Mayb

Are you sick of me? Would you like to be?

[fabricated-misslieness]

rules | masterlist | tags | navi please do not reblog this post or any masterlists, you'll be blocked if you do

mayb | he/they | genderfaun | latinamerican & chinese interactions & rbs please refer to @ehemayb-e (not genshin leak free)

inbox - 0 requests - closed model requests - open models - tyler owens and scott from twisters (2024)

all fics belong to @fabricated-misslieness on tumblr, nowhere else! do not repost on other sites. please inform me of any reposts you may encounter

[fabricated-misslieness]

𝚆𝚎 𝚗𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚖𝚞𝚌𝚑, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙸 𝚍𝚘𝚗'𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚔 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝'𝚜 𝚐𝚘𝚗𝚗𝚊 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚎, 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝙸'𝚖 𝚐𝚘𝚗𝚗𝚊 𝚖𝚒𝚜𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚔𝚜 (𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚗 𝚒𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚙𝚘𝚙 𝚒𝚗 𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢 𝚘𝚗𝚌𝚎 𝚊 𝚠𝚑𝚒𝚕𝚎)

(⌐■_■)

𝙶𝚘𝚗𝚗𝚊 𝚖𝚒𝚜𝚜 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚌𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚟𝚎 𝚠𝚛𝚒𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚘𝚗 𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎, 𝙼𝚊𝚢𝚋. 𝙶𝚘𝚘𝚍 𝚕𝚞𝚌𝚔 𝚘𝚗 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚍𝚘 𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎

(⌐▀︿▀)

Hello, thank you for the compliments! I'm already melancholic too 🥲

[fabricated-misslieness]

Fabricated-Misslieness - disconnected

Hey guys, it's been a great 4 years! I love all the memories we've made, with you readers, my fans, and my moots. However, I don't think I'm going to hip on much here anymore.

That doesn't mean I'm gone forever! I still love writing, so if I ever get a new idea, I'll definitely think about coming back. I'm just letting you guys know you shouldn't expect much from me anymore 🥲

I'll keep checking a little longer for those who wish to say their goodbyes.

Sincerely, Mayb.

[fabricated-misslieness]

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: tyler owens x rancher male reader

ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: tyler's back in an old town he recognizes, and he recognizes someone else too.

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 2.32k

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: suggestive, but nothing explicit (like 1 kiss), very suggestive flirting

ᴍᴀʏʙ'ꜱ ɴᴏᴛᴇ: cowboy slang vocabulary

☾⋆☆⋆☽

Tyler shoulda known that riding 'round here, stopping in this specific town, would've earned him a run in with you.

In fact, maybe he did. Maybe, some part of that subconscious of his remembered that this was your town, and your old haunt, and it made him stop and get the whole group motel rooms for the night here.

He recognized this town, recognized the bar he led his friends to, recognized the stage in the corner. Maybe he didn't recognize the new teen band performing there today, but they're familiar anyway: a chill drummer and a bassist and guitarist that always bump heads.

And finally, of course he recognized you.

You raise your glass toward him as he enters, beckoning him to sit down next to you at the bar. The rest of the group settles for a booth near the dance floor, leaving Ben to stand nervously at the door. The journalist eventually follows the group, though his eyes don't leave outlier.

"Hey sweetheart." He greets with a lazy smirk, ordering his choice of poison without looking at the bartender so he can look you in the eye.

"Hey stranger." You greet in turn, tipping your hat. "What brings you to town?"

"Well, the season drives me everywhere in Tornado Alley, you know." The liquid courage that makes its way into his hands and later down his throat feeds his smile, which grows wider.

"Should I be worried?" You joke.

"No, sweetie." The name makes you roll your eyes, like you always do when his endearing nicknames get used like that. "You know the brunt of it doesn't get here."

As the two of you mostly catch up, with the nicknames and flirting taking a backseat, Ben looks on. For once, he's not thinking about getting it on a paper, he's just curious. Tyler seems to know at least one person at each town they go on, but he's never seen him so...touchy? No, there's something about it Ben can't put his finger on.

"Eavesdropping, huh?" Lilly chimes in, leaning around Ben the same way the man leans over the corner of the booth seat.

Ben yelps audibly, but thankfully for him, not too loud. "No. No, I can't hear them from here." He shakes his head. In an attempt to hide his embarrasment, he replaces it with a question that'll distract her. "Who's he?"

"(Y/N), our food supplier. He sells for cheap for the tornado recovery meals and stuff." Lilly explains.

Dani, who was previously looking at Boone making a fool of himself on the dancefloor, chimes in. "Because ranches don't run on hopes and rainbows."

Lilly nods her head along.

"That's it?" His eyebrows furrow, and he leans over the corner again to sneak a glance. The two of you are so engrossed in your conversation that you're definitely not going to turn towards the booth, even if Tyler mentions the group.

"Well, rumor has it he's an old link." Lilly suggests with a laugh.

Ben doesn't know what the word means. "A boyfriend?"

"No," She smiles, clearly amused, "but let's just say that. You're probably wondering why you haven't heard anything about him."

Boone practically collapses onto the booth table before Lilly can continue. He steals a tall glass of water from someone and practically gulps down half of it in one go. None of the group seems to mind so much. As he catches his breath, he follows the groups' gaze to the pair at the bar. "Oh, (Y/N)? I didn't even realize he was here."

Dani laughs and pats his shoulder. "Yep. You gonna say hi, steal him for the dance floor?"

"Nah." He waves his hand dissmissively. "I bet the lovebirds are gonna bone. I'll see him at the hotel tomorrow morning."

Ben doesn't know that word either. Dexter whispers the meaning in his ear and his eyebrows raise. "So he is a boyfriend?"

"No." Boone straightens up and stretches. "At least, not anymore. They might've been high school sweethearts or something, but not anymore. While Tyler became a bull rider after high school, (Y/N) inherited his grandparents' farm and got straight to work."

Ben nodded along with the story. So that's how they got you as their supplier. "So they broke up–"

"Allegedly."

"–allegedly because they went down different paths?" Ben huffed. "If it was me, I would've tried."

Dexter chuckled at how the journalist accidentally insulted Tyler. He shook his head. "They might not have broken up. We just know they had a falling out when Tyler officially settled into the storm chaser profession."

"When we first got to 10k subs!" Boone chimes in.

"The food supplying was handled over text, and storm chasing is busy business, you know?" Ben nodded, so Dexter continued. "So then their relationship turned mostly transactional, and their affectionate bonds kind of disappeared, because Tyler didn't have time to reply."

"Wow, that sucks." Ben's empathy showed physically as he frowned. "What about off-season?"

"Disaster recovery is an extensive process." Dani reminded him. "We use (Y/N)'s goods after we get the folks to temporary homes as a kind of food stamp."

"And–?"

"They moved on." Lilly patted Ben on the shoulder reassuringly. "Storm chasing ain't for the weak-willed, Ben. It's all or nothing. You live for it, or you leave it, and someone has to manage the ranch, right?"

"So, basically, Tyler is dating storm chasing," Boone says with a toothy grin, "and has no time to date anyone else."

That's never stopped you from having your fun everytime he shows up around town.

"Storm Par still on your ass?" You ask, swirling your glass absentmindedly.

"As always." He laughs, drumming his own fingers against the wood of the bar countertop. "But we have a new genius in the crew!"

"Do you?" You raise a brow. He gestures in the direction of the booth with the tip of his hat, making you look. Everyone waves at you enthusiastically, even Boone, who you'd caught mid-sip, except for the new guy who shrinks back into the cushions. "The one with the glasses?"

"Yep, that's Ben." Tyler speaking brings your eyes back to him, as it always tends to do. "Journalist, has a way with words. He's going to write about our Tornado Wrangling crew, and storm chasing."

"Hmm," You hum low, kind of with displeasure. "you're not going to make him write about Storm Par too, are you?"

You had him pegged down to a T. He sighed, "Well..."

"That'll get him in trouble and you know it." You shoot him a disappointed look. He's been getting those more and more these days; or he has, since you got that ranch of yours.

To hide himself from the simmering shame it gives him and to get more courage, he downs the rest of his drink. "Yeah, but, um...let's just talk about us, yeah?"

You exchange a look. He smiles, you frown, it's a battle. Eventually, he wins, because how can you say no to him?

You roll your eyes, "You're lucky I miss you, Ty."

"Do you?" His eyes light up and he takes your free hand in his. He can't hide his joy, despite the fact you always say that every time you see each other.

"Yes I do, poppet." You huff out a laugh, "You're a twister of your own, you know? Leaving damage that reverberates for years."

He feigns offense, a hand over his heart. "I leave damage, huh?"

"Yep. You know what? I'm not the only one who misses you. The chickens miss you, the goats miss you, the cows miss you, the ranch dogs miss you." The entire list makes him laugh, but you're not done yet. "So do my horses, and hell, the ranch cats too. You know how hard it is for a ranch cat to get attached?"

"And Brisket?" Brisket, the little indoor dog. He was a puppy when they last met, Tyler wonders how big he's gotten now.

"Of course Brisket misses you." You groan, like it's really a big problem. "You met him as a puppy, he's wondering where his second dad went."

His eyebrows raised. Second dad? Whew, the subtle flirting is making him swoon. "Buy him a couple treats for me." He playfully reaches into his pocket for his wallet to further the joke.

"What is this, child support?" You glare at him with a fake snarl.

That makes Tyler laugh out loud. He reaches for both your hands, hoping the creases on your scary look will smooth out. "I promise I'll be a present father someday."

You roll your eyes again, except this time when they return to him, they soften. "When will that be?"

"How's tomorrow sound?" The smile returns too, and he loves it. "Oh, and you don't mind having five more little helpers, do you?"

"Sounds perfect." You squeeze his hands. "For how long?"

"Ehm..." He bites his lip, and your smile falters. "A day, maybe?"

"Darling..." You sigh, "That's not exactly a present father."

"I know, I know." He shakes his head, letting his gaze fall to your connected hands. "I'm a terrible father, a terrible man as well, to boot. Useless for this family as a hill of beans."

"Well," You shrug your shoulders, disconnecting one of your hands to cup his cheek and pull his gaze back up to you. "season's just starting, so I understand. Make me a promise, though."

"Oh?" This is new, not that Tyler cares for the substance of the promise. "Anything for you, baby."

"God, hear me out first, will you?" You shake your head. "It's two promises, actually. For tonight," With the hand on his cheek, you boop his nose. "we'll dance on that dance floor back there, and–"

"Ugh, seriously?" He groans preemptively. "I don't want that picture on Ben's article."

Tyler is a good dancer, he really is, but he's almost entirely sure that the predominant style of dancing in this here town is silly to those Brits out there and he's going to get mocked 'till high hell. Oh, whatever. All publicity is good publicty, aye? The Brits ought to know how a real man dances, anyway.

"–and, then we'll share your room."

"Woh-hoah."

Tyler's sure that, even if it were anyone else you were flirting with, they'd have caught onto your drift, because you are one hot man and that wink you consequentially send him is sexier than anything he's ever seen. Out of the sheets, of course.

"Cat got your tongue, darl'?" You chuckle, patting his cheek before pulling away confidently.

"No, no, it's just," His mind's still boggled by how handsome you are, so he blinks repeatedly to register all of it. "I'm swoonin' alright? Give me a moment."

He loves that little proud look you give him, and realy wants to return the flirting, even if he's already messed up the flow. Luckily it looks like you'll allow him to.

"Okay," He clears his throat, "why share a room, rancher? You live right on the outskirts o' town. I'm sure that bed of yours with grandma's handmade quilt is a lot nicer than my little hotel room."

Tyler knows damn well what you're going to do in that room, but he's playing along.

"Sometimes the company beats comfort, love." The way you call him love makes his knees weak. "Not that I'm in search for comfort tonight."

He laughs, a little too prolonged as he comes up with something in return. "And why do you reckon I'm good company?"

"You might just be any Alfalfa Desperado's dream: a big, strong man who's technically unemployed and knows how to ride a horse." It's as much an excuse as it is a distraction to shock him more with what comes next. "Plus, a twister like yourself is sure to tumble the sheets well."

"Rougher than an earthquake, I can guarantee that." He grins, sending a smooth wink of his own.

"Don't guarantee it." You huff out a laugh, "I'd have to pay you a little extra."

"I want that little extra." He makes a show of licking his lips. "Anything you can offer, I'll make sure to match, sweetheart."

The both of you are leaning closer everytime you send a comment or compliment. He's missed this, missed you, so much: the easy intimacy and smiles, winks and eventual kisses.

As your lips near, he realizes that all this flirting's making him forget that second promise you spoke of. "What was that second promise, anyway? Do I gotta agree to both to get tonight's?"

"Well, no," The way your inconspicuous eyes snap to the high corner of the room earns his intrigue. "but it'd certainly earn you a little bit o' brownie points."

"Hit me." He grins wide.

"Make a little time for me off-season," The heated atmosphere leaves as you begin, because your flirty facade melting into something less confident, more nervous. "a week, two, or maybe a month...like I said, Brisket misses you... If you can, that is! If not, like, no hard feelings–"

He doesn't like the way you said all that in a rush. He doesn't like that you say it as if it were silly and something he'd never agree to.

He cuts off your doubts with a quick kiss. "I swear."

Because he means it. He will, he swears it.

The way your eyes are on his when they flutter back open makes his heart swell. "Thank you."

"Don't thank me." He knocks his nose softly against yours. "I should've done that along time ago."

"Yes indeed, you should've!" You're back to being sassy, and the easy atmosphere comes back. He laughs, but he can't deny you.

He should've made time for you long ago. It's not something he can say whatever to, but he can say it's in the past now, and when the season ends, he'll make up for it.

☾⋆☆⋆☽

ɴᴏᴛᴇ: no bc how is this 2k words long

[fabricated-misslieness]

random tiktok hit me with another glen powell/tyler owens holy damn so its time to write a flirty fic because i lack a flirty fic

[fabricated-misslieness]

i failed. it's soft.

[fabricated-misslieness]

random tiktok hit me with another glen powell/tyler owens holy damn so its time to write a flirty fic because i lack a flirty fic

[fabricated-misslieness]

If there's any proof I'd be more famous if I wrote m4f or fem reader or whatever it's these Tyler Owens fics

[fabricated-misslieness]

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: tyler owens x gn reader

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 2.08k | part 1

ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: today is tomorrow and it's time to talk about your feelings.

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: awkward love confessions

ᴍᴀʏʙ'ꜱ ɴᴏᴛᴇ: I actually wrote this yesterday but think it's better to space it out

☾⋆☆⋆☽

When you awaken the next morning, you blink repeteadly but slowly, trying to fight the sleepiness pulling you back in. It's a hard battle, you and sleep push and pull like dogs in tug of war, but the more aware you are about your surroundings, the better your grip on the rope.

There's distant chatter, the others are probably up already, there's Boone being his usual loud self and Dani telling him to quiet down. Then there's Ben snapping pics away, probably at the sky or documentary-style of the group waking up, and Dex cooking something that sizzles.

Finally, there's Tylers arms around you. You sigh contently and cuddle closer, then finally open your eyes.

Oh, he's awake first.

He's there, on his side, just watching you sleep. When your eyes flutter open, his eyes find yours, and for a moment you just stare at each other. He smiles and huffs out a laugh, and you do the same.

Somewhere in the back of your mind, you feel hot, beginning on too hot. The blanket and his arms and the rising sun call you out of the truckbed, but you stay, just to be with him.

"Creepy." You comment, though your smile doesn't fade.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I thought you were an angel, but clearly not." You might just be, the way his hand climbs up your arm to then cup your cheek, and you lean into it.

"You're the one watching me sleep."

Tyler doesn't roll his eyes, but he does roll his body, pulling you along with him. Your head presses on his chest and half of you is on top of all of him, but you also squirm. He lifts his head to look down at you, digs his fingers through all your hair to feel your scalp. "Hot?"

"Yeah."

He leans down with a small huff and kisses your forehead before beginning the somewhat hard process of untangling your limbs, hard only because he doesn't want to.

"How'd you sleep?" He asks. This morning he's the one that's more awake.

A low sound leaves your throat, maybe a groan or you just cleared your throat, he doesn't know. "Good."

"Yeah?" He slides off the truck bed first, then helps you. Together you sit on the tailgate, stretching your limbs and easing your joints into a new day.

"Yep." You bump your fist casually against his shoulder then stand up first, heading off to see what Dexter's cooking.

Tyler watches your figure for a moment as it leaves him. He wonders if he should've mentioned the kiss. He wonders if he should apologize for it, or if he and you should maybe talk about what it made you feel.

Fuck, he doesn't know.

☾⋆☆⋆☽

Tyler's usually good at feelings.

He's good at sensing chemistry and building bonds. He's good in that he's kind, and that he knows how to comfort someone, that he always knows what to say. He's good at boundaries, good at skinship, and good at kissing.

But when you're around, suddenly he's not good at any of that.

It's evident because he hasn't talked about it all day. He can excuse himself by saying he's been busy, the whole day's been meet and greet after meet and greet, but he's always managed to make time for you before.

The how doesn't really matter, and neither does the why, because the two of you have been doing this for years, so it has to be something about the combination of you and him.

This relationship of yours, it's been old news for the longest time. Dani, Dexter, Lilly and Boone have been aware of this for years, and yet neither of you have really noticed.

Tyler watches you as you and Lilly chat away. He watches your smile and listens to your laugh, and they're both just the same as they've always been, but he still loves them.

Suddenly, someone taps him on the shoulder and makes him jump.

"Shit," Tyler shifts on his feet and snaps his head towards the culprit: Ben. The skittish journalist, Ben, out of all people, got him to jump. He's not an easy man to scare by any means, he's been through storms and tornadoes of the highest speeds, and he actually jumped.

"Hey man." He rubs his nose and pretends to be fine, not startled.

Ben does take note of the whole thing, but he doesn't comment on it, and decidedly doesn't write it down. He clears his throat, offers a sheepish smile, and gestures to his pen and paper. "Hey Tyler. I was wondering something."

"What's up? Something for your article?" Tyler's amicable, despite the whole thing.

"Yeah." Ben bites his lip, gathering courage, and eventually asks the question. "Are you and (Y/N)...in a relationship?"

"What? No." Tyler immediately denies it, crossing his arms. "No, we're just friends."

There must be something about the way he says it, because Ben's words come out in a rush. "Oh, I'm sorry, it's just," He puts his writing things down and avoids Tyler's gaze. "I don't know, I saw you cuddling last night–and, and, I'm sorry, actually, for intruding, but I was just curious, you know, about your whole night routines, and–"

Ben just about looks like he's about to have a heart attack.

"Ben! Ben, dude, it's alright." Tyler puts his hands on Ben's shoulders and calms the man down. "It was obvious, we didn't even try to hide it, it's fine."

"S-So..?"

He sighs. "Was it that noticeable?"

"I mean, yeah." Ben replies and that's all Tyler needs to know.

The storm chaser pats his shoulders and pushes him away lightly. "You're good to go, man, just don't write that down in your article, alright? Focus on the twisters."

Ben nods rapidly and walks off, nearly stumbling over himself.

Well, that was something. Nevermind the whole nervousness, that's just Ben being Ben, it's the other thing that catches Tyler's attention. If someone like Ben, who's only been riding with them for a short amount of time, can notice this thing between the two of you, he might just be doomed.

Tyler's just making excuses now, and he knows it...and he just let Ben leave thinking that you're in a relationship. He'll talk to you later, he will. He just has to hype himself up, form a plan.

No, no, Ben's just a journalist. He's trained for the details.

☾⋆☆⋆☽

He likes you, you like him.

He knows that, he's sure of that. Tyler gathers his face in his hands and tries to calm himself by steadying his breaths.

He likes you, you like him.

It's obvious, it's been that way for years, so what's wrong?

He knows what's wrong. Relationships aren't as simple as he likes you, you like him, nor are they as simple as hugs and kisses.

Oh god, there you are.

Oh god, here it goes.

"Hey." Tyler steps in front of you, blocking your path.

"Hey." You stop abruptly, but manage to not bump into him. "What's up?"

"Can we..talk about that kiss?" He hates the way your face immediately drops, but he has to talk about this. You've avoided the subject long enough.

"...sure."

He takes you off to the side, on the side of his truck facing away from the rest of your friends. His mouth opens and closes like a gaping fish, he doesn't know where to start. "I'm sorry," That wasn't where he was supposed to start. "for asking that from you."

"It's okay, I–" You begin, but he cuts you off, too nervous to really mind himself.

"You like me." Tyler mentally curses. It was him first, not you.

"Um..." You on the other hand...well, you've known for years. It's quite obvious, the mutual crush you have for each other. It's the rest that's hard. "yeah, I do."

"I like you."

"You do."

Okay, shit, now what? He knows what's next. He's done this before, but he can't get the words out of his mouth. "We–"

"I–" At the same time, you start too.

You both cringe and wince, gesture to each other, begin to say "You first," or, "no, no, you go on."

You've been best friends for years. You've talked about everything under the sky. You've talked about the sun, the trees, worms, horses, tornadoes and death. He knows everything about you, and you know everything about him, so why is this so hard?

"I liked the kiss," You begin with, and a wave of relief washes over Tyler both because of what you said and because he doesn't have to start first. "and I gave it to you for a reason, you know? I wanted to."

"That's good, cause I liked it too." He smiles, gingerly. "Um...right, what's next?"

You laugh, "I think I ask you out, or you ask me out."

And that's where the problem is. It's not dates, no. He imagines those will come easy. Its that... you've been friends for years, just friends, and he's scared of what a relationship will do to that. Moreover, he's scared of the lives you both lead. You're storm chasers. One mistake, and you're gone, and he's left grieving; or worse, he's gone, and you're left. He can't leave you to grieve like that.

"I'm scared." Tyler admits sheepishly, laughing awkwardly at himself, because he's ashamed of this fear of his. It should be easy. He loves you more than life itself, wants you more than life itself.

"I know." You say, because it's obvious in his eyes, in his gestures, in the way he stands. Tyler's never like this. You want to reach out, comfort him, but you're scared too. "That makes two of us."

Tyler used to be as scared of tornadoes as he was amazed by them. That's why he modified his truck the way he did. He gave it an exoskeleton, reinforced its frame, weighted it, and gave it an anchor system. That got rid of his fear, replaced it with safety.

You reach out and hold his hand, snapping him out of his thoughts. "You remember what you always say about fear?

He grins, intertwining your fingers, "You don't face your fears, you ride them."

"I'm afraid, cause we've been like this for years, that a relationship might change us." You admit, looking into his eyes. The obvious uneasiness melts when you lock eyes, replaced with adoration. It makes his heart swell. "And you?"

"I'm afraid to lose you, or that you'll lose me, you know, in our line of work." He'll never forget your face, but he cups your cheek anyway, to admire you. "Getting too attached will make it worse if both of us..."

"We're already attached, aren't we?" It's only when he hears you say it that he realizes it, and it's attachment beyond friends already.

"Yeah," He also realizes there's no way he'll treat you any differently–a turn for the worse, that is–if you get into a relationship. "and the way we treat each other won't change, will it?"

"You're right." You admit with a sigh, "I'll kiss you more, hug you more, but nothing'll happen less."

"Aww, you won't even call me dumbass less?" The joke comes out naturally, which means the mood's turning lighter, even more when you laugh.

"Not a chance, Owens." You narrow your eyes defiantly at him, then say, "So then I'll be your top 1?"

"Well..."

"Tyler."

"Okay, dove." He rolls his eyes, says it reluctantly as he can, but he can't hide that hint of endearment when he calls you dove. "You're my favorite person."

Your smile grows wider, and he just wants to kiss it. "We'll give it a try, then. Kisses, hugs, more time alone, dates?"

"Absolutely." Tyler brings your hand to his face to kiss it instead, because he just barely wants to speak more than he wants to kiss. "I'll be careful storm chasing." When you raise a brow at him, he corrects himself, "Okay, I'm reckless and I love to be reckless, but I promise I'll keep it safe."

He doesn't realize he hasn't popped the question until you do. "Would you like to be my boyfriend, Tyler?"

"Yes, dove," He leans in to place a quick kiss on your forehead. "I'll be the best fucking boyfriend you'll ever have."

"Lotta promises for one night, cowboy." You point out, placing a hand over his chest.

With a chuckle, he looks you in the eye so you know he's serious. "I'll keep every one."

[fabricated-misslieness]

I watched the kiss scene in twisters they cut out and oh my fucking god

[fabricated-misslieness]

I watched top gun maverick years ago and got the hots for rooster & hangman (rooster especially) but didn't write anything about it, but now I kinda want to (I've been reading fics in my new obsession with glen powell)

Should I?

[fabricated-misslieness]

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: tyler owens x gn reader

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 2.39k | part 2

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: not communicating and not talking about your feelings (not miscommunication since you don't even communicate)

☾⋆☆⋆☽

There's too many beds.

The one night where you guys don't manage to make it to a motel, there's too many damn beds.

The camper van can fit pretty much all of you at once, not that the seven of you will do that anyway. Dani and Dexter have claim on it, as the drivers, and will probably accept two more comfortably.

In Lilly's van there's the backseat and the floor, but if we're counting, for how many beds there are by technicality, the two front seats as well.

You always have tents and sleeping bags around too, just in case you guys can't drive everyone from any recently unfortunate communities to the nearest hotel (although you'd certainly try). To give a rough estimate, about a dozen tents?

Then there's Tyler's truck, the two front seats and the back seat, and the truck bed. It's a bit short, but it can fit plenty people curled up.

So what to choose?

You should probably stay in a car. Much more heat that way, but who's gonna take you in? The designated drivers obviously prefer their own cars, so... Dexter's campervan is pretty spacious? Then again, so's Lilly's, and to be honest she's more of a vibe than the other two, but also why would you need vibes if you're just sleeping?

Maybe you should start a fire, huddle around that? No, that's a hazard, nevermind the fact you only know how to start a fire in theory.

Let's stick to a car, then. Lilly or Dex & Dan for space... Lilly, sure, why not?

As you start heading over to Lilly's van, you hear a sharp whistle. You don't have time to wonder who it's from, as Tyler spins you around.

"You're coming with me." He proclaims, taking you by the shoulders, and you can only laugh.

"Why me?"

Tyler grins, walking you unceremoniously towards his truck bed. "Because you're you, dove." That alone sounds rather intimate, so he fixes his mistake quickly. You're just friends, after all. "And Boone kicks people in his sleep, Lilly's hair gets everywhere, Dani steals the blankets, Dexter snores, and Ben...it's pitiful how he squeezes himself into the corner whenever he's sleeping next to someone, so we always give him his own space."

Right, all good points you'd forgotten.

"So why exactly am I better?" You tease, stopping in your tracks so Tyler bumps into your back and stay close.

"You're warm." And at first it seems like that's the only thing he'll say, your only benefit, as he pauses; but then the rest comes spilling out like a toad strangler. "You're also soft, you don't steal the blanket, you don't complain when I suddenly start talking and you don't snore."

Tyler doesn't mention that the two of you cuddle when you bunk together, and that you bunk together often. He doesn't mention how tonight he'll let you cuddle up on his chest, or perhaps how he'll press his nose against yours and let you play with his hair, because simply mentioning it will mean you'll have to talk about it.

You don't want to talk about, you think; and neither does he. You don't want to talk about how there's something different with the way he slings his arm around your shoulder, or the way you knock your head against his, or how he always gives out your share of whatever (pizza, cookies, etc.) before anyone else, or how you always offer your help to him no matter what.

They're always easy things to ignore, his skinship is not conditional and neither is your kindness, but there's something about the way you look into his eyes when you say thank you, and something about the way his touch lingers.

You don't want to put your finger on it, at least not this season. You'll say it again the next season, and the next, but you ignore that.

"So then I'm your favorite person?" You turn around and bonk your fist against his chest.

He whistles again, drawn-out like he does in awkward moments, but you know it's only playful. "Don't push your luck, dove. You're like... top 5!"

"Top 5? Aww," You feign offense, plopping your hand over your own chest now, "I didn't make it to top 3?"

He splays out his hand and begins to count on his fingers. "There's my mom, then my dad, then the family dog, Liam from the rodeo, and then you."

"The family dog?" Your eyebrows furrow, and the acting seems a bit too real until the look on your face gives away to a memory of his dog giving you kisses. "Oh, yeah, okay. I get it."

"See? You get it." Tyler chuckles, spins you back around and keeps on walking.

The spot you guys picked today is drier than the last, which is something you're thankful for. It's quite far from any town, but the streetlights that adorn the far off road make you feel a bit safer that civilization is just around the corner. There's a light breeze, not too cold and not too fast, and the stars! Oh, the stars.

They're damn nice out here cause they're actually visible tonight, a little less light pollution, you think. It's certainly a lot brighter than, say, NYC or Washington.

"Ain't they pretty today?" Tyler comments, his hands on your shoulders squeezing.

"Yeah. Sparkly too. You know any constellations?"

"No," He hums, his voice holding a bit of lament. "I tried, once. I tried taking a class in college. Astrology."

"How'd that go?" You ask offhandedly, hopping onto the bed of the truck.

"Ended up being too stressed with my main curriculum and dropped the class before it got too far." He fixes a tarp over the top of the truck bed, over the exoskeleton, so not much light will shine over your eyes when you try to sleep.

"The smart Tyler Owens got too stressed?" You ask as you help him up.

"Being smart doesn't mean I have good time management." Tyler says as he sits next to you, and you shrug. Suppose he's right.

"Still pretty though." You hum, leaning your head against his shoulder as you look up.

"Yeah." He agrees. His arm comes to wrap around you naturally, running up and down your side. "Have you ever tried to come up with constellations with... I don't know, whoever you were looking at the sky with?"

"You know what? I don't think so." You raise a finger, tracing a path in the stars for a moment, trying to find something interesting.

He finds one before you, pointing at a group of stars in a weird glob shape. "There, a cloud!"

That alone gets you to let out an ugly, surprised laugh; despite how ugly you might've thought it to be, he thinks it's cute. "You trynna cloudgaze with stars, cowboy?"

"Shut up." He laughs, knocking his head against yours. "You try, genius."

After a couple seconds, you point out a distinct...cone shape in the sky. "Unicorn horn."

"Unicorn horn?"

"What am I supposed to say, cone?"

"You could've said ice cream cone, a little more age appropriate, you know?" He holds out his hand, holding out a small gap between his index and thumb fingers to accentuate little.

"Yeah, well it has no ice cream, dumbass."

"Woah," Tyler withdraws, raising his hands in surrender. "no need to get so defensive, dove."

You slap his hands only to draw them back around you. He has no complaints about that. "Clearly we both suck at this. Let's just admire the stars normally."

He huffs out a laugh but turns his gaze back to the night sky without complaint. It's rather peaceful, this moment, and so nice. Maybe it's not rare that you get comfortably quiet moments with him, nor is it ever rare for Tyler to hold you close like this, but it doesn't make it any less endearing.

"Look!" Tyler breaks the silence suddenly, finger tracing a path in the stars. "A heart."

"You're kidding." You huff out. He's just playing with you, he has to be, especially after your miserable attempts at finding shapes in the sky.

Despite yourself, your eyes will the stars above you into the shape of a heart. Goddamnit, you think, because it's definitely a sign.

"I'm going to sleep." You tear yourself away from his grip and he laughs and tries to steal you back to him, but you fight briefly and end up winning. It's a nice victory, especially because you won over him, but it's not on par with actually finding something in the sky (and you're avoiding the sign).

Tyler chases after you, flopping down beside you. The tarp above casts darkness over the back of the truck bed, but a soft glow still shines through.

You sigh and tuck a hair of Tyler's behind his ear, to which he only laughs. "Jealous, much?"

"Oh, totally." You'd roll your eyes, but they're stuck on his.

"I won." He's triumphant, but you can only focus on how pretty his smile looks.

"You did." You reply, not fighting him on it, and slowly his amusement fades away with the deflation of his body.

"You're not making this fun." Tyler steals your hand, presses the back of it to his lips and notably does not pucker up and kiss. It might be payback, or it might be avoiding the obvious intimacy that kissing you is.

"It wasn't a competition, anyway." You remind him, and he rolls his eyes.

His attitude eventually exudes out of him with a sigh, and he lets go of your hand to push closer. His head rests below your chin, his nose against your neck, and it's not new, but it's not old either.

"I'm sick n' tired of you." He huffs against your neck as you take the opportunity to tuck the both of you in.

You hold back a laugh. "Oh, yeah? Tell me why."

His voice is muffled against your neck, and maybe the vibrations tickle, but you don't dare move away. "I won! We should be celebrating that."

"Celebrate it in your dreams." Despite it being practically the same thing as in your dreams, it actually sounds quite genuine.

"Don't be like that," Tyler whines. "let me stay up for a little while."

You put your hand in his hair, then, twirling strands around your fingers and scratching his scalp, and Tyler hates you and also loves you, because it feels so good that it pulls a groan out of him, but it's lulling him to sleep.

"You're cheating." He whines again. He's being rather childish, huh?

"It's way past your bedtime." You say in a sing-songy way. Curiosity takes over, and you pull his head away from you gently to look into his eyes.

They open once you pull him off you, just barely. Half-lidded, not by lust, but by sleep. "I just wanna hold you for a little while longer." He says, and you don't know how he does it, but his eyes have turned pleading.

"That's on you to try, cowboy." You huddle close again, allowing him to take up the same position as before.

Despite himself, Tyler sighs contently, wrapping his arms around your midriff. One of your hands is on his back, rubbing slow circles, and the other is back on his hair.

He's definitely not going to last long now.

"When's the last time you've ridden a horse?" Tyler babbles on to try to keep awake, but you can hear the sleepy lilt in his voice. "I think my last time was when I last visited home, before the season started."

"One sheep over the fence, two sheep over the fence–"

"Shuddup."

You laugh, hands smoothing over his hair again. You're not sure how you're not very sleepy right now, tucked under the blankets, in his warm hold. Maybe it's the subconscious thought of not accidentally hitting your head on the spare wheel above you, or the faraway feel of the ridges of the truck bed below you.

Or maybe it's wanting to tease him.

"Kiss me."

"What?"

You've kissed before, little playful things: cheek kisses for the camera, neck kisses to either scare you or tickle you, forehead kisses after particularly dangerous scares, hand kisses when he's trying to act all gentlemanly, temple kisses after hugs. You've never kissed him on the lips before, and actually, neither of you have ever explicitly asked for a kiss. They've always been given without question.

"Please?" He asks again, pulling back so that his forehead is off your neck.

Oh, he only wanted a forehead kiss.

You oblige happily, press your lips against his forehead and let out and exaggerated muah!

"No, not there." He pulls away almost entirely, scooting up to be face to face.

You'd laugh, if what he was asking you for wasn't a kiss on the lips. You can't lie, you've thought about it before, when the sun shines a particular way over his face at sunset, or when he's considerably too hot to ignore.

...you're going to have to talk about this tomorrow.

Except tomorrow is not today yet, and so you cup his cheek. You debate it for a moment, a yes or a no, but there's one answer clear in your mind, a yes.

You press your lips against his, and it's more subtle than that forehead kiss, and it feels so much more tangible, in a way. His lips move against yours, a languid thing, a soft thing.

You wonder if he's going to remember this tomorrow, if being as sleepy as this is equivalent to being drunk.

"Thank you." Tyler says as you part, and he settles back where he was, head against your neck. He seems satisfied now, willing to nod off.

"Don't mention it." You say automatically.

Okay you're definitely going to have to talk about this tomorrow. For now, though, you'll just hold him. It's a strange thing to say, but he's always been rather nice to hold, a big man to fill your entire hug, even if he does make your heartbeat spike.

"Goodnight." He says.

"Sweet dreams." You reply.

There's nothing else to think about but the feeling of him in your arms and the warmth of his body as your eyes draw closed.

[fabricated-misslieness]

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: tyler owens x male reader

ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: years ago, you broke up with him for his reckless lifestyle. now, when he's come back without changing a bit, you don't know why you let him back into your life.

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: idk (tmr) long

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: angst, kissing, swearing, lot of made up family members + names, not proofread

ᴍᴀʏʙ'ꜱ ɴᴏᴛᴇ: cowboy slang vocabulary tmr, yes it's 11pm, yes I wrote this in a day, yes I'm in bed, yes Glen Powells is hot

☾⋆☆⋆☽

Tyler Owens likes to live what others might call a dangerous life, although he much preferred to call it a life of thrill.

He started it off as a bull rider for a rodeo, and though by the end of it he was regarded as the star bull rider and sometimes even the star of the show, there was a big learning curve that ended him with a couple (something closer to four dozen, really) kicks on the ol' noggin. Luckily, none of it sprouted within him either physical or mental problems by the time he decided he wanted to move on; his mother always said he had a thick skull, anyway.

After the less dangerous, still excruciating years in university, he came out with a meteorologist degree. And what did he do with it? He became a storm chaser.

A peculiar fact that came with it was that even after landing a more dangerous job, he sustained less injuries than bull riding by a substantial amount. Suppose the thing is that the moment he gets his first serious one, he's likely done for.

You've been through it all.

You met him before he even started this life, in high school; your first kiss was at his bedside after a particularly harsh fall and kick, you persisted through the busier university schedule, and you supported his dreams to be a storm chaser.

But at the height of it all, after the first scare when the anchor mechanism on that old truck of his failed to stop the car from turning onto its side, you decided you two were over.

It was definitely selfish. You didn't want to be close to him when, and you said when, he died. You decided it would be a lot less grief on your end, and you know what? He understood you.

For years, you've been grateful for him. As much as you've been his anchor, he's been yours...but he'd have made you a widower, even if you were married or not, and you just couldn't take that possibility.

If you're caught in the disastrous thunderstorm he'll leave behind, you're not sure you'll ever make it out.

You hope you'll never find out.

☾⋆☆⋆☽

"Get your ten commandments out of my soup!"

So why did you let him walk back into your life?

"I'm sorry! Hey, don't hit me with that ladle!"

You're not sure.

You point the utensil at him as threateningly as possible, although it's practically the same thing as pointing a spoon at him. "I don't need you for a taste-tester, Owens, you best take note of that."

"Yeah, yeah," Tyler's body is shaking with laughs, even as he lifts his hands up in surrender. "yes, sir."

You roll your eyes, bedrugingly turning your back to him to keep chopping vegetables. Tonight, you'll be sharing this soup with the whole community, and you're currently trying your damnedest to make it good. That means avoiding whatever seasoning boiled Tornado Wrangler digits will bring.

Tyler leans back to admire you, no he's not looking at your ass, work away. It feels oddly domestic, even if he's sitting down like a useless husband watching TV on his recliner.

That feeling of domesticity is piled on further when he hears the sound of innocent laughing outside.

"You sure that kid's not mine?" Tyler suggests for the second time, gesturing out the back door with his head.

"Haha." You laugh sarcastically, not even giving him the satisfaction of turning his way. "No, my sister just so happened to marry a blonde. Even if she was somehow ours, I would've never kept you from her."

Of course you wouldn't have. You're too good for that.

The kid outside is your niece, a twelve year old girl shipped out of bustling New York City to the backdoor of America for being "too addicted to her phone", as your sister says. Despite her self-proclaimed hatred for the outdoors, she's actually having a lot of fun with the ranch dogs, who indulge her when they're not working.

Even though he's in no way related to the kid, and even if you and him could biologically never create anything together, he swears she looks just like if the two of you had a love child, which makes his heart swell all the more when she sees her.

"If we could've had one," Tyler begins, standing up to begin a slow, silent walk towards you. "would you have rather they be a boy or a girl?"

"Don't ask me that." You say with a laugh, meaning you're refusing to answer only because you don't want to have prejudice.

"Okay, fine, then." He settles behind you, presses his chest to your back. "Huh."

"Huh, what, cowpoke?"

His hands are settled on the edge of the counter on either side of you, trapping you in. "I thought you'd flinch."

"I learned to expected the unexpected around you, Tyler Owens. Never a day went by that you didn't surprise me, so I decided I'd simply never be surprised."

Tyler sputters out a laugh. "Oh, hobble your lip!"

"It's true." You reply, offhandedly, fully concentrated on chopping some carrots, and Tyler hates that because you're not giving him attention.

So he opts to do something you'll obviously never expect and prove you wrong. He leans down to press his nose against your neck, and you think he's only going to kiss it, but instead...

Thbptttttt!

"Ew, Tyler, you did not!" It's a miracle you have the self-restraint to put the knife down, let alone only push him away and not slap him on the face. You clutch the spot where he just blew a raspberry and instantly regret it, recoiling away from the feel of his saliva like it's acid.

Tyler laughs. Despite your best efforts to push him away again as he approaches, he only dodges your hands and traps you against the counter again. His plan is accomplished, as he now has you facing him.

"You asshole." You snarl.

Tyler only smiles. "Yours, all the same."

He leans down to kiss right where he'd blown that raspberry, collecting most of his own spit on his lips and saving you the trouble of cleaning it himself.

Even when you wipe off the rest of the spit you'd previously touched on his sleeve, he laughs.

"What am I going to do with you?" You sigh, cupping his cheek and tilting his gaze towards yours.

He's a damn bastard, having the audacity to grin at you as if he's won some kind of victory. "Kiss me."

So he's a puppy, then. Licking you like it's a way of kissing and expecting a proper kiss back. "No, you don't deserve that."

He rolls his eyes, though his eyes find yours immediately after. "Yes I do. Kiss me."

You don't know why you let Tyler Owens walk back into your life like nothing happened. You don't know how you let him kiss your neck, or how you let him even ask to kiss you, or how you're even being friendly with him.

Scratch that, actually. You don't know why he kissed your neck, why he wants to kiss you, or why he's being friendly with you.

You walked out of his life, for God's sake. You walked out of his life because you feared dealing with the aftermath of his death.

He's a tornado. Tyler Owens, the tornado wrangling cowboy, is a tornado. He's a fire twister, even, the worst of the worst, a category F5. The damage he'll leave once he dies out won't be devastating, it'll be incredible.

That's what you're trying to avoid.

"What's wrong?" Tyler's smile has faded, his expression sobered up. Of course he can still tell when you're lost in your own thoughts.

"Nothing." You shake your head, wipe your nose to hide your sniffle and thus let go of his face. "Hey, how about you go check up on Sophie? My sister would kill me if she got hurt."

"Right, sure." He can sense something's wrong, but he withdraws anyway, respecting your decisions. He always does that, and you hate him for it, because he's so good.

You watch him head out the back door, and even as he closes it, you watch on.

He's too good for you.

When the distant sound of the boiling soul catches your ear, you inevitably tear your eyes away.

Right, let's make the best soup there ever was.

☾⋆☆⋆☽

Tyler had unknowingly picked the right time to show up at your front step when he did.

"Aww, come on, you didn't have to make such a big fuss," Your great uncle speaks with those sloppy dentures of his, but even with the wet sound of his gums and lips, he sounds entirely endearing. "Tyler's back! This party should've been his."

Tyler's always been the life of the party ever since you brought him home for that first Thanksgiving (his "trial", so to speak), and that apparently hasn't changed.

"Oh, no, no, you're kiddin' grandpa!" Tyler only raises his glass from where he's leaning against the punch table. "It's your birthday! Hell, I didn't even bring a gift!"

"Your fine ass is all you needed to bring." Your famously single aunt grins and sends a wink, holding a glass full of wine she snuck in despite all the children around.

Tyler directs his own glass towards her to thank her, his smile never waning. "Oh shush, aunt Delilah."

As Tyler greets the family one by one, all of which clearly miss him, you're in the corner of the room pointing out each of them to your niece.

"Those are your cousins...I think. They're your mom's cousin's kids, and well...whatever, they're Jonas' kids. Becky, Jake, Bean–"

"Bean?"

"Sorry, his name's Nick, we just call him Bean 'cause one time as a toddler we found him sitting on a sack of raw beans, shovelling them into his mouth."

"That's crazy."

Even after you've named every face in the room and sent Sophie away with a pat on the head to mingle with her...cousins, Tyler's still talking to everyone.

Your heart burns like you've had some of uncle Dick's famous dripping fried chicken at the sight of it because nobody's ever like this when it's just you.

It's not even about the fact you're forgotten, it's a big family and you have your own close group of cousins in the middle of all of them, it's the fact that they missed him.

While you're distracted, your mom pulls you down to sit beside her on the couch, where your dad is telling another story of his. Many of your aunts and uncles and distant cousins are gathered around him, listening intently, but as you actually hear the contents of his speech, your attention fades away. It's one of those stories he always tells, about how the crop cycle was ruined until he had this eureka idea.

Distantly, you hear Tyler droning on about his whole tornado wrangling cowboy thing, explaining his latest feat like it's nothing but a regular Tuesday. He's got a lot more people gathered around him than your dad; not to discredit your dad, as he's doing his best trying to compete against Tyler in storytelling, but you know how that will end.

You kiss your mother on the cheek and stand up to find your more amicable cousins, only to be interrupted by your aunt Sissy, Delilah's sister.

"Hey, darling! How've you been?" She calls you over and immediately slings an arm around your neck, holding you close and rubbing your cheeks together in greeting.

"Good, good." You say immediately, an instinctual white lie as you wipe her transferred makeup off your cheek.

She doesn't even notice you're lying to her, maybe doesn't care enough to notice, before she's nodding her head at Tyler and his crowd. "I'm so happy you're back together with Tyler, he must have so many new stories to tell."

"Um, actually, auntie," You try to correct her, then bite your lip, pausing suddenly to think. It'd probably be a lot better if you let her believe you were back together, but you've already dug yourself into saying actually. "we're–"

"Hey, auntie Sissy!" Tyler suddenly appears beside you like he wasn't just across the room, leaning down to gracefully accept the cheek kisses in greeting. He somehow comes out of it without getting stained. "How have things been? The old cat still slinking around the neighbors' yards?"

The two of them exchange a few words before he's slinging an arm around your shoulder, "Can I borrow this one real quick? It'll just be a sec."

"Sure, sure!" Whether an insult to your presence or a compliment to his coercion tactics, she's more than happy to let the two of you go. "Don't let me hold up your fun."

You're grateful for him steering you away from the party and out onto the front porch, but you're also dreading being alone with him after the whole thing in the kitchen.

Tyler doesn't seem to feel the same way.

"Whew, I did not miss being around your family." He breaths out, leaning against the porch's railing.

The whole dread fades into confusion as he says that, and you lean against the spot beside him. "You didn't?"

"No...well," He shakes his head, "I missed hanging out with them. I did not miss having to tell them every single detail about where I've been since I've last seen them."

"I thought you liked telling them stories." You hummed, turning your gaze from the scenery ahead to him.

"Eh...I much prefer intimate crowds." He sends a wink. You flush and try to turn away, but he catches your cheek and stops you.

Tyler knows something is wrong, has known since you discreetly pushed him away earlier today in the kitchen. Looking into your eyes only further convinces him.

"What is it?"

"Nothing."

His eyes narrow. His stupidly beautiful blue-green eyes narrow at you, and you know you can't lie anymore...but you can deflect.

"Did you know your eyes are blue and green?" You ask, lightly tapping his hand that sits on the railing.

"(Y/N)."

"Blue rim. Green...center? No, that's not the word, the inner? God, I don't know." You shake your head, and despite the movement, his hand doesn't leave your cheek.

"(Y/N)."

"They remind me of the classic scenery." You hold a pointer finger out. "Blue sky, green lawn, right? Or the Windows default wallpaper. Both are iconic."

His other hand leaves the railing and takes your other cheek. "Baby, look at me."

Baby. You used to hate it when he called you that, you weren't some baby, but now...now, how you've missed it.

You sigh, closing your eyes momentarily to collect yourself. No more deflecting and no more lies. You actually had to talk about your feelings now.

It had taken a lot of courage the first time, telling him: yes, I still love you, I'm just selfish and think that if you die, you'll take me down with you; no, I know you won't actually kill me, but you'll take my soul with you, and that's practically the same thing, isn't it?

"You don't have to tell me anything." Tyler speaks up before you do, beckoning your eyes open. "You just have to tell me to go away again, if that's what you want."

"No," You instinctively say.

"No," You say immediately.

No. No, how could you? You did once, and you're not sure how.

"Stay." You say, because you want it, you want him to stay.

"Okay." He says it easily, and his hands fall to his sides. He's willing to take that, just that, because...you don't know, maybe he still loves you. You're not willing to admit that.

You're not willing to accept that he still loves you after you told him you wanted to break up.

You take his hand before he can walk back into the party. "Why'd you come back?"

"I..." Tyler almost shrinks back, but you intertwine your fingers, and now you're the angler reeling him back in. "My car got flipped onto it's roof."

"Baby." You breathe out, pulling him in, pulling him closer to you, almost like he's not living flesh in front of you and you need to make sure he's breathing by feeling his chest heave against you.

"I was in the hospital for a little while...just some cuts." He assures first, to not worry you. He grabs both your hands, presses his nose to the knuckles, inhales the scent of their sweat like it's an apple pie, and it's weird but he needs it. "The glass broke, obviously, all of it, and some of my equipment, and, well, fuck, it was worse than a couple cuts."

"Ty."

"I'm okay, you see? Not scarred. I'm tough." He lets go of your hands momentarily to do a little twirl for you. He looks just the same as you left him.

"You almost died." You say anyway.

"Yeah." He doesn't deny it, he can't lie, because he can see through your lies as well as you can see through his. "I wanted to see you again, because...I wanted to see you in case the next time I got into an accident, I actually died. And you know what? I feel selfish for it."

"What? No." You shake your head, step closer. You're about to say more, but he starts first.

"You told me to stay away, but I came back into your life and I acted like nothing happened. You know, the life you're living? It's kind of what I wanted for us. A little ranch, some cows, some dogs, a farm. We get our own milk, our own eggs, grow our own food, and it's just the two of us..." His fingers climb up your arm like a little spider, and his gaze follows it absentmindedly. "Until we decide to adopt a little girl. You drive her to school, I drive her back home. We're happy, raising her. We teach her not to be like us, and she still turns out an exact replica of us, anyway. She's our princess."

"Sophie?"

"Sophie."

He sniffles. You tear your hand away from his only to cup both of his cheeks with your hands. "I'm so sorry, Tyler."

"No, I–"

"No, shut up." Despite the severity, you laugh, and he does too, until you're speaking again. "I shouldn't have left. I should've stayed right there with you. I'd have been right at your bedside, you know? I'd have kissed you like the first time. Remember what I said?"

He laughs again, "That my breath tastes like cow shit?"

"Yeah, that." You grin at him, and he loves to see you grin like that again. "I was selfish."

"I understood you completely, though. I thought I was saving you the grief." That's why he let you leave so easily, and you realize it now, looking into his eyes. "You were right. You always are."

"I'm not, Tyler. I was wrong." You shake your head, "I thought it worked. Weeks went by when I didn't think about you, because I fought the memories of you back. A year after, it settled in that I wouldn't be seeing you, so I thought I wouldn't even think about you anymore, but...the memory of you, your smile, your kisses, your warmth resurfaces every month, and god, I missed you. And missing you without the possibility of having you is just grieving you."

"And now I'm here." He leans a bit further away, and you see all of him. You see the way his blue-green eyes are glassed over, and you've no doubt yours are the same; you see the familiar way his hat is perched above his head and how he still wears the top two buttons of his shirt undone and how his smile is just the same.

"And now you're here." You nod.

He places his hands over your wrists, holds them, presses his nose against yours. "I missed you too."

"Mhm?" You hum. Your breaths mingle with his, pressed this close together.

"And I love you, too. Still do."

"Fuck." You laugh, a teary little thing, but it's real and genuine and not a figment of his imagination. "I love you too."

And then you kiss, and he's missed it so much, and you've missed it so much, the two of you. You're slotted together, like pieces of a puzzle. You're not you without him and he's not him without you.

When you part, you wipe a couple stray tears off his cheeks, and he does the same for you.

"Should we..." He chokes a little on his words, then shakes the nerves off. He has you back, and his smile returns. "head back?"

"Yeah. Yeah, we should." You find yourself leaning back in, anyway.

You share another kiss, maybe two. If he'd brought a friend or two along, he'd have signalled them to light the fireworks in his truck to add a little magic to it, even if it already feels like fireworks are going off between your lips.

When you've had enough of each other for the moment and finally head back in, your great uncle raises his spoon at you and laughs. "There you are! This soup is amazing, kid!"

Or at least that's what he would've said, had his dentures not gotten stuck in a hard carrot and splashed right back into his bowl.

The carrots which you added last, thanks to Tyler's distraction earlier today.

The tornado wrangler of a boyfriend you've regained is laughing his ass off beside you, while you cringe. So much for the perfect soup.

"Come on, (Y/N)." Tyler wraps an arm around you, pulling you close, and you're so happy he can do it casually again.

"Let's get us a bowl."

[fabricated-misslieness]

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: tyler owens x male reader

ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: years ago, you broke up with him for his reckless lifestyle. now, when he's come back without changing a bit, you don't know why you let him back into your life.

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 3.65k

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: angst, death is mentioned and tyler gets close to it not explicitly, kissing, swearing, baby as a nickname for your lover, lot of made up family members + names

ᴍᴀʏʙ'ꜱ ɴᴏᴛᴇ: cowboy slang vocabulary, yes it's 11pm, yes I wrote this in a day, yes I'm in bed, yes Glen Powells is hot

☾⋆☆⋆☽

Tyler Owens likes to live what others might call a dangerous life, although he much preferred to call it a life of thrill.

He started it off as a bull rider for a rodeo, and though by the end of it he was regarded as the star bull rider and sometimes even the star of the show, there was a big learning curve that ended him with a couple (something closer to four dozen, really) kicks on the ol' noggin. Luckily, none of it sprouted within him either physical or mental problems by the time he decided he wanted to move on; his mother always said he had a thick skull, anyway.

After the less dangerous, still excruciating years in university, he came out with a meteorologist degree. And what did he do with it? He became a storm chaser.

A peculiar fact that came with it was that even after landing a more dangerous job, he sustained less injuries than bull riding by a substantial amount. Suppose the thing is that the moment he gets his first serious one, he's likely done for.

You've been through it all.

You met him before he even started this life, in high school; your first kiss was at his bedside after a particularly harsh fall and kick, you persisted through the busier university schedule, and you supported his dreams to be a storm chaser.

But at the height of it all, after the first scare when the anchor mechanism on that old truck of his failed to stop the car from turning onto its side, you decided you two were over.

It was definitely selfish. You didn't want to be close to him when, and you said when, he died. You decided it would be a lot less grief on your end, and you know what? He understood you.

For years, you've been grateful for him. As much as you've been his anchor, he's been yours...but he'd have made you a widower, even if you were married or not, and you just couldn't take that possibility.

If you're caught in the disastrous thunderstorm he'll leave behind, you're not sure you'll ever make it out.

You hope you'll never find out.

☾⋆☆⋆☽

"Get your ten commandments out of my soup!"

So why did you let him walk back into your life?

"I'm sorry! Hey, don't hit me with that ladle!"

You're not sure.

You point the utensil at him as threateningly as possible, although it's practically the same thing as pointing a spoon at him. "I don't need you for a taste-tester, Owens, you best take note of that."

"Yeah, yeah," Tyler's body is shaking with laughs, even as he lifts his hands up in surrender. "yes, sir."

You roll your eyes, bedrugingly turning your back to him to keep chopping vegetables. Tonight, you'll be sharing this soup with the whole family, and you're currently trying your damnedest to make it good. That means avoiding whatever seasoning boiled Tornado Wrangler digits will bring.

Tyler leans back to admire you, no he's not looking at your ass, work away. It feels oddly domestic, even if he's sitting down like a useless husband watching TV on his recliner.

That feeling of domesticity is piled on further when he hears the sound of innocent laughing outside.

"You sure that kid's not mine?" Tyler suggests for the second time, gesturing out the back door with his head.

"Haha." You laugh sarcastically, not even giving him the satisfaction of turning his way. "No, my sister just so happened to marry a blonde. Even if she was somehow ours, I would've never kept you from her."

Of course you wouldn't have. You're too good for that.

The kid outside is your niece, a twelve year old girl shipped out of bustling New York City to the backdoor of America for being "too addicted to her phone", as your sister says. Despite her self-proclaimed hatred for the outdoors, she's actually having a lot of fun with the ranch dogs, who indulge her when they're not working.

Even though he's in no way related to the kid, and even if you and him could never biologically create anything together, he swears she looks just like if the two of you had a love child, which makes his heart swell all the more when she sees her.

"If we could've had one," Tyler begins, standing up to begin a slow, silent walk towards you. "would you have rather they be a boy or a girl?"

"Don't ask me that." You say with a laugh, meaning you're refusing to answer only because you don't want to have prejudice.

"Okay, fine, then." He settles behind you, pressing his chest to your back. "Huh."

"Huh, what, cowpoke?"

His hands are settled on the edge of the counter on either side of you, trapping you in. "I thought you'd flinch."

"I learned to expected the unexpected around you, Tyler Owens. Never a day went by that you didn't surprise me, so I decided I'd simply never be surprised."

Tyler sputters out a laugh. "Oh, hobble your lip!"

"It's true." You reply, offhandedly, fully concentrated on chopping some carrots, and Tyler hates that because you're not giving him attention.

So he opts to do something you'll obviously never expect and prove you wrong. He leans down to press his nose against your neck, and you think he's only going to kiss it, but instead...

Thbptttttt!

"Ew, Tyler, you did not!" It's a miracle you have the self-restraint to put the knife down, let alone only push him away and not slap him on the face. You clutch the spot where he just blew a raspberry and instantly regret it, recoiling away from the feel of his saliva like it's acid.

Tyler laughs. Despite your best efforts to push him away again as he approaches, he only dodges your hands and traps you against the counter again. His plan is accomplished, as he now has you facing him.

"You asshole." You snarl.

Tyler only smiles. "Yours, all the same."

He leans down to kiss right where he'd blown that raspberry, collecting most of his own spit on his lips and saving you the trouble of cleaning it himself.

Even when you wipe off the rest of the spit you'd previously touched on his sleeve, he laughs.

"What am I going to do with you?" You sigh, cupping his cheek and tilting his gaze towards yours.

He's a damn bastard, having the audacity to grin at you as if he's won some kind of victory. "Kiss me."

So he's a puppy, then. Licking you like it's a way of kissing and expecting a proper kiss back. "No, you don't deserve that."

He rolls his eyes, though his eyes find yours immediately after. "Yes I do. Kiss me."

You don't know why you let Tyler Owens walk back into your life like nothing happened. You don't know how you let him kiss your neck, or how you let him even ask to kiss you, or how you're even being friendly with him.

Scratch that, actually. You don't know why he kissed your neck, why he wants to kiss you, or why he's being friendly with you.

You walked out of his life, for God's sake. You walked out of his life because you feared dealing with the aftermath of his death.

He's a tornado. Tyler Owens, the tornado wrangling cowboy, is a tornado. He's a fire twister, even, the worst of the worst, a category F5. The damage he'll leave once he dies out won't be devastating, it'll be incredible.

That's what you're trying to avoid.

"What's wrong?" Tyler's smile has faded, his expression sobered up. Of course he can still tell when you're lost in your own thoughts.

"Nothing." You shake your head, wipe your nose to hide your sniffle and thus let go of his face. "Hey, how about you go check up on Sophie? My sister would kill me if she got hurt."

"Right, sure." He can sense something's wrong, but he withdraws anyway, respecting your decisions. He always does that, and you hate him for it, because he's so good.

You watch him head out the back door, and even as he closes it, you watch on.

He's too good for you.

When the distant sound of the boiling soup catches your ear, you inevitably tear your eyes away.

Right, let's make the best soup there ever was.

☾⋆☆⋆☽

Tyler had unknowingly picked the right time to show up at your front door when he did.

"Aww, come on, you didn't have to make such a big fuss," Your great uncle speaks with those sloppy dentures of his, but even with the wet sound of his gums and lips, he sounds entirely endearing. "Tyler's back! This party should've been his."

Tyler's always been the life of the party ever since you brought him home for that first Thanksgiving (his "trial", so to speak), and that apparently hasn't changed.

"Oh, no, no, you're kiddin' grandpa!" Tyler only raises his glass from where he's leaning against the punch table. "It's your birthday! Hell, I didn't even bring a gift!"

"Your fine ass is all you needed to bring." Your famously single aunt grins and sends a wink, holding a glass full of wine she snuck in despite all the children around.

Tyler directs his own glass towards her to thank her, his smile never waning. "Oh shush, aunt Delilah."

As Tyler greets the family one by one, all of which clearly miss him, you're in the corner of the room pointing out each of them to your niece.

"Those are your cousins...I think. They're your mom's cousin's kids, and well...whatever, they're Jonas' kids. Becky, Jake, Bean–"

"Bean?"

"Sorry, his name's Nick, we just call him Bean 'cause one time as a toddler we found him sitting on a sack of raw beans, shovelling them into his mouth."

"That's crazy."

Even after you've named every face in the room and sent Sophie away with a pat on the head to mingle with her...cousins, Tyler's still talking to everyone.

Your heart burns like you've had some of uncle Dick's famous dripping fried chicken at the sight of it because nobody's ever like this when it's just you.

It's not even about the fact you're forgotten, it's a big family and you have your own close group of cousins in the middle of all of them, it's the fact that they missed him.

While you're distracted, your mom pulls you down to sit beside her on the couch, where your dad is telling another story of his. Many of your aunts and uncles and distant cousins are gathered around him, listening intently, but as you actually hear the contents of his speech, your attention fades away. It's one of those stories he always tells, about how the crop cycle was ruined until he had this eureka idea.

Distantly, you hear Tyler droning on about his whole tornado wrangling cowboy thing, explaining his latest feat like it's nothing but a regular Tuesday. He's got a lot more people gathered around him than your dad; not to discredit your dad, as he's doing his best trying to compete against Tyler in storytelling, but you know how that will end.

You kiss your mother on the cheek and stand up to find your more amicable cousins, only to be interrupted by your aunt Sissy, Delilah's sister.

"Hey, darling! How've you been?" She calls you over and immediately slings an arm around your neck, holding you close and rubbing your cheeks together in greeting.

"Good, good." You say immediately, an instinctual white lie as you wipe her transferred makeup off your cheek.

She doesn't even notice you're lying to her, maybe doesn't care enough to notice, before she's nodding her head towards Tyler and his crowd. "I'm so happy you're back together with Tyler, he must have so many new stories to tell."

"Um, actually, auntie," You try to correct her, then bite your lip, pausing suddenly to think. It'd probably be a lot better if you let her believe you were back together, but you've already dug yourself into saying actually. "we're–"

"Hey, auntie Sissy!" Tyler suddenly appears beside you like he wasn't just across the room, leaning down to gracefully accept the cheek kisses in greeting. He somehow comes out of it without getting stained. "How have things been? The old cat still slinking around the neighbors' yards?"

The two of them exchange a few words before he's slinging an arm around your shoulder, "Can I borrow this one real quick? It'll just be a sec."

"Sure, sure!" Whether an insult to your presence or a compliment to his coercion tactics, she's more than happy to let the two of you go. "Don't let me hold up your fun."

You're grateful for him steering you away from the party and out onto the front porch, but you're also dreading being alone with him after the whole thing in the kitchen.

Tyler doesn't seem too far off.

"Whew, I did not miss being around your family." He breaths out, leaning against the porch's railing.

The whole dread fades into confusion as he says that, and you lean against the spot beside him. "You didn't?"

"No...well," He shakes his head, "I missed hanging out with them. I did not miss having to tell them every single detail about where I've been since I've last seen them."

"I thought you liked telling them stories." You hummed, turning your gaze from the scenery ahead to him.

"Eh...I much prefer intimate crowds." He sends a wink. You flush and try to turn away, but he catches your cheek and stops you.

Tyler knows something is wrong, has known since you discreetly pushed him away earlier today in the kitchen. Looking into your eyes only further convinces him.

"What is it?"

"Nothing."

His eyes narrow. His stupidly beautiful blue-green eyes narrow at you, and you know you can't lie anymore...but you can deflect.

"Did you know your eyes are blue and green?" You ask, lightly tapping his hand that sits on the railing.

"(Y/N)."

"Blue rim. Green...center? No, that's not the word, the inner? God, I don't know." You shake your head, and despite the movement, his hand doesn't leave your cheek.

"(Y/N)."

"They remind me of the classic scenery." You hold a pointer finger out. "Blue sky, green lawn, right? Or the Windows default wallpaper. Both are iconic."

His other hand leaves the railing and takes your other cheek. "Baby, look at me."

Baby. You used to hate it when he called you that, you weren't some baby, but now...now, how you've missed it.

You sigh, closing your eyes momentarily to collect yourself. No more deflecting and no more lies. You actually had to talk about your feelings now.

It had taken a lot of courage the first time, telling him: yes, I still love you, I'm just selfish and think that if you die, you'll take me down with you; no, I know you won't actually kill me, but you'll take my soul with you, and that's practically the same thing, isn't it?

"You don't have to tell me anything." Tyler speaks up before you do, beckoning your eyes open. "You just have to tell me to go away again, if that's what you want."

"No," You instinctively say.

"No," You say immediately.

No. No, how could you? You did once, and you're not sure how.

"Stay." You say, because you want it, you want him to stay.

"Okay." He says it easily, and his hands fall to his sides. He's willing to take that, just that, because...you don't know, maybe he still loves you. You're not willing to admit that.

You're not willing to accept that he still loves you after you told him you wanted to break up.

You take his hand before he can walk back into the party. "Why'd you come back?"

"I..." Tyler almost shrinks back, but you intertwine your fingers, and now you're the angler reeling him back in. "My car got flipped onto it's roof."

"Baby." You breathe out, pulling him in, pulling him closer to you, almost like he's not living flesh in front of you and you need to make sure he's breathing by feeling his chest heave against you.

"I was in the hospital for a little while...just some cuts." He assures first, to not worry you. He grabs both your hands, presses his nose to the knuckles, inhales the scent of their sweat like it's that of an apple pie, and it's weird but he needs it. "The glass broke, obviously, all of it, and some of my equipment, and, well, fuck, it was worse than a couple cuts."

"Ty."

"I'm okay, you see? Not scarred. I'm tough." He lets go of your hands momentarily to do a little twirl for you. He looks just the same as you left him.

"You almost died." You say anyway.

"Yeah." He doesn't deny it, he can't lie, because he can see through your lies as well as you can see through his. "I wanted to see you again, because...I wanted to see you in case the next time I got into an accident, I actually died. And you know what? I feel selfish for it."

"What? No." You shake your head, step closer. You're about to say more, but he starts first.

"You told me to stay away, but I came back into your life and I acted like nothing happened. You know, the life you're living? It's kind of what I wanted for us. A little ranch, some cows, some dogs, a farm. We get our own milk, our own eggs, grow our own food, and it's just the two of us..." His fingers climb up your arm like a little spider, and his gaze follows it absentmindedly. "Until we decide to adopt a little girl. You drive her to school, I drive her back home. We're happy, raising her. We teach her not to be like us, and she still turns out an exact replica of us, anyway. She's our princess."

"Sophie?"

"Sophie."

He sniffles. You tear your hand away from his only to cup both of his cheeks with your hands. "I'm so sorry, Tyler."

"No, I–"

"No, shut up." Despite the severity, you laugh, and he does too, until you're speaking again. "I shouldn't have left. I should've stayed right there with you. I'd have been right at your bedside, you know? I'd have kissed you like the first time. Remember what I said?"

He laughs again, "That my breath tastes like cow shit?"

"Yeah, that." You grin at him, and he loves to see you grin like that again. "I was selfish."

"I understood you completely, though. I thought I was saving you the grief." That's why he let you leave so easily, and you realize it now, looking into his eyes. "You were right. You always are."

"I'm not, Tyler. I was wrong." You shake your head, "I thought it worked. Weeks went by when I didn't think about you, because I fought the memories of you back. A year after, it settled in that I wouldn't be seeing you, so I thought I wouldn't even think about you anymore, but...the memory of you, your smile, your kisses, your warmth resurfaces every month, and god, I missed you. And missing you without the possibility of having you is just grieving you."

"...and now I'm here." He leans a bit further away, and you see all of him. You see the way his blue-green eyes are glassed over, and you've no doubt yours are the same; you see the familiar way his hat is perched above his head and how he still wears the top two buttons of his shirt undone and how his smile is just the same.

"And now you're here." You nod.

He places his hands over your wrists, holds them, presses his nose against yours. "I missed you too."

"Mhm?" You hum. Your breaths mingle with his, pressed this close together.

"And I love you, too. Still do."

"Fuck." You laugh, a teary little thing, but it's real and genuine and not a figment of his imagination. "I love you too."

And then you kiss, and he's missed it so much, and you've missed it so much, the two of you. You're slotted together, like pieces of a puzzle. You're not you without him and he's not him without you.

When you part, you wipe a couple stray tears off his cheeks, and he does the same for you.

"Should we..." He chokes a little on his words, then shakes the nerves off. He has you back, and his smile returns. "head back?"

"Yeah. Yeah, we should." You find yourself leaning back in, anyway.

You share another kiss, maybe two. If he'd brought a friend or three along, he'd have signalled them to light the fireworks in his truck to add a little magic to it, even if it already feels like fireworks are going off between your lips.

You could spend eternity like this.

When you've had enough of each other for the moment and finally head back in, your great uncle raises his spoon at you and laughs. "There you are! This soup is amazing, kid!"

Or at least that's what he would've said, had his dentures not gotten stuck in a hard carrot and splashed right back into his bowl.

One of the carrots which you added last, thanks to Tyler's distraction earlier today.

The tornado wrangler of a boyfriend you've regained is laughing his ass off beside you, while you cringe. So much for the perfect soup.

"Come on, (Y/N)." Tyler wraps an arm around you, pulling you close, and you're so happy he can do it casually again.

"Let's get us a bowl."

[fabricated-misslieness]

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: tyler owens x cowboy male reader

ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: there's a new cowboy at the rodeo tyler used to ride for, and tyler's itching to get to know him.

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 4.06k

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: plenty swearing, implied death in an acted play

ᴍᴀʏʙ'ꜱ ɴᴏᴛᴇ: cowboy slang vocabulary

☾⋆☆⋆☽

Rodeos are basically a second home for the famous Tornado Wrangler, Tyler Owens. This particular one he visits as often as he can, on weekend evenings to watch the show he used to ride for.

Sometimes, he misses it. He misses the blinding lights that make him forget he's in a glorified pit rather than a stage, and the whistling cheers and claps as he's fighting for his life on the back of a bull; most of all, he misses seeing his cowboy friends damn near every day for practice, especially the old rats that twister-signals him every time they spot each other.

Speaking of, he always tries to waive the fee for his ticket, and when he's too stubborn to accept, they bump down the $15 dollar price to a $3. Not that he ever agrees to that, either. He wants to support them.

All that history means he can always tell when they hire a new cowboy for the show, and this one, well, whew. Isn't he a looker?

Probably, anyway. The cowboy poncho's doing nothin' for his figure, and he's got his scarf up over his nose like the less pleasurable corona's still going around, but he's always had a little thing for cowboys with rat tails and hats over their eyes. Silly little things they are to want to act a mystery–fellers'll often get exposed one way or another–but there's just something about you that lassoes him in.

When Liam sees him walking over after the show, a purposeful look in his eye, he has to ask if he's coming back. "You finally quittin' your storm chaser business, cowpoke? We're startin' to miss ya."

"No, not today. Maybe when I'm forty." Tyler indulges him with a far off idea, like he always does to make small talk, but today he just can't wait to get to the point. "Who's the tenderfoot?"

"Oh, (Y/N)?" Liam chuckles, like a pleasant memory already brightens his mind just from the name. "He's good, ain't he?"

"Yeah, y'all train 'em for three months beforehand." Tyler brushes it off. He was good, but that wasn't the point, and–

"He's a total Bronc Buster, actually."

"Yeah, yeah," He dismisses it once more. "why the scarf? And the hat over his eyes?"

"We're starting a new thing next week." Liam strikes him with that famous excited grin of his, the one that often makes you forget how stern he can get, "Theatre plays on horseback."

"Plays on horseback–?"

"Yeah!" He replies with a nod like it's nothing. "Well, it's just regular plays without a stage, proper backdrops or a light crew," He lists off, then realizes just how depressive that must sound, "and real horses."

"Yeah, that's great, Liam, but why does that matter, exactly?" Tyler still had that one objective in mind, and that's finding out the mystery behind the newest cowboy on horseback.

"He's playin' the villain, of course. Gotta tease the man before we premier the show, builds up the anticipation, obviously."

"Right, right..." Though he trails off, he tries to act as though he knew the obvious marketing strategy, because obviously you put a man in a poncho and obstruct his vision so he looks like a good villain—that aside, he can't deny it worked.

"Look, dabster," Liam's the one waving him off this time, "he'll do fine, we'll do fine! We've rehearsed a lot, and we're sure it's a good idea."

"Uh-huh?"

"Just make sure to come on Friday rather than the weekend." Liam digs his finger into Tyler's chest, looking him in the eye so the man knows he's serious. "I mean it. We're only airing this thing on Fridays, it's long as all hell, Ty."

"How long?" Tyler deadpans.

"Pfft." Liam waves it off, "Long. Like Broadway up north. Lotta acting, intermission to push our food sales, then more acting. Climax, boom, tears and victory."

"Y'know the famous ones like Hamilton run for under three hours, right?" Tyler raises a brow. "Like a movie?"

"Like they say, you can't rush art, Tyler." Liam pats Tyler's shoulder twice reassuringly before he's pushing past and calling out his goodbyes with a yell. He had to leave with a one-liner, huh?

The buckaroo's just yammering, Tyler thinks to himself as he watches his old friend walk off. He only notices that he didn't get to ask for the new guy's number when his faraway figure gets to the size of a bean.

☾⋆☆⋆☽

"Flee, Danika, flee!" You shout to your horse as you barrel dive into cover. She does as promised, fleeing just far enough away that she'll hear your whistle once you've dealt with these bad, bad men.

With your back pressed against a rock and bullets just wooshin' past, you let the empty shells fall from your chamber to the ground and replace them. One by one, pressure's on, your fingers twitch, but they don't hesitate.

You'll get out of here alive, you always do.

You heave a breath, then another, a steady stream of inhales n' exhales, you're calming your heartbeat and will shoot with its rhythm.

Three, two...

Leaning over the edge of the rock, you aim.

Three, two, one.

Three men gone, off their horses and thudding against the harsh, hard ground, but there's more, ridin' in from the east and already prepping their aim. You scramble to get off your ass and into proper cover, the hay shed will do.

There's sweat over your face, it's making your scarf stick. You can't think about taking it off now, lest any of those boys make it out alive and see your face.

As the beat of the hooves comes to a stop, you peak 'round the open side of the shed and shoot.

Three, two, click, click, click.

Gods be damned, you've run out of bullets. You rush to flick open the chamber and empty the shells to replace them; the process is as natural as breathing to you, but not quite as fast.

A man rounds the corner, and you instinctively whip your revolver at his head to result in a crack that sounds all too real.

As the man thuds behind you, you peek around the corner with fresh bullets.

"We'll get you, you sonuvah gun!" The last of the reinforces is a coward, or a scout, as he's now ridin' away on his horse, but he's too gracious a host to consider leaving you without a parting gift.

The bullet that was meant for his head gets the dynamite that's gliding its way towards you, catching it mid air and detonating it early, before it gets you.

The force of the faroff explosion nearly knocks your hat off your head and your ass to the ground, if you hadn't already been there.

"Lord almighty..." You let your revolver fall to the ground harmlessly–which bounces off a little more than it's really meant to–and sigh.

The hat comes off, then the scarf, and you breathe, breathe, breathe.

You're alive, and you've got more enemies. Oh, who cares? What's a few more names to the list?

☾⋆☆⋆☽

As the crowd finally sees the villain's face for the first time, people whistle and ooh at the him.

Tyler's gut feeling was right: he is a looker.

That aside, the storm chaser had to admit, old Liam was onto something, even with the noticeably fake props. The only thing he's wondering is why it's been one hour and the regular rodeo show is resuming as usual. It's not intermission, cause they're not pushing food marketing as Liam said they would.

He doesn't have to ponder very long as he meets up with his old friend again.

"I took your advice to heart, actually. I knew the ol' star would be exhausted after all of it, so I thought we'd split it over a month, and play the same section all weekend. More ticket sales."

Tyler raised a brow at the mention of the protagonist, "Ol' star? He had one scene."

"Not him," Liam says it like he should know, like they're both back in front of the drawing board again, "(Y/N)."

"The villain's the star?" Tyler deadpans.

Liam chuckles in turn, "Didn't you hear the crowd when we finally revealed his face?"

"Oh." Tyler shakes his head, "Well, ain't he dyin' later? Stars don't die."

"Ehhh..." Liam waves his hand and shakes his head side to side in a kind of gesture. "It's implied."

"It's implied?"

"Endings are best left up to interpretation!" The man flourishes with a grand gesture, heaving more energy around than Tyler's used to seeing from him. This thing must really be a passion project. "Don't ruin it, for me, son."

Tyler raises both his hands in surrender at that. "You won't see nothin' from me, old man."

Tyler lets him walk off this time, he deserves that much; only then does he realize that he hasn't got the new guy's number. Again.

☾⋆☆⋆☽

"Negotiations? I don't do negotiations." You're huddled behind cover, hidden from view as you talk with the alleged big huncho of the mining camp. He brought reinforcement, nothing you can't handle, but it could still spell trouble.

"I like to look at a man when I'm talkin' to him."

You scoff. "Like hell I'll peek. You'll blow my head clean off if I try."

"I'm a man of my word." He insists, his deep jazzy voice just screaming a man of wealth and contracts.

"And so am I, but you wouldn't trust that." Idly, you check the chamber of your revolver, having learned from your mistakes. Six bullets, not shells, ready to be fired.

"Touché, good sir."

"Good sir?"

"As I understand it," The man says, his voice is strong to reach your ears but it ain't threatening, "you just want a cut of my money."

"And if I do?" You click the chamber back in place, listening for out of place sounds like footsteps.

"I'm willing to pay." Oh, that haughty bastard really thinks he's gonna get you with that?

"Like hell you are." You laugh, a loud thing so you make sure he hears that you're not gullible.

As the big man begins to speak again, surely more lies that are meant to coerce you into taking the bait, you throw a stray wood chip up into the air.

Bang!

The split second after it sees the light of day, the wood chip is shot to splinters, right as you'd expected.

"I think negotiations are over, sir..?"

"Cornwall." The man sighs out his name. "Good day to you, sir."

"Good day, sir Cornwall."

☾⋆☆⋆☽

As he often finds himself doing nowadays, Tyler goes around searching for Liam to talk about a particular someone. Little does he know that where he usually finds his old friend, he'll finds someone else.

"Excuse me," He begins politely, not recognizing the man from behind. "have you seen Liam?"

When you turn around to reply instead of another cowboy he might know, his little stunned gaze makes your words take on a confused tone. "He's playing his part in the pit..?"

"Oh." Tyler has barely any time to register that Liam's actually taking part in the acting biz before he's scrambling to greet you properly. "You're (Y/N), right? The new guy?"

"That's me." You nod your head and take a sip from your bottle. In a couple minutes you'll be back in the show again, so you're making the most of your small break. "And you?"

"Um, Tyler. Tyler Owens. Does Liam not talk about me?"

As the star of the million-follower YouTube channel Tornado Wranglers, Tyler thinks he's kind of a big deal around Oklahoma, especially around here as he used to ride for the local rodeo. He's usually not an arrogant guy, unless he decides to play it up for the competition, but...he finds that his ego is a little bruised now.

"I'm just playin' with you, poppet. Liam never stops singing his praises 'bout you." You offer your hand for a shake, a well placed gesture if you hadn't just called him poppet.

Tyler flushes a little, because, well, poppet's quite an endearing term and you're hot and there's something about men that are sweaty and out of breath. He manages to shake your hand without making a fool of himself anyway. "What does Liam say about me?"

"He said that you've taken a million kicks from bulls and you still managed to go an get yourself a fancy degree, that you're tough as nails and can always tell when he slips you belly wash." You list off a couple of less than good things about him in detail so excrutiating that Tyler knows Liam's said them time and time again. "Oh, and that you always rode pretty well."

Tyler comes out of it a little embarrassed, and his voice therefore comes out meek, like he hasn't spoken for a while. "Yeah?"

"Yeah." You laugh and pat his shoulder. "You know how Liam is, he'll point out how you're a hill of beans and then praise ya."

His shoulders deflate with relief and he laughs along with you. "Yeah, I know 'im."

"Truth be told, it's kinda nice to hear about the real man as opposed to the Tornado Cowboy persona." You say it kind of sheepishly, which is rather nice to see when he's only ever had a cocky you to compare to.

Plus, you'd just admitted that you watch his videos, making his grin widen. "You a fan?"

"Don't get too full o' yourself, cowboy." You point a finger at him, huffing a laugh. "I see you in the stands every week."

He could just say it's because this play is an ongoing thing with a new sorta 'episode' each week, which is the truth, or he could flirt along. "You caught me," He hisses like it's a big deal and it's embarrassing to be caught. "I am your biggest fan."

"You like anti-heroes, do ya?" You chuckle, narrowing your eyes at him.

"I'm as gullible as everyone else, darlin'. I'll like any villain so long as they're hot n' ride good." He sends a wink over, because there ain't no subtlety when there's a crowd just a ways away you've gotta shout over.

You wolf-whistle in turn, "Is that so, poppet?"

"I'm being simon-pure." He insists, tipping his hat for extra measure.

This is going well for Tyler, you're responsive to his flirting and you can match it too. Unfortunately, good things always have to come to an end.

"Listen, Tyler," You indulge him with a laugh but unfortunately point towards the stage. "I don't wanna miss my cue, so I've got to...well, you know. What I'm saying is..."

"Wanna grab a root later?" Tyler takes the opportunity to ask first, eagerly at that.

"Yeah," You smile, grateful that he took the opportunity. "yeah, uh, want my number?"

It's the fourth week in a row Tyler watches another figure walk off on a Friday evening, but this time he's got his prize secured, and he's left more hopeful than regretful.

☾⋆☆⋆☽

These stubborn miners are just setting up more and more defenses, to the point where you're pondering what marks the difference between a mining camp and a Pinkerton camp. Is it gun count or armed miner count?

You settle into prone on a ridge overlooking the camp to make your figure less noticeable amidst the bright sky–earning you a couple strange bird caws from onlooking eagles–and scout out with your binoculars.

"Tall fences," You begin to mutter under your breath. "sniper outposts on the roof, a guard at the wagon rail, no, two; several on each little path in and out."

And...is that a Gatling gun? "Ugh, seriously?"

"What is it, my darling?" Your sweetheart calls from behind you. Before you can answer, she's rolling you over onto your back and settling half on your lap. The geese in V-formation above caw louder.

"Nothing to worry your pretty little head about." You assure, a nice smile on your face as you steady the gal.

You couldn't worry her, no, you're doing this all for her, after all. It's not her fault her daddy got their family into a deep, six foot grave kind of debt before the man got himself killed in a fishing trip gone wrong, after all.

"There is always somethin' to worry over." She giggles, hands trailing over your chest, pulling your attention away for the moment.

"I know, poppet, but–"

"You're worryin' right now." She points out, drawing circles over your heart with her pointer.

You sigh, "I know."

"Let me take your handsome lil' mind off it, can I?"

She's already leaning down before you can even say no.

☾⋆☆⋆☽

As soon as you start kissing up that pretty girl in that pit you take for a stage, Tyler looks down at his phone. He taps the screen impatiently, almost as if you'll answer him right now while you're up there, all busy.

Hey, it's Tyler. It was nice meeting you.

How does six at the Hay Shed sound?

"He ghosted me." Tyler groans. It's covered up by the sound of the ooh-ing crowd, but he doesn't much care if it's heard or not. "Seriously, I find a man as fine as cream gravy, and he ghosts me?"

It was too good to be true. You're hot, you called him poppet, and you were receptive to his flirting; too good to be true.

...

"Liam, hey! Can I borrow a horse?"

Nothing's better for clearing the mind than a good horse ride right before sunset, it's like long walks at the beach. Tyler often found that it was also great for dealing with break ups or, in this situation, not even making it to the talking stage.

He doesn't check his phone, doesn't even realize it's vibrating in place with it in the saddle bag. Instead, his eyes are straight ahead.

He's riding towards the sunset like it's the end of a movie, and what a poor, short movie it is.

It's fine. It's fine, it really is. It's not like he was already mashed, anyway, no sir! He's just disappointed. It's a big cavernous feeling in his chest like it's empty, when it's really filled with something none too good.

"Ah," Tyler sighs out, hopefully exhaling all them feelings. He pats the horse, watches its ears twitch as he talks. "You understand me, big guy?"

He's too caught up in feeling sorry for himself to hear someone else riding up beside him.

"Perfect spot for a first date, huh?"

"Holy shit, what the fuck?" Tyler damn near falls off his horse. He has to hold onto the reigns with white knuckles in order not to.

"You done airin' your lungs, poppet?" You only grin in return, pointing out your shirt pocket, at your phone. "I shot you a text."

Tyler huddles closer to his horse's neck. Though he's still heaving recovering breaths, he finds the sass to say, "About a week late."

"Yeah, 'm sorry about that." You rub the back of your neck, your smile melting with shame. "I'm kind of a busy man."

"Oh, yeah?" He shoots back with furrowed brows and a scowl.

"Yeah, I totally deserve that." You bow your head a little, "It's just, I work the show all weekend, and I was so exhausted comin' back in on Tuesday that it totally slipped my mind."

Oh.

"Let me make it up to you?" You ask hopefully, looking at him with those sheep's eyes, and it makes him feel a little guilty.

"I'm sorry." Tyler says quickly, straightening up and all and mirroring your apologetic look.

"No, no, it's totally fine!"

"I mean, I totally didn't realize–"

So there you both are, spewing excuses to be sorry for each other, guilt eating away at you like worms do a book. There seems to be no end to it. Your pseudo-argument stretches as far as the horizon, up until the sun sets below it.

"Seriously, let me make it up to you." Before he can even reply, you continue. "You said the Hay Shed, yeah? I'll buy our dinner, no big deal."

"I–" Tyler starts up, but you shoot him a pointed look, quieting him down. "Okay."

"Okay, good." That nice, charming smile of yours builds up again, and he almost swoons.

"Race you?" He smiles back, tipping his head forward.

You're already shifting into proper form. "Oh, you're on, cowboy."

☾⋆☆⋆☽

You're sitting in your porch in that old rocking chair of yours, your white hair sweeping off your forehead as an easy breeze blows past. Your fingers tap to the rhythm of your boy playing the guitar and his mother singing along. Ranch life has treated both you and Danika well. The old girl gets to snack on sugar cubes every day while you got to lock your revolvers away and sip on fine liquor every night after dinner.

It's been a good life, you think as you watch the sun set. Your sins are long behind you.

...this isn't how you planned to die.

No, not in this damn cave away from your girl, slowly choking on fumes, trapped in by a cave in.

Somewhere, distantly, you can hear that good for nothing hero laughing like old Saint Nick himself, shouting to the world his victory.

It's not even his, you think stubbornly, because you won't give him the victory of thinking your death is his to brag about, it's this damned fire and these damned rocks.

You were so, so close. You've killed dozens of men just to get in this gods-damned gold mine and steal a couple nuggets for your girl, and you almost made it out.

This is how you'll die, all alone here choked by a fire.

Oh hells. If you're going to die you might as well die by the hands of a man who's actually worthy of the kill.

Shakily, you lift your hand.

This world was shit. Hope the next is greener.

☾⋆☆⋆☽

"Ah, oh god, fuck off!" Tyler shouts, and despite all that fight to shove your lips off his chin and his face, he's laughing.

"What, am I not pretty enough for ya, darlin'?" You pull him closer with warm–noticeably not scalding–hands at his waist, puckering your lips playfully at him.

There's black makeup, soot, over your face: on your cheeks, 'round your eyes, on your forehead, everywhere.

"Go boil your shirt!" With one shove, he pushes you so hard you fall into your vanity chair. The flimsy old thing rocks from side to side before settling back down with your weight on it.

You roll your eyes, picking up a makeup wipe once stabilized to begin cleaning yourself off. "If you didn't like me, you just had to say so."

"Don't be like that." Before you can answer, he's turning your chair and sitting on your lap, though when you try to kiss him, he pushes you away again. "You're not done yet, cowpoke."

You huff and whine, and you'd kick your feet if you could, like it's the worst shame in the world.

"Don't pitch a fit at me." He points a finger at you and you laugh in turn.

"No, of course not, darling."

Tyler waits patiently as you wipe the makeup off, realizing as he does that he's been through worse shit: the biggest tornadoes, the harshest thunder storms, and the stickiest mud. Although to be fair, he hasn't had mud that transfers as easily as this cheap makeup does on his face before.

"That good enough?" He shakes his head, prompting you to huff and wipe your face again. "Now?"

It's still not good enough for him. Fortunately, he snatches up the wipe and passes it over your face himself. It feels as rough as a cat's tongue or your dad hosing you down after you tracked mud around the house, and you're fixing to speak your mind about it.

"There you are." Tyler's face emerges from behind the wipe, a wide, teasing smile on his face that tells you he was wiping you off longer than he needed to. "Apple-pie order."

His lips are on yours right after that, drowning you with a toad strangler of love. Your complaints die out right on your tongue, because how could you ever be mad at him?

Answer is: you can't.

☾⋆☆⋆☽

ɴᴏᴛᴇ: i watched this movie in spanish so i don't know what tyler's cowboy nickname is in english and i've also forgotten some details in the movie (ex: if it was mentioned that scott and javi are ex-boyfriends, i literally did not notice until i read the wiki)

[fabricated-misslieness]

HELPPP I WAS GONNA REQ BG3 BUT THEN I REMEMBER YOU WRITE FOR VALORANT

Can I mayyyyybe get a male agent (if you end up mentioning, codenamed Downpour) who has abilities focusing on using weather to disorient enemies

He and Phoenix don’t get deployed together much, since his weather changes can sometimes make Phoenix’s flames unpredictable

I wanna see Phoenix not letting reader out of his cuddles after a particularly long time apart (two days as opposed to one) because that his water boyfie

GHAHAHA

Hellar here it is

[fabricated-misslieness]

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: phoenix x valorant agent male reader

ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: spending time apart is never acceptable to him.

mailmango: I wanna see Phoenix not letting reader out of his cuddles after a particularly long time apart (two days as opposed to one) because that his water boyfie

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 908

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: for me none, lmk

☾⋆☆⋆☽

"Shaanxi's mayor called and asked for help, so seeing as it's Sage's home turf, she's leading the mission. She's your captain, aye, Phoenix?" Brimstone's eyes are pointed heavily on Phoenix, almost like he's pinning the man down with a look.

Phoenix takes it all in stride, despite how threatening it seems to be, "No need to question me, boss man. I got it!"

Brimstone then turns to you, his eyes softening substantially. "On the other hand, we got reports from Raze that Brazil's bay state is in a bit of a pinch. Lotta water 'round for you to play around with, Downpour."

Phoenix immediately objects, stepping between you two and covering line of sight with a raised finger. "Hold on, Brim, we not goin' together?"

The commander sighs in turn, "We've been over this, Phoenix. You two don't exactly go well together–"

"We go amazing together."

"Fire and water, Phoenix. You create something, he'll," He points his hand at you like you're suddenly a culprit, even if you are in this hypothetical situation, "just smother it."

"I–"

"It's final!"

☾⋆☆⋆☽

He should've argued harder, Phoenix thinks while he's on the mission. Even afterwards, when the agents take a little break before returning home, he's regretful. Shaanxi's beautiful and all: nice weather, respectful people–if a bit amazed by his foreigness–lotta fun with a local (Sage) as your tour guide.

Phoenix never has his way when the two of you are split. The logic is sound and clear, and everyone in the team agrees fire and water don't mix. Jett or Gecko might argue for chemistry reasons, but it never helps. None of it will ever stop him from trying, anyway.

When Phoenix steps back into HQ, he's never been happier before (even if he says that every time).

Cypher often says the Radiants' powers match them. Jett's cool and a lover of speed, so wind fits great for her. Sage is calm and caring, and so is her healing power.

Phoenix is definitely a fire. He's always flickering with excitement. He can't stay idle, he's always rushing to grow larger in some way or other. You know how flames cling and spread to anything flammable near them? That's you.

Even if you're water, he clings to you like a flame engulfing you in its warmth. You're calmer on the other end, but you still rest an arm over the small of his back and cradle the back of his head.

He's got his head in the crook of your neck, like he's trying to inhale your very being to store you in the forefront of his mind.

Besides the fact it's cute, it tickles...

"Phen," You chuckle, both from the tickling and the situation. "it's been two days."

"That is not an okay amount of time!" Phoenix pulls away, sitting up on your laugh to pound your chest harmlessly. "Seriously, it's like you don't even love me."

You huff, sitting up to meet his eye. "You don't mean that."

He wants to say he does, to tease you, to play, but he can't, not to you. "No, I don't." He says, utterly defeated.

"Good." You lean closer to steal a quick kiss. Tender and soft, and Phoenix would usually want more, but there are always other ways of closeness.

He collapses against you, forcing you back flush onto the bed to press himself against you. When every part of him is against a part of yours, legs tangled, arms around your neck, side of his face against yours, he sighs like he's complete. "I missed youuu!"

"I know." You say, and though you might've rolled your eyes at the repetition, you don't. Instead, you place your hand on his cheek and smooth your thumb over his cheekbone.

He positively melts into the touch with a blatant groan. "Say you miss me."

"I missed you." You reply easily.

"Say it like you mean it." He demands with a pout, and how could you deny him?

"I missed you."

"Aaaah...you're my boyfriend!" Phoenix drawls, like he's drunk, like you're fresh into the relationship in your honeymoon phase. "My one! Loml!"

"Loml?"

He clicks his tongue disappointedly. He sets his eyes on you with a deadpan glare. "LOML, like love of my life, you know."

"Ahhhh." So that's what that means.

Phoenix pats your cheek playfully for it. "No way you've been seein' LOML, LOML, this my boyfie, the LOML, on my insta stories that you always like n' never questioned it."

"I kinda learned to ignore it, I don't know." You answer truthfully.

"You stupid, stupid man." He teases in that silly little accent of his, stewpid. You have to hold in your laugh to tease him next.

"Heyy!" You all but pout at him.

"I'm sorry," As expected, he falls for it instantly, surging forward to press apologetic little kisses to your face, muttering a new "I'm sorry," with each one.

"Aw, you're okay, big man." You finally let go of your laugh and redirect his kisses to your lips. "C'mere."

They say water smothers fire, but whenever you're around, Phoenix is more motivated than if he were anywhere else in the world. He's more excited than when he's on stage, more focused than when he's on mission, happier than he's ever been. You can say the same thing, that he's the one to turn your lazy rivers into rapid streams.

Neither of you would have it any other way.

[ehemayb-e]

I'm sorry if I followed you accidentally