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I love love love ur writing!!! Would adore a FWB bad or dangerous era MJ where he’s with a younger reader and she’s a little insecure about how much attention he get from other women (kinda like how he got kissed at one of his concerts during the way you make me feel) and he kinda teases her about her jealousy but then she gets rlly upset at him and ignores him during the tour. And they obviously make up duh!!! LOVE UUUUU 💖💖💖
✶ ₊ ° . JEALOUS !
michael knows well that this arrangement was no good, but seeing you so worked up and jealous about him, he couldn’t help but dream of more.
pairing : badera!michael x model!reader
content : fwb, age gap, younger!reader, hurt/comfort, tension, mutual pining, suggestive (a bit)
note : i’m still bad at writing smut so I’M PRACTICING DON’T COME AT ME 😭 but yeah maybe I WOULD GIVE YOU SMUT FOR THIS SOON HAHAHAHA
The arena felt louder than usual.
Not because of the crowd — they wouldn’t be let in for another few hours — but because rehearsal days were always chaotic. You stared at crew members darting around carrying cables, as dancers repeated choreography, managers shouted over headsets, and lights flashed across the empty seats.
You sat humming by the edge of the stage stairs, a cup of your [favourite drink] in your hand, observing each and every one.
You have been on tour with him for almost three weeks now. It was a supposed vacation, a ‘I want a break’ moment and Michael had so casually offered, Come with me, it’ll be fun.
It was what had been officially done, but unofficially?
Things had gotten complicated months ago. You didn’t notice when it all started to change. When the physical intimacy stopped being the one to ruin you instead it were the quieter things.
The absentminded way he reached for your hand in crowded places despite insisting this was casual. The late-night phone calls when insomnia clawed at him. The way he remembered insignificant details about you months after you’d mentioned them in passing.
It was a simple affair when you had agreed to warm his bed.
To find yourself tangled within his sheets, with his big hands snug around your waist, fingers digging into your skin as he would press long kisses across your collarbone, murmuring your name as if it was something sacred when he pushed himself deeper into you.
The idea of playing friends with benefits was supposed to be simple. No labels. No expectations. No jealousy.
But it seemed like your heart missed the memo.
You hear him laugh from across the stage, it makes you turn around to see him.
He was standing beside some model they'd hired for promotional shots and a short visual segment during the concert. Tall, gorgeous, perfectly styled despite rehearsal barely starting.
The model laughs at something, leaning closer, resting her hand on his arms.
The sight makes your stomach churn, it leaves a sour taste in your mouth as your knuckles turn white with how tight you were clenching your fists.
You shouldn’t feel jealous, you couldn’t because jealousy implied entitlement, and you had none. Not on him.
And suddenly the drink in your hand started to taste bitter.
Your eyes narrowed as you clicked your tongue. Seriously?
“You’re crushing the cup.”
You blinked.
One of his backup dancers sat beside her, glancing at the plastic cup that was slowly deforming in her grip.
“Oh.”
You loosened your grip.
Across the stage, he turns to look at her. Michael’s gaze meets yours and he immediately notices. The cruelly and unfairly perceptive Michael would always notice, when it came to you.
And he smiled. No, it was not the normal one, it was you’re being ridiculous and I am enjoying this smile.
Twenty minutes later he jogged over during break, sweat clinging onto his forehead.
“Everything okay?”
You stared at the empty cup in your hand.
“Mhm.”
“You sure?” He said amused.
“Mhm.” You hum absentmindedly.
“ . . . You look mad.”
“I’m not,” You bite.
Michael sits beside you, too close. You shifted. His smile widened as amusement flickered within his eyes.
“Oh my god,” He grinned wider.
“What?” Your eyes narrowed..
“Were you jealous?”
Silence. Absolute silence. You stare at him like you’d never met him before.
“No,” you said after a moment, eyes never leaving him.
“No?” He repeats innocently.
“No.”
Michael’s head tilts slightly, dark eyes studying you with infuriating calmness as the corner of his mouth curved. “No?” he mused lightly. “Could’ve fooled me.”
You scoffed, crossing your arms tightly over your chest. “You’re unbelievably full of yourself.”
Michael chuckles under his breath. “Am I?”
Your irritation sharpened instantly and that doesn’t go unnoticed by him. The way your posture tightens, the clipped responses and the way your attention keeps drifting back towards the model despite your obvious attempts to not look.
From the moment he had crossed over to you, he had noticed it.
You were jealous.
That revelation only served as fuel to the fire, it made something dangerously warm unfurl within his chest upon seeing you so worked up over him.
He watched you with a slow, growing smile, silently deciphering every guarded gesture as he relished the sight of your composure coming undone. The sight amused him and he couldn’t help but tease you about it.
“So if I walked back over there and asked for her number—”
“Go do it,” You said without missing a beat.
He blinked.
“Really?” He questions with his eyebrows raised at your words, unconvinced and unable to judge the tone in your voice.
You only give him a smile that wasn’t a smile. “Absolutely.”
Michael was still amused. Still smiling.
Still thinking it was funny.
“You know,” he continues casually, “usually when someone glares at a woman for touching me, it’s because they’re jealous.”
“I wasn’t glaring,” your glare sharpened instantly as you hissed the words at him.
Michael couldn’t truly deny how much he was enjoying this, because for the first time he could really see through your guarded actions.
“It’s alright to accept that you were jealous, sweetheart,” he said, entertained.
The comment struck something sensitive immediately. You felt your guts twist. You felt it as a sudden burn behind your ribs.
The teasing wasn't the worst part; it was the realization that Michael was right, which only served to sharpen your anger. It was infuriating to see him joke so effortlessly while your own composure was visibly unraveling, leaving a deep sense of humiliation burning within your chest.
Your expression suddenly changed and his smile faded a little.
Enough for you to notice, because he was finally realizing that this was no longer playful anymore.
“I can’t do this anymore,” you chuckled dryly.
You stand up, beginning to walk away.
“Hey, come on,” he calls, his voice softening as he seeks your gaze. “I was just joking, sweetheart.”
And it was enough of a statement to confirm that you must truly be a joke after all. The realization only made the ache within your chest grow.
You halted, turning to look at him for a moment.
[e/c] eyes meeting his own and Michael feels his heart drop at the look plastered on your face.
“You know what?” you said quietly. “Forget it.”
As you watched his features shift in response to yours, you felt a wave of dread, preferring to remain ignorant of the exact look you were giving him.
Words bubbled in his throat but even before he could answer, someone called his name from across the stage. He glances back briefly, nodding mindlessly to whatever was being said, before he turned to face you.
“Hey—” but you don’t let him finish.
You walked away, unstopping, long lost in the array of backup dancers.
The rest of the tour became weird, painfully so. It felt like torture to Michael.
And, no, not the sort of torture depicted in the movies; it was worse.
Small torture.
It started out with you sitting farther away on buses, stopped walking backstage with him after rehearsals, stopped texting him dumb things at two in the morning, stopped stealing his jacket and most importantly you began smiling at everyone, except for him.
You were not mean, nor did you seem angry. Just . . . distant.
Michael could handle anger, sharp words, sarcasm and cold stares. But this? the quiet distance where you moved around him like he wasn’t there at all — it crawled under his skin.
It was like he was punched awake from a dream that he had conjured up in his sleep.
Throughout the tour, Michael kept trying. If he sat beside her, you would always have an excuse to leave. If he called your name, you’d pretend not to hear.
And Michael hated every bit of it.
Because at first it amused him, but by day four he was confused, by day six he was irritated and by day eight he was miserable, searching for you, asking around about you, but you always won, never being found, hidden from his eyes.
It was the last show.
Last set.
Last night in the city.
The concert had ended an hour ago, still sweaty from the past events he stood backstage crowded by the crew as they fanned him but Michael’s eyes wavered around, looking for you. Even the tiniest glimpse of you would make his heart swell.
And then he sees you, slipping into one of the empty dressing rooms, away from the buzzing crowd.
The door clicks shut behind you, but you freeze when it clicks again.
You looked up, eyebrows suddenly furrowing at the sight of him. “Seriously?”
Michael stood at the door, sweat glistens on his forehead. He looked miserable, eyebags hidden by makeup, tiredness seemed to ooze from his being as he stood still.
“No.”
You looked at him. “No, what?”
“No, we’re not doing this anymore,” He swallows, his adam’s apple bobs gently.
There is a prolonged silence between the two of you. It lingers amidst the two of you, suffocating as it constricts you, putting you to face the truth.
Michael enters the room fully, the door closes shut behind him.
“Don’t avoid me, please.”
It catches you off guard. “What?”
“I’m sorry, baby,” he pleads softly. “I was teasing you, I didn’t mean for it to come off wrong.”
“You were making fun of me,” You said quietly, a lump forming in your threat.
Michael’s face softened.
“No,” He said softly. “I wasn’t.”
You swallowed the tight lump in your throat, looking away. Because suddenly it hurts again, and the ache within your chest returns.
“You know what sucked?” you said softly. “Realizing I cared enough to get jealous when I wasn't supposed to.”
You bit your lip, staring down at your feet as you sniffled.
“. . . And realizing you thought it was funny.”
The words hit harder than Michael had expected. It was as if someone had poured ice-cold water on him.
The room felt small as Michael stood still, staring at you.
“I wasn’t laughing because I didn’t care,” His voice was much gentler than you had heard in days. “I was laughing because I liked it.”
Your eyes finally lifted up.
Michael slowly steps closer, running a hand through his hair. He cleared his throat, as a sigh escapes him.
“You never get jealous,” he bit his lip.
“. . . I know,” Your jaw clenches.
“You even act like you don’t care,” He chuckles dryly, hand coming up to brush yours.
You swallowed, unanswering.
“But then for one second . . .” Michael said, a wobbly smile on his face. “ . . . you looked at me as if I actually mattered.”
Your chest tightens, bottom lip trembling. “You do matter.”
His expression changed instantly. The blurred lines of your ‘no string attached’ arrangement had burned right at his feet.
Michael’s eyes gleamed with something softer, more dangerous.
He stepped close enough for you to feel the warmth rolling off him. “You should’ve said that earlier.”
“Maybe you should’ve stopped being annoying then,” You looked up at him properly.
He laughed quietly, eyes glistening with the same magic they always do.
And this time his hand slipped around his waist and under your shirt, but you did not move away this time.
The silence stretches, heavy and charged.
Michael brings his forehead to rest against yours.
“Are you still mad at me?” He asked softly.
“A little,” You answered.
“Hm,” His thumb brushed gently against your side.
“A little is manageable,”
You rolled your eyes at him, the side of your mouth curving up.
Michael slowly leans in, you could feel his hot breath against your lips. His hands ride further up under your t-shirt, as you bit your lip.
You kiss him first, pulling at his jacket’s collar.
He sighs gently against your lips, fingers digging into your skin as he presses you close. He deepens the kiss slightly — warm and lingering, carrying all the words you two hadn’t shared in the past week.
Michael kisses you with want, there is affection and yearning laced within every move and touch. He takes you whole, nibbling and licking at your bottom lip.
There is hunger evident in the way he is so rushed when he stumbles backwards with you in tow.
The back on your knee hits the sofa in the room as you take the fall.
And that finally separates you, it leaves you gasping for air when he pulls away, still on top of you. You stared at him for a moment before breaking into soft laughter and he joins in to, laughing like he had earned an award.
Michael stayed there, forehead resting against yours, looking entirely too pleased with himself.
“You don’t know what you do me, pretty girl,” He accused softly.
“You could show me,” You chuckle softly.
“Mhm,” 
He brushed a thumb across your cheek.
“I could even give you the whole world if you ask me too, mama.”
baderaangel 2026 ! all rights reserved — reblogs and comments are appreciated. plagiarism is a crime.
i apologise guys i’ll be inactive for a few days more due to exams. i’ll try to post something in between though hehehe but YES EXAMS ARE SURE DRAINING AND BAD EW 💔
HEAR ME OUTTT..... NERD MICHAEL AND IT HAS TO BE PRE-OFF THE WALL ERAAA....... LET THAT SINK INNN. THANK YOU FOR LISTENING TO MY TED TALK...................
I SEE IT. I SEE THE VISION. NERDY, TOUCH STARVED, SHY BBY MICHAEL AWOOGA 😍🛐🤪
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i love all y’all michael jackson and jaafar fic writers. keep serving and leave no crumbs you marvellous people. i wake up each morning to thank lord for you all. amen. 🛐😩
this is me as i pray to lord to keep everyone healthy and creative asl:
I was wondering if you could write a birthday themed(it was my bday yesterday )fic with Michael and the reader or of as a singer apart of a band pleasee.❤️❤️❤️
✶ ₊ ° . REMEMBER FOR YOU !
when you forget your own birthday amidst the chaos of your band’s tour preparations. so michael remembers it for you, within gentle words and devoted kisses.
pairing : mature era! michael x band vocalist!reader
note : omg yes girl 😩 why notttt let me feed you good. eat well baby you need that AND BELATED HAPPY BIRTHDAY SWEETS HOPE YOU HAD LOTS OF FUN 🥹🥳💌
You hadn’t realised when the studio had consumed every part of your being, when rest itself had begun to sound like nothing more than a distant dream.
Somewhere between sleepless night and unfinished set lists, you had forgotten what solace felt like — forgotten the comfort of silk duvets tangled around you as you slept till noon, forgotten the weight of loving arms wrapped around your waist, forgotten the kisses pressed against your skin with quiet devotion.
The past few days had all been a blur of fluorescent lights and echoing instrumentals, where the only thing grounding you was the dull ache settled deep within your bones. Coffee had long replaced proper meals, exhaustion sat heavy beneath your eyes and the studio clock continued ticking on unnoticed as though time itself had stopped existing within these walls.
You looked liked a mess, sat amongst scattered sheets of lyrics and cancelled setlists. There was only the thought of tour behind your tired eyes. This 25th anniversary milestone tour was all that you could think about, it had to be the best thing ever recorded. It had to be the best thing to ever exist.
This tour had to be the very best.
You hadn’t noticed when the others eventually left, uttering tired goodbyes which faded into the background noise of the playback still humming through the speakers. Did not notice the silence growing louder around you.
It was only when a familiar hand gently touched your shoulder that you finally blinked back into yourself.
“Hey, beautiful,” Michael utters softly.
“Michael . . .” You murmured, gaze finding his.
He feels his heartache upon hearing you murmur his name in such a way. He sees the exhaustion beneath your eyes and the ache held within your bones. He notices it all.
How could he not when his beloved looks like a mess? But a beautiful mess nonetheless.
“You need to rest, baby,” He says gently.
The words make you shake your head in denial, not yet ready to accept that you were tired enough.
“I’m fine,” You answer, voice hoarse from the previous events of the day.
Michael feels devastated by your answer, knowing well that nothing about you looked fine in the moment. You had even forgotten your own birthday. The thought only hurt him more, for you had truly forgotten about yourself.
“Come on now, mama, you need to rest,” He argues. His voice is much stern than before.
Your brows furrowed, “But the tour’s in four days, Michael. I can’t rest.”
“Four days is still a lot, baby,” He responds. “You need to be healthy before you tour.”
And to that you can’t argue.
You realised long back into the relationship that you could never argue with Michael. He’d blink his pretty doe eyes at you and you’d agree. You would agree to most things he’d ever say. You could never truly bring to argue with him.
“Fine,” You huffed.
A huge grin breaks onto Michael’s face. The idea he had been working on all day was now in action.
“Let’s get you home, beautiful,” He smiles so bright.
You could only sigh in defeat, chuckling softly when he pulls you out of the studio and takes you home. But you miss the way he seems so restless in his seat, excitement rushing through his body.
“Wait right here,” Michael presses a kiss to your forehead before stationing you right outside the door to the house. He gives you a lovestruck grin before disappearing somewhere inside the house and leaving you starstruck and bewildered.
You stand still, caught off guard by his request, but you wait nonetheless.
Michael finally appears, he seems giddy and nervous. He holds a sleeping mask in his hands as he nears you.
“What is it?” You questioned, an eyebrow raised.
“You gotta wait and see, mama,” He giggles like a summer child before putting the blindfold cum sleeping mask over your eyes. He is gentle with the way he grabs your hands.
You hear the door creak when he pushes it open. Your heart thunders wildly in your chest with curiosity.
Michael guides you carefully around corners and carpeted hallways. His eyes gleam with adoration as he pulls you along the long stretched corridors of the house.
It seems like a long walk until you two come to a halt. You squeeze his hand with a desperation to know what exists behind the blindfold. You hear him chuckle softly, before he lets go of your hand.
“Mikey?” Your heart races when you don’t feel his presence, reaching to pull the blindfold off.
It is a rushed movement when you pull it off, eyes blinking hard to adjust to the lightning. But your breath hitches the instant your vision clears.
Dim lit fairy lights illuminate the room within their artificial yet gentle glow, roses cover the ground beneath your feet. You see a table set for two, all your favourite dishes are on the table, and then your eyes catch Michael sitting at the grand piano.
His back faces you, until he glances your way, a grin plastered on his lips.
You feel warmth blossom in your chest, as heaviness grows in your throat when he begins to sing. The words finally sink in and you realise that you had forgotten the very thing you used to be excited about as a kid:
Your own birthday.
“Happy Birthday, beautiful,” He ends, the smile never leaves Michael’s face as he approaches you.
He is gentle as he takes your hand, caressing your knuckles, gazing at you as if you hung the stars and the moon in the sky, as if you held every secret of the universe. His eyes full of devotion stared right at you.
“I wanted to do more for you, but it hurt to realise you forgot your special day. It hurt even more when you said you were fine, when you looked like a mess, but a beautiful mess nonetheless.”
Your bottom lip trembled at his words, as a soft laugh escapes you.
“You are exceptional in what you do. You are this talented, wonderful, marvellous and extraordinary woman that has shown me what love is. You are strong and I know that better than anyone. You are everything that I’ve ever imagined to have in my life.” He says, wiping your tears away.
“You don’t need to prove to anyone how amazing you are. I will always be proud of you, no matter what, sweetheart,” He hums resting his forehead against yours.
“Oh, Mikey…” You sobbed, clutching onto his shirt.
“Happiest birthday, my love,” He mutters softly before pressing his lips against yours in a soft kiss.
His big warm hands slide around your waist to pull you close. Your chest pressed against his as he devours you whole, nibbling at your lip before he pulls away, forehead resting against your own. He stares at you intently, out of breath.
“Thank you, Mikey,” You breathed softly against his skin.
Upon hearing your words, Michael only tightened his hold, pulling you further into his warmth. A soft chuckle vibrated within his chest as he began peppering sweet, fluttering kisses all across your face, making a melodic giggle escape your lips.
“Gosh, I love you,” He murmured between rhythmic pecks, his lips meeting yours over and over with a desperate sort of adoration.
You let out a tiny snort, shaking your head gently as a smile played on your features. “I love you too, Michael.”
“You better,” He replied with a playful huff.
You laughed warmly, feeling a profound sense of tranquility wash over you for the first time in an eternity. Perhaps losing track of your own birthday wasn’t so terrible, as long as he was the one there to remember it for you.
baderaangel 2026 ! all rights reserved — plagiarism is a crime. reblogs and comments are appreciated. don’t be a silent reader.
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so like uh haha what about royalty au, enemies to lovers — where we have emperor!michael and enemy empire’s princess!reader, who is offered to him as negotiation to save the empire 😳