Why are ppl scared to call it what it is and say we’re still going thru covid on top of seasonal illness. Like. That’s pretty important right. I was watching the news and they were like oh yeah we have an unprecedented number of flu cases “as well as other sicknesses” without actually saying Covid. No announcement abt vaccinations or masking or anything. Also if I hear someone joking abt “war flashbacks” for mentioning covid I fucking hate u
summary: he can’t help that he likes you more than others
warning: age gap (40s!abbot, mid 20s early 30s!reader), praise, resident!reader, minor favoritism, fluff, minor flirting, physical touch, eye tag, literally no personal boundaries, medical terminology and talk
w/c: 2.8k
notes: I’m sorry I got lazy towards the end, if yall want another part I will make one. if I missed anything don’t tell me, ty to anon for telling me of the t.p edit (this is in no way related to the curtain season and episode)((dividers by @uzmacchiato))
There was absolutely no doubt in the world that Jack’s favorite resident on the night shift was you. No— scratch that. Jack’s favorite resident, period, was you. It was an immediate attraction. If he was forced at gunpoint to explain in one sentence why you were his favorite, he’d had lived a long, blissful life knowing he was blessed to be in your presence.
Of course he would never admit that to anyone but Robby, and he’d quickly shut down any doubts anyone else had. That didn’t matter. What mattered at all times was you.
You were perfect in every way possible. From the way you looked, the way you treated your patients, the way you worked with others. You were easy to talk to, kind, respectful, and had not one bone of malice in you. No one could complain. You were a literal saint.
His eyes instantly found yours as he stepped in for the shift switch off, watching as you lingered and talked to Mel who looked like she was genuinely appreciating the distraction. You didn’t seem to notice him yet, and he was fine with that, the last thing he’d want is to interrupt a meaningful conversation.
“You’re staring again, brother.” Jack has to force his eyes away from you at the sound of Robby’s voice, giving him a small lopsided grin. He quickly straightens up, turning towards Robby at the sound of your laughter to keep from immediately looking over.
“I tend to check on my residents when I arrive. You might want to do the same.” He retorted lightly, glancing over at a nurse as she turned around the corner towards the computers.
“You saying I neglect my residents?” Robby asks with slight mock offense, resting a hand on his chest. He nods over to Dana as she makes her leave, which catches Jack’s attention who glances over his shoulder to offer the nurse a silent smile.
“I would never say that.” Jack trailed off slightly, giving Robby a certain look to which he just chuckled and shook his head.
The two of them simultaneously look your way as you finished your conversation with Mel. Jack’s already pushing off the counter as you found the corner and make your way towards a nearby board. He gives Robby a quick pat on the back before disappearing completely from his field of view as a nurse calls out for him.
“Hi sweetheart.” Your head nearly snaps off as you quickly turn around, bringing your attention down as you look up at Robby. Giving him a bright smile and a polite nod, you step back half expecting him to tell you to follow him.
“Oh, hi Dr. Robby. H’you doing?” Your eyes follow him as he gives you a little shrug, patting the counter before pushing off of it. He approaches you, giving you a tiny smile before glancing up at the board himself.
“Good. Long day, but… nothing too bad,” you nod slightly, glancing up at his side profile as his eyes dart along the screen. You subconsciously turn your body to face him, before hesitantly turning to mimic his stance as you face the board too. “Let’s hope it’s still like this.”
You hum softly, staring up at the board as you’re looking through available patients before turning at the sound of his footsteps departing. “Leaving already?” You ask curiously to which he hesitates for a moment, looking around for someone you’re unsure of before tucking his hands into his pockets.
“If I stay any longer, I might jinx the place’s peace.” He says lightly, shrugging away the question as he walks backwards. You roll your eyes playfully, shooing him away before quickly waving the air from his bad luck.
“Fine, fine. Have a good night, Dr. Robby!” You wave him away as he grins down at you, waving over his shoulder with quick, wide steps out the building.
When you turn around you nearly bump into Jack, who quickly provides a steady hand on your shoulder to walk around you. “Oh, Dr. Abbot! I was just gonna look for you.” He pauses mid-stride, glancing back over his shoulder at you. Giving you a small nod for you to walk with him, he slows down his step just enough for you to fall into step beside him.
“What’s up?” He looks up from the chart in his hand, flipping a page as he stops just in front of an unoccupied room.
“I just wanted to update you on the patient from last night, the one with the uhm…” you trailed off, snapping your fingers together as you tried to remember the condition of the twelve year old patient. “The aden— ameb…”
“Appendicitis.” He corrects gently, watching the way you quickly nodded and echoed after him.
“Right, yes,” you sighed heavily, shaking your head to yourself at forgetting something so important as that. You looked up at him, as he kept his gaze on the paper in his hand, but you could feel the attention shift toward you. It was a subtle shift, the same familiar way he does when he’s listening but trying his best to not look. “Well, the surgery went well, and she’s currently set on a diet of lime jell-o and apple juice.”
He nods slowly, gently nudging you to walk with him as he redirects you back to the board. The two of you weave through the controlled chaos of the unit, swerving around a small group of nurses who were busily chatting while they had the opportunity to. “Sounds like a child’s dream.”
“Certainly was my dream.” You snickered to yourself, looking up at the board again at the extremely slow roll of patients. You quickly looked over at Jack as he cleared his throat, holding the clipboard out to you.
You hesitate for a moment, glancing between his extended arm and the board before carefully grabbing it from his hand. You glance down at the report, reading over twice before looking up at him as he speaks. “Go ‘head, take him,” you stare at him in momentary confusion, glancing towards the room before looking back at him with a wide smile but he’s quickly cutting you off as you’re getting ready to thank him. “Buttt, come grab me to present.”
You nod quickly, doublechecking the report. “Okay, I will. Thanks.”
You quickly make your way towards S8, making sure your presence is known to the patient as you gently knock on the door. Inside, your patient is an older male, maybe in his late forties, early fifties. He’s sitting upright, breathing a little too fast, hands twisting in the blanket as his eyes frantically find yours.
“Hi sir, I’m one of the residents here, I’ll be helping you today,” you gently close the door behind you, quietly approaching him. “I’m just here to check your vitals, and ask you a few questions. Is that okay?”
The man stares at you for a moment, taking a forced heavy breath before wiping the sweat from his brow line. “Can I get some water? I’m dying here.”
You hesitate for a moment, searching the cabinets and drawers for a thermometer before turning back to him. “I’ll let your nurse know you’re thirsty, and she’ll come with a cup of water. But I just have to check your vitals so your doctor has a basi—”
The patient sighs, smacking his lips together dryly before nodding again. He motions for you to take his temperature, quickly dabbing away the sweat there with his sleeve. You’re quick to check his vitals, taking his forehead temp, listening to his lungs, asking him to rate his pain. You try to get his histories and notes down quickly, not wanting to drag on his discomfort but also allowing yourself enough time to get the proper information.
By the time you step back into the hallway, a nurse is already making her way into the room, offering you a polite smile as you slip around her. You’re slowly looking around for Jack, eyes immediately falling on Dr. Ellis as she quickly walks your way. You tuck the clipboard under your arm, clearing your throat as you side step to walk with her. “Excuse me, Dr. Ellis, have you seen Dr. Abbot anywhere?”
She looks down at you with a small grin, giving you a little shake of her head as she motions down the hall to a room. “He’s with a patient right now. Why? What’s up?”
You nibble on your bottom lip as you glance over at the room he’s in and then back at her before motioning to the clipboard. “I just had a patient with a fever of 100, a cough, pleuritic chest pain, crackles on the right. I was supposed to present but..” You shrugged slightly, turning back to Dr. Ellis as she nods for you to continue.
“And?”
You hand her the clipboard, eyes glued onto her as she reads through what you’ve written and what you’ve noted. “I’m thinking it could possibly be pneumonia? I want a chest x-ray and labs.”
She nods once, giving you an approving smile. “Good. Order them,” she turned slightly towards the nurses’ station before looking at you again. “I’ll go in and introduce myself if Dr. Abbot’s still with his patient in five minutes.”
You blink twice, eyes following her. “You— don’t need to re‑do the exam or anything?”
She glances back at you, raising an eyebrow at you before leaning forward slightly. “I trust you. Don’t forget to order those labs.” You nodded as she walked away, letting out a little sigh of relief.
You lingered in the hallway, slowly making your way towards the nurses’ station to study the board. You set the clipboard down, neatly running your hand over the sheet of paper before looking up at the nurse who entered S8 with a small paper cup of water. Your attention diverts towards Jack as he exits a nearby room, eyes finding yours before stopping at a nearby computer.
You turn back to the screen of the board, glancing his way from the corner of your eye as you slowly inched your way towards Jack. You’re already stepping closer before you realize you’ve done it— drawn in by the gravity he carries. He’s settled into the chair, chart resting against the countertop, reaching for another file as he types in the computer. He hums softly at your close proximity, blinking up at you as you leaned against the desk. “So whaddya got?”
“Forty five year old male, fever, chest pains, crackling on the right,” he nods at you, typing away in the computer as he looks down at his own clipboard. “I put an order for labs and an x-ray.”
He looks at your reflection in the computer as he turns in his seat to stare up at you. The corners of his lips curled up into a pleased grin, nodding again as he slowly stands upright. “Good, that’s good. Let me know the results.”
He doesn’t send you off right away, just gives your lower arm a gentle squeeze before turning to grab the clipboard from the desk. “I’ll go in and introduce myself. You already did the heavy lifting.”
You hesitate, already moving to follow him. “Do you want me to come with you?”
He quickly glances over at you, giving you a small grin before shaking his head. “No. You’ve done your part. Go put in those orders.”
Your eyes follow him as he turns to leave, glancing down at your clipboard before letting out a little sigh. He stops and turns around last second, just within arm’s reach. His expression softens just a fraction as he watches you make your way towards the nurse’s station. Dr. Ellis appears from seemingly nowhere, arms crossed as she looks at him with a knowing smile.
The shift kept moving around you, it was light and easier than your last shift. Four patients, four presentations with Jack, twelve hours of stolen glances and five ‘good job’s. Not that you were counting, put you were definitely putting those in your praise piggy bank. The world keeps moving around you, silent synchronization meshing into something more vulnerable.
You’re busy talking to Dr. Ellis about a patient you had earlier, a little kid with a bad eczema rash. You’re entirely unaware that Jack had been watching you from the opposite corner of the nurse’s station, leaning against the counter as he not so subtly looks down at the time on his watch.
Morning shift was already starting to file in. Dr. Ellis gives you an appraising nod and a quick fist bump as a goodbye before making her way out the building. You linger by a nearby board, and just as Jack takes a step towards you, Victoria comes up to talk to you. He does a quick u-turn, nearly bumping into Robby who’s also just walking it.
Robby steadies Jack with a hand on his upper arm, giving him a worried look before glancing over Jack’s shoulder to the sight of you and Victoria giggling together. Jack rolls his eyes at Robby’s teasing grin. “When are you gonna pull your big boy pants on and talk to her outside of the shift?”
Jack looks over his shoulder at the sight of you laughing comfortably with Victoria, before shrugging slightly at Robby. “Maybe when she isn’t a social magnet.”
Robby shakes his head at his friend’s obvious hesitation, thinking for a moment before turning back to you. He calls your name, getting your attention with a short wave of his hand as Jack turns around. You excuse yourself from your conversation with Victoria, quickly approaching the two of them.
“Morning, Robby,” you greet him with a wide smile, looking between Jack and Robby before tucking your hands into the pockets of your scrubs. “Sleep good?”
“Like a baby.” Robby grins down at you as Jack is more focused on staring at your side profile than attempting to take part of the conversation.
“How was the shift?”
“Oh, it was good? Yeah?” You subconsciously look over at Jack, who gives you a slight nod. “Yeah, it was good.”
Robby slowly looks over at Jack, tilting his head slightly before looking at you with a hum. “Let’s hope we get that good vibe.”
You wave at Robby as he makes his way to speak to Dana. You watch him leave before turning back to Jack who was no longer looking at you. “When’s your next day off?” He asks suddenly, blinking up at you as he steps forward.
You raise an eyebrow at him, opening your mouth to respond before looking up at the ceiling as you thought. “Uhm,” you trailed off, not even registering the warmth of his hand hovering over the small of your back as he subtly guided you out the building with him. “I think… on Friday?”
“Yeah?” He mumbled slightly, eyes darting down to where his hand lingered against the fabric of your scrubs before stopping you once you got too close to the street.
“Why’d you ask?” You look at him curiously before looking left and right along the street.
“Do you drink?”
You fix the sleeve of your undershirt, peeking over at him before giving him a small, confused smile. “Oh, well not really. I’ll have a drink with my friends if I’m at a bar or something but it’s typically not my thing.”
He stares at you as you speak, really listening to what you said before nodding. “That’s good.” He speaks quickly, eyes shifting along your face before taking a small step closer to you.
“Dr. Abbot? Why are you asking all these questions? Am I getting quizzed or something?” You teased lightly, laughing at your own joke with a shake of your head. He smiles down at you, and if this were a cartoon or some cliche romance movie, he would’ve had love hearts circling around his head.
“You can call me Jack, hun.”
“Oh, right. Jack,” you let the word sit on your tongue before stretching your arms out in front of you. “Are you just trying to get to know me better or—”
“Do you want to grab pizza on Friday?”
You look up to him in surprise, looking around as if this were some prank being played on you. He watches the confusion on your face before letting out a quick laugh.
“Sorry, I probably should’ve clarified. Do you want to go grab pizza on Friday with the rest of the night shift?”
“Oh, oh, for a second I thought you were asking me out or something.” His laugh dies down slightly, studying the shyness on your face as you slowly nodded.
“Don’t worry, I’ll save that for another day.”
Before you could even get a chance to respond, he waves at you in a silent goodbye as he makes his way to the parking lot. You stand there with furrowed eyebrows, trying to comprehend what just happened.
Now all Jack has to do is somehow convince the night shift to suddenly be interested in pizza just so he can spend more time with you. Sounds easy enough.
♡ pairing: jack abbot x fem!reader x michael robinavitch
♡ synopsis: when the day of your birthday rolls around, no one but you seems to know about it. what you'd hoped would be a good day ends in upset when robby lays into you for making a mistake. come the following afternoon, he & jack are made aware of how they screwed up & make strides to set things right.
♡ content: angst, grumpy!robby, they're both pining for reader as always, mohan is a sweetie, you get (1) sad cupcake
♡ a/n: based off this request. ty!
For some birthdays in the Pitt—given people are aware one is upcoming—a couple balloons and a store-bought cake might be brought into the Employee Lounge for all to enjoy in spare moments between the never-ending flow of emergent patients. Granted, a show isn't exactly made out of the celebration with colorful streamers, decorative party hats, and screeching noise makers, but even so, just the possibility of other people making a grand display out of your "special day" is a horrifying thought.
Being the center of attention for even a moment while someone else lies but a few yards away bleeding from a bullet wound? Couldn't be you.
Nevertheless, you can't help but wish for one holiday—personal or otherwise—where a flower delivery or gift box might be delivered to your place of work with a romantic message attached.
Today is no different in you entertaining such wishful thinking when you come walking through the ED's sliding doors.
There's a pin-up in the Lounge with a long list of everyone's birth dates with balloon clipart placed crookedly at the top, so surely someone will have remembered and gotten you a cheap cupcake, or even just a basic card with a couple signatures scrawled within.
As you take a peek inside while passing by, however, you see nothing of the sort awaiting you. Just an empty table, and counter space full of upside down mugs and a coffee machine—same as ever.
Deflating, you mentally shrug and make your way to your locker. It's better this way. Had anyone remembered—or just known in general—then word would spread like wildfire all the way up to reception, meaning you'd have to awkwardly thank every well wisher who crossed your path for the remainder of your shift.
Saves you the trouble.
You're working up an individual who came in complaining of lower back pain and difficulty urinating—which you've pretty well chalked up to most likely being kidney stones—when Robby raps his knuckles against the propped open door behind you.
Glancing to him over your shoulder, you briefly halt your assessment of your patient. "Yeah?"
He beckons you forth with an index finger. "C'mere, something I need to talk to you about." He feigns a smile for the middle-aged man in front of you and states that you'll be back momentarily.
Following him out, Robby pulls you into an empty room and shuts the door after you've entered.
"Is something wrong?" You ask innocently while gazing up at him with furrowed brows.
"Do you remember the woman from earlier? Mrs. Jacobson?"
You nod.
"She's been up in Plastics waiting for an hour to be seen because her chart was never finished down here."
Your stomach sinks. You'd meant to get to that before being side-tracked by needing to use the restroom, and then there'd been a thing with Whittaker's patient vomiting all over the floor, so you'd fetched housekeeping, and then—
"So imagine my surprise when one of their nurses takes time out of her day to come down asking after it and I find out you've already moved onto another patient."
You open your mouth to reply, until he holds up a palm to stop you.
"You know our protocol," Robby says sternly. "If they're being referred to another floor or physician, you make sure their information is up to date and their chart complete before you begin work on anything else." He takes a small step forward, and you shrink into yourself.
With him towering over you like this, you feel like a child being scolded by its parent after it forgot to do an assigned chore on the daily chart.
"So I trust you have a good reason why you didn't do as much," he states while folding his arms.
You blink back tears. "I—I forgot. I'm so—"
He throws his head back, pinches the bridge of his nose, then returns to his previous stance. "That's no excuse for being neglectful. Gloria is up my ass all day long about patient satisfaction bullshit and now this!"
Your chin wobbles.
"Get back in there," he says while pointing at the wall to the right, where your patient awaits your return on the other side, "Finish up with what you're currently doing, then get both charts done. Understood?"
You nod while sniffling. "Y-Yes."
He rolls his eyes, then steps past you to the door. Once he's opened it and waved you out, you scurry past him in a panic.
You keep your head down for the remainder of the day. Figuratively and literally. You're diligent in your work, and hold your bladder so long at one point—just to get a bit more charting done—that you nearly have an accident in the hallway.
When evening time rolls around and your workday is coming to a close, Robby goes in search of you to apologize for his earlier treatment after his temper has cooled, but when he comes into your line-of-sight, you turn and hurry in the other direction.
Thinking he may be able to catch you outside, he makes for the doors to the ambulance bay and only just catches the sight of you speed-walking past Abbot while mumbling a quick 'Goodnight' before marching on.
"The hell did you do to our girl?" Abbot asks while readjusting the strap of the camo backpack that's slung over his shoulder.
Robby sighs and sinks his hands into the pockets of his coat. "She got behind on a patient's chart who went upstairs and I might've been a little hard on her about it because I was already in a mood. She's been avoiding me all day because of it."
Jack glares at him. "So, in other words, you've been taking frustrations with HR bullshit out on our star pupil?"
He shakes his head and goes to step away.
"Do you want her to leave us for Westbridge?" Jack calls from behind him.
Gritting his teeth and looking skyward, Robby huffs in irritation before turning back on his heel. "She isn't that damn fragile, Jack."
He shrugs. "Maybe, maybe not. But you get snippy with her again and I'll put her on night shift with me."
Robby curses lowly. "It was one conversation. You don't need to jump to extremes just because you want her all to yourself."
Jack purses his lips and Robby smirks. "Since we both know that that's what this whole conversation is truly about—less her and more you."
Turning his back on him, the vet shoots up a middle finger before hobbling inside.
On the way home, you pick up a small cupcake that's your favorite flavor and decorated with pretty, sparkly swirls of icing on top, as well as a small pack of multi-color birthday candles.
Once you're settled in for the night, you save the sugary treat for dessert after eating a filling dinner.
Sitting in the silence of your apartment, you quietly sing 'Happy birthday to me' before blowing out the singular candle stuck in the middle of your pastry before plucking it out and taking a bite.
Somehow by eating it alone, however, it doesn't taste as good as you'd hoped.
"Oh! Oh, Y/N!" Mohan calls from the nurses station.
You glance up from the manilla folder you're currently carrying to Trauma 4 and meet her smile with a raised brow.
"We're playing this game that involves astrological signs," she explains.
Santos shakes her head. "It's stupid. Trust me, you do not wanna bother."
Whittaker grins. "I dunno, I think it's kinda neat."
"What's yours?" Samira asks.
You clutch the folder to your chest and snicker. "No offense or anything, but I don't believe in all that. I just think the definitions are broad enough that you can make things fit if you really want to."
When you make to step away, she shrugs and begins typing. "Well, I could just pull up your employee profile to figure it out for myself."
Your eyes grow wide when you turn back in her direction. Tripping over your own feet, you stumble over to where she sits. "Oh, no, that's fine! I could just tell you what it is. I'm a—"
"Oh," she says with slight surprise.
"What, is she the crab or whatever?" Trinity asks.
Mohan looks up to you with knitted brows. "Your birthday was yesterday."
You don't see it, but Robby, who's standing a handful of feet behind you reading over an EKG, turns to look in your direction over his glasses.
Jack, who's just exited an exam room, meets his gaze and shakes his head. Not because he's disappointed in Robby per se, but rather the both of them for not knowing, or so much as making an effort to keep such an important date in mind.
"Why didn't you say anything?" Mel questions while walking over.
"I..." You grasp for explanation.
"Yeah, we would've gotten you something," Mohan reassures sweetly.
"Maybe Huckleberry could get you a pumpkin from the farm," Trinity adds sarcastically.
"It's just another day on a calendar," you say quietly. "It isn't important." Just another year spent alone, you think.
Jack's heart shatters for you.
"Well that's depressing," Trin commentates before pushing off the counter and getting back to work.
You swallow thickly while taking a step back. "I'm just gonna—" You wave the folder you currently hold in the air before walking away.
"How did you not know?" Jack questions from beside Robby.
Throwing his glasses down on the surface before him, which his elbows rest upon, he runs his hands down his face. "I had other things on my mind, like taking care of patients. Not cake and balloon animals," he says while clasping his palms together and turning his head in Jack's direction.
Jack crosses his arms. "She got you a gift for yours, or have you already forgotten that fact?"
It'd been simple, but handmade. Which made the item mean even more to him: an embroidered piece. The Shema Prayer in Hebrew. When you found him during PittFest in Peds, you'd heard him reciting it. Had gone so far as to ask quietly about it later.
He cried the night he hung it up in his home because you had cared enough to make such a loving gesture in the first place while the others simply purchased a cheap card from a Hallmark store down the street.
"Of course I remember," he says lowly. "I touch it every night when I get home and every morning before I leave. Because she's the one it came from."
You'd pulled him aside that day—had held the tips of his fingers as you led him into the Lounge before presenting it to him with shaking hands.
"The letters might be a little crooked," you'd explained quietly. "But I did my best."
His eyes had grown glassy as he cradled it between his palms.
"Do... Do you not like it? That day... Maybe I've upset you—"
He'd shook his head while sniffling. And then he'd smiled. "No, sweetheart, it's perfect. Thank you...for being so thoughtful."
It'd felt so right when he pulled you against his chest before wrapping his arms around you.
"Then we need to fix this," Jack retorts.
He nods. "I know."
"Hey, doll," Dana calls to you while adjusting her hair clip.
"Yes?"
"Somebody dropped off some snacks earlier in the Employee Lounge. One of those assorted chip boxes. Go grab ya a couple before everybody else takes 'em."
"Oh. Okay."
Heading in that direction, you secretly hope that there's Cheetos. Or maybe white cheddar popcorn. Classic Lays sounds good, too, though.
Alright, so maybe you're feeling just a bit peckish.
Swinging around the corner and into the aforementioned room, you halt in your tracks. Sitting atop the table that's pushed off to the side is a glass vase filled to the brim with soft pink roses and baby's breath. Clutching it is a fluffy brown teddy bear.
It's not... It's not for you, though. You know that.
Glancing around, you fail to spot the box in question. Maybe it's already been emptied?
Sighing with disappointment, you turn to exit, but are stopped by Robby blocking the doorway. Leaning against it with crossed arms, he smiles warmly at you. "Happy birthday, sweetheart."
Your eyes flit between his as a lump develops in your throat. "It... It's for me?"
He nods, then glances to it while jerking his chin in the direction of your gift. "Read the card."
Turning around yet again, you wander over to it and pull the item in question from the cardette.
The day of your birth is more than worth celebrating. Without it, we wouldn't be able to look forward to seeing you every day.
Love, J & R
Tears brim in your eyes and you sniffle quietly. Worrying your lower lip between your teeth, you keep hold of the item while repeatedly telling yourself not to cry.
You jump slightly when the chair next to you is pulled out and Jack seats himself heavily upon it. "Do you like it, then?"
You nod and a tear slips down your cheek.
Coming to stand at your side, Robby pulls you against the wealth of his chest just like before, which you snuggle contentedly against, appreciating the softness and warmth it provides.
"I always wanted flowers delivered," you whisper. "On my birthday. Or...Valentine's Day."
Jack's eyes flit to Robby, who smirks and gives him a knowing look. Future plans.
"But never had anyone who'd..." You trail off. "Well, never had anyone."
Jack grabs your hand and tugs you down onto his thigh. "Getting a cake delivered last minute was sort of out of the question, but—"
You shake your head. "I got myself a cupcake last night."
Somehow, that makes the pair of them feel impossibly worse about the whole situation: the thought of you at home having just a singular cupcake on your lonesome. They'll certainly be unlikely to forget your birthday next year, if nothing else.
Running his palm down your back, Jack leans forward and presses a kiss to your cheek. "Happy birthday, honey."
nerd!gojo who sits right behind your seat in class, it sometimes feels like he’s breathing down your neck, peering over your shoulder and straight down the front of your shirt, trying to get a glimpse of your cleavage or edge of your bra. (It’s not like you wear off the shoulder or low cut shirts on purpose, you just look good in them!)
But every time you try to catch him in the act, he’s leaning back in his seat, carefully taking notes or drawing Digimon stuff…. Almost like it really is you imagination. Nobody else has called him out on doing something like that too so… definitely your imagination.
Though there was this one time someone saw him jerking off in the back row in some boring class, but that’s just a rumour. Right?
nerd!gojo who has stalked your whole social media, he has made about 20 tributes (ifykyk) to pictures or videos of your pretty face. But that doesn’t feel like enough to him. When you’re minding your business, maybe bending over to pick something up, tying your shoe, on your tippy toes to get a book from a high shelf in the library. Even hugging a friend or laughing at a joke.
He has pictures of all of that. He’s not a stalker, I think. But he gets off to it soooo bad. He sits in a bathroom stall, a hand covering his mouth, his phone on his thigh with a picture of your ass in a pretty skirt, bent over, his other gripping and tugging at his painfully erect cock. And then goes back to a lecture as if nothing had happened.
nerd!gojo who you had to work together on a project with. Actually, since he was so smart, it was really easy to do the work. He didn’t slack off, and acted normal around you.
At the start.
The second time you met up to do the work in a café, it was a slow day, so nobody was really in the café besides you both, a barista and some locked in business major guy. He sat across from you, sipping some sugary dubai chocolate labubu milk tea while typing away on his laptop. You were on your own computer, making the presentation slides.
It was subtle, you mistook it for an accident. His sneaker brushing against yours. Then again. And again. And again. After the fourth time you lifted your eyes, giving him a curious look.
He just gave you a shy, goofy grin. And slid his leg up, brushing up against your ankle, you could feel his knee knocking against yours underneath the small table.
nerd!gojo who got only bolder the more you spent time with. You had only a few days left till the presentation was supposed to be done, he had come over to your dorm to finish things up. You were digging trough your bag for some notes. Meanwhile he was busy exploring your bedroom with his eyes.
After a few hours you had to go to the bathroom, you told him not to do anything weird while you were gone.
That was futile.
While you were gone, he acted fast, digging trough your clothes, your dirty laundry, until he struck gold.
Maybe 6 minutes passed and you had come back to your dorm.
He was too far gone, a pair of panties up in his face, drool almost dripping from the corner of his mouth, standing in the middle of the dorm, sweatpants dropped down to his knees, boxers there too. His glasses askew, fisting his dripping cock together with some other pair of lacy panties.
You walked in, shutting the door behind you, looking at him with a shocked expression, lips parting. “What the fuck-” Your cheeks got red, it felt like a fire started to burn in your tummy, spreading in all directions, up all the way to your chest and down between your legs.
But he didn't stop, his bright blue eyes locking in with yours, a soft whimper leaving his lips, and then your name, and he almost snapped back to reality but the pleasure of you now seeing him do something like this made his knees buckle.
"S...sorry... it just smells like you and i... shit... will you help me?"
nerd!gojo who was asking you to HELP him??
you who were about to make a decision.
1.Do you tell him to fuck off and leave?
2. help him out?
3. Lock in and do the project, as if what was happening, wasn't?
Yoon's notes: Me personally, i wouldn't leave my boy hanging. 2.
Reupload from my old account @/yoonsucksalot !
HUGE MEGA DRIPPING WET THANKS TO @liliklei @yorikae !!!
art: k4enyu
I have a request for YEARNING STEVE. Everything you do he just can’t get enough. Touchy. Clingy. Whiney when you’re not near and everyone is lowkey sick of seeing it but he doesn’t care he just wants YOU 😭
good old-fashioned lover boy
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pairing - steve harrington x fem!reader (no use of yn)
genre - fluff, established relationship
warnings - tooth rotting fluff bc i’m in love w steve harrington & im projecting all my feelings into my work, lots of skin-ship, steve harrington yearns, gag-worthy amounts of being in luv, kissing & some making out! steve refers to u as his gf and baby multiple times, word count 3.7k 🧍♀️
authors note - tysm for the req :) i hope this is ok, and ty for letting me yearn with no restraints <33 my ask box is always open for these kinds of things so pls don’t be afraid to ask me to write something
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summary - 3 times steve harrington couldn’t keep his hands off you, and the 1 time everyone called him out on it.
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if anyone were to ask, steve harrington would say his love language was physical touch. really, he couldn’t help his insistent need to reach out and touch you, not that you complained most of the time anyways, because it was just how he expressed his feelings. sometimes words weren’t enough, and steve was raised on the saying that “actions speak louder than words.” so it came to no surprise that he’d always have a hand on you; whether it was his fingers laced with yours, an arm slung over your shoulder or his hand ghosting over the small of your back, steve was always touching you in some degree.
steve could recall nearly every time he’d notice someone glance at the pair of you, or hear an off-handed comment from someone he knew about how you two were glued to the hip, how they almost never saw one of you without the other. he took pride in it, despite the judgemental tone some of them had, because why wouldn’t he want to spend quality time with the love of his life? he never really understood the idea of being without someone for long periods of time, because in his mind: to be loved is to be present.
i.
there was nothing romantic about the cramped employee back room of family video. it was dusty, the air was stale and more often than not you’d walk in and find keith sitting at the desk with a game & watch under the pretence of “admin work”. yet, steve still had the nerve to convince you that he couldn’t be more than five steps away from you, rambling on about how it’d physically hurt him to separate his hand from yours, and that he’s offended you wouldn’t “walk to the ends of the earth with your boyfriend in hand.” to which you just roll your eyes.
“steve, you’re so dramatic sometimes..” he’s moping, complaining that you don’t love him, because if you did, you’d be in the store room with him right now instead of calling him names. “is it a crime to want to be with my girlfriend?” he’s got a hand clutching his heart, murmuring that he’s wounded and the only cure for his broken heart is just behind the door to the back office. “no, but unauthorised entry in an employee only area is..” you’re teasing him now, steve is opening wearing his heart on his sleeve and expressing his unwavering love for you and you’re teasing him.
“baby, you’ve literally been behind doors countless times, and last time i checked..” he’s making a show of looking around, knowing full well the two of you were alone; robin not due to start her shift for another hour or so. “.. there’s no one else here.” it has you rolling your eyes, and steve’s calling checkmate. he’s got you right where he wants, no more excuses lined up on your tongue and you just sigh, giving in easily like you always do. steve’s internally cheering, a smug smile on his face as he interlocks your fingers with his, tugging you towards the secluded area out back, and all you can do is follow.
before you’re even able to question his clingy behaviour, steve is slowly backing you towards the nearest wall, one hand laced with yours and the other is pressed against the cold surface beside you, and it all clicks. “baby, you did not just convince me to come back here just so we can make out..” steve just shrugs, feigning innocence even when his eyes are telling you everything. “mm, don’t know what you’re on about.” he leans in anyway, and you don’t fight back, his lips on yours in a matter of seconds. and as much as you had wanted to poke fun of how needy he was today, you realised you needed this too, needed him close enough to touch, and you think you’re becoming just as bad as him.
it was just supposed to be a few innocent kisses, a few unspoken words in the form of his lips interlocked with yours, and yet, you can’t help but have an arm strung around the back of his neck, your need to have him closer clouding your judgement. steve’s just as bad, both hands on your waist, bringing you in, chest to chest, and you’re both whining about being too far away, despite the lack of space left between you. “you’re a terrible liar.” you call out, and he’s ignoring it in favour of kissing your jaw, following a path down your neck, while you’ve got a hand bunched in his hair, tugging just hard enough to get a sound out of him. he’s grinning up at you now, from the junction of your throat you can feel his teasing smile, and you roll your eyes, pretending you’re not wrapped around his finger right now, like you’re not as equally eager to have him.
he’s sliding a hand underneath your shirt, drawing aimless shapes along your bare skin, lost in the feeling, before there’s the distinct sound of shuffling outside that halts his movements. you both freeze, eyes stuck on the door before flicking back to each other, and you’re looking at him in horror, too afraid at the idea of being caught. “i thought you said it was just us?” you whisper, you curse him out for being reckless, and dragging you along with him, before you push him off you in favour of smoothing out the wrinkles on your clothes. steve’s groaning out in irritation, muttering something along the lines of “last time i checked, it was.” before sticking his head outside to see what the commotion was all about.
“dingus, the fuck are you doing? there’s a customer.” it’s robin, and steve’s eyes shoot up to the clock, she’s early, and he’s wincing because really, out of all days. steve coughs awkwardly, some feeble excuse on his tongue dies when robin takes notice of his disheveled appearance and he can tell she’s grown suspicious, that she’s got questions he doesn’t really want to reveal the answers to. her suspicions quickly turn into disgust when she pieces the picture together, and she’s looking at the door as if she can already guess who’s behind there with him. “think you can see what they want? i’m a bit preoccupied.” and robin is feigning a gag, all while the customer just stands there, judging the both of them before making a comment about the lack of professionalism the youth have these day.
“i’m not even clocked in you idiot!” but it doesn’t matter, because steve’s quick to close the door on her and robin flips him off when she thinks the customer isn’t looking. they were, and it’s just another thing she has to deal with before her shift even begins.
ii.
steve thinks it’s entirely unfair that you’re ignoring him right now. he’s lying between your legs, breath tickling your thighs and practically yearning for your attention. yet you’re more engrossed in whatever it is that nancy is saying to you on the phone, than your amazing, perfect, and very bored boyfriend. sure, you’ve go one hand playing idly with his hair, and it’s enough to have him close his eyes, to enjoy the way you rake your fingers through it softly, but it’s not enough to ease the ache of not being the centre of your attention. if the role were reversed, there wouldn’t even be a phone call, steve would happily ignore all his responsibilities if it meant he got to laze around with you, the most important person in his life.
it’s quiet, and the only sound in the room is nancy’s small voice bleeding through the speaker. she’s gossiping, giggling about something jonathan said and the vibration of your laughter makes steve look up, and he hates that he’s jealous over nothing. he hates that your attention is split between two, especially when it was so rare for the two of you to have a joint day off like this. sure, you both technically worked at the radio station, and you guys did see each other everyday, but rarely did he get to have you to himself like this.
he’s bored, grumbling under his breath and it momentarily grabs your attention, nancy’s speaking, but you’re not particularly listening right now, eyes locked onto your pouting boyfriend, who’s rolling his eyes and moving out of your space. you’re raising an eyebrow, and he’s leaning over you, and a part of you is expecting him to cling on to you, to bridge the sudden space between you. he cranes his body over yours, and breathes out a quick “sorry nance.” before taking the phone out of your hand and hanging up, placing it back on the cradle, and you can hear her sigh before she’s cut off. “steve, i was using that.” and he hums, clearly not listening in favour of wrapping an arm around your shoulders, pulling you into his side and focusing on the movie that played as background noise.
“oh sorry, i didn’t realise.” he’s being sarcastic, and you roll your eyes and hit his chest playfully, melting into his embrace nonetheless, because you were always so weak for your boyfriend despite his questionable intentions. “you’re lucky i love you.” and he can’t fight the smile on his face, he can’t play the role of the upset boyfriend anymore, because you always knew how to have him swoon with just a few words. “yeah? love you too.” there’s a lingering kiss to the edge of your mouth, and you’re turning your head, trying to catch his lips fully but he’s pulling away, teasing you like he always does.
“steve..” the roles feel reversed now, like you’re the one vowing for his attention and you realise just how easy you played into his hands. “you’re annoying.” he nods, ‘engrossed’ in the movie, and your fingers are grazing his jaw, pulling him back into your bubble so you can kiss him properly, so you can give him the attention you both were craving. “oh, hi baby.” steve is playing dumb, and you shake your head, bringing him even closer to the point where you have your legs thrown over his lap, perched on his thighs and blocking the view of the tv. “don’t ’hi baby’ me steve.” and the act drops, hands on your waist and he’s sighing into your mouth, both of you longing for the other.
“missed you.” he’s murmuring against your lips, breath mingling with yours and you can feel the way he pouts like he just can’t believe you would’ve rather spoken to nancy than to have him like this. “i’ve been here all day stevie..” and he’s shaking his head, pulling you closer because it’s different, yeah, you were here physically, but your attention wasn’t. steve just wanted to spend his day lying around idly with his girlfriend with no distractions, no interruptions.
“you were on the phone with nance for ages..” a sigh leaves your lips, cooing at his obvious bitterness and you’re quick to move both hands to the sides of his face, forcing him to look at you and you lean in for a chaste kiss. “it was for like ten minutes, you’re such a big baby..” steve rolls his eyes, but there’s a crack of a smile when he feels you stare at him, eyes shining with that familiar adoration and he doesn’t respond to your very true statement, because he’s aware that he was acting out, but really, who cares when he’s got you like this.
“yeah yeah, now can we please pay attention to your very handsome, doting boyfriend who wants to kiss his beautiful girlfriend right now.” and you just nod, breathing out a laugh and leaning forward once again.
iii.
dustin really wishes he missed this crawl, maybe then he wouldn’t have to deal with you and steve giggling in the front of the van like two lovesick teenagers. steve’s got a hand situated on your thigh, hearts in his eyes as you sit there, full focus on him whilst he explains the significance of the clutch pedal. you had made an offhanded comment on how you wish you learnt how to drive manual, and steve perked up, he felt like a petrolhead, eager to teach you all he knew.
dustin’s fiddling with a rubik’s cube he found lying around in the back, waiting for the signal from the others at the station, knowing it’d take awhile before they could finally hit the road. so he’s sighing, looking anywhere but the two of you, because he can already picture it, the way steve is gloating, priding himself on his extensive knowledge of shifting gears. he doesn’t need to look over to picture the way you’re batting your eyes, humming along to every word steve says, hyperaware of how steve’s hand is inching higher without him even realising it.
dustin wants to gag, you two were so disgustingly into each other that it’s suffocating, it’s got him flicking the antenna of his walkie and mumbling into the speaker, voicing a prayer and a cry for help. he can hear a snicker on the other side of the frequency, it’s robin, and she doesn’t even have the courtesy to act surprised, because it could be worse. “don’t bother henderson, it’s been like this all day.“ and he sighs, because he thought you two would’ve been tired of each other by now, really, he doesn’t understand how you find steve interesting enough to be infatuated by him at all waking hours of the day.
he thinks of steve like an older brother, his best friend, someone he looks up to but even he also knows just how annoying he can be. he admires your loyalty, because dustin might’ve clawed his hair out if he had to deal with steve the same way you do. steve was different before the two of you met, that cool, uncaring facade he carried with him only switched on when you were around and now that you two were together and grossly in love, it was like he was looking at a completely different person.
steve harrington, the same guy who beat the shit out some demodogs, who put up a fight against the russians is now the same steve who’s distracted by your every move, who misses his queues at the squawk because he’s too enamoured by you walking past while they’re on air. the same steve who keeps a polaroid of you two in his wallet, who insists that he can’t hang out with dustin on sunday’s because it’s date night, or because you two are seeing a movie. the same steve that’s looking at you like you’ve hung the stars, even in the cramped seats of the squawk van.
it’s best to ignore you two for now, because dustin knows that steve is too focused on you to even entertain his disappointed looks he keeps throwing at the pair of you. steve can’t help it though, he’s been dreaming for a girl like you, and now that you’re finally his, he wants to make sure that you know how much you mean to him, even at the cost of being teased by the entire party for being at your beck and call.
“..and that’s how you avoid a stall.” you’re nodding, and steve’s got that smug smile he always has when he’s showing off, and you couldn’t find him any more attractive as you do right now. you’re not even remotely interested in manual driving anymore, not when you’re distracted by how he hot he looks when he’s focused on something. you don’t even register the static of laughter in the back, the sound of a snicker coming through the speakers because steve’s looking at you in full earnest, soft smile tugged on his lips and it’s like the world around you goes mute.
“okay lovebirds, please don’t forget i’m here too.” a voice chimes in, and it’s like someone’s snapped their fingers, your attention drifting over from steve to dustin’s folded arms, he twitches when he can see you finally take off your rose tinted glasses and come back down to earth. you hear steve sigh beside you, annoyed that your time together is always cut short, and turns his head to greet his younger friend. “yes henderson?” but he’s distracted by the sound of your laughter, you’re clearing enjoying the exchange between the two and it just peeves dustin off more.
steve really can’t stay annoyed for long, not when you’re there; he has a soft spot for you always, and not even dustin’s glare can spoil his mood. “can’t you two hold it in until after the crawl?” dustin chimes in again, his hands emphasising the telemetry tracker beside him, and you nod, promising the two of you will behave, much to steve’s dismay. “baby..” you hold a hand out to stop steve from speaking out, and he pauses, eyes looking between you and dustin, and you can see the exact moment he gives up.
steve doesn’t remove his hand from your thigh though, instead he laces his fingers with yours and squeezes, because he still craves your touch even when he’s silently moping like this. you smile at him, squeezing back, and it’s then that they finally get the signal to drive, and dustin couldn’t be happier.
iv.
the kids had just graduated, and you soon find yourself situated with the others on the roof of the radio station. the nostalgia hitting and memories flood in of your time together at the squawk, and it feels like no time has changed, despite it being over a year since you all decided to pursue your seperate aspirations. there’s the lingering feeling of sentimentality, seeing your friends after months apart, and knowing it’ll be a long ways away until you’re all reunited again after this. it didn’t help that robin’s final goodbye on the radio had your heart feeling heavy for the past couple hours now, and sitting here, drink in tow, wasn’t doing it any favours.
jonathan and steve are bickering about the premise of jonathan’s film; capitalism, cannibalism? you weren’t really paying attention to the two, your eyes trailing around you, taking in the scenery, the sunset, the memories, and you’re thinking back to the first time you had discovered how to climb up to the roof. robin notices your silence, because she too is reminiscing all the time she took for granted with you guys, you two lock eyes, and there’s a silent agreement that you’d give anything to go back to how things were, minus the end of the world.
it’s then that robin speaks, roping nancy into spilling information about the “hot babes at emerson.” which has nancy rolling her eyes. she had dropped out, and that itself felt like a bombshell, but she had always known that maybe it wasn’t on the cards for her, that she was destined for other things, and you envy it a little. you hadn’t quite figured out what you wanted to do with your time, you felt a bit behind, and it was scary.
steve notices how quiet you’ve gotten, and the familiar feeling of his hand sliding into yours, fingers intertwined, is enough to silence that nagging voice in your head for the time being. you’re squeezing his hand back, grateful for the distraction before you notice the others around you fall quiet, it’s jarring how awkward it feels before robin’s clearing her throat, and she’s the one to address the elephant in the room.
“so is no one going to mention that huge rock on your hand?” and just like that, the air around you feels lighter and you can’t help but laugh at how blunt she’s being, and how shocked the others look when they finally take notice of the ring on your finger. “holy shit!” nancy exclaims, and she’s quick to move out of her chair, smacking steve’s hand out of yours; to which he groans in faux annoyance, in favour of checking the diamond attached to you.
it makes steve’s heart swell, the familiar feeling of pride that situates itself whenever he looks down at the engagement ring he had bought months ago. it’s a reminder of just how lucky he is, how he’s finally found the one, that he’s promised forever with you. “oh yeah, that..” you’re shy when people notice, but you can’t fight the grin that makes it’s way to your face every time, because steve harrington will always be your person, and now you have a physical reminder of that.
“spoiled her on a coach’s salary too.” you smack his shoulder, and steve pouts, knowing you can’t stay mad at him for long. there’s obvious heart eyes when you look up at him, that all too familiar feeling of yearning you don’t think will ever fade. it’s disgustingly cute, atleast that’s what robin says when she breaks the silence, and you can’t help but shy away from the eyes of the others, their gazes soft and it makes you feel extra vulnerable.
“took you long enough” robin’s calling out from beside you, and you furrow your eyebrows, because it still shocks you when you think back to his proposal, steve down on one knee with shining eyes and wobbly smile. he had this speech about how he couldn’t imagine a life without you, it was endearing how nervous he was, how sweaty his hand got whilst it was latched with yours, and you always tear up when you think back to that moment, how easy it was to say yes.
“now, what’re your thoughts about having six little nuggets?” jonathan jokes, and steve shoots him a glare, but you don’t fail to metion how easy it is to imagine a family with steve. “i mean, maybe not six, but definitely atleast two.” and it shuts steve up, you two had only really talked about kids a handful of times, nothing too serious, but he’s looking at you with stars in his eyes, there’s that familiar look of adoration, and you can see jonathan instantly regret bringing it up. “great, you’ve set him off again.” and steve doesn’t even care, because he’ll always be guilty of being in love with you, and god forbid a man is infatuated with his future wife.
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yeah i ain’t even got an excuse for this one i literally blinked and it became this big ass fic.
i sincerely hope you all enjoyed this :) & please lmk if this was ok!!
i think a part of myself will always have room for steve, especially over the last month or so since i started writing. it’s kinda scary releasing something, but seeing people reblog and comment that they like my writing is enough for me to continue !!
── .✦ CHILDBIRTH OF TWINS. feat. maekar, aerion, daeron, baelor, valarr x wife! reader.
.ᐟ.ᐟ cw. afab! reader, fluff, no y/n, mentions of blood, pet names, soft aerion for a change.
.ᐟ.ᐟ wc. 1.8k
.ᐟ.ᐟ request.
.ᐟ.ᐟ notes. i couldn't bring myself to write for angst so here it goesss! i hope you like it, just some thoughts of how they'd be <3 ty for your request, enjoy!
── .✦ after the agonizingly long labor with the twins, maekar became completely restless. he couldn’t stop pacing up and down the hallway outside your chambers whenever he forced himself to give you space to rest — he had given the entire bed to you these past few days, refusing to take up even an inch of it. hearing your harrowing screams the day before had planted a fear in him that still hadn’t faded. he was overjoyed that two healthy boys had been born, but truth be told, his worry for you overshadowed everything else. he had nearly punched the guard at the door to force his way in during the birth, but reason finally won. the poor guard only received a terrible fright and a string of vicious curses.
the labor had left you utterly exhausted. maekar’s chest tightened painfully every time he saw your pale, drained body lying in the bed, so fragile it made his stomach twist. whenever you needed anything, he was right there. he would take your hand with surprising gentleness and occasionally press a quick, almost hesitant kiss to your forehead. but aside from that, maekar tried not to touch you too much. he was terrified that if he held you any longer or too tightly, you might simply crumble in his arms. he needed you strong again as soon as possible. he needed you with him. now.
“the maester. where the fuck is he?” he would growl. “i will drag him here myself if i have to.”
“darling, leave him be,” you said softly, though your body still ached from the ordeal. “he was just here a few minutes ago. he’s probably resting.”
maekar’s jaw clenched, and you heard him grumble. “well, he can rest when my wife feels better. not a moment before.”
── .✦ you had made aerion the proudest man in the history of his bloodline. the sheer strength — both mental and physical — you displayed while bringing their twins into the world only made him adore you more. it was rare for him to speak such things aloud, but after hearing your raw, agonized screams during the birth, he had knelt beside the bed, violet eyes fixed on the blood-stained sheets.
“you are strong as a dragon, my wife,” he murmured, voice low and reverent. “my seed is strong… but so is your body.”
in the days that followed, aerion rarely left your side. your mind was still clouded with exhaustion, your body heavy with the toll of labor, yet every time your eyes fluttered open, he was there — looming over you like a dragon guarding his mate after a successful clutch.
he allowed the maesters into the room only when absolutely necessary, and only for as long as it took to check on your slow but steady recovery. the moment they finished, he would dismiss them with sharp commands, practically herding them out so he could be alone with you again. then his voice would drop to a fierce whisper, telling you over and over how proud you had made him, how much he loved you.
if a maester dared knock and interrupt those private moments, aerion would bare his teeth in open irritation, stepping aside with obvious reluctance. his violet eyes never left the maester’s hands as they worked on you. and when aerion wasn’t beside your bed… he was watching over his two newborn dragoncubs. sometimes, through the haze of fatigue, you would catch the rare, soft smile that touched his lips as he looked at them.
── .✦ daeron wanted nothing more than to drown himself in his cup of wine every time your screams of pain echoed through the halls and pierced straight through his chest, squeezing his heart until he could barely breathe. the fear that something might happen to you was so overwhelming it was driving him madder than his visions ever had. when the screams finally ceased and the maesters allowed him to enter, daeron fell to his knees beside your exhausted body and wept for what felt like an eternity — a raw, broken mixture of terror that something could have gone horribly wrong and overwhelming relief that it hadn’t.
“twins,” you managed to whisper, your throat raw and burning from the hours of screaming. your trembling hand reached out to rest in his disheveled hair, and the gentle touch seemed to pull him back to reality.
daeron lifted his gaze, glassy violet eyes meeting your tired ones. “twins?” he repeated softly, as if the word itself was foreign to him. then his face crumpled into his hands. “gods, i’m sorry… i should have been with you. they wouldn’t let me in—”
“i know,” you murmured, stroking his hair. “don’t apologize, my love. though the gods help us if these two turn out to be as restless as they already feel.”
“i’ll take care of them,” he promised, voice thick with emotion. “i swear it. i won’t drink in their presence. i’ll… i’ll even teach them how to fish.”
in the days that followed, daeron stayed by your side day and night. he watched over your recovery with obsessive devotion, making sure your body healed as it should. every time the maesters came to check on you, he bombarded them with questions, his voice laced with anxiety.
“is she recovering well? when will she regain her strength? did my wife suffer any lasting harm during the birth? she’s truly alright, isn’t she?”
the poor man looked even more wrecked than you did.
── .✦ baelor had always been known for his composure, for his steady hand and calm heart even in the face of chaos. but that night, as your screams tore through the red keep, his famous restraint shattered. he paced the hallway like a caged dragon, hands clenched so tightly behind his back that his knuckles turned white. every cry that reached his ears struck him like a physical blow. he wanted to burst through the door, to hold your hand, to take some of that pain onto himself. the maesters had forbidden it, citing tradition and the danger of distraction, but baelor had never hated tradition more than in those agonizing hours.
when the cries of two healthy infants finally filled the room and the door opened, baelor was at your bedside in an instant. his mismatched eyes were wide with worry and awe as he knelt beside you, gently taking your exhausted hand in both of his.
“you did it, my love,” he whispered, voice thick with emotion. he pressed his forehead to the back of your hand, eyes closing for a long moment. “you brought two lives into this world. two perfect, strong children. i have never been more proud... or more terrified.”
the days that followed showed the true depth of baelor’s devotion. he was a constant, steady presence at your side. he made sure you had everything you needed: fresh broths, cool cloths for your forehead, soft pillows, and complete silence when you managed to sleep. he personally dismissed the maesters the moment their examinations were finished, always with courteous but firm words.
when you were awake, he would sit on the edge of the bed, one large hand gently resting on yours, the other occasionally brushing damp strands of hair from your face.
“you were magnificent,” he told you quietly one evening, voice full of quiet reverence. “i heard you fighting like a warrior, and all I could think was how lucky I am to call you my wife. our sons will grow up knowing they have the strongest mother in the seven kingdoms.”
he was also the first to bring the twins to you — carefully, almost reverently, laying one in the crook of your arm and the other beside him so you could see them both. there was a softness in his eyes whenever he looked at the three of you, a gentle smile that seemed to come from the very depths of his soul.
baelor had faced many trials in his life, but nothing had prepared him for the overwhelming love and fear that came with watching you bring his children into the world.
── .✦ nothing in his life had prepared valarr for the sound of your screams echoing through the halls as you fought to bring his twins into the world. he refused to wait outside like the others expected. The moment the first cry of pain reached him, valarr pushed past the guards and maesters, planting himself just outside the door like a sentinel. every time your voice broke, his jaw tightened and his fists clenched at his sides. he looked ready to tear the door down with his bare hands.
when the labor finally ended and two strong cries replaced your own, valarr was through the door before anyone could stop him. he dropped to one knee beside your bed, his face pale and eyes wide with a mixture of awe and lingering fear.
“you did it,” he breathed, taking your trembling hand and pressing it to his lips. “gods, you were incredible. my fierce, beautiful wife… you gave me two sons.” a shaky laugh escaped him as he looked at the small bundles being cleaned by the maesters. “two. of course you’d give me twins. always exceeding expectations, aren’t you?”
in the days that followed, valarr was an attentive and slightly overprotective presence. he rarely left your chambers, sleeping in a chair by your bed most nights despite your protests that he needed proper rest. he was constantly touching you — gentle brushes of his fingers along your arm, soft kisses to your temple, or simply holding your hand while you rested.
whenever the maesters came to check on you, valarr watched them like a hawk, asking sharp questions with that charming yet commanding tone of his.
“she’s still too pale. is that normal? what can we do to bring her strength back faster?”
he would only relax once they assured him you were healing well, then he’d shoo them out with a grin that didn’t quite reach his eyes until they were gone.
when he wasn’t fussing over you, valarr spent long minutes beside the twins’ cribs, speaking to them in low, proud murmurs.
“look at you two… already causing trouble for your poor mother. you’ll both be great warriors one day, but you’d better be good to her, or you’ll answer to me.”
sometimes you would wake to find him carefully holding one of the babies while the other lay beside you, his violet eyes soft in a way very few people ever got to see. he’d catch your gaze and smile before leaning over to kiss your forehead.
“you’ve made me the happiest man in the seven kingdoms,” he whispered one quiet afternoon, voice thick with emotion. “rest well, my love. i’ve got you. i’ve got all of you now.”
╰┈➤ the jackson chronicles: part iii (take it off)
contents page
⊹ ࣪ ˖ ꒰ঌ ♡ ໒꒱ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ michael jackson x spouse! reader
summary 𖹭 a prestigious awards ceremony goes wonderfully off-script when you decide to thank your husband for something you definitely shouldn’t be admitting in public. michael spends the rest of the evening trying to recover from the complete character assassination.
content 𖹭 18+, suggestive content warning, mild language, embarrassed michael, reader is a rascal, reader wears a dress but a gender is not explicitly stated
author's note 𖹭 this is based on this nicki minaj clip with michael b. jordan. I KNOW SHES FALLEN OFF OVER THE YEARS BUT YOU HAVE TO AGREE THIS WAS REALLY SMOOTH OF HER. this was really funny to write, i kindaaaaa wanna make a spicier continuation of this?? we shall see.
the MTV video music awards had already stretched well past tolerable, the ceremony going deep into the evening by the time the presenters for best music video finally began making their way onto the stage. the auditorium smelled faintly of freshly opened champagne and old mahogany, creaking beneath air conditioning powerful enough to lift napkins but somehow still incapable of cooling the crowd packed inside it.
at this point, both sets of cheeks hurt.
the ones on your face were stiff from smiling at cameras for three straight hours — a practiced, porcelain mask maintained for every roving lens and spontaneous cutaway. then there were the ones currently going numb against a velvet chair, the plush material beginning to feel like hard granite after the fourth commercial break. somewhere beneath the heavy linen of the table, your left foot had dissolved into pins and needles, a dull roar of static creeping up your ankle.
michael, meanwhile, had spent the better part of the ceremony staring at you as if you’d contained the secrets to the universe.
which was not helping your attempts to remain composed for the millions of viewers watching the broadcast. every single time you glanced sideways, trying to look at the stage or the teleprompter, you caught him looking.
not subtly either; it was obvious he had no pretense of interest in the surrounding spectacle.
he was just openly admiring you from across the candlelit table, his chin resting loosely against his knuckles while applause crashed somewhere else in the hall. his thumb moved in slow circles over the sensitive surface on the inside of your wrist below the table — distracted, affectionate, and almost lazy with the familiarity of it — like touching you had become second nature years ago.
‘though it is partly your fault,’ he would’ve told you if you’d confronted him about his lack of focus. the dress had made it nearly impossible for him to think about anything else.
versace had made it specifically for tonight.
black silk poured over your body like ink. fitted close through the waist, dropping lower across the hips, then falling clean against your legs. the fabric moved like liquid when you walked, dark enough to swallow the light before throwing it back in delicate flashes. the back dipped dangerously low, exposing the length of your spine beneath delicate strands of gold embellishment stitched into the silk like molten metal. the detailing arched across your shoulders and lower back in fine, constellated patterns, tiny crystals threaded between the goldwork so every flashbulb caught somewhere different.
michael had gone visibly quiet the first time he saw you wearing it in the hotel.
you still remembered the exact way he’d looked up from tying his cufflinks — a task he usually performed with effortless ease — only to forget how his hands worked.
“baby?” you’d laughed as he fumbled with the cuff.
nothing. just michael staring at you in silence, eyes roaming over the expanse of your body like he couldn’t believe you were real.
“…michael.”
his eyes had finally blinked back into focus.
“you can’t wear that,” he finally managed, his voice strained.
you’d choked on a laugh. “well, i thought showing up naked would be inappropriate.”
“no, i mean — ” he gestured vaguely toward your entire figure, visibly struggling to construct a coherent thought. “people are gonna see you.”
“well yes,” you’d said, stepping into your heels. “that is usually the purpose of attending public events.”
he had looked genuinely distressed about this for the rest of the evening, like he was mentally inventorying every available coat available in the tri-state area to drape over your shoulders the moment somebody looked at you for too long. it was a look of profound, adorable panic — the expression of a man who had realized too late that he was expected to share something he very much wanted to keep to himself.
which was precisely why you were currently fighting the urge to ruin his life a little bit, savoring the friction between his growing possessiveness and your own rising wickedness. the dress felt almost like a weapon in the way that you were more than happy to wield if it meant watching the poise of the world’s greatest performer continue to unravel below your presence.
onstage, the presenters for best music video exchanged rehearsed smiles beneath while the orchestra swelled softly through the ballroom. around you, entire tables straightened in anticipation, champagne glasses lifted, conversations cutting off mid-sentence as the cameras swept across the audience searching for reactions.
then the nominees began flashing across the displays overhead one by one: a montage of grainy cityscapes. screaming crowds. music video clips cut together in sharp bursts beneath the roar of the audience.
the opening shot from your newest single, sweet nothings, filled the LED screens surrounding the venue, your face appearing twenty feet tall in a way that made you reflexively cringe as the crowd erupted into cheers. a rain-soaked city flashed across the montage behind you, silver accents catching briefly against your stage costume beneath the neon haze while a few seconds of the chorus thundered through the speakers before the montage cut sharply to the next nominee.
beside you, michael inhaled sharply.
his arm slid instinctively around you, bringing you closer against his side as the final nominees were announced. the movement looked casual to everybody else, but you could feel the tension underneath it — the way his fingers flexed once against the silk of your dress before settling there.
because if you won this tonight, that was it. a full sweep.
artist of the year.
best choreography.
best direction.
and now this.
michael leaned down slightly, close enough for only you to hear him over the music. “you okay?”
you laughed once through your nose, though it came out tighter than intended. “ask me in thirty seconds.”
he let out a chuckle at that, but his eyes stayed fixed on the stage. the envelope hadn’t even been opened yet, and somehow both of you already looked like you were bracing for impact.
"and the award goes to — "
the presenter paused for a grueling few seconds, the silver cue card catching the harsh glare of the broadcast cameras while the entire room collectively held its breath. cameras swept across the nominees one by one, flashing nervous smiles to the people at home.
beside you, michael’s hand found your knee so quickly it surprised you. then —
your name echoed into the audience.
your entire table celebrated instantly, a symphony of crashing silverware and jubilant shouts of glee.
before you could even properly process the win, michael was already on his feet beside you. he was clapping harder than anybody else in the auditorium, he looked at you with such open pride that it made your eyes sting.
“oh my god,” you mumbled, stunned and lightheaded as your composure cracked.
“you won,” he breathed, already halfway out of his chair. he gripped your shoulders, squeezing them tight with excitement. then he pulled you toward him, pressing a quick kiss against your cheekbone. “baby, you won!”
“i didn’t doubt you for a second.”
you giggled, still trying to comprehend the praise surrounding you. “well, it’s nice one of us didn’t, because i definitely did.”
michael just shook his head, smiling like the idea itself was ridiculous.
the pins and needles in your foot vanished the second you stood. you tilted your head up to kiss him quickly — lipstick, laughter, adrenaline, all of it catching between you until the intensity of the ballroom rushed back into view. then you turned toward the stage.
though you didn’t miss the way his eyes dipped shamelessly as you walked away, his focus dropping to the curves of your dress before he dragged himself back up to public decorum.
unbelievable behavior.
the applause swelled around you as you climbed the stairs, the award finally settling into your grasp — heavier than you’d expected, cool against your palms. your reflection flashed briefly across the giant monitors surrounding the stage, chandeliers scattering fractured gold across the darkened auditorium as the crowd continued howling somewhere beneath you.
michael smiled up at you from his seat the entire time, he watched with the same intent attention he always wore whenever you talked about something you loved. his eyes felt like an anchor in the blur of bright flashes and indistinct faces, steadying your nerves every time they threatened to slip. even from across the hall, his admiration felt almost tangible.
adjusting the microphone, you gave the standard opening first: thanking the academy. your team. the collaborators who pushed your vision. supportive friends. your family.
everything was going perfectly normal.
then near the end of the speech, your eyes drifted back toward michael again. and there he was, still staring.
there was something so endearing about him — chin tucked into his fist, eyes fixed on you with complete and utter adulation — that you felt the first spark of trouble curl through your chest before you could stop it.
“and of course,” you started warmly, “shoutout to donatella versace for custom-making this dress for me tonight.”
polite applause scattered through the room. michael nodded approvingly from his table.
then you looked directly at him. a tiny smile tugged at the corner of your mouth.
and instantly his expression shifted into pure suspicion. the man who had spent the night in a daze of adoration suddenly sharpened, his eyes narrowing as he recognized the specific brand of mischief that always accompanied that particular curve of your lips. it was a look he knew far too well.
“…and shoutout to my husband michael jackson—”
the audience burst into cheers the second his name left your mouth, the sound vibrating through the floorboards. michael ducked his head, laughing coyly while the cameras swarmed toward him.
you finished your sentence, the words pouring into the microphone with devastating precision:
“—because he’ll definitely be taking it off me later.”
silence.
for one glorious, suspended moment, the entire ballroom simply forgot how to function. the oxygen in the auditorium seemed to vanish, sucked out by the collective gasp of a thousand industry elites. the monitors cut to him immediately.
michael froze mid-applause, his hands hovering inches apart as if the signal to clap had been abruptly severed from his brain. his eyes went wide behind impossibly long lashes as the reality of what you’d just said hit him in real time.
the room lost its mind.
laughter surged through the auditorium in waves. people doubled over at their tables. the front row was a scene of total disarray; one prominent actress nearly fell out of her chair, needing to catch herself against the edge of the table while she desperately gasped for air.
meanwhile, you remained the picture of composure at the podium. with the award still resting beside you, you simply took a small sip of water and peered over the rim of the glass with wide, innocent eyes as though you hadn’t just publicly assassinated your husband’s dignity on live television.
“oh my god,” somebody screamed from somewhere near the back of the room, the exclamation cutting through the general din and triggering a fresh wave of delight from the audience.
at the center of the storm, michael looked like his soul had left his body. several celebrities at the surrounding tables were leaning over to congratulate him like he’d won an award himself, grabbing his shoulders, patting his back, laughing so hard some of them could barely get words out. all while michael sat there flushed deep enough to show through his stage makeup, seeming seconds away from disappearing directly into the upholstery of his chair.
by the time you returned to the table, he was hiding his face behind the nearest object he could find. which was currently a decorative vase.
“you are unbelievable,” he whispered hoarsely the second you slid back into the chair beside him, the scent of his expensive cologne mixing with the frenzied energy of the moment.
you smoothed your dress innocently. “what?”
“why would you say that?” he asked, lowering the vase just enough to reveal dazed, dark eyes. “in front of everyone?”
“because it's true.”
michael made a small, wounded noise deep in his throat, a huff of air that was part wheeze and mostly protest. around you, the nearby tables continued to ignore the actual ceremony, their occupants openly staring at the two of you and whispering behind their programs.
“oh, look at him. how precious! he's red!” somebody pointed out nearby.
they were right. the flush climbing up michael’s neck had become impossible to hide.
“baby,” he hissed under his breath, actively trying to crawl beneath the tablecloth.
a tiny stab of sympathy hit you then. you leaned closer, catching his face in between your hands and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek in apology.
unfortunately, that only made the nearby tables react even louder.
michael squirmed slightly as you kissed the corner of his mouth next, trying your very best to comfort him while simultaneously making the situation worse. his entire face had gone hot beneath your touch, eyes darting everywhere except directly at you while the cameras continued circling like vultures.
“i’m sorry,” you whisper-giggled, you're kisses beginning to falter as you collapsed against him. your composure giving out entirely.
“no you’re not,” he muttered, voice muffled into your shoulder as he tried to hide his face.
and honestly?
he was right.
the rest of the ceremony passed in a haze of cameras and secondhand mortification. every time somebody referenced your speech in the following categories, the broadcast cut back to your table, catching michael in his bewildered state all over again.
at one point, an interviewer approached your table with a grin already threatening disaster.
“so! about the dress—”
michael vanished before the question even finished.
one second he was beside you, the next he was halfway across the venue at concerning speed, pointing back toward you in silent delegation as he abandoned you to deal with the consequences alone.
fair enough.
eventually, sometime past midnight, the two of you finally escaped the barrage of flashbulbs and microphones and retreated back to your hotel suite.
the second the door shut behind you, michael turned and pointed at you accusingly.
“you embarrassed me,” he declared, though his voice lacked any real bite.
you folded in on yourself immediately, kicking off your heels to be abandoned near the doorway as you finally gave up trying to behave. you flicked a hand at him in a dismissive motion. “you survived.”
he stood by the massive window, his eyes fixed on the view overlooking los angeles, the city glittering below him like scattered diamonds. a faint pout was still playing on his lips. “barely.”
michael shook his head, his attention drifting back to you again — it followed the delicate detailing along the sides of the dress, the dangerously cut back, the way the fabric clung to every dip and swell of your body. the remnants of your stage makeup still surviving, smudged.
“i was traumatized,” he muttered weakly.
“oh please, you were smiling the whole time.”
“i was under a lot of peer pressure.”
“sureee.” you started walking toward him, letting your palms glide over the satin lapel of his suit jacket. you danced your fingers across the intricate military-style embroidery, feeling the raised threads beneath your touch. michael’s eyes tracked every motion, sharpening with desire the closer you got.
“so,” you murmured, letting go of him and turning around, showing off the gold zipper that ran down your lower back. you glanced over your shoulder at him with a playful little smile. “you gonna take this off me or what?”
something in his expression shifted.
the shy embarrassment that had followed him around all evening finally broke just enough for something steadier to ease itself underneath. his grip closed around your waist, pulling you flush against him hard enough to make you lose the rest of your sentence.
“careful,” he murmured, finally looking at you directly. “you’ve been causing problems all night.”
his voice had dropped an octave. it sent a pulse straight between your legs.
“oh, now you wanna act brave?” you teased, even as your heart raced.
michael let out a muted laugh before clasping your zipper and bringing it down agonisingly slow, tooth by tooth, letting the cool air skim across the newly exposed skin as the material gradually loosened around your body.
“you done putting on a show for everybody else?”
you opened your mouth, but he spun you around before you could answer. one strong hand slid under your thigh, lifting your leg high against his hip, forcing you to balance as he pressed you flush against him. the other hand settled possessively at the base of your spine, fingers splayed across the heat of your body.
“because,” he said, eyes dragging over your face, “i’ve been wanting to get you alone since the second you stepped out in that dress.”
the zipper traveled lower under his fingers. the dress loosened, slithering further down your shoulders and arms, barely clinging to your chest. michael’s touch slipped inside, gliding over your ass before hooking into the thin strap of your underwear. he yanked at it until it was taut, letting it snap sharply against your flesh with a soft sting that made you gasp.
he smiled at that. his mouth was on you — brushing your jaw, grazing your neck with his teeth, just enough pressure to make your breath hitch.
“hm,” he hummed, satisfied, feeling the way you trembled against him. “guess you’re done.”
he traced slowly up your spine, tugging the zipper the rest of the way down. the silk dress unraveled completely, descending further until it pooled softly around your waist and exposed the full swell of your chest. michael pulled back just enough to look at you properly.
there was still a voracity there, obvious and impossible to miss, but tangled up with something quieter too — something almost reverent in the way his eyes moved over you like he still couldn’t fully believe you were real, let alone standing here in front of him like this.
only then did he cup your face with both hands and kiss you.
the kiss started deep and warm. but the hunger he’d been holding back all night quickly took over. it grew heavier, more consuming. his tongue brushed yours, teasing as your fingers traveled to his hair. you melted into him, a soft sound leaving your throat while he tilted his head and kissed you even deeper.
one hand stayed at the nape of your neck, holding you exactly where he wanted, while the other skimmed down your bare back. every time you tried to gasp for air, he chased your lips again, refusing to let you go. his kisses turned slower, more sensual — lingering presses mixed with gentle bites to your bottom lip.
“you have no idea what you do to me,” he whispered against your mouth, voice rough and low, before diving back in. the moment stretched until your lungs finally started protesting.
you pulled back first, forehead brushing his as you tried unsuccessfully to steady yourself.
your fingertips smoothed lazily along the buttons of his jacket, “does that mean you liked the speech?”
michael let out a light chuckle, thumb brushing slowly across your bottom lip while his eyes stayed fixed on yours. “you’re gonna be the death of me,” he whispered.
he leaned in again, mouth trailing from yours to your jaw, then lower. kisses pressed along your décolletage one by one, lingering beneath your ear before drifting down the column of your neck.
the longer he kissed you, the less restrained he became.
what started gentle turned heavier, more deliberate — the scrape of teeth, the pull of his mouth against your skin, the sting that followed whenever he sucked hard enough to leave colour behind. he took his time with it, savoring every inch, leaving a trail of bruises. by the time he finally lifted his head, faint marks had already begun blooming across your throat and collarbones beneath the dim hotel lighting.
“i loved every second of it,” he admitted quietly, lips grazing your skin between words. “even when i wanted to disappear into the floor.”
another kiss.
“all i could think about was getting you back here and ripping this damn thing off you.”
the dress hung low on your hips now, threatening to slip further. michael’s attention fell down. eyes outlining the way the fabric clung to your silhouette, gold detailing twisted beneath his fingers from how tightly he’d held you — it completely ruined for anyone else.
“actually keep it on a little longer,” he murmured. he tugged the material up slightly, only to let it fall again. “i’m not finished admiring it yet.”
