.ᐟ.ᐟ The Calm Between Tornados (SFW) - Javier Rivera
↝ pairing: Javier 'Javi' Rivera x GN!Reader
↝ warnings: Mentions of storms/tornado chasing danger, Light angst, Exhaustion/stress themes
↝ word count: 2,650 words.
↝ author's note: Hiiiii. First ever fic so i hope you all enjoy it! I'll be creating a masterlist soon for you all so you know who i write about and what i write ꨄ︎
⋇ prompt credit: @fanficy-prompts | divider credit: @saradika
ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴄᴏᴘʏ, ʀᴇᴘʀᴏᴅᴜᴄᴇ, ᴏʀ ᴄʟᴀɪᴍ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋ ᴀs ʏᴏᴜʀs ᴏɴ ᴛᴜᴍʙʟʀ, ᴀᴏ3, ᴡᴀᴛᴛᴘᴀᴅ, ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏ ᴡᴇʙsɪᴛᴇ. ʏᴏᴜ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴘᴇʀᴍɪssɪᴏɴ ᴛᴏ ᴜsᴇ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋs ɪɴ ᴀɪ ɢᴇɴᴇʀᴀᴛᴏʀs ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ᴅᴏ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴀʀᴛɪғɪᴄɪᴀʟ ɪɴᴛᴇʟʟɪɢᴇɴᴄᴇ. ʏᴏᴜ ᴍᴀʏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴜsᴇ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋs ᴛᴏ sᴇʟʟ ғᴏʀ ᴀs ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴏᴡɴ ᴄʀᴇᴀᴛɪᴏɴ
The first thing they ever learned about Javi was that he carried calm like it was second nature, like it belonged to him in a way storms never could.
Everyone else around him seemed to move with urgency whenever the sky darkened, voices overlapping inside cramped trucks, hands fumbling with equipment, nerves fraying sharper the closer tornado season crawled toward its peak but Javi never lost the steadiness in his voice, even when the horizon twisted into something violent and unrecognisable. While the others shouted coordinates over the radio and argued over routes through rain-slick backroads, he remained composed behind the wheel, one hand curled loosely around the steering wheel while the other adjusted the frequency on the radio with practiced precision, his expression focused but never panicked.
And maybe that should have made him easier to understand.
Instead, it only made them watch him more.
Because calm like that did not come naturally to people unless they had spent years teaching themselves how to survive chaos.
They noticed it during their very first chase with him, somewhere on an empty stretch of Oklahoma highway while thunder rolled endlessly overhead and the clouds above them spun into ugly shades of green. The truck had rattled violently beneath heavy winds while rain lashed against the windshield hard enough to blur the road entirely, and yet Javi still sounded steady when he spoke.
“Take the next left.”
“Watch the power lines.”
“We’ve still got time.”
Simple instructions. Quiet words. Nothing dramatic.
But everyone listened to him immediately.
Including them.
Especially them.
They remembered glancing toward him from the passenger seat that day, watching the way lightning illuminated the sharp line of his jaw for only a second before darkness swallowed him again, and thinking very suddenly, very irrationally, that Javi was dangerous in a way tornadoes were dangerous.
Not because he would hurt someone.
Because people would willingly destroy themselves trying to stay close to him.
Months later, standing beneath the flickering neon lights of a run-down motel parking lot while another storm rolled somewhere far across the plains, they still had not figured out how to stop feeling that way.
The night air smelled heavily of rain and wet asphalt, thick humidity clinging to their skin while distant thunder echoed low enough to shake the ground beneath their shoes. Most of the team had gone inside hours earlier after a long day of chasing storms through northern Oklahoma, exhausted enough to collapse the second their heads hit motel pillows, but Javi remained outside alone beside the truck, laptop balanced against his knee while radar maps glowed blue across his tired face.
He looked exhausted.
Not in dramatic ways.
In quiet ones.
The sleeves of his hoodie were shoved carelessly up his forearms, revealing tired hands marked faintly with scrapes from earlier that afternoon, and there were dark shadows settled beneath his eyes that no amount of caffeine seemed capable of fixing anymore. His curls were still damp from rain, falling messily across his forehead while he stared at the shifting storm patterns on his screen with the same concentration he gave everything.
They hated how fond they had become of watching him.
“You know,” they said softly while leaning against the passenger side door, “normal people sleep occasionally.”
Javi looked up immediately at the sound of their voice, surprise flickering briefly across his face before softening into something warmer.
Something reserved only for them.
“That so?” he asked quietly.
“I’ve heard rumors.”
A faint smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, tired but genuine enough to make something ache painfully inside their chest.
“And here I thought caffeine counted as rest.”
“That explains a lot, actually.”
His laugh slipped out low and rough from exhaustion, and the sound settled warmly against them despite the cold wind beginning to pick up around the parking lot.
God.
That was the problem.
It was never one specific thing about Javi.
Not his smile.
Not his voice.
Not even the devastating softness hidden beneath all his exhaustion.
It was everything.
The way he listened carefully whenever they spoke, even when conversations wandered into meaningless territory. The way he always noticed when they were cold before they did themselves. The way he carried too much responsibility on his shoulders while pretending the weight didn’t affect him at all.
Loving Javi felt less like falling and more like slowly realizing they had already drowned somewhere along the way.
“You should go inside,” they told him gently after a moment, nodding toward the motel rooms behind them.
“So should you.”
“That’s not how this works.”
“Pretty sure it is.”
They rolled their eyes, but their smile betrayed them instantly.
Javi noticed.
He always noticed.
The wind shifted harder through the parking lot then, stirring damp curls across his forehead while loose strands fell into his eyes again, and before they could stop themselves, they stepped closer and brushed the hair back carefully with their fingers.
The reaction was immediate.
Javi froze beneath their touch so completely that it almost hurt to witness.
His breath caught softly.
His eyes fluttered shut.
And suddenly every coherent thought inside their mind disappeared alongside his.
It happened every single time they touched him now.
Like their body had started recognizing him before their brain could keep up.
One brush of fingertips against warm skin and their thoughts dissolved into useless static, leaving behind nothing except awareness — the warmth of his body beneath their hands, the faint hitch in his breathing, the way his shoulders slowly relaxed as though touch itself felt unfamiliar to him.
“When you do that,” Javi murmured quietly without opening his eyes, “I forget what I’m supposed to be thinking about.”
Their heartbeat stumbled painfully.
“That makes two of us.”
His eyes opened slowly after that, dark and exhausted and devastatingly soft beneath the motel lights, and suddenly standing this close to him felt unbearable.
Because Javi looked at people too carefully.
Like he was memorizing them instead of simply seeing them.
And when all of that attention focused entirely on them, it became impossible to think straight.
They stepped closer without realizing they were moving.
Javi remained sitting on the hood of the truck, forcing him to tilt his head back slightly just to keep looking at them, and the position alone sent warmth rushing embarrassingly fast through their chest. Rain began falling lightly again around them, cool droplets striking pavement softly while thunder rolled somewhere in the distance.
Neither of them moved away.
Neither of them seemed capable of it anymore.
“You ever think about stopping?” they asked quietly after a long silence.
Javi frowned slightly. “Storm chasing?”
They nodded.
For a moment he didn’t answer.
Instead, he glanced past them toward the dark horizon where flashes of distant lightning illuminated the clouds every few seconds, his expression unreadable in the dim light.
“Sometimes,” he admitted eventually. “Usually after bad days.”
“And then?”
A small, tired smile crossed his face.
“And then another storm forms.”
There it was again.
That look.
The one that appeared whenever he talked about tornadoes.
Not excitement exactly.
Understanding.
Like storms were terrible things he couldn’t help loving anyway.
The realization hit them suddenly and hard enough to steal their breath.
Because that was exactly how they felt about him.
Javi noticed their silence immediately.
“What?”
They shook their head softly, though their chest already felt painfully full.
“You don’t know how to let go of things,” they whispered instead.
His expression changed at once.
Something vulnerable flickered briefly behind his eyes before disappearing just as quickly.
“No,” he admitted quietly. “I don’t think I do.”
The honesty in his voice unraveled something inside them completely.
Because Javi rarely let people see the parts of himself buried beneath responsibility and exhaustion. Most days he hid behind quick jokes and calm instructions and endless concern for everyone else around him, carrying fear silently so nobody noticed how heavy it had become.
But right now, beneath flickering neon lights and approaching thunder, he looked tired enough to stop pretending.
And somehow that made them love him even more.
They moved closer until they stood directly between his knees.
Javi inhaled sharply.
His hands found their waist automatically, hesitant at first, like he still wasn’t entirely convinced he was allowed to touch them this way, and the carefulness of it nearly shattered them.
Because even now, even like this, Javi held people gently.
Like he was afraid of breaking them.
Their fingers slipped lightly into his damp curls again, and his eyes shut immediately beneath the touch, shoulders sagging beneath exhaustion he no longer seemed capable of hiding.
“When you touch me,” he confessed softly, voice rough enough to send warmth spiraling through their entire body, “my mind just… disappears.”
Their pulse thundered painfully against their ribs.
Javi’s hands tightened slightly against their waist, grounding himself in them like he needed the contact just as desperately.
“The only words I know anymore,” he continued quietly while looking up at them again, “feel lost somewhere inside you.”
Everything inside them stopped.
The rain.
The thunder.
The motel lights buzzing overhead.
None of it mattered anymore.
Because Javi was looking at them like they were something precious enough to ruin him.
And maybe they would have survived it if he had sounded less honest.
But Javi never lied well when he was tired.
Emotion softened every edge of his voice until the vulnerability beneath it became impossible to ignore.
Their hands slid down to cup his face carefully, thumbs brushing against rainwater gathered along his skin while he leaned instinctively into the touch with a softness that nearly broke their heart apart entirely.
“You don’t always have to carry everything alone,” they whispered.
A weak laugh escaped him.
“That’d probably be easier if people stopped expecting me to.”
“I don’t.”
His gaze snapped back toward theirs instantly.
“You should.”
“Why?”
“Because eventually,” he said quietly, “I’ll disappoint you.”
The certainty in his voice hurt more than they expected.
Like somewhere along the way, Javi had convinced himself that love was temporary. Conditional. Destined to leave eventually no matter how carefully he held onto it.
They hated that anyone had ever made him feel that way.
“You haven’t yet,” they whispered firmly.
“That’s not the same thing.”
“It is to me.”
For a long moment Javi simply stared at them.
Rain poured harder around them now, soaking through clothes and dripping from curls and sleeves alike, but neither of them cared enough to move. The storm overhead grew louder with every passing second, thunder cracking closer while wind swept through the parking lot in sharp bursts.
Still, Javi looked at them like they were the only quiet thing left in the world.
And then something inside him finally gave way.
Not dramatically.
Not all at once.
Just enough.
His forehead rested carefully against theirs while his hands pulled them impossibly closer, and suddenly every thought inside their mind disappeared completely beneath the overwhelming warmth of him.
Because this was Javi.
Tired.
Gentle.
Lonely in ways he tried desperately to hide.
And trusting them enough to let those broken pieces show.
“You make everything quiet,” he admitted softly against the storm.
Their chest tightened painfully.
“What does that even mean?”
His smile was small but real this time.
“It means when everything gets loud,” he whispered, “you’re the only thing that still feels calm.”
No one had ever looked at them the way Javi did.
Not like they were safety.
Not like they were home.
And standing there beneath endless thunder while rain soaked through every layer between them, they realized something terrifying.
They would let Javi unravel every careful part of them if he asked.
Not because he demanded it.
Because he held every fragile thing so gently that loving him stopped feeling frightening after a while.
It started feeling inevitable.
Javi brushed his thumb softly across their cheek, eyes lingering on them with that same unbearable tenderness that always left them breathless, and somewhere in the distance another tornado siren began wailing faintly across town.
Neither of them moved.
For once, Javi wasn’t watching the storm.
He was only looking at them.
And somehow, impossibly, that felt far more dangerous.