#owen is face palming

[paracosm-draw]

Still howling at the fact that Obi-Wan named his eopie Akkani by the way

[girl-in-the-chairs-void]

May I say just Tyler pulling you close to him while you’re staying safe from a tornado hmmm

A lil protective moment with him is all I want 🫠🫠. Ask and you shall receive, my dear.

Pairing; Tyler Owen’s x reader

Word count; 1.2k (I got carried away just a little)

cw; tornadoes, rodeos, idk what else? FLUFFF AND a sprinkle of angst.

“Is this how they do it in Texas too?”

You looked up at the man beside you, his green eyes stilled on you. You were focusing on the rodeo he’d brought you to, men out on horses and bulls, taming the wild animals, riding their fears.

You looked back Tyler, he was still focused on you and not on the game. Heat rose to your cheeks, turning them into a red mess as you rubbed your hands nervously on the fat of your thighs. It was too hot to wear anything but jean shorts and a tank.

“Pretty much, not different from how they originally used to do back in the early days actually. But Texans have their pride.” You didn’t really have the accent to be taken as someone from Houston, but the badges- fabric patches with Velcro- you wore on your jeans at all times were evident enough of how proud you were to be from Texas.

The man chuckled, his eyes getting just a little smaller as crinkles formed around them, his cheeks lifting forming into a beautiful smile on his lips.

“Well ain’t that the right way to do it”

You both laughed, turning back to the rodeo. You tried to get a little bit comfortable in your seat, adjusting yourself before deciding to just sit a little bit straighter. Your hands reach for the arm rests, expecting the cold metal to make contact, but it never happens, instead your met with a warm, calloused palm of Tyler’s. He’s a little surprised at first, you both are, he slowly gathers the courage and weaves his hand through yours, helping you adjust.

You keep a hold of his hand, looking at him wide eyed and he’d say you look like a deer caught in headlights but that won’t do the justice to how beautiful your eyes look right now. The way sweat glistened on your body, your lips parted and slightly heavy breath of yours that fans his face. You’re mere inches away but it feels too far to him. He needs to feel you, feel those lips on his, caress your soft skin under his rough hands an-

A loud siren buzzes through the arena snapping the two of you out of it. A tornado siren. You felt the continuous buzz of the alert through your jeans, looking back at Tyler with the same look in your eyes.

We gotta get out of here.

And so, in a very calm yet hasty manner, you and Tyler take off. Calmly brushing past the crowd and scared civilians to get to his truck. It might not be enough to stay in there but you may have enough time to get somewhere safe.

Think think think, where is safe? And suddenly it hits you.

Your hands are still attached, his hand squeezing yours a little too tight when he feels like you might get swallowed by the rushing crowd.

“I got it!”

You finally get to his truck, quickly getting in and driving.

Tyler is scared, but the way a smile forms at your lips, he almost forgets you’re in the middle of fucking life and death.

“You got somewhere close?”

You nod, giving him the directions as he hits the gas on full. It’s an old bunker you found literally yesterday when you came out to explore the town. Trying to figure out places that could be safe for the people to evacuate to. It is small, enough to fit around two or three people and you hope it’s not jammed up for the two of you to seek shelter.

The tornado is not far behind. Gaining speed and strength as it chases the two of you. You’re not ready, this was not in the plan and you’re certain that today is not the day you’ll die. Not when you’ve just stared to get to know him.

Tyler strategically positions his car, activating the drills as the two of you exit, running towards the patch of metal in the middle of the farm field.

He gets to it first, letting go of your hand mid sprint to open it up for you. Letting you climb down before getting in, the metal trap door a little too heavy with the winds and rain for him to completely shut it. So he leaves it open, letting the cold rain pour down into the bullet as he reaches for you.

You’re holding onto the pipelines, not having it in you to move further because of the wind. You feel his hand on your waist, holding onto you for dear life as your grip on the pipes tightens. One hand holding onto you and the other onto the pipe right above you, Tyler grounds himself on the floor. His feet turned soon as he tried not to move. Your hand comes up to where his rests on your waist, clutching it tighter before he pulls you even closer, chest to back.

You can feel his heart pounding, like your own, against your back. You’re both heaving. Your heavy breathes turning into calmer ones as your eyes closed, trying to breathe in his scent, feeling the way his arm feels around you. Thinking about anything but the giant tornado above your head. The smell of him engulfs you and you find yourself thinking and wanting to feel is him, him, him, him.

It’s enough. The sheer skin to skin contact, the smell of your hair right under his nose, the feel of his hot breath on your neck. It sends shivers down both of your spines and in no time the sky clears and the wind and rain passes over. The tornado moved or completely died, you’re not sure.

But you’re sure about the man that is still latched to you. Holding onto for dear life. The way he’s nuzzling his nose into your hair, his lips brushing against your scalp and leaving tiny kisses you can barely make out.

“It’s gone” your voice is nothing but a whisper. You turn in his arms, his hand still attached to your waist as you look up at him through wet lashes.

He has this wild look in his eyes, concern, fear, and love all moulded into one. You feel them dart to your lips, and back to your eyes before his other hand comes up to brush some hair from your face.

“Thank you for that” he whispers, “if you hadn’t known about this place, I’d probably be dead”

You give him a smile, squeezing his arm before snaking your way out of his grasp.he reluctantly lets go of you, wanting to keep contact with your soft skin and that close proximity that kept you warm. But he lets you go, you’re shaken, just a little bit. This wasn’t your first tornado, but god it felt like you both were about to die there.

He helps you get back up, climbing up the ladder just behind you.

The walk back to the truck is quiet, you’re only half an arm length away from him but it feels too far.

He opened the door to the passenger seat, letting you in before getting into the drivers seat himself. Letting out a long breath he didn’t know he’d been holding in before deciding to break the silence.

“So, you know anymore rodeos that end like that?”

A/n; The ending feels rushed, idk? I hope you liked it!! Likes, reblogs and comments are appreciated, lovies🫶🏻🫶🏻.

[pasukiyo]

RIDE EM', COWGIRL

tyler owens x f!reader word count: 1,168 warnings: SMUT! tornado sex?, riding, masturbation (both m & f), very sloppy writing, i was just horny after watching twisters okay lol synopsis: it's like he always says, you don't face your fears, you ride em' cowgirl...

 “You take it so fuckin’ well, fuck!”

 Rain pounds against the windows of the truck along with quarter to ping pong sized hail but she rides Tyler faster, his cock pounding faster against her cervix than the little balls of ice that strike the steel of the truck. Her fingernails etch hooks into his shoulders, reminiscent of the hook echo in the supercell on the radar behind her. His palms knead at her hips, guiding her up and down his length, her walls clenching around him. 

 “It’s headin’ east!” Boone’s voice emits from the comms and her hips slow, but Tyler’s hands tighten around them, heaving her up and down his cock himself. Her eyes roll and her head lolls, a string of curses tumbling past her lips. 

 “Come on, baby, almost fuckin’ there,” he mutters beneath his breath like it’s sacred prayer, canting his hips towards hers, bringing her within inches of her end. 

 “Tyler, shit!” She gasps, sinking her nails further into his skin, deep enough to draw blood. “Slow down! I can’t… I can’t fucking take it…”

 He shakes his head, a low rumble thundering deep in his chest like a crack of lightning. “Yes you can, come on,” he groans. “You do so well, takin' my cock so damn good.”

 “Tyler, the hell you doing? We got a vortex on the ground at your six, so are we ridin’ this thing or not?” Boone’s voice sounds from the comms again and Tyler hisses, pressing the pads of his fingers down into the flesh of her waist, hips angrily thrusting up into her. 

 A sob wracks her body and she slumps against him when his hips finally still, his cock sitting dormant inside of her. Every muscle aches in her body and her core practically screams for more, feeling the blisteringly white hot bliss she felt mere moments ago begin to slip away. Perspiration drips in beads down the slides of her face onto his sweat-slicked skin and she lets her lids flutter closed, feeling Tyler’s chest heave up and down beneath her cheek. 

 Tyler huffs and reaches for the transceiver, bringing it up to his lips. “Yeah, we’re ridin’.”

 Her eyelids snap open as Tyler practically shoves her into the passenger seat and she hisses when the back of her head meets the window. “Tyler!” She exclaims as he buckles himself into his harness, gesturing for her to do the same. 

 “Harness on, baby,” he snickers. “This ain’t your first rodeo.”

 As her orgasm slips further away, she scrambles to sit upright in her seat, buckling herself into her harness as Tyler shifts the truck into drive. She hardly has time to get herself properly fastened before she’s being jostled about, slippery palm struggling to find its grip on the handle above her head. 

 The truck bobs up and down against the unsteady ground it drives on, her thighs instinctively closing together at the friction against her core. Tyler glances over when she does, feeling his dick twitch until it’s unbearable— he can’t not take it into his fist. 

 She turns her head almost as soon as he does, feeling her stomach do a somersault as he pumps himself in one hand, steering the truck with the other. 

 “Tyler, we’re driving straight into a fuckin’ tornado right now and you’re jerking yourself off?” She asks with a dent between her brow and he turns, grinning as he does it. 

 “‘If you feel it, chase it,’ amirite?” He says with a wink and she’d admit— it makes her clit throb. He side-eyes her sore, puffy clit before turning back to the mass of churning wind in front of them. “You should really take care of your situation down there. It’s good for the nerves.”

 Blood bites her cheeks as he steers them closer to the tornado and all she can do is stare as he pumps himself, her own hand itching to be between her legs. Tyler drives them into the twister and she can’t fight it anymore, one hand sliding over her clit, the other tightening around the handle above her head. 

 Tyler’s laugh thunders the small interior of the truck, even as rain and wind and hail pound against the top of the vehicle. He anchors the truck into the ground and fires off the rockets, tightening his fist around his cock, tugging angrily, damn near ferally. 

 Tyler’s a fucking animal, anyone could see that. But he’s a whole new breed when they’re alone, absolutely primal. 

 The pads of her fingers race back and forth over her nub, her legs shaking as she brings herself back towards that edge Tyler nearly pushed her over moments before. His name stumbles past her lips in a whimper and she feels his hand snake around her head, bringing her closer. 

 “Fuck, come here,” he growls against her lips before enveloping them with his, his tongue like a bull she struggles to stay atop. There’s a knot building at the pit of her belly that’s on the precipice of rupturing, closer and closer with every flick of her fingers against her clit. 

 “Gettin’ close?” He asks against her mouth and she mewls, nodding. He grins against her lips, “do it.”

 The wind pounds against the steel of the truck and the vehicle rocks as the vortex twirls around them. She used to think this was crazy, absolutely utterly insane and it is— but she’d be lying if she said it wasn’t equally exhilarating. She thinks risk is what she’s been missing all her life— and then she met Tyler. It seems risk has been her new normal ever since they started dating. 

 But this?

 This was unlike anything she’s ever done before. 

 When she finally felt herself tip over the edge and her orgasm wreaks havoc through her body, like a cyclone meeting the ground, carving a path into the earth in its wake. A loud string of curses tumble past Tyler’s lips as he, too, meets his end and they’re two identical supercells, spinning into one another until they become one. His mouth is a seal over hers, warm and wet when they meet. Her mind is numb with sex and all she can think to say is his name, chanting it over and over like it’s holy word. 

 The tornado dissipates around them and she can hear the crew cheer through the radios when Tyler finally pulls away, a thread of saliva a bridge between their lips. She falls limp against the back of her seat, the aftershocks of her release rattling her bones. 

 “You’re fuckin’ crazy, you know that, Owens?” She finally says once she’s come to and Tyler laughs beside her, caressing the side of her face with his knuckles. 

 “I always say, ‘you don’t face your fears, you ride em’, cowgirl,” He adds with a wink. Her eyes roll and she reaches for her panties he’d thrown in the backseat, pulling them up her legs. 

 “Jesus, you can’t get any cornier, can you?”

a/n; outing myself as an oklahoman (yes, i do in fact live in the sooner state unfortunately but maybe fortunately in this context lmfao) because the inner storm enthusiast inside of me is SCREAMING after watching twisters. please don't mind my sloppy ass writing here, i was just incredibly horny after watching it LMFAOOOOOO (this is also not proofread!)

🌪️ if you enjoyed, please consider reblogging or even leaving a reply to let me know! it means the world to me 🫶

[rhaenyratargcryen]

you're my shotgun lover and i want it all | tyler owens (twisters)

masterlist ❈

summary: Every once in a while, the two of you will get a little too drunk, stay until last call, sneak back to your motel room, and fuck. Nobody knows – at least you don’t think they do – and you never talk about it when you’re sober. Tyler will generally stay until you fall asleep, but he’s always gone when you get up the next day. Only once has he woken up in bed with you the next morning, and you’ve never made that mistake again. There isn’t a name for what you feel for him, you don’t think, and you can’t tell what he thinks of the arrangement. Clearly he likes it, or he wouldn’t be making eyes at you from across three people’s laps as you pull these peanuts from their shells. author's note: i...wrote this...in one.......single......afternoon. my fingers hurt anyway he's so hot i have had a crush on glen powell since 2018 (set it up supremacy) but this movie reawakened something in me. i should probably watch top gun now

pairing: tyler owens x f!reader word count: 9,123 (...oopsie) warnings/tags: pWp (with, y'all!), alternate universe: canon divergence, friends to lovers, friends with benefits

also cross-posted to ao3 okay love you bye xoxo your comments and reblogs are appreciated but not required i will love you all the same i hope u like !!!! <3

all characters are 18+ these are 18+ activities minors pls do not interact my eye is twitching as i write this 

It has been one hell of a week.

The tornadic activity has been off the charts – more storms built up under ideal conditions for weather hell-bent on destruction in a multiple-day stretch than you can remember ever tracking before. Your team had obviously been up for the chase, but now that the storms have passed, and the sun shines on the cleanup efforts, you can’t help but wish you’d chosen a different life path. You love what you do, but God, were you tired. Blisters have formed on the palms of your hands despite the gloves you’d donned. You could practically feel the knots forming in your neck. You shovel one more load of leaf litter before heaving the blade into the ground and leaning against it. Across from you, a backhoe is demolishing and excavating the remains of a house.

You close your eyes and try to just let the sun warm your face, thinking about how fast it can all just be gone. Mother Nature’s a beautiful force, but she can be cruel.

“Hey, don’t be slowin’ down on me,” Tyler jokes, clapping a hand between your shoulder blades. You hadn’t heard him approach, and his voice has startled you, pulling you from your thoughts. “We’re ‘bout halfway done with our part, I think.”

“No,” you reply, swiping the back of your arm across your forehead, trying in vain to clear your bangs from your eyes, but they won’t budge. Tyler reaches up and, almost as if he isn’t even thinking about it, takes the unruly pieces of hair between his thumb and forefinger and tucks it behind your ear, underneath the temple of your sunglasses, to make sure it stays this time. The action is so intimate it sends a flush crawling up your neck. You chance a look around to make sure no one else has seen. “Not slowin’ down, I promise. Just thinking about how lucky we are to be alive. How sad it is that all these people just lost everything.”

You’ve known Tyler since the two of you were in college together, fast friends who’d stuck together through a lot that could've put a strain on any other relationship, although you hadn’t studied meteorology – you’d been in school to be a librarian. 

One night, he’d asked you to stay up and help him with a lab he’d missed for one of his classes, and he loves to say he knew it then – that you were hooked – but you were too far along in your degree to do anything about it now. Switching from an arts degree to one in STEM? You’d have had to start over from scratch. 

Tyler had formed his team while you were in grad school and he was working as a cowboy for the rodeo back home, and you’d dropped out without a second thought when he asked you to be a founding member, to travel the country with him every tornado season. Said he wouldn’t – couldn’t – think about doing it without you. You’ve been riding with him ever since.

The two of you share everything, always have, and sometimes you wonder if it might be too much for the professional relationship you’re supposed to have.

“That’s what we’re here for,” Tyler grins, the hand still glued to your back rubbing gently, sending goosebumps across your skin under your shirt. “To help ‘em feel like their luck is turnin’.”

Always the optimist, Tyler Owens. He clears his throat, the hand on your back pulling away, and steps slightly closer to you.

“One of the folks over there gave these to me,” he says, gesturing to a group of people gathering in front of a house that looks like something had tried to suck it into the ground from dead center. “I saved their cat from their screened-in porch, poor thing had been yowling all night apparently. Know these’re your favorite, so, here you go. I think you earned it.”

You take the tin from him and open it, your mouth instantly watering at the sight of the small, round butter cookies inside. “God,” you groan, picking one up and taking a bite, savoring it over your tongue. You can feel Tyler watching you carefully. “Thank you. You get me.”

“Do we get cookies, Tyler?”

Lily’s voice sounds from your left, and you glance over at her. The shit-eating look on her face tells you she did see Tyler fix your hair for you. Your stomach somersaults.

“If you’re good,” Tyler says, smirking, “after the sun sets, we can head back to the motel, find some shitty bar, and drinks’ll be on me, okay? How’s that sound?”

Lily whoops, turning to Dani, who’d since appeared beside her, and the two snicker and fist bump. 

“You need any help over here?”

You look back at Tyler, cupping one hand above your eyes to shield them from the sunlight. Despite your glasses, it shines bright from directly behind him, and you can hardly stand to look at him. 

“Yeah, I’m good,” you murmur in reply, bending down to toss some siding that had been blown off one of the houses on this street into the wheelbarrow you’ve been using. “You should go see what Boone’s up to – I don’t think anyone has seen him in a minute.”

No doubt Boone was hiding somewhere with one of the breakfast burritos Lily and Dani have been rolling since early that morning, seeing how long he can get away with not doing his part. He’s a good guy, but the manual labor side of the job isn’t really his thing.

“Eh, he’s better off wherever he is,” Tyler laughs, and a small smile takes over your face, too. “Hey, you sure you’re okay? You don’t need a break? You can take a minute to yourself, no one’ll judge. I know how this can all get to you a little more than it gets to everyone else.”

You know him well enough to know he’s not calling you weak-stomached, that he’s genuinely concerned for how you feel, but he’s right. It does all get to you. Settling in to help survivors of these natural disasters is just something that comes with the chasing – there isn’t one without the other for you and the rest of the crew. You nod, glancing back up at him. 

“I’m okay, Tyler. Go off and be the face of the operation – you don’t have to worry about me.”

Tyler’s eyes narrow, his gaze shifting between your eyes, trying to find evidence you’re withholding the truth from him, but he seems to find nothing. With a minute tip of his head, he turns to resume working through a long-term plan for rebuilding the town with the mayor and some other members of the local government. 

This is something else you know he loves to do – shmooze with higher-ups, show off his people skills. Not only are they higher-ups, they’re small-town folk. His kind of people. He knows how to get through to them, how to get them to trust him. You love that about Tyler. He’s never condescending – he always has a genuine desire to help. He’s been through this hundreds of times, and these people may only have been through it this one time. You look around at them, at the people of all ages picking up the pieces that remain of their community, then cross your fingers and send a thought out to anyone listening:

Please let it be the only time.

After a few more hours of genuinely back-breaking work, you hear Tyler’s sharp whistle and know it’s time, meandering over to his truck where it’s been parked for almost eighteen hours. Using your teeth, you pull your gloves from your hands and hiss. They’ve been rubbed raw, the skin blistering where each finger meets the palm. You try to ignore the throbbing sensation, leaning against the passenger side door and closing your eyes. The rest of the crew sidle up to you, taking long drags from water bottles and cigarettes and trying to make peace with how you’re leaving this place tonight.

“Does anyone else want to break off to shower first?”

It seems Dani’s the only one, and they shrug, putting their hand out, palm up, to Dexter, who hands them the keys to the RV.

“Meet y’all there,” they say, stifling a yawn, and you know it’ll be a bit before you see them. The rest of you will have to pile into Tyler’s truck, and before you can object, the other three crawl into the back seat and leave you on the front bench with Tyler. You let yourself in and close the door behind you, buckling and watching as Tyler shakes someone’s hand and hustles to meet the rest of you. His Texans cap hits the bench before he does, between the two of you, and he turns his keys in the ignition, buckling his own seatbelt.

“Where we headin’?”

“There’s a place with a mechanical bull nearby. I vote there.”

“How nearby is ‘nearby,’ Boone?”

“Uh,” he pulls his phone from his pocket, does a quick Google to double-check. “Forty-five minutes?”

Dexter leans over and grips Boone’s phone, reading the screen. “In the opposite direction of the motel, Boone.”

Everyone groans, objecting, and you press your hand against your temple to alleviate the pressure there. The noise, God, the noise.

“Could we go somewhere closer to the motel, maybe?”

“It’s got a mechanical bull,” Boone stresses, and everyone rolls their eyes.

“Boone, you know damn well we’re not making it back to the motel if we go that far away.”

He groans, and you pull your own phone out, checking Maps to see what’s around the motel.

“This one’s three minutes from where we’re stayin’,” you say, showing Tyler your screen, and he nods, shifting into reverse, backing out, and starting down the one lane of the street that’s been cleared of debris. 

“Hey Boone,” you toss over your shoulder as Tyler shifts into second gear. “By the way. Long time no see.”

Lily snorts, smacking you on the shoulder to let you know she thought that was a good one. Boone shakes his head. 

“Hey, just because you didn’t see me all day doesn’t mean I wasn’t out there, too. How do I know you were workin’, weren’t sitting on your ass in the shade somewhere, hm?”

You hold your raw, red palms out for him to inspect and that shuts Boone up quick. Tyler whistles as he gets an eyeful of your skin.

“God damn, girl,” Lily murmurs. “That looks like it hurts. I think I might have Aquaphor in my bag back at the motel if you want some.”

“I’ll be alright,” you reply, knocking your elbow against her knee behind you in thanks. “Appreciate you.”

The rest of the drive is taken mostly in silence, everyone in the backseat trying to rest their eyes, but you stay up, your eyes on the road, so Tyler isn’t the only one making the thirty-ish minute drive back to where you’re staying, where you checked in only after it’d been decided which towns had been hit the worst, so you could reach all of them easily by truck.

“What’s goin’ on in your head? Hm?”

You turn to look at Tyler and he glances at you from out of the corner of his eye, then at your lap, at the fingernails you’ve picked down to the quick. “Real quiet over there.”

“Nothing,” you reply, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Don’t let Boone get to you,” Tyler says, tapping his right fist on your thigh once, twice, then letting it rest there. You brush your knuckles against his and he opens the fist immediately, taking your hand in his but not squeezing, careful not to put pressure on the blisters on your palms.

“It’s not that,” you start, then realize your mistake, your admission. “I really – I think I’m just tired. It’s been a long week.”

You’re acutely aware of your hand in Tyler’s. It’s not like you’ve ever been shy around him – your cheeks flush at the thought – but this is…different. Sweet. More.

“Yeah, that it has,” he sighs, adjusting his left hand on the steering wheel so he can drive a little more comfortably, but his right hand stays in yours. 

You settle back into silence, Tyler seemingly having dropped the subject, and your eyes return to the road, but you feel him looking over at you, checking on you, every once in a while. You try your hardest not to meet his gaze. 

Soon enough, Tyler is putting the truck in park, then shutting the thing off. The noise – or lack thereof, you guess – wakes Dexter in the back, then Lily, who snorts when she sees your hand in Tyler’s. You pull away and unbuckle your seatbelt, watching as Tyler, with a hurt look on his face, wipes his hand on his jeans and swings himself down and out of the truck.

“C’mon, Boone,” he shouts, slapping a hand on the door that Boone has his head resting against, and the man sits up straight, wiping sleep from his eyes. “The sun hasn’t even gone down yet. Drinks on me, pal!”

The motel really is that close to the bar, so you all decide you’ll leave the truck parked there and walk home at the end of the night. The unspoken verdict is that you will all be getting shitfaced tonight.

The lingering smell of cigarettes in the air seems to rejuvenate everyone and Lily pumps a fist when she spots the old-fashioned jukebox across the room, then claps a hand over her mouth when she realizes there’s a TouchTunes sitting right next to it.

“Oh, I am so forcing you fuckers to listen to Chappell Roan all night,” she says gleefully, and you laugh along with her, looping your arm in hers and letting her pull you across the room while the boys settle in at the bar.

“So what was that all about?”

“What was what all about?” You play dumb, shrugging when Lily gives you a hard look and unhooks her arm from yours.

“Girl, seriously,” Lily scoffs, bumping your hip with hers and slipping a twenty dollar bill into the TouchTunes. Evidently she wasn’t joking when she meant you’d be listening to Chappell Roan all night. “I saw that thing earlier, the hair thing, don’t think I didn’t. And y’all holding hands in the truck. What’s going on there?”

You shake your head but she grabs your wrist. “I’m serious, Lil. Nothing’s going on. We’re friends – good friends. He noticed I was having a hard time today, and wanted to make sure I was alright. That’s all.”

You can tell she doesn’t fully believe you, and when she opens her mouth to object, you cut her off.

“I’m gonna run to the bathroom, okay?”

Lily watches you, trying to read the small line between your eyebrows, but eventually she nods and lets go of you, letting you turn away from her. You push through the door to the women’s restroom, your nose wrinkling at the smell, but you ignore it. Standing in front of the sink, you watch yourself, hands shaking. This isn’t you. You’re better than this at shoving these feelings for Tyler down, way down – or, rather, you had been, up until this week broke you, apparently. Turning the knob for the cold water to the left, you let it run over your sore hands, hissing at the feeling. Carefully, you cup your palms and watch them fill, then splash the water onto your face, soothing the flush. There. That should help.

There’s a cold bottle of Coors in front of the seat next to Dexter when you arrive back to the group, “Red Wine Supernova” playing from the speakers. You almost snort at all the old men – regulars, no doubt – groaning out their distaste for whoever chose the music all across the room.

“Thanks,” you toss over your shoulder at Tyler, sitting on the other side of Dexter and Boone. He nods and nurses his own. You frown and settle onto the stool, leaning an elbow on the bartop so you can turn and face your friends. The cold beer against the palms of your hands feels so nice.

What’s wrong with him? He won’t make eye contact with you, and you notice his jaw clicking as he grits his teeth. What’s got his panties in a twist?

As the night unfolds, you find yourself laughing more and more, loosening up, letting the stress of the last week fade into memory. Someone has produced a deck of cards from God knows where and Dani – who did join the group eventually – is showing off card tricks you didn’t even know they knew. You feel a warmth spreading through your body, and you can’t stop thinking about how much you love all of these people. Your friends. Your family. Empty bottles are swiftly replaced with full, cold ones without notice, and everyone is languid, relaxed, unburdened by the work that you’re all doing.

You take a pull from your drink, using the cover of the bottle to risk a glance to Tyler three seats down from you to find that he’s already watching you, and the look in his eye tells you exactly what he’s thinking. That somersault-y feeling is lower than your stomach now. You’re only three beers deep, but the air in your head reminds you that you’ve barely eaten all day, so you’re a little more affected by the alcohol than you’d usually be. Impolitely, you reach across Dexter next to you to grab a handful of peanuts from the basket to his left.

Glancing back up at Tyler, you meet his heady gaze again, and he smirks around the lip of the bottle against his mouth. He knows he’s got you right where he wants you. You swallow nervously around another sip of beer.

Every once in a while, the two of you will get a little too drunk, stay until last call, sneak back to your motel room, and fuck. Nobody knows – at least you don’t think they do – and you never talk about it when you’re sober. Tyler will generally stay until you fall asleep, but he’s always gone when you get up the next day. Only once has he woken up in bed with you the next morning, and you’ve never made that mistake again. There isn’t a name for what you feel for him, you don’t think, and you can’t tell what he thinks of the arrangement. Clearly he likes it, or he wouldn’t be making eyes at you from across three people’s laps as you pull these peanuts from their shells.

“Alright, y’all,” Lily says, slapping a hand on the bar, startling you out of your thoughts. You watch her, popping a nut into your mouth. “Think I’m gonna head out. I suggest you all do, too, fuckers, it’s late.”

Everyone starts to protest, but one glance at the clock tells you you’ve all stayed much longer than you thought – it’s a quarter past midnight, and you’ve got to be up with the daylight. You balk, but if you want to talk to Tyler tonight, you know you’ve got to shoulder your exhaustion and stick it out a little longer.

“I think I might stay for a bit,” you murmur, watching everyone stand and gather their things. You glance over at Tyler, who you can see clearly now that everyone’s out of their seats, and he’s watching you, too. The look on his face reads plain, now – he wants you.

“I’ll stay with her,” he says, eyes on yours. The green in them has disappeared almost completely, you notice, his pupils blown wide. “Walk her back. Y’all head back if you want.”

“I might stay, too –” Boone’s voice cuts off, coughing as Lily elbows him in the stomach, maybe a little too hard. “What the fuck was that for?”

“You’re going to bed, too, Boone,” Dani interrupts, a hand on his shoulder, guiding him towards the door. They poke him once when he starts to protest. “C’mon, now.”

Everyone shuffles out the front, Dexter calling good night, and all of the sudden, it’s just you and Tyler. You don’t know why, but your palms begin to sweat at the thought of being alone with him again. He stands, palming his drink, and slides onto the seat next to you, his body angled towards yours.

He’s never made you nervous like this. You don’t know what the fuck is wrong with you.

“So,” Tyler starts, grinning at you. “You come here often?”

You snort, emboldened by the booze, and he chuckles in response. “Idiot.”

“God, but I do love making you laugh.”

You blush under his scrutinous gaze, and take a quick swig of the dregs of your drink, unsure what to say to that. He mirrors you, taking a sip of his own while his eyes bore into yours. Accusatory.

“You don’t do it much anymore, you know that?”

“Do what?”

“Laugh.”

You press your fingertips to your mouth and Tyler’s eyes follow your hand. “I guess I just haven’t had much to laugh about lately,” you start, sighing deeply. “Tornado season’s been hard this year, and you know how much that – it gets to me. As much as I love what we do. You know. Remember that family a couple weeks back whose daughter was stuck under her bunk bed when it pressed on her too long, lost her leg below the knee? That got to me, Tyler. It did.”

“It gets to me, too,” he murmurs, knocking his knee against yours. “I guess I’m just better at hiding how bad it affects me. You can talk to me about it, though. You can talk to any of us.”

“I know I can,” you breathe, trying to keep your hands from shaking. “I know. Sometimes I don’t know what to say, though, you know, what is there to say? It’s not fair to complain about how sad it makes me to watch these people lose everything.”

“You’re allowed to feel sad. And to feel frustrated. It’s not fair, you’re right, but we’re doing good work, yeah? Fighting the good fight. Figuring out what makes these things tick, how to warn people when they’re in the path, get them outta the way and safe. Maybe they lose their house, their car, but they won’t lose themselves, or each other. That’s what matters most. Just remember that.”

You look up at him, set your elbow on the bartop, and prop your chin on your open palm. Your hands don’t hurt so bad anymore, you notice. “Thanks, Tyler.”

“Anytime,” he smiles, but you shake your head. 

“Seriously. You always know what to say.”

A look crosses his face then, too quick for you to read, and he sets his drink down, flagging the bartender over to close out the team’s tab. You frown, wondering if you’d, ironically, said the wrong thing.

“What’s up?”

Tyler looks back to you, and this time, the look in his eyes is unmistakable. It burns. “Taking you home, sweetheart.”

The walk back to your motel is done in silence. Tyler’s hand swings next to yours, and you feel it searching for yours more than once, but you don’t take it. You climb the stairs together, slowly, and he walks you to your door. His room is one more floor up.

You can tell he thinks you won’t invite him in, that you’ve changed your mind – or maybe that you never made it up. He hadn’t, after all, told you plainly that that was why he’d stayed with you at the bar. You unlock the room with your key card and step inside, opening the door only far enough for you to fit through it. You turn back to look at him, his face awash in the street lights shining into the hallway. You flip the lightswitch on next to you, illuminating the room behind you, too.

“Well,” he murmurs, making to head back down the stairs. “Good night.”

“Tyler?”

His head turns back to look at you, watching as you hold out one hand and he takes it, letting you pull him closer to you. You press yourself into him, push your whole face against his chest, your hip keeping the door from closing on the two of you. You inhale deeply, the smell of him overtaking your senses. His cologne, yes, but underneath that, the smell of dirt, earth. Home.

You feel his arms wrap around your back and you turn your head to the side, press your ear to his heartbeat. Your hands come up to scratch down his back and you feel it when he shudders.

“Stay?”

You hear his breath hitch in his chest, then the deep rumble of his voice as he says, “Alright, baby.”

With a short inhale, your eyes flutter, nearly closing at the term of endearment. You step back, pulling him with you, and as you close the door behind you, he pushes one hand up into your hair and pulls your head toward his.

“I, uh,” you whisper against his lips when they get close enough to yours, “I think I might shower first, if that’s okay with you?”

“Alright,” he murmurs, unlacing his hand from the strands of your hair before toeing his boots off and carefully setting them under the chair next to the front door. “You want company?”

You swallow. You’ve never done anything like that before. It’s always been quick. When you do this with him, you hardly ever have time for a chat before he’s got your shirt over your head and his mouth on your skin.

“Sure,” you reply. You feel him watch as you turn around and pull your shirt off, reaching back to unclasp your bra. The modesty feels redundant, but you can’t help it.

“Not gettin’ shy on me now, are you? S’not like I haven’t seen you naked before,” he chuckles, and you throw a look at him over your shoulder just as he’s pulling his own shirt over his head. He left his hat at the bar, you think. You’ll have to go back in for it when you pick up the truck.

“Tyler,” you scold, and he laughs at you, steps across the room to wrap an arm around your torso and press a kiss to where your neck meets your shoulder. The place he knows makes you melt. You sigh and push back against him, the feeling of his hard chest against your bare back a welcome one. This feels more like what you know, what you’re used to.

“Shower,” you remind him, and he nods, his forehead pressed into that spot now, and he pushes his fingers underneath the waistband of your jeans, running them along the bit of skin there around to the front, where the fabric splits at the button. He pops it undone, then uses his thumb and forefinger to grip the zipper and slowly – so slowly – pulls that down. He can’t help himself, you know that, and so you hold your breath and wait for him to push his hand into your panties. Ever a predictable man, he does just that, and you gasp at the feeling of his warm hand against you.

“Are you sure?” Tyler’s breath against your neck makes you shiver, and you press your ear to the side of his chin. He runs his fingers along the seam of you, finding first your clit, your legs twitching at the sudden rush of pleasure when he brushes his hand against it, then pushing down to find you wet and wanting. You cry out softly. “You don’t sound sure. You don’t feel sure.”

You hum, your neck stretching back until your head is pressed to his chest, and he pulls his hand back up to start working small circles on your clit, your wetness on his fingers allowing for smooth movement, with just enough friction to have you panting for more. 

“Sounds more to me like you kinda want me to fuck you with my fingers.”

“Tyler,” you whimper, telling him with just his name that you are getting close. He smiles against the side of your neck, pulling his hand away and shoving your jeans and underwear down just enough that his hand has room to smack your clit lightly. You squeal, right leg kicking out at the feeling, and he continues moving his hand in circles to soothe the hurt.

Your breath is coming out of you in short huffs, and before you can come, Tyler takes his hand off of you and wraps it around your stomach to join the other. You pant and whine, rubbing your thighs together to chase the feeling he’d had you practically pressed up against, now ebbing with the loss of his fingers.

“You said you wanted to shower,” he whispers in your ear, pulling your panties back up, and you scowl, pushing away from him. He laughs and holds his hands up in defense as you pick your t-shirt up off your bed and crack it at him like a whip. “Let’s shower, baby.”

“I might kick you out right now, Owens,” you snark, but the small smile on your face gives you away, and Tyler unbuttons his own jeans, leaving them in a pile on the floor at the end of the bed. Your jeans join his, and you’re both left in your underwear.

“You wouldn’t,” he replies, pulling his briefs off slowly, biting his bottom lip as you watch him. “You like this cock too much.”

You can’t help laughing at him, but the sight of him bare in front of you does have you biting your lip. You step forward to cup his growing length in your hand. Before you can move it, Tyler puts a hand on your wrist.

“How’s your hand?” He makes to pull it away, presumably to turn it over and appraise your blisters, but you shake your head.

“S’fine,” you whisper, tightening your grip. You tug once, twice, and press a kiss to his bare chest, then tip your head back to search out his lips. He leans down to oblige you, his lips parting against your mouth as you twist your fist. You love these moments you share with him, when you’re both bare, physically, emotionally, away from the real world, and you can pretend this is an everyday thing. When you’re not trying to tell yourself you feel nothing for him. Like this is just how it is between you.

Tyler groans when you pull your hand away from him and you click your tongue, press that same hand against his bicep.

“Doesn’t feel so good, now does it?”

Before you even know what’s happening, Tyler is picking you up, one arm underneath your back and the other around the backs of your knees. You look up at his face and laugh. “Put me down, Owens!”

He grins and carries you the few paces into the bathroom, placing you on your feet in front of the tub. Tyler leans down and pushes his thumbs underneath the waistband of your panties, waiting for you to put your hands on his shoulders and step out of them.

He lets you pull away from him to turn the hot water on, adjusting the cold side until the temperature is perfect, before pulling you against his chest once again. This time, you can feel his hard cock pressed against your backside, and you hum appraisingly. You reach behind you to fist him again, but he shakes his head – you feel his chin brush against the top of your head – and he groans out, “Mm-mm.”

“What?”

“We’re gonna shower, baby, c’mon.”

You glance back towards him and watch as he flicks the overhead light on. “So we don’t slip and die,” he says, and you laugh, pushing the shower curtain to the side. Holding Tyler’s hand, you step over the lip of the tub and under the steady stream of warm water, inhaling deeply when it hits the sore muscles in your shoulders and back. Tyler groans at the feeling, too, when he steps in behind you.

“Here, switch with me,” he murmurs, guiding you by your waist until you’re the one underneath the water. You let it fall onto the top of your head, over your face and down the back of your hair, for a moment, eyes closed, relishing the feeling. Tyler reaches both hands up and brushes the water out of your eyes, runs his hand over the top of your head. 

“Shampoo?”

You open one eye, the other shut against the water, and nod. You gaze up at him, heart squeezing at the way he’s watching you. His smile widens and he takes the tiny bottle in his hand – it looks even more comically small now – and dumps the product into his other palm, setting the bottle down onto the edge of the tub and rubbing his hands together.

“Turn around.”

You do as he asks, inhaling sharply through your nose when you feel his hands run through the hair at the crown of your head. Your stomach aches with longing as you register how unnaturally intimate this is. His fingers feel so good against your scalp, which is slightly sunburnt, you’re now realizing. He massages the shampoo further into your hair, running his fingers down the back of your neck and across the tops of your shoulders. When he’s satisfied with his shampoo job, he steers you by your arms to face him again, then carefully helps you tilt your head back and rinses it all from your hair.

You watch him pick up the other small bottle from the shelf, warm water still running down the back of your head. 

“I’ll do my conditioner,” you murmur, taking the bottle gently from his hands. “It’s a – it’s a science.”

“I am very good at science, if you can recall.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “It’s something I’ve gotten perfectly right. It’ll take just a sec.”

So you work the conditioner through the ends of your hair, avoiding his gaze as he watches your hands first coat your hair in the product, then rinse it out. He reaches forward to run his own fingers across it, as gently as he can.

“Hm,” he makes the noise in the back of his throat, pulling his hand away. “Soft.”

You can hardly look at him, the twisting feeling in your stomach shifting to something warmer, something further from apprehension, something that feels a lot like want. “You?”

Tyler shakes his head. “I’m good. Here,” he says, rubbing his hands across the plane of your upper back. “You’re tense. You worked hard today. Let me help.”

You weren’t going to protest, but before you can, Tyler guides you forward and out of the direct spray of the shower, then presses his thumbs into your muscle. You groan, your head falling forward onto his chest at the feeling, and he chuckles at you, continuing with his hands. “Feel good?”

“So good,” you whimper, and you feel his cock twitch against your stomach.

“You fucking dog,” you joke, and Tyler laughs against you, pushing your hair off the back of your neck and pressing his thumbs in there, too.

“Hey, what can I say? I like making my girl feel good.”

You freeze. His girl? His girl. He hasn’t noticed your reaction, and he keeps pressing his fingers into your sore muscles, pulling one hand away briefly to push the showerhead down and away from the two of you. You glance up, already missing its warmth, but you find that the steam rising around you is doing a good enough job at that.

“Here, baby,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your forehead and guiding you to press your hands against the tiled wall to your left, running his hands down your back.

“What are you –”

Before you can finish the thought, you feel Tyler’s fingers parting the seam of your cunt from – from behind, and you groan at the feeling of his middle finger slipping inside of you.

“That’s it, sweetheart,” he groans, his knees hitting the floor behind you. You toss a glance at him over your shoulder and your own knees nearly buckle at the way he’s looking up at you – with hunger, and with reverence, and with something else entirely unrecognizable. He looks wild. He looks in love.

One of Tyler’s hands clamps down around your hips and he leans forward, pressing a kiss to the back of your thigh as his finger starts to shift in and out of you. You shiver and push your face into the cool tile, groaning softly when he finds that rough bit of flesh inside of you, the one that makes you come undone if he works it long enough.

“Yeah?” Tyler sounds fucked out already, his voice breathy against your skin, and you can picture the look on his face, the concentrated expression he gets when he’s trying to make you come. You try to focus on the feeling of the shower’s spray where it hits the edge of your foot rather than how good his finger feels inside you because if you think too closely about how good it feels, you’ll get lightheaded. And nobody wants that.

“Yeah,” you reply weakly, and for a few minutes it’s just like that, the only sound in the bathroom the shower, your panting moans, and the noise your pussy makes as he pulls his finger in and out.

“Sound so good for me, baby,” he says, pressing a kiss to the back of your thigh again, and you whine, trying to protest when he slips his finger from you. He laughs deep in his chest and lightly smacks the swell of your ass.

“Don’t complain when I’m doin’ somethin’ nice for you,” he jok, and you can feel then that he’s shifting himself around. You want to look over your shoulder, want to see for yourself what he’s doing, but freeze when you feel his palms cupping your ass, his nose pressing against the inside of your thighs.

Your mouth forms the word oh, but no sound comes out until you feel his mouth press against your cunt, tongue pushing inside of you, and then you cry out, chest heaving, when he presses a sloppy, wet kiss to your clit. You pull your face from where it’s still resting against the tile and look down at Tyler to find he’s already looking right up at you. His grip on your ass tightens when you make eye contact with him, and he spreads you open wider for him, eyes narrowing as his tongue flicks again, and again, and again.

“That’s it, sweetheart,” he moans against you, the vibrations causing your legs to twitch. You already thought you were going to burst, the steam from the shower, the way he’d washed your hair, the fact that he was in your room at all – it all made you feel slightly insane. To add insult to injury, he’s just pushed two fingers inside of you and immediately found the spot that takes you out, and you start to shake a little.

“Tyler,” you whine, pushing one hand down to grip his hair. He groans when you tighten your hold on it, fucking into you a little faster. “Tyler, fuck, gonna come.”

“So come, baby,” comes his reply, and you do, you come so hard that the toes on your right foot curl until you’re on tiptoe and Tyler has to reach up and grip your waist to steady you. You feel it crest, and peak, then subside, but he keeps working you through it, his mouth moving against you still, and a second, smaller – though still good – orgasm wracks your body right after the first.

You breathe through it, push your foot down so you’re standing flat on the surface of the tub again, and wait for Tyler to pull his fingers out of you. 

“Baby,” Tyler groans, squeezing your hips, his fingernails biting slightly into your skin. “You gotta let go’a me, if you want me to get up.”

His voice, fuck, his voice, you think, releasing your grip on his hair and turning to watch him rise from his knees, the tile cold against your back. You surge forward to kiss him square on the mouth and he catches you, smiles against you when you part your lips to taste yourself on his tongue.

“Was that good?”

“Yeah,” you breathe, pressing one, two, three more quick kisses to his mouth, before he reaches behind you to turn off the water. “So fucking good.”

Neither of you bother with a towel, instead opting to stumble toward the queen bed in the middle of the room and climb right underneath the covers.

“Hi,” you whisper when you’re settled in, the duvet pulled up under your chin. Your eyes rove over his face, then glance over to the alarm clock behind him. 1:56 in the morning. “You still wanna fuck?”

Tyler snorts, reaching over to poke you in the side, gripping the skin there until you start to laugh. “You still wanna fuck?”

“Yeah,” you reply, grinning, when you catch your breath. “Wanna?”

He’s quiet for a second, watching the duvet rise and fall with each breath you take, before he peels it off of you, using his elbow to push himself up until he’s leaning over you. There’s a rosy flush on your chest, your breasts heaving and it’s all he can do not to lean down and take one of your nipples in his mouth, the one closest to him. Instead, he runs the back of his other hand across your chest, catching against the hard peak, and watches your breath stick to the inside of your throat. You feel yourself subconsciously leaning toward him as his face comes toward you. You want him to kiss you, but instead, he angles his mouth to kiss the skin below your chin.

“You’re so beautiful,” he breathes against your neck, pressing his open mouth to you there, and you gasp at the feeling – of his mouth against you, and of his praise. It all feels so nice. He just made you come in the shower, and now he’s going to make you come in this bed, hopefully more than once. 

You wrap your hands around his back and pull him toward you, watch as he settles in between your thighs. You can feel his thick cock, heavy, insistent, where it presses against you, and you want to take him into your hands, but he has other plans. 

With one hand pressed into the pillow on either side of your head, Tyler uses his knees to knock your legs out further, sitting back against his heels when he’s satisfied. He wraps his big hands around your thighs and pulls you closer, smiling down at you. “You’re so beautiful.”

You blush when he repeats himself, suddenly feeling very bare. He’s just as naked as you are, but you can’t help but feel like he’s seen your whole hand, meanwhile you hardly have any idea what cards he might hold. In the dim light from the lamp beside your head, you notice that you can see the green of his irises again. It seems like the shower sobered the two of you up very quickly.

His gaze locked on yours, Tyler takes himself into his hand, groaning at the pressure of his grip after neglecting his own want for so long, but he suddenly curses, pausing just as he’s about to press inside of you.

“What?”

“I don’t have a condom,” he breathes, sitting back again. He runs one hand through his hair, visibly weighing the options.

“It’s okay, Tyler,” you murmur, leaning up onto your elbows. “It’s okay. I have an IUD, and I got screened after the last time I was with someone. I’m good. I’m good if you’re good.”

Tyler heaves a heavy sigh, running his hands up your thighs. “You’re sure? I’m clean, too, cross my heart. But only if you’re sure.”

You nod. “My head is clear. I think I shook off my drunk an orgasm or two ago.”

A grin crosses his face, and you roll your eyes at him before he even opens his mouth. Two? he mouths, then whistles lowly. You smack his stomach, and he grabs your wrist in his hand, lightning quick, pressing a kiss to the pulse point there. Your jaw falls slack, and you go all soft and pliant, letting him pin your hands above your head. His body comes down over yours, and his mouth presses to your cheek, then your forehead, and when your eyes flutter shut, the ghost of a kiss crosses them, too.

“I’m gonna fuck you so good,” he murmurs, and normally if a man were to say that to you, you would immediately regret letting him into your bed. But for some reason, when Tyler says it, it sends that familiar warmth spiraling down into your gut. You know he means it.

Slowly – too slowly – he guides himself back to your entrance, shifting his hips so they’re resting comfortably against yours, and he presses himself inside of you. You hiss; the girth of him, although a welcome stretch, is also a bit of an uncomfortable one. He leans down to kiss you, working you through it with a thumb pressing circles into your clit, sliding himself in bit by bit until he’s fully seated. 

A groan pushes out of him when you clench around him, testing the waters.

“Careful,” he murmurs, easing his hips back. “I’d like it if this lasted longer than ten seconds, please.”

You laugh against the side of his head, pull your hands down from where he’d left them above you and wrap yourself around his shoulders, pulling him flush against you. Tyler grips your thighs and starts to work himself in and out of you, carefully, gently, but you squeeze his waist with your knees. Encouraging him. Asking him to pick it up. You can handle it.

His hips start to pull back and snap against yours quicker and quicker, Tyler panting in your ear, lifting up onto his palms and pushing himself off of you. He sits up onto his knees and tilts your hips up for a different angle, one that sets sparks dancing in front of your eyes. You groan, head tossed back, and dig your nails into his thighs as his pace picks up.

“Fuck, yeah, that it, baby? I can feel you – fuck, feel you squeezin’ me.”

You hardly have a voice with the rate he’s slipping in and out of you, barely enough to squeak out, “Fuck,” before your cunt has him in a vice grip, working through another orgasm.

“Ohhh, that’s it, huh, that’s it.” His mouth is going a mile a minute, neither of you really paying much attention to anything he’s actually saying. You’re both focused on his own mounting orgasm – you don’t feel like your body is capable of much more than that – and you weakly clamp down around him once more. His eyes squeeze shut, his hips stutter, and he grits out, “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck fuck,” before he slots against you and you feel him filling you. You run a hand down his back, soothing him as he comes, biting your lip at the feeling, foreign but enjoyable.

Tyler groans and glances down to where his cock is softening inside of you. He eases his hips back, cupping your face and pressing a kiss to your forehead as he does. “Shit, I’m sorry, are you okay?”

You nod meagerly, pressing the back of your hand against your warm cheek. He watches you and, assured that you’re not going to pass out on him or anything, stands and hobbles into the bathroom. The sink turns on out of sight, and you close your eyes, listening to the water run. Tyler returns with a warm, wet towel and wipes the inside of your thighs, swiping gently across your cunt, before folding the towel and letting it fall to the floor at your bedside.

You feel loose, calm. Safe. You hardly notice him turn the light off, but you do feel the bed dip beside you as he rejoins you under the covers and pulls you into his arms. You melt against his sturdy chest, his heartbeat under your face a comfort, the rhythmic tick tick tick of it lulling you to sleep. But there’s still one thing you have to know before you can relax completely.

His breathing has started to even out, but he hasn’t snored yet, so you know he’ll still hear you when you ask, “Are you gonna leave?”

He grunts an acknowledgement of your question, nuzzling down into the top of your head.

“Do you want me to stay?”

You know your answer, but you still bite your lip, considering the question. You hadn’t thought before that maybe he left after every night you spent together because he thought you didn’t want to wake up with him. “Yes.”

“Okay,” he murmurs against your hair, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Then I’ll stay.”

If he’s at all worried about what will happen when you wake up tomorrow, he doesn’t show it, but anxiety courses through you at the thought of anyone finding out. Does he want the others to know? Because that’s what it feels like.

“Stop thinking about it,” he whispers, like he can hear your thoughts racing. “It’ll be fine. Just go to sleep.”

Easy for him to say. He’s out like a light. And you’re left alone with your thoughts until you fall into fitful, dissatisfying sleep sometime around when the world outside starts to turn blue.

A pounding on your door wakes you from deep sleep – the deepest you’d gotten all night, at least – and you try to sit up but find there’s a heavy weight on your chest blocking you. You rub the sleep from your eyes, glancing down at the sleeping body next to you. It takes a second for it to register: Tyler’s here. 

Tyler’s here. Sidled up against you, arm thrown over your stomach like this is where he belongs. He didn’t leave. He stayed, like he said he would. His face looks so peaceful – so beautiful – you almost hate to wake him.

“Come on, sleepyhead! Time to get a move on!”

Almost. You scramble to push Tyler off of you, ignoring his noises of protest, jumping out from under the covers and grabbing various articles of clothing off the floor to pull over your naked form. You plop back down on the bed, this time on his side, right next to where he’s starting to wake.

“Dude, get up, they’re gonna know you’re not in your room. They’re gonna know you’re in here.”

“So what,” he grumbles, rolling over as you push him and settling deeper into the bed. “Let ‘em.”

You sit up straight, one hand on his arm. “You mean that?”

He hums and turns his neck to glance at you over his shoulder. “Yeah, ‘course I do. You’re my girl.”

Your face flushes a deep pink and Tyler grins, reaching over to wrap an arm around you and drag you back down into the bed, pinning you under him and peppering an assault of open-mouthed kisses all over your face. You grin, thinking that you could get used to this – just not right now.

“Seriously, Tyler,” you laugh, pushing a hand against the side of his face. He squeezes your hip. “We have to get up. We gotta get back out there.”

Tyler sighs, loosening his grip on your body and kneeling over you. “Yeah, you’re right. Alright, alright.”

He stands and takes the top sheet with him, wrapped around his waist, and heads to the bathroom. To brush his teeth, you hope. God.

“You know,” he says, head popping back out into the room, mouth full of toothpaste. “Yesterday. I wanted them to see us holding hands.”

You watch as he smiles at you and disappears back into the bathroom, then fall back onto the bed, hands pressed over your eyes. 

Fifteen minutes later, the two of you are dressed, teeth brushed, hair taken care of, day packs slung over your shoulder, and you’re pulling the door closed behind you when you hear a whistle that pulls your attention to the parking lot.

“Damn, Owens!”

The voice makes you jump, and you groan. You thought you were going to get away with the sneaking around, but the rest of your team is watching from next to the RV as the two of you descend the stairs together.

Lily and Dani turn to Boone with smug looks on both their faces, and he rolls his eyes and pulls his wallet from his back pocket. They hold their hands out for him to slap two twenty dollar bills down into.

“What’s that?” You ask when you get close enough to them.

“We had a bet that you and Owens would come out of that room together. Well, that one or his. Didn’t matter which.”

“A bet I just lost,” Boone groans, pressing the heels of his palms into his eyes. “I thought for sure…”

The rest of the crew snickers, including Tyler, who won’t look at you. You poke a finger into his chest.

“Did you know about this?”

“No, I swear,” he says, hands up, and you don’t know why, but you believe him. “That doesn’t mean I didn’t drunkenly confess to Lily weeks ago that sometimes we, you know…”

You scoff, almost mad, but then Boone shouts and the scoff turns into a snicker because, hey, you love him, but you can’t help but relish in his defeat.

“So they knew?! That’s cheating!”

He storms off while the rest of you laugh, Dani clutching their side and following him around the side of the building to try to make amends, trailing off, “If it makes you feel any better…”

Lily looks over at you, then at Tyler, a grin swallowing her face. “So, are you guys, like, together now? Or something?”

You look up at Tyler, who’s smiling softly at you, clearly deferring to you to answer that question. You feel a surge of affection for him swell in your chest. Clearing your throat, you turn to Lily.

“Or something.”

[dontpulloutman]

spring seventeen.

tags: owen taylor x reader. the starling girl. sexual acts. a/n: so… mr. red flag owen taylor has been stuck in my mind for the past few days and i’m kinda sad there isn’t any fics of him out there. i hope you like it! :)

(masterlist)

Lord Jesus, forgive me. I confess I have been offering myself over to sin, and now I am its slave. I renounce it; I renounce my sins.

You were no stranger to bruised knees. The purples and greens were a familiar sight since the day you were old enough to recite the Lord’s Prayer. Now, at seventeen, there is a newfound fascination with the numbness under your skin.

Your eyes trace the discoloration, fingers poking and prodding at where your blood clots underneath. Knees pressed to your chest, white socks warm around your ankles, your eyes move from your skin to the man pacing the hardwood floors. Phone pressed against his ear.

He runs a hand through his hair, and then down his mouth. Itching at his jaw.

You stare, gaze unflinching when his eyes meet yours. And then, like a flicker of the light, his shoulders lose its tension. He pockets his phone, and then moves slowly, almost hesitant. A warm, calloused hand wraps around your ankle.

“You alright?”

“Mhm,” you hum. Gaze tracing the veins on his hands. The sinew and muscle up his arm.

Thumbs rub against skin above cloth. You shiver at the familiar touch.

“Those hurtin’ you?” His other hand moves to cup your knee. You follow his movements as he guides your legs down to hang against his desk.

Parting your thighs, you welcome him into your warmth.

“Not much. I like them.” His lips quirk at your confession.

“Yeah? You look pretty with them,” you take a breathy inhale when his hands move from your knees to your thighs. The skirt of your light dress making way for worshipping hands. The feel of his thumbs rubbing into your inner thighs makes you want to curl your toes in.

“Of course you think so. You caused ‘em.”

“It takes two, my darling girl.”

Your hands skim his waist, skin against skin under cotton. You grip into the denim of his jeans, thumbs inches away from the dimples on his back. The leather of his belt presses against your palm. Cool to the touch, you shiver at the memory of it stinging your arse.

Pulling him closer, thigh to thigh, you close your eyes as you bury your cheek against his chest. His hands move to wrap around your waist. You feel the miniscule pull of his arms to bring you even closer against him.

“You needed at home?”

You sigh into his chest, “Not in a couple hours. Told them I was helping prepare for youth group.”

His head turns, nose pressing against your temple. He takes his time to breathe you in.

“We don’t have that long, my father said he needed to talk to me.”

Your grip around him tightens.

“Think he wants to talk about my courtship.”

You lift your head to look him in the eye, “They tell you who they want?”

“Misty, I think.”

You chase his eyes, angry at the way they try to run from you.

“You’re not even gonna bother?”

His brows furrow, the confusion on his face feeds your rage.

“Bother with what?”

“Telling them you want me?”

He stifles the want to scoff. You just don’t get it sometimes.

“And what do you think they’ll say?”

You recoil, “You saying they don’t like me?”

He won’t allow you, hands tightening around your frame. “I didn’t say that.”

“Then why won’t you come clean to them?”

His eyes narrow, “Why won’t you?”

“You said you didn’t want me to.”

He gets that look on his face. The triumph of being right. Being older. More knowledged. As if this all made perfect sense.

“You not saying anything just proves it, doesn’t it?”

Your weak attempt at pushing him away is futile.

Lord, my savior. Please forgive me. Shrouded in my lies and in my sin, I have found my salvation.

But an angry beast inside you snarls.

“If you won’t tell them, I will.”

His grip on you almost turns painful.

“Don’t be stubborn. Don’t you trust me?”

“I do,” he tries to cut in but you won’t let him, “But I love you more than I trust you.”

The harsh, biting, and desperate way he presses his lips against yours catches you off guard. You welcome it nonetheless. The way he moves, how his hair curls behind his ear. The way his hands cup the back of your head, pushing you in as if hoping to take more. More than what you have already given.

If this is a sin, then let me burn in the hottest of hells.

“I’ll tell them,” he whispers, lips shining, red, and raw-bitten.

Your fingers gently trace his face. His jaw, his cheek, the tip of his nose. You don’t believe him.

Before you turned fifteen, your parents started to have you help out at the family business. For every church event or cookout, it was your family that handled the catering. Of course, church-goers would help pitch in and bring their own dishes, but as the only functioning restaurant within the parish of Pastor Taylor, almost all of the food can be expected from your family.

After the service, you begin your task of helping to set up the picnic tables. Turning the corner to get chairs from the storage room, you get jolted by a grip on your forearm. Back pushed against the brick wall, your mouth parts to scream, but a big, warm hand is quick to press itself against your lips.

“Shh,” you meet Owen’s laughing blue eyes, “It’s just me.”

Trying to calm your racing heart, you give a slight shove against his shoulder, “You scared me.”

“I missed you,” he whispers against your lips. It’s instantaneous and heady. Eager and impatient hands move to push the skirt of your dress higher up your thighs. Your own nimble fingers, practiced, in unbuckling his leather belt. You grip him in your hand, relishing in the sound he makes, burrowed in your neck.

“Fuck,” he’s pushing your panties to the side. Hitching your leg up against his waist, he wastes no time in thrusting into you. Your moan is silenced against his kiss. “We don’t have much time,” you hasten him. Desperation makes him wrap his hands around your thighs, hoisting you up so both your legs can wrap around his waist.

It’s rushed, ending in a few minutes. But you relish in the moans he sings into your ear. Face hidden into the crook of your neck, he shudders. A second passes, a bird chirps from its perch in its nest. And then, he’s putting you back down on your feet. Your hands move to between your thighs, fingers brushing against the slick between.

Owen’s busy with his belt. Your eyes are transfixed with the way your fingertips glisten.

There’s a quick, careless kiss being pressed against your temple, and then a murmur of an “I love you,” before you hear the leaves crunching beneath Owen’s boots.

A week from now, Owen will marry Misty. It will be a beautiful affair with Pastor Taylor presiding over the ceremony. In two weeks, you’ll realize that you haven’t bled. The next day, Owen will leave for Puerto Rico.

[sluttapes]

⌞ 𝐭𝐚𝐩𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞 ⌝

christoper owen & matthew bernard sturniolo

𝘫𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘰𝘶𝘴!𝘤𝘩𝘳𝘪𝘴ㆍ𝘤𝘰𝘤𝘬𝘺!𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘵ㆍ𝘱𝘶𝘴𝘴𝘺 𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨ㆍ𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨ㆍ𝘥𝘪𝘳𝘵𝘺 𝘵𝘢𝘭𝘬ㆍ𝘱𝘳𝘢𝘪𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨ㆍ𝘱𝘦𝘵 𝘯𝘢𝘮𝘦𝘴ㆍ𝘣𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨ㆍ 𝘣𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰ㆍ 𝘨𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 '𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵'

you’d forgotten how slippery the woods could get when it rained. maybe it was the fog curling low over the ground, or the way your brain felt fuzzy from the cold, but either way, you didn’t see the muddy step until it was too late. your foot slid right out from under you, your palms slapped wet wood, and before you could catch yourself, you were in a shallow puddle, jeans soaked through, cold seeping all the way into your bones.

when you finally got the cabin door open, you were shivering. the heat hit you like a wall, and the sound of soft rain on the roof filled the space. warm yellow light glowed from the bedroom down the hall, where matt and chris had already retreated for the night. you peeled off your wet clothes with shaking hands and tossed on the first dry hoodie and shorts you could find.

chris was on his phone, screen lighting up his face as he laid under the covers, scrolling. matt was already half-asleep, back turned to the room, sheets pulled low over his hips. you hesitated, staring at the empty bed on the other side of the room—yours—but something about that cold space didn’t feel right. it never did when you were with them.

you walked quietly to chris’s bed and slipped under his blanket without saying much. he glanced at you, barely lifting his head.

“cold as hell,” you mumbled.

“yeah, no shit,” he said, not unkindly. but the way his body stiffened next to yours made you pause.

“can we cuddle?”

he sighed, like the question annoyed him more than it should’ve. “you’re, like, way too warm.”

you didn’t argue. it wasn’t weird—you’d all been like this since you were kids. curled up on couches, sharing blankets on road trips, limbs tangled without a second thought. but tonight, chris wasn’t in the mood. you stayed for a few more minutes, staring at the screen with him as a few tiktoks played, but his energy was off. distant. maybe even irritated.

“can i play with your hair?” you asked, like always. you didn't lnow why, but it helped you relax, helped you drift off to sleep.

he shook his head. “nah. not tonight.”

the words landed heavy, heavier than you expected. you sighed, sifting next to him. you laid there awkwardly, unsure of what to do, when matt’s voice came, half-mumbled, barely coherent.

“you can climb over here,” he said, still facing the wall. “’s warm. play with my hair or whatever.”

it made you smile. you crossed the room and slid into his bed, body curling against his back, the cotton of your shirt sticking slightly to your damp skin. his back was warm—hot, actually—and your brow furrowed as you pressed your cheek to his shoulder.

“you’re warm as fuck,” you whispered. “you got a fever or some shit?”

“headache,” he muttered, voice low, sleep-drunk.

you hummed in sympathy, your fingers already threading gently through his hair. you always loved doing this—touching his hair, watching him melt like butter. the groan he let out was deep, not anything 'sexual', just pure relief, relaxing into your touch. he shifted closer to you, pressing back against you.

“mmmh,” he hummed. “i'ma pay for your nails next time if that means you'll give me head scratches more often.”

you giggled, light and quiet. he moaned again, soft and content, and that’s when chris spoke.

“dude, you creaming your pants or some shit? what’s all that moaning for?”

matt didn’t even turn. “kid, what are you talkin’ about? you pissed she’s in bed with me now or something? can you stop bitchin’ and go to sleep because i’m tryna sleep, actually.”

chris scoffed, rolling over and muttering something under his breath, but didn’t argue again. matt was awake now. you could tell by the way he shifted slightly, more alert under your fingertips.

“we’re driving back tomorrow, right?” you murmured, still petting his hair.

“yeah. early, if the rain’s not bad,” he replied, voice low.

you stayed like that for a while, the conversation drifting into little things—how much you loved these trips, how much they felt like home, how it reminded you of being kids again. but then the air changed. not drastically, not all at once. it was subtle. in the pause between words, in the way matt’s breathing slowed but didn’t return to sleep.

maybe it was the few drinks you’d had earlier. maybe it was the storm, or the heat of him against you, or the way chris had looked when you’d crawled into matt’s bed instead. but for some reason, the way chris seemed almost jealous of the fact you were invited over into matt's bed, and the fact you actually went to cuddle up with him instead of staying with chris, even after he rejected something he'd usually happily accept, made matt proud. he found it funny, but he also liked the idea of chris being all moody about the fact that you didn't stay with him tonight.

it was a weird feeling, but matt found some sort of push to claim something he knew chris would be jealous of, something he would definitely not appreciate. there was no reason to be jealous for chris. you three were best friends, no one was prioritized over the other one, but the slightest interaction that matt got more of than chris, made chris roll his eyes, scoff, and show how he was clearly feeling some sort of jealousy.

“do you wanna have sex?” matt asked suddenly, not turning to look at you.

you blinked. your heart stopped for half a second, huffing out a small laugh, not sure if he was joking or not. “what, with you?”

he shrugged, turning to face you. “it'll help you warm up better.”

you didn’t say anything at first. not because you were offended, but because you didn’t expect him to say it. and yet, you weren’t surprised either. you guy are close, all three of you. you talked about things to matt and chris that you talked to no one else about, and it was the same for them. whether it was about some awkward sex story when you guys were drunk, or just in general about anything to do with it. you guys had no filter, because you didn't need one. nothing was weird, nothing was tmi, simply because you guys didn't think about each other in that on sort of way, or at least you thought so...

“we don’t have to if you don’t wan—”

you cut him off with a kiss. his lips were soft, slightly chapped, warm against your cold skin. the kiss deepened quickly, almost desperately. his hand found your waist under the covers, fingers pressing into the curve of your hip, and you slid your hand along his jaw, holding him there like you were afraid he’d vanish. there was heat between you now—not just body heat, but tension, years of closeness building into something neither of you had ever even thought about. he pulled back just slightly, eyes dark in the low light.

“i shouldn’t want this because of him, and like, wanting to make him jelous,” he said, voice barely audible. “but i do. and not just because of that. you’re… i don’t know. you’ve always been mine a little bit.”

your chest tightened, heart pounding. “so take it,” you whispered.

he kissed you again, slower this time. claiming. like he wanted to etch the moment into both of you. your fingers slipped under his shirt, dragging over the warm skin of his stomach, and he hissed quietly at the contact. everything felt electric—his hands on your waist, your breath mixing with his, the rain tapping against the roof as if it were trying to drown out the quiet sounds you made for only him.

you weren’t just cuddling anymore, and you both knew it.

the room felt hotter than before, even with the rain tapping cool against the windows. matt’s lips didn’t stay on yours long. he was exploring now—pressing kisses along your jaw, down your neck, slow and deliberate. like he had all night, like he wanted to memorize the taste of your skin. you were already arching into him, your body pulsing with need you didn’t know had been buried this deep.

his hands were under your hoodie, thumbs brushing against bare skin, pushing fabric higher until your stomach was exposed to the chill of the air. but his mouth followed, warm and wet, trailing heat with every kiss.

“matt,” you whispered, breathless, fingers curling against his scalp.

he hummed softly against your ribs, and you felt the smile on his lips before he said anything.

“pretty sure chris is wide awake and pretending not to hear any of that.”

the comment made you laugh under your breath, a quiet, breathy thing that slipped from your chest without control. you looked toward the other side of the room where the blanket over chris was pulled up to his shoulder, completely still.

your fingers threaded through matt’s hair, tugging gently. “he’ll survive.”

matt looked up at you with a lazy grin, one corner of his mouth tugged up like this was all some game—one he was enjoying a little too much. his hands tugged at your waistband, slow and teasing, like he was waiting for you to stop him. you didn’t. he peeled your pants down with your underwear, the cold air shocking for a second, but he was there—warm, steady, grounding you with his tongue on your clit, his hands, the quiet, slow drag of his fingertips down your thighs.

the air between you crackled with tension, each breath shuddering as matt’s tongue flicked against your clit in a slow, teasing circle. you bit your lip to stifle a whimper, fingers tightening in his hair. he hummed softly against you, the vibration rippling through your body like a current.

“taste so fucking sweet,” he murmured, voice rough, his breath hot against your thigh.

he dragged his tongue up your slit, deliberate and languid, as if he had all night to savor you. his hands gripped your hips, anchoring you in place when you squirmed.

“shhh, i got you, baby,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to your inner thigh. “let me take care of you.”

the shushing was gentle, almost tender, but it coiled something tight in your stomach. you arched into him, and he chuckled—low, smug—before sealing his mouth over you again. his tongue worked you with agonizing patience, lapping at your sensitivity until your legs trembled.

“matt—fuck—” you breathed, hips jerking involuntarily.

he pulled back just enough to glance up, eyes glinting in the dim light.

“that’s it, baby. let me hear you.” his thumb replaced his tongue, circling your clit in firm, slow strokes as he kissed his way up your stomach.

“you taste so good, sweetheart” he murmured against your ribs, teeth grazing skin. “always wondered… god.”

your breath hitched as he slid two fingers inside you, curling them just right, his palm grinding against you in rhythm. his lips found your ear, rough with stubble, his voice a gravelly whisper.

“you gonna cum for me? right here, with him probably listening?” his fingers sped up, relentless, and you choked back a moan, nails digging into his shoulders. “c’mon, sweetheart. let go. wanna feel that pretty pussy squeeze my fingers.”

pleasure crashed over you in waves, your back bowing off the bed as you muffled a cry into his shoulder. he kissed you through it, swallowing your whimpers, fingers slowing to a gentle pulse until you sagged against the sheets.

“thereee ya go,” he cooed, brushing damp hair from your face. his thumb traced your swollen lower lip, eyes dark with satisfaction.

you weren’t sure when exactly you stopped thinking and just started feeling. somewhere between the slow trail of matt’s mouth and the way his hands anchored your hips like he needed you still, something shifted in you—something full and warm and dizzying. it wasn’t just heat. it wasn’t just want.

it was him.

matt was hovering above you with that flushed, lazy look in his eyes, your heart was thudding loud in your ears. he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, eyes locked on yours like he couldn’t look away.

“you okay?” he asked, voice low and hoarse.

you nodded, cheeks warm, pulse still skittering. “yeah. are you?”

he gave a breath of a laugh, leaning down to press a kiss to your temple. “just making sure you’re not about to slap me.”

“for what?” you smiled, fingers brushing his jaw.

“i dunno. taking things somewhere we haven’t gone before.” his voice dropped, and he tilted his head, eyes flickering toward the other bed. “especially with chris literally right there.”

you followed his gaze. chris still hadn’t moved. still didn’t say a word.

you whispered, “i don’t think he’s asleep.”

“oh, he’s definitely not asleep,” matt said, lips brushing the shell of your ear with a quiet chuckle.

you both fell into silence for a second. the weight of everything you’d just crossed settled in—not in a bad way, just real. and complicated. but matt didn’t move away. he just pulled you into his chest, one arm snug around your waist, legs tangled with yours under the blanket. your head found the spot right below his collarbone, heartbeat steady and calm beneath your ear.

“i liked that,” he murmured after a moment. “not just the sex stuff. like… you being here. close.”

you swallowed, your fingers tracing soft circles on his chest. “me too.”

you weren’t even sure if you were tired anymore, but the warmth of him, the steady sound of rain, and the way he kept you tucked into his side like you belonged there made you start to drift. but just before you could fall asleep, you heard a quiet, sarcastic mutter from across the room.

“next time, just take the fucking spare room.”

your eyes flew open. matt stifled a laugh against your hair.

“you were definitely awake,” matt said, grinning into your hair.

“hard not to be with all the groaning,” chris grumbled.

matt raised a brow. “you jealous?”

“whatever. you two can hump each other to death for all i care.”

there was a long pause. then you and matt both broke into quiet laughter. but underneath it, you felt the shift in the air. chris’s silence said enough. you'd definitely hear about this tomorrow. no matter how good it felt, no matter how comfortable and understood it felt with the fact that it was matt having you like this, you felt guilty now. ashamed almost. and chris's jealousy only made it worse.

oh well, driving home tomorrow morning when the three of you had sobered up would be fun.

tape extension

dividers by @strangergraphics

there could be a part two idk i feel like this has a lot of playroom. lmk if yall would fw that

🎥 @tits4matt @loser41ifee @sweetshuga @nickysturnss @courta13 @sophsturns @starsforu @applecidersturniolo

[oopsiedaisydeer]

really sexy elbows

fluff, humor, excessive amounts of love, playful teasing, cuddling, ridiculous adoration, banter, overwhelming affection, established relationship, sexy elbows

word count - 1k

The room is dim, bathed in the lazy glow of a bedside lamp. You're straddling him, knees sinking into the mattress on either side of his waist, fingers ghosting over his face like you're memorising him. Chris watches you with amusement, his hands resting lightly on your thighs, thumbs tracing absentminded circles over your skin. He smells like fresh laundry and something warm, something distinctly him.

"I love when you talk," you start, voice soft but certain. "Just casually. When you're chill. But I also love when you're happy, or silly, or goofy. Or when you're just really excited about something."

Chris huffs a quiet laugh, tilting his head into your touch like a dog as you cup his jaw. His skin is warm beneath your palms, his stubble just starting to come in. You trail your fingers up, brushing over his brows, his temple, the sharp lines of his cheekbones.

"And I hate when you're sad, or mad, just because. I don't know," you continue, brows pinching slightly. "And you look so cute when you’re thinking hard about something, like you’re trying to solve a puzzle with your eyes. And whenever you're sleepy, I get really happy because I just want to cuddle you whilst you fall asleep… or give you a glass of juice to wake you up."

"You and this juice obsession," he mutters, smiling up at you, but his voice is thick with affection.

You hum, running a thumb over his cheek before grinning. "I love your smile. And your eyebrows. I love your ears. And your eyes, even if they are a bit freaky sometimes."

Chris squints. "Freaky?"

"Scary freaky." You giggle, shifting closer. "I love your cheeks."

"Which ones?"

You swat at his shoulder, trying to stifle a laugh. "Stop! Your cheekbones! I love your nose too," you say, giggling as you trace the bridge of it. "I love your chin. I love your teeth, and your lips, and your gums."

"My gums?"

"Mhm," you confirm, pressing a kiss to his jaw. "I love your jawline, and your neck, and your shoulders. I love your style. How clothes sit on your body, especially long sleeves. I love you in all colours. Your taste in music. I also love your knuckles, and I love kissing ‘em. And your kindness. I love how much love you have to give, and I love how you don't expect anything in return, even though you deserve it."

Chris swallows, eyes softening. His grip on your thighs tightens just slightly, like he needs to feel you closer.

"I love your hands, especially when they're on me, especially my waist, or my hips" you murmur, guiding his fingers there. "I love your arms, especially when they're around me."

He obliges, wrapping them around you in one fluid motion, pulling you just a little bit closer. His chest is broad and steady beneath your palms, rising and falling with quiet laughter as you continue.

"I love your tummy and your man boobs," you say, chuckling before pausing dramatically to tap your chin. "I love your legs and your knees. I love how strong you are. How smart you are. How creative. Passionate. And funny."

Chris quirks a brow. "You just gonna name every single body part?"

"Of course," you scoff. "I love your ankles. I love how much you love all your shoes, even if I think it's stupid. I love your boxers. I love your hoodies, and your hats, especially the baseball dad caps, and the beanies," You pause, gaze dropping to his arms, then further down. "And I love your elbows."

Chris exhales a laugh, shaking his head. "Oh, yeah?"

"Mhm. Wait, did I say that one already? Because I think you have really sexy elbows. I mean it. Look at them, baby."

"Speaking of," you say softly, smoothing a hand over his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. "I love getting to call you that. Baby. Babe. But I also love saying your name. Chris. Christopher." You grin. "Christopher Owen Sturniolo. And you're my boyfriend. I just can't believe it."

He tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, fingers lingering at your jaw. "Believe it."

Your breath catches, and for a moment, you're just looking at him, this boy beneath you, who loves you just as much as you love him. Maybe even more.

"I love you," you whisper, and the words keep coming, because you don't think you'll ever run out of ways to say it. "I love you so, so much. I love being yours. I love that you're mine. I love spending time with you. I love kissing you. I love laughing with you. Breathing with you. Touching you." Your hands smooth over his chest, up to cup his jaw. "I love you."

Chris just watches you, gaze unreadable, his hands tightening on your hips.

"I love how much you yap," you continue, voice quieter now, more earnest. "Because I love listening to you speak. But I also just love talking with you. Or just talking at you." You giggle, nose scrunching. "I love your family. I love your dog. I love your friends. I love everything about you."

“You done, baby?”

"Mhm," you murmur, smiling down at him.

Chris exhales like he's winded, eyes flickering over your face. "Good. Coz you're gonna make me cry."

You grin, leaning down to press a kiss to his lips. "Good."

He shakes his head, rolling you onto your back and caging you in beneath him, pressing his face into your neck. You squeal, kicking your feet, but he just squeezes you tighter.

"Sometimes there's so much love in my heart, I think I'll explode," you mumble into his hoodie.

Chris chuckles, lips brushing against your jaw. "It's the elbows, isn't it?"

"Mhm," you hum, barely awake now. "They're really sexy."

Chris shakes his head, smiling against your skin. "You're ridiculous."

"But you love me," you mumble sleepily.

"Yeah," he whispers, pulling you closer. "I do."

creds to rose for the dividers <33 @bernardsbendystraws

a/n: can't let gang know i fw this (sidenote i rlly hope u guys like this ive not been feeling the greatest but i reread some of my fav writers today and this cute fluff idea just kinda spawned in:>)

taglist: @blushsturns @sturnslutz @snoopychris @sturnshood @sturns-mermaid @chrissweetheart @cowboylikenat @sturnsrecordfaves @camzeecorner @sturniolo101 @courta13 @sweetshuga @st7rnioioss comment to be added to my taglist!

till next time !!

[drabbles-mc]

Lucky For You

Tyler Owens x F!Reader

Warnings: 18+, fluff, mentions of hospitals/injuries, no use of "y/n"

Word Count: 1.4k

A/N: earlier tonight i lied to myself and said i wouldn't work on any new oneshots until i finished a wip. but I've been marinating on this idea since last week and i just had to write it down. just a short cute little fluffy somethin'! my first twisters fic. hope you enjoy!

You were shaking your head as you walked back over to the side of the picnic table that Tyler was sitting at. You had a beer bottle in one hand, the other resting on Tyler’s shoulder as you stepped in so you could plop back down beside him at the table.

“I’m still trying to figure out what you guys told Lily to say,” you gestured to Lily then Kate with the bottom of your beer bottle before taking a quick sip, “to get Kate to cave so quickly.” You gave Lily a playful smile. “What’d you say to convince her? Hm? ‘Cause lord knows it wasn’t either of these two,” you said as you nodded to Tyler first, then Boone.

Both men looked at you with dramatic looks of offense. “What?” Tyler asked, grin starting to curl his lips as he spoke. “You don’t think we were charming or convincing enough on our own?”

You rolled your eyes as he draped his arm around you. “No, I don’t.”

It got another wave of laughter. Tyler took the momentary distraction as an opportunity to lean in and kiss your temple. “Seemed to work just fine on you.” He reached across and stole your beer bottle from you, taking a sip before allowing you to snatch it back. “And you said yes to a way more dangerous proposition.”

You shook your head even though you were smiling, even though you could feel your cheeks warming. It was no great secret, or even breaking news at this point after the last few years you’d spent married to the ridiculous man sitting on the picnic table bench next to you. Sometimes, though, you couldn’t help the cheesy grin that crossed your face when you became a little more aware than usual of the wedding band on your hand.

“That’s different,” you said, not that it mattered, not that it helped your case at all as Tyler continued to nettle you good-naturedly.

“How’d you two meet, anyway?” Kate asked.

It was a fair question. You didn’t chase with the rest of them, never had. You’d met and fallen in love with Tyler before he decided to make a career out of it. The journey wasn’t always a smooth or easy one, but you never doubted him, or your relationship, not even for a second. Even in the hard times. A lot can happen over the course of six years, but you still clearly remembered when you first met him.

Tyler had started watching you the second he realized where Kate’s question was going. He watched the little twitches and shifts of your hands and facial expressions as you went rapid-fire back down memory lane. When you ended up with a little smirk on your face, he knew that you were all too happy to tell the story.

You took another drink from your beer bottle before just handing it back to Tyler, rather than trying to make him steal it again. “When I met Tyler, I’d say about, oh, seventy percent? Yeah, seventy. About seventy percent of his face was covered in bruises and bumps. Fractured cheekbone, split lip.” You turned and looked at him even though you were talking to Kate. “He was lookin’ real cute.”

She laughed, but you could see the mild confusion in her eyes as she looked back and forth between the two of you. “You find him after a rough chase, or…?”

You smiled and shook your head. “We met back before he was the infamous Tornado Wrangler.” Leaning forward, you braced your arms flat on the picnic table, Tyler’s hand sliding from your shoulder down to the center of your back, his palm warming you through your tank top. “They brought him to the hospital that I work at after he got stomped out by a bull at the rodeo.” You felt his fingers drumming against your back and your smile stretched a little wider. “I wasn’t even supposed to be checkin’ in on anyone in the wing he was in, but the nurse who was supposed to help discharge him had to leave.”

Tyler had a cocky little smirk on his face. “Lucky for you though.”

You gave him a look that didn’t pack nearly as much of a punch as it should of since you were grinning. “Yeah, real lucky for me that Jay’s kid got in a fight at school so he had to leave and he left you to me.”

Tyler laughed. “He was cute but I gotta say, I think you’re a little cuter.”

You gave him a playful shove, which he responded to by looping his arm around your waist and pulling you closer again. You shook his head at him before looking back at Kate. “Anyway, as I was saying. I go into his room to talk through some of the paperwork with him, and with one eye practically swollen shut still this man right here is tryin’ to get my number.”

“Actually, if I remember right—”

“You were concussed into next Tuesday—I doubt you remember much of anything right.”

“If I remember,” he repeated with a laugh, “I was actually tellin’ you that you should just jot my number down from my patient forms so you could call me sometime.”

You looked at Kate with a feigned nonplussed look. “Told me somethin’ about making a ‘house call’. Real bold for a man who was about half an inch away from some serious brain damage.”

“Probably what gave him the confidence to ask in the first place,” Lily piped up with a laugh.

Everyone was laughing, and listening. Kate might’ve been the only one in present company who hadn’t heard the story before, but it wasn’t as though it was something that the two of you were constantly rehashing all the time. The two of you usually kept the retellings amusing enough anyway, allowing the rest of the crew to throw in their two cents even though they hadn’t been there when it all started. After all, Tyler might’ve been the one you met first, and under some pretty dire conditions, but you’d been around to help out the rest of the team plenty of times since then. Whether you were making sure they were all alright after a rough chase, or meeting up with them in the towns that had been blown through to see who you could help even if you weren’t off the clock. You might not have chased with the rest of them, but you were still part of the team.

“How long did it take for him to wear you down, then?” Kate asked.

 The shit-eating grin on Tyler’s face grew tenfold. He lightly bumped his shoulder against yours. “Go ahead. Tell her.”

You dropped your forehead so that it rested on top of your forearms for a moment before looking up and at Kate again. “I gave him my number after I pushed him to the lobby in his wheel chair.”

“Doctor’s orders, by the way,” he interjected with a shake of his head. “I didn’t need it.”

You rolled your eyes but kept going. “He was pretty persistent the whole way down, so I told him if he still remembered my name and number by the time his fractures all healed up, I’d meet him for a cup of coffee or somethin’.”

“Cup of coffee ended up bein’ a split six-pack and a failed bonfire at her cousin’s place, by the way,” he added on with a chuckle.

“Yeah, and your lip still wasn’t fully healed.”

He smirked. “Didn’t stop you though.” You lightly swatted his chest with the back of your hand but you didn’t say anything to refute his statement. “So really, what I’m hearin’, is that you shouldn’t be havin’ any doubts about our charms.”

“Sayin’ yes to a date is nothing like—”

“You also said yes to marryin’ him,” Lily added on, always happy to stir the pot just a little. “Y’know, with the ring that he almost lost in a chase.”

Tyler rolled his eyes. “If I left it at home I was sure she’d find it!”

“Yeah,” Lily laughed as she argued, “and if the chase went wrong somebody on the other end of the county would find it. Then what?”

Tyler laughed and shrugged. “Corner store sells Ring Pops.”

You had no shot at tamping down your smile. “Prob’ly still would’ve said yes, too.”

(divider by @saradika 💞)

Twisters Taglist (please let me know if you'd like to be added to any of my taglists): @garbinge

[callsigns-haze]

Tyler’s girlfriend/wife suggests he and the team chase one last storm before their baby comes. While they’re on the road a tornado hits Tyler’s hometown and for a few angst filled hours he’s unable to reach her. When he gets home she is safe with only minor injuries.

Before the Storm

Pairing: Tyler Owens x Reader

Chapter Summary: Tyler Owens faces a life-altering decision when a tornado strikes his hometown, forcing him to choose between his passion for storm chasing and his newfound responsibilities as a husband and soon-to-be father.

Chapter Warnings: Intense emotional distress, fear of loss, and scenes of natural disaster.

The day was hot and heavy with the promise of storms on the horizon. The kind of day that made the air crackle with electricity, where even the slightest breeze carried the scent of impending rain. Tyler Owens stood by the truck, his hand absentmindedly resting on the hood as he glanced over at his wife, Y/N, who was sitting on the porch of their small, cozy home. She was eight months pregnant now, her belly round and full with the life they had created together. And despite the heat, she looked serene, her hand resting gently on her stomach as she watched him with a calm, understanding smile.

“Tyler,” she called softly, her voice cutting through the thick, humid air. He turned to look at her, his heart swelling with love and something else—something heavier. She was his world, and soon, she would be bringing their child into it, a new chapter in their lives that filled him with both excitement and trepidation.

He walked over to her, crouching down so that he was at eye level, his hand moving instinctively to rest on her belly, feeling the slight kick of their baby against his palm. “Hey there, little one,” he murmured, smiling as he looked back up at Y/N.

“You’ve got that look in your eyes,” she said, her tone gentle but knowing. She had seen that look before, many times. It was the look he got when he felt the pull of the storm, the thrill of the chase calling to him like a siren song. “There’s a big one coming, isn’t there?”

Tyler hesitated, his fingers absently tracing circles on her stomach. “Yeah,” he admitted after a moment. “Could be one of the last big ones of the season. But with the baby so close to coming… I don’t know if I should go.”

Y/N reached out, placing her hand over his. She could see the conflict in his eyes, the tug-of-war between his passion and his responsibilities. “Tyler, I know how much storm chasing means to you. It’s part of who you are. And I also know that once our baby is here, everything’s going to change.”

He swallowed hard, nodding slightly. He knew she was right. Once the baby arrived, his life would be different—storm chasing would take a backseat to late-night feedings, diaper changes, and lullabies. He wasn’t afraid of that, not really. He was ready to be a father, but the thought of leaving behind the adrenaline-fueled chases, the camaraderie of his team, and the wild, untamed beauty of the storms… it was hard to let go.

“Go,” Y/N said softly, squeezing his hand. “Go and chase this storm, Tyler. One last time before everything changes. You need this, and I want you to have it.”

He looked at her, his heart aching with love and gratitude. “Are you sure? I don’t want to leave you alone, especially not this close to… you know.”

She smiled, leaning in to press a soft kiss to his lips. “I’m sure. I’ll be fine, I promise. And when you get back, we’ll be ready for whatever comes next.”

Tyler felt a mix of excitement and hesitation well up inside him. He nodded, giving her one last lingering kiss before standing up and turning to head back to the truck. As he did, he couldn’t help but glance back at her, feeling a twinge of something he couldn’t quite place. A sense of finality, perhaps, or maybe it was just the weight of the unknown, of knowing that this could be the last time he felt the rush of the chase for a while.

The team was ready to go, the truck loaded up and the GPS coordinates set. Tyler climbed into the driver’s seat, his mind already half in the storm, the other half still back home with Y/N. As they set off, the anticipation of the chase began to build, that familiar surge of adrenaline starting to pulse through his veins.

But then, as they were speeding down the highway, the radio crackled to life, cutting through the tense silence. “We’ve got a tornado touching down in Tyler’s hometown,” came the voice, sharp and urgent. “It’s moving fast—winds are off the charts.”

Tyler’s blood ran cold. The hometown. Their home. Where Y/N was waiting, alone. His hands tightened on the steering wheel, his knuckles white as the fear sank in. He tried to call her immediately, his fingers fumbling with his phone, but the call wouldn’t go through. The signal was patchy, the storm’s interference blocking his attempts.

“Come on, come on,” he muttered, his heart pounding in his chest. Every unanswered ring felt like a punch to the gut, the anxiety gnawing at him with every mile they drove. The distance between him and Y/N felt insurmountable, the fear growing with each passing minute.

“Tyler, we’ll get there,” one of his team members said, trying to offer reassurance, but Tyler barely heard him. His mind was spinning with worst-case scenarios—images of their house torn apart, of Y/N trapped or injured, or worse. He couldn’t lose her. He couldn’t lose them.

Time stretched out painfully, each mile feeling like an eternity. The closer they got, the more desperate he became, trying over and over to reach her, his hands shaking as he redialed her number. The storm was ferocious, the winds whipping around them as they sped down the highway, but Tyler’s only thought was getting home, getting to her.

Finally, after what felt like hours, they arrived in town. The destruction was overwhelming—trees uprooted, houses reduced to rubble, debris scattered everywhere. Tyler’s heart pounded in his ears as he jumped out of the truck, barely waiting for it to stop. He sprinted towards their house, his legs burning with the effort, but he didn’t care. All that mattered was getting to her.

When he reached the house, his breath caught in his throat. The structure was still standing, but it had taken a hit—windows shattered, the roof partially torn off. Panic clawed at him as he stumbled inside, calling her name.

“Y/N! Y/N, where are you?!”

His voice cracked with fear, the dread suffocating him as he searched the wreckage of their home. And then, he saw her. She was sitting on the floor in the hallway, her back against the wall, holding her belly protectively. She looked up at him, her face pale, her eyes wide with relief.

“Tyler,” she whispered, her voice trembling.

He was at her side in an instant, dropping to his knees and pulling her into his arms, holding her so tightly he was afraid he might hurt her, but he couldn’t let go. The relief that washed over him was overwhelming, tears burning in his eyes as he buried his face in her hair.

“You’re okay,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “You’re okay… oh, thank God, you’re okay.”

She nodded, clinging to him just as tightly. “I’m okay,” she said, her voice shaky but firm. “The baby’s okay. We’re okay, Tyler.”

He pulled back just enough to cup her face in his hands, his eyes searching hers, needing to see for himself that she was truly safe. She had a few cuts on her arms, and a bruise was forming on her forehead, but otherwise, she seemed unharmed. He exhaled a shuddering breath, pressing his forehead against hers.

“I was so scared,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “I thought I was going to lose you. I thought… I can’t lose you.”

“You didn’t lose me,” she reassured him, her fingers brushing through his hair. “I’m right here. We’re right here.”

As he held her close, the storm still raging outside, Tyler felt something shift inside him. He had always known there was a balance to be struck between his passion for storm chasing and his responsibilities as a husband, and soon, as a father. But now, with Y/N in his arms, that balance felt more fragile than ever. The thrill of the chase was still there, but it paled in comparison to the fear of losing her, of losing the family they were about to become.

“I’m done,” he whispered after a long moment. “This was my last chase. I’m done.”

Y/N looked at him, surprised. “Tyler, you don’t have to—”

“No,” he interrupted gently, shaking his head. “I’m done. I can’t keep putting you through this. I can’t keep putting our family at risk. This is where I need to be—from now on, this is my priority. You and our baby… you’re what matters.”

Tears welled up in her eyes as she nodded, her hand resting over his on her stomach. “I love you, Tyler.”

“I love you too,” he said, his voice breaking as he kissed her deeply, holding her as if he’d never let go.

And as the storm began to move on, leaving behind a trail of destruction and chaos, Tyler knew that this was the end of one chapter and the beginning of another. The thrill of the chase had been a part of his life for so long, but now, he had something even more important to protect, something worth giving it all up for.

As he held Y/N close, feeling the faint kick of their baby between them, Tyler made a silent promise—to be there, to protect them, to never let the storm take away what mattered most.

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

[girl-in-the-chairs-void]

Hey there! Hope you’re doing well! I was hoping you’d do a Tyler Owens anything based off of “wear the hat, ride the cowboy”?

Ofcourse my dear <3. I haven’t written smut in a while, I’m sorry if this looks rusty.

Pairing: Tyler Owens x reader

Word count: 0.9k

CW: 18+, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, smut, f receiving, masturbation? Overstim, cowboy hats. Not proofread.

Calloused hands grip your waist, keeping you steady on his chest, your legs on either side of him. You take a deep breath, trying to calm yourself from the situation you’ve gotten yourself into.

“Are you-“

“Yes, darlin’, I’m fine with this.”

He leans forward, pressing a kiss to your abdomen, lingering before trailing his lips down, and down before he’s met with the plush flesh of your cunt. He places the hat from earlier on your head. You’re in nothing but a shirt of his and the cowboy hat now on your head.

“Take care of that for me?”

And all you can do is nod while his hands shift from your waist to the curve of your ass, pushing you forward, separating your legs just enough so you’re right above his face, your cunt on full display for him. His hot breath sends shivers up your spine as he reaches for your clit, giving it a few licks that has your head spinning.

“Tyler”

He feels the tension leave your body as he eats you out, lapping at your juices like a man starved. His tongue darting in and out of you at a steady pace, your hips pushing into his face as you try not to crush him- he could tell you were holding back from fully sitting on him. So, he brought one his hands down from your hips and down to you entrance, pushing a finger in, slowly then going back in but with two.

That surprises you, letting out an almost pornographic moan at the act. Your hands grab onto the headboard in front of you, hips now pressed flush to Tyler’s mouth. He lets out a groan, feeling you comply let go as your cunt spasms around his thrusting fingers.

“That’s it, baby, jus’ like that,”

Your name falls off his lips as he worships the most intimate parts of your body, swallowing you whole and leaving you with nothing but shaking legs and a numb brain. His name repeats in your head, all you can feel is him. In your bones, in your blood, in you.

He’s no better than you right now, palming his cock through his boxers, the hard on leaking on his happy trail, covering the hair in a layer of his pre cum. He’s drunk on you, on the thought of making you fall apart just by his mouth alone, having you ride him.

“Tyler, fuckkk-“ god do you understand what you do him when you say his name like that?

“That’s it, cowboy- fuck- I’m close”

He can tell you’re close, the nickname has his cock twitching as you ride his face, his fingers still at play, his mouth teasing circles at your clit, occasionally bumping into his nose which makes you let out a small please.

He knows you’re close, and to be honest he is too, he’s barely touched himself but he knows that if he strokes himself even twice and watch you fall apart on his face, he’ll release right then and there.

And he does, a devious suck on your clit and his fingers reaching that one spot in you and you’re spasming, your throat sore but still managing to get out something between a gasp and a moan of his name. White clouds your vision as he drinks up your juices, hearing the squelch of your pussy around his fingers sending you over the edge of your orgasm.

It’s addictive the way you’re blabbering absolute nonsense, feeling the way his tongue flicks just lightly at your entrance and he knows you’re a goner when a second wave comes crashing down on you, the overstimulation making it even harder for you to see, all you can do is feel. Feel him. All over you.

“Jesus, fuck” he curses, you’re making a mess, still not done with your orgasm as your pussy squeezes out more and more into his mouth. He laps it all up though. Chin and neck wet from it as the rest drips down your thighs and onto the pillow where your knees rested.

He gives you a minute, to adjust and realise what just happened. And when you do, you’re looking down at his glistening face, the lower half of his face covered in you. A sheer glow covers his chin, droplets dripping down his neck but he doesn’t seem to care because he’s looking- no staring intently at your heaving chest and flushed cheeks and blown wide eyes.

God you looked ethereal from this angle.

And you’re a bit embarrassed to admit it, but he looks so hot like that, hazy green eyes blown out as he looks at you like you’ve just hung the fucking stars. You feel hear rushing to your cheeks as you look at the mess you’ve made. But that’s not even the best part because when you feel a slight wetness on your lower back, a very messy cock of Tyler Owen’s blesses your eyes, his happy trail and stomach covered in thick white cum and a swollen cock that was still throbbing as Tyler analysed the sight you were. R

“Hey there, cowboy.” Is all you can manage to say, with a sweet smile, your hand reaching down to wipe some of the wetness off his face before he flips you both. The hat now discarded on the other side of the bed. Crawling up to meet your lips with his. He swallow your moan, satisfied with the slightly bittersweet taste of you and your mouth.

You both come apart with a thin string of saliva connecting you, your hand finds its way into his hair, the other palming at his still hardened cock.

“Think you can do that again for me, cowgirl? When I’m inside ya?”

A/n; I kinda missed writing smut, but hey! We’re back in business soooo. Let me know what you guys thought of this. Likes, reblogs, and comments are appreciated 🫶🏻🫶🏻

[ddejavvu]

Ok so smut idea for Tyler! Tyler’s shy and sweet gf who gets all horny and needy while he’s gone so she sends him some nudes or like a dirty vid and Tyler is totally thrown because that’s not his sweet innocent girl?? Is it??

Caught off Guard - Tyler Owens x Reader

please send me tyler owens requests!

this post is 18+, minors dni.

Tyler's never had a problem with opening a message from you in front of his crew. You love him more than life itself, Tyler knows that, but you're almost painfully shy, and the most racy thing you've ever said to him over text was that he looked 'handsome'. In private, in the secluded space of your shared bed, filthier things come from between your sweet pink lips, but over text you're always civilized.

It's why he's so taken aback that he nearly doesn't turn the sound down on his phone when he presses play on the video you'd sent him. It's nothing but a black screen originally but your sweaty, flushed face pops into frame when you lift the phone.

All anyone at the makeshift table is able to hear before he turns the volume down is Tyler's own name, and he's wildly, viscerally grateful that it hadn't been something more suggestive.

"Woah!" Tyler coughs over a mouthful of cheap beer, chest heaving as you showcase your two fingers pressed together with a slick substance coating them, dripping from them, "I gotta- y'all eat without me, I'm- I have to go."

"Is Y/N okay?" Lilly peers up worriedly at him, the typically brash storm chaser reduced to a pouting mother hen at Tyler's urgency, "She sounds like she's crying."

"She's fine." Tyler's already jogging towards their motel room, struggling with the keys in his pocket to jam the card inside of the door, "Don't bother me, and- and don't let anyone touch my beer!"

He's fairly certain that before the door even shuts behind him, Dani is already chugging it, but he can't bring himself to care.

He reloads the video, turning the volume up so that he can hear your voice again, "Tyler, I- I need you so bad right now. I've been feeling- aagh! I've been feeling like this all day, and I just- I keep trying, but I can't do it like you can!" You sob, your face screwing up as you desperately try getting yourself off, "Look, look! This is- I'm so wet, Tyler I'm so wet thinking about you, and I just can't- I can't finish, I need you I need- hnngh! Tyler," You cry, tears spilling out over your lower lashes and down your humid cheeks, "I need you!"

Tyler's hands tremble as he jams his thumb onto the 'call' button. His jeans are uncomfortably tight now, and one of his hands is already palming against the denim before he realizes that he's even hard. He acts on instinct, tucking the phone beside his ear and panting when the rough fabric of his jeans rubs flush against the angled head of his cock.

You pick up on the first ring, "Ty!"

"Baby," He breathes, groaning as he unzips his jeans and frees his cock from the confines of his boxers, "Shit, honey, you can't- you can't fuckin' do that to me."

"I need you," You're still crying, perhaps moreso now that Tyler's voice is in your ear but your cunt is devoid of his erection.

"'Thought I was gonna bust at the fuckin' table," He scoffs, stroking over his leaking cockhead, "Shit, baby, sendin' me pretty little videos like that? You're feelin' brave today, huh?"

"It hurts, Ty," You sob, "I- I need you."

"Shit, say it again." He pleads, already fucking his fist with vigor, uncontrollably turned on by your sudden, bold change in demeanor.

"I need you!" You cry, and Tyler's throat grows sore with the volume of the groan he releases as you hopelessly grind on your too-small fingers, "Please, Ty, i need you so bad!"

"Shit," Tyler curses, wondering if he's ever cum faster in his life, slightly embarrassed yet still raring to go as he hears your needy gasps, "Oh, fuck, baby, you're- you're all mine. I've got you, we're on our way back home. I'm gonna- agh, I'm gonna fuck you into the mattress, baby, just you wait."

[littlebirdygirlywriting]

For a Drabble idea, Tyler having a massive crush on "you" and being shy and bashful and nervous about it while trying to impress you to see if you like him too! :)

Perhaps One Day

Twisters Masterlist

Pairing: Tyler Owens x Fem! Reader

Summary: Tyler goes to… interesting lengths to find out your feelings.

Author’s Note: I realised I sort of forgot the “trying to impress you” part of the request. 💀 If you want me to redo it, just let me know! Otherwise, here’s your request, anon. 💖

Warnings: NONE! I mean… other than Tyler being a communication-phobe. Lol.

Word Count: 265 (Because I reached 100 and went, “Dang! This is supposed to be wrapped up already??” and kept writing. 😂)

———————————————————————————

Perhaps one day, Tyler would be ashamed of the lengths he went to discover your true feelings.

Rubbing his palms together nervously, a dark Oklahoma sky speckled with stars overhead, he waited in the motel parking lot for Lily. The door of Room 10 creaked on its hinges, a form slipping out, slowly closing the door behind. Slipping into the shadows, Tyler waited until the person approached, darkness shielding them both.

He cleared his throat. “What did she say?”

Perhaps one day, Tyler would cringe when he thought about how he’d used Lily to get information on your thoughts about him.

“Was she suspicious? Did she know why you asked?”

Perhaps one day, Tyler would apologize to her—claim insanity over his growing crush—make it up to her with parts for her new drone.

“Please, Lily, I’m dying here. Please tell me what she said.” He stepped closer, the light of a single lamp peeling back the darkness around him.

Perhaps one day, he would regret his actions.

The voice that spoke was not Lily’s, and his heart stopped. Stepping into the light, he was greeted with a shy smile. Blushing cheeks.

Perhaps one day, he would tell you he should’ve chased it from the first day you joined the team.

“She said…” Drawing out the words slowly, teasingly, eyes just as nervous as his own landed on his face. “She’s got eyes for nobody but you, Owens.”

Perhaps one day, Tyler would be ashamed of the lengths he went to discover your true feelings.

But it was not today. And it would not be soon.

[dontpulloutman]

spring seventeen (2).

tags: owen taylor x reader. the starling girl. Owen Taylor Is His Own Warning. a/n: *clicks post and runs* … i hope u guys like this

(masterlist)

On the next field trip with the youth group, you take the chance to slip away. The yellow shirt itches on your skin. If you let your eyes close for too long, if you let your mind wander too far, you'll start thinking of Owen. How he left when he used to promise that he would never leave you alone.

He's a liar.

Your reverie is broken by the jingle of a bell above you. Behind the counter, a girl in her early 20s with bright blue hair looks up from her phone. You can feel the heavy stare on your shirt. Then she looks back down as casually as she could. With a deep breath and shaking hands, you walk up to her. Chest and palms pressed against the cold display case, you clear your throat.

"How can I help you?" She takes her attention away from her phone.

"I've been feeling sick a lot lately. And I threw up a few hours ago."

She takes a clipboard from beside the cash register, "Any allergies?" you shake your head no. "Fever?" you shake your head again.

She takes another quick look at the text printed on your stupid yellow shirt. "Sexually active?"

You take a pause. The lump in your throat refuses to let you speak. Through tears, you catch how her own eyes soften. You're speechless when she opens a drawer and places a rectangular box on the counter.

"There's a bathroom near the back."

"Satan has its grasp on you," she moves her accusing finger from your face to the small swell of your belly, "And that creature is its abomination. You are ruined!"

"Momma," you raise your hands, palms open, pleading, "Please, momma..."

She flinches back as if your touch would burn. As if you were the devil itself. "You stay away from me!" she shrieks. Gasping back a cry, you try to get closer to her. You're sorry. You're so sorry. You haven't been sorry yet.

"Get out of my house."

It brings a chill down your spine. Like a coward, you shrink into yourself. Like a mother, you move your hands to protect and cradle the life growing inside you.

"You better leave before your father comes back. Lord knows what he'll do if he sees you like this."

Your spine goes rigid. And then, almost stubbornly, you turn away. And then, you run. You run like its all you've ever known to do.

"What a raging bitch!"

You curl into the pillow pressed against your chest. Eyes following the girl pacing across linoleum tiles. It's only been a week since that fateful day, but she already has platinum streaks in the blue of her hair.

You didn't expect her to be so accommodating. Showing up at her parents' pharmacy on a random Wednesday evening. She quickly brought you in, ushered you into her basement bedroom, screamed a "Don't disturb us!" before she prodded at you to tell her what's going on.

"I can't believe she'd do that to her own daughter!" You can feel the rage in her voice.

"It's fine," you try to placate her. It doesn't work.

"No, the fuck, it isn't! I mean–" she stutters, at a loss for words. She parts her lips to continue her tirade, a new string of curses toward your mother, when she realizes the tears forming in your eyes. She immediately sags at the look on your face.

"What do you wanna do?" She says. Instead of more hate, more profanities, more choice words about your 'cunt of a mother'.

"I want to keep the baby."

"You have other options," she gently reminds you. But the thought of it is bitter. Less than five weeks, and yet you know you won't ever let this child go. The babe is a sacrament of the love you once had.

"I can't... I want... I need to keep it."

Joanna sits on the bed beside you. Slowly, but with such tender care, she places a hand on your knee. "Okay, babes. That's your choice."

There's a moment of silence.

"Do you know any way to contact the father?"

He's completely and utterly fucked. Waking up alone on a random motel bed, only to find that his truck (his one-way ticket out of dodge) was missing from where he parked it last night. He's tried to call the cheap cell he bought for Jemima, only for it to beep in his ear. Out of service, out of range. He's in deep shit. Running his hands through his hair, he lists down all of his options.

Hell has to burn over before he returns back home. And without his truck to sell, he won't have enough money to afford a ticket back to Puerto Rico. Unless... He's quick to go through his duffel bag, deep into its inner pocket, where his old notebook lays tucked away.

In it, there's a slip of paper. Worn and tattered, an envelope with its seal still intact. The words inside having been accessed by a letter opener. Obvious through the jagged cut at the seam. Like a source of salvation, the light at the end of the tunnel, there it is.

It was sacrilegious. But with the taste of his gasps and the press of his lips, you knew you were on sacred ground. Leaning across the console of his truck, with his hands in your hair, and the dangle of your Benedictine medallion, you are reborn.

Owen pulls away, his palms against your cheeks. There’s a furrow to his brow. With a gasp, your cheeks turn red. His jaw moves, chewing. “Is this gum?”

You nod. How sordid to think of it. Candy passing from one’s lips to another. It’s downright sinful.

“I didn’t notice you chewing it the entire drive,” he comments, almost thoughtful while he plays with the candy in his mouth.

“I like mint.”

He chuckles, looking out the window. “You always taste like mint.”

(Are you chewing gum? Spit it out.)

Infatuated, like a school girl with a crush, you bashfully ask, “Do you like it?”

He’s leaning across the console again, grin on his lips before he kisses you once more, “I love it.”

He’s probably lost. Following the return address scrawled in your writing, he ends up in front of a pharmacy. He looks up at the sign, blue and white with the paint chipping. Above the pharmacy, he sees floral patterned curtains on brick-lined windows. With a breath, bracing for the unknown, he steps into the store. A bell rings above the door. There’s a lady with pink hair behind the counter. And a little girl sat beside the cash register. The lady looks up from where she was babbling at the girl. Owen doesn’t miss the way her eyes widen for a second. And then, she lifts the girl, placing her down on the hardwood floors.

“Sweets, go to your momma.”

The little girl, chubby fingers clutching on rubber teethers, nods with a smile before disappearing behind a curtained doorway.

“How can I help you?”

His lips part to speak, but he’s interrupted when someone else bursts into the store.

“Jo, these just came in.”

And there you were. With a box pressed against your hip, eyes focused on a piece of paper. His mouth dries. You’ve always been so beautiful.

“It’s the antibiotic we ordered last week—”

After years, your eyes finally reunite with sinful blues.

“Owen?”

He’s rushing forward. You’re numb, almost unseeing while he cups your face between his hands. He’s trying to get you to listen. “I’ve looked for you everywhere,” he says. “I missed you. I tried to go back,” he insists.

“What are you doing here?”

He pauses at the cold of your voice.

“I came back for you. I missed you.”

“You came back for me?”

You notice Joanna leaving the room, giving you privacy. Knowing her, she’s probbaly waiting by the curtained door. One ear out just in case something happens.

“Yes, baby. My darling girl,” he presses his forehead against yours. Your fingers tighten around the corners of the box you hold.

“You came back for me?”

Harsh and biting, a deep-seated rage bubbles inside you.

“It’s been three years. Almost three years. You only came to me now?”

His fingers are desperate, palms cupping your jaw. Thumbs rubbing into your cheeks. “I tried. I couldn’t get out of Puerto Rico for a while. I did everything I can to get back to you.”

His thumbs catch the salt tears running down your cheeks. The kiss he presses between your brows is solemn and pleading. The anger in your heart turns down into a simmer. You will always succumb to him.

You kiss him. It tastes like salt and relief. Desperate in how he tries to take it further. With one hand, slowly, softly, you push him away. His forehead presses against yours. Nose breathing you in. Quietly, almost scared, you whisper, “There’s someone you need to meet.”

[sluttapes]

⌞ 𝐭𝐚𝐩𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚 𝐡𝐚𝐥𝐟 ⌝

christoper owen & matthew bernard sturniolo

𝘤𝘰𝘤𝘬𝘺!𝘤𝘩𝘳𝘪𝘴ㆍ𝘫𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘰𝘶𝘴!𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘵ㆍ𝘵𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨ㆍ𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨ㆍ𝘣𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘢𝘵𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘥ㆍ𝘴𝘦𝘮𝘪-𝘱𝘶𝘣𝘭𝘪𝘤ㆍ𝘥𝘪𝘳𝘵𝘺 𝘵𝘢𝘭𝘬ㆍ𝘱𝘳𝘢𝘪𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨ㆍ𝘱𝘦𝘵 𝘯𝘢𝘮𝘦𝘴ㆍ𝘣𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨ㆍ

the drive the next morning was quiet. too quiet.

you sat in the backseat, your body curled slightly toward the window, head resting against the cool glass as the car rolled down the wet mountain roads. the rain had stopped, but the sky was still heavy and gray. it matched the weight in the air between the three of you perfectly. matt drove in silence, one hand on the wheel, the other resting against his thigh. his face was unreadable, his gaze steady on the road. you could see the tension in his jaw, though—tight and sharp, like he was chewing on something he wasn’t ready to spit out.

chris sat beside you, arms crossed, one leg bouncing restlessly. he hadn’t looked at either of you since you got in the car, but his presence was loud. too loud. every shift of his body, every exhale, every sideways glance you caught in your peripheral—it all screamed one thing: he was pissed.

and he hadn’t even said anything yet.

the silence stretched on. long enough to make your stomach knot. long enough to make your skin crawl with heat and guilt and confusion. then chris spoke.

“you know,” he said, casually, voice sharp enough to cut glass. “you two were quiet last night. real quiet.”

your jaw clenched. matt didn’t respond, eyes locked on the road.

chris leaned back, tilting his head toward the ceiling. “like, so quiet i almost thought you weren’t even doing anything.”

you didn’t say a word. didn’t dare to.

“but then again,” he continued, glancing sideways at you now, “you’re not usually quiet, are you?”

your breath caught.

chris smirked when you didn’t respond. “see, i think you wanted me to hear. even if you didn’t say it. part of you wanted me to know. just to get a rise out of me.”

matt exhaled hard through his nose. “jesus, chris.”

“what?” he shrugged, turning to him. “i’m just sayin’. you might’ve fucked her, but i know i could’ve made those pretty moans louder.”

your face flushed hot. embarrassment and something else—something deeper—curled in your stomach like smoke.

matt still didn’t look back. “maybe you should’ve tried acting like you wanted her last night instead of being a moody little bitch.”

“oh, and what, you were just being a gentleman when you started pawing at her like a dog in heat?”

you didn’t know where to look. the car felt too small, the air too tight, like it was pressing against your ribs.

“say what you want,” matt said coolly, eyes still on the road, “but at least she came to my bed. at least she wanted me.”

that one hit. you felt it in the shift of chris’s posture. he turned to you fully now, and you could feel his gaze on you before you saw it.

“that true, baby?” he asked, voice low. “you wanted him?”

your lips parted, but no sound came out. your throat felt dry, your heart pounding like a warning. he leaned closer, one hand brushing against your bare thigh—your shorts riding up from the position you’d curled into.

“you really think he made you feel as good as i could’ve?”

“chris,” you whispered, unsure if it was a plea or a warning.

“what?” he said, voice dropping lower, almost a murmur. “you didn’t have a problem with matt fucking you last night. we both know i can do it better.”

your breath caught again.

his hand didn’t leave your thigh. instead, he dragged his fingers along the inside slowly, deliberately. “want me to prove it?”

you shrugged, opening your mouth to speak, but the words wouldn’t come. they just sat there, stuck between your tongue and your teeth, too heavy to lift. you stuttered, a quiet, confused sound leaving your throat.

“i—i don’t…”

chris’s hand moved higher, his palm settling just under the hem of your shorts. matt glanced in the rearview mirror, his eyes locking with yours for a split second. the look he gave you was unreadable—half warning, half dare. you didn’t stop chris when he tugged gently at your shorts, guiding them lower with just enough pressure to make your breath hitch. your legs shifted on instinct, and he took the opening—hooking one of your thighs over his lap, the other bent back against the footwell behind the passenger seat. your whole body tensed. exposed. vulnerable. and watched. matt was silent, but you saw him looking. the mirror caught everything—the way chris’s hand slid along the inside of your thigh, the way your shorts bunched down low, the way your chest rose and fell faster with each second.

chris leaned in again, whispering against your ear, “you gonna tell me to stop?”

you didn’t answer. you didn’t want him to stop.

his fingers ghosted higher, teasing but not touching. “yeah… didn’t think so.”

matt’s voice cut in—low, calm, but ice-cold. “you better think before you do something stupid, chris.”

“what?” chris replied, mock-innocent. “you had your fun. i’m just trying to even the score.”

matt’s jaw tightened. “this isn’t a fucking game.”

“you sure?” chris smirked, eyes flicking between you and the mirror. “’cause it kinda feels like one.”

the car was still moving, winding down slick roads, but everything inside felt like it was teetering on a knife’s edge. your body trembled, not from fear—but from the sheer weight of attention, of heat, of being wanted by both of them in such a raw, messy, almost dangerous way. you didn’t know what was about to happen. you just knew—something was going to break.

the way they turned it into a competition—a silent, sharp-edged contest—should’ve made you roll your eyes. should’ve made you laugh, maybe. but you couldn’t bring yourself to find it funny.

your stomach twisted with nerves, with want, with something dark and unfamiliar. the kind of tension that made your breath shallow, that made the space between your legs throb with awareness. chris’s fingers skimmed just under the edge of your shorts again, slow and testing. and you didn’t stop him.

matt still hadn’t said a word. but the way he was looking at you through the mirror said enough. he wasn’t warning anymore. he was watching.

and god, the way he was watching you—it made something hot coil in your gut. his eyes didn’t leave yours, not even when chris shifted beside you, his hand finally slipping under your shorts in full, his fingers brushing against you over your underwear. your hips twitched at the contact, a small, unintentional sound leaving your throat.

matt saw it. heard it.

you couldn’t look away from him, even as chris leaned in again, his lips at your ear.

“you’re so wet.”

your cheeks flushed instantly, but you didn’t deny it. couldn’t. his fingers stroked slowly, deliberately, and your thighs tightened around his hand, breath catching in your chest.

matt’s voice was low—steady, but thick with something he wasn’t even trying to hide anymore. “keep going.”

chris paused, just for a second. “what?”

“you heard me,” matt said, not looking back—just watching you in the mirror. “go ahead. i wanna see it.”

the shift in the air was immediate. your entire body buzzed, overwhelmed and lit up. it was too much—but not enough at the same time. every nerve was alive. you turned your head slightly, enough to glance at matt through the mirror, eyes wide.

“matt…”

his eyes locked with yours. calm. hungry. “i want you to enjoy it.”

you swallowed thickly.

chris grinned now, smug and sharp. “guess you like an audience, huh?”

you wanted to be embarrassed, to pull away, to say something that would make it all stop—but instead, your hips tilted toward his hand, almost involuntarily. and matt saw that too.

“fuck,” matt muttered, hand gripping the steering wheel tighter, knuckles white.

your leg tensed on chris’s lap as his touch grew firmer, more confident. and even though you were shaking—half with nerves, half with arousal—you didn’t stop it. didn’t want to.

your fingers curled into the fabric of the seat, the soft press of chris’s mouth grazing your jaw now, as he moved against you. his free hand steadied your waist, as if he was making sure you wouldn’t go anywhere. the car kept moving. you didn’t know where this would go—or how far either of them would push. but what you did know, was that whatever line had once existed between the three of you… it was gone now.

you should’ve told them to stop.

any version of you—logical, careful, cautious—would’ve said something. but that version was far away now, drowned out by the heat that had settled low in your belly, by the way your body ached from being touched and watched at the same time. chris’s fingers moved with more purpose now, slow and firm through your underwear. deliberate. like he was trying to prove a point with every stroke. and it was working—your body was giving you away. you couldn’t hide the way your hips pressed toward his hand, couldn’t stop the quiet, desperate breaths that escaped you no matter how hard you tried to bite them back.

he leaned closer, his voice just a whisper near your jaw. “see that, matt?” he said smugly. “she’s fuckin’ dripping.”

matt didn’t answer at first. he didn’t have to. his eyes were still locked with yours in the rearview mirror, heavy-lidded and unreadable, his mouth set in a straight line—but his grip on the wheel was tense. tight.

“is that true?” he asked finally, voice low and smooth. “you letting him get you that worked up?”

you couldn’t even lie. you nodded once, jaw clenched, face hot with the weight of both of their attention. your breath caught when chris pushed your underwear slightly to the side, his fingers skimming you bare now, slow and steady, teasing your edge as his fingers drew slow, teasing circles over your clit. your head fell back against the seat with a soft, shuddering sound.

“shit,” chris muttered, more to himself than anyone else. “didn’t think you’d actually let me do this.”

“don’t flatter yourself,” matt said, voice rough with something darker now. “you didn’t get there on your own.”

chris scoffed. “jealous?”

matt gave a quiet laugh, one hand adjusting on the wheel. “not even close. i wanted to see this.”

your eyes fluttered open at that, catching his gaze again through the mirror. it was different now. darker. possessive. the look in his eyes made your whole body jolt. it was like a current ran through you—too much, but not enough. chris’s hand moved in response to that shift, his touch intensifying. your leg was still draped across his lap, one of your feet resting awkwardly on the center console now, your whole body angled toward him. exposed. flushed. needy. and god, you couldn’t even pretend to act normal anymore. not with the way matt was watching. not with the way chris's fingers picked up the pace, focusing on your clit.

the silence was heavy. the car filled only with the sound of the tires against the wet road, the slick sound of chris playing with your wet, needy pussy, and your soft, uneven breaths.

chris leaned in again, his mouth brushing the shell of your ear. “you gonna let me finish what he started?” he asked, cocky and low, like he already knew the answer.

matt didn’t say anything this time. he didn’t need to. because the look in the mirror said it all. the air was electric, thick with the sound of your hitched breaths and the slick, sinful rhythm of chris’s fingers working you open. his touch drifted lower, circling your entrance before pressing two fingers into you with a slow, deliberate thrust. your back arched off the seat, a gasp tearing from your throat as he curled his fingers just right, hitting that spot that made your vision blur.

“fuck,” chris hissed, his voice rough with approval. “so fuckin’ sexy, sucking me in like that.”

his thumb brushed your clit in time with each deep stroke, and your hips jerked helplessly against his hand. “that’s it, baby—ride my hand. show him how good i can make you feel.”

matt’s knuckles whitened on the wheel, his eyes flicking to the mirror again. you could see the hunger there now, the way his gaze raked over your splayed legs, chris’s wrist moving between your thighs.

“attagirl,” chris murmured, low and smoky, the praise sending a fresh wave of heat to your core. he chuckled darkly, his lips grazing your ear.

“oh, look at him. can’t even look away.. bet it’s killing him.” he smirked, his eyes meeting matt’s, making sure he heard it all.

you whimpered, nails digging into the seat, but he didn’t relent. “c’mon, mama—squeeze me just like that. fuck, you’re perfect.”

the pressure built mercilessly, your body coiling tighter with every pass of his thumb. you were close—so close—but chris slowed his pace, teasing your clit with featherlight strokes.

“not yet,” he growled, ignoring your frustrated whine. “i want you beggin’ for it. want you to moan my name while i make you cum so he knows how much better i can make you feel.”

matt’s voice cut through the haze, sharp and commanding. “do it.” the car swerved slightly as he glanced back, his composure cracking. “think you’re so much better, chris? so do it. make her feel good.”

chris’s smirk was feral. he shifted, pinning your hips harder against the seat as his fingers plunged deeper, faster, his thumb grinding rough, relentless circles.

“you hear that tone in his voice, baby? he’s jealous.” your legs trembled, thighs shaking as he drove you toward the edge. “but we don’t give a fuck about that right now, don’t we? s’ my turn now to make him jealous anyway, hm?”

you couldn’t answer—couldn’t think. the world narrowed to the heat between your legs, the crude, wet sounds of his hand working you, the way matt’s chest heaved as he watched. chris’s breath came ragged against your neck.

“that’s it, ma, cum f’me.”

your orgasm hit like a thunderclap. your back bowed off the seat, a broken cry tearing free as you ground down on his hand, waves of pleasure ripping through you so violently your lungs burned. chris didn’t let up, his fingers fucking you through it, his praise a growl in your ear.

“gooood girl. that’s it—soak me. let him see what he’s not getting.”

matt’s low curse filled the car as your release slicked chris’s fingers, the sound lewd and undeniable.

the car ride took a turn. you knew that, obviously. but you weren't ready for whatever would happen next, how the three of you could ever be normal around each other again. what happened, between you and matt, between you and chris, between all of you, was incredibly hot. something you never would've done. you were sober now, all of you were, and it made you realize how it wasn't just the alcohol last night.

never in a million years would you have thought you'd have your best friends in this way. but god. you loved it.

previous tape tape extension

dividers by @strangergraphics

@applecidersturniolo you actually cooked with giving me this idea

🎞�� @tits4matt @loser41ifee @sweetshuga @nickysturnss @courta13 @sophsturns @starsforu @h3arts4nat @emely9274 @sturnsrecord

[writeroutoftime]

making me crazy

pairing: tyler owens x reader (requested by: @missminnietwoshoes)

summary: while out on a chase with your team, a storm turns more dangerous than expected. of course, you all set to getting as many people as possible to safety, but you quickly find yourself caught in the middle of the storm.

words: 0.8k

a/n: my first tyler owens request!! when I say this man has a chokehold on me - I'm not joking! also, so sorry for the delay, but please enjoy!! (part 2 should be coming your way shortly!!)

oOoOo

Wind whipped around you, your hand protecting your eyes as you tried to make out what was going even just a few feet in front of you. The storm had come out of nowhere, meaning no one in town was prepared to take cover. Just passing through, you, Tyler, and the rest of your crew made it your mission to direct as many people to safety as possible.

Your heart broke seeing the devasted look on people from the town as they tried to keep calm despite the impending doom. No one had predicted destruction on this level, and now there was so time to do anything but survive.

The storm grew worse as you saw the twister grow closer and closer to where you stood. A quick glance over your shoulder told you that the rest of your team had started to make their way to safety. You all had done as much as you could with the little warning you had.

As you turned to run, you heard a whimper. Scanning the desolate street, you noticed one more person looking as though they were trying to get something out from underneath a porch.

"Hey!" you shouted over the rind, running towards them. "You have to get out of here, get somewhere safe."

The woman looked up at you, eyes shining with tears. "My dog, he got himself stuck under here trying to hide, and I won't leave him."

Distantly, you could hear Tyler's voice calling out, trying to find you. With determination, you turned away from him and nodded at the woman. "Okay, it looks like his paw is stuck. I'm gonna lift this plank and you get him out." you commanded, knowing you only mere minutes to make this work.

Counting to three, you lifted the pile of debris just enough to allow the dog to scamper free and jump straight into his owner's arms. The look of pure relief and joy on her face made it all worth it. However, the peace didn't last long as you were brought back to the fact that you were still in the middle of a very dangerous storm.

"We have to get out of here! Take him and just keeping running until you hit the shelter!" you shouted over the rain that drenched your both, so much so that you felt the chill deep in your bones. "Stay low and don't stop. I'll be right behind you."

She looked terrified but nodded, and then she was running across the street towards safety. You took a breath and moved to follow her, trying to see through the rain while avoided obstacles on the ground and flying through the air. It seemed luck was not on your side, though, as your foot caught on a piece of debris.

Before you knew it, you were sent skidding across the ground. Your palms and knees, newly scrapped, stung, but the worst was the throbbing pain from your ankle. Pushing yourself off the ground, you tried to take another step forward and felt your weight buckle to the ground once more.

"Fuck." you swore, daring to look back at the storm that inched closer with every passing second. There was no way you could make it to any semblance of shelter with this new injury. Tears mixed with the rain that whipped itself against your face as you resigned yourself to your fate.

Just as you closed your eyes, you heard your name in the distance. Jerking up, you could barely make out Tyler's figure in the storm as he shouted over and over on the slim chance you could hear him.

"Tyler!" you shouted back, your last-ditch effort to make it out of this storm.

As if tuned in only to you, Tyler's eyes met yours across the way and he suddenly began to sprint in your direction, arms and legs pumping furiously. You had never seen that look of anger and desperation in his eyes as he slid to the ground next to you.

"What were you thinking? Why are you still out here?" he shouted, cupping your cheeks between his rough hands.

"M-my ankle. I'm not gonna be able to get anywhere in time." you hurried to explain.

Tyler didn't give you a chance to speak further or urge him to go off on his own. Instead, he took one look at your ankle, glanced at your face, then steeled his nerves. One of his hands came under your knees while the other cradled your back. He then sprinted back the way he came, holding you close, trying to shield you from any more harm.

Finally, safety was in your sites and Boone stood by any open storm cellar, frantically urging you and Tyler to move faster. You didn't dare look over Tyler's shoulders, rather you let your face hide in his chest. It was only when you heard the slam of the storm cellar doors and no longer felt the rage of the storm against your skin did you look up.

Safe, you thought to yourself. You were safe and so was your team. Now all you had to do was wait out the same - and deal with the rage that still simmered on Tyler's features.

oOoOo

a/n: to be continued! (featuring more angsty and a confession!)

[bullet-prooflove]

The Mechanic: Tyler Owens x Reader

Tagging: @kmc1989

It’s in a field of lavender that Tyler sees you again.

You’re standing with your back to him, your head tilted up towards the sky, your hair falling loose across your shoulders. He thinks he must be dreaming at first because there isn’t a chance in hell you’d be back in Oklahoma, not after the way the two of you left things, but then you turn around and he sees that scar along your jawline, the one where a sheet of metal had caught you during your last chase.

He remembers cradling your face between his hands, trying to stifle the bleeding with his palm as the tornado wreaked havoc on the world around you. He thought he’d die that day, that you would die that day.

It should have been enough to make him stop but it wasn’t because storm chasing, it’s always been his calling and you had known that right from the very beginning. It’s why you left for safer climates, why he had stayed, because he doesn’t just conquer his fears, he rides them.

“Sophie.” He says softly and your eyes raise up to meet his.

They’re still the prettiest colour he’s ever seen. He’d spent hours getting lost in those eyes once upon a time, drowning in them as he made love to you by the light of the moon in the back of his truck.

“What are you doing here?”

“Boone called.” You inform him as you tuck your hands into the pockets of your quilted jacket. “He said you needed a mechanic, so here I am.”

It sounds so simple but it’s not because three years ago you didn’t just break his heart, you shattered it and that’s something he’s never recovered from. Every relationship he’s had after that has been casual because Tyler, he can’t commit to another woman, not when he still carries a piece of you around inside him. You broke him back then, he thinks you’ll do it again if he lets you.

“I don’t need a mechanic.” He tells you as he turns his back and begins to walk away. “I don’t need you.”

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