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marvelwitchergilmore · 4 months ago

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Adrenaline

Summary: Tyler Owens x fe!Reader -> After a tornado whirls through your town, everyone is left with an adrenaline rush. Except for you, until later that night where you meet Tyler Owens for a second time and he helps you.

Disclaimer: Mentions of tornadoes though not too much damage, mentions/descriptions of adrenaline rush/crash. Tyler being an EMT, found family with the Wranglers, Wranglers and Tyler creating a safe space for the reader. Fluff, hint of angst, but mostly fluff. Not Proof Read.

He’d never seen anyone more beautiful in his whole life.

You were sitting there, on an old broken log, stuffing your backpack with the rest of your things. Since you’d all been forced awake that morning by a tornado siren going off, everyone on the street was awake and looking bed ridden.

But there was just something about you.

To put it plain and simply, you were beautiful.

“You need some help?” He asked you as he approached.

“No, I’m okay. Thanks.”

“You sure?”

You stood with a sigh. “I’m sure.”

With a sweep of your hand, you hauled your bag over your shoulder. That was when your eyes shifted to your family, huddled by the end of the street talking to one of your neighbours.

The tornado had passed through the street. Some things had been destroyed but luckily the houses remained mostly intact.

“I-I just don’t know what we’re going to do.” you mom said, over and over.

“Mom!” You were frustrated enough as it was. “I told you. I’ll handle it.”

“Oh, okay.”

Tyler turned back to you. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

You softened a little. You knew he was only trying to help. “I swear. I’m gonna go and call the insurance and get this sorted out.”

And you did.

Tyler stuck around with his crew for the rest of the day, helping people pick up pieces of fencing, a few doors and multiple dog hutches that had landed in other people’s gardens.

But he kept his eyes on you.

Somewhere between coming out of your house in your pajamas once you’d been given the all clear it was safe, and him seeing you help some of the little kids by the ambulance who were afraid of getting their blood pressure taken, you’d changed your clothes.

Granted, a lot of people had.

But you were one of the last in order to do so.

And later that night when he pulled into a motel, he saw you again.

Considering your house was still standing and whatever damage had been caused would soon be fixed by your insurance company, he was surprised to see you checking into a room.

But taking a few seconds to look at you, he soon got his answer.

You were shaking.

You hadn’t been before.

If he was being completely honest, he was surprised you hadn’t been in total shock. Waking up to a tornado siren, being forced into a shelter, dealing and helping others on your street, dealing with insurance companies and hold-music.

He’d been doing his job for a long time, and even then he would be dealing with the after shock a lot sooner than you were.

“Hey, you want some help?”

You turned and looked at him, recognising his face almost instantly.

“I-I’m fine.” You sounded sure of yourself as you said it, but the shaking gave your body away.

“Y/n, right?”

You nodded. “You’re Tyler Owens?”

Tyler nodded. “Professional Tornado Wrangler and qualified EMT.”

“Nice credentials. You give them to everyone you meet?”

“Only when I think they need my help.”

He wasn’t being condescending. You could see as much from the way he was looking at you.

“Do you mind if I just check you over? I’ve got my med kit in my truck and I don’t remember you getting checked on site.”

You nodded after a moment. Fighting him on it would only mean more energy, which you were more than lacking in at that moment.

“Come with me.”

That was how you found yourself sitting on the edge of Tyler Owens truck bed, getting most of your vitals checked over.

“How long will—will it take for the shak–shaking to wear off?” You felt cold.

Tyler hooked his stethoscope around the back of his neck. “Anywhere between a few minutes to a couple of hours. Considering you’d been in a permanent adrenaline rush since this morning, I’d wager to say it might take you a little longer.”

“And the chills?” You felt your shoulders shake as you said it.

Tyler sat beside you, holding his fingers against the pulse on your wrist before looking at his watch. “Right now, your blood is moving away from your skin and towards your organs to help with blood oxygen levels.”

Somehow, with Tyler explaining everything to you, it was giving you a sense of calm.

“Mind me asking why you’re staying here rather than at home?”

“My mom keeps asking questions and my dad is trying to hide his secrets from the insurance company as if he works for the CIA. He doesn’t, by the way. He just doesn’t trust that he won’t have to pay anything despite the insurance saying he won’t,” you explained. “I told them I was going to a friend’s house to babysit for the night. I would go home, except home is a few hours away and I don’t have the energy to drive that far. So, a motel it is.”

“Well, you chose one of the best. There’s a vending machine that, if you hit the sidebar twice, it’ll give you free m&ms.”

“And you know this, how exactly?”

Tyler shrugged with a slightly knowing smile. “Not my first time staying in a place like this. Or this one, to be exact.”

“You go up and down Tornado Alley, right?”

Tyler nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”

“So, what do you do when you’re dealing with an adrenaline rush?”

“Well, I think my body’s used to it by now. But, best advice I can give is to just breathe. Taking a lot of deep breaths can help.”

You smiled. “Thanks. I’ll try that.”

Tyler smiled back at you. “You should try and get some sleep. I’ll see you in the morning?”

You nodded. “I suppose you will.”

And he did.

It was around eight in the morning when you appeared once more in your pajamas by the landing of the stairs of the motel. Some of the Wranglers were awake, but like yourself, were still dressed for bed.

“Mornin’,” Tyler called up to you. “How’d you sleep?”

“Alright. Took me a while though.”

Tyler nodded. “That’s normal. You wanna join us? Dexter’s making breakfast and he always makes extra.”

“No, that’s-”

“Come on! Come and join us! You’ll never eat a better breakfast.”

A chorus of agreements came from the rest of the team so, five minutes later you were sitting back on the open flatbed of Tyler’s truck, eating breakfast and talking with the rest of the team.

“Well?”

“Best breakfast I’ve ever had. Thank you.”

Dexter smiled before celebrating quietly to himself. “Yes!”

“So, where are you guys headed next?” You asked, looking around at the team.

“Couple miles west, maybe. There’s meant to be a couple F-1 and 2s soon. We can use them for footage and completing a couple a viewer requests. You know, shooting fireworks and things to see what happens.”

Though you weren’t a follower, you had seen one or two videos recently of their chasing antics. And, for a devil-may-care it seemed, spending a dazed afternoon and a much clearer morning with them let you know that they only did it with safety in mind.

“What about you? Heading back to your folks, or?”

You shook your head and swallowed your food. “Home. It’s not that I don’t love ‘em, I do. But…they can be a lot on a good day. And they never listen. So long as I leave them a detailed list of what’s gonna happen, they should be okay.”

You closed your eyes for a moment. “I know how bitchy that sounds. I do. I just…”

“It feels like you’re raising your parents instead of the other way around?”

You nodded, looking over at Lily. “Yeah.”

“Don’t worry about it. My folks are the same. You tell them everything they need to know and they still call twenty minutes later asking you to make sure it’s done properly.”

“Yes! Thank you. Finally! Someone gets it.”

You were aware of how loud you were reacting, but for the first time it was like you weren't on your own.

“It feels like I’m doing everything I can, as well as my own things for my own life, only to be asked if I’m sure I’m doing it right. If you want it done, do it yourself! If not, leave me to it!”

You took a moment to finally breathe.

“Sorry. That was…I’m sorry.”

Tyler shook his head. “Don’t apologise. I saw how you handled things yesterday. This is a safe space.”

“No judgement here,” Boone added.

You looked at all the others and saw genuine agreement on their faces. And for the first time, you didn’t feel guilty.

Later on as you were packing the rest of your things up from your motel room, someone spoke from the open doorway.

“How long has it been like that?”

You nearly jumped out of your skin at Tyler’s voice. “Like what?”

“You taking it all on?”

You realised what he was talking about but you just shrugged. “A while. Why?”

“How much free space do you get when you’re away from them?”

You shrugged again. “Enough to know I’m working.”

“And then, what? You come home and helped them fix whatever needs fixing?”

You laughed a little. “I’d not like I’m building them a new house-”

“I wasn’t talking physically.”

That made you pause for a moment.

“Listen, I know this is gonna sound forward and I know it’s not my place but…just something is telling me to ask you anyway.”

“Okay,” you sounded out slowly.

“Dani told me that you’re a data analyst. A nine to five, grey office, work from home two days a week, kinda thing.”

You nodded. That much was true.

“What if I offered you a job?”

“Tyler-”

“No, hold on, wait. Just, just listen for a sec.”

You waited and he continued.

“It’s not like I’m asking you to run away with me in some kind of Robin Hood, Prince of Thieves thing. It’s just, I saw how you were with the rest of the team today and I heard you, yesterday, talking to the kids?”

You knew what Tyler was referring to.

“You studied meteorology, right?”

You nodded, eventually. “I minored in it.”

Tyler nodded with a brief smile. “Then I want to offer you a job working with us. You can still keep your old job. If they let you work from home two days a week, I’m sure they won’t mind a little longer. Something tells me you’re pretty damn good at your job.”

Tyler continued. “It would only have to be for the summer. You can come chasing with us and if you don’t wanna do it again, you don’t have to. But, we also have a home base in Sapulpa. We collect the data and try to find a way to use it to make sure people don’t end up getting a warning five seconds before a tornado hits their home. Even if you just try it for a week…I think you’d really enjoy it.”

“You know, when I came here last night, I didn’t think I’d be leaving with a job offer.”

“You should come with us, today. One chase. Just to test it out.”

You don’t know when or how, but you said yes. And one chase was all it took for you to get hooked. You loved the weather ever since you were a little kid. You’d sit out in your treehouse when it was raining and you’d stare at the clouds for hours just trying to figure out how they did it, until you were old enough to read the bigger words written in your science books.

Two years later, you still found it to be the best decision you ever made.

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crappymixtape · 1 year ago

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hang on tight, baby • part one

NAVIGATION -> PART I • PART II • PART III favored to win in barrel racing for the upcoming rodeo, you’re out in the corral practicing when your obnoxious neighbor, tyler owens, swings by to say hi, but when the wind picks up you both won’t have a choice but to trust each other • 18+ | ( 3.0k – TW: natural disasters, tornado, injuries • witty banter as foreplay, fluff in their own way, enemies to idiots in love, tyler owens x reader )

H A N G O N T I G H T, B A B Y • P A R T O N E 🎶 devil always made me think twice, chris stapleton

Clouds stretched overhead, lazy liked pulled taffy as the sun beat down on you in the midday heat. You’d been up since the first fingers of light had crept up over the horizon, dew still clinging to the long stalks of wheat in the early morning, but as the day spun on summer made sure to remind you what it was capable of.

That June in Oklahoma wasn’t anything to mess with.

Sweat beading across your forehead, you had half a mind to toss your hat over the corral fence but it was the only thing keeping you from getting sunburned. Pushing at your windswept hair with a gloved hand you tucked the flyaways out of your face and clicked your tongue at your horse, Tilly, to get back into position.

“C’mon, girl. One more run and then we’ll call it,” you coaxed, readjusting your grip on the saddle horn and giving her neck a pat. Tilly snorted, her hooves stamping in the dirt, anxious to take off again around the three wooden barrels dotting across your little makeshift arena. “That’s it, easy…” you murmured.

Barrel racing horses were built different, like they were brought into the world locked and loaded with a fire burning in them – they lived to ride like this. A black flash of muscle and tension set loose like a snapped rubber band and honestly? You lived for it too.

Tucking your chest tight against her mane, you knotted your fingers in the reigns, sucked in a breath and held it steady in your lungs. Three…two…one…

“Yah!” you kicked your heels to Tilly’s flanks and she took off like a gunshot. Hooves thundering across the ground, winding a tight circle around the first barrel in a blur as you ticked off the seconds in your head.

Seven, eight, nine – you rounded the second barrel – ten, eleven – you approached the third – twelve – and then you heard it. A blast of drums and twangy guitar riffs, a Chris Stapleton track followed by a loud engine backfire and it threw both you and Tilly off track.

Your booted foot smashed into the side of the last barrel and you yelped, Tilly kicking her back legs in a start with a high pitched whinny.

“Whoa, whoa–easy!” Pulling back on the reigns you soothed her, hands smoothing down her mane. Shh, s’alright girl, and she slowly calmed, cantering to a stop just at the edge of the corral where you could finally see who’d come tearing up the driveway.

Tyler Owens.

“Well hey, sweet stuff. Damn, you were lookin’ good for a minute – what happened there at the end?” he hollered out his open cab window and it made your hands ball into fists.

Brows pinched together and lips twisting into a deep scowl, you tugged at Tilly to head back to the gate, “I told you not to call me that, Owens.”

“What? Sweet stuff? What’s wrong with that?” you could hear the grin in his tone, saw him in your head without even having to look. Stupid smirk, stupid aviators, stupid toothpick and stupid belt buckle.

“I ain’t sweet,” you shot back and it pulled a chuckle out of him, a low, rough sound that put a flicker of heat between your ribs.

He cut the engine on his truck, boots shuffling in the grass as he hopped out, and the heavy slam of his door told you today just wasn’t gonna be your day.

Tyler tutted at you, teasing. “Woke up on the wrong side of the bed, Sawyer?” and that snagged your attention.

Dismounting faster than he could blink, you were out of the saddle and marching across the corral to kick at the fence board his boot was resting on. He stumbled back at the force of it and laughed again, flicking his toothpick off into the wheel ruts of the driveway.

“Alright, alright,” he held his hands up in defense and took his sunglasses off, tongue running along his bottom lip, “Didn’t come here to get my ass kicked.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” you snarked, pulling your hat off to fan at your face, “You know I’m trainin’ right now.”

“Mmhm,” he agreed, notching his foot back between the fence boards and leaning his elbows lazy on top, “But I also know it’s pushin' a hundred degrees and the humidity’s sittin’ at 50%. You been drinkin’ water?”

You swallowed, mouth dry — No — and rolled your eyes before turning to walk Tilly back to the gate, “I’m fine.”

He pushed off the fence and chased a line around the corral, hollering after you, “Betcha didn’t know I’m almost as good at chasing bullshit as I am tornados!”

You groaned, dumbass, and reached the gate with Tilly in tow, but Tyler’s hand was on the latch before you could get to it.

“So. I call bullshit,” he said again, a little out of breath and eyes stuck on the way your lips twitched against a smile. “What d'you say we go get an iced tea or something,” he opened the gate and somehow you managed to pass through without so much as a glance in his direction.

Stick to your guns.

“No, Tyler.”

“Ah, c’mon,” he insisted as you pushed past him to the stable, “You and I both know it’s too hot to be out here. So does Tilly.”

But you ignored him, walked Tilly into her stall and even though you couldn’t see him, you knew Tyler had propped himself up on the other side. Arms folded over the top of the gate and hat tipped back just a little, but you went to work anyway undoing Tilly’s bridle, moving easily down to work at the buckle on the saddle and heaved it off her back.

“Least make yourself useful,” you huffed, saddle in hand and shoving it over the gate into Tyler’s chest.

“Shit–” he grunted, fingers scrambling to grab hold of it. A frown tugged down at the corners of his mouth, but he walked the saddle to the tack room anyway and came back with a renewed sense of purpose. “C’mon, Sawyer. Just a nice cold iced tea between friends?”

Sawyer. The nickname he’d gifted you when you’d moved in next door, a nod to your home town – Sawyer, Oklahoma. The home you’d left. The one you tried to forget. The place that held too many memories, too much hurt, and made your chest ache every time you thought about it.

You stopped brushing Tilly and let her get after a much needed drink of water, heaving a sigh from your lungs. It was cooler in the stable and without the sun beating down on you, you didn’t need your button down anymore. Fingers moving to undo the damp, long-sleeved, shirt clinging to your skin, it sighed with relief as the fabric shifted to let the breeze sweep over you.

“Tyler. I need to focus on training,” you grumbled glancing up at him, but it was mistake.

Without his sunglasses, you could see him tracking the movement of your hands. The buttons as they slipped through the loops one at a time. The heady mix of your sweat and shampoo a sweet scent lingering in the air between you and it made you feel dizzy. Made you want something you knew you shouldn’t have. Tyler knew it too as he swallowed thick, Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat, jaw ticking as he bit down on the feeling flickering in his chest.

“Promise I won’t ask you again if you still hate me in an hour,” he said, tone a little strangled, and your lips betrayed you, the corner of your mouth tugging up in the world’s tiniest smile.

“Honest?” you challenged, quirking a skeptical brow and he winked.

“Cross my heart, hope to die,” he traced his fingers over his chest and you swore right then and there you’d be the one to kill him if he put even one toe out of line.

❝ THE MINUTE THAT I SAW YOU WALKIN’ OVER, I FIGURED I WAS DIGGIN’ MY GRAVE. AND YOU HAD THE SHOVEL, I KNEW YOU WERE TROUBLE, BUT YOU’RE JUST THE KIND OF TROUBLE I CRAVE. ❞

Your property was a few miles out of town, a small farmhouse with an old horse stable on seventy-eight acres you rented to the Calhoun brothers for their fescue. It was a lot of work. The house badly needed updating, but it was all you could afford with your winnings from nationals last year and in the end, it didn’t matter – if you hadn't gotten a fresh start you’d have suffocated.

So, a little over a year ago when you’d pulled up the dirt drive in your red Ford pickup, Tilly’s trailer in tow, you felt like you could breathe again. Felt like this little patch of earth there on the outskirts of Tulsa was just what you needed, but when you started hauling boxes out of the truck bed you heard the one thing you didn’t need coming up the road.

Your neighbor.

Tyler Owens.

Renowned twister chaser and resident hot air balloon with an ass that could make even the most beat up pair of Wranglers look good. You knew before he even opened his mouth that he was trouble, but he was easy on the eyes and – surprisingly – pretty helpful.

When your roof sprung a leak during a particularly bad downpour he came over. Climbed up the ladder with a hammer and nails hanging off the tool belt on his hips and had it patched in twenty minutes.

When your chickens got loose and took off into the Calhoun’s fescue he and his horse Banjo helped corral them back up and into the coop before they did too much damage to the crops.

And when he’d found you at the Tin Bucket last year, too many drinks deep after losing at the Fourth of July rodeo, he drove you home. Held your hair out of your face while you puked and cried and spilled your guts to him in a muddled mess and didn’t say anything after. Kept your secrets just that, secret.

“Still with me, Sawyer?”

Tyler’s voice cut into your thoughts and you blinked over at him from the other side of the truck bench.

“What?”

“You’re not here,” he chuckled, brows pinched with just the smallest bit of worry. “You’re somewhere else.”

“Oh,” you felt your cheeks grow hot and tossed your gaze out your window, “Just thinkin’ about Friday. Adeline Stout got a 13:20 last weekend, I gotta beat that to qualify for nationals.”

“Hm,” he hummed, thumbs tapping on the steering wheel, “Seems like you had it earlier.”

“Yeah, ’til you drove up.”

Tyler huffed a laugh under his breath and clicked his tongue, “Sorry. Should’a called first.”

Silence settled in the cab and the air between you buzzed, felt like static, charged and pulling taut with something loaded until the truck bumped over the curb of the parking lot and shattered it in an instant.

You couldn’t jump out of his rig fast enough and didn’t wait for him as you cut a path over the asphalt and into the dingy little diner, the bell overhead tinkling happily.

“Howdy, sugar!” Dot greeted you with her big, friendly smile, cowboy hats dangling from her earrings as she gave the man at the counter a refill on his coffee.

“Hey, Dot,” you couldn’t help smiling back, the bell on the door jingling again letting you know Tyler had finally caught up.

“Dottie, you are lookin’ fine as ever,” Tyler grinned, smooth like butter and the older woman chuckled, hand on her hip as she watched him pick out a booth.

“And you’re lucky I’m pushin’ seventy,” she teased back with a wink.

“Age is just a number!” Tyler played along and you rolled your eyes.

“We’ll take a couple iced teas, please,” you cut in, Dottie giving you a knowing smile and it made your cheeks flush again.

“And fries,” Tyler added, sliding into a booth by the window and you followed suit, sitting across from him on the glittering red plastic of the seat.

“You got it, hoss,” Dot nodded, hollering the order back over her shoulder to the kitchen and pouring two big glasses of her famous sweet iced tea.

Picking at the peeling vinyl table top, your knee bounced, a silent protest at having to be still for a minute.

You always made sure to keep yourself busy. To keep your mind from wandering off back home and everything that came with it, and sitting across from Tyler Owens at the quiet little diner while Dolly Parton sang overhead about working nine to five wasn’t doing you any favors.

“So,” Tyler started, dragging out the ‘o’ and lifting his brows at you, “How’re the girls?”

The girls. The chickens.

You deadpanned him and shook your head, propped your chin in your hand with your elbow on the table.

“They’re fine.”

“Good, good. And the Calhouns?”

“Also fine,” you shot him a look, a side-eye glance, but he only smiled.

“And did you get your boots worked in for Friday?”

“Tyler,” you firmed, turning finally to look at him straight on and his smile faded.

“What?”

“All this–this small talk and being chummy and whatever, it’s just–”

“Just what?” he asked, leaning forward on the table toward you and your heart stuttered in your chest.

“What’s your game?” you leveled, meeting his gaze despite the way he had your pulse fluttering against your neck and his lips curved up.

“No game. Just bein’ a good neighbor.”

You narrowed your eyes at him and leaned forward just a little more. “Thought you said you were good at chasin�� bullshit,” you pushed and he burned, a flush of red from the collar of his white t-shirt all the way up to his cheeks.

“Alright, two iced teas and some fries. You need anything else, peaches?” Dot cut right between the two of you with a couple of glasses and a red plastic basket piled high with shoestring french fries.

“Thank you, thank you,” Tyler recovered, thankful for the out and took the basket from Dot. “Think that’ll do it for now.”

“Mmhm,” Dot murmured, clicking her long pink nails on the table top. “You two be good.”

“Yes, ma’am,” fell out of Tyler’s mouth automatically as she left you it.

You picked up a bottle of ketchup and squeezed some into the corner of the basket, swirling a fry around in it and lifting it to your lips to take a bite. Maybe you should be nicer to Tyler, should give him a chance, the benefit of the doubt, but you weren’t about to be made a fool again. Weren’t ready to put your walls down yet even if he was mostly sweet and only a little sour – the fun kind – but maybe it wasn’t fair.

“Gonna be outta town on Tuesday,” Tyler started, looking over at you through the long sweep of his lashes, green eyes meeting yours across the table. “In case you punch a hole through your wall or something.”

“Ha, ha. Should do stand up.”

He grinned. “You wanna come with me?”

Your breath caught in your throat.

“With you?”

“Yeah, I gotta go pick up a case of rockets for our next video series.”

You scoffed, half-laugh half-nerves, but didn’t say no and his grin widened, eyes narrowed and almost closed with the way he was smiling so big.

“Pick you up at six,” he grabbed a bunch of fries and shoved them into his mouth, “Includes complimentary coffee.”

And something in you melted with the way he was looking at you. The way you could hear the tease in his tone softening and shifting more sincere and you cracked and finally gave him a real, honest-to-god smile.

“Fine,” you surrendered as he slapped a hand on the table and made you jump.

“Hell yeah,” he buzzed and you laughed, dropping your gaze to your lap so he couldn’t see you blushing.

“Keep your pants on,” you chided and the laugh that pushed from his lungs was hard enough to made his head tip back on the seat, but then you felt a buzz in your pocket.

You weren’t expecting a call.

Then Tyler’s buzzed on the table top.

And Dot’s from back behind the counter.

And the farmer’s at the booth behind you and when the siren sounded from down the street your stomach dropped.

“Shit,” Tyler breathed.

Jolting up from the table he pressed a hand to the window and looked out across the plains stretching out ahead of you. Cotton candy clouds turned dark and heavy, curling in on themselves and tinged in an eerie yellow and when he finally turned to look back at you, the feeling in your stomach twisted into something more ominous.

A storm was coming.

[ NOTE -> THIS IS PART 1 OF A 3 PART SERIES – STAY TUNED FOR THE LAST INSTALLMENT! ]

crappymixtape™ • tyler owens / twisters masterlist to come! ♥️ reblogs and comments keep me going, friends! ily! ♥️

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