after years of keeping a carefully balanced rotation, you find everything you ever wanted in jaafar
you and jaafar had been dating for almost two months now. to say you weren’t skeptical about the whole thing would be a massive stretch. in fact, you were terrified.
you had never been a "player.” you actually hated the term and the tackiness of how it sounded. instead, you preferred to keep a few choice men in a comfortable, well organized rotation. you’d convinced yourself it was just easier that way. it was a survival tactic, really.
before the rotation had ever even come into play, there had been jonathan. he’d approached you at this festival, all bright smiles and charm. you thought he was sweet. long story short, he wasn’t. then came mike. he was sweet indeed, and absolutely incredible in bed, but he was practically married to his job and had zero intentions of ever settling down so that died. before him, there was chris, and before chris, there was terry. and before terry, it was a never-ending cycle of disappointment.
what one man had, the other lacked. in the exact areas where one man was emotionally unavailable, another would be attentive, but lacking chemistry. and frankly, you just got tired of getting played. you got tired of giving your whole heart to one person only to find out they were only offering you a fraction of theirs.
the rotation worked.
it worked for you, and it worked for the men. you didn't expect much from them, and they didn't expect much from you. there were no messy expectations, no heavy emotional burdens. if one of them stopped making you happy or started acting up, you dropped them immediately and picked up the next. your roster was efficient, and perfectly balanced. you had a fun one, a smart one, and a rich one.
the fun one made you feel like the time in your twenties wasn't running out. he was the life of the party, always taking you to the newest clubs, popping the best bottles, and securing the most exclusive sections. plus, he’d given you some of the best sex you’d ever had in your life. he was the one you’d text on a friday night, the one you called whenever you just needed a damn good time and wanted to forget about the world.
the smart one fed you intellectually and emotionally. he was your grounding force. he was the type to send random, sweet texts in the middle of the day just to let you know he was thinking of you. the two of you would share books, reading them at the same time so you could discuss them, or text each other articles just to ask for the other’s perspective. he was so incredibly sweet.
then, there was the rich one. well, he lived up to his name. he was strictly for luxury. at first, you’d felt guilty the first time he offered to pay your rent, only to buy you a designer bag right after. but then it became a reoccurring habit. on the first of every month, he’d wire a generous sum of money to your account. that same evening, a new bag, a pair of shoes, or whatever else you had wished for would be delivered. he lived out of the country, so you barely ever actually saw him, having only met him initially at a charity event for the company you worked for. eventually, the guilt faded. you figured this was something he genuinely wanted to do, he had the means, and you let him.
you had your bases covered.
when jaafar first entered the picture, you genuinely weren't sure where he’d even fit into your schedule. you were more than satisfied. but jaafar was... different. somehow, effortlessly, he possessed every single thing those three men had.
it didn't take long for him to become your absolute favorite. your friends noticing immediately. they loved the way your face lit up whenever you talked about him, constantly teasing you and joking that he’d be the very one to finally take you "out of the game." you’d laugh it off, but deep down, a quiet, terrifying voice whispered that they might actually be right.
at first, you and jaafar didn’t see much of each other. your work schedules were hectic enough to keep a comfortable distance. but then, a promotion relocated you to la. you were in his city. you started seeing each other every single weekend. and once you started sleeping with jaafar, you stopped sleeping with the fun one. jaafar gave you a kind of intimacy you had never known. soft, lingering, passionate. he was all those things. you began to crave him.
he was fun, but not in the loud, exhausting way. he took you to your first world cup game, where you had argued with complete, laughing confidence that england would easily beat argentina... they didn’t, and he never let you live it down.
he patiently taught you how to golf on quiet sunday mornings, and took you to hidden art museums downtown. he read books, too. they weren't the same genres as yours, but you quickly grew to love the quiet afternoons spent lounging around your apartment, reading in your own little world, his legs tangled with yours. constantly dropping random, fascinating facts about the strangest things.
and when it came to the gifts? you’d been walking past the louis vuitton store with him one afternoon, briefly catching sight of a dainty, beautiful gold bracelet in the window. you’d paused for mere seconds, commenting on how pretty it was, before walking on. jaafar hadn't said a word, but he gently grabbed your hand, pulled you right into the store, and bought it for you on the spot. you felt so dizzy you thought you might faint right there on the polished marble floor.
everyone in your circle knew of your lifestyle and how noncommittal you were. but your friends were watching you change in real time, softening under his touch.
the only person who had absolutely no clue about jaafar’s existence was your mother.
which brought you to now. you were riding shotgun in the passenger seat of jaafar’s car. your phone began to ring with a facetime from your mom.
“hey mama, how are you?” you smiled, holding the phone up.
“i’m good baby, what are you up to?” her face filled the screen, her eyes squinting slightly as she tried to make out your background.
“well, i’m actually on a date right now,” you said, casting a quick, slightly nervous glance in jaafar’s direction. he kept his eyes on the road, but a handsome, knowing smirk began to pull at the corner of his lips.
“oh! is it with the fun one? the one who took you on that yacht that one time? he was cute—”
“um. no, mom,” you cut her off instantly, your heart doing a sudden, panicked flip. “i stopped dating him a while ago.”
“is it that one really tall one you brought to niecy’s graduation?”
you cringed so hard you felt it in your bones. you frantically fumbled with the side of your phone, desperately trying to turn the volume down to save yourself from further embarrassment, but it was too late. the car's bluetooth was incredibly clear.
“no, mother,” you said, your voice tight as you tried to signal her with your eyes. “i’m only dating one man now. his name is jaafar... and he can hear you.”
there was a brief pause on the other end of the line.
“oh—well. i guess i'm in trouble,” your mom giggled apologetically, though she didn't sound very sorry at all. you narrowed your eyes at her through the screen, silently pleading with her to stop. “is he cute? he has to be, to make you give up entertaining everybody else, chile!”
“bye, mom. i love you, talk to you later!” you squeaked out, practically slamming your thumb onto the red button before she could embarrass you any further.
the silence in the car was deafening for a split second. you let out a low groan, burying your face in your hands. "i am so, so sorry. she has absolutely no filter."
jaafar didn't say anything at first. he just let out a low, rich chuckle that rumbled warm in his chest. he kept one hand on the steering wheel, but reached over with his other, lacing his long fingers through yours. he squeezed gently, bringing your hand up to his lips to place a soft, lingering kiss against your knuckles.
he cut his eyes over to you, his gaze dark, melting, and incredibly steady.
“well, you can tell her not to worry,” he murmured, his voice smooth and dripping with a quiet, undeniable confidence. “i’m more than enough for you now.”
looking at him, with your heart beating a sweet, steady rhythm in your chest, you knew he was entirely right. the rotation was officially retired, and you had never felt more secure.
⋮ ⌗ synopsis┆your husband wins his first golf tournament.
⋮ ⌗ 🏷️┆fluff, small mentions of microaggressions, not proofread.
⋮ ⌗ doleuia┆despite me having to use google to understand how golf worked this was fun asf to write especially cus i made jermajesty a quiet cutie patootie, lmk how you guys like ittt.
you remembered the very first day you both moved into the subdivision, jermajesty had spotted the community golf course. he had been so excited, his handsome gap smile lighting up his face as he packed his clubs. but you would've never encouraged jermajesty join the country club if you knew you'd be on the edge of your seat for his first tournament.
the moment you both stepped onto the turf, the atmosphere had shifted. the patronizing snickers from the older men, the tight, fake smiles, from the women and when you introduce yourself that slick comment made your blood boil.
"we just think it’s cute that y'all are so young... our men can be deeply competitive. the last couple didn't last long."
weeks have passed since that day, and right now, you were sitting at the edge of your seat watching him prove her wrong.
the summer sun was already beating down heavily on the 18th hole your husband stood in. you leaned forward in your folding lawn chair, keeping your eyes glued on jermajesty as he aligned his club. this was the final round of the annual neighborhood tournament, and the group of older men he was playing against were practically radiating arrogant confidence.
a loud, exaggerated cough from one of the opponents broke the silence, explicitly timed to mess with jermajesty's turn. still, he didn't say a word, just lowered his club and stepped back to reset his focus, he was never the type to cause a scene.
but you were.
"unt un, you can't try to distract him!" you called out standing up from your chair, your voice smooth, dripping with a sweet, defensive edge. the man flushed a deep crimson, muttering under his breath while his buddies suddenly found the grass very interesting.
you had learned quickly that you had to be his shield here. it wasn’t just about age, and you weren't blind. jermajesty was a black man in a space that clearly wasn't used to seeing people like hkm thrive in. you felt the icy, judgmental glares from the women across the field. but every single time a snarky remark or a slick under breath comment came out of someone's mouth over the last month, you had shut it down instantly.
and every time jermajesty missed a shot in those practice weeks? you were right there shouting for him to dust himself off and try again.
now, the tournament had come down to a single, brutal downhill putt. if jermajesty missed, the neighborhood champion kept the trophy. if he made it, it was his.
the entire crowd of residents had gathered around the fringe, completely silent. his opponent had a subtle, cocky smirk on his face, fully expecting the young guy to choke under the pressure of the final hole.
your husband took a slow deep breath, gripping his putter. just before he leaned over the ball, his eyes flicked across the green and locked onto yours. you blew him a kiss and twinkled your fingers at him.
he caught it like always before he looked down, and stroked the ball.
it rolled across the pristine grass, catching the break of the hill perfectly.
clack.
the ball dropped right into the bottom of the cup.
the crowd let out a collectively stunned gasp. the opponent’s smirk vanished instantly.
you didn't care about country club decorum or keeping your voice down. "yes! that's my husband!" you shrieked, jumping out of your chair, completely abandoning the complaints coming from the women that noticed all their husbands failed to make them proud.
he didn't even bother to reach into the cup to grab his ball. hearing your voice, his face broke into the cutest, most brilliant smile you had ever seen. he dropped his putter right onto the grass and turned toward you, throwing his arms wide open.
you ran straight onto the green, launching your body at him. he caught you effortlessly, lifting your thick frame right off the ground as your legs wrapped tightly around his waist. he spun you around in a circle, laughing dynamically, before you cupped his face in your hands and brought him down into a deep, passionate, breathless kiss.
when you finally pulled back to let him breathe, you didn't let him down just yet. you held his face gently, peppering sweet, rapid kisses all over his cheeks, his jaw, and the tip of his nose, making him chuckle softly against your lips.
"i am so incredibly proud of you, baby," you whispered, looking down into his bright eyes. "i told you, you was gon' whoop their asses."
jermajesty’s smile never settled, it sat full of pure adoration as he finally set you back on your feet but keeping an arm securely wrapped around your waist.
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