crush | jaafar jackson
during a michael press tour interview, you find yourself captivated by jaafar jackson’s quiet charm, while jaafar becomes equally drawn to your warmth and brilliance.
the studio lights were warm, the cameras rolling, and your producer was already counting down in your ear.
“and we’re live in three… two…”
your smile came easy.
it always did.
after years of interviewing everyone from actors to politicians to musicians, being on camera felt as natural as breathing. people trusted you. viewers adored you. your podcast segment consistently pulled some of the highest engagement numbers in the industry because people knew one thing:
you actually cared.
you didn’t come looking for viral moments or “gotcha” questions. instead, you listened attentively. you made your guests laugh while ensuring they felt comfortable. and somehow, by the end of every interview, it felt less like journalism and more like a conversation between friends.
“welcome back, everybody,” you beamed, leaning forward slightly to connect with the lens. “today i’m joined by the incredible cast of michael.”
the cast waved and smiled, the energy in the room instantly lifting.
nia long, coleman domingo, juliano valdi. and finally… jaafar jackson.
the moment you’d seen him walk into the studio earlier your brain had completely malfunctioned. because what the hell? nobody had warned you. not a single soul had informed you that this man looked like that in person.
the pictures online did him absolutely no justice.
his smile alone should’ve come with a warning label. he wore a simple, tailored shirt that fit him perfectly, and his curls fell just right over his forehead. thankfully, years of professionalism kept your face neutral. mostly.
across from you, nia was already grinning. you and nia had known each other for years. she was one of the bigger names that you’d interviewed back when you were first starting out and you’d interviewed her countless times since. you loved her dearly and so did she.
which was exactly why you should’ve known she was up to something.
while you adjusted your notes and checked your earpiece, she leaned slightly toward jaafar. just enough for you not to notice.
“see?” she whispered, nudging his elbow. “i told you she was gorgeous.”
jaafar looked over at you while you were laughing with one of your producers, gesturing with a pen in your hand. his stomach immediately flipped.
“yeah,” he muttered quietly, clearing his throat. “she is.”
nia’s smile widened. she had him exactly where she wanted him. completely.
the interview began smoothly. you asked thoughtful questions. questions about responsibility, legacy, grief, art. the emotional weight of portraying real people.
“there’s a lot of pressure attached to this project,” you said, your voice dropping to a softer, more intimate register. “how did each of you navigate stepping into shoes that meant so much to millions of people? coleman, let’s start with you.”
coleman shifted in his seat, nodding thoughtfully. “you know, you have to approach it with reverence, but also find the humanity. we aren't just playing icons; we're playing real family dynamics. it requires a lot of vulnerability.”
“and it shows in the footage,” you responded, nodding before turning your gaze. “jaafar, what about you? especially with the familial connection, how did you balance that pressure?”
the answers were heartfelt and honest. exactly what you loved. and throughout the entire interview—
you couldn’t stop noticing jaafar. not because he was attractive.
well.
partially because he was attractive. but mostly because of the little things. he rubbed his knee whenever he got nervous. every single time. the way he took in his bottom lip. the way he twirled the ring on his finger.
whenever he was about to answer a particularly personal question, his hand would move to his knee and start rubbing absentmindedly, his fingers smoothing over the fabric of his pants. it was adorable.
and his smile.
lord.
every time he talked, every time someone made a joke, that smile appeared. soft, genuine, slightly shy. it transformed his entire face. you found yourself looking away more than once because you were determined to remain a professional. he quite literally gave you butterflies every time he spoke, his voice low and incredibly gentle.
meanwhile, jaafar was having the exact same problem. because every time you laughed, his attention snapped toward you. every single time. it was becoming embarrassing. especially since the rest of the cast had started noticing. nia was shooting him knowing looks, and coleman had a slight smirk playing on his lips. jaafar knew he would be getting an earful later.
after nearly an hour of conversation, you clapped your hands together, the papers in your lap rustling.
“okay, before i let you guys go, we’re playing a game.”
collective cheers went around the room. juliano pumped his fist in the air, while coleman leaned back with an amused groan. you laughed at their excitement.
“it’s simple. michael song versus michael song. you pick the better one.”
“oh no,” coleman sighed, rubbing his temples playfully. “this is how friendships end. you’re trying to tear this cast apart.”
“oh yes.” you smiled deviously. “absolute chaos is the goal here.”
the game started out simple.
billie jean versus smooth criminal. the cast chose smooth criminal.
“the choreography tilts the scale, it just does,” nia argued, and you nodded in agreement.
rock with you versus remember the time. rock with you was the victor.
human nature versus dirty diana. human nature obviously.
the cast surprisingly agreed on most choices. until disaster struck. you looked down at your card. then back up, biting your lower lip to hide a smirk.
“hmm.”
immediately suspicious, nia pointed a manicured finger at you.
“what’s that face? look at her face, y'all.”
“oh this is about to reveal character.” you said dramatically.
juliano laughed, shaking his head. “just ask the question!”
you took a deep breath, building the suspense.
“man in the mirror…”
everyone nodded, already prepared to shout it out.
“…versus the lady in my life.”
silence.
then one by one.
“man in the mirror,” coleman said firmly.
“man in the mirror,” nia echoed.
“man in the mirror,” juliano piped up.
your jaw dropped.
“WHAT?”
the entire cast burst out laughing at your genuine distress.
“y’all cannot be serious.”
“it’s man in the mirror,” juliano said, leaning forward with a massive grin. “it's a classic!”
“absolutely not.” you argued with the child, pointing your pen at him. “you are too young to understand the romance of it all.”
“absolutely yes.” juliano fired back, laughing.
you sat forward dramatically, resting your elbows on your knees.
“you people don’t understand.”
more laughter echoed through the studio as the producers joined in on the debate.
“no seriously. the intimacy. the yearning. the longing.”
you placed a hand over your chest, closing your eyes for effect. nia was crying laughing, wiping the corner of her eye.
“here she goes,” nia chuckled.
“i’m serious!” you pointed around the room. “maybe i’m just a hopeless romantic but the lady in my life is superior. the vocals at the end? the breakdown? come on!”
across from you, jaafar couldn’t stop smiling.
he loved watching passionate people talk about things they loved. and you? you lit up. your hands moved when you spoke. your eyes sparkled. your entire face became animated, your smile blinding. you were absolutely gorgeous.
it was impossible for him to look away.
“i actually agree,” jaafar spoke up, his voice cutting through the laughter. “it’s one of michael’s most slept-on songs and the vocal performance on it is incredible.”
“exactly!” you shouted, your eyes locking onto his.
“see?” you said triumphantly as you pointed in jaafar’s direction, looking at nia and coleman. “finally, someone with taste! thank you, jaafar.”
“but it’s still not beating man in the mirror,” juliano interrupted, completely ruining the moment.
everyone exploded with laughter again.
“juliano!” you gasped, putting your head in your hands.
“i’m right!” the boy insisted.
“you’re wrong!”
“i’m literally correct!”
the debate continued for several minutes, filled with playful banter and overlapping voices. and despite your best efforts—
man in the mirror ultimately won. a tragedy. a crime. an injustice. you were robbed and you informed the audience of this fact repeatedly, looking directly into the camera with a heartbroken expression.
finally, you smoothed down your outfit and smiled warmly at the cast.
“seriously, thank you all for being here. this movie means so much to so many people, and honestly, spending time with you all today, i can tell why this project worked.”
their expressions softened, the comedic energy shifting back to mutual respect.
“you guys have incredible chemistry. but more importantly, you’re all genuinely beautiful people.” you smiled.
for a second, jaafar forgot how to breathe. because the way you said it felt sincere. not media-trained. not rehearsed. sincere. he swore your eyes lingered on him for just a fraction of a second longer than the others, or maybe it was just his imagination.
his cheeks immediately warmed. thankfully the cameras stopped rolling before anyone could notice.
“and we’re clear.” one of your producers said from the back.
everyone began removing microphones. stretching and chatting. the technical crew started moving around the set, and the energy immediately relaxed into casual hums of conversation.
nia pointed at you as she stood up.
“i told y’all.”
you laughed, unclipping your own mic pack.
“told them what?”
“that you’re the best in the game.”
your hand flew to your chest.
“ms. nia, stop it.”
“oh don’t start. you know you’re the best.”
“thank you. i love you longtime, hunny.”
“i love you more. let’s meet for lunch soon! i mean it, text me!” nia said as she wrapped her arms around you tightly, inhaling your perfume.
coleman then walked up to you, extending a hand before pulling you into a warm hug, expressing his gratitude and appreciation for you. “you’re an amazing interviewer and an even better soul. keep doing what you're doing.”
“thank you so much for coming, send my love to the hubby,” you told him, beaming.
across the set, juliano leaned toward jaafar, watching you interact with the crew.
“she’s so pretty.”
jaafar looked over. once again, you were wrapped up talking to someone else—fixing a loose script page, laughing about something with a production assistant. completely unaware of the eyes on you. his smile appeared again, soft and helpless.
“she definitely is.”
juliano immediately grinned, a mischievous spark in his eyes.
“do you think i can get her number?”
“absolutely not, buddy.” jaafar laughed, a genuine, deep sound as he patted him on the back. “you're a little too young for her, don't you think?”
a few minutes later the cast started heading toward the exit saying their final goodbyes, their voices fading into the hallway.
you were gathering your notes for your next interview, stacking the papers neatly into a folder, when a familiar voice stopped beside you.
“hey.”
you looked up. and there he was. he had stayed behind while the others walked off. close enough now that those stupidly pretty eyes were somehow even more distracting, catching the remaining studio light.
“hi!” your voice bounced a little higher than usual.
jaafar smiled. the smile. there it was again. lord help you.
“i just wanted to say thank you for having us once again.”
“of course. it was an absolute pleasure.”
“we’ve done so many interviews for this press tour, but nothing topped this one. i can see why nia loves working with you so much. you make it easy.”
and there it was. that nervous habit again but this time, it was him and that darn lip. adorable.
you laughed and your expression softened, your heart doing a strange little dance.
“that’s very kind of you to say. thank you, jaafar.”
finally, he glanced toward the door where the rest of the cast waited, the muffled sound of juliano's laughter drifting back in. then he looked back at you, holding your gaze.
“i hope i run into you again soon. maybe outside of a studio.”
your heart did a tiny little flip. the dangerous kind. the kind you ignored. because you were a professional. mostly.
you smiled, your cheeks tingling.
“i hope the same. i'm sure our paths will cross.”
his grin widened, clearly pleased with the answer. for a second, neither one of you moved. the space between you felt suddenly charged, the ambient noise of the studio fading into the background. then nia’s voice echoed loudly from down the hallway.
“jaafar! the car is waiting! let’s go!”
he sighed dramatically, but laughing anyway.
you laughed, shaking your head.
“you should probably go before she comes back in here to drag you out.”
“probably,” he agreed reluctantly. he took a few steps backward toward the exit, still smiling, still looking at you. “see you around.”
“bye, jaafar.” you waved your fingers at him and sent him on his way with a warm smile.
and as he disappeared down the hallway, juliano immediately appeared beside him, slinging an arm over his shoulder. already talking. already playing around. the two got along like brothers which you really admired.
while back inside the studio, you looked down at your notes, trying to focus on the next set of questions. then you looked toward the door he’d just walked through, the silence of the room suddenly feeling a bit more noticeable. and despite being the professional you are—
you couldn’t stop smiling either.
a couple weeks after the interview. your good friend quen called you for an interview of your own. she invited you to be on her youtube series, feeding starving celebrities to which you accepted of course.
“welcome to the fsc kitchen!” quen yelled, tossing her hair back and gesturing wildly toward the entrance. “introducing the queen of interviews, the baddest thing walking, my favorite vixen. ITS MY GIRL.”
you walk out, matching her chaotic energy immediately. you two jump around the kitchen excitedly, screaming and hugging each other like you haven't seen each other in years, even though you just texted this morning.
“welcome to my show hunny,” quen says, catching her breath and smoothing down her top.
“thank you! i’m so excited to be here.”
“it was a longtime coming.”
“yes yes yesss,” you agree, clapping your hands.
out of nowhere, edm began blasting from her speakers to which you both broke out into model poses, doing your best white girl club dances—complete with the fist pumping and the awkward hip sways. the camera crew was cracking up behind the lenses.
“okay okay,” quen said once the music subsided, wiping a fake tear from her eye. “would you like to know what’s on the menu today?”
“well of course my queen.”
“we’re doing lemon drops for the bev because i heard those are your favorite! then we’re doing salmon rice and potatoes. and lastly for dessert, we cheated and just bought a cheesecake girl.”
“amazing.”
first up was the drinks segment. while you prepped the ingredients—slicing lemons and grabbing the shaker—quen started asking her first set of questions, leaning against the counter with a look of pure mischief.
“you’re known for being super confident, while also being very sweet and caring,” quen began, watching you measure the lemon juice. “did you have an experience in your life that made you this way or have you always been this way?”
you answered while you started making your lemon drops, pouring the liquid into the shaker. “truthfully speaking, i didn’t always have this confidence but when i got to college? i just knew i was that girl.”
you both started laughing, quen nodding along.
“like walking across campus, you literally couldn’t tell me nothing,” you continued, shaking your head at the memory. “not a damn thing.”
you both continued to laugh and joke around until you grabbed the tequila bottle. you quickly covered the label of the tequila bottle with your palm, looking directly at the main camera. “no free promo, not sponsored.” you joked.
“not until they cut the check!” quen shouted.
the camera crew lost it.
“you’re terrible.” she told you.
“i’m professional.” you shot back.
“you’re ridiculous.”
“same thing.”
the next question came naturally.
“for your age, i feel like you’re doing so many big things in your life. wait- how old are you now?”
“i’m twenty six,” you said, before stopping and pointing a lemon knife at her. “wait- how old are YOU?”
“twenty five.”
“ayeee,” you cheered, clinking your fresh lemon drop glasses together. you both began to mumble the lyrics to sza’s 20 something’s song at the same exact time which caused you to burst into a fit of laughter.
the segment continued on and while you prepped the salmon, seasoning it generously on the cutting board, she asked more questions that got deeper and deeper, moving from your career goals to your personal life.
“okay, i gotta ask,” quen said, lowering her voice like she was letting the audience in on a secret. “have you ever had a crush on any of your guests?”
you paused, a piece of salmon in your hand. “like on my show?”
“no, on my show,” she said sarcastically, rolling her eyes so hard it looked painful. “yes, your show, girl!”
you both shared a loud laugh before you actually thought about her answer. your brain instantly took a trip back to a couple weeks ago. the shirt. the open buttons. the nervous knee-rubbing. the smile that should've come with a warning label. jaafar was the first person you thought about.
“can i plead the fifth?” you laughed, feeling your cheeks turn a slight shade of pink.
“absolutely not. this is feeding starving celebrities, not a court of law. spill it.”
you sighed, leaning your weight against the counter before telling the truth. “jaafar jackson.”
quen let out a piercing scream that probably blew out the audio levels in the control room. she jumped up and down, hitting the counter. “no way!”
“yes way, quenlin,” you muttered, covering your face with your hands from pure embarrassment, wishing the kitchen counter would just swallow you whole.
“well, jaafar jackson if you’re watching this… hit my girl up!” quen screamed directly into the camera, winking dramatically. “she is single, she is successful, and she likes your uncle's music! call her! and if you’re worried about the teeny tiny age gap, she’s the most mature person i know!”
you busted out laughing, throwing a dish towel at her to make her stop.
the show continued to move on, the salmon smelling incredible as it cooked, and finally it came to a close as you both stuffed your faces with the store-bought cheesecake after you edit farmed for social media.
“i loved having you, please come on more often. my soul sister,” quen said, giving you a massive hug as the closing music started to play.
“i love you, quenlin. thank you for inviting me.”
the next few days for you were insane. the moment the episode dropped on youtube, the internet took it and ran. the interview was being clipped and posted everywhere on all platforms—tiktok, twitter, instagram reels. shade room reposted it. people were making edits of you and jaafar from your original interview, putting them side-by-side with your confession on quen's show.
one very specific clip.
“have you ever had a crush on any of your guests?”
“…jaafar jackson.”
you wanted to die. your phone wouldn’t stop ringing. your friends wouldn’t stop texting. your coworkers wouldn’t stop laughing.
your bosses? absolutely unbearable. you walked into the office three days later and immediately knew something was wrong. everyone looked excited. too excited.
your personal assistant practically sprinted toward you.
“good morning.”
you narrowed your eyes. “what happened?”
“nothing.”
“you’re smiling too hard.”
“am i?”
“yes.”
he slid his phone across the desk. you looked down and nearly choked.
“oh my god.”
there it was. a notification. one very simple notification. normal people wouldn’t have reacted like that. but you were far from normal.
jaafarjackson started following you.
the entire office erupted.
“HE FOLLOWED HER.”
you covered your face wanting the floor to swallow you whole.
“this is humiliating.”
“this is incredible.”
your boss immediately clapped his hands.
“okay.”
you pointed.
“don’t.”
“we need to capitalize on this.”
“oh my god.”
“we need jaafar back on the show.”
“we do not.”
“immediately.”
you dropped your head onto the desk.
hard.
everyone laughed.
“i’m going home.”
“you’re not.”
“i’m quitting.”
“you’re not.”
“i’m changing my name.”
“you’re definitely not.”
somewhere across the city— jaafar was experiencing his own version of embarrassment. because after watching the clip approximately seventeen times and smiling every single time, he’d finally worked up the courage to hit follow. the interview with quen showed an entirely different side of you. he was so intrigued. a mentally sane person would say he was obsessed.
good thing he wasn’t mentally sane.
and now? he’d somehow agreed to come back on your show. which meant in just a few days— the two of you would be sitting across from each other again.
the next few days leading up to the interview, nervousness fell upon you like a heavy blanket. you couldn't pace around your apartment without staring at your phone, replaying the clip from quen's show in your head and cringing into your pillows.
“what if he thinks i’m a weirdo?” you groaned to your reflection in the mirror while getting ready. “oh my gosh, i can’t handle this.”
you had to remind yourself that you were a professional journalist. you worked in the craziest of circumstances. a little awkwardness never hurt anybody. at least, that’s what you told yourself to get through this interview.
the day finally came, and unbeknownst to you, jaafar was just as nervous as you. he had been shifting around in his dressing room for an hour, adjusting his collar and asking his team if his hair looked alright.
when he finally walked out onto the studio floor, every piece of self-control you had left the window. he looked entirely too good. he was wearing a gold silk shirt that made him look incredibly warm and approachable, and the studio lights caught the exact same warmth in his eyes.
you had about thirty seconds to pull yourself together before he approached you. you took a deep breath, smoothing down your dress, trying to force your heart to stop hammering against your ribs.
“hey,” he said softly, his voice a little lower than usual.
“hi!” you replied, maybe a little too quickly.
the two of you hugged—a brief, slightly tense embrace where you could swear you felt his heartbeat too—and barely exchanged words before your stage manager was clapping her hands, ushering you both onto the set.
“we’re rolling in three… two…”
your media training kicked in just in time. the familiar warmth of the lights helped ground you.
“welcome back, everybody,” you said, looking into the main lens before turning to your guest. “welcome back, jaafar. although it hasn’t been long since we had you the first time, how have you been?”
jaafar adjusted himself in his chair, his fingers immediately finding his knee to give it a quick, nervous rub before he caught himself and smiled. “i’ve been good, thank you. and yourself?”
“i’ve been great,” you said, a mischievous tilt finding its way back into your voice. “busy doing my own interviews and whatnot.”
jaafar’s eyes sparked with instant amusement. “so i’ve heard.”
the two of you shared a genuine, lingering laugh, and just like that, all the awkward tension went out the window. the comfort you had established during your first meeting came rushing back, making the studio feel small and private again.
you began to ask him more personal questions, moving away from his role as michael and focusing on him as an individual. you asked him about his family dynamic, what it was really like growing up as a jackson in the midst of such a massive legacy. you asked him what he initially wanted to do growing up before the artistry caught up with him.
“there's a moment for everyone,” you murmured, leaning in attentively. “when did you realize that your family was as prominent as they are? not just in the music industry, but their deep influence on the world, and on black culture specifically?”
jaafar listened intensely, his gaze locked onto yours. he answered beautifully, speaking with a humility and depth that made your heart do that dangerous little flip again. he spoke about watching his father and uncles, about the responsibility he felt to honor that history, and how much he valued the love the community showed his family.
towards the end of the interview, the control room chimed in your ear, reminding you of the segment your producers had cooked up. you cleared your throat, looking down at the fresh set of cue cards.
“okay, my team has put together some questions for us to answer,” you said, immediately turning your head to look directly into your specific camera with a warning glare. “these ARE NOT my questions, by the way! i would like that noted for future purposes.”
jaafar let out a soft chuckle, shifting in his seat to face you fully. “ask away.”
you looked down at the first card. “alright. are you dating anyone?”
jaafar didn't even hesitate. he happily responded, “no, i am not.”
you nodded slowly, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear while giving a slow, knowing, look directly into the camera lens. the silence in the studio broke instantly as everyone on set started laughing uncontrollably at your expression.
“i too, am also single,” you responded smoothly, turning back to him.
jaafar reached over, playfully pulling the next card from your hand to read it himself. “alright, my turn. who was your celebrity crush growing up?”
you closed your eyes, bracing yourself. “barack obama, and i will not be explaining further.”
jaafar burst out laughing, his shoulders shaking. “that’s insane.”
“he has aura, jaafar! next question!” you argued, laughing with him.
you hesitated before reading the final card in your hand. your eyes scanned the text, and for a second, you considered throwing it across the room. but professional duty called, so you read it anyway, your voice dropping a little. “when seeing my recent interview with quen… hearing that i have a crush on you… how did you react?”
the studio went dead silent, everyone waiting for the response.
jaafar instantly got nervous, but he didn't look away from you. his expression softened completely. “i was taken by surprise,” he answered honestly, his voice quiet and sincere. “you’re a very beautiful woman. very intelligent. i have to admit… i watched the clip for days.”
your jaw slacked slightly, a intense wave of heat rushing to your face. “oh please, you flatter me, jaafar,” you said, blushing profusely and trying to use the cue card to fan your face.
“i’m serious,” he said, his gaze dropping to your lips for a split second before he flashed that million-dollar, panty dropping smile.
the sheer charm of it was lethal. you had to cross your legs immediately, the physical tension between the two of you suddenly becoming unbearable. you could hear a producer in the back whispering a faint “oh my god.”
right then, one of your executive producers walked onto the set, holding just one more single cue card. she had a massive smirk on her face.
you cannot be serious, you thought to yourself, your eyes narrowing into a fierce glare as she handed it to you. she just gave you a silent thumbs-up from behind the camera and scurried back into the dark.
you cleared your throat, trying to regain your composure. “before we close, we have a quick game to play.”
the producers had thrown together some random, convoluted party game—something involving rolling dice or picking matching cards—but the rules were clearly rigged from the start. no matter what choices were made, the penalty or the reward ultimately resulted in you two sharing a kiss either way.
jaafar looked at the card, then looked at you, an incredibly nervous but thrilled smile taking over his face.
“well,” jaafar murmured, leaning forward over the small table separating your chairs. “rules are rules.”
your heart was beating so loud you were certain the microphones were picking it up. “yeah. rules are rules.”
you both stood, talking small steps toward one another. when his hand gently reached up to rest against the side of your neck, his thumb brushing your jawline, your eyes fluttered shut.
the moment his lips pressed against yours, the entire studio seemed to vanish. it wasn't a quick, awkward cheek-peck for the cameras. it was soft, lingering, and incredibly deep. for a second, it felt like you were entirely melting into the warmth of him, your hand instinctively rising to touch his forearm.
then, a sharp beep from a camera battery brought you crashing back to reality.
you quickly remembered that you were on camera, surrounded by your entire production crew. you pulled away, your breath catching in your throat, your lips tingling.
jaafar’s eyes slowly opened, looking completely dazed, his hand lingering in the air for a second before he dropped it to his side.
you forced your voice to work, looking toward the main camera with everything you had left. “and… that is all the time we have for today. thank you for watching. don’t forget to buy your tickets to michael and follow us on all socials!”
“and we’re clear!” the director called out.
the lights didn't even dim before the set fell into a strange, buzzing quiet. you closed the interview, stacking your cards with trembling hands. across from you, jaafar still stood, completely speechless from what had just happened, his eyes fixed on you like he was trying to figure out if he was still dreaming.
finally he mustered up the courage to ask, “are you busy tonight? i would love to take you out.”
you couldn’t help but feel that nia long was somewhere, rubbing her hands together and laughing wickedly, knowing that this had been her plan all along.
you smiled and responded, “not at all.”
