Vivian🪄

your local French/Moroccan girl

[jkkyks]

I ..don’t know

Content : hesitation can ruin everything in a blink of an eye.

Jaafar Jackson x reader.

The question wasn't supposed to start a fight.

It had started with dinner.

The TV hummed quietly in the background while you sat across from Jaafar, stealing fries from his plate as he pretended not to notice. It was comfortable…easy, the kind of silence that only came after years of loving someone.

Until your phone buzzed, you smiled at the notification.

"It's from Layla."

Jaafar hummed, taking another bite.

"She finally got engaged."

He looked up, smiling. "Seriously?"

"Mhm." You turned your phone around so he could see the picture. Layla stood beaming, one hand covering her mouth while her fiancé knelt in front of her.

Jaafar smiled genuinely. "Good for them."

"They've only been together for like….two years?."

"Mhm."

You stared at the picture for another moment before locking your phone. "They look really happy."

"They do."

A beat of silence passed, you twirled your fork between your fingers, trying to sound casual.

"...Where do you see us in a few years?"

Jaafar frowned slightly. "What do you mean?"

"I ..don't know." You shrugged. "Do you ever think about... us? The future?"

He leaned back in his chair. "Sometimes."

"What do you think about?"

"I ..don't know."

You laughed softly. "You don't know?"

"I haven't really thought about it."

Your smile faltered. "Not even a little?"

"I've been busy."

"But... we've been together for almost three years."

"I know."

"So... have you ever thought about us getting married..?"

The room fell quiet, Jaafar looked down at his plate, his fingers tapped against the table.

Once.

Twice.

Three times.

"I don't know." It wasn't loud nor cruel.

It was just...I don't know.

Something inside your chest sank. "...You …don't know?"

"I mean—" He sighed.

"Can we not do this tonight?"

Your brows knitted together. "Do what?"

"I'm exhausted."

"I'm just asking you a question."

"And I'm telling you I don't have an answer."

"You don't have one..." You laughed quietly, though there wasn't anything funny about it.

"I've had one for a long time."

His eyes lifted to yours.

"I've always known I'd marry you."

He looked away first and that hurt more than anything.

You swallowed around the lump in your throat.

"It isn't about you."

"Then tell me what it's about."

"I can't."

"Why not?"

"Because I don't even know myself."

"But you're okay with letting me sit here thinking maybe you don't see a future with me?"

"I never said that."

"You didn't have to."

Your voice cracked despite your best effort to keep it steady.

He pushed his chair back with a sigh.

"Why does everything have to be about marriage?"

"It's not!" You stood too.

"It's about knowing we're moving in the same direction."

"I am moving."

"But you're not taking me with you."

The words landed between you, heavy and honest.

Jaafar pinched the bridge of his nose. "Nah, I can't do this right now."

Your heart dropped as he grabbed his keys from the counter.

"I need some air."

You stared at him silently holding your tears.

"I just need to clear my head." He mumbles again.

You smiled sadly, tears already gathering. "You just don't want to have this conversation."

He froze with his hand on the doorknob. "I love you."

His voice was quiet. "So much."

You nodded. "I know." Another tear slipped free.

"But sometimes..." You looked at him with a broken smile.

"...love isn't the part I'm worried about."

He stood there for another second.

Then left.

The click of the front door echoed through the apartment.

The silence afterward was deafening.

An hour later, you sat curled up on the bedroom floor with your back against the bed, phone in your hand.

Your best friend had texted three times.

What happened?

Are you okay?

Call me.

You couldn't.

If you called, you'd sob before she even answered.

So you pressed the microphone instead.

"Hey..."

Your voice came out shaky.

"I just... I need to get this out before I convince myself I'm being dramatic."

You laughed weakly.

"It wasn't even about ..marriage."

A sniffle.

"I don't care if he proposes next year or five years from now."

You wiped your eyes.

"I just wanted to know that when he imagined his future..."

Your voice broke.

"...I was in it."

Silence.

"I keep replaying the way he said, 'I don't know.'"

You closed your eyes.

"And maybe he really doesn't."

"Maybe he's scared because of how his last relationship went."

"Maybe I'm asking too much."

Another shaky breath. "But..."

You pressed the heel of your hand against your mouth, trying to stop yourself from crying.

"I've never questioned spending the rest of my life with him."

"So hearing him question it..."

A tear rolled down your cheek.

"...made me question whether he's ever looked at me the way I've always looked at him."

You laughed bitterly.

"I feel so stupid."

"I know he loves me."

"I've never doubted that."

"But I don't want someone who's certain he loves me..."

Your whisper barely reached the microphone.

"...I want someone who's certain he wants a future with me."

A long silence followed.

Then, almost too quietly to hear “I don’t want to lose him..”

You hit send.

And locked your phone without checking anything else.

Jaafar was sitting alone in his car outside a convenience store when his phone buzzed.

He expected a text message.

Instead, a voice note, from you…?

He put one earbud in and pressed play.

By the time your first tearful laugh reached him, his stomach dropped because he realized you sent it to him by mistake instead of your bestfriend..

He listened to every second, didn’t move or breathe.

When it ended, he stared at the dark windshield for a long time.

Then he replayed it, three times.

Each time, another sentence lodged itself deeper in his chest.

"I just wanted to know that when he imagined his future... I was in it."

"I've never questioned spending the rest of my life with him."

"I don't want to lose him."

He rested his forehead against the steering wheel.

"...God."

It finally clicked.

Tonight had never been about rings, or weddings, or timelines.

It was about reassurance and he'd given you uncertainty instead.

Because the truth, that he'd been too ashamed to say, was that he did imagine a future with you.

Constantly.

He just also imagined every possible way he could fail you, because he promised and failed before after 10 big years.

What if he couldn't provide enough?

What if he wasn't ready, and after 10 years he realizes that it’s the wrong decision AGAIN?

What if he became the kind of husband his own father had been?

Fear had made him silent and his silence had sounded exactly like doubt and it broke the only constant thing in his life at the moment.

You.

A/N : HEAR ME OUT….I DONT KNOW.

[jkkyks]

The Eclipsed Echo

Jaafar Jackson x reader ft Maddie

Jaafar has it all…a thriving career and a stable 10 years relationship with his fiancée, Maddie. But what’s really happening behind closed doors?

Previous Chapter

Three Months Later

Moon no longer asked permission before climbing into Jaafar’s lap.

He simply did it every morning like it was his constitutional right.

“Moon.”

The golden retriever ignored Y/N completely and rested his head on Jaafar’s thigh.

“Moon come to mama.”

His tail wagged.

Traitor.

Jaafar smirked over his coffee.

“I think he likes me.”

“I think he’s a terrible judge of character.”

Moon barked.

“See?” Jaafar pointed.

“Even he disagrees.”

Y/N rolled her eyes with a smile and Jaafar laughed.

The sound came easier these days.

Almost too easy.

Three months of sunrises, texts, coffee, conversations that somehow never ran out.

The strange part wasn’t how often they talked anymore, It was how natural it had become.

Neither of them remembered who started texting first.

Their chat looked less like a conversation and more like two people slowly becoming part of each other’s daily routine.

Sometimes they had days where sarcasm is the language that no one can understands but them

Their chats became a collection of sarcasm nobody else would understand.

But also there were the ranting moments that was the foundation of the whole friendship ..

But she unintentionally always makes it easier, because why would he be smiling while going back home after an exhausting rehearsals unless,

The dangerous part wasn’t that he enjoyed her company , the dangerous part was how much he missed her whenever he went home.

Because every morning when he saw or text her, everything else felt lighter, easier and when he drove home, everything felt heavy again.

Home wasn’t peaceful anymore. It hadn’t been for a while.

At first it had been questions, then accusations, then monitoring, then control.

Maddie always wanted to know where he was,  who he was with, why he was late and why he didn’t answer.

At first he told himself she was stressed, wedding planning, work and life.

But eventually excuses stopped working, because no matter what answer he gave… it was always wrong.

One evening he woke up from a nap and immediately knew something was off, Maddie was sitting at the kitchen table.

His phone sat in her hands.

“Maddie??”

She looked up calmly. “Who’s Y/N?”

The room went silent, Jaafar stared at the phone, then at her, then back at the phone.

“You went through my phone?”

“I asked a question.”

“You went through my phone?”

“Answer me.”

His jaw tightened.

“She’s my friend.”

Maddie laughed, a short, bitter laugh.

“A friend.”

“Yes.”

“A friend you text.”

“Yes?.”

“You think I’m stupid.”

“Maddie—”

“When was the last time you told me about your day?” Her voice rose.

Silence.

“When was the last time you looked excited to see me?”

“I still don’t see how is that my problem tbh” He snatched the phone and walked off with tight jaw because she hit another nerve.

Blaming him for not being able to talk to her instead of getting close to him again and asking about him.

She stared at him walk off with the anger in her eyes slowly becoming something uglier. Resentment.

That night, while Jaafar slept…Maddie copied Y/N’s number to her phone.

The call came the next afternoon…Unknown number.

Y/N answered while throwing a tennis ball for Moon.

“Hello?”

“So you’re Y/N.”

She frowned. “Sorry?”

A woman laughed the kind of laugh that made your stomach tighten before you even knew why.

“You know who this is.”

“No…?”

“It’s Maddie.”

Y/N blinked.“Oh?”

Moon dropped the tennis ball at her feet but she barely noticed.

“Hi.”

“You spend every morning with my fiancé.”

The bitterness in Maddie’s voice practically dripped through the phone.

Y/N straightened immediately. “Maddie—”

“No.”

The interruption came fast and sharp.

“You don’t get to pretend.”

“Nothing is happening.”

“Really?”

“Yes we are just really good friends.”

Maddie laughed.“Friends? As if that makes it innocent.”

The word sounded insulting coming from her.

“You know what women like you always call themselves?”

Y/N’s grip tightened around the phone. “Excuse me?”

“Home wreckers.”

Y/N said nothing because suddenly she wasn’t sure she wanted to hear the rest.

“Maddie—”

“You should be ashamed.”

Nothing had happened. Absolutely Nothing.

“You think you’re different?”

“You think because you haven’t crossed a line with him, then you’re innocent?”

Y/N swallowed.

“You aren’t.”

The words came quieter now which somehow made them worse.

“You’re just another whore waiting around for a man who belongs to somebody else.”

Click. The line went dead.

Y/N stood there staring at her phone.

Moon nudged her hand.Nothing.

The home suddenly felt too quiet, empty, exposing, because Maddie was wrong, nothing had happened. She genuinely was helping Jaafar be okay and she knew her limits so well.

But that wasn’t the problem.

The problem was that if Jaafar showed up right now and told her he wasn’t engaged, she wasn’t sure she’d walk away.

And that realization made her feel sick.

The next morning she didn’t go to the beach.

Moon sat by the door with his leash already in his mouth waiting for his morning walk, tail wagging.

Y/N looked away. “Not today Moon.”

Moon tilted his head, confused and slowly the tail slowly stopped wagging.

Y/N felt awful.

The first day Jaafar assumed she was busy.

The second day he checked his phone more than usual because she never ignored his texts. 

The third day, he was sitting alone on the beach, coffee cooling beside him, watching the sunrise, people walking by, dogs running across the sand,  and for the first time he realized the beach wasn’t what he looked forward to.

It had never been the beach….

His chest tightened because everything was exactly as it had always been, except she wasn’t there.

Another day passed and he stopped sleeping properly, he was angry, but not at her.

At himself, because he couldn’t figure out what he’d done wrong to push the only person who actually cared away.

He felt empty, like somebody had quietly removed the best part of his day and expected him not to notice.

Meanwhile Moon hated every new route Y/N tried, every new park.

Every single morning he pulled her toward the beach like he couldn’t understand why they stopped going.

Truthfully…

Neither could she.

Meanwhile, Maddie was planning a wedding, like nothing was wrong, like Jaafar wasn’t quietly falling apart.

One evening she spread venue photos across the dining table.

“Look at this one.”

She slid a photograph toward him, Jaafar barely glanced at it.

“Maddie.”

“I think the white roses look better.”

“Maddie.”

“Or maybe orchids.”

“Maddie.”

“The florist needs an answer by Friday.”

Jaafar stared at her not believing this was happening, she could see him unraveling and still care more about centerpieces.

Then suddenly she spoke. “You haven’t been sleeping.” For a second he thought she was finally asking if he was okay.

“The photographer noticed the dark circles.”

Silence…

“Can you fix them before the photo shoot?”

Something inside him broke like a rope finally snapping after years of strain. Jaafar looked down at the venue photos, the life they’d spent years planning.

And for the first time…It felt like someone else’s future. “Maddie.”

“What?”

His voice was calm. “We need to talk.”

She froze but continued to ignore him.

“Maddie.”

“No.”

The answer came immediately. Almost panicked.

“I don’t want this anymore.”

Her face went white.

“No.”

“I can’t do this.”

“No.”

She stood so quickly her chair nearly tipped over.

“We’re getting married.”

“Maddie—”

“You don’t get to do this.”

“I don’t get to do this?”

“Ten years.” Her voice cracked. “I gave you ten years.”

And for a moment guilt clawed its way into his chest then she spoke again.

“And she’s gone anyway.”

Jaafar frowned. “What?”

Maddie folded her arms.

“I called her.”

The room suddenly felt too small.

“What did you just say?”

“I called her.”

His stomach dropped. Because suddenly the unanswered texts, missed calls, empty beach, the way Y/N had vanished without a word, every single piece clicked into place.

Not because she wanted to leave because she thought she had to.

His chest tightened. “What did you say to her?”

Maddie looked away.

“She needed to know her place.”

The rage that hit him was immediate and violent, not because Maddie called. Because Y/N had been carrying whatever was said to her completely alone, thinking she is a bad person for being his bestfriend.

She’d been hurting and he hadn’t even known.

Maddie hesitated. “Jaafar—”

“What.” his voice rose “did you say?”

Maddie swallowed, for the first time she looked uncertain. “I told her to stop being a home wrecker and to stay away from you.”

The blood drained from his face, because suddenly he could picture it.

Y/N answering her phone, hearing those words, blaming herself for being a friend, disappearing because she thought it was the right thing to do.

His hands shook. “She was my friend.”

“Oh please.”

“No.” His voice cracked. “YOU don’t get to do that!”

“You were choosing her over me!”

“I wasn’t choosing anyone!”

The words exploded out of him.

“I was trying to breathe!”

Silence.

“You don’t understand.” His chest felt tight. “She was the only person who actually asked if I was okay.”

Maddie’s face fell.

“And you made her think she was doing something wrong for caring.”

He looked at Maddie, really looked at her and for the first time…

He couldn’t see their future, only exhaustion, distance, two people desperately trying to hold together something that had already broken.

Whatever she saw in his face at the moment, made her heart crumble. Because she saw his eyes go cold.

“No.” Her voice cracked. “Jaafar…”

He closed his eyes.

Because this was the moment, the point of no return.

“I think I’ve been gone for a long time.”

The engagement ended that night.

A/N : that was a hard one for me ngl

🏷️ : @kymb-10 @thinklikeky @kylottin10 @luloati @seelmo @cherryberry444 @michaeljacksonspyt @rlm-11 @tacostwin @szalipcombo @doulcha @victoria2054 @a-dal7490 @amfkgoblin @luvhaeli @melaninjoys @sulkygyu @sweetdreamingx @xyahx @strvngestark @scccm0182 @digitalgauntletfoxe @phantomof-themcu @dollyvuu @chelovecookies @xmaykeca @ambmxj @nyangjoz @jaafarsbaby @hyperfixawahhhh

[carlaloveslfc]

[jkkyks]

Uncle Michael

Content : The biopic got released, it’s the most successful movie worldwide but how will that affect you and Jaafar?

Jaafar Jackson x reader (angst x drama)

The apartment had been quiet for hours.

Too quiet.

The only light left on was the small lamp beside the couch where you’d been pretending to watch TV for the last hour, curled beneath a blanket with your phone resting beside you.

The episode ended twenty minutes ago.

You never changed it.

Your screen lights up again.

Not him.

Just another notification buried between headlines about your man or his recent interview or your friend’s group texting.

Eventually, without even thinking about it, you clicked to watch his latest interview.

Jaafar appears on the screen almost immediately.

Perfect posture.

Perfect smile.

Perfect answer.

“What does it feel like portraying your uncle Michael Jackson?”

Your chest tightens softly.

Because every interviewer asks him the same things now.

Over.

And over.

And over again.

“How does it feel to be your uncle?”

“How much pressure are you under?”

“What would Michael think of your performance?”

“How do you handle the criticism?”

The comments underneath the clip didn’t even help.

He sounds just like him.

He’ll never be Michael.

His smile looks just like Michael.

Michael would’ve been proud.

He looks exhausted.

That last one lingers in your head.

Because it’s true.

Maybe nobody else notices the tiny differences lately, but you do.

The slight delay before he answers questions now.

The tightness in his jaw.

The way his smile fades the second cameras stop rolling.

You glance down at your messages again.

Did you eat yet?

Sent — 7:42 P.M.

Unread.

The word sits there like it’s been ignored on purpose, even though you know that’s not true.

Still, your chest tightens in a way you don’t fully know what to do with.

Because it isn’t just that he didn’t reply.

It’s that you kept checking anyway. Because he usually replies, even on the busiest days, even back when he was still shooting, he always found a moment to check on you.

You told yourself you wouldn’t wait up this time.

You really did.

But at 11 p.m. you were reheating dinner anyway, standing in the kitchen convincing yourself it made sense to just eat later with him.

At midnight, you gave up pretending and turned the stove off, letting the food cool down while you stood there too long doing nothing.

Now it sits untouched in the kitchen while another interview autoplayes quietly from the TV.

And the worst part is that you know he’s trying.

You know he is.

But lately it feels like the entire world gets more of him than you do.

Reposting stories about the biopic, staying active online, showing up everywhere, while your messages sit unanswered, like you’ve quietly slipped out of the part of his life where he remembers to come back to you.

Outside, headlights flash briefly across the apartment windows.

Your heart lifts automatically.

Then drops when the car keeps driving.

Not him.

Again.

You sink deeper into the couch with a tired sigh, pulling the blanket tighter around yourself just as the sound of keys finally rattles at the front door.

It’s almost 2 A.M.

And the second Jaafar walks in, your heart aches instantly.

He looks exhausted.

Black hoodie, curls messy from constantly dragging his hands through them, eyes dull with exhaustion while his phone keeps vibrating nonstop in his hand every few seconds.

Jaafar barely even seems like himself lately.

And the worst part is that you miss him while he’s standing right in front of you.

“Hey baby,” he murmurs tiredly while locking the door behind him.

“Hey.”

He tosses his keys onto the counter and exhales deeply, rubbing both hands down his face.

You hesitate then quietly, “Did you even see my texts today?”

His shoulders tense immediately.

“Baby…” he sighs. “Today was insane.”

“You said that yesterday too.”

“I know.”

You stare down at your hands, hesitating.

“But …you were online.”

The room goes still. Jaafar looks up instantly.

“Oh my God.”

“No, I’m serious,” you say before you can stop yourself. “I feel like I barely exist to you.”

His jaw tightens hard.

“You think I don’t know that?”

The sudden sharpness in his voice catches you off guard.

“What?”

“Every single person around me wants something from me right now.”

“I’m not people, Jaafar.”

“I KNOW THAT.”

His voice echoes through the apartment.

Silence slams down immediately afterward.

Your chest tightens. Because he never yells at you.

Ever.

But now he’s pacing through the living room like he physically can’t stay still, hands trembling slightly while he drags them through his curls again.

“I wake up every day terrified I ruined my uncle’s legacy!” he snaps suddenly.

And the entire fight changes.

Just like that.

You freeze.

Jaafar laughs once, but it sounds horrible. Breathless. Panicked.

“They analyze every little thing I do,” he says, voice uneven now. “The way I talk, the way I move, whether I smile enough, whether I sound enough like him—”

“Jaafar I-”

“No, because everywhere I go lately…” His voice cracks sharply. “They want Michael from me.”

The sentence hits like a punch.

And suddenly he just keeps talking like the words have been trapped inside him for months.

“I can’t do one interview without them asking about him.” His breathing starts turning uneven. “Every question is about him. Every headline is about him. Every comment is comparing me to him.”

His eyes are glossy now.

Actually glossy.

“And if I mess this up?” he whispers. “If I don’t do him justice? I won’t forgive myself for it.”

Your anger dissolves instantly.

“The world forgets that I loved him too….maybe more than any of them. He was my goddamn uncle. And I’m doing this for him but...” His breathing turns uneven.

“Jaafar…”

“I don’t even know how to be myself anymore lately..”

His voice breaks completely this time.

And then he finally falls apart.

Right there in the middle of the living room.

He turns away from you suddenly, both hands covering his face while his breathing goes shaky and uneven.

Like he physically cannot hold himself together anymore.

Your heart shatters and you cross the room immediately.

“Hey, hey—”

But the second you touch his arm, he breaks harder.

A choked sound leaves him as he bends forward slightly, shoulders shaking while he tries and fails to catch his breath.

And suddenly you realize how long he’s been holding this in.

How long he’s been suffocating underneath all this pressure while pretending he was okay.

“Baby,” you whisper desperately, grabbing his face gently. “Look at me.”

His eyes are red when he finally does.

Completely overwhelmed.

“I’m so tired,” he admits brokenly.

That sentence nearly destroys you.

Not physically tired.

Soul tired.

You pull him against you instantly, and Jaafar clings to you so tightly it almost hurts.

Like you’re the only thing keeping him standing right now.

“I’m sorry,” he says shakily against your shoulder. “I know I’ve been distant, I know I have, I just—”

His voice cracks again.

“I can’t escape it anymore.”

You rub your hands up and down his back slowly while he struggles to breathe evenly.

“It’s okay,” you whisper.

“No, it’s not.” He pulls back just enough to look at you, tears sitting visibly in his eyes now. “You shouldn’t have to beg for my attention because I’m too lost in my own head to be here with you.”

Your own eyes sting immediately.

“I wasn’t trying to make you feel guilty.”

“I know.” His voice is tiny now. “I know.”

For a second he just looks at you, then he asked quietly, “You know what scares me?”

“What?”

“The fact that when I walked in tonight…” His voice shakes again. “And felt like am losing you.”

God.

That completely breaks you.

Because that’s what you were trying to fight for.

And he noticed.

“I miss you,” you whisper finally.

The look on his face crumbles instantly.

“I miss you too,” he admits softly. “So much.”

Then after a pause, “I think I forgot that you’re supposed to be the place I rest at.” His eyes lower. “Not another thing I panic about failing.”

You cup his face carefully.

“You’re not failing me.”

“But I am failing myself.” His voice cracks again. “I don’t know who I am lately outside of this movie.”

Your chest aches so badly you can barely breathe.

He laughs weakly through tears.

“Everywhere I go, they want Michael from me.”

This time the sentence sounds smaller.

Sad instead of angry.

And you realize how terrified he really is beneath all this pressure.

So you pull him back into your arms again immediately.

And this time he fully melts into you.

No pretending.

No holding it together.

Just Jaafar quietly crying against your shoulder while you hold him in the middle of your apartment at 2 a.m.

You kiss his curls softly.

“You know you don’t have to be him with me, right?”

His grip on you tightens instantly.

“You’re allowed to just be Jaafar here.”

A shaky breath leaves him.

And for the first time all night, some of the tension leaves his body.

“You’re my favorite place,” he whispers.

Tears burn your eyes immediately.

You pull back enough to kiss him softly.

But this time he kisses you back like he needed it.

One hand slides shakily into your hair while the other settles against your waist, pulling you impossibly closer until there’s barely any space left between you.

Not desperate.

Just aching.

Like he’s trying to remember what safety feels like through you.

Your fingers curl into the front of his hoodie while his forehead presses against yours between kisses, his breathing finally slowing little by little.

“I missed this,” he whispers against your lips.

“You have me,” you whisper back immediately. “Even on the bad days.”

His eyes close for a second like the words physically hit him.

Then he kisses you again.

Softer this time.

Longer.

And when you pull back slightly, you notice his shoulders aren’t as tense anymore.

The trembling in his hands has eased.

“You didn’t eat, did you?” he asks quietly after a moment.

You blink.

Jaafar sighs softly, thumb brushing underneath your eye.

“Baby…”

“You didn’t either.”

A tiny tired smile finally appears on his face for the first time tonight.

“Come here.”

He takes your hand and leads you into the kitchen.

The food is cold by now, but neither of you care.

At almost three in the morning, the two of you stand side by side reheating dinner in complete silence while Jaafar keeps one arm wrapped around your waist the entire time like he physically cannot let go of you yet.

And honestly?

You don’t want him to.

At one point while waiting for the microwave, he suddenly pulls you against his chest again without warning.

“What?” you laugh softly.

“Nothing.”

His voice comes out muffled against your hair.

Then quieter, “I just need to hold you for a second.”

So you tilt your head up and kiss him once more.

Small.

Sleepy.

Full of love.

And Jaafar looks at you afterward like you’ve just given him something he thought he lost.

Later that night, curled together in bed with your fingers running slowly through his curls while he lays half-asleep against your chest, his hand lazily tracing shapes against your waist beneath your shirt, the apartment finally feels quiet in a good way again.

Safe.

His breathing evens out slowly.

And just before sleep fully pulls him under, Jaafar murmurs softly, “Thank you for reminding me that I’m still Jaafar.”

You press a kiss against his forehead.

“Always.”

A/N : this one shot been on my mind when I watched his interviews on youtube. Hopefully you all enjoyed that. MUAH💋

🏷️ : @kymb-10 @heartbreakylian @thinklikeky @mama-2001 @woonhak4prez @kylottin10 @luloati @auriuex @a-dal7490 @seelmo @wondergotham @lov3lylxvender @cherryberry444 @ilocuras24

[jkkyks]

He is actually very handsome????? LIKE LOOK AT HIM ???????

No like at this point am not just fangirling “OH HE IS BEAUTIFUL” , nah like HE IS ACTUALLY BEAUTIFUL ISTG😭

[kmlottin]

PSG are so insanely good, how can any team compete

[sadbappe]

Cutie 🧸

[carlaloveslfc]

[queenoftheblacksky]

Kylian x GQ Spain

[jkkyks]

hi. I missed him. bye

he look so good wtf?

[jkkyks]

He is leaving with her to madrid :(

https://x.com/kylian/status/2030678809117446603?s=46&t=ykbzJpO1ZQmi7HS73JsD9g

Jokes aside? If its serious or not let him be y’all.

As long as it works out for him then it is what it is.

[jkkyks]

KYLIAN IS FINALLY SEEN DRIVING !!!!!!!!!!!!

MY BABE I -

[jkkyks]

Kylian is FINALLY getting his driver’s license at the Lara Driving School in Alcorcón

[kyliannmb]

FINALLLLLYYYYYYYM KUBLIJGSHUXVSQKGYJFXYWQT

[sadbappe]

This is so cute 😭

[masn-mount]

[sadbappe]

Why did he lowkey get hypnotized by the ball 😭

[jkkyks]

I don’t think y’all understand how much am down bad for him?????????

[kyliannmb]

HE KNOWS WHO HE IS