this is totally gonna get fl*gged but im still gonna reply…😏😏
Sam would love this position, spreading your legs wide and admiring how your pussy swallowed his fat cock. His shift disappeared between your folds, walls clinging to him so fucking tight as you tried to accommodate his size. You can’t take your eyes off his thick member stuffing your abused cunt, how stretches you and how he’s pounding into you harshly. His balls slap against you, the sound of skin smacking echoing in the room.
“You like this, kitten? Huh? You like watching my cock destroy this tight little cunt, look how soaked you are, got my cock dripping in your juices, all for me, huh?”Sam smirked, fucking into you even hard, making you whimper his name. Your lips part, eyes rolling back as your toes curl in pleasure.”Gonna fuck you till you’re sore, till all you can feel is me.”
Andrew Pope Cody x Titus Danforth x Jack Abbott Reader !!!
to all my shawn hatosy writers/ fans:
i have a CRAZYYYY concept in my head that i daydream about - if you like it? write your heart out barbie!!- i do NOT write but id love to see you guys create something with this:
where titus, jack and pope are ALL in love with reader- they're long lost triplets that don't know each other AT ALL. she meets them all INDIVIDUALLY and flirts with them lightly.
maybe she meets jack first at a bar, then soon after pope. she has a moment with him: "oh my god, you're not jack???" and ends up falling for pope too during that interaction. pope being pope- he stalks and finds out- holy fuck he's got a brother. he sees how you fawn over jack as well and goes... “i have a shot, let's fucking do this.”
it's a full- on COMPETITION between the men. titus is the last to meet you- he’s instantly possessive and finds out about the three. he doesn't give a shit though. i swear he's so arrogant and full of himself he knows he'll "win" you - money, power-he'll have you eventually
the brothers won't meet up with each other but they're trying to steal you away from the other- you the reader? completely oblivious and just love that these three men are obsessed with you. and i mean OBSESSED. the brothers might say something in passing to each other but they don't have a big meeting with all three until the end. just passive aggressive fights and digs in crossing because they're all stalking you and dating/looking for YOU so ofc they bump into eachother.
how'd they find out about each other? i figure titus would have surveillance cameras in your home and use all his monev/power to look through your phone and device. pope doing the dirty work himself, and stalks on foot and with his big truck (maybe one night you're with titus or jack and popes truck is outside nearby- they recognize the vehicle immediately but you DONT)- jack finds out: being the most innocent of the three, looks through your phone while you're in the bathroom. he sees a man that looks exactly like him at the top of your contact list... he goes through medical records and finds out he has 2 identical brothers…..
more like a COMPETITION thing where they are fighting over you (sorry im a whore). i'd love to see pope PATHETIC, titus ANGRY, and jack POSSESSIVE -you could make them physically fight or just be passive aggressive, sabotage dates- yall are brilliant writers out there and youd figure something fun out. this would be a very longgg fanfic but it would be an awesome read.
warning: darkkkk little side here:
this is sooo messed up but i could totally see one of them PRETENDING to be the other??? like titus or pope pretending to be eachother. i feel like TITUS would pretend to be pope though- he would want to test if he could be rough with you and if you'd like it (and now has the excuse of well... "pope" did it, not sweet old titus!) then pope finding out about it... ohhhhhh that could be a physical fight between the two brothers
and it would be SO fun for reader to be like "man i got all three wrapped around my finger" - little does she know, they're finding out about each other one by one. they all end up punishing her and ambushing her at the end- all showing up at once together LOLZ you're creative- you could figure something better out hehe
i was also going to say it would be fun to see reader described as alternative. id just love to see hatosys characters with an alt, nipple pierced, tatted girl. however-whatever you bring me? i eat right up. love yah !
Bf!Jermajesty who is a pain in the ass to wake up in the mornings. It’s already 11 am and you’re running around stressing. Jermajesty lays half naked, half conscious in bed. It doesn’t help that his family is downstairs waiting either.
“Jermajesty!” You call for the fifth time. “Will you please get up.”
He’s babbling nonsense when you come to the conclusion that this sweet shit wasn’t going to work with him. The next five minutes, you spend dragging him out of bed and around the room.
“Chill, I’m right behind you.” He grunts when you snap your head back to make sure he’s following you downstairs.
ˎˊ˗
Bf!Jermajesty who can’t keep his hands to himself to save his life. One thing about Jermajesty was that he lacked the filter you so wished he’d at least pretend to have. The two of you would be at the beach with his family and his hands would not leave the curve of your ass. No matter how many times you pried it off, quietly cussing him out, it would inevitably end up there again. Not that his family really paid the two of you much attention, it had been a long time since Jermajesty’s actions had stopped shocking them. Now, you laid on the sunbed with shades covering your eyes, when you felt his hands slide under your bikini and start kneading the soft flesh of your ass.
“You need to stop before your mama starts cussing us both out.”
“I can’t. You’re just laying there looking sexy.” He says scooting closer to you on the sun bed.
“Ugh.” You roll your eyes and turn around, not even bothering anymore. Jermajesty laughs, hand still not moving anywhere.
ˎˊ˗
Bf! Jermajesty who can’t wait until he gets home to be inside you again. You’re laying on the bed half asleep, having waited on Jermajesty to get out the shower when he finally comes to bed. He lays down on your body, careful not to crush you under his weight. You adjust your arms so they’re around him and stroking lightly against his scalp.
Jermajesty shudders against your throat as he kisses and bites at your skin. “You tired, baby?”
The way he says it lets you know exactly what he’s hinting at, and you can’t help but get excited. “No, i want you.”
That’s all you have to say before he’s nudging his tip at your entrance.
He moves with the ease of someone who’s studied your body inside out and you can’t help but slowly move against him in return. He’s not going easy on you, your legs are bent against your chest, and he’s so deliciously hitting that spot in you. The fact that his family are all sleeping down the hall slips your mind entirely.
ˎˊ˗
Bf!Jermajesty who complains about having to take your pictures, but would rather die than let anyone else do it for you.
“Baby how many do you need?” Jermajesty questions after you tell him to take it again. You’re sitting in the luxurious hotel lobby, dolled up and ready for dinner. He stands there throwing a tantrum. “They all look the same!”
You huff. He’d taken 10 pictures max. “Fine if you don’t wanna do it, someone else can.” You snatch the phone out his hand and turn to a hotel employee that just happened to walk by. “Hi, could you please take a picture of me.”
The employee doesn’t even have time to answer before Jermajesty cuts in, shaking his head. “It’s fine, I’ll do it.”
You give him the phone back. “I better not hear complaining this time.”
Your boyfriend doesn’t say anything, but keeps on snapping pictures of you.
ˎˊ˗
Bf!Jermajesty who can’t stop staring at you during the whole vacation. You’re sat at another table, bouncing one of his little cousins on your lap. The smile one your face is big as the two of you talk animatedly, hardly paying attention to anyone else at the restaurant. I mean the last time you’d even spoken two words to Jermajesty had been 30 whole minutes ago, before the little girl whisked you away.
His eyes followed your every move and every time your eyes lit up at something the little girl said, Jermajesty smiled.
“Bro, she not going no where.” Jaafar says from the chair besides him. “You can look away for two seconds, you know.”
“She’s good with kids.” Jermajesty said absently. “Like really good. Right?”
Jaafar looks over for a second before nodding. “Yeah, sure.” He doesn’t think much of it till Jermajesty remains quiet. Jaafar looks over and one look at his brother makes him shake his head. “Yeah absolutely not, man.”
A knowing smile pulls at Jermajesty’s lips. “I didn’t say anything.”
“Your face said enough.” His older brother countered.
It was only a matter of time before Jermajesty physically couldn’t stay away from you any longer. He begged his aunt to get her daughter knowing there was no way you’d leave her. He watched in satisfaction as his baby cousin was carried away from you crying and screaming. You looked around in confusion from your seat.
I’m getting so annoyed with people making one shot, long fic, scenarios, etc with an oc reader than tagging it as reader x fictional characters. If you put the tag as x reader than you can’t have an oc reader that’s one of the basic concept of it being as reader meaning people can picture them self in your fic . There no problem of wanting an oc reader but label your tags like that cause it’s not fair for people to look through certain tags and get catfish by it. And for those who are confused what an oc reader is , it’s when the reader give the characters a name, pronouns, backstory basically where you can not picture the person as yourself but as someone else. And x reader is where you can see your self as the person in the story.
the jackson family had always been loud during the holidays.
somehow every conversation turned into three conversations at once. music played somewhere in the background at all times, somebody was always cooking, somebody was always laughing too hard, and somebody was definitely arguing over cards in the living room.
it had been like that since you were little.
which was exactly why this trip felt so strange.
you adjusted the sleeves of your cream colored sweater as the black escalade rolled through the snowy roads leading up to the cabin. outside the windows, snow covered the pine trees so heavily it looked fake. pretty enough to be a postcard.
inside the car, though, the tension sat like a brick between you and jermajesty.
he sat beside you scrolling on his phone while soft r&b played through the speakers. every few seconds the light from his screen reflected against his face. unreadable. distant.
it wasn’t always like this.
you remembered being fourteen at family cookouts with him chasing you around the backyard spraying water guns while his cousins yelled at both of you to stop running near the food. remembered movie nights where you’d fall asleep on opposite ends of the couch just to wake up somehow tangled together under the same blanket.
back then, loving jermajesty jackson felt easy.
now it felt like trying to hold snow in your hands.
“you okay?” he finally asked without looking up from his phone.
you stared out the window. “i’m fine.”
a lie. he knew it was a lie too.
the car went quiet again.
by the time you arrived at the cabin, snow had already started falling harder. the place was massive, warm lights glowing through the windows while music echoed faintly from inside.
the second the front doors opened, warmth hit your face.
“there she is!” jermaine called from across the room.
you barely had time to take your coat off before alejandra pulled you into a hug.
“mi amor, finally,” she smiled. “you look too skinny. did you eat?”
you laughed softly for the first time all day. “hi to you too.”
“no seriously,” she said, grabbing your face dramatically. “do you know how stressed i get when you don’t answer me?”
“mom,” jermajesty muttered behind you.
“don’t mom me.” she waved him off instantly before pulling you toward the kitchen. “come sit.”
you could feel his eyes on your back for half a second before he disappeared upstairs.
of course he did.
the kitchen smelled like cinnamon and garlic and something sweet baking in the oven. everybody talked over each other while snowstorm warnings played quietly from the television mounted above the fireplace.
you tried your best to blend into the warmth of it all.
but every once in a while your eyes drifted upstairs.
toward him.
later that night, the cabin grew quieter.
most of the family had gone downstairs for games and drinks while you stood alone on the upstairs balcony overlooking the mountains. snow fell heavily now, coating everything silver beneath the moonlight.
your fingers tightened around the mug in your hands.
you didn’t hear jermajesty walk out until his voice came quietly behind you.
“you’ve barely looked at me all day.”
you exhaled slowly. “because every time i do, you’re on your phone.”
silence.
when you turned around, he leaned against the doorway in gray sweats and a black hoodie, curls slightly messy from the snow. beautiful in the most unfair way possible.
but tired too.
“you know i’ve been busy,” he said.
you laughed once. not nicely. “you’ve been ‘busy’ for like two months.”
his jaw tightened.
“don’t do that.”
“do what?”
“act like i’m ignoring you on purpose.”
you looked down over the balcony again before speaking quietly.
“sometimes i feel like you only love me when it’s convenient.”
that one hit him.
you could see it immediately in his face.
the wind blew harder around both of you as the silence stretched.
downstairs, faint laughter echoed through the cabin.
up here, it felt like the two of you were completely alone.
“you know that’s not true,” he finally said.
“then why does it feel true?”
for the first time all night, jermajesty didn’t have an answer.
jermajesty hated when you got quiet. not the normal kind of quiet. not the comfortable silence the two of you had shared for years.
this kind.
the kind where your eyes stopped looking for him first in a room.
the kind where your voice sounded tired instead of angry.
it made his chest feel tight in a way he didn’t know how to fix.
you stepped past him before he could say anything else, brushing your shoulder against his lightly as you walked back inside.
“i’m tired,” you muttered. “goodnight.”
he watched you disappear down the hallway.
for a second, he thought about following you.
instead, he stayed frozen on the balcony while snow piled against the railing.
downstairs, somebody screamed from laughing too hard. probably jaafar.
normally that sound would’ve made him smile.
tonight it just made him feel worse.
⏔⏔⏔ ꒰ ᧔ෆ᧓ ꒱ ⏔⏔⏔
the next morning, the storm had gotten worse.
thick snow covered the windows almost halfway up, and the weather report on the television warned everyone to stay inside until further notice.
“this is insane,” one of his cousins laughed, standing near the fireplace. “we’re literally trapped here.”
“well nobody panic,” alejandra said dramatically while carrying plates into the kitchen. “we have enough food for at least a week.”
“a week?” jermajesty groaned. “oh my god.”
you sat quietly at the counter stirring cream into your coffee.
his eyes landed on you instantly.
you looked pretty even when you were upset. annoyingly pretty.
oversized hoodie. curls slightly messy. long lashes casting shadows against your cheeks while you stared into your mug like it personally offended you.
he noticed you still wore the chain he bought you last summer.
you noticed him noticing.
your gaze flicked away immediately.
damn.
“you two are weird,” his older sister suddenly said from across the kitchen.
both of your heads snapped toward her.
“excuse me?” you laughed awkwardly.
“seriously,” she continued. “usually y’all are attached at the hip during family trips. now it’s giving divorced parents.”
“okay!” alejandra cut in quickly. “eat your breakfast.”
but several people around the kitchen started laughing because everybody had clearly already noticed the tension.
jermajesty rubbed his face. “can everybody mind their business?”
“we are minding it,” jaafar smirked from the couch. “this is entertaining.”
you shook your head, trying not to smile despite yourself.
jermajesty caught it immediately.
that tiny smile.
and for the first time in days, something in him softened.
because at least you were still looking at him.
⏔⏔⏔ ꒰ ᧔ෆ᧓ ꒱ ⏔⏔⏔
by nighttime, the storm had become dangerous.
wind slammed against the cabin windows hard enough to make the lights flicker every few minutes.
you sat curled on one end of the sectional couch while the family watched movies and talked over each other. every now and then thunder rumbled somewhere outside.
your phone buzzed beside you.
mom: roads are getting closed out there. y’all stay safe please.
before you could answer, the lights suddenly shut off.
the entire cabin went dark.
a chorus of confused yelling immediately filled the room.
“oh hell no.”
“are you serious?”
“wait somebody touched my leg!”
you laughed quietly under your breath as flashlight lights started appearing around the room.
then another flicker.
nothing.
the power stayed out this time.
“okay,” jermaine sighed somewhere in the dark. “nobody panic.”
“why would you say don’t panic?” somebody complained. “now i’m panicking.”
candles were eventually lit around the cabin, casting everything in soft gold shadows. it should’ve felt cozy.
instead, the storm outside only seemed louder now.
after another hour, one of the maintenance workers called saying part of the upstairs heating system had frozen.
meaning several bedrooms upstairs were unusable until morning.
“you’ve gotta be kidding me,” jermajesty muttered when room arrangements started getting shuffled around.
you looked up from your blanket slowly.
because there was only one bedroom left.
his.
alejandra blinked between both of you carefully.
“i mean…” she started cautiously, “you two have shared rooms before.”
“mom,” jermajesty warned.
she lifted her hands innocently.
you swallowed hard.
because suddenly the thought of being trapped in the same room with him all night felt way scarier than the storm outside.
⏔⏔⏔ ꒰ ᧔ෆ᧓ ꒱ ⏔⏔⏔
the room felt smaller than it actually was.
maybe it was the storm outside.
maybe it was the way silence filled every corner the second the bedroom door shut behind both of you.
jermajesty tossed his phone onto the dresser before running a hand through his curls. “you can take the bed.”
you looked over at him. “and you’re gonna sleep where?”
“the floor or something.”
“jer…”
“seriously, it’s fine.”
you sighed softly, setting your overnight bag near the wall. “we’re not doing that.”
he looked up.
“we’ve shared beds before,” you said quietly. “it’s not that big of a deal.”
except it was.
because the problem had never been sharing space with jermajesty.
the problem was how easy it still felt to be around him even after he hurt you.
outside, wind howled against the cabin windows while soft candlelight flickered across the room. the power still hadn’t returned, leaving everything dim and warm.
you changed quietly in the bathroom before climbing into bed wearing one of your oversized shirts and shorts.
jermajesty tried not to stare when you walked out.
tried and failed.
because you looked soft and beautiful in the kind of effortless way that always ruined him a little.
he climbed in beside you a few minutes later, keeping distance between your bodies.
for a while, neither of you spoke.
the only sounds were the storm outside and the occasional crackle from the fireplace downstairs.
then quietly,
“why’ve you been treating me different?”
your voice barely rose above the wind.
jermajesty stared at the ceiling.
“i haven’t.”
you turned your head toward him immediately. “don’t do that.”
“do what?”
“pretend i’m making it up.” silence.
you sat up slightly now, frustration finally slipping through your voice.
“you stopped calling like you used to. every time we’re together lately you seem distracted. half the time i feel like i’m bothering you just for wanting attention from my own boyfriend.”
that word hit him hard.
boyfriend.
because lately he hadn’t even been acting like one.
his jaw tightened while he looked down at his hands.
“it’s not you.”
“then what is it?”
another long silence stretched between you both.
finally, he exhaled.
“everything got serious.”
you frowned slightly. “what does that mean?”
“It means…” he rubbed his face tiredly. “you’re not some random girl to me.”
your chest tightened hearing that.
“you’ve been around my family forever. my mom loves you more than me at this point,” he said with a weak laugh. “everybody already treats you like you belong here.”
his voice softened.
“and that scares me.”
you stared at him quietly.
“why?”
“because what if i ruin it?”
the vulnerability in his voice almost hurt to hear.
jermajesty looked over at you now, eyes darker in the candlelight.
“you know how people see me,” he admitted quietly. “half the time i don’t even know if i’m doing relationships right. and lately i just kept thinking…” he paused. “what if you wake up one day and realize i’m not enough for you?”
your expression softened instantly.
“jer…”
“so i pulled away first.”
there it was.
the truth. the stupid, messy, and painfully honest truth.
you felt your eyes sting slightly before shaking your head.
“you idiot.”
a small breath of laughter escaped him.
you moved closer before you could overthink it, your fingers brushing lightly against his jaw.
“i’ve loved you since we were kids,” you whispered. “you really think i’d still be here if you weren’t enough for me?”
his eyes searched yours carefully.
like he was trying to decide whether he deserved to believe you.
then slowly, his hand slid against your waist beneath the blankets.
“i missed you,” he admitted softly.
your breath caught.
because somehow hearing that felt more intimate than anything else.
the space between you disappeared naturally after that.
his forehead rested against yours first.
then his lips brushed yours softly.
like he was relearning you.
the kiss deepened slowly, all lingering emotion and tension finally spilling out between both of you after weeks of distance. your fingers slid into his curls while his hand tightened gently at your waist, pulling you closer against him.
every touch felt warm. familiar.
needed.
he kissed you like he was sorry.
like he was terrified to lose you.
your breathing grew uneven when his lips trailed briefly along your jaw, his voice low against your skin.
“you have no idea how hard it’s been not touching you.”
heat rushed through your stomach instantly.
you shifted closer without thinking, legs brushing against his beneath the blankets.
his hands moved carefully along your thighs, slow enough to give you time to pull away if you wanted.
you didn’t.
instead you kissed him again harder this time, emotion and want mixing together until neither of you could tell where one ended and the other started.
outside, snow slammed against the windows.
inside, the room only grew warmer.
his kisses grew slower after that, deeper, the kind that left both of you breathless between each touch. the tension from the last few weeks melted into something softer now, something warm and aching and impossible to ignore.
you could feel his heartbeat against your chest when he pulled you closer, one hand sliding carefully along your thigh beneath the blanket. not rushed, not careless.
like he wanted to remember every part of you.
“come here,” he murmured quietly against your lips.
you shifted willingly into him until there was barely space left between your bodies. the oversized shirt you wore had slipped slightly off one shoulder, and jermajesty’s eyes dropped there for a second before he kissed the skin gently.
the small sound that escaped you made him smile against your neck.
“there she is,” he whispered.
your fingers tightened lightly in the fabric of his hoodie as his lips continued trailing slowly along your jawline and neck, lingering just enough to make your breathing uneven. outside the storm raged against the cabin windows, but inside everything felt warm, heavy, intimate.
“you know what you do to me?” he said quietly.
you swallowed. “what?”
his hand slid against your waist, pulling you flush against him again before he answered.
“you make me forget every stupid thing in my head.”
the honesty in his voice hit harder than the flirting.
you kissed him again immediately, softer this time, and he melted into it with a quiet exhale. weeks of frustration, missing each other, wanting each other, all of it blurred together until neither of you could stop smiling between kisses.
jermajesty rested his forehead against yours afterward, thumb brushing slowly along your hip beneath the blanket.
“i’m serious about you,” he admitted quietly. “probably more serious than i know how to handle.”
your chest tightened hearing that.
for a second neither of you spoke, just laid there tangled together while candlelight flickered across the room.
then you laughed softly. “you know your family’s gonna be annoying tomorrow.”
he groaned immediately, dropping his head against your shoulder. “jaafar’s never letting this go.”
you laughed harder when he kissed your shoulder dramatically like he was suffering.
but even then, even joking around, he still kept holding you close.
like he finally understood he almost lost something he couldn’t replace.
then suddenly,
“does anybody know where the—”
both of your heads snapped toward the doorway where jaafar stood frozen holding a flashlight.
both of your heads snapped toward the doorway where jaafar stood frozen holding a flashlight.
his eyes slowly moved from jermajesty laying half on top of you… to your tangled legs beneath the blankets… to the candlelight mood lighting surrounding the room.
“oh.”
you immediately shoved your face into jermajesty’s chest out of embarrassment while jermajesty grabbed the nearest pillow and launched it directly at him.
“GET OUT.”
jaafar dodged it easily, looking way too entertained.
“this is insane,” he laughed. “the whole family downstairs talking about board games while y’all up here.”
“leave!” you yelled, unable to stop laughing.
“okay okay i’m going,” he grinned, backing toward the hallway. “but just so y’all know, these walls are thin.”
“JAFAAR.”
the door slammed shut again while jermajesty groaned into the pillow beside you.
you were still laughing so hard your stomach hurt.
“i’m never going downstairs again,” he muttered dramatically.
you looked over at him, curls messy, cheeks flushed, still half wrapped around you beneath the blankets.
and for the first time in weeks, everything between you finally felt okay again.
pairing: Jaafar Jackson x f!reader
summary: Getting your fiancé through wisdom tooth surgery should be simple. Except Jaafar, who never says anything out of line, has apparently left all his self-control at the door of the operating room.
warnings: 18+ MDNI, suggestive content, anesthesia doing its thing, dirty talk (kinda? idk), established relationship
word count: 1.6k words
image credits: anotherpartoffme, davischloe881, filmsbyavs and themastersreign on tumblr
a/n: sooooo, this is my longest fic in a good, good while. I really enjoyed writing it, so I hope you guys enjoy it too! Forgive me if my sense of humor was only funny in my own head lol
✦ · · · ✦ · · · ✦ · · · ✦ · · · ✦ · · · ✦ · · · ✦ · · · ✦ · · · ✦ · · ·
You should have known. You absolutely should have known.
Even before Jaafar told you he was getting his wisdom teeth out and that he would need you around for the post-anesthesia aftermath, you'd already lost count of how many videos you'd seen online of kids and adults saying the wildest things after the procedure.
You'd even sent some of them to a Jaafar who hadn't even considered the possibility yet, with captions like "your turn is coming." It was only natural to expect something like that, but why did nobody warn you it would be a thousand times worse?
She's probably loving every second of this, you thought, glancing at the nurse from the corner of your eye. Obviously she wouldn't warn you it would be a thousand times worse - obviously she would kill to be alone with Jaafar in a moment like this. Bitch. She was ogling Jaafar so hard you were tempted to pull her wisdom teeth out yourself, right then and there.
If you didn't have to worry about the fact that Jaafar had nearly undressed himself three times, almost stabbed himself with a scalpel that was dangerously within reach, and belted out Livin' On a Prayer at the top of his lungs - or, as he sang it, "peeing on the mayor" - in the last five minutes, you would have absolutely been the one sticking that scalpel somewhere near the nurse instead.
Jaafar seemed both fine and not fine at the same time. The surgery had gone well and he just needed a few good days to recover, but now came the fun part: waiting for the anesthesia to wear off. He was more restless than usual and way more talkative, and you kept going back and forth between wanting to help him and wanting to film him for blackmail material later.
Surprisingly, Jaafar hadn't quite registered your presence yet, which for now put you on equal footing with the nurse who was already occupying the space. And showing absolutely no signs of leaving. What do you want, you evil witch? He's not taking his clothes off again as long as I'm here.
"I need to pee right now-now or I'm gonna turn into a faaau-cet, do you want that? Pee-ee leaking like a faucet? I don't think so, my pee-ee is very hea-"
"Jaafar, your pee is very healthy," you cut in, with a smile on your face.
That was the first time he actually looked looked at you. His eyes, still glazed over from the anesthesia, did nothing to hide the admiration that washed over him as he looked you up and down, letting out a whistle so loud you felt your cheeks burn on the spot.
"Who are you?"
"It's me, baby," you said with a small laugh, though a seed of worry settled in your chest. Did he really not recognize you?
"Is it my birthday? What is this little piece of caaaa-ndy? I'm gonna need to unwrap it to see if it's-"
"Jaafar!" you said, equally mortified and in disbelief.
Jaafar was a reserved, shy man. There was only one moment his mouth became dirtier than anything you'd ever heard, and that was when he completely lost control in bed. But hearing him say things like that was rare enough. I don't want to disrespect you, he always said. Hearing him say it in public? Code red.
"What? I really want something sweet right now," he said, his voice dripping with a barely-disguised second meaning.
"Yeah, easy there, Willy Wonka, the one thing you absolutely cannot eat right now is sugar," you said calmly, taking a sip of your juice.
"Nobody said I can't eat you."
The coughing that tore through you was so sudden and violent that for a moment you genuinely considered that this was how it ended. The nurse glanced over and moved to help, but you waved her off quickly to signal you were fine. Oh sure, go ahead and finish suffocating me, why don't you?
"Jaafar, you're not going to remember any of this. And I will happily tell your brother every single word."
"You know my brother? Who are you?" he asked again, suddenly very curious about how a woman this beautiful would know so much about him. Thank you, Lord.
"She's your fiancée, Jaafar. Don't you remember?" The nurse's cold voice cut through the room for the first time, and it was like a thousand tiny daggers straight to your ribs. Yeah, you kinda wished you'd choked after all.
"My fiancée?" Jaafar's eyes went wide as he looked at you again, placing a hand dramatically over his heart.
"Unless you've changed your mind and don't want to-"
"Don't want to what?"
"Marry me."
"Bury you?"
"Jesus, baby, marry me."
"Although I really would like to bury... my dick in your pus-"
"Jaafar, oh my God!"
That was enough to send the nurse huffing out of the room. If I'd known, I would've climbed him myself.
"What? He really needs some comfort right now."
"What?"
"My little friend down he-ere. He saw you and gave you a standing ovation."
"A standi- Jaafar, what's wrong with you?"
"Nothing's wrong. Everything down here is very, very right”
You genuinely didn't know whether to laugh, dig a hole in the floor, record all of it, or call the nurse back in to double-check that the anesthesia doses had been anywhere near reasonable.
“I’ll die if you don’t kiss me.”
"I'll kiss you, just not right now."
"Why not? Aren't you my fiancée? Don't fiancées kiss their fiancés?"
"Yes, fiancées kiss their fiancés, but right now you'd moan in pain if I kissed you."
"You want to make me moan?"
"Jaafar." You felt your cheeks burning, a subtle wave of heat running between your legs. You almost slapped yourself at the thought, he had just gotten out of surgery, for God's sake.
"So you do want to kiss me."
"Jaafar."
"Not even a little peck?"
"Are you going to behave?"
He nodded, looking like a mischievous kid who would do absolutely anything to get his reward.
Moving slowly toward him, you cupped his face gently and looked him in the eyes. Even clouded by the anesthesia, the love was still there, in the way he looked at you, melting under your hands. You let your hands slide down to his neck, resting your right one on his chest, which immediately went off like a drum. Thump-thump. Thump-thump. Thumpthumpthumpthump.
"Are you okay?"
"I'll be better once you kiss me."
You smiled and pressed your lips softly against his. The kiss was quick, light, barely a peck, but just enough to fill your chest with that warm, familiar feeling of home. Jaafar tried to deepen it, but you pulled back, remembering it could hurt him.
"Baby..."
"God, you're so beautiful," he murmured, tracing the outline of your lips with his fingertips. "You actually taste like something sweet."
"You're not going to remember any of this later," you murmured, suddenly flustered.
"I will absolutely remember the taste of your lips."
“Oh Lord, give me strength.”
"I'll give you something better than strength, do you-”
“Jaafar, I swear to God.”
“Shhh, pretty girl. Stay here with me, come closer", he murmured, and you clenched your thighs together at the sound of pretty girl so close to your ear.
"I'm right here."
"You're not even touching me properly", he said. He might not have recognized you fully in that moment, but his body, heart and mind did, and he wanted you as close as possible.
"Baby, I’m literally touching you."
"Debatable."
"Debatable how? I’m literally tou-"
"Now you are."
And with one swift movement, Jaafar grabbed your hand and guided it right onto his hard cock, making very clear to you that the anesthesia had done absolutely nothing to affect certain things.
"Mr. Jackson, here are your-"
The nurse went as white as her own scrubs at the sight in front of her, as she entered the room unannounced. You could have been mortified. Flustered. Maybe both at once. But the wave of satisfaction that washed over you was so much stronger than any of that.
"I said what?" A mortified Jaafar asked, sitting on the couch in your shared apartment, the anesthesia long worn off.
What hadn't worn off was the shame creeping through him after you'd recounted everything that happened, and that had been twenty minutes ago.
"You said you wanted to unwrap me and eat m-"
"Okay, you don't have to repeat it."
"You're the one who asked."
"Baby, I'm so sorry. I don't know what got into me."
"It's fine, baby. I would've been more worried if you'd said all that to that nurse who was absolutely dying to flirt with you. Right in front of me!"
"What nurse? I didn't even notice anyone else there."
"Right, you were a little too busy putting my hand on your cock to notice much of anything."
"Ughh, no," Jaafar groaned, burying his face in his hands, “This is a nightmare”.
"Hey, there's nothing to be ashamed of, baby. That's just what anesthesia does, don't you remember those videos I sent you?" you asked, sitting beside him on the couch and trying to pull his hands away from his face.
"Yeah, but in none of them was the guy trying to fuck his fiancée in front of everyone," he said, freezing the moment he realized what had slipped out. "I think the anesthesia hasn't fully worn off yet."
"You say much worse things to me in bed."
Jaafar looked at you, a mix of shame and arousal dancing in his eyes, and pressed a slow kiss to your cheek.
"So what do you say... We head upstairs so I can give you a proper standing ovation?"
"I say... I'm sending your brother everything I recorded first," you grinned diabolically, holding up your phone with a frozen frame of Jaafar mid-attempt at his first striptease.
"You wouldn't dare," he said, narrowing his eyes.
"Oh yeah?" you said, already hitting send. "Catch me if you can!"
For the record: he caught you. He always did.
The wisdom teeth could go, but he never would. He was still, and would always be, yours.
synopsis: jaafar knows he shouldn’t be fucking you while he has a fiancée — but when she’s such a bitch and you’re so perfect & so good to him — how can he not!
warnings: sexual themes, smut, 18+, cheating (sorry idec at this point sue me)
thank you all so much for 2k followers! i love you all sm<3
Jaafar knew he was in trouble this time.
It had been harmless for a while now — something reserved for behind closed doors. Something he kept under very strict control. Something he’d never admit out loud — even to himself alone in a dark room.
Harmless.
There was nothing harmless about the way he fucked you every chance he got whilst having a fiancée.
Taking you against the bathroom door, hand clasped over your mouth to conceal your whines of pleasure. Or over the kitchen counter after his fiancée left for work. Or even in the same bed his wife to be slept in after you left, legs wobbling and a familiar throb between your thighs.
He knew it was wrong — especially since you were his brother’s friend. Someone who had been in his life since he was in his early 20’s — a constant reminder of something he could’ve had if he didn’t get into another relationship.
He had loved you from the second he set eyes on you. When Jermajesty introduced you both on a casual day, his heart ignited in desire. A want, no a need, for you so strong he physically felt a visceral reaction to you every time he saw you. Alas, he was harshly reminded you were meant to be friends, his brother’s friend, someone in close knit with the family — not someone to be romantically involved with. He moved on — physically, never emotionally.
He and Maddie, his future bride, weren’t the most thrilling of couples. They were simple, basic, easy — their marriage something to just say they’d done. Often lacking chemistry and connection, and that feeling deep in your soul where you know the person you’re with is the one.
Something he’d always felt for you.
The way he felt when you’d look at him, your pretty doe eyes peering up at him like he hung the stars, he could physically feel his heart thumping in his heart every time.
The affair started on Jermajesty’s birthday.
You got drunk — way too wasted, way too quick. The liquor hitting you harder than you expected as you stumbled through the Jackson home, bumping into walls, clutching onto door frame’s as you attempted to make it to the bathroom, before colliding straight into Jaafar, fairly tipsy himself.
He had been with Maddie a little over 3 years — bought their first home, talking of children and marriage, finally settling down.
Until he decided bending you over the sink and fucking you senseless sounded like a better idea.
And from there it blossomed.
Fucking you anywhere and everywhere — no matter the time. And every excuse was made.
Late home? He was on set. Or was he fucking you in his car in an empty parking lot?
Didn’t answer his phone? He was just busy! Busy stuffing your mouth full of his cock, more like.
He hated the way he felt no remorse, no guilt, no nothing. Just the sheer thrill of it — the excitement that filled his chest at thought of when he’d next be burying himself deep inside you.
He’d tell you, as he thought himself, ‘It’s harmless sex’. Something you’d laugh at — despite the cruel reality of it.
And the sex only got better when he and Maddie started fighting. Every day it was a new argument, brutal disputes that would only bring him back into your arms every time — love for her dying, and desire for you blooming.
The thought clouded his mind on set.
Standing under the bright lights, eyes burning from the sheer intensity as well as the fatigue that plagued him — not only from his demanding career, but visions of you keeping him awake, too.
When the director called for a short break, he let out a sigh of relief, shrugging a heavily bedazzled jacket from his tired shoulders, handing it to a nearby costume designer. Raking a hand through his tussled curls, he moved sluggishly to the sidelines of the set, grabbing a bottle of water, taking a slow, much needed, chug.
“Hey, you.”
He hated the way his brain automatically associated the sound of clicking shoes against the hard floor with you — his excitement dying slowly in his chest as he turned to meet his fiancée’s frame.
“Oh, hey.” He spoke, voice flat and uniform.
Maddie hesitated before speaking, eyebrows furrowed neatly into her forehead, “You okay?”
“Yeah, yeah, just tired.” He brushed off, shaking his head, taking a firm seat in a chair with ‘J.Jackson’ neatly embroidered into the back, with a sigh, “What you doing here anyways?”
“Glad to see you too.” She huffed sarcastically, “Thought I’d bring you lunch.”
She handed over a brown paper bag, heavy in his hand as he took it from her. Jaafar peeled it open, stomach rumbling as the sudden reminder to eat filled his now conscious brain.
“Oh.”
“What? What’s wrong?”
Jaafar peered up at her apprehensively, “I just—nothing it’s fine. Thank you.”
Maddie’s expression fell, “No. What’s wrong?”
He sighed, “I just don’t like turkey.”
“What?” She hissed, snatching the bag quickly, staring down at the bleak sandwich sat sadly inside, “You do.”
“I definitely don’t.” He breathed out a laugh, “You have it. I’ll grab something from the vending machine later.”
“You loved turkey when we first started dating.” She fired back, attempting to win back her pride.
“Yeah, 8 years ago.”
Maddie scoffed, “Fine. I’ll eat it. Go eat your shit vending machine food, and not the meal your fiancée worked so hard to make for you.”
Jaafar laughed in disbelief, “Maddie, it’s a sandwich. No offence, but I sincerely doubt you worked that hard.”
“What the hell, Jaafar? Honestly, I can’t with you sometimes, I just feel—“ “Jaafarrrr.”
Maddie noticed the way he perked up at the sound of your voice.
She rolled her eyes at the sight of you — a tiny, black mini skirt and a white blouse clad to your frame, kitten heels clicking against the floor as you sauntered in. You looked good without needing to try — something Jaafar always admired about you.
“Hey!” He beamed, rising from his chair, heading straight for you without a second thought, that dangerously beautiful smile adorning his face, “What are you doing here?”
The tone difference in the same question he’d asked to you and to Maddie was clear — something hard to miss.
He met you halfway across set, pulling you into a tight embrace, large arms wrapping around your frame, as you laced your arms around his neck. When you pulled away, Jaafar’s heart raced as you looked up at him — there were those pretty eyes.
“I figured you’d be hungry, so I brought you some lunch.” You admitted, a sickly sweet smile on your face as you handed him a gorgeously packaged box.
The smell hit him before he opened it — perfectly cooked steak, with freshly steamed greens and a side of mac n’ cheese. He groaned in delight.
“Your favourite.” You added.
If it wasn’t for the Jaafar blocking your view — you would’ve been met with the coldest, most seething gaze Maddie could muster.
She had been jealous of you from the start — she hated how much Jaafar loved being around you, how you got on like a house on fire, and proven just in that moment, how well you knew him.
“Oh, my God, this smells incredible.” Jaafar admitted, eyes flickering from your own to the food, “Thank you, princess.” He whispered, his voice low enough for you only to hear, “I wanna kiss you so badly right now.”
“Contain yourself, handsome.” You returned the hushed tone, “Later.”
Jaafar’s eyes darkened at the thrilling idea of getting to kiss you in secret later — visions of ravishing you filling his mind. A different kind of hunger fuelling in his heart.
“I already made him lunch.”
You heard her before you saw her — Maddie’s stern voice from behind Jaafar, gaze still sharp.
“Oh, man.” Your voice a teasing disappointment, “Sorry, J, I didn’t know. What a waste.” Your faux frown hit his face, heart twisting at the idea of your upset.
“No, no. It’s fine. Maddie’s gonna have the other one, right?”
“No, I sai—“
“Aw, thanks, Maddie!” You grinned, excitable voice hitting both of their ears once again, smiling so innocently that your intentions seemed so pure, “At least you can have your favourite now.”
Jaafar smiled down at you, grabbing the plastic fork laid neatly next to his glorious meal, before digging in, “Oh, wow, this is amazing.”
“Made it myself.” You admitted, “Worked very hard for you, Jaaf.”
“You’re so good to me.” Jaafar couldn’t contain the way he smiled as you giggled proudly, walking alongside, mouth full of the food you kindly prepared for him, back to where he once sat, “Whatcha’ got planned for today then?”
“Figured I’d sit around all day and watch you sweat.”
Maddie clenched her jaw at the way you both laughed loudly — a real, genuine laugh falling from Jaafar’s lips.
“Sounds like a riveting day.” He teased, resuming back in his seat.
You grinned, “Oh, definitely. A real thriller.”
“Nice play on word—“ “Jaafar, can we talk?”
Maddie’s harsh voice cut your laughter short — a sudden intense atmosphere blossoming. Jaafar’s smile fell quickly, eyes meeting hers for the first time since you arrived as if her presence wasn’t recognisable.
“What?”
“Alone.”
You bit back a grin — every argument they had brought Jaafar closer to you. Sick, but you loved it.
“I’ll go wait in your dressing room, J.”
To Maddie, she was silently thankful for your departure, however, completely missing your sensual undertone — alluding to the very man, she was subconsciously pushing further away from her and more towards you, that you’d be waiting for him in a quiet, secluded place where he could take you like he always did.
You parted from the tension quickly — sauntering away, hips swinging involuntarily, your back facing the upcoming argument you knew would arise.
Maddie didn’t miss the way Jaafar watched you walk away.
“Are you fucking serious?”
Her voice forced a foul expression onto Jaafar’s face, “What now?”
“Don’t take that tone with me, Jaafar.” Maddie snapped, finger pointing accusingly at him, “What is her problem?”
Jaafar feigned innocence quickly, “What do you mean? She just brought me lunch.”
“So did I, but you turned that down real fast. But, when she does it, it’s like she’s moved fucking mountains for you?” Maddie’s voice got icier with each sentence — and louder, forcing passing members of staff to side-eye the growing dispute.
“Lower your voice.” He hissed, eyes darting around, “You brought me something I didn’t like. Sorry if that offends you.”
“It’s not about that, Jaafar, it’s about how fucking weird you are around each other.” She snapped, voice refusing to lower, “Is there something I don’t know?”
Jaafar hid the way adrenaline thumped through his veins at the idea of her possibly finding out well. The thought of filling you to the brim with his thick cock suddenly polluting his brain — blood rushing between the very manhood he wanted to stuff you full of.
“Hello?” Maddie sassed, face an unyielding frosty expression.
“No, of course not. Stop asking me this.” Jaafar lied straight his teeth, a lie told so many times it felt natural now, “You always paint her out to be a horrible person, but she’s always so good to me. I don’t know why you can’t just be nice to her.”
“Because she’s all up on my fiancé every five seconds.”
“We’re just close.” Jaafar spoke, a statement not entirely untrue, “Just leave her alone for once.”
“Maybe tell her that.” Maddie spat, “Tell her to leave you alone.”
“I’m not gonna do that.”
“And there we go. Always at her defence.” She laughed in aggravation, “I’m your fiancé, y’know? It’s me you’re marrying.”
I wish it wasn’t.
The sentence hit his brain faster than he expected — a subconscious response to the argument and his secretive infatuation with you.
“I can’t deal with this right now.” Jaafar shot back, rising to his feet quickly, “Just go home, I’ll talk to you later.” He wasted no time walking down the hallway to his dressing room, following in your footsteps
“Jaafar, what? No.”
“Do not follow me.”
His voice, a usual calm and collected tone, was now snarled and bitter — a declaration of his frustration. He meant every word he said.
Jaafar stormed through the hall — feet stomping against the ground harder with each step. His anger bubbling over the edge as his chest heaved.
He slammed open the dressing room door — agitation oozing from him like no other. His eyes immediately landed on your relaxed frame, longing on the sofa that was pressed against the back of the room. You met his furious gaze.
“You okay, baby?”
Your sweet, calming voice flooded his frenzied brain — the nickname hitting him straight between the legs. He strode towards you quickly, hands immediately cradling your face as he smashed your lips together in a frantic kiss. You squeaked in surprise at the sudden connection — hands grasping at his tensed arms, before melting into his mouth.
“Need you. Now.” He mumbled against your lips, “Need to feel you.”
“Jaaf.” You whined, the feeling of his warm breath ghosting over your mouth had a familiar tingle radiating up your spine at the anticipation.
His lips worked magic against yours once more — moving with calculated precision as he pulled you to your feet. Tongues and teeth clashing as the passion intensified in your lip-locking — spit and swollen lips the only thing evident on your mouth as he moved his kisses down your neck. His hand, once pressed against the warm of your cheek, splayed across the nape of your neck, as he worked his way down your exposed chest.
“This gotta come off.” He muttered, flicking the buttons of your top open with ease, pulling it off your body and throwing it to the floor, your plump breasts filling his gaze.
His name fell from your mouth in a desperate plea as his lips attached to your bare tits — an erect nipple swirled around his tongue as he sucked. Your head thrust back — whines now filling the room as your back pressed into the makeup counter.
Jaafar pulled away from your breasts, lips colliding with your own once more as his eager hand travelled down your body — fingers nestling right where you needed him. His fingers slipped under your skirt, finding comfort in the dip of your slit, collecting your essence on his fingers from where you drooled through your panties.
“Jaafar, please.” You whimpered, bottom lip pulled between your teeth.
“Tell me how much you want it, pretty.” Jaafar whispered against you, face now flush against your own, “Tell me all about it, baby.”
His fingers rubbed tight, precise circles over your clothed clit, slick with your arousal, eliciting the sweetest noises from your pretty mouth — ones that hand Jaafar twitching in his slacks.
“Mm—Need you—Aah! so bad, J,” You cried, hands clutching at the thick of his bicep, “M’Wanna feel you so bad.”
“That’s it, sweetie, talk to me.” He coaxed, mouth suckling at the exposure of your neck, marking up your skin with the graze of his teeth.
Jaafar continued to work his fingers onto you — nimble digits rubbing the painful ache between your legs away as he relaxed you, arousing you ready for his length. His supple lips pressed soft, delicate kisses to any piece of your skin he was unveiled to — only adding to the gorgeous whines of pleasure that flooded his ears.
You leant over to press a sweet kiss to the sensitive skin beneath his ear, “Please, Jaaf, need to feel you.”
Jaafar didn’t give you time to change your mind.
He ripped his body from yours in a hurry — trembling hands from adrenaline and anger unbuckling his slacks, shoving them down his thighs along with his boxers. He hissed as the cold air hit the warmth of his cock, large hands instantaneously coming to wrap around the sheer length of him, pumping himself in relief.
“Turn around.”
You obeyed immediately — swiftly pressing your stomach to the counter, poking your half-exposed ass to him. He pushed your skirt further up your backside, now bunching at your hips.
“I’m not gonna be gentle tonight, baby.” He revealed, looking up at you from the mirror before both of you, revelling in the way you gasped as the fat of his cockend slid between the wetness of your folds, “Too fucking angry.”
“It’s okay, baby.” Your sweet, deliciously soft voice calmed his fury ever so slightly, the eyes that had him weak in the knees meeting his own in the reflection, “Use me. Take me. Just fuck me, please.”
The erotic admission had him pushing into you faster than he ever does — a loud cry falling past your lips as your vision blurred, hand slamming against the glass in a fist as he stretched you. Jaafar usually would take his time with you — work you open with his fingers, make you cum a few times before entering you. But not now. The flaming anger than burst inside of him had him selfish — not wanting to waste a single second before filling you to the brim.
And that he did. Your cunt throbbed around the size of him — girth and length forcing your slick little cunt open for him so briskly it had you biting on your lip so hard you tasted blood.
“That’s my good girl.” Jaafar growled out, a large hand stroking the plush of your hips that he gripped with the pad of his thumb, “Look so fuckin’ beautiful full of me.”
“Jaafar, please.” You mewled, tears brimming in your twinkling eyes.
“I know, I know, baby.” He reassured, dragging his cock out of you slowly, “Just feel me.”
He set a brutal pace — one that rendered you speechless from the first thrust. Only blabbering moans of undeniable pleasure releasing from your mouth as his tip kissed the smooth of your cervix, his cock rammed so deep you forget how to speak.
Jaafar grunted wildly behind you — his usual gentle love-making a distant memory as he fucked you as if you were a cock hungry slut. Something he could use for his own personal pleasure.
Right now, you were absolutely that and more.
“Fucking hate her.” He seethed behind you, grip tightening around your hips, before sliding up your back and taking your hair in a tight grasp, pulling you flush against his heaving chest, “She doesn’t do it like you do.”
The nefarious admission had your cunt clenching around him — knowing he was fucking you brainless whilst badmouthing his fiancée, who you also despised, had arousal coursing through your veins more so than before.
Jaafar noticed, “Oh, you naughty girl.” He breathed, breath hot against your ear, “You love fucking a taken man, huh?”
“Only you, Jaafar.”
Jaafar couldn’t suppress the whimper that fell from his lips, head falling into the crook of your neck, mumbling a curse under his breath at your huffed submission to him — cock throbbing inside you. Every drag of his dick had you whining underneath him — eyes rolling back as he repeatedly abused the sweet spot inside your gummy walls.
“Oh, that’s the spot, huh, princess?” He coaxed, “Look at me.” His large hand gripped your cheeks in a harsh grasp, before pushing two fingers into your agape mouth, “Suck.”
You willingly did as he pleased — suckling at the thick of his digits, the tang of your essence still lingering on his fingers flooding your tastebuds, whining at the taste of yourself. Your tongue swirled around him, eager to please, earning a hum of approval from the heaving man behind you, his pace never faltering.
“Jaafar.” Your voice muffled, mouth still stuffed full of him, a desperate, needy tone in your words, “Harder, p’wease.”
“Y’sound so fuckin’ sexy with your mouth full.” Jaafar groaned, eyes locked on the way tears slipped from your wide eyes, cascading down your face, a collecting of wetness of your tears and spit pooling at your chin.
Jaafar pulled out of you swiftly, ignoring the way you whined at the loss of fullness, before briskly shifting you to face him, pulling your body on top of the counter. He entered you once more, a blissful moan falling past your lips. His hands splayed against the fat of your hips against, pulling you down onto the hardness of his cock — bottom lip pulled between his teeth as you marched every thrust with an erotic whinge.
“‘Gonna cum, Jaaf.” You revealed, eyes glued to the milky white essence that pooled at the base of Jaafar’s cock as it disappeared repeatedly into your sex.
“Give it to me, princess.” He coaxed, fingers flying to your swollen clit, rubbing tight, fast circles around the aching nub, “Cum with me, baby.”
Your orgasm crept down your spine, settling in the low of your abdomen, the relief of a much needed climax arriving, a loud, demanding moan leaving your mouth as you chased your high at full speed. Jaafar wasn’t far behind you — pace now quickening as he too chased his orgasm, wanting nothing more right now to fill you to the brim with his fertile seed.
Slam!
“What the fuck?”
The door to the dressing room swung open — an aggressive bang that had both of your heads spinning towards the noise.
Now you were truly fucked.
Maddie stood in the door way, utterly mortified and shocked to her core at the sight of you — pussy stuffed full of her fiancée’s cock — sweat glistening off of both your bodies, chests heaving.
In a blacked-out state of intense arousal, your wicked mouth betrayed
“Don’t you dare fucking stop, Jaafar.”
And he listened.
In his own personal lust, the sound of his distraught fiancée’s shouting, catching him in a comprising act fell on deaf ears, his hips, that had once stilled, resumed once more.
Your head fell back once more as his pace picked up — your orgasm climbing back up quicker now, pure thrill and adrenaline coursing through you like an addict snorting a fresh line.
Your nails dug into the plush of his bare ass, moans hitting an all time high as you clenched around him, completely unaffected by the furious woman in the doorway — climax washing over you harder than it ever had.
“Oh, Jaafar!” His name rang out through the room, alongside the squelch of your juices with each harsh thrust Jaafar fucked into you, a subconscious twist of the knife to the disbelieving Maddie watching in shock.
Jaafar groaned into your rising chest, cumming with a cry, his own orgasm hitting him as he doubled over, folding into you as he stuffed you full. The sensation of his spurting load filling you to the brim had your toes curling around his waist, a whine hitting his ringing ears. He didn’t stop — fucking his hot cum deeper into you, hips stuttering in overstimulation, the intense feeling of his electric orgasm still flooding through him.
In your mutual state of blind pleasure, you hadn’t noticed the absence of Maddie — the room deafening silent as you caught your breaths.
Jaafar softened inside you, face still pressed into the crook of your neck, eyes fluttered shut.
I would love to see a pt 3 for Retired Life!! I think it’s just the cutest 🥹
𝑹𝒆𝒕𝒊𝒓𝒆𝒅 𝑳𝒊𝒇𝒆 ➌
Michael Jackson x Wife!Reader
Synopsis: When Michael starts blowing up on tiktok after being in the background of a few videos, he thinks maybe he should start his own account. The account absolutely blows up and you and Michael have been requested to appear on a podcast to talk about the movie, tiktok, and his life as a retired superstar.
Content/Warnings: Michael lives, 2026, he's terrible at technology, fluff, evil interviewer, protective Michael.
W.C. 1.2k
Masterlist:
A/N: I'm gonna link some tiktoks that I feel like he would do.
You watched from the living room as Michael came down the stairs, squinting at the phone in his hand. He had told you yesterday that with the movie coming out, management thought maybe he should get on Tiktok. He was a little hesitant at first, but eventually agreed so that he could watch the videos his kids and grandkids made. He sat beside you with a sigh as he placed his readers on his nose, looking at the phone as if it were an alien device.
You laughed lightly, "Did you accidentally post another video again?"
He nodded, showing you the screen. On it was him staring down at the phone, finger poking at the glass as his brows furrowed. "I want to delete it."
"No, leave it. It's funny." You swatted his hand away from the delete button. He surrendered without any real fight, shrugging and putting the phone down.
"The grandkids want to go videos with me." He took his glasses off.
"What kinds?" You looked at him.
He shrugged, "I didn't ask, I'm just happy to spend the time with them."
You cooed at the response, cuddling into his side. He wrapped an arm around you. "You wanna watch more dancing videos?" He asked. You nodded.
Watching videos of people doing Michael's dances had become a simple pastime for the two of you. You both thought it was amazing to see how much of an impact he had on the younger generations.
Michael's videos had been getting a lot of attention. There was one video of him gently pushing one of the grandkids on a swing that went viral. People adored seeing how gentle he was. More and more videos started popping up, and offers for interviews kept flowing in.
Michael's team had suggested you both go on a podcast instead of an interview in order to appeal to younger audiences.
That's how you both ended up sitting in two orangeish leather chairs, two microphones in front of you as the podcaster sat in front of you. The man's name was Zach Sang, and he was known for interviewing celebrities. You and Michael held hands from your seats, listening and answering the questions thrown at you.
"So, I'm sure you've seen but, people are doing your dances again and posting them. How does that make you feel?" He looked over at Michael.
Michael smiled, "It's amazing, really. I've always said that music is a universal language, and I think dancing goes hand in hand with that. It brings me so much joy to see that people still want to join in on my dances, and I've seen a lot of dancers add their own little tricks to it. It's really sweet, and it makes me feel like, y'know, I've done something good for people." He spoke softly, voice slightly shy as he expressed himself.
Zach nodded, "Now, you both have done a lot of Tik Tok's yourself, and your kids and grandkids have done some as well. I think I recently saw a video of you holding one of your grandbabies and singing to her, and of course people loved it. How has it felt seeing people comment on those kinds of videos?"
"Well, I know there have been quite a lot of videos about us spoiling the grandkids. I just think that it's important to spend time with those around you, and of course we're grandparents now, obviously we're going to spoil the kids. That's part of being a grandparent, finally you don't have to be the bad guy and say no more cookies, you can give them as many as you want. We love our kids and their kids and we're both not scared of people seeing that." He spoke and then looked at you.
You nodded, "I think people get nervous about showing their love publically. We aren't. We never want our kids to think that we're scared of loving them fully, out for everyone to see. Love is embarrassing, that's just how it is, and we don't really care to hide it or play it down. Our family loves loudly." You spoke.
He nodded, "Speaking of Tik Tok, I'm sure you've seen the comments about you." He looked at Michael.
Michael nodded, growing shyer. He knew where this was going, "Oh yes, I've seen them."
"How does it make you feel that people are saying things like 'I'd still let him hit it,' does that make you feel any sort of way?"
"Well, it's flattering, really. But, I'm a happily taken man, have been for almost 53 years." He spoke and squeezed your hand.
"To go off of that, a lot of people don't understand why you're still with an older woman. You could have just about anyone you wanted, so why stick to someone who has lost their sparkle?" He glanced over at you for a small second.
Both you and Michael sat in shock for a moment. His hand held on to yours tighter. "What a ridiculous question. Why would you ask something like that?" He spoke louder.
Zach immediately tried to recover, "I didn't, that's just what people want to know."
"And you thought it was your place to ask that sort of thing directly to me, with my wife beside me?" He leaned forward slightly.
"I'm sorry Mr. Jackson, that's not what I meant." He fumbled for an excuse.
"Then what did you mean? Did you mean to ask me why I'm not dating a 20 year old? Well I'll tell you why. Because my wife is not 20, if she were then I would be dating a 20 year old. But she's not, and it doesn't make a difference. I have loved her since the day I met her, and she is still every bit as beautiful inside and out. I don't need young looks to make me happy, what I need is her, exactly how she is." He spoke without stuttering, staring down the man in the chair.
"I really meant no disrespect." He spoke up.
You rolled your eyes, finally speaking up, "Then you wouldn't have asked the question. If you're going to ask questions like that, then stick to it, don't back pedal when you get the reaction you deserve. Cut the cameras, deadass."
Michael smiled at you, standing up and taking your hand, "We're done here, thank you for wasting your own time."
﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌
Michael paced the living room floor angrily, "I can't believe he asked that ridiculous question. I really had hoped the interviewers had changed."
You patted the spot beside you, "Michael, it's okay. People can think what they want, I know the truth of how you feel. Plus, I'm sure people will understand your reaction to the question."
He nodded and sat beside you, wrapping an arm around you protectively. "They better, otherwise I've lost all hope for humanity."
You laughed and kissed his cheek, "You're still every bit as cute when you're angry. And trust me, people won't like the question."
And you were right. The moment the podcast episode was released it became the guys most viewed/listened to episode overnight. And people were bashing him, and applauding both you and Michael for how you handled the situation.
Michael thought that to celebrate you two should make a video together. That was how a video of you and Michael mogging the camera with a caption that read 'when you're old and still the hottest most relevant couple' went viral.
TikToks I feel like Michael would've done/been apart of:
Hey I’m not sure if your taking any requests if not pls ignore this but if so I was wondering if you could do a fic with mature Micheal and wife reader set place In 2003 and they have there 3 kids and it’s the 4th of July and there in the encino house with all the other Jackson’s sibling (no Joe) and just like them all hanging out maybe were Janet , Latoya and reader are cooking and just sharing some funny stories just basically a lot of fluff I think it be really cute sorry if this request is awkward but I don’t really do this ,but yeah like I said tho sorry if you not taking any I understand but I love your writing keep up the good work !!!
Fourth of July
Mature Era! Michael Jackson × Fem! Reader | wc: 2,2k | One Day in Your Life
a/n : i hope u like it, honey! <3
2003 — Encino, California
The July sun beat down on the backyard of the Encino house, where the Jackson family had gathered to celebrate the Fourth of July. Little red, white, and blue flags decorated the trees, and the smell of barbecue mixed with the perfume of the garden flowers — planted by Katherine herself years ago, cared for with the same love she gave her children.
Michael arrived with the family in the early afternoon. The black car parked on the stone driveway, and before the driver could open the door, the children were already jumping out, excited, ready to run across the lawn.
"Prince, don't go running off like that!" you called out, trying to sound firm, but a smile was already forming on your lips.
"Leave him alone," Michael said, getting out of the car with Paris in his arms, the six-year-old almost too big to be carried anymore but still clinging to her father's neck. "It's the Fourth of July. Kids are supposed to run."
"You're the kid," you shot back, walking past him with a bucket of fruit salad in your hands.
"I am," he agreed, smiling. "Your kid."
You rolled your eyes, but the quick kiss you planted on his chin as you passed said more than any reply.
The kitchen of the Encino house was spacious, with windows looking out onto the backyard, where the younger brothers were already starting to light the grill. Janet was at the sink, washing strawberries, her hair tied up in a messy bun. LaToya was arranging a platter of salads on the counter, quietly complaining about how much onion her sister had chopped.
You walked in with the bucket of fruit salad and set it on the table.
"I brought this. I hope it's enough because Prince already ate half of it on the way here."
Janet laughed. "He's just like Michael was as a kid. Mom tells stories about how he couldn't stay away from the fruit bowl in the kitchen."
"Still is," LaToya added, smiling. "The difference is now he has someone to cut it fresh for him."
You leaned your hips against the counter, crossing your arms. "He's not that spoiled."
"He's exactly that spoiled," Janet and LaToya said at the same time, and the three of you burst out laughing. You started sharing stories.
That was when a hand appeared from behind you, reaching for the bowl of strawberries Janet had just washed.
"Mmm, strawberries," Marlon said, already with one in his mouth, grabbing another for the road.
"Get your hands off, thief!" Janet tried to slap his hand away, but he was faster.
"I'm just tasting to see if they're good. Quality control."
"Quality control my foot — you've already eaten three!"
Marlon grinned, gave a conspiratorial look, and reached for another. "Were you guys telling a story? I heard laughing from outside."
"About Michael's eighteenth birthday," LaToya replied. "The cake one."
Marlon laughed, nearly choking on his strawberry. "Oh, that one! I was there. He was sick all night long."
Everyone laughed. Marlon shook his head, still smiling, and grabbed one more strawberry — the last one, because Janet made sure to move the bowl out of his reach.
"I'm heading out," he said, already making his way to the back door with the strawberry in his hand. "The grill isn't going to light itself. Tito's been out there for half an hour fiddling with the charcoal and nobody's seen any smoke yet."
"Take more strawberries for him," LaToya called out.
"On it," he replied, already disappearing into the backyard.
"And that other episode," LaToya continued, going back to chopping vegetables, "when he tried to cook for Mom on Mother's Day?"
Janet said laughing. "Oh that one, that one is good—"
"He put salt instead of sugar in the cake. And a lot of salt. My mom took one bite and her face—" LaToya imitated a look of horror, eyes wide, mouth twisted.
The three of you almost cried laughing.
"Really," you started, wiping away tears, "when Michael goes into the kitchen, it's always an event."
"Speaking of funny stories," Janet said, drying her eyes, "do you have any? With the kids?"
You smiled, setting your knife down on the cutting board. "I have one."
"Tell us then," Janet said
"It was last month. Michael decided he was going to bathe all three kids by himself. I was tired, and he said, 'Go rest, I've got this.'"
"How sweet," LaToya commented.
"Sweet until it started." You were already laughing just remembering it. "He filled the tub, put all three in — Prince, Paris, Blanket. Everything was going fine until he remembered he had an important call with the producer. 'Five minutes,' he said. 'I'll be five minutes and I'll be back.'"
Janet's eyes widened. "He left the kids alone in the tub?"
"He thought it would only be five minutes. The call lasted twenty. When I decided to go upstairs to check, because the silence was strange—"
"Silence with three kids is always suspicious," LaToya interrupted, laughing.
"Exactly. I go up the stairs, open the bathroom door, and..." You started laughing so hard you could barely speak. "The entire bathroom was covered in foam. Floor, wall, mirror, ceiling. The kids were unrecognizable — you could only see their little eyes peeking out from mountains of bubbles. And Michael?"
"And Michael?" Janet asked, already laughing too.
"Michael was sitting on the hallway floor, outside the door, with his head in his hands, repeating: 'I was only gone five minutes. I swear it was only five minutes.'"
LaToya let out such a loud laugh that Janet had to hold onto the sink to keep from falling.
"And the kids?" Janet managed to ask.
"The kids were having the time of their lives. Paris made a foam hat. Prince tried to slide across the shower. Blanket — Blanket was eating the foam."
"Eating foam?"
"Eating foam. I went in, got the three of them out of the tub, wrapped them in towels, and when I looked at Michael, he was still on the hallway floor. He looked at me with the biggest puppy dog face and said, 'I just wanted to help.'"
"The kids were okay?" LaToya asked.
"They were. Blanket didn't eat enough foam to hurt him. Prince and Paris didn't break anything. Everything worked out in the end."
"And Michael?" Janet wanted to know.
"Michael was banned from bathing the kids for a week. Now he supervises. From a distance. Sitting on a chair outside the door."
The sound of hurried footsteps outside caught your attention. Jackie appeared in the kitchen doorway, holding Prince by the hand. Both were sweaty, the boy's hair plastered to his forehead, his face flushed from running.
"Water," Jackie asked, out of breath. "For me and the captain here."
You were already opening the fridge, grabbing two bottles. "Did you play a lot?"
"We did, mommy" Prince answered, proud, before Jackie could speak. "I beat Uncle Jackie in the race."
"You won because I let you," Jackie said, raising an eyebrow.
"You didn't let me. I'm faster."
Jackie laughed, opened the water bottle, and handed it to the boy. "Drink it all. Then go wash your face. You look like a dirty little chick."
Prince drank the whole bottle in one go and ran back to the yard before Jackie could say anything else.
"He's just like his father," Jackie commented, wiping sweat from his forehead with his forearm. "Endless energy." he said, then went back after Prince.
"It broke his heart," you said, getting back to the salt cake story, wiping your eyes from laughing so much. "He told me he spent days trying to make it up to her."
"And he did," Janet said, with a softer smile. "The next year, he hired a professional chef to cook for her all day. My mom was so embarrassed. 'Michael, you don't have to do all this.' And he said, 'Mom, you deserve all this and more.'"
LaToya shook her head, affectionately. "He's always been like that. Over the top. In love, in care, in worry." The three of you laughed as you went back to your tasks.
"What are you laughing about?" Michael asked, appearing in the kitchen doorway with Blanket in his arms — the youngest, still small, his huge curious eyes watching everything around him.
"Nothing," the three of you answered in unison, exchanging glances.
Michael was suspicious but didn't insist. He approached you and rested his chin on your shoulder, the baby between you.
"You look beautiful today," he murmured, low enough that only you could hear.
"I'm wearing an old t-shirt and my hair's up."
"I said what I said."
You felt your face warm — after all these years, it still warmed — and pushed him gently. "Go take care of the kids. I'm trying to help in here."
"Okay, okay." He moved away, but before leaving, he kissed your temple. "I love you."
"Love you too."
LaToya waited for him to leave before speaking, in an exaggerated whisper: "You two are unbearable. Ten years married and still acting like teenagers in love."
"Ten years?" Janet's eyes widened. "Has it really been that long?"
"Eleven, actually," you corrected, picking up a knife to start chopping tomatoes. "Eleven years married, thirteen together."
"And how did you two meet again?" LaToya asked, leaning back against the counter. "I know the story, but I want to hear you tell it."
You smiled, remembering. "It was at a benefit event. I was working backstage, and he came up to me after the show. Asked for a glass of water. I gave it to him. He just stood there, looking at me, until I asked if he needed anything else. He said, 'Your phone number.'"
The two sisters let out a chorus of "awww."
"And did you give it?" Janet asked.
"I did. But it took me three days to answer the first call."
"Why?" Janet wanted to know.
"Because I thought it was a prank. Michael Jackson calling me? Please."
The three of you laughed. Outside, the noise of the kids running around mixed with the soft music coming from some radio.
Until Tito appeared in the window frame, his shirt stained with sweat, his face slightly sunburned.
"Is the food almost ready?" he asked, looking at the platters on the counter. "Because the fire's been ready for half an hour, and the grill isn't going to wait forever."
"Calm down, Tito," LaToya replied. "We're almost done."
"Almost done for twenty minutes."
"Then wait five more."
Tito rolled his eyes, but a smile formed on his lips. "Five. Counting." He pointed to his wristwatch and disappeared back into the yard.
"And today?" Janet asked, turning her attention back to you, her voice a little softer. "Is he happy?"
You didn't answer immediately. You just looked out the kitchen window.
Outside, Michael ran across the lawn with Prince on his shoulders, Paris running alongside trying to catch up, Blanket sitting on the grass with a little flag in his hand, waving it at the sky. Marlon and Jackie were near the grill with Tito, laughing at some joke you couldn't hear from the kitchen. The setting sun gilded the children's hair, and Michael laughed — a free, loose laugh that echoed across the yard like an old, familiar song, good to hear.
"Yes," you said, without taking your eyes off the scene. "He's happy."
Later, when the sun had set and the string lights were turned on, everyone gathered around the long tables in the yard. The food was served, plates circulating from hand to hand, conversations crossing in joyful overlap.
Michael sat next to you, Paris leaning against her father's shoulder, Prince beside Paris, and Blanket in your lap. A small family within the big family.
"Were you telling stories about me in the kitchen?" he asked, low, his fingers finding yours under the table.
"Never," you replied, too innocently.
"Janet was laughing loudly. I know her conspiratorial laugh."
"We were just reminiscing... anecdotes."
Michael frowned, suspicious. "What anecdotes?"
You smiled, sweetly poisonous. "The strawberry cake. And the bathtub story."
He closed his eyes for a second, sighing — but there was a smile at the corner of his lips. "You told the bathtub story?"
"I did."
Michael buried his face in his free hand, but his shoulders shook with contained laughter. "I'm going to have to ask you to sign a confidentiality agreement."
"Too late, love. I'm already your wife. That voids any contract."
He laughed — low, lovely — and kissed your temple.
"Are you okay?" he asked.
"I am," you replied. "Happy."
"Me too."
Janet, from across the table, raised her glass of lemonade. "A toast."
Everyone raised their glasses.
"To the siblings," Janet said, looking around. "To those here and those who couldn't make it. To our mother. And to new memories."
"To new beginnings," LaToya added.
Michael raised his glass too. "To family."
Everyone drank. Paris tried to imitate the adults and took such a big gulp of her lemonade that she hiccupped, drawing laughs from the whole table. Marlon, from across the way, took advantage of the moment of distraction to steal another strawberry from your plate.
"I saw that," you said.
"I know." He was already chewing.
The fireworks would start soon. Far away on the horizon, the first flashes were already coloring the night sky.
You rested your head on Michael's shoulder, the baby warming your lap, the children around you, the siblings scattered around the tables, laughing, eating, being family.
That moment — that peace — was already more than enough for everyone.
Bf!Jermajesty who is a pain in the ass to wake up in the mornings. It’s already 11 am and you’re running around stressing. Jermajesty lays half naked, half conscious in bed. It doesn’t help that his family is downstairs waiting either.
“Jermajesty!” You call for the fifth time. “Will you please get up.”
He’s babbling nonsense when you come to the conclusion that this sweet shit wasn’t going to work with him. The next five minutes, you spend dragging him out of bed and around the room.
“Chill, I’m right behind you.” He grunts when you snap your head back to make sure he’s following you downstairs.
ˎˊ˗
Bf!Jermajesty who can’t keep his hands to himself to save his life. One thing about Jermajesty was that he lacked the filter you so wished he’d at least pretend to have. The two of you would be at the beach with his family and his hands would not leave the curve of your ass. No matter how many times you pried it off, quietly cussing him out, it would inevitably end up there again. Not that his family really paid the two of you much attention, it had been a long time since Jermajesty’s actions had stopped shocking them. Now, you laid on the sunbed with shades covering your eyes, when you felt his hands slide under your bikini and start kneading the soft flesh of your ass.
“You need to stop before your mama starts cussing us both out.”
“I can’t. You’re just laying there looking sexy.” He says scooting closer to you on the sun bed.
“Ugh.” You roll your eyes and turn around, not even bothering anymore. Jermajesty laughs, hand still not moving anywhere.
ˎˊ˗
Bf! Jermajesty who can’t wait until he gets home to be inside you again. You’re laying on the bed half asleep, having waited on Jermajesty to get out the shower when he finally comes to bed. He lays down on your body, careful not to crush you under his weight. You adjust your arms so they’re around him and stroking lightly against his scalp.
Jermajesty shudders against your throat as he kisses and bites at your skin. “You tired, baby?”
The way he says it lets you know exactly what he’s hinting at, and you can’t help but get excited. “No, i want you.”
That’s all you have to say before he’s nudging his tip at your entrance.
He moves with the ease of someone who’s studied your body inside out and you can’t help but slowly move against him in return. He’s not going easy on you, your legs are bent against your chest, and he’s so deliciously hitting that spot in you. The fact that his family are all sleeping down the hall slips your mind entirely.
ˎˊ˗
Bf!Jermajesty who complains about having to take your pictures, but would rather die than let anyone else do it for you.
“Baby how many do you need?” Jermajesty questions after you tell him to take it again. You’re sitting in the luxurious hotel lobby, dolled up and ready for dinner. He stands there throwing a tantrum. “They all look the same!”
You huff. He’d taken 10 pictures max. “Fine if you don’t wanna do it, someone else can.” You snatch the phone out his hand and turn to a hotel employee that just happened to walk by. “Hi, could you please take a picture of me.”
The employee doesn’t even have time to answer before Jermajesty cuts in, shaking his head. “It’s fine, I’ll do it.”
You give him the phone back. “I better not hear complaining this time.”
Your boyfriend doesn’t say anything, but keeps on snapping pictures of you.
ˎˊ˗
Bf!Jermajesty who can’t stop staring at you during the whole vacation. You’re sat at another table, bouncing one of his little cousins on your lap. The smile one your face is big as the two of you talk animatedly, hardly paying attention to anyone else at the restaurant. I mean the last time you’d even spoken two words to Jermajesty had been 30 whole minutes ago, before the little girl whisked you away.
His eyes followed your every move and every time your eyes lit up at something the little girl said, Jermajesty smiled.
“Bro, she not going no where.” Jaafar says from the chair besides him. “You can look away for two seconds, you know.”
“She’s good with kids.” Jermajesty said absently. “Like really good. Right?”
Jaafar looks over for a second before nodding. “Yeah, sure.” He doesn’t think much of it till Jermajesty remains quiet. Jaafar looks over and one look at his brother makes him shake his head. “Yeah absolutely not, man.”
A knowing smile pulls at Jermajesty’s lips. “I didn’t say anything.”
“Your face said enough.” His older brother countered.
It was only a matter of time before Jermajesty physically couldn’t stay away from you any longer. He begged his aunt to get her daughter knowing there was no way you’d leave her. He watched in satisfaction as his baby cousin was carried away from you crying and screaming. You looked around in confusion from your seat.
lol okay this took me a second to make because morning sex is such a beautiful concept to me and I wanted it to sound good. how’d I do?
Pillow Talk (Do You Feel Good?)
The sunlight from the curtains slowly drifts into the room, making your eyes squint. You cover your face with your hand and sigh. Unfortunately it’s morning. Luckily, you have no plans for today. You gently take the blanket you have over yourself off and stretch, content as you do so.
You let out a sigh and turn your body to the left, looking at the man lying next to you. First thing you notice, he’s naked.
Jaafar has a very attractive naked body. Toned chest, defined muscles, small waist, for some reason, and long legs. His face while he slept wasn’t something to ignore either.
You couldn’t help but stare. You always did, no matter the scenario. You considered him very pretty, he didn’t seem to think so. You sigh thinking about that.
You move over more just a tad and cup his face with one hand, noticing that he’s warm. His head moves in your hand, as if he wants you to hold him more. You melt at the sight. Jaafar seems so at peace by your touch.
As you stroke his face a little, his eyes start slowly blinking awake. His eyes immediately go dark at the sight of you, his pupils dilating as you smile at him.
“Good morning baby.”
“Hi…” His raspy voice makes you feel warm inside. You smile at him and continue to stroke his face. He sighs as you do so, clearly feeling comfortable. He’s right where he wants to be.
“You sleep good?”
“Mmhm. I always sleep better when I’m next to you.”
“I noticed that.”
You drop your hand and look him in the eyes. Jaafar attempts to hug you and you block his arms.
“Please go get rid of that morning breath.”
He gasps of mock offense and laughs.
“How dare you. If I must, you need to come with me then.”
You roll your eyes at him and sit up.
You choose not to complain as he would have the same standard for you as well. You climb out of bed, feeling Jaafar’s eyes on you as you go.
There’s a couple things he could be looking at right now. Your tangled bedhead, or your naked body. You and Jaafar seem to sleep more content together when you have skin to skin contact. The thought of that makes you happier than anyone would ever know.
You stretch as you make contact with the ground, grunting as you feel a few bones crack. Now you feel better than you were in bed.
You walk to the bathroom in the bedroom, feeling Jaafar close behind you. His warmth is like no other.
You walk towards the counter, leaning against it as you grab your toothbrush. You feel Jaafar’s hand snake around your waist and you resist the urge to lean into his touch.
“Stop it.”
“Stop what?”
“Brush your teeth.”
“But-“
“No.”
His hand falls and he starts to copy you. Before he starts brushing his teeth though, he says, “You look really beautiful.” Your eyes dart over to him, squinting as you shake your head in disbelief.
“What? It’s true!”
You spit into the sink and shake your head again.
“Not at the moment.” He mirrors your exact movements and he puts down his toothbrush.
“Don’t say that.”
“If anything, you look better than me in the morning.” Now it’s his turn to shake his head.
“Okay, now you’re just saying things.”
“I’m not actually.”
You turn away from the sink and start to walk back to the bedroom. Jaafar’s eyes are right on you, your ass specifically. He follows you, watching as you get back into his spot on the bed. It’s warm right where he left it, and you smile to yourself at it.
Jaafar doesn’t comment on you lying in his spot, instead just choosing to lay next to you as he normally would. This time, you allow him to hug you and bring you close against his chest. You look up at him and he looks down at you.
“So pretty.” You think your brain short circuited for a moment. You can’t tell. All you think of is how pretty he looks. You do find this to be completely unfair.
You don’t say a word and instead lean up to give him a kiss. It starts as a peck, but he doesn’t let you move back. Jaafar kisses you slow. His hand moves to the back of your head as you lean more into the kiss. Certainly a good morning you two are having.
Jaafar kisses you gentle and sweet, just like the man he is. You feel more infatuated with him the longer the kiss goes on. Jaafar still doesn’t let you pull away. He tastes good.
You start to gently move over on top of him, laying on his body as it is yours. You like to think you two connect like a puzzle piece. Perfect, and fits together no matter what.
Jaafar’s hands move from your head down to your waist and ass. You perk up your ass a little more so he has better access. He smiles into your kisses.
You pull away and you two make eye contact. Your lips are a little puffy from all of the kissing but that doesn’t seem to bother you much. Jaafar holds your ass with both of his hands and squeezes. You just smile softly at him.
You sit up onto his lap, already feeling him against you. “Ah…already?” He seems a little shy at your bluntness but he holds you like you’re the most precious thing in the world. To him, you are. To him, you are everything. As much as you love him for everything he is, he just can’t believe he’s able to have you.
You sit comfortably on his lap and smile down at him. “Do you want to?” “Always.” Jaafar gives you an award winning smile and you give him a giddy grin. The excitement of sex is a real thing, especially with Jaafar.
Jaafar runs circles on your waist as you reach your hand behind you to his dick, taking gentle hold of it and pumping it slowly. Jaafar lets out a breath of exhilaration at the feeling. You don’t even need to do anything but exist in his eyes and he’s just enamored. No matter what.
You continue to stroke him, and he bucks into your hand a little. You look down at him again, and as you thought, he’s just staring at you.
“Stop doing that.”
“Doing what?”
“Staring.”
“You do the exact same thing.”
You can’t exactly deny that. You just roll your eyes and move back a little. Jaafar watches your every move.
You sigh as you rub his tip against your slick folds. Because of that, you need little to no preparation. Jaafar continues to hold you by your waist, but he bucks his hips a little, seemingly wanting to go further. You grin at him.
You start to push him inside of you, feeling yourself accommodate to his thickness. You were right. You did not need any preparation. His dick does make you throw your head back though. No matter how wet you are or no matter how much he fingers you, it takes a minute for you to adjust.
“That’s it. Nice and slow.”
Once you’re fully seated, you let out a sigh of pleasure. Given the position, he’s already hitting your sweet spot.
“Good girl.”
You look down at him and lean forward to grasp his chest.
Jaafar gets an idea.
“Wait, no. I want you to be able to watch.”
He removes your hands from his chest and puts them at your sides, holding your waist as he does so.
“I see. Okay then.” Such casual conversation as if he wasn’t deep inside of you right now.
You both watch his dick as you start to move up and down slowly. The slow movement makes him groan under his breath. He seems to be enjoying it.
Your hips grind against him as you both watch his dick go in and out of you. You obviously know he’s big, but it suddenly makes sense why it usually hurts. Jaafar grips your hips as he continues to watch, his mouth hanging open a tad. You want to kiss him, but you’re all the while too focused.
Jaafar lets out a grunt every time you go down on his cock. Up…down…up..down. You both just watch. You don’t even feel the urge to go faster or harder. It feels nice to go slow. Real nice.
You pant as you feel him hit your sweet spot over and over. Sex with Jaafar really is the best thing, you think.
The more you go up and down, the more you feel pressure in your belly. You’re close. Jaafar lets out a loud groan, causing him to throw his head back.
“Are you close?”
“God, yes. D-Don’t stop.”
“Do you feel good?”
Jaafar doesn’t even answer but instead whimpers.
That, right about there, finishes you. You let out a moan, feeling yourself squirt over his cock.
“Shit.”
Jaafar watches. He loves making you do that. He also loves, in the moment, watching you keep fucking yourself on his cock.
This, is what he loves. That, is why he loves you.
He bucks his hips into you and you feel his cum spurt into you. Jaafar groans as he finishes, gripping your waist a little bit too hard as he does so. That doesn’t bother you though. You also have a fondness for watching him finish.
Jaafar groans a final time and drops his hands from your hips, maybe from exhaustion, or he needs a moment. You can’t tell which is which.
“You always make me feel so good, baby.” You lean forward and grasp his chest again.
“Not as good as you make me feel.”
“The way you make me feel….” He doesn’t finish his sentence. He doesn’t need to.
You like to think mornings like this are great to start your day.
Synopsis: You and Michael get ready for one the first interview after the release of the Michael Biopic. It's been a long time since either of you have done any sort of interview, and he asks if you'll just sit with him.
Content/Warnings: Fluff, Michael lives, 2026, proud uncle moment.
W.C. 1.5k
A/N: This is the first story based off of this request I got! Up next is the grandkids having you and michael going tiktok trends lol
You and Michael sat in the dark movie theater, watching the lights flickering across the large screen. Jaafar sat a few rows ahead with the rest of the cast, but you could feel his nerves from your seat. You knew how badly he wanted your husband to approve of his portrayal of him. There had been a handful of times you had talked to Jaafar late at night after a hard day of filming. He would call you later at night when Michael was asleep, talking to you about how worried he was that he wasn't doing Michael justice.
You always reassured him, telling him that Michael will be proud of him no matter what.
And it was true. You could feel the pride radiating off of Michael beside you. He watched the screen with slightly glassy eyes, squeezing your hand hard. When the movie ended, Michael was the first to stand up to applaud, his eyes solely on Jaafar.
After people had filed out of the packed theatre, you talked quietly with Jaafar's mother, Alejandra. You didn't fail to notice Jaafar and Michael standing off quietly to the side. You could see the emotion on both of their faces, the mix of pride, gratitude, joy, relief, and love swirling around the conversation. Michael knew how hard Jaafar had worked on the role, had seen the blood sweat and tears his nephew had poured into every detail. The sight of them hugging tightly made both you and Alejandra tear up.
Having been married to Michael for around 35 years now, you knew him like the back of your hand. You knew that Michael loved the movie with every ounce of his being, not because it was spectacular or emotional, but because Jaafar had given him back some of his humanity.
People desperately wanted to know Michael's exact thoughts on the movie. They wanted to know if he was upset that things were left out or glossed over, if he thought Jaafar did him justice, just everything. You and Michael were old, you both didn't exactly want to get all dressed up and sit in a chair while being berated with questions. So when Jimmy Fallon offered to do a Zoom interview, Michael jumped on it. You had actually never seen him so excited for an interview before, it made you laugh as he explained it to you over breakfast one morning.
"It's all virtual! They said I really don't even need to set up nice lights or anythin, I can just sit on the couch and use a computer. So I can be in the comfort of our own house and I get to brag about my nephew. Isn't that awesome, mama?"
You smiled more at the nickname. Ever since you and Michael had children that was his all time favorite name for you. He always said that it reminded him of how lucky he was. "I like that, why don't people do that more?"
He shrugged, "M'not sure, but I think that's the only kind of interview I'm doin from now on." He sipped his tea.
"I think that's a wonderful idea. When is it?"
"In two days." He scraped the last bit of breakfast off his plate.
"Oh good. Oh, by the way, the kiddos are coming over later today." You watched his face light up. Your second oldest had just had their second kid, which absolutely thrilled Michael. You both often ended up watching the grand babies whenever your kids had to go out of town or just simply wanted a night off. It thrilled Michael. He loved getting to play with them and spoil them rotten.
"Why didn't you tell me sooner? I would've gotten the bouncy house up and runnin an hour ago." He slipped his readers further up his nose.
You smiled, "Cause you know the baby is too young to go on the inflatables. Plus those two like to be indoors more than outdoors."
He nodded, "Alright, well maybe we can get some arts and crafts for the girls. Can you do the shoppy cart order delivery thingy?"
You laughed lightly and pulled your phone out, "Y'know you're gonna half to learn how to use a phone properly soon, I can't be instacarting things for you forever."
He frowned, "The light on the phone hurts my eyes!"
"Michael, I got you blue light glasses for christmas cause that's always your excuse." You smiled when he had nothing to say in return. "It's alright, I still love you even though you're horrible with technology."
"I don't get it, we're practically the same age and you know way more than me!" He crossed his arms.
"Cause I'm not as stubborn as you."
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Michael ran, well more like walked as quickly as a 67 year old can, around the living room. He was fixing up the area around him, making sure it looked great for the interview. Meanwhile, you set up the zoom.
"How do I look, mama?" He asked you.
"Like a very handsome and dapper gentleman."
"Do I look too old?"
You shook your head, "No, you look perfect." You pressed a kiss to his head. It made his body relax immediately. He sat beside you, placing a hand on your knee.
"Would you stay here with me? I'm sure they wouldn't mind you even being on camera. You keep me calm and help clear my head." He looked at you sincerely.
"Of course I will, Mikey." You squeezed his hand.
The two of you sat shoulder to shoulder on the couch, waiting to be connected to Jimmy.
His face appeared, and he smiled. "Ladies and Gentleman, please give a warm welcome to Michael Jackson and a surprise guest Y/n Jackson."
You both smiled and waved at the camera. The interview started off simple, Jimmy asking questions about your and Michael's life since retirement. You both answered honestly, saying you were absolutely loving it.
"So, Michael, I'm sure you've seen the Michael biopic?" It was just Jimmy's face on the screen, but you both knew there was an audience in front of him.
He nodded, "Yes, I have. I think I've seen it 3 times now."
Jimmy laughed, "Wow 3 times, that's a lot. So I guess you liked it?"
"I loved it? I thought everyone did an amazing job putting it together, especially Jaafar."
Jimmy smiled, "So you're happy with how he portrayed you?"
Michael eased a little bit, eyes becoming slightly glossy. "I'm more than happy. I loved every second of his performance. I'm just so proud of him."
You both heard the audience melt at his words. "So he did you justice?"
"I don't think it's about doing me justice. It's more than that to me. Yes he executed the voice and the moves, but he also gave me a new life. It wasn't an exact replication of me, and that's what I loved. I loved that he brought some of himself to the table, I mean I can see it in his eyes. He gave me something I've felt deprived of for a long time. He didn't make me this big superstar, performance machine. He gave me humanity. He really showed that there was more to me than just the dancing and performance."
You squeezed his hand. Watching him get slightly choked up. Jimmy smiled, "So you think he was the right choice?"
"He was the only choice." Michael confirmed. "I think he's the only one who would have put in that much effort. For two years he and I worked really closely together, and I could feel how bad he wanted to get things right. I don't think I would have seen that in anyone else. So yes, he was the only option."
The interview continued for a few more minutes before you and Michael waved goodbye to the camera and left the zoom. Michael sat back against the couch when you closed the computer. You sat next to him, leaning into his side. He wrapped an arm around you.
"You did great, Mikey."
"Well I had you there to calm me."
You smiled and felt your phone buzzing. Your eldest daughter had just sent you a screenshot, showing that Michael's song Billie Jean had taken the number one spot on the Billboard Hot 100. "Michael, Billie Jean is going viral... again." You laughed and showed him the phone.
He smiled, "I have a feeling there's going to be a lot more interviews we're gonna have to do."
featuring: dad!michael jackson x mom!pregnant!reader
sypnosis: you and michael are enduring the chaos that is getting your two toddlers ready for some family pictures
warnings: fem!reader, fluff, pregancy, prince keeping michael stressed tf out
wc: 987
an: had to write this after seeing some clips of these kids keeping michael stressed tf out. they humbled him for sure lmaooo
masterlist ✶ request page
Family pictures, a great idea in theory, right? I mean what could possibly go wrong while trying to get your two toddlers, your husband, and your heavily pregnant self to take some nice pictures.
The answer was a lot of things.
A lot of things could go wrong actually.
You honestly don’t know why you thought today would go smoothly. Seriously, trying to get two rowdy toddlers to sit still and smile, why did you think that would be easy. Especially when you were so heavily pregnant at this point, that Michael was the only one able to run after them currently.
“Prince, get back here!” You hear Michael warn, chasing after the four year old who was running from him.
“You’re going to put this vest on, mister!” Michael said through gritted teeth.
Bless him, he tried to never yell or be mean to the kids, not ever wanting to be like his own father. Prince tested him though, he was a rowdy and stubborn little thing. You shake your head as you watch Michael continue to chase after him. You bring your attention back down to your three year old daughter, Paris. You section her hair, beginning to braid her pigtails.
“Mommy?” She asks.
“Yes, baby?” You respond.
“Why is brother running from daddy?” Paris questions curiously.
You sigh softly, “Because he doesn’t want to wear the vest daddy is trying to put on him.”
Paris is quiet for a moment, “Too bad he can’t wear a pretty dress like me and you, mommy.”
That makes you laugh as you finish off her braids, “I guess that is too bad, honey.” You smile.
Then you hear a thud and crying in the distance, Michael must’ve finally caught him.
Paris doesn’t even seem phased, it’s not abnormal for Michael to have to chase her older brother around these days.
She pokes at your bump, “Why can’t the baby be in the pictures, mommy?”
You look down at her in your lap, smiling softly as you smooth out her dress, “Well, because your baby brother hasn’t come out to meet us yet.” You explain.
Paris pouts slightly, “Well that’s sad, I want pictures with him.”
You chuckle softly at your daughter, “When baby brother comes, we’ll get some pictures with him, don’t worry.”
That makes her grin, “I wish he would come out already”
You bring her to stand up with you, walking over to the full length mirror, “Me too, honey. I’m just as ready to meet him as you are.”
You were probably more than ready for him to come finally. You were getting sick of being exhausted all the time and aching everywhere.
Paris takes a good look at both your reflections in the mirror, “We look pretty, mommy.” She smiles, looking up at you.
You nod, smoothing down her hair, “Very pretty.” You confirm. She was in a red babydoll dress that had a white collar, with white frilly socks to match. Your own dress was coordinating with hers.
“Prince, you have to wear this vest. If you don’t stop crying I’m going to grind you up into a hamburger.” You hear Michael sternly tell your son.
Dear god, last time Michael threatened Prince with that, he wouldn’t eat hamburgers for 2 months. “Michael, don’t tell him that!” You yell.
Your husband comes walking back into the large living room, this time with Prince in hand, who is now sobbing with his vest on. You frown slightly at seeing him so upset, even though you know it’s just a silly toddler tantrum. You squat down to his level, as best as you can at least for being 8 months pregnant.
“Baby, why are you crying?” You ask gently, cupping your son’s cheek.
Prince sniffles, “I don’t like this vest.” He pouts even more, crossing his arms.
“I think you look handsome, honey. Just like daddy.” You assure, fixing the collar of his dress shirt.
Prince just shakes his head in response, still sniffling. “Look, I just need you to wear it for an hour, just so we can get some good pictures. Can’t you do that for me and daddy?” You ask, pausing for a moment. “I’ll tell you what, afterwards I’ll make your favorite for dinner, spaghetti.”
That gets him to dry it up, nodding with a little smile now. You wipe some stray tears from his cheeks. “Thank you, baby.” You smile at him, kissing his cheek and wrapping him up in a hug.
Michael watches you with a lovesick smile on his face, god he loves watching you be a mom. In his eyes you were the best mom that your children could ever need. He helps you up after Prince walks off to go watch cartoons with his sister on the couch.
His hands find your hips immediately, “You’re the best mama, honey.”
You chuckle softly, he loves that sound so much, “I try.”
Michael brings you in for a quick kiss, he takes in your appearance. You were wearing a red dress with white detailing, matching with Paris. It was tight around your torso, showing the swell of your large bump, where your soon to be third child was safely tucked away. He loved your bump, he was absolutely infatuated with it, he was with every pregnancy you’ve had. His large hand comes to gently caress the bump.
“You are so beautiful, mama.” He whispers, “Can’t wait for this little one to come meet us.”
You smile, looking down at your bump, “I know…” Your eyes flick back up to meet his own, “But until then, are you ready to get these kids to sit still and smile for the camera for an hour?” You ask.
Michael huffs out a laugh, “No, not really.” He answers honestly.
You chuckle softly at him, “But we’re gonna do it anyway?”
He grins, nodding, “Yeah, we’re gonna do it anyways.”
no seriously just look at him. these kids kept my man TIREDD
Synopsis: After the release of the movie, people have been dying to know what Michael Jackson has been up to during his retirement. During your granddaughter, Aliya's, 7th birthday, the older grandchildren ask you and Michael to do some tik tok trends with them.
Content/Warnings: Fluff, Michael lives on, 2026, 67 joke.
W.C. 1k
You and Michael sat by the pool as you watched the monsoon of grandkids splash about in the pool. You had taken one for the team and had given Michael the 10 children he said he always wanted, not that you were complaining. 10 children meant a lot more grandchildren, like a lot. Now not all of your kids had children, your youngest was still in college, but over half of them did. And you and Michael adored each and every one of them. It was little Aliya's 7th birthday, and she said she wanted to have it on the ranch, so here everyone was gathered around the large pool.
The kids did tricks and flips off the diving board, played with super soakers, ate ice cream, had water balloon fights, it was the whole works. Michael had wanted to rent out the water park at disney, but Anika (Your second oldest, and Aliya's mom) had said it was too extravagant for the sweet girl. She preferred being on the ranch, she liked the familiarity of it and the comfort it brought her.
So instead, Michael had gone a little overboard on water balloons, pool floats, ice cream, sea creature decor, and a humongous whale shark themed birthday cake. Aliya had said she wanted her party to be ocean themed since she wanted to be a marine biologist when she grew up, which of course had Michael practically melted onto the floor. There was a little bit of Michael in the whole family, and a love for animals was Aliya's.
You watched from a sun chair as Michael got in on an intense water balloon fight. He chased after the kids, tossing multicolor water-filled balloons at them. The sound was a mix of squeals and giggles. He grabbed Aliya, lifting her onto his shoulders so she would have an above ground advantage. He might have been approaching his 70's but he was still a kid at heart, always had been. You smiled as he shrieked when the kids ganged up on him and pummeled him with balloons. You cheered them on loudly, earning a few laughs from your children beside you.
Michael came back over, soaked head to toe. You scooched back on the chair, not wanting any part of whatever he was planning. "They got me." He breathed heavily.
"Mhm, they got you real good." You tried not to laugh.
"Oh you think it's funny?" He questioned.
"No-" you held in another laugh. The poor man looked ridiculous. There were remnants of bursted balloons hanging to his damp clothes, and the sides of his fedora held water.
"You do! You're laughin at me!" He looked to your eldest daughter, Belle who was sitting next to you. "Can you believe this? I dedicate my whole life to your mama and she laughs in my face."
She smiled, "To be fair, dad, you do look pretty silly."
He placed his hands on his hips, "You're both traitors." He walked back into the main house to change.
You smiled as you watched him, and returned your attention to your conversation with your daughter about how Disney Channel shows were lame now.
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After everyone had gone inside to eat cake and open presents, people spread out about the ranch. You and Michael both sat cuddled up on the couch when your eldest grandchildren came up to you with giggles. They held up their phones towards you and Michael, "Can we make a TikTok with you guys?"
"Sure? What do we do?" You smiled
"You can just answer our questions. It's super simple."
You both nodded. Michael wrapped an arm around you. "Should we be scared?" He whispered to you.
"Very." You replied
The eldest held up the camera, "What's your name, grand bear?" (They liked to call him that because he always gave them big bear hugs whenever he saw them, which was a lot.)
"Michael Jackson." He stated with a smile.
"And how old are you?"
"Well, I'm 67 years old but I turn-"
They cut him off, turning the camera around on them and shouting the two numbers while moving their hands up and down.
You and Michael watched in confusion and slight horror.
"Okay thanks!!!!" They hugged him and ran off.
"What just happened?" Michael looked at you with concern.
"I don't know, and I think that's for the best." You patted his chest.
﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌
The day continued like that, the grandkids coming up and asking to do various tik tok trends. They did speed tours, (which were sped up heavily), did some of Michaels dances in front of him, did food transitions, etc.
Michael really enjoyed the ones where they did his dances, even opting to join in on one of their takes, which made them squeal in excitement. You watched with a fond smile as he bonded with the kids. They looked up at him with big eyes as he walked them through the dances. He was gentle with them, nodding and encouraging them as they kept trying. It was a sweet sight, a sight you never got tired of. You remembered him teaching each of your kids his dances. Once the kids had fully grasped that their dad was famous they were eager to learn his iconic moves, running up to him after school and asking him to teach them. And now here he was doing the same thing with the grand kids.
Later that night, your youngest sat beside the two of you. "Mama, dad is trending on Tiktok... again." She showed you the video that had been recorded mere hours ago. It was indeed 'blown up' as she put it.
"Mhm, that's pretty cool. Oh what do the comments say?" You tapped on the icon before she could stop you.
His fans were still as thirsty as ever. It made you laugh, and it made your poor daughter so uncomfortable.
Michael leaned back, happy with himself. "What can I say, gramps still got it."
You eyed him, "Keep actin like that and you won't have it tonight."
"Oh my god! Y'all are nasty! I'm right here!" Your daughter flew off the couch, retreating to her room.
Summary: (Y/n) comes to the ER with a minor injury and has to bring her boys along. Everything seems fine in her observation, but then she takes a turn for the worst. And Brendon wants to know who's responsible.
Enjoy.
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"Next."
"Oh- uh I think she needs to be seen before me."
Turning to his right, the gentleman pointed to another woman behind him because although she was two persons behind him in the queue, it seemed a mutual agreement with them all that she needed to go first. That lady was more of a dire emergency than the rest of them.
The blood splatters on the floor behind her that led all the way past the metal detectors and out the doors made it clear that she was in need of help. Her leggings were soaked through with blood, despite the thin belt she had tried to tie around her thigh to cut off the blood supply.
Surprise flooded (Y/n)'s drained features and she lifted her head just enough to realise that the gentleman at the reception desk was pointing and beckoning her forwards.
Shudders began to crawl through her skin as she leant to her left where her arm was looped around the back of Nate's shoulders. She tried not to lean too much of her weight on him, keeping herself up on her right leg that wasn't giving up on her yet. While she dragged her left leg behind her like a useless, broken limb she was ready to have amputated.
Nate kept his arms around her waist as if he were giving her a comforting hug, allowing her to lean against him as they hobbled to the reception desk which (Y/n) immediately slumped her arms onto to prop herself up.
A quiet "thanks," left Nate's lips as he looked up at the man that had ushered them forwards.
"What's your name hun and how can we help?" Hazel leant forward to peer through the plastic separating them to try and see what was so urgent and whether she would have to call for help immediately or not.
"(Y/n) Park. I- I fell on a glass table, there's a lot of glass in my leg… I've tried to stop the bleeding but I can't f- feel my leg anymore."
Her eyes closed when the receptionist leant over to try and see the damage and Hazel took a sharp breath before she sank back and looked around behind her. When her eyes locked with Donny, she flagged him over and muttered something to him before her attention was back on (Y/n).
"Someone's going to bring out a wheelchair and get you in back right away, just stay there for me."
"Thank you."
This was the last place that (Y/n) thought she would find herself today, much less with all the boys too.
With her arm still looped around her eldest boy's shoulders, (Y/n) leant into him with her right arm still on the reception desk. She couldn't move away or make room for the next person, she didn't have the will power anymore. She turned her head to make sure that Lewis and Reece were still right behind them.
The last thing she wanted was to drag all three of her boys down here to the emergency room with her, but she didn't have time to ring round and try to find a babysitter for them. Her leg was still bleeding even after trying to tie one of Brendon's belts around her thigh to cut off the blood. She barely managed to drive them all down here, there was no time for anything else and 911 said an ambulance would be up to an hour or more. She didn't have that long to wait around when she felt like this and her leg was in bad shape.
A fresh set of tears welled up in her eyes when the side door opened and immediately, there was a nurse rushing towards her with a wheelchair speeding in front of him.
"Hi there, I'm Donny. Let's get you sat down and taken care of, shall we?"
(Y/n) was grateful when he took her arms, letting her pull her weight off of Nate and lean against Donny instead. He helped her hobble forward a few paces and turn her so she could flop down into the wheelchair.
It felt good to be sitting down again, and to know that she didn't have to keep biting her lip or pinching herself to keep in focus. Driving while feeling a mixture of agony and numbness had been terrifying. At least now (Y/n) didn't have to be in control like that anymore.
Once she was sat down her hands latched around the arm rests, trying to keep herself still and immobile so she didn't do anything to disrupt anything in her leg or make her injuries worse. Her head lolled to one side, trying to keep all three boys within her sights so she knew they weren't about to get lost in such a big, terrifying place like this.
"Are these your boys?"
"Hm, stay close." Reaching her hand out to the left, (Y/n) waved it until Reece stepped up and latched onto her hand.
The youngest was only three and (Y/n) couldn't handle the panic if he got lost or side-tracked or if he wandered off and saw something frightening. There were so many people in need around here, people with horrific injuries, people on the verge of passing away, Reece didn't need to witness anything like that.
He toddled alongside the chair, one hand in (Y/n)'s and the other stuffed in his mouth. While Lewis held onto his shoulder so he didn't lose sight of him, and Nate followed at the end, all of them in a neat row as they stuck close by their mum.
"Will dad be down here?" Nate tried to peer over his brothers to look across at (Y/n), unable to hide the hope from his voice.
He had never seen Brendon at work. He'd seen him wearing his scrubs, and one or two pictures on the hospital website where they showed a few of their doctors in action helping people. But he'd never been to the hospital when Brendon was on shift and quite possibly milling about the place.
(Y/n) took a deep breath through her nose to try and stem the pain she felt and shook her head. "No baby, he- he's upstairs."
"Oh, does your dad work in this hospital? What does he do?"
Donny looked between the three boys, all stood in height order from oldest to youngest while he pointed ahead to the room they were aiming for. It wasn't that often that they got family members down here with injuries, and Donny knew if this ever happened they always let the practitioner know, whoever they were.
"Daddy works with bones." Lewis raised his arm and tapped at his elbow to signal the joint, which was what their dad was always telling them his speciality was. The skeletal system, the bones, the muscles. Weaknesses, diseases, partially detached limbs needing corrective surgery. Their dad was an odd-job kind of doctor.
"Orthopedics," (Y/n) corrected, breathing through the word as she tried to ignore the light-headed feeling that was starting to overwhelm her. She tipped her head back until she was looking up at the nurse behind her. "Could you tell him we're here please? It's Brendon Park."
Donny did well to hide the shock from his face, although he couldn't stop his pupils from blowing wide.
He had no idea Brendon had a family; he couldn't even recall ever seeing a wedding ring on Brendon's finger. Although that might be because no one ever assumed he was the type of man to be married, with how isolated he seemed to be at work and his brisk, somewhat crude attitude.
He managed to nod his head before his eyes locked on his attending. "Sure… hey Robby, can you call up to ortho, we've got Mrs sh- Mrs Park down here."
Almost a slip up there. He didn't know if Brendon was the type of person to go home and talk about his work life. He knew full well that everyone in the ER, probably everyone in the entire hospital, called him Park the shark. But that might not be something he told his wife about and Donny didn't want to cause any offence or conflict if (Y/n) didn't already knew this fact.
Within a heartbeat Robby was nodding and aiming for the phone to call up to the orthopedic ward. If he couldn't get through to Brendon right away he would leave a message for an urgent call back.
"Okay here we go, let's get you on the bed."
(Y/n) could feel another bout of dizziness overwhelming her when she held onto Donny's arms and tried to stand. He must have sensed it too because he held her arms tighter and stepped closer to keep her upright.
The transfer from the chair onto the bed was swift and (Y/n) almost melted once she was sat down again. She slumped against the pillow, reclining back while Donny helped straighten her legs out so it would be easier to take a look at her injuries.
She turned to glance at the boys, making sure all three of them were alright. They were doing so great, staying calmer than (Y/n) would have anticipated, considering both Lewis and Reece had burst into tears when she fell and they saw all the blood. And although Nate had tried to be calm and take charge because he was the eldest, his eyes gave away how petrified he really felt.
Lewis clambered onto one of the chairs beside the bed, sitting perfectly still with his arms bound around his middle like he was giving himself a comforting hug. While Nate perched on the chair next to him and held his arms out, letting Reece scramble up onto his lap and he hugged the toddler close to his chest to comfort both of them.
"This is Doctor Santos, she'll be overseeing your care today." Donny introduced when Trinity came through the door with tired eyes and a wary smile as she snapped on a fresh pair of ocean blue gloves.
"Hi. Let's take a look at what we can do for you."
***
(Y/n) didn't like the radio. Whatever person was in charge of the hospital radio was either oblivious or had a very dark sense of humour, because almost all of the songs were depressing. Especially when they should be vibrant and uplifting people's spirits.
Nate had figured out how to get the little portable screen in the corner to play the radio, given that any kind of movie or program would have to be paid for, but the radio was free. He kept the volume low though because none of the boys knew most of the depressing songs being played.
Tilting her head to the left, (Y/n) buried her face in Reece's hair where the three year old was tucked up beneath her arm. He was burrowed into her side, coiling his knees up against her waist so he wasn't anywhere near her repaired leg.
She had Nate sitting on her right, reeling off any random thought that popped into his head because now that he had calmed down, he wanted something to focus on and do.
And Lewis was still sitting in his chair, a magazine open on his lap that he was flicking through because he found it on the little side table. He couldn't read most of the words in their small print, but he enjoyed looking at the pictures.
Another shiver rolled through (Y/n)'s skin that she couldn't supress. In retaliation she tightened her arm around Reece and leant into him, trying to cuddle up to fight off the cold in the room. The heaters must be broken or the air con was working no overload. (Y/n) was starting to freeze despite the thin blanket draped over her and the boys.
God, why was the room so cold? Why weren't the boys shivering too?
She tried to relax, to snuggle down and settle Reece beside her because he would be about due a nap by now since he had missed one this afternoon with all the panic.
All eyes suddenly snapped open when the door to the left side of the room burst open like it was about to swing off its hinges.
Brendon barelled in like a tornado.
Hands flexing and curling into fists at his sides, shoulders so straight and broad that his frame barely fit through the door. Chest heaving with each breath like he was having an allergic reaction to something and his lungs were no longer in working order.
His eyes were wild, pupils blown so there was no colour left visible on his irises, but he didn't seem to be taking much in of his surroundings. He was in panic mode, and it wasn't often that (Y/n) saw him like this.
"Daddy!"
"Dad! Mum got hurt."
In a split second, all three boys were moving. Lewis hopped off the chair, his magazine long forgotten as he rounded the other side of the bed and stumbled towards Brendon until he was within reach to grab onto him. His thin arms stretching up as he mewled until Brendon obliged and scooped him up immediately.
Reece fumbled out from beneath the blanket, leaving (Y/n)'s embrace as he almost fell from the bed to get down and hurry towards Brendon. Tears were already welling up in his eyes, from relief or the trauma of the day, Brendon couldn't tell.
He picked up the toddler as well, one boy in each arm, both of them clinging to his neck and kissing his cheeks like they hadn't seen him in days, weeks even, not mere hours.
As soon as Nate was off the bed, he shot towards Brendon and latched himself around his front, clinging to his torso and burying his face in his dad's firm chest that took a deep breath when all three boys were attached to him.
Brendon pressed a kiss to each of their heads, humming as they all started to whimper and babble at once. He silently began to usher them forwards, nudging until they started to move so he could actually get towards the bed. He needed to see and talk to (Y/n) as well, not just to them.
When he bent forward, Brendon eased Lewis down to his feet and ushered him to go along with Nate and sit back down in the chairs on the other side of the bed. But he gently set Reece down on the foot of the bed, knowing that their youngest would only cry out and scramble his way onto the bed anyway.
His expression was as hard and chiselled as stone as he bent over the bed and pressed a searing kiss to (Y/n)'s temple, sighing against her skin as his hand wormed around to cradle the back of her neck.
"What happened, baby? Sorry it took me so long to get the message, Robby called but I was up in surgery."
It had been a fright when he finished surgery to be told that the ER had tried calling him twice and said they needed to speak to him urgently. Brendon knew it had to be something bad, something not related to any random patient as they would have just called Garcia or one of her team, they wouldn't ask for him specifically.
Robby hadn't said how bad (Y/n)'s injuries were when he explained that Brendon's wife had come into the ER. Just that she had been hurt somehow and she had come in with the boys and was asking for him. He had run down the stairs like a mad man to avoid waiting around for the lift.
"Sorry baby," now she felt bad for dragging him down here on her acocunt. "The fuse box kept tripping, I stood on a chair, to- to fix it, Max barged past the chair… I fell on that stupid little glass table, went right through it."
She couldn't help but cringe at the thought and when she opened her eyes and glanced up at her husband, she saw his upper lip curling in the way she imagined he would look at the residents to put the fear of God into them. He wasn't angry at her. Never. He was irritated that he hadn't been there, that this accident had even happened in the first place.
The electrics had tripped out, and (Y/n) couldn't just leave it because the fridge had gone off along with the extractor fan in the kitchen and the Wifi since the box was plugged in next to the fridge in the kitchen. She only had to flip the switch to get everything back on.
But their house was an old one with high ceilings and a fuse box in the hallway that was to the right of the door and as high up on the wall as possible. (Y/n) couldn't reach it without standing on something, so she dragged a chair into the hall.
It would have been fine if their golden retriever Max hadn't barged past the chair when the boys were playing ball with him. The chair wobbled, (Y/n) fell and she just happened to land on the little rectangle unit they had in the hall with a glass top and wooden frame and legs.
She went straight through the glass, broke the frame and ended up with cuts littering her left side from her arm down to her leg. She'd had to shut Max in the kitchen so he wouldn't wander into the hall like he usually would when they were out; she couldn't risk him stepping on glass or hurting himself.
There wasn't time to clean up the glass or the broken unit or wipe her blood from the laminate floor; all of that would have to wait until they got home later. (Y/n) just gathered the boys up and got them into the car as quickly as possible.
Brendon's jaw tightened, though he nodded in understanding. He was normally the one to sort things out around the house like that. Unlike (Y/n), Brendon could stand on his tip toes and just about reach the fuse box without any assistance. This wouldn't of happened if he had been home.
His lips pursed into a pout as he turned and leant over the bed, carefully pulling back the blanket draped over her until it was bunched around her feet and strewn over Reece's lap. He needed to see what injuries she had gotten.
There were a few superficial cuts on her left arm and one rather deep one just above her elbow that had been stitched up.
There was a large gash on her left thigh that had clearly gone deep with how much it was starting to swell and how inflamed the wound looked, despite the five stitches holding it together. Brendon would bet on there being internal stitches to join the muscle together beneath it.
His fingertips ghosted across the cuts on her leg, inspecting the skill of whoever had stitched them up and counting each little cut, peering closely as if he were making absolutely sure that there were no tiny shards of glass left in her skin. And there was a very large gash right across the side of her knee that was already swollen.
There were a few specks of blood on her waist too where he guessed (Y/n) had some more superficial cuts and no doubt she would be littered with bruises and be extremely sore and aching in the morning.
"Tell me you didn't drive all of you here like that?" When (Y/n) wouldn't look up at him, Brendon grunted. "Are you trying to give me a heart attack?"
Anything could have happened. They could have been involved in a car accident; (Y/n) could of passed out behind the wheel; her blood loss could have gotten worse. If she got delirious and crashed or veered off the road her and the boys would have been in worse trouble than this.
But Brendon knew there had been little alternative. The time it would have taken if she managed to call him and get through to him, for him to then leave the hospital to go home and come right back. It would have wasted time. An ambulance had said they would be over an hour to get to her. Their neighbour was elderly and didn't drive, so he would of been no help and buses weren't reliable and made too many stops along the way.
"I'm sorry-"
"Don't be sorry." He spoke pointedly, moving his hand to cradle her jaw and tilt her head up towards him so he could kiss her chapped lips. "It was an accident, you're here now and that's all that matters."
After another kiss to her lips, Brendon turned and took a few steps to the right to reach out for the computer. He swiped his badge against the fob key and logged onto her chart, taking note of the stitches required and the dose of morphine she had been given for the pain. She had two hours of observation and then she could head home. That was good news.
With a nod to himself, Brendon logged out the computer now he had all the facts, and perched down on the side of the bed. He leant against her hip and stretched his left arm over her waist so his hand was planted down on the mattress and he could hover over her.
His eyes clocked the IV pole beside the bed and his brows furrowed as he observed the two bags of fluid hanging up and attached to the IV pump. But it was the red bag hidden behind them that got his attention and he gave it a little tap with his knuckle.
"Did you hit an artery?"
"Hm, lost a bit on the way here, so- so they did that." She gave a meek point to the bag of blood that was giving her a transfusion. "They saved your belt though."
Brendon's brows pulled together and he glanced to the floor where Nate pointed with a sheepish grin. Sure enough, one of Brendon's black leather belts with a silver Jaws clip in the centre was folded up on the floor. There were only a few speckles of blood on it, thankfully, so maybe it wouldn't need to be thrown out.
"Good thinking," he mused, but his smile dampened when he realised (Y/n) had her eyes closed and she was pushing her head further back into the pillow like she was in some kind of pain. "Do you feel okay sweetheart?"
"I can't feel my leg," her lips managed to form a grin and she forced her eyes back open, but she couldn't stop herself from shaking. Again. "It's just cold in here."
That made Brendon's heart palpitate an extra beat, though he wasn't quite sure why.
He reached his free arm up and gently pressed the back of his hand against her temple. She was really warm, she shouldn't be shivering or feeling the cold, especially when he knew the air con in the room was turned right down to keep the heat in.
But he supposed she must be a bit cold since she was sat here in her bloodied, cut up shirt and underwear, no leggings. They had been cut up and tossed in the bin so Trinity could sort out her wounds and remove all the glass.
Straightening himself up, Brendon reached back for the blanket he had scrunched up at the foot of the bed. The draped it back around (Y/n) before getting up to retrieve another blanket that he then circled around her. If she had to stay in here for a while longer under observation then she needed to be kept warm and comfortable, he wouldn't have her shivering while she was here.
(Y/n)'s eyes followed him when he reached over and scooped Reece up, sitting the three year old on his hip so Reece could cuddle up into his broad chest.
"I'll call my mum, see if she can come and watch the boys until I can take you home. You boys gonna come get a snack with me, let your mum rest?"
Lewis was up from the chair in an instant and the five year old toddled round to take Brendon's free hand. It didn't sound so much like a question than an instruction, and he wanted to stay with his dad. This place was scary and full of screaming, shouting and arguing people, if they stayed with Brendon they would be safe.
When Brendon lifted his head and looked over at his ten year old, Nate stayed seated on the chair and stared back at him with big pleading eyes that could always win Brendon over because they reminded him so much of (Y/n).
"Can I stay, look after mum?"
A softening look melted on Brendon's features and he nodded. "Okay. I won't be long."
With a kiss to (Y/n)'s temple, Brendon turned and headed out the room with one boy on his hip and the other attached to his side. He would take them out into the hall and get them something from the vending machine and a drink. Then he would call his parents. He didn't want the boys to have to stay and hang around here any longer than necessary, they needed to go home and feel safe and relaxed again.
That way Brendon could stay with (Y/n) until she was discharged and then take her home to take care of her.
While Brendon was gone, Nate sat on the bed again with (Y/n), reading out articles from the outdated magazine Lewis had been looking through earlier. He smiled when (Y/n) leant her head on his shoulder and curled up beside him like he was the parent giving her the love and attention she needed.
But he stopped reading what must have been the fourth article he had found, when he realised something. His mum was trembling.
His eyes narrowed and zoned in on her as he looked down to his left, observing her with scrutiny.
He thought she had been closing her eyes before, but now he realised that she was in fact trying to keep them open, but she was failing at it. Her arms were huddled to her middle, body curling up though her left leg stayed stretched out to try and keep it still and not disrupt the stitches. But she was shaking horribly as if invisible hands were roughly shoving her back and forth on the bed.
"Mum, are you okay?"
(Y/n) managed to look up at her son for a few seconds, but it was hard to find an answer when her mind didn't seem to be cooperating with her.
She felt so cold, despite the two blankets wrapped around her and the fact that Nate was cuddled up against her. She couldn't stop herself from shivering. Her head was spinning like she was on a ride that wouldn't stop and it made it hard to keep her eyes open.
And she was starting to feel numb. Her fingertips had gone numb like they were too cold to feel and she wasn't sure she could feel her feet either with the pins and needles surging through both her legs.
"Mum?"
"Go- go get dad… I don- I don't feel well." Her breaths were harsh like she was trying to fend off the urge to be sick and she closed her eyes again, tilting her head down to burrow into the pillow.
Fear struck a cord within Nate's chest and made his pulse throb in his ears as he launched himself off the bed, dropping the magazine to the floor as he sped out of the room.
Where was his dad? Where would be be? Nate didn't know where the nearest vending machine was or which way his dad would have gone to find one. Was he even still here in the ER or had he gone to a different department, a different ward? (Y/n) said he worked upstairs, did Nate have to go and search the upper floors for his dad?
His feet skidded against the floor as he hurried, making sure to stick to close to the wall so he didn't get in the way of anyone or any emergencies or transfered patients.
He realised an older woman with clipped back blonde hair was looking at him strangely and she was one second from reaching out for him to stop him running through the ER, when a familiar sight caught Nate's attention and his face lit up with relief.
"Dad!"
There was his dad, walking down a long corridor that clearly led away from the ER. He had Reece in one arm and Lewis walking close at his side, one hand curled in Brendon's scrubs to keep attached to him while he held a can of pop in his other hand. And Reece was cradling three packets of crisps in his arms like it was a bounty he had just stolen.
Brendon's pointed brows merged down and the point of his nose seemed straighter and more prominent when his sights set on his eldest, pelting down the hall towards him.
"What's wrong?"
Nate launched forward and grabbed onto Brendon's free arm that wasn't cradling Reece and gave a sharp pull, trying to yank him forwards to keep him moving towards (Y/n)'s room. But he only suceeded in making Brendon's shoulder ache and almost rip free from its socket; he didn't budge his dad any other way or direction.
"Nate don't pull; talk."
"Mum! She's not well, she said to come get you. Come on!"
This time when Nate gave another, slightly weaker, pull on Brendon's hand and tried to start walking, his dad actually moved. He hurried alongside Nate, letting go of his hand so he could reach behind him and grab onto Lewis's hand so he didn't lose his five year old in their rush to get back.
Brendon didn't care for any of the ER staff who thought this must have been a sight from a delirium. Seeing the ortho surgeon who frightened them all, hurrying down the hall with three children surrounding him, all in a wave of panic and Brendon's features moulded into a frightened sheen of panic.
As soon as they were in the room, Brendon lowered Reece down to his feet and clicked his fingers, pointing for the boys to go and sit back down. He needed them out the way so he could see to (Y/n), but still close enough to be within his sights so he didn't have to worry.
He caught sight of Nate out the corner of his eye; the eldest hadn't moved to sit down and right now Brendon didn't want to stand an argue with him. Instead, Nate was stood at the end of the bed, hands grappling with the rail at the foot of the bed and he gripped it so tightly that his knuckles turned white and his fingers began to ache. His stomach imbedded against the rail as he leant forwards, trying to keep his mum within his sights and watch his dad take care of her.
"Baby? Baby look at me." He bent forward over the bed, not entirely graceful when he took (Y/n)'s chin in his hand to tilt her head back in an attempt to get her to try and look at him.
She could barely open her eyes, let alone get her constricted pupils to focus on him, though Brendon was sure she looked relieved at seeing him which made his erratic heart flutter for a few brief seconds.
Where she had been shaking with cold when he left the room earlier, she was now writhing and tremoring on the bed like she was on the verge of going into a seizure. And he noticed a sheen of sweat glistening on her flushed skin, but she was clutching the blankets like she was still freezing cold.
With pursed lips he reached behind the bed for the thermometer and pressed it into her ear while his eyes flitted across to the monitor beside the bed. Her pulse was rising but her blood pressure was starting to drop.
"It's s- so cold, a-and I'm dizzy… Brendon, help. I don't feel right."
(Y/n) wasn't sure what was wrong and she wasn't in any specific pain, but she felt horrid. She felt like all her wires were crossed within her. Her blood was pulsing and throbbing in her ears. Her head was pounding and spinning even though she wasn't moving. Her limbs were going numb and she was so, so cold.
The way she said his name made something within Brendon's chest snap in half. She was begging him for help. She needed him to do something as a doctor, not as her husband. (Y/n) needed help before whatever was wrong with her got any worse.
He snatched the stethoscope someone had left lying around on the side and pressed the cold bell against her chest, watching her wince at how cold it was against her skin.
"You're going into shock." Brendon's voice was quiet but there was no denying the firmness to his tone, the anger hidden beneath his words.
He didn't understand.
This couldn't be some sort of reaction to her stitches because he had seen them earlier and they were just fine. Her skin wasn't bubbling or getting a rash or leaking with puss. She couldn't have an infection or it would have shown on the blood tests he saw on the computer had been ordered, and she couldn't have developed an infection from her wounds or stitches this quickly.
All her signs pointed towards her going into shock from something, but he couldn't tell what the cause was.
His jaw locked so tight he felt like he was forcing his teeth back up into his gums and his cheekbones pushed out on show as his cheeks hollowed and his whole expression tightened. He was looking for something, but he didn't know what it was.
His head turned to the right and he looked over the cannula and IV tube taped into (Y/n)'s left hand, and the blood transfusion taped into the crease of her elbow. His fingers skimmed along the tubes until he was looking over the bags. Surely someone hadn't been stupid enough to mix up the saline bags and give her something meant for another patient; something with high dosed controlled substances mixed in. But they were just two bags of sodium saline solution.
Then he finally spotted it; the writing printed on the blood transfusion bag.
Brendon's lips curled in complete horror until his grinding teeth were on show and his skin boiled and turned a nasty shade of rouge all up his neck and across his features.
"You're fucking kidding me."
All three boys reeled back in shock and Lewis meekly uttered "bad word daddy."
They hardly ever heard him swear in front of them. Contray to what everyone here at the hospital would believe, Brendon was as calm, loving and relaxed as anyone could be when he was at home with his family. His harsh expressions, glaring daggers and snarls were reserved strictly for the incompetent staff here at the Pittsbrough hospital.
Each boy winced when they watched their dad reach behind the bed and slam his palm down onto the big red button in the centre of the wall that signalled an emergency.
"Nate sit with your brothers. None of you move from that spot, you hear me?"
Each of them nodded and Nate hastily picked Reece up so he could sit down with his youngest brother huddled up on his lap like he had done earlier. When their dad was talking in such a strict, serious tone of voice, none of them were going to go against him.
All three boys stayed huddled together between two chairs, cowering and feeling tears running down their features as they looked over at their dad, hoping whatever was wrong with their mum, he could fix.
Confusion plastered across Princess's face when she peeked her head around the door and found none other than Park the shark already there with his back to her.
"What's going on?" She couldn't tell if someone had hit the emergency button and Park had responded, or if he was the one who had called the emergency. Part of her wasn't so sure she wanted to find out the answer.
"Get Robinavitch in here now."
"Oh- okay, why?"
"She's having a hemolytic reaction."
With a frown plastered across her face, Princess turned and fled the room to find the chief attending and get his attention and input. That phrase sounded so foreign in her ears which was strange when she spoke six languages; it wasn't something she heard often, or that she had ever heard whilst working here.
It didn't take long for Robby to come bustling into the room, fresh pair of gloves on his hands, glasses perched on the bridge of his nose, and Mel following right behind him. He had no idea what they were walking into and Robby thought another pair of hands might be in order, especially since Brendon wouldn't be allowed to treat or help with (Y/n)'s care since she was his family.
"Park, what's the situation in here?"
"Some fucker's put my wife on A positive blood transfusion, her blood type is B negative. She's going into shock."
Brendon couldn't believe he was even saying it. How could someone have made such a stupid mistake- and with (Y/n) of all people?
Someone had started her on the wrong blood type. The body was a clever, sensitive thing and it could recognise foreign cells immediately. (Y/n)'s body was fighting itself, trying to attack the foreign blood cells and it was sending her into shock.
The effects of this needed to be reversed and her body needed to be syncronised again before her organs began to shut down and she developed sepsis.
His head snapped down when he felt (Y/n) weakly reaching out to grip and tug on his forearm, pulling it towards her chest like he was a comfort teddy she wanted to cling to for reassurance.
"W-what's happening?" (Y/n)'s voice trembled almost as bad as her body that was shaking back and forth on the bed. She couldn't muffle the groan that left her lips but she did manage to keep her eyes open and focused on her husband.
Her mind wasn't concentrating properly. Her blood was pounding in her ears so loudly that she could bearly hear the rest of the conversations floating around the room. She didn't know what he had just said to Robby or what was now wrong with her. There shouldn't be anything wrong with her when she had only come in with some deep wounds and cuts that had already been seen to and taken care of.
The feeling of Brendon's thumb gliding along her jaw made (Y/n)'s heart slow down its accelerated rhythm for a few seconds.
"Someone's messed up and you're going into shock sweetheart. I'm gonna take care of it, and you'll be just fine."
Part of Brendon was irritated that he could see Robby moving around to check that his diagnosis was correct. He couldn't believe what Brendon had told him. This wasn't something that happened nowadays, it just wasn't a thing. Blood was screened closely, blood types noted on file and patients tested before being given a transfusion if their type wasn't known or suspected to be wrong. Robby couldn't imagine any of his staff making such a silly, damning mistake like this.
But Robby checked the blood bag hanging up- which Brendon had just pressed the clip on to stop the blood from getting through the cannula in her elbow- and he then swiped his badge down on the computer and pulled up (Y/n)'s notes.
He nudged his glasses up the bridge of his nose, grunting a sigh as he closed the computer and moved round to stand at Brendon's side and check over (Y/n).
Brendon's sharp eyes locked onto Mel who was currently stood with her hands locked together and her eyes dancing between the bed and the three boys quietly shaking and crying in the corner. Unsure what they wanted her to do to help because Mel knew if she took it upon herself to try and step forward and help, Brendon would only lose his temper.
"Go get me some ACE inhibitors and I need two pints of O negative blood. Now."
Mel didn't dither, as soon as Brendon spoke she was surging from the room to go and get what was requested. Though her mind was reeling. Someone had messed up. Someone in this ER had given a patient the wrong blood type. Mel had only read about haemolytic reactions in med school, it wasn't something that ever happened in this modern day and age.
This was something that happened one hundred years ago before they had proper screening for blood transfusions. Before they had computer systems and proper filing and records that easily counted the blood types of patients.
This was grounds for a lawsuit.
"Push the fluids wide open." Robby ordered as he moved around to stand on the opposite side of the bed to Brendon so they didn't get in each other's way. "Those inhibitors will stop her kidneys from shutting down but we'll need broad spectrum antibiotics to calm her immune system."
"She's had half the blood bag already; if she gets sepsis from this I'll murder your staff." The threat was uttered quietly enough that Brendon knew his boys wouldn't hear him, but the conviction in his tone made Robby's expression harden.
Swallowing hard, Brendon leant down and gently took hold of (Y/n)'s arm, lifting it to his sights so he could carefully peel back the sticker along the crease of her elbow. He was as careful as he could be when he removed the cannula needle from her vein, ready for when Mel brought the universal blood bag so they could get actual blood in her system that her body could recognise and work with.
They didn't know how much damage that blood had done to her system already. If it reached her kidneys it could cause problems and potentially shut them down if her immune system attacked the blood and ended up attacking the kidneys too. Her liver could be next. They had to get inhibitors into (Y/n)'s system to protect her organs and antibiotics to prevent her from developing sepsis.
If she developed sepsis, which was the body's way of overreacting to an infection and attacking healthy cells, (Y/n) would really be at risk of fatal damage.
When he heard a quiet whimper and sniffs, Brendon's head shot up towards the boys sat on the chairs behind Robby. He took a few steps and grabbed onto the curtain against the wall and gave a sharp tug until the dark ocean blue paper curtain was separating the boys from the bed. He didn't want them to sit and watch this, it wouldn't be fair to see their mum crying and needing immediate medical attention.
They had already seen her have her leg stitched back up and the glass removed, they didn't need to witness this too.
"Daddy!" Lewis wailed in utter despair, about to clamber off his chair and scuttle round to his dad. He didn't want to be separated from them, even by something as thin as a curtain.
"Dad no-"
"You boys stay behind that curtain so I know where you are. Wait until I've gotten mum taken care of."
"I've got it." Mel wheeled a small trolley into the room and bustled up to Brendon's side. She had done what he'd requested. Inhibitors, blood bag transfusions and she'd also gotten some antibiotics; her quick thinking had been on the same mind track as theirs.
Brendon was quick to take the inhibitors and get them injected into the fluid IV. He couldn't give them all at once to (Y/n) and risk overwhelming her system, but the fluids were wide open so everything would get into her system at a fast rate.
Robby took the blood bag and found a fresh needle and tube, getting them inserted back into the cannula clip in (Y/n)'s vein in her elbow. And Mel acquired the right dosage of antibiotics which she held out to Brendon so he could get them too in the IV bag.
Shudders crawled down Brendon's skin and he almost jumped back when (Y/n)'s trembling hand reached out for him and ended up scraping along his thigh to claw for his attention. His name mewled past her lips as her vision continued to blur and the room felt like it was spinning around her at sixty miles an hour.
Just as Robby was about to push the clip and send the blood surging through the tube into (Y/n)'s system, he found Brendon's hand curled tightly around his forearm.
"No, I need to draw bloods first."
"What?"
"I want proof of this fuck up."
Robby looked dubious, but finally nodded when Mel held out a needle, turniquet and vial towards Brendon so he could do what he'd suggested.
He needed to take a blood sample and get it sent to the lab for analysis. He needed to get proof that someone in this ER had made the mistake of giving his wife the wrong blood type. He wanted difinitive proof, not just the wrong bag held up on the hook that someone would try and explain away.
Unease washed over (Y/n) when she realised what Brendon was going to do when he reached for her right arm, and she snapped her eyes closed in preparation, but she didn't argue or fight him. She was surprised to find she barely felt the needle slipping into her elbow for Brendon to take a blood sample. Once it was done, he kissed the crease of her arm.
He tried to do his best penmanship as he scrawled (Y/n)'s name and date of birth across the blank label on the vial before passing it to Mel.
"That needs to be rushed down to the lab, I want it in writing that she's suffered a hemolytic reaction."
When (Y/n)'s trembling hand reached out for him again, Brendon took her hand and entwined their fingers, squeezing tight as his other hand began to smooth up and down her arm. Giving what little comfort he could during this whole charade.
"This fucking ER." He muttered under his breath as his eyes stayed on his wife, who was still trembling and writhing on the bed like she physically could not sit still.
"Park this was an accident-"
"This is a royal screw up." He turned sharply until he was face to face with the chief attending. "One of your incompetant doctors didn't check their notes or do the bare minimum and gave the wrong blood. That is a schoolboy error Robinavitch. What kind of fuck ups have you got working under you in here?"
Robby chose not to answer that, though his expression hardened like stone and his jaw clicked.
"Park, the family room is free, do you want to take your boys in there?" He changed the subject quickly. He could hear all of them whimpering and whispering to one another behind the curtain. They were petrified and sobbing and they needed to be out of this room until their mum was better and they could see that she was out of danger. Sitting in here wasn't going to do them any good.
Brendon's head tipped sharply before his attention was back down on (Y/n) and he leant over the bed, trailing his free hand through her hair before he pressed a soft kiss to her flushed temple.
"I'll be right back sweetheart, okay?"
(Y/n) didn't want him to go, but she knew she could hardly beg him to stay here with her when the boys needed to be out the room until Brendon's mum arrived to take them home.
So she nodded, trying to fight back tears as Brendon kissed her temple again and his touch receeded leaving her cold with a tremoring heart.
"Boys, come with me." His tone softened ever so slightly when he weaved around the curtain and set his sights on his troop.
He didn't think twice as he leant down and scooped Lewis and Reece up into his arms like he had done earlier, cuddling them into his chest while he tipped his head for Nate to follow them. He felt Nate's hand scrunch around his scrubs over his hip, clinging to him so they didn't get separated as Brendon guided them out of the room and headed down the hall to the left until he found the family room.
"Evans, can you watch my boys for me?" He didn't stop to linger and wait for a response, simply nodded for Nate to open the door so they could all head inside, hearing Dana's hurried footsteps as she followed after them.
He hated to see the tears drenching Nate's face as the ten year old flopped down into an armchair, limbs slack and loose like he had passed out the moment he sat down. His features were drained, eyes rimmed red and tear tracks slick down his cheeks and neck.
Lewis and Reece weren't much better, both still sniffling and shedding tears as they clung to Brendon's neck and writhed and wriggled against his chest.
With a kiss to each of their temples he knelt down in front of the sofa and eased them down until they were sat wriggling and clinging to his arms to stop him from pulling away from them.
"Alright, now mummy's not well but she will feel better soon now I've fixed the problem. Grandma is coming to take you all home and then-"
"No! Daddy you take us home," Lewis sniffled while Reece simply burst into another fit of tears with a loud shrieking wail passing his lips.
"I can't take you home yet, I need to stay with mummy and make sure she gets better. But you can't stay here so you need to go home with grandma, okay?" He glanced to his left when he heard the door creak and saw Dana stood with her hands clasped in front of her and her lips pinched like she was finding it hard to keep her composure simply from watching them.
"You come home soon?" Reece murmured while he laid his cheek against Brendon's exposed bicep, clinging to him in the same way he would hang onto Brendon's arm and pretend to be a weight Brendon would lift during his training at the gym.
"As soon as mummy's okay, I'll come home to you all. I promise." His free hand curled around the back of Reece's head and reeled him closer for a sideways hug and a kiss to his chubby cheek.
He then did the same to Lewis, uttering a soft "Be good for me and stay with nurse Dana for now," before his attention turned to Nate.
Without a word, the eldest pushed up off the chair and latched onto Brendon, clinging to him with his face buried in his dad's firm chest. "Mum's gonna get better now?"
"Yeah, she'll get better in a day or two."
When they parted and Nate slumped back down in the chair, Brendon found himself tremoring. He turned away from his boys, biting the inside of his cheek to stop the tears from falling as he headed out the room with just a look towards Dana to convey his thanks that she would stay and keep an eye on his troop for the time being.
When he stepped out into the ER again, he was rattling like a pill box and his short nails were piercing through his gloves into his palms. The rage he felt was overwhelming, blinding, infuriating.
One of these people had fucked up. One of them had just endangered Brendon's wife and put her life at risk for a silly mistake they should never have made. If someone could mess up so badly like that then they should never have gotten through medical school.
If Brendon was still up in surgery and hadn't managed to come down and check on (Y/n), if she passed out and Nate and the boys didn't know any better or know that she was getting worse, this could have been prolonged. (Y/n) could have had the full pint of blood in her system, she could have gone into a worse state of shock and her organs might have started to shut down by the time someone realised something was wrong. It didn't bear thinking about.
No one in here was any the wiser. As Brendon stood still, letting the gurneys wheel past him, the nurses speed off in a rush and the doctors go about their hurried business without a care in the world for (Y/n), all he could think of was who had done this. Who was at fault, which one of them had caused this disaster and then walked away without seeing the consequences.
"Who treated my wife?"
His voice barked out through the ER, loud enough that it echoed off the walls and every pair of eyes suddenly fell to him, unsure what he was doing.
It took a few seconds for some of them to realise who was speaking, and even more turbulent energy flooded the air when they realised it was Park the shark that was shouting at them all. It was the ortho surgeon who was stood near the nurses desk with his hands on his hips, his shoulders broad and pointed outwards and s face chiselled in dark horror.
Receiving no answer made Brendon even more irritated than before and he huffed as he stared at the rounds of blank faces and noticed how many workers had stopped to look at him but gave him no answer.
"(Y/n) Park. She fell on glass, had stitches all up her left leg and due to blood loss, someone in here gave her a transfusion. Now who was it?"
Again, blank faces looked back at him and confused eyes dared not meet his gaze or look at him for longer than a few seconds at a time. Until finally, a voice broke out through the quiet, tense atmosphere.
"Uh, me… why?" Trinity wasn't sure why, but she raised her hand for a brief second so that Brendon could see who had spoken before she folded her arms over her chest and stood side by side with Dennis, who was just as confused.
Everyone here was wary of Brendon, he was inimidating and frightening and they never liked asking for a consult, even though he was one of the best in his field. They liked it when he stayed upstairs in his department. But this wasn't a side to him that they had ever seen before.
Brendon's eyes narrowed on Trinity, scrutinising her, analysing every inch of her as his lips pinched together and he gave a curt nod, humming as he dwelled on this information.
"So I know who I'm filing a law suit against."
"Excuse me?"
The brunette's eyes widened and almost bulged out their sockets and her arms dropped from her chest so her hands could grasp her hips. Who the Hell did he think he was? Why would he do that? And why was he starting such a conversation here, when they had a full audience of their peers to witness it?
Her lips parted and twitched as if she were about to smile in disbelief, but her upper lip twitched and she fought hard not to shrink back when Brendon stepped closer. He was intimidating; more so than the patients Trinity was used to standing up to and putting back in their place.
His eyes held a fire within them that could scorch the sun itself. His parted lips were practically sneering at her and his chiselled features were hardening, cheekbones sticking out as he looked down his pointed nose at her.
"When you don't do your fucking job, and give a patient the wrong blood transfusion, you will get a lawsuit made against you. And when that patient is my wife, you will regret ever picking up a med book."
He was glad to see a glimmer in Trinity's eyes. A spark of fear, a twinge of uncertainty as she tried to think back and work out whether she had actually made such a stupid mistake or if this situation was a complete misunderstanding or a mistake of someone else.
If it were someone else's mistake, Trinity would have been in the gossip chain along with everyone else, remarking how ignorant someone could be to give a patient the wrong blood type. She would pity the poor soul who had done such a mistake and knew that they would be lucky to salvage any tattered medical career after such a situation.
But she couldn't think straight knowing that this accusation was aimed at her. All she could do was stare up at Brendon with fear in her eyes and her teeth gnawing down on her lower lip to stop herself from making any kind of noise.
And when the ortho surgeon stepped closer, she visibly winced and fought a losing battle to hold her ground.
"Now get out of my sight and stay away from the patients before you end up killing one of them."
It's taken me a while to write this one out, but I was so overwhelmed with the lovely feedback on the first part of this Brendon Park imagine. Thank you all!
I hope you will enjoy this part now it's finally done.
Summary: (Y/n) comes to the ER with a minor injury and has to bring her boys along. Everything seems fine in her observation, but then she takes a turn for the worst. And Brendon wants to know who's responsible.
Enjoy.
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If it were someone else's mistake, Trinity would have been in the gossip chain along with everyone else, remarking how ignorant someone could be to give a patient the wrong blood type. She would pity the poor soul who had done such a mistake and knew that they would be lucky to salvage any tattered medical career after such a situation.
But she couldn't think straight knowing that this accusation was aimed at her. All she could do was stare up at Brendon with fear in her eyes and her teeth gnawing down on her lower lip to stop herself from making any kind of noise.
And when the ortho surgeon stepped closer, she visibly winced and fought a losing battle to hold her ground.
"Now get out of my sight and stay away from the patients before you end up killing one of them."
The bark of Brendon's voice made Trinity visibly wince and take a step back, and a dark, glowering part of him felt glee at seeing such a reaction. So she should be upset. She had fucked up, royally. Brendon wouldn't let her forget or get away with this mistake, and she should fear him and what mess he would rain down on her for this.
He knew deep down that if (Y/n) were here in the main floor of the ER, if she could see how vicious Brendon had just been, she would try and calm him down. She would tell him to stop, to not let that snarky, protective defence of bitter words and intimidation come to the surface.
But that was the whole point; (Y/n) wasn't here, she was back in one of those rooms, suffering and receiving treatment she didn't even need before she came to this ER. And that was down to one of the emergency medicine residents. Brendon couldn't let that go.
The tears he could see glistening in Trinity's eyes, the ones she was forcing back just like Brendon had pushed his tears to one side so he didn't frighten his boys or let alone down here see his vulnerability, those tears made his glee heighten.
At least she was remorseful, he would give her that.
He could see a wider crowd gathering round now, as if none of them had anything better to do than to stand and watch this scene unfold like it was one of their soap dramas they didn't want to miss.
Not that it mattered to Brendon at all, he'd had enough arguments all over this hospital, calling people incompetant, going against management when they tried to cut corners that could put patients in danger. Or when others tried to treat him as a push over or act as if they knew better than the years of experience Brendon had.
Before he could cut into Trinity any further or wait to hear any kind of excuse or response she might have, a familiar voice cut through the air.
"Park! We could use you back in here now."
Brendon spun on his heels, his head snapping to the right to look in the direction of (Y/n)'s room where he could see Robby stood. The attending was in the doorway, one foot over the threshold, his hand gripping the door frame while he reached hi other hand to wave Brendon towards him.
There was a displeased look in his eye that told Brendon he wasn't pleased his staff were being lectured by someone else, someone not strictly a part of their department, but Robby wasn't going to argue that right now. He wanted Brendon back in here.
The notion made Brendon's heart drop to the hollow pit of his stomach like it had been severed from his chest.
He gulped, visibly shivering as he turned on his heels and made a quick exit towards the room he had not long come from.
It didn't matter to him that he had left a crowd gathered near the nurse's station, a crowd of gaping mouths and dilated eyes with surprise written across their features. Nor did he care that Trinity was now stood there, beet red with glossy eyes and hands clenched into fists at his sides.
The only thing that mattered was (Y/n).
When Brendon came close, Robby took a step back into the room and gave the door a nudge to let the ortho surge inside, not wanting to be mowed down if he got in Brendon's path.
"What happened?" His voice held a gritty undertone and he had to stop himself from growling when he heard his wife crying.
The moment he was stood by the bed, Brendon's eyes widened when he found (Y/n)'s hands grasping for his arm which she yanked down towards her with a surprising strength. Her nails scratched down his skin as she pulled his arm towards her chest as if it were a comfort blanket she needed to feel close to.
"The inhibitors are making her sick, can you calm her down?"
None of them were going to be as good at calming (Y/n) down as Brendon was, and she was becoming distressed.
The shock, combined with the medication to prevent her organs from shutting down, were making (Y/n) sick. Brendon looked towards the small tray table beside the bed and realised there was a brown cardboard sick bucket on there. She had thrown up. Combined with the shock she had already been going into, the queasyness she felt was making (Y/n) writhe, unable to lay still when she felt so horrid and feeble and overwhelmed, all at once.
Being careful to weave around the wires monitoring (Y/n)'s heart and pulse rate, Brendon curved his right arm around her back and slowly sat her forward. Inclining her just enough so that he could slump down on the side of the bed and lean himself back against the pillow.
It was clear (Y/n) knew what he was doing because she mewled something incoherent and laid herself back against his chest with her head against his broad shoulder.
He let her keep hold of his left arm, cocooning it to her chest while his other arm curved around her waist. (Y/n) closed her eyes when she felt Brendon's lips against her temple
"Brendon…" Shudders tore through (Y/n)'s limbs until she was thrashing and jerking uncontrollably against his chest.
She closed her eyes tight, willing away the sickness that was dwelling in her stomach and rising in her chest. Whatever was flowing through that new IV they had given her was making her feel horrid. Had they slipped poison into her veins?
She latched tighter onto Brendon's arm until she was sure she was going to cut off his circulation and hurt him. But he only held her tighter in response.
"I'm here baby, I got you."
He soothed, peppering another kiss to her temple before he reached his hand up to carefully brush her hair from her face, pushing it back behind her ear. His fingertip glided across her cheek and his other hand curved over her hip, trying to hold her a bit tighter to stop her from writhing so much.
When (Y/n) began to whimper and Brendon felt the way her chest and stomach started to move and suck in, he acted fast. Reaching to his left to grab the paper bowl from the table he had nudged out of the way.
He held it in between them just in time for (Y/n) to drop her head down and throw up.
A pitiful moan left (Y/n)'s lips and she seemed to curl up smaller in Brendon's embrace, pushing herself back against his chest though she didn't know what she wanted him to do to make her feel better. Maybe sedate her so she could wake up when whatever was wrong with her had been sorted out and she was better.
"M'still cold." She uttered groggily, barely managing to get her eyes into focus as she grazed her cheek against his scrubs until she was staring up at Brendon.
Her words caused him to start rubbing his hand up and down her arm and he seemed to cocoon her tighter against him, trying to let his warmth reach her through his scrubs. He didn't want to pile her with blankets because she would undoubtedly get a fever, it was the shock that was making her feel the cold, but it should taper off soon. He hoped.
"We'll fix that baby, don't worry."
Brendon rested his cheek on top of (Y/n)'s head and kept his gaze adverted down, solely focused on (Y/n)'s writhing frame in his arms. He didn't want to look at Robby or Mel who were fluttering about the room, he didn't want their worried glances or sympathetic faces. He didn't want to have them watching him looking and feeling so vulnerable with his wife.
It didn't seem plausible that one mistake had led to all this chaos.
One mistake. One wrong blood bag or one label that wasn't checked; maybe the patient notes were overlooked and not checked properly. One error had led to such drastic consequences that could easily have turned fatal if the boys hadn't of alerted Brendon so swiftly. If it had been (Y/n) in this room on her own she could of passed out. No one would have known anything was wrong until her vitals dropped and the machines sounded. By then, it could hae been too late.
Brendon snapped out of his wallowing when he looked up as a shadow crossed (Y/n)'s body. His scrutinising gaze fell on Mel who stood at his side, gingerly holding out a damp flannel which she silently motioned towards (Y/n).
If (Y/n) had a headache, a cold compress might do her some good, even if she was feeling cold at the moment.
He said nothing, but a look crossed his face when he took the flannel which Mel took as gratification.
(Y/n) shivered in his arms and sucked in a sharp breath when the cold compress was placed over her temple near her eyes, but she didn't fight. She didn't try to take it off or push Brendon's hand away or tell him she didn't want it; the feeling was actually soothing to her aching temples.
"Hm?" Brendon's attention darted back to Mel when he realised she had said something, but his attention had been focused on (Y/n).
He narrowed his eyes, looking Mel up and down until he focused on the clear injection she was holding, ready to insert into the cannula in (Y/n)'s arm. She repeated the name of the anti-emetics she was holding and motioned towards (Y/n).
"To help her symptoms and sickness, then perhaps she can sleep for a while."
It took Brendon ten seconds to realise that Mel was waiting idly for permission to give the medication.
She and Robby were (Y/n)'s doctors now, they were clearly the ones who would be overseeing her care, since Brendon couldn't technically be the one to be giving her any treatment, as he was family. They had every right to tell Brendon what they were doing and what course of treatment they planned to take, so he knew and wouldn't panic.
But they didn't have to wait for his permission. Mel was waiting for him to agree, she was giving him that option, that sense of control so he would remain calm and know that nothing else was going to happen to (Y/n). Not while they were caring for her.
Appreciation flooded his face and made his eyes gloss over as he nodded, a softer look crossing his face which Mel wasn't used to seeing.
"There we go; at least Doctor King knows what she's doing." He murmured the words against (Y/n)'s temple, praying that the medication would help her sleep so she could rest and wake up feeling better rather than worse.
Mel took the words as a compliment, unable to stop a smile from dancing across her lips as she backed away towards the computer in the corner of the room. Hoping to type up her notes in here while she had the time and the peace, and to be on standby in case (Y/n) needed anything else.
"Are the boys okay?"
A smile hinted at Brendon's lips as he stretched out in the wooden-backed chair, raising his bulging arms above his head until one elbow clicked with a sickening snap.
His eyes focused on (Y/n) and the intent look on her face as she seemed to study him, more alert now that the medications were all fully in her system and she had adjusted to them.
She had taken a good two and a half hour nap and the shaking and sickness had finally died down. She wasn't feeling frozen cold either as if she had been trapped under a sheet of ice, which was a relief.
The way (Y/n) was laid on her side, with one hand tucked under her head and the other scrunched up in the blanket draped over her, made Brendon's heart swell. He couldn't help the smile that danced across his lips, nor the relief that lit up his eyes at finally seeing his wife getting a little better. (Y/n) was still on the road to recovery, but at least she was now going in the right direction.
"They're good, I spoke to mum while you were asleep. She took the boys home with her, I'll pick them up tomorrow and take them to school."
When (Y/n) had dozed off, Brendon had made a quick call to his mum just to make sure all the boys were okay. They'd each had a fright today. They were going to stay with his parents for the night and then in the morning, Brendon would pick them up and take Nate and Lewis to school and drop Reece off at nursery before he would come back here to be with (Y/n).
"How you feeling sweetheart?"
Sitting forward in his seat, Brendon reached a hand out to press the back of his hand against (Y/n)'s temple. She wasn't flushed anymore, though she still looked tired beyond belief and he knew she wasn't feeling quite like herself again yet.
Snagging the thermometer from behind the bed, he waited for (Y/n) to nod before he pressed it into her ear and took her temperature, which he made a note of on her chart.
While he had been waiting as she slept, he had been counting and monitoring her blood pressure which had finally started to lower. It was still slightly raised, but no longer in the danger zone with the numbers no longer flashing bright red with each reading.
"Warmer." (Y/n) murmured with a smile, noticing that while she had been asleep- or passed out, she didn't know which- Brendon had changed from his scrubs and gotten back into his normal attire of shirt and jeans. "Still queasy though."
"That's just the meds, they should wear off in a few more hours."
(Y/n)'s lips curved when she watched Brendon push up to his feet and move to perch down on the side of the bed. His hand moved to curl around her left hip, making sure not to touch her leg as he didn't want to touch or catch any of the various stitches in her leg.
When she had been asleep she had started to move. Brendon had been glad he'd been in the room when she did so he could gently roll her onto her right side. If she laid on her left side she would undoubtedly lay on her stitches and wake up to a numb leg or shooting pains up and down her leg.
He leant forward to kiss her cheek and (Y/n) hummed, leaning into the touch while she started to trace her finger along his thigh.
"Baby… what happened? Was- was it some bad meds?"
Her voice was quiet, almost casual, but there was a nervous undertone that made Brendon's heart leap.
(Y/n) didn't understand the situation, she couldn't remember exactly what went on earlier. Her mind was submerged in water, (Y/n) couldn't see things clearly and she couldn't quite recall much of what had been said to her either.
She recalled Brendon saying someone had made a mistake, but not what they had done or what had happened to her. And (Y/n) couldn't think of a lot of things thatt could have happened. She hadn't been here for that long and she didn't have any extensive treatment either.
She wondered if perhaps someone had given her the wrong medication, or a bad batch. It happened, expired meds not being thrown out and accidentally given to patients. (Y/n) assumed she hadn't had some kind of bad reaction to anything, because that wouldn't be someone's fault.
Her stomach rolled with panic when she watched Brendon's expression suddenly change before her. His features hardened like stone, but it was the darkness that draped across his eyes like a veil which made adrenaline course through her veins.
That was the kind of way Brendon looked when Nate told him someone had picked on him at school. It was how he looked when someone had upset the boys or when (Y/n) had been hassled at work by a colleague. The way he turned to stone, how he hardened like ice with that menacing urge to protect them, to do something to make things better, even if he knew that there wasn't much- if anything- in his power that he could do.
Panic bubbled up in (Y/n)'s chest and she tried to push up on her elbow, though her heart frollicked when Brendon's hands were suddenly around her and he helped ease her up the bed. Taking her weight for her and helping shift her around so she was sitting up now, not laid on one side.
When he sank back down on the bed next to her, his hand rested on her good thigh, but his eyes wouldn't look away from her left leg as if he could see her stitches through the blanket draped across her.
"You needed that transfusion, because of the blood loss from your cuts in your leg." He took a slow breath while his fingers tapped and danced over her skin. "Your blood type is B negative, but someone put you on a pint of A positive. You were going into shock when Nate came to find me."
Another bout of confusion washed over (Y/n) as her gaze drifted from Brendon, to look up at the pole resting near the head of the bed. The pole where an IV bag of fluids was hanging, and a blood bag that was drained and almost empty.
The wrong blood? How was that possible? Why did it happen? Was that a human error, or down to a machine or computer fault?
Her eyes slowly made their way back to Brendon who looked between her and the drained blood transfusion bag with an air of melancholy about him.
"That's the one you should have been put on in the first place. We gave you inhibitors, something to protect your liver and kidneys so the wrong blood didn't shred them and shut them down. You'll need to be on the antibiotics for a few days, to make sure you don't develop sepsis, since your body was attacking the bad blood cells."
Brendon couldn't quite believe it even as he explained it. The twenty-first century, and he was witnessing first-hand something that shouldn't be happening in this day and age. Of all the technology and equipment they had, and such an old-fashioned mistake had been made.
His eyes followed (Y/n)'s gaze, as she seemed to be looking past him now, and he realised, though he wasn't sure why, that she was looking at the computer in the corner of the room.
"Did… did you change it, on my file?"
"Baby, there was no error on your chart or personal file to correct. Santos made a big mistake, either she didn't check the blood bag or your file or she gave you one meant for someone else, but this is a fuck up."
Oh.
(Y/n) found herself staring down at her hands which were lightly trembling on her lap, but not from haemolytic shock this time.
She hadn't expected that.
Although she wasn't a doctor herself, (Y/n) was far from stupid. She was married to a surgeon, so she understood the kind of training, studying, expertise and learnt skills that it took to get into a job like this. (Y/n)'s first thought would never be that someone who went through such vigorous training, had made such a simple mistake.
She presumed there would have been an error on her file, a mistake in the system or the wrong blood bag handed out. She wouldn't have presumed that a resident in the ER would make the error themselves, an error that could have had dire consequences.
"What would of happened… if you didn't come down and help me?"
Part of Brendon didn't want to answer that, because he didn't want to think about it. He didn't want to consider what might of occurred if he hadn't of been nearby, if the boys hadn't of been in here with (Y/n) to go and alert him.
He tried to steady his own breaths while (Y/n) reached out and laced their fingers together, clearly needing something to ground herself to.
"You'd of passed out when the shock got worse, your heart rate would drop and a resident would try to stop you from going into cardiac arrest… kidneys would have stopped an hour or two later, probably sepsis…" the words trailed off into dead silence because Brendon couldn't imagine the rest.
His heart shook and quaked behind his ribs when he looked up and saw tears trickling down (Y/n)'s face.
"Cardiac arrest, so I- I could of-" The words wouldn't come, but they stabbed at her heart and made her feel sick all over again.
She could have died.
When she felt Brendon lean closer, (Y/n) shakily looped her arms around his neck and pushed forward into his broad chest until her face was squashed up against his sternum. The smell of his cologne that was soaked into his shirt made her feel slightly better, it grounded her, gave her something to focus on other than the raging thoughts hounding her mind.
She tried not to grip him too tightly, but he seemed to hold her back just as fiercely. His hand cupped the back of her neck as if to keep her exactly where she was, huddled in his embrace as he tipped his head down and attached his lips to her neck.
It was hard to try and hold her breath and mellow out her erratic heart when all she could think about was what might have happened. What could easily have happened.
(Y/n) came here for deep cuts to her leg, for stitches and removal of glass shards from her skin. She should have been on observation after the stitches and then discharged within a few hours. Going into shock, being put on inhibitors and antibiotics and close monitoring for sepsis, that should never have been needed.
When she felt like she had calmed down somewhat, (Y/n) rose her head until her cheek was on Brendon's shoulder, her arms slackening around his neck so she could properly see him.
"What happens to her?"
Brendon bit the inside of his cheek, debating what kind of answer he wanted to give her. He wouldn't lie, he would never lie, but there was a difference between what should happen, and what he could ensure would happen.
"HR will look into it, talk to their insurance company to cover her fuck up. She'll be back on probation if they let her stay…but it all depends on if you let me talk to Theo upstairs."
Theo; Brendon's friend who works as a consultant lawyer for the hospital. Talking to him meant Brendon wanted a lawsuit, he wanted a proper complaint against that doctor, against the hospital, but he would need (Y/n)'s permission to do that and go ahead with it.
Shock tore through Brendon when he felt (Y/n) nodding into his shoulder and a quiet, almost inaudible "Okay," uttered into his neck.
She was giving him the go ahead, she was letting him do what he had been thinking about non-stop since he shouted at Trinity at the nurse's station.
He thought (Y/n) would say no, that she wouldn't want to go through with it because of the stress it would bring and the consequences Trinity would have to face. She wouldn't be getting away with anything, whether they brought a lawsuit against her or not.
But (Y/n) could have died, that had now been made clear, and there was a grave mistake that had been made and they knew the culprit. Brendon had to fix an error that should never have happened in the first place.
Nothing was going to change that or make it better, but this might give them a small sense of justice.
***
(Y/n)'s teeth chomped down on the inside of her cheek as her hand reached out for the back of the chair, using it as leverage to keep herself upright. She was glad Brendon wasn't here right now, or he would be finding her some crutches to use.
It was too hard to put all of her weight onto her left leg, with the amount of stitches she'd needed and the clipped artery, her thigh was swollen to almost double its size in various places. She was glad she was on painkillers as well as antibiotics, or she might not have been able to stand up at all.
Whilst she leaned on the back of the chair, (Y/n) took a moment to look herself up and down.
Brendon had brought her some clothes this morning after he'd been to collect the boys and take them to school. And he had the bright idea of putting a dress in the bag, so she wouldn't have to squeeze into a pair of leggings or jeans and aggravate her stitches.
A pair of Brendon's sleep shorts had been in the bag too, so (Y/n) had put them on underneath the dress. She knew she looked rather odd, but it stopped the dress from grazing the stitches or riding up. For the next two weeks she might have to lounge about in some of Brendon's clothes, which was going to make him very happy.
Not to mention that she couldn't get her stitches wet, which meant Brendon was going to have to help her get bathed with the stitches being in awkward places up and down her leg.
Pushing off from the chair, (Y/n) limped over to the bed and eased down, relieved to be sat back down again. As soon as Brendon came back with the discharge papers from Robby, he could take her home.
Last night and all of this morning had been spent on observation down here in the ER, since it was easier than trying to fight for a bed up on a ward. But (Y/n) wanted to go home now, she wanted to be back in her own environment, in her own bed and comfort and where she could relax and feel at ease.
And she wanted to be home with all her boys.
She smoothed her hand through her hair, catching her breath back while her other hand pulled at the hem of her dress to cover her leg. (Y/n) didn't want to see those vertical lines of stitches, some small, some extensive and swollen and angry looking, blotched across her skin.
A swell of hope flooded her chest when the door clicked, but as soon as she looked up, (Y/n) felt the need to be sick.
Panic overwhelmed her and she felt like she had suddenly been trapped in a bubble of heat.
It was her. The doctor who had treated (Y/n) when she first came to the ER yesterday with the boys.
She was the one who had made such a drastic mistake.
Her eyes scrutinised the other woman, watching how she knotted her fingers together anxiously until her knuckles were horribly white and tense and threatening to pop through the skin. She had seen so self-assured and capable yesterday, but now she looked meek and timid, even anxious, as she quietly closed the door behind her and turned to face (Y/n).
She couldn't meet (Y/n)'s eye, which was rather relieving as (Y/n) wasn't sure she would be able to hold eye contact with her either without pulling a face or becoming overwhelmed with irritation and rage.
"Hi, um, how are you feeling?"
(Y/n) wasn't sure what she had been expecting to hear, whether she thought the other girl would jump straight into an apology. Or start a spiel about how sorry she was, how it was a mistake, that it wasn't her fault and ramble into explanations and reasons. Whatever she presumed she might hear, that certainly wasn't what first came to mind.
She looked her up and down again as the doctor stood near the end of the bed, hands still knotted in front of her, keeping a safe distance as if she thought she might get punched if she came any closer.
"Queasy; sore. Ready to go home."
"I wanted to say I'm sorry; truly. Yesterday shouldn't have happened, I made a mistake and it damaged your health. I take responsibility for that."
(Y/n)'s brows rose in surprise, though her arms coiled towards her chest and her nails slowly, subconsciously began to rake up and down her exposed arms. She wasn't sure she wanted an apology, at least not right now.
She was taking responsibility for something that shouldn't of happened in the first place, and (Y/n) didn't know if this was genuine because she didn't know Trinity. She didn't know if this was something her boss or a lawyer had put her up to or if she was doing this to try and ensure (Y/n) didn't make a big deal out of what happened.
At least (Y/n) knew Brendon wouldn't have put her up to this, he wouldn't want her anywhere near (Y/n), let alone trying to talk to her and make apologies and excuses.
"You made a rare mistake… I'm not a doctor like you, or a surgeon like Brendon, but I know a few things. A haemolytic reaction is rare because you screen people's blood, you have types on file and labelled, sectioned bag types. What mistake did you make, did you not read my notes, not look at the blood bag you hooked up… what?"
Words spilled from (Y/n)'s mouth before she could stop herself, before she could ask Trinity to leave like she wanted her to, because she was still curious no matter how badly she wanted to escape a conversation like this.
She wasn't a doctor, she hadn't had medical training like everyone else here, but (Y/n) knew a few things. She had been there by Brendon's side during medical school, she watched him get his degree, then train and undergo residency to become a surgeon. Hell, (Y/n) quizzed him and went through flash cards and old test papers with him.
She understood that what happened to her was rare in this day and age because there were precautions that were in place. She wanted to know what Trinity had been doing, whether she was distracted, whether she got cocky and thought she didn't need to double check herself, whether it was the blood bag she overlooked or (Y/n)'s blood type on file.
She watched Trinity's upper lip curl and quiver as she looked to one side and took such a deep breath that her shoulders rose up near her ears.
"I th- I thought I checked it, the bag. Maybe I was thinking of another patient…"
Though she stayed silent, (Y/n) nodded. That was as good an answer as she was going to get, and she knew Trinity couldn't, probably wouldn't, admit to anything anyway as this conversation shouldn't even be happening. It could go against her if she admitted liability to anything.
"Is that all you came to say?"
(Y/n) didn't want her here. She didn't want a fight; that was what Brendon was for. Her husband, her protector who would fight this battle to the bitter end because that was who he was, he wouldn't back down for anything and he was fiercely protective over everyone in his family.
This was his battle to fight, (Y/n) didn't want to be arguing or talking or listening to pleas and explanations. She just wanted to go home.
"I wanted to know if…" Trinity found herself staring up at the ceiling as if for courage, because she couldn't seem to get the words out. "I'm being investigated for this, as I should be. But I- would you- would you put in a lawsuit, against me directl-"
"Get out."
Trinity's whole frame jumped from the floor and curse words flew past her lips as she turned on her heels to look behind her.
She hadn't heard the door open or the approaching sound of footsteps, but somehow, Brendon had appeared like a ghost. His bulky frame blocking the entire doorway, shoulders raised, hands clenched into fists, and such a menacing look on his face that Trinity felt faint from one look.
His presence gave Trinity a horrible bout of anxiety and torment, but just the sight of him was enough to have every nerve within (Y/n) calm down immediately.
She wouldn't have known how to answer Trinity's question if Brendon hadn't come in at just the right moment. Because even though (Y/n) was going through with the idea of a lawsuit, she wasn't sorting it out. That was down to Brendon, it was in his hands and he would sort it so (Y/n) didn't have to worry or get overwhelmed.
He had already contacted Theo for an urgent chat tomorrow to get the ball rolling as swiftly as possible.
"Park, I was just-"
"Not only should you be out of this ER to keep the patients safe, but you certainly shouldn't be anywhere near my wife after what you did." His boots thundered against the floor as he stalked closer to Trinity like a predator before clicking his fingers towards the door and barking "Out."
Heat rose to Trinity's cheeks and despite the defiant streak within her that told her to fight, to make a fuss and stand her ground and stay right where she was, she forced herself to move.
Her hands clasped into tightly bound fists at her sides rather than entwining in front of her and her eyes focused on the floor because she knew if she looked up at Brendon, she would say something she would swiftly come to regret.
Anger rolled through her as she bypassed him without a word, even though there were so many pent up things in her mind that she wanted to say, possibly even yell at him.
She stomped out into the hall, breathing in short puffs of air as heat frollicked across her skin that was starting to blotch red. She could feel her nails puncturing into the palm of her hands but before she could aim for the nurse's station, a rough hand grasped at her upper arm and spun her on her heels.
Her centre of balance shifted and she tripped over her feet, gasping and wrenching her arm back just as she realised it was Brendon trying to make her walk with him.
He had left the room. He was beckoning her to follow him. Trinity felt unable to do anything else, partly because she was curious as to what he wanted, since he had just kicked her out of his wife's room. And partly because there were so many things she wanted to say, and this would be her opportune moment to say them.
The corridor just by (Y/n)'s room was cramped but desolate and quiet enough for a conversation that no one else would be able to earwig into or hang onto every word spoken.
Trinity wasn't sure who was supposed to speak first, but it seemed that Brendon had taken the initiative because words were suddenly flying past his lips like a slap to Trinity's face.
"Do you really think it's wise to try and ask a patient if they're going to sue you? That might be misconstrude as you trying to talk her out of it."
Her mouth opened, then closed, then opened again as she tried to gather her senses and come up with a snarky but honest remark. "I wanted to know if she would. Just because you want to, doesn't mean your wife will."
Brendon watched with narrowed eyes as Trinity reached behind her to stuff her hands into her back pockets. She seemed to sway her weight from her heels to her toes, unable to stand still or to look him in the eye. Her lips were pinched together and her hair was rather neatly tied back with no loose tendrils, suggesting she hadn't been rushing around the ER like everyone else.
"You think a lawsuit is unfair?"
His voice was oddly calm considering the kind of conversation they were having and his previous, harsh demanour back in (Y/n)'s room. But the way Brendon crossed his arms over his chest made him look awfully intimidating. It felt like Trinity was about to walk into a trap so she considered hehr next words carefully.
"I think HR will shred me enough, without you getting involved with a lawyer and causing a malpractice suit. I made a mistake Park, a- a lawsuit could finish me. Waste everything I've tried to do."
The way he nodded made it seem like he was actually contemplating her words, but Trinity felt like they had washed straight over his head.
She was already reported to HR, Robby didn't have a choice. She hadn't been allowed to treat any patients today and she was probably going to be suspended until they looked into what happened yesterday, she was only here to finish notes and wait for a meeting with Robby and Gloria from HR.
Trinity was going to be lucky to salvage a career from this mess and stay in the hospital, but if Brendon talked (Y/n) into a lawsuit, Trinity would have no chance. She would lose everything. What was the point? Wasn't she going to be punsiehd enough already?
"There are different kinds of mistakes, Santos. Giving a patient the wrong dosage, that's a simple mistake. Pulling glass from an artery and causing a mass haemorrhage, that's an even bigger mistake. But you didn't mis-label something or mess up your notes or give my wife the wrong medication. You gave her the wrong blood. Mistakes have consequences, and this one could have been fatal; that means your mistake warrants action."
There were degrees, different levels of mistakes that were made in hospitals and practices. Some mistakes were unavoidable, some were meagre, and it was why they had insurance and lawyers on retainer to deal with this and keep their doctors from being fired.
Whether this had been Brendon's wife or not, if he heard about it he would expect a lawsuit to be filed. This was a big fuck up, Trinity had made a big error and it needed to be corrected, and she needed to take full responsibility for it. That meant more than just apologising to (Y/n) and hoping it would all go away.
Brendon stepped forward when Trinity wouldn't look at him. His arms remained crossed over his broad chest and he looked down his nose at her through scrutinising, narrowed eyes.
"You could have killed someone. I'm the husband, I shouldn't have had to play doctor and correct your fuck up. I shouldn't need to take bloods, stop a transfusion and give emergency medication- which isn't even my fucking department by the way- to correct your error that could have killed my wife."
"You think I don't know that?" Trinity snapped with eyes blazing with a mixture of fury and tears.
She knew it all too well. She knew Brendon had swooped in like a knight in shining armour to correct her mistake. She knew he had taken blood samples and sent them to the lab to have it in writing what error had been made. She knew he had stuck around, gave orders and oversaw (Y/n)'s care.
And she knew that none of that would have been necessary if she hadn't of made such a damning mistake. But Trinity was being punished for it, she was being investigated and there would be consequences.
"I think you don't see the big picture."
When he saw the look of confusion that draped over Trinity's eyes, Brendon stepped closer. His eyes darted towards (Y/n)'s room, his mind instantly flicking back to his wife and he pointed to the room to emphasise towards her.
"Think of the patient. She's a mother, she has three kids, and me; people who would have mourned her if you'd killed her. People who can't go on without her. She came in for stitches and a transfusion and she stayed on observation and preventative treatment she shouldn't have needed."
"You think a lawsuit will help or make that better? It will waste money and time, it won't make up for what I did or make (Y/n) better-"
"It will benefit more than just me." A dangerous look crossed Brendon's eyes as his words snapped like the jaws of a crocodile which caused Trinity's skin to bristle.
"I want this suit against you because then it sticks. For the rest of your career, you will have this hanging over your head, on public record for any patient to see. So they know they might not be able to trust you to care for them because if you're too busy, you could make a near fatal mistake. They can refuse treatment from someone who's been found incompetant before. Any potential employer can see a lawsuit too and choose not to have a liability working for them. This will make amends for what you've done by having you never forget this and making sure everyone else knows it too."
Apologising and wishing this to go away wasn't taking responsibility or owning her mistakes.
Brendon wanted this because it would do (Y/n) some justice and make everyone sleep better at night. Any patient could find out that if Trinity was their doctor, they might not be as safe as they thought.
Patients would have the right to refuse treatment from someone who had been found incompetant before and could likely be so again. Any future employer deserved to know that if they employed Trinity, they were taking on a liability. They were welcome to give her a second chance, Brendon understood that, but at least they would know what they were taking on. It wouldn't just be Doctor Santos, it would be the baggage of a near-fatal mistake she had caused.
This was the bigger picture. Consequences could last forever, they could have a ripple effect, and Trinity didn't get to escape that just because she was sorry.
Brendon stepped around her as if he were about to walk away from her, but he seemed to think better of it. He paused at her side, his arms now lowered down and no longer looking so intimidating or frightening. His voice was calm, but his words had the ability to chill Trinity right down to her core.
"This doesn't just go away because (Y/n) got better. She was lucky, you won't be."
***
The sound of the front door swinging open made a burst of adrenaline spark to life in (Y/n)'s stomach. Her head pressed back into the sofa and she tried to look behind her as multiple, rapid footsteps began to charge through the house.
The boys were home.
Anticipation swelled through her as she heard her boys shouting, squealing and calling her name. They made it seem like they hadn't seen her in a week, not just one day. But one day of being stuck in hospital felt like an entire lifetime.
The last time (Y/n) set her sights on her three boys was when they had been crying and wailing over her as they were ushered out of the ER room. (Y/n) wanted to erase that hazy memory from her mind and replace it with something better; with her boys rushing to see her and finding her safe and well at home, not writhing in agony in hospital.
"Mum, you're home!"
"Mum!"
"Mummy!"
A flurry of tears welled up in her eyes when all three of them came within her sights and suddenly launched themselves onto the sofa.
Nate and Lewis were first, scrambling up so one of them was on either side of her. Nate looped his arms around her neck, burrowing his face into the crook of her neck as he platered himself against the side of her chest. Lewis bound against her waist, his face nuzzled into her chest as he tucked his legs up to his tummy to squish himself as close to (Y/n) as possible.
Reece toddled into the room last, a huff of indignation leaving his lips when he realised both older brothers were already huddled beneath (Y/n)'s arms, leaving very little room for him.
So he clambered up onto (Y/n)'s lap instead. The edge of his knee caught on one of the stitches beneath the sleep shorts (Y/n) had on under her dress and she sank her teeth down into her tongue so sharply she tasted blood. But it stopped her from crying out in pain.
"Boys! Be careful with your mum." Brendon's sharp tone cut through the air just as (Y/n) parted her knees to the sides so Reece could sit in between her thighs rather than on them.
This way he was still close, but he wasn't touching or aggravating her stitches or the swelling on her leg.
The three year old glanced up at his dad with big glossy eyes before he nuzzled himself into (Y/n)'s stomach, arms around her so that she was contained from every angle by all three sons.
Brendon had warned them on the way home from school that they had to be careful around (Y/n). Her leg was stitched up and causing her pain and they couldn't be rough with or around her. For the next two weeks they were going to have to be careful when they wanted comfort and attention from (Y/n), and they would have to help her wherever they could.
"You better now?" Reece murmured softly and when he looked around the sofa, something caught his eye.
The toddler stood up in between (Y/n)'s thighs and reached behind her to grasp onto his slime-green fluffy blanket that was draped on the back of the sofa. With a swift pull, he dragged the blanket down so it fell over (Y/n)'s shoulders and near the back of her head.
He arranged it as best he could, pulling the edges down towards her chest so it was ruffled around her like some strange kind of shawl. But the thought and sentiment was endearing enough to have (Y/n)'s breaths come out in shallow puffs.
"Yeah, I feel a bit better now honey."
"Don't worry, we'll look after you." Nate kept his cheek buried against (Y/n)'s shoulder, his arms still around her neck as he kissed her cheek and leant a bit closer against her.
(Y/n) hoped none of them would notice the tears slowly trickling down her face as she curved her arms around them and pulled all her boys closer to her. Hoping that if she held them close enough to her heart, it would stop the organ from trying to break out of her ribs.
And when she felt a warm, solid pair of hands curve over the back of her shoulders, (Y/n) laid her head against the back of the sofa and blinked up through her tears. Brendon was stood behind the sofa, leaning oer with that look of utter devotion and warmth that he saved strictly for his family.
He bent down until he was able to press a soft kiss to (Y/n)'s warm temple, breathing against her kin and soaking in her wamrth and scent.
This was where she wanted to be, this was where she would get better. At home, with all four of her boys.
