#twisters

[cherrylibby]

Chasing the Storms

The Oklahoma sky was bruised with the colors of an oncoming storm—deep violets and angry grays swirling above the horizon. Tyler barely noticed. His heart was pounding harder than it had on any chase as he stood on your front porch, waiting for you to slam the door in his face.

But you didn’t.

You stood there, eyes burning with something between fury and heartbreak, your arms crossed like a shield against him. The years hadn’t dulled your fire—if anything, they’d made it sharper. And damn, if that didn’t hurt just as much as it made him miss you.

"You got some nerve showing up here, Tyler," you said, voice tight.

He nodded once. "Yeah. I do."

A bitter smirk pulled at your lips, but there was no humor in it. "What do you want?"

Tyler exhaled, shoving his hands into his pockets to keep them from shaking. "I need your help. There’s a storm system coming, bigger than anything I’ve ever seen. We’ve got a solid team, the tech, but…" He hesitated. "No one tracks storms like you."

You scoffed, stepping back like he’d just insulted you. "Unbelievable. You disappear for years—no calls, no letters, not a damn word—and now you show up at my door because you need something? Do you even hear yourself?"

He flinched. He deserved that.

"It’s not just about the storm," he tried, but you weren’t having it.

"Oh, really? Then what is it about, Tyler?" Your voice cracked on his name, and that nearly broke him. "Because from where I’m standing, it looks like you only come back when it’s convenient for you."

His jaw tightened. "You told me you were done."

"You left!"

"You made me leave!" The words exploded out of him, sharp and desperate, cutting through the space between you. "You quit chasing, you shut down, and you looked at me like I was the worst thing that ever happened to you. I didn’t know how to fix that!"

You shook your head, eyes glistening, but you refused to let a tear fall. "You didn’t even try," you whispered.

Silence.

The wind picked up around you, rustling the old wind chimes hanging from the porch. The storm was rolling in fast now, but the one brewing between you and Tyler was worse.

"You think it was easy for me to walk away?" he asked, voice lower now, strained. "You think I wanted to leave you?" He took a step closer, and to his relief, you didn’t move away. "Every damn day, I thought about coming back. About calling you. But what was I supposed to say? ‘Hey, sorry for nearly getting you killed—wanna chase another storm?’" He let out a rough laugh, shaking his head. "I left because I thought you’d be better off without me."

You swallowed hard, arms tightening around yourself like you were holding yourself together. "That wasn’t your choice to make."

Tyler ran a hand over his face. "I know." He let out a breath, looking at you like you were the only thing keeping him grounded. "I know."

A long pause.

Then, softer—more vulnerable than he’d ever sounded—he said, "I never stopped loving you."

Your breath caught.

For a second, you looked away, blinking fast, but then you lifted your chin, meeting his gaze with that same defiance he’d always loved about you. "Then why did you leave me to love you alone?"

That shattered him.

His hand came up, hesitating just for a second before he cupped your cheek. You didn’t pull away. Instead, you leaned into his touch, just the slightest bit, and that was all he needed.

Before you could say another word, he kissed you.

It wasn’t careful, wasn’t hesitant. It was desperate and raw, full of everything left unsaid over the years. His other hand found your waist, pulling you flush against him, and when your fingers tangled in his hair, he groaned into the kiss.

You tasted like the past and everything he’d ever wanted in the future.

When you finally pulled back, both of you breathless, foreheads resting together, he whispered, "Come with me."

You exhaled shakily. "Tyler—"

"Not just for the storms. For us." His grip on you tightened like he was terrified of letting go again. "I screwed up. I should’ve stayed. Should’ve fought harder. But I’m here now, and if you tell me to leave, I’ll go. But I swear to God, I don’t want to run anymore. I just want you."

You stared at him, torn between every scar he’d left on your heart and the undeniable truth that you still loved him.

Outside, thunder rumbled, shaking the sky.

You sighed. Then, finally, finally, you muttered, "Damn it, Tyler."

He grinned. "I’ll take that as a yes."

You rolled your eyes, but when you pulled him down for another kiss, he knew he was finally home.

[blodgmonster]

Turns out I'm absolutely terrified of Glen Powell 😘

You don't face your fears, you ride 'em.

[kaizsche]

TWISTERS Cast Learn British, New York & Texas Slang

[theglenaissance]

He looks so good in a suit

[littlebirdygirlywriting]

As my own blood week approaches, this is exactly what I was needing. 🥹💖

A Helping Hand

Summary: Tyler Owens x fe!Reader -> The times Tyler has helped you without a second thought and without question.

Disclaimer: continued descriptions of painful periods, the four times Tyler had helped you with them. Fluff with a potential for a little steam, unnamed kinda shitty boyfriend at the beginning, happy ending. Not Proof Read.

You always kinda figured that was how it was meant to be. Sure, it would be nice if he helped once in a while. But if he didn’t want to deal with it, then that was okay, right? He was still a good man. Still cared for you. Still made you happy. 

He just didn’t…know what to do when you were in pain. He didn’t know what he was meant to do when your uterus started to prepare itself for a baby that you were both not having and were not ready for even if you were. 

Periods, like for most women you’d met, were painful. Dull aches that never wanted to end, cramps that would creep up your back and down your legs, enough blood being lost that more often than not sent your blood sugars down and your iron levels even lower. 

Some days you didn’t exactly feel like getting out of bed and the ‘light exercise’ the doctor had prescribed you just sounded like complete and utter hell. You were just thankful that, despite the dangers of your job, most of the time you got to choose whether or not you wanted to stay in the van with Javi or Dexter and Dani, or go out into the actual tornado. 

But that didn’t mean the pain stopped. 

“Hey, come on, you’re gonna miss it. Dexter found some cells and-” Tyler stopped in his tracks as he burst into your room. 

You lay in the middle of your bed, your feet on the floor at the end. Your hand pressed as hard as they could into your lower stomach. Your eyes were shut tight and you just looked…uncomfortable. 

“Hey, you okay?”

You just nodded a little. The thought of talking in that moment felt like too much energy. 

“You don’t look it. Are you feeling okay?” A moment later, the back of Tyler’s hand was feeling your forehead. “You’ve got a little temperature. Are you sure-”

“I’m coming onto my period, Tyler.”

“Oh, shit. Right now?”

“Not right this second. But…soon.” Then you stopped talking, feeling the pain shoot down your sides somehow both sharp and dull. 

“You know, you can sit this one out. Want me to bring you back anything? Tampons? Pads? Ice cream?”

You opened your eyes and looked at Tyler. You’d never met a guy brave enough to even think of the word Tampon. 

“You don’t have to-”

Tyler shrugged. “Don’t worry about it. What do you need?”

You somehow managed to talk through the shock. “P-pads. The night ones. With wings.”

Then from outside the door, Boone ran past yelling for you and Tyler to hurry up. 

“Text me a list. Whatever you need.” Tyler smiled at you before leaning down and kissing your cheek. “You rest up.”

“Okay.”

And watching Tyler leave through the door, pulling the cowboy hat onto his head, something hit you. Tyler was the first guy to not freak out about you having a period. Granted, he drove into tornadoes for a living and did have women on his team but…he was the first to never…freak out. 

And that part of him only started to show itself even more. Or, maybe, it was a part of him you truly started to notice. 

After getting back from the chase, Tyler knocked on your door before entering. He was holding a large brown paper bag. “I bring supplies. Four packs of night-time pads with wings. As well as actual wings.” Tyler smiled as he pulled out a small box of barbecue chicken wings. “Also grabbed you some pain medication, couple of different snacks; some salty, some sweet. I didn’t know what you’d fancy. Uh, oh. And, as promised,” Tyler pulled the final thing out of the bag. “Ice cream.”

You smiled up at him from where you were sitting on the bed. “You didn’t have to do this, you know. But, thank you.”

“What’s your pain like? It eased any?”

You made a face. “A little, but not by much.”

“You got a hot water bottle?” 

From under your jacket, you showed him. “Freshly made.”

“Good.”

“Hey, Ty? Can I ask you something?”

“Shoot.”

“Why doesn’t this freak you out?”

Tyler looked at you as he packed some of the spare items back into the bag so they were out of the way. “What? You having a period?”

You nodded. 

“Sweetheart, a man is not a man if he gets freaked out over something like this. He’s a boy if he does.”

You just stared at him. You knew that, of course. There had been plenty of sleepover conversations about it when you were younger. But you were yet to find anyone of the male human species who didn’t get freaked out over it. 

And that wasn’t the only time Tyler helped you out when you were on your period. 

Not too long after that first interaction, you’d broken up with your boyfriend. There had been plenty of other factors that went into the break-up, but the period thing had been the final nail in the coffin. 

Six months later, you and Tyler had been on a four day road trip. You were both heading to one of the Universities to give a talk on meteorology. However, two days into the road trip, Tyler had stopped at a gas station to fill his tank up. 

Meanwhile, you disappeared into the bathroom and finally let yourself cry. 

For the last two hours in the truck, your insides had been screaming at you. For a while, it had felt like they were clawing at your insides, trying to escape. The aching across your lower back meant that no matter how or where you moved, it fucking killed you. Until finally you were hunched over the sink, your eyes closed, breathing as deeply as you could to shake away the jittering in your blood. 

You didn’t know how long you’d been in that position, but it must have been a while because Tyler eventually knocked on the door. 

“Y/n, you okay in there?”

The gas station was in the middle of nowhere so you knew he wasn’t knocking because you’d caused a line to wait outside. 

“I’m fine.” You hoped he didn’t hear the break in your voice. “I’ll be out in a minute.”

There was a short beat of silence. “Sweetheart, open the door.”

It took you a minute before you plucked up enough courage to move and open the door. And Tyler entered quietly. 

“Take it easy.” Tyler stood behind you, his hands softly coming to your hips. “What number are you at?”

“Like a…” The shaking in your voice didn’t go unnoticed by Tyler. “Nine?”

Tyler nodded. “Is it okay if I try something? It might help.”

You just nodded. Nothing could make it worse.

So, carefully, Tyler lifted your shirt from your shorts before pressing his hands to the bare skin on your back. You were both completely silent whilst he concentrated on the movement of his hands. They were warm, which was one bonus. With continuous movements and a firm pressure, Tyler started to carefully massage your lower back, hips and abdomen. 

As he reached around your front, you managed to stand up straight and lean against him a little. The pain was still dull and still there, but it was no longer as intense. 

“What number we at now, Sweetheart?” Tyler asked, his voice deep and directly at the shell of your ear as his hands remained in the waistband of your shorts, applying soft pressure to your lower half. 

“Maybe three.”

Tyler smiled and kissed your temple. “Good. Think you can walk back to the truck with me?”

You nodded. “Yeah.”

By the time the next chasing season came around, you were having yet another period but thankfully the pain hadn’t been as bad as your previous ones. And it had come on time. Not suddenly early, not incredibly late. 

Your app had predicted it, and your period had followed suit. But, again, that didn’t mean the pain stopped completely. 

You had a little more energy than usual and the feelings you got where you wanted to murder every person who got on your nerves was gone. In its place was the kind of cramps every male doctor had told you about growing up. The ‘mild’ kind. 

It was as you were listening to one of Kate’s stories about when her and Javi were chasing with her last team – Javi had walked out of his motel room without any pants on and had given the owner quite the surprise for five in the morning – that Tyler had stepped over the log you were sat on and handed you a cup of ginger tea. You gave him a quiet smile, which he returned, before he sat beside you with a cup of his own. 

You knew he hated the stuff, but he still drank it anyway. 

And when he walked you to your room, kissing you on your cheek to say goodnight, you found a fresh hot water bottle on your bed with a small, handwritten note. “To help.”

You couldn’t help but smile. 

Ever since the first time he’d helped you, he’d done things like that. Hot water bottles, fresh tea. He’d even surprised you once when Lily came running back to the diner bathroom stall, handing you a pad that apparently was from the kit Tyler kept in his truck. 

But the biggest surprise came one evening when you were sitting in the barn, alone, trying your best to calm yourself down as you completed the final logs of test data. 

If he hadn’t spoken, you would have known it was him by the slight scuff of his boots on the barn floor. 

“Here you are. I’ve got something for you.” 

Then on the table, he presented you with a pack of popcorn, a bar of chocolate and a small selection of sour sweets. The same combo he always brought you when-

“How did you know?”

Tyler gave you a slight smile as he sat down beside your desk. “You snapped at Dexter.”

You cringed at the memory. You had apologised profusely immediately afterwards and Dexter had accepted it. But that didn’t stop you from feeling bad. 

“I know. I’m really, really sorry-”

Tyler just chuckled a little. “Don’t worry about it. You’ve already been forgiven.”

You just gave a shy smile and tried to turn back to the work in front of you. 

“When was the last time you had a shower?”

Your neck almost snapped in half as you looked at Tyler. “What?”

“Not for that reason.” Tyler quickly replied. “But you’re stressed. Showers have been proven to ease tension. Something you are currently riddled with.”

“Who says I’m riddled with tension?”

Tyler just smiled and stood up. “Come on. Work can wait.”

“Who says I’m riddled-”

“You do.” Tyler told you as he led you by your shoulder out of the barn but not before turning the desk lamp off. “Your eyebrows are practically being knitted together at that desk. Come on.”

Ten minutes later, Tyler had led you into the house and pushed you in the direction of the bathroom. After five minutes of standing under the hot water, you felt your shoulders finally relax. Twenty minutes after that, your hair was washed and you didn’t hate the world as much as you did before Tyler came and found you in the barn. 

“Where are the others?”

“In town. Kate dragged them to another line dancing night.”

“Why didn’t you go with them? You love to dance.”

Tyler smiled over his shoulder at you as he moved things around the stove. “I do but tonight I wanted to have a quiet night. Also gives me a chance to try out a new recipe without Dani’s judgement.”

Sitting down at the kitchen table, you and Tyler shared a meal before you helped him wash up before eventually finding yourself lying on the sofa, your legs stretched out as far as they would go. 

A few minutes later, Tyler’s fingers graced your head, lightly pushing the drying strands of hair from your face before he handed you a hot water bottle. 

“To help.”

“Thanks.”

“Okay, scoot.”

Pushing you over a little, Tyler lay down on the sofa beside you before scooping his hand under your waist until his arms were practically hugging your middle. With your head on his chest, you let out a content sigh as his hand snuck up the back of your shirt and rested on your lower back. 

“Feeling better?”

“Much.” 

There was a small beat of silence between you both as you lay with your head on his chest, his heartbeat not too far from your ear. Then you asked him a question you’d wanted to know the answer to for a while. 

“Tyler?”

He hummed, the gravel of his voice rumbling into his chest. 

“Why do you do this?”

He opened his eyes and looked at you. “Do what?”

“Help me…that way that you do. I’ve never had to ask, you’ve never once turned green at the thought of my bedsheets having blood on them.” You chuckled a little at the thought, but it was true. Some mornings, especially when the pain had been at its worst a few days before, your bedsheets would be away and already being washed. 

The only way you knew it was Tyler was because you’d left the bathroom sooner than he’d expected so you caught him walking back in with fresh sheets. 

“You’ve always helped me. Why?”

Tyler thought about it for a moment. He already knew why. Even before you’d joined the team, he’d kept an emergency supply kit in the van, but when you started travelling with him, he started to keep it in his truck along with your favourite snacks and drinks. 

You were one of his best friends. The amount of surprise tornadoes you’d both been caught in, just the two of you on a roadtrip…they were shocking enough to bring you both closer together. He cared about you and seeing you go through the pain you did; if there was anything he could do to help ease it, he would. 

But most of all…but most of all…

“You spent every day helping all of us. Without asking and without a second thought. Even when you’ve gone through all of this before, you’ll find a way to push through it and still show up. You deserve to be helped, too. And I’ll keep showing up and helping you, no matter how easy or great your pain is.”

Looking at Tyler, you could have cried. 

You’d had relationships in the past - romantic and platonic – and not once had someone been as caring or loving as Tyler. 

“You really mean that,” you said, not entirely sure if you were asking it as a question or saying it as a statement. But Tyler answered anyway. 

“Of course I do. Sweetheart. I love you.”

Looking at him, hearing those words fall from his lips so effortlessly, seeing that light sparkle in his eyes as he did so…you knew there was more than one meaning to his three little words. And you smiled. 

Softly, your hand graced his cheek and your thumb caressed his skin. His head turned a little, leaning into you before he finally pressed a kiss to your palm. Then, holding your wrist in a gentle grip, he turned back to you. 

It was in the unspoken silence that Tyler leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to your lips. His hand at your back pulled you closer to him as your hand that rested on his face reached around his neck and pulled him closer. 

And somewhere in the comfortable silence afterwards, you found the words you’d been dying to let out. 

“I love you, too.”

[otissbluebearshirt]

life will never truly feel the same as it did when twisters first came out

[twisters-incorrect-quotes]

Kate: Did you tell anyone that we're dating? Tyler: Yeah, I have no self-control and told everyone we're dating. Kate: Okay, I don't need the sarcasm right now. Tyler: No, seriously, I have no self-control and told everyone that we're dating.

[sehnsuchts-trunken]

So Much Love in Oklahoma

Tyler Owens x fem!reader  7k words

summary: Tyler saves you from a tornado one day. The next, he shows up at your doorstep.

a/n: absolutely no clue about tornados. or oklahoma. don't come at me for inaccuracies

also!!! i'm currently working on some tyler smut too, but you are so definitely allowed to come request things (or just talk to me)! my inbox is wideeeee open, especially when it comes to mister owens <33

masterlist | twisters masterlist

What happens that particular Tuesday afternoon should have been impossible. That's what goes through your head about a bazillion times in the following days. The chances of what happens even happening are about as close to zero, you think, as the possibility of you discovering a cure for cancer.

(They're not. Of course. But it feels like that.)

Because you're not even really in Oklahoma. You're just driving through Oklahoma. You're not from a place where they give you a 'How to Deal with Tornados' manual in school. You're entirely, completely, wholly unprepared for what's brewing as you drive down almost empty highways with the radio all the way up.

So when suddenly, you're in the middle of a storm, with the wind picking up until it drowns out your music and rain and hail slashing against your windows, you're absolutely terrified.

It forms within a few minutes, goes from barely grey skies to a horrible, horrible whirl of almost black clouds, and the insecurity you'd been feeling turns into the gut-churning realisation that you're unquestionably fucked.

Some part of your brain tugs out a deeply buried memory of cars being sucked into tornados on the news, so with your heart racing a few hundred miles per hour and your hands shaking so badly you can barely hold onto the steering wheel anymore, you maneuver your car onto the side of the road, just in time for you to be climbing out of the passenger seat as another car comes to a shrieking halt next to yours.

You're getting drenched within half a second, you're honestly not that sure whether your cheeks are wet from the rain or your tears, and on top of that, you almost trip as you set your trembling feet onto the ground below. The other car's driver bangs their door shut with a resounding thud that makes you flinch so hard you think your soul leaves your body. Your head shoots up as he shouts at you, already three steps away from his truck:

"What the hell are you doing out here?"

He's drenched, too - his hair sticks to his face and his shirt clings to his skin and his pants are stained at least a shade darker. But unlike you, he's not shaking, he's steady as a fucking rock, steady and quick, already reaching out for your arm before you can even begin to think. Your brain lags behind, foggy and cloudy and scared, so fucking scared. You're so terrified you can hardly open your mouth.

"I-", you stutter, then he's wrapping his big hand around your arm and tugging you away from your car, away from the road already.

"We need to get the fuck down!", he calls, pulling you with him onto one of those many, many fields that surround you. "There's a ditch over there, see that?"

You're wide-eyed, shaking, basically being dragged along by him - one foot in front of the other, that's what your brain's concentrating on right now, which is easier said than done. You trip over your own feet every other step. But the guy just wraps his arm around your waist and hurries further.

"Do you see that?", he asks again when you don't respond. Your mind races even faster than your heart does, but you force yourself to concentrate on his voice. The panic doesn't lessen, but his question shifts your focus. Ditch. Ditch. Not the storm raging around you, no, you're looking for a ditch. You're focusing on finding a ditch.

"Yeah", you breathe, your eyes finally catching on the ditch only a bit away.

"Yeah?", the guy shouts. "We need to get there. We need to get low."

With that, he picks up his pace once more and you stumble along, bumping into his side, watching the ditch come closer and closer and closer until your feet are drowned in dirty, muddy water.

"Alright, get down!", he shouts, unwrapping his arm from around your waist to help you into the cold, cold water. "Hold onto the ground!"

You aren't thinking. You can't think. Your brain has shut off completely. Panic numbs every part of you. All you can do, all you can possibly do, is concentrate on the voice of the man who's crouching down beside you. It's like his words have replaced your own thoughts, and like a marionette, you stretch out your arms and dig your fingers into the grass. Which is way easier said than done. You're pretty sure you feel one of your nails break as you try your hardest to find something, anything to hold onto. And then the wind hits.

If you'd thought you'd experienced heavy winds before, you were wrong. So wrong. No vacation in a surfer's town could possibly compare to this.

"Fuck!", you scream, instinctively dropping your head onto the moist grass below. The wind pulls and pulls and pulls at you and you imagine yourself being dragged by it - dragged away, away into certain death. But then an arm wraps around you, and the guy next to you is not next to you anymore but half on top of you, securing you in his arms, holding you close, pressing you to the ground.

"Stay down!", he shouts as you cling to the grass. "I got you."

I got you.

You replay that in your head like a mantra - he's got you, he's got you, he's got you. You're trembling, you're shaking, you're cramping, you're trying to hold onto the ground with all your might as the wind grows and grows and grows and pulls and pulls and pulls at you.

You want to scream. You think you're screaming. But it's so loud. It's deafening, the roar of the wind and the thunder. You can't hear yourself scream.

He can, though. He can. And he tightens his arms around you and repeats "I got you, I got you, I got you". And you believe him. You have to.

You're crying now, you're sure of that. Some part of you hurts. Maybe all of you hurts. You're scared. You're not just scared, you're terrified. It's loud, it's loud and it's everywhere, all around you.

And then suddenly - there's nothing.

It disappears within seconds.

There's no sounds. None. There's silence, deafening silence. Forget the calm before the storm - this is the silence after the tornado.

You take a few shuddering breaths. You're trembling, trembling from head to toes. You're soaked. You're cold.

"Alright, it's gone", the guy says - the guy that's still got his arms wrapped around you, who's still on top of you. "You did it."

He pulls his arm away from you and rolls onto his back next to you. Water sloshes around as he goes.

You don't move an inch.

You can't move.

You're stuck, you're frozen in place. Your fingers are cramped into the dirt and the grass and you're frozen.

The guy sits back up again and reaches out for you. He smooths his hand down your back, surprisingly warm against your ice-cold skin.

"Hey", he says softly. "You're okay. You can get up."

You pry your fingers from the ground one by one, flex your trembling hands and push yourself upright. It takes a few seconds for reality to sink in - you're in a ditch. In a ditch. You're soaked, soaked with muddy ditch water. Your shoes are drenched, your legs splattered with dirt, the hem of your dress soaked in brown. And you're cold. Ice-cold and trembling. And your legs hurt, your arms hurt, your fingers hurt. Three of your nails are cracked.

You're sitting in a ditch in the middle of Oklahoma and you'd just been through a tornado. A fucking ditch in Oklahoma and a tornado.

And a guy, a guy who's brushing his hand down your arm and eyeing you up.

"Alright, let's get you out of here, you're shaking", he says and for the first time, you turn your head and look at him. Actually look at him.

He's tall and he's blonde and he's drenched, too, drenched in that same dirty, muddy water as you. His hands are big, big and pleasantly warm as he grabs softly onto you and carefully maneuvers you towards him.

You don't really remember the next minutes. Not what you're doing, at least. It's a hazy, fuzzy passing of time - you barely remember that you're moving. You're cold and scared and still in shock and somehow, your eyes have locked onto him, onto this guy who you realise probably just saved your fucking life. Because when you come back to reality, he's wrapping a blanket around you - a dry, warm blanket - and the spot where you'd parked your car is empty.

Empty.

"My car", you whisper, staring wide-eyed at absolutely nothing. The guy wraps the blanket tighter around you before he looks over his shoulder and glances around.

"Your car's not that important", he reassures, even though his voice is heavy. Heavy and raspy, you realise. He's got a certain Southern twang to it that you hadn't noticed in all the chaos before. "Much more important is that you're alive."

You nod half-heartedly (he's right, some rational part of your brain shouts, while the practical part mourns the shit ton of money you'd just lost) and settle your eyes back on him.

You don't know what it is, exactly, but something about this, something about the warmth of the blanket and the way he's rubbing your arms, something about him, about his voice and his words, slowly peels away the layers and layers of terror that are clinging to your pounding heart.

You swallow hard, reach up to tug the blanket tighter around yourself and shift your focus. Not the car or the tornado or the fact that you're drenched in dirty ditch water - him. This guy in front of you, who's looking you up and down to check if you're hurt. It's easier that way. It's easier to calm down when you're not thinking about any of it. It's easier when you're staring at him, counting to ten, slowly regaining your sanity. And what's suddenly also easier is realising that this guy in front of you is very much easy to look at. Even though his hair sticks to his head, even though his jeans are stained brown. He's what you'd expect as a reference picture next to the word "handsome" in a dictionary.

All of a sudden, you're not as cold anymore. All of a sudden, you're rather flushed. Because if he's drenched and dirty, you must look about the same. And you don't think you want him to see you like that. You'd much rather meet him in a bar or something, when you're dressed up and clean and preferably not terrified.

"Thanks", you get out, a little too quickly as you tighten the blanket further around yourself. "For, uh, for saving my life."

The guy's lips quirk up and he grins, a lopsided, half-cocky grin that makes your heart leap.

"Anytime, sweetheart", he drawls, then reaches up as though he wants to tip his hat - just that he's not wearing one, so instead, he settles for brushing his hand through his hair, just a second too late to seem intentional from the start. "Why were you out here anyway? Half a mile back is a gas station with a basement."

"I didn't-", you start, hesitant to admit just how unprepared you'd been for what had happened. "I didn't know it was a tornado. I thought it was just a bad storm or something, I'm... I'm not from around here."

He nods at you, his lips already parting when you suddenly twitch away from him and sneeze - once, then twice. His grin has dropped by the time you look up at him again and excuse yourself. God, is this embarrassing.

"You need dry clothes before you catch a cold", he says, his eyes travelling down your soaked dress and your bare legs. "I've got a shirt in the trunk, give me a minute."

He walks towards the back of his car and opens up his trunk and you're hit with two thoughts at the same time. The first is more along the lines of goddamn, are his shoulders broad, but the second - arguably the one that should be more important - is why the fuck his car is still standing in the very same spot he'd parked it before the tornado had hit.

Especially when your car is absolutely nowhere to be seen. Your car and all your things inside it. Oh, god-

"Here you go", he says, holding out a dry copy of the shirt he's wearing, red checkered cotton. He's about to go on when you blurt out:

"Sorry, why's your car still... you know, there?"

His lips pull into that impossibly charming grin once more and he points at the underside of the truck.

"Tornado-proof", he explains, just the slightest bit cocky. You follow the invisible line he's drawing to two... what looks like giant screws? twisted into the ground below.

"Oh", you let out, not too intelligently - but really, what are you supposed to say?

He just chuckles and holds the shirt out for you again. You take it carefully, your fingers grazing his. He's so warm, so fucking warm. Meanwhile you're shaking even underneath the blanket he'd given you. Though that's also starting to get soaked.

"You can change in the car if you want", he offers, already pulling open the door to the passenger seat. You don't really have to think hard about it. You're drenched in the middle of nowhere, with no way to get home, and this guy has just saved your life. So you unwrap the blanket and give it back to him with a smile and a thanks.

It's tight and cramped inside the car, even as you roll the seat all the way back. You pry the drenched dress off of your body and only then remember to turn around and check if the guy is watching you (as handsome as he is, he's still a guy). But no, he's turned away, has his hands rested against his hips and is staring intently at the slowly clearing sky.

You turn back with a smile and get rid of your soaked bra, too, before you pull his shirt on over your head.

Damn, it smells good. He smells good. And it's very comfortable, you have to admit. Plus, it's dry, which is most definitely an improvement.

You take a few seconds to consider whether or not to pull off your shorts... but they're drenched, too, and the guy seems respectful enough to not risk a bladder infection for. So you take your shoes off, and your socks, and your shorts. And then you crack open the car door again and knock softly against the window.

"I'm done", you call out, loud enough that he can hear. He turns back and his eyes drag down your body - or what of it he can see through the open door - and even though he looks right back up at your face, you can't help but feel flustered. You ball your wet clothes up in your hands nervously.

"Alright then", he says, takes a step closer and reaches for the door handle. "You said you're not from around here, where were you driving?"

Ah, right, that part.

Honestly, with so much happening in so few minutes, you'd about blocked out everything else. Everything normal.

"My parents, uh-", you start, trailing off when you realise that's not much help for him. "About three, four hours from here."

"That's quite a drive", he chuckles. "I live maybe half an hour from here, how about I take you with me so you can eat and drink something? Maybe you can borrow a pair of Lilly's pants. And you could phone your parents."

Your tongue darts out to wet your lips and you narrow your eyes at him, taking a second too long to even understand all of what he's saying before taking another second too long to sort how you'll respond. Then you start with what you find most important.

"I've got my phone", you tell him, pulling it out from where you'd just deposited it in the centre console. "I had it in my pocket."

You'd taken it with you more reflexively than consciously when you'd stumbled out of your car - but truly, what self-respecting adult didn't take their phone with them when they left anywhere?

The guy just raises his eyebrows and glances at your phone.

"And it still works?", he asks, a little incredulously.

"Yep", you smile - for the first time, you realise, since the tornado. "It's waterproof."

More because you'd been scared you'd drop the love of your life into the pool or the ocean on vacation, but a tornado in the middle of Oklahoma worked as well. At least you now knew you'd spent your money wisely.

"Smart", he grins. You can't help but grin right back.

He's charming and he's respectful and he looks so goddamn good.

"Who's Lilly?", you ask then, because that had been the second thing you'd wanted to say. He hesitates for a half a moment.

"A friend", he says. You squint at him. He doesn't look like he's lying, but he does look like there's something you don't know about. God, if he turns out to be a cheater- "I'll introduce you if you'd like."

You raise your eyebrows. Alright, so not a cheater. And, if you're interpreting correctly, another invitation to come with him. Not that you'd been about to refuse the first one.

"Sure", you say, as casually as you can. "I didn't really feel like standing around half-naked on the street anyway."

...

A few minutes later, he's driving his weird car/truck with the screws on the bottom down the empty highway. Though 'empty' is the wrong description, really - here and there, trees, road signs and utility poles are scattered on the pavement.

You're driving in silence. Well, silence as in neither of you talks, not as in actual silence. Alongside the motor, the radio had turned on, playing one country song after the other.

"You never told me your name", the guy says suddenly. The very much stranger, who's very much right - you'd never told him your name.

"You never told me yours", you counter, because that's also the truth. He'd never told you his name. You knew his friend's name, but not his.

"Didn't think I'd have to", he mutters under his breath, so quietly you barely catch it. "It's Tyler. Tyler Owens?"

He says it like it's a question. You don't know why. So instead you just answer with your own name and Tyler, as you'd come to know, repeats it with a smile on his lips.

God, you don't think it's ever sounded that good.

"Pretty name", he says, all casual like that doesn't get your heart racing again. Pretty. He'd called you pretty. Almost unconsciously, you brush your hands through your hair.

"Thank you", you mutter. As if to distract yourself, you add: "So, Tyler, what do you do?"

...

Exactly half an hour later, Tyler takes your hand in his and helps you out of his car. His house - the one he's sharing with Lilly, you'd found out, with Lilly and the rest of his Tornado Wranglers - is big and inviting. It's a little way off from any other houses, which you personally think is quite nice. Not that you say that, though.

Tyler walks you inside without having to unlock the door. He takes two steps, then he calls out "Guys, we've got a guest", which immediately results in a surprised shout of "whoops" and the sound of a set of feet scurrying up the stairs. Tyler has barely pulled off his shoes (after politely asking you to wait just a second) when a head pops through the doorframe at the end of the hallway.

"Boone was naked", the woman grins before settling her eyes on you and throwing you a wave. "Hey there, I'm Lilly."

She glances down at your bare legs.

"A little cold there?", she asks and even though her words are sarcastic, her voice is anything but.

"A little", you answer truthfully, smiling at her as she steps out into the hallway.

"You want a pair of pants?", she asks, seemingly without giving a single thought to who you are or why you're standing half-naked in her hallway.

You glance at Tyler, but he's grinning and only shrugs at you, so you turn back to Lilly and nod at her. She seems sweet, really sweet, and very kind. She takes you with her to her room (up two sets of stairs, the fucking house has three floors and a basement) and shows you her closet, the very definition of unbothered even as you nervously rummage through her clothes.

"Hey, you can take a shirt too, if you want", she says, flopping down onto her bed and rolling onto her side to look at you.

"Oh", you let out and glance down at the shirt you're wearing - Tyler's shirt, that very country, checkered shirt that's way too big for you. "I'm fine, thanks."

Honestly, if it were up to you, you would never wear anything else ever again. Tyler's shirt is soft and comfortable and - most importantly - it smells like him. You really just want to tug the hem up to your nose and breathe in his scent (but that would be weird, so you don't).

"Alright", Lilly drawls. "Your choice."

...

Lilly shows you the bathroom, gives you the wifi password and tells you to come down whenever you feel like it. You realise half a second too late that you haven't told her your name yet and crack open the bathroom door to call out for her.

Honestly, you like her. You really like her. And you really like Tyler, too. He's handsome and he smells good and he's respectful and he's nice and he saved your fucking life today. You don't even want to think about what would have happened to you if he hadn't driven by.

In the bathroom is the first time you can really breathe. You throw some water at your face and blowdry your hair. Ten minutes later, you're walking down the stairs into the hallway again - this time, when you stroll through there, you're wearing comfortable pants, fuzzy socks and take your time to look around.

You'd already called your parents back in the car with Tyler. They'd been about as shocked as you'd expected, had needed a few minutes to even understand just what you were telling them, but then they'd offered to come pick you up immediately. Tyler had provided them his address and now here you are - knocking at the open door to the kitchen, where all of the Tornado Wranglers sit around the table. All of them, except for Tyler, who's leaning against the countertop and looks up at you with a grin when you step in.

"Hey there", he drawls, his eyes raking down your body once more today - you've tucked his shirt into Lilly's pants and you could swear his eyes linger on your waist. "Warm and dry?"

"Very", you grin back, then nod at Lilly. "Thanks again."

She shakes her head and waves you off.

"Hey, no big deal. Do you want some pasta?"

...

It's comfortable there, in the kitchen of these strangers who are feeding you pasta and lending you clothes. You've settled onto the countertop next to Tyler and now and then, when you're dangling your feet or he's taking a bite, your legs graze his arm. He's changed into dry clothes too, you realise as you brush against him for the first time, and he's even warmer now than before.

"Tyler's told us all about you", Boone says after a few minutes of easy conversation. You raise your eyebrows and turn your head, staring at Tyler from the side.

"Has he?", you ask, because you hadn't even told him enough about yourself to warrant any use of the word 'all'. Sure, you'd talked on the ride here - but mostly about him, because - as it had turned out - what Tyler Owens did wasn't a normal job like doctor or lawyer, but instead professional Tornado Wrangler. Which, of course, had then dominated the conversation for the rest of the drive.

"Yeah, like how you were driving to you parents and didn't know what to do in a tornado so you just kept on driving", Boone grins, scraping the rest of his pasta off his plate. "And how he made you go in that ditch and-"

"Alright, shut up, Boone", Tyler interrupts, even though there's no real malice behind his words. "She knows the story. She's in it."

"I'm just saying", Boone goes on, entirely undeterred as he puts his now empty plate down on the kitchen table. "If you'd filmed that, it would go viral for sure."

You have to snort at that.

"Yeah, because of all the indecent exposure."

...

When your mother rings the doorbell three hours later, you're in the middle of the second round of a boardgame Dexter had pulled from a drawer. You'd been paired with Tyler for the first round and - somehow not surprisingly - that had worked quite well. You'd won just so against Dexter and Dani (Lilly and Boone hadn't been too much competition) and Dani's "We never get to play this right 'cuz we're always five people" after Tyler had high-fived you with a victorious cheer had warmed your heart. At least they'd enjoyed themselves - at least you hadn't been a burden.

"I call dibs on her", Lilly had declared when the second round had begun, so Tyler had teamed up with Boone instead.

"Oh, oh, botany!", you call out, just as the doorbell finally rings. Lilly jumps up and high-fives you.

"How in the hell did you guess that?", Dani asks, sounding all but exasperated at this point as Tyler pushes out of his seat and walks towards the front door. You shrug.

"Pure talent", you joke, then you climb off the couch as well. "Alright, it was so nice meeting you all, but I think my taxi's out front."

They all hug you goodbye and tell you to come around again anytime - Boone even hands you one of those t-shirts Tyler had told you about in the car. You can hardly hold back a snort. Though Tyler had told you about the shirts existing, yes, he must have accidentally forgotten to mention that his goddamn face is printed on them, paired with the very... comedic phrase "Not My First Tornadeo".

You thread through the hallway with the shirt and your phone in your hands, only to be hit with the sight of Tyler hugging your mother on the doorstep. Or your mother hugging Tyler, more like. Either way, you're suddenly frozen in place.

But then your mother opens her eyes and sees you standing there and she lets go of Tyler with a sharp cry to come running at you instead. She throws her arms around you with so much vigor you're almost knocked off your feet. You meet Tyler's eyes over her shoulder - crinkled with lines of laughter as he smiles at you. Your eyes dart away again just as quickly.

"It's fine, mom, I'm okay", you reassure.

"Yeah, thanks to Tyler", she mutters into your hair. "I already told him we'll pay him whatever he wants for saving our daughter."

"And I already said I don't want any money", Tyler clarifies.

...

The next morning, you wake up comfortably late in a warm bed. You walk down the stairs in fuzzy socks and start the day with a simple cup of tea.

A simple cup of tea and Tyler Owens' YouTube channel.

You'd looked him and his Tornado Wranglers up the very second you'd sat down in your mother's car. Then you'd subscribed to every channel you could find. And then... you'd kind of got obsessed. You'd watched so many of their videos that by one am, you'd simply fallen asleep to one of them.

"Aunt May's gonna be here in half an hour", your mother informs you casually, a stack of plates in her hands as she rummages around in the kitchen. You're still sitting at the table in your pajamas, a spoonful of cereal in your mouth, your phone propped up against a water bottle in front of you, playing a Tornado Wranglers video from a year ago.

"Seriously?", you get out, chewing on your cereal before you can swallow it down. "Mom, I still have to shower and get ready and all."

She throws you one of those eyebrows-raised glances that immediately let you know she's judging you for something.

"We only let you sleep this long because you almost died yesterday", she says matter-of-factly, then she eyes your phone. "And if you weren't watching Tyler's videos so obsessively, you would be done by now."

"Really, mom?"

You let out a resigned sigh. She only shrugs and grins at you. She's a little bit right, anyway.

"He's good-looking, I get it", she says, then she strolls out of the kitchen, chuckling to herself while you curse at her. He is good-looking, fuck this. You need to get it together before the rest of your extended family arrives.

...

The doorbell rings for the umpteenth time that day, just as you step out of the bathroom and smooth down the front of the red-checkered shirt you're wearing. You call some version of "I got it", down the hallway, not too sure if anyone even hears - they're all in the backyard anyway. Then you open the door with a smile on your face, a smile that instantly pulls into a wide grin when you see just who's standing there.

Because it's not another aunt or uncle or cousin. It's no one in your family, not even close.

It's Tyler.

Tyler Owens.

"Hi", he says. Just that. Hi.

You lean against the open door and cross your arms. Your grin only grows.

"Hi", you echo.

His eyes rake down your body and it seems like whatever he'd wanted to say gets stuck in his throat as he realises that the shirt you're wearing isn't your shirt, really. You can't help but bite down on your lip.

Look, you hadn't expected this. You hadn't expected him. None of this was a scheme or a plan or anything even close. You'd just seen it lying there this morning, right next to Lilly's pants on your desk, and you hadn't been able to help yourself. It smelled so fucking good.

"Nice shirt", he grins, eyes snapping back up to yours.

"Thanks", you grin back. "I got it from this guy after he saved me from dying in a tornado yesterday."

Tyler chuckles.

"Seems like a great guy."

"So great", you agree. "Even though he prints his face on t-shirts."

Tyler is just about to retort something - all toothy grins and laughter lines - when your mother calls out his name, very obviously pleasantly surprised as she comes down the hallway. She smiles at him, big and wide.

"What are you doing here?", she asks, stopping next to you to ask the very question that had been on the tip of your tongue too when you'd opened up the door.

"Oh, I'm just bringing these back", he says and holds up his hand to show a stack of neatly folded clothes with your bra right on top. You have to bite down on your cheeks to stop from outright grinning.

Okay, so even if wearing his shirt hadn't been a scheme, and even if you hadn't expected to see him... You might just have done something to ensure you would see him again. But hey, he's about the most handsome man you've ever laid your eyes on, you'd be damned if you'd have to watch him on the screen of your phone for the rest of your life. So yeah, you may have accidentally 'forgotten' your wet clothes in his bathroom after you'd hung them over the heater to dry. You just hadn't thought he'd find them so quickly.

"And you drove four hours for that?", your mother asks, more baffled than you are. Tyler only shrugs. Your mother reaches out for your clothes, grabs them from him and puts them on the cupboard in the hallway. Then she looks at him.

"You're coming in, yes? We're having barbecue now and cake in a bit. I'm not letting you drive four hours here just to deliver her clothes."

...

Twenty minutes later is when you get Tyler alone for the first time. Your mother has schlepped him with you through the whole garden and introduced him to every single person there - "He's the guy who saved her yesterday!" (because, obviously, your story had been about the only topic anyone had talked about so far) - your father first and foremost, who hugs Tyler so tightly that for a moment you're afraid he'll break him.

You catch up with Tyler just as he finishes loading his plate with food, finally on his own after your mother has excused herself to go cut up more bread.

"How'd you find me?", you ask, sipping at your ice-cold coke and eyeing him up. It's the one question that had been burning in your mind for the past twenty minutes. How in the hell had he managed to find you? It's not like you'd left a note with your address next to your clothes (though in hindsight, you don't remember how you'd meant for him to bring them back to you).

He looks almost bashful for a second.

"Boone noticed you'd followed our account", he explains then. "He figured out your last name from your handle and searched the phone book of the city on your mom's license plate. And then he read out all the names until I recognised your mom's because she'd introduced herself to me yesterday."

Your eyebrows raise, further and further the more he speaks. You swallow. Silence falls for a second, then two.

"You know, some people would call that creepy", you say, but your lips tug up into an involuntary grin that gives away more quickly than you'd wanted that you aren't one of those people. Tyler grins right back at you.

"Personally I think it would've been more creepy if I'd kept your bra."

...

It's 9:20 when your mother comes over. You've long since switched from barbecue to cake, then to snacks. Your feet are tucked underneath Tyler's legs, propped up against the side of his garden chair and he's running his fingers up and down your calves.

You'd spent the afternoon chatting away and laughing, barely talking to anyone but him. Your 'family get-together' had turned into more of a date. You certainly aren't about to complain, though.

"Tyler, you're staying the night, right?", your mother asks, a fresh plate of chips in her hands that she puts next to the almost empty one on the table in front of you.

"I don't want to overstay my welcome", he says, all gentlemanly even as your mother rests her hands against her hips and stares him down.

"Young man, you're welcome in this house any time, for however long. I'm not letting you drive home four hours. You're staying the night." Then she points at you. "She's still got a couch in her room that you can sleep on. I'd offer you a guest room, but half the family's staying here and we're already out of air mattresses."

So an hour later, you're rummaging about your room, picking up clothes off the couch and stuffing them in your closet to make room for Tyler. He's leaning against your doorway, looking around, taking in the mess that is your childhood bedroom.

"Nice posters", he says, and you throw him a look over your shoulder that could be deadly. He's grinning all sarcastic, only chuckling as his eyes meet yours. "You could put up one of my shirts here."

You have to snort at that and before you can even really think about it, you've pulled the shirt Boone had given you yesterday from where you'd put it down on your desk. You throw it at him carelessly and he catches it with no effort at all, which - paired with that fucking grin - shouldn't be as attractive as it turns out to be.

"Knock yourself out", you say, then you turn back around to your closet and tug out bedsheets for him. "My old poster glue should be in one of the desk drawers."

You don't think he'll seriously do it, but you seem to have misjudged him. Badly. Because he gets to work immediately.

You watch him for a few stunned seconds before you decide to just leave him to it. So while you turn the couch into a makeshift bed for him, he glues that goddamn "Not My First Tornadeo" shirt to your wall.

"Fits perfectly if you ask me", he declares eventually, barely concealing the amusement dripping from his words. You smooth down his sheets before you look up at your wall. He's put the shirt up in one of the few empty spots, right between your Maroon 5 and Destiny's Child posters.

"Yeah", you snort. "Perfectly."

You give him a toothbrush and let him use your bathroom. While he's gone, you change into your pajamas, fold his shirt carefully and put it on a pile with Lilly's pants and her socks. Honestly, a little part of you already mourns the loss of it - but another part of you already has hope for another shirt. Maybe in a different context.

"What're you doing?", Tyler asks, shutting the bathroom door behind him. You don't look up as you fold the other clothes you'd thrown onto your desk yesterday.

"I put Lilly's things and your shirt there, you can take it back tomorrow", you explain, starting a second pile of your own clothes next to his.

"Keep my shirt", he says. That finally makes you look up at him.

Which isn't a good idea. Not at all. Because he's standing there in nothing but his briefs and good fucking lord-

You'd known he's handsome. You'd known he's broad. But you hadn't known he's fucking ripped. You shouldn't stare. You're very aware. You definitely shouldn't stare. It's incredibly rude to stare. It's very inappropriate to stare. But goddamn, this man is built so perfectly god himself must be jealous.

You have to forcibly blink yourself back to reality. You're definitely red in the face when you finally manage to meet his eyes again. And he's raised his eyebrows in a way that tells you he's reading your every emotion right off your face.

"Sorry, come again?", you croak out, brushing your hand through your hair and realising just a second too late that your eyes have travelled down too far again.

"I said you should keep my shirt", he repeats, a very, very obvious grin on his lips. "It looks better on you."

"Okay", you agree, a little too quickly. The heat in your cheeks comes from more than just the half-naked view of him now. He thinks his shirt looks better on you. You don't even care if that's a line. "I'll... I'll go brush my teeth real quick."

When you come out of the bathroom a few minutes later, Tyler has made himself comfortable on your couch. It's a little too small for him, you realise, but he doesn't seem bothered. He's pulled the covers up to his hips - you can still stare at his chest, to your delight. And he's put one hand under his head, flexing his bicep in a way that has you hurrying over to your own bed so you won't jump him right then and there.

"Alright, goodnight, Tyler", you breathe, adjusting your pillow and wrapping your blanket around your body as if grabbing at it will somehow ground you.

"Goodnight", he echoes, and then you turn off the light.

It's quiet. The only noise is the laughter of your family a floor below, all settling into bed themselves. It's quiet and it's dark.

And you're staring wide-eyed at absolutely nothing.

Oh, god. He's so fucking hot. He's so fucking hot you want to throw yourself out of the window. He's so fucking hot and he's on your fucking couch, barely ten feet from you. He's so fucking hot and he'd driven four hours here just to bring your clothes.

"Tyler", you say, barely two minutes after you'd turned the light off. He hums in response - still awake. You don't know what you'd expected. "Thanks again. For, you know, for everything."

"Anytime", he replies, and even though you can't see his grin, you imagine you can hear it. You nod into your pillow. Then silence falls again.

It lasts maybe another two minutes.

"Your family's nice", he says then. You can't help but smile.

"Thanks", you mutter.

"I like your mother", he says. Your smile only grows. You turn onto your back and stare at the dark ceiling.

"She likes you too."

It's the truth.

Tyler stays quiet. You don't even try to close your eyes this time - you can hear him breathe, deep and relaxed. It's calming. You're sure it could lull you to sleep. If you were anywhere near tired, that is. This way, you just blink at black nothingness.

"Were you really a Destiny's Child fan?", Tyler asks eventually, his sheets rustling.

"Yep", you say.

That's it for that conversation.

You don't know what it is, the darkness or the silence, but something pushes on your chest and weighs you down, warming your skin as it settles on your body. It's a tension, thick and heavy, one that had grown with every scrap of conversation.

"You know-", he starts again, but this time, you've got enough.

"Tyler", you interrupt, turning onto your side and pulling your covers with you. "Get up here."

You can't see him as he throws his bedsheets off himself, can't watch as he heaves himself up, can't look at him as he strides over to your bed - but you hear the rustling of his covers, you hear the couch creaking, you hear his steps on the floorboards. And you feel the mattress dipping when he finally sets his knees on your bed.

You don't wait until he's actually in there. You don't think you could possibly wait until he is. You just push yourself up, grab onto the first part of him you can get your hands on (his shoulders), cup his face in your palms and pull him into you.

Right into your kiss.

Tyler Owens kisses you for the first time in the darkness of your childhood bedroom. For the second time in the morning light in your bed. For the third time in your parent's kitchen, right as your mother walks in. For the fourth time in his truck, after your parents all but throw you out of their house and force you to go home with him. For the fifth time in front of his own house, where his crew watches through the window.

And after that, Tyler Owens loses count of just how often he kisses you. Because he kisses you every day for the rest of his life.

[littlebirdygirlywriting]

This is so cute! 🥹 Also, why do fics keep aligning with my real life—I’m literally going out dancing tonight. 😂

Last Call

----------------------------------------------------

Warnings: Fluff

Prompt: Late nights with Tyler (Dancing in a bar together)

Notes: female reader, italics are actions and thoughts.

-With that said it's all under the cut-

The night started out with a rowdy bunch of all his friends just eating and drinking at the bar. Dani and Lily both needed to get to bed due to being shitfaced, Javi and Kate had left to get the two women home safely. Dexter had found a woman he really liked and started chatting her up so it left you and Tyler alone.

Tyler had just a few beers and you a few coke and whiskeys, nothing fancy. He slowly pulled you out into the middle of the now more empty bar.

"Ty! I don't- I don't dance." You giggled as he pulled you tword the dancefloor, your face bright red.

"Hey, I never said we had to do something fancy." He laced his fingers with yours and flipped you around so both your arms are wrapped around you, your back against his chest. He kisses your temple snd gently sways you back and forth.

"You totally lied!" You laugh as you look over your shoulder at those beautiful green eyes of his feeling his warm chest against your back.

"I think we need to reevaluate your definition of fancy, Pretty Girl." He brings his face closer to yours and you can almost taste the beer on his breath.

"I think you've got beer goggles, Hun." You arent one for compliments but it never stops Tyler from showering you with them like a thunderstorm. He wants you to know how much he cares about you even if he knows it's hard for you to believe due to your upbringing along with your exes.

"The only think I'm drunk off of is the sight of your beauty, it's very intoxicating." He kisses your neck gently and pulls you a bit closer, as you relax into his touch he continues his kisses upon your skin. Tyler gently guides your hips as you both sway to some country love song in the background.

"I'm just gonna have to keep giving you compliments until you realize how goddamn important you are to me, Cowgirl." His lips brush against the soft skin of your ear, his voive is soft and sincere. He's not even trying to be flirty or get any tonight, all he wants is tonight is to make you feel appreciated and cared for.

"Oh! You kiss your Mama with that mouth?! Ohhhhh, I'm gonna tell her!" You giggle as you tease him about that time she reemed his ass over saying goddamn even though she says it all the time. You wriggle out of his grip and pretend to go for your phone.

"Oh, no you dont!" He chuckles before pulling you back to him by your hips. His eyes shine in the fairy lights above the dancefloor, his smile lighting up the room. His smile killed you, you could be the most sad, angry or upset and that smile could just so easily pull you out of your funk.

When you both initally got together you noticed how often you's smile smile just because he was, you laughed because he was and quickly realized how happy you are just because of his exsistance. He's the light in your life and you couldn't think of anyone else in this way but him.

"Oh no, she's gone off to Fairy Dreamland." Tyler jokes pulling you closer to him, wrapping his arms around the small of your back.

"You thinking about my eyes? Or is it my washboard abs, rippling pectorals? Or maybe it's my glorious buns." He says, teasinf you in that Chad voice he does just for you. Tyler's always teasing and joking, really anything to get a smile to your face.

"Bars closing, Y'all! Last call waas an hour ago!" The bartender called up as they cleaned up which prompted you to both look around and realized how you were the only two customers in here.

"Time flies when you're having fun, I guess?" Tyler commented as he handed yoi his keys since you'd had a drink much earlier in the night than he did.

"You're letting me drive the truck?!" You asked with excitement as you grabbed the keys from and guided him outside. The smile on your face is massive, he just loves how little things mean the world to you.

"Hell yeah I am, don't worry about anything. Don't worry, she's seen worse than anything you could do to her." He helped you in the truck before going around to the passenger to climb in himself.

You start it up and another love country song starts playing on the radio. The both of you buckle up and you pull out of the bar parking lot very carefullly. Tyler passes out in the truck on your way to his apartment.

About twenty minutes later you wake him up as you pull into his driveway, putting it in park before killing the engine.

"Come on, Ty, I'm not strong enough to get you in." You told him as you got out and went around to help him out as well, his human crutch for the night. The booze wasnt even the problem now, its that he just doesnt wanna move.

You help him in and he just purposefully lays on the couch, he just wants to sleep everything catching up to him from the past weeks of chasing.

You stripped his shirt, pants and cowboy boots off and get a blanket from the hallway to drape over him. You head to the kitchen to get water, ibuprofen and Cheese-Its for when you both wake up tomorrow and the hangovers hit a bit.

Then you sit down and take your dress and heels off and crawl into bed with him, cuddling into his chest. It takes a bit of listening to his heartbeat but it lulls you to sleep like a melody.

Masterlist

Send me prompts if you'd like

[chappellsroans]

GLEN POWELL as TYLER OWENS

Twisters (2024) dir. Lee Isaac Chung

[dailyflicks]

Twisters (2024) dir. Lee Isaac Chung

[nessa007]

[enthyrea]

if you feel it, chase it 🌪️

[tadhannahj]

the devil works hard but american propaganda works harder

[kaizsche]

suddenly life is worth living again