The room is dimly lit, the only glow coming from the neon sign in the corner and the city lights spilling through the window. You’re on your hands and knees, your back arched just the way Jack likes, but his eyes keep catching on the ink at the base of your neck. Urban. Bold, black, and permanent.
Jack’s jaw tightens as he grips your hips, pushing deeper, harder, like he can fuck the name right off your skin. He should be used to it by now—you guys been doing this for years. Every time he’s in town, you’re in his bed. Or your bed. Or a hotel, like now. It’s routine. No strings, no questions. Just heat and need. But that damn tattoo always makes his stomach turn. Always makes him wonder if he’s just a placeholder.
His fingers slide up your spine, wrapping loosely around the back of her neck. Not squeezing—just holding. Holding you still. Holding you here. “Tell me it’s over,” he demands, his voice rough, his breath hot against your skin.
You gasp, fingers clutching the sheets, your body tightening around him as he pushes deeper, but you don't answer. Not yet.
His grip tightens just slightly. “Tell me you’re done with him.”
You turn your head, just enough for him to see you smirk. That same teasing, infuriating smirk you always give when you got the power. “Why do you care?” you murmured, voice laced with amusement, but there’s something else underneath. Something unsure.
With his left hand still on the back of your neck, he dug the fingers of his right hand in your hips hard enough to bruise as he slammed himself into you again. In fact, if he hadn’t been holding on to you, he’d probably knock you right off the bed with the force.
“Because I don’t like fucking you while his name is staring at me.”
You shiver, and for a moment, he thinks you won’t answer as you arched your spine and met him thrust for thrust. You can feel the weight of his body, the heat rolling off him in waves. He’s everywhere, taking everything—but still, he wants more.
Then, finally, you exhale a shaky breath and say, “It’s over.” voice barely audible over the sound of his body moving against yours.
If it was possible to sink his dick even farther inside of you, he would. Jack wanted to thrust his entire being into you, fuck himself so far into you, you’d feel him there for the rest of your life.
Jack’s eyes darken. “Say it again.”
You swallow. “It’s over.” a little louder this time, your nails digging into the sheets as his grip stays firm on your neck.
He doesn’t believe you. Not really. But for tonight, he’ll let himself pretend.
Jack’s mouth finds your skin, sucking hard enough to leave a mark just below that damn tattoo—something else to remember him by. If Urban’s name is going to be there, so is he.
***
An: well…🤭 just a litttle something something. That album has inspired me so much so expect more fics based off that album
THESHADEROOM: #TSRBaeWatch: Oop! Roomies #YourName and Rapper #Jack Harlow Caught Together At Antico Pizza In Atlanta It Seems They’re On A Date What Do You Think Of This Roomies.
When Urban invited them out to dinner to get to know his girlfriend Ava better, Maryse was genuinely excited. It had been a while since they’d gone out without the twins, and the idea of dinner with close friends—with no bedtime routines involved actually felt refreshing. She needed a reason to dress up, to feel like herself again.
Maryse stood in front of the mirror in their bedroom, slipping into the dress she’d picked out days ago. It was a bold abstract print in pink, purple, and green, that clung in all the right places, with a dangerously high slit. For the first time in a long time, she felt good in her skin again. The curves she’d carried since giving birth to the twins hugged her frame in all the right ways now. Her hips, her waist, even the swell of her chest—it all made her feel powerful, feminine, beautiful.
She fluffed her curls and spritzed a bit of perfume on her neck. A final glance in the mirror sealed it, she looked good. And she knew it.
When she stepped out of the bathroom, Jack was sitting on the edge of the bed lacing his shoes, but the moment he looked up, he stilled. His eyes scanned her from head to toe, lingering at her thighs, the dip in her waist, the glow on her skin. He leaned back on his hands and let out a low whistle.
“Damn.”
“What?” she asked, smoothing the fabric over her hips, even though she already knew what he was thinking.
He stood and crossed the room in a few strides, his hands immediately landing on her waist. “You sure you wanna wait a few years before we try for another kid?”
She laughed, rolling her eyes as he dipped his head to kiss her shoulder. “We’re already late.”
“You sure we gotta go?” he muttered against her skin. “I can think of a few things we could be doing instead.”
“Like what?” she teased, pulling away.
He just grinned.
From the second they sat down, he had one hand resting on her thigh under the table. Casual at first—comforting even. But as the night went on and the wine flowed and her laugh came easier, that hand crept higher.
Urban and Ava were deep in conversation across the table, completely unaware that every time Jack’s hand slid a little higher up Maryse’s thigh, she had to bite the inside of her cheek to stay composed.
She cleared her throat and shifted in her seat slightly, shooting him a look that said behave. He only smirked.
“Stop,” she whispered, smiling through clenched teeth.
“I’m not doing anything,” he replied coolly, eyes still on the table conversation, his fingers brushing higher.
“Seriously—”
He leaned in. “Then stop me.”
She didn’t.
Minutes later, she leaned over and whispered something in his ear—“I need you,” she whispered, her voice low and breathy. “Right now.”
He froze for a beat, then turned to her with a look that said say less. Jack cleared his throat and casually stood, like they hadn’t just made plans to tear each other apart.
He whispered something about needing to call the kids to say good night, then turned to her and said, “You coming?”
Maryse was already sliding out of her chair.
They found a quiet, shadowed corner tucked away from the glow of the main dining room—just the hum of distant conversation and soft jazz floating through the air. It was barely lit, and with the dark walls and drawn curtains, it felt like a secret world just for them.
He pressed her against the wall, hands gripping her hips like he’d been starved for this exact moment. Her dress had already ridden up from the teasing under the table, and he wasted no time. His mouth trailed down her neck, teeth grazing just enough to make her sigh.
Jack’s hand tickled the inside of her thigh as he touched her; leaning forward, his lips grazed her ear. “How much do you like this thong?”
Maryse just moaned softly as his hand touched her thong covered cunt. “a lot actually.”
He laughed, before quickly ripping the thong off of her and shoving them in his pocket. “I’ll buy you a new pair.”
“You’re so wet for me, baby” his thumb brushing against her clit. Maryse moaned, her hips bucking against his hands.
“You’re so naughty…”, he murmured, his other hand pulled the top of her dress down so he could cup her breast. “…letting me touch you like this when anyone can walk back here and catch us.”
Maryse whimpered at the thought of getting caught.
Jack’s fingers found her nipple, pinching it gently, then tweaking it harder, drawing a sharp gasp from Maryse.
"Baby—" she gasped, her voice breaking as a surge of pleasure overwhelmed her as he added another finger. She tried to stay quiet, she really did, but she let out a soft moan that echoed louder than she meant.
He pulled back just enough to look at her, eyes dark and serious even as he smirked. His other hand covered her mouth lightly, his eyes locked on hers.
“Be quiet for me, baby,” he said, voice thick with heat. “You can do that, can’t you?”
She nodded, eyes fluttering shut as her body started to tremble.
He watched her unravel, every tiny sound muffled, every breath stolen. His fingers worked her with practiced precision—circling, pressing, curling just right and it wasn’t long before her knees began to shake.
He kissed her again, swallowing her moan as she came undone in his hand.
Her whole body went soft against him, her breath warm against his neck.
As her breathing started to slow, she rested her forehead against his shoulder, still trembling slightly. He kept one arm around her waist, grounding her, while the other slowly withdrew from between her thighs.
And then—he brought his fingers to his mouth.
She watched, dazed, as he sucked them in slowly. His eyes never left hers.
The sight made her knees buckle all over again. Her lips parted on instinct, a small, needy sound catching in her throat. “Jesus,” she whispered, her voice almost a moan.
He smirked, cocky and unbothered. “You taste like heaven.”
She grabbed his shirt, still breathless, still wanting. “Stop playing,” she said, her voice low and rough. “Fuck me, right now.”
His expression shifted—playful turned to primal in a flash.
He didn’t hesitate.
He turned her around so she was facing the wall, hands bracing herself against it. The air shifted between them hot, electric.
He stepped behind her, one hand gripping her hip while the other slowly slid her dress up over her ass, no questions asked.
When he pulled her dress up, he almost paused.
Her ass had always been perfect but now, since having the twins, it had changed. Fuller. Softer in all the right ways. Curves that made his hands itch every time she walked by. He didn’t think it was possible to be more obsessed with her body, but motherhood had done something to her. And God help him, he loved every inch of it.
His hand hovered over the curve of her ass for a second longer than necessary, just admiring. Then he gave it a slap—not hard, just enough to make her gasp and arch into him—but he immediately let out a frustrated groan under his breath.
“Damn it,” he muttered, squeezing instead. “If we weren’t in public, I’d leave my handprint here.”
She smirked over her shoulder, her eyes hazy with lust. “Don’t tease me with a good time.”
He bit down a low groan and leaned into her, hips flush against her backside, hand still gripping her ass, his lips brushing her ear. “You sure?” he murmured
Maryse nodded without looking back. “Don’t make me beg.”
That was all he needed.
He freed himself quickly, the sound of his belt unbuckling and zipper lowering loud in the quiet hallway. He gripped her hips again, steadying her, lining himself up.
And then he was inside her, slow at first, letting her feel every inch. She gasped, arching back into him.
“God,” he groaned. “You feel so fucking good.”
His rhythm built fast, hungry and deep, and she took every thrust with her cheek pressed to the wall, her mouth open, moaning softly, trying so hard to stay quiet—but failing as pleasure overwhelmed her all over again.
“After this,” he said through gritted teeth, “I’m taking you home. And you’re not walking tomorrow.”
She let out a breathless laugh that turned into a moan when he hit just the right spot. “Good.”
He kissed her neck, his voice shaking. “I love this body. Every inch of you. The way it changed… the way you still drive me insane.”
Her only answer was the sound she made when her second release crept up fast, slamming into her without warning—and the way she collapsed back against him after, shaking, satisfied, and completely his.
He stayed inside her for a moment longer, his hand still on her waist, forehead resting against the back of her neck as they both tried to catch their breath. She was still pulsing around him, her body warm and soft and wrapped so tightly around his that it took everything in him not to lose it right there.
Then, in a voice low and rough, he whispered, “I love being inside you.”
She shivered.
He pulled her gently back against his chest, kissing the side of her neck. “It’s not just the way you feel though fuck, baby, that’s perfect. It’s more than that.”
She tilted her head, letting him speak, her body still trembling, still open to him.
“It’s the way your body fits mine like it was made for me. The way you hold me like you don’t want to let me go. I feel it every time.” He slid a hand over her stomach, palm wide and possessive. “Like this is exactly where I’m supposed to be.”
Her eyes fluttered closed at his words, a soft noise leaving her lips.
“I don’t care how many times we do this,” he added, voice thick with meaning. “It always hits me the same. That this is mine. You’re mine.”
She turned her head just enough to catch his mouth in a kiss, slow and messy, still burning from what just happened between them. “Say that again,” she breathed.
He slid back just enough to thrust into her once more slow, deep and she gasped.
“You’re mine,” he growled. “And I’ll never stop wanting to be inside you.”
She whimpered and clutched his hand at her stomach, needing to hold onto something.
They stood like that for a few more moments, breathless, hearts still pounding in sync until Jack finally, reluctantly, eased out of her.
“Let’s go,” he murmured, pulling her dress back down gently. “Before I do something really reckless, like take you right here again.”
She turned to him, eyes still hooded, lips pink and swollen. “You mean like what you just did?”
He grinned. “Exactly.”
They slipped inside the nearby bathroom, happy that it was empty.
She caught her reflection in the mirror of the small, dimly lit bathroom and let out a dramatic gasp. “You sweated out my curls.”
He leaned against the counter, still catching his breath, completely unbothered. “Worth it.”
She turned to face him, pointing at her reflection. “And my makeup is smudged—look at this. I look like I’ve been—”
Maryse paused, then smirked. “Well, I have.”
He just grinned, walking up behind her to help fix her dress, smoothing it over her hips like he hadn’t just wrecked her ten minutes ago. “Still the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” he murmured, kissing her shoulder.
After a few more adjustments, a little water dabbing under her eyes, and some shared grins that threatened to turn into another round, they finally made their way back to the table, sliding into their seats like nothing had happened.
Except… Urban wasn’t buying it.
He raised an eyebrow, eyes flicking between them. Her flushed cheeks. His messy hair. The not so subtle satisfaction written all over both their faces.
Then he leaned in with a smirk. “So… how were the twins?”
Jack blinked. “Huh?”
A beat of silence passed—and then he realized.
He chuckled, reached across the table, and punched his friend’s shoulder. “Shut up.”
“Just saying,” his friend said, laughing as he sipped his drink. “You two were gone for a while. And that’s a long time to say goodnight to your kids.”
Maryse tried to hide her laugh behind her napkin, but it slipped out anyway.
Jack shook his head, muttering, “I hate you,” before turning to her and whispering, “I still have your underwear in my pocket.”
She just pinched his thigh in response and gave him a look.
***
By the time they got home, the tension between them was still humming under their skin. The house was quiet, dark except for a lamp left on in the living room. No toys on the floor. No footsteps running down the hall. No baby monitor blinking beside the couch.
Just the two of them — finally.
She dropped her bag by the door, kicked off her shoes, and turned to look at Jack. Really look at him. The undone shirt. The messy hair. The little smirk he was trying to hide, even though his eyes were already all over her again.
“Thank God the twins are at your mom’s tonight,” she said softly.
He raised an eyebrow. “Yeah?”
She walked toward him slowly. “Yeah. Because if they weren’t…” Her hands slid up his chest as she pressed her body against his. “I wouldn’t be able to have my way with you”
His breath caught as she pushed him back gently, making him fall onto the couch. He reached for her out of instinct, but she caught his wrists.
“Nope,” she said, smiling as she climbed into his lap. “It’s my turn.”
Maryse kissed him deeply, slow and claiming, and he melted under her like he’d been waiting for this, needing it, for longer than either of them wanted to admit. Between his travel schedule and the twins needing so much of their attention, they’d been surviving on quick kisses, late night check ins, tired cuddles.
She tugged his shirt off over his head, her lips trailing down his chest, her nails dragging lightly over his skin. His hands gripped the couch cushions as she sank lower, pressing kisses to his stomach, his hips, making his body twitch and tense beneath her.
“Missed you,” she whispered, dragging her lips up the line of his neck as she palmed him through his pants, making him groan.
“Baby…” he warned, already breathless.
She smiled and undid his belt slowly, deliberately, watching his face the whole time. “Shhh,” she murmured, “Let me.”
And he did. Because the second her mouth wrapped around him, his head fell back with a guttural sound he couldn’t hold in.
She took her time. Teasing. Pleasing. Driving him insane with every flick of her tongue, every soft sound she made while she had him all to herself. His hands found her hair, but he didn’t guide her—just held on, breathing harder every second.
“You’re gonna make me—” he growled, hips twitching.
She pulled back just enough to say, “That’s the point.”
And then she kept going. Until he fell apart under her with a hoarse moan, fingers tightening in her hair, every muscle tensing before he finally slumped back, wrecked.
She climbed back up into his lap, lips swollen, cheeks flushed, and straddled him again.
He grabbed her face and kissed her deep, still dizzy, still catching his breath.
“Jesus,” he whispered against her mouth. “You really missed me, huh?”
She smiled. “You’ve been in New York for three weeks. What do you think?”
He kissed her again, softer this time. “I think we need to make up for every single day.”
She leaned her forehead against his and whispered, “I love you.”
Maryse then sat up and looked at him. She wasn’t smiling this time. Her lips were parted. Her chest rising and falling fast. That undone, aching look that only came when she wanted him so badly she couldn’t even pretend to play it cool.
And he didn’t even have time to ask what she was thinking because she lifted her hips and sank down on him in one smooth, wet motion.
“Shit—” he groaned, grabbing her hips instinctively, head falling back as she gasped like she hadn’t even meant to do it that fast.
She started to move, slow and deep, and then faster head thrown back, hands braced on his chest, hips rolling like she knew exactly what she was doing. Because she did. She knew exactly how to work him, how to make him lose his damn mind.
“Baby…” Jack breathed, eyes locked on her as she rode him like she owned him, moaning louder now, not caring how messy or loud it got. “Fuck, you’re gonna make me come again—”
She whimpered, barely able to speak. “I-I can’t stop, feels too good…”
He sat up, mouth on her neck, one hand on her ass as it bounced in his lap. “That’s it… take it, baby. Ride me just like that.”
Maryse was shaking now, grinding into him, moving faster, deeper, chasing it, losing herself.
Jack could barely breathe, could barely think, but he managed to growl against her ear, “You keep riding me like this, tonight’s gonna be the night we make another baby.”
Her whole body clenched at the words.
“Maybe two,” he added, voice thick and cocky and completely gone. “You want me to give you more kids?”
She cried out—loud—hips stuttering as her release ripped through her, wave after wave. She buried her face in his neck as she rode it out, and he held her tight, letting go seconds later with a deep, broken moan of his own.
They collapsed against each other, both panting, still tangled together on the couch. They had no idea how badly they needed this until it was already happening.
Jack pressed soft kisses along her shoulders. “I love you so much”
“I love you more. My legs are literally numb.”
“You’re not walking for two days,” Jack said smugly. “Calling it now.”
She kissed him, sweet and slow, eyes still dreamy. “I missed you.”
He ran his hand down her back, still inside her, still not ready to let her go. “Missed you more.”
3rd installment of the Flashing Lights series, must read Flashing Lights & Don't Like The Lights first to understand
series masterlist
9. All Of My Friends
The hotel buzzed with excitement.
Garment bags hung from the closet doors, shoes were scattered across the bedroom floor, and soft music drifted from Jack’s phone on the dresser. Outside, cars were already beginning to arrive at the hotel where the release party and his birthday celebration would be held.
Jack stood in front of the mirror adjusting the cuffs of his jacket, his curls slightly shorter now, falling naturally across his forehead. On the bed behind him, Maryse was finishing her makeup, leaning toward the small vanity mirror while carefully lining her lips.
It had been a long road to this night.
Finally, Jack turned and leaned against the dresser, watching her the way he always did, like he couldn’t quite believe she was real and his.
“Alright,” she said, capping the lipgloss and turning toward him. “Be honest.”
He raised a brow. “Always.”
She smiled softly and stood, smoothing the fabric of her dress before walking over to him.
“Are you nervous?”
Jack paused for a moment, actually thinking about it. A year ago he probably would’ve said yes without hesitation. An R&B album from a white rapper? People were definitely going to have opinions.
But tonight felt different.
He shook his head slowly.
“No,” he said. “Honestly… I feel relieved.”
Maryse tilted her head. “Relieved?”
“Yeah.” He exhaled, rubbing his hands together before resting them on her hips. “I’ve been sitting on this project for so long. Second guessing everything. Wondering how people were gonna take it. But now that it’s finally dropping…” He shrugged. “It just feels good to let it go.”
She studied his face for a moment, the nerves she expected to see not really there.
“I’m proud of you,” she said quietly.
Jack smiled, brushing a piece of hair behind her ear. “Even if the internet cooks me for making an R&B album?”
Maryse laughed. “Please. The internet always drags you.”
He chuckled.
“And besides,” she continued, lightly tapping his chest, “you’re allowed to evolve. That’s what artists do.”
Jack looked at her like she’d just said the most obvious thing in the world but somehow it meant more coming from her.
“You always know exactly what to say,” he murmured.
Maryse leans closer and whispers into his lips “Yuck.” before giving him a kiss.
When Jack pulls away, “I’m more nervous about you opening your mouth and telling everybody something you’re not supposed to.” he said under his breath.
Maryse’s smile turned mischievous instantly.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said innocently.
Jack gave her a look. “Maryse.”
“What?” she laughed. “I’ve been quiet for weeks.”
He leaned in closer, lowering his voice. “You’re not as slick as you think you are.”
She bit back a grin, eyes flicking down to his lips before back up to his eyes.
“Maybe I just think tonight’s a good night,” she said.
Jack shook his head, but he was smiling now. “You’re gonna stress me out before we even get there.”
Maryse laughed softly and reached up, fixing the collar of his jacket.
“You’ll survive,” she teased. “You always do.”
As they started heading for the door, she stopped in her tracks.
“Wait,” Maryse said suddenly, pulling back. “We need to call the babysitter.”
Jack blinked. “Oh—yeah.”
He reached for his phone, and within a few seconds, the call connected. It rang once, twice—
Then chaos.
“DADDYYY!!” Noah’s voice yelled through the phone so loud Jack had to pull it back slightly.
Right behind him, London chimed in, even louder somehow. “MOMMY!! We three now!!”
The twins hadn’t stopped talking about their birthday since yesterday.
Maryse laughed immediately, leaning into Jack so she could be heard. “Yes, you are! My big three-year-olds!”
“Mommy, where you go?” London asked, her voice softening just a little.
“We’re going to Daddy’s party, baby,” Maryse said gently. “But we wanted to call and tell you goodnight first.”
“No stay!” Noah protested. “Come home!”
Jack’s face softened immediately. “Hey, hey… we’ll be home in the morning, okay? You be good for the babysitter.”
“We good!” London said proudly. “We not bad!”
Maryse smiled, her chest tightening just a little. “I know you’re not. We love you guys so much, okay?”
“Love you!” they both shouted at the same time.
“Love you more,” Jack replied.
“Nooo, I love you more!” Noah argued.
London gasped dramatically. “No, me love you more!”
Maryse laughed, shaking her head. “Okay, okay. Everybody loves everybody the most.”
“Okay,” Noah agreed.
“Okay,” London echoed.
“Alright, bedtime,” the babysitter said gently in the background.
“Night night!” London sang.
“Night!” Noah added.
“Goodnight, babies,” Maryse said softly.
“Love you,” Jack added before ending the call.
The room went quiet again.
Maryse exhaled, leaning into him. “They’re really three.”
Jack smiled softly. “Yeah… talking like they’re ten.”
She laughed quietly, then grabbed her bag.
“Alright,” she said, glancing at him. “Now we can go.”
Jack nodded, slipping his phone into his pocket before reaching for her hand.
“Let’s go celebrate,” he said.
Monica
The three-year stretch between Jackman. and Monica marks the longest gap between albums in Jack Harlow’s career and it was intentional. During an interview with Apple Music in March 2025, the Louisville-born rapper explained why he stepped back from the rapid-fire release schedule that helped define his rise.
“I’m trying to transcend,” he said. “I want to do something I’ve never done, and I’m slowly starting to accept that it’s going to take me longer than any of my past projects if I want it to be like nothing I’ve ever done.”
Part of that transformation happened off the mic. In the years between albums, Harlow quietly reshaped his life, leaving his hometown of Louisville and relocating with his longtime partner, Maryse Monet, and their twins. The move placed him in the heart of New York City, where he began recording much of Monica inside the legendary rooms of Electric Lady Studios.
The shift in scenery and mindset sparked something new. On Monica, Harlow largely steps away from the rap persona that first made him famous and instead leans fully into moody, late-night R&B. The album trades punchlines for confessionals, swagger for vulnerability. It’s a record steeped in candlelit soul grooves, soft piano runs, and jazz-tinged percussion, with Harlow delivering his most melodic and intimate performances to date.
Much of the album reads like a love letter, subtle, sometimes direct to Monet and the life they built together. The influence of her world as an R&B singer lingers in the album’s sonic palette, from the smoky textures to the romantic storytelling that unfolds track by track.
The contemplative Casanova appears frequently lost in reverie. On “Prague,” Harlow drifts into daydreams about a woman an ocean away. “Trade Places” takes the fantasy even further, imagining himself transforming into the lamppost his lover leans against on a quiet city street, while a loose jazz drums set the mood.
But romance on Monica isn’t simple. Passions intensify, doubts creep in, and the emotional stakes rise. Still, Harlow never fully abandons the hopeful romantic at his core. On the tender standout “All of My Friends,” he reflects on the early days of falling in love when everyone around him warned he was moving too fast.
“All of my friends say I keep falling / Falling in love way too often / Telling me slow down and be cautious,” he sings. “But if I had you…”
The moment feels like a quiet callback to the beginning of his relationship with Monet. A reminder that even before the fame, the family, and the music that followed, Harlow was simply a man who believed deeply in love.
With Monica, he still does.
***
The release party was louder than either of them expected.
Music pulsed through the room, glasses clinked, people laughed and shouted over the beat as industry friends, family, and artists filled the space. It was technically both an album release party and a birthday celebration, and the crowd reflected that label executives, producers, friends from Louisville, Maryse’s circle, and more than a few curious artists who wanted to hear the new direction from Jack Harlow.
But in the middle of all of it, Jack and Maryse felt like they were in their own little world.
They’d drifted onto the dance floor a few songs ago, though neither of them were really dancing. Jack had his arms loosely wrapped around her waist while Maryse rested her hands on his shoulders, the two of them swaying gently to the slow R&B track filling the room.
People moved around them, lights flickered across the floor, but they barely noticed.
Maryse leaned her head against his chest for a moment before tilting her face up toward him. Her eyes were warm, proud the kind of look that made Jack feel like he’d done something bigger than just release an album.
She leaned up and kissed him softly.
“I love you,” she said when she pulled back.
Jack smiled immediately, that familiar boyish grin creeping onto his face.
“Happy birthday,” she added, brushing her thumb along his jaw. “And congratulations. This album… you really did something special.”
He shrugged a little, suddenly shy under her praise.
Maryse shook her head gently, not letting him brush it off. “No, I’m serious. You’re the greatest thing that’s ever happened to me.”
She paused, then smirked slightly.
“Well… besides the kids.”
Jack laughed under his breath, but his ears had already started turning red.
“Oh my God,” she teased, noticing immediately. “You’re blushing.”
“I am not,” he muttered, looking away for a second.
“You are.”
Jack tried to hide it by pulling her closer, burying his face briefly against her hair like that would somehow conceal it.
“You can’t say stuff like that in public,” he mumbled.
Maryse laughed softly, wrapping her arms around his neck.
“Too late,” she whispered.
And while the music kept playing and the crowd kept celebrating, Jack held her a little tighter because for all the success, the attention, the new chapter of music… this was still the part of his life that meant the most.
LifeOfMonet
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LifeOfMonet: Happy birthday to the most hardworking, passionate, and stubbornly dedicated man I know. Watching you create this album from the ground up has been one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever witnessed. The late nights, the second-guessing, the moments you thought you weren’t getting it right and then watching you push through and make something this special. I’m so proud of you.
This album is different. It’s vulnerable, soulful, and somehow still so you. You really put your whole heart into this one and I hope everyone hears that the same way I did sitting in the studio night after night.
And getting to sneak onto a few songs to do backup vocals? Yeah… I’m not gonna lie, that was pretty cool. Honored is an understatement.
Happy 28th birthday, my love. I hope tonight you feel even a fraction of the pride the rest of us feel for you.
Now everyone go stream the album… because I’ve been hearing it for months and it’s finally your turn.
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user: what does musiq snow child have that I don’t
maggieharlowspeaks: finally ❤️
urbanwyatt: took him long enough
*****
AN: whewwww surprise!!!! They’re engaged finally!!! Had a slight time jump 🥳 sorry this took so long I miss them so much
Jack one sentence: “Don’t take your glasses off, baby”
Jack stood in front of the mirror, adjusting his new glasses, he squinted slightly, still not used to the way they framed his face. He hadn’t decided how he felt about them yet, and his fingers itched to take them off.
While lounging on the couch, you looked up from your phone and smiled softly. “Don’t take your glasses off, baby,” you said, your voice light but sincere.
Jack turned to you, raising an eyebrow. “Do they make me look dorky?”
You let out a little laugh and shook your head. “No, they make you look… like you.” Getting up, you walked over and brushed a hand through his hair.
“You look smart, handsome, and—” you paused, biting your lip as you looked up at him through your lashes—“a little dorky. But it’s cute.”
He laughed then, finally relaxing a little. “A little dorky, huh?”
You nodded, wrapping your arms around his waist. “Yeah, but that’s part of your charm.”
