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you're sitting on the edge of his balcony, legs dangling over the city lights. jermajesty's apartment is always warm, always smells like vanilla and something else—something earthy that clings to his hoodies and makes you bury your face in them when he's not looking.
"you sure you wanna smoke out here, ma?" he asks, sliding the glass door open wider. he's wearing those sweatpants you like, the grey ones, and a white tank that shows off his shoulders. "it's cold."
"it's pretty," you say, swinging your legs. "come sit with me."
he does, settling behind you so you can lean back against his chest. he wraps his arms around your waist and rests his chin on your shoulder. you can feel him smiling against your neck.
"you got everything?" you ask.
"yeah, yeah. hold on." he reaches back into the apartment and grabs a small tray, a grinder, some papers. his hands are gentle when he rolls, tongue poking out in concentration like he always does. you watch his fingers work, familiar and precise.
"you're staring," he says, not looking up.
"'cause you're pretty," you say back, and he laughs, that low sound that vibrates through his chest into your back.
he finishes the joint and lights it, taking the first hit before offering it to you. you turn your head, accepting it from his fingers. the smoke is smooth, familiar. you've done this before—plenty of times—but something about doing it with him, here, with the city glittering below, feels different. better.
"there you go," he murmurs, watching you exhale. his hand comes up to stroke your hair, fingers threading through your braids. "that's my girl."
you pass it back and he takes another drag, holding it for a second before blowing it out slow. the smoke curls up into the night air, disappearing above you.
"you feel it yet?" he asks, voice soft.
"mm, starting to," you say, your body already loosening, melting into him. your head falls back onto his shoulder and he adjusts, holding you closer. "you?"
"yeah," he says, and you can hear the smile in his voice. "you're warm."
"you're warmer."
he laughs again and takes your hand, interlacing your fingers. the joint burns down between you, shared and easy, no rush. when it's done he sets it aside and just holds you, rocking slightly, humming something under his breath that you think might be an old jackson five song but you're too floaty to be sure.
"ma," he says, pressing a kiss to your temple. "you good?"
"yeah," you sigh, closing your eyes. "i'm good. you're here."
"always," he promises, and you believe him. you always do.
the city lights blur a little, soft around the edges, and everything feels hazy and golden. his thumb traces circles on your palm and you turn your head, finding his mouth without trying too hard. the kiss is slow, unhurried, tastes like smoke and him.
"love you," he mumbles against your lips, and you feel it in your chest, warm and blooming.
"love you too, majesty," you whisper back, and he pulls you closer, burying his face in your neck, breathing you in.
you stay like that for a while, tangled together on the balcony, high and happy and completely at peace. the world can wait. right now, you have everything you need.
synopsis: after months of trying to move on, one chaotic family gathering forces you and jermajesty to finally confront what neither of you wants to admit.
ᵎ!ᵎ fluff ⊹ angst(?) ⊹ your boyfriend being an asshole ⊹ black.ᐟ𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧 ⊹ toxic baby daddy.ᐟjermajesty
requested by annon.
A/N: this one is like really long
jovonnie had finally fallen asleep after spending most of the morning refusing to nap.
toys covered the living room floor.
a cartoon played quietly in the background.
and you were halfway through folding laundry when jermajesty walked through the front door without warning.
again.
he always did that.
“where’s my son?” jermajesty asked as he kicked the front door shut behind him and dropped his keys onto the kitchen counter.
“sleeping,” you answered as you continued folding one of jovonnie’s tiny shirts and deliberately kept your attention on the laundry basket.
“good,” jermajesty replied as he opened your refrigerator and immediately started searching through it.
your eye twitched.
slightly.
“why are you in my refrigerator?” you questioned as you looked up from the couch cushions and stared at him in disbelief.
“because i’m thirsty,” jermajesty answered as he grabbed a bottle of water and twisted the cap open without an ounce of shame.
“you don’t live here,” you reminded as you crossed your arms and watched him take a drink.
“i know,” jermajesty replied as he leaned against the counter and shrugged casually.
“then stop acting like you do,” you snapped as you threw a pair of socks into the laundry basket harder than necessary.
“what’s your problem today?” jermajesty asked as he lowered the water bottle and studied your face carefully.
that question should not have annoyed you as much as it did.
unfortunately, it did.
because it felt unfair.
because it felt oblivious.
because jermajesty somehow managed to create half your problems and then act confused when you finally reacted.
“my problem?” you repeated as you let out a short laugh and stood up from the couch.
“yeah,” jermajesty replied as he shifted his weight against the counter and folded his arms.
“you are my problem,” you admitted as you pointed directly at him and felt months of frustration begin rising to the surface.
the room went silent.
immediately.
jermajesty’s expression changed.
the casual confidence disappeared.
something more cautious took its place.
“what’s that supposed to mean?” jermajesty asked as he straightened slightly and lowered his arms.
“it means i’m tired,” you answered as you paced across the living room and dragged a hand through your hair.
“tired of what?” jermajesty questioned as he stepped away from the counter and followed you with his eyes.
“tired of whatever this is,” you replied as you gestured angrily between the two of you and felt your voice crack.
jermajesty opened his mouth.
then closed it again.
because he knew exactly what you meant.
“y/n—” jermajesty started as he rubbed the back of his neck and took a hesitant step forward.
“no,” you interrupted as you shook your head firmly and held up a hand.
he stopped moving.
“every single time i start moving on, you show up,” you continued as you looked directly at him and refused to look away.
“i come here to see my son,” jermajesty argued as frustration crept into his voice and his jaw tightened.
“and then you stay for four hours,” you pointed out as you crossed your arms tighter against your chest.
jermajesty didn’t answer.
because he couldn’t.
both of you knew he couldn’t.
“you don’t get to act like my boyfriend whenever it’s convenient and then disappear whenever things get difficult,” you confessed as tears threatened to gather in your eyes.
the words hung between you.
heavy.
painful.
honest.
“that’s not what i’m doing,” jermajesty replied as he looked down at the floor and shook his head.
“then what are you doing?” you asked as your voice softened and genuine confusion replaced some of the anger.
he looked up.
you looked back.
and neither of you had an answer.
because neither of you knew.
that was the problem.
you had spent years trying.
years loving each other.
years breaking up and getting back together.
years convincing yourselves that this time would be different.
it never was.
“we tried,” you said quietly as you lowered your gaze and wrapped your arms around yourself.
jermajesty’s shoulders slumped.
immediately.
“i know,” jermajesty admitted as he exhaled heavily and ran both hands over his face.
“we really tried,” you continued as you glanced toward the hallway where jovonnie slept peacefully.
“i know,” jermajesty repeated as he nodded slowly and stared at the floor.
“and it didn’t work,” you finished as your voice broke slightly despite your best efforts.
silence followed.
then another silence.
then one more.
until finally—
“what are you saying?” jermajesty asked as he lifted his head and searched your face carefully.
“i’m saying maybe it’s time for us to move on,” you answered as you swallowed hard and forced yourself to say the words.
for the first time all afternoon, jermajesty looked genuinely hurt.
not angry.
not irritated.
hurt.
like you’d physically hit him.
“you mean that?” jermajesty questioned as he stared at you and waited.
you hated how much the answer hurt.
“yeah,” you admitted as you nodded once and looked away before you could change your mind.
for a long moment, jermajesty said nothing.
then he grabbed his keys.
then he walked toward the front door.
then he stopped.
“i’ll pick jovonnie up saturday,” jermajesty said quietly as he stood with one hand on the doorknob and kept his back turned toward you.
“okay,” you replied as you wiped at your eyes and stared at the floor.
“okay,” jermajesty echoed as he opened the door and stepped outside.
and just like that—for the first time in years
he actually left.
˚˖𓍢ִ໋ 𐚁°
moving on turned out to be significantly harder than either of you expected.
at first, you convinced yourself it was working.
there were no surprise visits.
no random phone calls that somehow lasted three hours.
no arguments that turned into laughter.
no moments where you caught yourself believing things might be different this time.
there was just silence.
clean.
simple.
painful silence.
the kind that settled into your routine until you almost started getting used to it.
almost.
because every time jovonnie came back from spending time with his dad, something managed to ruin your progress.
sometimes it was a picture.
sometimes it was a story.
sometimes it was something as simple as your son mentioning jermajesty twenty times in a single afternoon.
“daddy said i run really really fast,” jovonnie announced proudly as he climbed onto your couch and nearly dropped a juice box onto the cushions.
“did he?” you asked as you looked up from your laptop and smiled softly.
“super fast,” jovonnie confirmed as he stretched his arms out dramatically and almost fell backward.
you laughed.
despite yourself.
because it sounded exactly like something jermajesty would say.
which was unfortunate.
because you were trying very hard not to think about him.
the same thing was happening on the other side.
according to jaafar.
and paris.
and basically everyone else.
jermajesty wasn’t moving on very well either.
unfortunately, he was trying.
which somehow made everything worse.
“you’re dating?” paris asked as she nearly choked on her drink during lunch one afternoon and stared at you in disbelief.
“it’s not serious,” you answered as you picked at your fries and deliberately avoided eye contact.
“that’s not what i asked,” paris pointed out as she narrowed her eyes suspiciously.
“yes,” you admitted as you sighed heavily and leaned back in your chair.
paris immediately groaned.
“this is gonna end badly,” paris predicted as she rubbed her forehead and looked toward the ceiling.
“thanks for the support,” you replied as you rolled your eyes.
“i’m serious,” paris argued as she pointed directly at you across the table.
“he’s nice,” you insisted as you crossed your arms defensively.
“that’s not the issue.”
“then what’s the issue?”
paris stared.
just stared.
which annoyed you.
because you already knew exactly what she was thinking.
“don’t,” you warned as you pointed a fry in her direction.
“you still love jermajesty,” paris stated as she folded her arms and sat back in her chair.
“that’s not the point.”
“notice how you didn’t deny it.”
you immediately hated her.
just a little.
mostly because she was right.
weeks later, family day arrived.
normally, those events were chaotic.
today felt worse.
the entire jackson family had gathered at one of the larger family properties.
music played through outdoor speakers.
kids ran across the backyard.
food covered nearly every table.
everywhere you looked somebody was laughing.
talking.
arguing.
taking pictures.
jaafar was attempting to teach jovonnie how to throw a football.
prince was filming the entire thing.
bigi was laughing so hard he could barely hold his phone straight.
for a little while, you managed to relax.
then a black suv pulled into the driveway.
and your stomach immediately dropped.
because deep down—
you already knew.
the driver’s side door opened first.
jermajesty stepped out.
your heart betrayed you instantly.
then the passenger door opened.
and everything became worse.
much worse.
she was beautiful.
ridiculously beautiful.
long blonde hair.
perfect makeup.
designer sunglasses.
expensive clothes.
the kind of woman who looked like she belonged on magazine covers.
the complete opposite of you.
which made your stomach twist immediately.
“oh no,” paris muttered as she appeared beside you and followed your line of sight.
“don’t.”
“i didn’t even say anything.”
“you were about to.”
“yeah,” paris admitted as she winced dramatically.
you looked away.
immediately.
because staring wasn’t going to help.
unfortunately, that became impossible the second they reached the backyard.
the woman—ava, apparently—had absolutely no concept of personal space.
or maybe she did.
maybe she just didn’t care.
because the second she sat down, she practically attached herself to jermajesty’s side.
every conversation involved touching him.
every laugh involved touching him.
every sentence involved touching him.
you hated it.
deeply.
irrationally.
completely.
which only got worse when you noticed jermajesty didn’t seem particularly interested.
“baby, sit closer,” ava requested as she wrapped both hands around his arm and tugged him toward her.
“i’m fine here,” jermajesty replied as he gently pulled his arm free and reached for his drink instead.
“you’re so mean,” ava complained as she pouted dramatically and leaned against his shoulder anyway.
jermajesty looked exhausted.
which should not have made you feel better.
and yet.
somehow.
it did.
hours passed.
every time you tried convincing yourself you didn’t care, ava did something else.
she sat in his lap.
you wanted to scream.
she played with his chain.
you wanted to leave.
she kept calling him baby every five seconds.
you wanted to fight somebody.
probably yourself.
because none of this should have mattered.
he wasn’t your boyfriend.
he wasn’t even your ex-boyfriend anymore.
not really.
the two of you had agreed to move on.
so why did it feel so awful watching him do exactly that?
“mommy.”
jovonnie’s voice snapped you back to reality.
you immediately looked down.
“yeah, baby?” you asked as you crouched beside him and fixed the collar of his shirt.
“why are you sad?” jovonnie questioned as he tilted his head and studied your face carefully.
your heart cracked.
immediately.
because children noticed everything.
“i’m not sad,” you answered as you brushed a hand through his curls and forced a smile.
jovonnie looked unconvinced.
exactly like his father.
which was unfortunate.
very unfortunate.
because you were already struggling enough.
across the yard, jermajesty happened to look over.
his eyes immediately landed on you.
then jovonnie.
then back on you.
something shifted in his expression.
concern.
familiar concern.
the kind you’d spent years pretending didn’t affect you.
and for a brief second, before ava grabbed his arm again—
it felt exactly like old times.
which was the problem.
because old times were never really gone.
they were just waiting.
waiting for one of you to stop pretending first.
˚˖𓍢ִ໋ 𐚁°
if there was one thing worse than watching ava hang all over jermajesty for three straight hours, it was the realization that your own boyfriend was running late.
very late.
late enough that multiple people had already asked where he was.
late enough that even paris had started making comments.
late enough that you were beginning to regret inviting him at all.
the relationship wasn’t terrible.
that was the problem.
it wasn’t terrible.
it just wasn’t right.
he was nice enough.
funny enough.
attractive enough.
everything about him was technically fine.
but every conversation felt like work.
every date felt scheduled.
every compliment felt rehearsed.
and no matter how hard you tried to ignore it, there was always a comparison sitting in the back of your mind.
a comparison that wasn’t fair to anyone involved.
especially him.
your phone buzzed.
you looked down immediately.
running late.
be there soon.
you stared at the message.
then sighed.
then locked your phone again.
“still not here?” paris questioned as she dropped into the chair beside you and stole one of your fries.
“apparently not,” you answered as you watched jovonnie run across the yard with prince chasing after him.
paris followed your gaze.
then glanced toward jermajesty.
then looked back at you.
you immediately pointed a finger at her.
“don’t.”
“i literally didn’t say anything.”
“your face said enough.”
paris laughed.
because she knew you were right.
before either of you could continue, a familiar voice echoed from the front of the property.
“baby!”
you closed your eyes.
immediately.
because somehow he always managed to be loud.
very loud.
several heads turned.
including jermajesty’s.
your boyfriend finally appeared carrying a gift bag in one hand and sunglasses in the other.
he immediately wrapped an arm around your shoulders.
a little too tightly.
a little too possessively.
“there she is,” he announced as he kissed your cheek and looked around the yard.
you forced a smile.
“you’re late,” you pointed out as you adjusted the sleeve of your shirt.
“traffic was crazy,” he replied as he shrugged casually and looked completely unbothered.
paris immediately stood.
“i’m leaving before something happens,” paris announced as she grabbed her drink and walked away.
you frowned.
“what does that mean?” you called after her.
“you’ll see,” paris replied as she pointed vaguely toward the yard and kept walking.
you didn’t like that answer.
not even a little.
for a while things remained okay.
awkward.
but okay.
your boyfriend introduced himself to people he hadn’t met.
talked to some of the family members.
played with jovonnie for a few minutes.
everything seemed manageable.
then he noticed jermajesty.
which immediately became a problem.
because jermajesty had wandered over to help jovonnie build something near one of the picnic tables.
because jovonnie adored his father.
because jermajesty was being a good dad.
and because your boyfriend apparently interpreted that as a competition.
“that’s him?” your boyfriend questioned as he watched jermajesty from across the yard.
you already disliked his tone.
“that’s jovonnie’s dad,” you answered carefully as you folded your arms.
“he keeps looking over here.”
you sighed.
he wasn’t.
or at least not intentionally.
“he’s watching his son,” you explained as patiently as possible.
your boyfriend laughed.
a short.
dismissive laugh.
one that immediately irritated you.
“right.”
you stared.
“what is that supposed to mean?” you questioned as your eyebrows pulled together.
“nothing,” your boyfriend replied as he lifted both hands innocently.
it absolutely wasn’t nothing.
you knew it.
he knew it.
everybody knew it.
the situation somehow got worse twenty minutes later.
jovonnie had managed to convince jermajesty to push him on a swing.
which meant jermajesty was currently standing near the playground area.
which meant your boyfriend somehow decided that was the perfect time to approach him.
you noticed immediately.
so did jaafar.
so did prince.
so did basically everyone.
because suddenly the entire family seemed interested in whatever was happening.
“oh brother,” jaafar muttered as he lowered his drink and watched the scene unfold.
“should we stop this?” bigi questioned as he glanced between everyone nervously.
“give it thirty seconds,” prince replied as he immediately pulled out his phone.
“why are you recording?” royal asked as he looked at prince in disbelief.
“for historical purposes.”
“you’re terrible.”
“thank you.”
meanwhile, across the yard—
your boyfriend had already reached jermajesty.
“what’s up?” your boyfriend greeted as he shoved both hands into his pockets and stood beside the swing set.
jermajesty glanced up.
immediately.
“what’s good?” jermajesty replied as he continued pushing jovonnie gently.
for a moment everything seemed fine.
then—
“heard a lot about you.”
there it was.
the tone.
jermajesty’s eyes narrowed slightly.
“that so?” jermajesty questioned as he finally stopped the swing and looked directly at him.
“yeah.”
“hopefully good things.”
your boyfriend laughed again.
that same laugh.
that same annoying laugh.
the one that sounded like he thought he was winning an argument nobody else knew was happening.
“depends who you ask.”
across the yard, you immediately stood.
because absolutely not.
“oh my god,” paris whispered as she reappeared beside you out of nowhere.
“i’m gonna kill him.”
“which one?”
“both.”
paris nodded.
fair.
back at the swing set, jermajesty’s patience was visibly disappearing.
“you got something to say?” jermajesty questioned as he folded his arms and stepped away from the swing.
your boyfriend shrugged.
“just seems like you’re around a lot for an ex.”
the entire backyard went silent.
completely silent.
even the music somehow felt quieter.
jermajesty’s jaw tightened.
immediately.
“i’m around because my son lives here.”
“sure.”
“what’s that supposed to mean?” jermajesty questioned as he took another step forward.
“means i know what it looks like.”
you started walking.
fast.
very fast.
because there was absolutely no way this conversation was ending well.
“what exactly does it look like?” jermajesty asked as he laughed once and shook his head.
“looks like you can’t let go.”
bad.
very bad.
horrible actually.
because suddenly every jackson family member looked ready to intervene.
even worse—
the statement wasn’t entirely wrong.
which somehow made everything more uncomfortable.
jermajesty’s eyes immediately found yours across the yard.
just for a second.
just long enough.
then he looked back at your boyfriend.
“you don’t know what you’re talking about,” jermajesty replied as his voice dropped noticeably lower.
“i know enough.”
“and i know you’re standing in front of my son acting stupid.”
jovonnie looked between them.
confused.
which was enough.
immediately enough.
because jermajesty’s expression changed the second he noticed his son watching.
the anger disappeared.
not completely.
but enough.
he stepped back.
looked down at jovonnie.
then shook his head.
“i’m not doing this,” jermajesty stated as he turned away and picked his son up instead.
your boyfriend laughed.
again.
mistake.
huge mistake.
because this time even you were annoyed.
deeply annoyed.
and judging by the look on jaafar’s face—
you weren’t the only one.
something was about to happen.
and you had a terrible feeling it was only the beginning.
˚˖𓍢ִ໋ 𐚁°
the second jermajesty walked away with jovonnie in his arms, you felt every muscle in your body tense.
because you knew him.
better than anyone.
better than ava.
better than your boyfriend.
better than half the people standing in the yard.
and the thing about jermajesty was that the quiet version was always more dangerous than the loud version.
if he was yelling, you knew exactly what he was thinking.
if he was calm, somebody needed to start worrying.
preferably immediately.
“what was that?” you questioned as you turned toward your boyfriend and stared at him in disbelief.
your boyfriend shrugged.
completely unapologetic.
“what?” he asked as he looked around innocently.
“don’t do that,” you warned as you crossed your arms and lowered your voice.
“do what?” your boyfriend questioned as he rolled his eyes.
“start problems.”
“i didn’t start anything.”
you laughed.
once.
disbelievingly.
because that answer was ridiculous.
“you literally walked over there looking for an argument,” you pointed out as you gestured toward the swing set where the entire interaction had happened.
“i asked a question.”
“you knew exactly what you were doing.”
your boyfriend’s expression immediately changed.
not angry.
annoyed.
which somehow made everything worse.
“why are you defending him?” your boyfriend questioned as he folded his arms.
you froze.
slightly.
because that wasn’t the point.
or at least it wasn’t supposed to be.
“i’m not defending him,” you answered as you rubbed your forehead and exhaled heavily.
“looks like it.”
“he’s the father of my child.”
“he’s also your ex.”
there it was.
the real issue.
finally.
your boyfriend wasn’t angry about jermajesty.
he was threatened by him.
which honestly wasn’t surprising.
because everybody seemed threatened by jermajesty eventually.
mostly because nobody ever figured out where they stood with him.
you included.
“what are you trying to say?” you questioned as your eyebrows pulled together.
your boyfriend hesitated.
then made a mistake.
a massive mistake.
“i’m saying maybe he should learn some boundaries.”
you immediately looked away.
not because you agreed.
because you knew exactly who had heard that.
jermajesty.
of course.
somewhere behind you, silence settled.
the bad kind.
the kind that made entire conversations stop.
the kind that made people suddenly become interested in absolutely anything else.
you closed your eyes.
slowly.
“oh no,” paris whispered from somewhere nearby.
“why do you sound excited?” royal questioned as he looked at her suspiciously.
“because i’ve been waiting all afternoon.”
“that’s insane.”
“thank you.”
you turned around.
jermajesty was standing there.
jovonnie balanced comfortably on his hip.
his expression unreadable.
which somehow felt worse than anger.
much worse.
“you got a problem with me being around my son?” jermajesty questioned as he looked directly at your boyfriend.
your boyfriend immediately straightened.
because apparently common sense had left the building.
“No,” your boyfriend answered as he lifted his chin slightly.
“good,” jermajesty replied as he adjusted jovonnie against his side.
“but—”
and there it was.
the word that ruined everything.
but.
you wanted to scream.
“but i think there’s a difference between being around your son and being around y/n every second.”
the backyard collectively stopped breathing.
you were pretty sure even the birds got quiet.
jaafar immediately covered his face, prince looked thrilled, and randy looked exhausted.
paris looked like she was watching her favorite television show.
“please stop talking,” you begged as you rubbed both hands over your face.
nobody listened.
of course.
because that would’ve been too easy.
jermajesty’s eyes shifted toward you briefly.
just briefly.
then returned to your boyfriend.
“you think i’m here because of y/n?” jermajesty questioned as a humorless laugh escaped him.
“i think everybody can see it.”
your stomach dropped.
because suddenly nobody was looking at your boyfriend anymore.
they were looking at jermajesty.
waiting.
watching.
expecting.
and for the first time all day—
he didn’t immediately deny it.
that should’ve been your first clue.
instead, he just stared.
which somehow told you everything.
ava noticed too.
you could tell.
because her smile disappeared instantly.
completely.
“jer?” ava questioned as she stepped closer and touched his arm gently.
jermajesty didn’t react.
not really.
which was another clue.
a very bad clue.
your boyfriend noticed.
everyone noticed.
“see?” your boyfriend asked as he laughed.
that laugh.
again.
always that laugh.
you officially hated it.
“okay, that’s enough,” jaafar announced as he finally stood from his chair and started walking over.
“seriously,” randy agreed as he followed behind him.
“y’all are doing this in front of the baby.”
that part finally seemed to register.
because jovonnie looked confused.
very confused.
his tiny arms wrapped around jermajesty’s neck.
his little face moving between everyone.
trying to understand.
and suddenly the entire situation felt stupid.
all of it.
every bit.
“can everybody stop?” you asked as your voice cracked unexpectedly.
immediately.
every head turned toward you.
you hated that.
especially because tears were already threatening to form.
which was embarrassing.
very embarrassing.
“i’m serious,” you continued as you shook your head and looked away. “just stop.”
silence.
then more silence.
then:
“mommy?”
jovonnie’s voice.
small.
confused.
worried.
that did it.
completely.
you turned away before anyone could see your face.
and started walking.
fast.
toward the back of the property.
toward the lake.
toward literally anywhere else.
you heard somebody call your name.
then somebody else.
then another voice.
you ignored all of them.
until…
“y/n.”
that one stopped you.
because it was him.
of course it was him.
jermajesty.
you turned around.
he was alone.
no jovonnie.
no ava.
no crowd.
just him.
for the first time all day.
“what?” you asked as you wiped quickly at your eyes and immediately looked away.
jermajesty exhaled heavily.
then ran a hand over his face.
then laughed once.
the tired kind.
the defeated kind.
the kind you knew too well.
“i’m tired,” jermajesty admitted as he stared out at the water instead of looking at you.
your chest tightened immediately.
because you knew exactly what he meant.
you were tired too.
very tired.
“me too,” you answered quietly as you stepped closer.
for a moment neither of you spoke.
the distance between you suddenly felt very small.
dangerously small.
then jermajesty finally looked at you.
really looked at you.
and the expression on his face made your heart hurt.
because it looked exactly how you felt.
miserable.
in love.
and completely stuck.
“i hate seeing you with him,” jermajesty confessed as he shook his head and laughed bitterly.
synopsis: you should’ve known better than to film a Q&A with your freaky boyfriend.
ᵎ!ᵎ fluff ⊹ sexual acts mentioned ⊹ blackyoutuber.ᐟ𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧 ⊹ freaky.ᐟjermajesty
requested by annon.
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.
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synopsis: when paparazzi becomes too much for you, your boyfriend jaafar knows how to help you handle situations like this.
ᵎ!ᵎ fluff ⊹ reader being overwhelmed by paparazzi ⊹ actress.ᐟ𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧 ⊹ jaafar
requested by @szalipcombo
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.
synopsis: jermajesty shows up unexpectedly while your new boyfriend happened to be there.
ᵎ!ᵎ angst(?) ⊹ past sexual acts mentioned ⊹ language ⊹ black.ᐟ𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧 ⊹ toxic baby daddy.ᐟjermajesty ⊹ arguing
requested by annon.
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.
synopsis: you go live on instagram for fun and your freakass boyfriend won’t leave you alone.
requested by annon.
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."
This isn’t a request but I was wondering: what kpop groups do you like? Also who r ur biases? I love ur jermajesty fics 🩷🩷
thank you sm❤️❤️
I like wayyyy too many groups 😭😭 but ig my ult groups are lngshot, cortis, illit, got7, twice, enha, exo, le sserafim, nct(ALL units), aespa, itzy, njz, nmixx, bnd, txt, unchild, psychic fever(ik they’re not kpop), kiiikiii, rv, riize,atheart,ikon, fromis_9 & hella more groups 😭😭
i’m only gonna name some biases from some groups bc it’s wayyyy too much, ot4(lngshot), martin/seonghyeon(cortis), moka(illit), jackson/jinyoung(got7), sunoo(enha), kai/chen/kyungsoo/baekhyun(exo), yunjin/sakura(le sserafim), winter/giselle(aespa), seulgi/joy(rv)
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ᵎ!ᵎ fluff ⊹ smut ⊹ skinny dipping ⊹ jermajesty being a freak ⊹ black.ᐟ𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧 ⊹ jermajesty
requested by annon + inspired by @douceurrrr
⊹ ࣪ ˖ 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.
synopsis: you and jermajesty want to make your baby’s wish come true by trying again.
ᵎ!ᵎ fluff ⊹ angst with a happy ending ⊹ exes to lovers(?) ⊹ black.ᐟ𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧(anyone can read) ⊹ toxic baby daddy.ᐟjermajesty
requested by @riahminkz
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.
synopsis: your stupid ass baby daddy shows up unannounced and won’t stop messing with you.
ᵎ!ᵎ possessiveness ⊹ cheating ⊹ slight choking ⊹ usage of the n-word ⊹ black!𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧 ⊹ toxic baby daddy!jermajesty
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.
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synopsis: you can’t stop staring at ohyul while he’s wearing a tank top, he notices and gives you something to remember.
ᵎ!ᵎ 𝙛𝙡𝙪𝙛𝙛 ⊹ smut ⊹ 𝙗𝙡𝙖𝙘𝙠.ᐟ𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧 ⊹ 𝙞𝙙𝙤𝙡.ᐟohyul
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.
synopsis: you take woojin to meet your family for the first time at the family cookout.
ᵎ!ᵎ 𝙛𝙡𝙪𝙛𝙛 ⊹ 𝙗𝙡𝙖𝙘𝙠.ᐟ𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧 ⊹ 𝙞𝙙𝙤𝙡.ᐟ𝙬𝙤𝙤𝙟𝙞𝙣
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.
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