#tight wranglers

[cowboy-boots-and-leather-jackets]

[wyatt55]

[creepinonmen]

In the small, sun-soaked town of Willow Creek, Mississippi, 19-year-old Brad Garner had become something of a local legend. Born into a hardworking farming family, Brad was the quintessential country boy—tanned from endless days in the fields, with a charming smile and a body sculpted by years of manual labor. His TikTok videos, which started as a way to document life on the farm, had unexpectedly exploded in popularity. Clips of him hauling hay bales, fixing fences, or driving the family tractor in his tight Wrangler jeans had caught the attention of thousands. Fans fawned over his rugged good looks and the way his jeans hugged his frame, particularly his bubble-butt, which became a focal point of many comments. Brad took it all in stride, laughing off the attention while staying focused on his chores.

But not everyone watching Brad’s videos was content to stay behind a screen.

Hundreds of miles away, in a dimly lit apartment suffocating with the stench of stale sweat and rotting takeout, 34-year-old Darren Mills spiraled deeper into a fractured mind. His obsession with Brad Garner had begun months ago with a single TikTok video, but it had metastasized into a relentless, gnawing compulsion. Darren’s fixation wasn’t just admiration—it was a dark, consuming sexual desire that pulsed through his veins like a drug. He pored over every frame of Brad’s videos, his trembling fingers tracing the screen as he fixated on the boy’s physique. The way Brad’s tight Wrangler jeans clung to his bubble-butt, the sweat glistening on his tanned skin as he worked shirtless in the fields, the flex of his muscles as he lifted heavy loads—it all drove Darren into a fevered state of arousal and madness. He imagined running his hands over Brad’s body, feeling the firmness of his frame, possessing him in ways that made Darren’s breath hitch and his pulse race. “You’re perfect,” he’d whisper to the screen, his voice thick with lust, his mind weaving fantasies of control and domination. The line between fantasy and madness had long since dissolved.

Darren’s sexual desire for Brad was intertwined with his fractured psyche, a toxic blend of longing and rage. He saw Brad as a prize, a living embodiment of his deepest, most deviant urges. In his mind, Brad’s innocence—his carefree smile, his small-town charm—was a canvas for Darren’s darkest impulses. He fantasized about stripping away that innocence, about seeing Brad’s tanned skin flush with fear and submission, about hearing the boy’s voice break as he begged. Darren’s nights were sleepless, haunted by vivid daydreams of pinning Brad down, of feeling the heat of his body, of claiming him entirely. His obsession wasn’t just about possession—it was about defilement, about breaking Brad down until he was nothing but Darren’s to mold. “You’re mine to take,” he’d mutter to himself, his hands shaking as he replayed Brad’s videos, zooming in on the curve of his backside, the way his jeans strained with every movement.

Darren spent weeks deciphering clues from Brad’s videos—a street sign, a mention of “Willow Creek Feed & Supply,” a water tower with the town’s name—his mind racing with each discovery, fueled by the promise of turning his fantasies into reality. After confirming Willow Creek’s location online, he packed a duffel bag with duct tape, zip ties, a roll of cloth for gagging, and a loaded handgun he’d clutched like a talisman since his troubled youth. He climbed into his beat-up van, his eyes wild with a manic gleam, and drove south, his heart a drumbeat of fevered anticipation, dread, and raw, unbridled desire.

It was a sweltering Thursday afternoon when Darren rolled into Willow Creek, his mind a pressure cooker of voices urging him forward, his body thrumming with a sick anticipation. The town was a claustrophobic cage of quaint shops—a diner, a hardware store, a feed supply shop—each building a potential trap in his fractured perception. He parked his van near the edge of town, his hands shaking as he gripped the steering wheel, muttering to himself, “He’s close. I can feel him.” Hours dragged on, the Mississippi heat baking his skin, but Darren didn’t flinch. His obsession was a fire that consumed doubt, his sanity a fragile thread snapping with every passing minute.

Around 4 p.m., a dusty pickup truck pulled into the feed store lot. Darren’s breath hitched, a guttural gasp escaping his lips as Brad stepped out—plaid shirt unbuttoned, Wrangler jeans clinging to his form, cap shadowing his face. “There he is,” Darren hissed, his voice a mix of awe and menace. His eyes raked over Brad’s body, lingering on the way the jeans hugged his hips, the curve of his backside as he bent to grab something from the truck. A wave of heat surged through Darren, his mouth dry as he imagined peeling those jeans off, his hands itching to touch, to take. The boy was perfection, a prize he deserved after years of torment.

Darren trailed him like a shadow, his paranoia spiking with every step, his desire a constant throb in his core. At the diner, he watched Brad laugh with the waitress, imagining how that smile would twist into fear under his control. At the hardware store, he fixated on Brad’s hands as he picked up a coil of rope, picturing those same hands bound and helpless. His thoughts screamed, “They know. They’re watching,” but his arousal drowned out the fear. The isolation of the roads outside town became his sanctuary, the emptiness a canvas for his plan. The sun dipped low, painting the fields in blood-orange hues, and Brad drove home. Darren followed, his van a trembling extension of his fractured psyche, the handgun cold against his thigh.

When Brad’s truck slowed for a flat tire, Darren’s mind exploded with opportunity. He pulled over, his hands slick with sweat as he clutched the gun, his reflection in the window showing wild, bloodshot eyes. “Now,” he rasped, stepping out into the thickening dusk, his body trembling with a mix of terror and aching need. Brad crouched by the tire, oblivious, the cicadas’ hum a deafening roar in Darren’s ears. His heart thundered, a chaotic rhythm of triumph and lust.

“Hey, man, need a hand?” Darren croaked, his voice a strained mask over the madness and desire bubbling within.

Brad looked up, wiping his brow. “Oh, hey. Yeah, I got a flat. You got a jack I could borrow?”

Darren’s smile twisted into a grimace as he yanked the gun free, aiming it at Brad. “Get in the van. Now!”

Brad’s hands shot up, his voice shaking. “Whoa, man, what the hell—?”

“Move!” Darren shrieked, his voice breaking as he waved the gun, his finger trembling on the trigger. His mind raced—What if he runs? What if they catch me? I need him, I need him now! Brad glanced down the empty road, desperation flickering in his eyes, but Darren stepped closer, pressing the barrel to his chest. “Don’t you dare! I’ll blow your head off—do you hear me? You’re mine!”

Brad’s plea—“I’ve got a family—my dad’s expecting me!”—only stoked Darren’s fury and desire. “Shut up!” he roared, grabbing Brad’s arm with a grip that bruised. Brad fought back, twisting and shoving, his boots scraping the gravel as he tried to break free. Darren’s paranoia and lust surged—He’s fighting me! I’ll make him mine!—and he slammed the gun against Brad’s temple, the metal clanging against bone. Brad staggered, dazed, and Darren shoved him toward the van, his screams a guttural chant of possession.

Inside, the van became a cage of chaos. Brad lunged for the door, but Darren tackled him, pinning him with a knee to his chest. “You can’t escape me!” Darren snarled, his voice cracking as he bound Brad’s wrists and ankles with zip ties, the plastic biting deep. He stuffed the cloth into Brad’s mouth, taping it shut, Brad’s muffled cries a symphony to Darren’s unhinged mind. Sweat poured down Darren’s face, his eyes darting as if the shadows themselves were closing in, his body trembling with the need to act on his desires right then and there—but he held back, savoring the anticipation.

Climbing into the driver’s seat, Darren’s hands shook violently on the wheel. In the rearview mirror, Brad’s terrified eyes met his, and Darren’s laughter—wild, unhinged—filled the van. But then, headlights pierced the darkness—a car approaching Brad’s truck. Darren’s breath stopped, his mind fracturing further. They’ve found me! They’ll take him! He slammed the gas pedal, the van lurching as he sped into the night, his laughter turning to panicked sobs. The car behind slowed, and Darren’s vision blurred with terror—It’s his brother, it’s the law, it’s the end!—but he pressed on, disappearing into the shadows.

Back in Willow Creek, Caleb, Brad’s older brother, leapt from the approaching car, shouting Brad’s name into the void. The abandoned truck, hazard lights blinking, and a tire iron on the ground sent ice through his veins. He dialed 911, his voice breaking as he realized the horror unfolding. Meanwhile, Darren’s van raced into the unknown, his mind a battlefield of triumph, dread, and unfulfilled desire, with Brad—bound, gagged, and helpless—trapped in the grip of a man whose sexual obsession had driven him to the edge of sanity.

[bigbeltbuckle]

[creepinonmen]

The crisp February air of 2025 carried the faint scent of hay and livestock as Calvin stood in the bustling Ag Expo Center at Penn State’s agricultural college. At 20, he was a junior majoring in dairy science, his lanky frame clad in a bright blue hoodie emblazoned with “The Calving Corners Dairy Cow Birthing Center” and a name tag reading “Calvin.” His dark cap, bearing the Delta Beta Chapter logo, sat snugly on his head, and his worn cowboy boots scuffed the concrete floor as he shifted his weight, hands in his pockets, chatting with fellow students about the latest calf births. His sharp cheekbones and easy smile made him a familiar, friendly face on campus, but beneath his calm exterior, he felt the unease that had settled over the community since the first body was found.

It had been two months since the first victim, a freshman named Jake, was discovered in the dense woods near campus—partially nude, raped, and strangled, his body hidden beneath a tangle of pine branches. A month later, sophomore Tyler’s body turned up in the same area, the same horrific pattern. The campus buzzed with fear, whispers of a serial killer rippling through dorms and lecture halls. Security patrols had doubled, but the woods remained a shadowy, untamed expanse, a predator’s playground.

Calvin didn’t think much of it that Tuesday night. He’d stayed late at the library, poring over research for his senior thesis on bovine nutrition, his earbuds pumping country tunes. It was nearly 10 p.m. when he slung his backpack over his shoulder and took the shortcut through the wooded path, the same route he’d walked a hundred times. The flickering streetlamp cast long shadows, and the crunch of leaves underfoot was drowned out by the music in his ears. He didn’t hear the soft rustle behind him.

The man had been watching Calvin for days. He knew the student’s routine—Tuesday nights at the library, the quick jaunt through the pines, the way Calvin’s guard dropped as he texted his girlfriend, Sarah, under the lamp. The killer was methodical, a phantom in a dark hoodie, his hands twitching with anticipation as he gripped the nylon cord in his pocket. This would be his third. The thrill of it consumed him, a dark hunger he couldn’t quench.

As Calvin passed a cluster of thick oaks, the man struck. A hand, rough and reeking of sweat, clamped over Calvin’s mouth, yanking him off the path into the underbrush. Calvin’s earbuds fell, the music silenced, replaced by his muffled screams. He fought, thrashing against the man’s iron grip, but the attacker was stronger, pinning him to the cold, damp earth. The assault was swift and savage, a violation that left Calvin trembling, tears mixing with the dirt on his face. His hoodie was torn, his jeans ripped, the bright blue fabric stained with mud and blood.

Then the cord came out, glinting faintly in the moonlight. It tightened around Calvin’s throat, cutting off his gasps for air. His hands clawed at the ground, then at the cord, but his strength faded. His brown eyes, wide with terror, stared up at the shadowed face above him before going still. The man lingered for a moment, savoring the silence, then stood, wiping his hands on his jeans. He dragged Calvin’s body deeper into the woods, leaving him partially nude beneath the pines, another echo of his previous victims.

By morning, the campus was in chaos. Search parties combed the woods, and Calvin’s name spread like wildfire—another bright, promising student gone. His hoodie, cap, and boots were found scattered near the path, a grim trail leading to his body. The police confirmed the pattern: raped, strangled, hidden in the same wooded area. The community mourned, but fear tightened its grip. Who would be next? The killer, unseen and unnamed, melted back into the shadows, his hunger far from sated.

[roanofarcc]

IS IT CASUAL NOW?

pairing. scott miller (twisters) x fem!reader

summary. what happened between you and scott was supposed to be strictly casual, but when you feelings got too involved, you decided to call it quits. But storms and close calls have a way to bringing out true feelings. 

warnings. allusions to smut but no actual smut, suggestive language, a curse or two, injuries, reader gets hurt, medical descriptions. scott is a little bit of an asshole & a sweetheart (he’s complicated, okay?). idk how I feel about this but I’ve been writing it for what felt like forever & I needed to post it so it stops haunting me.

word count. 3.9k || masterlist

Feelings were messy; they always got in the way of things. You weren’t sure when yours changed or why, but they surely were leading you quickly toward disaster. It was supposed to be a casual thing, a no-strings-attached kind of thing. ‘Sleeping with the enemy’ wasn’t supposed to be anything more than meaningless sex in shitty motels after both of your storm-chasing teams went to sleep. And maybe that was a bit dramatic, but the Wranglers had a flare for dramatics and a hatred for Storm Par. You were caught in the mess you made, unsure of what to do. 

Scott was not the kind of man who wanted a serious relationship. He had a bad attitude and was one-track-minded. But he was just as lonely as you were, and that had quickly become a recipe for a delicious disaster. You two found yourself entangled in a strictly sex-only relationship, unknown to your two teams, enjoyed in the sanctity of midwestern motels. And for a while, the thrill of something so casual with no real stakes was exciting. 

You’d only ever had real relationships, partners you took home to meet your parents, and who bought you dinner. Scott was new territory. He was an asshole, but there was a certain charm that kept you coming back when he called you beautiful while fumbling for the zipper of your jeans or pressing soft kisses to your neck. 

Things between you two were good, but at some point, you couldn’t separate sex from feelings. It started to mean something to you. You tried to ignore it, burying it down deep in your gut, but that only worked for so long. 

Scott never stayed long; he didn’t want anyone to catch him sneaking out of your room. But you hardly ever got the chance to catch your breath before he was searching for his clothes strewn across the floor. You rolled your lips into your mouth, chest still rising and falling heavily, and grabbed your t-shirt from where it had been tossed onto the nightstand. 

“Are you guys following the storms up to Arkansas tomorrow?” he asked, falling back into himself the same way he always did. It was like the moment he stood from the bed, he snapped back into himself, stiff and work focused. 

He was a hard man to understand. You supposed you weren’t really supposed to understand him, that was the nature of your relationship. The less you knew about someone, the easier it was to not care. But you cared too much about everything and everyone. 

“Uh, yeah,” you replied, toying the itchy motel blanket between your fingers. Anxiety twisted in your gut like a storm, bringing unruly waves that flooded your chest and made it tight. “Scott?” 

He hummed in response, tugging on his shoes, not looking at you. It was a band-aid you needed to rip off, but you knew the nasty wound underneath it. You were scoffing it; you couldn’t keep it up. 

“I, um, I don’t know if I can do this anymore.” You held your breath after the words fell from your lips. You didn’t want to say it; you didn’t want to mean it, but if you spent another evening with Scott you’d be done for. Feelings for him ached inside your chest, but you had to snuff them out before they grew any more intense and left you heartbroken in the wake. Being heartbroken for someone who didn’t care much for you beyond sleeping together sounded like a nightmare. You wanted to get ahead of it; no hard feelings. 

He paused, standing up right as he put on his second shoe and furrowed his brows. “Do what?” he said, confused. 

You winced. “This,” you said, pointing between the two of you. “Us.” 

“Why?” Scott lingered by the door, crossing his arms over his chest. He wasn’t a man of many words, curt and to the point you had learned. 

You sighed, casting your gaze onto your lap. You felt small and a little embarrassed that you couldn’t separate sex from feelings. Scott seemed to do it so easily, but they were too intertwined for you. “What we have is good,” you started. “But I think I need something more…real, I guess.” 

“This isn’t real enough for you?” he asked with a raise of his brows. 

“You don’t want a relationship, right?” 

“Right,” he answered, quickly. 

“But I do.” 

Scott was quiet for a moment, his face swarming with emotions you couldn’t pinpoint before they vanished and fell back into his usual, stoic expression. “With me?” 

You smiled sadly, shaking your head even though it felt wrong, even though you were lying, a little. You knew the idea of you and Scott in a real relationship was purely fictional, completely intangible. You were probably the last person on Earth he’d want to date if he ever found himself able to look past his work. But you were soft-hearted and couldn’t help but think about it, even if it was ridiculous. 

“If we keep this up, maybe,” you tried to joke but it fell flat. “But no, I just meant in general. I don’t think I’m really cut out for this.” 

He pursed his lips, looking for a moment like he wanted to say something but decided against it and, instead, nodded slowly. “If that’s what you want.” Scott turned and grabbed the door handle, hesitating before he opened it. You tried to say goodbye, but he slipped out quickly, leaving the words lost in the quietness of your motel room. 

You sighed, falling back against your pillow and bringing your hands up to your face in frustration. You knew you had done the right thing, and it would have hurt even worse if you waited, but it still sucked. You weren’t cut out for casual. 

“Why are you so mopey?” Kate asked, sliding onto the bar stool beside you at the little dinner. You volunteered to grab everyone dinner while they worked on the truck before tomorrow’s storms. Kate followed you, picking up on the sulky attitude you had been trying to hide all day. 

You sighed, tapping the countertop and avoiding her eyes. “It’s nothin’,” you said, trying to add a hint of cheeriness to your tone but it fell flat. 

“If I tell you something, you promise not to get mad at me?” Confused, you glanced over at her. Kate was too sweet for anyone to be mad at her, you were sure of that. Besides, if anyone got mad at Kate, you were sure Tyler would wreak havoc. “Last night, I left my room to grab my phone charger from the truck and I kind of saw…” she looked over her shoulder at the diner’s company before lowering her voice into a whisper. “Scott leaving your room. That’s not why you’re mopey, is it?” 

Your groan answered her. “No one was supposed to find out.” 

She frowned. “I won’t tell, promise.” 

“It doesn’t really matter anymore, I guess.” You shouldn’t have been sad; you were the one who called it off, but it left a little crater in your chest, a stupid feeling. Scott wasn’t someone you brought home to your parents or who would buy you flowers out of the blue. He was a one-night stand kind of guy; he made snarky comments and called you and your team hillbillies. You should have felt good about your decision, but you just couldn’t. 

“We’re not seeing each other anymore,” you said. 

“Why? Did he do something stupid? Because I’ll kick his ass.” 

You smiled at her offer, tempted to take her up on it for your own sake, but it was unreasonable. “I called it off.” 

“Oh,” she said, patting you gently on the shoulder. “I’m sorry.” 

“I don’t know why I’m upset about it.” You wished you could just cross it out of your head, said and done, and wipe your hands clean of it. He was just a guy, but he was stuck on you. “We were just sleeping together; that was it. But…but I’m pathetic.” 

Kate shook her head. “You’re not pathetic; don’t talk like that. Do you…like him?” She nearly winced when she said it, like it was a painful idea even for her to swallow. Scott wasn’t some supervillain, but he was a sore spot for her best friend, Javi. The two had started Storm Par together until their butting heads finally cracked. Javi left Storm Par and joined the Wranglers along with Kate, and Scott had to pivot to fill the gap Javi left. 

“I was starting too, that’s why I called it off.” 

Kate hummed in understanding just as the waitress placed your bags of food on the counter. She helped you gather the takeout with a smile and said, “Well, we’ll just have to find you someone new. Tyler wanted to take everyone out to this bar he and team always stop at during the season. Between all of us, we’ll find you someone even better than Mr. Storm Par.” 

That didn’t sound so bad. 

Oh, but it was. You’re not sure what happened, but it seemed like every decent, single person was taken or nowhere near Arkansas. Instead, the bar was filled with couples, oddballs, and creeps. You sipped on your drink and sank down in the booth, feeling defeated. 

Kate joined you with a huff. “Sorry this turned out to be a total failure,” she said. “I don’t know what happened to all of the hot, decent, single people.” From across the booth, Tyler made a noise as he swallowed his beer and put his hands out in an ‘excuse me?’ manner. Kate smiled and shook her head. “For her,” she said, pointing to you. 

Tyler nodded in understanding. “Ah, I didn’t know you were looking.” 

You cleared your throat. “It’s, uh, a new endeavor.” Because you’d been so preoccupied with sleeping with Scott for the last couple of months, you hadn’t even thought about seeking someone else out, a real relationship. To your friends, you were simply content in your singleness, but that wasn’t the truth whatsoever. 

“Well, I don’t think you’re gonna find anyone here,” Boone said, scanning the bar. The front door opened and in poured more people. His face twisted. “Unless you wanna shack up with one of Storm Par,” he laughed and his friends around the table echoed it, aside from Kate and yourself. Instead, your eyes widened as you turned your head to follow Boone’s gaze. Into the bar walked Storm Par, still dressed in their uniforms and looking out of place. Your staring caught Scott’s eye. He held your gaze for a moment, same stoic expression until he blinked and turned his attention onto the bar as they approached it. 

On the other side of Kate, Javi hummed. “Hey, maybe they’re loosening up a bit. I don’t remember the last time Scott willing walked into a bar,” he said. 

You laughed fakely along with your friends while Kate comfortingly squeezed your hand under the table. 

You sat and drank with the Wranglers for a while, sneaking subtle glances at Scott every now and then, only to find his attention glued to the shelves of liquor behind the bar or one of his teammates. It wasn’t until the smell of smoke and the taste of beer became a little overwhelming did you slide out of the booth and excused yourself to grab some air outside. 

The nighttime air filled your lungs the second you stepped outside. You leaned against the brick exterior of the bar, gazing out into the quiet street. People passed in and out of the bar, some laughing alongside their friends, others grumbling under their whiskey-tainted breath. You hardly paid them mind, until you felt someone’s eyes on you. For a moment, a slight worry plagued you, until you turned your head and found a familiar face approaching you. 

“Hey,” you greeted Scott with a tight-lipped smile. 

He looked a little uncomfortable, his hair disheveled and uniform wrinkled from the rowdy company of the bar. He let out a breath before he said, “Hi," and joined you against the building. He left a wide gap like you were a little more than strangers but less than anything else. 

“I’m surprised to see you guys here.” 

Scott sighed, somewhere between disgruntled and mocking amusement. “Wasn’t my idea. It’s ruining my reputation as a stick in the mud.” 

You laughed despite yourself, and he met your gaze. “Oh, somebody’s got jokes now?” 

He half smiled, fixing his gaze out on the street. “I’m full of surprises.” A quiet moment passed between you two. In the fresh spring air, there was still a tension that tugged on you. It felt odd, being so close to him without either hurling jabs back and forth in the company of your teammates or kissing him while your hands roamed.

Scott cleared his throat. “You’re sure about, uh, you know, ending this?” The way he asked sounded casual like you weren’t sharing something intimate. 

You nodded until you realized he wasn’t looking at you. “Yeah,” you answered. 

He peeled himself off of the brick wall and turned toward you. A rock settled in your gut; that was why he came outside, to make sure you didn’t have a change of heart. You didn’t know why, exactly, that irritated you. Maybe a stupidly hopeful part of you thought maybe he had changed his mind and was looking for something less casual and more real. But he wasn’t. 

Then he just left, heading back inside and leaving you to blow air from your cheeks. 

The storm had blown in with a vengeance. The town was supposed to be a pit stop on your team’s and other storm chasers' way toward bigger storms developing further east, but it became the hub of a sneaky but violent front. You stumbled out of the truck and into the powerful winds that nearly knocked you up against the door you struggled to shut. 

The Wranglers looked for cover, helping some unprepared stragglers along into the nearby buildings. You made a move to follow them, but you hesitated when you saw one of Storm Par’s trucks parked alongside a sidewalk a little way down the road. One of the newest members rushed in your direction, towards the shelter, but the other person beside the truck didn’t. Scott stood there with his phone at his ear, struggling against the wind to be heard. 

You sucked in a breath before turning around, bee-lining for the building you saw the rest of the Wrangler rush into. But once you reached the doors, pulling them open for a group of people to run inside, you felt the storm grow stronger, the rain running sideways in the wind that was determined to blow over everything in its path. You weren’t sure what exactly compelled you to spare another look over your shoulder at Scott’s truck, but there was a tug on your gut that you couldn’t ignore. And when you did, your heart dropped violently. 

Scott was on the ground, pressed between the sidewalk and a mess of debris. Though it was difficult to see clearly through the rain, you were close enough to notice him struggle as the tornado loomed closer. 

It was out of instinct that you abandoned the safety of the shelter and hurried across the road. Storm chasing had created a bad habit of putting others first in dangerous weather, a need to be helpful in the wake of a disaster. 

You dodged flying debris as you crossed the distance and arrived to find Scott trying to shove a large metal ladder that must’ve come flying off the top of someone’s van. He looked a little dazed, rain in his eyes and hands cut up from where he probably tried to block the blow that came in too quickly. 

You quickly grabbed a rung and started to pull before he groaned in pain. “Shit!” he hissed, blinking away the water from his eyes to clear up his vision enough to notice you. “W-What are you doing?” he yelled above the howl of the wind. 

“What does it look like I’m doing?” you said quickly, pulling harder despite your slippery hands. The ladder was heavy, and the conditions only made it ten times harder to get it to budge, but between the two of you, you managed to shove it off of Scott. He rolled onto his side, face contorted in pain as he placed a hand on his ribs where the ladder had been pressed against. “Come on, we’ve gotta go!” You pulled him up by the arm, ignoring his groans of protest. 

The second he was standing upright, he stared at you with wide eyes and chest heaving. Your attention fell onto the sky and storm. Not thinking about much other than getting the hell out of the storm’s way, you grabbed Scott by the hand and pulled him toward the building. You moved quickly, despite whatever injuries he possessed, and were almost there when something hurled through the air. Before you could react, duck out of the way, or even attempt to avoid it, the object sliced across your forehead. 

Pain bloomed across your skin, stopping you in your tracks. You brought your hand up to your forehead. For a moment, you thought it was just rain that coated your skin, but when you pulled your hand back, it was red-coated. 

Scott tugged on your hand, his face twisted in a mix of emotions you were too dazed to read. He pulled you the rest of the way to the building. The world was a blur, a mix of colors that blood seeped into, staining your vision and making panic stretch uncomfortably inside your chest. People were gathered near the back wall, far from the windows. Scott pulled you down, his hand pressed firmly against your forehead. 

Glass exploded as the windows shattered. Everyone gasped and pressed themselves impossibly close to the back wall. The pain in your head battled your increasing panic, making it hard to breathe. 

Scott noticed, using his free hand to grip your shoulder. “It’s all right,” he said, voice unsteady. “You’re all right.” But you did feel like it. The world grew blurrier by the minute. You felt your eyes flutter against your will. The cut across your head must’ve been deep. Little black dots spotted your vision, despite your attempt to fight it. Your head dropped, falling into Scott. He kept his hand pressed against your cut and used his other to wrap around you, his own breath panicked as you fell unconscious. 

The lights were too bright when you woke up, groggy and disoriented. With a disgruntled hum, you lulled your head side to side as your eyes fluttered open. 

“Oh, thank goodness,” a voice filled your ears, light and relived. You blinked and Kate stood hovering over you with a small smile on her lips. 

“You gave us a heart attack,” Tyler said. 

“Sorry,” you managed to say, despite the dryness in your throat. “Everyone okay?” 

Kate nodded, patting the top of your hand. “The team’s all right; you were the only one who took a hit.” You wanted to ask about Scott, but Kate must’ve read your mind because she added, “Storm Par was all right too.” 

“Yeah, I think you short-circuited Mr. Robot. I’ve never seen Scott so bend out of shape after you passed out,” Tyler said, making your gut twist oddly. “He said you saved his ass.” 

You tried to sit up, but pain rippled throughout your head, causing you to wince and sink back down. Kate shot Tyler a look as if to say ‘stop talking’ and he listened. “You got a couple of stitches and a concussion. But the doctor said you should be back to feeling like yourself in a week or so.” 

With a sigh, you replied, “Great.” 

A soft knock sounded from the door. Tyler opened it and looked surprised as it swung open to reveal Scott. He looked surprised himself like he wasn’t sure he should be there. Nevertheless, he cleared his throat and offered Tyler a look that was different than his usual scowl. 

“What’d you want?” Tyler asked, but Kate quickly rushed to his side and placed a hand on his shoulder, telling him to stand down. 

“Ty, we should go find the doctor.” She turned her head back to you for confirmation that you were okay with Scott visiting, and you nodded. 

Tyler looked confused. “What-” Kate started to drag him out of the room, side-stepping Scott before she gently nudged him inside. She and Tyler disappeared into the hall, leaving you with Scott. He pulled his hand out from behind his back to reveal a small bouquet of flowers. 

“Hi,” you greeted, offering him a small smile. 

He returned it and moved to your bedside. “Hi,” he said. “How are you feeling?” 

“Like I’ve been hit in the head,” you answered honestly. There was a light throbbing behind your eyes, dulled by the medication the doctor must’ve given you while you were out. “But it’s not too bad. How are you?” 

“Besides a couple bruises, not in too bad of shape.” Scott pressed his lips together in a thin line, hesitating for a moment. “Mostly just been worried…about you.” 

A warmness filled your chest, and you were too groggy to fight it off. He was worried about you, which you should have brushed off; you had passed out on him, so it wasn’t a crazy idea. But it felt big. 

“I’m okay.” You didn’t know what else you were supposed to say. 

He placed the bouquet of flowers on the little table beside the bed. “These are for you.” 

“They’re pretty. Thank you.” 

For a moment, there was a still tension that pulled between you, like it was waiting for someone to make a tug. You felt your better judgment slip, replaced by the urge to say something you’d probably regret, but Scott beat you to it. 

“Uh, I-I know this is bad timing but if I don’t say something now, I probably won’t,” he started, much to your surprise and confusion. “I know you said you wanted to call this thing,” he pointed between the two of you. “Off. But I don’t.” 

You sighed, “But-” 

“I know,” he cut you off. “You want something real. A relationship. And I don’t. Or…I thought I didn’t. But the more I’ve been thinking about it, I like being with you. I don’t want to…not be with you. I want to be with you more, actually, not just us sleeping together. If you still want something real, then so do I.” 

You blinked, stunned by his sudden confession. The heat spread from your chest, up your neck, and to your face. “Really?” 

“Really,” he said, his lips quirking upwards in a smile that made the fluorescent lights look dim. “If I hadn’t screwed it up too much already.” 

With a quick shake of your head, you returned his grin, and his body shifted in relief. “I like being with you too.” 

“When you’re feeling better, let me take you on a real date, somewhere a hell of a lot nicer than those motels.” His hand ghosted over yours and you quickly intertwined your fingers with his before you pulled him down to your level. 

“You are full of surprises, huh?” you joked, your cheeks hurting from smiling. 

He shrugged. “I told ‘ya.” 

[lulunothulu]

“Jealousy, jealousy”

Tyler Owens x Fem!Reader

Summary: Tyler has tried everything to impress you, yet you're still uninterested...at least he thought you weren't until your jealousy gets the best of you, making you cry.

Content: careless (kinda only bc he’s trying to get your attention) Tyler, jealous!Reader, FLUFF

GIF credit to @austinbutlermischief I’m so sorry I couldn’t remember who I found this from 😭

Tyler had made it his mission to make you laugh and fall for him.

He’d tried everything.

He took you on a chase, fireworks and all. Nothing.

He’d tried falling over in front of you, and while it warranted a smirk…still nothing.

Tyler was up to his wits end and his ideas were dwindling.

“Why are you trying so hard?” Kate, your colleague and best friend asks him one night.

Tyler was sitting on the other side of a busy parking lot, watching as you and Javi laughed at something Boone had just said.

“I just want her to laugh, to smile really, at me.” He tells her. “I really like her and I just…I feel like she hates me.”

Kate only nods, lips tight.

If only Tyler knew.

You were obsessed with him. Obsessed might’ve been a strong word, but the feeling was mutual. You wanted to tell him how you felt but because you thought he had a thing for Kate, you never did anything to reveal your true feelings.

———

From across the parking lot, you half listen to Javi as he goes on about some tornado data from today. The only thing you can focus on is Tyler and Kate, sitting on the other side and talking.

Tyler looks like he’s having a great time talking to Kate, small smile and leaning back in a chair. He crosses his arms behind his head, biceps bulging under the sleeves of his flannel.

You frown, what could they be talking about?

———

“Is she looking?” Tyler asks Kate. They’d planned on making you so jealous, you had to come over and talk to him.

Kate glances around, making it look like she’s looking around the parking lot and stopping on you. Your face was twisted in what she knew was jealousy—but to others was a thinking face.

She turns back to Tyler, a wide smile on her face. “Oooh yeah, big time.”

“What should I do now?” He asks.

“I’m gonna squeeze your bicep and you’re just gonna smile at me. That’ll get her on her feet,” she tells him, knowing exactly where to strike in order to get your full attention.

She knew you’d been a fan of said arms, veiny and muscular. She knew this would work.

Tyler lowered his arms, bending them as he placed them on his knees. He didn't like using your best friend to get to you, but he had to do what he could in order to get you to react.

Reckless? Maybe, but he was willing to do whatever it took.

Kate's smile as she touched his bicep and squeezed made his stomach turn. That should've been you touching him.

He turns his gaze to where you were sitting and to his surprise, you were standing up.

"This is it, Kate," he tells her. "I think she's coming over."

But as soon as you wave goodbye to Boone, rest of the Tornado Wranglers, and Javi, you speed walk toward the stairs that lead to your motel room.

Tyler's heart drops straight into his ass when he sees you wipe at your cheeks. He'd hurt you.

"Fuck," he mutters.

Kate removes her hand from his bicep and turns in the direction of his gaze. She sucks in a breath and begins to stand. "I should go talk to her."

"No," Tyler says, standing and stopping her by grabbing her arm. "I'll go. I need to make it right and just straight up tell her how I feel."

Tyler turns in the direction of the stairs, walking a few feet before turning back to Kate.

"What room-"

"204," she responds with a smirk. "Go get her, lover boy."

Tyler smiles to himself as he jogs to the stairs, taking two at a time and trying to think of what he should say.

"Y/N, I didn't mean to..." He starts as he walks to your room. "I'm sorry I.... No..."

Finally, 204.

Tyler takes a deep breath before knocking on your door. He hears shuffling and sniffling before hearing your sweet voice asks, "Who is it?"

"It's Tyler," he responds. He can feel his heart breaking at how small and defeated your voice sounds, small and slightly gravelly from crying.

It was his fault you were crying. If he could kick his own ass he would.

When you open the door, your eyes are rimmed red, tear stains running down your cheeks. He watches as your eyes harden on him, lips in a tight line.

"What do you want?" you ask harshly.

———

You didn't mean to cry. Must've been Kate touching Tyler and a mix of you about to start your period that did it. Either way, you were crying over a man that obviously had feelings for your best friend.

So when you heard a knock coming from your motel door, you were expecting Kate, Javi, or literally anyone else.

You did not expect Tyler, face stricken in sadness, to be standing there.

"What do you want?" you asked harshly. Maybe a bit too harshly because he too looked like he wanted to cry.

"I just wanted to check if you were doing okay," he tells you, deep and southern voice velvety soft. "I saw you wiping your eyes on your way up here."

You were stunned, heart pounding in your chest. Tyler noticed you leaving?

"You saw that?" you ask.

"I did," he tells you with a nod and small but reassuring smile. "I notice everything about you."

"Hmm," you hum.

"Anyway," he continues. "I just wanted to see that you were alright...so, are you?"

"Am I what?"

"Alright?"

The look on his face was expectant. It's like he wanted you to be fine. Why?

Instead of asking, you nod. "Yeah, just hormonal I guess."

Tyler's ears redden at that before he clears his throat.

"I can get you some stuff. Do you want something?" he asks. "Anything at all."

"Anything?" you ask, brow raised and smirk forming on your lips.

"Name it and it's yours," he responds, his signature cocky grin appearing.

I'd like you. "I could go for some pizza."

Tyler smiles at you and you have to fight not to smile back, even though that’s all you wanna do right now.

"I'll be right back," Tyler says, starting to walk away. He walks back to ask, "Any particular toppings?"

You shake your head, another snack popping into your mind. "Can I also get some Twizzlers?"

Tyler turns to walk backwards and say, "Of course, Darlin'."

You quickly close the door, feeling the blush creep up your neck. Holy shit, he's gonna be the death of me.

———

Tyler was gone no more than ten minutes and you could tell he ran to get you the pizza and Twizzlers.

He was a panting mess by the time he knocked on your door again.

“I got the stuff you requested, Darlin’,” he drawls, attempting to catch his breath.

“Thank you,” you say, a small smirk appearing on your lips.

He stands there, waiting for you to say something else, but instead, you just smile sweetly at him.

Tyler’s mind was racing, you were actually smiling at him.

“Okay well,” you start, still smiling. “Bye.”

Before he could react, you close the door on him. His face confused and almost…heartbroken.

You walk to your bed, opening the box of pizza and sighing at the first bite.

That’s when you see the small note he’d taped inside.

I’m sorry if I made you cry. Forgive me?

You carefully rip the note off and close the box. Padding back to the door, you open it, fully expecting to run after Tyler.

Only…he never left.

There he was, standing at your door, puppy dog eyes trained on you.

“You never left,” you point out.

“I couldn’t leave without telling you something,” he starts.

“Tyler—”

“Y/N, just listen,” he interrupts. “I’ve been trying to get your attention, hell even just a smile, from you for the past few weeks. What you saw out there,” he points to the parking lot. “Was me trying the last thing I thought would grab your attention. I never meant to make you cry.”

Tyler shakes his head, rubbing his chin. “I just wanted you to react. Kate said that that would be the best way to get your attention and I just went along with it. Don’t blame her, if anything blame me. I feel so ter-”

You stop him, pressing your hand on his lips. Stepping closer to him and wrapping your arms around his neck.

You didn’t know what you were doing until it was too late.

You kiss his cheek, his scruff prickling your lips.

“Do you want to come inside for some pizza?” You ask. “This really hot pizza man just brought it so it’s still warm.”

Tyler breaks into a smile at you calling him hot.

“Of course.”

Next part

A/N: this was kinda bad BUT I really like this idea so I’m sorry lol 🥹

[fireinmoonshot]

surprise | tyler owens x reader

Pairing: Tyler Owens x Reader Summary: You drive to Oklahoma to surprise Tyler before a chase after he's had a stressful week. Warnings: Tyler calls reader baby. Other than that, I think there's nothing! Word Count: 1.2k A/N: I randomly had this idea after I rewatched Twisters tonight and thought it was so cute so I had to write it. I am also working on some requests you guys have sent in, just have been having a crazy few days at work so I haven't had the chance to finish and post them – but they're coming! For now, enjoy this! 💗

The second that Tyler stops the truck, it’s practically swarmed by tens of fans, all wanting an autograph and a selfie and the chance to see the famous Tornado Wranglers in person. The gas station is packed to the brim full of actual professional storm chasers and amateurs. You would consider yourself to be neither.

From your spot across the parking lot, you watch as Tyler exits the car, yelling his famous catchphrase: “If you feel it…”, the fans finishing it off with “chase it!” You’re leant up against the door of your own car, a smile on your face as you see the smile on Tyler’s. He almost always takes the time to greet everyone that’s come out to see them, signing photos and taking selfies. His stash of pre-signed photos that he keeps in his car always coming in handy.

Dating the one and only Tyler Owens, famous storm chaser, was not something for the weak. You’d known that from the very start. To anyone else, it’d probably bother them, having to wait for him to interact with all of the fans before he could make his way over to you. But for you? You love being able to watch him, see the genuine joy on his face at meeting the people who had changed his life by watching their once little Youtube videos. You wish you got to do it more often.

You know that when Tyler does eventually spot you, it’ll be worth all the waiting, worth the hours of solo driving you’d done alone to get here. Nearly seven hours of driving from your home in Arkansas just to surprise your boyfriend. He’d been stressed lately with the lack of storms across Oklahoma and the neighbouring states along Tornado Alley, wondering what was going to happen to their channel if they couldn’t produce content for it.

But the sight of everyone still taking selfies with the Wranglers proves to you that Tyler has nothing to worry about at all. You can see the Tornado Wranglers have a loyal fanbase. 

You watch for a few more minutes, stifling a yawn as you do. You’d stopped after five hours of driving last night and spent the night at a motel which had given you one of the worst nights sleep of your life, and done the last few hours in the morning before arriving at the gas station that Tyler had told you they were headed to today. It was the closest gas station to where storms were predicted today, hence the crowd. 

You’re about to start wandering over towards Tyler and the other Wranglers, still making their way through the crowd of fans, when you can see Tyler spot you. He’s just finished taking a selfie with a middle-aged woman when he stops in his tracks, eyes settling on you. Even from your distance, you can tell he’s spotted you.

It’s confirmed when he mutters a quick word to the people around him before he takes off at a run, straight towards you. He kicks up dust and dirt as he runs, trying to get to you as quickly as possible. You can’t keep the smile off your face as he gets closer.

“Baby, what the hell!?” He yells, not long before he reaches you. 

Tyler almost knocks the wind out of you as he barrels into you, wrapping his arms around your body and lifting you off the ground. He spins you around in a circle and it’s impossible not to laugh at the feeling, his arms tight around you. He sets you back down on the ground and pulls away, hands still resting on your waist.

“Surprise,” you grin at him. 

“You drove all this way just to surprise me?” Tyler looks at you in awe, his eyes both filled with an immense amount of love as well as a tinge of worry. “Baby, that’s a seven hour drive. Didn’t you have a shift yesterday? Please don’t tell me you drove all night.”

You shake your head. “I only drove till midnight, then I stopped at a motel. Promise.”

Tyler moves one of his hands to cup your cheek before he leans in and presses a kiss to your forehead. “You’re insane, y’know that? Drivin’ till midnight after an eight hour shift. You should’ve told me. What if something had happened to you on the road?” 

You can see the worry etched on his face so you waste no time in pulling him in for a hug again, burying your face in his chest. Tyler reacts immediately, gently resting one of his hands on the side of your head. You feel him take a deep breath, taking everything in, taking your presence in. 

“Ty, nothing happened. I’m here, I’m safe. I’m with you.”

He nods and rubs one of his hands up and down your back. “Thank you for comin’, baby. You have no idea how good it feels to be holdin’ you right now. When I looked over here and I saw you… was like everything felt like it might actually be okay.”

“Cause it will be, Ty,” you assure him. “But I do feel a little bad for tearing you away from the people that didn’t get selfies or autographs with you before you ran off.”

Tyler pulls away from the hug, but he still keeps a hand on you. “You got nothin’ to feel bad about, baby. I promise you that. And they all know who you are, I’m sure they get it.” 

You smile up at him and then have to stifle another yawn. Your attempt at hiding it fails spectacularly, though, and Tyler narrows his eyes at you. 

“Did you get any sleep last night?” One of his hands rests on your cheek again, a thumb gently stroking back and forth over your cheek. 

“A little,” you say. “The motel was kinda dodgy. The mattress was like a rock.”

Tyler gives you one of his best unimpressed looks and shakes his head. “Okay, I’m sending you back to our motel. I’ll give you my room key, it’s in the truck, and you can go and rest up while we try and chase this storm this afternoon.”

“No, no,” you disagree. “I’m comin’ with you, Ty. I didn’t drive all this way just to be cooped up in some motel watching your chase on a computer screen. I gotta steal my seat back from Boone. He’s been gettin’ way too comfortable up there.”

Tyler let out a laugh and leans down to gently peck your lips. “Oh, baby, you know that seat belongs to you. And believe me, Boone knows it too.” 

He attempts to step backwards, then, but you’re quick to move, placing one of your hands on the back of his neck and bringing his lips back to yours. Tyler has no objections, wrapping his arms around your waist as he kisses you back. It’s been weeks since he last saw you, weeks since he got to kiss you like this. You’re surprised he managed to hold off on it for so long after reuniting with you. 

“Come on,” you say after breaking apart from the kiss. You reach down and grab Tyler’s hand in yours, weaving your fingers through his. “Let’s go give the rest of these people their autographs and selfies and get me my seat back.”

Tyler grins, giving your hand a squeeze. “Lead the way, baby.” 

[spiritsdiary]

— FIRST DATE with TYLER OWENS

wc: 788 | content: description of intense weather (??)

you had made the mistake of issuing a challenge to tyler owens: “impress me.”

and tyler owens would be damned if he backed down from a challenge.

so he got you flowers and brought you along to thursday rodeos with his crew, and he must have talked to your mama too, because how else he could’ve figured out where to get your favorite pie was beyond you.

“nothing ever throws you off, does it?” you asked him the fifth time he showed up at your door, armed with a box of pie and that damn smile.

he had simply shrugged before reciting his stupid mantra at you. “if you feel it, chase it.”

he laughed when you shut the door in his face. you’d be lying if you said weren’t laughing yourself when you opened the box, grabbed a fork, and dug in, the dessert tasting a little sweeter than usual.

while it was nice, you’d grow bored of this routine eventually, and tyler seemed to know that, too. but he had an idea, and while it was stupid as all hell, he was willing to take his chances.

you barely pulled the door open when he spoke.

“i wanna take you out tonight.” well. that was new.

“it’s not thursday,” was all you could think to say in response.

“i know a spot,” he’d said, completely unfazed, with a cheeky wink and a tip of his hat, and really, you should’ve known what he meant.

because why wouldn’t you now find yourself in the passenger seat of tyler’s truck as he veers off the road directly towards a tornado?

“tyler owens, are you crazy?!” you exclaim, the only response being a bout of wild laughter as he throttles it even faster. “you better not be filming this!”

“you kiddin’?” he gestures to the cameras mounted above the windshield. “don’t worry, this’ll be just for us. we can look back on this in ten years and laugh.”

“if we live,” you mumble to yourself, glad of the wind, rain, and tyler’s blaring radio.

he looks at you for a moment, though, a flicker of concern in his eyes. “you ready?”

you don’t even have to think about your answer. “hell yeah, tornado wrangler.”

“‘s what i like to hear, baby,” he says, rolling to a stop in the middle of the field. “and now… we wait.”

“next time, just say you wanna drive me into a tornado.”

“next time?” he raises his eyebrows at you as he flips a few switches and anchors the truck.

“you’re insane,” you laugh, shaking your head.

“i’m startin’ to think that you like that about me,” he replies, nodding to the tornado only feet away as he makes sure your harness is secure. “better hold on to somethin’.”

you should be scared, but when you grab on to tyler’s hand, fueled by adrenaline and exhilaration, you just feel a sudden calm. like you belong here, with him, in his truck, getting hit head on by a tornado.

and maybe that’s why you let him kiss you.

the tornado swirls around the truck, the wind screaming so loudly you can barely hear his music, and you lean into him even though the harness digs into your shoulders. his kiss is gentle, respectful, and you can feel him smiling as you kiss him back, only pulling away to touch your forehead to his.

the winds of the tornado rock the truck, debris pelting the outside, but you’re too wrapped up in tyler to even care. you breathe him in until the sound of the storm begins to dissipate and the beating of your heart fades in your ears.

“you can open your eyes, sweetheart,” he whispers, watching as you lean back into your seat.

his voice spurs you into action, laughing as you undo your harness and jump out of the truck. he’s quick to follow you, smiling proudly as you let out a loud whoop.

“told you i knew a spot.”

“tyler owens…” you say his name again, slowly turning to look at him where he leans against his truck, arms folded across his chest.

“yeah?”

you could blame his tight jeans, or his backwards cap, or that damn smile of his for what you do next, but in the end you do it solely because you want to.

because you want him.

you run up to him, your hand bumping against the brim of his cap as you throw your arms around his neck, and kiss him, pressing him back against the hood.

and when his hands take hold of your hips, his mouth insistent against yours, you know that however you challenge him, he’ll always be crazy enough to impress you.

good evening twisters/tyler owens nation, i am officially throwing my hat in the ring 🥰

m.list

© qimirdiary 2024. do not repost without permission.

[yanderedrabbles]

So I've been rereading the wild west gang cause I'm a degenerate who also lives in a bumfuck nowhere developing country who has nothing to do. So I've been thinking, it was established that if we would favorite one of the outlaws, it might be dangerous for the both of us. But what if we un-favorite one of them, if that makes sense. Like, what if only really struggled and cried when with the gunslingers, and obviously much less so with the others. Or even funnier, if instead of the gunslingers, it would be the pale guy (is that his name?).

Sorry for that brainfart. Keep doing the lord's work

P.S. I would also turn patriotic and join the army to protect your brilliant mind xx

oooh this is such a great question. I had to think about it for a while but I think not liking someone is a whole different dynamic.

Showing one of them more favour than the other's is a recipe for disaster. You're giving one man what all the others want, what they feel entitled to. It's going to bring about all sorts of ugly jealousy, even in a band as tight knitted as this one.

But if you don't like someone? If you show time and again that this person in particular has the touch most abhorrent to you? To them, that's just less competition. If anything, it makes them feel smug that it isn't them getting on your bad side. I can see a lot of mocking between them, a lot of smug insults traded when they drink too much.

How each outlaw reacts to being that person is entirely different though:

I think the boss will be calm about it. It's not surprising that you don't want him to touch you. He's a lot older, his hands are too hard with labour. Little thing like you probably spent her whole life dreaming of a lover soft and sweet, only to end up trapped by a bastard like him. He understands. And as the leader, I don't think he gets insecure about it either. He's already the top dog, he can afford to let the others enjoy your kindness. But it won't stop him from using you. Won't stop him from holding you down and taking what you don't willingly offer.

The gunslingers take it poorly. Manly, rough, mean. To them it's an insult that you're being more submissive or sweet with the other men. Are they not fucking you well enough? Are they not making you come hard enough? It's a slight against their masculinity.

They aren't the type to sit and reflect. They won't realise that maybe the reason you're so difficult is because they're just too rough with you. Hell, the thought won't even cross their minds. Their solution is to double down. To take it out on you with teeth and nails and cock shoved in when you're not nearly ready. If they can't make you love them, the least they can do is make you hate them the most. At least hate is passion of some sort.

The wrangler is hurt by it, but he won't show it. He's patient, gentle. A lot more insightful than people realise. He's spent years taming horses. He knows it's only a matter of time before you give in and accept his touch. He can wait.

(Btw, I don't think he'll actually end up being the guy you hate the most. If anything, he's the one in danger of your favour).

As for the boy, well, you feel pity more than anything else. Even when he's holding you down and eating you out, all you can think is that he never would have ended up like this if it weren't for the others. You don't blame him. You don't hate him. You just hope that one day he'll be free of this life.

I realise I didn't actually give the last guy a proper title, but he's actually the second in command. He also doesn't take it well.

Logically, he knows that you have the most reason to hate him. He's the one who planned this, he's the one who chose you. All your pain can be blamed on him.

He knows. He understands. But that doesn't stop him from hating it. He's the one who wants your love the most, he's the one who's longed for you the longest. It's so awful to finally have you and you won't even look at him. You hiss and fight and snarl when he takes you, even though he knows the others haven't had as much trouble.

His solution is also to just double down, but in a different way to the gunslingers. Instead of just getting angry, he'll try everything he can to be gentle. To win your forgiveness. He'll be so sweet when he fucks you, so slow and loving, even though he desperately wants to go faster. He'll kiss you every time he sees you, he'll hold you down and focus entirely on your pleasure, he'll bring you wildflowers and cook your favourite foods. He doesn't care how long it takes - he'll crawl on his knees for years if it means you'll forgive him. He'll do anything, anything at all. Please just look at me little dove, qīn’ài de, please.

He'll do anything in the world to win your forgiveness. Anything but let you go.

[storieswithvenus]

Feeling Forgotten - Tyler Owens x Fem!Storm Chaser Reader

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ 𝘷𝘦𝘯𝘶𝘴 𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘢𝘬𝘴

hey! this is the longest ever fic i have ever wrote so i hope it’s good lmao. if you have any suggestions on how to make it better please do comment or send me a message. this one will contain some nsfw content so

TWs: allusions to cheating, flashbacks to sex, use of Y/N, somewhat of an insecure reader but not massively i think, angst, cocky reader at some points

please comment if i have missed any warnings, anyways enjoy!! ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི

word count; 1843

.*･｡ﾟ☆ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ

You watch as your boyfriend Tyler, walks over towards the young blonde woman who had suddenly turned up with Javi, another storm chaser from another group. You couldn’t help but glare over at the sight of your boyfriend smiling down at her, your fists clenching as you watched her smile up at him.

“You’re gonna break your knuckles if you keep clenching them that tight, love”, a voice from beside you speaks, looking to your left to see your best friend Lilly smiling at you sympathetically. “I just don’t understand why he was so drawn to her when we first pulled in, Lills, I really don’t get it,” your tone soft, a frown forming on your face as your shoulders slump down with a mix of confusion and insecurity.

“Do not be getting soft on me now girl, you are THE tornado wrangler's girlfriend, and from what he has told us all, his future wife! So why are you doubting that? Has he given you something to ever question his love for you?” Her voice was sharp, full of questions as she tried to pry the answers out of you, not because she was mad at you, but because she knew how much you truly love him and how much you want a life with him. Lilly had been the one to begrudgingly listen to all the plans you have for yourself and Tyler in the next 5 years.

Firstly; get engaged, then have a small ceremony in your shared hometown, buy a house then have kids.

You feel yourself smile slightly at her constant questions, turning your head back to look at the sight of your boyfriend patting this woman’s shoulder as he made his way over to you. “Can I share a room with you tonight, Lills?”, you ask her with puppy dog eyes. “Y/n, of course you ca-“, she didn’t have time to finish the rest of her sentence before you walked away from her and your boyfriend who was quickly closing in on you two with a bright smile on his face. Tyler catches up to the spot you just stood on, watching as your silhouette walks away to the back of the jeep.

“Is she okay? She hasn’t come to speak to me since we got here.” Tyler looks over towards Lilly, a slight frown on his face, before quickly watching as you grab your duffle bag out of the trunk of the car and set it on the floor. Lilly (again) didn’t have time to finish her sentence before your boyfriend was quickly over beside you, reaching down to grab your bag as he slings it over his shoulder.

You roll your eyes slightly as you roughly close the trunk of the red jeep before turning to him and grabbing the bag off his shoulder. Tyler is quick to stop you by grabbing onto the bag and pulling it back onto his shoulder once more, “Baby, what’s going on? You always let me carry your bags to the motel room? Have I done something?” His voice is slightly shaken and soft, trying to keep the volume as low as possible so that nobody can hear your conversation. You roughly grab the bag off his shoulder and hoist it onto your shoulder, “Why don’t you go see what that new girl wants, huh? Might need a strong man to bring her bag to her room.” Shoving past him, and walking toward Lilly who was waiting for you with her key, leaving your boyfriend behind you, confused as ever.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚

“You are taking the fucking piss right, Boone?” your blood boiling as you find out that your boyfriend had driven hours away to see this new girl Kate who had apparently left in a hurry after an argument with Javi. Standing up from the edge of your bed you run your hands through your hair. “Y/n, listen he wanted me to tell you-“ he began. “Tell me what? He ran off to see this fucking girl he’s know, what? 3 days? Oh yeah, thanks for the heads up, really appreciate it.” Your eyes glared into him, letting out a groan as he sat there silently looking around at your other friends in the room. You walk into the bathroom and slam the door behind you, due to it being an older motel you were staying at - the slam of the door nearly took it off the hinges.

Turning on the cold tap and splashing your face with the water as you try and calm yourself. Splashing your face a few times before looking up to see yourself in the mirror. Quite frankly, you didn’t look your best. You had been so tired the last few nights due to the early starts with tornados touching down at 5am. Your eyes had black bags under them, your lips were severely chapped, and your hair had at least 3 days of grease still in it. Taking a deep sigh, you reach to the bottom of your shirt, taking it off, and throwing it on the floor. Unclasping your bra, undoing the zip on your jeans pulling down your underwear, and throwing it all onto your shirt, leaving a pile on the corner of the bathroom. Turning around to the shower, reaching over the side of the tub, and turning it on. Grabbing all the essentials you need from your wash bag you had left in the bathroom next to Lillys’.

The water was a nice heat when you got inside the tub, pulling the heist curtain to cover yourself in case someone was to walk in and see you. Putting your head under the shower head and letting the water drench your hair, moving it around slightly to make sure every area was covered. You reach for your shampoo as your mind runs wild at what your boyfriend could be doing with her right now.

Could he be touching her like how he touches you? Could he have his head between her legs and please her how he pleases you? Have his cock in her and watch her face as she enjoys it? You don’t even realize how aggressively you are rubbing the shampoo into your hair, nearly scratching your scalp. Rinsing the shampoo out of your hair as you sigh, trying to fight away the images in your head of him and her, could he really do that to you after 3 years of dating?

Reaching over for your conditioner as you open the bottle, squeezing some out into your hand and rubbing it onto the end of your hair. Leaving it to set in your hair, you reach over to your loofah and squeeze your vanilla-scented body wash all over it, as you start to rub the loofah all over your body - the image of your boyfriend and you in the shower together engulfs your head.

His head lay in the crook of your shoulder, one of his hands holding your waist and the other playing with your nipple between his index and middle fingers, sometimes squeezing it slightly. Your head flew back as you let out a soft moan into his ear, your hand reaching and grabbing onto his forearm as you tried to balance yourself. His low chuckle surrounds the room, letting go of your nipple and trailing down towards the spot you wanted him the most, and just as he was about to reach there-

3 loud bangs are heard on the bathroom door pulling you out of your state of imagination, “Y/n/n, are you okay? I’m sorry for not telling you where he was going, I really am. You’ve been in there for like half an hour, please come out” Boone shouts through the door, his hand continuously banging in the door. “YEAH! I'm okay, I’ll be out now”, you shout back as you rinse the condition out of your hair and the body washes off your body, ignoring the pulsing feeling between your legs.

Pulling the shower curtain out of the road and reaching for your towel, wrapping it around your body you walk towards the door and open it, Boone is standing waiting for you with a sorry look on his face. “Please don’t be mad at me”, he looks into your eyes, which are full of regret and pain. You smile at him slightly, “I’m not mad at you dude, I’m just upset that’s all.” You reason with him, holding onto his shoulder, “he will just have to answer a fuck ton of questions when he gets back.”

*ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚

You had been sitting in your room all day trying to map out the best mother storms for you and the team to follow when Tyler gets back when there is a soft knock on your door. Getting up and opening the door, “Dexter, really, I am not hungry, I don’t want any lunch.” you look up expecting to see your loveable older friend standing there however, standing there was your boyfriend with a bunch of tulips in his hand and a box of chocolates.

“I’m sorry for leaving, pretty girl,” his voice was full of love, “It was a really stupid thing to do and I should’ve consulted you on the matter before I ran off after her”. Moving to the side to let him into the room, you shut the door behind him.

“Yeah you really should have consulted me about it”, your voice sharp and full of anger, not daring to walk over towards him. He sighs, placing your flowers and chocolates on the messy bed you were just sitting in, walking towards you slowly. “I already know how you’re feeling my love, Lilly got a lot of shouting in when I first got back, I’m sorry I made you feel that way”, his hands placed on your waist as he looks down at you, “I didn’t bring her back if that’s what you are wondering, I told her I had to get back to see my lady.” You lean into him and wrap your arms around his neck and you lay your head on his shoulder, he pulls you closer and runs his finger up and down your spine.

“I love you,” his voice whispered, “I know you’re mad at me, and you have the right to be, but it’s always gonna be you baby, forever and always you”. You pull back away from him to look into his light green eyes, a cocky tone in your voice, “You know, saying sorry won’t make me forgive you that easily, along with flowers and chocolates.” His eyebrow raises at your words, quickly replaced with a smirk and he quickly lifts you up bridal style walking towards Lilly’s bed. “You don’t think she will mind if we use her bed, right?” He asks you in a playful tone before laying you down on the bed.

“I guess we will have to see, won't we?” You reply back as you pull him on top of him attaching your lips to his.

[marvelwitchergilmore]

Tiny Tornado

Summary: Tyler Owens x fe!Reader -> When a tornado rips through a rodeo, you save a life you weren't expecting to have to save. Upon taking them home, Tyler comes to find out they're a Tiny Tornado.

Disclaimer: This fic does include child abandonment in the beginning, as well as damage done by tornadoes, angst. Happy ending. Slow burn romance, Wranglers being a family and the ultimate Aunties and Uncles, fluffy and funny moments, Tyler and Reader being parents. Not Proof Read.

Country music blasted over the speakers across the rodeo, different voices speaking over the lyrics as they announced which activities were about to start and when you could find them. 

Like every summer, you volunteered at the rodeo to help out with crowd control whilst the others did their part. Tyler was helping around the rodeo cowboys, talking some of them through their fear before they mounted a bull for the first time in front of the mass crowd. 

Dani, Dexter and Kate had set up a stall to provide information about their work, raise some money to help feed the families who were affected by the tornadoes that tore through homes.

Javi was on crowd control with you, helping those who were lost or in need of directions. Meanwhile, Lily and Boone were by the kids tent showing them footage of different tornadoes, explaining why they can be scary but that they don’t have to be afraid of them. 

And everything was going great until the sirens started. 

People started running, horses were set loose, bulls were either left or ushered towards their pens. Finding your fellow Wranglers, you all started directing everyone to safety whilst you all started running yourselves. 

Javi helped a four year old who had fallen into the ground, her mom thanking Javi before running along with him. Boone and Lily kept an eye on the kids as they ran towards their parents, grabbing their hands for dear life. 

However, as you ran past the stalls, colliding into Tyler, you spotted a box under the stands. 

It was moving. 

“Come on! We gotta go!”

Tyler tried to pull you with him, but your eyes remained fixed on the box. Maybe it was just the wind. 

But it wasn’t. 

Over the yelling, and the wind, and the tramping of feet, you heard a scream. 

A baby’s cry. 

Breaking free from Tyler’s grasp, you heard him yell for you but you remained focused on the box under the stands. Why was there a baby in a box? Had someone left them? Who would leave a baby in the middle of a rodeo?

Feeling your hand slip from his, Tyler turned and called your name but you ignored him. He tried to run after you, only to be cut off by a horse. 

“Whoa!”

He slipped in the grass but managed to regain his balance just as you came to a stop by a cardboard box. 

The sirens were getting louder, and so was the wind. You didn’t have much time. 

“Y/n! Come on! We’ve got to-”

Tyler stopped talking as he saw what you lifted from the box. Was it what he thought it was?

He didn’t have long to think because in the distance he could see a growing dark cloud, ready to tear everything from the ground. 

“Y/n!”

Finally you looked up and ran towards him. Holding the baby to your chest, he placed an arm around you, both of you ducking as something came flying behind you. 

“Come on, we need to get somewhere safe.”

And you did. 

Reaching a mechanics garage, Tyler looked behind him finding people either running towards their cars. He yelled but they didn’t hear him. 

The tornado was only getting closer. 

So he ran. 

Running and letting the door close, he ran into the pit before crouching beside you. 

You lowered the baby from your chest to take a look at them. They were wrapped in a sage green baby blanket, a note clipped to it which you were yet to look at. 

“Can’t be more than five months.”

“How can someone leave a baby alone like that?”

With a loud crashing sound, you cradled the baby as Tyler turned his body towards you, covering you from the noise. 

The baby cried out and all you could do was wrap the blanket tighter around them and try to cover their ears with your hand. 

“It’s okay, it’ll be over soon.” You heard Tyler say. 

Around you, there were kids no more than seven, cradling themselves into their parents. Some were crying, their parents comforting them; others were trying their best to be brave and seeing Tyler – the Youtube famous Tornado Wrangler – made them braver. Especially when they heard him say it would be over soon. 

From the back, one of the children stood up, shouting out for their mom. Standing, Lily ran towards the back and sat down with the kid. 

“It’s okay, we’ll find your mom. But we need to stay down, okay?” A loud crash came through the top of the garage and Lily covered the child as best as she could. 

You didn’t know how long it lasted. The wind just seemed to get louder and louder, more things flew in and out of the garage before finally the noise stopped. 

Everyone stayed down for a few minutes before standing, Kate and Javi moved to check outside before coming back and helping people up and back outside. 

Most places were trashed. Tents were blown across the field, food scraps melted in with the mud and dirt, and plenty of trucks and cars had been spun and flipped around the place. 

But you still held a baby in your arms. 

“It’s okay, it’s okay. We’re safe now. You’re safe.” 

It took a moment but you finally managed to settle the baby before Javi walked over to check on you. “Is that a baby?”

You nodded. “Someone left them in a box. If I hadn’t spotted it…”

Javi placed an arm around you. “Maybe we can find someone. I’ll go with you.”

After three hours and two different phone calls being made to social services and a ton of others being made to local foster homes – most of which had been hit by the tornado, too – you were in the passenger seat of Tyler’s truck as they drove back to Kate’s farm. 

She’d left not long after helping people out of the garage; fearful the tornado would take a turn and head towards her mom. 

The others stayed to help whilst Tyler took you back. He’d resupply and head back once he knew you were okay. 

“Have you read the note yet?”

You shook your head, plucking it from the blanket. “Who can just leave a baby like that? In the middle of a rodeo? What if I hadn’t spotted it? What if-”

“You can’t torture yourself with what if’s. You found ‘em. That’s what matters.”

You took a breath and looked down at the baby in front of you, sound asleep. So innocent, so tiny in comparison to the rest of the world. 

Looking at the paper, you read the cover. 

I’m Sorry.

Flipping it open, you read the short letter out loud. 

To whoever finds her, 

With everyone at the rodeo, I know she’ll be safe. It’s my hope one good family will take her in. I thought I could help her, but I can’t. Maybe you can. 

Please keep her safe 

Tyler looked over at you from where he sat. “What? No name?”

You shook your head. “Apparently not.”

“Is her birth registered?”

You shrugged your shoulders. “No idea.”

“Then we should name her.”

You looked at Tyler. “Can we even do that?”

“We can’t just keep calling her ‘her’, can we?”

“No, I suppose not.” Looking down as the sleeping baby in your arms, you spoke out loud. “What is your name, little one?”

As Tyler pulled into the driveway, he hopped out and rounded the truck to help you out as Kate and Cathy came to the front door. 

“Oh, the poor thing. Kate told me. I’ve set up a cot in the attic room. It’s the warmest room in the house.”

“Thanks, Cathy.”

“What did the cops say?”

Cathy followed you up the stairs, Kate going out to help Tyler load up the truck with fresh supplies. 

“That she has to stay with me for a few days until social services get in contact. Most homes have been taken out in the storm so there’s no-one to take her. And I didn’t like the idea of not knowing what’s going to happen.”

Cathy nodded. “I would have done the same thing. Do you know what you’re doing?”

You sighed. “Not really. I’ve never exactly found a baby in the middle of a tornado before.”

Cathy just graced you with a warm smile. “We’ll all help out. This kid won’t have to worry about anything.”

It wasn’t until just after two in the morning that everyone came back, instantly crashing into their beds. But Tyler waited. 

“She’s up in the attic.”

“Thank you.”

You heard Tyler’s footsteps walking down the hall before the door clicked open. “I’m still awake. It’s okay. Come on in.”

He slipped his boots off by the door before closing it behind him. 

“How is everyone?”

“Tired.” Tyler answered truthfully. “How are you?”

Tyler stood beside the crib where your hand was in between the bars, holding onto the baby’s hand. Gently, Tyler lifted up the blanket that had dipped a little before laying his finger in the baby’s other hand. 

Almost instantly, their fingers curled around his finger. Her head turned towards him before she sighed constantly and relaxed again. 

“I think she likes you.” You smiled at Tyler from where you lay in bed. 

Tyler couldn’t help but smile as he looked back at the baby. “Not a care in the world. Have you thought of a name yet?”

You shook your head. “Not yet. I was hoping the others could help. Cathy says she has a baby book somewhere filled with names.”

Slowly, making sure not to hit the creaky parts of the floor, he walked to the other side of the bed and lay on top of the covers with you. 

“We’ll find a name.”

It was laying in the silence, hearing the content snores from the baby, that sent you and Tyler into a deep sleep. When you woke up, your hand was back on your bed and the baby was no longer in her crib. 

For a moment, you panicked. Until you saw Tyler stood by the dresser, talking quietly to her. 

“You’re lucky I know how to do this, or else I’d be asking Boone for help and as much as he’s my best friend, he’s not the person I’d want to ask.” Tyler said to her. “You know, he once did a backflip off the top of my truck. Yeah, just did it. Right there. And as cool as it was, I did think we were about to end up in the ER. Point is – don’t follow Boone’s idea of backflipping off a truck. It’s very dangerous.”

Clasping the baby grow shut, Tyler placed the dirty diaper into a diaper bag and threw it into the lined trash can beside him with the other diaper wipes. 

Then you saw an image that your ovaries would never let you forget. 

A freshly washed Tyler dressed in a clean white t-shirt and jeans, lifting up a baby before holding her against his chest and walking around the small floor before taking her to the window, showing her the view. 

“You’re a natural.”

Tyler turned his head and looked at you before smiling. “Hey, you’re awake. How’d you sleep?”

You nodded. “Pretty good. How long have you been up?”

“Only about an hour. She woke up like thirty minutes ago. I didn’t want to disturb you.”

You smiled. “Thanks.”

Twenty minutes later, you showered yourself and got dressed before meeting Tyler downstairs where Cathy was teaching him how to properly burp her. 

Of course, everyone had a thousand questions so once the understandable questions were cleared up, you were all sat in the living room, the baby on Kate’s knee, going over baby names. 

“I never knew so much went into naming a baby.”

Cathy nodded. “It sets them up for the rest of their lives. God knows it took me long enough to choose Kate’s.”

“Really?” She asked. 

Cathy nodded. “Your dad and I vetoed a lot of names in the beginning. It wasn’t until the midwife came running up our driveway after her shift had finished that I decided on a name.”

Dexter flipped through the book before offering up a name. Nobody agreed on it. 

It wasn’t until after an entire day of going through baby names, different meanings, past relationships with the different names – some good, some bad – that a name was found. 

Despite having napped, eaten, burped and a fresh diaper, she just wouldn’t settle. Until Dexter took her outside to look up at the stars in the sky. 

By the time you walked out onto the porch, standing beside Tyler, Dexter was pointing up at the different constellations and explaining each one and what they meant. 

“I don’t know how he does it, but he’d settled her.”

“It’s because he’s calming,” you said. “If anyone was going to be calm enough to settle her, it would be Dex.”

Tyler smiled. “Any word from the social?”

You shook your head as you shoved your hands into your back pockets. “Not yet. They’re looking for a home but, in the meantime, she’s stuck with us. They’re sending out a social worker tomorrow to come and look at the place to make sure she’s not in any immediate danger with us.”

Tyler nodded. “We still need to find her a name.”

You sighed. “I know.”

Looking back out to Dexter and the baby, you leaned your head against Tyler’s shoulder.

“And no matter where you are in the world, you can just look up at the sky and know we’re looking at the same one.” Dexter told her. “I don’t know how long you’re gonna be with us, kiddo. But…if you remember us, or need some help, there’s a chance the stars will be able to show you.”

As Dexter looked up into the sky and back down to the baby, the stars reflecting in her eyes, something hit him. 

He turned around quickly. “SKYE!”

You and Tyler stood tall and looked at each other before looking back. “What?”

Dexter walked over to you both. “Skye. Her name. We could call her Skye.”

You and Tyler looked at each other before looking down at the baby. “Do you like that name?”

She definitely looked like a Skye. And by the happy babble she gave, she seemed to agree. 

Tyler looked at you. “Skye it is, then. Guys! Come out here!”

Following one by one, they all appeared on the porch. “Dexter’s found her name.”

They all looked at him, hopeful. 

“Skye.”

They all gave an ‘aww’. “Skye. Hi, Skye.”

Beside Tyler, Boone almost collapsed. “Man, I tell you. Choosing a baby name is hard.”

Tyler chuckled. “Maybe you can find another way to use those post-it notes.”

So, finally she had a name. 

All she needed was a home. 

But from the social worker’s inspection, she had already found one. 

She came over three times in the space of two weeks, surprising everyone each time. But each time, her report came out better than the last until she made you an offer. 

“Now, we can take her into foster care. There are a few homes a couple towns over but there’s no guarantee for adoption. Between the recent tornadoes and the cost of living recently, the cost of taking in a baby this young…it’s rare we’re gonna find a couple willing to take her in permanently. But, myself and my colleagues do believe the best place for Skye is here.”

You couldn’t deny you hadn’t grown attached to her. Nobody could. You’d all found a new routine that easily fitted around her, and deep down, none of you wanted it any other way. But was a Tornado family truly the best place?

“If you didn’t already have a home base, we wouldn’t have considered it so quickly. But…” The social worker looked around. “You’ve got a good home here. Space for her to run around, plenty of people willing to help. So, if any of you would, in fact, wish to take Skye on permanently, I can help you do so.”

With Skye in your arms, you looked around at the rest of the Wranglers. They’d all been in tears for the last two days, figuring out how to say goodbye to her since you’d all been under the belief the social worker was getting ready to take her away. 

“I…”

You looked at Tyler and the others. Then Lily leaned forward. “Can we talk about it, first?”

The social worker nodded. “Of course. This isn’t a light decision to be made. And it doesn’t have to be right away, but until you do make a decision, Skye will be taken into a foster home.”

Then Cathy stood. “It’s your decision. If you choose to keep her…her room is already set up.” Once more, she graced you with a warm smile before inviting the social worker into the kitchen for a drink. Then everyone took a seat. 

“It’s a big decision.”

“Are we sure tornado wrangling is the place for a kid?”

“It’s not like we’d be taking her with us into a tornado.”

“We can all split the duties.”

“But if we keep her, one of us is going to have to adopt her. We can’t all be on the birth certificate.”

“Do we even know what we’re doing? Shouldn’t she be with a less adrenaline driven family?”

“They do say kids have less allergies growing up on a farm. They have more compassion and understanding of the world.”

“And we can help her with her homework.”

“Two of my childhood friends are now teachers at our old school.” Kate mentioned. “So it’s a good school district.”

It was another ten minutes of similar discussions until eventually Dani spoke up. 

“You guys know what we’re doing?”

The other’s didn’t seem to catch on to what they were doing. But you did. 

Looking down at the sleepy baby in your arms, you felt yourself smile. “We’re planning our lives with her. I can’t imagine a life without her.”

“Neither can I.” Lily leaned over, stroking Skye’s arm. 

“Neither can I.” Boone joined, leaning over the back of the sofa. 

Dani was in agreement, then Javi, Kate, Dexter and finally Tyler. 

Crouching on the floor in front of you, Tyler looked at you. “So, we’re doing this?”

You both looked around at the others, them looking back. 

“We’re doing this.”

~~~~~~

The sun had been beating down all day. Yourself and the Wranglers had managed to chase the third EF-2 of the week and were finally putting the data through its paces. And just as the hum of the barn wrapped around you all for the second time that hour, you heard a familiar set of giggles. 

“Momma!” 

Skye giggled and shrieked as she looked behind her before running through the barn and towards you. Sliding away from your desk, you opened your arms and she jumped into them as quickly as she could. 

“Quick, you’ve gotta hide me.”

“Hide you? Why?”

Then you heard Boone’s voice from outside the barn door. “I’m the big, scary monster.”

Skye shrieked again before she wiggled from your grasp and hid under your desk. As you looked at her, she placed her finger against her lips and you nodded before you rolled your chair back towards your desk. 

Boone continued his act of being the big scary monster, calling out for his new best friend he was playing hide and seek with. 

“I’m sorry Mr Monster, I haven’t seen Skye anywhere.”

Boone pouted. “Mr Monster’s sad. He can’t find his best friend.”

Then from under Kate’s desk, Skye ran out and around. “I’m here!”

“Best friend!” 

Boone scooped her up into his arms, her giggles filling the entire barn. You’d never get tired of hearing her laugh. 

“Do I hear a Tiny Tornado in here?”

Skye leaned up high and gasped. “Let me down, let me down.”

Boone set her on her feet. “There you go, kid.”

“Yay!”

Running directly back down to the barn doors, Tyler dropped the pile of rope he was carrying over his shoulder, to the ground beside him. As Skye reached him, he bent down before he lifted her into the air, and he swung her back into his arms. 

“How’s your day been, kiddo?”

“Aun’y Cathy teached me to ride a ‘orse.”

“Taught!” You called out to Skye.

Tyler nodded. “Your mom’s right. She taught you to ride a horse.”

“She taught me to ‘ide and ‘orse.”

Tyler smiled. “Did you enjoy it?”

Skye nodded. “She promised to show me tomorrow.”

Tyler smiled, “Well, in that case, you’re gonna need your own hat.”

From your desk, you watched as Tyler set Skye onto her feet before he reached for something just outside the barn doors. Then, with one knee on the floor, Tyler pulled her to stand a little closer. 

“This right ‘ere. This was my first cowboy hat.”

Skye’s eyes lit up. You could all see her practically vibrating on the spot as she gasped and tried to stay still. 

“And since Cathy tells me you did such a good job with the horses today, I think it’s only right you get your own.”

“Really?”

Tyler nodded. “‘Course, kiddo.”

“So, Boone, you recording this?” Tyler turned back to Skye. “S’ not everyday a girl gets ‘er first hat.”

Boone pressed record as everyone came and stood around her, Dani and Kate giving their own rendition of a crowning ceremony theme. 

And once the hat hit her head, Skye’s eyes kept looking up at it. 

“What’d ya think, Momma?” 

Skye turned to you, her eyes begging the same question Tyler just asked. And you could help but just smile. 

“I think you look wonderful, little one.”

Skye started smiling even wider than before and jumping up and down before nearly knocking Tyler over with how tightly she hugged him. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

“You’re welcome, kiddo.”

“Baby, you wanna go and show Cathy?”

Skye stood back and nodded. “Can I?”

You and Tyler nodded and with a hand on the top of her hat, she ran out of the barn and down the field towards Cathy. 

“Thank you for doing that with her, Ty.”

Tyler just smiled. “She’s my Tiny Tornado.”

“You know, she’s not gonna wanna ever take it off.”

And it was true. Skye wore it whenever she could. Running through the fields, eating her dinner, taking a bath; she did try and keep it on when getting dressed, but it got knocked off her head a few times.

The only time she took it off was when she saw Tyler take his own off when he hung it by the door. Coming down the stairs, you saw two cowboy hats hanging by the door and it made your heart melt. 

And it only melted even more when you walked onto the back porch and found Skye cuddled up and falling fast asleep on Tyler’s chest. 

An image like that one was one that you loved to see. It happened almost every night. Tyler was the one she would fall asleep on. Sometimes it would be in Lily’s lap when she played with her hair or when Dexter would tell her all about the stars. 

Skye would fight sleep when she was learning but eventually sleep would win. 

And she’d only fall deeper into sleep when Tyler began to lightly swing the porch seat. 

“Can you believe she’s almost four?” You asked Tyler later that evening as you both folded what was left of the bed sheets and clothes. The others had long since gone to bed. 

It was like that most nights; you and Tyler the last to go to bed. 

Tyler shook his head. “Feels like only yesterday we registered her birth.”

“Before we know it, she’ll be off to college.”

Tyler chuckled. “We’ve still got years before that happens, but…I know what you mean. She’s growing up.”

“She’s learning how to ride a horse. Before we know it, she’ll be taming a tornado.”

Tyler smiled. “I don’t call her a Tiny Tornado for nothing.”

You smiled at a memory. “Did you see she hung her hat up, same as you?”

Tyler shook his head and disappeared into the hallway before coming back. “I think that’s officially the cutest thing I’ve seen today.”

“I know you’re not down on her birth certificate, but…you are her dad, Tyler.” You told him. “She loves you like one, and I know you love her as a daughter. I…I just wanted to tell you that.”

Tyler smiled. “Thank you.”

Forcing your gaze away from his, you looked back to the freshly folded clothes. “We should get to bed. God only knows what time that kid’ll wake up to be outside with Cathy and the horses.”

Tyler chuckled, “You’re right. Goodnight.”

“Night, Ty.”

Tyler watched as you climbed the stairs with the washing basket of freshly folded clothes and he waited until he heard your door click shut before he made his rounds around the house, locking the place up. 

And as he lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, he wondered if he would ever be brave enough to tell you the truth about his feelings. 

But apparently, the Tiny Tornado had enough courage to do that for the both of you. 

It was a few weeks later, sitting at the breakfast table that Skye asked a question that nobody had been expecting. 

“What’s a romance?”

Swinging her legs over the edge of the table chair as she waited on her cereal, Skye didn’t know what kind of bomb she was about to drop. 

“Why do you wanna know, kiddo?” Dani asked as she handed Skye her bowl of coco pops. 

Skye just shrugged. “That’s what Boone called my princess book.”

“Well, it’s not a bad thing.” Lily assured the little girl. “In fact, it’s something really, really good.”

“Is it?”

You nodded. “Yep.”

As Tyler placed his plate down on the table, he sat down beside Skye. “And there isn’t just one kind, either.”

“There isn’t?”

Javi chuckled from where he was leaning against the dishwasher. “Maybe you wanna explain what a romance is first, before you tell her there’s more than one.”

And so they did. 

“It’s when two people meet in a story and they fall in love. So, like with Cinderella. You know how she meets Prince Charming but he doesn’t know who she is until she puts on the glass slipper and then they live happily ever after?”

Skye nodded at Cathy. 

“Well, that’s a romance. It’s when two people fall in love and live happily ever after.”

For a moment, you felt a pair of eyes fall on you, but when you looked up, he was looking back at Skye. 

“But there’s more than one?”

Crouching beside her, Dani explained. “You know how Dexter has all those books in the back of his camper?”

Skye nodded. 

“Well, think of a romance like them. Each one has a different story.”

“Like Disney Princesses?”

Dani nodded. “Exactly like Disney Princesses. Sometimes they don’t know who the other person is until the big reveal, sometimes they’re childhood friends who fall in love when they meet again, sometimes they’re mortal enemies and think they don’t like each other until something makes them realise they don’t hate that person anymore.”

“Ooh, like Princess Diaries!” 

Everyone, including Skye, turned and looked at Javi. 

“What? It’s a good film.”

“Are there any other romances?”

Dani nodded. “Sure there is. Umm…”

Dani looked around the kitchen for help. 

“Sometimes they’re soulmates who fall in love in every universe.” Skye gave a confused look, so Lily added; “Like the stories in the stars.”

“It can be love at first sight,” you told Skye. 

“Sometimes they can be best friends and not realise they’re in love, even though everyone else can see it.” Cathy mentioned. 

Then Skye dropped a tornado that was far too extreme to deal with at eight in the morning. 

“Oh, like Momma and Tyler.”

The entire kitchen went silent. Javi, mid chew, looked over at Tyler who was turning redder by the minute as he looked at you by the stove, standing incredibly still. 

Skye looked around, a little confused about what she had said. “What? What is it?”

You turned and looked at your daughter, speaking to her just as Tyler did. 

“Nothing, honey-”

Just as you and Tyler locked eyes, the tension sparking from both of you, Boone barrelled through the back door with Dexter not too far behind him. 

“Told you I could run it quicker, man.”

“A car is still faster.” Dexter told Boone. 

Then they looked around, noticing the sheepish looks on everyone’s faces. 

“Hey, what happened here?” Boone asked. 

Lily stood, coming to your rescue. “Nothing. Did you get the-” She looked inside the brown paper bag. “YES! Waffles!”

As commotion started up in the kitchen again, Skye looked up at you from her seat as you handed her a spoon. “Momma, did I do something wrong?”

You shook your head. “No, baby.” Pressing a kiss to the top of her head, you sneaked a glance over at Tyler before forcing a smile back on your face to look at Skye. 

“Eat up, honey. You’ve got a long day ahead of you.”

“Okay, Momma.”

For the rest of the day, you and Tyler avoided each other. Cathy apologised to both of you for having given the example in the first place, but she made sure to tell you she thought Skye was right. 

“You’ve been pining after her for years.” Cathy told Tyler as he lifted another hay bale onto the back of the truck. 

“We work together, Cathy. Nothing can happen there.”

“The hell it can’t.” Tyler looked at her. “Tyler, you and Y/n have been practically raising a kid together for almost four years. From day one of you getting here, I’ve seen how you look at her. And I know the others agree with me.”

Tyler stood tall. “How do the other’s know?”

Cathy just gave him a look. 

“Either way, the kid is right. You’re both in love with each other, you’re both just too chicken to do something about it.”

Cathy gave a similar speech to you, too, when you came to check on Skye at the stables. 

“And if you’re about to tell me you’re worried about Skye, don’t. Whether his name is on her birth certificate or not; whether she calls him dad or not. He is her dad. She is his daughter. Nothing will ever change that. Ever.”

With a short sigh, you looked out into the field where Skye was carrying a small bucket of water around to each of the garden plots. 

Similar conversations were had throughout the day until the late afternoon rolled in and Tyler and you had to awkward dance-shuffle around each other to get in and out of the house whilst trying to avoid all sense of eye contact, but giving plenty when the other wasn’t looking. 

Unbeknownst to both yourself and Tyler, Skye was standing on the fence bars with Kate. 

The kid sighed heavily. “They’re always like that.”

“You’ve only been here for four years, kid. Imagine being here seven.”

Skye gasped. “Seven?” She tried to count that on her fingers quickly, but needed Kate’s help. Skye gasped again. “That’s bigger than me.”

Kate hummed as she nodded. 

“Is this like one of the romances from before?” Skye sounded out. 

Kate nodded. “I’m afraid so, kiddo. I’m afraid so.”

And unbeknownst to Kate at that moment, Skye was hatching a plan. But she needed her best friend’s help. 

“Can you help me down?”

“‘Course, honey. Ready, three, two, one, jump.” 

“Weeeee.” Holding onto her securely, Kate lifted Skey from the bars and set her down on the ground beside her. 

“Thanks, Kate.”

“Be careful, honey!”

“I will!”

Less than five minutes later she burst through the barn doors and ran towards Boone, yelling out his name over and over again. 

“Slow your roll there, kiddo.”

“I need your help, now, come on.” She tugged Boone’s hand until he was stood up. “Come on, come on, come on.”

Skye dragged him towards the carrot beds before laying on the dirt, telling him to join her. And so they hatched a plan. 

“You’re a genius, Skye.”

“What’s a gen…gen..igus?”

“Genius.” Boone smiled. “It’s like a crazy smart person.”

“Oh, cool.”

High fiving, they got to work. Everyone had their orders to be in bed early. They couldn’t know why, but they all agreed. And Skye’s plan of laying in the dirt worked because the minute she came running through the back door, you caught her mid run. 

“Where do you think you’re going, little miss?”

Skye smiled like butter wouldn’t melt. “To the table.”

“Covered in muck? What have you been doing? Rolling in the muck? Come on, bathroom.”

You ran Skye a bath before shoving her dirty clothes into the washing machine with the rest of the dirty laundry. Twenty minutes later, the mud Skye had collected on her person was washed down the drain and she was in a fresh pair of pajamas. 

The rest of the night ran smoothly enough. Dinner was made and eaten, updates were shared about work, and Skye had asked Tyler to read her a bedtime story. 

He read two stories before she began falling asleep beside him so sitting up, he laid her down under her covers before tucking her in. 

And just as he shut the book and laid it on her nightstand, he opened her eyes and looked at Tyler. 

“Do you love Momma?”

Tyler felt his cheeks heat. “Get some sleep. You’ve got a big day tomorrow.”

“But do you love her? Like in the stories?”

Tyler looked at his daughter. “What’s got you so interested all of a sudden?”

“Lily told me what soulmates means.”

“Did she now?”

Skye nodded. “That’s you and Momma.”

“Skye-”

“Do you love her?”

Looking at Skye, Tyler felt his heart tug inside of his chest. He couldn’t lie to her. 

“More than she’ll ever know. More than I’ll ever be able to tell her.” Tyler admitted, unaware of the presence just outside the door. 

“I think you should tell her.”

The corner of Tyler’s mouth curved into a smile. “Do you now?”

Yawning, Skye nodded. But then Tyler sighed. “It’s not that simple, honey.”

“But what if she floats away like Mary?”

Tyler’s brows furrowed. “Mary?”

“Poppins. Burt never got to tell her he loved her.”

Tyler chuckled. “Skye, your mom isn’t going to float away. Now, close your eyes and get some sleep.”

Leaning over, Tyler kissed the top of her head. “Goodnight, my Tiny Tornado.”

Then he flicked the lamp off; only Skye wasn’t finished. 

“If you love her, you should tell her.”

In the moonlight darkness, Tyler saw the look his daughter was giving him. She was pleading with him. 

And if a four year old could see it and say it…

He leaned back down and kissed her head. “Go to sleep. We’ll see you in the morning. I love you.”

Skye yawned. “I love you, too. Goodnight, daddy.”

It wasn’t the first time Skye had called him that. Usually it happened in moments like this, where she was really tired and already half awake and half asleep. But it made his heart soar out of his chest all the same. 

Quietly leaving the room, he closed the door behind him and waited there for a moment. The lights were off around most of the house since everyone had gone to bed once Skye had said she was. 

But one light was still on. 

And he knew who it belonged to. 

Walking down the hallway, Tyler waited by the edge of the hallway for a moment, just watching you fold some more fresh laundry whilst he prepared what he was going to say. 

“Hey.” 

That seemed like a good start. 

You looked up, a little startled. “Hey. She asleep?”

Tyler nodded and walked further into the living room before taking a seat on the arm of the chair, pulling a few items from the laundry pile to fold. 

A slightly awkward silence settled over you both for a moment. 

“Listen, about this morning-”

“She was right.” Tyler said, looking at you. “Skye was right. This morning, she was right. With everything that she said.”

“Tyler-”

He stood up. “No, just. Just wait. Please. Let…let me get this out? And then if you want me to leave and never talk about it again, I will.” You couldn’t speak so you just nodded and listened as he continued. “Skye was right. I am in love with you. I have always been in love with you. I think I always will be. I know there’s a lot to consider; work, home and, most importantly, Skye. But if…” Tyler took a breath. “If there’s any part of you that feels the same…I think we should do something about it.”

“Finally taking our daughter’s advice?”

Tyler was shocked but a small smile came to your face. “I wasn’t spying or anything. I was walking down the hall and I heard Skye and…thinking about it, maybe I was spying.”

Tyler chuckled. 

“But you’re right.” You told him. “You’re both right. I don’t know when my feelings changed for you, but I know what I feel today, what I feel when I see you with Skye, and what I feel when you look at me. I’m in love with you, too, Tyler.”

“You are?” You nodded. “You’re not just saying-”

You shook your head. “I’m saying it because it’s the truth.”

So, standing in the middle of the dimly lit living room, you and Tyler looked at each other. One of his hands in yours, your other resting on his wrist as he pushed his hand under your hair to cup your cheek.  

“Kiss her.”

The small and familiar voice made both of you and Tyler turn to look at the corridor. Skye stood, trying her best to hide, behind the lamp and the table it sat on. 

Tyler looked back at you with a smile which you both shared. 

“Can’t go against orders, can we?”

You shook your head. “No, we can’t.”

Finally feeling him kiss you was like a thousand dreams were shattering, only to be replaced with the fact that the reality of Tyler was much better than the fantasy you’d granted yourself. 

And, as it turned out, having you and Tyler finally grant yourselves permission to be open about your feelings for one another didn’t change much in terms of routine, save for a few more morning kisses before breakfast and quick pecks to the lips or cheek throughout the day when passing each other. 

It was definitely no surprise how Skye had come to the conclusion that you and Tyler were in love before you’d both admitted it to yourselves. 

[ddejavvu]

Hi! You said you wanted shy/scaredy cat reader and Tyler Owens request :) feel free to ignore this!

Maybe Tyler brings her around to something kind of like a meet and greet (I haven’t seen the movie, but kind of like whatever was happening during the “if you feel it, chase it” part of the trailer) or they are out somewhere and he gets ‘mobbed’ by a few people who recognize him and she is just feeling very out of her element? Maybe just Tyler being sweet about it to her?

Idk if this makes sense! Feel free to ignore it!! :)

Taking Candy From a Baby - Tyler Owens x Reader

come participate in tyler owens night !

You're typically one to hang back and relax in the passenger's seat of Tyler's truck when it's time for him to start rousing rounds of chanting about feeling and chasing and fearing and riding. You're simply more comfortable with a seatbelt on and a window between you and Tyler's adoring fans, because tornado wranglers are not typically the types of people you feel safe around. Tyler- well, Tyler had roped you in with his gentle hands and soft brown eyes before breaking the news that he shoots fireworks into tornados for a living. All that to say, you typically feel out of your element when Tyler engages with his fans.

He knows this, and typically you're undisturbed while he has Boone pump his gas so that he and the rest of the crew can mingle with fans, sign autographs, and sell t-shirts. This time, though, when he opens the driver's side door he doesn't climb in, and instead he offers you a hand.

"Come in with me, darlin'?"

"Hm?" You look up from your phone, brows knitting together in confusion as you take his outstretched hand. He squeezes it with a saccharine grin instead of pulling, which you're grateful for before you know what you're getting into.

"Come get snacks and drinks with me in the station?" He nods to the small building to the left of the pumps, and the brightly-colored wrappers of candies and chips are appealing at a glance, "Lily says they've got crazy Lay's flavors, and they've got the energy drinks I like. We can stock up on goodies before we head out, how's that sound?"

"0kay," You nod, before you have a chance to say no. There's something sickly and rancid twisting in your belly, tendrils of anxiety latching into the walls of your stomach and sticking tight, but Tyler's hand holds steady to yours and you're not going to let a small crowd of people hold you back from novelty potato chips.

Stepping down out of the truck and jumping from the runner to the dingy concrete is the next step in an ongoing mission to break out of your shell. Tyler is so- well, he's the complete opposite of you, and he's always been careful to adapt to your more introverted ways. Now, though, you're dreadfully self-conscious about ensuring that you're adapting to him, as well, and if that means you have to nod and smile at his adoring fans to get him to a refrigerated case of energy drinks, so be it.

You're wearing a pair of Tyler's broken-in boots, old ones that happened to fit you better than the fresh pair he'd bought for you. He's doing the work of breaking in the new ones, and you admire his willingness to stomp around in boots with a 1-inch heel on the sole so that you can be saved from blisters. Boots are just uncomfortable to wear if they're not broken in first, and you don't romp around enough yourself to soften the leather.

Both pairs of your boots click against the concrete and heads turn, but only a few are bold enough to approach. You're not sure if your hand tightens around Tyler's or vice versa, but when one opens their mouth you're paling Tyler's tan hands with your grip.

"Tyler, is this the missus?" One woman asks, clinging to the hand of her own beau, "You're gorgeous, honey."

Tyler laughs for you, bumping his shoulder into yours as you rush to thank the woman, "Mhm. This's my girl. You two drivin' out with us?"

"The whole family is." The man nods, clearly ecstatic to be speaking to Tyler, "We've got the three kiddos in the car. And the dog. This is one leg of our family road trip for the year! But we're keepin' out of the storm's way, of course. We're gonna end up in Kentucky and visit some of my family."

"Well enjoy Kentucky," Tyler nods, his grin on full blast as he nods politely to the couple, "And you tell those kids'uh yours Tyler Owens says hello."

"We will!" The woman gushes, and you're grateful when Tyler begins walking again, breaking off from the couple. He manages to get cornered again before you're fully inside the gas station doors, but he lets your hand go to sign an autograph for the fan.

"Head on inside, honey," He nods at the station, "Pick out some crazy chips for me, m'kay?"

You're relieved for the respite that you're granted upon stepping into the air-conditioned gas station, and you follow Tyler's orders with your head down so as not to attract attention. You're barely able to reach the junk food aisle before a little boy rams straight into your legs, and you dart forwards to grab his arm before he can topple over.

"Oh! Are you okay?" You ask, peering carefully at his chubby face, dark curls wound close to his scalp. He nods, and you let go of his arm, glancing upwards to see his mother standing over him with a reproachful gaze.

"I'm sorry, honey," She gushes, and her voice must be straight honey for the way it oozes sweetness, "I told him not to run but, well, you know how that goes. Hey, aren't you the girl who was sittin' in Tyler's truck?"

Your heart starts pounding at the thought of another fan interaction, but you're spared from answering when you feel something poking against your leg. The little boy, no older than two, you're sure, is offering you a candy bar, big brown eyes hopeful as he clutches the silver wrapper.

"You sayin' sorry for nearly tripping her, Ty?" The woman laughs, then looks back up at you, "We- uh, well, his daddy's a big fan of Tyler. Tyler actually- he saved my husband a few years ago from a big storm, not that he even knew it. My husband was driving to work one day and he saw Tyler's truck pass him on the road. He'd heard of his hobby, y'know, chasin' storms. He thought if a tornado wrangler was heading the same way he was, he should probably go somewhere else. He got off the road and missed an EF-3 headed his way. So when he was born," She nods down at the baby still offering you a wrapped sweet, his other hand clutching your jeans, "We thought it'd be nice to name him after your man."

The candy wrapper is smooth and cool against your hands as you take it from Baby Tyler, and the boy gives you a grin consisting of six teeth in total when you stick the candy in your basket.

"Thank you," You croon down at the baby, "I'm- I'm glad your husband is safe. I'm glad he was smart enough not to follow Tyler."

"Who says followin' me's dumb, darlin'?" A large hand lands on your shoulder, and you startle before you register that it's Tyler.

"I do," The woman laughs, smile crinkling her eyes, "If you're drivin' into a tornado, that is."

"Dumb's more exciting," Tyler shrugs, "Who's this little one?"

"Tyler," You and the woman answer in unison, and your Tyler grins.

"Nice name, bud," He offers a balled-up fist to the baby who slaps his palm against it in an attempted high-five, "You're smart, hangin' around in the candy aisle."

Baby Ty babbles and toddles away, mom hurriedly following in his shaky footsteps, "Sorry, he's on the move. It was nice meeting you!"

Your voice is strong when you call back, "It was nice meeting you, too!" And Tyler looks impressed by that as he stares at you and your lone candy bar.

"Three Musketeers?" He asks, and you nod.

"Baby Tyler gave it to me."

"That's sweet." He hums, "You weren't nervous talkin' to 'em?"

"They were nice," You shake your head, leading him for once as you take his hand and steer towards the energy drinks, "And he was a really cute kid.”

“Mm, yeah? Y’know, we could make some really cute kids. ‘Specially if I’ve got a few of these,” Tyler holds up the energy drinks he’s selected from the fridge, “Forget wranglin’ tornadoes, darlin’, tonight I’m gonna be wranglin’ you.”

[seresinhangmanjake]

Late Date

Summary: It’s your birthday and Tyler’s going to do some wrangling to make sure no tornado can ruin your day. Unfortunately, that also makes him and the Wranglers a bit late to your party. 

Notes/Warnings: Fluff. It’s not angsty at all, despite how the summary may sound. Inaccurate meteorology/tornado stuff. Slight jealousy. This is based on a lyrics request: “you’ve got long hair slicked back white t shirt and I’ve got that good girl faith and a tight little skirt.” It’s just meant to be kinda cute, and I did my best, so hopefully you guys like it. Comments make my entire world, so if you do like it, let me know :)

Words: 1650

Tyler Owens Masterlist / Main Masterlist / Tag List

It happens often. You and Tyler are enjoying your time together when Disaster suddenly puts you in her path. A picnic in the park, a late-evening rodeo, a dinner date for him to meet your mother—all ruined. And yes, you believe Disaster does this intentionally. Disaster, in the form of a funnel of warm air and moisture, is as much in love with your boyfriend as you are, and she’s a jealous bitch, always calling him away when he’s in the throes of life with you. 

Luckily for Tyler, you’re not as jealous as his tornado. You’re not as greedy. When he leaves you to meet her, you let him go because he’s the town hero, and you don’t let your emotions get in the way of his job. After all, he does what he does to save the things he loves—this town, his family, you. And regardless of the time he spends with her, you know you’re his number one. 

Today, however, you could do without his job. The jealousy that you have rarely felt up to this point seeps through as he throws your favorite white t-shirt of his over his sculpted chest before buckling the belt wrapped around his jean-clad hips. He stomps one foot down into his boot and then the other before rifling through the dresser chest at the base of the bed.

“You have to do this on my birthday?” you ask, trying not to pout from your seated position on the mattress. The silk sleeve of your robe falls down your shoulder, exposing bare skin, and despite the chill, you don’t pull the garment back up your arm. Anything to keep him in this bed, you think, and for a moment, you you’re satisfied that it might be working. Tyler pauses on his hunt for a clean flannel as his eyes glue to your chest, your pebbled nipples just barely hidden by the rest of the smooth, thin material. 

You sit up on your knees and wrap your arms around his neck, but it’s from your touch that Tyler finally blinks, shakes his head, and says, “Darlin’, wouldn’t you rather feel reassured that your evening tonight will go tornado-free? I’m just going to go with the guys, disrupt anything that’s already formed, and observe the conditions as best I can so we don’t get any coming our way when we’re supposed to be celebrating another year of your life.”

It’s hard to argue with him when he hits you with logic, but it’s made harder by the pout on his face. That is supposed to be your pout. He’s the one leaving you on your birthday—decent reason or not—not the other way around. 

“Fine,” you say.

Tyler grins from ear to ear. He leans in and captures your lips in a long kiss before pulling back and brushing your unkempt hair out of your face. “We’ll meet you at the bar, ok?”

Nodding, you say, “Yea,” and untangle your arms from his neck. He gives you one last kiss. 

“Happy Birthday, darlin’” glides to your ear in his smooth, low voice, and then he’s out the door. 

—

“He’ll be here,” your cousin tells you. You’ve been staring at the bar door for a half-hour, disappointed with each new blond cowboy who walks into the crowded space. “When has he ever let you down?”

You sigh. “I know. But why did the bitchy tornadoes have to run wild today of all days? He said they chased four between here and the next town over, and two of them put up a real fight,” you say, relaying the information of Tyler’s earlier texts. “Plus, it’s raining now. That’ll only make it more difficult for them to get back.”

The bartender offers you and your cousin the drinks she ordered. She winks at him and downs the entire glass in one gulp—which he seems to find very impressive—before nudging your glass closer to your folded hands atop the counter. 

“Well, the only thing to do is drink up,” she orders. “Might as well have fun while we wait.”

—

You’re two drinks in. Your cousin has knocked back four, and while she’s no lightweight, the effects show in the uptick of her flirtiness with the bartender. She’s agreed to wait around until his shift is over, which was quickly retracted when she remembered that it’s your birthday and the fun she is meant to be having is with you, not the hot guy who stopped charging her for drinks an hour ago. But you assuage her guilt, knowing you have no intention of hanging around a crowded bar until two in the morning unless your boyfriend is going to be with you, birthday or not. 

With the acceptance of your third drink, you hope to easier ignore the appreciative glances from the blond cowboys on the other side of the mass of dancers in the center of the room. You must be a sunny-haired, country boy’s type, but they aren’t your man, and to be honest, you’re surprised they’re daring enough to look so long. The town is small enough that you figured by now everyone knows you’re Tyler’s girl, but clearly, that’s not the case. Either that or they just don’t care. 

When you start to feel it—the slight high, the looser inhibitions—you decide the best course of action is to simply ignore them, and so you hop down from the stool and make your way to the dance floor to do exactly that, planting yourself in the middle of a group of like-minded women swaying their hips to the tune. Like that, you let yourself go, alcohol allowing you to surrender to the flow of the feminine voice coming through the speakers. Your mind drifts, your eyes close, and when you feel a hand on your waist, you think of Tyler. When hips grind against yours, you think of Tyler. When lips touch your neck, you think of Tyler. And when your eyes open, you see Tyler.

He steps into the bar with the Wranglers in tow, his soaked white t-shirt clinging to his torso that every woman—even those invested in men of their own—notices, his hands slicking back his damp locks. With a grin on his handsome face, he glances around the space in search of you, but when he finds you, that grin drops faster than a rock can hit the ground. 

It’s then that you realize the paws on your body are not his. The breath hitting behind your ear is that of a stranger. Tyler’s stomping his way over to you, but you don’t need him to release his building rage because you have plenty of your own. 

Flipping around, your palm meets the cheek of one of the knock-off Tylers. He yelps and rubs his face. His irises turn red, and he looks ready to give you a scolding or call you some sort of vile name, but his eyes widen at the shadow that suddenly looms over you and he shrinks where he stands. 

“Y-Your girlfriend?” he eeks out. 

It’s fascinating to see the demeanor shift. Tyler must have more of a reputation than you realized. You haven’t lived in town long—you moved in with him three weeks ago after a year of long-distance dating—but you’ve known for a while that he is well-loved and anyone who crosses him crosses the town. What you didn’t know was that the people’s devotion to their tornado-wrangling hero could incite such fear. And honestly, you’re a little impressed; a little turned on. 

Tilting your chin up, the back of your head lands against your boyfriend’s chest. His arm comes around your waist, hand flattening over your stomach. “You think?” he spits. 

When knock-off Tyler skitters back to the gaggle of knock-off Tylers, your Tyler turns you around to face him. With a cocked brow, he says, “Now, darlin’, what was that?”

You shrug. “Thought he was you.”

Tyler looks over your shoulder to the group of blonds. His eyes narrow. “You can’t be serious.”

“I’ve had a bit to drink,” you chuckle.

His mouth parts, an ahh sound leaving his throat as if to say, ‘That explains it.’ “Where’s your cousin?” His gaze follows yours to the familiar woman whose body is half thrown over the countertop, her lips connected to the guy whose neglect of other patrons is about to cause a riot. But you don’t care about a likely-to-be-fired bartender; you care that your boyfriend was absent for so much of your birthday.

“What took you so long?”

You’ve started to gently sway with the music again, this time taking the correct Tyler with you. Your hands clasp behind his neck as his link around your waist, pulling you in close. 

“Sorry, darlin’. It was rougher than we anticipated,” he says, and though you expected to be much more put out, you feel settled with that explanation. You’re just happy he’s with you now and not standing you up for a date with his unpredictable weather. “You look pretty,” he tells you as his palms slide down over the skirt that’s snuggly fitted around your hips. “I haven’t seen this one before.”

“Bought it today.”

“For me?”

“For me.” You roll your eyes. “But I might have guessed you’d like it.”

He hums, gaze raking appreciate up your body to your mouth. “I do,” he says, then he presses his lips to yours. However, remembering the scarlet hue coating your lips, you quickly pull back. 

“Your whole mouth is going to be red if you keep kissing me.”

Tyler’s brow pinches. One hand’s fingers glide up your body and slip between the strands of your hair. “Good,” he says. “Then people will know we’re a matching set.”

[mountainsandmayhem]

BDSMaid - Chapter 2

Masterlist || AO3

Pairing: Millionaire Joel Miller x Female Reader Series Summary: After recently graduating from university, your best friend offers you a job cleaning luxury homes for clients you’ll never know. It’s only temporary and a good way to save money for when you go back to get your law degree. That’s what you’re promised at least. Easy. Simple. Mundane. That is, until one of your clients is home and everything that you felt was missing in your life starts to fall into place. This goes against the NDA you signed and you could get fired. Or worse, you could fall in love.  Chapter Summary: Try as he might, Joel just can’t shake the memory of you. Try as you might, you can’t stop thinking of the woman tied to his desk. CW: The slow burn is burning. Mentions of death and underage drinking. Topless in public, this is a love story about BDSM after all. Reader does have some physical descriptions, so maybe more of an OFC, or just pretend you have pouty lips and a slightly upturned nose. Double POV (reader and Joel). AN: Thank you SO FUCKING MUCH for all the love on chapter one of this story. I literally cannot believe it surpasses 1000 notes in just a month, you're all insane and I love you. Dividers by @saradika-graphics. Biiiig shout outs to the bb's who have been so supportive of me spiralling and panicking this last month over the next chapter. I'd be in a deep dark cave without you @mermaidgirl30 @littlevenicebitch69 @lotusbxtch @evolnoomym @joelmillerisapunk and @milla-frenchy . Thank you! I feel like I'm giving some sort of Oscars speech and if you're still reading this, you're the real MVP. XO Word Count: 8.5k

~ Joel - 27 Years Ago ~

Joel’s stands in the garage of someone he barely knows, surrounded by drunk and rowdy classmates from his high school. He’s a senior, graduating in just a few weeks and moments like this are one of the perks of being the star designated hitter and first baseman, everyone wants you at their party. Someone hands him a warm, flat beer that was pumped poorly from a keg as they pat his back roughly in congratulations. Joel’s not sure how a bunch of seventeen year olds managed to get a keg, most likely an older brother, but he drinks the shitty beer all the same. Speaking of brothers, he hasn’t seen Tommy in a while. He’s only fifteen and he promised their mom he’d keep an eye on him. The younger Miller shouldn’t be at a seniors party, but that's where those perks come in again, because if Joel was good, Tommy was better. In fact, he was so much better that he’s played up a whole age group his entire life, always right beside Joel. Tommy was the back catcher, and tonight he got the eleventh inning game winning out at home for them to win the state championship. 

He finds Tommy chatting with a group of girls, all of whom are incredibly beautiful. They’re going to be very disappointed when they find out how much younger he is than them. Joel smiles into his red solo cup as he takes a sip of stale beer. He tucks his free hand into the pocket of his light blue wranglers and walks over to the wall of the garage. He leans back and crosses one cowboy booted foot over the other. The brim of his cowboy hat grazes the unpainted drywall behind him. Texas, and the country, in the late nineties was where everyone wanted to be, and Joel Miller could have been the poster boys for teenage country boys in 1997.

Brooks & Dunn plays on someone's CD player in the corner, laughter and people talking overlaps until it’s just noise to Joel. He stands back, watching his younger brother effortlessly charm the five pretty girls around him. All of them in tight blue jeans, lacy white tops, denim vests and cowboy boots. He grabs one by the hand and Joel overhears, “I’ll teach ya how to two step, shame to not know in a place like this.” Then the motherfucker winks at her like he’s some sort of cowboy Casanova. Joel lets out a silent laugh through his nose and sips the beer again shaking his head. 

Just as Tommy pulls the pretty little blonde over towards the unmarked and unofficial dance floor in the corner of the garage the song changes. Slow guitar, followed by the unmistakable twang of Tim Magraw’s voice. Joel didn’t know it then, but that song would change the course of his life and intertwine itself in the very fabric of his being.

‘Dancin’ in the dark, Middle of the night’

That’s when he sees her, tall and slender, deep olive toned skin and pale green eyes. Her dark curly hair cascades over one of her shoulders. She’s laughing with another classmate, and even though he can’t hear the sound of it over the noise of the party, he can tell it’s a light and melodic sound, and he wants to spend the rest of his life drawing that out of her. 

‘Takin’ your heart, An holdin’ it tight’

He puts his warm beer on the work bench beside him and takes off his black felt Stetson, placing it over his broad chest, hoping the comfort of his favourite hat would slow the rate at which his heart is beating. 

‘Emotional touch, Touchin’ my skin, And askin’ you to do, What you’ve been doin’ all over again’

She looks over at him, smiling shyly, and before he knows what he’s doing he’s walking over to her. His legs move on their own accord, knees shaking as he approaches the most beautiful girl he’s ever seen.

‘Oh, it’s a beautiful thing, Don’t think I can keep it all in, I just gotta let you know, What is that won’t let me go’

Everything in the room fades as she fully comes into view. Beautiful doesn’t even begin to describe the girl in front of him. She radiates a warmth that he’s only ever known his mother to radiate. It’s the first time he’s ever seen this girl, but she feels like home. This is it, that one thing that everyone says you’re supposed to feel. The thing his grandpa told him when he was younger, “Son, you’ll just know. It sounds ridiculous, but when I saw your grandma it was like a pull behind my belly button. I just knew, and I’ve known everyday since then.”

“Howdy, ma’am,” Joel says, tipping his hat to her before placing it back on his head. 

She giggles, confirming his earlier thoughts. It really is the sweetest fucking sound he’s ever heard. “Hi.”

He holds out a hand to her and she takes it, her skin is so warm and smooth. In that moment he knows that hers will be the last hand he ever holds. Fire flushes through his veins as he continues, “I’m Joel, what’s your name?”

“Oh, I know who you are Joel Miller,” she flirts, not letting go of his hand. “I’m Tiffany.”

“Tiffany,” he repeats, his voice going deeper as he says it. It’s egotistical but he loves the way girls shiver just a little when he lowers his register. “And how is it that you know who I am?”

She slides her hand from his and reaches up to grab his cowboy hat, plopping it onto her head. “Star first baseman and designated hitter, everyone knows Joel Miller. Look around, look at all these girls lookin’ at you, cowboy.”

For the first time in his life Joel finds himself blushing, but he doesn’t take his eyes off Tiffany. 

“I only see one girl.” She rolls her eyes and swats at his bicep at the cheesy line, but that was it for both of them. From that point they were inseparable. 

They both turned eighteen a few months later, and just ten months, and a thirty two hour labour after Tiff turned eighteen, a tiny little Sarah came into the world all pink and screaming. Joel hears that song again as he watches Tiffany hold that little bundle of blankets, ‘Better than I was, More than I am, And all of this happened, By taking your hand.’

They get married when Sarah is just a few months old. Both his beautiful curly haired girls in white dresses, Tiffany grabbing that same black Stetson off his head during their first dance. He holds them both, swaying from side to side, a hot tear rolling down his cheek at how goddamn happy he is. ‘And who I am now, Is who I wanted to be, And now that we’re together, I’m stronger than ever, I’m happy and free’.

Things for their little family of three are perfect. They buy the house with the white picket fence and the wrap around porch. Joel gets a job working construction and enjoys a nightcap with his beautiful young wife on their front porch every night. They make love often, slow and sweaty, Joel worshiping her soft copper toned skin inch by glorious inch. Tiffany wraps every minute of her day around Sarah and being a sweet, devoted housewife. Nothing seems to stand in their way. Until the diagnosis shortly before Sarah starts Kindergarten. 

Tiffany is too young, they’re all too young. This isn’t something that happens to people their age, they haven’t had enough time. Joel spends the next few months in a haze, it has to be a bad dream. The appointments, the treatments, the call to 911 when the illness starts to win. This isn’t how it was supposed to go. 

He holds Tiffany until the very end. Sponging a soft kiss to her forehead, whispering his goodbyes as they shut off the machines keeping her here. “You’ve been so strong, my love. You fought so hard. I know you’re scared to go, I’m scared too, but we’ll do it like we do everything else. Together. I’ll be ok, Sarah will be ok. Just rest now. I love you.” 

As she takes her last shaky and shallow breath, a sound will live with him until he takes a breath that matches hers, that song echoes through his hollow chest. ‘It’s your love, It does something to me, It sends a shock right through me, I can’t get enough’.

You - Present Day

You roll to a stop outside Mister Miller’s house for your second day of cleaning. As you look towards the impressive house your pussy flutters at the memories of yesterday - the almost pornographic noises that were made in that office, his soft and kind eyes as he apologized profusely in the kitchen. You were supposed to go to a study group last night, but instead you got lost in a rabbit hole of porn where women are tied up and fingered. You got yourself off four times thinking about a man you’re not even supposed to know, wishing it was his thick fingers hitting that spot inside of you that you can’t reach on your own. You felt guilty about it last night and now being back in his home you have that same sinking feeling again. 

Stupid. Sacrificing my future for a fantasy. Never again. 

You let yourself in the house and look at the list in your cleaning app. You pop in your AirPods and start listening to your favourite true crime podcast; thankful for the new episode, a gruesome distraction as you scrub baseboards and lightswitches. The episode ends and in an attempt to not let your mind wander to the gorgeous man that lives here, and the depraved new things you’ve discovered about yourself, you start an educational audiobook about civil rights law. You might want Joel Miller to strap you down and whisper filth in your ears, but you are a good person, and your aspiration in life is to help people who face discrimination on a daily basis. 

You breeze around his home, checking off each task and before you know it it’s almost one in the afternoon. You have almost your whole list complete, his soft sheets are in the dryer (and yes, you are incredibly proud of yourself for only putting the luxurious white fabric to your face twice on the way to the washer). You only have the patio furniture to spray down and the kitchen counters to wipe. That’s when your stomach growls, almost as if to remind you that it’s the perfect time to take a break while the dryer finishes. You haul all your stuff out to your car and lock up, sitting in your front seat as you take out your lunch container.

An engine revs in the distance and your heart skips in your chest. Before you even have time to wonder if it’s Joel’s car, one of the black garage doors slides open and Joel’s obsidian coloured Aston Martin rolls by you, stopping with precision on the shiny cement floor of the garage. You avert your eyes, focused on your container of chicken noodle soup. The left side of your face feels the warmth of his gaze fixed on you. Without looking over you can tell he is studying you and it takes everything you have to keep your eyes on your measly lunch. 

The afternoon sun is blocked as Joel raps his knuckles on your window. You glance over at him, looking up through your lashes. He’s looking at you intensely but you can’t quite place his expression. As always, his deep brown eyes are locked on yours, he could either be happy to see you or incredibly disappointed in you. But one thing is for sure, he’s calculating your every need with those warm and inviting eyes. He knocks again so you crank the handle to roll your window down a crack.

He raises one eyebrow at you, both hands rest on the roof of your SUV as he leans forward to speak to you through the small opening in the window. “Seriously?” His voice is laced with sarcasm. 

“What?” You say, “Can’t be too safe.”

He blinks at you before continuing, “What'd ya doin’ out here?”

You lift your tupperware container a little, willing the tingles between your thighs to stop, “Eating my lunch.”

He rolls his eyes, running his hand along his greying scruff. “You’re eatin’ lukewarm soup in your car in the middle of February.” It’s not a question, it’s a statement, but his voice is warm and curious, and you start to realize that the look on his face isn’t happiness or disappointment, but concern. 

You nod, “Yes.” His eyes dance around your face and you swear your heart is beating as fast as a hummingbird’s wings. Fluttering so fast that it’s traveling up your throat and you wouldn’t be surprised if he could hear it. 

“Get out of the car. Come warm that up and eat inside.” His voice is thick with concern, entire face soft as he looks at you. 

You swallow your heart back down to where it belongs, “I’m not allowed to do that, Mister Miller.”

His cheeks redden a little and some of the softness in him disappears, “Don’t call me that, it’s jus’ Joel to you.”

“I’m not even supposed to know your name, Mister Miller. I can’t call you by your first name.”

He shifts his weight onto one foot and points a thick finger at you through your window, “Don’t. Either you call me Joel or nothin’ at all. Come inside,” he drops his pointer finger to the door handle. He pulls on it to find it locked. “Seriously?”

“I told you, I can’t be too safe!” You can help but think how cute he looks all flustered - shaking his head at you for being cautious in a neighborhood where you could probably scream your credit card number and no one would use it. If anything, the wealthy homeowners on this street might transfer you money when they see the state of your vehicle. 

“You’re eatin’ inside.” He says flatly. 

“I told you, I can’t. We aren’t allowed to do that. You’re a client, Mist - I mean. Sorry, I just can’t. We aren’t allowed.” You glance towards the clock on your dash. At this rate your break is going to be over before you finish eating. 

He jiggles the door handle again, as if he can convince the metal to bend and unlatch itself with just his sexiness alone. “You like rules, don’t ya?”

He’s got you there, you do enjoy following the rules. You nod and hum a noise in agreement. 

“Unlock the door, please,” his voice has changed, he’s being more commanding now. A deeper, huskier sound leaving his lips. The sound seems to latch onto something deep in your mind, strong fingers wrapping around the control center of your brain, guiding you to do his bidding. You blink the feeling away. 

“Mister-,” his eyes flash with darkness, “Sorry. I can’t. It wouldn’t be right to eat in your house, plus my break is almost over.”

Joel releases your door handle, raising his hand to pinch the bridge of his nose and lets out a breath, as he drops his hand back to the top of your vehicle an amused smirk flashes across his face. “Do you consider yourself to work in customer service?”

“Yes,” you say nervously.

“And isn’t the main rule of customer service that the customer is always right?” His lips form a tight line and a deep dimple carves into one of his tanned cheeks. Your brain flashes back to one of the videos you watched last night, a man sucking on a woman's nipples as he rubbed her clit, her arms and legs strapped to a padded table. He had a dimple, but he had nothing on Joel. 

“Yes,” you croak and then clear your throat gently, shifting in your seat at the fire building behind that bundle of nerves between your thighs. 

“Then unlock the door, darlin’ and eat inside.” He doesn’t give you a chance to respond, turning and walking towards the house. He stops on the front step, opening the large glass front door. You follow, flip flops slapping on the concrete, carrying your powdered chicken noodle soup and plastic spoon up towards his fancy home. When you reach the threshold, he holds out his large hand palm up and you place the old, stained tupperware with your half eaten soup into it. He looks down at it and then back at you, eyes trailing along your body and it feels like he’s running a torch over you. “Is this all you have to eat?”

You nod, giving him a tight lipped smile. 

He cocks his head towards the kitchen and one pushed back curl that’s laced with a few greys falls into his eyes with the movement. In order to stop from pushing his loose curl back you squeeze your fists gently and head towards the stool you sat on yesterday. As your flip flop hits the tile you stop and look back towards your car nervously. “I, umm, I forgot my shoes.”

His large, warm palm comes to your lower back and he pushes you gently towards the kitchen. You sit as he transfers your soup into a matte black bowl and places it in the microwave. He opens a cupboard and pulls out a loaf of fresh bread, as you go to protest he flicks his eyes up to yours and something about the expression on his face tells you not to argue with him. He pops the two carefully cut pieces into the toaster. He breezes effortlessly around the kitchen for someone so broad and masculine. You didn’t realize someone making toast could be so sexy. The microwave beeps and he grabs a gold spoon from a drawer before wandering around the island, placing them both in front of you. His arm brushes yours as he pulls away and your heart flutters at his touch. He walks back around the kitchen island and grabs a glass. 

“Still or sparkling?” He says as if that’s just a normal question to ask when you get someone a glass of water. Just another thing that proves you don’t belong here. The toaster pops and you jump a little. He chuckles as he grabs the toast, slathering it with butter. “Still or sparkling, darlin’?” 

You breath hitches, he’s called you darlin’ twice now. Is that just that southern charm you hear about so often, or is it more? You shake the thought from your head, there’s no way someone like him is interested in someone like you. “Still is fine, you don’t have to trouble yourself.” 

You take a spoonful of soup, blowing on it gently before putting the spoon in your mouth. Joel is watching you in the same way he was yesterday. Assessing. Observing. Calculating. It feels like he’s looking into your very soul. He slides the plate of toast and then a glass of sparkling water over to you from across the island.

“Thank you,” you say quietly. “You didn’t -”

He holds his hand up, stopping you in the same way he did yesterday. “I wanted to.”

You feel your cheeks redden and you have to look away as you take a bite of toast. He’s too handsome standing in the kitchen with the afternoon sun highlighting his features. He’s wearing a black dress shirt today, the top few buttons undone, accentuating the perfectly groomed salt and pepper hair on his chest. You swallow your bite of warm, salty, buttery toast, allowing your eyes to flutter closed at the delectable flavour, holding back a moan. 

Joel clears his throat and crosses his arms across his broad chest, “So how did ya get into cleanin’ houses?”

You look up at him through your lashes. Why is he being so nice to you and taking care of you? He apologized yesterday. And after you told him it was fine he left you a massive tip. He said he wants to do this, but why? He’s rich and handsome and you can probably safely assume that that icy blonde from yesterday was his girlfriend. Unless…could she possibly be a mistress? You decide that that must be it. She’s his mistress. He has a wife. He’s just like every other rich man, cheating on his beautiful and age appropriate wife with someone much much younger than him. He’s probably terrified that you might find out who his wife is and tell her. That tip was hush money.

“I’m saving money,” you say and then shake your head, willing the thoughts in your mind to calm down. “For law school.”

“That right?” He says, raising an eyebrow at you as you take another spoonful of soup.

“Yes, I want to be a lawyer. I graduated a semester early and needed some money before going back to university. Assuming I even get accepted. This job meant I could work part time so I could study to take the LSAT again and also make good money.” You take another bite of the toast, mainly to make yourself shut up. 

He watches you the entire time, nodding along, his eyes constantly assessing. “Take the LSAT again?” he asks.

“I passed it already and applied to schools but I haven’t heard back yet. Law school is pretty competitive, so I’m going to take it again and hopefully have a better mark for the next round of college applications.” You’re talking too much, you need to shut up and just eat, but Joel doesn’t flinch, doesn’t look away. No one has ever listened to you like that, not even your parents.

“Next round?” He asks curiously. 

You feel your cheeks redden. You don’t want to admit to this obviously successful man in front of you that you probably won’t get accepted to any of the eight universities you applied to. “Yes. It’s competitive, and I probably won’t get in. So I’m preparing to be better the second time.”

“Where did you apply? If that’s not too forward of a question.”

“No, not too forward. Umm, a few places. Strength in numbers, I guess. Harvard, Yale, Columbia, Berkeley, Duke, University of Toronto, but I don’t think I’d survive a Canadian winter. I also applied at Notre Dame and University of Texas here in Austin.”

Joel laughs at you mentioning the Canadian winter and once you’re quiet, he looks down at his expensive dress shoes, “I, umm, I know some higher ups at UT Austin if you need me to put in a good word.”

You smile at him when he looks back up at you, “I don’t think that’s quite how it works, Joel. But thank you.”

The two of you are silent for a moment while you finish your first piece of toast. You glance up at him and he’s looking at you with that same hint of pride he had yesterday while you drank your water. He’s making you feel like eating toast is something to be proud of. You can’t explain it but his facial expression wraps around like a corset. Pulling its metaphoric laces and making you sit up taller, holding your head up higher. With just the shimmer in his deep brown eyes you feel like you could take on the world. You need to break the silence so you say, “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course,” he says, leaning back to rest on the countertop behind him. His arms uncross, his strong hands wrapping around the countertop on each side of his body. 

“What do you do for a living? To have all this?” You gesture around the house as you sip your sparkling water.

“A few things. I used to own a construction company, sold it a few years ago to retire but I got bored pretty quickly. Now I own a few properties, I rent them out.” You nod as you listen to him, eating your lunch. One hand rubs at his patchy, salt and pepper beard nervously before saying, “I also own a club.”

You let out a little giggle into your water glass, immediately praying that he doesn’t think that was you being rude. Of all the professions that could have come out of his mouth, owning a nightclub was the last thing you expected. Joel smiles at the sweet melodic sound leaving your lips and relief washes over you. “Why’s that so funny?” His voice is light at his inquiry. 

“It’s not,” you say after swallowing your water. He furrows his brows at you. “You just - I mean, I guess I don’t know you, but don’t seem like the nightclub type.”

“You’re right, you don’t know me. But you’re also right that I am not a nightclub type,” he states. Something about the way he says it makes you sense that that’s as far as you’re going to get with it, but you also realize that the club is probably how this man meets young women to bring home.

You put your spoon down and place your hands in your lap. “Can I umm, ask you something else?”

“Of course,” he repeats. 

“What’s with that little dinosaur toy on your coffee maker?”

He smiles and reaches over to grab it, rubbing his thumb along the faded and scuffed brown paint of the little toy. He looks down at it and a hint of sadness seems to fill his coffee and amber eyes as he looks at you. “My daughter, she umm, she got it for me from the prize box in Kindergarten after her mom -” he stops mid sentence, sadness lining his features. Joel’s not married, you roll your eyes at yourself internally for thinking the worst of him. And truthfully, you of all people know he’s not married. You clean his house, you’ve been in his bedroom, and there are no women's clothes. You’ve also been in all the spare bedrooms and there’s no chance another person lives here with him. He continues, choosing his words almost carefully, “Well, just after she was gone.”

“I’m sorry, Mister,” his eyes flash onyx for just a second, he looks lethally sexy and you swallow your words before starting again. “I’m sorry, Joel.”

“It was a long time ago,” he says, placing the dinosaur back. He runs his fingers through his salt and pepper curls, letting out a little sigh. There’s a shift in him, like suddenly the world is heavier. He tries not to let it show, and maybe most people wouldn’t notice, but you see it. The slight fall in his face, a little slump in the shoulders, a breath held for just a second too long. He clears his throat gently and says, “I’ll be in my office. Eat your lunch for me, please.”

Joel

Joel closes the door of his office and rests his forehead against the smooth wooden surface. He can’t remember how much he spent on these doors when he built the house, but he would set any door that separated him from you on fire if he had to. 

Get it together, Joel.

He closes his eyes and only sees you. The way your glossy, pink lips formed a little O as you blew on your soup. The way the gold plated metal spoon slid softly along your tongue. His cock twitches in his pants and he feels the urge to throw all the spoons in his house away. 

Great, you’re jealous of a spoon. 

He shouldn’t be home. He signed a contract, and more importantly, you signed a contract. In order to protect him and you there is to be no contact between the cleaner and the client. That’s what you consented to when you took your job at Maid Discreetly, and now he’s caused you to break that contract not once, but twice. But he cannot seem to get you out of his mind, and as he sat in a meeting at his club he couldn’t focus. You were here, cleaning his home in that form fitting white polo shirt and those black pants that hugged at your hips in all the right places, and he just had to know if you were as beautiful as he remembered. Just a quick peek, he convinced himself as he made up some bullshit excuse to leave. 

When he saw you sitting in your rusty SUV you looked so innocent and pure, you were more than beautiful. The afternoon sun lighting up your high cheekbones and slender, slightly upturned nose, it gave you an almost angelic glow that temporarily took his breath away. If he had to describe you in two words he would say that you were simply ravishing. For the first time in almost thirty years he wished he still had the calming comfort of that black felt cowboy hat. But that soft Stetson went with her because she loved it so much. 

As he caught his breath and looked at you from his garage, he was overcome with an urge to bruise and corrupt you. He’s a bad man for the thoughts he's been having about you. He can’t help himself, but even in his most twisted of fantasies, he’d never do anything you didn’t want him to. But, fuck, he’s sure he could mold you into exactly what he wants in a submissive. 

Joel isn’t new to the world of kink; he’s had many subs, all of whom have referred to him as Mister Miller. However, his name has never sounded so fucking sweet as it did coming off your lips. Those two little words leaving your pouty, pink lips feel like that first sip of whiskey after a long day, and it might kill him if he doesn’t make you his. 

He sighs into the white wood of the door before standing and walking to sit behind his desk. He drops into the soft leather chair and lets his head fall back onto the headrest and closes his eyes. What is it about you? Why can’t he stop thinking about you? You’re way too young. Way too sweet. Way too…sinless. And even though he can’t explain it, and he knows you don’t know it, you’re way too “exactly-what-is-going-to-ruin-his-entire-life”. 

You’re not someone he can just play with. No, he’s good at reading people, and you’re the kind of person that deserves being invested into. You’re also not someone who is going to stick around. You have dreams and well laid out plans on how you’re going to achieve them. He can’t cage you in, he’ll have to let you spread your wings and fly no matter how much he sees himself as the man he used to be reflected back in your eyes.  

He opens his eyes and pictures you kneeling in the corner, perfectly manicured hands that he pays for you to have done weekly folded on your lap as he works. He imagines calling you over with a curl of his fingers, you crawling across the plush carpet and resting your head on his lap as he responds to emails, takes calls, or plans events. He could reach down and run his fingers through your soft, silky hair as you nuzzled deeper into his lap with your cheek. “My perfect, sweet girl,” he’d hum.  

His body falls forward, forehead hitting the sturdy wooden desk with a thump. Jesus Christ, Joel. 

It was one thing when he only found you beautiful - he could live with being attracted to you, he could find a way around it or stuff that attraction down, maybe he’d find a new sub to distract himself with. That would be easy for him, but then you had to open your mouth, you had to speak so passionately about your future. Why couldn’t you just be pretty like all the other women he plays with? You might be one of the most driven people he knows: the way you push yourself, already planning for the next “no”. And that kills him, ruins him really that you are programmed to think there will automatically be a “no” and that you’ll have to endure another round of LSAT’s and college applications. You’re smart, and he wants to kill whoever made you feel like you need to push yourself this hard. 

His phone vibrates in his pocket; annoyance courses through his body until he sees his brother's name across the pristine screen of his newest iPhone Max. 

“Ya?” He says harshly. 

“Everything ok with the alarm?” 

Joel’s mind goes blank, “What?” 

Tommy is silent for a second before he responds slowly, “The alarm? You left in the middle of a meeting because of an alarm.” 

Joel shakes his head. Right, the alarm. The bullshit excuse he made up so he could leave to see you. “Ya, right. Ya, it’s fine. Got it all, umm, all fixed up. Should be back soon.”

“You ok, brother?” Tommy asks suspiciously. “You seemed, I dunno, distracted today.” 

“I’m fine,” Joel snaps. 

“Alright. Well, come back soon, pretty big night here and we need ya.” 

Joel hangs up without saying goodbye. He’s the owner, he knows it’s a big night, but he’s sort of busy having an existential crisis over possibly being in love with his house cleaner. Whoa, in love? Pump the fucking brakes. Joel’s heart stops beating for a second at the thought of it. He can’t possibly be in love; he doesn’t fall in love. No, he decides, it’s just because she’s new, and exactly my type, and it’s been a long time since I found someone that’s my type.

Just as he stands from his desk, he hears the hose outside turn on. You must be at the pool furniture part of your list. He takes this moment to sneak out of his own house, because he’s a weak man when it comes to you, apparently. He slips into the Italian leather front seat and lets the new car smell waft over him; he loves the smells of a new sports car and has never owned one long enough for it to stop smelling that way. It’s a matter of status to him. He takes a good hard look at himself in the rear view mirror. That’s enough now. For both of your sakes. Leave her alone. 

You 

After spraying down the pool furniture you rush inside to warm up. Seriously, who needs their pool stuff cleaned in the fucking winter? As you jog up the stairs to grab Joel’s freshly laundered sheets, you blow into your cupped palms. The warmth spreads from your frozen fingertips to your palms. Joel’s office is empty; he must have left while you were outside. Your brain swirls with unanswered questions as you pull the fitted sheet back onto his king size bed. Why would he come home? First of all, he knows you’re here this time and second of all, he knows he’s not supposed to be here. So why? And then there’s his calculating stare, always watching and usually with a flash of pride in his features. Did he come back here just to talk to you? Maybe even to get to know you? 

It’s safe to say that you’re more confused than ever, and you make a mental schedule of studying and reading to keep you busy later tonight so you won’t spend hours trying to google him again.

It takes way too much effort, and a silent promise to yourself to get back to the gym, but you manage to wrestle the oversized duvet back into its cover just as three o’clock rolls around. You jog down the wide, open staircase and your phone bings in your back pocket. Jamie’s name is splayed across your cracked screen, the sunset from your last trip to California shining back at you. 

What are you doing tonight? Want to make a bunch of money serving drinks topless?

You laugh to yourself. Truthfully, nothing Jamie asks you seems to surprise you, and some sort of odd job where you’re topless or in a sexy outfit is practically a guarantee as a condition of your friendship. As you reach for the black envelope on the kitchen island you text back. 

What?

You barely have the thick parchment of the envelope open when she responds, like she already had the text locked and loaded and was just waiting for you to try to fight her on it.  

Remember Laren? My cousin? She has a topless catering company and needs help tonight. It’s at some exclusive VIP poker game downtown. 4 hours, $300 + tips.

You respond as a thousand dollars falls out of the tip envelope. 

I’m in.

Jamie picks you up a few hours later and parks her blacked out Range Rover in the alleyway behind a shiny black building in the heart of downtown. You’re once again surrounded by wealth and success thanks to Jamie. The dress code tonight is a black pencil skirt, black heels, your tits, and a bow tie that Laren will give you. Speaking of whom, Laren is holding open a staff door for you and Jamie with her hip, waving the two of you into the warmth of the building. She pulls you both into a big hug, “Thank fuck! You two saved my ass tonight. Gotta love having friends and family with great tits!”

“You’re so weird,” Jamie says, brushing past her and into the building. You follow her in before Laren ushers you towards a service elevator. 

“They’ve already started, you’re part of the second shift. I think the first set of girls made about four hundred each in tips, helps if you serve the guys that are winning though. The first round of games is almost over, winners move on soon.”

“How were their tits though? As great as ours?” You joke. Underneath the calm and collected mask you’re wearing you are definitely nervous. All these strange men are going to see you half naked, you know nothing about poker or serving drinks. Your two friends laugh as the elevator opens to a small changing room. Girls from the first shift are putting their tops back on, handing the bow ties back to Laren who gives them to you and Jamie. 

She cocks her head towards a swinging door, “Just through there when you’re done. Go to the bartender for a tray and table assignment. Two girls per table and only six seats so it should be pretty easy. Make sure you smile!”

“Yes, ma’am,” you and Jamie say teasingly as you strip off your tops and bras. She flips you the middle finger as she heads back out to the poker game to supervise. The cool air of the room stiffens your nipples, nerves fluttering behind your navel as you put the bow tie on.

You overhear the girls that are leaving talking about the men, “Did you see the one with the curly hair at the table by the bar?”, one says. 

The other responds, “He was so fucking hot. Total daddy, I think he owns this place.” 

A third pipes up with, “Fuck, I should have flirted more. I could use a sugar daddy.” 

As they walk towards the elevator the first girl says, “Did you know that this is a sex club? Too bad we can’t go explore the rest.” They giggle as they leave and you take a steadying breath. You’re going to be topless, in a sex club. 

“Ready?” Jamie asks, adjusting her bowtie around her slender neck. 

“Did you know this is a sex club?”

She laughs, “Ya, it’s like an exclusive kink club apparently. Laren said it’s owned by two brothers who are insanely hot. Maybe I should see if they need a maid.” She winks at you as you both walk towards the swinging door. 

You step into the dimly lit room and find the bar directly across from you. After rolling your shoulders back and down, you cross the dark hardwood floor to the bar. Everything in the room is black or deep forest green. Black paint covers the walls, your heels click against the sturdy black wooden floors, even the poker tables and chairs are black. A pop of deep green velvet only along the seats and table tops. It looks soft, like one of those fuzzy blankets you have on your couch and you fight the urge to run your hand across one of the empty tables as you pass. 

The bartender hands Jamie a tray first and then quietly tells her to go to the table in the far right corner. She sways her hips like the sultry goddess she is as she walks to the table. Relief floods through you when you notice that none of the men have raised their eyes, they’re focused intently on the card game. This isn’t some sleazy club like you initially thought when you heard ‘sex club’ leave the lips of the other servers. You relax a little at being able to just be yourself tonight, maybe a bit more naked than you’d usually be but yourself nonetheless. 

You take the black marble serving tray as the bartender points to the table closest to the bar. The curly hair man that the women were talking about in the change room faces away from you. Your heart leaps in your chest. Joel. As you approach the other server standing behind the table, he starts to turn his head. Time stops, your heart speeds up, and it starts to feel simultaneously too hot and too cold in the room all at the same time. It’s almost as if he’s turning his head in slow motion. As you catch his side profile he has the same hooked nose, in the dim light of the room you can’t see any greys along his temples and he doesn’t appear to have a beard. After what feels like an hour, his eyes finally meet yours and you let out a breath, although you aren’t sure if it’s disappointment or relief leaving your lungs. It’s not Joel Miller.

“Mind bringin’ me another Macallan neat, sweetheart?” His eyes stay locked on yours as he smiles at you sweetly. He holds the crystal glass out for you and you take it with a soft ‘yes, sir.’

Something about those eyes, and the way they flash darkly at being called sir, feels all too familiar. In the time it takes for you to take the six or seven steps to the bar you convince yourself that it’s just your brain seeing him everywhere. You tell yourself that when you bring this drink back he’ll look nothing like the man you caught knuckles deep in a woman as she cried out, nothing like the man who was so gentle and sweet, yet slightly bossy and commanding with you this afternoon. 

That’s definitely it, you say to yourself with finality. You’re just cock drunk over a cock you’ll never have. 

The bartender pops the whiskey open and the hair on the back of your neck stands up, you can feel someone looking at you. Almost feel their stare heating the right side of your body. It feels as if all of your exposed skin is being covered by the gaze of whomever is looking at you, shielding you protectively from the view of the other men. The bartender's eyes flick to the corner of the room and then back to you while he hands you the drink. The shift of his gaze confirms that you weren’t imagining it, there is someone looking at you. You place the whiskey on your tray and spin cautiously to the right, stopping dead in your tracks when you lock eyes with Joel Miller. He looks dangerous, sitting at a low table along the wall, his face just barely illuminated by a single candle on the dark wooden table top. His fingers are laced together, forearms of his black dress shirt resting on the knees of his black dress pants. His lips are pressed in a thin, disapproving line. 

He stalks over to you and you wish your tray was empty so you could shield your tits from him. The way he moves is almost menacing, like a jaguar stalking his prey, his eyes are almost black in the low light of the room. Your nipples stiffen under his intense gaze, your mouth fills with saliva and you gulp loudly. You stand frozen, the whiskey for that man you had convinced yourself isn’t related to Joel forgotten about on your tray. He plucks the drink off the marble slab, the glass looking like one of those disposable paper cups you have in your bathroom in his hand. He takes two long strides and drops the glass beside the man. 

“Thanks,” he starts to coo, a ten dollar bill clasped between two fingers. After realizing it’s not you, he adds a confused, “Brother?” 

He tries to pull the money back, but Joel is quicker. Snatching it from his brother's grasp and tucking it into the breast pocket of his dress shirt. Joel turns back to you and steps in closely, your lower back hitting the cold marble bartop and you gasp, arching your back and naked breasts towards Joel. His jaw flexes as he fights to keep his eyes level with yours. 

“What are you doin’ here?” he says in a harsh whisper. 

“I’m working,” it comes out a lot more bratty and defiant than you intend it to. 

“Not here you ain’t.”

You take a small step forward, your hard nipples lightly grazing the soft fabric of his black dress shirt. “I’m not leaving.” 

His hand circles your bicep and you twist out of his grasp. “You’re makin’ a scene, darlin’.” 

“You are, Joel. I’m just trying to make money.” He grabs you more firmly this time, not tight enough to hurt you but enough for you to know he means business. 

What’s his problem anyway? He doesn’t own you. What you do outside his home is none of his business. He can boss you around via an app every other week, but that’s it. That’s where it ends. You glance desperately over at Jamie to find her back to you as she speaks softly with a man who’s waiting for the next round of poker. Her hand grazes his bicep flirtatiously, she makes it look too easy to get what she wants from men. Joel guides you towards the staff changing room, keeping your body in the dark edges of the room. He’s breathing heavily through his nose, like an angry dragon and you’re honestly surprised smoke isn’t billowing out of his nostrils. 

In the bright lights of the changing room you feel more exposed than ever. You want to lift your tray, but in order to prove to him that you don’t care what he or anyone thinks you don’t. In fact, you stand up taller, holding your head high and pushing your chest out. It’s infinitesimal but he looks down just for a nano second. You smirk when his eyes come back to you. 

“Put a shirt on.” 

“If none of the other girls have to put a shirt on then neither do I.” You pop your hip out and pull your arm free from his large calloused hand and rest it on your hip. 

“Don’t fight me on this.” 

“I’m not fighting. You are. So all those other girls are fine, but I’m not? Why? My tits aren’t big enough for you?” 

“That’s not,” he pinches the bridge of his nose and takes a breath with his eyes closed. When he reopens them his eyes land softly on yours. “I just need you not to be here. Please.” 

Bright red anger sparks along the sides of your eyes. Seriously, who does he think he is? “You aren’t the boss here, Mister Miller.” 

“Do NOT call me that.” His neck flushes the same colour as your vision. You stand your ground, eyes narrowing into glaring slits. What is his aversion to being called Mister Miller, and why does it turn you on a little bit to rile him up when you use it?

“You aren’t my boss or my dad, Joel. You can’t make me leave or tell me what jobs I can or can’t take.” You’ve figuratively dug your heels in, you aren’t leaving. He can’t make you. Only Laren or whoever owns this sex club can ask that of you. “You can’t kick me out like you own the place.” 

“Actually,” he says darkly, “I can.” 

“What?” You say through a nervous breath, eyes widening. 

“I own the place. So I can kick you out, and I am kicking you out. Get your shirt.” 

Your shoulders fall slightly. You feel about two feet tall with the realization that he doesn’t want you here. This afternoon you thought that maybe he cared, he seemed like he cared, and now you’re half naked and he wants you to leave. He watches as you unclasp your bow tie and slide on your bra and shirt. 

You look over at Jamie’s clothes and it dawns on you that you didn’t drive here. Your face falls as you blink around the room and then towards Joel. 

“What’s wrong?” he says through thick concern.

“Nothing. I just…” 

He steps towards you, he’s so broad, his presence so large that you start to feel almost claustrophobic when he’s this close, but you never want him to step away. You’d happily let him smother you with his innate Joel-ness. “You just what?”

“I didn’t drive here,” you say quietly, looking down at your hands. Your left thumb nail immediately finds purchase along the cuticle of your right thumb. 

His strong palm cups your chin, lifting until he’s looking at you again. You’re becoming more and more used to the amount of eye contact Joel seems to make. He seems constantly dialed in on you when you’re in the same room.

Yes, I would be very happy to let him smother me. 

The harsh lines of his face soften, “I can get you a car. They’ll meet you at the staff door.” 

You nod into his hand and find it exceedingly hard to stay mad at him when he looks at you that way. He drops your chin and turns his large, broad body back towards the swinging door. He looks over his shoulder and says, “I’m sorry. I just can’t have you here, this is on me.” His voice is soft and sad, almost as if he’s full of remorse and just hoping you won’t hate him before heading back into the poker game. Any bit of anger is flushed from your system, replaced with the disappointment of having to leave wherever Joel is.  

You drag your feet to the elevator and then towards the staff exit. You let the heavy door close behind you with a loud bang as a blacked out SUV pulls up. The driver says your first and last name as he opens the back door for you. You look towards the black building one last time. 

“I’m sorry. I just can’t have you here, this is on me.” 

JMKink is written in shiny metallic black on the door and all the information of the evening hits you at once. JMK. Joel Miller Kink. Joel Miller, insanely handsome millionaire, owns a sex club.

Next Chapter

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[callsigns-haze]

Hi! I love your Twister fics! Anyways I was hoping you could write something about Tyler proposing to fem reader then having boon or javi get certified in being an officiant then get married in field as a tornado touches! That would truly be Tornado wrangler fashion. If not I totally understand.

Winds of Forever

Pairing: Tyler Owens x Reader

Chapter Summary: Tyler and Y/N embrace the unpredictability of their love by exchanging vows in the heart of a storm, beginning their married life with nature's raw power as their witness.

Chapter Warnings: Intense weather scenes and emotional moments.

Tyler Owens had always known that his love for storm chasing was rivalled only by his love for you. The thrill of the storm, the adrenaline of the chase—it all paled in comparison to the life you had built together. So when it came time to propose, Tyler wanted the moment to be as extraordinary as the love you shared.

The day had been long and exhilarating, filled with the rush of chasing storms across the plains. As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a fiery orange glow across the sky, the team gathered around a campfire, their laughter mingling with the distant rumble of thunder. The air was still charged with the electricity of the storm, and it felt like the perfect moment for something special.

Tyler sat beside you, his heart racing as he reached into his pocket to feel the small, weathered box that had been burning a hole there all day. He looked at you, your face illuminated by the firelight, and knew this was the moment he’d been waiting for. He stood up, his movements slow and deliberate, drawing the attention of everyone around the fire.

As the chatter died down, Tyler took your hand, gently pulling you to your feet. You looked at him with a mixture of curiosity and affection, your heart skipping a beat as you saw the serious expression on his face.

“Y/N,” Tyler began, his voice steady but filled with emotion. “From the first storm we chased together, I knew you were different. You’ve been my partner in every way—through every wild adventure, every close call, and every quiet moment in between. I’ve chased a lot of storms, but nothing compares to the chase that led me to you. And I don’t want to spend another day without knowing you’re mine forever.”

He reached into his pocket, pulling out the small box, and your breath caught in your throat as he got down on one knee. The flickering firelight danced in his eyes as he opened the box to reveal a ring that sparkled like the stars above.

“Will you marry me?” Tyler asked, his voice trembling with hope and love.

Tears welled up in your eyes as you looked down at him, your heart overflowing with joy. There was only one answer, and it burst from your lips with the force of a storm. “Yes, Tyler! Yes!”

As he slipped the ring onto your finger, you pulled him to his feet, wrapping your arms around him in a tight embrace. The team erupted in cheers, their excitement matching the joy in your heart as you kissed him, tears of happiness blending with the wind that whipped around you.

But as the cheers began to fade, Boone, always the one with the wild ideas, grinned and said, “You know, we could do this right now. Get married here, in the middle of a storm—just like the way you two live your lives.”

You both laughed, but the idea took hold, the thrill of it coursing through you. The thought of marrying Tyler, not in some traditional setting, but here, in the midst of what you loved most—surrounded by storms and friends—felt right. It felt like the most perfect way to begin your life together.

“Why not?” Tyler said, his grin widening as he looked at you, his eyes sparkling with excitement.

“That’s crazy,” you said, but you couldn’t deny the excitement bubbling up inside you.

“It’s perfect,” he replied, squeezing your hand. “Let’s do it.”

And then, as if the universe itself was in on the plan, Javi, the quiet and steady presence in your group, revealed that he had recently become a certified officiant—“You know, just in case,” he added with a sheepish grin.

The next day, under a sky dark with swirling clouds, you found yourselves standing hand in hand in a wide, open field. The storm had gathered strength, and a massive tornado was forming in the distance, a wild and beautiful force of nature. The wind howled around you, tugging at your clothes and hair, but all you could focus on was Tyler’s hand in yours, the warmth of his touch grounding you amidst the chaos.

Javi stood before you, his voice strong and steady as he began the ceremony. “Tyler, Y/N… I can’t think of a more fitting way for the two of you to start your married life together than in the heart of a storm. Just like this tornado, your love is powerful, unpredictable, and unstoppable. Today, you’re making a promise—to stand by each other, no matter what winds may blow.”

As the tornado loomed in the distance, Tyler turned to you, his eyes filled with love and determination. He took a deep breath and began his vows, his voice strong despite the wind.

“Y/N, from the moment I met you, I knew my life would never be the same. You’ve been my partner in every storm, my calm in the chaos, and my greatest adventure. I promise to stand by your side through every twist and turn, to weather every storm with you, and to love you fiercely, just as fiercely as I love the thrill of the chase. You are my everything, and I vow to protect you, to cherish you, and to never let a day go by without reminding you how much you mean to me.”

Tears filled your eyes as you listened to his words, your heart swelling with love. You squeezed his hand, smiling through your tears as you began your own vows.

“Tyler, you’ve shown me a love that’s as wild and unpredictable as the storms we chase. You’ve taught me to embrace the unknown, to find beauty in the chaos, and to always keep my eyes on the horizon. I promise to stand by you in every storm, to be your safe harbour, and to love you with all the passion and intensity that this life deserves. You are my tornado, my whirlwind, and I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you.”

As you finished your vows, the tornado touched down, a powerful force of nature swirling behind you as if the universe itself was bearing witness to your promises. The moment was surreal, a perfect blend of chaos and serenity, as you and Tyler sealed your vows with a kiss. The storm raged on around you, but all you felt was the warmth of his lips, the strength of his arms around you, and the certainty that this was the beginning of your greatest adventure yet.

The team erupted in cheers, their voices carried away by the wind as they surrounded you both, their excitement and joy adding to the wild energy of the moment. Boone whooped loudly, clapping Tyler on the back, while Javi grinned, clearly pleased with how perfectly everything had come together.

As the winds began to die down and the storm moved on, you stood there together, hand in hand, staring at the path of the tornado as it carved its way through the land. The world around you was raw and wild, but in Tyler’s arms, you felt nothing but peace and love.

Tyler turned to you, his eyes shining with tears. “I can’t believe we just did that.”

You laughed, shaking your head as you leaned into him, feeling the warmth of his arm around you. “It was perfect,” you whispered. “Absolutely perfect.”

And as you stood there, the wind still whipping around you, you knew that this was just the beginning of your adventure together. The storms would come and go, but your love—like the tornado that had witnessed your vows—was a force of nature, powerful and unbreakable, ready to take on whatever the world threw at you.

Together, you would weather every storm, hand in hand, for the rest of your lives.

Requests for Tyler are open be free to send in as much as you wish!

tagging some:

@senawashere

@saviorcomplexrry

@cevansbaby-dove

@saynotononsense

@missdottie

@willowisp7

@taorislover94

@eloquenceinpurple

@86laura11

@rosiahills22

@jessicab1991

@kmc1989

@shanimallina87

@eternalsams

@teen-antisocial