand goes to his pocket and his brow furrows and, for a second, you panic. Has he started regretting kissing you already? Another quick kiss calms that down though, settling the simmer of worry in your stomach.

“I think I left my wallet in the theatre. Hold on, I’ll grab it, then I’ll walk you home?”

“Only if you come in with me,” you breathe, and once again your mouth has taken the reins on that one. Logan huffs a laugh, a little incredulous, but mostly pleased at your gumption.

“Okay, sweetheart. Okay.”

He leaves you standing there, feeling all tingly. This is happening. It’s fucking happening! Sometimes the stars align for a book nerd and a handsome guy wants to come up to their studio apartment. You thank Jesus, Buddha, Arthur C. Clarke - whoever is listening, they fucking deserve it.

“You gonna fuck that mutant?”

The voice sends a chill down your throat.

The trio of guys standing behind you do not look friendly. The biggest one, the one standing in the middle, sneers at your panic, crossing thick arms over a broad chest.

“Well? I asked you a question.”

You screw your courage to the sticking place, puffing up a little.

“Don’t see how that’s any of your business,” you spit back, hoping that vitriol will deter them. It does not. Instead, they close in, hyenas around a cadaver.

“Never had a human dick you down good enough, huh? Need a little help? C’mon baby, we’ll show you.”

He reaches out to grab your arm. You let out a noise of panic.

At the same time, Logan’s fist collides with his face.

The guy is sent stumbling back, spitting out a globule of blood. His friends step away with panic in their eyes. Logan moves in front of you, his bulk your shield, three metal claws extending from between his knuckles.

Yeah. Mutant, huh?

“I think you were just leaving, pal,” says Logan in a voice which doesn’t bear messing with. The man bares his reddened teeth.

“The fuck do you think you are, mutant scum--?!”

He lunges for Logan and the breath is sucked from your lungs when you see he’s pulling out a fucking knife, but another punch sends him flat on his ass. The blade clatters across the street and into the gutter. His friends grab either one of his arms and half stand him up, half drag him away.

“Shit, it’s not worth it—!” is their conclusion as they disappear into the night, shouting back expletives, blood trailing from their leader. Logan shakes out his fist, flexes his fingers; claws retract. He turns to you, slowly.

“You okay?” he asks, hurriedly checking you over. You nod.

“Y…yeah. Shaken.” you confess.

“C'mon. Let’s get you home,” he sighs, and from the cadence of his voice you can tell he’s worried the night has been ruined. You place your hand on his bicep.

“Logan?”

“Yeah?”

“Will you still… will you still come up?”

He softens.

“If it’ll make you feel safer, sweetheart.”

It does.

And that’s how you find him sitting on your well-loved couch in between your needlepoint pillows, looking around your tiny home as you make a pot of coffee to share.

“Jesus, you’ve got more books in here than in the store,” he mutters.

“Well, some of them I couldn’t part with. I like them too much. And, as you pointed out, I am always reading.”

You look around at the shelves stuffed into your flat, the dozens of them holding hundreds of novels, plays, poems. You love them all dearly. They all hold a special piece of your heart, you can remember where you were when you read most of them. (Downstairs while manning the desk is often the answer).

“Oh, even this?”

You can hear the smile in Logan’s voice. He’s holding up a copy of Fifty Shades. You scoff, rolling your eyes.

“Christ, I read that as a professional courtesy to the art of bookselling. Got it for fifty cents at a thrift store. It’s crap. If you want some good erotica I can recommend…”

The sentence lingers unfinished. Logan raises his eyebrows.

“You can recommend what, huh?”

The coffee is ready. You can smell its rich scent enveloping your little apartment. An idea forms. Creates a heavy anticipation on your tongue. Your brain screams at you.

Locked. Loaded. Fire, mouth, fire!

“… then I’d recommend you take me to bed,” you say.

Logan stares, eyes wide. You’ve had an immediate effect on him. His pupils dilate.

“I… honey, after earlier, I’m not sure if you should…”

You cross the room and sit on his lap, an easy feat when his legs are so thick and inviting. His sentence stops as you press your mouth to the pulse in his neck. Kiss.

“I’m a consenting adult,” a kiss on his cheek, “who’s invited you into their home,” a kiss on his brow, “and is asking you to take them across their painfully tiny apartment and fuck them. If you don’t want to, that’s okay, but Logan? I’ve been game ever since you first walked in from the rain.”

He looks up at you to double check that you’re telling the truth, then kisses you with such ferocity that you squeak.

You do not make it to the bed.

He undresses you there on the sofa in the middle of your bookshelves, between Brontë and Austen, beside Carter and Rushdie. Your clothes end up in a messy little pile on the coffee table. It gets kicked and the pile of literary magazines slide to the floor as Logan moves to take off his shoes, letting you drag his jeans down and off of him, cupping his cock in his boxers.

Fuck. Thick, heavy, large, you want all of it. All of him.

He leans you back against your kitschy little pillows with book quotes on them and pulls your dungarees off, an act both ridiculous and endearing. He catches your knee in his hand and begins to kiss up your thigh towards your underwear.

“Fuck,” you whisper as he presses a kiss to your sex over the fabric. He grins up at you from between your legs.

“That was the plan.”

He fucks you with his mouth like a man starved, luxuriating in the little sounds you make for him, pressing fingers inside you without any effort at all. You cum all over his knuckles embarrassingly quickly. He looks sorta smug.

“Baby, when was the last time someone took care of you…?” he asks, licking a stripe along your sex to taste what he’s done. You huff.

“Too long. You gonna fix that?”

It’s a challenge and he takes it as one. You strip off his shirt, making sure to get a good feel of his muscles as you go, kissing his pectorals and abs just because you can. He slides inside you with one thrust, one of your legs in a crook at his hip; the other with its ankle resting on his shoulder. He starts moving and the couch shakes but all you can do is cling on for dear life to the crocheted blanket.

“Holy shit… so fuckin’ tight… aren’t you just the most gorgeous thing…” he hisses. You reach up enough to tangle your fingers in his hair and drag him down for a kiss, sloppy and charged with heat. His hand moves in between your legs and you cum for the second time that night, hissing with satisfaction as he spills inside you.

You collapse onto the sofa together, your heavy breaths harmonising. When he pulls back to kiss you this time it’s softer. With intention. With reference.

“Uh, you know, they’re showing To Kill a Mockingbird next week. Maybe dinner beforehand, if you’re interested?”

He laughs affectionately and you can feel the rumble in his chest.

“Sounds good. You’ll have to lend me the book first.”

Fuck yeah. You’re never doubting your mouth again.

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mistyorchid · 4 months ago

Text

General Store

Old Man!Logan x fem!reader

warnings: MDNI, no use of y/n, fluff, established relationship, age gap, reader is 21+, some suggestive actions/comments, pet names (doll, baby). wc: 739

an: I really appreciate all of the <3 Meet-Cute (and my blog in general) has been receiving lately. Since your comments have been so sweet, I thought I'd write a fluffy drabble for y'all. My asks & DMs are open. Thank you all for the support.

When you run out of your favorite ice cream, you know it's time to make a shopping trip to the closest general store. You smile, fondly remembering lazy Sundays with Logan. He'd never admit it, but the sweet taste of chocolate ice cream helped ease his nerves; Twilight Zone reruns were no joke.

Logan turns on the radio, switching through static until he hears the baritone crooning of Johnny Cash. Every time the truck hitches over a bump, Logan steadies you with a firm hand on your thigh. At least that's how he justified it inching closer to the hem of your skirt. His cocky smirk earns a playful slap on his arm, but you secretly love the way he makes you blush, even after you'd been dating for months.

He pulls into the neglected parking lot and kills the ignition, lovingly staring at your profile as you move to unbuckle your seat belt. The universe had shown him mercy when you spontaneously came into his life. Your boundless grace and empathy made his house a home. You once gifted him handmade framed embroidery that read, "God bless our smelting plant."

Logan's thoughts are interrupted by the faint click of the unlocked passenger door. "Not on my watch, doll," he exhales, rushing out of the driver seat and jogging to retrieve you. You reach for his hand, cautiously stepping down from the truck. Logan knows you can open the door yourself, but he always upholds the dying art of chivalry.

"Thank you," you smile, stabilizing your descent by placing your left hand on his white beater. "Sure thing," Logan responds, knowing you just want to feel his broad chest.

A quaint bell rings as you enter the store that alerts the cashier. "Howdy, welcome in! Milk's half off today," he chimes. Logan doesn't miss the way the young man's eyes widen as you saunter ahead of him to the frozen aisle. Hell, he doesn't blame him. You never wear a bra when it's this hot, instead opting for a lightweight tank top. The cool air blasting from the open freezer door makes the hard outline of your nipples difficult to ignore.

"You want our usual or this new flavor?" You ask, prompting Logan to ignore the cashier's gaze. He lengthens his stride and stands over you, peering into the freezer. The carton you point out has an adorable illustration of a bunny as its mascot.

"Hmm . . ." Logan ponders, leaning into the frigid air to grab the carton. "It's cute, reminds me of you. I say strawberry."

You trace your bottom lip, pretending to be indecisive. "If you say so." A sweet blush creeps onto your face, subtle enough to be missed by anyone but Logan.

The cashier's eyes linger on your tank top as you both return to the front counter. You're too busy checking out other items in the store to notice.

"Good choice, we just got that flavor last week. Cash or card?" The young man redirects his attention to Logan, who he assumes is paying based on the fact that he's holding the ice cream and already has his wallet out.

"Do people out here really use card?" Logan asks, puzzled by his question. He remembered a time when he'd have to write a check to pay if he didn't have enough cash.

"My dad's the same way," the cashier chuckles, trying to establish some common ground with you. Logan's eyes narrow at his lame attempt to relate to his girl.

My dad. This prick thinks you're his daughter.

He throws more than enough cash onto the counter before muttering, "Keep the change." Logan tries his best to finish the transaction without leaving three scratch marks over the young man's uneven stubble.

You notice that Logan is brooding as you link your arm through his, more than usual. The cashier's words stun him into an icy silence, clearly bothered by their implication.

Before you cross the threshold of the door, you pull the collar of Logan's beater and kiss him hard. He gasps into your mouth, fingers moving to glide through your hair. Your tongue darts along his upper lip, deepening the kiss.

A thin string of spit connects your lips as you slowly pull away. "Mmm, almost as sweet as this ice cream, baby," You tease, savoring the cashier's shocked expression as you both hear the doorbell ring.

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kissedsuns · 4 months ago

Text

chasing cars.

cw: angst, mentions of logan sargeant being dropped, established rel w/ oscar piastri & more

this wasn't how things were supposed to go—not for you, anyway.

your first win was meant to be sensational, a moment of pure euphoria. the kind where you leap out of your car, proud, standing on top of the cockpit with your fist raised high, showing the world and your team what you'd accomplished. it should've felt like you were on top of the world.

but it didn't. not for you, anyway.

a few nights before, you were cozied up in bed, lazily reaching for your phone on the bedside table. the screen lit up, and you squinted, shielding your eyes from the sudden glare. you opened instagram, expecting to see plenty of media about the upcoming race in monza—a track you'd been looking forward to racing at for awhile.

it was also a track your close friend, logan, was excited about. you and he practically grew up together, alongside oscar, who you shared an even closer bond with—so close that you found yourself sleeping in one of his baggy tees.

but that morning, your feed showed something you weren't exactly expected: an image on formula 1's instagram page, boldly announcing that logan sargeant would be dropped from williams midway through the season.

your jaw literally dropped as you stared at the post—a sad picture of logan at the center, remaining on your screen for what felt like an eternity.

you didn't know what to do. should you message him? call him? but then you wondered, why hadn't he called you?

logan told you everything, no matter how gross or disturbing. so why not this?

taking a deep breath, you decided to message him, sending a simple greeting before jumping straight into it, asking if he was okay and what was going on.

to which you received no response.

you felt sick to your stomach for the rest of the morning. and when you finally arrived at the paddock in monza later that week, it became increasingly harder to shake the discomfort.

logan hadn't spoken to you in days, and though it hurt, you understood. why would he want to talk to anyone after what happened?

he'd been axed halfway through the season, his dreams of becoming a successful formula 1 driver were pretty much over. meanwhile, here you were, thriving in a team that adored you.

mercedes was a great environment, and the support from your teammate, george russell, only made it better. but that heavy, guilty feeling gnawed at you. you felt so guilty you were almost choking on it.

as you navigated through the crowd of journalists, eager to get something out of you, you were determined to give them nothing. you had nothing to give, anyway.

you felt far too alone in the paddock, and despite george's reassuring pat on your shoulder when you arrived at the team hub, it wasn't enough.

you couldn't focus during the drivers' briefing or even pay attention to what toto was explaining to you and george—something about strategies, but you didn't hear a word.

despite achieving strong results in practice and securing p2 in qualifying, race day—a day you'd usually be excited for—was now something you just wanted to get through as quickly as possible.

a few comments were made when you arrived that day. your forced smile made it obvious that you weren't taking the news quite well.

it wasn't as if logan had died or couldn't visit the paddock to support you as a friend. but it had just become a habit to have him around.

the driver's parade usually had the two of you laughing at some of the fans in the crowd or chatting about what you did over the week. oscar, usually with lando on the other side of the truck, would eventually join you both, which you loved.

after the race, you'd often drag logan over to parc fermé, giving him a big hug and congratulating him on his effort, even if he wasn't thrilled with his performance. you'd always try to bring a smile to his face, seeing those eyes that once sparkled with pride.

but that sparkle was gone now.

as you reluctantly climbed onto the driver's truck, you stood with your back to the railing, leaning against it as you found yourself staring blankly into the crowds.

no chatter, no smiles—nothing. and everyone noticed.

a few drivers glanced your way with concern written all over their faces, which only made oscar rush over to you. "it's really hard seeing you like this," he began.

"i don't know what you're on about." you tried to brush him off.

"i know you," he said, doing something that managed to bring a tiny bit of comfort. "you don't have to pretend like you're holding up okay, because i know you're not."

oscar's words should've been enough to make you feel less isolated. that undeniable charm of his could usually turn your frown upside down. but with your best friend of seven years stripped from formula 1 and the potential of racing alongside him again gone, you couldn't find it in you to smile.

you avoided conversation for the rest of the day, your mind fixated on just getting through it so you could check your phone—hoping, maybe, logan had messaged you back. maybe even wished you good luck for the race.

settling into the seat of your car, helmet snug on your head, you waited for the race to start.

as the track cleared and the lights went out, your mind drifted back to the one thing that wouldn't leave your thoughts no matter how hard you tried to shove it away.

logan sargeant. best friend. dedicated racer. boy with a dream. hilarious. american. embarrassed. struggling. logan sargeant.

you slammed your foot on the pedal, pushing your car to its limits. the engine roared, tires screeched, and the sound of the crowd erupting in cheers as you passed max verstappen filled your ears.

but you didn't smile. you didn't even grin. you sobbed.

you sobbed because there was a boy back home in america who would never get to hear those cheers for him.

a tear slid down your cheek as you flew down the track, just wanting to see that checkered flag wave so you could go home. go home and bury your face in your pillow and cry even harder.

and that was it. the finale.

your race engineer nearly deafened you with his shouts about your win—your second career victory. but you didn't care.

"thanks, guys. great job. uh, the car was awesome! thanks so much. thanks," you tried to sound convincing as you waved to the fans in the grandstands.

at the parc fermé, where you would usually share a moment with logan, you stood alone, holding your helmet as your eyes scanned the area as if expecting to see your friend.

lando smiled and patted your back, while max gave you a firm handshake. it felt good, and you were proud of how much effort the team put in to ensure that this would happen, but in truth, you didn't care much for the trophy that awaited you.

oscar eventually came up to you, wrapping his arms tightly around your waist in a hug. he congratulated you, planting a kiss on your cheek that brought a faint smile to your lips.

you could tell that, despite oscar's calm attitude, he felt terrible for logan too. he was just better at hiding it. his tight-lipped smile and sad eyes slightly gave it away, unfortunately.

your team pulled you into a tight hug, some toppling over others as they fought to congratulate you.

this wasn't how you were supposed to feel after winning your second race in your formula 1 career. this was supposed to be special. you should've been hugging oscar and giving logan a huge cheer.

when the post-race interviews commenced, you stood by your stand, a blank expression on your face as you stared at the floor, utterly bored.

you gave short answers to the reporter, hoping he'd hurry up and let you go. the way he grimaced at your tone and choice of words showed he knew you weren't feeling it, and he eventually took the hint.

you felt bad for letting your miserable attitude affect others. the drivers' room was no different, with lando and max talking about the race and making funny noises at the screen if there was a collision.

you sat there, staring at the first-place cap in your hands. bored. you were bored.

max and lando exchanged a look before glancing at you with softened expressions. they didn't know logan well; hardly anyone on the grid did. they couldn't understand the disappointment you felt knowing you would never be able to celebrate with your best mate ever again.

finally, the podium celebration—a time to get drenched in champagne and hear your national anthem play as you proudly stand on the top step with a wide smile, watching your team gaze up at you with admiration.

but when it was time to step on that podium, the crowd cheered, the anthem played, and you smiled. but there was no logan sargeant in the crowd, beaming up at you with his own fist raised, as if to say, "i'll be up there with you soon. just wait."

the champagne was popped, and before you could process it, lando tipped the rest of his bottle onto your head.

you cringed at the cold liquid streaming down your neck and seeping into your race suit. the taste of victory should've been sweet. it should've felt amazing.

but without your best friend, could it ever feel that way?

as you left the paddock, oscar's fingers intertwined with yours, trophy in the other hand, you pulled out your phone.

your breath hitched as you saw the notification—logan sargeant.

without a second thought, you opened the message.

the screen revealed just six words, and they were enough to shatter you entirely.

"i knew you could do it."

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anastasiareyreed · 3 months ago

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“ordinary russians are not guilty of anything and shouldn't be held responsible for the actions of their authorities”

meanwhile:

ordinary russians voluntarily join the russian army to kill Ukrainians and Syrians

ordinary russians organize safari hunting and killing Ukrainian civilians with drones

ordinary russians torture and execute Ukrainian and Syrian civilians and soldiers, filming it on camera

ordinary russians come to the destroyed occupied territories and arrange "fancy and mysterious" photoshoots like it's some kind of disneyland

ordinary russians go abroad to willingly glorify russia at pro-russian rallies

ordinary russians persecute and kill Ukrainians abroad

ordinary russians export stolen Ukrainian clothes, household appliances and cars to russia

ordinary russians buy all these stuff knowing perfectly well and seeing from the labels that these things were stolen from the houses and shops of murdered Ukrainians

ordinary russians donate to support the russian army

ordinary russians make shells and drones at factories in three shifts

ordinary russians sew equipment

ordinary russian activists weave camouflage nets, make trench candles and collect donations for the russian army

ordinary russian truck drivers bring all this to the frontlines

ordinary russians make software for missiles

ordinary russian tourists go on vacation to the russian-occupied Crimea

ordinary russians sell and buy apartments in occupied territories whose residents were killed

ordinary russians write happy comments after shelling Ukrainian homes markets hospitals and schools

ordinary russian doctors go to the frontlines to save russian soldiers

ordinary russians work in prisons and torture prisoners of war with starvation

ordinary russian teachers in the occupied territories reeducate Ukrainian children

ordinary russian social workers kidnap and take Ukrainian children to russia

ordinary russian miners extract coal for steel smelting

ordinary russian metallurgists work three shifts at blast furnaces to melt steel

ordinary russian celebrities shoot pro-russian films, write pro-russian songs and call to join the russian army

ordinary russians organize mass protests in russia against the closing of McDonald's, but not against the war

ordinary russian children draw pictures of russian soldiers brutally killing Ukrainians

ordinary russian artists in russia and abroad create pro-russian art glorifying russia and the russian army

ordinary russians create videogames that promote russian brutality and the army

ordinary russian teachers teach children to hate other nations

ordinary russian trainers prepare children for warfare and murder

ordinary russians ignore russian crimes on the territory of Ukraine and Syria as they ignored crimes on the territory of Georgia. because they believe it has nothing to do with them and it shouldn't affect their comfortable lifestyle.

should i go on?

Putin is not the cause of russian brutality, terrorism and bloodthirstiness. Putin is a consequence.

before Putin, there were other presidents, other tsars and other authorities in russia. only one thing has not changed — russian imperialism and chauvinism.

don't be silent and please continue to support Ukraine! don't let your politicians betray Ukraine, Ukraine needs help to defeat russia!

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moonxknightx · 5 months ago

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♡˗ˏ✎*ೃ˚ : BODYGUARDS : :;

╰┈➤ ❝ [PAIRING] ❞ Logan Howlett x F!Reader x Platonic!Wade Wilson

・❥・GENRE: Fluff :))

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆FANDOM: X-Men

ੈ✩‧₊˚ WARNINGS: None!

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥SUMMARY: When you come home feeling overwhelmed by college stress and a troublesome boss, Logan and Wade step in. After a heartfelt talk with Logan, they confront your boss to ensure you’re no longer troubled. With their support, you find comfort and reassurance, knowing you’re not alone in facing your challenges.

YOU HAD ALWAYS KNOWN LIFE WASN’T EASY, BUT TODAY WAS SOMETHING ELSE ENTIRELY. The stress of juggling college classes, work, and just trying to keep it all together was slowly getting the better of you. You weren’t the type to break easily, but this… this was overwhelming.

You pushed open the door to the shared apartment you lived in with Logan and Wade, your bag slung over your shoulder, your eyes cast downward. The moment you stepped inside, you were hit with the familiar scent of home, a mix of Logan’s woodsy cologne and Wade’s unmistakable love for chimichangas.

Wade was lounging on the couch, remote in hand, flipping through TV channels. “Hey, sport! You’re just in time to witness me obliterate Logan at Mario Kart,” he called out, grinning like a maniac.

Logan, who was leaning against the kitchen counter, raised an eyebrow at Wade, then glanced at you. Normally, you’d throw a sarcastic quip back at Wade or smile at Logan, but tonight, you couldn’t muster either. You barely looked up.

“Hey,” you mumbled, walking straight past them and into your room, shutting the door softly behind you.

Both men exchanged a look, their senses immediately on high alert.

“That’s… not normal,” Wade commented, frowning slightly. “She didn’t even call me an idiot. Do you think it’s serious?”

Logan stayed silent, eyes narrowing. The way you’d come home, shoulders slumped, weighed down by something unseen—it was enough for him to know something was deeply off.

“Let her have some space,” Logan said gruffly, though the concern in his voice was unmistakable.

Wade sat up a bit straighter. “You think it’s space she needs? Or maybe a hilarious anecdote about the time I fought a taco truck driver because he wouldn’t give me extra guac?”

Logan’s glare was sharp enough to silence even Wade for a moment. “Space,” Logan repeated firmly. “For now.”

Inside your room, you collapsed onto the bed, the soft comforter doing little to quell the storm brewing inside you. Your mind raced, thoughts spiraling.

Your boss at work had been on your case all week, nitpicking every little thing as if you couldn’t do anything right. Then there was that huge exam you’d studied for in your hardest class… and you had failed it. The letter ‘F’ haunted your thoughts, taunting you. Everything felt like it was crumbling, and you didn’t know how to fix it.

You hated feeling this way, like the world was slipping from your control. More than that, you hated the idea of burdening Logan or Wade with it. They had enough going on already.

A knock came at your door—light, but firm. You didn’t respond immediately, but the door cracked open slightly, revealing Logan’s rugged face. His hazel eyes were full of that familiar intensity, softened just enough to show he was concerned.

“Can I come in?” he asked, his voice low and gravelly, but gentle in a way reserved just for you.

You nodded, sitting up on the edge of the bed. Logan stepped in, closing the door behind him, and came to sit beside you, his large hand finding its way to your back. His touch was warm, solid, grounding.

“You’ve been off since you walked in,” Logan started, his thumb brushing soothing circles on your back. “Wanna tell me what’s goin’ on?”

The dam you’d tried to keep sealed started to crack. Your throat tightened, and tears you’d been holding back pricked at your eyes. “I… I don’t even know where to start, Logan.”

Logan was silent for a moment, letting you collect yourself. He wasn’t one to push, but when he spoke again, there was a firmness in his tone. “Start wherever you want. I’m here. Wade’s here. You don’t have to deal with this alone.”

The floodgates opened. You started rambling, voice shaky, hands trembling as you tried to get it all out—the boss who wouldn’t leave you alone, the crushing pressure from school, the failure of the test you’d worked so hard on, and how everything just felt like it was spiraling out of control.

“I feel like I’m failing at everything, Logan. I try so hard, but it’s never enough. I just… I can’t anymore,” you whispered, finally breaking down, tears streaming freely now.

Logan pulled you closer, his arms wrapping around you in a way that made you feel protected, safe. He didn’t say anything at first, just held you, letting you cry into his shoulder.

“That’s not true,” Logan finally said, his voice steady. “You’re not failing. Things go wrong, yeah. Shit happens. But it doesn’t mean you’re not doing enough. You’re human. You’re allowed to have bad days.”

You sniffled, leaning into him more, soaking in his warmth, his solidity. “It’s just been so much…”

Logan pulled back slightly, just enough to look you in the eyes, his hand cupping your cheek gently. “And that’s why you don’t have to do it alone. I got your back, always. And if anyone’s been bothering you…” His voice took on a dangerous edge, “I’ll take care of it.”

You chuckled weakly through your tears. “I don’t want you fighting my boss.”

Logan huffed, but his expression softened. “Alright, no fights. But seriously… You don’t have to deal with that crap on your own.”

At that moment, the door swung open dramatically, and Wade popped his head in, eyes wide with exaggerated concern. “Are we hugging in here? Because I can totally make this a group hug.”

You couldn’t help but laugh despite yourself. Wade had a way of lightening the mood, even when things felt impossibly heavy.

Logan rolled his eyes but didn’t say anything as Wade bounded into the room, throwing himself on the bed beside you.

“I was eavesdropping—sorry, not sorry,” Wade started, “and let me just say, anyone giving you a hard time? Deadpool is on it. I’ve got a very particular set of skills. Skills I’ve acquired over a very chaotic, messy life. I’ll make sure no one messes with my little sibling.” He gave you a dramatic wink.

Logan shot Wade a warning look, but there was an understanding between them. For all their bickering, when it came to you, they were always on the same side.

You smiled, feeling a little lighter with both of them by your side.

Logan rubbed your arm gently. “We’re gonna take the rest of the night off. No school, no work. You need a break.”

“But—”

“No ‘buts’,” Logan said firmly. “You’re taking the night for yourself. We’ll watch a movie or do something fun.”

Wade clapped his hands together. “Movie night! I’ll grab the popcorn. And no, you don’t get a choice— we are watching Shrek.”

Logan let out a small grunt, shaking his head, but he didn’t argue.

You couldn’t help but laugh at Wade’s enthusiasm. Despite the mess of emotions swirling inside you, having them around—one a protective, gruff presence, and the other a chaotic, endearing force—made you feel like maybe things would be okay. You weren’t alone in this, no matter how overwhelming it felt.

Logan pressed a kiss to your temple, his voice low and comforting. “You’re gonna be okay. We’ll get through this. Together.”

And for the first time that day, you believed it.

The next morning, you woke up feeling a little more rested. Wade’s snoring had been a background noise throughout the night, and Logan had stayed close, his arm draped protectively around you as the three of you fell asleep halfway through Shrek.

You yawned and stretched, your body feeling lighter than the night before. It wasn’t all better, but you knew with Logan and Wade by your side, you’d get through it.

But what you didn’t know—what neither Logan nor Wade had mentioned to you—was that they had a plan.

Later that day, Logan and Wade stood just outside your workplace, both wearing sunglasses. Wade had insisted it was part of the "covert op" vibe, even though they stood out like sore thumbs. Logan grunted, adjusting his leather jacket.

“Okay, Wolvie, what’s the game plan? Because I’m itching to shove someone’s head in a copy machine,” Wade said, a little too cheerfully.

Logan growled under his breath. “No shoving heads in machines. We’re here to talk.”

Wade gasped dramatically. “Talk? Logan, we didn’t come all the way here to talk. Have you met us?”

Logan sighed. “You’re not gonna make this easy, are you?”

“Never,” Wade replied, clearly thrilled about the potential chaos.

Logan gave him a side glance. “Just let me handle it.”

Inside, your boss—a middle-aged man with thinning hair and an arrogant air—was sitting at his desk, tapping away at his computer when the door burst open, the bell jingling violently. He looked up, startled, only to see Logan and Wade storming in like two very intimidating storm clouds.

“Uh, can I help you—”

Logan stepped forward, leaning on the man’s desk, his presence radiating danger. “You’re the one who’s been makin’ her life a living hell, right?”

Your boss swallowed hard, his eyes flicking nervously between Logan's intense stare and Wade’s unsettlingly enthusiastic grin. He tried to maintain some semblance of composure, though his voice wavered. “I’m… sorry? Who are you talking about?”

Logan leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a growl. “You know exactly who. The one you’ve been botherin’ all week. You’re gonna stop.”

The boss blinked, sweat already starting to form on his brow. “Listen, if you’ve got a problem, there are proper channels—”

Wade, who had been pacing behind Logan like an impatient child, suddenly slammed his hands down on the desk, making the man jump. “Oh, we’re past proper channels, buddy. See, we’re the 'hands-on' approach. You ever watch John Wick? Think of us like that, but with more sarcasm.” Wade flashed a grin that was more menacing than reassuring. “Y’know, I’ve got so many ways we could handle this. My personal favorite? Something involving a very, very tight stapler and a completely unrelated office supply.”

Logan shot him a glance, silently telling Wade to dial it back. Wade just winked, enjoying himself far too much.

The boss stammered, scrambling for words, his hands now trembling slightly. “I-I didn’t mean to upset anyone. If there’s been a misunderstanding—”

“No misunderstanding,” Logan interrupted, his voice calm but filled with a quiet, deadly promise. “You’ve been makin’ life harder than it needs to be. That ends now. You leave her alone, or you’re gonna wish you had.”

The room went deathly quiet. Logan’s words hung in the air, and though his tone was controlled, the weight behind it made it clear—he wasn’t making a request.

Your boss nodded vigorously, too scared to say much else. “Of course. I’ll… I’ll make sure there’s no more trouble. I didn’t realize…”

Logan stood up straight, stepping back and letting the tension between them settle. “Good. ‘Cause if I hear otherwise, we’ll be back. And I guarantee next time, talkin’ won’t be on the table.”

Wade patted the boss on the shoulder as they turned to leave. “See? Easy peasy. Now, don’t make me come back and introduce you to my friend Mr. Duct Tape, okay?”

The boss just nodded, wide-eyed, watching them until they were out of sight.

Outside, Wade was practically skipping with glee. “Did you see his face? I think he aged ten years in the last five minutes! Man, that was fun.”

Logan rolled his eyes but smirked slightly. “I’d rather not come back.”

Wade shrugged. “Eh, we’ll see. If he so much as frowns in their direction again, he’s getting the full Deadpool experience.”

Logan let out a low grunt. “Let’s just hope it doesn’t come to that.”

As they walked away from your workplace, Wade threw an arm around Logan’s shoulders. “Y’know, Wolvie, I gotta say… we make a hell of a team. You with the menacing silence, me with the witty banter? That guy didn’t stand a chance.”

Logan shoved Wade’s arm off, giving him a side-eye. “Just don’t get used to it.”

Back at the apartment, you were curled up on the couch, absentmindedly scrolling through your phone, when the door swung open. Logan walked in first, followed by Wade, who was humming some kind of victory tune.

You glanced up at them, feeling a bit more refreshed after the night of rest. “Where have you guys been?”

Logan shrugged, moving into the kitchen to grab a beer from the fridge. “Had to handle somethin’.”

Wade, on the other hand, wasted no time flopping down beside you, his arm slung around your shoulders. “Oh, you know, just a quick errand. Nothing major. But let’s just say that your boss? Yeah, he’s gonna be a lot more… accommodating from now on.”

You blinked, staring at Wade in confusion. “What did you guys do?”

Logan took a swig of his beer, his expression neutral. “Had a little chat. Straightened some things out.”

Wade grinned like the cat that ate the canary. “Oh, yeah. It was glorious. There was sweating, stammering, a little bit of—”

“Wade,” Logan interrupted, shooting him a look.

Wade huffed dramatically but didn’t elaborate. Instead, he gave you a reassuring squeeze. “Point is, you don’t need to worry about that jerk anymore. He’s gonna be on his best behavior. And if he’s not, well…” Wade’s grin widened. “He won’t be for long.”

You couldn’t help but feel a mix of shock and gratitude. “You… You didn’t have to do that.”

Logan came over, standing behind the couch, his hand resting on your shoulder. “Yeah, we did. You don’t deserve to deal with that crap.”

“Exactly,” Wade chimed in. “And if anyone makes you feel like that again, well… we’ve got plenty of time for ‘errands.’”

You laughed softly, feeling a warmth spread through your chest. Sure, Logan and Wade had their differences, and Wade was a whole different level of unpredictable, but they both cared about you fiercely. It wasn’t just words with them—it was action, and you appreciated it more than you could say.

“Thanks, guys,” you said quietly, looking between the two of them.

Logan gave you a nod, his hand squeezing your shoulder gently. “Anytime.”

Wade grinned and reached for the remote. “Alright, now that we’ve saved the day, I vote we celebrate with some violent cartoons and an unhealthy amount of snacks.”

You smiled, settling back into the couch. Despite the chaos, you knew one thing for certain: with Logan and Wade in your corner, there wasn’t anything—or anyone—that could get to you. And that was a comfort you didn’t take lightly.

As Wade flicked through the channels, Logan sat beside you, his hand resting on your knee. You leaned into him, feeling safe, protected. The weight of the world wasn’t so heavy anymore—not when you had these two looking out for you.

And as the opening credits of Shrek 2 rolled across the screen, you couldn’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, things were going to be okay after all.

🏷️: @twinky-wink @fidgetingbee @astarions-girl-dinner @layladestiny8 @birdy-bat-writes @welcometochilis585

If you want to be added to the tag list for Logan content, let me know! 🫶

#logan howlett x reader #wade wilson x reader #logan howlett fluff #deadpool and wolverine #hugh jackman x reader #hugh jackman #wolverine x reader #deadpool x reader

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mermaidgirl30 · 4 days ago

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✨Saving What Was Lost Part 7: Your Hand In Mine✨

Pre-Outbreak! Joel Miller x fem! reader

Series Masterlist

A/N: Get ready to meet soft, angsty Joel in this chapter. I would like to give him a big hug 🥺

Chapter Summary: Your first day of therapy is a little scary, but Joel helps you through it.

Rating: 18+ only MDNI

Word Count: 4.7k

Chapter Tags: Soft! Joel, so much angst, yearning, reader goes to therapy, dual POV, age gap (reader late 20’s, Joel late 40’s), mentions of violence and kidnapping, grief

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

“You nervous?” Joel asks from the driver’s seat, hands locked around the leather steering wheel.

You nod while your hands fidget with your leggings. “Mmm, a little.” But a little’s a lie. You’re downright terrified. You’ve never been to therapy, never talked about yourself before like that. Well, Joel was the closest. You’ve talked to him, and you’re oddly comfortable with that now. But other than that? You haven’t done this.

He must see the lie on your worried face and the terror ringing through your wide eyes. Giving you a gentle smile, he turns his focus back to the road ahead that’s shrouded in mist from the December rain. “Don’t be. Tess is great. You’re going to be great, sweetheart. I know it’s scary, but just know you’re taking that first step into the unknown. That first step of healing, and you’re going to do so well. I jus’ know it.”

He’s always so supportive, so gentle, so easy with you. It makes your heart clench, makes it beat a little more just for him.

You take a good look at him. Watch as he cards a hand back through his tousled curls, watch as his green flannel clings to his flexed biceps, watch as that easy smile melts across his plush mouth. He’s just so nice to watch, so easy to keep your eyes trained on.

Darting your tongue across your bottom lip, you tilt your head toward him and give him an easy smile. “You’re always so sure about me.”

“Yeah, guess I am.” He turns his head toward you and gives you a heart-stopping smile. “I guess I see all the potential in those pretty eyes of yours.”

Your mouth parts, cheeks redden as you repeat that sentence over in your mind. He thinks you have pretty eyes. He’s always so sure of you.

Turning back toward the fogged-up passenger window, you lean against the door and smile. A smile that’s bigger than you’ve ever smiled before. You’re completely smitten by the handsome Texas man with big brown eyes. And he’s just continuing to show you how much life is worth living. Telling you how far he thinks you’ll go. But you don’t want to go far in distance. No. You just want to stay right here beside him. You think you’d follow him anywhere.

�� When he stops at a red light, you brave another stare at him and smile like your whole heart is right there in his eyes. “Thanks for seeing the potential in me.”

One side of his mouth curls up into a crooked smile, and his cinnamon-brown eyes sparkle against the windshield. “You’re so welcome, sweetheart.”

When you catch your breath from melting, you ask, “Sarah said you see Tess, too?”

He nods as the truck’s engine revs to life again. “She’s right. See her every couple of weeks or so. She’s patient and understanding and she really helps, I think. Helps when the nights get a little too dark for me.”

The way he says the last sentence, his low voice sounds a little weary like maybe he fights the nights as much as you do. And you don’t miss the flinch in his right eye or the way his hand tightens on the steering wheel. He must get them too. The nightmares that haunt your dreams every few nights. You wish you could just scoop them up, replace them with dreams of ocean tides or snowy mountains filled with deep green trees. You wish you could take away his pain, whatever’s hurting him so deeply. He hides it well—the pain. But sometimes it creeps up on him, and it spills in different shades across his shadows that slip in his brown eyes. That’s something you don’t miss.

Steady rain pelts against the windows, making the few trees in the distance look like monsters with tangled vines draping low to the ground. You flick your gaze back to Joel in the driver’s seat and another slow smile brushes against your lips. “Thanks again for driving me.”

“It ain’t no trouble, sweetheart. I’ll drive you till you don’t need me to.”

Another skipped heartbeat, another butterfly flitting through your stomach. The man is so sweet.

Biting your lower lip, you brave a question, mildly testing the waters. “What if I always need you to?” It comes out quiet, but not so quiet that he doesn’t hear you.

He slows to a halt at a stop sign and turns to face you, eyes sparkling with promises. “Then I’ll be there every single time you need me.”

“Promise?”

Another smile. “Cross my heart.” He folds a hand over his chest, promising once again.

You giggle under your breath, your eyes never leaving his. “Well, looks like I can trust you then.”

“You can always trust me, sweetheart.” And he means it. You can always trust him, and you know that. God, you know that.

When the tires start spinning again on the damp pavement and the low sounds of an old Western song plays through the speakers, he clears his throat and speaks. “It’s gonna be a late night for me.”

You flip your eyes back to him and give him a worried stare. “Do you have to go somewhere?” You already know what that means. He’s got an important job to do. One where he might be gone all night, maybe till morning.

He nods subtly. “Got an important run I gotta do with Tommy. So I might not be home till mornin’…” His voice cuts off. He knows you hate it when he’s away so long.

“Gone the whole night?” Your voice is a meek whisper because you’re afraid what his answer will be.

He’s silent a beat. “Afraid so, but hopefully that ain’t the case. But still, even if I am back earlier, it’ll be well after two o’clock in the mornin’.”

Your stomach churns just thinking about it. When he’s not across the hall when you’re sleeping, when he’s not just mere feet apart from you, it’s like something’s missing. There’s a void in the pit of your stomach, and you can’t seem to unravel that feeling till he’s in your space again. “I hate when you’re gone all night…” Your words falter, they break like your voice shakes.

“I know, sweetheart. I know.” His right hand drops to the center console, just inches from yours. He seems conflicted, seems like he wants to reach out and graze his calloused skin against yours, but he doesn’t. But he’s trying. He’s still hesitant to touch you because you’re still so unsure of touch. He doesn’t want to scare you, and you know that. He’s just being careful. And maybe you’re still scared of physical touch, but his touch? That warm, gentle, soft graze he sometimes gives you. Well, it feels like sunlight skimming over you.

Carefully, you move your fingers in his direction. Just enough where you can feel the heat of his skin. You don’t touch him, not quite. But this is enough. This is your middle ground. “I umm… I worry about you at night when you’re not home. I’m always scared that… that...” You can’t even speak it out loud. You’re scared he won’t come back one night. And you can’t bear the thought of that.

His brown eyes soften. “I’ll be alright, sweetheart. I’ll come back. I can promise you that.” You give him a small smile and nod, keeping your fingers right by his just so you can feel the heat cover your own skin.

Physical contact is still something you’re struggling with, but you think Joel understands that. And he does. Always so careful around you. Never one to put you in an uncomfortable situation because he does understand your situation. He knows exactly what you’ve been through, and he wouldn’t dare make the wrong move because he doesn’t want to scare you. And you appreciate that. You appreciate him. So this is enough. Right now in this truck—hands centimeters apart, heat gliding over your fingers, a whispered promise that he’s going to take care of you.

Yes. This is enough.

After a few more minutes, Joel’s pulling into a little parking lot, right in front of a tiny building with a lit-up white sign that says "Essence of Healing.” Your heart starts beating faster, your breath tightening in your chest as your eyes scan the brightly-lit sign. “Well, here we are. You ready?” He turns off the ignition and pulls the key out, his brown eyes flitting over to you.

You swallow once and nod, an array of emotions spinning in your head. “Yeah, I think so,” you breathe out as calmly as you can.

He gives you an encouraging smile and pushes the door open. “C’mon, then.” You open the passenger door slowly and close it with a bang, your knees shaky, legs wobbly with every step you take toward the door.

This is it. You’re actually going to talk to a therapist for the first time in your life. What if you’re not ready, what if you choke, what if you burst out into tears and can’t sputter words from your choked-up throat? These are all valid questions, ones you never really considered, but you’re here. You have to do this. You have to do it for yourself. You owe that much to yourself. You are worth it.

When Joel goes up to the front desk with you, the one covered in green succulents and a calming, trickling desk fountain running the corner, you collect all the paperwork you need to fill out and in exchange give her your photo ID. Joel was kind enough to go with you to get a new one since your old one was lost somewhere in Washington. As for health insurance, Joel was paying out of pocket for you to be seen. But he promised he was working to get you on your own health insurance plan. You still don’t know why he’s being so nice to you, but without him, you’d probably be dead by now…

After a few minutes of fighting with the paperwork and scribbling out wrong information, you’re about to break out in tears. They’re swelling in the backs of your eyes, making your lips quiver and the words blur on the page.

“Hey. You’re alright,” Joel coos, taking the pen from your shaky hand. “Let me help.” And you do let him. He fills out the questions you couldn’t answer yourself—his home address, your phone number you still haven’t memorized, emergency contact information, insurance details, even going as far as helping you fill out medical questions you’re having trouble with.

As you look up at him all focused and intent on getting your paperwork done, a little spark sizzles in your chest. You study him—eyes glued to the page, jaw flexed as his rapt attention is on each question, tousled curls a little disheveled as he cards his fingers attentively while he thumbs through the pages. You’re a little mesmerized, a little surprised he didn’t just leave you to shovel through the numerous papers. Instead, he chose to stay right by your side, saving you from breaking down from the weight of so many unknowns.

You’re scared, a little overwhelmed, a little more nervous than you’d like to be. But with Joel, it seems like you can get through anything.

When the paperwork is all completed and he’s back at your side, waiting patiently for them to call you back, you feel a little better—like you can do anything if he’s there next to you. Call him your knight in shining armor, but he truly is. He keeps saving you, and you hope he’ll never stop.

The nervous jitters start up again when you glance up at the clock. Five till noon, right when your appointment is supposed to be. Your knee is bouncing up and down in tandem with your flexed fingers against your leggings. Fear trickles down your spine, slides into the deepest parts of your veins. And suddenly, you’re downright terrified.

You’re about to get up, run out the door, but Joel senses your worry. He slides the back of his hand against yours, brushing your skin gently, a way to say ‘Hey, I’m right here.’ And when you look up and see those big brown eyes gazing softly down at you, you instantly quiet down inside. Your knee stops bouncing, and you’re left with this overwhelming peace that seems to radiate through every part of your body. Like a quiet forest that soothes your soul, that’s what Joel does to you. He makes everything else around you so still, so quiet.

When you’re about to say something to break the trance you’re in, you faintly hear your name being called from the open office door.

You sit up straight and look toward the door, up at the woman that just called your name. “That’s me,” you call out with a shaky voice.

“Ahh. There you are.” She strides up to you and holds her hand out. You slowly take it. She has long light brown hair, strong cheekbones, welcoming hazel eyes, and a smile that instantly soothes you. “I’m Tess, by the way. It’s so good to meet you. This one’s told me a lot about you.” She flicks her eyes to Joel.

When you take her hand, it’s warm. “It’s nice to meet you, Tess. And of course he has.”

Joel shakes his head and lets a low chuckle leave his lips. “Guilty as charged.”

“You got lucky with this one. He’s one of the good ones,” Tess nods as your hands disconnect.

“He is…” you repeat back, getting lost just for a second in his syrupy brown eyes. He seems to get lost in yours too.

“You ready?” Tess asks.

“Oh, uhh. Yeah.” You take a second to push yourself up off the cushioned leather chair, let your legs stop wobbling beneath you.

When you’re just about to follow her back, Joel’s low voice serenades your ears. “I’ll be right here waitin’. You’re gonna do great, sweetheart.”

“Thanks, Joel.” You give him a lasting smile, until Tess beckons you back to her office.

“Come on. This way.”

With one last glance his way, you watch the front office door shut and what awaits you is a long hallway with mint-green wallpaper. Pictures of oceans, fields of wildflowers, and open spaces fill the painted walls. A small white table sits in the middle of the hall with multi-colored flowers hanging over the table that are tucked inside a cream-colored pot.

When you make it to the fourth door on the left, Tess nods inside and lets you go first. “Welcome to my office. Hope it’s cozy enough for you.”

Gasping, you take in her array of rocks and seashells on her back wall. Dozens of colorful shapes and sizes fill the expanse of it. But what really catches your attention is all the little sand dollars spread out by her computer monitor. Her walls are almost the color of sunlight, and she’s got a massive portrait of a west coast beach framed with love behind her desk chair. A white leather couch sits right across from her mahogany desk, and the scent of soothing lavender fills the air.

“It’s perfect,” you whisper, amazed by all the decorative details of her office. It’s so inviting and welcoming. It instantly calms you down.

“Glad you like it,” she smiles. “Well, have a seat. Get comfortable.” You comply as she gets situated in her chair and pulls up your paperwork. Sifting through it for a minute, she looks up at you with a bright smile lit across her face. “So. This is your first session, is that correct?”

“Yeah. I… I’ve never done this before,” you answer honestly, a little scared of what she might say, but she only gives you another encouraging smile.

“Well, you came to the right place then. We’re just going to take this slow, take it one session at a time. Healing is a journey. There’s no one single path to it. We’ll do what works for you, what you’re comfortable with. That sound okay to you?”

“Mhm,” you nod with your hands clasped tightly in your lap. You’re so fucking nervous, but this is normal, right? Everyone is scared of something they’ve never done before. But this? It seems like all your secrets will surely be unmasked, and that terrifies you. Sharing your past—what happened to you—isn’t going to be easy. Not one bit.

“I can see you’re scared, but you don’t have to be. This is a safe space. You can talk to me about anything. It’s all confidential. Nothing you say goes out that door.”

Your eyes flit to the closed oak door, and you nod in acknowledgment. “Right… Okay.”

She scoots back and crosses one leg over her knee, leaving the open papers splayed on her desk. All attention is on you now. “How about we start from the beginning. Before… before you were taken. Maybe start with your childhood?”

“Oh… I… Well, that’s a lot to tell,” you gulp out nervously. Your childhood trauma is a whole other monster you still haven’t tackled.

She smiles. “We’ve got an entire hour today. And if you come back, we’ll have many more sessions to unravel your past.”

You bite your bottom lip and nod, your nerves getting the best of you, but you push through. “Okay…” You take a deep breath and dive in head first. “Here goes nothing.”

Four o’clock flashes like an alarm on the oven clock, telling him he’s been gone for hours, but really, it feels like it’s been days. He reaches for the open whiskey bottle and pours the amber liquid over the square ice cubes in the glass. Every drop looks like the trickles of fresh blood that’s stained his flannel permanently. He should’ve fucking known tonight was not the night to wear nice flannels.

He scuffs his leather boots against the hardwood floor, dragging his tired legs from the kitchen to the living room, till he’s collapsed in a heap on the leather couch—one hand curled around the cold glass, the other raking down his face excruciatingly slow.

He failed. He was too late. Just minutes from being on time. Maybe he could’ve saved her. Saved that innocent little girl from her executioners. But he couldn’t…

As he closes his eyes, he sees the flash of red covering the dark walls, serenading the lace of her pink dress. Eleven-years-old, just shy of turning twelve, a daughter that’ll never be able to return home to a worried mother and father.

He curses under his breath, feels the tears pour like droplets of water down his cheek. She didn’t deserve to die, didn’t deserve to be scared and all alone. He was supposed to save her, was supposed to get her out. That was his mission, and he fucking failed.

Three minutes. He was just three fucking minutes shy of saving her life, but he was too late. He misjudged the distance, didn’t realize the captors were early to their destination. He got there right after they smothered her—silencing her terrified screams forever. He can still hear them like shrill sirens blasting through the base of that rundown building. This isn’t the first time he’s been too late, but God. This one hurts like hell because it reminds him of someone he lost along the way. Someone he loved just as much as Sarah.

And so, he did what he did best. He took them out—all the men that had hurt her. Thankfully, he took backup, including Tommy. He smothered their screams, pushed daggers into their throats, shot them dead in a frenzy of rage while his teeth were clenched and eyes were fogged with held-in tears. When he looked at that poor, lost girl—it nearly took him to his knees. Those eyes. Those same lifeless hazel eyes that still haunt his dreams to this day. They were the same shade as hers… The little girl that forever changed his life. The one that he wishes was still here…

Ellie… That little girl tonight looked just like his lost daughter—the one he saved all those years ago. But he never fully saved her. Not after… not when he let her go…

A wave of emotions floods through his chest as he takes another stiff drink of alcohol, letting the whiskey burn through him while visions of hazel eyes and crimson fill his foggy mind.

He was too late. He fucked up. He misjudged the minute hand from the second hand. Time slipped away from him. And before he knew it, everything he planned for was lost to the eerie night. Instead, it ended in bloodshed and turmoil. He hates it. Hates when things have to get extremely violet, but what choice did he have? He had to take them out because they stole an innocent life—a life he was supposed to keep safe.

He’s so lost in the crimson-stained memories in his mind that he almost misses that small, meek voice of yours. “Joel?”

When he opens his eyes, a part of his soul shatters. There you are, a plush blanket wrapped around your shoulders, heartbreaking eyes shining over to him from the staircase. You take in his half-drank glass of whiskey and the dried tears that stain his cheeks. But also, you see the faint crimson that tarnishes his flannel shirt.

Blood. There was so much blood… like a liquid pool of death.

He adjusts his back against the leather cushion and sits up a little straighter, just so he looks less worn down and broken than he already is. You see right through him though. You always do. “Sweetheart, it’s late. Why don’t you…”

“Are you… okay?” Your voice whispers across the room, silences the crackling embers in the fireplace. Your voice… it sounds broken too.

“I, uhh. Jus’ please, go back to sleep.” He tries to push you away, tries to get you to return to your room so he can sulk in peace. He doesn’t want you to see him like this. Doesn’t want you to see just how physically and mentally defeated he actually is. He’s not as strong as you think he is. He’s fragile, grainy sand that gets blown away by the wind. He’s not rock-solid; he’s quicksand.

You slide into the seat next to him, close enough where your knee could brush against his. “I’m not leaving you.” There’s finality in your tone, still soft but firm on your decision. And there’s those eyes. Those fucking beautiful eyes that could silence all the built-up pain he has piled on his heart.

You’re so fucking beautiful.

“Are you hurt?” You ghost your hand across the leather, reaching out just enough where he feels the heat of your skin. It soothes him over just a tad, but nothing can quite wipe away the excruciating weight of agony he’s carrying now.

“No. I’m jus’… I’m so tired.” He pinches his eyes closed and takes a deep breath, his hand clutching the cool glass of whiskey like it’s his lifeline. “This job weighs on me like solid concrete. Some nights are so fuckin’ hard. Some nights jus’…” He pauses, takes a deep breath in and blows another out. He can’t finish. He’s too tired, too strained from the past few hours, months, years.

He’s so fucking tired; he just needs some rest, some peace, some symbolism that he knows he’ll get to the finish line. But he’s been so struck down ever since he met that certain hazel-eyed little girl. Ellie. His little girl…

“What happened tonight?” Your voice comes off as a whisper. Maybe you’re just as scared to hear what he has to say.

He taps the edge of his thumb against the solid glass and takes a deep breath. “We uhh… I lost her. Her name… her name was Abigail. Just a little eleven-year-old, and I was supposed to save her, to get her back to her parents. But I… I was too late. I was too fuckin’ late.” There it is. The pen drops, another tear splashes down his stained flannel, and he’s lost to grief again.

You pause a beat, but you gasp loud enough for him to hear the horror in your voice. He’s a failure. You must think he’s such a failure. “Joel… I’m so… God. I’m so sorry.” There’s only sorrow in your lilty voice, no anger or resentment that he failed yet another soul. You’re just as sad as him, he thinks.

“I failed her… I failed everyone…” He shakes his head, sets his mind a little straighter just so he can grit the words out. “Sometimes I feel like none of this is worth it, like I don’t make a difference. Because when this happens, it makes me feel like I’m already six feet underground.”

“Oh, Joel. No.” He feels it—the couch creak beneath him, the weight of your body sliding over, your hand inching closer to his. “You save so many lives. You make every bit of difference. You change lives.” There’s so much assurance in your voice; you’re trying to soothe him over.

He snaps his eyes shut and shakes his head, anything to stop the burning sensation in his watery eyes. Maybe if he doesn’t blink then he won’t feel the pain of this gut-wrenching moment. “But I… I couldn’t save her… I couldn’t save…”

Ellie…

With his eyes still shut tight, he feels warmth wrap around his hand, feels the soft caress of your skin. And when he opens his eyes wide, he sees the most beautiful shades of softness gleaming from your pretty eyes.

“You saved me. And that… that means everything to me. You saved me. You saved your daughter. You saved so many lives. You are a hero, and don’t you dare think otherwise. Not for one second.” There’s tears licking your lash line, the most sincere look over your pretty face. A desperate plea to get through to him. And in that moment, he believes you for a second. Believes that he is a hero, even when he doesn’t believe it himself.

His bottom lip trembles as tears gather in his watery eyes. Something hits him deep in the gut. Longing, the fear of losing you, and an all-consuming wave of tender emotions. He sees you. He really sees you. Such a beautiful soul. Such a lovely, amazing woman. To think he almost didn’t go to that auction, almost wasn’t able to save you. What would he do if he never found you? It stings to even think about. Because you… Well, you’re everything all at once. And he’s so fucking soft for you.

Carefully, softly, he laces his fingers through yours, holds on for dear life, praying you never let go.

Don’t let go. Never let go.

Your hand is a perfect fit for his. Every line, edge, dip carved specially for his hand to fit in. The weave of your fingers against his, the light brush of your skin, the heat that spirals into complete warmness when your skin slips against his—you were fucking made for him, just as he was for you, he thinks. Because when your bright eyes and soft smile are in his presence, he sees pure sunlight, sees the pure angelic essence you’re bathed in.

He was made to find you. This much he knows. And whether you choose to stay or go—he’ll have this moment to hold on to. Because he got you once. Your hand in his. This right here is everything he’s ever needed. It may just be your hand brushing against his, your fingers intertwined together, but it feels like home. You feel like home.

So, he lets the soft rain pelt outside against the living room windows, lets the dying fire crackle and pop in the fireplace, and savors the feel of your honey-like soft skin sliding against his. And he stays there for several minutes, maybe an hour, and there’s only silence shrouding the room. But your touch? It screams volumes, makes him feel human again.

For a breath of a moment, you’re his.

Texas rain was a rare phenomenon. Misty showers only a once in a while type thing. But you? You made it pour, made the flood waters wash clear through Austin. He didn’t see it coming, didn’t expect anything like you. But it sure as hell knocked him clear off his feet when you bathed him in your electric thunderstorms.

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