the camera had been recording for less than thirty seconds and jermajesty was already being a problem.

not a surprising problem.

not even a new problem.

just the same familiar kind of problem that appeared every single time he was placed in front of a camera and given an audience.

some people became nervous when they were being recorded. some people became awkward. some people forgot how to act.

jermajesty somehow became worse.

he became himself.

which was exactly why your subscribers loved him.

and exactly why you regretted inviting him into today's video.

"what's up, y'all?" you greeted as you adjusted your position on the couch, smiling directly at the camera while jermajesty immediately started waving both hands beside your face.

"what's good?" jermajesty added as he leaned forward into the frame, flashing a grin that already looked suspicious.

you narrowed your eyes.

immediately.

"why do you look like that?" you questioned as you turned toward him, already feeling concerned for the future of this video.

"look like what?" he asked as he placed a hand over his chest dramatically, pretending to be offended.

"like you're about to embarrass me," you answered as you pointed directly at him, refusing to let him play innocent.

"that's crazy," he replied as he shook his head in disbelief. "you don't trust me at all."

"correct," you confirmed as you nodded seriously toward the camera.

jermajesty gasped.

the performance deserved an award.

"see?" he complained as he turned toward the camera. "this is what i go through every day."

"anyway," you interrupted as you rolled your eyes, refusing to let him continue. "today we're doing a q&a because y'all have been asking for one forever."

"and because y'all are nosy," jermajesty added as he folded his arms across his chest.

"that too," you admitted as you laughed.

you reached for your phone.

the list of questions stretched forever.

which was either a good sign or a terrible sign.

you hadn't decided yet.

"okay," you began as you scrolled down. "first question. how did you two meet?"

"you answer it," jermajesty instructed as he pointed toward you.

"i answer it every time," you argued as you looked over at him.

"because you tell it better," he replied as he shrugged casually.

you rolled your eyes.

"we met through jaafar, his brother," you explained as you looked back toward the camera. "and i thought he was annoying."

"which was disrespectful," jermajesty interrupted as he shook his head.

"you were annoying," you continued as you laughed.

"you loved me," he corrected as he pointed at himself confidently.

"eventually," you admitted as you smiled despite yourself.

"thank you," he replied as he nodded proudly.

you hated how satisfied he looked.

"next question," you said quickly as you looked back down at your phone.

"how long have y'all been together?"

"four years," jermajesty answered immediately as he rested his arm along the back of the couch.

"almost five," you added as you leaned against his shoulder briefly.

"that's my wife," he announced as he pointed toward you.

"we're not married," you corrected as you laughed.

"yet," he replied casually.

you stared at him.

he stared back.

then grinned.

the comments section was already going to be unbearable.

"moving on," you muttered as you scrolled faster.

jermajesty started laughing.

"what's your favorite thing about each other?" you read aloud as you continued scrolling.

"you go first," jermajesty replied as he looked toward you.

you thought for a moment.

"my favorite thing about him is probably how dependable he is," you answered as you glanced over at him. "if i need something, he's there."

his expression softened immediately.

"aw," he said quietly as he looked down.

"don't get emotional," you warned as you pointed at him.

"i'm not emotional," he argued as he sat up straighter.

"your eyes literally got watery."

"mind your business."

you laughed.

"what's your favorite thing about me?" you asked as you nudged his arm.

jermajesty looked at you.

then looked at the camera.

then looked back at you.

you already knew that look.

"choose your next words carefully," you warned as you narrowed your eyes.

he started laughing.

immediately.

"i like everything," he answered as he held his hands up defensively.

"mm-hmm."

"i'm serious."

"mm-hmm."

"your personality," he added quickly.

"okay."

"your smile."

"okay."

"your laugh."

"okay."

"and—" he paused dramatically before continuing, "the way you look when i'm inside you."

you choked on air.

"jermajesty!" you screeched as you covered his mouth with your hand.

he mumbled something against your palm.

"don't you dare," you warned as you pulled your hand back.

"what?" he asked innocently as he blinked slowly. "it's my favorite thing."

"we're skipping that," you declared as you scrolled faster.

"skip that one," jermajesty said immediately as he saw the next question over your shoulder.

"you didn't even read it."

"i can tell."

you looked at the screen.

then immediately covered your face.

"absolutely not," you said as you shook your head.

jermajesty looked far too interested.

"read it," he encouraged as he leaned closer.

"no."

"read it."

"no."

"coward."

"we're skipping it," you declared as you continued scrolling.

"for the record," jermajesty said as he looked directly into the camera, "i had an answer."

"and nobody wants to hear it."

"i think they do."

"next question."

the argument continued for another thirty seconds.

you eventually won.

barely.

"who said i love you first?" you read.

"you."

"i did not."

"you definitely did."

"i absolutely did not."

jermajesty immediately sat forward.

"you literally did," he insisted as he pointed at you. "right after i made you come for the third time."

you froze.

"jermajesty," you warned through gritted teeth.

"what?" he asked as he shrugged. "it's true."

"we're not talking about that," you hissed as you glanced nervously at the camera.

"why not?" he questioned as he leaned closer. "they asked."

"because my subscribers don't need to know about our sex life," you explained as quietly as possible.

"i think they do," he whispered back as his hand slid to your thigh. "especially the part where you—"

"next question!" you announced loudly as you slapped his hand away.

jermajesty chuckled as he watched you scramble.

"what's the biggest argument you've ever had?" you asked as you read the next question.

both of you immediately started laughing.

"we can't tell that story," he replied as he shook his head.

"absolutely not."

"we looked ridiculous."

"completely ridiculous."

"it lasted three days."

"and neither of us was right."

"facts."

you nodded.

some memories deserved privacy.

especially embarrassing ones.

"what's one thing your boyfriend does that annoys you?" you continued.

you didn't even hesitate.

"everything."

jermajesty gasped dramatically.

"everything?" he repeated as he looked genuinely offended.

"everything."

"wow."

"everything."

"that's crazy."

"everything."

jermajesty stared at the camera.

"y'all seeing this?" he questioned as he pointed toward you.

you couldn't stop laughing.

"okay, my turn," he announced as he sat up straighter.

"fine."

"you steal my hoodies."

"they're comfortable."

"you steal my chargers."

"you have extras."

"you steal my snacks."

"our snacks."

"see?" he said as he pointed toward you.

"that's called sharing."

"that's called robbery."

the two of you argued about snacks for five straight minutes.

somehow.

nobody knew how.

"okay," you said eventually as you wiped tears from your eyes. "last question."

"make it a good one."

you scrolled.

then smiled.

"what's something you hope never changes about your relationship?"

the room became quieter.

not sad.

not awkward.

just softer.

jermajesty looked at you.

you looked back.

and suddenly neither of you was joking anymore.

"i hope we're always friends," you admitted as you tucked your legs underneath yourself. "seriously."

he nodded.

immediately.

"same," he agreed as he looked down briefly. "because you're my favorite person."

your heart melted.

instantly.

"that was cute," you admitted quietly.

"i know."

"don't make it weird."

"i'm trying not to."

you laughed.

he laughed too.

and just like that, the mood felt normal again.

comfortable.

easy.

home.

"alright," you concluded as you looked toward the camera once more. "that's all the questions we're answering today."

"because she keeps skipping the good ones," jermajesty interrupted as he shook his head.

"because you can't behave," you replied as you rolled your eyes.

"that's fair," he admitted as he shrugged casually.

"thank y'all for watching," you said as you smiled at the camera.

"like, comment, subscribe," jermajesty added as he pulled you closer.

"and stop asking weird questions," you warned playfully.

"keep asking weird questions," he countered with a grin.

you were nine years old, still new enough to your elementary school that hallways felt like mazes and teachers still mispronounced your last name during attendance.

your younger sibling attended classes on the opposite side of campus, tucked away with the younger grades where colorful posters covered every available wall and every classroom smelled vaguely like crayons.

your mother had asked you to grab your sibling after school.

it should’ve taken five minutes.

instead, you found a crying little boy sitting cross-legged beside the playground fence.

his shoulders shook with every sniffle. his face was red. his hands clutched a broken toy car so tightly his knuckles had turned white.

you slowed immediately.

most kids would’ve kept walking.

you didn’t.

“are you okay?” you asked gently, crouching beside him while setting your backpack on the ground.

the little boy looked up with watery eyes. “no,” he admitted miserably, rubbing his face with his sleeve.

your heart squeezed.

“what happened?” you asked softly, tilting your head while studying the broken toy.

the little boy looked down at it again. “i broke it,” he mumbled, his voice wobbling slightly.

you frowned.

“that doesn’t seem like the end of the world,” you said carefully, offering a small smile.

the little boy shook his head immediately. “it is,” he insisted, holding up the broken car. “it belongs to my brother.”

you glanced at the toy again.

one wheel hung awkwardly from the side.

it looked fixable.

probably.

“maybe he’ll understand,” you suggested quietly, hoping that was true.

the little boy laughed once, except it sounded more like a sob.

“you don’t know my brother,” he said dramatically, dropping his head into his hands.

you almost smiled.

before you could answer, two voices echoed from farther down the sidewalk.

“i told you he’d still be here,” a boy called confidently while jogging toward the playground.

another smaller voice followed behind him.

“i told you he was probably crying,” the younger child replied immediately.

the crying boy groaned.

“see,” he complained, pointing accusingly toward the approaching figures. “that’s him.”

you looked up.

the older boy approaching couldn’t have been much older than you.

maybe ten.

he carried himself with the kind of confidence only children possessed, the kind that came from believing they knew everything despite knowing almost nothing at all.

he stopped the second he reached the fence.

his eyes landed on his younger brother.

then on the broken car.

then on you.

the younger child beside him looked equally curious.

“why are you sitting on the ground?” the older boy asked, folding his arms while trying and failing to hide his amusement.

his brother immediately looked guilty.

“i broke it,” he admitted quietly, holding out the damaged toy.

you expected anger.

instead, the older boy blinked.

then laughed.

actually laughed.

the little boy stared.

you stared.

even the younger child beside him looked confused.

“that’s why you’re crying?” the older boy asked between laughs, accepting the broken car.

the little boy’s mouth dropped open.

“you said not to touch it,” he argued, standing up so fast he nearly tripped over himself.

the older boy shrugged.

“yeah,” he replied casually, turning the toy over in his hands. “but now i know it breaks.”

the younger brother looked genuinely offended.

“i cried for twenty minutes,” he complained, throwing his arms into the air.

the older boy immediately laughed harder.

you couldn’t help it.

you laughed too.

the little boy pointed dramatically.

“everybody’s making fun of me,” he declared.

the younger child beside the older boy snorted.

“because this is funny,” he replied honestly.

the older boy finally noticed you properly.

“who are you?” he asked, shifting his attention toward you.

you stood up, brushing dirt from your jeans.

“i’m y/n,” you introduced yourself, adjusting your backpack strap.

the older boy nodded once.

“i’m jaafar,” he replied, extending his hand confidently.

you shook it.

the crying boy pointed to himself next.

“i’m jermajesty,” he said proudly, as though everybody should already know.

the younger child rolled his eyes.

“and i’m her little sibling,” your sibling announced from beside jaafar, clearly annoyed nobody had acknowledged them yet.

everybody laughed.

that should’ve been the end of it.

it wasn’t.

because the next afternoon jaafar knocked on your front door.

then the afternoon after that.

then the afternoon after that too.

within months, your families practically stopped asking permission before dropping children at each other’s houses.

you became inseparable.

the jackson house became a second home long before you realized that wasn’t normal.

jermaine treated you exactly like one of his own kids.

paris shared snacks with you whenever she thought nobody was paying attention.

prince let you tag along whenever the older cousins were hanging out, despite constantly pretending you were annoying.

randy teased you relentlessly.

tj helped with homework whenever math became too confusing.

and jermajesty followed you around so often that strangers regularly assumed he was your actual brother.

but jaafar remained your person.

always.

when you were ten, you discovered that jaafar and jermajesty had declared war on each other.

not actual war.

prank war.

which was somehow worse.

“you have to pick a side,” jermajesty informed you seriously one afternoon while hiding behind the kitchen counter.

you looked up from your juice box.

“why?” you asked, squinting suspiciously.

jermajesty leaned closer.

“because he’s evil,” he whispered dramatically, pointing toward the backyard.

you followed his finger.

jaafar stood outside recording something with a camcorder.

“what did he do?” you asked.

jermajesty looked personally victimized.

“he poured ice water on me while i was sleeping,” he answered, crossing his arms.

you winced.

“that’s rough.”

“exactly.”

you nodded thoughtfully.

then smiled.

“i’ll help.”

that became a mistake.

because suddenly you were involved.

fully involved.

aggressively involved.

the next several years became an endless cycle of recording pranks, planning revenge, and getting caught almost immediately.

one summer afternoon, you helped jermajesty fill three water balloons while crouched behind patio furniture.

“you have to distract him,” jermajesty instructed, handing you ammunition.

you nodded.

“i can do that,” you replied confidently, gripping the balloon carefully.

five minutes later, both of you got caught.

mostly because neither of you realized jaafar had been standing behind you the entire time.

“what are you doing?” he asked calmly, causing both of you to scream.

the balloon exploded immediately.

water soaked all three of you.

there was silence.

then jaafar started laughing.

jermajesty looked horrified.

you looked horrified.

the prank war escalated.

every year.

every month.

every week.

sometimes every day.

by eleven, you had poured water on jermajesty while he slept.

by twelve, jaafar had hidden your backpack before school.

by thirteen, jermajesty convinced you to help wrap jaafar’s bedroom furniture entirely in plastic wrap.

that prank lasted six hours.

jermaine nearly cried laughing.

“you kids need hobbies,” he managed between laughs while staring at the disaster.

jaafar pointed at you immediately.

“she started it.”

you gasped.

“that is a lie,” you argued, looking personally offended.

jermajesty pointed at both of you.

“you’re both criminals.”

nobody disagreed.

around that same time, things became complicated at home.

you didn’t understand why.

not really.

you only knew that your parents argued more often.

voices became louder.

doors closed harder.

nights felt heavier somehow.

you didn’t understand the words.

you didn’t understand the tension.

you only knew your mother started dropping you off at the jackson house more often.

sometimes for one night.

sometimes for several.

“you’re staying here again?” jaafar asked one evening while helping carry your overnight bag upstairs.

you shrugged.

“my mom said she’s busy.”

jaafar nodded.

he accepted that answer.

because he was thirteen.

you were twelve.

neither of you knew what was actually happening.

but jermaine knew.

the adults knew.

they never explained it to you.

they just made room.

extra blankets appeared.

your favorite snacks appeared.

nobody asked questions.

they simply made sure you felt safe.

years later you’d understand why.

at thirteen, though, all you knew was that you liked staying there.

because the house felt warm.

because the house felt loud.

because the house felt normal.

especially when jaafar was around.

which became a problem.

because thirteen was the year everything shifted.

subtly.

dangerously.

irreversibly.

it happened during a stupid game.

the kind only bored teenagers would invent.

you and jaafar were sitting alone in the game room while everybody else was elsewhere.

cards scattered across the floor.

music played quietly from somebody’s speaker.

you were both laughing when he picked up the next card.

then immediately froze.

you narrowed your eyes.

“what?” you asked suspiciously.

jaafar stared at the card.

then at you.

then back at the card.

“this game is stupid,” he muttered.

you snatched it from his hands.

your stomach dropped.

kiss the person across from you.

silence filled the room instantly.

you looked at him.

he looked at you.

neither moved.

neither spoke.

then both of you started laughing nervously.

“that’s ridiculous,” you said immediately, tossing the card aside.

jaafar nodded too quickly.

“absolutely ridiculous.”

more silence.

then somehow it happened anyway.

awkward.

brief.

barely even a kiss.

yet somehow everything changed afterward.

because for the first time, you noticed him differently.

and for the first time, he noticed you too.

which was unfortunate.

because immediately afterward, both of you made a pact.

“we are never dating each other,” you declared confidently, holding out your pinky.

jaafar linked his pinky with yours.

“never,” he agreed immediately.

both of you were lying.

neither realized it yet.

at fourteen, you got your first boyfriend.

jaafar hated him immediately.

passionately.

violently.

unreasonably.

“he’s annoying,” jaafar complained while walking beside you after school.

you rolled your eyes.

“he hasn’t even done anything.”

jaafar looked offended.

“exactly,” he argued. “i don’t trust people that boring.”

you laughed.

your boyfriend did not.

especially because every argument somehow involved jaafar.

every disagreement.

every complaint.

every conversation.

until eventually your boyfriend snapped.

“why do you always defend him?” he demanded one afternoon.

you stared.

because the answer felt obvious.

“because he’s my best friend.”

that relationship ended shortly afterward.

nobody was surprised.

least of all jaafar.

when he was fifteen, he got his first real girlfriend, alyssa.

at first she seemed nice.

you tried.

paris tried.

then things changed.

comments online appeared.

rumors spread.

stories twisted.

she started talking badly about him in public.

you were furious.

paris was worse.

“she’s lying,” you snapped one afternoon while scrolling through social media.

paris looked equally irritated.

“i know she’s lying.”

“everybody knows she’s lying.”

paris immediately nodded.

“exactly.”

the entire family defended him.

you defended him loudest.

and somewhere during all that, while watching you argue with strangers online because someone hurt him, jaafar realized something.

he was in love with you.

completely.

hopelessly.

terribly.

and there was absolutely nothing he could do about it.

because you’d promised.

never.

at sixteen, things became unbearable.

you and jaafar were together constantly.

movies.

school.

family gatherings.

weekends.

holidays.

everything.

people stopped asking if you were friends.

they started assuming you were dating.

“so how long have you two been together?” strangers asked regularly.

every single time, one of you denied it.

every single time, the other felt disappointed.

neither admitted why.

neither wanted to.

because some promises are easy when you’re thirteen.

much harder when you’re sixteen.

especially when everybody else can already see the truth before you do.

fame was strange because people often assumed that experience created immunity, as though standing beneath thousands of flashing cameras for years somehow taught a person how to stop feeling overwhelmed when every pair of eyes in a crowd seemed fixed on them. the reality was much less glamorous than that. experience did not erase anxiety. experience did not silence exhaustion. experience merely taught people how to hide those things more convincingly.

you had become very good at hiding them.

years of acting had transformed public appearances into something almost mechanical, a carefully practiced routine built from smiles, interviews, handshakes, and photographs. every movement carried expectation. every expression became part of a performance. every appearance demanded another version of yourself that belonged more to the public than it did to you.

most days you could manage it.

today was not most days.

the week had already left you exhausted in ways sleep could not fix, the kind of exhaustion that settled somewhere beneath the skin and lingered there stubbornly. filming delays, promotional interviews, travel schedules, and constant public attention had slowly chipped away at your patience until even small inconveniences felt larger than they should have. by the time your car pulled up outside the event venue, your social battery was already running dangerously low.

jaafar noticed immediately.

he always noticed.

somehow, despite the noise surrounding both of your careers, despite the cameras and obligations and expectations that constantly demanded your attention, he remained unusually aware of the quieter things. he noticed when your smile became forced. he noticed when your shoulders tensed. he noticed when your voice sounded slightly more tired than usual.

most importantly, he never ignored it.

"you've been staring out that window for ten minutes," jaafar observed as he adjusted the cuff of his suit jacket, watching your reflection in the tinted glass beside him.

"i'm mentally preparing myself," you admitted as you released a quiet sigh, allowing your head to rest against the seat.

"for the interviews?" jaafar questioned as he shifted slightly closer, concern softening his expression.

"for the people," you answered as you rubbed your hands together absentmindedly, already feeling overwhelmed before the evening had truly begun.

jaafar studied you carefully.

he knew that answer carried more weight than the words themselves suggested.

people were unpredictable.

people shouted.

people pushed boundaries.

people felt entitled to pieces of you that did not belong to them.

sometimes that became difficult to carry.

"we don't have to stay long," jaafar reminded as he reached over and intertwined his fingers with yours, grounding you with the familiar gesture.

you smiled faintly.

it wasn't much.

but it helped.

"that's what you said at the last event," you pointed out as you squeezed his hand gently, finally looking over at him.

"and we only stayed three hours," jaafar replied as a grin appeared on his face, amusement replacing some of his concern.

"three hours is not a short amount of time," you argued as you laughed quietly despite yourself.

"for hollywood standards, that's basically a quick visit," jaafar countered as he shrugged innocently, earning an eye roll from you.

for a brief moment the anxiety eased.

then the car stopped.

and reality returned.

outside, barricades stretched across the sidewalk while photographers crowded together behind them, cameras already raised in anticipation. security guards moved through the gathering chaos with practiced efficiency, attempting to maintain order before the arrivals began. flashes illuminated the evening air long before anyone stepped onto the carpet.

your stomach tightened.

jaafar noticed that too.

"stay close to me," jaafar said quietly as he brushed his thumb across your knuckles, offering reassurance before the door even opened.

you nodded.

normally that would've been enough.

normally you would've stepped onto the carpet, smiled for photographs, answered questions, and moved through the evening without issue.

but tonight felt different.

the moment you emerged from the vehicle, noise crashed into you from every direction.

your name echoed through the crowd repeatedly, shouted by photographers competing for attention while dozens of camera flashes erupted simultaneously. reporters called out questions before you had even reached the carpet. security attempted to create pathways through the chaos, but the crowd seemed larger than usual, louder than usual, closer than usual.

at first you managed.

you smiled.

you posed.

you answered questions.

you played the role expected of you.

then somebody pushed forward.

another voice shouted your name.

another flash exploded directly in front of your face.

another question came from somewhere behind you.

another camera.

another voice.

another demand.

the noise became impossible to separate.

everything blended together into one overwhelming wall of sound.

your heartbeat quickened.

your breathing shortened.

the crowd suddenly felt much closer than before.

too close.

far too close.

for the first time all evening, the cameras no longer felt distant.

they felt suffocating.

"y/n, over here!"

"y/n, look this way!"

"one more photo!"

"y/n!"

the voices piled on top of each other relentlessly.

your chest tightened.

the flashes blurred.

the crowd shifted.

for a terrifying second, the entire world felt too loud.

then a hand found yours.

steady.

familiar.

safe.

jaafar.

without hesitation, he stepped directly between you and the growing crowd, shielding part of your view while immediately recognizing something was wrong.

"hey, look at me," jaafar said gently as he tightened his hold on your hand, concern instantly replacing the smile he'd worn moments earlier.

you tried.

you really did.

but your breathing refused to cooperate.

"i can't do this right now," you admitted as your voice cracked slightly, panic threatening to overwhelm your composure.

jaafar's expression softened immediately.

there was no judgment.

no confusion.

no frustration.

only understanding.

"okay," jaafar replied calmly as he moved closer, keeping his voice low enough that only you could hear him.

just one word.

yet somehow it felt like permission to stop pretending.

"come on," jaafar continued as he wrapped an arm carefully around your shoulders, guiding you away from the crowd without hesitation. "let's get out of here."

for once, neither the cameras nor the reporters mattered.

for once, neither the event nor the expectations mattered.

because the only thing jaafar cared about in that moment was you.

the living room was bathed in the soft glow of floor lamps when the lock clicked. jermajesty entered without knocking, as he always did, his keys jangling in his pocket. "where jovonnie at?" he called out, kicking off his expensive sneakers by the door.

ethan, your new boyfriend, emerged from the hallway, wiping his hands on a dish towel. "he's already asleep," he said calmly, watching as jermajesty's expression shifted from casual to territorial. "i'm ethan, by the way."

jermajesty's eyes narrowed as he took in ethan's presence. "oh shit… you got another nigga watching my son?" he asked, stepping closer until their chests almost touched. "that's what we doing now, ma?"

you rushed out from the kitchen, heart racing. "jermajesty, what are you doing here?" you demanded, positioning yourself between the two men. "ethan, this is jovonnie's father. jermajesty, this is ethan."

"oh i know exactly who this is," jermajesty replied, his voice dropping dangerously low. "ain't that the same nigga you said was just a 'friend'?" he turned his attention back to ethan, sizing him up with dismissive eyes. "you feel big putting my son to bed? playing house?"

ethan stood his ground, refusing to be intimidated. "i'm here because y/n asked me to be," he stated evenly. "if you have a problem with that, we can discuss it like adults without getting in each other's faces."

"adults?" jermajesty laughed harshly. "don't talk to me about being an adult when you in my spot." he stepped back just enough to address you directly. "so this what it’s now? you move on that quick?"

"it's not like that," you insisted, grabbing his arm. "we were just… having dinner."

"just dinner?" jermajesty's voice grew louder, causing you to flinch. "where was this 'just dinner' two days ago when you were calling me over at 2am? when you had your legs wrapped around my neck?"

ethan's jaw tightened at the graphic description. "that's enough," he said firmly. "whatever happened between you two before doesn't give you the right to show up here causing a scene."

jermajesty turned slowly, a smirk playing on his lips. "ain't nobody causing a scene. just checking on my family." he reached out to touch your cheek, his thumb stroking your skin. "you still look beautiful, mama. been thinking about that night."

"stop," you whispered, pulling away. "you can't just show up here saying things like that."

"why not?" jermajesty challenged, his eyes flickering between you and ethan. "we still got something, y/n. you know we do." he moved closer again, his voice dropping to an intimate whisper. "remember how you were moaning my name? that wasn't pretend."

ethan stepped forward decisively. "i think you need to leave," he said, placing himself between you and jermajesty again. "now."

jermajesty's eyes flashed with anger. "you don't get to tell me when to leave my own son's house," he snarled. "or when i can talk to his mother."

"this is not your son's house," ethan corrected. "it's y/n's house. and you're making her uncomfortable."

"y/n?" jermajesty laughed, turning to you. "he calling you y/n like he knows you. like he knows how to when you when you're stressed. like he knows what makes you cry."

tears welled in your eyes as you felt trapped between your past and present. "please don't do this," you begged softly. "not tonight."

"don't do what?" jermajesty asked, his voice softening slightly as he focused on you. "just stating facts. we got history. we got a kid together." he reached for your hand. "we love love each other."

"the kind of love that involves showing up unannounced and threatening people?" ethan interjected dryly. "sounds unhealthy."

"oh, and you’re the expert on healthy relationships?" jermajesty shot back. "how long you known her? couple weeks? months?" he squeezed your hand gently. "i’ve known her since we were teenagers. i know every scar on her body. i know what she looks like when she's about to cum."

"uhm that's disgusting," ethan said, his face hardening. "you don't respect her at all."

"i respect her more than you ever could," jermajesty countered, finally releasing your hand to step toward ethan again. "i was there when she found out she was pregnant. i was there through the morning sickness. i was there when she was crying at 3am because the baby wouldn't stop crying."

"where were you last week when she was sick?" ethan challenged. "i was here making soup. i was here taking care of her."

jermajesty's expression faltered for a moment. "i was working," he said defensively. "providing for my family."

"providing emotionally or financially?" ethan pressed. "because she needs both."

you stepped between them again, tears now streaming down your face. "stop it," you cried. "both of you, just stop it."

jermajesty immediately softened at the sight of your tears. "hey, hey, don't cry, mama," he soothed, reaching to wipe your cheeks. "i'm sorry. i just... i miss you. i miss us."

"you can't keep doing this," you whispered, leaning into his touch despite yourself. "you can't keep saying you miss me when you're the one who left."

"i know," he admitted quietly. "i messed up. but i'm trying to fix it." he glanced over at ethan. "but i can't fix it if you moving on with... him."

"you had your chance," you said, pulling away again. "multiple chances."

"and i'll take more if you give them to me," jermajesty replied, his voice earnest. "you know i love you, y/n. you know i love jovonnie. we're family."

ethan watched the exchange with a pained expression. "y/n," he said gently, "maybe i should go."

you didn’t say anything.

jermajesty looked at ethan with a mocking glare, "maybe i should go." he said slight turning away.

you already knew he was joking but still couldn’t bare the thought of him leaving.

"no," you said quickly, turning to him. "please don't."

"see?" jermajesty pointed out. "she needs me. she still needs me."

"she needs someone who respects her boundaries," ethan countered. "someone who doesn't show up unannounced to intimidate her guests."

"intimidate?" jermajesty laughed. "this is how we communicate. passionate. real." he moved closer to you again. "not like whatever polite bullshit you two doing."

"polite bullshit is called respect," ethan replied. "something you clearly lack."

"and you clearly don't know the first thing about our relationship," jermajesty shot back. "about how we operate."

"and maybe it's time you learned a new way to operate," ethan suggested. "a healthier way."

jermajesty turned to you, his expression hurt. "you hear this shit? you gonna let him talk about us like that?"

"he's not wrong," you admitted quietly. "this isn't healthy, jermajesty. us fighting all the time. us breaking up and getting back together."

"but it's real," he insisted, grabbing your hands. "what you got with him is... what? comfortable? safe?" he shook his head. "that's not what we are. we're fire."

"fire burns everything it touches," ethan observed. "including the people closest to it."

jermajesty ignored him, focusing solely on you. "remember when we found out we were having jovonnie? how scared we were? how we promised we'd always be there for each other no matter what?" his voice cracked with emotion. "i'm trying to keep that promise, ma."

"by showing up here and starting fights?" you asked, though your resolve was weakening. "by trying to make me choose?"

"by showing you that i still care," he corrected. "that i still want you. that i'm not giving up on us."

ethan sighed softly. "y/n," he began, "i think you need to decide what you want. without either of us pressuring you."

"i know what i want," jermajesty said immediately. "i want my family back."

you looked between them, heart pounding. "i need time," you finally said. "i need to think."

"think about what?" jermajesty pressed. "how good it feels when we're together? how right it is?"

"about what's best for jovonnie," you replied. "and what's best for me."

"i'm what's best for you," jermajesty insisted, pulling you into his arms. "we're what's best for each other."

you didn't resist his embrace, melting against him despite knowing you shouldn't. "i hate when you do this," you whispered against his chest.

"do what?" he asked, stroking your hair. "love you? fight for you?"

"make it impossible to say no," you admitted, looking up at him.

"then don't say no," he whispered, lowering his head to kiss you.

ethan watched with a pained expression before quietly heading for the door. "i'll see myself out," he said, though neither of you seemed to notice.

the glow from your phone illuminates your face in the dimly lit room. you're propped up against a mountain of pillows, hair wrapped in a silk scarf, comfortable in your favorite oversized sweatshirt. it's late, past midnight, but the instagram live request notifications kept flooding in until you finally gave in.

"alright, alright, i'm live," you laugh, tapping the button. "y'all are so impatient."

within seconds, comments start rolling in:

"it's about time!" "you look cozy af" "what you watching?"

you shift the phone to show the tv briefly. "just rewatching insecure for the millionth time. this episode gets me every time."

comments pour in:

"the thanksgiving episode?!" "issa and lawrence forever 😭" "molly needs to chill sometimes fr"

you nod. "see, y'all get it. molly be doing too much sometimes, like girl, relax. lawrence was wrong but issa wasn't exactly innocent either…"

you're mid-sentence when you feel the bed dip behind you. a pair of arms wrap around your waist, pulling you back against a warm chest.

"don't answer that," jermajesty's voice is low, right by your ear.

you jump slightly, laughing. "bae, i'm on live."

"so?" he nuzzles into your neck, completely unconcerned.

the comments explode:

"omg who is that" "jermajesty?!?!?" "the way he said so???" "protective king energy"

you roll your eyes playfully. "y'all calm down. this is just jermajesty being his usual annoying self."

"annoying?" he tightens his grip around your waist, chin resting on your shoulder now. "i don't think i'm annoying. i think i'm affectionate."

the comments go wild:

"🤤🤤" "he can be affectionate with me anytime" "the voice??? i'm weak"

you try to continue your original topic. "stop talking 'bout my man. anyway, as i was saying about insecure—"

"why you talking about some tv show when i'm right here?" jermajesty's hands start roaming under your sweatshirt, tracing circles on your stomach.

you squirm, trying to maintain composure. "because that's what we were discussing before you interrupted."

comments are flooding in faster than you can read:

"the hands???!??!" "he's not playing fair" "end the live before we see something we can't unsee" "or don't end it 👀"

"jermajesty, stop playing," you whisper, trying to push his hands away subtly.

"i'm not playing," he murmurs against your neck, his breath warm. "i'm bored. and you look good. and i want attention."

the comments are a mix of laughter and warnings:

"he said what he said" "boy she on live" "this is not the time or place" "actually i think it's the perfect time and place"

you clear your throat, trying to steer the conversation back. "so uh… what's your favorite episode? mine is probably when they went to that malibu trip and—"

jermajesty's hand slides higher under your sweatshirt. "remember that time we went to malibu? you wore that red bikini…"

your eyes widen. "jermajesty!"

comments are going insane:

"omg he did not" "the audacity" "he tryna get y'all in trouble" "i'm living for this"

you adjust the camera angle slightly away from you. "alright y'all, i think we're gonna have to end this here before—"

"before what?" he's grinning against your skin now, fully aware of the effect he's having. "before i remind everyone how we spent that weekend?"

comments are barely readable they're coming in so fast:

"he's really doing this" "end it girl end it" "no let him cook" "i'm praying for y'all's internet connection right now"

you cover your face with one hand, laughing despite yourself. "jermajesty, i swear to god—"

"what?" his voice drops even lower. "don't act like you don't remember. that balcony, the sunrise, your legs wrapped around—"

you abruptly end the live, dropping the phone onto the bed.

"jermajesty!" you turn to face him, cheeks hot.

he's just grinning, completely unrepentant. "what? i was just reminiscing."

"you were about to expose our entire business to 15,000 people!"

he pulls you closer. "good. let them be jealous." his lips find yours, and for a moment, you forget about the live, the comments, everything.

when you pull away, you playfully push his shoulder. "you're the worst."

"the worst that you love," he corrects, already moving to kiss you again.

you laugh, shaking your head. "definitely the worst that i love."

⊹ ࣪ ˖ 𝐼:

jermajesty filmed himself shirtless in the kitchen at 2am, only the refrigerator light illuminating his toned chest. he moved the camera to show you perched on the counter, wearing just his oversized t-shirt.

"caught her stealing my ice cream again," he whispered, zooming in on your mouth full of ben & jerry's. you flipped him off mid-chew. He chuckled, then panned down to where his hand rested between your thighs. "but I'm about to steal something back."

“oh my god??”

⊹ ࣪ ˖ 𝐼𝐼:

Sunlight filtered through hotel curtains as Jermajesty propped his phone against the pillow. The camera captured you sleeping peacefully, your braids spread across the white sheets. He gently traced your shoulder blade with his fingertip.

"Woke up like this," he mouthed to the camera, then leaned down to kiss your shoulder. Your eyes fluttered open and you smiled sleepily before pulling him down for a proper kiss. The video ended with his hand disappearing under the covers.

⊹ ࣪ ˖ 𝐼𝐼𝐼:

Jermajesty filmed the city lights through the car window before turning the camera on himself. "She thinks I'm taking her to dinner," he whispered, "but—" He panned to you in the passenger seat, adjusting the rearview mirror. "—we're not making it to the restaurant."

You caught him filming and rolled your eyes, but your hand drifted to his thigh. The video ended with him dropping the phone as you squeezed harder.

⊹ ࣪ ˖ 𝐼𝒱:

Jermajesty filmed your legs dangling in the pool at night, underwater lights making your skin glow. "Can't believe she talked me into skinny dipping," he narrated quietly.

You turned to look at him over your shoulder. "Who said anything about swimming?" With that, you stood up, revealing you were completely nude, and walked toward where he was filming. The phone fumbled and suddenly showed only the night sky before cutting out.

⊹ ࣪ ˖ 𝒱:

Jermajesty was filming himself in the hotel room when your hand suddenly came down from the bed, holding a condom between two fingers. He looked up and laughed, then panned the camera upward to show you looking down with a mischievous smile.

"Five minutes," you mouthed before disappearing. Jermajesty ended the video with a grin.

⊹ ࣪ ˖ 𝒱𝐼:

Streetlights flickered past as Jermajesty filmed you riding him in the backseat. Your dress was bunched around your waist as you moved, head thrown back.

"Fuck," he breathed, trying to keep the camera steady. "Don't stop."

Your hand covered his on your hip, guiding him deeper. "Wasn't planning on it," you gasped, nails digging into his shoulder.

The car hit a bump, making you both cry out. "Shit, driver definitely knows," Jermajesty laughed breathlessly.

You leaned down, kissing him deeply. "Let him watch," you murmured against his lips.

The video ended with a close-up of your intertwined fingers on the fogged-up window.

the backyard was transformed into a chaotic paradise of primary colors and cartoon characters, a testament to how far you and jermajesty would go for your son. party streamers hung from every available surface, a bouncy castle dominated one corner of the lawn, and a table groaned under the weight of more food than twenty toddlers could possibly consume. three-year-old jovonnie, currently wearing a crown that was slightly too big and a superhero cape that dragged on the grass, was the undisputed king of his domain.

"more juice, mama!" he demanded, holding up his empty cup with the authority of a tiny dictator.

you took it from him, your fingers brushing against his sticky ones. "after you say please, my love," you reminded him gently, turning to head inside where jermajesty was manning the drink station like it was a five-star bar.

"please!" jovonnie shouted after you, already distracted by a cousin trying to steal his plastic sword.

jermajesty was leaning against the kitchen counter, a bottle of apple juice in one hand, his phone in the other. he glanced up when you entered, a small smile playing on his lips as he watched you approach. "his royal highness requires a refill?" he asked, already reaching for a clean cup.

"and he's decided 'please' is optional today," you sighed, leaning against the counter beside him, close enough to feel the warmth radiating from his arm. "thanks for helping with all this. i know you hate parties."

"i don't hate his parties," jermajesty corrected softly, pouring the juice with careful precision. "i just hate sharing your attention with your entire family for five hours straight."

you rolled your eyes, but couldn't help the small smile that tugged at your lips. "drama king. just like your son."

"he gets it from you, ma," he shot back, handing you the cup, his fingers lingering against yours for a moment too long. "you know, we make a good team when we're not trying to kill each other."

the moment was interrupted by your mother calling your name from the backyard, announcing it was time for cake and presents. you pulled away from jermajesty's touch, the brief connection severed as quickly as it had formed.

cake cutting was a messy affair, with frosting ending up on faces, clothes, and somehow in your hair. jovonnie tore through his presents with gleeful abandon, each new toy eliciting shrieks of excitement that made your heart feel full. it was during the opening of a particularly elaborate train set that he stopped suddenly, looking between you and jermajesty with an expression of pure, unfiltered childhood logic.

"daddy," he said, his voice clear and loud enough for several nearby relatives to hear. "for my next birthday, can you and mama live together again? so you can both be here when i wake up?"

the backyard fell silent for a beat, the cheerful music from the portable speakers suddenly seeming intrusive. you felt your cheeks grow hot as several pairs of eyes turned toward you and jermajesty, who looked just as caught off guard as you felt.

"buddy, that's..." jermajesty started, clearly struggling for an appropriate response.

"that's a big thing to ask for, my love," you jumped in, kneeling down to smooth jovonnie's curly hair. "right now, mama and daddy love you so much, and we both live in different houses so you get two of everything. two bedrooms, two sets of toys, two christmases."

jovonnie considered this, his little brow furrowed in concentration. "but i want one mama and one daddy in the same house. like my friend evan."

"well, we'll think about it," jermajesty said finally, reaching down to ruffle his son's hair. "right now, let's finish opening these awesome presents you got, okay?"

the party eventually wound down, parents came to collect their sugar-crashing children, and slowly, your backyard returned to its normal state of quiet order. jermajesty stayed behind to help clean up, just like he always did, moving through your house with an easy familiarity that still made your chest ache sometimes.

by the time jovonnie was bathed and tucked into bed, exhausted from his day of royal duties, you were collapsed on the couch, feet aching and mind buzzing. jermajesty emerged from the kitchen with two glasses of wine, handing one to you before sinking onto the couch beside you.

"today was something else," he said, swirling the dark liquid in his glass. "he really knows how to hit where it hurts, doesn't he?"

"he doesn't even know what he's saying," you replied, though you both knew that wasn't entirely true. "he's three. he sees his friends with their parents together and wants the same thing."

"do you ever think about it?" jermajesty asked quietly, turning to face you, his expression unreadable in the dim light of the living room. "us trying again? for real this time?"

you took a long sip of wine, considering your response carefully. "i try not to," you admitted finally. "because when i do, i remember all the reasons we ended. all the fighting, all the drama..."

"but do you remember the good parts?" he pressed, setting his glass on the coffee table and turning his body toward yours. "do you remember how we used to stay up all night talking? how we'd take jovonnie to the park and you'd push him on the swing while i took pictures of you both, pretending i was just taking pictures of him?"

you did remember. you remembered all of it, the good and the bad, the beautiful and the broken. "of course i remember," you whispered, surprised by the thickness in your throat.

jermajesty reached out then, his fingers tracing a path along your jawline. "i think about it all the time, ma," he confessed, his voice low and earnest. "i think about you all the time. maybe... maybe we could try one more time? really try, no games, no bullshit. for him, but also for us."

you searched his face, looking for any sign of the man who had broken your heart so many times you'd lost count. instead, you found only vulnerability, hope, and something that looked suspiciously like love.

"one more time," you agreed softly, the words barely audible as you leaned into his touch. "but if you mess this up, jermajesty jackson, i swear..."

"i won't," he promised, closing the distance between you, his lips finding yours in a kiss that tasted of wine and second chances. "this time, we're getting it right."

as he pulled you into his arms, you allowed yourself to hope that maybe this time, you really would.

the front door swung open without so much as a knock, the sound making you jump on the couch where you were scrolling through your phone. you didn't even have to look up to know who it was. only one person walked into your house like he still paid half the mortgage.

"where jovonnie at?" jermajesty asked, his deep voice filling the small space as he kicked off his expensive sneakers by the door, lining them up neatly next to your worn-out slippers like he always did.

you finally glanced up, taking in the grey sweatpants that hung low on his hips and the black tank top that did absolutely nothing to hide the fresh tattoo of your name inked across his chest. "he's in his room playing," you replied, trying to sound unbothered as you turned your attention back to your phone, thumbs flying across the screen.

jermajesty's eyes narrowed as he watched you, a frown pulling at his full lips. he crossed the living room in three long strides, dropping onto the couch beside you, the cushions dipping under his weight. "who you texting, ma?" he questioned, leaning closer to try and catch a glimpse of your screen, the familiar scent of his cologne wrapping around you like a blanket you'd been trying to throw off for months.

"none of your business," you mumbled, shifting away slightly but not daring to get up and create more distance than necessary. "we're not together, remember? you don't get to ask questions like that anymore."

"always with your phone now," jermajesty observed, ignoring your comment completely as he reached out, his fingers brushing against your thigh. "used to be you couldn't go five minutes without talking to me. now you're always smiling at that screen like somebody funnier than me is on the other end."

you swatted his hand away gently. "maybe somebody is," you shot back, immediately regretting how childish it sounded.

jovonnie toddled out of his room then, a plastic dinosaur held tightly in his chubby little fist. "daddy!" he shrieked, dropping the toy and scrambling toward the couch, his little legs moving as fast as they could carry him.

jermajesty's entire face transformed, the possessive tension melting away as he scooped their son into his arms, pressing noisy kisses against the toddler's cheeks. "what's up, little man?" he cooed, bouncing jovonnie on his knee. "missed you today. daddy missed you so much."

for the next hour, you watched them play on the floor, your phone buzzing periodically with messages you were trying desperately to ignore. jermajesty kept looking over at you between building block towers and making dinosaur noises, his expression unreadable whenever he caught you smiling at your screen.

when it was time for jovonnie's bedtime, you carried him to his room, jermajesty trailing behind you like a shadow. after two stories and three sippy cups of water, the toddler was finally asleep, his breathing soft and even in the dimly lit room.

back in the living room, you settled onto the couch again, reaching for your phone. you'd barely unlocked it when jermajesty snatched it from your grasp, his movements quick and deliberate.

"hey!" you protested, reaching for it, but he held it above his head, scrolling through your messages with his expression growing darker by the second.

"who the fuck is this nigga that keeps texting you?" he demanded, his voice low and dangerous as he finally looked at you, his eyes flashing with anger. "asking if you're home? talking about coming back over tomorrow? yo, you had this nigga around my son?"

"give me my fucking phone back, jermajesty!" you said, your voice trembling slightly as you stood up, trying to grab it from him.

he stood too, towering over you, his body radiating heat and frustration. "nah, we're gonna talk about this first," he insisted, blocking your path to the door. "you got some new dude texting you while i'm here with our son? while you're still wearing my hoodie?"

you glanced down at the grey material you'd thrown on earlier, realizing too late it was his. "it was clean," you defended weakly. "and we're not together, jermajesty. i can talk to whoever i want."

"nah, you can't," he shot back, stepping closer until you were backed against the wall, his palm pressed flat beside your head. "not when it comes to you. not when i still have your name permanently inked on my chest."

his free hand moved to your waist, fingers digging into your soft flesh as he pulled you flush against him. "tell me you don't miss this, ma," he murmured, his lips brushing against your ear. "tell me this new nigga knows exactly how to touch you to make your knees weak."

you couldn't speak, couldn't breathe as his hand slid up your side, his thumb tracing circles against your ribs through the thin material of your shirt. when his fingers wrapped gently around your neck, your eyes fluttered shut, your body betraying your mind as you leaned into his touch.

"that's what i thought," he whispered, his lips finally claiming yours in a kiss that was all teeth and tongue and desperation. your hands found their way into his hair, pulling him closer as years of history and heartbreak melted away in the heat of the moment.

somewhere in the back of your mind, you knew you'd regret this tomorrow. knew you'd have to face the consequences of cheating on a man who treated you right for a man who treated you like you were his greatest possession and his biggest headache all at once.

but as jermajesty lifted you and wrapped your legs around his waist, his mouth never leaving yours as he carried you toward your bedroom, you couldn't bring yourself to care. some cycles were too powerful to break, some connections too strong to deny, no matter how toxic they might be.

˚˖𓍢ִ໋🥀˚ jermajesty and you have broken up so many times that nobody reacts anymore. every single breakup starts with one of you saying it's over forever and ends with the two of you somehow sitting next to each other at your baby's soccer game three weeks later.

˚˖𓍢ִ໋🥀˚ jermajesty loves acting like he doesn't care until another man starts spending time with you. suddenly he's calling more, texting more, volunteering for every pickup and drop-off, and finding reasons to be at your house almost every day.

˚˖𓍢ִ໋🥀˚ jermajesty got your name tattooed on his chest three months after your "final" breakup. he claimed it was because you're the mother of his child, but nobody believed him. not even you.

˚˖𓍢ִ໋🥀˚ jermajesty always says he's only coming over to pick up the baby. somehow that ten-minute pickup turns into him sitting at your kitchen table for two hours eating your food and arguing with you about something completely ridiculous.

˚˖𓍢ִ໋🥀˚ jermajesty swears he's over you, yet he still knows your coffee order, your work schedule, your favorite takeout place, and which blanket you always steal when you're tired.

˚˖𓍢ִ໋🥀˚ jermajesty still calls you “ma” even years after the breakup, but not in a co-parenting way. in a you way. it’s become such a habit that he doesn’t even notice anymore. “move over, ma,” when he squeezes onto the couch next to you. “you hungry, ma?” when he’s bringing food over. “c’mere, ma,” when he’s trying to show you something on his phone. it drives your new boyfriend insane because jermajesty says it so naturally, like it’s always belonged to him. the worst part is that whenever somebody points it out, jermajesty just shrugs and says, “what? i’ve been calling her that for years,” before continuing the conversation like he didn’t just make things ten times more awkward

˚˖𓍢ִ໋🥀˚ jermajesty hates your new boyfriend immediately. he doesn't care whether the guy is nice, respectful, successful, or perfect. if another man is around you and his child, jermajesty already has a problem with him.

˚˖𓍢ִ໋🥀˚ jermajesty suddenly becomes father of the year once he finds out that you’ve moved on. he's showing up early, offering extra help, buying things for the baby without being asked, and finding any excuse possible to stay involved in your daily life.

˚˖𓍢ִ໋🥀˚ jermajesty gets irrationally jealous whenever your baby starts getting attached to another man. the second he hears your child call somebody else funny, cool, or their favorite, he's planning the most expensive and over-the-top father-child day imaginable.

˚˖𓍢ִ໋🥀˚ jermajesty constantly says things like "i'm only here for my kid" while sitting on your couch for the third hour in a row watching movies with you and the baby like you're still a family.

˚˖𓍢ִ໋🥀˚ jermajesty acts completely unbothered whenever people ask if the two of you are getting back together. the second somebody asks if you're dating someone new, though, he's suddenly paying very close attention to the conversation.

˚˖𓍢ִ໋🥀˚ jermajesty keeps every picture you've ever sent him of your child. every single one. blurry pictures, random selfies, pictures of finger paintings, pictures of naps. he has folders full of them and refuses to delete any.

˚˖𓍢ִ໋🥀˚ jermajesty always pretends he forgot something at your house. his hoodie, his charger, his keys, his watch. sometimes you're pretty sure he leaves things behind on purpose just so he has an excuse to come back.

˚˖𓍢ִ໋🥀˚ jermajesty and you can go from arguing about co-parenting to laughing at baby pictures in less than five minutes. one second you're threatening to block each other, the next you're both crying laughing over something your child did.

˚˖𓍢ִ໋🥀˚ jermajesty hates when you ignore him, even though he's usually the one who started the argument. he'll spend hours acting annoyed and then get offended when you actually stop responding.

˚˖𓍢ִ໋🥀˚ jermajesty still has a family photo of the three of you as his lock screen. every time somebody notices, he changes the subject so fast it gives people whiplash.

˚˖𓍢ִ໋🥀˚ jermajesty always finds himself sitting next to you at family events. nobody knows how it happens. not even him. somehow every birthday party, holiday, school event, and cookout ends with the two of you side by side.

˚˖𓍢ִ໋🥀˚ jermajesty absolutely hates when your child talks about wanting mommy and daddy to live together again. not because it bothers him, but because hearing it out loud feels way too close to what he secretly wants.

˚˖𓍢ִ໋🥀˚ jermajesty knows exactly which buttons to push when he's annoyed, and unfortunately you know exactly how to get under his skin too. that's why your arguments are legendary.

˚˖𓍢ִ໋🥀˚ jermajesty acts like your biggest headache and your biggest supporter at the exact same time. nobody understands how he can annoy you more than anyone else while also being the first person you call when something goes wrong.

˚˖𓍢ִ໋🥀˚ jermajesty secretly keeps every family photo, every drawing, every handmade card, and every random keepsake your child gives him. if the picture includes you standing next to him, it's getting stored somewhere extra safe.

˚˖𓍢ִ໋🥀˚ jermajesty and you are the definition of unfinished business. no matter how many breakups happen, no matter how many times you swear you're done, neither of you has ever really figured out how to let go.

The apartment was quiet, save for the low hum of the refrigerator and the distant, muffled sounds of traffic filtering through the open balcony doors.

You lay sprawled on the living room sofa, your phone face-down on the cushion beside you, having long since abandoned any attempt to focus on work.

Your gaze, however, wasn't drifting toward your screen or the books scattered around the coffee table. It was fixed, with a hunger that was both embarrassing and undeniable, on the man across the room.

Ohyul was making himself comfortable, the tension of the day seemingly melting off his shoulders as he let out a long, exhausted sigh.

He was wearing that familiar tank top, the one that had become your new favorite thing to stare at, with its thin, worn fabric clinging to his torso. It was doing wonders for the view, showcasing the definition of his chest and the sculpted lines of his arms with every subtle movement.

You watched, your eyes tracing the path of a droplet of water trailing down his neck from his damp hair, sliding slowly over the collarbone and dipping into the hollow of his throat. You imagined licking it off, imagined tasting the salt and the warmth of him, and felt a traitorous warmth bloom low in your stomach.

Ohyul froze, his eyes slipping shut as he reached up to rub the back of his neck. He opened them slowly, his dark gaze locking onto yours from across the room. He knew. He always knew when you were staring. And he knew exactly what you were staring at.

"Stop staring," he murmured, his voice low and rough, the corners of his mouth twitching with a smirk. He turned slightly, giving you an even better view of his side profile, his shoulder and arm flexing as he shifted his weight. "You're making it weird."

"I'm not staring," you lied, unable to look away. "I'm just... appreciating the view."

"Mhm," he hummed, a noncommittal sound. He took a sip of the water he’d grabbed from the kitchen, his lips wrapped around the plastic bottle with a deliberate, languid motion that had your breath hitching. "You've been staring at me for the last twenty minutes. It's not subtle, y/n."

"I can't help it," you admitted, your voice breathless. "You look... good."

He let out a short, incredulous laugh, shaking his head. "Good? That's it? I'm just 'good'?" He set the water bottle down on the coffee table with a soft thud and stood up, his movements fluid and confident. He walked toward you, his long legs eating up the distance between you in a few short strides. He stopped at the edge of the sofa, looming over you, his shadow casting over your small form.

"Come here," he commanded softly, his hand coming up to rest on the back of your head, his fingers threading through your hair.

You didn't need to be told twice. You sat up, leaning into his touch, looking up at him with wide, pleading eyes.

"You're insatiable," he whispered, his thumb stroking the sensitive skin behind your ear. "First you stare, then you complain I'm not paying enough attention to you. Now you want me to come to you." He leaned down, his face inches from yours, his eyes dark and filled with a possessive heat. "What do you want, y/n? Tell me."

"I want you," you breathed, the words spilling out before you could stop them. "I want you to touch me."

Ohyul groaned, the sound vibrating through his chest and into yours. He didn't waste any time. He captured your lips with his, his kiss rough and demanding, instantly erasing any space between you. His other hand slid down to grip your waist, pulling you flush against him. You felt the hard heat of him through his sweatpants, and a whimper escaped you as you ground yourself against him, desperate for more.

"Fuck," he swore against your lips, pulling back just enough to catch his breath. "You have no idea what you're doing to me."

"Neither do you," you retorted breathlessly, your hands sliding up his chest to trace the lines of his muscles beneath the thin fabric of his tank top.

He laughed darkly, the sound low and dangerous. "Oh, I think I do." He stepped back, tearing his tank top over his head in one fluid motion and tossing it onto the floor. He stood before you, bare-chested, his skin flushed and glistening with a light sheen of sweat. You let out a small gasp, your eyes drinking in the sight of him, his chest heaving with every breath, his nipples peaking in the cool air of the apartment.

"Like what you see?" he teased, a smirk playing on his lips. "Or do you need a closer look?"

He reached for the hem of your shirt, his fingers brushing against your skin, sending sparks flying. "Off."

"Bossy," you murmured, but you didn't resist. You pulled your shirt over your head and tossed it aside, leaving you in your bra and panties. You didn't feel self-conscious; Ohyul had seen you like this before. But the way he looked at you was like he was seeing you for the first time, his eyes raking over your body with an intensity that made you melt.

"Beautiful," he whispered reverently, his hands coming up to cup your face, his thumbs stroking your cheeks. "God, you're beautiful."

"Stop teasing," you said, trying to sound nonchalant, but your voice was trembling with need. "Just fuck me already."

Ohyul’s grin widened. "So impatient," he said, his voice dropping to a husky murmur. He pushed you back onto the sofa, his hands guiding your hips as you lay down, your head resting against the pillows. He moved between your legs, pressing his body against yours, his hands roaming over your curves, mapping every inch of your skin with his fingertips.

"I love when you beg," he murmured, his lips trailing kisses down your neck, his teeth grazing your sensitive skin. He bit down lightly, just enough to make you gasp, his tongue soothing the sting with a long, slow lick.

"Baby," you hissed, your back arching off the sofa.

"Call me what you want," he whispered, his mouth moving lower, his lips brushing against the lace of your panties. "Just don't stop."

He hooked his fingers into the elastic band and pulled them down, his fingers brushing against your wet heat. You gasped, your hips bucking up against his hand. "So wet for me," he murmured appreciatively, his finger tracing the outline of your folds. "Did I do that? Did I make you this wet just by staring at me?" He flicked his tongue against your clit, and you cried out, your hands tangling in his hair.

"Ohyul! Yes! Don't stop!"

"You're so loud," he teased, his tongue swirling around your nub. "Neighbors are going to hear you."

"Let them hear," you groaned, your fingers tightening in his hair. "I don't care."

He pulled back slightly, his eyes locking with yours, dark and hungry. "You want me to fuck you?" he asked, his voice thick with need. "You want me to fill you up?"

"Yes…”

He groaned, the sound primal and raw. "Fuck," he hissed. "Hold on."

He reached down and pulled his sweatpants and boxers off in one go, his erection springing free, thick and heavy. He took a condom from the nightstand and rolled it on with practiced ease. Then, he positioned himself at your entrance, the head of his cock pressing against your slick folds.

"Ready?" he asked, his eyes searching yours.

"You know I am," you breathed, wrapping your legs around his waist, pulling him closer.

He didn't wait. He thrust forward, his cock burying itself deep inside you in one smooth stroke. You cried out, your back arching off the sofa, your nails digging into his shoulders. He was huge, stretching you so perfectly, filling you so completely. He began to move, his hips snapping against yours, a steady, rhythmic pace that had you seeing stars.

"Oh god! Ohyul! It's so big! It feels so good!"

"Tell me how it feels," he commanded, his voice rough and breathless. "Tell me I'm stretching you open so good."

"So good! Mhmmm!"

He leaned down, capturing your lips again, swallowing your moans, his tongue dueling with yours. He was so hot, his skin sliding against yours, his breath mingling with yours. He moved faster, harder, his grunts and groans filling the air. The friction was exquisite, sending waves of pleasure crashing over you.

"So beautiful when you come apart for me," he whispered, his hand sliding between your legs to rub your clit as he continued to pound into you. "Come for me."

You couldn't hold back. The combination of his words and the relentless thrusting sent you over the edge, your body seizing up, your walls clamping down around him. Your orgasm crashed over you, intense and blinding, making you scream his name.

"Y/n!" he groaned, his own release crashing through him as your muscles pulsed around him. His body shuddered violently, a deep, guttural groan torn from his throat as he buried himself to the hilt, his hips stuttering against yours. He collapsed on top of you, his full weight pressing you into the sofa cushions, his face buried in the crook of your neck. For a long moment, the only sounds were your ragged, panting breaths mingling in the quiet air, the frantic beat of your hearts slowly beginning to calm.

"God," he finally breathed, his voice muffled by your skin. He shifted slightly, propping himself up on his elbows to look down at you. His dark hair was a complete mess, sticking to his damp forehead, and his cheeks were flushed a deep, rosy pink. A lazy, sated grin spread across his lips, his eyes soft and hazy. "You're going to be the death of me, you know that?"

A breathless laugh escaped your lips, your hands coming up to card through the damp strands of his hair. "I think it's the other way around," you whispered, your voice hoarse. "I can't feel my legs."

He chuckled, a low, rumbling sound that vibrated through his chest and into yours. "Good," he murmured, leaning down to press a soft, lingering kiss to your lips. "That means I did my job." He kissed you again, deeper this time, his tongue tracing the seam of your lips before delving inside to tangle with yours. It was a slow, lazy kiss, a stark contrast to the frantic, desperate passion from moments before. It was full of tenderness, of affection, of the comfortable intimacy that had settled between you over the months you'd been together.

He pulled away, his eyes searching yours. "You okay?" he asked softly, his thumb stroking your cheek.

"More than okay," you assured him, a genuine smile spreading across your face. "I'm perfect."

He smiled back, his heart swelling in his chest. He loved this. He loved the quiet moments after, when the world outside their apartment seemed to fade away and it was just the two of them, tangled together in the aftermath of their passion. He loved the way you looked at him, with so much trust and adoration in your eyes, and the way your body fit so perfectly against his.

"Let's get cleaned up," he said, his voice gentle. He carefully pulled out of you, hissing softly at the overstimulation before rolling off you and onto his feet. He disposed of the condom, then turned back to you, holding out a hand. "Come on."

You took his hand, letting him pull you to your feet. Your legs wobbled slightly, and he chuckled, wrapping an arm around your waist to steady you. "Still can't feel your legs, huh?"

"Shut up," you grumbled good-naturedly, leaning into his side. "You did that to me."

"And I'd do it again in a heartbeat," he murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. He guided you toward the bathroom, his arm securely around your waist, his body warm and solid against yours. "Let's take a shower. Then we can order some food and watch a movie. How does that sound?"

"Like heaven," you sighed, content to let him lead you.

The shower was warm and steamy, the water cascading over your bodies as you washed each other, your hands and lips exploring with a newfound tenderness. Ohyul took his time, his fingers tracing the lines of your muscles, his palms gliding over your skin, his eyes never leaving yours. He washed your hair, his fingers massaging your scalp with a gentle pressure that made you melt against him.

"You're so beautiful," he whispered, his voice barely audible over the sound of the water. "I love you."

"I love you too," you whispered back, your heart overflowing with emotion.

After the shower, you both wrapped yourselves in fluffy towels and padded back into the living room. Ohyul ordered your favorite takeout, and you curled up on the sofa together, wrapped in a thick, warm blanket, your head resting on his chest, his heartbeat a steady, comforting rhythm beneath your ear.

You watched a movie, but you couldn't focus on the plot. You were too aware of him, of the rise and fall of his chest with every breath, of the way his fingers traced patterns on your arm, of the soft, contented sighs he let out every now and then. You were happy, truly and deeply happy, and you knew, with a certainty that settled deep in your soul, that this was where you were meant to be.

As the credits rolled, Ohyul shifted, turning his head to press a soft kiss to your forehead. "You're quiet," he murmured, his voice a low, sleepy rumble.

"Just thinking," you whispered, tilting your head back to look at him.

"About what?"

"About how much I love you," you said, your voice barely a whisper.

His smile was soft, his eyes filled with a warmth that made your heart ache. "I love you too, y/n," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "More than you'll ever know."

He leaned down and captured your lips in a slow, sweet kiss, a promise of all the tomorrows you would share. And as you kissed him, your hands tangling in his hair, your bodies pressed close together, you knew that this was just the beginning. This was your forever, and you wouldn't have it any other way.

TAGLIST: @lovelynyah @hoonksl @ccarline @enha4ria @ludmiig @riddlessecretss @rickyshensgirlfriend @aquariusscollection

the entire drive there, woojin sat curled slightly into the passenger seat with nervous energy radiating off him in waves, his knee bouncing endlessly beneath the dashboard while his fingers picked absentmindedly at the sleeve of his hoodie. anxiety looked strangely soft on him.

not dramatic enough to be obvious, but present in the small details—the way he kept exhaling through his nose, the way he checked his reflection in the window every few minutes, the way he kept asking if his outfit looked “normal enough.” meeting your family carried a weight different from interviews, cameras, and screaming crowds. idols were trained for public attention, polished carefully into digestible versions of themselves, but families were unpredictable. families saw through rehearsed smiles. families noticed the pauses between words.

“you’re making me anxious,” you said quietly while keeping one hand on the steering wheel, your tone light enough to tease him but soft enough not to make him spiral further.

woojin turned toward you immediately, disbelief flashing across his face before he laughed nervously under his breath. “i’m the one meeting your family,” he argued while pressing a hand dramatically against his chest. “why are you anxious?” his voice cracked slightly at the end despite the joke, betraying the nerves he’d been trying to hide for the last twenty minutes.

“because they’re insane,” you admitted honestly while pulling into your parents’ neighborhood, where cars already lined the street in uneven rows. music echoed faintly from down the block, bass vibrating through the warm evening air before you’d even parked. “especially my cousins.” you sighed quietly before glancing at him again. “and my dad’s definitely gonna interrogate you.”

woojin groaned immediately, dropping his head back against the seat like he’d just received devastating news. “see?” he complained while dragging his hands down his face dramatically. “you keep saying terrifying things like that.” he looked out the window toward the crowded house ahead of you and blinked slowly. “there are so many people.”

you laughed softly under your breath while unbuckling your seatbelt. “you thought it was just my parents?”

“you said cookout,” he defended while climbing carefully out of the car, smoothing his clothes down the second his shoes hit the pavement. “i thought maybe like ten people.”

the second the car doors shut behind you both, the atmosphere swallowed him whole.

music blasted loudly from giant speakers near the backyard fence. laughter overlapped in every direction. somebody was yelling about dominoes. the smell of barbecue, charcoal, seasoning, and fried food drifted thickly through the summer air, wrapping around the neighborhood like its own living thing. kids sprinted through the grass at dangerous speeds while adults shouted half-hearted warnings they clearly didn’t expect anyone to follow.

woojin stared for another second before slowly nodding to himself. “okay,” he murmured while adjusting the chain around his neck nervously. “this is different.”

“this is normal,” you corrected while grabbing his hand gently.

his shoulders relaxed almost instantly the second your fingers laced together. comfort settled over him quickly whenever you touched him, like his body recognized safety before his mind could catch up.

then one of your little cousins spotted you from across the yard.

“Y/N’S HERE!” he screamed at full volume while pointing dramatically toward the gate.

every single head turned at once.

woojin nearly stopped breathing.

“oh my god,” he whispered while staring at the sudden attention like he might evaporate on the spot.

your aunt stood up first, already grinning before she’d even fully reached you. “that must be the boyfriend,” she announced loudly while pointing directly at woojin with zero hesitation.

woojin’s ears turned pink instantly.

“auntie,” you groaned while covering part of your face in embarrassment.

your aunt ignored you completely. “he’s cute,” she added proudly while looking at the rest of the family like she’d personally accomplished something.

woojin bowed politely almost on instinct, years of training kicking in immediately. “hello,” he greeted softly while smiling nervously. “i’m jung woojin.” his hands stayed clasped carefully in front of him, respectful posture settling into his body automatically despite the panic flickering behind his eyes.

before anyone else could respond, your mother appeared.

warmth lived naturally in her expression, immediate and effortless. she hugged you first, squeezing tightly enough to make you laugh before pulling away to look directly at woojin.

“so this is the boy,” she said while studying him curiously.

woojin bowed again. “yes, ma’am,” he answered quickly while trying not to stumble over his words.

your mother’s face softened instantly. “oh, he’s polite,” she murmured approvingly while glancing at you knowingly.

you were about to respond when your father stepped into the conversation.

and suddenly the atmosphere shifted.

dads always carried a different kind of silence around their daughters’ boyfriends. not loud enough to start conflict, but heavy enough to make people stand straighter. your father wasn’t intimidating in an aggressive way. it was worse than that. he was calm. observant. the kind of man who didn’t need to raise his voice to make people nervous.

woojin visibly swallowed.

“dad,” you started carefully. “this is woojin.”

your father nodded once while looking him up and down slowly. “boyfriend?” he asked flatly.

“yes, sir,” woojin answered immediately while bowing again before your father had even fully finished speaking.

your father held out his hand.

woojin shook it carefully.

then your father squeezed harder.

not enough to hurt. just enough to establish something.

woojin’s smile twitched slightly.

“dad,” you warned immediately while narrowing your eyes.

“i’m greeting him,” your father defended calmly without releasing woojin’s hand yet.

woojin laughed nervously through the pain. “strong grip, sir,” he complimented politely while trying very hard not to embarrass himself.

one of your uncles burst out laughing nearby. “oh, he’s getting tested already,” he said while pointing dramatically at woojin.

“if he survives the handshake, he survives the family,” another cousin added while eating chips casually.

your father finally released him.

woojin flexed his fingers subtly afterward when he thought nobody was looking.

unfortunately, you noticed immediately.

and so did your mother.

“leave that boy alone,” she scolded while smacking your father lightly on the arm.

“i wasn’t doing nothing,” he argued despite very obviously doing something.

woojin smiled awkwardly beside you while whispering under his breath, “i think your dad almost broke my hand.”

you snorted quietly while squeezing his arm reassuringly. “that means he doesn’t hate you.”

“that’s comforting,” he muttered weakly.

but the strangest thing happened afterward.

instead of staying nervous, woojin slowly melted into the chaos of your family like he’d always belonged there.

your younger cousins attached themselves to him almost instantly, swarming him with questions before he’d even properly sat down.

“can you dance?” one demanded while staring up at him with suspicious eyes.

“are you rich?” another asked immediately afterward.

“do you know famous people?” your little brother added while crossing his arms like an interrogator.

woojin blinked rapidly for exactly two seconds before recovering beautifully.

“yes,” he answered carefully while crouching slightly to their level. “but only a little.” he smiled playfully afterward, intentionally dramatic enough to make them laugh.

it worked immediately.

kids trusted people who treated them seriously.

and woojin, despite being nervous himself, instinctively knew how to meet them where they were.

within thirty minutes, your little cousins were obsessed with him.

completely.

he played basketball with your younger brother in the driveway until both of them were sweating through their shirts. he let your youngest cousin braid tiny clips into his hair while pretending not to notice everyone secretly taking pictures. he joined a water balloon fight knowing fully well he was being set up to lose. every time one of the kids laughed around him, his own laugh followed naturally afterward, softer and freer than the one he used around cameras.

you watched him from the porch while your mom sat beside you quietly.

“he’s good with kids,” she observed while sipping her drink slowly.

“yeah,” you admitted softly while watching woojin dramatically accuse your cousin of cheating during basketball.

“he likes you a lot,” she added casually.

your eyes flicked toward her immediately. “mom.”

“baby,” she said while looking at you knowingly. “that boy looks at you like he’s still surprised you exist.”

heat crawled up your neck embarrassingly fast.

you looked back toward woojin automatically.

right on cue, he glanced over too.

the second your eyes met, his entire face softened.

not dramatically. not performatively. just instinctively.

like seeing you relaxed something inside him every single time.

your mom hummed quietly beside you. “exactly.”

across the yard, your father watched the interaction too.

his expression shifted slightly while observing woojin with the kids. there was something strangely vulnerable about watching someone you loved blend carefully into the people who made you. especially when they did it without trying to impress anyone. woojin wasn’t performing. he wasn’t trying too hard. he simply cared enough to be present.

your dad noticed that.

eventually, your little brother dragged woojin into another basketball game while your uncles loudly coached from the sidelines despite giving terrible advice.

“cross him up!” one uncle yelled dramatically while pointing.

woojin laughed breathlessly while wiping sweat from the back of his neck. “he’s still beating me,” he defended while pointing accusingly at your brother.

“because you’re old,” your brother shot back immediately.

the entire yard exploded into laughter.

woojin clutched his chest dramatically like he’d been fatally wounded. “that was disrespectful,” he gasped while stumbling backward theatrically.

your dad laughed. a real laugh. deep enough to make you notice instantly.

and honestly?

that moment mattered more than you expected it to.

later, as the sky darkened into soft shades of orange and deep blue, your father motioned for woojin to follow him near the grill.

woojin immediately looked nervous again.

you watched carefully from your chair while your mother smiled knowingly beside you.

your father handed woojin a plate first before speaking.

“you care about my daughter?” he asked simply while turning another piece of chicken over the grill.

woojin answered immediately.

“yes, sir,” he said firmly while holding the plate carefully in both hands. “very much.”

there wasn’t hesitation in his voice.

just sincerity.

your father studied him quietly for a long moment before nodding once.

“good,” he said simply.

woojin blinked in surprise. “that’s it?” he asked before he could stop himself.

your father laughed loudly. “boy, what’d you think this was?”

woojin hesitated. “honestly?”

“don’t answer that,” your father interrupted immediately while laughing harder.

you smiled quietly to yourself while watching them.

because somehow, against all odds, jung woojin fit into your family like he’d always been meant to sit among them.

TAGLIST: @lovelynyah @hoonksl @ccarline @enha4ria @ludmiig @riddlessecretss @rickyshensgirlfriend @aquariusscollection

the camera had already been recording for nearly four minutes before either of you actually started the video properly.

most of those four minutes consisted of you yelling at jaafar from across your apartment while he stood in the kitchen pretending not to hear you.

“jaafar!” you shouted again from the living room, one hand gripping your camera while the other adjusted the throw pillows behind you for the fifth time. “if you don’t come sit down right now, i’m starting the video without you.”

“i’m literally coming,” he called back lazily from the kitchen while opening another cabinet.

“you said that six minutes ago,” you complained dramatically while dropping backward onto the couch cushions.

“that’s because you keep restarting your intro,” jaafar answered while finally walking toward the living room.

“because you keep making noise in the background,” you argued while pointing accusingly toward him.

a loud cabinet slam echoed through the apartment immediately afterward.

you stared directly into the camera with narrowed eyes.

“this is exactly what i mean,” you muttered toward your future viewers.

finally, jaafar walked fully into frame holding an unnecessarily large bowl of chips tucked against his chest like he was preparing for a movie marathon instead of filming a simple youtube video. gray hoodie. black sweatpants. messy curls. completely unbothered.

“you’re dramatic,” he muttered while dropping onto the couch beside you.

“you took forever,” you shot back while shifting the camera angle slightly.

“you spent ten minutes fluffing pillows,” jaafar pointed out while reaching into the chip bowl.

“because aesthetics matter,” you defended while fixing one last pillow behind you.

jaafar glanced around the apartment slowly before looking back at you with a completely straight face.

“this looks exactly the same,” he said calmly.

you gasped loudly before turning toward the camera in mock offense.

“do y’all hear this disrespect?” you asked dramatically while clutching your chest.

he immediately started laughing while tossing another chip into his mouth.

“you invited me here,” jaafar reminded you while leaning back against the couch.

“this is our apartment,” you replied while narrowing your eyes suspiciously.

“and yet somehow i still feel like a guest,” he answered with a shrug.

you rolled your eyes dramatically before scooting closer toward the camera.

“okay,” you started finally while slipping into your youtuber voice effortlessly. “hey guys, welcome back to my channel.”

jaafar looked directly into the lens and waved awkwardly with two fingers.

“you look terrified,” you snorted while lowering the camera slightly.

“i hate cameras,” jaafar admitted while rubbing the back of his neck.

“you’re literally related to michael jackson,” you pointed out while staring at him incredulously.

“that doesn’t mean i enjoy this,” he defended while shrugging again.

you grinned immediately.

“anyways, today we’re doing a q&a with my boyfriend because you guys have been begging for this video for months,” you explained while pulling your phone into your lap.

jaafar blinked slowly before looking at you suspiciously.

“they have?” he asked while raising an eyebrow.

“yes,” you answered confidently while nodding.

“nobody begged,” jaafar argued while laughing under his breath.

“they absolutely begged,” you insisted while scrolling through screenshots dramatically.

“you posted one instagram story,” he reminded you while reaching for another chip.

“that counts,” you replied instantly.

jaafar laughed quietly while crunching loudly into another chip directly beside the microphone.

you immediately turned toward him in horror.

“oh my god,” you groaned while grabbing the bowl away from him.

“what?” jaafar asked innocently while trying not to laugh.

“they can hear you chewing,” you complained while setting the chips dramatically far away on the coffee table.

“so?” he asked while spreading his hands defensively.

“so stop,” you answered while staring at him in disbelief.

“you bought loud chips,” jaafar argued while pointing toward the bowl.

you stared at him silently for a long moment.

“you sound like a horse eating drywall,” you muttered before turning back toward the camera.

“you say things that don’t even make sense,” jaafar laughed while shaking his head.

you ignored him completely and unlocked your phone.

“okay,” you started while trying unsuccessfully not to laugh already. “first question.”

jaafar leaned back against the couch confidently now, one arm stretched behind your shoulders.

“what’s the most annoying thing about each other?” you read aloud while glancing between your phone and the camera.

“easy,” both of you answered immediately while pointing at each other.

you both paused before turning toward one another.

“see?” you accused while pointing dramatically toward him. “that right there.”

jaafar started laughing instantly while leaning forward.

“you asked the question,” he defended between laughs.

“you answered way too fast,” you complained while narrowing your eyes.

“so did you,” he pointed out while trying to stop laughing.

“because i had material prepared,” you answered smugly.

“that’s concerning,” jaafar muttered while shaking his head.

you turned toward the camera dramatically.

“this man leaves cabinet doors open everywhere he goes,” you explained while counting on your fingers. “kitchen. bathroom. bedroom. one time i woke up at three in the morning and thought somebody broke into the apartment because every cabinet downstairs was open.”

jaafar was already laughing too hard to defend himself properly.

“that happened one time,” he argued while wiping tears from his eyes.

“no,” you corrected immediately while pointing toward him. “it happens daily.”

“you exaggerate,” jaafar insisted while leaning back again.

“you left the refrigerator open yesterday,” you reminded him while staring at him accusingly.

“that was different,” he answered confidently.

“how?” you asked while folding your arms.

“i was thinking,” jaafar explained while nodding seriously.

you blinked slowly at him.

“and thinking prevented you from closing a refrigerator?” you asked flatly.

jaafar pointed toward you immediately.

“okay, now my turn,” he announced while sitting up straighter. “you wanna know the most annoying thing about her?”

you narrowed your eyes suspiciously.

“he better watch himself,” you warned the camera while pointing toward jaafar.

jaafar ignored you completely.

“she asks questions,” he started calmly while looking directly into the camera, “and then gets mad at honest answers.”

“that is not true,” you interrupted immediately while laughing in disbelief.

“you literally just got offended because i answered your question too quickly,” jaafar reminded you while holding his hands up defensively.

“because you sounded excited,” you argued while staring at him accusingly.

“you asked,” he repeated dramatically.

you dissolved into laughter while jaafar leaned back smugly against the couch cushions like he’d won something important.

the next question barely lasted thirty seconds before turning into another argument.

“who said ‘i love you’ first?” you read aloud while glancing toward him.

“you did,” jaafar answered immediately while nodding confidently.

“no, i didn’t,” you argued while turning toward him in disbelief.

“yes, you did,” he insisted while reaching for the chips again.

you looked directly into the camera with genuine offense.

“why is he lying this early in the video?” you asked dramatically.

“i’m not lying,” jaafar defended while laughing.

“you absolutely are,” you answered while pointing toward him again.

“you said it first,” he repeated confidently.

“no,” you scoffed while crossing your arms. “i said ‘love you.’ that doesn’t count.”

jaafar stared at you silently for a moment.

“that is literally the same sentence,” he answered flatly.

“no, it’s not,” you argued immediately.

“how?” he asked while trying not to laugh.

“because ‘love you’ is casual,” you explained seriously.

“there is nothing casual about telling somebody you love them,” jaafar replied while staring at you incredulously.

“it was casual when i said it,” you insisted stubbornly.

jaafar started laughing again.

“you sounded nervous too,” he added while pointing toward you.

“see? now he’s making up details,” you complained dramatically.

“you were shaking,” he answered while nodding confidently.

“i was cold,” you defended immediately.

“it was august,” jaafar reminded you while staring at you blankly.

you sat there silently for a second before turning back toward the camera.

“next question,” you muttered while trying not to laugh.

jaafar grinned victoriously beside you.

the comments only got worse from there.

“who’s more jealous?” you read aloud while smiling innocently.

“jaafar,” you answered immediately while pointing toward him.

“that’s insane,” he argued while sitting up straighter.

“it’s true,” you insisted confidently.

“you’re literally the jealous one,” jaafar replied while laughing.

“i’m not jealous,” you denied immediately.

“you got mad at a waitress for calling me ‘sweetheart,’” he reminded you while trying not to laugh.

“because she was flirting,” you defended while staring at him seriously.

“she was seventy,” jaafar answered while bursting into laughter.

“she knew exactly what she was doing,” you argued confidently.

jaafar physically bent forward laughing while you maintained complete seriousness.

“you sound crazy,” he managed between laughs.

“i’m right,” you answered stubbornly.

“you’re actually insane,” jaafar replied while wiping tears from his eyes.

“you’re actually blind,” you shot back immediately.

he stared helplessly toward the camera.

“see what i deal with?” jaafar asked dramatically while gesturing toward you.

you crossed your arms proudly.

the next question nearly ended the entire video.

“what was your first impression of each other?” you read aloud while smiling.

“he was quiet,” you answered immediately while glancing toward him.

jaafar blinked slowly.

“that’s your answer?” he asked while staring at you.

“you were,” you insisted while shrugging.

“i barely spoke because you kept interrupting me,” he defended while laughing softly.

“that is not true,” you argued immediately.

“you talked for like forty straight minutes,” jaafar reminded you while pointing toward you.

you looked genuinely offended.

“why would you expose me like this?” you asked dramatically.

“because it happened,” he answered simply.

“you liked it,” you argued while smiling smugly.

“i survived it,” jaafar corrected while laughing.

you shoved his shoulder lightly.

“anyways,” you continued loudly over his laughter, “i thought he looked mean.”

jaafar’s eyebrows lifted immediately.

“mean?” he repeated while staring at you in disbelief.

“you had this look on your face,” you explained while trying not to laugh.

“what look?” he asked suspiciously.

you demonstrated his expression badly by narrowing your eyes and leaning backward with fake attitude.

jaafar burst out laughing instantly.

“that’s not what i look like,” he argued between laughs.

“that’s exactly what you looked like,” you insisted confidently.

“i was nervous,” he defended while shaking his head.

“you looked judgmental,” you replied while pointing toward him.

“you looked loud,” jaafar answered immediately.

you gasped dramatically.

“i am not loud,” you argued while placing a hand against your chest.

both of you fell silent for a second.

then jaafar looked directly into the camera.

“she’s loud,” he announced calmly.

you immediately grabbed a throw pillow and smacked him across the chest while laughing.

“this is abuse,” jaafar complained dramatically while shielding himself.

“you deserve worse,” you answered while laughing harder.

“you’re proving my point,” he muttered while fixing his hoodie.

the video spiraled further downhill after that.

half the questions never even got answered because both of you kept getting distracted arguing over irrelevant details.

at one point jaafar accused you of stealing his hoodies.

“you literally own more hoodies than me,” you defended while throwing your hands up dramatically.

“because you keep taking mine,” jaafar argued while pointing accusingly toward you.

“they’re our hoodies now,” you answered proudly.

“no,” he replied firmly while shaking his head. “communism doesn’t apply to clothes.”

you laughed so hard you nearly dropped your phone.

another question asked who was more dramatic.

neither of you even answered because you both started speaking at the exact same time before arguing over who interrupted first.

then jaafar accidentally exposed himself.

“what’s one thing your boyfriend does that always makes you laugh?” you read aloud while smiling already.

“he dances when he thinks nobody’s looking,” you answered immediately while staring at him smugly.

jaafar froze instantly.

“no, i don’t,” he denied while sitting up straighter.

“yes, you do,” you argued while laughing already.

“that’s a lie,” he insisted dramatically.

“you literally danced while making cereal yesterday,” you reminded him while pointing toward him.

“i was not dancing,” jaafar defended while trying not to smile.

“you were moonwalking,” you answered immediately.

“i slipped,” he argued confidently.

“you snapped your fingers,” you added while laughing harder.

jaafar buried his face into the couch cushions dramatically.

“you are such a hater,” his muffled voice complained.

“you looked like somebody’s unemployed uncle at a barbecue,” you answered while wiping tears from your eyes.

“that description was way too specific,” he muttered while finally sitting back up.

you could barely breathe from laughing now.

by the time the video reached its final ten minutes, both of you looked exhausted.

your makeup was slightly smeared from laughing too hard. jaafar’s curls were flattened crookedly on one side from constantly dropping backward against the couch cushions dramatically every time you exposed him.

“this was supposed to be wholesome,” you sighed eventually while leaning against him tiredly.

“it stopped being wholesome twelve minutes ago,” jaafar muttered while looking toward the ceiling.

you smiled softly while glancing up at him briefly before looking back toward the camera.

“okay,” you started quietly while calming down finally. “last question.”

jaafar immediately groaned.

“that sounds dangerous,” he complained while rubbing his face tiredly.

you ignored him while reading the final comment silently.

then your expression softened slightly.

“aww,” you reacted quietly while smiling.

jaafar looked suspicious immediately.

“what?” he asked cautiously while staring at you.

you smiled wider.

“it says, ‘what’s your favorite thing about each other?’” you explained softly.

his entire demeanor shifted slightly afterward, amusement settling into something quieter.

you looked at him expectantly.

“you go first,” jaafar said while avoiding eye contact briefly.

“no, you,” you argued while nudging his shoulder.

“you asked the question,” he reminded you quietly.

you grinned smugly.

jaafar shook his head once before finally looking toward the camera.

“my favorite thing about her,” he started slowly while glancing toward you briefly, “is that she makes literally everything fun.”

you blinked at him, caught slightly off guard by the sincerity.

even he looked embarrassed afterward.

“aww,” you teased softly while smiling.

“don’t make it weird,” jaafar muttered while rubbing the back of his neck.

“you’re being sweet on camera,” you pointed out while laughing quietly.

“answer the question,” he replied while nudging your knee gently.

you smiled before leaning your head naturally against his shoulder.

“my favorite thing about him,” you started softly while looking toward the camera, “is that he’s kind.”

jaafar looked down at you immediately.

“and annoying,” you added quickly while grinning.

“there it is,” he sighed dramatically while shaking his head.

“but mostly kind,” you corrected while smiling softly.

a small smile pulled at his mouth despite himself.

then naturally, the moment got ruined immediately afterward when your phone buzzed loudly from beside you.

you glanced at the notification once before snorting loudly.

jaafar looked over curiously.

“what?” he asked while leaning closer.

you started laughing harder.

“what?” he repeated while staring at you suspiciously.

you turned the phone toward him.

“it’s my mom,” you managed between laughs. “she texted, ‘tell jaafar to stop lying about them cabinet doors.’”

jaafar stared at the screen in complete betrayal.

“your own mother is against me,” he complained dramatically while dropping backward onto the couch.

the first thing you notice about louis in person is that he looks younger than he does online.

not younger in a bad way. not childish either. just real.

the cameras always sharpened him into something louder; brighter smiles, cleaner angles, perfectly timed reactions. but standing beneath the concert lights, sweaty hair sticking slightly to his forehead while he laughed at something ryul yelled from across the stage, he suddenly looked like an actual sixteen-year-old boy trying very hard to act older than he was.

and maybe that was what caught your attention first.

or maybe it was the fact that he kept looking at you.

you stood against the barricade near the extended stage, crushed between screaming fans and shaking lightsticks. your ears rang from the bass vibrating through the arena floor, from the chants echoing off the walls hard enough to rattle your ribs. everything around you felt too loud, too bright, too fast.

but every few minutes, louis’ eyes kept finding yours anyway.

the first time it happened, you assumed it was accidental.

idols looked into crowds constantly. it meant nothing.

except the second time lasted longer.

and the third time came with a smile.

a real one too. crooked and quick, appearing like he forgot cameras existed for half a second.

your stomach dropped stupidly fast.

“oh my god,” the girl beside you gasped suddenly, gripping your arm hard enough to hurt. “he keeps looking over here.”

you laughed nervously. “probably because everybody’s screaming.”

“no,” she whispered immediately. “he’s looking at you.”

you almost told her she was insane.

then louis missed part of his choreography because he was still staring in your direction.

ohyul physically shoved him back into formation.

the entire section screamed.

heat rushed straight into your face so quickly you had to look away for a second.

this could not be happening.

around you, fans started noticing too. phones angled toward your side of the barricade now, people whispering loudly while louis kept pretending he wasn’t distracted every time he drifted near the front of the stage.

which would have worked better if he wasn’t so obvious about it.

during one of the talking segments, woojin started speaking while the members caught their breath. louis stood slightly behind the others, water bottle hanging loosely from his hand while his eyes wandered over the crowd again.

then landed on you.

again.

you should’ve looked away.

instead, you smiled before you could stop yourself.

something in louis’ expression softened immediately after that.

small.

barely noticeable.

but real enough to make your chest tighten painfully.

ryul noticed instantly.

even from the stage, you could tell.

he leaned toward louis with the biggest grin imaginable while saying something near his ear. louis shoved him hard without looking away from you once.

the fans around you lost their minds.

by the encore, things had somehow gotten worse.

the members ran around freely now, splashing water into the crowd while fans screamed loud enough to distort the speakers. louis jogged toward your section again before slowing near the edge of the stage.

then he crouched directly in front of you.

your brain stopped working.

completely.

up close, he looked exhausted. flushed cheeks, damp hair curling slightly from sweat, oversized jersey sticking to his shoulders under the stage lights.

and he was looking directly at you like nobody else existed.

you forgot every single thing you planned on saying if you ever met him.

every thought vanished instantly.

louis glanced down toward the sign hanging loosely from your hands before laughing quietly under his breath.

“you made this?” he asked.

you nodded too quickly. “yeah.”

“it’s cute.”

the compliment hit embarrassingly hard.

before you could respond properly, fans behind you screamed loud enough to shake the barricade. security started motioning for the members to move toward the opposite side of the stage again.

louis stood reluctantly.

for a second, it looked like he wanted to say something else.

instead, he pointed toward you once more before jogging backward toward the others.

but he kept looking back.

once.

twice.

three times.

and each time, your stomach flipped harder.

.☘︎ ݁˖ᝰ.ᐟ

after the concert ended, you stayed near the venue longer than you meant to.

mostly because leaving felt impossible.

fans crowded outside the arena in loud clusters, replaying concert videos and screaming over moments that had already started spreading online. every few seconds, someone nearby mentioned louis staring at “that one girl in the front row.”

unfortunately, that girl was very obviously you.

you had already seen three separate tiktoks.

your phone buzzed nonstop inside your hoodie pocket while you leaned against the side wall near the exit gates, trying desperately not to think too hard about any of it.

then someone approached you.

a staff member.

at first, you thought you were in trouble somehow.

maybe you accidentally broke a rule. maybe you stood in the wrong section. maybe fans weren’t allowed near backstage exits.

but the woman stopped directly in front of you with a careful smile.

“hi,” she said gently. “you were in front row section b tonight, right?”

“…yeah?”

“would you mind coming with me for a second?”

your heart nearly stopped.

“why?”

the staff member hesitated for exactly half a second before smiling again.

“someone asked to meet you.”

your brain immediately short-circuited.

“someone?”

she gave you a look that answered everything.

the walk backstage barely felt real.

your shoes squeaked against polished hallways while staff rushed around carrying equipment and garment racks. somewhere nearby, you could hear loud laughter followed by someone yelling in korean.

your hands shook the entire time.

the staff member stopped outside a half-open door before glancing back at you, “you can go in.”

then she walked away before you could panic properly.

inside the room, louis sat stretched across a couch scrolling through his phone while ryul stood nearby drinking something from a paper cup.

the second ryul noticed you, his entire face lit up.

“oh my god,” he laughed loudly, smacking louis’ shoulder immediately. “she’s real.”

louis looked up so fast he nearly dropped his phone.

for the first time all night, he looked nervous.

actually nervous.

and somehow that made you relax slightly too.

ryul grinned between both of you like he’d just orchestrated world peace.

“okay,” he announced dramatically, already backing toward the door. “i’m leaving before this gets embarrassing.”

“it’s already embarrassing,” louis muttered.

“good luck, lover boy.”

“get out.”

ryul laughed all the way down the hallway.

silence settled awkwardly afterward.

louis stood almost immediately, rubbing the back of his neck once before speaking.

“sorry if this is weird.”

“it’s a little weird,” you admitted honestly.

he laughed quietly at that.

up close, he somehow looked softer. less polished than he did on stage. his hair still looked damp near the ends, oversized hoodie thrown on over his concert clothes now.

for a second, both of you just stared awkwardly at each other.

then louis smiled suddenly.

and there it was again.

that exact smile from the stage.

the one that made your stomach feel unstable.

“i just…” he started before stopping briefly. “i really wanted to talk to you.”

your pulse sped up instantly.

“why?”

his ears turned slightly pink.

“because i thought you were pretty.”

the honesty hit harder than any rehearsed line could have.

you blinked at him once.

then laughed softly out of disbelief.

louis looked mildly horrified immediately after.

“wait, not in a creepy way.”

“i know.”

“okay good because ryul said i sounded insane.”

“you kind of do.”

he groaned dramatically before dropping back against the couch cushions. “great.”

you laughed again, quieter this time.

something about him felt unexpectedly easy now.

like the nervousness burned away the second conversation actually started.

louis looked up at you carefully from where he sat.

“can i ask something?”

“depends.”

“can i get your number?”

your stomach flipped all over again.

he said it casually, but there was still something hesitant underneath it. like he genuinely expected rejection despite everything that happened tonight.

which felt ridiculous considering he was louis.

still, the nervousness made him seem younger somehow. softer around the edges.

more real.

you pulled your phone from your pocket slowly. “you brought me backstage just for my number?”

“…pretty much.”

“that’s insane.”

“yeah,” he admitted easily. “but did it work?”

you tried not to smile while handing him your phone.

unfortunately, you failed immediately.

and judging by the way louis smiled back afterward, he definitely noticed.

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