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juno-verse · 3 months ago

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Sports Car

Summary: We can uh-uh in it.

Top!Dani, Car sex mhm, Dani and her red Mustang, Strap, Talks of exhibitionism but I promiseeee no one can see, Semi-public, calling her 'mami'

A/N: Oops, I got distracted, this is not part of the Juno Series. I just got inspired by Tate's new album. I'm sorry to my CM and Marvel followers! My international girl group is coming through. (Should I create a separate account or just a master list?)

I also might have butchered some Spanish phrases, I apologize. Please correct me if I misused them!

Also... I just know her strap game is insane. Taking reqs for her bc she’s so pretty hihi

Now Playing: Sports car - Tate McRae

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ─── ─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ─── ─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

Her baggy denim jeans hung loosely around her hips and her muscles flexed in time with the music. Her crop top clung tightly to her body, emphasizing every move she made. Her movements were sharp and precise but also seemed so smooth and sensual.

Daniela Avanzini danced in such an intentional way, every move done to keep your eyes on her and capture everyone’s attention. And right now, she has all of yours. It was like the other members weren’t even present in this practice room.

Or maybe, it’s because you were deeply in love with Dani.

The girls were used to having you around, loved it even. The first time you were introduced happened around the area after all, as you stayed frequently in a cafe they often visited down the street.

After finding out that you always waited in the cafe for Dani to finish practice—and that time they caught you waiting outside the studio because the cafe was already closed—they started inviting you to stay in the studio as soon as you were finished with your work.

So they started letting you in, they just reminded you often to keep quiet about the things you see in the studio.

Not that you pay attention, given how much you only look at one certain woman.

So much so that you felt like a peeping freak right now sitting at the back of the room and watching your girlfriend with a searing look. Your eyes followed every drop of sweat that trailed down her chest and your gaze lingered on that sliver of her white boxer shorts peeking out from her jeans. The hardened muscles on her stomach looked good enough to ride and it showed in the way you were looking at her.

The way her hips moved reminded you of the long nights spent under her body. Her hips rammed against the back of your thighs as you took her in, her years of dancing made sure her stamina never depleted.

Your cheeks reddened and your heartbeat spiked at your invasive thoughts. You feared that if someone were to look at you now, they would know exactly what you were thinking about.

And as soon as you thought that, you caught Daniela’s eyes and her smirk in the mirror. Now, every single move she made was done to tease you. Knowing that your eyes were on her and that you were in such a state because of her, pushed the blonde to dance more alluring. Every sway, every thrust, and every tired grunt seemed to be aimed your way.

Even with her years of experience, she still somehow found a way to make her movements more enticing.

As soon as their dance instructor dismissed them, you thanked whatever higher being there was for ending your Daniela-induced torment. The said girl gestured that she’d be right back, going with the girls to the comfort room to change out of their sweaty clothes.

It was nothing new as they often had their own short debriefings while in the bathroom. The blonde had other plans in that bathroom, however.

The desperation you felt in the studio had yet to subside as you waited next to Daniela’s red Mustang in the parking lot. You were trembling in your own skin as you watched her walk closer to you while saying goodbye to her friends. Daniela had a gym bag slung over her shoulder as her gray sweatpants hung low on her hips, boxers still peeking out, and her hoodie tucked under her sports bra.

“Enjoyed the view?” The blonde smirked as she leaned against the driver’s door. Daniela looked so beautiful in front of you right then—bare-faced with her natural curls loose. She looked gorgeous, even with that frustrating smug look that made your knees weak. It took everything in you not to get on your knees and worship the woman—her V-line looked deep enough to cut you open.

Daniela loved how much her dancing affected you and used that to her advantage, every single time.

It took a lot for you not to falter and somehow, in her presence, you still did.

“You-! You’re teasing me.” You huffed out and made your way to the passenger side. Daniela beat you to it and apologized playfully as she opened the door for you.

“For my princesa, my pretty but distracting passenger princess.” She left a lingering kiss by the corner of your lips and closed the door when you sat down, with a bright blush on your cheeks and a soft ‘thank you.’ The nickname and her Spanish accent had an instant effect on you: jellied legs and crimson cheeks.

As soon as Daniela was settled in the driver’s seat, you questioned her. “Hey! What do you mean by distracting?” You scoffed playfully, you really didn’t want to be a bother to her during practices. But time and time again, she had assured you that she loved having you there. Something about the girls saying she danced even better with you around.

Daniela started the engine and the sports car purred to life, the owner smiled at the sound. She loved this Mustang more than anything, a proof of her hard work through the years. So to you, the blonde looked attractive like this. With her long fingers wrapped around the steering wheel and her other hand on the gearshift. Your mind was wandering to other places like where else her fingers would look and feel good.

She pulled out of the parking lot and smirked at you once again, “That. That look on your face is why you’re distracting, baby. You look like you’re about to eat me alive.”

Even with the cold air in the car, it did nothing to stop the growing flush on your cheeks. You were caught red-handed.

“And it’s distracting when you look at me like that. I made a mistake today. Me!” Daniela raised her hands in exasperation as you laughed and shook your head.

“Ah, I’m sure it wasn’t that bad. I’m sorry I was distracting you.” You apologized, leaning over as you kissed her softly on the jaw. The muscles flexed against your lips and a prominent gulp made its way down Daniela’s throat.

“It’s not my fault you look so good.” You admitted weakly as you sat back down with your body facing her. One of her hands stayed on the steering wheel but the other went on your upper thigh. You felt your skin contract when Daniela left her hand there, your body so reactive to her touch. It was so close to where you wanted her.

Her playlist blared in the background, as she hummed distractedly. Daniela could feel the heat radiating from your center, her fingers were itching to move. So she drew tight circles on your skin.

Daniela thinks she heard your breath hitch.

I think you know what this is.

She smiled with reddened ears and said, “Thank you, princesa. But it took everything in me not to take you in front of everyone right then and there.”

I think you wanna uh…

A familiar shiver went down your spine as Daniela quickly took her eyes off the road to look at you so heatedly. In that brief glance, you saw your desire reflected back at you. It was like looking at your own reflection—lust-heavy eyes and flushed cheeks.

No, you ain’t got no Mrs.

You couldn’t believe someone who prioritized the safety of her car more than anything would take a dangerous moment just to admire you. Daniela took a glance at you at every red light, her eyes memorizing you.

Oh, but you got a sports car.

This time you also unabashedly took the time to memorize her features. The soft glow of car lights gently framed her face. You took notice of the way she maneuvered the steering wheel with practiced ease, her palm guiding it so smoothly. You watched her intensely and smiled at the way she drove. Her driving style was akin to a player who has a million girls on her roster.

We can uh-uh in it,

You tested the brewing waters, “You know, you drive like a guy, Dani. You look like you’re about to fuck me in the backseat then break my heart.” It was a joke, a halfhearted one. You don’t know where that came from but it was what you noticed every time she drove you home.

Or maybe, it’s what was going through your mind watching her the entire night.

While you drive it real far.

Daniela’s fingers tightened around your thigh and her index finger briefly twitched, tracing your clothed wetness. You let out a strangled moan at the sudden sensation that shot through your body. At the sound of your voice, Daniela was quick to find an almost empty parking lot and stopped the car.

Yeah, you know what this is.

“I can do one of those things, mi amor. I can fuck you in my backseat now, but I will never break your heart,” Daniela’s hands grabbed your hips and urged you to climb over the center console to straddle her lap, “You own my heart, you know?”

She looked at you with so much conviction that it made your heart skip a beat, “You own mine, Dani.”

However, the soft moment quickly dissipated in the next second, the heated tension slicing through it. Daniela wanted to see you shatter for her.

“But I can break you in other ways though.” Daniela added as you felt something poke your center when you sat down on her lap. You let out a surprised gasp, “Fuuuck, Dani… that’s not fair.” You whined as you started to grind down on the plastic toy hidden under her sweats. “When did you even have the time to put this on?” You gasped as she pushed you down on the toy, moving your hips back and forth on her lap like a fuck toy.

Daniela chuckled smugly, “I caught on the moment I saw the way you were looking at me. So I wore your favorite toy as soon as practice finished.” She smirked as she continued to watch the way you moved on top of her, enjoying the satisfaction of rubbing your clit against her toy. You had the nerve to blush brightly and tried to hide your face in the crook of her neck.

Were you that obvious? Daniela answered for you.

“God, you’re always so easy to read, princesa. So fuckin’ easy for me.” Her words were affecting you immensely, setting your nerves on fire. Daniela left open-mouthed kisses on your neck and trailed up to your lips. You gave in to her instantly.

Your arms wrapped around her neck with your fingers tangled in her curls as she kissed you roughly with her hands nearly bruising your hips. The feel of her mouth is not new to you but Daniela still managed to kiss you like she was drunk on your taste. The force of her body sent you reeling backward and your spine hit her steering wheel hard.

Her car honked noisily, surprising you both and pulling you apart.

With heaving breaths, Daniela pulled away from you slowly with a laugh, savoring each moment and each taste. She stared at you with hard eyes, searching for any signs of hesitation. And when she found none, Daniela was quick to take what she wanted from you,

“Come on, then. Get in the backseat.”

You eagerly obeyed the dancer and crawled towards her backseat. Once you were situated in the cramped backseat of her sports car, Daniela had you on all fours with your face against the tinted window of her car. She hurriedly pulled down your pants and panties, eager to get inside you and hear all the pretty noises you make for her.

Daniela moaned at the wetness that pooled between your legs. All of that was because of her, and her ego seemed to triple in size.

“I bet the others can see how desperate you were for me a while ago,” Daniela pushed your top and balled it up in her fist. You felt yourself heat up at her words—you were truly too far gone when it came to Daniela. Her tight grip on your clothes indicated how badly the woman behind you wanted to have her way with you. She was as eager as you were, so you quickly agreed and offered yourself to her, “Mhm… It’s all for you.”

Daniela hummed her agreement, “As it should always be, princesa.”

You looked back in time to see her pull down her sweats halfway to take out her cock, her prominent V-line peeking out from the hem of her sweats. You spent many hours tracing those lines by her hip bones, obsessed with how her muscles would twitch beneath your fingertips. It was a sight to see then, so you engraved it on your mind, but that doesn’t mean you would stop admiring them anytime soon.

Daniela savored the way your eyes traced her hardened muscles and thrust her hips forward, rubbing the toy against your wet pussy. And with every thrust, her stomach flexed and the indents on her hips deepened.

You could combust at that moment, just at the mere sight of Daniela putting on a private little show for you and the feel of her cock on your cunt.

“So fucking hot, Dani.” You pushed back against her, wordlessly asking the woman to move faster and just have her way with you. Hearing your voiceless pleas, she slowly pushed her cock inside you.

“Mierda,” Daniela cursed sharply at the tightness she was met with. The Latina dancer felt you grind back against her even more at that one simple word. She knew how much it turns you on whenever you hear her speak her mother tongue, so she does it around you as much as possible.

She chuckled at your immediate reaction, “Que linda, mi amor.”

You couldn’t understand what she was saying but it didn’t stop the pathetic whine that escaped your mouth at the words coming out of her mouth.

When she was all the way inside you, you were a begging crying mess under her, “It’s too big, Dani!” You sobbed as she stilled her hips, trying to let you adjust. Daniela cooed at you and rested her head on top of your shoulder to kiss your cheek in an attempt to soothe you.

However, Daniela’s movement caused her hips to push deeper into you, making you cry out and grab at her thighs to try and stop her—the stretch getting a little too much for you. So much so that Daniela could feel it, feel how tight you were around the plastic toy.

Daniela placed both her hands on your hips and tried to let you adjust to her size. But looking down at you and seeing your eagerness, the Latina dancer unconsciously moved her hips. Around you, it was like she had no control over herself. You were too beautiful like this.

You immediately reached for the car window with your palm pressing against the glass in surprise. A scream of Daniela’s name had her apologizing profusely, “I’m sorry! I’m sorry, baby. I can’t help it. You just look so pretty around my cock.” She left kisses on your shoulder and started to grind her cock into you slowly, gradually getting you used to her size.

When she noticed that your pained whines soon transformed into loud moans, Daniela quickened her pace inside you. She held your waist tightly while your face was pressed up against the window along with your palms. Every thrust rewarded Daniela with a resounding whimper of her name, “Oh my god, Dani! You feel so good!”

The windows started to fog up with every whine that hit the glass. Daniela grabbed a fistful of your hair and made you look outside the window as people passed by the red Mustang to get to their own cars. Some were stopping a few feet away from Daniela’s car, after all, a red Mustang did always catch the crowd’s attention.

Daniela grinned at your attempts to quiet down, your teeth digging into your lower lip, nearly drawing blood. “What if they can see you through the tint, huh? See how tight and slutty you get for me? I bet you’d like that,” The dancer grunted through her thrusts as she watched the way you were tensing up, getting closer and closer to your orgasm.

You were quick to shake your head ‘no’ and disagree with her. You didn’t want anyone seeing you like this because you were hers—only hers to see and use. But with her words and her actions, your body can’t help but react otherwise. As much as you wanted to answer her, you feared that if you opened your mouth, loud moans would penetrate the glass.

But Daniela was not having your silence. She gripped your hair tighter and whispered harshly in your ear, “Come on, tell me, princesa. Do you want others to see you like this? Let others touch what’s mine?”

Daniela’s words rang in your ears, melting what dignity you had left and switching off your brain. “N-no! Please, mami, I’m yours. Only yours.” The title slipped accidentally, you didn’t even mean to say it. But with the overwhelming pleasure she was making you feel, you had no control of your mouth anymore.

Daniela groaned at the name, she felt shivers run down her back when she heard you speak in her language. “Se una buena chica para mami, princesa. Be a good girl for me,” So rather than stopping, Daniela fucked you even harder. Her hard cock pressing incessantly on that spot inside you.

You had no time to worry whether people were seeing the car bounce from outside or not. You were too focused on the pleasure building up in your stomach.

“Fuck, Daniela! I’m gonna cum on your cock, mami, please!” You begged and Daniela only smiled widely at the sound of your voice, her hips unstoppable and ensuring that you felt good.

“Cum for me, princesa. Give them a show. Tell them why you’re mine.” Daniela commanded and you obeyed, a deafening moan spilling out of you as you came around her cock, “You make me feel so good, mami! I’m yours, fuck—!” You babbled uselessly as you trashed against her as if you weren’t in the backseat of her car.

The dancer watched with a proud smile as you came around her—she pressed gentle kisses to your spine as you rode your high. Daniela whispered praises in Spanish and English, reassuring and praising you endlessly.

When you calmed down, she pulled out of you and kissed your shoulder blades. You were breathing heavily as Daniela wiped the insides of your thighs with a clean towel from her gym bag. “You did such a good job, amor. Satisfied yet?” Daniela smirked as she urged you to sit back down on her lap. You whined at the toy still attached to her hips poking your throbbing clit.

You weren’t sure you would ever be satisfied when she looked good like this—legs spread confidently and her grip on your hips certain.

“Dani, you have to stop being this hot. I can’t keep coming home with shaky legs.” You complained half heartedly as you wrapped your arms around her neck and hovered over her thighs. “Aww, but you can’t go home yet. We still have to talk about you calling me mami.” She teased you as she placed you over the toy again.

Your cheeks reddened as you mumbled a soft, “I didn’t mean to, you just felt too good in me.” Daniela reassured you with a soft kiss on your lips, “Oh, it was hot, baby. I need you to keep saying it.”

And so Daniela smirked, continuing, “Come on, don’t stop yet. You ride in my car all the time, so ride mami this time now, princesa.”

- - -

And when the dancer was asked the next day why it took her a while before coming back to the girls’ shared house, all she did was shrug and laugh.

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Mierda - "shit"

Que linda, mi amor - "How pretty, my love."

Se una buena chica para mami, princesa. - "Be a good girl for mommy, princess."

#daniela avanzini #daniela avanzini x reader #daniela avanzini x female reader #dani x reader #daniela x reader #katseye x female reader #katseye x reader #Spotify

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ofstoriesandstardust · 9 months ago

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i miss you, i'm sorry (dani - twisters)

a/n: sooooo i know like four people will read this but twisters was for the bisexuals i said what i said. this is 3/4 of the way written but i was chomping at the bit to get this posted so it's just gonna be split up into two parts. comments and reblog are always appreciated! :) (part two here!)

summary: Seven years. It's been seven years since you broke up with Dani. Seven years since she left to go work for Tyler Owens all because you could never bring yourself to put a name on what she was to you. It's been seven years time since you've seen her. But she's here, in Oklahoma, working for the Tornado Wranglers with that little look in her eye at the sight of you in the StormPar uniform. Seven years and you know you still love her, even though you know you can't have her. It's been seven years. So how come she still looks at you like that?

warnings: car accident, tornados, minor injury, weather inaccuracies, swearing, scott i hate you, gay found family i love you

word count: 2.3k

“Yooooo! Looks like StormPar’s got a new crew!” Someone calls from across the parking lot, and the man from next to you, Robert, rolls his eyes.

“Boone.” He mutters under his breath and you raise an eyebrow.

“Is that some Southern insult I don’t know?”

He shakes his head. “Boone. He’s one of the Tornado Wranglers.”

“Which you all are to stay clear of. Fraternization of any kind is forbidden and a clear breach of your contract. Any contact will have your position terminated.” Scott says, coming from the gas station. You swallow as Scott gives you a once over, before turning to the rest of the team. “Go on, take your last bathroom breaks before we head out there.”

You nod, crossing your arms as a tall man with a cowboy hat rounds the truck, sizing you all up. You follow the crew into the gas station, only planning to fill up your waterbottle and round the corner, running straight into someone.

“Jesus, StormPar!”

“Sorry!” You exclaim, stepping back as the girl bends down to pick up the snacks she dropped. Another girl rounds the corner and it feels like your heart stops beating for a moment as time slows down.

“Lilly, you alright?”

The girl, Lilly, dusts herself off as she stands up. “Yeah, ‘m fine Dani. Are you sure Boone asked for all of this?”

“You’ve changed.” Dani says, eyes roaming over your figure.

“You haven’t.” You respond, swallowing around the lump in your throat.

It’s true. It’s been almost seven years since you’ve seen Dani at this point and yet it feels like yesterday with the way she hasn’t changed. A mischievous twinkle in her eye, the short hair, cowboy hat. Even her sense of style hasn’t changed as she gives you a once-over.

“The two of you know each other?” Lilly asks, a finger wandering between the two of you.

Dani shrugs. “We used to.”

“Lil, Dan, T says we’re rolling out.” Boone says, opening the front door of the gas station to shout out to his friends (co-workers?). You witness several of your colleagues heads swing towards you and you step aside, letting the two girls pass you.

“The hell was that?” Scott says, stepping in line next to you. His jaw is set as he tracks the crew out to the parking lot.

“Nothing.” You say as Scott raises his eyebrow, the tick in his jaw growing stronger. “I knew one of them in college.” You say and Scott’s eyebrows join together.

“You heard what I said out there, yeah? This isn’t the time for you to be chumming it up with an old friend.”

You force a tight smile. “Yeah, I heard you Scott. Don’t worry about it, we left it on pretty bad terms as it was. There’ll be no revisiting old friendships, I swear.”

“Uh huh.” He says, clearly unconvinced. “I’ll be keeping an eye on it.”

“So how do you know dear old Dani?”

You curse under your breath as Boone shouts out at you as you walk towards your motel room.

“Boone, the fuck I’d say about leaving it?” The blond from earlier shouts back as he adjusts stuff on the truck.

“T, I’m just asking what we’re all wondering!”

Your eyes track the numbers on the door as you walk, realizing your door is right where they’ve set up camp. Because of course it is.

“You know it’s rude to ignore people StormPar.” The man says more quietly when it becomes clear you’re ignoring them. You gently excuse yourself as you walk in between an older member of their team and a blond girl, both standing by the grill they’ve got set up.

Someone says your name and you turn, finding Javi. Relief spreads through you, shoulders dropping at the sight of him before dying as quickly as it came.

Right, right, Javi is like public enemy number one to Scott and Riggs, after he pulled out, taking his radars and most of his team with him.

Javi’s fiery exit was the only reason you’d found yourself in Oklahoma instead of the corporate office in Texas, because Riggs had wanted someone on site, on the ground, to do damage control to StormPar’s image in case Javi had started to run his mouth.

Javi had been at your interview, he’d been influential in bringing you on. He’d been your friend and you feel sick as you take a step back, eyes leaving his. Javi doesn’t notice, taking another step towards you with his arms out like he’s going to hug you. You take a few more back as he asks you how you’ve been, sentence trailing off as he realizes you’re trying to get away from him.

“I told you, all StormPar dummies are born assholes.” Lilly mutters, tapping on the tablet she’s holding as she leans on Boone, but not quietly enough for you to miss it as you try to approach your door. You wince, shoving the key into the lock, pushing on the door as it sticks. You keep fumbling with it, inevitably dropping the key as tears blur your vision.

Javi says your name and you blink back the tears stinging at your eyes, turning. “Javi, really- I’m not trying to ignore you or anything but- I could lose my job if I get caught talking to you and I need- you know I need this money.”

“You look like hell.” He comments, sticking his hands in his pockets as his eyes roam over you. “Scott put you guys through the wringer today, at least take a burger. I know he ain’t paying for shit.”

“I can’t.” You say as your eyes dart around, searching for any sign of the StormPar crew.

“Kate, would you-“ The blond girl, Kate, nods, wrapping up one of the burgers the older man had just slid off the grill.

“Javi, I really can’t take that.” You say as he offers it out to you.

“Just take the burger.” Another familiar voice says and your eyes find the ceiling, tracking the flickering light illuminating this side of the hallway as you will yourself to vanish. “If you’re anything like you were then, you probably don’t eat enough as it is.”

“I don’t need your charity, Dani.” You breathe.

“It ain’t charity.” She says, falling next to the older man. “It’s just called being nice.”

Your eyes flicker down to the burger Javi’s still offering you before darting around the parking lot. Most of your crew was staying on the other side of the motel and Scott had driven off half an hour ago to get dinner at some diner a town over.

You hold your hand out for the food, which Javi places gently as his concerned eyes follow you, like you might spook. You turn, setting the key back in the lock, finally clicking this time, and you stumble into the musty room.

You drop your stuff next to the bed, heading straight toward the bathroom. The flickering light turns on overhead with a low buzz as you take yourself in.

Javi was right, you did look like hell.

Your hair was sticking up at all angles and it was a miracle it even appeared in some semblance of a bun. There was mud tracked down your face and shirt, all caked on to your pants too from when you’d slipped, helping Liam with the radar. There was grass in your hair, stained on the whites of your shirt and you’re pretty sure there’s hay in the back of your pants.

As you stand under the lukewarm water, picking clumps of mud out of your hair, you let your mind wander to the girl sitting outside. Occasionally, a loud burst of laughter would erupt and you could hear it through the thin walls.

Seven years gone and seeing her here still made your heart ache. Seven years of failed flings, of ruined first dates, and you always thought of that girl. The girl who’d stood in your shitty studio apartment and cooked for you as you’d recount your lectures from the day, who talked you through essays and term papers despite having no college education herself. The girl who had been so sure of herself it had cost you your relationship.

She seemed happier now, as much as that feels like a dagger to your heart. She seemed more full of life, more truly settled into who she was. Those weren’t just her friends out there, they were her family, and it’s a bittersweet feeling to know she had finally found what she was looking for without you there with her.

You groan, scrubbing a hand down your face. The blond guy, T — why did he seem so familiar to you…

The sound of the door slamming behind Dani echos in your dream as you shoot up with a gasp.

Tyler Owens

You blindly reach for your phone on the nightstand, pulling yourself up as you do.

A frantic Google search tells you everything you need to know.

The early morning light peaks into the window of the diner where all the StormPar crew had been instructed to meet. You’re too engrossed into the YouTube page with a million subscribers to notice someone sliding their plate down in front of you.

You glance up at the sound, heart fluttering as you register Dani’s presence. “Didn’t know you were a fan.” She comments and you’re quick to click off your phone, setting it aside.

“You know, when you said you were leaving ‘cause you had found a job helping a storm chaser named Tyler Owens based out of Arkansas, I didn’t quite imagine it would be all that.” You say with a small shake of your head before taking a bite of hash browns.

There’s a beat as Dani studies you. You let her, all too happy to soak in her attention after the drought of not having her at all.

“You really do look different.” She comments.

You shrug. “A couple of piercings and a haircut will do a lot of things for a girl.”

“You look more yourself.” She says softly.

You swallow, feeling your cheeks heat as you duck your head to avoid having to answer.

It passes though, because she keeps talking.

“I never really expected you to end up with a crew like StormPar.” She says, leaning forward on the table.

You shrug again. “They pay decent and I need the money.” She purses her lips, clearly dissatisfied by your answer. You glance up at her, discomfort growing at the look on her face. “What do you want me to say Dani? I was broke as fuck, my family doesn’t talk to me. I had rent to pay and I needed groceries. I needed a job.”

She raises her eyebrows. “You don’t- you don’t talk to your family anymore?”

You huff, sliding your plate away from you as you wipe your mouth. “Seriously? That’s the part you care about?”

The doorbell jingles and you both turn, seeing the rest of the Wranglers walk in. You’ve learned all their names by now from the two hours you’ve spent watching their channel, learned the way they lean into one another, the way they bounce off each other’s energy. Behind them, you can see Scott’s car pull into the gravel parking lot.

You sigh, pulling some cash out and setting it on the table. “Look Dani, I gotta go.” You stand up, feeling the eyes of her friends burn into you as you do. You pause, sighing. “I’m really happy you found what you’re looking for.” You say softly, rapping your knuckles against the table before turning, pushing past Tyler and Boone.

Javi calls out your name but it gets drowned out in the jingle of the bell as you stride towards Scott.

And so the next two months go.

You and Dani pass each other everyday, like ships in the night.

Never any acknowledgment to who you were to each other or who you had once been.

Scott gets more controlling, as the months go on. He’s fired three people for talking to the Wranglers crew at gas stations or diners and another two for talking to them after hours in motel parking lots. He keeps a closer and closer eye on you despite you putting more distance between you and Dani. He’s practically breathing down your neck.

With every storm that wrecks another town, Scott gets more tense and every failed scan riles him up. The scary vein in his neck pops out more often and every chase gets more terrifying, Scott pushing the limits every time.

You know he’s pushing boundaries he shouldn’t, catching the way Javi had shouted at him after your last chase in the motel parking lot. Javi had made a huge scene, Kate and Boone having to pull Javi back as he shouted that Scott was going to get his whole team killed.

Will it be worth it to Riggs then? When his entire team is a just another casualty number? Will it be worth it to him when his entire team becomes just another headline?

A shiver goes down your spine at the memory and Will, one of the new kids on the crew, looks at you. “You alright?”

You give him a brief smile. “Yeah, fine. You’re gonna take a right up here.”

Will, fresh from his first year of grad school and only here to complete a summer internship, adjusts his hands on the wheel nervously. “Are you sure this is a good idea? Scott seems unstable.”

“I can hear you.” Scott’s voice crackles through the radio.

“Well, you are.” James comments from the other vehicle.

“Get to work, the lot of you.” Scott yells through the radio and Will flinches. You’ll be okay, you mouth to the kid and he nods uncertainly before pressing down on the gas.

The rain starts a few moments later, appearing in a sudden torrential downpour, the wind whipping around you.

“Oh fuck.” You whisper, craning your neck. “I think we’re in the path of the tornado.”

And then everything goes black.

i love you, i'm sorry

#twisters #twisters fic #dani x reader #dani x female reader #twisters dani x reader #twisters dani x female reader

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illusioninfnty · 2 years ago

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pretty when you cry ↠ day 30 ; corruption

↠ dani ardor x reader

fandom: midsommar word count: 1k warnings: nsfw 18+, dubcon, delulu reader, cunnilingus

kinktober m.list || read on ao3

She was the most gorgeous when she cried.

You chased after her when she fled from the men she came here with. Her face held so many emotions; you had never seen such expressions from a person before. You wanted to see more.

She looked surprised when she saw you. Her face was always so easy to read. Her cheeks glimmered with the wet tears that streamed down them, like crystal clear streams of water. Her blue eyes glistened, complimenting the red rimming around them.

You held her hand, weaving your fingers together with hers, kissing her fingertips and caressing the palm with your own. The redness that surfaced on her cheeks was enough to satisfy you for now.

You offered no words of comfort. She would get that soon enough.

The touch you gave her was fleeting. It would leave her wanting more. She would come back to you. You would make sure of it.

Pelle wanted her too. You could see it in his longing glances, the narrowing of his eyes when that man she was with tried to talk with her. His gaze was predatory, his words slowly starting to sink their way into her skin.

You would not allow this to continue.

She is not for you, he had said when he noticed the way she stared after you. You must leave her alone. Choose another. His words did not matter to you. She was so moldable; you wanted one of your own. She was the perfect choice. You always loved the golden blonde hair that your commune members had. She fit right in with them—with you. She was what you had dreamed of at night. The girl of your dreams.

Her purpose is greater than your fleeting desires. No, no, no, he was wrong. Her purpose is with you. It is why he pushes you away; he knows the destiny that you share. She only pulls away from you when he is there to distract her. The connection you share is one she cannot deny. Pelle needed to learn. Needed to understand. She was yours; your sister, your companion, your toy.

No man would take her away from you.

It was easy to convince Maja.

She had already thought he was attractive; all you needed to do was give her that extra push. And the drugs.

You stole Dani away first for the may pole competition. You danced and danced with her, staying close by her side.

She had held onto you so tightly, the drugs disorientating her. She needed to depend on you, to lean on you for support. You were there to ensure she won. But you didn’t need to worry too much. Dani was always meant to be the May Queen. Everyone in the commune knew it. But she didn’t need to.

She wanted to know where he was after her crowning. He showed no care for her, yet she was still concerned with him. It sickened you. She would soon learn that he wasn’t needed anymore, that she didn’t need him anymore.

You guided Dani to where Christian was. She needed to see it for herself to truly understand who was best for her. She had collapsed, and you held her, you cried with her, you calmed her down. You caressed her cheeks and kissed her hair. She trusted you, just what you had wanted.

Everything was going perfectly.

You brought her back to the quarters. She was still crying, but you continued to wipe the tears away as you sat her down on a bed. The two of you were alone in here, just as you anticipated. She was still a beauty through her sobs, and she was just what you needed to establish your place here. You both needed this.

You gently guided her towards her bed, shushing her as her tears continued.

It will bring us some healing.

You kissed her cheeks, tasted her tears.

He is doing the same with her.

Dani did not want to hear any of that.

She allowed you to remove her shirt, her perky breasts on full display. You played with her nipples, her little gasps causing heat to rise in your stomach. Her cheeks were flushed, and she refused to meet your eyes.

She gripped your shoulders tightly as you knelt down in front of her. She would be your queen, and you would pleasure her as so.

He did not care for you like this, did he?

Dani had never received treatment like this before. She acted like a virgin, gasping at every little touch. Her boy was a useless runt, and it was up to you to teach her what he had failed.

You lowered your mouth onto her cunt, a small taste of Heaven. Dani’s nails dug into your skin, marks you would show off as a sign of your loyalty. She grasped onto you like you were the only thing holding her stable.

Her lifeline.

She moaned and gasped and writhed as you tasted her, flicking your tongue deftly in her. You ran her hands up and down her sides, ghosting your fingers down her heaving stomach. Her head was thrown back, jaw pulled taut, and she looked every bit of a goddess as she would be revered as.

Her legs were thrown around your body when you licked her cunt and played with her aching clit. They shook when she orgasmed on your tongue, her moans echoing in the quarters. Everyone would know who it was that pleasured the May Queen, who brought endless success to the commune. You finally satiated your lust.

You won.

She was dressed in her May Queen ceremonial garbs. A picturesque image, buried underneath the flowers of her reign. You explained the final ceremony to her—the sacrifices, and her choice. You stood by her side the entire time. Your hands remained on her shoulders, moved down to the small of her back.

Her choice was the right one.

Christian was wheeled in, barely conscious. Dani had little reaction—only stared, a slight crease in her brow. You caressed her shoulder, hands delicately pressing the flowers that surrounded her. Her head tilted—ever-so-slightly—towards you.

No, she wanted you; she didn’t want, didn’t need, that boy of hers, or Pelle, or any other man in the commune. Everyone would need to agree to her wishes.

The May Queen has the final say, after all.

#kinktober #kinktober 2023 #dani x reader #dani midsommar #midsommar #midsommar x reader #florence pugh

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phamphamz · 2 years ago

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mopuppy pt.16 - end.

previous - masterlist

#newjeans x reader #newjeans smau #newjeans fanfic #newjeans imagines #newjeans #marsh danielle x reader #dani x reader

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rescuehumans-runtotherescue · 1 year ago

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The Burns & Valentine’s Day

Kade: He uses this day as an excuse to try to rizz people. He has asked out so many people and done the wrong thing so many times that now he knows the drill. Flowers? Check. Chocolate? Check. Giant stuffy? Possibly!

He’ll get his significant other the stereotypical gift stuff and take them on a nice date, probably to see a movie. (It might not end up being a romantic one though! Feel free to punch him on the shoulder and tease him!)❤️

Dani: She doesn’t think Valentine’s Day is that big of a deal, but will be upset if her significant other doesn’t do something. A gift at least would be nice! A nice date may get you brownie points though.

She may fly a banner for her significant other expressing a short message of how she loves them. 🧡

Graham: He views it as a commercial holiday and knows that it helps boost market sales. He’s okay with not celebrating it. However, if his significant other does like and want to celebrate the holiday, he’ll do something for them.

He might send his significant other an animated e-card expressing his care. He nervously awaits their reaction and also has flowers with a corny joke on the tag.💚

Cody: He’s not really into dating at his age, but might get something nice and/or cheesy for his dad. A lot of kids view Valentine’s Day as a coupley holiday, but Charlie has instilled in his children that they can show they care for other people in their life on this day too.

He and Frankie probably agreed to get each other silly prank gifts. For other people, he may go with the typical Valentine card with a piece of candy taped to it!💛

Charlie: He celebrates and shows he cares for his family and friends along with his significant other.

A nice quiet date with flowers and chocolates to share, away from the hustle and bustle. Maybe a couple drinks to end the night.💙

#valentines special #kade burns #cody burns #graham burns #dani burns #charlie burns #tfrb #trb #transformers rescue humans #trb kade burns #tfrb charlie #tfrb dani #trb graham #tfrb cody burns #kade x reader #dani x reader #graham x reader #cody x reader #charlie x reader

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mydearneteyam · 1 year ago

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MASTERLIST AVATAR: FRONTIERS OF PANDORA

last update ;; october 10

pandora's hope ( so'lek ;; ri'nela ;; nor ;; teylan )

✦ so'lek ; worthy of you ;; a warrior who can't fight

✦ teylan ; alone (requested) ;; as it rains ;;

resistance ( priya ;; alma ;; dani ;; billy ;; alexander ;; jin ;; hajir )

✦ priya ; clumsy is cute

allies ( etuwa ;; eetu ;; nefika ;; okul )

nothing yet ¡!

imagines ( you )

nothing yet ¡!

series

nothing yet ¡!

#avatar x reader #solek x reader #ri'nela x reader #nor x reader #teylan x reader #priya x reader #alma x reader #dani x reader #billy x reader #alexander x reader #jin x reader #hajir x reader #etuwa x reader #eetu x reader #nefika x reader #okul x reader #avatar fanfiction #avatar fop #frontiers of pandora x reader

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biohazardousbunnywrites · 1 year ago

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Thigh riding with Dani

Dani x fem!reader

summary: there is not plot, you just ride Dani's thigh. thats it.

warnings: smut, thigh riding, good girl used on reader.

"thats right darlin, just like thats" dani said leaned back looking at you with that smug smirk of hers, you whimpered as your sensitive clit dragged across her thigh, your wetness smeared all over her skin. you 2 had found temporary sanctuary in an apartment building you cleared out together. the adrenaline rush of it all broke the sexual tension that'd been carried between you 2 since meeting at the sterling.

now she sits on the couch in the apartment with out her vest and shirt on, shorts still on, hair out of it typical style, headband gone. while you sit completely naked on top of her.

your hands find purchase on her chest as a broken sob left you when she flexed her thigh and pulled you down harder on to her leg. "does that feel good darlin, finally gettin to touch what you'd been gawking at non stop" she says gripping your own thighs, and shes not wrong you have been staring at her legs non stop since you 2 met. they were just so nice, thick and you like her tattoos. she has such strong legs you definitely felt the muscles tense and relax against your wet pussy.

dani leans in sucking and nibbling on your neck as her hand start rubbing and grabbing your ass. "i have to say, been thinkin about doin this with ya for quite some time darlin" you're lost in the pleasure of trying to get yourself off on the slayer. "D-dani" you whimper out when starts setting the pace guiding you on her thigh by your hips.

"mmm?" was the only response as she worked on marking your neck up. your hands move to tangle in her hair as you feel yourself start to tense, you were going to cum soon and Dani knew that smirking against your skin. "cum for me darlin" she made you move faster spreading more wetness on her thigh.

you did, shaking on top of her as she held you, squealing slightly. "good girl" she breathed out as your orgasm subsided. you were so sensitive and Dani took advantage of that pushing you to lay on couch and crawling on top of you. "now i want to taste" she said kissing down your body to your glistening pussy.

an: i really liked dead island 2 and dani is my favorite slayer to play as tbh.

#fanfiction #dead island 2 #dani dead island 2 #dani x reader #dani x fem!reader #dani dead island 2 x fem!reader #dani dead island 2 x reader #dead island 2 fanfiction

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danidrabbles · 6 months ago

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Cardinal

Pairing: Logan Howlett ("Worst" Wolverine) x f!reader

Rating: Explicit (for themes and smut).

Word count: 16.6k

Summary: At the edge of the world, someone from another keeps you from stepping off.

Tags/Warnings (Please, read the warnings!!): Post-Deadpool & Wolverine, female reader (female anatomy etc + 2 mentions of hair long enough to fall into your eyes), strangers-to-lovers, depression, suicidal ideations, suicide attempt and mentions thereof, addiction, drinking alcohol, drugs (mentioned not used), panic attacks, sobriety meetings, anxiety, recovery, co-dependency vibes, sprinkles of soulmateism, explicit smut (oral and unprotected PIV), happy ending (yay!!). If I forgot anything, please let me know!

Notes: Deadpool and Wolverine re-triggered my X-Men obsession and what started as a means to write some smut actually became this idea about two broken people who shouldn't even have met in the first place finding each other. There's a lot of me in this story, more than there's ever been I think. I'm sorry for this glimpse into my head, and I'm sorry if this isn't as Reader-insert as it should be, but... I'm not that sorry, you know. Huge thanks to @javier-pena , for not only reading this over and fixing so many embarrassing mistakes, but also for saying she'd read this even if it was 20k words and always believing in my abilities as a writer, even when I sometimes didn't.

If you want to read the smut as a standalone, you can! Just CTRL + F (or search in page) for 'Logan reaches for' and read away.

THE LOOKOUT

With closed eyes, you inhale the cool, December air, before looking down at your feet. Here, at the edge of the lookout, the grass has been trampled. You imagine friends taking bets on who dares get closest to the edge, lovers making memories, families taking pictures. It’s strangely soothing that maybe you’re not the first to stand here to do this.

Far below your feet, the water laps at the rocks. The force of it depends on the weather and tonight it’s violent, with big splashes and crashing sounds. The wind tugs at your coat, pulling you towards the water as if to help you along, making you look up again as you hold your balance. In front of you, the line of the horizon is dark but visible – it would have been impossible to make out if the moon hadn’t been as bright as it is.

It’s like you’re looking at the edge of the world.

During the weeks that fall had made way for winter, you scoped the place out a couple times. The first time you stood at this cliff’s edge, the place it took you to mentally scared you so much that you got back into your car and broke down in tears. The next couple times, things became more and more serious, as your life crumbled around you, and your feelings numbed, and nothing seemed to matter anymore.

Something had crept in while you weren’t looking, settling somewhere behind your eyes and spreading out to make a home behind your ribs, slowly but surely changing you. And once you realized it, it was already too late. It had grown large, became jilted and jealous, like it wanted all of you. It pushed away everyone and everything you held dear, until it was just you and that… something.

Especially during the quiet of the night, the lookout became soothing, a strange sense of familiarity enveloping you each time you were here. It was addictive and pretty soon, it became a daily routine to visit. But lately it’s been losing its shine, your feelings here dulling and darkening too. You’re exhausted, fed up, tired of giving it more of you.

Today you want it to be your last time here.

You’ve had countless hours to contemplate what it would be like, imagined – all but romanticised – how the cold water would paralyse your limbs if the impact wouldn't do the trick. You read somewhere that it’s apparently like falling asleep when the water finally fills your lungs. You’ll be gone, but the thing will be too.

The thought makes your eyes fill with tears, but not from fear. All you feel is relief, like it’s right, how it’s supposed to be. It makes you smile despite everything, and–

“Hey, stop!”

A voice behind you thunders through the silence and makes you shriek into the night, dirt toppling over the edge of the lookout below the shuffle of your foot. A string of curses follows, heavy footfalls behind you indicating that the intruder is approaching you.

“Fuck off!” you throw over your shoulder, your voice a roar with how it’s amplified by the wind.

After, your throat closes up, fighting the angry tears over the fact that you can’t even fucking kill yourself in peace. Never have you seen anyone here at night, never. What you hate even more is how it breaks your momentum. The haze that was surrounding you is pierced, and your body’s baser instincts kick in. Adrenaline suddenly pumps through your veins, making your legs tremble, your heart hammer, your body scream for you to step back from where you’re standing. Your anger, however, has you nailed to the floor.

You almost miss the much softer, “Hey,” as a man steps into your peripheral vision. You pretend like you don’t hear him, or see him – you simply pretend he isn’t there, focussing on getting back into your previous mindset.

But then he takes his hands out of his pockets.

“Don’t fucking touch me,” you warn, hating how your voice comes out trembling – weak.

“Easy.” He holds his hands up in surrender. “Wasn’t planning on it.”

You stand there together for what feels like hours. You will yourself to not let it affect you, setting your jaw to keep your teeth from clattering on account of the cold, allow the wind to blow your hair into your eyes without brushing it away. Even when it begins to rain, you don’t move, don’t blink even once more than you need to. From the corner of your eye you watch the man shove his hands back in the pockets of the brown leather jacket he’s wearing, and you quietly celebrate that your surroundings are fazing him more than they are you.

“You know–” he begins.

“I’m not really looking for a conversation.”

“Me neither,” he immediately counters, suddenly impatient, “so I’ll get right to it: You planning on jumping? Because if you think the water’s gonna be nice to you, you’ve got that wrong. You’ll end up in there feeling everything, that fall isn’t gonna do shit.”

Having expected a gentle approach, his bluntness and his tone knock the wind out of you. You cock your jaw, the shame creeping up your body the first bit of warmth you’ve felt in a while. Your cold fingers ball to fists as you will yourself not to care. Yes, his words and the way he's shatteríng your expectations with them sting, but you don’t even know this guy–

“And there’s nothing fuckin’ peaceful about it, it’s just panic. Right before you go too far…” He raises a fist and holds it against the center of his chest, “...there’s this burning right here that’s hell.”

“And what makes you such an expert?” you finally spit out.

“Died like that a couple times,” he says without waiting a beat.

The casual statement of something so bizarre beats your resolve before you know it, your head turning in his direction. “‘A couple times’?”

“I, uh…” You watch him hesitate, the moonlight illuminating the tick of his jaw, the bob of his throat as he swallows, the way his chest falls as he sighs, “Let’s just say I can’t die.”

Before you can stop yourself, you snort at that. “That must fucking suck.”

He barks out a laugh, “Got that right.” It startles you when his head suddenly turns to you, when he looks you in the eye for the first time. “But trust me, being down there isn’t much better.”

There’s something in the way he looks at you that makes you waver. You can’t really place it, or decipher why it makes you want to open up to him. Maybe it’s because you’re freezing and it’s your body betraying you, tricking you into moving so you can generate some warmth, moving your lips to keep them from going blue. Or maybe it’s simply because he’s a stranger and it’s so much easier to be honest when there are no consequences.

“Things just feel so…,” you begin, voice shaky. Every possible way to end the sentence crosses your mind, seemingly all wrong, before you settle on what’s closest to how you feel, “endless.”

To your relief, he doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t tell you to give it time that it will get better, or any of the other bullshit you’ve heard from all the other people that had been in your life and left a long time ago. You do find something else in the shift in his eyes, something you haven’t encountered before.

Understanding.

It might be worse. If anything, it’s overwhelming, making your eyes dart away from his as you sniff.

The wind still tugs at you, the waves still hit the rocks, but your moment seems to have passed. It’s a sobering conclusion, a twisted version of wrong place, wrong time. Or maybe it was him who was at the wrong place at the wrong time. Either way, the outcome is the same.

You take a step back, and another, but it takes considerable effort; you hadn’t taken your numb legs into consideration. You stumble, falling back on the dewy, cold grass, not quick enough to catch yourself on your hands. With a groan, you move to sit upright.

“Shit. Hey, you still with me?” The stranger kneels next to you, fingers lifting your chin to look into your eyes. “Jesus, you’re fucking freezing.”

“No s-sh-hit,” you retort.

He sighs, offering you a hand so he can pull you up. “C’mon, let's get you warmed up.”

– – – – –

Logan.

That’s his name.

It’s how he introduced himself, anyway, after he suggested you follow him. To his credit, he did offer to drive you, but you didn’t want to leave your car in the parking lot of the lookout. Logan waited 15 minutes for you while you put the blowers on the highest, warmest setting and waited for the feeling to return to your limbs. After, his brown truck led the way here – here being some hole in the wall, 24 hour diner. You could have not followed, but the drive was kind of mesmerizing; the night seemed darker than usual, and Logan’s tail lights served as a lighthouse.

Outside, the diner is all Christmas lights and flashing signs, but the interior is like something straight out of Twin Peaks; booths to the left, red barstools to the right, a girl that looks too pretty and too young to be here standing behind the counter. There were two other patrons you spotted along the way as Logan led you to one of the back booths. Once seated, Logan studied the pamphlets–or pretended to, more like, because as soon as the waitress came up he ordered two whiskeys and nothing else.

Between then and now, as you nursed your drink sip by careful sip, you hadn’t learned much more about him other than that he could knock back a glass of whiskey like he got paid to do so. And in truth, you like it this way; preferring silent company, the droning of the machinery behind the counter and the quiet hum of a song on the jukebox next to the entrance. The white noise helps to distract from the white noise in your head. Settling back into the leather cushions of the booth, you let some warmth seep back into your body. Opposite you, Logan does the same.

Some moments after you finish your drink, one of the waitresses walks up to your booth to ask you about a refill, like she’s asked Logan twice now. You’re handing her the glass when Logan says, “She’s had enough.”

Your head whips from her to him. “Excuse me?”

He doesn’t say anything, and from the corner of your eye, you see the girl leave. With your glass. Logan’s is on his lips, his eyes observing you over the rim, looking at you like he– Dammit. You sigh deeply, a sense of anger filling you. You don’t need this, least of all from him. When you stand from the booth, those eyes follow you, making you voice your observations,

“Quit pitying me, Logan.”

“I’m not,” he says before taking another sip. “You still have to drive.”

You quirk an eyebrow at him. “And you don’t?”

Logan shrugs. “It’s different for me.”

Anger is still prevalent in your voice when you ask, “Well, let me guess, it’s another case of ‘I died like that a couple times’?”

He hums.

“And how does that work?”

“Regenerative ability,” he sighs. Another sip before he elaborates, “X-Gene.”

The admission makes you plop back down in your seat. Well, that explains things – he’s a mutant. You’re not familiar with that world, but you know enough to know it meant that. It isn’t like you couldn’t have deduced it before, but truthfully, you kind of thought he was bullshiting you as part of some tactic. Now, his actions and words make more sense: He really knows what it’s like to... That’s why he had that look on his face. Suddenly, you see him in a different light–

“Now who’s pitying who, hmm?” Logan asks, giving you a thin-lipped smile that doesn't reach his eyes as he sets his glass down on the table.

“I’m not, I’m just… processing. So this...” you lift his glass, swirl the contents around, “...doesn’t even affect you?”

“It does. For a few seconds.” He plucks the glass back from your hand, and throws the whiskey back with one gulp. His pupils dilate, pushing the hazel of his irises out until his eyes are almost black for a second, two… before going back to normal. “But if I chugged the bottle, I’d pass out.”

“Well, so would I,” you say with a chuckle. “So maybe we’re not that different after all.”

Just as the corner of his mouth lifts, your smile falls, because… it isn’t true; you’re very different. You’re pretty sure you don’t have what it takes to do what he did tonight. To care enough to do it. To sit with a stranger and hear them bitch and moan about being denied a drink. A feeling creeps up on you, sticky and uncomfortable, like you’ve overstayed your welcome—burdened him.

“I should head home,” you say, standing again.

Lightning fast, Logan’s hand shoots out to close around your wrist. “That really where you’re going?”

“Yes,” you reply. When you pull your hand back, he doesn’t let up. You fish your car key out of your pocket with your free hand, voice tighter when you say, “Let me go.”

“Just promise me something,” he says, eyes as dark as they’d been earlier, yet his drink has gone untouched since. “Don’t go back there again.”

“Not making promises I can’t keep,” you say, giving him a wry smile. “To strangers, but least of all to myself.”

He sighs, and lets you pull yourself from his hold.

THE CRAVING

New Years comes and goes, and you quickly discover that it was foolish superstition to think that it might change how you feel.

You find yourself in some club, a drink in each hand. You hate to admit it, but Logan’s words scared you out of your original idea and the only time you can bear to think of how to move on from it is when alcohol soothes the embarrassing grief of your shattered, macabre fantasy. It’s not a good way to deal with things, but it works.

There’s a part of you that welcomes feeling anything at all, but that… something inside you is busy trying to squash it.

It’s getting somewhere, because you have no idea how much you’ve already had to drink, but you’re buzzing pleasantly. Adding to it, you knock both drinks back, slamming the glasses on the bar before spinning around and facing the crowd of dancing bodies. The music sucks, the dance floor is cramped, you’re tired… The truth is that you’re too old for this, but it’s easy to escape here, surrounded by strangers. You clumsily drag the back of your hand over your wet mouth, push your sweaty hair from your eyes, and join them.

The past couple weeks, you found yourself craving something. Contact. And here is where you can get your fill; a hand on your waist, lips on your ear, the music too loud and yourself too drunk to even comprehend what’s being said, but never more. You want them to get close, but never too close.

After some time – could be an hour, could be 10 minutes – you make your way to the bathroom. It’s quieter here, the dulled thump of the music making the time you spend there feel slow and syrupy.

When you exit the stall, you bump into someone.

It’s a man. The dark hood over his head obscures his eyes, but you can’t help but think he’s looking right at you when a bright, almost unnatural grin appears on his face. It draws you in like a magnet, more so when he says, “Need something to take the edge off?”

Curiously, you watch as he opens his palm, long fingers unfurling slowly until they reveal a small plastic bag in his hand.

“First time’s on the house.”

You have no idea what it is exactly, but your eyes widen. This is new territory for you, and all the possibilities it opens up are suddenly invading your mind. As if on auto-pilot, you reach for the place where you keep your money, the sound of the door opening completely lost on you.

A hand closes around your bicep, pulling you aside with a quick yank of an arm.

“She isn’t interested, pal.”

It’s another man, who effortlessly tucks you half behind him. Before you can protest beyond an indignant huff, there’s a sound, like a sword being unsheathed, and you catch a flash of red, and of knives. Frowning, you try to get a better look, but your view is obscured by the man’s shoulder. The hooded man seems undeterred, regarding the weapons with the same sickening grin, before leaving the bathroom, muttering something that you don’t understand on the way out. The sword sound returns, the man twists around, and–

“Logan?” you slur in disbelief.

Logan doesn’t reply, instead takes hold of your arm again, making you follow him out of the bathroom. There he stops the two of you to murmur something to a woman wearing the same clothes as him, before tugging you along again. You’re stumbling after him on account of his pace and the iron grip he has on you as he leads you to the back door. He pushes it open with enough force to make the hinges creak, a gust of wind blowing in your face. It’s a contrast to go from the crowded, sweaty club to the silent, cold back-alley where tall brick walls and employee cars cage you in. You shake your arm and Logan’s grip loosens – another and he lets you go.

“How did you even find–” You cut yourself off, eyes widening, “Oh, my god, are you following me?”

Logan scoffs, narrowing his eyes. “Oh, please, do you think I have time to follow you around all day?”

“You’re here, aren’t you? You and your fucking…,” you gesture wildly into the air at him, “savior complex.”

“I work here,” he growls. When you give him a look, he adds, “It’s temporary. ‘Sides, me and my savior complex are the reason that creep isn’t selling god knows what to you in that bathroom right now!” His voice is a roar, echoing off the walls around you.

“Maybe I wanted that creep to sell god knows what to me in that bathroom,” you say, doing a poor impression of his voice, before turning and walking away from him.

Logan sighs. “Where are you going?”

“I’m leaving.”

“And then what, huh?”

“I don’t fucking know, Logan,” you say, twisting around to face him again, arms spread out by your side. “Figure out a new way out of this.”

“Yeah? Third time’s the charm?”

“Why do you even care, huh? You don’t even know me,” you say. Almost immediately, you let out a bitter laugh as your own words hit your ears, a sad realization dawning on you. “But I guess that makes two of us.”

It’s not like you expected him to, but he doesn’t answer.

“You know I used to like myself? I used to smile, I used to have friends, I used to be more sober than drunk. But this feeling, it takes… everything.” You raise a fist, hold it to the center of your chest. “It takes everything I love, pushes away everyone I love, including myself. It eats me up, and wants more and more, until I’m something I’m not and until I’m so far away from that version of myself, my old self, that it feels easier to just fucking–” you pause with a wet gasp for air.

“Destroy yourself,” Logan finishes for you.

Your chest heaves, an unshed tear clings to your lash line. “Exactly.”

He takes a step closer to you. “Let me take you home,” he says, voice gentle.

You should hate the implications of that gentleness, but you don’t. In your drunk state of mind, it’s easier to admit it’s nice that someone understands, that someone’s there to stop you from going too far…

Tomorrow, when some of your pragmatism returns, you’ll deny this embarrassing thought ever occurred; if relying on other people worked, it would have worked a long time ago, and you wouldn’t be standing here with him. If you’re lucky, you might even forget this entirely, and wake up with a hangover that you’ll enjoy a little too much because it feels like a punishment–

“What about your job?” you ask with a sniff.

Logan’s palm finds the space between your shoulder blades with a gentle push, the warmth of it seeping in through your clothes, and he leads you to his truck. “They’ll manage without me.”

– – – – –

When you wake, your world is tilted sideways, a blanket is pulled up to your chin and there's a pillow under your head. They’re not your own; the blanket is itchy and the pillow’s too small. When you try to move your legs, they stick uncomfortably to the material below them, and you realize you’re on a leather couch. You squint at the light that comes in from a window across from you–

“Mornin’, sunshine.”

The voice startles you, eyes shifting to focus on the source: A man lying on his front on the floor, chin in his hands as he kicks his feet back and forth in the air.

“Wish I could say it’s a pleasure, but it hasn’t been very pleasurable. You’ve been barfing up the place since the moment you stepped inside. Kept poor Al up all night. Her ears are sensitive,” he adds with a whisper. “But don’t worry, she left about an hour ago.”

“Who are you?” you slur, blinking against the light.

“Logan.” He sighs when you frown. “I know, not how you remember. This is what I look like during the day; blessed with incredible good looks at night and, well,” he gestures at his face that’s covered in scars, "this, during the day. Bit of a reverse Princess Fiona situation–”

“Cut it out, Wade,” comes the sharp protest from next to you. With considerable effort, you turn your head and see the actual Logan, slumped back in a recliner next to the couch, rubbing some sleep out of his eyes while motioning for the other man to go.

“I’ll let you two talk.” Wade winks.

Logan stands when Wade does, walking from your field of view. Your head is scrambling to catch up, trying to piece together what happened last night, but only coming up with bits and pieces.

“How are you feeling?” Logan asks as he makes his way back to you, handing you a glass of water.

You flinch when the front door closes behind Wade with a bang, before taking the glass from Logan and taking a few thankful sips. “Like shit.”

“Yeah,” is all he says as he sits back down.

“What–”

“You fell asleep in the car. Didn’t know where to take you, figured the couch was the safest place.”

“Oh…,” you say, voice small.

You try not to think about being so wasted that you had to be carried out of Logan’s car, or about what Wade said earlier about the things that happened as soon as you stepped inside the apartment. During your silence, Logan’s fingers fiddle with the armrest, before his hand balls into a fist, and it unlocks something in your hazy memory.

“I have the weirdest memory of you having… a sword?”

You watch as Logan’s lips purse in amusement. His tongue rolls around in his mouth, seemingly contemplating something, before saying, “You probably saw these.” He holds up his fist, flexing his forearm before three blades shoot from between his knuckles like claws, accompanied by a shing!

“Jesus fucking Christ,” you startle, spilling some water on your blanket. Your head spins with your hangover and the bizarity of the situation. If it didn’t sound so much like how it did in your memory, you might think you were still drunk.

There’s so many things you want to ask, your intrigue almost winning out over your hangover until the sharp start of a headache gives you pause. Instead, you take another sip of water before rubbing your temple.

“It’s a story for another time,” Logan says, like he can read your mind, and you want to ask him that, too. His claws retreat, the cuts they leave between his knuckles immediately smoothing over until they’re gone. “I gotta go check if I still have a job.”

The words make you feel warm all over, the memory of your back-alley conversation coming back in full force. The thought of the things you admitted to him and that you put him in the position that he had to risk his job for you make you feel even warmer, your gaze no doubt laced with embarrassment and worry when you look at him.

“‘S not your fault,” Logan assures, standing and fishing his car key from the pocket of his jeans. “You don’t have to rush but um, make sure you close the door behind you on the way out. Gets jammed sometimes.”

“Yeah, okay,” you say, watching as he makes his way to the front door.

He takes a final glance at you over his shoulder, then leaves, accompanied by a bang.

THE PUZZLE

It takes you a little over a week to muster up the courage to go back. Admittedly, your courage is aided by another, foreign feeling. You don’t have a name for it yet, or maybe you’re afraid to call it what it is, but somewhere along the week, you became consumed with the thought that feeling like you did wasn’t all there was. That there is something beyond this.

Perhaps foreign wasn’t the right way to describe it, because it is something you’ve felt before – it’s just been long dormant. The last time, it lasted about a month before it all came crashing down, and you swore you wouldn’t fall for it again, but you can’t help it. The feeling’s too sweet, and the idea that there’s still some baser instinct willing you to keep fighting for yourself makes you feel like the sun is shining on you.

So yeah, maybe you’re just having one of your good weeks, where the thing sleeps – quiet while its presence still simmers. But you figured now’s your chance to take advantage of its unguarded moment.

Sneaking into the building is surprisingly easy. It helps that it isn’t anything fancy. You wanted to forego the humiliation of ringing the bell and him not letting you in, but standing in front of the door now, panting after climbing three flights of stairs, you don’t know if this is much better.

Just when you’re about to knock, the door swings open. In the opening, Logan has one arm in his jacket, head twisted to watch the other that’s caught halfway in the sleeve. It takes him almost bumping into you to realize your presence. “Shit, sorry.” He steadies himself with a hand on your arm, the touch leaving you as fast as it appeared.

“Hi,” you breathe, taking a step back to give him a little more space.

He nods in greeting. “Brings you here?”

It takes you a moment, caught off guard by him skipping over pleasantries and cutting right to the chase, despite your best intentions; it’s not that he’s ever been any different in his interactions with you.

“I came by because I, um, owe you an apology, for my behavior at your workplace and for, you know…,” you trail off, gesturing at the door.

“Barfing up the place!” comes a shout from inside the apartment.

Logan’s eyes close with a sigh, before he steps into the hallway with you and closes the door with a bang.

“That,” you finish sheepishly. “I’m really sorry.”

He nods in acknowledgement.

“I also wanted to ask, um, if you want to come with me to get a coffee. To make it up to you.”

Logan just looks at you, the leather of his jacket creaking as he crosses his thick arms in front of his chest. He raises an eyebrow at you expectantly. You hate how he somehow can see right through you, how he makes you elaborate, and honest.

“I want to quit drinking,” you say, fiddling with the sleeve of your coat. “It doesn’t make me better, and when I don’t do it I finally feel a little… normal. Maybe coffee’s technically just as bad, but it’s the only thing that’s currently acting like… like a reverse gateway drink? And I feel like you’re the only person I know that might get that feeling of–”

“I do,” Logan cuts in, voice softer than before – assuring. His arms drop from where they’re crossed and he starts making his way to the stairs. “Let’s go.”

– – – – –

You don’t know this coffee place, and from the way he looks around and shifts around in a chair that might be a bit too small for him, neither does Logan. Main reason you picked it is because the booths remind you a little too much of a bar – and you like the tall windows. The coffee’s pretty decent.

“Did they fire you?” you ask, picking at a loose corner of one of the laminated menus before setting it back in its holder.

“Boss commended me for helping a customer, but not so much for leaving before my shift ended,” Logan replies. “Got off with a warning.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Said that already, and I accepted,” he says. When he takes a sip of the coffee, he winces. “No need to worry about it anymore, okay? I would do it again.”

You nod, folding your hands around the warm cup in front of you.

“But, um, Wade hasn’t shut up about… the incident.” There’s a different tone to his voice, like he’s trying to lighten the mood. “His words.”

“You know, I kind of get the feeling that Wade doesn’t shut up about a lot of things.” It comes out a little meaner than you intend, but it makes Logan laugh and finally slump back in his chair a little.

“You’re a quick study.”

Offering him a short smile in return, you continue with the other real reason you came to see him, before you chicken out. “I also stopped by because I wanted to, uh… because I realized I never really… I never… I never thanked you, for um… And–”

With a shake of his head, Logan sits upright. “Y’don’t–”

To your horror, your eyes brim with tears, “Logan, I’m supposed to be dead–”

“So am I,” he counters. He lets the words hang between the two of you for a moment, until you look at him, before he continues, “I’ve been where you are. Past it, even.”

You don’t know what to say to that, if the lump in your throat will even permit you to speak, but it’s impossible to look away from him. Logan’s gaze is piercing, frown ever present, but it’s not from anger. Instead, it’s like he’s searching for something, the right thing, to say. The silence doesn’t bother you; if anything, it makes his words seem more genuine when he does speak,

“I had someone who was annoying enough to not give up on me when I could really use it. If getting a coffee with you that’s, frankly…,” he makes a face as he pauses, “a horrible excuse for a coffee, helps… I can do that. I want to do that.”

The corner of your mouth lifts as you blink away your tears. “Was it Wade?”

Logan lets out a chuckle, and it’s honest – fond. “Yeah.”

“Figured,” you say. “How did you meet him?”

Across from you, Logan stills. You swallow thickly, adjusting yourself in your chair. It’s an innocent question, but maybe it isn’t something he’d like to revisit right now. Logan’s mug squeaks when he grips it tighter, and he looks at you with something like defeat–

It makes you deflate. This must be what you looked like the night you met…

There’s no way to have prepared for what he tells you next: That he came from another timeline about three months ago, that he and Wade saved this one from being destroyed and almost got killed in the process, that he has nothing to go back to after the death of his team, so he stayed here.

There’s hesitation in it, like he isn’t telling you the whole story, though you don’t comment on it. He doesn’t owe you anything and you’re too busy putting all the pieces in the Logan-shaped puzzle in your mind together; his words and actions towards you are starting to make more and more sense.

“It’s a very brave thing the two of you did,” you say when he’s finished.

“Hmm, it was all Wade,” Logan muses. “He did it all for the people he cares about.”

“I’m sure you would have done the same if you were in his place.”

At that, he lets out a dry laugh with absolutely no joy behind it. “Do me a favor, don’t put me on a pedestal.”

You frown, but before you can comment, he stands. A knot forms in your stomach, worried you’ve offended him, but he clears up the uncertainty immediately.

“I gotta go but um, Wade’s friends–,” he stops himself, correcting, “our friends are coming over to watch a movie, next week, 7:30. I have no idea what crap they’re going to be watching but… it’s nice. It’ll be nice to be around good people.” Logan doesn’t wait for your answer, simply takes his wallet from his pocket and leaves enough money to cover the bill.

“Wait, no, I invited you,” you protest. “I should–”

“You can pay next time.”

When you nod, he says his goodbyes with a jerk of his head and makes his way to the door.

– – – – –

You see Logan two more times for coffee that week. He never lets you pay.

THE PANTRY

“–but it’s the best one!” Wade protests, DVD in hand.

“They fly a car into space, Wade,” Laura sighs.

“Launched off a jet,” he corrects. Like it helps.

You cover your mouth with the back of your hand, hiding the smile that appears at everyone’s babbling. Unbeknownst to you, you had found yourself invited to a double feature night, with Wade as the self proclaimed DVDJ. The credits had barely started rolling on A Good Day To Die Hard, or Wade had another DVD at the ready. It was met with the same amount of enthusiasm as when he presented the first.

It hadn’t been easy to make yourself go to this tonight. On your way, you’d thought of turning around at almost every step. Of course, that was all before you knew it would be this fun, and that you’d be relieved you hadn’t canceled last minute. Even meeting everyone hadn’t been as bad as you feared.

There’s Peter, Wade’s friend. Ellie, another one of Wade’s friends. Yukio, Ellie’s girlfriend. Laura, Logan’s daughter. Mary Puppins, Wade’s small, disgusting but adorable dog, who had greeted you with equal amounts saliva and enthusiasm, before falling asleep next to the TV, completely unbothered by the commotion. Unlike Althea, Logan and Wade’s blind roommate, who had taken one listen to the gaggle of voices and left. The elusive Vanessa, Wade’s ex-but-we-might-get-back-together you heard about a couple times, wasn’t there.

Logan had been right, it was nice to be surrounded by good people. Especially good people who were… unconventional. It made joining them less complicated, less performative, and as the evening progressed it made you a participant instead of a silent observer. Wade even called you, “good for the group dynamic,” and it made you beam with pride.

“Don’t they have like, rockets attached to the car?” Ellie questions, to which Yukio’s eyebrows knit together.

“Exactly!” Wade exclaims, mistaking her confusion for enthusiasm. “Citizen Kane wishes.”

There’s more grumbling from everyone when Wade pops the DVD into the player, and he grumbles something back about how Logan would back him up if he wasn’t in the bathroom because he, quote unquote, goes way back with some of these dudes.

You’re pretty sure he’s the only one who knows what he’s even talking about.

An empty bowl of popcorn rests in your lap, and as you put it on the table, you notice how sticky and greasy your fingers and palms are. When the opening credits begin to roll, you get up to wash your hands, assuring Wade he doesn’t need to pause the movie before you go.

The apartment’s small, so it isn’t far to the kitchen, but it’s nice to stretch your legs. You can still hear the sounds from movie night; tell-tale action movie music, comments of disbelief and Wade shutting them down. They’re more faint, though, more so when you turn the tap on and wash your hands.

Right as you’re finished, you hear a dull thud. You turn the water off, head tilted and at attention while you dry your hands. There’s another sound, like a muffled groan. It’s coming from the pantry, you realize, noting that the door is slightly ajar. There’s a shing! sound followed by a distressed grunt, and before you know it you’re walking over, wrapping your fingers around the door to pull it open–

You’re not sure what it was you were expecting, but it wasn’t this. Logan’s sitting on the floor, uncharacteristically small, curled up against one of the walls. His chest is heaving, shoulders all but going up to his ears with how he’s trying to draw in breaths. Next to him, his fist is balled against the hardwood, claws buried in the floor.

Fuck.

Dropping to your knees, you wedge yourself between his. “It’s okay, you’re having a panic attack,” you explain, your hands landing on his shoulders with a light shake. “You need to breathe. I’ll help you, just look at me.”

Logan’s head stays tipped down, a deep, rattling breath sailing from his mouth as he curls further in on himself.

“Hey!” you say sharply, cupping his jaw with two hands and tilting his face up, “Look at me.”

Logan’s eyes are wet when they meet yours, moving frantically as they search your face, tears spilling over when he blinks. Something changes in his gaze, like he finally sees it’s you, and his bottom lip begins to tremble. His hand lifts from where it’s buried in the floor, clutching onto your wrist like a lifeline.

“Breathe,” you instruct, trying not to flinch at the sharp claws in front of you. He doesn’t catch on immediately, so you overdo the purse of your lips when you blow out a breath before exaggerating an inhale through your nose, showing him what to do. It starts off shaky, a fresh set of tears falling from Logan’s eyes as he does as you instruct, but after a couple of times you find a rhythm together. The silver between his knuckles slowly disappears. “There you go, good job. Keep going.”

You sit like that, until the wild shift of his eyes stops, his pulse steadies beneath your fingertips, and eventually his eyes close with a deep exhale. His grip on you loosens and you take it as your cue to let go of him, slumping back against the wall opposite him with a sigh of relief. The both of you catch your breath, sitting together in silence until Logan breaks it.

“Came outta nowhere… suddenly I was back there… letting them down.”

“It caught you off guard, it happens–”

“I let them get killed,” he says, voice raw. “They were like– They were my family, they trusted me to be there for them and I… I was too caught up in my own bullshit. I should have been with them, I should be dead with them.”

Logan’s tears still come, but the words almost sound reverent; as if saying them out loud just to punish himself with his own shortcomings is a balm. He’s talking about his team from there, you realize, and something clicks. All this time, you thought this was about him being unable to die due to his mutation, but it’s more than that. It’s shame, remorse, grief, survivor’s guilt, all wrapped into one.

It’s the final piece of your mind puzzle that makes his picture appear.

“How– How can I ever atone for that?” he asks. “How can I ever–”

“Logan, you can't change your past,” you interrupt carefully. “You made your choices and they made theirs, and you honored them by– by…stepping up to the task, by doing what you did with Wade.”

“What if it wasn’t enough?”

“What if it was?” you counter. Your hand finds his knee with a squeeze, before adding, “You did what they would have done. And now you… you need to allow yourself to honor their memory without feeling like you have to destroy yourself to do it. You deserve that.”

Logan blinks at you, eyes still glossy. He looks devastated yet calmer than before, like the emotion is still there, but displaced. For a good while, you sit with him like that while his sniffles lessen and his breathing returns to normal… until there’s a loud explosion coming from the living room. It’s followed by cheers and hollers, and you’re both suddenly reminded of where you are.

“C’mon,” you say, patting Logan’s knee before using it as leverage to haul yourself up with a groan. You give him room by holding the door open for him. “Better get back before we miss the good stuff.”

Still on the floor, Logan exhales heavily. “Think this was the good stuff.”

– – – – –

Three weeks later, on your way to your third movie night, you catch Wade and Vanessa making out in the building hallway.

It stops you dead in your tracks and makes for an awkward meeting with Wade’s mystery woman, who is beautiful but very direct when she asks you what the fuck you’re staring at. Wade certainly has a type when it comes to the company he keeps… He quickly shushes the situation, introducing the two of you, and it immediately makes Vanessa’s expression twist into recognition.

“Nice to meet you,” she says, followed by an apologetic smile.

You respond in kind.

When Wade tugs at her jacket impatiently, they brush past you and make their way to the exit. “See you around!” she throws over her shoulder.

A grin forms on your lips, realizing what you just witnessed, and you race up the stairs. With Wade gone, you’re not sure if there will be a movie, but at least you have gossip to share with your friends.

THE MEETING

April flies by, rolls into May, and thing’s are… okay.

With some help, you find a therapist. It’s good, she’s good, but it’s difficult to be confronted with things that are painful, week after week, and to keep reminding yourself it’s all part of the process you’re going through.

Last week, after a particularly difficult session, you’d left her office being auto-piloted by dark feelings, like they knew exactly when to strike. You had turned corners and crossed streets, wandering as you stewed on everything you’d discussed – like your mind was playing a constant loop of your most painful moments. It was a small miracle you had heard your phone, and that you had the presence of mind to thumb the green button.

You’d answered without saying a word.

“Got any plans?” Logan had asked on the other side of the line.

“No,” you’d replied, coming back to yourself a little bit at the sound of his voice.

“Al’s making her meatballs – she and Wade can’t agree on if they’re famous or infamous. Thought you might like to come. If it tastes like shit, we’ll order in.”

You’d hummed, managing to ask, “What time?”

It had stayed quiet on the other end, and that’s how you’d known he was onto you, could picture the pinch of his brows, his lips forming a thin line. For the first time, you welcomed it—wanted so badly to reach through the phone, shake his shoulders, ask for his help and accept it, like he had done with you weeks ago.

“Sounds to me like now might be good.”

“Yeah,” you had agreed, the constricting tightness in your chest easing up. “Yeah, I’ll be there soon.” You’d released a shuddering breath, ear still pressed to the phone as you took in your surroundings before you auto-piloted yourself to a different destination.

“Logan?”

“Still here.”

“Thank you for calling.”

“‘course. Get here soon, I’ll stay on the phone.”

The afternoon had ended with Logan and yourself allowing Althea to boss you around in the small apartment’s kitchen, rolling meatballs, sharing stories — Althea’s recollection of something that happened to her in her 20s that involved her stealing a police horse while wearing nothing but a thong, made you cry from laughing.

The meatballs were the best you ever had, though you couldn’t be sure if they actually were, or if it was just the taste of the moment that was better than anything had been that day.

Sometime after dinner, Logan had nudged your shoulder to show you a little plastic chip. He flashed it at you long enough that you could read the words one month, before he pocketed it again. Then he suggested you come with him next week.

“I thought it was bullshit too, but it helps,” he’d explained. “Figured I couldn’t continue to drink whatever that stuff is you call coffee to… avoid my problems.”

You contemplated his suggestion. Things were going well for you in that regard, but your therapist had also recommended you go to one of these things, even if it was just for the community aspect of it. It just made it so… official. Your problems, but most of all, your recovery. You weren’t good at keeping promises to yourself, and this felt like a big commitment. Not to mention the speeches and other people’s problems...

But as Logan told you more about it, the location, how it had been for him, you sensed something else between the lines: He wasn’t just asking for you, he was also asking for himself. Maybe… this was his way of telling you he needed some support.

That’s how you find yourself inside a high school gymnasium a week later. It’s as gloomy as you expected. Slick floors, gray fold-out chairs set in neat rows, buzzing lights in a high ceiling, and a slightly raised podium with a whiteboard that reads a welcome message in capital letters.

Unsure of what to do, you follow Logan as he weaves through the crowd to find a seat. As you do, it strikes you that there’s a pretty even distribution of people, with many genders, ages and lifestyles represented. Eventually you take a seat; not quite in the back, but definitely not in the front.

The whole thing goes by in a blur, but where you expected to be overwhelmed, you feel… connected. Here you are, surrounded by people with different backgrounds, different lives, but all their stories have something you can relate to. Where you thought addiction was the common denominator, it’s actually the desire to turn your lives around that unites you the most.

“Before we end the night I want to circle back to last week, when we spoke about goals, or things we want to work towards,” says the woman leading the meeting – you’re ashamed to admit you already forgot her name. “Does anyone want to share something about that?”

It takes a lot to hide your surprise when Logan raises his hand.

“Logan! Come on up!” She sounds as surprised as you feel, beckoning him to her.

The plastic chair he sits on creaks when he stands and his boots squeak against the shiny floor as he does as she asks. He looks so out of place on a podium; both larger than life behind the lectern and lost to the space of the stage. He clears his throat as he retrieves a paper from his pocket and unfolds it while his eyes scan the room until they land on yours. You give him a little nod of encouragement, and it kicks him into gear.

“Not good at this stuff, so I’m going to keep it brief,” he starts.

It earns him a chuckle or two from the other attendees, and you can tell he doesn’t expect it when he looks up from his paper. Your hands clasp together with nerves as you watch him divide his weight from one leg to another, before focussing his gaze back down.

“My life has changed a lot over the past few months. For the first time in a long time, it’s not all bad. Coming here has been good. I’m starting to feel more like I did before–”

He stops his monotonous droning with a frustrated sigh, stuffing the piece of paper in his pocket and sounding considerably more lively after.

“I have people I care about again, and um, it scares me. ‘Cause I don’t want to let them down, and every day I feel like I will because of all of my… past shit.” He pauses and swallows hard before he continues, “They show me so much kindness and understanding, that… that even though it’s fucking hard, I want to be able to see myself the way they see me. And allow them to care about me without feeling like I… have to earn it all the time, without destroying myself to do it.”

You exhale for what feels like the first time in an eternity.

“So, that’s what I’m currently working on.” Logan sighs. “That’s it. Thank you.”

A small applause follows, and you quickly unclasp your hands to join in.

Your palms hurt after.

– – – – –

“It was really nice, what you said in there,” you say, fingers caressing a little plastic chip of your own that you keep safe in your coat pocket. You haven’t felt proud of yourself in a while, but tonight you do.

The evening is nice, the setting sun bathing the city in hues of orange and pink. Your pace is slow and comfortable, your arm occasionally brushing Logan’s when you make room for all the other pedestrians. You didn’t plan on him walking you home, but he insisted and you enjoy the company – it makes you a little sad when you turn onto your street.

Logan scoffs in reply.

“I’m being serious,” you say, knocking your elbow against his arm on purpose now. “It was nice for people to hear a guy like you say those things. I’m proud of you.”

You swear he blushes. “A guy like me, huh?” he asks, almost amused.

It’s your turn to scoff. “You know what I mean.”

“A mutant?” He looks at you from the corner of his eye.

“No,” you say, because it’s not what you meant, but the hint of seriousness in his voice and the fact he’s not entirely wrong make you track back. “Well, maybe that, too, but I meant someone who looks like you, allowing themselves to be vulnerable. Sets a nice example.”

Logan doesn’t shoot your comments down like you expect. Instead, he seems to consider your words, maybe he even silently accepts the compliment. “Think you have some things to say that could set a nice example, too.”

“Maybe next time.”

During the comfortable silence that follows, you’re reminded of something you’ve been considering for weeks now. You hadn’t paid much attention to it since that night, but as you worked through the feelings that got you to that point, the question kept coming back.

“I’ve been wondering something,” you begin. “The night we met... What were you doing at the lookout?”

Logan glances at you, contemplating the question. “When I had just, um, gotten here, it wasn’t always easy to adjust, you know? So I went to all these places that I knew from back there, to ground myself, to see that things may be different, but that they’re not that different.”

“You went there on your side?”

He hums.

“By yourself?”

He hums again.

“Did you…” You hesitate to finish your sentence, both because you’re not sure if you have any right to ask and because you’ve reached your building. You stop walking, and Logan follows your lead.

“No, no, no, I… I can’t explain it, it’s just one of those places I was always drawn to,” Logan says, shoving his hands in the pockets of his jeans with a shrug. His brows furrow suddenly, his mind seemingly lost in something before his eyes flick back to yours. “Think it took me coming over here to find reason in it.”

It’s a thought that’s equal parts sad and lovely.

The silence that follows hangs between you, thick with something you can’t place, but Logan doesn’t look away from you, eyes scanning your face before they land back on yours. You can’t help thinking that maybe this is how he does it, and the question comes out before you can help it,

“Is mind reading part of the X-Gene thing?”

His eyes widen – amusement or surprise, you can’t say. “It can be.”

“Can you do it?”

“No,” he says. “And it’s for the best, fucking hurts when you can’t control it.” Then the start of a smile begins to form on his lips. “‘sides, I don’t know if I would have a lot of… consideration for people’s boundaries.”

It makes you chuckle. “Right. Not to mention some minds are probably a lot – imagine reading Wade’s mind.”

“Hurts to even imagine,” Logan says, gesturing for you to be quiet as he winces, but a smile breaks through anyway. When your shared laughter dies down, he jerks his chin at the building behind you, “This your place?”

“Wha–?” Going home long forgotten in the moment, you glance over your shoulder. “Oh! Yes.”

“All right,” he nods. “See you next week?”

“Definitely,” you reply.

“Oh,” Logan says right before you turn around. “Bring coffee? You owe me.”

You make a face at him. “You don’t have to– I’ll get you something else, I know you don’t like it.”

“I like it when I drink it with you.”

It’s incredibly hard to hide your grin. “Okay, I’ll bring coffee. See you next week, Logan.”

“See you.”

He lingers, watching you climb the steps, waiting until the door opens after you turn your key in the lock. It’s not until you close the door, when you can only make out his silhouette through the patterned glass window in it, that he walks off.

THE SUMMER

Walking back from a very successful job interview, you find yourself on your way to your friends with a big, plastic bottle of coke under your arm. It’s a warm feeling to know that you’ll soon have a job that suits you and that you have people to celebrate with; you look forward to seeing them and sharing this with them.

You’re invited inside with open arms, tight hugs, exclaimed praise and congratulations, and it makes you giddy, a feeling so foreign that you wish you could bottle it up right this instant. With a grin, you shake the Coca Cola bottle, before twisting the cap off. You let out an excited shout as you watch the foam shoot out from the top, bubbles and dark liquid pulsing down the neck of the bottle as cheers surround you.

It’s not champagne, but Althea grumbles about the soda ruining her floors, Wade gets mismatched glasses from the cupboard, and Logan clinks his glass to yours and tells you he’s proud of you.

It’s way better than champagne.

– – – – –

You’re in serious, desperate need of a new place…

The August heat is relentless, and the entire building’s AC isn’t working. It’s with considerable effort that you manage to make your way to your friends’ place, the promise of a constant, cold stream of wind the only thing that keeps you going. But when the front door opens, it isn’t with the welcoming, cool waft of air you were hoping for. Instead, there’s no temperature change, only Wade in his underwear.

“No.” It’s a little embarrassing how you literally pout, but these are desperate times. “Here, too?”

“If it wasn’t this fucking hot I’d be offended by that greeting.” He sighs. “Come in.”

Slightly defeated, you shuffle past the threshold, while Wade lingers. Mary Puppins trots by, an ice-pack wrapped in a towel secured on her back, and you catch a glimpse of Logan exiting the bedroom. He’s in black shorts and a ribbed, sleeveless shirt, and with a desperate groan, he lets himself fall back into the recliner in the living room.

“Tried everything, there’s no fixing that fucking thing.”

Wade makes a face, “Listen, I know what you’re thinking: Wade’s in his underwear, Logan’s emerging from the bedroom… But we didn’t fuck, it’s not that kind of st–”

“Who are you talking to?” you ask from behind him, glancing over his shoulder into the empty hallway.

“No one–You!” The door closes with a bang.

Confused, you walk further into the apartment. “Well, telling me you didn’t is just going to make me think that you did.” Wade darts past you and takes a seat on the couch, but you hang back and lean against the kitchen table to avoid sitting on leather.

Wade suddenly turns to face you. “Did I ever tell you about our time in The Void?”

“Wade,” Logan warns.

Wade’s eyes are sparkling with mischief and you can’t deny how fun it is to indulge the way he pushes Logan’s buttons. It’s a good distraction from how you’re drenched in sweat. And you’re actually curious.

You play your part, letting out a faux-scandalised gasp. “Did you..?”

“Oh, yeah, baby. Wolverine goes both ways. All the ways, really.” He grins. “We’re so alike.”

“Shut up. Both of you.” Logan groans, lacking any real threat as he adjusts in his seat and wipes some sweat off his brow. “It’s too fucking hot to be annoyed.”

It isn’t lost on you he doesn’t deny a thing.

– – – – –

Apartments look weird with nothing in them.

It’s what crossed your mind after you finished packing up your place three days ago, and it crosses your mind now as you look into the open space of your new one from the doorway. It’s a pleasant, late summer day; perfect weather to move, which was on your schedule for today.

“Incoming!” comes from behind you, followed by quick, heavy steps.

You jump aside as Ellie sails through the door, carefully setting a big box marked “Kitchen” down in its designated area, followed by Logan who is balancing three boxes at once. After a beat, Yukio follows, holding a single table lamp in her hand. It takes some effort not to laugh, not just because of how funny it looks, but also because you relate; after all the exhausting late nights you pulled packing up, that’s also the kind of energy you’re bringing to this.

It’s nice of them to help, and instead of shoving that feeling away in fear, you allow yourself to bask in it. You don’t get long, however, because more help has just arrived.

Wade. With Vanessa. Hands interlocked.

It draws everyone’s eyes to the doorway. Wade looks almost bashful, and it baffles you how someone who can say the most insane things unprompted, all without batting an eye, could blush while holding hands with a girl he likes. To his credit, he shakes it off quickly.

“All right, all right,” he says. “Stop ogling me and my girlfriend and get back to work everyone!”

– – – – –

“So it was like an experiment?” you ask, stirring the pot on your stove before taking a careful bite of food off your wooden spoon.

Tonight’s your first night hosting at your new place – Family Dinner, Wade had dubbed it. With fall setting in, you had an idea of what to make, but it still made you nervous to have everyone in your space. Logan saw right through you, offering to come over early to help you prepare.

Once he had arrived, it hadn’t taken long for him to admit he wasn’t much of a cook, so he mainly chopped vegetables as you chatted; you about your new place, Logan about his new job as a boxing instructor, Laura going off to college. You don’t remember exactly how the subject of his adamantium came up, but he was telling you freely about it.

“They needed someone who could regenerate fast enough to bond with it,” he explains. “I was in a dark place. Figured I didn’t have anything to lose if it didn’t work.”

You nod in understanding. “Do you… remember much about it?” You put your spoon down, then put the lid back on the pan.

Logan’s knife stops hitting the cutting board. “Yeah, I… I remember every second of it.”

You look at him then. His eyes are still cast down at his task. Unsure of what to say, you think about what you’d want to hear, and you find it might be best to say nothing at all. Instead, your hand finds his shoulder. Logan’s head turns to you, and you feel like the look you share is more important than anything you could’ve told him. His hand covers yours with an appreciative squeeze.

“But I’m trying to leave that there so I can focus on remembering what happens to me here.” As soon as he’s said it, his hand quickly slips off yours, adding, in a rush, “Here in this timeline, I mean.”

You smile at him, but a strange feeling settles in the pit of your stomach. “That sounds like a great idea.”

– – – – –

“I need your help with something,” you say, balancing your phone between your ear and your shoulder while you turn a birthday card over in your hand. Deciding you don’t like it, you throw it back on the pile of cards and continue your grocery shopping.

“Just say the word,” comes Logan’s reply from the other end.

“I need you to steal something out of the apartment for me.” There’s a silence, and you purposely let the feeling of trepidation linger.

“Am gonna need you to say a little more than just that.”

You laugh, “Wade’s been talking about getting a little frame for his polaroid. You know, the polaroid that you held on to for him in The Void, after the two of you fu–”

“Yes, I know the one,” he interjects with a huff. He pauses, sighs, then says, “Consider it done.”

THE PARTY

“There you are!” Wade shouts after he opens the door. He pulls you into a hug that you return with a wide smile. Over his shoulder, you see that the apartment’s crowded, bustling with people who are there for his birthday party.

“I got you something,” you say, offering the small package to him after you step inside and hang up your coat.

“Wouldn’t have let you in if you hadn’t,” he admits as he closes the door behind you with a bang. Wade takes the package from your hand, shaking it next to his ear but hearing it make no sound in response. “Is it a cock ring?”

You can’t help but laugh at that. “Unfortunately, they were all sold out.”

“They always are,” he says, making a disappointed face. Bottom lip tucked between your teeth, you watch as he tears at the wrapping paper to reveal his gift. He makes another face when he sees it. “Well, now I feel like an asshole. This is really nice.”

“Logan helped me kidnap it,” you explain, pointing at the picture. “And the little red hearts on the frame, well, they’re your color, but they also reminded me of how much you care about people.”

When he looks at you after, it’s with genuine emotion… but Wade is Wade. “Never thought I’d say this, but I’m kind of happy you walked in here barfing up the place.”

A strange mix of embarrassment and gratitude claws its way up your neck. “Thank you.”

“We should take a new one,” he decides suddenly, pointing at the picture. “You both should be in it.” His head turns, watching as Logan approaches the two of you. “But let’s be realistic, his shoulders are so broad he wouldn’t even fit in the frame, much less his bul–”

“Stop talking about my dick, Wade,” Logan snaps.

“I was saying only good things! Jeez, so sensitive…” Wade turns, putting the picture on the kitchen table behind him where it joins all the other gifts.

“Did he like it?” Logan asks, voice low.

“Yeah,” you smile.

“Good,” he replies. “Was a nice idea.”

You eye all the other gifts, some clearer who they are from than others. “What did you get him?”

The corner of Logan’s mouth lifts as he points at a roll of silver duct tape with a small red bow on top, making you fix them both with a confused look.

“It’s an inside joke,” Logan shrugs.

Wade’s eyes sparkle, but in a rare turn of events, he doesn’t elaborate, only adds, “It’s classified. I could tell you, but then I'd have to kill you.”

“And I have top level clearance, lieutenant,” you reply. You exhale through your nose in an amused laugh when Wade makes a surprised face that indicates you’ve gotten the reference. “What, you thought a Tom Cruise impression could save you?”

“No,” he grins, and as if on cue, the doorbell rings, “but that can. Birthday Boy duty calls, but I want it on record that I could do Top Gun, easily, while Tom would never be able to pull off Deadpool.”

– – – – –

The party settles into something comfortable, soft music in the background of lively chatter. Yukio has just finished telling you about a Professor Layton cosplay she’s doing when you excuse yourself, both your glass and your social battery empty enough to look for a momentary out. Finding your way through the crowd, you make it to the kitchen, filling your glass with water and taking a few sips.

While you do, the music suddenly gets louder, taking over for the steady chatter. You turn around, leaning back against the kitchen counter, and watch as Wade drags Vanessa to the middle of the apartment. People make room for them, exchanging looks while Wade wraps his arm around her waist, takes her hand in his and begins dancing with her. With a laugh, she slaps him on the chest, before settling into his embrace anyway. Some follow their lead, but your eyes stay glued to them. Wade spins Vanessa under his arm, the smile on her face bright enough to light up the entire room. In return, he looks at her with so much adoration he’s almost glowing himself. It fills you with warmth to see the both of them so happy.

It hits you how you haven’t thought about this in a while. You’d decided long ago that the future wasn’t something you had to worry about, but suddenly you’ve arrived, like you’re in some alternate reality where your future is now, and that it would be nice to share it with someone. The sting behind your eyes catches you a little off guard; mixed feelings of time that has been taken from you, but also of time you’re getting back with the life you now have.

For a while now, you’ve suspected the thing inside you is gone, that there isn’t much to feed off of anymore. If it is, it would make sense that there’s room for something else.

Wade and Vanessa make it look easy, even though you know it’s been far from easy for them. You suppose that’s what it’s like, especially as you get older. It’s less about big gestures, more about small ones; someone to make you laugh, to spin you under their arm, who knows how to apologize, seeks you out during your quiet moments–

“Do you dance?”

You startle, head turning towards the voice next to you–

“Logan,” you breathe.

It’s like you’re seeing him for the very first time. He’s standing so close, almost touching you but not quite, heat radiating off of him nonetheless. The plaid shirt he’s wearing isn’t even buttoned and still the fabric is pulled taunt over his shoulders and the thick of his biceps. He’s grinning, his nose pulled up in an adorable scrunch, the corner of his eyes crinkling - you never noticed before, but there’s a hint of green between the hazel.

It hits you so suddenly that you have to grab the counter to keep your balance. Everything that’s been happening, that you’ve been feeling, all the times something happened between the two of you that you couldn’t put your finger on… it falls into place with a well-timed, completely unrelated question and a glance at him.

You like him.

All you can do is blink at him, dazed, unable to speak, even more so when he leans in a little closer, mistaking your silence for misunderstanding. “I mean, not that I– You and Wade were doing a bit earlier, it’s a reference to–” Logan straightens suddenly, his expression slipping into concern as he watches you, “Are you okay?”

You feel warm, so aware of all his attention on you that you’re afraid he might be able to see your pulse blink rapidly below the angle of your jaw. “Yeah,” you reply, voice hoarse, looking away from him to blink the leftover wetness from earlier out of your eyes.

Anxiety claws its way into your chest, your mind coming to terms with what it’s puzzled together at such a sickening pace that there’s an immediate knot in your stomach. The party has instantly lost its shine, and you look down at the glass in your hand, gulping down its contents. You need to be alone with your thoughts, you need to think about this before–

“I gotta go,” you say in such a rush that it almost sounds like one word while you set your glass on the kitchen counter.

Logan’s eyes follow you as you push past him, grab your coat and reach for the doorknob. “Wait–”

“Bye, Logan.”

THE TABLE

Once at home, you change into something more comfortable, your mind racing while you peel your party clothes off, toss your bra aside, change into an oversized shirt and plop down on the couch after.

Despite having already established that your mind was occupied with other things for a very long time, it’s laughable in hindsight that you never noticed your feelings before. It’s not like you don’t know what Logan’s like; he’s kind, funny, supportive…

…broad, handsome.

Shit.

Why did you have to come to your senses? Things were better before that moment. Logan’s your friend, whom you met in the most unconventional way possible. It’s ridiculous to want more than what you have when what you have is good. Or to think that he would want more.

But he might.

Because you may have been occupied with depression, anxiety, recovery, and everything in between, but you were there; you remember the time you spent with him, the way he looks at you, drinks the coffee you like, laughs at your jokes, seems to know exactly when to call you, seeks you out in a crowd.

But it would change everyth–

Actually, not a whole lot would change, if you really think about it. You already see him all the time, you’ve seen the very worst of each other, overcome a great deal of hardship together, you make each other better, his friends are your…

friends.

You didn’t say goodbye to Wade.

The thought comes suddenly. It was his birthday party and you didn’t even say goodbye to him before you left. You’re a terrible friend. Dread sinks into your limbs, and you reach for your phone to type out a quick, apologetic message. Just as you hit send, there’s a series of loud knocks on the door, and it makes you freeze up where you’re seated.

“Are you in there?” a muffled voice calls out.

It’s Logan, you realize, and a plethora of fake excuses as to why you left the party early present themselves to your mind as you quickly make your way over to the door.

The first thing you notice when you open it is that he’s dripping wet from the rain, clothes soaked through and his hair flat. There’s a deep furrow in his brow, and it’s different from how he usually looks; he looks actually mad.

“Logan, is everything–” you begin, concerned, but he cuts you off by pushing past you and letting himself inside, boots stomping against the wooden floor.

“Jesus, here you are. Why’d you leave like that, huh? Saying goodbye, your eyes all wet. I went after you and you were fucking gone, it scared the shit out of me. Didn’t see the car at the lookout, but I went to look for you anyway, and you weren’t in the water, thank fuck–”

“Wait, you went–” you pause, the mental image of Logan running out into the rain to the cliffside making your eyes widen. “Did you think..?”

“Yeah,” he sighs, shoulders slumping.

“Shit.” Your heart is racing when you step closer to him. “No, I wasn’t… I don’t want that anymore.”

“Then what the fuck was that all about?”

The desperation and misunderstanding in his eyes is unmistakable, and you hate that you made him feel like that. “I was just… I needed a moment, after seeing Wade and Vanessa like that,” you say, trying to provide yourself with more time to think, unsure if you already want to broach the subject of why you really left.

“You… like Wade?” Logan asks, his frown deepening.

You can’t help the laugh that escapes you at the unexpected question. “No. I mean, I adore Wade, but not like that. He’s with Vanessa.”

The answer does nothing to change his expression. “And you want it to be different?”

His line of questioning confuses you. “I– No. Logan, this isn’t about Wade or Vanessa, but it’s about… what they have. Something that’s real, but imperfect, and that’s what actually makes it perfect, and I just… I was in a really bad place for such a long time, I didn’t give myself time to even think about… I haven’t felt myself wanting for so long,” your gaze flicks up to his. “Seeing them just made me realize there’s so much left that I still want.”

Internally, you curse the way he always makes you say too much, because you can see the understanding wash over his features. His expression softens, the balled fists by his side loosen, and his eyes search you, as if to see if that thing you want is him. There’s no doubt he finds his answer; you’re ever the open book when it comes to him, and your pulse quickens while he silently observes you.

Logan reaches for you so quickly that you can barely prepare for it, a hand on your waist to pull you in, another on your cheek to tip your face up and guide your mouth to his. A shaky breath sails out through your nose when your lips meet, your eyes fluttering shut and your palms sliding up his damp but warm chest to curl in the soaked fabric of his shirt. It’s eager, and the angle is off, but it’s quickly adjusted with a brief parting and a near in-sync tilt of your heads in the other direction.

Logan pulls away, but stays close, and you almost feel his words before hearing them, “Been… thinking about doing that.”

“Really?” you say, breathless and amused. “When did you, um, start wanting to do that?”

“Few weeks ago–Fuck, no, more than that. Almost did, that day after your first meeting, after you told me you were proud of me,” he admits. “But I wanted to give you time, space. Wasn’t sure if you felt–”

“I do. Didn’t realize it before, but I fucking do,” you assure him, another tug on his collar trying to pull him back to you. His admissions, knowing he wants you too, only make you want him more, like you have to make up for all the time you wasted not doing this sooner.

Logan’s hand on your waist holds you off. “I just don’t know how to… how to be this,” he confesses softly.

“That’s okay,” you say, your nose brushing against his. “I don’t either.”

He inches forward like he intends to kiss you again, but seems to reconsider, swallowing hard before saying, “Wouldn’t be the first time we figure it out together, huh?”

The words make you surge forward to close the gap between you, your brows creasing, attempting to convey everything you feel with one press of your lips to his. Logan’s hand slides from your cheek to the back of your head, pulling you to him in a way that seems to mirror your efforts. Something lights up inside you, something you lost long ago, and it makes you bold, opening your mouth under his to get a taste of him.

His grip on you tightens with a groan, spurring him into action and walking you backwards into the dark kitchen, the only illumination the slivers of moonlight that come through the kitchen window. You jolt when the back of your thighs hit the table, before you’re scrambling to get on top of it, two hands at your waist helping to hoist you up. Your thighs widen to make room for Logan’s while you push the green flannel shirt off his shoulders, struggling to peel it off his arms to the point you have to break away with a laugh to really get it right. It lands on the floor with a wet sound, before he reaches for the back of his shirt, curling his fingers around the collar and pulling it over his head.

Logan’s sturdy, warm to the touch and surprisingly pliant when you can’t help but let your fingers flit along the corded muscles and protruding veins while he toes off his shoes. His hand flies to the back of your head to fist the hair at the nape of your neck when your lips explore, find his jaw, and travel down his neck. A soft sound sails from his mouth, a barely audible moan that carries over into something deeper when your lips brush a spot just above his clavicle. Using the grip he has on you, he drags you back up to his mouth, doing some more of his own exploring when his warm tongue strokes against your own.

“You’re so good to me,” he murmurs with a buck of his hips against yours. The thrill of having him pushed up against you, half-hard, warm, full of promise, makes you moan, teeth clacking against his when you do. “Always so fucking good to me.”

It makes you want to protest, from the very moment you met, he’s the one always being that to you, but it dies on your tongue when Logan’s flicks over the tips of his fingers. His impatient hand finds its way between you, disappearing under the waistband of your underwear and stretching the material to make room. His name comes out as a whimper when his spit-slick fingers easily glide through the soft skin between your legs. He curses, another buck of his hips pressing his hand closer against you, and your kiss turns messy and uncoordinated when he dips one finger to touch your clit.

“This okay?” Logan asks when you gasp, drawing languid circles between your legs.

“Yeah, it’s just– Oh, god.” Two thick fingers find your entrance, swirling the wetness there around. “Been a while,” you manage to finish your sentence.

“I’ll make it good for you,” he promises. “You want that?”

All you can do is nod, and Logan presses a kiss to the corner of your mouth before he pulls his hand back. It’s paired with a wet sound that makes your cheeks heat, more so when you watch him get on his knees and yank you to the edge of the table, the quick turn of events and the casual display of his strength making you a little dizzy. Logan’s nose presses into the fabric between your legs with a sharp inhale, before quick, practiced moves work your underwear down your legs. One eager hand places a thigh on his shoulder as another holds you at the bend of your knee. You lie back, arching as you hurriedly pull your t-shirt over your head, leaning up on your elbows just in time to watch him bend down.

The feeling of Logan’s hot breath sailing out over your sensitive skin alone is enough to make you gasp. He drags his lips and nose across your folds, easing you into it as much as his lack of patience will allow before tasting you with a swipe of his tongue. It isn’t tentative or testing, but firm and sure, and clearly for his enjoyment as much as yours when he repeats his action and groans into you. The vibrations of it and the gentle scratch of his facial hair only add to the liquid feeling in the pit of your stomach. Letting go of your knee, he curls a strong arm around your thigh, spreading you open then pulling you flush against him while he sucks your clit into his mouth.

“Oh, that feels really good,” you spur him on, your heel digging in between his shoulder blades. You watch him with hooded eyes, shifting your weight to one elbow so you can cup your breast with a whine.

Logan’s eyes slip shut in focus, working his tongue up and down your clit and making you arch into his mouth. Reaching for you blindly, he slides a hand over yours on your chest, fingers fitting between your own and squeezing while his tongue slides lower to lick over where you’re dripping for him. He lets out an appreciative hum as he repeats the move until your thighs clench and shake around his ears. His tongue dips inside you, curling up against the slick walls of your cunt, and his name tumbles from your mouth, soft, pleading, making his eyes shoot open to meet yours.

The sight of him looking up at you like that from between your thighs, with dark eyes, the tip of his nose glistening with your wetness, will probably haunt you for the rest of your life.

Logan shushes your begging, pulling away and watching as your pussy clenches at the sudden lack of attention. “Let me give you something to come on,” he murmurs, before fitting a finger at your entrance. It meets absolutely no resistance, a second finger sliding inside with just as much ease, and he sets a steady, deep rhythm before his mouth returns to your clit.

“Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck–” Your head rolls back between your shoulder blades, mouth open on a silent gasp, but he draws your attention back to him with a curl of his fingers, finding a spot that makes you go rigid for a second. It all builds so fast, so suddenly. The hand on your chest shakes Logan’s off, finding the crown of his head and sliding your fingers into his hair. He’s too strong to really make purchase, but you try anyway, using your grip to roll your hips against him. The sound of his groans, every flick of his tongue and every squelching, delicious curl of his fingers all send you closer and closer, until his hand presses down on your belly, and…

“Logan,” you manage, voice sharp with a warning that comes too late when he makes you tumble over the edge.

It’s so much after so long, the force of it making you fall back against the table, something between a gasp and a shout tearing from your throat. He holds you tighter, to keep you in place and guide the desperate roll of your hips against his face. Your orgasm quickly slips into something bordering on oversensitivity, and you let out a dry sob that makes you slap a hand over your mouth when Logan’s tongue travels a path from where his stilled fingers disappear inside you, up to your clit. He stays there, gentle, uncharacteristically patient as you slowly come to a twitching halt.

He’s a blur when he comes back into your field of view after standing up, towering over you to watch as you come back down to earth. Becoming sharper with every heavy blink of your eyes, you notice the smile on his face is smug, that the hair surrounding it is a shade darker than the rest. You sigh softly when his fingers slip from you, the feeling of them sliding wetly over your clit making you tremble, but his touch doesn’t leave you completely when he moves to stroke the outside of your thigh.

“How’s that?” Logan dares to ask.

“Hmm, no speaking yet,” you protest.

Reaching for him, you slide both of your arms up over his broad shoulders, wrists crossed in the nape of his neck to pull him in for another kiss. It’s slow, and deep, the taste of yourself shared between the two of you as your tongue slides over his. The table protests with a creak when his hands land beside your head, more when his chest pushes down on yours and you wrap a leg around his waist to get him even closer. The hair scattered across his broad chest teases your nipples and the hard ridge of his cock strains against his jeans and presses up against your slick cunt. It makes your jaw go slack, stoking your desire and making you burn with the need to make him feel as good as he just made you feel.

With a push against his shoulders, you take him along as you sit upright again, accompanied by another creak of the table. Mouth still on his, you slide a hand down to cup him over his jeans, the weight of him against your wide open palm making you pulse. Logan grunts when your hand squeezes, and your mouth slides off his, kissing his jaw, sliding back down his neck. He cups your head, keeping you in place while watching your hand.

“Feels nice,” he husks, voice so deep it makes you want to push him aside and get on your knees for him, but then he asks, “Are you gonna let me fuck you?”

“God, yeah,” you say with a nod, watching as the mark you just sucked into his neck disappears far too soon while you continue rubbing him over the denim. “Want you inside of me.”

“Jesus–Then get it out,” he instructs, guiding your hand to his belt.

If you weren’t so turned on you might wince at how eager you are, at how quickly you tug the buckle open and pull the leather free. Logan groans when it relieves some of the pressure, letting his forehead rest against yours. Together, you watch your hands make quick work of his zipper, your fist closing around his cock while your other hand works his pants down until he can kick it off and under the table.

He fits nicely in your palm, heavy and ready, sticky at the tip. With a purse of your lips, you let your spit trickle down in a straight line, and he hisses when it hits him. Your free hand flattens against his stomach, sliding down along the hard planes of his body and following the vein just below his belly button down, until it meets your other hand that loosely strokes up to the root of his cock. Logan arches into you when you stroke back up with a tighter grip, all but getting on his toes to chase your touch. Using both of your hands to get all of him, you twist your fists in opposite directions once, twice, before circling his tip with one thumb. Your other hand curls around the underside of him, dragging some of your spit down to his balls with the tips of your fingers.

“F–fuck,” Logan stutters when you play with him there, cupping him in your hand as well as you can and squeezing his shaft when it twitches in response. His eyes slip shut as his palms land on the outside of your thighs with a smack, fingertips digging into your soft skin.

It makes you jolt, then grin, giddy from the sharp sting and the power you have over his pleasure. “How’s that?” you echo with a teasing lilt.

He does have the words to answer, albeit a little slurred, “‘S good, sweetheart.”

The nickname tacked on at the end takes root in your chest, blooms bright and makes you ache. You translate your appreciation into tightening your strokes and spreading more of the precome that steadily leaks from his tip around.

“C’mere,” Logan says softly, taking over for you with one hand, giving himself a few strokes before pushing your thighs further apart and shuffling closer to line himself up with you.

You’re so wet that the head of his cock is practically already slipping inside of you, but your hand clasps around his bicep when he really starts to breach you. After giving you a shallow little thrust, his hips draw back, before pushing a little further, gauging your reaction.

“Just like that,” you sigh, watching the careful slide of him in and out of you. “Keep going just like that.”

He gets you opened up like that, giving you a little more with each wind of his hips. Logan’s hand finds the back of your neck, his palm splaying out and keeping you close enough that you’re practically sharing air with each sigh and moan. Eventually, your knees have to draw up to his flanks in order for him to keep going and you wind a leg around his hip to close the final distance with a press of your heel into one of the firm cheeks of his ass. A long breath sails out from between your lips when you pulse around him, slowly adjusting to having all of him filling you up. You can tell he has to put considerable effort into letting you, wood groaning below you when he clutches onto the table.

“Fuck, it’s a lot,” you say, and when he grins against your mouth you can’t help but kiss him again – just a peck. The hand at the back of your neck squeezes in reassurance as he continues to let you lead, and it’s a small gesture, but it makes you feel warm all over. You melt into it his touch, your body relaxing as the pleasure of the stretch of him takes over.

“Can stay like this a little longer if you want,” he says, but the strain in his voice says something different.

“Hmm, no, you can move.” You’ve barely said it, or his hips are drawing back, and it would have made you laugh if it didn’t feel so fucking incredible. He almost slips from you completely, before sliding all the way back inside with a grunt. The table scrapes along the floor, and vaguely you register one of your chairs falling over in the process. When he repeats the action, the furniture squeaks again below you. “Just don’t break my table.”

The sound he makes in response is non-commital, and when he fucks back into you and nudges against something wonderful, you can’t say you disagree. Grabbing hold of his shoulder and using the leg you have wrapped around him, you roll your hips against his, and he begins to meet you halfway until you work up a rhythm together. The table protest further, a shrill sound filling the room after each slap of skin–

With a frustrated groan and accompanied by a startled squeal from yourself, Logan lifts you. The surprised laugh that threatens to bubble up your throat quickly morphs into something heavier that comes out with a rasp when he makes it all look unusually effortless. Attempting to brace yourself, you sling one arm over his shoulders, the other winding around his neck so you can rake your fingers through the hair at the back of his head. It’s a struggle to keep your balance, a helpless heel digging into the back of his thigh to keep yourself upright. Quick to aid, Logan slides an arm under you, fingers splayed across your ass as your knee hangs off the inside of his elbow. He turns a quarter, presses you up against the wall, and doesn’t miss a beat as he continues fucking you.

“Jesus, Logan,” you say, voice almost a growl and barely recognizable as your own.

With your new position, you can see him better, the both of you lit from the side with the window to your left. The moonlight paints him in a tapestry of light and shadows when the wind blows through the tree branches, momentarily amplifying the glint in his eyes and the flex of his chest and arms like a strobe light.

The different angle he finds with his cock is a little too good, the feeling of the thick base of him stretching you open with each thrust making you dazed and talkative, “It’s so deep like this, can–oh, my god–can feel you everywhere.”

Logan curses at your words, squeezing your waist and pushing you harder against the wall. There’s a deep-voiced appreciation of how good you feel in there too that doesn’t quite make it from your ears to your brain because somehow he’s still speeding up. His head ducks down to your chest, mouthing at the soft skin of your breast before closing his lips around a nipple.

You whine, using the grip you have on him to roll your hips against the piston of his while you pant into his crown. Though the sound he makes against you when you do it makes you beam with pride, it’s not something you can keep up for very long, your hold on him slacking after a few thrust until you slip back against the wall.

Logan pulls back when you do, tightening his hold on you while his eyes glide from the bounce of your tits that glisten with his spit to down between your bodies.

“Touch yourself,” he instructs, grunting when you immediately do as he says by bringing a hand down between where you’re joined. Your fingers spread in a V-shape around where he fucks into you, collecting some of your mixed arousal before using it to rub your clit. “That’s it, sweetheart, fuck, make yourself come.”

You nod, rapidly feeling everything zeroing in on the fingers that draw tight circles over your clit and that spot deep inside you that Logan’s finding with every thrust. “Yeah, fuck, I’m–Don’t stop, don’t stop, please–”

He’s coming before you are, tucking his head below your chin to let out a deep, drawn out moan against your neck that ends with his teeth grazing your skin. It’s so much, the pressure of him grinding himself into you with twitching, barely there thrusts, the heat of his release as it fills you where you’re gripping him like a vice, and as your fingers still twirl between your legs you come, and come, and come.

The leg you have wrapped around his hip slips off, but before your toes can even scrape the floor, he catches your thigh, cupping your ass with both hands now to keep you up, and close. With a soft, satisfied sound, you let your forehead fall against Logan’s shoulder, tasting the salt of his sweat with every light press of your lips there.

It takes you a moment to notice your back has come off the wall, that Logan is walking the both of you into your living room and to the couch. He bends his knees, dropping you between your pillows, where you land with as much grace as you can muster considering you feel like you’re made of lead. The soft couch is pleasant against your body, your sore limbs sinking into the cushions.

Logan fits himself between your legs again, widening them around his broad shoulders before his lips find your overstretched thighs, leaving marks and kisses up up up, until his tongue slips back into your pussy. Your back arches off the couch, hands shooting down to fist his hair with a whine while Logan’s hand fists his cock. As your eyes adjust to the darkness, you can tell he’s already getting hard again, and his tongue is making something swirl low in your belly that’s making you pant, and...

It’ll be a long night.

THE PEARL

It had taken a lot of convincing and downright groveling, but Wade had allowed you to bring a movie for movie night. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust your taste in movies, his main gripe with your choice was that it wasn’t a Christmas movie – mandatory for December. Wade’s right, but after you explained that it’s the movie you always watch at the end of the year (and after Logan and yourself conceded that yes, his birthday was technically also your anniversary) he’d agreed.

Now that you’re actually watching it, you suspect he’s genuinely invested, because after a handful of comments about The Hulk, he’s been quiet for longer than you’ve ever heard him be quiet.

In the scene on the screen, Mark Ruffalo’s character Dan and Keira Knightley’s character Gretta are taking an evening walk around New York City, dancing, singing and sharing music with each other as they do. Eventually, they stop and sit next to each other on some steps, watching as the city continues to move without them.

“...the most banal scenes are suddenly invested with so much meaning, ya know? All these banalities, they're suddenly turned into these… these beautiful, effervescent pearls,” Dan says, wistfully looking on as New York bustles around him. “I gotta say, as I've gotten older these pearls are just… becoming increasingly more and more rare to me.”

The arm Logan has slung around your shoulder tightens, and the couch creaks softly as you lean further into his side, your cheek squishing against his warm chest.

“More string than pearls?” Gretta inquires with a frown.

“Yeah. You got to travel over a lot more string to get to the pearls.” There’s a pause as he turns to look at her, “This moment is a pearl, Gretta.”

She gives him a hint of a smile. “It sort of is, isn't it?”

“All this has been a pearl,” he admits, sharing a look with her.

A finger curls under your chin, tipping your head up until your eyes meet Logan’s. He gives you the same look you just saw on the screen, his eyes soft as they take you in, the hint of green between the hazel illuminated by the light of the television. A thumb swipes over your bottom lip fondly, before he leans down to kiss you.

It takes a lot of string indeed.

Sometimes even interdimensional string.

– – – – –

(THE END)

If you made it all the way here, thanks for reading. Seriously. Please come say hi and/or share your thoughts via ask/messages/reblogs/whatever you feel comfortable with. I hope to share more writing soon - emphasis on hope, I'm not making promises, just an educated wish.

And lastly, if you're struggling with mental health problems, please don't wait for a handsome stranger to sweep you off your feet. I know from experience that it can be incredibly difficult to reach that hand out, but I also know from experience that things can get better. There are ways to get help and you deserve to get help 🫂

#dani writing #logan howlett x reader #wolverine x reader #logan howlett x you #wolverine x you #james logan howlett x reader #worst wolverine x reader #logan x reader #x men x reader #worst wolverine #wolverine fanfiction #wolverine smut

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roanofarcc · 9 months ago

Text

FUNNY BUSINESS

pairing. tyler owens x boone’s sister!reader

summary. boone was a laid-back guy who only really had one, long-standing rule: his sister was off-limits to the wranglers. But tyler had a bad habit of rule-breaking.

warnings. a curse or two, fem!reader, mentions of drinking/being drunk (not reader), suggestive jokes, bed-sharing.

word count. 4k || masterlist

“You’re the worst, you know that?” Dani said, her arms crossed over her chest as she leaned against the side of the rig alongside Tyler and Boone. She and Tyler had their sights set on you as you concentrated on the options of the vending machine, oblivious to their attention.

Boone furrowed his brows, having just been focused on the camera in his hands. “Who?”

“You,” Dani answered. “You brought your hot sister all of the way out here to help us, and then tell us she’s off-limits. It’s cruel and unusual punishment, if ‘ya ask me.”

A laugh bubbled up from Tyler’s throat, earning him a glare from Boone. “It’s not my fault none of you assholes can keep it in your pants.”

It was Tyler’s turn to glare, playfully. “I’m a gentleman, Boone. Is it a crime to get to know her, you know, considering she’s a part of the team now?”

With a sigh, Boone shook his head. “Just no funny business.”

Tyler mock saluted. “Scouts honor.”

Tyler was a gentleman; his momma had raised him as such. And despite his teasing, he did want to respect Boone’s words. But at the same time, you were the newest member of the Wranglers, and Tyler did want to get to know you since you’d be hanging around for at least that season.

Boone had suggested to bring you on to help with the charity aspect of their storm-chasing. The t-shirt and other sales they made from their online audience went mostly to help victims of the storms they chased, and the rest went back into making the merchandise to sell. Boone said you’d be a good addition to help out with the business side of things, and he’d been right from what Tyler had seen so far. You were smart and quick, and were able to keep up with the rest of Wranglers as if you’d been a part of the team since the start. Tyler was impressed.

But what really impressed him, was how caring you were. It was the first time you’d come along with them to help out a neighborhood that was hit hard by a tornado. Houses were leveled and the devastation was thick in the air from the moment they arrived.

The Wrangler quickly got to work. Lily and Dexter started making sandwiches. Dani started walking around and passing out water bottles. Boone helped the injured to the ambulances that arrived. Tyler started making rounds, helping families find their missing pets or important objects in the rubble. But as he did so, he couldn’t help but watch you interact with the victims as well.

A couple of kids from the neighborhood sat together in a clear patch of grass while their parents tried to salvage some of their belongings and figure out what to do next. They all looked teary-eyed, and faces pulled in frowns as they sat quietly, clutching stuffed animals or picking at the wet grass to distract themselves. You approached them, sitting down in the little circle they formed.

Tyler couldn’t hear what you were saying to them, but your started to look more and more animated and the kids cracked small smiles. After a couple more moments, the kids’ moods looked to shift into something lighter despite the devastation around them. The somber air slowly became filled with giggles and kids’ voices overlapping excitedly.

Tyler found himself smiling softly at the sight before he ventured over. “How’s it going over here?” he asked, earning your attention.

“David here is telling us a very interesting story about a space alien,” you said, earning an enthusiastic nod from one of the younger boys in the circle. “You guys keep telling stories and I’m gonna go make sure no one else needs help, okay?”

The kids all shared a series of ‘okays’ and ‘thank yous’ before you moved to stand up. Tyler outstretched his hand toward you, and you took it with a smile, letting him help you to your feet. Once you stood directly in front of him, he felt himself clam up slightly. He and Dani had made jokes in hopes of irritating Boone in regards to how attractive you were, but seeing you that close, in the after-storm sunlight, Tyler’s breath hitched in his throat.

“Thanks,” you said, dropping your hand back at your side and gazing around at what else there was to be done in the neighborhood.

He cleared his throat. “That was smart, keepin’ their minds off of…” he vaguely gestured around them, feeling a knot in his gut of pity for the poor families affected.

You smiled sadly. “My parents used to do that with Boone and I. When we’d have to wait in the cellar, we’d all tell stories until the storm passed. The more outrageous the better,” you explained.

“It seemed to work,” Tyler said, glancing at the circle of kids all sharing outrageous stories with laughter and smiles instead of the frowns they held a couple minutes ago.

“Yeah, at least a little bit,” you said. There was a beat where Tyler didn’t know what else to say. Something over his shoulder caught your eye before you looked back to him and said, “I’m gonna go help Boone.” You sidestepped Tyler and left him in a slight daze.

He whispered a string of curses under his breath once he was out of earshot of the kids, and hurried back to the camper where the Wranglers were handing out food.

“I’ve got a problem,” he muttered to his friends.

Lily handed out another sandwich before eyeing him oddly. “A problem-problem or a you-problem?”

“A me-problem.”

“Ah,” she said. “Shoot, cowboy.”

“It’s Boone’s sister,” he whispered, ensuring that only Lily, Dexter, and Dani heard him. “She’s…”

“Attractive? Yeah, I thought we already established that?” Dani said, opening another case of water.

Tyler rubbed his forehead, an odd feeling twisting around inside his stomach. “It’s not just that,” he said. “She’s pretty, sure, but-”

Lily cut him off with slightly wide eyes. “Oh no,” she said.

Dexter furrowed his brows. “Oh no? Oh no, what?”

“Tyler only, and I mean only, calls women ‘pretty’ when he has a crush on them. Some ole’ woman at a bar that’s makin’ eyes at him, he’ll call her ‘attractive’ or ‘easy on the eyes’ never ‘pretty.’ Pretty he saves for the ones he’s got a big fat school-boy crush on. And normally that’s all fine and dandy, but this is Boone’s sister we’re talking about, Tyler.”

He hated how well Lily knew him. She read him like a book.

Dexter whistled lowly. “That’s unfortunate.”

“What’s unfortunate?” Boone said, approaching the group with you beside him. All of the Wranglers, aside from you two, looked at Tyler, which was anything but helpful.

Boone was one of Tyler’s best friends, and he knew it was the right thing to listen to him. Besides, Tyler hadn’t known you long so maybe his ‘school-boy crush,’ as Lily had put it, would fade once he got used to having you around.

Clearing his throat, Tyler shook his head. “Nothin’ important,” he said. “Let’s pass the rest of this food out before we head out for the night.”

You adored your brother’s friends more than you thought you would. You’d watch the Wranglers’ livestreams, but it was different being around them in person. Their passion for storm chasing was admirable and how they helped those affected by the very storms they were in awe of was amazing.

When Boone asked you to help out, you jumped at the opportunity. You certainly didn’t regret your decision, but you greatly underestimated the charm of Tyler Owens. You’d read the comments online, all ogling at the storm chaser, but it wasn’t just his looks that made him incredibly attractive. Tyler’s charm entered everything he did and said, but it was especially enticing when he talked about storms. When he got particularly excited, he spoke with his hands, lips pulled in a grin that was ridiculously mesmerizing. You could have listened to him talk about the weather forever, which was a problem.

It felt foolish on your part; not only was Tyler one of your brother’s best friends, but you thought he was miles out of your league. He had people practically drooling over him in the comments of his videos and making eyes the second he stepped into a building. He was a personality, wild and loud, but with a sweet side to make him even more likable. You told yourself the little crush would pass, but you worried that if Tyler kept being so damn nice to you, it’d be years before that happened.

“So, this is how storm chasers spend their off time?” you said, propping your elbows up on the bar before something sticky touched your skin. You recoiled in a grimace.

A chuckle sounded from Tyler as he handed you a napkin. “Here,” he said. “And yeah, it’s the perfect way to unwind. Though, word of caution, don’t drink too much. Storm chasing hung-over is a different kind of hell.”

You wiped someone’s spilled drink from your elbows and nodded. “Noted.” There was still a lot you had to learn about the ins and outs of storm chasing, but you were excited to learn. A silence passed between you two, the space filled with the bar chatter. The place was busy for it being in the middle of nowhere; the Wranglers said it was because most people were either dedicated locals or fellow storm chasers looking to relax a little.

Your brother and the rest of the team were at the old-timey jukebox, picking out songs that they then danced to, loud and rowdy as ever. But Tyler didn’t join them. Instead, he sat at the bar nursing a beer. Before you arrived, he was talking to an old man on the other side of him, cracking jokes like he’d known the stranger for years.

It was like each minute you were there with them, you uncovered something else about Tyler. And maybe it was a couple of sips of alcohol that were already affecting your system but felt like he should know that.

“You know, you’re a little different than I thought you’d be,” you admitted.

He studied for a moment with a gaze that made you nervous, but not in a bad way. “Oh yeah? How’d you think I was gonna be?”

You shrugged. “I watch the lives, mostly to make sure Boone is okay, but online you seemed…” You weren’t sure of what the right word to use was. You settled on, “More intense, I guess.”

A smirk crept across his lips. “And I am not intense enough for ‘ya?”

Your face felt hot, and the busy bar wasn’t helping. You adverted your eyes down to your drink and tried to laugh off your fluster. “I just mean, I thought you’d be like all of the time. I was worried I wouldn’t be able to keep up and you’d all think I wasn’t a good fit.”

The smirk fell from Tyler’s face and was replaced with a furrow of his brows. “Are you crazy?” he said. “We needed someone like you on our team. I know you just started, but I think you’re the best fit we could’ve picked.”

“Careful,” you teased. “Too many compliments like that might go to my head.” Even though you were pretty sure he was just trying to make you feel better, there was something in his tone that was convincing.

“What are y’all doin’?” Boone’s voice filled your ears and suddenly his arm was slung around both your and Tyler’s shoulders, forcing you two to lean in a little bit closer to one another, but with Boone sandwiched in the middle. Your brother’s breath smelled like beer and there was that goofy smile on his face he always got when he had one too many. “The party’s on the dance floor!”

You glanced over at the ‘dance floor’ which was a little space the Wranglers had carved out in front of the jukebox. A couple others joined them, but it wasn’t anything too wild.

Tyler shook his head and finished his beer. “Your ass is gonna be sorry tomorrow, Boone. I told you we’re leaving bright and early.”

Boone patted Tyler’s cheek. “I’ll be just fine.”

Boone was not ‘just fine’ the next morning. What he was a pain in Tyler’s ass, which resulted in him being demoted to the backseat and you prompted to the passenger seat. Maybe that wasn’t the best move for Tyler because while he was driving, he found himself slightly distracted by you.

You sat with your attention fixed out the window, watching the plains roll by with admiration. Every so often you fiddled with the radio per Lily’s request, but other than that you were quiet, observing.

“Can we take a pit stop?” Boone moaned. Tyler glanced at in the rearview mirror, face paled and eyes squeezed shut.

Tyler sighed. “I swear, if you throw up in my truck, Boone…” Tyler muttered, straining his eyes down the road for any sign of a gas station, but there didn’t look to be anything close.

“There’s not another stop for half an hour tops,” you said, searching on your phone.

“Great, cool, yeah,” Boone said. “Then you may wanna pull over or else everyone’s about to have a real bad time in here.”

Tyler quickly pulled off to the side of the road and Boone scrambled out, across the road to empty his stomach.

“I don’t know how many times I’ve got to tell him,” Tyler sighed.

“He won’t listen,” Lily said, unbuckling and sticking her face between you and Tyler. “I’ll make sure he’s all right. You two keep an eye on the weather.” She hopped out, leaving you and Tyler alone.

He drummed his fingers against the steering wheel, wracking his brain for something to say to you. Normally he had no issue talking to people, but he found himself second-guessing his words when it came to you. But you beat him to the punch.

“He’s never been too good at holding his alcohol,” you said. “I can’t tell you how many times I had to pick him up because he got sick at some friend’s bonfire back in high school. I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone get hangovers so badly.”

“All a part of his charm, I guess,” Tyler joked. “Does it run in the family?”

You shook your head. “No, neither charm nor hangovers. Boone’s one of a kind, that’s for sure.”

Tyler steadied himself a little, finding that thread of confidence in the back of his mind. He gazed at you, taking in the pretty features of your face. “I think you’re wrong on the charming bit.”

You looked surprised, eyes a little wider. “Me? Charming?” You scoffed. “No way.”

“Charming, smart, pretty…” Tyler trailed off, waiting for a reaction from you to let him know if he had swung and missed. You looked down, averting your eyes and clearing your throat. Out the windshield, he saw two figures moving in his peripheral vision and before you got the chance to say anything back, Boone and Lily reentered the car.

“That’s my bad, you guys,” Boone said.

You turned your head over your shoulder to look at your brother. “Feel better?”

“Oh, yeah. Ready to chase this son of a bitch!” And you all were off again. Tyler wished Boone and Lily had held out for one more minute. He wanted some kind of response from you, even if it was one telling him he had no chance. It was like an itch he couldn’t scratch, and one he felt bad about having, but he couldn’t help it. You were something new, a little unknown, and unpredictable. If there was one thing Tyler was good at, it was chasing through his apprehension. But instead of a tornado, you had quickly become the storm occupying his mind.

You knocked for the fifth time on Boone’s door and tried calling him again, but one thing about your brother was that he was one of the heaviest sleepers of anyone you’ve ever met. That paired with his hangover from the night prior left him not answering you. You cursed under your breath, ready to set up camp in one of the rickety pool lounge chairs.

There was an unpleasant pair of cockroaches in your motel room and the thought of sleeping with them scurrying about was out of the question. Since none of the other Wranglers had left their rooms, you wondered if you were the only one to notice them or the only one who had them. Whatever the case was, you couldn’t sleep in your room and apparently, you couldn’t sleep in Boone’s either because he was fast asleep. You couldn’t remember where Dani and Lily's rooms were to ask to bunk them.

It seemed like you were out of luck until the door next to Boone’s opened and a groggy Tyler stepped out. “What’s goin’ on?” he yawned, rubbing the tiredness from his eyes.

You hugged your arms closer to your body. “Sorry, did I wake you up?”

“Sorta,” he answered and you felt immediately guilty. “But it’s all right. I just wanted to make sure everything was okay out here. What’re you doin’ up anyway? It’s the middle of the night.”

“There are cockroaches in my room,” you sighed. “I was trying to see if I could crash with Boone, but he sleeps like the dead.”

Tyler chuckled. “That he does.” There was a beat and silent contemplation. You were about to tell him you’d crash in the camper or the truck, but he nodded his head back toward his room. “Come on,” he said.

You stood, confused for a moment. “You can crash with me. I don’t think my room has cockroaches but for both our peace of mind, I wouldn’t look around too hard.”

You weren't sure if you were elated or embarrassed. Overall, you were tired, exhausted even, and any thought of declining fled your mind the second Tyler turned to walk back inside, assuming you were following. So, you did.

Tyler patted the edge of the bed. “It’s all yours,” he said, gathering one of the pillows in his arms.

“What’re you doing?”

He tossed the pillow onto the floor. “Praying for no cockroaches for the next couple of hours.”

“No, wait,” you rushed out. “You can’t sleep on the floor.”

“It’s all good-” he started, but you cut him off.

“No way. I’m not kicking you out of your bed in your room.” You glanced at the bed, feeling your face grow hot at the thought of what you were about to suggest, but you couldn’t let him spend the night on the floor. “We can just…share.”

Tyler stared at you for a moment, like he didn’t know what to say. He shifted his gaze between the pillow on the floor and the bed before landing back on you. “Are you sure? Because I really don’t mind.”

“I’m sure.”

Hesitantly, you sat on the edge of the bed and pulled off your shoes, trying to ignore the shift of weight on the mattress as sat down opposite of you. It wasn’t as big of a deal as your mind was trying to tell you it was. It was just two co-workers, borderline friends, sharing a bed so no one had to face any cockroaches. That was all it was. But even in the darkness of the motel room, you couldn’t help the quick beat of your heart as you crawled under the covers, with your back facing Tyler. He did the same and before you could convince yourself what you were doing was not a big deal at all, Tyler’s soft snores filled the room. It was oddly reassuring. You fell asleep not long after him, a clear space between you but something in the air that wanted to draw you two closer.

For a moment, when he woke up, Tyler thought the exchange he had with you in the middle of the night had been a dream. But when he rolled over to find your sleeping face inches away from his, he realized it was very much real. Your eyes were softly closed and your lips slightly parted as you slept. He found himself admiring you for just a moment, until there was a loud knock on his door, forcing him to get up.

He threw it open without thinking much about it. Boone greeted him with a slightly worried expression pulled on his face. “Hey, man what’s-”

“Have you seen my sister? She called me last night a bunch of times, but I didn’t hear it. And when I went to her room no one answered,” Boone said, quickly cutting Tyler off.

“Boone?” Your voice sounded from behind Tyler and as soon as he saw the several emotions flicker across Boone’s face, he realized he may have made a mistake.

Boone’s gaze flickered between you sleepily sitting up in Tyler’s bed and Tyler. “Dude!” he exclaimed. “What the hell is going on here?”

It must have registered with you too how the situation looked. You hurried out of bed and stood at Tyler’s side. “Wait, hold on-”

“What the hell are you doing?” he said to you. “I said no funny business,” he then said to Tyler.

“It’s not like that,” Tyler rushed out. “I know that it looks like that, but it’s not. I swear.”

“He’s right,” you added. “It’s not. I needed a place to crash because there were bugs in my room, and you wouldn’t answer your phone. Tyler offered to let me stay in his. That’s all.”

Boone didn’t look too convinced. He crossed his arms over his chest, blowing air from his cheeks. “You two have been making googly eyes at each other since you arrived,” Boone said. Both you and Tyler tried to defend yourself, even if Tyler hadn’t been super subtle about his ‘googly’ eyes. But Boone cut you both off with a wave of his hand. “Save it. I know both of you. You,” he pointed to Tyler. “Are the least subtle person I know. And you,” he pointed at you. “Have been talking about him since I started chasing with him.”

Your eyes widened almost comically as you sputtered over your response. “I-I have not!”

“Look,” Boone started, taking a deep breath. “You’re both adults. But if you’re gonna get into any funny business, for the love of the Lord himself, do not do it around me. Got it?”

“Okay,” you answered, catching Tyler off guard. He expected you to brush your brother off and force Tyler to face the reality that you had no interest in him, but you didn’t.

Boone looked to him for his answer. “Y-Yeah.”

“Good,” Boone said. “We’re leavin’ in fifteen.” He turned on his heel and left the two of you in the doorway. Once he was out of earshot, a laugh sounded from your lips, a sweet sound he wasn’t expecting.

“God, that was embarrassing,” you said, still laughing at the situation.

Tyler couldn’t help but laugh too, closing the door and leaving the two of you alone in his motel room once more. “Is that true? You talk about me?”

You hung your head, sheepishly and shrugged. “Maybe.” The idea of you talking about him made him feel on top of the world. “Is what he said about you true? Are you really not that subtle?”

“I did invite you to sleep with me,” he joked, taking a step closer to you. You didn’t move away but instead closed the distance between you two even more. He searched your eyes for a sign that you were thinking the same thing he was, and when your gaze flickered to his lips for only a second, he got his confirmation.

Tyler hooked a finger under your chin, tilting your head upwards just slightly as he leaned in. He kissed you slowly, sweetly as you hung your arms around his shoulders to bring him in even closer, the two of you pressed chest to chest. He felt you smile against his lips, a blissful feeling he didn’t to end.

#twisters #twisters 2024 #tyler owens #tyler owens x reader #tyler owens x you #twister fanfiction #tyler owens fanfiction #glen powell #glen powell fanfic #boone twisters #lily twisters #dexter twisters #dani twisters

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queenofwands89 · 10 months ago

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The Storm Within Tyler Owens x fem!reader

Summary: What dramatic turn of events unfolds when Y/N storms off after an argument with Tyler, only to face the fury of a tornado that strikes their town and leaves Y/N injured?

Warnings: Tornado (duh lol), angst, arguing, mention of injuries, description of injuries, sad.

Notes: I wrote this because I am a whore for Tyler, and I love angst and pain. Enjoy byeeee

You feel the tension build in the air long before Tyler raises his voice. It's the kind of unease that clings to the back of your mind, an ineffable sense that something is about to go terribly wrong. You stand in the spacious, cluttered garage that serves as the command center for Tyler's storm-chasing crew. The storm models flashing on the multiple screens show bleak promises of another monstrous storm front moving across Oklahoma.

It starts as a simple disagreement. Tyler is passionate—almost recklessly so—about chasing a particular storm cell that evening. You object, voicing your concerns about the jeopardy it poses not only to Tyler but also to the entire crew.

"You never listen, Tyler!" Your voice quavers, your frustration edging too close to the surface. Your heart hammers in your chest. "You treat this like it's some adventure, but it’s dangerous!"

Tyler rakes his fingers through his hair, his expression a mix of determination and exasperation. "It's because it is dangerous," he shoots back. "But we do this because it saves lives, Y/N. If we can predict these storms better, we can give people the time they need to get to safety."

"And what about us? What about the people who love you? Are we just collateral damage in your crusade?"

Boone, who has been editing footage on his laptop nearby, looks up, his usually cheerful face clouded with concern. Lilly and Dexter exchange worried glances, while Dani silently tinkers with a drone, her stoic demeanor betrayed by the slightest furrow of her brow.

"I can’t sit by and do nothing while you risk everything, Tyler!" Your eyes well up with tears that you fiercely try to blink away. "One day, you might not come back."

Tyler sighs heavily. He takes a step towards you, but you instinctively recoil, the hurt in your eyes deepening the chasm between you. "Y/N, you know I love you, but this—this is what I do. It’s who I am."

"Well, I can't do this right now," you say, your voice cracking. "I need to clear my head."

Without another word, you grab your coat and storm out of the garage, slamming the door behind you. The echo of the slam lingers, punctuating the silence that envelops the room.

Tyler turns back to his crew, realizing that the argument has sapped the collective energy and morale. Boone breaks the silence with his usual attempt at lightening the mood.

"She'll cool off, man. Just give her some time," he offers, though his eyes betray the uncertainty he feels.

Lilly nods, her calm demeanor trying to instill a sense of reassurance. "Tyler, she just needs space. She loves you; that much is clear. Just let her process this."

Dexter, wiser and ever the emotional compass, adds softly, "Sometimes the best way to show love is to step back and let them come to terms with their fears on their own."

Tyler nods, although doubt gnaws at him. There is a sort of irony in chasing something as unpredictable as a tornado and yet being completely at a loss when it comes to matters of the heart.

You storm off down the gravel road, away from the storm-chasing headquarters. The expanses of Oklahoma stretch around you, vast and indifferent. You walk quickly, your thoughts a tumultuous whirl that rivals the storm brewing on the horizon.

Before long, a low rumble of thunder echoes in the distance. Your instincts tell you to seek shelter, but you are too consumed by your emotions to heed the warnings. Your phone buzzes, probably Jake checking in with you, but you ignore it.

As minutes turn to an hour, the sky darkens ominously, the oppressive weight of the storm hanging palpably in the air. You look up just as the first sharp gust of wind howls past you, sending a chill down your spine.

Your phone rings again. This time, you pick it up. It is Tyler.

"Y/N, you need to get back here. Now! There's an strom projected to hit our area. It's not safe out there!"

Before you can respond, the roar of the wind drowns out his voice. In the distance, a wall of debris begins to rise—terrifying in its beauty and formidable in its power. You feel a jolt of fear as you realize the windstorm is bearing down on you.

Panic-stricken, you try to find cover, but there is nowhere to go. The winds intensify, whipping your hair across your face and pulling at your clothes. In a desperate attempt to hold onto something, anything, you grab onto a nearby fence post as the monstrous tornado descends upon the town.

Back at the garage, the team is glued to their screens, tracking the terrifying path of the cyclone. Tyler's eyes are wide with dread, his breaths coming in ragged gasps.

"We need to go find her!" he shouts, his voice breaking with worry as he lunges toward the door.

Dexter and Boone spring into action, their grips tight on his arms, holding him back with all their strength. "Tyler, we will find her," Dexter insists, his voice steady yet intense. "But rushing headfirst into this will only get us all killed. We need a plan."

Tyler struggles against their hold, desperation etched into every line of his face. "You don't understand! She’s out there, and every second counts!"

Lilly's eyes mirror his fear but she nods in agreement with Dexter. "He's right, Tyler. We have to be smart about this."

Dani is already at the armored storm-chasing vehicle, her fingers flying over the controls as she starts the engine. "Let's go," she commands, her voice a beacon of resolve amidst the chaos.

The ride out is like plunging into a nightmare. The town around them is unrecognizable—a hellscape of uprooted trees, shattered windows, and debris swirling in the violent wind. The roar of the storm is deafening, a monstrous wall of sound that seems intent on swallowing them whole.

Every turn is fraught with danger, every street a potential deathtrap. The armored vehicle groans under the force of the gale, but it presses onward, cutting a determined path through the destruction.

Tyler's eyes scan the devastation, his heart pounding, every fiber of his being focused on one thing: finding you. The storm's fury lashes at them, but their resolve is unbreakable. They are driven by a singular, desperate hope—to bring you back alive.

As the harrowing storm begins to relent, the world around you is a landscape of devastation. The monstrous tornado has passed, leaving behind a chaotic aftermath. The team ventures deeper into the wreckage, eyes scanning anxiously for any sign of you.

Then they see you. Crumpled on the ground, clutching a fence post as though it’s the only thing tethering you to life, you lie unconscious, battered by the storm’s fury. Debris is scattered all around, a haunting testament to the storm's wrath. Tyler's heart wrenches at the sight.

Without a second thought, he leaps out of the vehicle, ignoring the stinging wind and flying debris that tug at his clothes and batter his body. "No, no, no," he mutters under his breath, sprinting towards you with a singular focus.

"Y/N!" he cries out, his voice breaking as he nears you. The sound barely cuts through the howl of the wind. He kneels beside you, wrapping his arms around your frail form, shielding you from the remnants of the storm. "Please, Y/N. Wake up."

Boone, sitting in the driver’s seat, immediately jumps out of the vehicle as well. He turns to Lilly and Dexter, his expression serious and determined. "Lilly, grab the emergency blankets. Dexter, I need you to help get Y/N into the truck, now!"

Boone rushes over to Tyler, his mouth set in a grim line. "Tyler, move aside. We need to get her stabilized." He swiftly yet carefully checks your pulse and breathing. "She's still with us. We have to move quickly."

“Be careful!” Tyler shouts over the wind to the crew, his voice tinged with panic. “She’s hurt!”

They work with meticulous care, gently extricating you from the wreckage. Tyler's hands shake as he helps lift you, his mind a whirlwind of desperate prayers and fear.

Dani, standing nearby, fights back tears, her voice breaking as she says, "Hang in there, Y/N. We’re not losing you."

They rush you back to the relative safety of the vehicle, urgency in every step. The vehicle starts moving, navigating through the storm’s terrible wake with a singular mission: to get you to medical attention.

Tyler sits beside you, cradling your hand in his, his eyes never leaving your face. “Hang in there, Y/N,” he whispers, as though sheer willpower could keep you tethered to life. “We’re almost there. You’re going to be okay. I promise.”

The crew speeds through the chaotic aftermath, dodging fallen branches and uprooted signs. Dexter keeps a vigilant eye on the road, never slowing down. Lilly's hands shake as she dabs at your wounds with a cloth from the medical kit, trying to do whatever she can to help.

All the while, Tyler stays with you, his heart breaking and yet holding onto hope, as the vehicle barrels towards the hospital, each mile bringing you closer to safety. Tyler holds you tightly, his voice trembling and tears mingling with the rain on his cheeks as he whispers, "I'm so sorry. I love you. Please, hold on. Just hold on a little longer, baby."

#tyler owens #tyler owens x you #tyler owens x reader #twisters fanfic #twisters #tyler owens imagine #tyler owens x y/n #tyler owens fanfiction #glen powell #glen powell fanfic #angst #twisters 2024 #twisters movie #lilly #boone #dexter #dani

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prael · 5 months ago

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Day 11: Threats And Treats

Newjeans Danielle x male reader smut

words: 4,585 12 Days of Praelmas Masterlist

She is furious.

She's been in your class for barely a few months, but now she gives you an ultimatum. Either you change her grade, or she'll report you for sexual harassment.

It's a threat that you laugh off.

You have no reason to be afraid. Sure, Danielle's been throwing herself at you ever since you became her teacher. She wears her skirts too short, and her tops too low, and the way she asks you to tutor her privately after school can't be entirely innocent.

But it's not as if you've done anything wrong. You have, in fact, ignored Danielle's advances.

And there's no understating just how hard that has been. She has perched herself on your desk after class and given you a view of her lacy underwear. She has worn her gym shorts to meet you, and the tight material has hugged the cheeks of her firm little ass so snugly that it makes you want to drool. Painted her lips in that deep red that you know would look perfect wrapped around your cock. She brushed up against you in the hallways with a sly little grin and pressed her soft little tits into your side.

"Danielle, get the hell out of my office."

She turns up her nose without a word and she storms off.

She doesn't report you. Instead, she shows up at your office an hour later.

You have a lot of other papers to grade. You've had a long week. And Danielle's attitude is making your day even harder. You are in no mood to play games with this bratty girl. You don't look up when she enters. You barely glance at her.

"I'm not changing your grade," you say dismissively as you mark another awful essay with an F and then flip it over. You wonder how Danielle would react if you gave her a failing grade instead.

Danielle is undaunted. "You have to. You know that's not the grade I deserved."

"I scored you exactly like I did the others, and that is the score you got," you reply curtly, looking over another paper. "I can show you the rubric if you'd like, but it won't change your score. Now please, I'm very busy."

She steps closer. You don't bother to look up until Danielle places one slender finger underneath your chin, tilts up your face, and looks straight down at you. The bratty young woman has some nerve. Her touch sends a tingle down your spine, but you try to ignore it.

"I can make things difficult for you," she says. She's giving you this piercing gaze. Her hair is tied back in a neat ponytail and her lips are bright red again.

"Miss, if you touch me again or make any demands of me, I'll have to call someone to have you removed from my office." You look right back into those eyes, trying to keep a cool facade.

"And how would that look? If someone walked in and I am kneeled on your desk." She whispers as she raises her right knee onto it first and then lifts herself up. "Maybe I could have a tear going down my face." She runs her finger down the side of her cheek. "Or maybe I could have my legs spread. What would they think?"

"Get the fuck off my desk."

"Oh, sir. I do like it when you swear at me. It's kind of hot." She smirks and she shuffles further onto your desk. Her knees push away papers and files. She's such a dainty little thing—you've thought that so many times—that you could lift her right off and carry her away by her firm little ass. You wonder if that would turn her on. "I'm not getting down. Not unless you give me the grade I want."

"Danielle. Get off my desk right now." You warn again.

"Sir, we both know I'm not a B student, don't we?" She asks as she runs her hand up her slender thigh, bringing up her skirt with it and giving you a full view of her lacey pink underwear. Her bare thighs are smooth. Her panties look delicate like you could just rip through them with a single hard tug.

She knows exactly what she's doing, the little minx.

"Are you going to change my grade for me?"

She rests her skirt at her hips, leaving herself exposed right in your eyeline.

"Danielle, you're a student, this is unacceptable." There's a quiver in your voice, but it's still the truth. This is wrong, and she needs to be punished. You want to bend her over your knee, pull down her panties and give her a damn good spanking until her cheeks turn the same shade as her lips. Then you want to pull down your trousers, take out your cock and... No.

You wince at yourself. These are not thoughts you can afford to entertain. No matter how tempting Danielle makes them. No matter how good she'd feel (you know she would feel so good). No, you can't do that.

"Sir, listen to me. Either let me work hard for you and earn my A. Or I tell the principal. Tell her how you tried to fuck me," she purrs. Her eyes flash as she challenges you.

She leans forward, pushing more files off the desk as she does. Danielle's small breasts are nearly to your face, and you wonder how her soft flesh would feel pressed against your skin.

"Well?"

Her perfume wafts around you, filling your nostrils with her sweet, intoxicating smell.

"Please. Stop this," you whisper, trying to remain strong. But you know that you can't resist her much longer.

She reaches a hand up and brushes your cheek and her touch tingles against your skin. It wouldn't be so difficult to pull her in right now and give in to all your urges.

"No."

She leans in and whispers, "Then I'll make things even more difficult."

Danielle suddenly clambers off the desk, pulling papers and stationary with her, and down to her knees. Your chair rolls back a few inches, but now her head is right between your legs.

"This isn't going to work," you lie, your breath hitching. Your heart beats faster in your chest as you realize what is happening. You don't want it to work, you tell yourself. You can't want it to work. Not when she is a goddamn student.

"It will. Trust me," she whispers.

And then you feel the button of your jeans pop and hear the sound of the zipper. You can't look down, you just can't. Instead, you stare straight forward at the clock in front of you. Watching it tick slowly.

Your breathing becomes heavier as she fiddles with the waist of your boxers. She's going to get her grade. There's nothing you can do. She knows that now, and it makes her giggle. It is a girly, innocent little giggle, and that makes everything feel so much worse.

You can feel your cock swelling and hardening underneath her fingers, and you know that there's no way to stop her now. Her hand is wrapped around your shaft. And then, her hot breath on your skin, followed by the wet touch of her tongue.

Your eyes shut tight and your hands clench the armrests. Her tongue slides around you and then, her mouth closes over your head.

"Oh, fuck." You breathe. Your whole body is tingling as Danielle starts to suck your cock, her lips wrapped so tightly around you, her mouth so warm and welcoming. She's a little bit sloppy, a little bit too fast, but you can't help loving every moment. She has you in the palm of her hand now, quite literally, and she's working your cock with all the enthusiasm you could ever want from a bratty girl who's decided that you're going to give her exactly what she wants.

Your hands clench into fists, but as Danielle keeps bobbing up and down your cock, you just can't keep them still. You've resisted this girl for so long. You've been a good man, a decent man, despite her constant efforts to seduce you.

You can't be good now.

You let go of the armrest and reach down, and you place a firm hand on her head. She squeals with surprise and delight as you force her down onto your cock, making her take you deeper than she was prepared to go. And that noise only makes it feel even better, sending tingling pleasure all through your skin. You can feel the head of your cock hitting the back of her throat and the pressure as she gags, the vibrations as she moans, and you don't let up. You don't want to.

You hate yourself for it; you know how wrong it is; you know how it would play out if anyone found out; you know you should feel guilty as sin, and yet all you can feel is pleasure as Danielle bobs up and down on your cock.

You dare to indulge at the sight: a beautiful girl on her knees, sucking your cock, taking you deep into her mouth. Lips laden in red gloss stretched around your cock. Wide-eyed, with mascara-coated lashes. You can feel your balls tightening. The heat in your stomach rises as the pleasure becomes overwhelming. She sucks harder, she moans a little louder, and you know you're close.

Maybe it's just how wrong it is that makes it all feel so good. Or maybe it's just because it's her.

"Sir?" She says it between planting kisses on the tip of your cock, all while her dainty little hand jerks at the shaft, her fingers barely wrapping around you. She's been teasing you for so long now. Months and months. You can hardly stand it anymore. "I want to taste it."

Oh god, how you want to give it to her.

"Danielle..." you gasp.

"I've thought about it so often. When you were in the classroom talking theories and applications, all I wanted to do was get down on my knees and let you fuck my face."

"Danielle..." It's all you can say, because what can you say? This is your student, for god's sake.

"You know how many times you left me soaked after a lesson?" Her voice is low and husky, filled with desire, and she has this little twist in her wrist every time she strokes your cock, and she is driving you crazy. "I'd run home and slip my fingers into my underwear and make myself cum."

"Stop."

"Want it, don't you?" she taunts, and then as if it's some rehearsed move, she lets go of your cock. The absence of touch makes you ache with need. She's smiling so wide that her eyes smile too, and there's a gentle laugh because she knows exactly what she's doing. "Then you better change my grade."

She sits back on her haunches, still between your legs, looking up at you with expectation. She glances over her shoulder to your computer—a suggestion (or a demand) to change her grade right this very second, or else the fun stops.

You're a weak man, aren't you? She has your cock out and your heart pounding. She's giving you an ultimatum that you can't refuse, so you're standing up, looking down at her. Your pants have slipped to the ground. Danielle's face is level with your throbbing, pulsating cock.

"You win," you say with a sigh, as you reach over her to type on the computer, changing her grade. You have barely hit the enter key before she's up and wrapping her lips around you again, her moan vibrating your cock. Your reward for breaking the rules—for betraying every ounce of professional integrity.

Your reward feels so good. You grab a handful of her hair and force her head back down onto you. You watch yourself disappear between those red-stained lips again. You don't hold back. Standing over the cute girl, your cock in her mouth, you thrust your hips forward. Every time you hit the back of her throat you feel her gag. She's trying so hard to suppress the reflex. She wants you to believe that she's an experienced little slut, but her red cheeks and her wet eyes give away the truth.

"Good girl. Take it all."

Danielle looks up at you with those pretty doe eyes, so full of mischief. She has won, and you both know it. But you can't feel sorry now. Not with her on her knees, and her lips around you. This has to happen. So you're fucking her mouth, pinning her against your desk, while she grasps at her own chest. Clenching at her breasts through the material of her shirt and squeezing her thighs together in some attempt to satisfy the burning desire you know she feels.

Her jaw hangs open, leaving you nothing more than a hole to use. You can't keep this up anymore, the tension in your body can't take it any more, and neither can she. She's gasping, choking, spluttering, fighting for her breath as you use your grip on her hair to make her swallow every inch.

A smudge on her cheek, where a tear has spilt, and mascara is starting to stain.

"Look at me," you snap, jerking her by the hair as her focus drifts.

"Yes, sir," she replies obediently, locking her eyes right on yours while looking up. You bite your lip. It won't be long. The heat has been rising, and you know you're close.

She seems to know it too, and her eyes seem to say just how much she wants you to fill her. They show you how much she wants to take her victory. That's enough to send you right over the edge.

"Mmh!" she moans as you push your entire cock into her mouth. Her gagging and protesting does nothing to prevent the contractions from running through your cock. She feels like heaven as your cock jerks, and your eyes shut tight while pleasure overwhelms you. You can feel yourself pumping load after load into her waiting mouth. Thick rope after thick rope. You didn't know you could cum like this. You haven't cum like this since...ever.

She's working you as much as her tired state allows, her tongue shifting and coaxing out your fluids. Draining you of every last drop of cum.

You pull out and she gasps for air, chest heaving. Her face is marked, her lipstick smudged. What's left on her lips looks almost as if it's bruising, and you revel in it. She looks spent. Completely used. She's even pulled one hand up to cover her mouth. With this expression, she can't pull off a confident slut act, and this satisfies you. She's panting, like a dog after a hard run.

You both win. Mutual victory. Satisfaction and defeat.

You slide down into your chair, the adrenaline running its course. For now, everything is exactly the way it should be. As if none of this has ever happened. She's checking the screen and grinning. Her eyelids flutter, and she smiles back at you—almost bashful. Relief that she got what she came for.

Danielle is just happy, while you're thinking about all the ways you would like to pin her to your desk.

It's now well into spring, the snow has melted and the seasons are changing. You've been waiting for a while. Weeks have passed without her coming into your class or your office or talking to you about the latest assignment.

Not that you've minded. After your last encounter, you're prepared for a little bit of distance. You're still thinking about how things went. (You're always thinking about it.)

It's all going to change today. See, the latest grades were posted this morning, and you imagine that Danielle is not going to be pleased with hers. You picture her stopping by your office shortly, demanding another change, and of course, you're going to oblige. You're getting hard just at the thought.

Even the deepest, darkest, dirtiest corners of your mind hadn't prepared for this. You didn't know Danielle's schedule, of course, but it becomes abundantly clear she came right here from cheerleader practice. Athletic, tiny, and body-hugging—all words appropriate to describe the tiny little cheer uniform she is sporting. Her shorts short enough to almost reveal her full cheeks, and her top is way too thin. Thin enough, in fact, for you to tell that Danielle wasn't wearing a bra underneath, and you could see her pert, perky little nipples—making her excitement obvious.

"Sir, what the fuck is this?" Danielle holds out her phone and points at her grade: a B+. "You'd better do something about it."

She stands across from your desk, the image of youthful indifference, her hip cocked and her arms crossed. It is a stance filled with sass.

"I think you failed to take my instruction, my guidance, properly and for that, I had to dock marks."

"And if I show you now, how well I take instruction, will you increase it?" Her head tilts slightly and her teeth rake over her lower lip, and her tone is so impudent, and something about her attitude makes the blood surge through your veins. It's like every word from her insolent mouth is spurring you on to teach her a lesson. Make her moan and scream your name. Fill her up like you did before and erase that smirk from her pretty, pretty little face.

"There is a little lee-way." A teasing, mischievous giggle. "Maybe there's something we can agree on?" You suggest, your eyes tracking the curve of her toned legs. You can feel your pants getting uncomfortably tight at the thought of making Danielle squeal.

"Where do you want me, sir?"

You both know that the bartering is pointless. This deal isn't new, it's a continuation. "Bend over my desk. Like the good little girl that you are."

She strolls right around your desk, swaying her hips a little bit more than necessary, and you aren't sure if the minx is putting a show on for your sake or whether it's just her natural saunter. Either way, as soon as she puts her elbows down on your desk, you're sure that her display was planned to the smallest detail.

Slowly, she pushes her ass up and back, looking over her shoulder at you. "Can I have a word, please, sir? I'm having some trouble understanding," she calls over to you, the most suggestive smile creasing her face, and you try not to let the effect of her bratty charms bother you.

"Danielle, I gave you ample explanation of the assignment." You remind her. You can't keep the humour out of your voice.

"This is true, but...it's the sort of thing I really need drilled into me." Danielle presses the very tip of one blood-red fingernail to the desk and draws it in the shape of a circle.

"I know the syllabus can be a little... hard," you say as you stand behind her. You lean forward and place your hands on the desk. The cheap wood groans in protest. You can smell her intoxicating perfume. She's definitely been driving you crazy.

"So hard," she whispers as you lean over her body.

"Do you need some extra attention, Danielle?"

"I do, sir." She shifts her body, rolling her lower back and standing on the toes, pressing the curve of her pert little ass against your crotch. "Please, sir."

It has been weeks since you had her. How could you resist a come-on like that? How could anyone? Slowly you slide your hands down her sides and grab her hips. You feel a wave of perverted, forbidden lust as you grip her flesh; she feels so good. She shivers slightly at your touch, which gives you a wicked thrill.

Danielle is so small underneath you, so petite. Your hands move from her waist, stroking along the smooth material of the skirt. She draws in a short breath as you place your hand underneath the little article of clothing. She had removed her panties, as you suspect, she would. So there is nothing to prevent you from stroking the delicate, velvety soft skin of her lovely little pussy. It's already wet—which isn't surprising, but it's even hotter than you could have dreamed.

"Danielle, you don't have underwear," you murmur.

"I know sir, so I guess the next part should be easy." She starts to wiggle against your hand, drawing up that tiny skirt a little further, displaying herself to you.

She's perfectly prepared, so you draw your finger deeper between her soft, silken lips, finding her entrance, teasing her gently, drawing mewling, desperate sounds out of the slutty girl bent over your desk. You take a moment just to savour her gasps and little whimpers. To drink in her pleasure. There's something so damn satisfying, knowing the effect that you have on her. Then, you start to pull your fingers down, toward her beautiful little clit, stroking it, working her little bundle of nerves while her excited sounds just get more and more needy.

You continue to play with her pussy while enjoying the way that her tiny breasts squish against the desk, how her hands are clasping desperately for purchase and how she rolls her little hips against you, eagerly seeking out more. She's so consumed, so lost in the moment that it doesn't surprise you when the question finally falls out of her lips.

"Sir, am I going to get an A?"

That smug fucking little minx. She knows exactly what she's doing. "Yes, Danielle. An A." You promise.

"Give it to me, sir," she says with the most expectant little sigh, and the temptation proves too much for you. So you remove your hand and slip your fingers in your mouth. Tasting her. Savouring her. How far you'd gone. She groans in disappointment as you withdraw, but she stops protesting as she hears the sound of your belt. Is it anticipation that has goosebumps blooming on her skin?

When you've freed yourself from your pants, it is no struggle at all to position your cock between those sweet, soft folds and draw a moan from both of you.

"What are you waiting for?" she whines impatiently, forcing herself back against you, enticing you.

Your only response is to smile and continue to enjoy the sight of her pinned against your desk. Her bare, narrow lower back is fully exposed, leading to such a cute, full little ass that is just aching to be taken. You marvel at her every detail as the head of your cock presses right up against her tight hole, tempting you into her body, luring you in.

"Sir," she whispers, a husky, throaty invitation.

Before any more of her words can fill the air, you start to push inside her slowly. Every inch that passes makes her draw a sharper breath and keeps her gasping for air.

Every whimper that passes her lips spurs you on, while every quivering contraction her pussy performs tempts you to pound every single inch of yourself into her. Every deep noise draws your attention, everything she does is captivating.

By the time your every inch is settled within her, you reach down and grip her shoulder, drawing her body into yours. And she's so darn adorable that she struggles to form the words that tumble over her lips, leaving her face twisted in a mask of effort and need. Her breath stills every time you rock inside her.

You lean over her body, your chest against her back, wanting to sink deeper into her; feeling the beat of her heart and the heat of her flushed skin.

In this moment, as the pace increases, time slows. Danielle's lithe body bows against you with every thrust. Words aren't necessary, her moans are better. They tell you just how much you are pleasing her.

She earns every part of that bump in grade through the slick tightness of her cunt, the arching of her back, the fluttering, clenching massaging strokes, and the beautiful noises tumbling from her cherry lips.

"Oh, my god..." Danielle grunts. "Harder!"

And, of course, that pleasure has a price—your control is slipping, the need is steadily becoming more intense and it's harder to resist, especially when it feels so good, your hips keep rocking, every stroke producing incredible frissons of pure, white heat. And the heat grows. You keep picking up speed, keeping her moans coming.

It isn't long before that gorgeous girl, taut and eager, clenches against your unyielding shaft, as if afraid it would disappear within her. Her breath catches as she reaches the pinnacle, before coming apart with a shrieked vowel. She bites her lower lip and digs her nails into the desk. She rides it out until every last drop of pleasure drains from her body.

While watching Danielle lose herself, your resolve disintegrates. You pick up the tempo, pounding into the pliable, supple and downright fuckable cheerleader. Her sharp, ragged gasps dissolve into a plaintive moan. Every stroke drives you closer and closer to the end.

You lean forward and whisper in Danielle's ear, "I'm gonna cum."

She nods her head quickly and urges you on, "Do it, sir."

So, you wrap one arm around her body and press your chest flush against her back, feeling the movements of her every muscle in time with yours. You can barely believe just how incredible this girl is.

"Fill me, sir," she begs as she reaches for your face. Danielle takes you by surprise as she turns to face you and places a kiss on your lips. It's light and quick, but it makes you spill your load inside her all the same. That slight, innocent contact seals the deal and your whole world erupts.

You're drowning. Drowning in pleasure and satisfaction, the throes of ecstasy wash over you as you continue to buck against your perfect little student. Every thrust leaves you breathing heavier than the last, and it isn't long before your forehead is pressed against her naked back as you pump another wave of sticky, liquid heat deep into Danielle's trembling body.

It is impossible to measure how long you two remain there, the line between where she begins and you end blurred. When you eventually start to untangle yourselves, she slinks away and returns your shared gaze with a satisfied grin.

You sit back and catch your breath, while she starts gathering herself together.

Your eyes trace her figure, the shape of her breasts, the slope of her neck. Danielle notices, because her lips curl up just a little more, and she shoots you the cutest little wink. "I know what you did, sir."

"And what was that?" you ask, playing along. Danielle picks up her jacket from the floor and then slips it on. You watch every movement she makes, your heart thumping in your chest as if trying to escape your ribcage.

She cocks her head. "Well, I think it was pretty clever, actually. But I've caught onto your game, sir. That assignment was perfect, we both know it." Danielle leans in, placing her hand on your chest. "Which means that this was never about grades. In future, you can just ask me, sir." She places a quick kiss on your lips.

#Danielle smut #newjeans smut #male reader #kpop smut #m reader #Danielle x reader #dani smut #praelmas #smut #kpop fanfic #kpop fanfiction

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juno-verse · 3 months ago

Text

The Juno Series

Hi, loves!

Just to reintroduce myself again, my name is Juno! There's this certain song with my name on it and I thought, "Maybe I should try to write again."

This is The Juno Series, based on Sabrina Carpenter’s song of the same name. (Congratulations to her for the well-deserved Grammy win!! Btw, the deluxe version is out this Valentines’ Day 🙂‍↕️)

So now, I’m back, with five (WIP) one-shots as an apology for disappearing. And I come back with new fandoms on my roster.

I minimized the use of 'Y/N' in these one-shots, so prepare yourself for many petnames.

Caution: The reader is written AFAB with she/her pronouns on these fics. All mistakes are mine. Men and minors, please stay away.

Some fics are in-progress, some are unwritten, and some are done. Just note that they will be posted a few days apart! And as a Valentines gift, the first one is already up 💘

So...

Have you ever tried... this one?

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ─── ─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ─── ─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

Adore Me (Jennifer Jareau, Criminal Minds)

All the praises in the world.

Hold Me (Wanda Maximoff, Marvel)

The Scarlet Witch makes good use of her powers.

Explore Me (Emily Prentiss, Criminal Minds)

The Unit Chief can do it for hours.

I'm So Fucking Horny! (Elle Greenaway, Criminal Minds)

The most delicious degradation from Elle.

Mark Your Territory (Natasha Romanoff)

Only fans. (Surprise! That is, if you’ve seen me on AO3)

Tell Me I'm The Only, Only, Only, Only One (Daniela Avanzini, Katseye)

The latina dancer loves it when you don’t like to share.

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ─── ─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ─── ─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

That's it! Hope you enjoy! I will most likely disappear into my cave again if I start to hate my writing and run out of ideas lmfao.

Who knows if I’ll even finish this? 🤷🏻‍♀️

#jennifer jareau x reader #wanda maximoff x reader #emily prentiss x reader #elle greenaway x reader #natasha romanoff x reader #lesbian #criminal minds #natasha romanoff #elle greenaway #wanda maximoff #jennifer jareau #emily prentiss #wlw #daniela avanzini x reader #katseye x reader #dani x reader

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ofstoriesandstardust · 7 months ago

Text

i love you, i'm sorry (twisters - dani)

a/n: okay. OKAY. this is finally here!! i hope you all enjoy; thank you for all the love, mwah. MWAH. (first part here)

summary: In the wake of Dani re-entering your life, you make some decisions about your future.

warnings: swearing, car accidents, minor injury, mentions of past physical abuse, minor physical violence

wc: 4.5k

Her heart feels like it’s in her throat as she watches your car speed up down the road, Dexter giving her a strange look.

She wasn’t an idiot, she could see the way Scott was tossing his crews life to the tornados like it didn’t matter, tossing yours around like it was nothing. Every day that StormPar set out, a little more dread settled into her stomach as she wondered if this would be the time you didn’t come home.

She won’t ever forget the worried tracks Javi had made in that muddy parking lot last week, the way your eyebrows had furrowed as you caught Javi yelling at Scott. She won’t forget Scott arguing with Riggs about money, the way Riggs had told him to do whatever it takes.

She certainly won’t forget the way Kate had told her to say anything she felt she might need to before it was too late.

She hadn’t spoken it to the team, her family, what you had been to her. She was afraid to speak those memories aloud, afraid to reopen a door she had shut when she’d left for Arkansas to come work for Tyler seven years ago.

But she was sure they knew. It makes it all worse, watching Scott’s spiral from afar, unable to get close enough to convince you to let go of what you thought StormPar could be.

“Scott’s got them headed straight into the tornado.” Dexter whispers as her eyes widen at the realization, coming back into the present. He scrambles for the radio, repeating the information down the line.

“Kate’s already in position, how close are they?” Javi’s voice comes down.

The van rolls to a stop as her and Dexter begin to watch your car spin out onto a ditch next to the road, falling sideways as it does.

“Dani? Dex? What’s happening? I’ve only got view of two StormPar trucks on our end.” Boone’s voice sounds.

It feels like time is frozen as she tugs at her seatbelt, desperate to get out and help you as Dexter relays the information to the rest of the team.

“Dani —“ She pauses, eyes flickering to the radio as Tyler’s voice comes through the line. It’s strained, like he’s forcing himself to be calm. “Do not get out of that car. Let Kate and Javi do their thing. As soon as the storm has collapsed, we can pull them out but until then do not get out of that car. It’s not safe, do you hear me?”

Dexter hands her the radio and she clicks it on, unsure of what she can say. “Ty, I-“

“I get it, D.”

She thinks he probably does, ever since he watched Kate drive into the EF5 in El Reno that very well should have killed her.

“I get it, but we can’t do anything right now and we can’t put anyone else’s life on the line right now.”

She nods, handing the radio back to Dexter, even as the panic sort of sets in as a cold blanket over her. She couldn’t see the StormPar truck anymore and she knew the kid you were driving with hadn’t even made it a full week with StormPar yet.

She swallows down all her guilt and all her grief as the storm falls prey to Kate’s brain.

She might have left, she might have been the one to walk out, but she carried the love she had for you everyday. You’d helped her become who she was and she’d always care for you, even if you were adamant about standing on your side of the great divide.

A million images float through her brain of you: passed out cold, bleeding, trapped against the roof of the car, lifeless…

“Look!” Dexter exclaims, pointing something out in the distance.

She squints, leaning forward. Just barely, she’s able to make out the sight of your partner climbing up the ditch the two of you had slid down into as Javi’s truck rounds the bend, Javi leaping out before Lilly’s even stopped.

You groan, twisting your head. You think you can hear glass crunch as someone moves next to you.

“Hey, easy, easy.” They say softly and you blink your eyes open, catching sight of Javi. You take a deep breath as you take in the ruined truck.

“That’s a tree.” You say bluntly, referencing the fallen tree that’s resting on the shattered windshield, as Javi climbs over the driver’s seat. He snorts, letting his hands fall gently.

“It is. Good to see you still have your sense of humor in tact. I’m gonna try to lift you out okay? Do you think you can move?”

Javi’s already unbuckled your seatbelt and you nod, lifting your left arm to wrap around his neck as his arms reach beneath your legs and back. You hiss as your right arms jostles and Javi mutters a couple of apologies as he lifts you. Once out of the truck, he sets you down gently.

“You good to walk?” He asks as Tyler and Boone appear, shuffling down the edge of the ditch.

You nod, testing putting weight on your feet as Javi keeps his arms secure around you in case you can’t. “Yeah, yeah I think I’m okay.”

Javi supports you, Tyler coming to your other side, mindful of your right arm as Boone flags someone down.

“Dani’s gonna check you out, okay?” Tyler says gently and you nod. “Though with the way you’re clutching that arm to your chest a trip to the ER might be best.”

“Okay.” You says softly as Will’s face comes into view, concern marring all his features.

“Oh my God, I am so sorry!” He nearly shouts, stumbling back. “Scott’s gonna kill me.”

“Will.” You cut him off, wincing. “It’s all good. Happens. And not so loud, okay?”

He nods, following after you like a lost puppy dog. “I’ve already radio’ed Scott and told him we need a pickup, they should be here soon. What do you need? Can I help you with anything?”

“Will, was it?” Javi asks, turning. The boy nods. “Go sit out by Ty’s truck for Scott to come. We’re gonna have our medic check her out and we don’t really need all this excitement.”

He nods, darting back down the road and you sigh as Tyler and Javi help you sit down into the back of their van. Dani rounds the car, first aid kit in hand.

Tyler nudges Javi, nodding his head and Javi must get the message, turning to you. “Hey, we’re gonna give you guys some privacy. HIPPA and all that. Holler if you need us.” Javi says and you nod, giving him a tight smile.

Dani sets to work in silence, asking you a few questions as she tests out for a concussion. She gingerly takes your right hand, stretching it out. You hiss and she mutters an apology as she flexes out your fingers.

“Well, all in all, a few cuts, few bumps, few bruises. I can’t tell for sure but your wrist definitely seems to be fractured and you’re showing signs of a minor concussion so I’d definitely recommend getting yourself to an ER tonight.”

You nod as Dani starts packing up her first aid kit. She pauses as you start to hear a truck come down the road.

“By the way, I’m really glad you’re okay. It was terrifying to watch the car spin out like that.” She says quietly.

“Dani-“

“I will deal with you later!” Scott’s voice comes from down the road, angry as ever.

“Oh, you’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.” She mutters, glancing up as Scott rounds the van.

“And you!” He yells, grabbing you by your injured wrist. Protests go up from the Wranglers as you wrestle gently to pull the arm from Scott’s grip. “How many times have I told you to stay away from these people?!”

You scoff, Scott releasing his hold. “Didn’t realize accepting medical help after what could’ve been a fatal car accident was that big of a deal.”

“Of course it’s a big deal! Do you have any idea what’s at stake here?!” Scott gets closer to you, face going red and suddenly, it clicks.

This can’t be your whole future.

Working for a company that was so clearly hurting others, working a dangerous job when your bosses clearly had no care for your life, or that of any of your colleagues for that matter — you couldn’t do it.

“Scott, I quit.” You say softly and he reels back as if you might’ve slapped him. “I quit, Scott. I’m not doing this with you anymore. Consider this my notice, effective immediately.” You say, voice gaining confidence.

Scott scoffs, face getting even redder as Javi mutters out an “Oh shit.”

“That’s fine by me. You’re replaceable. You were the diversity hire anyways. I don’t want women working for me.” He spits out before turning on his heel, striding towards the StormPar truck.

You watch him drive away as the Wranglers stand around, watching you.

“Okay, seriously, can someone drive me to the ER? If my wrist wasn’t broken then, it sure is now.”

“Oh my God, yeah.” Dani says from behind you, coming to gently maneuver you towards the van.

The Wranglers disperse, moving to get back into their cars as Javi shouts “Keep me posted!”

“Javi, hey, do you think you can drive me to the airport?” You ask, dropping your duffel bag on the ground next to him. He looks up at you as he eats his bagel, nodding.

“Where you headed?” Tyler asks, rounding the truck.

You shrug. “Not sure, honestly. Probably Texas for a minute to collect my things and then- who knows.”

Boone bounds down the stairs as he shouts out, “This is some good shit StormPar!”

You all turn as he hands the iPad over to Tyler but you already know what he’s looking at.

Late last night, after Dani had driven you back from the ER and you had insisted you didn’t need anyone to watch over you, you’d grabbed your laptop and opened Twitter.

Maybe it wasn’t recommended for someone with a low-grade concussion and sprained, not fractured, wrist to stare at your laptop for as long as you had but you couldn’t bring yourself to care as your fingers had flown over the keyboard, releasing everything you’d ever kept bottled up about StormPar.

The thread had gone viral overnight and you knew it was damaging enough that StormPar may not be able to recover from.

And if Boone was seeing it now, it was only a matter of time before Scott did. And while you had hoped you could be out of the state of Oklahoma before he did, it turns out you were in no such luck.

Scott rounds the corner, swearing incoherently as he does, moving and talking much too fast for you to register anything other than “You little bitch!” and his hands on your throat.

You think you hear Javi shouting, Tyler and Boone up against Scott as they all push him off of you. You stumble backwards, gasping for air as you collide with Kate. You flinch as you do but she puts her hands out, eyes wide as she tries to placate you.

You blink and look up, Javi talking to you but no words reach your ears as your ass meets the asphalt in a slow fall. You feel dazed at what just happened, touching gently at where Scott had his hands placed.

You know from experience that he’d had enough pressure, for however short of a time, that it’d leave a mark.

A choked sob leaves you as you shut your eyes, realizing you’d almost stepped back in time. Same shit, different man, wasn’t that what your friends had said?

A familiar voice reaches your ears, soothing you as it does. “Hey, it’s just me.” She says, and you lean towards her as Dani, tears dripping down your face as you do.

How many times had Dani found you like this? How many times had she coaxed you from the claws of a panic attack or a flashback or a nightmare?

Her hand runs down your back in a slow, soothing circle and you can hear her move to sit on the ground next to you as you reach wipe your eyes. You look at her, meaning to talk but no words come out as you study her amber eyes, swimming with concern.

How could you ever sum it all up?

“We’re all going back to Kate’s for a few days to regroup. I want you to come with us.” She says softly.

You’re in no position to argue, not now, not when Dani is still looking at you like that.

Like she might still love you.

Your eyes are wide as Tyler talks through their experiment as you stand over Kate’s makeshift tornado town, Javi walking through what the radars really capture.

“I have no idea what you just said to me.” You say through a breath, earning a laugh from Dani next to you as she knocks shoulders with you.

“You never were the one for science stuff.”

You shake your head. “No! My background isn’t even in meteorology!”

“What the fuck were you even doing with StormPar then?” Tyler asks, hands falling to his waist as the group looks on.

“PR shit.”

“Your background isn’t in that either!” Dani exclaims through another laugh.

“Yeah, but I’m sure good at using my words. Y’all saw what I could do in just a Twitter thread. Anyways, I was only out there to keep an eye on you.” You say with a nod to Javi. “Riggs knew that with the Wranglers reputation and the right amount of talk from Javi, people could turn on StormPar pretty quickly. I was there to pull their ass out of the fire if they did. Unfortunately for Riggs and StormPar, I ain’t loyal to them. What they hired me for is exactly what’s going to end them.”

“Shit dude.” Lilly mutters as your eyes flicker over the town.

“I didn’t know this is what you all were doing out there though.” You say with a low whistle. “This is insane. This work could change everything.”

“What did you think we were doing?” Javi asks as he crosses his arms. You shrug.

“I dunno. Screwing around maybe. Getting in Scott’s way. I don’t even think Scott knew what you guys were doing out there, just that every time one moment there was a tornado and the next there wasn’t he was pissed.” You sigh. “But it makes sense now. If Kate collapses the tornados, it doesn’t matter if the scans worked or not on our end. If the property’s are saved because you guys got to the tornados before they could do real damage there’s no money for Riggs at the end of the day.”

“Fuck, I hate StormPar.” Boone mutters with a shake of his head.

You snort. “Me and you both Booney.”

Your afternoon cat nap on Kate’s porch swing hadn’t seemed so bad, dozing as the sun warmed your ankles, the sound of the Wranglers puttering around Kate’s farm lulling you to sleep.

Now though, as the weird dream image of your ex’s face on Scott’s body burns behind your eyelids, you regret that decision. You give another heave, distantly aware you’re throwing up into Cathy’s flowers and distantly you feel awful, but it’s hard to center that when you can’t tell if you’re choking because of someone’s hands around your throat or the acid burning as you dry heave again.

Tears sting at your eyes as humiliation makes your face burn. You thought you were past this, past the nightmares and the flashbacks, past the need to please men who treated you like dirt.

And there Dani is again, tugging to pull you up as you sit in the dirt of the garden bed and cry.

“You’re okay.” She says softly. “You’re safe.”

You’re okay. You’re safe.

She says it like a mantra, softly repeating the words over and over again as she guides you through the house and up the stairs to the bathroom. Her hands find the edges of your sweatshirt, pausing.

“Can I?” She asks hesitantly. You can feel your eyes searching you but all you can do shrug, apathetic.

“Not like it’s nothing you haven’t seen before.”

And it’s true. As the words leaves your lips, you’re flooded with a million different memories of soft intimacy, a knowledge that you would never had that again.

This softness right here is wholly Dani. She’s charming and she’s funny, she’s strong-willed and loud mouthed, but she’s kind underneath it all. And you threw it all away because of your fear.

This softness for you was fleeting.

In a few days, you would go back to Texas and clear out your apartment. Or maybe you wouldn’t. Maybe you’d go back to Texas and find some shitty bartending job and marry some mediocre man who slept with his secretary on the side-

“Here.”

So deep into your misery and wallowing, you hadn’t even realized Dani had tugged your vomit-covered sweatshirt off of you, leaving the bathroom to grab a new top. You swallow and take the fabric from her, glancing down at it.

“This- this is my shirt.”

The revelation, while should be obvious, confuses the hell out of your muddled brain as you fist the mustard yellow t-shirt. In all honesty, you thought you had just lost the shirt in one of your many, many moves during your college years. But if Dani had this then, that had meant-

A hope alighted in your chest as she glances away, the hope dying as quickly as it came. “Probably time to give it back to you.”

And oh. Oh okay.

You swallow thickly, letting the shirt fall to your lap as you move to sit on the edge of the tub. You wipe your eyes with back of your hands, tears stinging as your cheeks flame.

“Dani, I came out to my parents.” You say quietly. “I know it doesn’t fix it and it doesn’t make you come back but I did.” You shrug, looking up at her. Confusion is written into her amber eyes. “You asked that day at the diner, why I don’t talk to them anymore. That’s why.”

She lets out a low whistle, crouching down to look you in the eye. “Shit man, they not take it well?”

“Bout as well as I expected. You know how they were, they were allies except when it came to their own kid.”

She shakes her head. “Never did understand that.”

“It fucks with their image.” You say, not unbitter. “Cause then they’re the ones with the weird homosexual kid everyone gossips about.”

“Hey, are you guys okay in here?” Lilly asks, rounding the corner. You realize you’re still shirtless and tug the material over your head as Dani stands.

“‘M fine. Just- shit from my past.” You breathe out as you stand up. “I’m real sorry about Cathy’s flowers.”

Lilly waves a hand. “Nah, she says it’s fine, just more worried about you.” She takes a step closer. “You- you are alright, right? Cause that shit with Scott this morning was next level and-“

“I’m fine.” You interrupt, stepping past Dani in the small space. “Just needed a minute.”

You give both of the girls a tight smile, moving past Lilly to head down the stairs to get water, ignoring the way your heart clenches every time the soft fabric of your shirt moves against your skin.

“I need to talk to you.”

You and Javi both turn. He’s leaned up against the backside of the barn as he talks to you quietly about their research and your work, if somewhere down the road you could see yourself coming back to storm chasing.

Javi runs a hand through his curls, taking a few steps back towards the house. “I’ll give you two a minute.”

You glance up at Dani from where you’re sitting on a hay bale, the sky painting itself into a dreamy purple above her. “Hi.”

She sticks her hands in her pockets, all bravado from a few minutes ago gone. “T says you’re leaving in the morning. That true?”

You nod. “Figure it’s past time I get out of y’alls way.”

“You aren’t- you aren’t in the way.” She huffs as you raise an eyebrow, pushing to stand.

“Storm chasing was always your thing, remember?” You call back as you move to follow Javi.

“And what if I said I wanted you to stay?” She calls after you as you near the Carter’s back porch. You pause before turning back to face her. She’s hard to read and you let out a breathe.

“I don’t know why you would.” You say honestly but you can tell it was the wrong thing from the way she flinches.

“So all that time we spent together, it really meant nothing.”

“Yeah, but Dani-“ You let out a mix of a sigh and a groan, scrubbing a hand down your face before you putter a few feet forward. “Dani, that was seven years ago. You can’t honestly tell me you haven’t moved on.”

“Have you?”

The question, in its nature, is a deflection. She knows it and you know it but it doesn’t stop your words from getting stuck in your throat, freezing as you’re unable to deny it.

Because you haven’t. You don’t know how you could. How anyone could.

Dani was the best person you’ve ever known and though she’s grown up a lot in the years since she was yours, you’ve never forgotten that she had always been, forever would be, home to you.

She sighs, reaching up to rub the back of her neck. “I- I want you to stay.” She says quietly. “I’ve already- sort of- well, T already knows. And- and they all love you and I’ve got an apartment out in Tulsa with Lilly and you could- you could stay there. With us.”

Your mouth feels dry as you swallow, unsure of what to say to her. A million things pass through, none of them sticking.

I couldn’t.

Do you know? That I’m still in love with you?

You never stopped meaning something to me?

Do you mean it?

You finally land on a quiet, “I don’t know how to just be your friend D.”

There’s that quietly confident Dani again as she cocks her head. “You really think I’m saying we’re just friends?”

You scoff. “It’s been seven years, are you really going to tell me that you’re still-?”

In love with me?

Because you were. You were still, hopelessly, foolishly, forever the girls in front of you. But she was the one who had left and she was the one who had decided your love wasn’t enough and that she needed to find a new life.

“Are you?” She challenges and you shake your head in irritation.

“You don’t get to keep doing that. You first. Answer the question.” She gives you a look, as if to say you really have to ask? which only makes your irritation grow. “That’s not fucking fair Dani. You’re the one who left for storm chasing in Arkansas remember? I would’ve done anything for you, gone anywhere for you. I love you, more than I’ll ever love someone else again.”

The fact that you say love as in love present tense goes unnoticed by the both of you as Dani gives you an unimpressed look. “Anything except come out of the closet.”

You’re a bit stunned she’s going to go there, knowing how painful of a decision like that had been. What it had cost you. You’d lost Dani but you’d lost everything else too. At the end of it, you’d lost all that she had gained.

“That’s- that’s not fucking fair.” You say wetly. “That wasn’t your choice to make. And guess fucking what Dani? I did come of the closet. And it didn’t bring you back. But I guess that’s all you care about now huh, public perception, with your fucking one million subscribers.”

You turn on your heel, furiously wiping away the tears that had surprised you as you storm back up to the house.

And then, she’s in front of you, swimming in your vision. She reaches out for your wrist, tight enough to keep your from moving but loose enough for you to know that if you really wanted to leave you could.

“That’s- that ain’t- that’s not what I meant.” She says, breathless. “I meant- I shouldn’t have gone there. I know, I know you sacrificed a lot for me.” She swallows, readjusting her grip on her wrist. “I asked a lot of you, to come out that way and I should’ve listened to you when you said why you didn’t want to. I didn’t- I cost you your family, I know that.”

“Fuck my family.” You say thickly with a shrug. “But you don’t gotta do this just cause- you feel guilty or something.”

She shakes her head. “I’ve been going about this all wrong, ain’t I?” She blows out a breath, letting you go and taking a step back.

“Yeah, the truth is I’m- I’m still in love with you. I don’t know how I couldn’t be.” She scrubs a hand over her face. “I never stopped loving you, loved you so much that I asked you to come out even when I knew why you wouldn’t. And I mean- it didn’t take me long after I left to realize what I’d done and I was stupid, kept thinking I’d get some sort of second chance with you. Every day for seven years, it’s followed me, losing you. And then there you were, working for StormPar.”

She scrubs a hand down her facing, groaning.

“Shit, you- you were right there and yet so out of reach and I thought- thought this might be some sort of punishment for leaving the way I did, for not having an ounce of an empathy for you.”

“No Dani-“ You go to protest.

You may have not liked her reasons for breaking up with you, but you understood them, devastating as they were.

But she keeps going.

“And then- and then watching your car slide down into that ditch. I thought you were dead. I- I couldn’t believe that I had spent seven years wishing to make things right just to lose the chance to some man who didn’t care about anyone but himself. And then when he put his hands on you- I wanted to fucking kill him.”

You blink, breath hitching at her words. She finally raises her eyes, a cautious look.

“I don’t- I don’t want you to leave. Not again. I just got you back.”

“Dani, I-“ You swallow, something shifting in you.

And then you do something that shocks you both.

You match the few steps forward, grasping her shirt, and kiss her.

To Dani’s credit, she overcomes her surprise well, only letting out a noise before her hands find your belt loops, tight as if you might change your mind, might be the one to leave this time.

Her kiss is soft, lips chapped against yours, and all of the sudden you realize-

You’re home.

#twisters #twisters fic #dani x reader #dani x female reader #twisters dani x reader #twisters dani x female reader

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