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[multixxfandom]

The Summer After

pairing: Jermajesty Jackson x fem!reader warning: fluff genre: childhood friends word count: 7,283 (she's chunkyy) proofread: nope requests: open taglist: @bonni-98 @prettylosersworld (join here) synopsis: Your dad has worked security for the Jacksons for years. You've practically grown up around each other, always hovering on the edges of family gatherings. The problem is everyone still treats you like kids. Until one summer you come back from college and Jermajesty can't stop noticing that you're not the awkward fourteen-year-old he remembers. a/n: there's plenty of toxic Jermajesty fics out there, and I'm an angsty, yearning, fluff girl at heart anywaysss ps: I use em dash, I'm not a robot, I have a brain, I just use colons too much

⊱ ۫ ׅ ✧ ✎﹏﹏𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐀𝐒 𝐋𝐎𝐍𝐆 as you can remember, your father had been employed with the Jackson family as security. He was a strong, solid built character, so working security made the most sense for him. He was like a wall — sturdy and dependable. So the Jackson family trusted him well enough and almost always had him assigned to something, rarely not at their side.

Through this tight-knitted arrangement, you always found yourself tagging along, at no surprise. He worked almost seven days a week, practically all day. It was as if he lived at the estate himself. Early mornings grew into tired, weary nights. It felt like if you ever wanted to see your own father, you had no choice but to follow.

So through childhood summers and an abundance of family gatherings, you found yourself constantly living on just the shadow of the Jackson's. They became a familiar part of your life, interwoven into one.

Especially Jermajesty.

It wasn't like you two were best friends, more like friendly acquaintances at most. Always just on the fringe of his life. But with your lives constantly intertwining, you two had grown up within one another's orbits. Never quite best friends, but never complete strangers on the other hand.

Because of this inescapable capacity, never did a year go by that wasn't filled with awkward exchanges when you two were left alone in a room, the knowing looks at family gatherings, and the shared experience of always being teased by others for being one of the family’s “babies.”

Because you seemingly grew up with the family, the Jacksons always saw and treated you like the little 10-year-old they first met. For whatever reason, it bugged you, never feeling like you were taken serious or you were just simply being babied. Sure, it was rooted in love and admiration, but you wanted to be seen in a new light every once and awhile, by anyone...no one in particular. This treatment came from everyone, including Jermajesty, who was only a year older. The irony.

That was until college, though.

When you broke the news of your departure just a couple of hours away for college, you would've thought you told them you were moving to mars. It was one of the first times they saw you grown up and spreading your metaphorical wings. The goodbyes and weeps seemed endless. They threw a huge cookout, and Jackson family gatherings were not something to take slightly. They were serious, huge, and noisy. Promising to throw a welcome back party right before you departed, you left full, on both love and food.

So driving down the highway, windows down and music blasting, that was exactly where you were headed.

You moved out of your freshman dorm, the car still jam-packed with your belongings. You had originally planned on going to your own home first to unload everything, but your father called and urged you to just head straight to the gathering. He was so excited, telling you how everyone couldn't wait any longer. With reluctance, you agreed, making him promise to help you unpack later.

You were nearly 10 minutes out now, wind swirling around your car, lifting and twirling your hair around like a passionate wave. Your mind buzzed and skin itched with anticipation to just finally be home. Your college was about eight hours away, so you were antsy to escape the depths of your car's metal doors and stretch your body.

it felt like your mind was doing summersaults with all the thoughts and questions you had. You were mentally flipping through images of all the familiar faces you had grown up with, separated for a year. It felt weird at first to adjust to your new surroundings, acclimating to your new life. It seemed your mind was stuck on one thing, though. One person.

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

"There she is!" your dad exclaims, coming out from the front door to greet you, finally pulling in and parking your car.

You stretch your arms out the sky as he comes close, immediately pulling you in for a hug.

"Nice to see you, too, Dad," you joke, hugging back.

A chorus of voices comes from the front porch.

"College girl!"

"Took you long enough."

"We've missed you!"

You laugh as you greet the smiling faces, stepping inside as your father leads you to the backyard. Conversations are littered throughout the house, creating this blanket of noise that is so casual for you, it's comforting even. You can feel the last remnants of nerves from the car ride melt away. Slipping back into your old self isn't as hard as you thought, especially with the familiarly of the space you were no stranger to. You hang around the yard for a bit, reconnecting with people and sharing conversations before carrying it inside. As you step back out onto the back deck, the sound of music filling the space alongside chatter, it feels like nothing has changed at all.

Until your eyes spot him.

Over by the grill, he stands out to your left on the patio, currently helping plate burgers as he balances a white paper plate steady in one hand. He's busy occupied with a conversion between him and his brother, a cute smile plastered on his lips and a soft laugh escaping into the air.

In your mind, you already had an image of what he looked like, and even though it's been nearly a year since you last saw him, you expected the boy to still resemble that mental image. But there was Jermajesty, taller than you last remember.

Or maybe he wasn't. Maybe that's not it. Maybe you're just looking at him differently, forgetful of what he last looked like in the flesh. To be fair, it has been a while since you last two were in the same room together. Maybe he was always that height. Maybe his smile always lit up his entire face. Maybe his laugh always made your heart flutter. Maybe his eyes always glistened like a golden-brown amber when the sunlight hit it just right.

His eyes.

As if he sensed you, his eyes lift up to look directly at you, long eyelashes fluttering softly as his hazel orbs flick up to take you in. For a moment, neither of you move, no one seems to dare break eye contact. It's not anything dramatic: no fireworks, no movie soundtrack, or slowmo sequence. It's just a strange pause, not earth-shattering but unusual, like a crack underneath the surface of a concealed truth.

It's the kind of pause and trance where your brain fogs over and forgets what it's doing, short-circuiting almost.

Jermajesty's smile seems to fade away, an expression flickering across his face. Confusion. Hesitancy. Recognition. Then, it's something different — a look that is entirely new and unregistrable. You can’t pinpoint or recognize it, but it makes something in your chest tighten, and it burrows deep in your stomach.

"Hey," he greets you, turning his body to face you completely, his stare still persistent and unwavering.

He greets you the same way he has done a million times before, the sound being nothing new. After all, it's just one word. But it just feels different. The way the words sit on his lips, his eyes lingering for a beat too long, the nerves in your stomach pit oozing through you.

You stand frozen, then realize what an idiot you must look like, hence Jermajesty's soft chuckle. Quickly recovering, you respond back.

"Hey."

That look of uncertainty returns to his face, you still unable to decipher its hidden meaning as he shakes his head to pull himself out of his thoughts. It's almost like he wants to say something, but stops himself, instead asking: "Are you hungry?"

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

Jermajesty knew you were coming home. He had been expecting your arrival. Made sure he looked extra put-together. For dinner, of course...not for any other reason.

Everybody had been expecting you.

For the past week, it seemed your name was the only thing coming up, your return somehow the only topic of conversation. They had the dinner all planned out and ready, and it was like everyone was just counting down the days to see you again.

In his mind, he figured you would come back just as you left. You would show up exactly the way you always had been: messy bun, oversized hoodie you stole from your dad, talking too fast when you were always excited about anything, and still playful. The same kid that always trailed behind your dad like a lost duckling.

But when the car pulled into the driveway, its engine dying out, someone else stepped out.

For just a beat, Jermajesty couldn't tell if he recognized you. It wasn't because you looked completely changed and had a life-altering transformation from your first-year college experience. For the most part, that old you was there. You still smiled the same, still waved and talked with everyone. You clearly still had that habit of absent-mindedly twirling a strand of hair around your finger when you were listening, deep in thought, zoning out, or nervous when all eyes seemed to be on you. Importantly, that warmth still radiated from you. All the pieces were there.

Yet somehow it was like the puzzle was scrambled and the pieces were rearranged. And now every time Jermajesty looked at you, which seemed to be a lot, his mind snagged on it, stumped. Annoyingly. Repeatedly. It was like trying to remember the lyrics to a song that was stuck on the tip of your tongue, just at the edge, right out of your reach.

"Man, stop staring and help me."

Jermajesty shook his head, averting his eyes from you as he blinked blankly. His brother, Jaafar, removes the full tray from Jermajesty, that he previously balanced as his brother placed grilled food onto it from off the grill. He shoved another tray into his hands, playfully snapping the metal tongs in his face.

"What?" Jermajesty asks spacey-like.

"You've been staring for, like, the past 10 minutes. You look creepy, bro."

"I wasn't staring."

"I literally saw you staring. You can't lie to me," Jaafar laughs, bumping his shoulder into Jermajesty's, nudging him back a step.

"She hasn’t even been here for 10 minutes," Jermajesty retaliates.

"How would you know if you apparently weren't staring?" Jaafar sarcastically questions.

Not helping his case.

Ignoring Jaafar mocking him through laughter, Jermajesty just looked away. Unfortunately, this only just makes him more aware of what you were doing and where you were. Again, not helping his case.

You're back on the patio talking with his aunt.

Laughing with your dad by the stoop.

Standing by the drinks, doing your twirl-hair habit as his baby cousins bombard you with questions about what he can only assume they think are "crazy college parties."

Then, that started an entirely new spiral. 

Would you even go to college parties, any parties? What did you do at college? Who were your friends? What were you like? Was it like a double-life? What changed? Did you ever miss home? His home? Him?

Every single time he looked at you or thought of any new question, he immediately caught himself and looked somewhere else.

It was ridiculous.

He was so confused about what was going on.

Sure, you guys basically grew up together, bonding over the shared teasing of being the family's "babies." You goofed off, even when awkward. But this was not like before. It was new, unrecognized.

 And it was bothering Jermajesty.

You were you. Nothing had changed, yet Jermajesty couldn't stop racking his head in an attempt at figuring out why it felt like everything had.

Then, you walked back out onto the patio, returning from sharing conversations in the cool A/C.

His eyes lifted immediately. And there it was again. Whatever it was.

That strange pause. The one he couldn't explain, never experiencing it before and never having the right words. He couldn't tell if it was hesitation, awkwardness, acknowledgment. But he was sure it was one that made him forget what he was doing for half a second.

Jaafar nudged him, and it was like he forgot to breathe, taking in a deep inhale and going on autopilot as he greeted you.

"Are you hungry?" he hears himself ask, as if he was having an out-of-body experience.

"Smooth," Jaafar whispers.

Real smooth.

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

Before you can even answer, your dad calls to come inside. Being who you were, you always did what you could to help out, even when everyone was persistent on you just relaxing and enjoying the party. You make your second round inside the home, returning back outside with your arm full of paper towels and another tray of mac and cheese.

"I told you to sit and relax, child," one aunt reprimands, immediately coming up to take the supplies from you. "Always been such a sweet helper." Internally struggling with the reminder of being babied, you insist it's nothing as you reach one of the foldable tables set out in the yard, lined with endless trays and drinks. It's overwhelming almost, and you get the urge to start sorting things around, but before you can, you're pulled away by one of the uncles to talk about "college football."

You stand off to the side, idly listening and waiting for it to be time to start eating, when two aunts come and join the conversation.

"Hun, do you remember when you were this tall," she gestures down, your eyes following, "and you used to always tug on my dress when you wanted attention?" The family members laugh at the fond memory, you almost dying of embarrassment at yet another reminder of how little they still view you. You will always be their baby, it seems.

Sensing your embarrassment, and thus, need for distraction, Jermajesty enters and calls out to his aunt, "Where should I put this tray?"

She turns, and the conversation is over, almost sighing and holding your chest in relief. You look up just at the moment that Jermajesty quickly looks away, heading for the tables.

"I'm gonna go help," you call out to your dad, who was already occupied with a conversation filled with laughter.

You help sort out the utensils, finishing up the drink table, and eventually, to your satisfaction, rearranging some trays for better cohesion. Everything was falling into place and making sense.

Well, not everything.

For some reason, you couldn't shake off the way you caught Jermajesty looking at you earlier, averting his eyes as his aunt guided him to the tables. To be truthful, you couldn't seem to shake any of the looks he kept passing your way. Which seemed to be more often than usual. You also couldn't seem to stop either, but in your defense, you just felt drawn to him and sensed you were already being watched. It was weird, and the feeling was bothering you, for it wasn't like usual; it was new, but what did it mean?

"It's ready, come eat!" Jermajesty's dad exclaims, ushering for everyone to gather around.

You grab a plate and some utensils, patiently waiting in line as you go down the food table and grab what looks appetizing.

"Sweetie, can you pass over those napkins?" an aunt calls out, pointing to the small holder that sat in front of you, and unaware, also Jermajesty.

Not thinking of who she is talking to, you both instinctively reach out to grab the napkin holder, and your hands meet. Your fingers brush against one another, and your heart-rate picks up. Even for just being a brief touch, it's soft, warm, and grounding. New. Exciting. Yet you feel weak suddenly and have to practically pull yourself back to regain focus.

"Sorry," he mumbles, avoiding eye contact as he bashfully passes over the holder, the aunt staring oddly at you two but ignoring it as she joins other family members down the line.

You shake it off and go back to the task at hand: trying to balance your plate, utensils, and napkin all at once. 

“Help her with her plate, Jer,” Jermajesty’s dad calls out from behind you, clearly watching your failed attempt. 

Without a second thought, Jermajesty reaches across the table, grabbing the plate and balancing it with ease in his other hand. He falls into step beside you, following down the line and picking up each item you point at with no complaint.

“You didn’t have to do that,” you say, almost feeling embarrassed as heat rises to your face. 

He shrugs. “I know.”

The simple answer catches you off guard. It’s almost a matter-of-fact tone, as if he was already planning on doing it. He wanted to. 

For a fleeting moment, you feel small, being reminded of when you two were younger and little kids again. Back then, Jermajesty seemed to always be the one reaching the top shelf for you, carrying things he deemed to be too heavy for you, or silently taking over whenever you struggled with something. You used to hate how easily he stepped in, even when he never made a big deal out of it. He just looked out for you.

Despite the years and distance, some habits never seem to fade quite entirely. 

Now, watching him hold your plate while asking,“roll?” as if this was first-nature for you, it doesn’t feel patronizing…it feels familiar. 

“No way you still remember I don’t like my foods to touch,” you say, watching as he scoots items over. It’s surprising to you, a habit you thought was long forgotten about in your childhood spent together. 

He briefly looks up at you with, what you swear is, a faint smirk. He looks away and says, “you make a face every time, hard to forget.” 

You laugh under your breath and mumble to yourself, “I didn’t realize you paid that much attention to me.”

“I pay attention to lots of things, I guess.”

It’s silence as his words linger between you two, feeling weighted and much heavier than either one of you are prepared to acknowledge. 

When you two reach the end of the line, he simply hands your plate back over, easily balancing two at a time, as well as all your utensils. 

“There, now try not to drop it before we sit down.”

You stop yourself from rolling your eyes. “You’re so annoying.” “Stop hogging her, Jer. We all miss her,” a cousin interjects, linking arms with you as she starts to gently tug you in the direction of the table. “Come sit with us.” 

Jermajsty looks like he wants to say something, parting his lips as if in objection. 

“...She can sit wherever she wants,” he seems to decide on saying instead, though his eyes stay on your longer than necessary. 

The little cousin laughs. “Meaning you wanted her to sit by you.” 

“I didn’t say that.”

“Did you have to?”

Heat rises to your face again, and you look away in an attempt to conceal it. 

He ignores the question, instead saying, “just make sure she actually gets a seat. Last time, you guys left her wandering.”

“That was an accident. Jaafar didn’t bring out enough chairs,” the cousin defends. “We’ll take care of her,” she sarcastically adds.

Jermajesty seems to relax at that, but his stare still lands on you in anticipation, as if waiting to see what you want. 

Fighting against yourself, you say, “I’ll survive.” 

"I know," he says, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Still, let me know if they start acting up,” he responds, sending a funny look at his younger cousin. 

“I’m stealing her now,” his cousin says, already pulling you away as Jermajesty quietly huffs. 

“I’ll catch up with you later,” you call back, almost wanting to promise it. For whatever reason, you knew it to be true. 

He gives a small nod, one corner of his mouth lifting. "Yeah. Later."

For some reason, the smile lingers in your mind long after you've let the cousin pull you away. You feel Jermajesty’s eyes on you still as he’s standing there for a beat, watching until he sees you've found a chair. Only then does he turn and head toward the rest of his family.

It’s weird. You have been to plenty of Jackson dinners, gatherings, and just casual days with the family while your dad was on shift. Often, there were times where it would be just you, random cousins, Jaafar, and Jermajesty. But never has this feeling been present in the several years of visits.

You’ve spent years with him, growing up together. He’s himself, even though you haven’t seen him in a year. Nothing obvious has changed, at least on the surface, what is tangible. He’s still a jokester, still a friend. But it’s the extra watching, the lingering, the way the touching feels like fire. Maybe it’s just all in your head, but the possibility of it not being is what eats away at you.

Either way, it’s growing obvious that something has changed, becoming harder to ignore. When and what is the question that bugs you as you start to pick at your food, trying your best to be engaged in the conversation before you and not the sight of Jaafar teasing Jermajesty just down the table. 

Does he sense it, too?

Are you prepared to address what it is?

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

Time seemed to be flying by at lunch, and everyone was full and happy. Jermajesty still sat with his brother and Dad, listening idly as the pair shared a conversation on week-day plans, where Jaafar was taking his fiancé out for their anniversary, and whatever else conversation topic Jermajesty found too boring to pay attention to.

His mind was elsewhere.

You were currently playing rock paper scissors with his baby cousins, the game seeming fairly intense with grumbles of protests and accusing fingers. You would throw your head back in laughter, eyes closed and sun glowing down on you. It made his heart flutter, the manifestation of happiness written all over your body. He loved this look. It was you completely being yourself, relaxed with all signs of nerves or uneasiness just melted away.

"You've been real quiet today," Jermajesty's dad abruptly interrupts his daydreaming, his and Jaafar's conversation obviously over.

Jermjaesty looks back at the pair, a mischievous smirk on his brother's face. "No, I'm not," he defensively says, shrugging his shoulders.

"You are. Usually, you two are too loud bickering with one another," his dad responds, nodding his head in the direction of you. Jermajesty's eyes instinctively follow to steal another look before glancing away quickly.

His brother speaks now. "Can't win over your crush if you're too mean." Jermajesty could fight him right then and there.

"I do not have a crush," he says as his head snaps up at him, disbelief written all over his face as his dad stifles a laugh. Unbelievable.

"You absolutely do."

"Do not."

 "So you're just staring at the air, then?" his brother argues.

"I'm not staring, just looking. There's a difference."

Jaafar holds his chest as he laughs loudly, surrounding eyes looking to see. "Oh? Enlighten us then," he says once he catches his breath, crossing his arms.

"I just..." his voice trails off, pausing as he realizes he has absolutely no explanation for what's been going on all day. But he knows that if his brother is clocking it immediately, it is bound that the rest of the family will catch on soon. He wasn't sure how he would feel if the rest of the family was in on some truth before the two of them were first. "I don't know," he finally responds, throwing his head back.

"Mm-hmm," Jaafar hums knowingly. His dad just laughs from being entertained at the exchange.

Jermajesty groans and runs his hands down his face. "You're making stuff up."

Jaafar holds his hands up playfully in surrender and shrugs, "if you say so."

With his head still laid back, Jermajesty looks to his left to risk another glance at you, but, unfortunately for him, you also get the same idea and your eyes meet. Or maybe it isn't an unfortunate thing after all. It's a split second, and Jermajesty breaks away to stare at literally anything else other than you — the floor, the sky, Jaafar's stupid smirking face he so wanted to smack right now for possibly being right but also for definitely being annoying.

"So," he says with a grin that only seems to widen, "that was also just looking?"

Jermajesty throws a napkin at him. "I hate you."

"I know."

"Alright," your dad calls from the patio, clapping his hands, "who's up for some cornhole?"

Jermajesty exhales at the perfectly-timed distraction.

Games were a serious topic in the Jackson family. Everyone was competitive, and trash talk knew no limits. That also meant between you and Jermajesty. The suggestion brings his mind back to much younger years, the bickering and pushing and pointing that took place, arguments commonly centered over games. Including cornhole.

A chorus of raised voices almost answer him immediately, teams already forming and people claiming first dibs on which round. The trash talk already seems to be taking off.

"Me!"

"We're taking y'all down."

"You wish."

As everyone spills into the backyard from inside, and others gather around the boards, your dad glances at you. "Hey, go grab some extra lawn chairs from the garage. Some old folks need places to sit," he jokes, motioning at Jermajesty's dad.

"I am not old," his dad jokes back.

"Keep telling yourself that." A laugh ripples through the yard.

As you comply instantly and start to stand up, Jermajesty's dad nudges him. "Give her a hand."

"Got it."

Jermajesty jumps up, hands in pockets, and falls into step right next to you.

"You know," you say, not looking up at him just yet, "pretty sure they only asked you because you're basically a moving machine."

"Jealous," he asks smugly.

You snort. Cute. "Definitely not."

"Liar," he sing-songs.

You bump shoulders with him, a soft laugh leaving his lips.

Inside the garage is a stark difference from the backyard, dim lighting compared to the warming sun. He can't remember the last time someone actually cared to clean the garage out, as they don't really use it for cars. Old papers, boxes full of holiday decorations, dust. And the pile of lawn chairs stacked up against the wall, where they've always been, towering towards the garage ceiling.

"I'll grab these, and you just get the ones on bottom," you say, hurrying over to the nearest stack, dividing it between you two.

"So bossy," Jermajesty teases, following your lead.

"You definitely were just gonna carry the whole stack."

"It was a part of my system."

"Like you have one," you joke back.

You both reach for the stack at the same time, and the top starts to lean dangerously over.

"Oh—"

Before he knows it, the chairs shift forward, wobbling towards you as you lose your balance, bracing for impact. Without thinking, Jermajesty catches them, his free hand landing around your waist to steady you.

The garage falls quiet, the only sound being the muffled music heard from the yard and laughter.

And as quick as the chairs shift, everyone freezes. No one moves. You're looking right up at him. He's looking right down at you, nowhere to turn to. Jermajesty's suddenly very aware his hand is still around your waist, the feeling of cloth against his warm palm. You're aware you're still looking, hands instinctively wrapped around his arms out of fear.

No one is moving.

He should move.

He knows that.

Yet he hesitates.

Maybe it's just a second

Or two.

But it's enough time for him to notice a string of hair has come loose from your clip, fallen over your forehead as you lean back. He has to stop the urge to tuck it behind your ear. Enough time to register how close you two are, practically feeling your breath tickle his skin.

Someone should move, but neither knows why the other hasn't.

"Are ya'll building the chairs, or what?" a cousin yells at you two.

You both jump apart, clearing your throat awkwardly.

"Coming!" you yell out, the response a little too quick, voice too high.

You go back to the chairs, Jermajesty brushing himself off and suddenly as fascinated with the chairs as you are.

"Sorry."

"No, you're good."

Too polite.

So awkward.

"I...got these," he finally says.

"Right," you nod without meeting his eyes, settling on a smaller stack next to you. You grab them and head out the garage.

The walk back is strangely quiet, and Jermajesty feels like he should be saying something, but he has no idea why and even what. Usually, you two would be racing back or bickering about who carried more chairs, showing off. Now, it was buzzing in silence.

"You good?" he asks after a moment.

"Yeah, you?"

"Same. You sure?"

"Mhm."

"Okay..."

When you two finally make it back to the yard, you set your chairs down first.

"Thanks" you say softly.

Jermajesty blinks. "Yeah, no prob."

You two start setting the chairs up for everyone, and the awkwardness still hasn't seemed to melt away. When you were acting normal, you two would be challenging one another to see who could get done the quickest or arguing about who sets them up the best, Jermajesty undoubtedly saying it’s him. Now, it was nothing and stiff side-talk.

"You got those?"

"Yep."

"Need help?"

"No, thanks."

And much to Jermajesty's dismay, and probably a lot to Jaafar's joy, other family members were picking up on the overly politeness and edge of awkwardness and avoidance.

An aunt narrows her eyes at you two. "Why are you two talking like that?"

Both of your heads shoot up.

"...Like what?" Jermajesty is the first to speak, hesitation peaking through.

"All polite and posh!" a cousin mocks, throwing up a dramatic hand and doing a little spin to drive home the point.

"Shut up," Jermajesty spits.

He glances at you. You're already looking at him. It's just for a second, and you clear your throat.

"Since when do you thank Jermajesty like that?"

"And he has never said no problem to me!"

"I missed something."

The void of questions and taunting become relentless, and Jermajesty feels like he might die of embarrassment from the accusations.

"Something happened. You guys are being weird."

"Can we just put the chairs up?" you practically shout out, frustration leaking through you. From what, though, Jermajesty questioned. Were you embarrassed? Of the teasing or of him? He felt silly.

Everyone exchanges looks.

"Mhm."

Before anyone else can add to the fire or start up another side-conversation, your dad, like the hero he is, swoops down and saves you once more.

"Kid, you're with me. Jer, you're with your dad."

Jermajesty watches as you walk in front of him, smirking as you make your way to the opposite board of your dad.

"Hope you're ready to lose," you say, jokingly glaring at Jermajesty as he stands on the other end of the board, in front of his father.

Jermajesty doesn't miss a beat. "As if. You maybe have one lucky throw at most, and I'm being generous."

"Boy, please."

"There she is," he pokes fun.

He can finally feel himself relax, easily falling into a routine again. It's obvious you have as well, the way your shoulders relax, you're joking again, a silly smirk still on your lips as you wet them. The moment of the garage feels like forever ago. But the hesitation and staring tugs at his heart, begging to be acknowledged. Explored. Faced.

But not yet.

The trash-talk throughout the game was relentless.

"That shouldn't count!"

"It landed on the board! Open your eyes."

"It literally bounced."

"You're blind."

For the next twenty minutes, things were normal again. You're bickering, arguing over points, and even celebrating one another on good shots, reluctance from Jermajesty. And again, it almost makes what happened in the garage feel like it never did.

Almost.

After the game ends, some family members walk off for more food and drinks, others loitering around, watching and joking with one another.

You join Jermajesty on the side of the game, sighing exaggeratingly. "How does it feel?"

"You would've lost without your dad," he argues, sending you a damning smirk.

"I carried our team, actually," you say, flipping your hair off your shoulders and flexing your arm tauntingly.

"In your actual dreams," he counters.

He nudges his shoulder against yours, earning an eye roll, and then, out of habit or something entirely different (maybe urge), Jermajesty lifts his hand to ruffle your hair. His fingers brush the top of your head, something he has done a thousand times in childhood, but instead of a quick ruffle, his fingers stop halfway through. 

Your smile falters. You freeze, he freezes. You're looking at one another again, hand lingering. It's when he realizes, again, just how close you two have moved together.

For one strange, suspended moment, it's all he notices. Notices how he can smell your shampoo and your citrus, flowery perfume. Notices the specks of color in your eyes. Notices the heartbeat climbing into his throat. Notices the way you're looking at him — like seeing him in an entirely new light. Notices how, if either of you leaned forward—

He pulls his hand back like he was burned.

"Ha, sorry. Stupid habit."

"You're good," you say, patting down your hair and suddenly becoming very fascinated with the grass.

He rubs the back of his neck. What was he doing?

"Nice throw back there."

"Ha, thanks..."

He rocks on his heels as you twiddle with your thumbs.

"Jer, are you coming?" his dad calls out, slicing straight through whatever has settled between you two.

"Yeah," he answers back as he forces his throat to sound normal, not shaking to give himself away.

When he glances back at you, you're already looking, and he realizes, for the first time in his life, being around you doesn't feel effortless anymore. For the entire time he has known you, everything came at no challenge. He was always himself, but now, it felt like he was hyper-analyzing everything and moving in ways that felt out of his control. He has known you for forever, but it's like he's seeing you for the first time. He couldn't decide if it's the best thing that's ever happened to him —

Or the worst.

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

The rest of the day had fallen into that familiar rhythm you were so accustomed to, the evening finally winding down. Some family members were inside playing board games and soaking in the a/c, some still outside, including Jermjaesty's dad. Jaafar, amongst others, had headed home moments ago, some saying their goodbyes at the door.

You were sitting on the porch swing, a cold ice tea in hand, and swinging gently as your feet rhythmically padded over loose rocks over and over. You rested your arm on the porch arm and laid your head against the back, enjoying the low energy. Today had been perfect, and you couldn't have asked for a warmer welcome.

Contrasting from falling back into familiar surroundings, though, your arrival also brought a new sensation — the way you felt towards Jermajesty. You knew you couldn't avoid it forever, as the sensation just seemed to keep growing and burrowing deeper inside your being. It was there, permanent, and demanding to be acknowledged.

But you weren't sure just yet. Maybe you should sit with it for a little longer. Maybe it wasn't even there at all. Was he sensing it, too?

He was currently out in the yard playing catch with his baby brother, and the sight was impossibly enduring, the little boy's giggles echoing throughout the trees as Jermajesty goofy-like throws the ball again. Your eyes seem to wander as you watch the small streak of sweat shine down his neck, his shirt clinging to him just right, his large hands handling the toy with ease. God, what were you doing?

You shake your head and sip your tea to pull yourself out of this endless spiral, the ice shaking as the refreshing liquid tips closer to the edge of the glass.

You seem to daze off, watching the clouds drift and the soft breeze whisper through your hair and cool your skin. So much so that you don't notice the slight jingle of the swing's chains and the swaying as someone sits down beside you, falling into an easy unison of your swinging feet.

"He's such a cheater," Jermajesty says, referring to his brother.

His voice is much quieter now, almost at a hush. It feels oddly vulnerable, as if it's a secret just between you two. You have to stop the strong urge to lean in closer.

"He's adorable, so let it slide," you say, sending a passive handwave and smiling at him.

"Sure, sure," he jokes, rolling his eyes and nudging your shoulder with his. It makes you realize you've gotten close, shoulders bumping as you swing and shoes softly knocking together with each push. Except this time, no one acknowledges it.

"College treating you good?" Jermajesty randomly asks.

You reflect on your year. It wasn't like some Disney movie, where everyone was living in some magical land and all happy and go-lucky. You did have struggles, and downs, and bumps in the road (especially your first finals week, geez), but there is something special and unexplainable about college that differs from home.

"Yeah, I had a good year," you settle on saying — simple but enough.

"You like it there?" he asks.

It catches you off card, taken aback. You sit up, shoulders straightening as your grip on your tea tightens. Did you like it? Sure. But was it home? Eh.

"Sometimes."

This answer isn't what Jermajesty expects, hince the confused look on his face, and as before, it causes him to spiral into an internal void of questions and wonders. He wants to know everything but doesn't want to pry. But also he loves listening to you talk, so he would be sat. He didn't want you to leave a detail out, but how would he go about asking that?

"What do you mean?"

The conversation, still hushed and vulnerable, was going down roads you hadn't expected. But maybe this was your opportunity. Maybe it was the Universe answering your silent pleads of help and signs. Before, you had no idea how to address the sensation. But this was it. You knew it, feeling it.

"I love college, the campus is nice, I have great friends, but, like, it's not home home, you know? There's things I didn't realize I would miss. My bedroom. My house. My neighborhood. The familiar routines, faces, and just stuff in general," your heart was banging against your ribcage as you continue, swallowing,"...I also missed, you know, you." You're practically whispering now.

Jermajesty, listening intently, jolts his head up, shock written all over his face. The look makes your heart drop, but soon, without registering it completely, it evolves into a look of revelation. Then, it takes the form of relief.

He stares for a beat, but not because he doesn't know what to say. But because he was finally hearing something he had no idea he was waiting on.

"Sorry, forget I said that," you try to insist.

"What? No—"

"It's nothing."

"I think it's why I've been acting like an actual idiot today."

 It was your turn to stare.

He rubs the back of his neck. "I missed you, too. Like, a lot." There's hesitation, almost like he's coming to terms with the truth as he's speaking it.

"And I guess since we're being so honest right now, it would be a good time to say that it felt more than just missing a friend. I've been trying to figure out what's been wrong with me all day, and I guess it's because I was probably missing you more than I should've."

You share a quiet moment of acknowledgment, staring at one another in complete clarity for the first time today. It's like the fogged window has been wiped clean, and you can finally see one another for what you are, no more blur to hide feelings behind.

"I couldn't agree more."

You sit there now, silent. But it isn't awkward, not like before. It's comforting almost. The space between you two isn't just a void or hanging there. No one bothers pulling apart.

"Hey, hun. I'm pretty tired, so I'm gonna head out soon. I completely forgot about your car, though," your dad starts talking, his voice growing closer as he makes his way back outside.

His eyes land on you two, sitting as close as possible, it seems, feet threatening to intertwine, and a knowing smirk appears on his lips. He says nothing about it.

"It's no worries," you reassure.

"You know what, you just stay here and I can go load some into my truck. That way, it's less we have to do once you come home," he says, patting the air in front of him in assurance to you to stay.

"Let me help," you say, but he immediately shoots the idea down. You reluctantly sit back down.

"Hey, can you come here real quick, bud," Jermajesty's dad calls to your dad from the yard.

"Yep," he says. A look of conflict rises on his face and you know he's stuck on what to do, feeling short on time.

Jermajesty must notice it too, and speaks up. "I can do it."

"Kid, no, you're okay," your dad insists.

"It's no problem," Jermajesty counters.

Your dad, not one to argue, gives in. "You're the best," he says, running off to see what Jermajesty's dad needed to speak about, probably some bleak schedule conversation.

"I can make fun of your parking, anyway," Jermajesty teases, earning a bump in the arm from you and a huff of annoyance.

"I have improved greatly within a year!" you protest.

"I'll be the judge of that," he says, standing up from the swing and waiting for you to lead your way towards your car.

You two walk comfortably through the house, the simmering awkwardness from the day feeling completely forgotten after your moment of truth.

You make it to your car, at the trunk now as the locks beep at the click of the button. The trunk slowly rises open, and Jermajesty's face casts over with a look of surprise.

You two are alone again. Just you, boxes, suitcases, and silence.

He lifts something heavy. "You backed your entire dorm into this small thing?"

"Sorry, we don't all have amazing jeeps," you joke, placing smaller boxes into your dad's truck bed.

"No need, can't all be amazing."

"You are so relentless."

He laughs.

You laugh.

And there's a moment where you two are just standing on opposite sides of the trunk, looking at one another completely and properly now.

Not long enough to be awkward but long enough to notice and yet still not be entirely sure what to do about it.

You two are still the same people, the difference being that suddenly you're aware of things you never paid attention to before.

The work went quickly, conversation easy now in a way it hadn't been all afternoon. No awkward pauses. No second-guessing. Just the two of you, slipping into something new that somehow still felt familiar.

This summer was going to be interesting.

a/n: happy 4th in a lana del ray national anthem kind of way

[multixxfandom]

if I were to, perchance, post a jermajesty fic over 4k words, would that be doing too much

[hisprettyyoungthing]

we miss you angelface

[multixxfandom]

staying the fuuuuckkk off TikTok tmr for my well-being

(its gone be a long day, love ya))

[multixxfandom]

okay and jermajesty fic when likeee??

eeekkk just u wait, my queue is ready 😩😼

[onlygirlleftonearth]

[multixxfandom]

CRUSH! Jaafar Headcanon

pairing: Jaafar Jackson x reader warning: n/a genre: romance word count: 682 proofread: no synopsis: jaafar has a secret crush on you a/n: this gif is the death of me

Crush! Jaafar: Has had a mental battle for a while now about his feelings towards you, refusing to be honest with himself. He just thought it was completely normal that his "best friend" was his favorite person, his favorite person to text, to be around, to tell all his good news to...to be the first person he thinks of when waking up… and the last when going to sleep.

Crush! Jaafar: Whenever you two were in a group setting, you were always the first person he would look for, and always who he would most-naturally gravitate toward. Never leaving your side, even in group photos, always seeming to lean in just a little closer each time. It wasn't even something he would do purposefully or think about.

Crush! Jaafar: The boy starts remembers everything. Your favorite snack, favorite color, that random song you only mentioned months ago in a passing conversation.

Crush! Jaafar: When confronted by others or asked if you are dating, he tries not to become bashful or flushed, ignores it horribly, and changes the subject. He thinks he's not obvious.

Crush! Jaafar: He becomes so protective. It's not, like, overbearing or suffocating, but he never lets you forget to text him you made it home safe. Or how much he hates that guy you're talking to

"Why do you care so much?"

"I don't!"

Crush! Jaafar: His friends start to put the pieces together, eyeing you two when you're all hanging out, almost egging him on. They pass smirks and knowing looks when you're around, driving Jaafar crazy in annoyance.

"Cut it out. We're just friends." "Sure thing, Jaafar."

Crush! Jaafar: Swears up and down he doesn't have a favorite person, but then you two end up hanging out exclusively for seemingly hours, him insisting on not inviting anyone else.

Crush! Jaafar: The boy loves when he receives compliments from you, and will replay your sweet words on a loop endlessly in his mind for the rest of the day. He'll even go out of his way sometimes to fish for more, trying to understand what you like.

Crush! Jaafar: Starts to find excuses to hang out with you more than usual.

"Wanna go grocery shopping with me?"

"I need a second opinion."

"Are you busy?"

Crush! Jaafar: Physical affection or touching of any kind becomes awkward, growing to become a whole new challenge on its own, once Jaafar accepts his feelings towards you because suddenly he's now hyperaware of every touch: the hugs, shoulder bumps, slight hand grazes. It drives him crazy and makes his skin feel like it's on fire. He aches for more.

Crush! Jaafar: Always pays extra attention to you, immediately picking up on changes. New hair, new clothes, trying something out of your comfort zone. Even if no one else notices, Jaafar does.

Crush! Jaafar: Is lowkey a jealous type, so not nonchalant. Whenever he sees some guy flirting with you, he looks calm and unbothered, but he's fighting the biggest internal battle.

Crush! Jaafar: Late-night conversations become his solitude with you, his favorite pass-time. They're always so exclusive, isolated, and vulnerable. So much so, he has almost confessed his feelings a dozen times during those conversations, but it never feels quite right. He can't seem to find the right words when looking at you.

Crush! Jaafar: Has the biggest grin now whenever your name pops up on his phone. His family is picking up on things, too. The wallpaper of you two doesn't help his case any.

Crush! Jaafar: The moment that solidifies his feelings and causes him to realize he has completely fallen in love with you is when his first thought after an accomplishment isn't "I can't wait to celebrate," but is, "I can't wait to tell them." He was so cooked.

Crush! Jaafar: Being who he is, Jaafar's eventual confession isn't some grand scheme, but it's simple, cute, and for the two of you.

"You know, I think I've liked you for a while. I guess I'm hoping I haven't been too obvious."

"What? I definitely had no idea."

[multixxfandom]

what is ur posting schedule?? I need moreee

hiii!! this is so sweet firstly, tytyty. I don't rly have a set schedule per se, but I do try to have At LEAST two full-length fics out per week, but im such a mood writer and perfectionist so u never know lol

[mizuthe-cat]

don’t ask chatgpt I can lie to you for free

[multixxfandom]

and do I start writing about jermajesty......

[multixxfandom]

Lovesick Drunk

pairing: Jaafar Jackson x fem!reader (both celebrities) warning: fluff + suggestive (MDNI)  genre: fluff / romance  word count: 2,442 proofread: nope requests: open taglist: @bonni-98 (join here) synopsis: after coming back from a night out, you decide to go live to do a casual catch-up with your fans. things get interrupted with a drunk, clingy Jaafar wandering in the background, though.  a/n: this damn pic of him specifically, muh gawd 

⊱ ۫ ׅ ✧ ✎﹏﹏𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐇 𝐘𝐎𝐔 had been home for, maybe, 20 minutes, after being out partying with some friends for surely over 3 hours, you weren’t quite ready for bed just yet. You and Jaafar had exited from the uber, and helped one another make it safely inside, Jaafar hugging your hips like his life depended on it.

You were now in your dimly lit bedroom, sitting at your vanity that is placed in front of your bed, while Jaafar found refuge in the restroom. Still in your going-out clothes, you mindlessly scrolled on your phone, bored, but again, not yet ready for sleep. Then an idea popped into your head: It had been a while since you had interacted on live with your fanbase. You posted an Instagram story earlier of you and Jaafar, and your phone was buzzing for a while after, so you knew they were interested. Scrolling back to the top, you adjust yourself, wrapping a blanket around you as you click the Go Live button.

You run your fingers through your hair, flattening any kinks as the live begins, your eyes steadily watching the view count go up.

"HI, guys! I feel like I've been negligent lately, so I just wanted hop on live to check in with you all," you softly speak, smiling as the comments start to roll in.

girl where have u been  too busy partying with ur bf I seeeeeee we miss you

You laugh at the reprimanding comments, realizing how long it truly has been since you've made a post.

"Okay, but I was at the Gala not even a month ago, you guys," you tease.

doesn't count  we want more stuff from you what's in the works where did ya'll go tn

You intentionally ignore the comments in regards to your upcoming projects and things you have in the works.

'Me and J just spent some time with some friends. It feels like forever since I've seen some of them," you say, already reminiscing on the night spent out.

You were looking forward to this Saturday since the plans were made on Monday, almost acting as an incentive for getting through the week. They were friends you had known since the beginning of your career. You all blossomed in the industry together, so no matter how long it had been, everything seemed to always fall right back into place.

But you knew that you had a busy schedule starting Monday, so not wanting to spend your Sunday afternoon hungover, you decided not to drink too much. Jaafar, on the other hand, did not hold himself back. When drunk, he was the type of person who was whiny, clinging, and sleepy. In your mind, there were worse things a drunk could be.

"Yeah, Jaafar is somewhere in the house," you laugh as you reply to comments asking about your boyfriend.

"Anyway, I just wanted to come on and check in on you guys, so maybe we should do, like, a little Q/A?" you ask, smiling in agreement as comments continue to cloud your screen, floating by so quickly, you can barely keep up with the questions.

The next few minutes are spent just talking, answering a wide range of questions, and plugging back in with your fanbase. You're in the middle of answering a question about your skin routine when there is a sudden door shutting in the distance behind you. Ignoring it, you continue.

"And then I like to use a moisturizer," you carry on as the noise of feet padding softly against your wooden floor is heard from the hallway outside the door, framed to the left of you. The noise grows closer.

Then, there he is. Broad figure, curls wild with his dark brown eyes droopy from his night out. Shirtless he stood, toned stomach out, brown skin soft and now wearing just grey sweatpants, as he makes his way to the bed. You eye him in your camera, trying your best to shift the screen before anyone notices.

But your fans notice everything.

oh hello jaafar  guest appearance  boi looks like he had a time holy moly  it's like seeing the stripped pants all over again

The comments don't stop as you try to stifle a laugh, moving your chair over to hide Jaafar as best as you can once he resides onto the bed, trying to give him some privacy.

"Sorry guys, anyways, let me remember which step I was on," you pick back up. Looking upward, you try your best to think about your skin routine and definitely not how yummy Jaafar looks right now.

He isn't much help at that, though.

"Babe, I was calling for you, I almost fell in the bathroom," he whines, a cute pout sitting on his lips as he messily walks over to you, the alcohol still obviously clouding his mind. "Where was my baby?" he mumbles into your hair as he comes behind you and wraps his strong arms around your waist. He just stands there, his breath tickling your neck as he burrows his face into the crook.

"I'm on live right now, J, sorry," you laugh, rolling your eyes at his dramatics.

his babyyyyy wuhhhh  this is so cute im gonna vomit  we all now what kind of drunk he is bless it

The comments cause you to giggle, shaking Jaafar slightly as you laugh.

"Don't laugh at me, it was serious," he grumbles into your hair again.

"The viewers are laughing at you," you joke, passing the blame along. You lean into him and pat his hair as he sighs deeply. 

"Meanies," he whispers. 

"You should go lay down, I'll get off soon," you suggest, trying your best to untangle his hands from your waist, but they only seem to tighten their grip, causing you to jolt at the closeness, your side brushing into Jaafar's bare chest.

"You're so warm and comfy, though," Jaafar says, hugging you closer, if that was even possible. "And you smell so good." 

that boy is so whipped  can't wait to see the edits in the am  need the fic rn

"He is so stubborn guys, I swear," you joke with your chat, smiling as the comments roll in and tease along with you.

Jaafar pulls apart and looks at you with a shocked face. He crosses his arms in an offended way, ready to defend himself.

"I am not stubborn, girl," he starts, jaw ajar at your words.

"Don't even lie, J. You so are," you continue teasing. You shift the camera so the viewers can see the way the grown man is acting, making an "are you guys seeing this" face at the camera.

dramatic too is he five or almost 30 I can't remember  boi go to bed why is no one questioning how he almost fell  shirt where?

"Don't act like you aren't either," he continues, pointing a playfully accusing finger at you. A smirk tugs at his lips, eyes shining with a mischievous glow, and you know something is coming. "So stubborn when you're begging me to-" 

You pale with shock, body jumping as you begin shushing him. "Shut up! I am on live right now, Jaafar." You push him away as he just laughs at the chaos he started.

Your face is in full shock as your eyes slowly look back at your chat.

HELLOOOO begging?!?!?!  JAAFAR JACKSON WTF oml he's evil girl I'd beg too

"Guys, I am so sorry. Please excuse my clearly inebriated boyfriend." You apologize and wave a dismissing hand behind you as Jaafar walks away, heading towards the bed. Your skin feels warm now, and the low, deep chuckle that escapes Jaafar's lips settles deep in your chest.

On the screen of your phone, you can see Jaafar flop himself head-first onto your bed, immediately laying on his side as he grabs a pillow to cuddle with, mumbling something under his breath about how "it could be you" as you try your best to continue your live.

show stealer  never wanter to be a pillow so bad in my life rn  bi-panic anyone??? I dont even remember what we were on about

"Me neither," you respond, scrolling back up a few on the live comments to regain your train of thought.

There's shuffling behind you, and you make a defeated huff as you wait in anticipation for what his next antic is gonna be. He keeps wandering around in the background, switching from mindlessly walking around the room, being nosey, to the bed, distracting both you and your chat.

"You're the prettiest girl in the world, you know?" Jaafar declares, now flopping over to lay on his back and look up at you.

"Thank you, J," you say, blushing slightly and praying the camera isn't able to pick it up.

"I feel so lucky everyday I get to see you and be with you and hold you and touch you," he carries on, dramatic and slurring his words as he counts off the items on his fingers, taking this conversation very seriously.

he is so whipped oml  america's sweetheart best bf ever everyone  we love jaafar

"My fans are loving this," you say aloud, looking back at Jaafar, whose soft eyes stare into yours, glistening with admiration.

Jaafar is quiet for a moment, you assuming he's in his own little world or has dozed off, but after checking the comments, you're surprised.

girl  mama there a girl behind you are we gonna tell her he's like a bad ahh kid it's clearly past someone's bedtime

Looking behind you on the camera, Jaafar is now sitting up and blowing kisses to your camera.

"You cannot be serious," you laugh, swatting a hand at him.

"Don't worry, babe, I'll save the real thing for my sweet girl," he says, in a way he must think is flirtatious, and winks at you, failing.

"Oh my, gosh, Jaafar, enough," you tease, turning back around once he lays back down. You try again at reengaging yourself with your livestream, it only having been thirty or so minutes.

"I do have some exciting stuff coming up for you, guys," you start again, addressing some comments still inquiring about projects.

You carry on as you try ignoring the bed squeaks behind you and the soft padding of feet on the floor.

A gentle hand lands on your back and soft lips leave a kiss on your forehead.

"I am so bored, baby. We should have stayed longer," Jaafar gently speaks, rubbing up and down your back as his full body is now in frame, a cute smile on his face.

"If we stayed longer, you would have fallen out onto the street," you joke, poking his side as you look up at him.

"Yeah, but that would be so funny," he responds. "I can handle my drinks well, by the way." He refers his last comment to the chat.

"I'm so tired," he says now, bumping your hip with his as he tries sitting beside you, in the very small chair that is obviously not meant for two grown adults.

"You are so annoying, we are not gonna both fit," you argue, pushing back as Jaafar uncomfortably sits down.

"I just want to be with you," he whines, the pout returning that you have grown very familiar with. He tries sharing the blanket, too, squeezing himself under unsuccessfully.

again, a bad ahh kid  I never thought we would see this side of him can't stop laughing at the image of jaafar drunk in the street laid out

Suddenly, the blanket that hugs your body is being tugged at, and before you know it, Jaafar has now stolen it and is heading back to the bed.

"Jaafar!"

"If I can't sit beside you, I want to, at least, cuddle with something that smells like you," he counters, flopping onto the bed once again with a smirk.

"Guys, he is going to be so embarrassed in the morning," you laugh, already imagining the chaos that is to unfold once the morning sun shines.

plz do a breakfast live stream we need to see this im already clipping for edits

You continue discussing topics with your fans for a view moments, happily revealing in the silence that Jaafar has allowed. You can hear his soft breathing and quiet movements in the background as you respond to different comments.

"Please come to bed," Jaafar pouts, lifting his head up to display only a bedhead of curls and dark, chocolatey doe-eyes.

"In a minute," you say, stretching slightly as you consider ending the live.

He throws himself back in frustration at your answer. "You were supposed to say, of course." 

You laugh and ignore him, rolling your eyes once more at his dramatics. "Greatest actor, people."

"I'm so tired," he says again.

"Then, go to sleep. I'll go to the living room, so you can turn the lights out," you respond.

He lifts up again onto his elbows as his eyes track you, taking your figure in.

"No, don't, I want you here," he says, patting the spot beside him. 

boy needs sleep  hes so cute  ughhhhhhhhh

"I'm not super tired, though, J," you answer honestly, looking back towards him.

That same damning smirk and mischievous glisten returns in his eyes, and you're too late at preventing his non-filtered words.

"I know something that can make you tired." 

You flip your head back around towards the camera, that same burn returning in your face as your heart does flips, undistinguishable from embarrassment to shock.

what happened to PR training  where's the edits  GOOD GODH JAAFARRR this was not in the movies  what was in that boy's drink

"Jaafar!" as all you can manage to say as your eyes frantically scan your comments, Jaafar just laughing in the background and rolling onto his side, clearly too tired to do anything of such sorts but not tired enough to stop teasing you. You throw a beauty blender at him.

"Okay guys, I'm gonna go to sleep, I will see you all later!" you speak, voice shaking with utter disbelief.

we know u aint going to bed  suuuuureeeeee see u 9 months later  he's so lovesick

You quickly end the live, dropping your phone onto your vanity as you stand up and cross the room.

"The morning is going to be so embarrassing," you say, playfully hitting Jaafar's chest as you sit beside him, his hands immediately going to your waist.

"Let's just worry about that later," he says, eyes closed, burrowing his head into your thigh.

"You are so dead tomorrow."

"You can be, too."

"Jaafar!"

a/n: got carried away

[multixxfandom]

BFF! Jaafar Headcanon

pairing: Jaafar Jackson x fem!reader warning: n/a genre: romance word count: 218 proofread: sorta requests: open synopsis just cute friendship snippets with maybeee a hint of sum else a/n: Jaafar with grown-out hair is everything to me

BFF! Jaafar: who will always randomly buy things he sees, simply because it reminds him of you

BFF! Jaafar: no shame in sending 1 am texts for food runs. "Taco Bell? Please say yes."

BFF! Jaafar: being practically attached at the hip, people always bat a questionable look at you two. He's always around, and you two are always together.

BFF! Jaafar: movie nights constantly. Your place? His? It never mattered.

BFF! Jaafar: loves driving around the city with you and blasting loud music in the car, dueting with each other

BFF! Jaafar: has known you for ages, so nothing ever feels awkward. Tells one another any and everything

BFF! Jaafar: gets caught staring. Often. "What? Best friends stare like this all the time."

BFF! Jaafar: practices braiding your hair, especially when you guys are just chilling. Sometimes, it feels very domesticated, though.

BFF! Jaafar: will randomly FaceTime you and won't stop till you accept.

BFF! Jaafar: loves staying up crazy hours into the night and talking about the most unusual things. says he just likes hearing you ramble.

BFF! Jaafar: In group photos, he seems to always grab your hand and doesn't think anything of it; to him, touching isn't anything out of the ordinary. to you, the way he acts hints at something under the surface.

a/n: can u tell I've never written headcanons before ; something short while I am working on something im excited forrrrr hehe

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[multixxfandom]

writing fanfic at my girly-office job, fangirling rly was never a phase

[multixxfandom]

My Girl

pairing: Jaafar Jackson x fem!reader (use of Y/N) warning: N/A genre: secret lovers word count: 1,402 proofread: nope requests: open synopsis: you and jaafar have kept your relationship hidden and fairly private with his new rise into stardom, but one slip up reveals everything

⊱ ۫ ׅ ✧ ✎﹏﹏𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐖𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐅𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐃 when Jaafar offered you a spot to join him on his latest press tour, not like he gave much of a choice any way. He practically begged you, everything but getting on his knees. To him, you were his comfort person, the firm, solid being that he looked towards whenever he felt shy or nervous or in need of being grounded and needed reassurance. His hand easily finding yours in moments of uncertainty, eyes scanning for comfort, body staying close for familiarity.

So you knew you would never say no to him. However, in your mind, you envisioned press tours as being more glamorous than what reality had laid out before you. In truth, it was days upon days filled with interviews and appearances. And today was no different.

You two were actually at Jaafar's third interview of the day, across the city from the second. It was a long, exhausting day to say the least, but any where with Jaafar couldn't be that dreadful to you.

You two were like two peas in a pod, inseparable. However, once Jaafar seemingly became spotlighted overnight, the privacy of your relationship also became a glowing question and concern for you. Thus, you mutually agreed to keep things under wraps.

it wasn't like Jaafar was hiding you away or was ashamed. God, that couldn't be further from the truth. The boy was wrapped around your finger. It's just people knew who you were, just not what you were, to Jaafar, or your relationship to him, per se.

So here you sat, in a chair just off set of where Jaafar sat on a brown, cushioned couch, face lit up from the stage lights and smile brightly gleaming in front of the camera. He was patiently waiting for the interviewer to start, yet again, another seemingly-interrogating interview.

This interview, however, was different compared to the two previous ones. It was being live-streamed on their YouTube channel, and with a quick look on your phone, there was easily millions of viewers tuning in, just as you are.

"Quiet everyone," someone, whom you presume to be a producer of some sort, shouts to signal the beginning of the interview.

You knew how nervous Jaafar was at the beginning, having not yet melted away the uneasiness. Looking up from your phone, his eyes already are on you, his face softening once you two make contact.

"You got this," you mouth, shooting up a reassuring thumbs-up, Jaafar smiling gently and nodding in response.

What would that boy do without you?

You notice how quiet the environment is around you so suddenly, so you focus your attention onto the made-up set before you. The interviewer does their usual introduction to their channel, thanking the viewers and going through the timeline of events to follow. Then, they introduce their guest, Jaafar.

It's like magic watching how he immediately zones in and all the nerves visibly melt away. He's such a natural, it boggles your mind how he gets so shy at sudden moments or needs the amount of assurance and encouragement from you that he gets. Or maybe he just likes it because it's from you. Either way, Jaafar was right where he needed to be and was thriving.

"Thanks so much for joining us today, Jaafar," the interviewer urges.

"Thanks so much for having me."

The interview moves smoothly with a pretty basic range of questions, but you could tell Jaafar was enjoying himself and was comfortable. The questions ranged from movie insights, favorite songs, to even the process of becoming his character.

Now, though, you could tell the interview seemed to be coming to an end, after about nearly an hour or two. Or so you think.

Everything appeared to be wrapping up seamlessly, but the interviewer suddenly asks what Jaafar is most excited to do first thing once filming wraps up.

"What's something you're really looking forward to once filming concludes?"

Without even thinking, especially with feeling so comfortable, Jaafar answers, "Probably taking my girl out-"

Jaafar freezes, a shocked smile stuck on his lips for a split second before faltering, realization settling in.

Both of your heads shoot up and eyes widen, your jaw practically needing to be lifted up off the floor.

You try not to die from embarrassment as the crew start smiling and sharing whispers.

Jaafar's face immediately burns with a rosy color as he becomes speechless.

Silence.

The interviewer immediately perks up and you can tell the interview is far from over.

"Oh?" they playfully check their papers and questions. "Your girl?"

Jaafar quickly readjusts himself from the spill and scrambles for an answer. You have to cover your mouth to stop your giggling from being picked up by the huge, all-hearing boom mic that looms over the set. His eyes dart to you and the look alone told you, you were dead.

"Um, looking forward to a good dinner," he deadpans, so not playing it off. He coughs awkwardly and squirms in his seat.

The rest of the interview is Jaafar unsuccessfully trying to recover while the interviewer keeps sneaking in questions like, "So what does your girlfriend think about that?" and "Will she be joining you?"

Once the interview officially ends, and the blowing-up live stream ends, flowing with questions and rumors, Jaafar jumps from the hot seat and finds you, face hot with blush.

"You should've saved me up there," he dramatically whines, pinching your side playfully, a learned sign of endearment.

"What? I should've just jumped right on there?" you joke.

The look on Jaafar's face, as if that's exactly what he wanted, makes you laugh even more.

"I looked so stupid," Jaafar complains once more, covering his face with his hands and burrowing there.

You place your hands on his, gently peeling them away and tangling your fingers together.

"I mean, I thought you looked pretty cute," you shrug. "Cute when you pout, too."

Jaafar's face softens up, rolling his eyes bashfully, and a warm smile replaces his pout. His eyes scan yours and you, once more, can see the anxiety oozing off of him.

"Can't imagine what the live replies were like." "Just as interested as the interviewer, trust," you reassure, recalling the countless comments asking for a reveal, a collab, and teasing Jaafar.

"I can't believe it just slipped out like that, though," you exclaim.

"You know I'm a terrible liar. I really am looking forward to taking you out," Jaafar answers honestly.

"Your girl?"

"You know you're my girl," he earnestly speaks, dropping your hand beside him and swinging hands as you two begin to exit the building to the car. He bumps your shoulder teasingly.

You two walk in comfortable silence after the chaos subdues.

"I really do want to take you out somewhere nice, though, once we're done here," Jaafar breaks, looking down at you lovingly. "I don't care if people know. I'm so proud to be with you."

"I'm gonna hold you to this," you threaten, staring up at him as his face is painted with pure infatuation. "I feel really lucky, you know?"

"I know exactly what you mean," he replies, leaning down to plant a soft kiss on your hair, guiding you outside to the car.

"How many news articles do you think we'll see of us tonight?" you joke.

Jaafar rolls his eyes and a slight pout returns. "Please do not remind me. Can't wait to see the timeline of events laid out for me."

"Imagine we do an instagram live at our dinner," you add, just to get under his skin. "Babe, there would be no dinner." You dramatically thump his chest as you two enter the car, heading back to your hotel for the evening.

Jaafar laughs and takes your hand in his, kissing your forehead. "You know I'm teasing you. Nothing can keep me away from you."

"Even an Instagram live Q/A?'

After a long pause, "I guess not even that."

You fake gasp in shock. "You guess?"

"Babe, can you please just end this conversation on a cute note before I smother you and get canceled?"

You roll your eyes, but Jaafar ignores it and pulls you into him, you resting your head as you stare out the window, already imagining what romantic dinner Jaafar so readily had planned, itching with anticipation.

And knowing Jaafar as well as you did, you would not be disappointed.