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mercvry-glow · 26 days ago

Text

Busy Bee

parings. jack abbot x wife!reader

summary. you and your son take a trip to the pitt after an encounter with a bee. unfortunately, or maybe fortunately, your husband's working.

warnings. age gap (jack mid/late 40s, reader late 20s early 30s), reader is allergic to bees, overprotective!jack, boy-dad!jack, typical hospital setting, no death, hurt/comfort but mainly comfort, other pitt characters, let me know if there's anything else!

notes. local boy dad truther hopped into the pitt fandom, but this popped into my mind and I haven't been able to let it go. these will probably be a set of drabbles and one-shots if it gets enough traction, but please enjoy and any feedback is appreciated! also I am not a medical professional, but I tried my best to sound realistic.

wc. 2700+

side drabble of the aftermath

part two: where we fit

“We got a woman in her late twenties to early thirties, went into anaphylactic shock at the park due to a suspected bee sting. Vitals stabalized after we gave her Epi, but the swelling in her throat and the hives covering her chest, neck and arms is pretty extensive.”

Just another normal day in the Pitt.

“It is starting to be that season,” Dr. McKay said lightly as she did her own assessment while a few interns watched, “Did she have anyone with her? Who called?”

The EMT gave a small gesture to her partner who was walking in behind them with a small boy, maybe five or six, who looked worried. “Couple of joggers passed them and found him with her failed EpiPen, they called after that.”

Cassie could only nod as she thought about her own son experiencing that, “Alright Mohan come with me we’re gonna take her to south-15. Mel, can you talk to the boy and see if there’s anyone we can call for him?”

Going to their respective tasks, McKay and Mohan took the young mother and Melissa went to introduce herself to the boy. He was still standing with the EMT, clutching his hand tightly while watching the hustle and bustle that was the emergency department.

“Hey… Can I talk to him?” Mel approached slowly and the EMT squatted down to look the kid in his eyes. “I have to go now but uh- Dr. King here is gonna take really good care of you while your mommy gets help, okay?” The boy just nodded, going to hold his own hand.

“What’s your name?” Mel asked, offering her own hand for him to take as they walked away. His grip was soft, if not a little clammy, and he toddled behind her as she led him to the family room. “Lucas…” he took his own deep breath, unsure of himself and the situation.

“I heard something pretty scary happened at the park. Are you doing okay?” Lucas gave a little shrug, giving her hand a squeeze at the mention of the incident at the park.

“I think so, is my mommy gonna be okay? Daddy says bees are bad for her, and the pen is supposed to make her better but it didn’t...”

Mel opened the door to the family room, having Lucas sit in one of the chairs near the small coffee table. She had learned in the past couple of months that children liked to be distracted in situations like these. Clearly the little boy was feeling down, his once peaceful day at the park now ruined by an unfortunate accident.

She sat down beside him, helping him take off the backpack he was wearing hoping maybe there were some more identifying clues lying within the blue cloth. “Well your dad must be very smart, but your mom is being taken care of by some really cool doctors and I think she’s gonna be okay and excited to see you again.”

Unzipping the bag, Mel gave Lucas a gentle smile as they pulled out the contents together. Inside were the usual kid essentials — a juice pouch, a small sketchpad with dinosaurs drawn in crayon, and a pair of cleats and matching socks balled up and forgotten at the bottom. She sifted carefully, searching for anything that might tell them who else to contact. A pair of car keys sat in the front pocket, but no wallet or any other identifying placards. The EpiPen sat visibly in the mesh side holster, unadministered and effectively useless now. The air was light between the pair while the Intern thought of her next moves, and Lucas had started coloring next to her to keep his mind off of things.

She thought about askin Robby or Dana for next steps, and definitely wanted Kieara to stop by. “Are we able to contact your dad? I’m sure he’d want to know what happened,” Mel said, stumped at what to do next.

“He’s pretty busy and um- his number sheet is in my other bag in the car… Mommy was supposed to make two, but this is the fun bag so it wasn’t supposed to matter.” Lucas explained, though that’s fair considering he’s only five or so.

“Oh! Well where does he work? We could try calling them and he should be able to come here,”

Lucas closed his eyes and wiggled around in his chair as he tried to remember the name, “Uhhh- oh Pittsburgh Trauma Medical Center!”

Mel’s eyes lit up at the mention of the very hospital they were in. “Well that’s where we are! Let me go grab someone real quick and we can start asking around, how does that sound?” Lucas silently agreed and went back to coloring as the blonde woman left the room.

The Intern succuried around, hoping to find Dr. Robby in a moment of peace where she could talk to him about the situation. Thankfully, the older man was sitting near the nurses station typing away at one of the computers.

“Dr. Robby! I uh- I have the son of a patient who was admitted not too long ago, he said his dad works here and I was hoping you could help us locate him? He’s only about five so he doesn’t remember too much besides that.” Mel stood expectantly, as the older man got up and pushed his chair in.

“Lead the way Dr. King, let's find this boy's dad.” Robby ran a hand down his face as he followed after Melissa who was leading him to the family room. Putting on a brave face, he hoped to god this wasn’t going to lead into a hospital wide manhunt. They kept a steady pace, pausing outside the door. “What was the other patient admitted for?�� He asked, needing to know if this would be bad or not.

“Mom was taken to South-15 after experiencing anaphylactic shock from a bee sting. The uh- EpiPen failed and some joggers helped them out, Dr. McKay was trearting her and everything was stable when we left besides the swelling and hives she had.” she explained keeping her recounting of it short, really wanting to find Lucas’s father as soon as possible.

The two stepped inside the small room, the young boy sitting in the same cramped chair, picking at the sleeve of his sweater.

“Hey, Lucas. This is Dr. Robby he’s gonna help-” Mel could barely get the rest of her sentence out before the boy looked up and rushed into the arms of the man beside her.

“Uncle Mikey!” he cried out, latching onto the older doctor who scooped him up.

“Hey Luke, what are ya doing here buddy?” Still a bit shocked, Robby gave the boy a quick scan looking for any sign that something could be wrong, “I heard your mom got stung by a bee.”

Lucas let out a small sniffle, resting his head on the shoulder of his uncle. “It was scary… an-and mommy left her phone in the car so-so I couldn’t call anyone!” He kept his little body close, fists locked onto the blue hoodie Robby was known for wearing. He was still scared, just now beginning to process everything that had happened in the past hour or so.

Mel stood off to the side, letting the two talk amongst themselves for a few moments. “You know Dr. Robby, Lucas?”

The pair turned to her and Robby adjusted the boy so he could see the woman a bit better. “Dr. King meet Lucas Abbot, I’m surprised he didn’t say so sooner-probably the nerves.” The older man looked down to the boy who was still clinging to him, the only familiar person he had seen since arriving to the PTMC. “You wanna go find your dad?”

Lucas nodded a resounding yes, keeping his face buried in the neck of the older man hoping he would keep carrying him.

“Dr. King, I got it from here if you want to go back and work,” Mel took her leave after that, giving Lucas a small wave goodbye before going back into the fold.

Robby set the small boy down, repacking the scattered items back into the bag. He tried not to think about the faulty EpiPen, or how Jack was going to react upon finding out what had occurred. If anything that man was protective, and if hearing that his wife had been admitted didn’t set him off—hearing his son was here and hadn’t been able to contact him definitely would.

“Yo Dana, we have a visitor with us today.” The brunette gave the curls on Lucas’s head, a trait he got from his father, a small rub, as they got to the charge nurse’s attention. The blonde let out a small gasp as she bent down to give the boy a hug.

“And what are you doing here, little man? Where’s your mama? Your Dad’s running all over the place today, have you seen him yet?” She looked back up at Robby, holding the boy close.

The older man gave a small shake of his head, a knowing look in his brown eyes. “She’s uh- She’s in south-15 and we were actually looking for Jack, have you seen him?”

Dana glanced at the board, “He was about to discharge a patient from north-8, you could probably catch him before the next Ambo pulls up.”

“Alright, buddy,” Robby said, offering his hand to Lucas again. “Let’s go find your dad before he disappears on us.”

Dana gave the boy one more quick squeeze and a wink before standing up again. “Tell him to take five once you find him. He’s been running around since before you got here.”

They made their way toward the north wing, weaving between carts and stretchers, the bustle of the hospital constant. Lucas stayed close, wide-eyed but silent, clutching Robby’s fingers like a lifeline.

As they rounded the corner near North-8, Robby spotted him—Dr. Jack Abbot clipboard in hand, shoulder leaning into the doorway of a patient room as he gave discharge instructions with that familiar composed intensity. Even from here, Robby could see the stress around his eyes. Whatever calm Jack projected, it wasn’t rooted deep today. The patient stepped away into the crowd of people and Robby stepped into view, catching his eye.

Jack nodded a little when he saw him, expecting a routine update—until he saw the small figure beside him.

“Lucas?”

The clipboard hit the counter with a clack.

Lucas let go of Robby’s hand and ran straight into his father’s arms, the impact knocking the breath out of Jack for half a second.

“Hey—hey, what—” Jack crouched down, holding Lucas tightly, searching his face. “Are you okay? What happened?”

Lucas clung to him like a koala, cheeks red and eyes glassy. “Mommy’s sick,” he whispered. “The pen didn’t work. I tried, but it didn’t work.”

Jack’s face paled. His arms tightened instinctively. “Where is she?”

“South-15,” Robby answered quietly, giving the man a moment before continuing. “It was a bee sting. The EpiPen failed. She was treated right away, vitals are stable, McKay’s with her.”

Jack didn’t move at first, just held his son close, forehead resting against Lucas’s curls as he processed it all—the sudden fear, the guilt, the helplessness. Finally, he let out a long breath.

“I didn’t even know—no wonder she wasn’t answering her phone.” His voice cracked.

“She’s okay,” Robby reminded him gently. “And your son? Absolute champ. Kept his head until the crews showed up.”

Lucas pulled back just enough to look at him. “I didn’t cry. I was gonna, but I didn’t.”

Jack smiled through the tightness in his chest. “Good job, bud.”

He stood up slowly, Lucas still in his arms, and turned to Robby. “I need to see her.”

Robby nodded. “Go on, Brother. I’ll let Dana know what’s going on, let her know you’re clocking off early.” He handed over the backpack and let the father/son duo head off.

Making their way to you, where you were taken was a bit more private than other rooms and the soft beeping could be heard from outside. The two stopped outside, Jack prepping the boy for what he was about to see.

“Hey…So mommy’s probably gonna be sleepy and she might have a hard time talking okay? We should be able to see her though.” Lucas nodded into his dad’s shoulder, his small fingers tightening around the fabric of Jack’s black scrub top.

“Okay,” he whispered. “I won’t be loud.”

Jack gave a little smile at that, brushing his son’s curls down gently before reaching for the door. The soft click of the handle felt louder than it should have, and as they stepped inside, the familiar scent of antiseptic mixed with something heavier—like adrenaline and the memories embedded within the room.

The room was dimly lit, with only the overhead light above your bed on. You were propped up slightly, eyes closed, an oxygen cannula under your nose. Your arm had an IV line, and Princess was quietly making notes on the monitor screen.

Jack’s breath hitched in his throat.

Lucas didn’t say anything right away. His gaze was locked on you, his brown eyes wide and unreadable as he stared at his mom, so happy and full of life only hours ago, now tucked into white sheets with wires and machines surrounding her.

“Mommy…” he whispered.

Your eyes fluttered open at the sound, sluggish but aware. You turned your head slightly, the movement slow and pained, but unmistakably focused on him.

Jack stepped closer, kneeling beside the bed so Lucas could see you better.

“She’s awake,” Jack said softly. “You can say hi, baby.”

Lucas’s lip trembled, but he leaned toward you. “I’m sorry,” he blurted suddenly. “I tried with the pen but it didn’t work and I was scared and I couldn’t call—”

Your fingers twitched and slowly reached for him, and Jack gently helped guide Lucas’s hand to yours. Holding the both of yours within his strong grip.

“You did so good, baby,” you said, your voice hoarse but warm. “I’m okay, and you were so brave.”

Lucas crawled gently onto the edge of the bed, careful not to bump into any of the cords or wires. He curled up beside your arm, still holding your hand tightly.

Jack sat in the chair beside the bed, rubbing his face and finally letting out a shaky breath.

“You scared the shit out of me,” he said quietly, half to himself, half to you. You gave him a tired smile, and Jack reached up to brush your hair from your face.

“But you’re here,” he said. “And we’re okay. That’s what matters.”

“Yeah, you’re lucky we weren’t closer to Pres, would’ve really lost your shit…” you gave him the best smile you could muster, while he gave you a knowing look.

He let out yet another sigh, still keeping your hand in his. “We need to get you another EpiPen, and put my goddamn number in that park bag.”

“You have fun with that, babe,” you murmured, voice still rough but tinged with just enough sass to draw a soft snort from Jack.

“Oh, I will,” he said, dragging the chair a little closer to the bed. “You’re gonna have a laminated emergency list in every bag we own. Backpack, baseball bag, glove box—hell, I’ll sew one into your damn jacket lining if I have to.”

Lucas perked up a little at that, lifting his head. “I can start baseball?”

Jack looked over at him, mock-serious. “Only if you promise not to spill a bunch of stuff in the bag again.”

Lucas giggled for the first time since they got there, that tiny sound easing something deep in Jack’s chest. You chuckled too, though it ended in a soft wince as your ribs reminded you what happened.

Jack leaned forward instinctively, hand pressing lightly over yours again. “Easy,” he murmured.

“I’m fine,” you reassured, but your grip on his fingers said another thing.

I love you, I’m sorry.

The room fell into a quiet rhythm after that—the soft hum of monitors, Lucas gently dozing off against your arm after hours of turmoil, Jack watching both of you with an expression halfway between exhaustion and fierce devotion.

“Thank you,” you whispered after a moment, just for him.

He looked up.

“For having such good doctor friends, for loving me… For being a good dad,”

Jack leaned in, brushing a kiss to your temple. “Always.”

mercvry-glow 2025

3K notes · View notes

geminiwritten · 1 month ago

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photos ; tyler owens

fandom: twisters

pairing: tyler x reader

summary: you’re in a perpetually bad mood because you're in love with tyler and he's clueless, but what happens when you 'accidentally' send him some scandalous photos?

notes: two in one week?! that's crazy! but also i decided to write for someone other than bradley bradshaw (tg:m) because my love for him is all consuming... it still is, but i really hope y'all enjoy this little fic! it was so fun to write, and please, give me all the feedback!

warnings: swearing, very horny without being smut but STILL ONLY 18+ PLEASE, drinking, taking and sending of naughty pictures, use of tinder, text / message screenshots, italics, references to the movie 13 Going on 30, some pet names (e.g. babygirl, baby, darlin'), use of the word 'bimbo' but it is regretted, and this is actually pretty wordy but it kind of had to be?

word count: 7251

Lily flops into the lawn chair beside yours. Her dreadlocks are half up and she isn’t wearing the same clothes that you’d seen her in half an hour ago. She must have just showered.

She offers you the packet of gummy bears in her hand as she settles back into the chair. “So, who are we trying to set on fire?”

You turn to face her, dragging your eyes away from said person you’re metaphorically trying to set on fire. “Who do you think?”

She giggles, the packet in her hand rustling as you take a handful of gummy bears. “He’s so clueless.”

“He’s so stupid,” you mutter, before shoving the candy into your mouth.

Tyler Owens, famous Tornado Wrangler and your best friend since you transferred to his high school in sophomore year. You’re not sure why he took a liking to you when you showed up on your first day with untied laces and a torn backpack. You’d been running late and got your backpack caught on a particularly spikey tree branch as you bolted from your parents’ car toward the school’s front steps. You’ve always assumed he felt bad for you, so he offered you his friendship. But to this day, he maintains that wasn’t the case, despite not giving you any other explanation as to why he would have wanted to befriend the weird new kid.

“I wonder what it’s like to have everyone fall all over you all the time,” Lily says, her eyes watching Tyler with curiosity as opposed to your scorching attempt to telepathically light his hat on fire. Or maybe just the leg of his pants. Nothing too crazy, you don’t want him to get hurt. You just want him to stop talking to that gorgeous woman.

You blow a long, tired breath out through your nose. “I wonder what it’s like go after what you want.”

“Sweetheart, how many times do I have to tell you.” Boone appears from behind you, stepping in front of your lawn chair and blocking your view of Tyler. “I’m right here. If you want me, take me.”

You roll your eyes, a small smirk ghosting over your lips. “Oh, Boone. You see right through me. I want you. I need you. Take me right here in this chair.”

Lily giggles at your sarcasm while Boone blinks slowly, trying to process what he just heard. When a full-blown grin splits across your face and laughter bubbles from your lips, he sighs. “You’re such a tease, woman. Don’t play with my heart like that.”

Before you can respond, Tyler steps up beside Boone and claps a hand on his shoulder. “Boone, you sweet idiot, you can’t tell a siren not to sing.”

Your smile is quickly replaced by a scowl. “Siren?”

Tyler nods, turning the full force of his gorgeous grin on you. “Yeah. The beautiful kind with the sweet voices that lure sailors-”

“To their death.” You push to stand and cross your arms. “They’re also not beautiful, they’re half bird. And they eat the sailors. So, you know what? Sounds like they've got men figured out.”

You turn and stomp up the stairs to the second floor of the motel you’re currently staying at. You know you seem a little childish, but you can’t help it. How many years are you going to have to watch Tyler with those fucking buckle bunnies before you break? Granted, there aren’t so many actual buckle bunnies since he quit bull riding, but they’re all the same to you. Drop dead gorgeous women hanging on for a piece of the man you’ve been in love with since junior year.

After a hot shower and a couple of overpriced minibar drinks – three little bottles of various alcohols – you fall onto the motel bed. This place is nicer than most of the other establishments you've stayed at, and the deadbolts on the door are giving you a sense of security you rarely have. Half the time you end up in Tyler’s room because you don’t feel safe behind the flimsy doors of dodgy motels, but you’ve resisted the past few weeks.

You’re just about at your breaking point where Tyler Owens is concerned, and you’re not sure how much longer you can keep up this best friend bullshit.

Your phone dings and draws your attention away from the Friday night movie playing on the small TV screen. You know who it is before you even see the notifications.

Your thumbs hover over your phone screen, poised to type but paralysed because you can’t decide what to say. Tyler is too nice and too fucking oblivious. You’re still too irritated to be nice back to him, so you sigh and smack your phone face down on the bedside table. You grab the remote and turn the volume of the TV down before curling on your side to watch the movie.

As the movie draws to an end and your heavy eyelids start to droop, a cold wave of realisation washes over you. The credits start to roll and you sit up straight, suddenly wide awake. Your eyes dart toward your phone, still sitting on the bedside table, and the bud of an idea begins to bloom at the forefront of your brain.

You tip your head and wonder aloud, “Is that a stupid idea?”

Mark Ruffalo was in love with his best friend – Jennifer Garner – but she didn’t see him that way until it was too late. Maybe you need to force Tyler’s hand? Make him see you that way. You’ve known each other since you were both awkward, hormonally challenged teenagers. You can’t really blame him for not seeing past your horrendous struggle with puberty.

You jump off the bed and strip out of your shirt and sweats, only briefly acknowledging the fact that the shirt actually belongs to Tyler. You open your duffel bag and dig right down to the bottom to retrieve the one set of nice lingerie that you own. You’re not sure you’ve ever actually worn it out, you’ve only ever used it for the exact thing that you’re about to do now.

After changing into the pretty lace set and double-checking the curtains are drawn, you grab your phone and stand in front of the full-length mirror fixed to the motel room’s wall. You’re no Victoria’s Secret model, but you do know how to pose to make yourself look fucking good.

You twist and move in front of the mirror, taking pictures and analysing them before taking some more. You move the lamp and switch the ceiling lights on and off for different shadows and effects on your body. You take off half the set and try the front facing camera for some more risqué poses and teasing photos. By the time you finally decide you should go to bed, you’re actually sweating.

You prop your phone face up on the small bathroom vanity as you brush your teeth and swipe through the photos. You giggle softly to yourself, wondering where you possibly picked up the audacity to think that sending Tyler some sexy photos was a good idea. Looking at them now, your stomach curls anxiously at the idea of sending these images to your best friend – you blame the minibar. Yeah, they’re fucking hot photos, but it’s also an incredibly risky thing to do. There’s a good chance he’s already thought of you in that way and just decided that he’s not interested. What if he saw the pictures and was actually disgusted? It would ruin your friendship and the whole crew's dynamic. You’d have to pack your shit and leave.

Your second thoughts and anxiety still don’t stop you from favouriting the best photos as you crawl back into bed. You can still use those pictures if you ever decide to get over Tyler by getting under someone else. You put your phone on charge and snuggle into a nest of pillows, letting your heavy eyelids fall shut. Maybe tomorrow night you can get drunk and flirt with someone hot and available, and then you can show them your sexy photos.

The next day starts like any other. Dexter and Dani use the motel’s communal barbecue to cook a greasy breakfast while Tyler gets coffees for everyone, and then it’s time to work. There isn’t a lot of promise in today’s blue sky, so you spend half the day at the motel before going for a five-minute drive to the nearest diner for lunch. You insist on riding in the RV instead of Tyler’s truck, but you regret it immediately after seeing his confused hurt-puppy face.

“So, where are we going out tonight?” Boone asks before popping a fry into his mouth.

Tyler shrugs, his green eyes darting up from his burger to look at you across the table. “Any bar around here that looks good.”

“There’s a decent place just around the corner from the motel,” Dexter says. “I’ve been there once before, I think. A year or two ago.”

“There’ll be a tonne of chasers there tonight,” Dani pipes up. “Truckloads of ‘em were pulling into the motel all day, and after such an uneventful Saturday, they’ll be wanting to blow off some steam.”

Tyler nods once. “Good. I need to blow off some steam too.”

You keep your head tipped downward so no one can see you roll your eyes. Yeah, you’re still a little mad at him even though he has no idea why. You know it’s stupid, but you can’t help it. Every time you see his ridiculously gorgeous face, your anger flares. Or is that just pent-up horniness? Maybe if you get laid, you might stop being so mad all the time.

Boone chuckles and nudges Tyler’s side. “Need a blow, do ya, T?”

Warmth flushes across your chest and creeps up your neck. Images of Tyler standing over you flash through your mind, his jeans down around his ankles and his thick length hitting the back of your throat.

Tyler chuckles, but it’s a little wooden. Strained. “You have no idea.”

“Gross,” Lily states, before pretending to gag.

Boone grins. “We’ll find you a lady tonight. Don’t worry.”

Dexter scoffs. “Like he needs help with the ladies.”

You swallow down the green-eyed monster trying to claw up your throat and finally look up from your plate of fries. “Is everyone done? Can we go back now?”

Although you avoid looking at him, Tyler is watching you curiously. His brows are pinched and his lips turned down ever-so-slightly. He knows you, and he definitely knows something is up. If you don’t fix your attitude soon, you’re going to have to explain a lot more than you’d like.

“I was actually going to go to the pharmacy in town,” Dexter says. “I need to pick up a few things.”

“Me too,” Dani adds.

Lily raises one hand in the air. “I’ll tag along too, if that’s okay.”

Tyler pulls his keys out of his back pocket and hands them to Boone. “Then Boone can drive the truck into town and I’ll take the RV.”

You frown. “And me?”

Tyler grins. That breath-taking, panty-melting type of grin. “With me. You said you wanted to go back.”

You roll your lips and nod slowly. Yep, you just played right into his hand.

The group stack their empty plates and gather their things before shuffling out of the diner. You’re the first out the door, dropping your sunglasses from the top of your head to your nose and gazing up at the blue sky. The buttery sun soothes your skin, and you suddenly realise that you can’t remember the last time you went to the beach. You might need to take a break from chasing soon. Who knows, maybe Tyler will kick you off the crew because of your childish attitude. Then you can go to the beach and enjoy sunny weather for once.

“Ready?” The man himself appears beside you, tossing the keys into the air before catching them again.

You don’t reply, you just nod and start walking toward the RV. The others call their goodbyes across the small, gravel parking lot, and you give them a lazy wave as you pull yourself up into the passenger’s seat of the RV’s cabin.

“You wanna drive?” Tyler asks, his southern drawl in full force as he stands in the open door of the driver’s side.

You’re already in the passenger seat, pulling your seatbelt across your body. “You know I hate driving this thing, Ty.”

He chuckles and hoists himself up before pulling the door shut and jamming the keys into the ignition. He takes a moment to adjust all the peripherals before turning the key and easing the big vehicle through the parking lot.

“So,” he says as he turns out of the lot and onto the road. “Want to talk about it?”

You keep your gaze fixed out the windscreen. “Talk about what?”

“Your mood.”

You keep your voice light as you reply. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He rolls his eyes and presses harder on the gas, urging the RV to pick up speed toward your motel. The drive isn’t long, you just have to keep your attitude under control for four more minutes.

“Look,” he starts again, his hands gripping the wheel tight enough to turn his knuckles white. “I’m not going to pretend that I know what’s wrong. All I do know is that something is wrong and has been for a while. You know I like giving you your space. We’re all so on top of each other when we’re out on the road, it’s important to remember that we all need a break sometimes. But whenever you want to talk, I’m here. You know that. I’m always here.”

You can’t help it. Your lips move before you can even think about the words that they’re saying. “Except when you’ve got a better offer.”

His head snaps toward you. “What was that?”

Heat blooms in your cheeks and your heart races anxiously as you see the turn for the motel up ahead. “Nothing. Don’t worry about it.”

“Is this all because of me?” His head swivels as he tries to read your face while also watching the road. “Did I do something to upset you?”

“No,” you lie. “It’s not always about you.” Fuck. You’re on a roll today.

Thick silence fills the air of the cabin, and you can’t let yourself look at Tyler because you know you just hurt him. He’s not a bad guy. In fact, he’s one of the best guys you know. But he’s oblivious to the way you feel, has been for years, and you can’t help it if your frustration is manifesting in an ugly way.

The RV rocks as it climbs the driveway into the motel. He parks in the same spot as before and you practically fall out the door the second the vehicle is stopped. You don’t look back as you climb the stairs toward your motel room. You slam the door and flop onto the bed, too frustrated to cry and too full of self-pity to think about apologising to Tyler.

You spend the rest of the day in your room. At six o’clock you get a message from Lily asking if you’re still coming out with them, to which you reply with a thumbs up. You’re not mad at Lily, but she at least knows why you’re in a foul mood. However misdirected your anger might be.

You shower and change into that lacey lingerie set from the photos, deciding that tonight it’s going to get its debut outing. You slide into a pair of jeans and your nicest top before adding a touch of makeup to your face and walking out the door. When you’re on the road, you don’t really have a whole lot of nice clothes for going out, but you do feel a little pleased when you see your pretty reflection in the motel windows on your way along the balcony.

“Why don’t you wear those jeans more often?” Boone asks from the bottom of the stairs as you descend.

“Because then you’d be too distracted all the time.”

He grins and offers you his hand for the last few steps. “I’m always distracted by your beauty.”

You roll your eyes playfully. “God, Boone. You’re such a flirt.”

He chuckles and guides you to the bottom of the stairs before letting go of your hand and walking off toward where Dexter is packing up some of the equipment he’d been tinkering with this afternoon. Eventually, everyone meets in the parking lot and the group decide to walk, because the bar is only around the corner.

It’s already pretty busy by the time you get there, but you manage to find a tall bar table that seats all of you while Tyler goes off to get the first round of drinks. Your friends quickly dive into a discussion about what the next week could bring and where you plan to go from here, but your eyes are glued to Tyler.

He’s leaning forward against the bar, a huge grin split across his face as a very gorgeous bartender takes his order. She has a smirk on her lips that says she gets what she wants, and by the way she’s looking at Tyler, you don’t have to guess that he is what she wants tonight.

You pull your phone out of your pocket and scroll to the last page of apps you’ve ignored for almost a year now. Dating apps. You’re not a fan of them, but if anything, they’ve helped you get laid. You open one and enter your log in details before adjusting your location and starting to quickly swipe through a few profiles. You know it’s dumb, and you’re feeling more along the lines of pathetic than horny right now, but you need something to think about that isn’t Tyler fucking Owens.

“Turns out I’ve been here before,” Tyler says as he drops the tray of drinks onto the table. “The bartender said she remembers me.”

Of course she does.

Boone wags his eyebrows suggestively. “The hot bartender?”

Tyler chuckles, but he doesn’t turn to ogle at the bar like the rest of the group. “I guess she could be considered attractive.”

“You guess?” Dani slams her drink back down on the table. “Come on, T. Your standards can’t be that high.”

He shrugs one shoulder and takes a long draw from his beer. “What can I say?”

Before you have the chance to roll your eyes, your phone vibrates in your hand. You lean back and unlock the screen, angling it so that neither Lily nor Boone can see from either side of you. Two messages from a guy name Owen. Of course. It couldn’t be a Jack or a Sam. No, the universe just loves making fun of you too much.

Well, that was easy.

You slide your phone into your back pocket before picking up your drink and draining half of it. You can feel Tyler’s eyes on you, but you ignore him. You keep your gaze fixed on Dexter as he tells an animated story about the last time he was at this bar.

The next time you pull your phone out, you have a few more messages from Owen. He tells you that he’s working late at the local liquor store but can meet up later, which you happily agree to – it seems stupid to pretend that you’re in this for anything other than sex. He then asks for your number, because the store he works at has shitty reception, so you give it to him and wait for his first text to set him up as a new contact. Who knows, maybe the next time you’re in town you could hit him up.

The night wears on and you continue sinking drinks to keep yourself happily buzzed. There are more chasers here just as Dani had predicted, and your group ends up scattered throughout the bar catching up with old friends. You manage to avoid Tyler for most of the night, but it isn’t easy. He watches you like a hawk, analysing every little move you make and practically breathing down your neck every time you slide your phone out of your pocket.

You tap Lily on the shoulder. “I’m going to the bathroom and then getting another drink. You want?”

She shakes her head and waves a hand. “I’m good, thanks.”

You nod once and turn toward where you think the toilets might be. You pass Dexter, who is chatting with a group of chasers you don’t recognise, and then Dani and Boone, who are giving a dramatic retelling of the last close call you all had.

You find the bathrooms and slip inside. You lock yourself in the first stall, shimmy your jeans down, and sit. Then you pull your phone out to reply to Owen. He’s polite, not too creepy, and seems to have no issue being honest. He’s telling you that he’s excited to meet up, because it’s been a long week and he really needs to get laid. You find yourself smiling at your phone as you reply, telling him that you’re feeling the exact same way.

As you wash your hands and gaze at your reflection in the mirror, you start to realise that maybe you’re a little more buzzed than you thought. Not that it’s a problem, because a little liquid courage always helps you out when it comes to one-night-stands, but you might need to start watching what you say. Alcohol can be a very dangerous catalyst for honesty.

When you step out of the bathroom, it feels even more crowded than before. You almost have to shoulder your way to the bar. Once you find a spot, you lean your forearms against the wood and squint to see what draughts they have on tap.

The gorgeous bartender that served Tyler earlier steps toward you. “Hey hon, what can I get ya?”

You try to wear a polite smile as you tell her your drink, but you can’t help feeling that it just looks twisted. She nods and starts pouring. You fish into your jeans’ pockets for cash before dropping it on the bar as she hands you your fresh schooner. The first sip is crisp and delicious, but quickly ruined by what you see across the room.

Nestled in the corner by the front of the bar is Tyler and some blonde bombshell who looks like she just walked out of a rodeo-themed photoshoot for Victoria’s Secret. They’re leaning on one of the tall tables, practically toe to toe, and she’s licking her lips as she watches him tell whatever stupid story he’s telling.

You storm back over to Lily with a scowl, but she’s too invested in her conversation to notice your renewed foul mood. You sit up on the barstool and take another generous sip of beer, letting the bubbly drink cool you from the inside out. Tyler is a grown-ass man. He can do what he wants, make his own decisions, and fuck whatever he pleases. You need to get over it.

After a couple of deep breaths, you’re feeling more sad than angry. But that won’t do either. You need to feel something positive, even if it is only fleeting. So you pull your phone out, lean away from the group of people chatting with Lily, and pull up your photos. Yep, those photos.

Your heart thuds heavily in your chest, your pulse ringing in your ears. This shouldn’t be so nerve-wracking, but it’s been so long since you’ve done something like this. It’s been so long since the last time you tried to get over Tyler Owens.

You choose three of your favourite photos. One is in the mirror, simple and saucy, showcasing the full ensemble. The second one is of you kneeling in front of the mirror, closer than the last and angled so that every curve looks a little extra enticing. The third photo is with the front-facing camera, the phone angled down to get your body instead of your face. You’ve taken off the top part of the set and you’re barely covering your nipples with one arm.

You’re not a vain or particularly conceited person, but you know these photos are good.

You squint and focus on your phone as you select the three photos and tap the ‘share’ symbol in the corner of your dim screen. It’s a little fuzzy through your beer goggles, but you don’t want to turn the brightness up right now, so you persevere. The share options fill the bottom half of the screen, and you carefully tap on the text messages app logo. A ‘New Message’ pops up, the little cursor blinking on the ‘To:’ line. You type carefully, O-W-E-N, and pick the contact that pops up. Then you hit that little send button.

The next few seconds pass in slow motion.

You look up from your phone and your eyes find Tyler across the bar. He’s smiling at the blonde, but then something else summons his attention. He pulls his phone out of his pocket and lifts it up to his face. His grin vanishes and his cheeks flush bright red at the same time that your stomach plummets. It falls so fast and so hard, you’re almost sure it’s fallen right out of your ass.

Your eyes go wide, and you can feel your heart beating in your throat as it tries to crawl up. Or is that all the beer you’ve drank tonight? You feel sick. You need to get out of here. Fuck. You need to unsend that fucking text.

“Are you okay?” Lily’s voice is distant even though she’s right in front of you, a hand on your shoulder.

“I, uh-” You slip off the barstool. “Gotta go. Feel sick.”

One glance across the bar has your stomach doing another gymnastics routine, flipping and spinning wildly, trying to expel every drop of alcohol you’ve consumed in the past few hours. Tyler isn’t with the blonde anymore, he’s weaving his way through the throngs of people toward you.

Luckily, you’re closer to the door than he is. You squeeze through a group of chasers who you kind of recognise, but you don’t give yourself time to get a proper look. You duck out the door and start walking down the street. You don’t want to run, you’re not sure your wobbly legs can manage it right now, and you don’t want to draw attention.

The motel is just around the corner. If you get there in time, you can lock yourself in your room before Tyler catches you. Then you can pack your shit and run. Like really run. Because fuck, there is no coming back from this.

You hear your name called out behind you, but you easily recognise his voice, so you don’t turn around. You keep walking, your footsteps heavy and your breath coming and going in ragged gasps. You open your phone as you round the corner, bringing up your text thread with Tyler that makes your head spin. You sent him those photos. Fuck. He must think you’re insane.

Your eyes narrow on the contact name ‘Owens’ with a little tornado emoji beside it. The universe is definitely laughing at you right now. You hold down on the photo message and look for the ‘unsend’ button. But there isn’t one. There’s a ‘delete’ button, but you know that will only delete it from your side of the chat. He’s got these photos now. There’s no going back.

He calls your name again as you turn into the motel. It’s not far now, you might actually make it.

You book it across the parking lot and start up the stairs to the second-floor rooms. Your fingers fumble for the key in your pocket as you approach your door. Your pulse is hammering in your ears. You don’t dare to look back because you know he’s close. You can feel it.

The key slides into the lock and you practically fall into the room. You spin on your heel and try to slam the door shut. It gets most of the way until a booted foot slides across the threshold. The door stills, five inches of light from the outside slicing through the dark motel room. All you can hear is your heavy breathing and the panting from the man holding the door ajar.

You close your eyes and steel your nerves. Maybe it’s time you quit chasing.

You take a deep breath and open the door again. “Yes, Tyler?”

He looks downright feral. His cheeks are flushed, his eyes are wild, his hair is mussed, and you’re pretty sure his hands are vibrating in fists by his sides.

“What”– his voice is so deep, it’s almost a growl –“the fuck was that?”

You tip your head, feigning innocent curiosity. “Was what?”

His eyes darken and he licks his lips. Like a predator sizing up its prey. “Don’t play dumb with me.”

“But I thought that was your favourite game.” You take a step back from the door. “Isn’t that why you’re always hanging out with those buckle bunny bimbos?”

You feel sick as the words leave your lips. You hate being a bitch and you hate that being frustrated and upset makes you one, but you can’t help it. If Tyler is going to have a go at you for accidentally sending him some photos, then you’re going to have a go back. Sure, your oldest and most important childhood friendship is about to blow up. But tit for tat is still important, right?

His eyes narrow and he pushes the door all the way open to step inside. “What are you talking about?”

You decide, for the first time tonight, to think before you speak. So you take your time. You turn and walk toward the bed before flopping down at the foot of it and bending over to unlace your boots.

“It was an accident.” You get one shoe off. “I didn’t mean to send those photos to you.” You get the other shoe off. “So, I’m sorry if your blonde friend saw them and freaked out. I didn’t mean to ruin your night.”

He pushes the door to swing shut behind his towering frame. “Ruin my night?”

You stand up, because he’s too intimidating right now for you to be sitting down.

“Wait.” His brows pinch and he glances at the floor before looking back at you with something fiery behind his eyes. “You accidentally sent them to me?”

You nod.

“Who the fuck were you trying to send them to?”

The venom in his voice startles you, and you rear back a little. “How is that any of your business?”

He steps closer. “It isn’t, but you’re going to tell me.”

You scoff. “Is that so?”

He takes a deep, rattly breath. You can see the muscles in his jaw ticking under the pressure of how hard he’s clenching. He’s so close that you can smell him. That intoxicating mix of fresh earth and cedarwood. He smells exactly like the dense air before a storm.

You startle again when he grips your chin, forcing you to stay still as he leans in even closer. “Babygirl,” he murmurs, warm breath fanning over your skin. “You cannot send me photos like that and then tell me they were meant for another man.”

Your breath catches in your throat, your eyes bouncing between his. They’re hardly green anymore, they’re black. His pupils are so blown, you can only just see a thin ring of colour around them.

“You think you’ve ruined my night?” he asks.

You try to nod, but his grip on your chin doesn’t let you.

“I’m gonna need you to use your words, darlin’.”

His southern drawl sends a shock of electricity right to your core. You can feel the ache building behind your hipbones, pulsing and growing and making you squeeze your thighs together.

“Yes.”

He chuckles, but it’s deep and dark and full of something other than amusement. “The only thing you’ve ruined is my fucking patience.”

You don’t know what to say. Your brain might as well be melting out of your ears as you stare at the hungry face of the man you’ve loved for God knows how long. All you can do is blink at him, wondering when you’ll wake up from this dream.

“Who were you trying to send them to?” he asks again.

“Owen,” you reply, voice barely above a whisper.

He raises his brows. “Who the fuck is Owen?”

“Tinder.”

He lets go of your chin and rises back to his full height. “You were on fucking Tinder?”

Without his face so close and his paralysing touch, you feel a little more in control of yourself. You let your anger simmer and soak through your body, reminding yourself why you took those photos in the first place.

“Why do you care if I’m on Tinder?” you snap. “And why the fuck do you care who I send those photos to?”

“I care because no man on this planet deserves to see those fucking photos,” he growls. “No one is good enough to see you like that.”

You cross your arms and scowl up at him. “That doesn’t even make any sense, Tyler. What the fuck do you want from me? Do you want me to join a nunnery?”

He opens his mouth to reply, but you’re not done.

“You can’t just blow up at me about a couple of stupid photos and because I’m on Tinder. Who gives a fuck? I’m an adult woman who can fuck whoever she wants, and you’re a grown-ass man who doesn’t get a fucking say in it! Why don’t you just go back to screwing every woman in Oklahoma and leave me and my personal life alone?”

You’ve never seen Tyler this angry. He looks like one of those huffing bulls he used to ride. His chest is heaving, his knuckles are white, and his expression is angrier than any storm cloud you’ve ever seen – which is saying something.

“Is that really what you think of me?” His voice is surprisingly calm compared to his demeanour.

You nod once, keeping your expression as flat as possible.

He cocks his head, his eyes challenging. “Really? After all the years we’ve known each other, you think that I’m just some man-whore who’s making his way through the state?”

You don’t reply. What the fuck are you supposed to say to that? Of course you don’t think of him as a man-whore, but you can’t exactly tell him what you do think of him. You’re not even sure why you’re fighting right now. Shouldn’t you just be embarrassed and apologising? Wasn’t the original plan to pack your shit and get out of here? You should be packing a bag and high tailing it out of this stupid little town.

“When did you take those photos?” he asks suddenly, looking past you.

You glance over your shoulder to follow his gaze, finding the incriminating mirror. You sigh. “Last night.”

“Who did you take them for last night?” His voice is strained, as if he doesn’t really want to ask the question but he has to know.

You look back at him, studying his furious expression and fiery eyes. You’ve never seen Tyler so worked up. He looks like he’s in the boxing ring waiting for another blow, waiting for you to punch him again so he can unleash another torrent of misplaced rage.

Maybe it’s time to surprise him. Hit him where he’s least expecting it.

“You.”

His scowl vanishes and his eyes grow wide. His mouth pops open, like he’s going to reply but there’s no connection between his brain and his voice box. He’s paralysed.

You gnaw on your bottom lip, watching him anxiously. His eyes are scanning your features, looking for something – maybe he’s hoping your joking? He opens his mouth a couple of times, but he still can’t find any words. You let out a soft sigh and decide that you’re already knee deep, you might as well dive in.

“It’s stupid, but yeah, I took them with the intention of sending them to you.” You let your eyes trace the collar of his flannel shirt, unable to meet his gaze. “Then I realised it was a dumb idea, and I didn’t. But then I was messaging this guy tonight and when I went to send them to Owen, I hit your contact name… Owensss.” You emphasise the ‘s’ and swirl your finger, as if mimicking a little tornado.

When you finally look back up at his face, he doesn’t look disgusted or offended. He looks confused.

“Why were you going to send them to me?”

You groan and drop back onto the bed, hiding your face in your hands. “Really, Ty? Do I have to fucking spell it out for you?”

You split your hands and peak up at him, but his expression hasn’t changed.

“Fine.” You huff and stand up again, ignoring the way it makes your head spin. “Tyler fucking Owens, I’m in love with you. I have been since junior year of high school when you asked me to prom instead of any of those other girls who were falling all over you. I’ve been in love with you through every stupid boyfriend I’ve had and every dumb life decision you’ve made, and I was so sick of seeing you with other women that I thought sending you some embarrassing fucking photos would make you change your mind. But I know now that if you felt any special way about me, you would’ve told me by now. So please, just let me pack my shit and get out of here.”

“Get out of here?” he echoes. “Baby, the only place you’re getting is in my fucking bed.”

Before you can even process his words, he swoops forward and crashes his lips against yours. Your hands fly up to his shoulders, steadying yourself as he kisses you like you’ve never been kissed before. Your head spins and your knees wobble, but his arms wrap around your waist to hold you up.

He knows exactly what he’s doing, giving and taking as he pleases and making you moan against his mouth. His stubble scratches your chin and your cheeks, and your mind immediately imagines it rasping against your inner thighs. You want to squeeze your legs together, but he shoves his thigh between then, bending his knee so that you’re practically riding his leg as his lips assault yours.

You can’t stop yourself from grinding down, desperate for any kind of friction to ease the ache between your legs. When your lips part in a whimper, Tyler’s tongue slips past them, and he tips your head back. His mouth devours every little moan and sigh as you continue to ride his thigh. His hands grip your hips, hard enough to bruise, and they guide you up and down. You can feel his belt buckle digging into your lower belly, and you can feel his hard length beside it.

“Ty,” you whisper, your lungs aching for air. “Please.”

“Please what, darlin’?”

You almost whine as he drags you slowly up his thigh. “Fuck me.”

He chuckles, his breath hitting your damp and puffy lips. He stops forcing you to move and relaxes his leg, setting you back on your own unsteady feet. “You want me to fuck you?”

You nod, suddenly feeling shy with him looking at you so intensely after that.

“Okay, but I’ve got a few ground rules.”

Your chest deflates as you let out a long breath. Here it goes. He’s going to tell you that this is a one-time thing, that it can’t be weird in the morning, and that you can’t tell anyone else about it. You feel a little stupid for believing that he would kiss you for any other reason than the fact that he’s horny. You ruined his shot with that blonde bombshell and then sent him those photos, of course he’s horny. It doesn’t matter that you just laid yourself fucking bare. He probably wasn’t even listening to all that. You told him you’re in love with him and he told you to get into his bed. He either didn’t hear you or doesn’t give a shit.

“Hey.” He grips your chin again and forces you to look up at him, at those smouldering eyes. “Whatever you’re thinking, stop it.”

You blink twice, unsure what to say.

“Rule number one-”

“Ty-”

He kisses you again, but it’s only quick. “No, let me finish. You had that whole speech before, so it’s my turn.”

You can’t nod because he’s still holding your chin, so you roll lips and wait.

“Good.” He lets go of your chin and puts a hand on each of your shoulders. “Rule number one is that no other person can ever see those fucking photos, you got it?”

You nod, and then he pushes you gently so that you’re sitting on the bed.

“Rule number two, you’re going to send me every single one of those photos that you took.”

Your brows pinch together, and he wedges a leg between your knees to push them apart.

“Rule number three, you’re mine now. Only mine.” He steps in between your legs and cups your head in both hands. “No more Tinder, no more bullshit. I’m the only one that gets to look at you and touch you, and I’m sure and shit the only one who gets to love you. You got that?”

Your mouth parts and he runs his thumb over your swollen bottom lip. “You love me?”

He grins. That breath-taking, panty-melting type of grin. “Since the first day you ran into class late. Your hair was all windswept and your cheeks were all red. You looked like you’d just fallen from fucking heaven.”

You can’t help the very unladylike snort of laughter that comes out of you. “Tyler, that is the lamest thing you’ve ever said.”

“But it worked. You’re smiling for the first time in who knows how long.”

He leans down and presses his lips against yours again, but this time it’s gentle. He urges forward and you slowly pull yourself further up the bed, being careful not to let your lips leave his. He crawls on top of you, placing a knee on either side of your thighs where you now lay beneath him.

“I think I’m going to have a hard time not smiling now,” you murmur against his mouth.

He pulls back and hits you with the full force of that gorgeous smirk as he holds himself over you on all fours. “You’re gonna have a hard time not screaming my name in a minute.”

You mirror him with your own cocky grin and press your palm against his hard length, restrained in his jeans. “You sure about that.”

He eyelids flutter shut and his lips pop open, a soft sigh escaping them. When he looks back down at you with dark, hungry eyes, you can feel your own arousal soaking through your panties.

“Oh, I’m sure.”

END.

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