I have another request 🤭. I hope you don't mind, it's kind of long. Can I request a Jaafar Jackson x reader fic? Reader and Jaafar dated throughout high school and for 2 years in college, but they broke up after she had to move with her family to another city. Years later in 2026, reader is back in LA living with her best friend, who is a youtuber/content creator. On the day of the LA premiere of Michael, reader's best friend was scheduled to attend and interview the cast and crew on the red carpet, but she fell ill and instead asked reader to go in her place. Reader declines at first but changes her mind and decides to go. At the premiere, reader is confident that she won't be recognized by Jaafar or any of his family since it's been years since she last saw them, plus she's changed a lot, however his mom and siblings recognize her and they embrace her warmly with Jermajesty telling her that Jaafar never stopped loving her.
You can decide the rest...
red string still tied
jaafar x reader
summary: you cover for your sick friend at an LA premiere interview… and end up face-to-face with your ex for the first time in years.
note: thank u for this!! i love this kind of trope it gets me every timeeee 😭 hope you guys enjoyyy
✧･ﾟ ✧･ﾟ ✧･ﾟ･ﾟ✧ ･ﾟ✧ ･ﾟ✧･ﾟ ✧･ﾟ ✧･ﾟ･ﾟ✧ ･ﾟ✧ ･ﾟ
“Pleasee,” your friend dragged out, like it physically hurt her to be told no.
“No.”
“Please.”
“No.”
You didn’t even look up from your phone.
She sighed dramatically. “It’s the LA premiere of Michael. I need to interview him and I’m sick. Please. Just this once.”
That should’ve been a simple request.
It wasn’t.
Because he was there.
And “he” was Jaafar.
Your ex.
College sweethearts.
The last time you saw him, you were standing in a half-packed apartment in a city that suddenly felt too small for both of you.
“I’m sorry,” you had said, voice shaking but firm. “We need to end this. We’re moving. It’s far. It’s not going to work.”
He didn’t even argue at first. Just stood there like the air had been pulled out of him.
“Maybe we’ll meet again,” you added quietly, because you couldn’t leave it empty. “I love you.”
And then you left.
That was it.
That was the last conversation.
✧･ﾟ ✧･ﾟ ✧･ﾟ･ﾟ✧ ･ﾟ✧ ･ﾟ✧･ﾟ ✧･ﾟ ✧･ﾟ･ﾟ✧ ･ﾟ✧ ･ﾟ
Now your friend is staring at you like she already knows she won.
“You know I’m in contact with that brand you like,” she said casually. “The one with that blush you’ve been wanting.”
You finally looked at her.
She smiled.
“You do this, I get you PR.”
You laughed under your breath, shaking your head.
“You know how to get me.”
“Say yes.”
A beat.
“…Okay. I’ll do it.”
She immediately lunged forward and hugged you.
“You’re the best!”
✧･ﾟ ✧･ﾟ ✧･ﾟ･ﾟ✧ ･ﾟ✧ ･ﾟ✧･ﾟ ✧･ﾟ ✧･ﾟ･ﾟ✧ ･ﾟ✧ ･ﾟ
LA PREMIERE — RED CARPET
Everything is too bright.
Too loud.
Too much.
Cameras flash like lightning trying to freeze time.
You adjust your notes, forcing your hands to stay steady.
You’re not here for him.
You’re here for your friend.
That’s what you tell yourself.
That’s what you keep telling yourself.
Then—
“OMG—is that… Y/N?!”
Your stomach drops before your brain even catches up.
That voice.
Jermajesty.
You turn.
And there he is, smiling like no time has passed at all, pulling you into a hug like it’s the most normal thing in the world.
“Hey! I didn’t expect you here!” he says.
You laugh a little too nervously. “Hi—yeah, I’m here for my friend. She’s sick, so I’m covering.”
He tilts his head slightly.
“Maybe that’s fate telling you something.”
You blink. “Hey—what does that mean?”
Before he can answer—
“Oh, my sweetheart.”
His mother.
She wraps you in a hug immediately, warm and familiar in a way that almost makes your chest hurt.
“I missed you so much,” she says, pulling back just enough to look at you. “You look different… more beautiful. But still my girl.”
“I missed you too,” you manage softly. “It’s really nice to see you.”
Jermajesty leans in like he can’t help himself.
“You know… my brother still talks about you.”
Your breath catches.
“…me?”
It’s been years.
That should not be possible.
His mom lightly smacks his arm. “Don’t start.”
Jermajesty only shrugs.
“He does. Like… a lot.”
Your heart does something stupid.
His mom laughs. “Ignore him. You’re probably seeing someone now anyway. You’re too pretty to be single.”
You shake your head quickly.
“Oh—no. I’m not… I don’t really have that right now. My priorities changed.”
Jermajesty makes a sound like he’s just confirmed something.
“Ooooh.”
Then he grins.
“Yeah, well… my brother tried dating other people. Didn’t really work out.”
You frown slightly.
“He always ends up saying your name,” he continues way too casually. “Like—‘Y/N would like this.’ ‘Y/N used to do that.’ It’s actually kind of insane.”
Silence.
Your chest tightens in a way you’re not ready for.
Before you can respond—
“Guys, we need to go in the center for the photo op”
A voice cuts through everything.
You know it before you even look.
Posture. Presence. Familiar in a way your body remembers before your mind does.
Jaafar.
He looks good.
Too good.
Not like a memory anymore.
Like someone real.
Someone here.
He sees you.
Stops.
Just for a fraction of a second.
Then his face softens—like all the pressure around him fades just slightly.
“Hi,” you say first, voice quieter than you meant it to be.
“Hi,” he answers.
And suddenly it’s like the entire world narrows down to that one space between you.
Jermajesty whistles under his breath. “Ohhh yeah… this is awkward.”
His mom immediately elbows him. “Go. Carpet. Now.”
They move ahead.
Leaving you both.
Alone.
For a second that feels way too long.
“You look good,” you say softly.
“So do you,” he replies instantly.
Silence.
Not empty.
Just full.
Too full.
“You’re doing well?” you ask.
“Yeah,” he nods. “Music. Movies. It’s happening.”
“Congratulations,” you smile gently.
His eyes linger on you like he’s trying to memorize something he already knows too well.
“Thank you,” he says. “It’s nice to see you.”
Another pause.
A call from the carpet cuts through.
“JAAFAR, WE’RE STARTING!”
He doesn’t move immediately.
Still looking at you.
Like he forgot the world exists outside this moment.
Then—
“Don’t go home right after this,” he says suddenly.
You blink. “What?”
“Just…” he exhales lightly. “Talk to me after. Okay?”
Something in your chest tightens.
“I didn’t think you’d—”
“Remember?” he finishes quietly.
Your throat goes dry.
“Yeah,” he says softer. “I did.”
The noise around you fades again.
“You didn’t come,” he adds.
“To what?” you ask carefully.
“To anything,” he says. “For years.”
That lands heavier than you expect.
“That’s not fair.”
“I know,” he says quickly. “I’m not blaming you. I just… didn’t know where you went.”
“I thought it was the right thing,” you admit.
He nods slowly, like he’s been holding that answer for a long time.
“You always thought too much.”
Another call from the carpet.
“FIVE MINUTES!”
He finally shifts—but still doesn’t fully leave.
Just looks at you.
One last time before the chaos pulls him away.
“Five minutes,” he says.
You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding.
“Five minutes?”
A small, nervous smile.
“Don’t leave.”
“And if I do?” you ask before you can stop yourself.
His eyes flicker—just slightly.
“Then I guess I’ll keep running into you for the rest of my life until you finally stop avoiding me.”
Your chest aches in a way you forgot it could.
“…okay,” you whisper. “Five minutes.”
His expression softens.
“Good.”
Then he turns and walks away.
And for the first time in years—
you don’t feel like the string between you ever really broke.
✧･ﾟ ✧･ﾟ ✧･ﾟ･ﾟ✧ ･ﾟ✧ ･ﾟ✧･ﾟ ✧･ﾟ ✧･ﾟ･ﾟ✧ ･ﾟ✧ ･ﾟ
really love when exes bump into each other… like their story is just not done yet?? GIMME THAT RN anyways hope you all enjoyyyyyy
if you have any requests or questions, feel free to drop them anytime!!
summary: you end up as an extra in the “BAD” performance scene… without telling him.
note: TO WHOEVER SENT THIS REQUEST. YOU ARE A GENIUS. I’M LITERALLY SMILING AT MY PHONE LIKE AN IDIOT WHILE WRITING THIS 😭 anyway i hope you guys enjoy this as much as i enjoyed writing it, this is my faveeee.
✧･ﾟ ✧･ﾟ ✧･ﾟ･ﾟ✧ ･ﾟ✧ ･ﾟ✧･ﾟ ✧･ﾟ ✧･ﾟ･ﾟ✧ ･ﾟ✧ ･ﾟ
3 days before filming, the producers asked you if you wanted to be an extra as a fan for the scene where Jaafar performs BAD. you almost said no at first… but then you realized you’d be in the crowd. he wouldn’t even notice you. so you said yes.
✧･ﾟ ✧･ﾟ ✧･ﾟ･ﾟ✧ ･ﾟ✧ ･ﾟ✧･ﾟ ✧･ﾟ ✧･ﾟ･ﾟ✧ ･ﾟ✧ ･ﾟ
fast forward.
today is filming day.
you arrive on set, and they hand you your outfit.
“I don’t think Jaafar will even notice me,” you say as you take it.
“Oh yeah?” the producer replies. “he actually remembers you—‘sunset girl,’ right? when he sees sunsets, he’ll randomly go, Y/N would love it here. she loves sunsets that look pink and orange mixed.”
your heart stops for a second.
he remembers you.
even from far away.
✧･ﾟ ✧･ﾟ ✧･ﾟ･ﾟ✧ ･ﾟ✧ ･ﾟ✧･ﾟ ✧･ﾟ ✧･ﾟ･ﾟ✧ ･ﾟ✧ ･ﾟ
you change into your costume and step out when the crew calls everyone to positions.
you end up right in the middle.
perfect lighting. perfect visibility.
you try to convince yourself it’s fine. there are too many people. there’s no way he’ll notice you.
“action!”
✧･ﾟ ✧･ﾟ ✧･ﾟ･ﾟ✧ ･ﾟ✧ ･ﾟ✧･ﾟ ✧･ﾟ ✧･ﾟ･ﾟ✧ ･ﾟ✧ ･ﾟ
you get into it immediately—jumping, screaming, acting like a real fan, fully caught in the chaos of it.
and then Jaafar walks out on stage in the BAD outfit.
you freeze for half a second.
because—
he looks like his uncle.
he looked like Michael.
the posture, the presence under the lights, the way he carries himself when the music starts… it’s uncanny in a way that makes your chest tighten for a second.
but then—
as he starts performing—
something shifts.
you don’t just see Michael Jackson.
you also see Jaafar.
in the way he locks into certain moves, in the way his focus sharpens and softens between beats… there are moments where it’s pure tribute, pure embodiment—
and then small flashes where it’s him.
his own timing. his own expression. his own little breath between steps that makes it feel real, grounded, human.
like he’s not disappearing into his uncle completely…
he’s honoring him while still being himself.
and somehow, that makes it even more meaningful.
and for a second, it’s almost unreal. the way he stands under the lights, the way he moves… it hits you in this quiet way you don’t expect.
and then it hits you harder:
he looks insanely good.
you snap out of it fast and go back to screaming because that’s your job right now.
✧･ﾟ ✧･ﾟ ✧･ﾟ･ﾟ✧ ･ﾟ✧ ･ﾟ✧･ﾟ ✧･ﾟ ✧･ﾟ･ﾟ✧ ･ﾟ✧ ･ﾟ
but then—
you feel it.
his attention shifts.
at first he’s scanning the crowd… then he slows.
like he’s searching.
and then—
he finds you.
that expression flickers across his face like:
you really thought I wouldn’t notice you?
✧･ﾟ ✧･ﾟ ✧･ﾟ･ﾟ✧ ･ﾟ✧ ･ﾟ✧･ﾟ ✧･ﾟ ✧･ﾟ･ﾟ✧ ･ﾟ✧ ･ﾟ
he keeps performing, but now it’s different.
like he’s doing it for everyone…
and also for you.
during one move, he pulls his jacket slightly and looks straight at you.
and smiles.
small. knowing.
like: I see you.
✧･ﾟ ✧･ﾟ ✧･ﾟ･ﾟ✧ ･ﾟ✧ ･ﾟ✧･ﾟ ✧･ﾟ ✧･ﾟ･ﾟ✧ ･ﾟ✧ ･ﾟ
“cut!” the director calls.
“in the part where you do this move, can you look at the floor instead of the crowd?”
“yeah, got it. sorry,” Jaafar says, slightly breathless.
they reset for another take.
✧･ﾟ ✧･ﾟ ✧･ﾟ･ﾟ✧ ･ﾟ✧ ･ﾟ✧･ﾟ ✧･ﾟ ✧･ﾟ･ﾟ✧ ･ﾟ✧ ･ﾟ
and you’re still standing there, heart going way too fast, watching him go again.
sharper this time.
more locked in.
like he’s not just performing anymore.
he’s aware.
✧･ﾟ ✧･ﾟ ✧･ﾟ･ﾟ✧ ･ﾟ✧ ･ﾟ✧･ﾟ ✧･ﾟ ✧･ﾟ･ﾟ✧ ･ﾟ✧ ･ﾟ
“and that’s a wrap!”
✧･ﾟ ✧･ﾟ ✧･ﾟ･ﾟ✧ ･ﾟ✧ ･ﾟ✧･ﾟ ✧･ﾟ ✧･ﾟ･ﾟ✧ ･ﾟ✧ ･ﾟ
you’re packing your things when a crew member walks up to you.
“Mr. Jackson would like to see you in his tent.”
you nod, trying not to smile too much.
✧･ﾟ ✧･ﾟ ✧･ﾟ･ﾟ✧ ･ﾟ✧ ･ﾟ✧･ﾟ ✧･ﾟ ✧･ﾟ･ﾟ✧ ･ﾟ✧ ･ﾟ
inside, it’s quiet.
he’s there alone.
he looks up immediately.
“hey,” you say softly.
“baby,” he breathes, already walking toward you. “I thought you had errands.”
“I did,” you smile. “this one.”
he laughs and pulls you into a hug—tight, grounding, like he’s been holding something in all day just to get here.
✧･ﾟ ✧･ﾟ ✧･ﾟ･ﾟ✧ ･ﾟ✧ ･ﾟ✧･ﾟ ✧･ﾟ ✧･ﾟ･ﾟ✧ ･ﾟ✧ ･ﾟ
“so,” he says after a moment, still holding you, “how was it?”
“it was good. really good. you did amazing… and you looked really good too. that BAD costume suits you.”
you say it casually.
your brain is absolutely not casual.
✧･ﾟ ✧･ﾟ ✧･ﾟ･ﾟ✧ ･ﾟ✧ ･ﾟ✧･ﾟ ✧･ﾟ ✧･ﾟ･ﾟ✧ ･ﾟ✧ ･ﾟ
he smiles a little.
“yeah? thank you, baby.”
then his expression shifts like he’s remembering something.
✧･ﾟ ✧･ﾟ ✧･ﾟ･ﾟ✧ ･ﾟ✧ ･ﾟ✧･ﾟ ✧･ﾟ ✧･ﾟ･ﾟ✧ ･ﾟ✧ ･ﾟ
“i heard you, you know.”
you blink. “what?”
“your scream,” he says. “i actually heard your pitch when you screamed. out of everyone… i heard you first. so I started searching.”
your breath catches.
✧･ﾟ ✧･ﾟ ✧･ﾟ･ﾟ✧ ･ﾟ✧ ･ﾟ✧･ﾟ ✧･ﾟ ✧･ﾟ･ﾟ✧ ･ﾟ✧ ･ﾟ
“and then I saw you,” he continues softer now. “and I just kept looking for you the whole time.”
you stare at him. “that’s actually insane.”
he shrugs slightly.
“you’re loud.”
then, gentler:
“but atleast you're here tho”
✧･ﾟ ✧･ﾟ ✧･ﾟ･ﾟ✧ ･ﾟ✧ ･ﾟ✧･ﾟ ✧･ﾟ ✧･ﾟ･ﾟ✧ ･ﾟ✧ ･ﾟ
you shake your head slightly, still processing.
“how do you even know it was me?”
he doesn’t even hesitate.
✧･ﾟ ✧･ﾟ ✧･ﾟ･ﾟ✧ ･ﾟ✧ ･ﾟ✧･ﾟ ✧･ﾟ ✧･ﾟ･ﾟ✧ ･ﾟ✧ ･ﾟ
“because it was you.”
✧･ﾟ ✧･ﾟ ✧･ﾟ･ﾟ✧ ･ﾟ✧ ･ﾟ✧･ﾟ ✧･ﾟ ✧･ﾟ･ﾟ✧ ･ﾟ✧ ･ﾟ
you blink at him.
he steps closer, voice quieter now.
“your scream… I’d recognize it anywhere. even in a crowd like that.”
✧･ﾟ ✧･ﾟ ✧･ﾟ･ﾟ✧ ･ﾟ✧ ･ﾟ✧･ﾟ ✧･ﾟ ✧･ﾟ･ﾟ✧ ･ﾟ✧ ･ﾟ
and suddenly—
it’s quiet in a way that feels loud.
because he didn’t guess.
he just knew.
✧･ﾟ ✧･ﾟ ✧･ﾟ･ﾟ✧ ･ﾟ✧ ･ﾟ✧･ﾟ ✧･ﾟ ✧･ﾟ･ﾟ✧ ･ﾟ✧ ･ﾟ
and later, when you finally leave the tent, you’re still thinking about it.
about the crowd.
about his eyes finding you like it was nothing.
about how he heard you first.
about how he never actually lost you in the first place.
and you realize something small but dangerous:
when the movie comes out…
that scene is going to go viral.
not just because it’s iconic.
not just because he performed it perfectly.
but because somewhere in the middle of all that chaos—
he was looking for you.
and he found you.
THE END.
✧･ﾟ ✧･ﾟ ✧･ﾟ･ﾟ✧ ･ﾟ✧ ･ﾟ✧･ﾟ ✧･ﾟ ✧･ﾟ･ﾟ✧ ･ﾟ✧ ･ﾟ
THIS IS ACTUALLY MY FAVE ONE SO FARRR
bcs the outfit is on point and speaking of outfits—Motown 25, Grammy, the elevator moment… girl I can’t keep listing outfits, I might just list them ALL 😭 but the Motown 25? spectacular. give me 20 of them (hope y’all get the reference lol)
anywayyy I hope you enjoyed this ♡
if you have any requests or questions just drop themmmm !
thank youuuu for reading, I’m actually really happy to be making these requests with y’all and writing stories again. I missed writing and I’ll always go back to my first love—which is writing.
summary: you're auditioning for the female lead role in your school's theatre play, but the monologue just isn't clicking. thankfully, jaafar is determined to make you get it right—even if it means making you repeat the same line a hundred times.
note: this is the first story I wrote from the request, I hope I got it right 😭 I tried with the script part y’all enjoyy
✧･ﾟ ✧･ﾟ ✧･ﾟ･ﾟ✧ ･ﾟ✧ ･ﾟ✧･ﾟ ✧･ﾟ ✧･ﾟ･ﾟ✧ ･ﾟ✧ ･ﾟ
You were auditioning for the female lead role in your theatre play.
Currently, you were sprawled across the floor, papers scattered around you like the aftermath of a small explosion.
“This is not even right,” you groaned, dropping the script onto your lap.
“You just said it once. Give it a chance,” Jaafar replied from beside you.
You sighed dramatically.
“Try to put yourself in the situation of the monologue,” he said. “Like, actually feel it.”
“I’m trying. It’s not working.”
“Here, let me help you.”
You sat up a little straighter.
“Okay. Start again.”
You looked down at the script.
"I thought I was enough for you… but somehow I still ended up feeling like I was asking for too much just by staying."
You paused immediately.
“No, no.” You buried your face in your hands. “That sounded so fake.”
Jaafar laughed softly.
“Because you’re saying the words, not feeling them.”
“Easy for you to say.”
“Again.”
You groaned.
“Again,” he repeated.
You rolled your eyes and tried again.
“No—again.”
“How many times more?”
“C’mon, baby, you got it.” He nudged your shoulder gently. “It’s your dream role.”
And somehow, that was enough.
The frustration didn’t disappear, but it gave you a reason to keep trying.
So you did.
Again.
And again.
And again.
Every time you stumbled, Jaafar stopped you.
Every time you rushed through a line, he made you slow down.
Every time you gave up, he pushed you forward.
“Good. Next.”
You flipped to the next page.
"I kept telling myself it was my fault… because blaming you would mean admitting you never really tried."
You finished the line.
“Again.”
You stared at him.
“You didn’t even think about it.”
“I didn’t need to.”
You threw a pillow at him.
“Again,” he said through his laughter.
By the time you reached the final page, something had changed.
The lines didn’t feel memorized anymore.
They felt real.
You took a breath.
"The hardest part wasn’t losing you… it was realizing I was the only one trying to hold it together the whole time."
Silence.
You slowly looked up.
Jaafar was staring at you.
Then he pointed.
“That.”
You blinked.
“That’s the one.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
Relief immediately washed over you.
“Perfect,” he said. “On-point emotions. It’s not like you’re reciting something in front of class, y’know?”
You laughed, letting your shoulders relax for the first time all night.
“And also,” he added, leaning back, “the script is about getting cheated on. I get why you couldn’t find the emotions at first.”
You raised an eyebrow.
“Oh?”
“Yeah.” He grinned. “It’s because you’re in a healthy relationship, my love.”
You threw one of the script pages at him.
“Oh, shut up.”
“I’m serious!”
“Sure you are.”
His laughter filled the room.
Eventually, the teasing softened into quiet comfort.
You looked down at the script in your lap.
“What if I still don’t get the role?” you asked, quieter this time.
His expression softened instantly.
“Then they missed out.”
You glanced up at him.
“But I don’t think they will.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
He reached over and tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear.
“Thanks for making me repeat that monologue a hundred times,” you said.
“It was only ninety-nine.”
You rolled your eyes, smiling.
His voice softened.
“C’mere.”
Before you could respond, he leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead.
“Good luck, future leading lady.”
Your cheeks instantly warmed.
“Future leading lady?”
“Mhm.”
“And if I don’t get it?”
He tilted your chin up gently.
“Then you’re still my leading lady.”
Before you could even reply, he kissed you—quick, soft, like it was the most natural thing in the world.
Your heart stuttered immediately.
“There she is,” he teased when you smiled.
“Oh my God.”
“That’s the smile I’ve been trying to get all night.”
You shoved his shoulder, but you were still smiling.
He only laughed and pulled you closer.
The script was still scattered across the floor.
Your audition was still tomorrow.
And your nerves definitely hadn’t disappeared.
But as you rested your head on his shoulder, everything felt a little less heavy.
Maybe tomorrow would still be terrifying.
Maybe nothing was guaranteed.
But with him beside you, believing in you before you even believed in yourself, it suddenly felt a little easier.
And for tonight, that was enough. ♡
THE END.
✧･ﾟ ✧･ﾟ ✧･ﾟ･ﾟ✧ ･ﾟ✧ ･ﾟ✧･ﾟ ✧･ﾟ ✧･ﾟ･ﾟ✧ ･ﾟ✧ ･ﾟ
GUYS i actually love writing from your requests 😭💭
like we’re literally brainstorming stories together and i love that sm
drop your requests / questions anytime okay!! don’t be shy
Heey x. Idk if you do requests and you can just ignore this if you don't. But if you do, can i suggest a Jaafar Jackson x wife reader fic?. Reader gets asked by the producers of the Michael biopic to be an extra for one of the scenes and she agrees but she doesn't tell Jaafar. Reader is in the concert scene for Bad and is in the second row. During filming for the scene, Jaafar recognizes her after a few minutes and he goes completely off script 🤭.
QUEEENNNNNN I LOVE THIS SM ILL TAKE A NOTE OF THAT THANKSSS 🙌🥰
𝓼𝔂𝓷𝓸𝓹𝓼𝓲𝓼- She said she'll stay, but as soon as a man cheats, she's gone. And after four, excruciatingly toxic years together, Y/N just finds out her boyfriend, Jermajesty, has been cheating on her for the past three months. Instead of waiting around for an explanation, she trashes everything. By the time he gets home, she's waiting for him. She's upset and hurt, but maybe they'll get back together.
𝔀𝓬-
𝓹𝓪𝓲𝓻𝓲𝓷𝓰- toxic!Jermajesty & black!reader
𝓬𝓸𝓷𝓽𝓮𝓷𝓽- Angst, extreme manipulation, yelling, use of the n word (like twice), cheating, y/n a bird but its okay bc its jermajesty, dryhumping if you squint like rlly hard, making out, make him pay for the cookie, tiny bit of physical violence (she pushes him and slaps him literally once).
𝓪/𝓷- SOOOO have this jermajesty fic i made, its kind of a 'here damn' thing but not rlly. also ill keep writing fics for him, Michael, and Jaafar bc one lame ass gc full of immature kids not abt to ruin this glorious man.
happy reading!!
Y/N met Jermajesty the way a lot of people meet the person they swear they're going to spend forever with, completely by accident.
She had gone to a party with her friends, not looking for anything serious, just looking to have a good time. He was funny, charming, and somehow managed to make her laugh so hard her stomach hurt within the first twenty minutes of talking to him. They exchanged numbers that night, and after that, they were practically inseparable.
The first year was perfect.
Like, disgustingly perfect.
Jermajesty was sweet. Attentive. The kind of boyfriend who remembered the little things. He brought her flowers for no reason, drove across town at two in the morning when she couldn't sleep, and somehow always knew exactly what to say when she was upset. He spoiled her, loved her loudly, and made her feel like she was the only girl in the world.
Y/N had never been happier.
The second year wasn't bad.
Not exactly. It just... changed.
Jermajesty started getting cocky.
Small arguments became a regular thing. He'd get smart with her, she'd snap back, and suddenly they were arguing over absolutely nothing.
But he always apologized.
Always.
A few hours later he'd be kissing her forehead, telling her he loved her, buying her food, acting like nothing happened.
So she ignored it. Because everybody has rough patches, right?
The third year was where things got ugly.
Jermajesty got irritated by everything she said.
Everything.
If she asked a question, he'd get defensive.
If she voiced a concern, he'd roll his eyes.
If she told him how she felt, he'd somehow turn it around and make her feel like she was overreacting.
And the fights were terrible.
Because Y/N wasn't one of those girls who sat there and got talked over.
If he raised his voice, she raised hers.
If he got in her face, she got right back in his.
The neighbors probably knew both of their names.
Dishes got thrown. Clothes got tossed across rooms.
More than a few gaming controllers met their tragic end against walls.
Their relationship was becoming toxic and everybody around her could see it.
Her friends told her constantly.
Girl, leave him.
He's no good.
This isn't normal.
But Y/N always brushed them off. It was always "I don't care." and "As long as he don't cheat, I can deal with everything else."
That was her rule.
Her one rule.
And somewhere between the end of the third and now the fourth year, it was hell, and for the past few months, she'd had that feeling. That horrible feeling in the pit of her stomach.
The one where you know something isn't right, but you won't trust it because you've never felt it when it comes to a person you love.
Which was exactly why the feeling bothered her so much.
It wasn't jealousy.
It sure as hell wasn't insecurity.
It was that awful feeling in the pit of your stomach that tells you something isn't right before you have any proof.
The kind of feeling you try to ignore because you don't want it to be true.
For months, she'd been trying to do exactly that.
And this was only because Jermajesty was acting weird.
It was subtle at first.
The kind of change you don't notice until it's been happening for a while.
He'd never hidden his phone before.
Never.
They'd had screaming matches that could shake the walls and he'd still leave his phone sitting face-up on the kitchen counter.
Hell, she'd accused him of cheating before during arguments just because she was angry and wanted to hurt his feelings.
And every single time, he'd rolled his eyes, handed her the phone, and said, "Here. Look through it then."
No hesitation.
No panic.
Nothing to hide.
That was why this felt so wrong.
Because now the phone was always in his hand.
Always face down, always on silent. And if she got too close, suddenly he'd be checking something else.
Locking the screen. Turning away. Giving short answers whenever she asked who he was texting.
Little things.
Small things.
But they added up, and every time they happened, that feeling in her stomach got worse.
She kept making excuses for him. Maybe he was stressed. Maybe he was dealing with something.
Maybe she was overthinking.
Because the alternative hurt too much to consider.
This was Jermajesty, four years together.
Four years of memories.
Four years of choosing each other.
So she ignored the voice in the back of her head telling her something was off.
Ignored the way his behavior had changed.
Ignored how protective he'd suddenly become over that phone.
But no matter how many excuses she came up with, she couldn't shake the feeling that there was a reason he didn't want her looking at it anymore.
And she was terrified.
But right now, the two of them were laying in bed watching a movie.
That alone felt like a miracle.
Granted, they had their days.
A lot of them.
Days where they couldn't be in the same room for more than ten minutes without somebody catching an attitude. Days where one smart comment turned into a screaming match. Days where the neighbors probably knew their names better than their own relatives did.
But today had been different.
Peaceful.
No arguments, no passive-aggressive comments.
Nothing.
For the first time in what felt like forever, they'd made it through an entire day without fighting.
It felt like a gift from God.
Y/N was curled against his side beneath the blankets, her head resting against his shoulder while the movie he wanted to watch played on the television. Jermajesty's arm was draped loosely around her waist, his body warm against hers.
A year ago, sitting this close would've been normal.
Now it felt rare.
Like one wrong move could ruin it. So she was trying to enjoy it while it lasted, trying to ignore the tension that had become a permanent fixture in their relationship.
Trying to pretend things were okay.
For a little while, they actually were.
Then she heard him laugh.
Her eyes shifted from the television.
Jermajesty was looking down at his phone, a grin spread across his face while his thumbs moved across the screen.
A few seconds later he laughed again.
Y/N looked back at the movie, ignoring his blatant disregard for her.
Or at least tried to.
His brothers blew up their group chats all the time, and his friends weren't much better.
So she told herself that's what it was.
Nothing more.
Nothing less.
Then his phone lit up again.
And again.
And again.
A call came through.
He declined it immediately.
Another call.
Declined.
Then came the texts.
One after another.
The screen kept lighting up every few seconds.
She kept her eyes on the TV, trying her hardest to focus on whatever explosion was happening on screen.
Then his phone lit up again.
The bright glow reflected against his face, a smile immediately tugged at the corner of his mouth.
His thumbs moved across the screen.
Y/N slowly turned her head. "Maj."
Jermajesty hummed absentmindedly, still looking at the phone.
Her eyes flicked toward it, then back to him. "You begged me to watch this movie."
That got his attention. "What?"
"You begged me." She pointed at the television. "To watch this movie. And you ain't even watching it."
Jermajesty glanced at the screen before letting out a small laugh. "My bad."
He tossed the phone onto the mattress beside him and wrapped an arm around her again. "There. Happy?"
"A little."
He smirked. "Dramatic ass."
Y/N rolled her eyes but settled back against him.
For a few minutes, things were quiet again.
The movie played, the room stayed calm.
And she started thinking maybe she was overreacting, maybe she really was letting that weird feeling get into her head.
Then—
Buzz.
The phone lit up.
Jermajesty's head turned so fast it almost gave her whiplash. Before the screen had even fully illuminated, he'd already picked it up.
And cheesed.
His attention immediately disappeared from the movie. His thumbs started moving again.
Y/N's jaw tightened; she looked at the phone then at him, throwing the blanket off herself, she climbed out of bed.
The bedroom door slammed behind her.
Hard.
From the bedroom she immediately heard his voice. "The fuck?"
She ignored him.
A few minutes later he walked into the living room.
He'd thrown on a fitted black shirt and gray sweatpants.
His eyebrows were furrowed. "Fuck is your problem?"
Y/N didn't look up from the couch. "I don't know, Jermajesty."
His expression darkened instantly. "You can chill out with that attitude, Slammin' doors and shit."
She laughed a humorless laugh.
"I pay rent, I'll slam whatever the fuck I want."
"See? That's the shit I be talkin' bout' bro." He smacked his teeth as he threw his hands up. "I'm not finna argue with you."
The second he said it, his phone buzzed.
Again.
He immediately looked down and started texting.
That was it.
Y/N sat forward. "What's so funny? I wanna laugh too."
"It's nothin'." He didn't even look up. Just kept texting.
Her eyes narrowed. "Nah, you've been laughing at that phone all damn day. let me see it."
He ignored her, still typing.
Y/N stood up. "Jermajesty."
Nothing.
She walked over and snatched the phone out of his hands, for one split second she had it.
Then he snatched it right back.
Fast.
His face instantly hardened. "Don't snatch my stuff."
Y/N stared at him. "Let me see the fucking phone, Jermajesty."
He shook his head. "You doing the absolute most." Walking toward the front door, he grabbed his keys. "I'm gonna go pick up something to eat."
"Jer—"
"And when I get back," he interrupted, pointing at her, "you better have that funky-ass attitude in check."
The front door slammed.
The apartment went silent.
Y/N stood there frozen, staring at the door. Her heart sinking lower and lower into her stomach.
Because she knew. She just didn't want to believe it.
Slowly, Y/N grabbed her phone from the coffee table.
Her hands were already shaking, not enough for anyone else to notice.
Enough for her to notice.
Enough for that sick feeling in her stomach to get worse.
Slowly, Y/N grabbed her phone from the coffee table.
Her hands were shaking so badly she almost dropped it.
The apartment felt too quiet.
Too still.
Like the walls themselves were waiting for something to happen.
She opened FaceTime.
Clicked her best friend's name.
And waited.
The second the call connected, Y/N didn't even bother saying hello.
"Girl, I swea—"
Journey immediately cut her off. "Well, hello to you too then, bitch."
Under any other circumstance, Y/N would've laughed.
Tonight?
Not a chance.
She dragged a hand down her face. "I'm not in the fucking mood, bro. I swear to God, I'm finna beat the brakes off this nigga."
Journey sighed. The kind of sigh that said she'd been expecting this.
"I been told you to leave him."
Y/N started pacing. "We don't know—"
"Girl, shut up."
"Journey—"
"No. Shut up and listen." Journey pointed at the camera. "He constantly does weird shit. Constantly. Every time you call me, it's another argument, another issue, another reason you upset."
Y/N started walking circles around the living room.
Her chest felt tight, like she couldn't get a full breath.
Journey continued. "And he knows you ain't leaving."
Y/N rolled her eyes. "Oh my God."
"No, for real. He know you love him. He know you gon' forgive him. He know you gon' let him slide." Journey leaned closer to the screen. "That's why he acts the way he does."
Y/N stopped pacing.
For a second.
Then started right back up again. "I think he's cheating on me."
The words came out before she could stop them.
The apartment fell silent.
Journey's face changed immediately, the joking disappeared.
Everything disappeared.
"What?"
Y/N laughed bitterly. "I think he's cheating on me."
"Okay." Journey held up a hand. "Calm the fuck down."
"I am calm."
"Bitch, you pacing like a caged lion."
Y/N looked down.
She was.
Journey thought for a second, then suddenly her eyes widened.
"He got a laptop?"
Y/N froze. "...Yeah."
Journey sat upright. "Go through that bitch right now."
Y/N stared.
Journey pointed aggressively. "Now."
Without another word, Y/N marched toward their bedroom.
The facetime call bounced with every step, her stomach twisted harder the closer she got.
The laptop sat on the desk.
Closed.
Innocent-looking. Like it wasn't about to potentially ruin her life.
Y/N set her phone against a stack of books.
Picked up the laptop and opened it.
The Apple logo glowed.
Journey immediately leaned toward her camera. "Let me see."
Y/N's fingers trembled.
Badly.
Her heart was beating so hard she could hear it.
She didn't want this. That was the worst part.
She didn't want to be right. She wanted to open the laptop and find absolutely nothing. She wanted Journey to call her dramatic. She wanted to laugh about it tomorrow.
Journey's voice softened. "Be strong."
Y/N swallowed.
"If he clean, then good." Journey shrugged. "If he ain't, clear everything out. Burn it."
Despite everything, Y/N almost smiled.
Almost.
The laptop unlocked, she clicked through his camera roll.
Nothing.
Pictures of him.
Pictures of her.
Pictures of them.
Gym progress photos.
Random screenshots.
Views from trips.
Normal stuff.
Journey frowned. "That ain't nothing."
Y/N exhaled shakily. For a second, hope flickered.
Then Journey spoke again. "Go through that hidden folder."
The hope died immediately. Y/N picked up her phone. "No."
"What?"
"You look."
Journey blinked. "What?"
"You look." Y/N turned the camera around. "If I see something I don't wanna see, I promise you I'm going to kill him."
Journey nodded. "Alright."
Y/N squeezed her eyes shut, she pressed her finger against the Touch ID sensor.
The folder opened.
A second later—"He fucking with Dream." Journey dragged the words out so long Y/N's stomach dropped.
Her eyes opened.
And the world stopped.
There he was.
Jermajesty.
Holding another girl, her other best friend.
Pictures of them on cute dates.
Places they went that she had dreamed of going to.
And to top it off? A video of them fucking.
Her stomach dropped then dropped again.
Like she was falling.
Like the floor had disappeared beneath her.
"No."
Journey didn't say anything.
"No."
Y/N clicked frantically.
More nudes.
More proof.
More lies.
Her breathing quickened.
The room felt hot.
Too hot.
Then she opened his messages. An unread text sat near the top.
Her number.
Journey looked horrified. "No wonder she been all iffy."
Y/N couldn't speak.
"And he ain't even try to hide it."
Y/N clicked the message.
A photo of her freshly done toes and nails, painted his favorite color, with a text that followed "thank uu baby'' along with a heart emoji.
Journey immediately scrunched her face. "She got ugly-ass feet."
Y/N stared at her. Then hung up.
Because right now, she didn't need Journey's commentary.
She needed silence.
She scrolled.
And scrolled.
And scrolled.
The messages stretched back months.
Months.
While she'd been defending him. While she'd been fighting for him.
While she'd been choosing him.
Every argument. Every breakup scare. Every rough patch.
There she was. The girl she confided in.
Message after message.
Conversation after conversation.
Plans.
Pictures.
Memories.
There were "good morning" texts.
"There were "I miss you" texts.
There were messages talking about meeting up after he and Y/N argued.
Messages that made it sound like every fight in their relationship had become an opportunity for him to run to someone else.
And the part that hurt most? It wasn't even the cheating.
It was how comfortable he'd gotten doing it.
How normal it seemed, like betraying her had become part of his routine.
Y/N sat there scrolling for nearly twenty minutes.
Not crying.
Not screaming.
Just reading.
The hurt settling deeper and deeper, until it became something heavy.
Something numb.
Finally, she closed the laptop.
The screen went black, and so did something inside her.
Slowly, she stood.
Walked into the bathroom and turned on the bathtub.
Water rushed into the basin.
She reached beneath the sink and grabbed any and every chemical and poured, the sharp chemical smell immediately filled the room.
Then she grabbed her phone. Opened the camera. Pressed record.
No words.
No speech.
Nothing.
Just pure rage.
She walked outside.
Holding his PS5.
The expensive one he'd obsessed over. The one he'd told her not to touch. The one she'd bought him.
She dropped it onto the concrete.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
Plastic shattered and pieces flew across the pavement.
She stomped it.
Again.
And again.
And again.
Until it was barely recognizable.
Every ounce of anger pouring out of her.
Every lie.
Every excuse.
Every betrayal.
Tears finally started falling.
Hot.
Relentless.
She stopped recording.
Sent the video along with a middle finger emoji.
That was the only response he deserved.
The calls started immediately.
One after another.
Ignored.
Back inside, she tossed the broken console into the bleach water.
Then something in her snapped.
Not cracked.
Snapped.
She stormed into the bedroom.
Looked around and suddenly every object felt offensive.
Every item reminded her of him.
Of them.
Of four wasted years.
Her eyes landed on the bedroom television, the one they'd spent countless nights watching movies on.
The one she'd been staring at an hour ago while he smiled at another woman.
Y/N grabbed a nearby lamp and swung.
The screen exploded, cracks spiderwebbed instantly.
Another hit.
Then another.
Until the television toppled sideways onto the dresser, the crash echoed through the apartment.
The sound made her chest feel lighter.
Not better.
Just lighter.
Then came the shoes.
The clothes.
Anything with he bought. Anything he'd touched.
Her phone kept ringing somewhere.
Jermajesty.
Jermajesty.
Jermajesty.
Over and over.
Ignored.
Eventually, she sank onto the floor, surrounded by the destruction, surrounded by pieces of a life she'd spent four years building.
And finally broke.
The sob that left her chest was ugly.
Painful.
The kind that made it hard to breathe because beneath the anger, was grief.
Four years.
Four years.
Gone.
Not because they stopped loving each other.
Because he chose somebody else.
The disgust made her stomach turn. Every time she thought about him touching her after being with someone else.
Every time she remembered him looking her in the eye and lying.
Every time she remembered defending him, believing him, trusting him.
Every time she ran to her when Journey didn't answer. Every time she ran to her when she needed to get away.
She felt sick.
Humiliated.
Stupid.
Eventually, she wiped her face. Fixed her breathing. Picked herself up.
Grabbed his laptop and walked into the living room.
Then she sat down.
Calmly.
Quietly.
The laptop resting in her lap, the apartment looked like a crime scene.
The water sat waiting in the bathroom. His destroyed belongings were scattered everywhere.
And still she sat perfectly still.
Waiting.
Five minutes later, she heard it.
Heavy footsteps.
Fast.
Frantic.
Racing down the hallway outside the apartment.
Then louder.
Closer.
Closer.
Until they stopped directly outside her door.
She could practically hear his breathing through the wood. Could imagine the panic on his face.
The realization.
The fear.
The desperation.
Y/N smiled, not because she was happy.
Because she knew Jermajesty had finally realized he got caught.
He burst through the apartment like a storm.
The second the door flew open, Jermajesty was already cussing, already yelling, already acting like he was the one who had been wronged.
“Are you fucking serious?” he snapped, throwing his hands up as he stepped inside. “You really must have lost yo' rabbid ass mind.”
Y/N just stood there in the living room, arms folded, face blank except for the sarcasm sitting right behind her eyes.
“Over what?” she repeated, slow and sharp. “Oh, I don’t know, Maj. Maybe you tell me.”
He looked around the apartment and his whole expression shifted.
Because the mess was everywhere.
Broken pieces. Torn fabric. Shattered glass. His stuff scattered across the floor like a tornado had ripped through the place.
He muttered something under his breath and stormed toward the bedroom first, and the second he stepped inside and saw the damage in there, his face darkened even more.
Then he went into the bathroom.
And the second he saw that too, he stopped dead.
Bleach. Water. Destroyed clothes. Ripped-up shoes. Broken pieces of his things soaked and ruined.
His jaw flexed.
He turned back toward her, furious now.
“Yo are you fucking cool?” he shouted. “You did all this shit for fucking what?”
Y/N didn’t even hesitate.
She snatched his laptop off the couch and hurled it at his feet.
It hit the floor with a heavy thud.
Before he could even react, she was on it, stomping down hard, over and over, until he rushed forward and shoved her off to the side.
The second his hand hit her, the air changed.
Y/N snapped her head up and slapped him so hard the sound cracked through the apartment.
His head turned with it.
Her chest heaved.
Then she pointed at him, trembling with rage. “Four years,” she said, her voice loud and shaking. “I gave you four years, and you go and fuck my best friend?”
Jermajesty rubbed both hands over his face, breathing hard. “So?” he shot back, still angry, still defensive. “That don’t mean you break my shit! You should’ve just got your ass up and left.”
Y/N laughed, but it was ugly, bitter, full of hurt.
“Nigga, are you fucking stupid?” she yelled, stepping closer. “You been cheating on me with my best friend for months and you want me pack my shit and leave calmly?”
He turned away from her and started heading back into the room, looking for whatever was left that wasn’t already ruined.
Y/N followed right behind him.
“How'd you even get her number?” she demanded.
No answer.
“Jermajesty!”
Still nothing.
She said his name again, louder this time, but her voice cracked at the end.
That finally made him stop.
He looked over his shoulder. “What?”
She stared at him, her eyes burning.
“You already found out now what? I'm not bout to sit here and all this with you.”
Her throat tightened, but she forced the words out anyway. “Why?” she asked, voice shaking harder now. “I told you not to do one thing. One thing. Why?”
He let out a hard breath, like she was the problem.
“Because you bitch at every fucking thing I do,” he snapped. “Who I talk to, why I do this, why I do that. You are fucking exhausting.”
That made Y/N go still for half a second.
Then she lost it.
“So you go fuck another person?” she shouted. “My best friend at that?”
He pushed past her and went into the living room, almost like he was tired of standing there and being held accountable. He dropped onto the couch like he had the right to be comfortable.
Y/N followed him and planted herself right in front of him.
“Move around, Y/N,” he muttered.
“I'm not moving nowhere.”
She stared down at him, really stared.
At the face of a man she loved.
At the face of somebody who was looking at her like getting caught was an inconvenience, not a tragedy.
Her finger lifted and pointed straight at him.
“I have done nothing but be sweet and loving to you,” she said, each word sharp with pain. “But you started moving shady. You got annoyed at every fucking thing I said. I knew I should’ve listened to Journey when—”
“That’s the fucking problem!”
He stood up so fast she barely had time to blink.
“You listen to that bitch more than me! You let her get in your head so many times! That’s why I did what I did, because you don’t think for yourself!”
Y/N looked at him in complete disbelief. “You cheated because of Journey?”
“I cheated because every damn day I came home it was something!”
Her mouth fell open. “Are you hearing yourself right now?”
“Are you!?”
“No, answer me,” she yelled. “Are you seriously standing here trying to justify cheating on me because we argued?”
Jermajesty threw his hands up. “Every relationship got arguments!”
“Exactly!” she screamed. “So why the fuck did you go sleep with somebody else?”
His jaw clenched. “You always got something to say.”
“Because you always gave me something to complain about!”
“See?”
“Ain't no see?” she mocked. “You don't get to do that. You don't get to sit here and act like I'm the reason you couldn't keep your dick in your pants.”
“Fuck out my face for real, you actually doin' too much.”
“Well you not doing enough!” She stepped closer. “I wanna talk now so we are gonna talk now.”
He rolled his eyes.
That made her even angrier.
“You know what your problem is?” she snapped. “You think because I stayed through all the bullshit, I was gonna stay through this too.”
His expression hardened. “I never said that.”
“You didn't have to.”
“You always making assumptions.”
“Assumptions?” she laughed. “Months of messages are assumptions?”
He looked away.
That silence pissed her off more than if he'd yelled back.
“Look at me.”
Nothing.
“Look at me!”
He finally looked up.
Her eyes were red.
Filled with tears she was refusing to let fall.
The thought of him giving another woman pieces of himself that used to belong to her pained her.
“You know what's crazy?” she said quietly.
“What?”
“I would've forgiven almost anything.”
Jermajesty frowned. “What?”
“I told everybody the same thing.” Her voice cracked. “I don't care if we argue. I don't care if we get on each other's nerves. I don't care if we fight.”
A tear slipped down her cheek. “I just asked you not to cheat.”
He looked away.
“You couldn't even give me that.”
"But what could you give me—"
“So what did she give you that I couldn’t, huh, Jermajesty?” she shot back. “You know what? Since you wanna fuck on my best friend—someone was like a sister to me—I’m gon’ fuck Jaafar. How about that? Or maybe Randy. How about that?”
His face changed instantly.
“You are so sick, you know that?” he said, disgusted. “My brothers? You would cheat on me with my fucking people?”
Y/N shrugged, eyes blazing.
“You can go do whatever,” he said, pointing at her like a warning. “But I can promise you, any nigga you meet will never be me.”
She barked out a laugh.
“Why the fuck would I wanna find another you?” she snapped. “If I don’t want you, why would I get another you? Are you stupid? Does this bitch really got you fucked out yo mind?”
He stepped closer. “I promise you if you go near my people—”
“I’m not tryna hear all that bullshit coming out your mouth,” she cut in, voice rising again. “Go tell that to my best friend.”
Her voice broke on the last word.
She turned away from him and headed toward the bedroom to change, wiping at her face angrily even though the tears kept coming.
Jermajesty followed her. “Yo, you deadass right now?”
She ignored him and yanked her shirt off.
“Y/N—”
Still nothing.
“No.”
She wiped her face aggressively. “No, because now I'm thinking about every time you came home late.”
His stomach dropped.
“Every time your phone was face down.”
“Stop.”
“Every time you acted irritated.”
“Stop.”
“Every time I cried because I thought something was wrong and you made me feel crazy.”
“That's cause you are crazy, look at my fucking room, bro.”
She pointed toward the destroyed room, “You worried about a game?” She laughed. “A fucking game that I bought?”
“Because it's my stuff!”
“You know what was mine?”
He froze.
“My trust.”
Silence.
“My loyalty.”
Silence.
“My love.”
She pressed a hand against her chest. “And you broke all three of those way before I touched any of your shit.”
For the first time all night, Jermajesty didn't have anything smart to say.
Didn't have an excuse.
"Y/N."
He said her name again and again, and when she kept acting like he wasn’t there, he stepped forward and grabbed her chin, forcing her to look at him.
The second her face lifted, he saw it.
The tears.
The way her lips were pressed together so hard she was trying not to fall apart in front of him.
Her soft features were wrecked by hurt.
She sucked in a shaky breath. “Let go of me, Jermajesty,” she whispered. “I’m done, bro. I’m so done.”
That hit him harder than any slap.
Because now he could see it.
What he’d done.
What he’d ruined.
The arguments, the attitude, all of it—he knew now none of that even mattered compared to this.
He had betrayed her and made her feel small in the process.
His voice dropped. “Baby, please,” he said, suddenly softer. “Come talk to me.”
She turned her face away. “Don’t.”
“I’m sorry for yelling at you.”
“Don’t touch me.”
He didn’t listen.
He grabbed her hips gently this time, turning her toward him so she had nowhere to hide. She immediately covered her face with one hand, still crying, still trying to keep herself together.
When she spoke, it came out broken. “Was I not good enough?”
Jermajesty’s entire face shifted.
Y/N shook her head, swallowing hard. “I know she was attractive,” she said, voice trembling, “But what does she have that I don't times ten?”
She looked up at him, hurt cutting through every word.
“I’ve done nothing to you but be sweet. I held you up when you were at your lowest. I did nothing but try my best for you. And you go lay down with my best friend? Somebody I cried to you about?”
“I know,” he said quickly. “I know, I know, and I’m sorry, ma. It won’t happen again. I promise you.”
Her laugh came out wet and bitter. “You fucked up my friendship for life,” she said solemnly. “Yeah, I still got Journey, and I love her more than anything, but you did it with somebody who was like a sister to me.”
He shook his head. “She came onto me, and I said no—”
“No, don’t do that,” she snapped immediately. “Don’t lie to me.”
He stopped.
Y/N pointed at him through fresh tears. “You hit her up first.”
Silence.
That silence was answer enough.
“I’m not for the lies, Jermajesty.”
His hands moved to her waist again, but this time it wasn’t forceful. It was desperate. He looked wrecked now, like the panic was finally catching up to him.
“Please,” he said, voice low and rough. “Please, baby. Just listen to me.”
She didn’t answer.
He swallowed hard and stepped closer. “Let me fix this.”
Her eyes flicked over his face, searching it, hating that some small part of her still wanted to believe him.
Hating that even now, even after everything, her heart was stupid enough to second-guess itself.
He leaned in slowly.
This time she didn’t move away right away.
His lips brushed hers softly at first, warm and careful, almost pleading.
For one brief second, she kissed him back.
Then she pulled away.
“You can’t get your way every time,” she whispered. "You can't think having sex with would fix everything."
His forehead rested near hers.
“I know,” he murmured. “I know I don’t deserve it. But I love you. And I need you to know that. I need to show you. Please.”
She looked at him for a long second, breathing unevenly, still angry, still hurt, still unsure what part of her was even standing there anymore.
She looked at him for a long second.
Breathing unevenly.
Still angry.
Still hurt.
Still standing in the middle of a nightmare she never asked for.
Jermajesty's hands rested carefully on her waist.
Like he was afraid she'd disappear if he held too tight.
"I know," he murmured. "I know I don't deserve it. But I love you. And I need you to know that. I need to show you. Please."
Y/N stared at him.
Then slowly shook her head.
"No."
The word was quiet.
But it hit him harder than any scream she had thrown at him all night.
His face fell.
"Baby—"
"No."
She stepped back.
Immediately putting distance between them.
"You don't get to do that."
"Do what?"
"Act like this now." Her voice cracked, tears still rolling down her cheeks. "You don't get to stand here and tell me how much you love me after I had to find out from your laptop."
Jermajesty swallowed. "Y/N—"
"No." She pointed at him. "No, because every time I ask you a question, you got an answer." She laughed bitterly. "Every single time."
He opened his mouth.
She cut him off.
"You wasn't sorry when you was texting her."
Silence.
"You wasn't sorry when you was meeting up with her."
Silence.
"You wasn't sorry when you was laying in bed knowing what you did."
His eyes dropped.
"And you sure as hell weren't sorry when you was fucking her, now was you. You only sorry because you got caught."
That one landed.
Hard.
Because he couldn't deny it.
Y/N wiped angrily at her face. "You keep saying you love me."
"I do."
"Then why did you do it?"
Jermajesty didn't answer, because there wasn't an answer.
At least not one that sounded good enough.
The anger he'd been holding onto all night finally disappeared.
The excuses.
The attitude.
The defensiveness.
Gone.
He looked tired. Broken.
Like reality was finally catching up to him.
"Please."
The word sounded wrong coming from him.
Almost pathetic.
After all the yelling.
After all the excuses.
After all the attitude.
Now he wanted to beg?
Now?
Y/N looked away.
Part of her was hurt. Part of her was angry.
And another part of her was almost disgusted.
Because where was all this desperation when he was sneaking around behind her back?
Where was this energy when he was lying to her face?
"Please what?" she asked coldly.
"Please don't leave me."
She closed her eyes.
Immediately.
Because hearing that hurt, not because she believed him. Because she knew he meant it.
And that somehow made it worse.
Jermajesty stepped closer. "Baby, please."
She shook her head.
"No."
"Please."
"No."
His voice cracked, he looked scared. Genuinely scared.
And somehow that irritated her.
Because now he wanted to be vulnerable.
Now he wanted sympathy, now he wanted her to see his pain.
After he'd spent months creating hers.
"Please don't do this."
Y/N stared. "Don't do what?"
"Leave." The word came out barely above a whisper. His eyes were red now too. "I know I fucked up."
"Yeah."
"I know."
"You did."
"I know I don't deserve another chance."
"You don't."
The honesty made him flinch. But he kept going. Because he was desperate now.
"I'll do whatever."
Y/N let out a short laugh. "You should've thought about that before."
"I mean it."
"Jermajesty—"
"I mean it." He stepped forward again. "I'll block her."
Y/N rolled her eyes. "Congratulations."
"I'll change my number."
Nothing.
"I'll go to therapy."
Nothing.
"I'll do whatever you want me to do."
She stared at him.
And for the first time, he looked away.
Ashamed.
"I don't wanna lose you."
The room went silent.
His voice dropped lower.
"I can't lose you."
Y/N felt her chest tighten.
Because for four years she'd wanted him to fight for them.
Now that he was?
It felt cheap.
Too late.
Like he was finally reading instructions after the house had already burned down.
Jermajesty rubbed his face. then looked at her again. His eyes were glossy. "Please."
No attitude.
No pride.
No ego.
Just desperation.
And somehow that made her stomach turn.
Because this was the same man who had walked into the apartment yelling about a broken playstation before he'd even apologized for cheating.
The same man who had blamed everyone except himself.
And now he was standing here acting like he was the victim. "I know I don't got no right to ask."
Y/N looked away.
"I know I don't." His voice shook. "But please." He swallowed hard. "Don't let this be it."
That hurt.
Because despite everything.
Despite the cheating.
Despite the lies.
Despite the betrayal.
A piece of her still loved him.
And she hated herself for it.
Jermajesty took another step closer.
"Y/N."
She didn't answer.
"Look at me."
Slowly.
Reluctantly.
She did.
And the second she did, he looked completely wrecked. Like he'd finally realized what he was about to lose. "Please, baby."
His voice broke.
"I'll spend every day proving it."
Tears slid down her face.
He continued anyway.
"I'll spend every day earning your trust back."
She looked away again.
"I'll spend the rest of my life making this right."
"Stop."
"No."
"Jermajesty—"
"No."
Now it was his turn.
His turn to interrupt.
His turn to fight.
Because he was losing her.
And he knew it.
"I love you."
Silence.
"I love you."
Another silence.
"I love you." His voice cracked again. "And I'm begging you."
Y/N physically cringed.
Not dramatically.
Just enough for him to notice.
Enough that his face fell.
Because she hated hearing it, hated seeing him reduced to this, hated that he expected those words to undo what he'd done. "You should've been this scared before you cheated," she whispered.
The words hit him like a punch.
But she wasn't finished.
"You should've been begging yourself to stop before you sent those texts."
Silence.
"You should've been begging yourself to come home.
Jermajesty's head dropped.
Y/N closed her eyes.
Because she'd never seen him like this.
Never.
Not once in four years.
Not even close.
"Please don't give up on me."
The room fell quiet.
And for the first time all night, Y/N didn't know what to say.
Then he kissed her again. A little deeper this time.
Still careful.
Still warm.
Still asking instead of taking.
Y/N kissed him back before she could stop herself.
That only made him hold her closer.
One hand at her waist, the other sliding gently to her back as he guided her toward the bed. He sat down and pulled her into his lap, the room suddenly quiet except for both of them breathing too hard to pretend this didn’t still matter.
The tension between them hadn’t vanished.
Not even close.
But for one fragile second, all that existed was her hurt, his regret, and the impossible fact that even after everything, neither of them knew how to fully let go.
His hands tentatively explored her body, mapping out the landscape of her curves.
Y/N leans in, deepening the kiss, capturing his lips in searing passion, His hands continue their exploration, tracing the line of her collarbone, the dip of her waist, the soft swell of her hips.
She lets out a soft laugh, a sound that vibrates against his lips, as he grinds his hips against hers in a slow, circular motion.
She pulled away first.
Not because she wanted to.
And that was exactly the problem.
A few seconds longer and she would've forgotten every reason she was mad at him.
A few seconds longer and she'd have started making excuses for him again.
So she leaned back, putting just enough space between them to think.
Her eyes sparkled with amusement despite everything that had happened, but there was still a fierceness behind them. A strength.
The same strength that had carried her through finding out the truth.
The same strength that was stopping her from falling right back into his arms.
She wiped at her lips with the back of her hand, trying—and failing—to hide the small smile threatening to form. "You gon' have to earn kissing me," she said, her voice low. Then she glanced away for a second. "Let alone tryna get in my pants."
The words came out a little bashful despite her best efforts.
Jermajesty almost laughed.
Almost.
Because after everything, hearing her tease him felt like the first real breath he'd taken all night.
His hands remained on her hips, thumbs moving in slow circles without him even realizing it.
He looked up at her.
Really looked at her.
At the flush dusting her cheeks.
At the way her eyes still shined from crying.
At the slight tremble in her bottom lip she was trying so hard to hide.
She was beautiful.
Even angry, even heartbroken.
Especially heartbroken.
Because she was still standing, still fighting.
Still giving him a chance he probably didn't deserve.
"You understand, right?" she asked. The teasing disappeared from her voice. "I need to trust you again." Her eyes locked onto his. "You spent the last two years making me feel like shit."
Jermajesty's chest tightened immediately.
"You know that, right?"
The room went quiet.
He swallowed.
Hard.
"Yes, ma'am." His voice came out barely above a whisper.
The guilt hit harder hearing it from her mouth.
Not because he didn't know.
Because he did.
He'd known for a while.
He'd just been too selfish to admit it.
Y/N studied him for a moment.
Then his eyes softened. "So..." he said carefully. "We good?"
She stared at him, then rolled her eyes. A tiny laugh escaped her, and for the first time that night, it wasn't bitter.
It wasn't angry.
It sounded like her.
"No."
His face immediately fell.
Y/N laughed harder. "Oh my God, look at your face."
Jermajesty groaned. "Y/N."
"I'm serious." She cupped his cheek. "We not good."
His shoulders slumped.
Then she smiled.
A real smile.
Small.
Soft.
Honest.
"But we're getting better."
Something in his chest loosened.
Just a little.
"I just need to know you're serious."
"I am."
"I'm serious, Jermajesty."
"I know."
"No, like serious serious."
He nodded immediately. "I know."
She looked around the room and immediately regretted it.
The apartment looked insane.
Clothes.
Broken electronics.
Curtains hanging halfway off the wall.
Pieces of lamps.
Pieces of televisions.
The aftermath of one of the worst nights of her life.
Her shoulders sank. "Sorry about all this."
Jermajesty followed her gaze. For a moment he just looked.
Then he shrugged. "It's fine."
Y/N blinked. "It's not fine."
"It is."
She pointed toward the destroyed bedroom. "I broke your TV."
"I'll buy another one."
"The PS5."
"I'll get another one."
"The watches." He winced. "Okay, those hurt a little."
Y/N couldn't help laughing. A real laugh.
Jermajesty smiled immediately at the sound.
God, he'd missed that.
Then he reached up and squeezed her hips gently. "My pretty girl." The nickname made her heart do something stupid. "What matters is you."
His voice was firm. "Us."
The smile on her face softened, for a second she just looked at him.
Then slowly climbed off his lap.
Jermajesty immediately missed her warmth.
Y/N leaned down and pressed a quick kiss against his cheek.
Just a little one.
Nothing dramatic.
Nothing passionate.
But somehow it meant more than every kiss they'd shared that night. "I wasn't joking about your brother—"
Jermajesty's head snapped up. Immediately. "Don't play with me right now."
Y/N burst out laughing, the sweet sound filled the apartment.
And for the first time all night, neither of them were yelling. Neither of them were crying. Neither of them were breaking things.
They were just laughing.
It felt strange.
But nice.
Really nice.
She bent down and grabbed one of his shirts from the floor. "Come help me put this stuff up."
Jermajesty stared at her. "Right now?"
"Yes, right now."
"Baby, it's ten at night."
"And?"
He sighed dramatically.
She threw a shirt at him. "Get up."
He caught it and smiled despite himself. "Bossy."
"You're lucky I'm even talking to you."
"Fair."
Y/N started sorting through the pile of clothes on the bed while Jermajesty slowly got to work beside her.
The apartment was still a disaster.
Nothing had magically been fixed, the hurt was still there.
The trust wasn't back.
Not yet.
Maybe not for a long time.
But as they stood side by side folding shirts and cleaning up the mess together, it felt like the first step.
A small one.
A fragile one.
But a step all the same.
At one point Y/N glanced over and caught him looking at her.
Again.
"Quit staring."
"I can't."
She rolled her eyes, a smile pulling at her lips anyway.
Jermajesty reached over and took her hand.
Just for a second. Just enough to squeeze it.
Neither of them said anything.
They didn't need to.
Because for the first time in a long time, they weren't fighting each other.
They were standing on the same side.
Trying to figure out where to go from here.
And somehow, in the middle of all the broken glass, ruined clothes, and hurt feelings—
That felt like a start.
The end . ⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆
plz reblog & comment if you enjoyed!! happy reading <3
taglist ! @a-dal7490 @wistariah @plqnetkiyaa @meowswrites
ty for the support!!
Summary: Basically just you and jaafar having an argument and fixing it, but it turned into a makeout session yo that's wild
Note: I tried my best with the details 🥲🥹 hope you guys enjoy
✧･ﾟ ✧･ﾟ ✧･ﾟ･ﾟ✧ ･ﾟ✧ ･ﾟ✧･ﾟ ✧･ﾟ ✧･ﾟ･ﾟ✧ ･ﾟ✧ ･ﾟ
You and Jaafar always argue over messages. Always.
But not like this.
This time, it’s about him being jealous of your friend—something you can’t even fully understand because, to you, it feels a little immature. Just a little.
You drop your phone after sending a long message explaining how you feel.
And then… nothing.
No reply.
The silence stretches longer than it should.
You walk into the kitchen just to get water, trying to calm yourself down. Because honestly, you’ve been stuck in this loop for days now—talking, arguing, repeating. Over and over again.
And somewhere in between all of it, you’ve been questioning things you don’t want to question.
But the truth always wins over your thoughts in the end.
You love him.
That’s why you’re still here.
You pick up your phone again.
“He’s just a friend. Are we really fighting about this?”
Five minutes.
Still nothing.
You start pacing.
And then—
Knock. Knock.
You stop.
“…oh shit,” you whisper.
When you open the door, it’s him.
Jaafar.
White T-shirt,pants, long hair, eyes already on you like he’s been holding this in the whole way here. He doesn’t even hesitate—he walks straight in.
“You know how I feel about him,” he starts immediately. “You know he liked you before. I told you to distance yourself. Is that really so hard? You always do this—you pick your friends over me.”
You just stand there.
Silent.
Because deep down, you can see it now—you hurt him.
And for a second, his eyes look glassy. He looks away quickly like he doesn’t want you to notice.
But you already did.
“You know I can’t just distance myself,” you say softly. “He’s my friend. He’s my classmate—”
“Really, Y/N?” His voice rises. “That’s your defense? I’m your boyfriend. My feelings should matter too—not just his.”
The tone makes you flinch.
And he realizes it instantly.
The shift in him is immediate.
“…baby,” he says, softer now. “I’m sorry.”
He moves closer, arms wrapping around you like it’s instinct. Like he’s trying to undo the moment he just created.
“I didn’t mean to shout. I just—please, let’s talk. On the couch. Please?”
You nod.
And you both move there quietly.
The silence sits heavy between you.
Not empty—just full of everything you haven’t said yet.
Then you finally speak.
“Look… I know I was wrong for defending my friend like that. It’s not fair to ignore your feelings just because he’s my friend. I did think about it… and maybe I did hurt you. Especially knowing he liked me before. I’m sorry, baby.”
You take his hand.
He holds it back gently, thumb brushing over your skin like he’s grounding himself in you.
“I’m just scared,” he admits quietly. “Scared of losing you. I know I went too far, but it just felt like… you’d always choose them over me. I’m not trying to ruin your friendships. I swear. I just got overwhelmed. I’m sorry for raising my voice. I didn’t mean to. I’ll do better, I promise.”
He looks at you then.
Soft.
Raw.
“I love you.”
And he leans in, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead like that’s the only way he knows how to end the fight without breaking anything else.
But the thing is, you both hadn’t seen each other in a week. Not because you didn’t want to—just because life kept getting in the way, and the fights made it worse.
Now he’s sitting beside you like everything finally settled. Like the silence between you both had been talked through and buried. He looks calmer. Softer. But his eyes keep drifting to your lips like he’s been holding something back this whole time.
Like he missed you. Like he missed this.
He doesn’t waste time.
He kisses you.
It’s not gentle at first—it’s something that’s been waiting too long to stay patient. Something that finally breaks loose the second you’re close enough again.
You’re caught off guard, breath hitching, but you melt into it anyway because it’s him. Because you missed him too. Everything about him.
And suddenly it’s like no time passed at all.
Just you and him again, tangled in something that feels too full to slow down. You’re breathing into each other, breaking apart only for a second before finding your way back like it’s instinct.
His hand slides under your shirt, cold against your skin, making you gasp—but he doesn’t stop. His touch lingers like he’s trying to memorize you again, tracing slow paths along your back.
You shift, pulling him closer, and somehow you’re on top of him now.
He blinks up at you for a second, surprised, then that familiar smirk pulls at his lips.
“Woah,” he murmurs, breathless. “Didn’t know you could top when you miss me.”
“You talk too much,” you breathe out, and then you’re kissing him again before he can say anything else.
It’s messier now. Hungrier. Like all the unsaid things finally found a place to go.
When you finally break apart, you’re both out of breath, the world feeling a little too quiet around you. You stay close, shoulder against shoulder, like neither of you wants to fully let go.
He’s already looking at you when you turn.
Smiling like he’s been waiting for this moment longer than he’ll ever admit.
“If this is what happens every time we fight,” he says softly, “I’m not complaining.”
maybe something for the theatre people!!! like jaafar/jermajesty x aspiring actress! reader type thing!! i never see my dream profession in fics before the “big movie” moment so maybe reader trying to memorize or practice a monologue and jaafar/jermajesty being helpful yet slightly teasing about it…idk but that’s all i got for suggestions LOL
NO WAIT THIS ONE IS CUTE ILL ADD THIS TO MY NOTESSS THANKYOUUU ANONN !! 😛💕💕💕💕
why do I feel like I'm writing stories here like a diary 😭 like literally trauma dumping my traumatic stuff w my ex wthhhhhh cuz some of my drafts has a little kick to it ykwim
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