i just saw a video on tiktok where this guy took note of everything his gf has said she wanted or like pointed out at different stores, and he surprised her with all the stuff
this seems like something michael would do but honestly, i would loveee to see it written for jermajesty
، summary𓈒 you and jermaine are secretly dating and you both do a duet together. On the stage, this man completely lost his senses, and his dance moves, just looking at you.
، pairing𓈒 jermaine jackson x singer!black!fem!reader
، warnings𓈒 no use of y/n, fluff, kissing, an obsessed jermaine, your stage name is star, nosey ass press, mention of j****.
، notes𓈒 I ACCIDENTALLY DELETED THE FUCKING ASK—IM PISSED. (Sorry queen😭) i love me some jermaine 🫦 the song that reader and jermaine sings is “you’re all i need to get by” sang by Marvin Gaye and Tammi Terrell (lauvv themm).
People were running back and forth with clothing racks, stage hands were shouting about mic checks, and the faint, muffled thumping of the opening act was vibrating right through the walls. But inside the dressing room, none of that noise mattered. The door was shut tight, the heavy brass bolt thrown into place to keep the public, the press, and any wandering eyes out.
Because for now, the secret was still safe.
To the rest of the world, you and Jermaine Jackson were just two rising stars under the same musical umbrella, doing a highly anticipated, one off duet for a television special. The rumors were always swirling in the magazines, sure, but nobody had the slightest proof. The fans didn't know. The media didn't know. Only the inner circle, the families, knew the real story. It was impossible to keep a secret that big from a house full of Jacksons or from your own tight knit, sharp eyed parents. They knew about the late night house phone calls that practically lasted until the sun came up, and the way you two had been completely, hopelessly locked in with each other for months. As far as the media, the screaming fans, and the nosy reporters were concerned? You were just "good, good friends" who possessed a whole lot of natural musical chemistry.
Inside your private dressing room, though, the "good friends" act was completely out the window.
The room was warm, illuminated by the bright, harsh bulbs bordering the massive vanity mirror. You stood right in the center of the space, taking a final look at yourself, and honestly, you were looking like an absolute vision. You were rocking a stark white, thigh length dress that hugged your curves perfectly before flaring out just enough to give it some movement. But the real star of the show was the styling underneath, you had on these vibrant, bright orange, white, and pink patterned leggings that caught every drop of light, paired with some chunky, pink platform shoes that made your legs look a mile long.
And, of course, you and your man were completely coordinated thanks to your manager. Jermaine was standing right behind you, adjusting his collar in the reflection. He was wearing a sharp, tailored white blazer that fit his shoulders like a glove, but when he moved, the silk inside shirt underneath perfectly matched the exact same patterns of your leggings. You looked like a matching set, a complete power couple, even if you couldn't announce it to the world yet.
Jermaine caught your eye in the mirror, a slow, heavy grin spreading across his lips. His dark eyes darkened with that look, that deep, appreciative gaze that always made your stomach do a whole flip. He didn't care about the wardrobe people outside, he didn't care about the stage manager pacing the halls, and he definitely didn't care about the strict schedule they were running on.
He leaned in close, his tall frame enveloping yours from behind as he looked at your reflection in the mirror. His eyes were dark, heavy with affection, a slow, appreciative smirk spreading across his handsome face. Before you could even smooth down the hem of your dress, his large, warm hands slid around from behind you, settling right on the curve of your hips before sliding further down, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of your ass firmly through the white fabric, giving it a slow heavy squeeze.
"Mmm, look at you," Jermaine mumbled against the back of your neck, his voice dropping into that low, gravelly tone that always got you weak. He pulled you flush against his front, his chest pressing right into your shoulders. "You look so good, baby. It's taking everything in me not to just lock this door and tell them production gotta wait."
You giggled, leaning your head back against his shoulder, but you tried to play it cool, reaching behind you to weakly swat at his hands, though you didn't actually make him move them. "Jermaine, stop it. You need to behave yourself. We got like seven minutes before they call us to the stage, and you out here trying to start something."
"I ain't trying to start nothing, I'm just appreciating what's mine," he turned you around in his arms so you were facing him, his eyes looking down into yours with so much heat it made your knees go a little weak. "You nervous?"
"A little bit," you admitted, your hands resting on his chest, feeling the steady, calm beat of his heart. "I just hope my voice stays clear. I don't want it cracking, you know? We worked too hard on it for me to mess up a note."
"Look at me," Jermaine said, his tone softening into that warm, reassuring tone he only used when it was just the two of you. He reached up, his thumb gently tracing the line of your jaw. "You ain't gonna mess up nothing. You’re a star, baby, that’s literally your name. Your voice is beautiful, and once we get out there under them lights, it’s just gonna be me and you. Just like in the rehearsal room."
You looked up at his cute nose, his perfect lips, and the intense sincerity in his eyes, and your heart just melted. "You always know what to say, Jermaine." You breathed.
"Yeah? Well, let me show you, too," he whispered, his gaze dropping instantly to your lips.
You had just finished your makeup, and your lips were painted with a nice layer of glossy pink lipgloss that made your mouth look completely irresistible. Seeing him lean in, his eyes locking onto your mouth, you instantly pressed your hand against his white blazer to hold him back.
"Unt unt! No, sir," you complained, swatting at his chest playfully. "Jermaine, I just put this lipgloss on. Like literally two seconds ago. Do not mess up my face before we gotta go under those big ass lights."
Jermaine didn't give a single fuck. A slick, arrogant little smile spread across his handsome face, his thumb coming up to gently catch your chin. "I don't care nothing about no lipgloss, baby. Come here."
He leaned down and captured your mouth in a deep, heavy, lingering kiss. You groaned into his lips, trying to pretend you were annoyed, but within two seconds, your hands slid up his chest and wrapped around the back of his neck, completely giving in. He kissed you deep, his tongue lightly tracing your bottom lip, completely smearing the sticky, sweet pink gloss all over his own mouth, blending your flavors together. His hands back on your ass, squeezing and pulling you into him like he was trying to merge your two bodies into one right there in the room.
Suddenly, the heavy wooden door to the dressing room swung open without a single knock. "Hey, the stage manager said y'all need to-"
Jackie walked straight into the room, stopping dead in his tracks. He stared at the two of you, Jermaine with his hands fully gripping your ass, and you wrapped around his neck with pink lipgloss completely smeared across both of your mouths. Jackie let out a loud, dramatic sigh, crossing his arms over his chest and shaking his head.
"Oh, man...see, this is exactly why we can't ever find you when it’s showtime," his loud, amused voice boomed.
You instantly tore yourself away from Jermaine, your face burning hot as you let out a loud, embarrassed giggle, covering your mouth. Jermaine just laughed, completely unfazed, wiping the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand, only succeeding in spreading the pink shimmer even more.
"Man, Jackie, don't you know how to knock?" Jermaine grumbled, though he had a lazy, satisfied grin on his face. "We were just...rehearsing the emotion of the song."
"Right, right. Rehearsing," Jackie laughed, checking his watch. "Well, the director is calling for y'all. The announcer is about to go out. Get your face wiped, lover boy, and get your asses down to the wings. Don't keep the people waiting."
"See? I told you! Look at you, you're a whole mess." You carefully dabbed at his lips and cheek, fixing the smudge while he just stood there like a big, happy puppy, staring down at you with pure adoration.
"Alright, we good," you said, tossing the tissue in the trash and taking a deep, sharp breath. You shook your hands out, trying to rid your fingers of the lingering nervous jitters. "Let’s go do this."
Jermaine reached out, grabbing your hand and squeezing it tightly. "Right behind you, baby."
Walking through the backstage wings was a blur. The heat from the massive stage lights was already spilling into the darkness of the wings, and the sound of the audience was deafening. You could hear the stage manager counting down from the back. You took a step onto the edge of the stage, the slick wood smooth beneath your chunky platforms.
Suddenly, the house lights dimmed slightly, and the booming voice of the announcer echoed through the stadium speakers, cutting through the noise.
“Ladies and gentlemen, up next we have a special treat for you tonight. Performing their smash hit collaboration that has been tearing up the charts across the nation...we have a brilliant young woman and man...please put your hands together for the incredible Jackson 5's own Jermaine Jackson, and the beautiful, talented young lady herself...Star!”
The moment your stage name left the announcer's mouth, the crowd went absolutely wild. The roar was deafening, a massive wave of applause, screams, and stomping feet shaking the entire studio.
The moment the audience caught sight of your outfits, another massive wave of cheers erupted. They were absolutely loving the look, the sharp contrast of the pure white dress and blazer against those loud, unapologetic orange, pink, and white patterns.
You walked out to the center of the stage where two microphone stands were set up side by side. The announcer exited into the shadows as you took your place, reaching up to adjust the mic right to where your mouth was. You took a quick glance back toward the live band, giving the musical director a sharp thumbs up, and then you looked down for a brief second, centering yourself in the music.
The opening brass and the heavy, sweet roll of the drums came in, giving you a few seconds to prepare. While the intro built up, you and Jermaine instantly caught the groove, your bodies swaying perfectly in sync to the beat. But you weren't trying to stay confined to a metal pole tonight. You reached down and removed the microphone from its stand, wrapping your fingers around the grill, ready to really perform.
Jermaine did the exact same, his eyes already locked onto you, a soft, knowing smile playing on his lips.
The music dropped to that perfect, intimate pocket, and Jermaine brought his microphone up to his chest. He didn't look at the cameras. He didn't look at the hundreds of screaming fans in the crowd. He looked straight at you, watching you sing.
Your voice coming out like a purr. "You're all I need to get by... y-y..." You sang, the smooth run at the end making the boys and girls in the front row let out a collective scream.
Then, the tempo picked up just a bit, the groove settling into that classic, undeniable Motown bounce. Jermaine took a smooth, sliding step toward you. The lyric came up, and he sang it with so much emotion. "Like the sweet morning dew, I took one look at you..."
As he hit that line, he reached out with his free hand. His long, smooth fingers gently caught the edge of your chin, his thumb resting against your jaw, tenderly turning your face so you were forced to look directly into his eyes.
"...And it was plain to see...you were my destiny," he crooned, his eyes shining with so much genuine love it was a wonder the whole world didn't figure it out right then and there.
The crowd went absolutely berserk at the gesture. The romance of the movement had people screaming, clapping, and clutching their chests.
Jermaine let go of your chin, his smile widening as he backed up a step, his body grooving to the bass line. He gave a little nod, signaling it was your turn.
You stepped right into the spotlight, your voice coming out clear, loud, and absolutely flawless, carrying over the heavy instrumentation with ease. You looked right back at him, singing your heart out:
"With my arms open wide...I threw away my pride. I'll sacrifice for you...dedicate my life to you..."
As you finished the line, Jermaine quickly threw in his vocal cue "Oh..." but his feet were still glued to the floor because he was too busy admiring his woman. He was grooving, but he was so lost in the beauty of your voice and the way your afro bounced with every note that he literally forgot where he was for a second.
"I will go where you lead...always there in time of need," you sang, pouring every bit of your soul into the lyric, looking over at him to lock eyes for the transition. But you noticed Jermaine was just standing there, grinning like a fool, completely mesmerized by you, totally forgetting his cue to hit the little synchronized footwork routine y'all had rehearsed.
"And when I lose my will...you'll be there to push me up the hill..."
You caught it instantly. Out of the corner of your eye, you looked down into the VIP section. Your parents were sitting right there, nodding along to the words with massive, proud smiles on their faces. Right next to them, the Jackson family was clumped together. Mama Katherine was smiling sweetly, but Joseph had his eyes narrowed, and Jackie and Tito were furiously gesturing from their seats, trying to signal to Jermaine to move his feet.
Without breaking character or losing your smile, you smoothly danced your way over to him. Making it look like part of the act, you spun right up into his space and delivered a sharp, playful slap right to his white blazer covered arm, giving him a look that clearly said, Nigga, remember to actually fucking dance!
Jermaine blinked, snapping out of his trance, and let out a quick, quiet chuckle into his mic that luckily sounded like a soulful chuckle to the audience. He immediately caught the step, his hips swaying as he fell right back into the routine beside you.
Then, both of your voices came together for the chorus, blending in that flawless, spine tingling harmony that made the song a hit in the first place.
"There's no, no looking back for us...We got love, sure 'nough, that's enough..."
As you hit the main hook, the music suddenly softened, the heavy drums dropping out to leave just a sweet, melodic piano and a soft bassline. Your voices dropped down too, becoming incredibly soft, intimate, and quiet.
You and Jermaine looked directly at each other. "You're all..." you sang softly, your voice a tender whisper.
"You're all I need..." Jermaine countered, his voice dropping into that deep, velvety register, his eyes completely locked onto yours, full of a love and devotion that no script could ever replicate. "...to get by."
For the rest of the song, you were both just gliding across that stage, singing back and forth, hitting every single run and harmony with a precision that only came from hours of singing together in empty rooms. But more than the vocal technique, it was the look in your eyes. Every time the camera cut to a close up, Jermaine was staring at you like you were the only girl in the entire universe, and you were looking right back at him with that same, unmistakable glow.
"Just to do what's good for you..." you sang pointing at your man with a big toothy grin on your face, as he added in his lil, c'mon darling, "and inspire you a little higher..."
"I know you can make a man out of a soul that didn't have a goal..." he belted, his brows furrowed as he followed your steps.
Your voices blended into each other once again, "'Cause we, we got the right foundation and with love and de...termination..."
"You're all, you're all I want to strive for and do a little more..." Jermaine nudged your shoulder with his, almost making you laugh but you both continued. "All, all the joys under the sun wrapped up into one..."
"You're all, you're all I needdd...You're all I need..."
As the music finally began to dim and fade out, you repeated the chorus one last time, your voice following the fading notes down to a whisper, holding his hand tightly in the center of the stage.
"You're all I need..." He let out a hard, "Ohh..." into his mic, creating the perfect, warm background layer before you both continued simultaneously.
"...to get by." Your voices bled into one another, creating an overlapping chorus.
"Ohhh, baby." Jermaine sang into the mic, followed by your, ouuu.
"Oh, baby," he repeated, looking at you, "Ahh. Honey, honey, honey, honey," his honeys got higher before you both let out a synchronized, "yeah!"
The music slowly dissolved into the air. For a single, breathless second, the studio was dead silent. You and Jermaine just stood there, chests heaving, standing close enough to feel the heat radiating off each other's clothes, smiling sweet and completely, blissfully in love.
The moment the final note clipped off, the studio audience erupted. The entire crowd finally stood up out of their seats, cheering, whistling, and clapping just as loud as they did when you first walked out, if not louder. You and Jermaine stood there, catching your breath, bowing deeply to the left and right. Jermaine put his arm around your shoulder, giving you a tight squeeze, before the stage manager guided you both off toward the interview set.
The post performance interview was set up in a brightly lit alcove just off the main stage, where a row of microphones and flashing cameras from various entertainment reporters were waiting. You and Jermaine stood side by side against a decorative backdrop, a couple of prominent tv hosts standing in front of you with mics and notepads.
"Jermaine, Star, that was absolutely electric out there!" she gushed, her voice cutting through the chatter of the room. "The charts are already on fire with this song, but seeing it live? The chemistry up on that stage was undeniable. I mean, Jermaine, at one point you looked completely lost in the music, or was it something else?"
Jermaine let out a smooth, easy laugh as he looked down at the host's mic, then slid a quick, amused glance your way. "Oh, you know, it’s just the power of the song. The rhythm just catches you sometimes. When you're working with an artist as incredibly talented as Star, you just get caught up in the magic of the moment. It's all about the craft."
"The craft?" another reporter chimed in from the side, a skeptical but highly amused smirk on his face. "Come on now, Jermaine. We saw you out there. You were looking at her like she was the only person in the room! And Star, that little hit to his arm? It looked a lot less like a rehearsed dance move and a lot more like a lovers' quarrel! What's really going on between you two?"
You let out a loud, bubbly giggle, instantly covering your mouth with your hand, your cheeks flushing a deep, warm color under the harsh studio lights. You nudged Jermaine's shoulder with your own, playing it off completely.
"Oh, please!" you said, leaning into the microphone with a bright, charming smile. "That wasn't a lovers' quarrel, that was me reminding him of his steps! He was supposed to be hitting that side shuffle and he completely froze on me. I had to wake him up! If I didn't nudge him, Joseph would've been lecturing him all night about missing the choreography."
The circle of reporters erupted into a wave of laughter.
"So it’s strictly professional?" the first host pressed, leaning in closer, smelling blood. "Because the rumors have been absolutely flying. The coordinated outfits...I mean, look at you two! You’re wearing her exact same pattern inside your blazer, Jermaine. You look like a matching set."
Jermaine smoothed down the lapels of his white blazer, flashing that slick, arrogant, devastatingly handsome smile that always made the fans scream. He wrapped a casual, friendly arm around your shoulder, pulling you in just close enough for comfort, but keeping it perfectly appropriate for the cameras.
"Hey, you gotta credit the styling team for the coordination. They know how to make a duo look good," Jermaine said, his voice smooth as silk, completely unfazed by the interrogation. "But to answer your question—nah, man. It's not like that. We’re just good, good friends. We spent a lot of time in the studio getting the vocals right, and when you spend that much time working hard on a track, you develop a deep connection, musically. It's all love, but we’re just great partners in the studio."
"Just good friends?" the reporter asked, looking directly at you, trying to see if you'd crack. "Star, do you expect us to believe that? A handsome man like Jermaine singing a love song right to your face, touching your chin like that, and there are no sparks?"
"Jermaine is a beautiful person, and he's an amazing performer," you said, keeping your voice steady and sweet, though your heart was doing little flips against your ribs. You looked up at Jermaine, sharing a quick, private, highly amused look that the cameras definitely caught but couldn't quite define. "But like he said, we’re just really tight. We're great friends. The chemistry you see on stage is just us having fun and feeding off the energy of the crowd. We love the song, we love the fans, and we just want to put on a great show."
"So no secret romance? No wedding bells in the future for the two young rising stars of the industry?" another voice shouted from the back.
"Oh, absolutely not, y'all are trying to start trouble!" you laughed, waving your hand dismissively as the stage manager started gesturing that it was time to wrap it up. "We're just focused on the music. Go buy the record!"
"Just good, good friends!" Jermaine repeated into the final mic, giving a smooth peace sign to the main camera, his thumb secretly brushing against the back of your shoulder in a quick, hidden caress that sent a jolt of electricity straight down your spine.
As the handlers finally guided you away from the press line and back toward the quiet, dim hallway of the backstage area, the noise of the reporters faded. The moment the heavy door to the corridor clicked shut behind you, isolating the two of you from the chaos, the polite, professional smiles dropped.
Jermaine instantly let out a deep, rumbling laugh, throwing his arm fully around your waist and pulling you flush against his side as you walked.
"Good, good friends, huh?" he murmured into your hair, his voice dropping right back into that low, gravelly tonr that made your knees weak. "You played that real smooth, baby. 'Just reminding him of his steps.' You almost had me believing it."
"Shut up, Jermaine, you're the one who kept repeating that shit." you giggled, leaning your head against his broad shoulder, the heavy weight of his white blazer warm against your face. "You really did forget the steps! I had to save your ass on national television."
"Hey, I told you," he chuckled, stopping right outside your dressing room door and turning you around to face him, his eyes locking onto yours with that same, intense heat from the stage. "I couldn't help it. You looked too good under them lights. I forgot where the stage ended and where you began."
You looked up at his handsome face, noticing a tiny, lingering faint smudge of pink, shimmering lipgloss right on the edge of his jawline that the reporters had somehow missed. You reached up, your fingers gently wiping it away, your heart full to the absolute brim. The world didn't know, the media didn't have a clue, but right here in the quiet of the hallway, the secret was entirely yours to keep.
another idea for michael x sade!inspired reader (or maybe beyoncé??) where reader is one of the performers paying tribute to michael jackson during his 30th anniversary.
reader is a rising artist and michael has this huge crush on her and janet, rebbie, or latoya have been distant friends with reader for a long time and set up the surprise for michael && when he sees her come out of stage he gets real excited etc etc.
can someone write something with michael falling for his lawyer who was hired to help him through all the accusations && stuff somewhere between ‘93 and ‘05 ??
btw to the white person who’s out here saying she can write black well and then deliberately writing us a trashy and ghetto and THEN dming me saying “thats just how black people are”, I hope ur pillow hot, ur food burnt and ur followers all block u, stank girl x
okay, y’all have officially lost the damn plot because what the actual fuck is going on around here??? the blatant anti-blackness, racism, & misogynoir that has been spreading on this damn app like wildfire is extremely disgusting, ignorant, & dehumanizing — it’s like y’all are openly racist & have no shame in it, which is really fucking obtuse and shows the lack of morality in your character.
