its your birthday make a wish - chapter one
succubus!reader x jaafar jackson
on the suffocating set of his latest film, an exhausted jaafar feels entirely detached from his life, his family, and his girlfriend, maddie. trapped in his own head, he becomes obsessed with the memory of a spectral woman who haunted his senses after he smoked a rare, vintage blunt.
warnings: swearing, mentions of drugs
the set was a mess of tangled cables and blinding spotlights, the kind of environment that usually fed his ego, but tonight it just felt suffocating. jaafar had been running on fumes for weeks, pushing himself through the sequel filming because being a leo meant never letting the shine fade, even when he was burnt to a crisp.
he’d completely lost track of the days, buried in lines and blocking, until the clock on the wall hit midnight.
suddenly, the room was full of noise. maddie was there, beaming, holding a cake that looked like a tiny island of warmth in the middle of the soundstage. his mom, jermajesty, and randy were right behind her, their voices rising in that familiar, off-key birthday chorus.
jaafar stood there, feeling like he was watching a movie of his own life. he plastered on his best smile, the one that made the fans scream, but god, it felt heavy.
"happy birthday, baby," his mom said, pulling him into a hug that smelled like home lavender and expensive fabric softener. "you look like you’re drifting away on me. take a breath, okay? the cameras will still be there tomorrow."
randy leaned against a lighting rig, looking way too relaxed. "mom’s right, j. you’ve been running yourself into the ground. let the star dim for five minutes, yeah?"
maddie stepped closer, her hand resting on his arm, her eyes full of that sweet, genuine concern that usually made his chest swell. but tonight, it just felt… quiet. like something was missing, a piece of the puzzle that he couldn't quite place. "you okay, jaafar? you seem like you’re somewhere else entirely."
jermajesty hovered near the back, his eyes sharp and unreadable. "he's just working too hard, aren't you, j? don't let them kill your vibe, though. maybe the best parts of the night happen when you stop trying so hard."
jaafar couldn't take it—the noise, the expectations, the way everyone looked at him like he was a monument instead of a person. "i, uh—i need a minute. restroom. be right back."
he walked out, the silence of the hallway hitting him like a physical wall. that’s when he saw it. a new vending machine he’d never seen before, tucked into a dark corner. it was buzzing—a low, hypnotic sound that made his teeth ache. his eyes locked onto a single chocolate bar on the top shelf. it was practically glowing, the logo a swirl of gold that looked exactly, hauntingly, like your eyes.
get a grip, he told himself, walking past it. it’s just a snack, man. you’re losing it.
he ducked into the restroom, splashing ice-cold water on his face, trying to scrub the phantom scent of you out of his head. but when he stepped back out, the air was thick with it—sandalwood, jasmine and peach. it was radiating from the vending machine. he was a fool, he knew it, but he pushed his money in anyway. the nectar bar dropped with a thud.
he tore the wrapper off, muttering to himself, "this is insane. you’re talking to a chocolate bar because you’re high and you miss a ghost. you’re a mess, jaafar."
then he saw the note tucked inside: put your hands together. it’s your birthday jaafar, make a wish.
his heart hammered against his ribs. he squeezed his eyes shut, pressed his palms together, and pleaded with the universe. be real. please, just be real. i don't want the dream, i want to see you again.
he waited. nothing. just the hum of the machine. the spell he’d felt.
the weird, magnetic pull—suddenly snapped, leaving him feeling cold and ridiculous. he started laughing, a jagged, broken sound that echoed in the empty hall. "what a joke," he whispered, tossing the wrapper inside his pocket
the air behind the equipment crates was heavy, and the way jaafar was breathing—short, jagged bursts—made the smirk on jermajesty’s face finally slide off. jaafar didn’t just pull him aside; he shoved him back into the shadows, his fingers biting into his brother’s arm.
"the blunt," jaafar hissed, his voice so low it felt like a vibration in the dark. "the one you handed me last month. look at me, maj. where the hell did it actually come from?"
jermajesty tried to shrug it off, his eyes flicking toward the set to make sure no one was watching. "whoa, chill, j. you’re tweaking. i just found it on the living room table, man. figured you were stressed and needed a break. why are you acting like i tried to poison you?" he gestured toward the pocket where jaafar had stuffed the nectar bar.
"honestly, that chocolate looks better than whatever mood you’re in. hand it over."
"don't you dare touch it," jaafar snapped. his usual cool was completely gone, replaced by a raw, frantic edge that made jermajesty stop dead. "do you have any idea what this is? do you have any idea what that smoke did to me?"
jermajesty’s face hardened, his voice losing that joking rhythm. "it’s a blunt, jaafar. if you’re losing your mind over a high from weeks ago, that’s on you. i’m not taking responsibility for your head."
"you’re damn right you’re taking responsibility, because you’re the one who put it in my hand!" jaafar’s voice dropped to a harsh whisper, vibrating with a lethal kind of control. "maj, stop acting like you’re oblivious. i know you. so tell me, right now, before i make you regret ever finding that thing."
jermajesty stared at him, really seeing the desperation in his brother’s eyes, and finally, the bravado crumbled. he sighed, dragging a hand through his hair. "fine. damn. i didn't find it on the table, okay? randy left it there. i just saw it and thought of you. ask him yourself."
jaafar didn't wait. he marched over, grabbed randy by the jacket, and hauled him into the huddle, ignoring his protests. "randy. the blunt. where did you get it?"
randy looked between them, his brow furrowed, clearly confused by the sudden aggression. "what? the vintage stuff? i picked it up from that antique shop near the pier. the guy said it was some rare, organic blend. what is the problem?"
"the shop," jaafar pushed, his voice tight.
randy reached out to take the chocolate, but jaafar yanked it away, his knuckles pale. he turned his full, icy focus back to jermajesty.
"maj, listen to me," jaafar whispered, the intensity in his tone making the air feel suffocating. "i am not your experiment. i’m not a toy for you to test things on. if you ever bring me something from that place again—if you ever cross that line without asking—you’re going to find out exactly how little i care about the fact that we’re family. do you understand me?"
jermajesty held his brother’s gaze, the silence stretching until it felt painful. he finally gave a slow, reluctant nod, all the cockiness gone. "i hear you, j. i won't touch it again."
jaafar didn't say another word. he just turned and walked away, leaving his brothers in the shadows of the set, the scent of sandalwood, jasmine and peach still clinging to his skin like a curse.
the trailer felt colder than it should have, even with the heater humming in the corner.
maddie sat against the headboard, knees drawn up, watching jaafar as he finished changing. the silence between them stretched out, heavy and unfamiliar. she had hoped tonight might bridge some of the gap that had been growing for weeks, but the moment he climbed into bed, that familiar emotional wall was already there.
when she shifted closer and let her hand rest lightly on his arm, nothing stirred in him. his body stayed unresponsive, distant in a way that went beyond just physical. maddie pulled back slowly, the quiet rejection settling deep in her chest.
“jaafar,” she said, her voice tight with frustration, “what the hell is happening to us? you’re right here but it feels like you’re miles away.”
he sighed, staring up at the ceiling instead of meeting her eyes. “i’m sorry, maddie. my mind’s just… not here. work’s been eating me alive and i can’t even relax enough to be close to you.”
she let out a short, hurt laugh, scooting further away on the bed. the space between them suddenly felt deliberate. “that’s the thing. it’s not just tonight. you’ve been pulling away for weeks now. emotionally, physically everything. i talk to you and it’s like you’re listening through fog. i try to reach you and there’s nothing. no spark, no warmth, just… this emptiness.”
maddie hugged her arms around herself, the anger mixing with a deeper ache. “i miss the man who used to look at me like i was his whole world. now i feel like i’m competing with whatever’s going on in your head, and i’m losing. badly.”
jaafar turned his head toward her, but his gaze still felt far off, guarded. “i don’t want it to be like this. i’m trying, but…”
“trying?” she cut in softly, shaking her head. “it doesn’t feel like it anymore. right now, it just feels like i’m alone even when you’re lying right next to me.”
the quiet that followed was louder than any argument. maddie turned onto her side, facing the wall, the emotional distance between them wider than it had ever been.
jaafar stayed on his back, silent, both of them trapped in their own heads, the connection they once shared feeling more like a memory than reality.
jaafar didn't move for a long time, his eyes fixed on the ceiling tiles. he wanted to reach out, to smooth the tension out of her shoulders, but every time he tried to focus on her, the memory of that sandalwood and peach scent crowded his senses. he felt like he was suffocating, trapped between the woman he was supposed to love and the phantom that had latched onto his mind.
he rolled onto his side, his movements heavy. "maddie," he started, his voice barely a murmur. he reached out, his fingertips ghosting over the fabric of her sleep shirt, but he didn't pull her into his arms. it felt dishonest. "i know it feels like i'm not here. but it's not you. it's not you, okay?"
maddie didn't turn around. the bed sheet was pulled tight against her frame, a wall of cotton separating them. "then tell me, jaafar. if it’s not me, what is it? because i can’t keep doing this. i can’t keep loving a ghost."
the word ghost hit him right in the sternum. he felt a sudden, sharp urge to tell her everything—about the blunt, about the vending machine, about the way he still had that dress tucked away in his drawer like a dirty secret. but the words stuck in his throat, dry and impossible. if he told her, she’d think he’d finally snapped. he was barely holding onto his own sanity as it was.
"it's work," he lied, the words tasting like ash. "it’s the pressure, the cameras, everyone wanting a piece of me until there’s nothing left. i’m just… fried, maddie. i’m sorry."
she finally turned over, the light from the trailer window casting sharp shadows across her face. her eyes weren't angry anymore; they just looked tired. "you used to come home and i was your safe place. now you come home and you look like you’re waiting for the walls to close in."
she didn't wait for an answer. she just closed her eyes, the distance between them feeling like a canyon.
jaafar lay there for what felt like hours, his skin buzzing with a restless, frantic energy. he couldn't sleep. every time he closed his eyes, he saw those golden eyes from the nectar logo. he shifted, his hand accidentally brushing against his own pocket where he’d stuffed that wrapper, the paper crinkling in the silence.
he felt a wave of nausea. he was ruining things—ruining us—over a high that wouldn't end.
he quietly slid out of the bed, the cold air of the trailer hitting his sweat-slicked skin. he didn't look back at maddie, who was already breathing in that slow, steady rhythm of sleep. he moved to the small kitchenette, his hands trembling as he poured a glass of water.
he stared out the small trailer window into the dark lot. somewhere out there, in the quiet of the night, he felt like something or someone was watching him. he touched his chest, right over his heart, and for a split second, he could have sworn he smelled it again. that faint, sweet, impossible scent of jasmine.
you’re losing it, jaafar, he told himself, but as he stood there in the dark, he realized he didn't even want to be found.
the knock was sharp, rhythmic, and enough to pull jaafar from that weird, half-conscious state he’d been trapped in for hours. he didn't even glance at maddie, who was still dead to the world, before sliding out of bed. he pulled on a hoodie, his movements jerky, and threw the trailer door open.
jermajesty stood there, looking way too awake for 2:00 am. he held out a thick, cream-colored envelope. no return address, just his name written in ink that seemed to shimmer even in the shitty fluorescent porch light.
"what is this?" jaafar hissed, his voice raw.
"don't know, don't care," jermajesty shrugged, though his eyes were sharp. "just figured you needed to see it."
jaafar didn't wait. he grabbed the envelope and shoved jermajesty off the steps, ushering him toward the back of the lot where the shadows were deep. he saw randy leaning against his car, looking bored, and practically dragged him into the huddle.
"randy. now," jaafar said, his voice vibrating with a dangerous edge. "the shop. the antique one. we’re talking about it. because i’m not losing my mind alone anymore."
he reached into his pocket, pulling out the remains of that blunt randy had 'found.' he didn't bother hiding his shaking hands as he lit it, taking a long, jagged hit. the smoke swirled, and he turned his eyes on his brothers, his gaze piercing.
"you two tell me. what did it feel like for you?" jaafar asked, his voice low, desperate. "when you smoked this, what did you see? tell me it wasn't just me."
randy and jermajesty exchanged a look, both of them shifting uncomfortably.
"it was a rush, j," randy started, his voice hushed. "i felt heavy. like i was sinking into the couch, yeah, but it wasn't just a high. i felt like... like i was being watched from the corners of the room. it wasn't pleasant."
jermajesty nodded, his face uncharacteristically serious. "i felt like i was floating, but my body felt like it was miles away. i kept hearing whispers in another language. it made me feel like i was standing on the edge of something i wasn't supposed to see."
jaafar let out a harsh, jagged laugh, the smoke curling around his face like a shroud. "a rush? whispers? that’s all you got?"
he took another drag, his eyes glazing over. "for me? it’s her. it’s not just a high; it’s living a second life. she’s a succubus, or whatever the hell you want to call it, but she feels so real. her skin, her touch... it’s electric, randy. it’s the way she looks at me, like she’s the only one who actually sees the weight i’m carrying. the way she tastes, like peaches and sandalwood... it’s driving me insane."
randy stepped forward, his expression pale. "jaafar... j, listen to me. that shopkeeper? he didn't just sell me a blunt. he told me the stuff in that collection came from a place that doesn't exist on any map. he said it was for 'those who feel too much.'"
"i don't care about the salesman," jaafar snapped, clutching the envelope so hard the paper began to tear. "i care that i can't go back to normal. randy, please. you have to take me to that shop."
"it’s the middle of the night, j," randy tried to reason, but jaafar wasn't hearing it.
"i’m begging you, randy," jaafar said, his voice breaking as he stepped into his brother’s space, his eyes wide and pleading.
"i’m not joking. i need to go there. i need to find the source. if you don't take me, i’ll drive until i find it myself. just take me to the shop. please."
randy and jermajesty exchanged a worried look. they’d never seen jaafar this unglued.
"fine," randy exhaled, pulling the keys from his pocket. "but if we're walking into something dark, don't say i didn't warn you."
the pier was dead silent, save for the rhythmic slap of dark water against the wooden pilings. it was 2:38 am, and honestly? there was nothing. just empty boat slips and the smell of saltwater.
randy walked in circles, his hands shoved deep in his pockets, his face pale under the streetlights. "i don't get it, man. this is it. this is where i parked. i swear to god, the shop was right next to that bait shack."
"you sure you weren't on some other shit when you bought that blunt?" jermajesty snapped, pacing the edge of the dock, his frustration boiling over. "because we’re standing in the middle of nowhere, j is losing his mind, and i’m starting to think you’re just messing with us."
"i’m not messing with anyone!" randy fired back, his voice rising, his eyes wide and darting toward the dark water. "i bought the damn thing here! i don't know why it’s not—"
"shut up," jaafar growled, his eyes fixed on the envelope. he tore it open, pulling out the map that had been hidden behind the dried jasmine petal.
he held it up to the dim light of the pier, and the ink seemed to pulse with a faint, shimmering, sickly glow. he traced the lines with his thumb, his heart hammering against his ribs like a trapped bird. "it’s not a mistake. the map says we’re exactly where we need to be."
jermajesty let out a frantic, shaky laugh, raking his fingers through his hair until it was a knotted mess. "are you serious? this is wild shit, man. we’re three grown-ass men standing on a pier in the middle of the night looking for a ghost shop that doesn't exist. i’m out. this is too much. my head feels like it’s vibrating."
"it’s my birthday," jaafar cut him off, his voice ice-cold, vibrating with an intensity that silenced the pier. he didn't care about the skepticism anymore. he didn't care about the logic that dictated this was impossible. "it’s three in the morning, and my phone just went off."
he pulled his phone from his pocket. there was an alarm—a shrill, jarring tone he definitely hadn't set—displaying a single word in bold, black text: arrive.
randy and jermajesty both leaned in, their faces turning ghost-white. randy pointed toward the far end of the pier, his hand trembling so hard it looked like he was vibrating. "uh, guys? look."
the air rippled like heat over pavement, and suddenly, the space between the warehouses began to bleed into existence. a storefront flickered into view, glowing with an eerie, rhythmic pulse that matched the frantic beating of jaafar’s heart. it looked ancient, constructed of dark, warped timber that seemed to inhale and exhale with the tide. the windows were frosted with grime, yet light spilled from within—a sickly, intoxicating amber hue that felt entirely, impossibly wrong.
jaafar looked down at the note that had appeared inside the envelope, the handwriting elegant and archaic. present the key to the keeper. do not look back. .
"i’m going in," jaafar said, his voice quiet but absolute. the black metal key felt unnaturally heavy, almost burning, against his palm.
"j, don't," jermajesty pleaded, his voice breaking. he grabbed jaafar’s shoulder, looking like he was about to have a full-blown panic attack. "look at this place! it’s not normal. whatever is in there, it’s not human. just come home, man, please. we can forget the shop, forget the blunt, just come back to the car."
"you're being a coward, maj," jaafar said, his expression softening just a fraction, but the obsession in his eyes was blinding. it was you. it was always going to be you. he couldn't hear the warnings; he could only hear the phantom call of the sandalwood and peach, the promise of your touch that haunted every waking moment.
"oh, i'm the coward?" jermajesty shouted, shoving jaafar’s shoulder back, his face flushed with panicked rage. "you're the one acting like you're possessed by a damn chocolate bar! you're going to get yourself killed or worse, and you want me to just stand here and watch?"
"quit it, both of you!" randy yelled, stepping between them, though his own legs were visibly shaking. "we're literally standing in front of a building that just appeared out of thin air! can we focus on that instead of killing each other?"
"if i’m not back in an hour," jaafar said, placing a heavy hand on randy’s chest to push him back, effectively cutting off the bickering, "you know exactly where to find me. don't follow me. don't try to be heroes. just… if it gets bad, you know where i went."
"and if you don't come back?" jermajesty countered, his voice trembling as he looked at the dark threshold of the shop. "what if you're gone? what if you just... cease to exist, or end up in some other dimension where you're never coming back to earth again? i'm not dealing with that, j! i'm not living in a world where my brother is some ghost story!"
"you are so dramatic, maj, shut the hell up," randy snapped, though he looked just as terrified. "nobody is ceasing to exist. jaafar is just... he's just losing his mind, that's all. right, j?"
jaafar didn't answer them. he was staring at the note, his eyes tracking new lines of text manifesting on the parchment in real-time. the incense of binding. a vial of silver tears. the final toll is a drop of his own blood on the altar.
the door creaked open, exhaling a gust of air that smelled like ozone and dried jasmine. it was heavy, suffocating.
jermajesty immediately whipped out his phone, his thumb flying across the screen. "mom, don't ask. we’re at the pier, jaafar’s having a total breakdown, and if we don't make it back, tell the lawyers to settle everything. seriously, j’s gone off the deep end and i don't think we’re coming back from this," he muttered, his voice pitching up into that dramatic, high-stress register he only hit when he was genuinely terrified.
"you're such a drama queen, put the phone away," randy hissed, though he looked just as shaky, his knuckles white where he gripped his jacket.
"who goes first?" jermajesty whispered, looking at the dark maw of the shop. "i'm not going first. i have a life, i have a life to protect."
"fine, i'll do it," randy snapped. he stepped over the threshold, his shoulders hunched. he stopped dead, blinking hard. "it’s... it’s all blurry. like i’m looking through a camera lens that won't focus."
jaafar shoved past him, the black metal key burning in his hand. inside, the place was a labyrinth of mismatched shelves and glass jars. behind a counter that looked like it was made of calcified bone stood an old man. he was hunched over, his hair a wild, matted mane of snow-white tangled locks, his eyes milky and sharp like the witch from some fucked-up fairytale.
jaafar slammed the envelope onto the counter. the old man’s lipless mouth curled into a grin. "ah. you're here for lilith. the temptress."
randy leaned in, his voice tight. "who the hell is lilith? and what kind of shop is this? this is insane, j, we need to–"
"don't," jaafar cut him off, his voice lethal. he turned to randy, eyes wild. "you say one more word to him, and i swear to god, randy, you're not leaving here. shut up."
the old man cackled, a dry, rasping sound, and shuffled into the back. they could hear him clattering with metal, the sound of glass breaking, and something that sounded suspiciously like a low, inhuman growl.
he came back, dropping a heavy, ornate box on the counter. he looked at jaafar, sliding a fresh, shimmering bar of nectar toward him. "eat. follow the instructions. don't miss a step, or the debt becomes permanent."
jermajesty stood in the corner, his hands pressed against his ears, whispering a silent prayer that his brother wouldn't turn into a puddle of goo.
jaafar unwrapped the chocolate, the scent of crushed flowers hitting him before the first bite. he chewed, the bitter cocoa hitting his tongue just as the old man pointed to the vial of silver tears and the obsidian needle.
"they must be real," the old man rasped. "tears of a memory that burns. blood of the one who seeks."
jaafar didn't need to fake the grief. he closed his eyes and summoned the ache—the way your scent haunted his trailer, the way he felt so incredibly lonely even when the world was screaming his name.
he let a single, heavy tear fall into the vial, then pressed the needle into his forearm. he dragged the point just enough to draw a bright, ruby drop, letting it splash onto the cold altar stone.
as the blood hit the altar, the shop seemed to melt away. the walls dissolved into a vast, swirling dreamscape. the ceiling vanished, replaced by a pure-white moon that hung low and heavy in the sky, lighting up the space like a spotlight.
the atmosphere changed—it was a kaleidoscope of past and present, everything pointing to you. the bearings of a half-moon shifted in the sky above him, the curve of it mirroring the exact shape of your eyes.
he followed the man’s raspy directions, his movements turning rhythmic, fluid. under the faint, ethereal light, jaafar felt himself drifting. it was as if he and the dreamscape were flowing together, a pulse beating against the world’s encroaching darkness. he wasn't just a man anymore; he was a vessel, and every step he took in this bizarre, moonlight-drenched shop was leading him straight to where you were waiting.
"how are you feeling?" randy whispered, looking at jaafar with pure terror.
jaafar didn't answer. he couldn't. the world had gone quiet, and all he could see was the light in your eyes reflected in the moon above.
the silence in the shop was heavy, the kind that rings in your ears. the old man stood there, his long, jagged fingernails tapping against the wood of the counter. he let out a slow, wheezing breath that sounded like a sigh of relief.
"it is done," he rasped, his milky eyes pinning jaafar to the spot. "congratulations, boy. and a happy birthday to you."
randy and jermajesty exchanged a look, both of them looking like they wanted to bolt, but they were frozen. the man reached under the counter and pulled out a necklace. it was a piece of raw, jagged diamond, hanging from a chain that looked like woven silver wire.
"this belonged to the sirens of old, but for a temptress like her? it is her anchor. if it leaves her neck—or yours—the tether snaps. keep it close. do not let it be stolen, do not let it be seen, and for the love of everything, do not take it off."
jermajesty felt a shiver claw its way down his spine. he nodded, his throat too tight to speak. randy just stared at the diamond, his expression a mix of awe and pure, unadulterated terror.
jaafar, however, reached out and took the necklace, his fingers brushing the stone. he didn't feel scared; he felt a sudden, electric sense of purpose.
"you will meet her in a while," the old man said, his grin fading into a flat, cryptic line.
jaafar stepped forward, his heart thudding. "how long is a while?"
the old man just stared back, refusing to give him a timeline. "she's excited to see you too."
that was it. he turned his back on them, and the shop’s light flickered and died. they stumbled back out onto the pier, the morning air biting at their skin. the wood groaned as they hit the docks, and when they turned around, the storefront was gone. it was just empty, decaying pilings and the dark, indifferent water.
jermajesty whipped out his phone, his thumb hovering over the screen. "5:05 am. we were in there for two hours? it felt like five minutes." he paused, then let out a sharp, audible crack as he slapped his own cheek hard enough to leave a red mark. "ow. god, that’s real. that’s actually real."
"we’re all losing it," randy muttered, his voice hollow. "this has to be some kind of mass hallucination."
they walked back to the car in a daze, the weight of the night settling into their bones. randy started the engine, his hands shaking on the wheel as he pulled away from the pier. for the first ten minutes, the car was silent, the hum of the tires on the asphalt the only thing tethering them to reality.
randy tried to clear the air, his voice too loud in the cramped space. "so, uh, are we just going to pretend we didn't just walk out of some fucked up dimension-hopping antique shop, or are we—"
he didn't get to finish. the stereo in the suv suddenly flickered to life, even though randy hadn't touched the dial. it wasn't the radio; it was a sound that seemed to come from everywhere at once a low, melodic, dreamy chime that sounded like starlight hitting water.
jermajesty let out a string of curses, his hands gripping the edges of his seat. "what the fuck, randy? turn it off! turn it off now, you asshole!"
"i’m trying! the buttons aren't doing anything!" randy yelled, his foot heavy on the gas as the music grew louder, more intoxicating, winding around them like a physical touch. "this is that goddamn witch craft! i told you that antique place was bad news, i told you! and now look at us—some ghost bitch is about to kill us because of your birthday, j!"
jaafar didn't move. he sat in the passenger seat, his pulse racing, his hand tight around the diamond necklace. he knew. he felt the air in the backseat get cooler, a sudden, heavy pressure blooming in the space behind his head.
the car seemed to grow smaller, the silence outside pressing in against the windows. jaafar’s heart was hammering against his ribs, a frantic rhythm that matched the song. then, a breath of sandalwood and peach brushed against the back of his neck, sharp and sweet.
a soft, playful whisper right against his ear.
"happy birthday, jaafar."
its you back on earth. lilith is back on earth
