𖦹⁺◟⁎⁺. 𝐈𝐍 𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐂𝐇, 𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐀 𝐁𝐄𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐓𝐓 is forced to move to Mystic Falls to live with her cousin, Bonnie Bennett.
After their hot girl summer, she's pulled into her cousin's mess a town with vampires, the blood sucking bitches she's hated since they murdered her parents. She never planned on seeing past that.
Until she's caught in a triangle between 𝐊𝐋𝐀𝐔𝐒 𝐌𝐈𝐊𝐀𝐄𝐋𝐒𝐎𝐍, the evil hybrid,
and 𝐃𝐀𝐌𝐎𝐍 𝐒𝐀𝐋𝐕𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐄, the impulsive vampire.
Both are drawn to her beauty and how she handles herself, pursuing her as danger closes in on Mystic Falls and changes things for better or 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐒𝐄.
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wattpad: projectblubiva
Read 𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐏𝐇𝐈𝐂𝐒 from the story 𝐒𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐀𝐋 | 𝐓𝐕𝐃 by projectblubiva (𝐁𝐈𝐕𝐀!) with 68 reads. hybrid, urban...
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summary — in which you attend the World Music Awards with your boyfriend Michael Jackson, where Diana Ross suddenly sits on his lap right in front of you, causing you to feel jealous and hurt…
18+ mdni ✦ angst, the mention of d*ana ross, jealousy, avoidant asl, unprotected sex, p in v, usage of the word ‘mommy,’ michael is a pro yearner, reader kinda easy
authors note: personal shoutout to @invinciscream for giving me my motivation back
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Sitting in the crowded auditorium that held more talented artists than you could count, you tapped your fingers on your thigh, anticipating Michael’s name to be called, marking his third win of the night.
A soft smile settled on your face, excitement for your partner budding in the pit of your stomach.
“And the award goes to—" For a second, it is so quiet that it feels as if the entire room stilled. “Michael Jackson!” The entire room erupted into applause, including you as you watched your beautiful husband travel to the stage, a smile on his face that could only display his gratefulness.
The music was loud and the applause was deafening as Michael swept his third award of the night, his acceptance speech full of gratitude, but not only the appreciation for his fans but also his appreciation for you.
As he padded back to the seat that held its spot next to you, his focus was no longer on the award but on you. He shifted closer, angling his head down toward your shoulder to whisper a sweet joke that eased the tension within your shoulders. The quiet moment that once overtook them both is interrupted by the opening notes of ‘Ain’t no mountain high enough,' and within seconds, Diana Ross is commanding the floor.
She glided onto the stage, her bleach blonde hair & the red suit she chose to wear bringing everyone’s attention to her. The smile you held dropped immediately, a look of disgust falling on your face.
You acknowledged that Michael and Diana once had a past—a past that you were incredibly disturbed by. As he was clearly taken advantage of by this grown woman—she stayed the love of his life for many years.
Well—until you came along.
Diana’s eyes locked onto our row, her eyes calculating– a look that revealed all too well her low down dirty intentions.
She glided off stage, her body moving gracefully as she stopped right in front of your seats, a smile resting on her face. Diana playfully sat right onto Michael’s lap; his arm went around her waist to steady her, his face now a deep crimson that almost resembled the outfit Diana wore.
He ducked his head, covering his mouth as he let out his signature giggle. He glanced sideways at you, eyes wide with a mix of shock and pure embarrassment.
You too were shocked and embarrassed as you watched as she stepped off his lap, gliding her ass somewhere else. The anger that you felt seemed to be literally incomprehensible.
The sudden suffocating weight of the crowd's whispers rings violently in your ears, making you ready to bolt for the exit at any second
‘Did Diana really just do that right in front of her?’
‘Why isn’t she doing anything?’
The night blew by in painful ripples. You spent the next few hours forcing a fake, agonizing smile, pretending to be happy as he swept a total of five awards.
But the cold sting of betrayal refuses to leave your chest; every time you closed your eyes, you saw the way he reacted to Diana. The blush on his face, his hands wrapped around her waist; the fire in your chest burned hotter.
The ceremony ends with a celebration, which you take as a sign to leave. Anger is blooming stronger within your heart. You grab the purse that once sat in your chair, slipping it around your arms as you allow your feet to carry you to the limo that awaits your presence outside.
Stepping outside into the humid air only did so much to relax the tension in your chest.
You hear footsteps trailing after you, familiar ones, and before you could turn around you hear a soft voice.
“Baby, where are you going? They’re celebrating in there.” Michael says his presence rested uncomfortably behind your back. You responded with silence, crossing your arms.
“Baby?” He says once more, trying to get the attention that you craved all night, yet his focus was more so on his weird ass ex. “You can’t call me that. Not right now." The attitude in your voice, something he’d rarely heard, especially to him, takes him aback; he flinches in response.
“What’s wrong? What did I do?” The confusion written all over his face insinuates the idea that he did nothing wrong. But yet, the feeling of a crushed heart still rested between them.
“How could you let that woman... the woman that has hurt you many times, led you on, and said countless rude shit about me sit on your lap like that? In front of everyone?” The anger in your tone never fades; the words spill out like rapid fire, and you still hold your back to him, the inability to even look at him highlighting your anger.
"Sweetheart—I'm sorry. I was in the heat of the moment, and I… I didn’t know how to resp—" Your voice cuts him off. “By pushing her off!” You shake your head, finally making the decision to turn to face him. Bad decision.
“It was embarrassing, Michael. If you cannot… If you will not leave what you had with her in the past, I will not make you choose. Nor will I let you embarrass me like that in front of everyone.” Your voice is now shaking, shaking in the pain of having to let him go, shaking in the pain of having to walk away.
He stood there. Frozen, the words that should’ve left him stuck in his throat. The only words he could mutter were the words 'I'm sorry,' but that didn’t count right now.
You began walking to the car. The security guard opens it with gentle care as if respecting your surroundings before giving Michael a reassuring look. One that you were just not able to give him at the moment.
So that’s how it started.
The purposeful dismissing of his calls and ignoring the messages he’d send through the voices of others and God, this man was persistent.
The anger settled, but it was still there but in the form of hurt. The press had already twisted the situation into a worse narrative that insinuated the idea that Michael Jackson was cheating on you with his old love.
And although the pain was still lingering, you knew yourself better than to just accept it, so you’ve been throwing yourself into your job, investing your time and energy into something that was worth it—ignoring every sign of Michael that there possibly was and finding ways to exist without his presence.
Months pass, and eventually that did become easier for you. And slowly, but surely the calls slowed down.
The house was too quiet, save for the low hum of the television playing in the background as you leaned against the kitchen counter cradling a warm mug between your hands. The only moment of peace you had all day.
Knock, knock, knock.
The sound cracked through the silence, sharp and deliberate, breaking the peaceful moment you were finally having. You froze, your fingers tightening around the mug; you wasn’t expecting anyone this late. Setting the mug down on the counter, you stepped into the hallway, your heart beating a little faster than before.
Your hand grasps the doorknob, slowly opening the door; it turns with a heavy click that surprised both you and Michael.
Michael Jackson stood right outside your home, flowers and the food he knew you enjoyed in tow. "Hi." His voice trembles as if nervous to be in your presence again after the situation.
The stoic reflection that settled on your facial features made his nervousness ever so worse. “Can I come in?” He smiles, but the smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes. You open the door the tiniest bit wider, and he immediately rushes in.
“I’ve been trying to get ahold of you for months now.” He says settling into your home with an unusual feeling in his stomach. Your silence not only frightened him, but made him realize the severity of the situation.
“I’ve missed you, sweetheart.” His voice softens, setting the flowers and takeout bags on the kitchen counter. You instantly tore your eyes away from him, fixing your gaze on a suddenly fascinating spot on the ceiling as you fought to calm your racing pulse.
“You’re not even going to look at me?”
You finally look him in the eye, the anger that was once forgotten now flickering in your chest. “It’s hard to look at you, Michael. Especially when I don’t even know what this is anymore.” He flinches slightly, his eyes softening with genuine hurt. “What do you mean?”
“You know exactly what I mean.” You cross your arms, your gaze sharp with disappointment. “You’re still chasing after what you and Diana had, and I won’t be the bridge in between that, Michael. I’m sorry." The pain in your own voice only infuriates you more, causing your gaze to falter.
Michael once again flinched as if you had physically struck him. The mention of Diana’s name hung in the air like a solid wall between you two.
For a second his lips parted, but no sound came out, just a sharp intake of his breath.
He took a couple steps forward, his hand reaching out automatically, but you instinctively took a step backwards. “No, no. Please don’t say that." He whispered, his voice cracking slightly, his eyes searching yours wide and desperate.
“Diana is… that is the past. That’s a completely different part of my life, and I am not looking for a bridge, and I am never looking at you and seeing someone else. I am here for you because I want you.” You soften at that; you feel a pang in your heart. You soon realize that all the running that you’ve done could’ve been a simple conversation—you redirect your eyes to the floor in quiet embarrassment.
“I just felt so embarrassed, Mike. One moment you were whispering sweet nothings in my ear; the next you’re giggling, Diana Ross in your arms.” For you, being vulnerable was something you’d rarely done. You were used to being a cutthroat businesswoman who used your assertiveness for your benefit. But with Michael—that was all put to rest.
“I understand, baby. I understand." He slowly inches closer to you; before you could pull away further, he closed the remaining distance between them. He reached out, his hands wrapping firmly around your waist, pulling you flush against his chest.
He buried his face into the crook of your neck, his fingers clutching at the fabric of your shirt as if afraid you may let go. “I love you so much, my love. No woman, no feeling from the past can ever replace that.” He uses his free hand to caress her arm.
You both remain silent for awhile. As if drowning in the moment of silence and true peace.
The warmth of his chest was comforting, but the urge to see his face took over. You slowly pushed back, your palms now resting against his shoulder.
Michael's eyes were still widened, full of worry. His brow furrowed as he looked down at you, taking in the raw beauty that you carried. Without giving yourself time to think or let the anger rush back in, you leaned up on your tiptoes, tilted your chin, and pressed your lips to his.
The kiss started off soft and sweet and slow, painfully slow. You could feel Michael’s hesitation as his hands travel to the small of your back. The kiss began to deepen; what was once meant to be an innocent kiss quickly spiraled into something much deeper, fueled by the raw emotion of the situation. You readily take initiative, sucking on his tongue, which has him leaning into you, letting out an involuntary moan.
“I’ve missed these lips so much, sweet girl." His hand flies up to your cheek, his eyes searching for confirmation that this is truly what you want. The tension between you two settled into something much deeper and more intimate; you could feel the hardness of his groin against your leg, which only made you so much needier.
“Mike.” You let out a breathy moan, leaning into his chest.
“Use your words, my baby. What do you need?” The gentleness of his words sent a sharp shiver straight down your spine. Your breath hitched in your throat, your fingers tightening in the fabric of his shirt, and the warmth of his breath hit your skin.
“I need you, Mikey.” You whisper. The words hadn’t even begun to settle in the air. In one swift, commanding motion, his arms scooped you up against his chest. A breathless gasp escaped your lips as you became dumb with want.
Your thighs are wrapping instinctively around his hips. Michael tucks you right against his warmth—his stride purposeful as he carries you from the kitchen to your bedroom.
He softly lays you on the bed, settling above you. His lips found your neck; a sharp gasp left your lips as he nipped lightly with his teeth, followed by deliberate sucking. The intense heat of his mouth sent an intense jolt to your core as you arched into his warmth.
“Gonna mark my baby so everyone knows you’re mine.” He groans, taking in your scent that now dominated the room. He places soft kisses along your jawline before moving back up, his forehead resting against yours.
His large hand that once rested against your waist slid down. His hand hooked under the elastic waistband of the shorts that did nothing to conceal how wet you were. His finger immediately finds your aching clit, coaxing a soft whimper from your lips. “So wet for me." He groans, butting his clothed cock into your thigh.
Michael applied pressure to the bundle of nerves, using a slow circular motion that makes your hips instantly hitch off the mattress.
The only noises in the room were your instantaneous moans and the lewd sounds of your wetness.
His thumb kept up the heavy, torturous friction against your clit, driving you right to the edge until you were completely breathless… Then with a sudden shift in pace, his fingers traveled lower— “Gonna get you ready for me, baby." His finger presses against your slick entrance before sliding one long finger completely inside of you; the feeling was almost intoxicating as you were drowning in unbelievable pleasure.
Your pussy clamps down on his finger, earning a groan from his lips. “Missed Mommy's tight pussy, too.”
A ragged, broken gasp leaves your lips as you cross the edge. Your hips instinctively arch off the bed, an involuntary drawn-out whimper leaving your lips as your body dissolves into your climax. Michael drank the noises in—his fingers staying deep and steady inside of you. “Mikey, fuck…”
“You want me to—" He grimaces at the word before saying, “fuck you, baby? Want me to fill this tight pussy with my cum?” Facing the aftermath of your original orgasm, your weeping cunt still ached for more. You ground yourself into Michael's cock, awaiting being full of more than his fingers.
“Such a needy girl.” He slips back on the mattress, teasingly slipping off his pants, disregarding them on the floor, watching your reaction as you await the fullness you missed so much.
Before you could even breathe, his warmness was back over you, his bare thighs parting yours as his thick, hot length rubbed against your slit before settling at your entrance.
“Please, Michael. Stop teas— "He slid inside of you with a startling thrust that had you gasping for air.
He grips your hips as he pumps deeply into your tightness. The room is filled with the whimpers and groans and the lewd slapping of skin, “Taking me so well, sweetheart.”
He uses his grip on your waist to slide you down his cock, the way your tits moved up and down and the way his cock slid in and out of you only turning him on further. “Baby, you’re perfect," he whispered. “So, so perfect. Nobody can make me feel this good. Only you.
His thrusts began to falter, a key sign that his climax was near—and so was yours. “I’m going to cum for you, baby. Gonna make you mine forever.” He whimpers helplessly, his thrusts becoming sloppier; your pussy clenches so tightly against his member that he feels as if he is seeing stars—He abruptly spills his seed inside of you, pulling out shameless and completely shattered moans from the both of you.
He collapses on top of you, not bothering to pull out from your heat. His chest heaves heavily against yours as you both fight to catch your breath, the room completely silent.
He buries his face in the crook of your neck, his muscles completely relaxed as if he had found his home.
Eventually, Michael lets out a soft sigh, gently sliding out of you. Before you could miss his warmth, he shifts onto his side, carrying you with him. He tucks his chin over the top of your head, his hand tracing lazy circles across your stomach—humming a sweet song.
“I meant what I said earlier.” Michael whispers in the dim room, his voice raspy and stripped of the fire he had earlier. “You aren’t a bridge, my love. You are my life. I was wrong; I shouldn’t have let her get close to me—but that doesn’t negate the fact that I am yours and you are mine.” His voice was so gentle it cracked the tension in the room like an egg.
“I’m sorry, baby. But please don’t ignore like that again.” You could hear silent sniffles, as if he were crying, which only made your chest tighten. You shift your body so that you are looking directly into his eyes.
His dark hair was a mess against your pillow; the mullet he had been rocking now looked as disheveled as he did. His eyes glistened with unshed tears in the dim light of the room. Reaching up, you gently cupped his cheek, wiping a stray tear that fell.
“I’m sorry too, Michael.” You whispered, your voice catching, “I will not. I was just so hurt. And I didn’t know how to handle it. But I’m right here; I’m not going anywhere.”
The silence stretches, but it was a comfortable silence, a silence that they both needed.
In here they were safe, safe in the quiet sanctuary of your room. From the press, from the world, from Diana. In this moment you realized—
Otw!Michael x f!reader . 4.4k Modern AU -> 2013/14. Friends to lovers. College roommates . Cheesy Fluff . Pre-vet reader + zoology major Mike. More soon.
So what your roommate and best friends is a guy? It’s not like anything will come out of it anyways.
Hiii it’s me ^^ : College Mike was stuck in my head but also the question of him in a more modern era.. so wrote it. I’ve noticed that when I transfer from my writing website it DOESN’T include the italics.. had to go one by one and do :( the EO fic is prob missing so many. ANYWAYS !! Enjoy!! Plz comment and leave your thoughts on this modern take !
—June 2013
"Michael, I already told you this. Thursday nights at ten pm sharp is my Hannibal time, especially now, this is the season finale." You said, turning your head to face the boy standing behind you. "SO, do you really want me to leave my scheduled meeting with the TV to be at a festival with you in 30 minutes..?"
"No I know, You wear those same PJs every time it comes on like a ritual, Also the festival starts at ten AM tomorrow.. not today and I wanted to go around twelve, see I told you all that TV time and earphones are messing with your hearing." He responded back, emphasizing on certain words.
"Ok Mr. "I only read and enjoy cartoons in the morning" don't get too sassy with me. I don't have a problem with hearing. You just didn't say it properly."
"Yeah right.. just like how you don't have a problem seeing huh?" Mike teased back, pointing at the glasses that was slipping down your nose.
You and Michael had this weird relationship, people often wondering how long the two of you knew each other due to how y'all would bicker as if you were related or even an old married couple, while in reality you've only known each other for 3 years. You first met Michael in a class that covered Animal psychology, as a pre-veterinary student you wanted to take any and every class that would help you.
When Michael opened his mouth in that class for the first time he pissed you off, not because he had said anything wrong, no of course not, you got pissed off because you realized how much of a threat he could be to your goal of being top of the class by the end of the semester. Oh that stupid Know-it-all Michael.
Sure the relationship started off with you wanted to knock him off of his pedestal, but when you finally talked to him one on one during a project you realized he was just a sweet guy that had a huge interest in the subject. That sweetness touched your heart, only a little bit though. Ever since then the two of you had been friends. Your friendship was a mess, you making fun of him and being smart mouth towards him, earning a sassy rebuttable or a head shake of disapproval.
The gossip between you two would have no end, and the non sense one sided arguments over food continued throughout the years. After the last school year instead of going back home during the break he moved in with you. You had your own space and an extra room, why say no to your friend who had a list of reason to not go back home, plus you didn't want to stay alone for another summer or you'd might go insane.
Michael always tries to bring up paying you rent for "taking up space", in which you always respond no too, nevertheless he still tried to for the past four months he's stayed with you. You've always told him, "my parents pay for it" or "Cash Scholarships pay for it" as a way to get him to shut up about it. In all honest, you could care less about him paying you. His presence was enough payment for you, and you enjoyed every bit of it. The two of you were closer than ever, being as open with each other as possible.
When it came to Michael there was no such thing as over talking or sharing, he listened to every word and even gave his commentary. When it came to him he never spoke much about his personal life, but oh how he would go on and on about animals and music facts. Personal space wasn't really a thing with you two. Your space was his space, his space was your space. You were like that with all of your friends but Michael was the only one that it was 24/7 with. Michael enjoyed being in your space, and you enjoyed the energy you got from him.
"Make sure you come tomorrow, I have something to give you." Michael said.
He made his way to the couch and sat down next to you.
"I thought you didn't like this show..?" You questioned the boy laying himself down into your lap.
He looked up at you from your lap, his knees in the air. "Yeah but you seem excited, maybe I should watch the finale with you." He said as he turned his head to face the TV. "You know how much you like to talk about what happened after, maybe this will help me understand."
"Yeah right.." you sighed, rolling your eyes. "You know that you'll probably just go to sleep like always"
"That's only because you start messing with my hair, I already told you it makes me relax, and guess what, guess what happens then, I fall asleep." He tried to defend himself.
"Whatever you say.. now hush up it's about to start." You softly said putting your finger over your mouth to hush him up.
Just as you said, and just like he said as well. Your fingers found his head and he closed his eyes. When you noticed he was sleeping you tried your best to react to the show without making too much noise or movements. As the finale came to an end it looked like you were a sinner burning in church from how much you were trying to hide your emotions by shaking your head and moving your arms around without waking Mike up. In the end you ended up waking him up when your tears fell onto the side of his face.
He immediately sat up confused from where the wetness was coming from, when he looked at you he thought something serious had happened and started asking what happened over and over again as if the world would explode if you didn't tell him what was wrong, then he realized what you were just doing.
"Was.. was the ending that bad?" He asked turning his head to the side.
"No it was good. I'm just in shock" you softly said as you wiped your face. "I was so busy trying to hold back my movements and thoughts I started crying from confusion of what I just watched." You laughed.
"oh classic "my favorite thing just ended, Michael !" Moment?" He sarcastically asked.
This was a regular occurrence. You getting shocked or enjoying something so much you get confused and overwhelmed. Something you've always struggled with, processing your thoughts so it just turned into tears, good or bad. Michael, of course, knowing this finally took a breather.
He shook his head and patted the top of your head before asking if you wanted to talk about your thoughts now that he was wide awake, instead of holding it in for the rest of the night, since you just might explode. You took no time to start talking, moving your arms and hands as you explained. Mike enjoyed every bit of this, watching you complain, compliment, and laugh about what you thought about the ending, and what led up to it. Every emotion you shared was a blessing to Michael, it let him understand you more. That's all he wanted, to know you.
When the next day came around it went by normally. Mike waking up way before you to go practice. As he got ready, he'd made sure, as always, to do so quietly knowing that once the sun rises you get sensitive to waking up from the smallest of sound. He would leave a sticky note to let you know where he was heading and the time, he would be back around, even if you knew his schedule he'd still leave little sticky notes with doodles on the bathroom door.
You would wake up later on in morning, or early afternoon. Doing the same movements, rubbing your eyes, scratching your neck, and making your way to the bathroom where you would see the note before opening the door.
The rest of the afternoon you spent getting ready for the festival that night, constantly watching the weather updates from the TV and using the slight change as an excuse to change your outfit every time. You eventually ended up picking some jean shorts and whatever random cropped shirt you could find. You couldn't find any jewelry in your collection to go with your basic outfit, so you took a trip into your beloved roommate's room.
Mike wasn't as big as a collector as you, most things he owned being gifts from others or things he'd buy in random spouts. You looked on his desk that was covered in music notes and notes of affirmations, and saw a small stand that held his necklaces and few rings. You picked up one of the rings and looked at it. Mike's hands were big but you've never really thought about it.
You put the ring on your finger knowing it wouldn't fit at all, you smiled at the difference before putting it back down and grabbing a necklace. You stood there for a minute looking around his room as if there would be anything new there, the energy in Michael's room was warming, his walls covered in his favorite singers, actors, performers, and shows.
Sticky notes with sweet messages and praises beside his bed that made you wonder if he would read them before he went to sleep, or when he first wakes up. You were about to sit on his bed before you jumped up from hearing the door being messed with.
You and Mike had a rule, make as much noise as possible for ten seconds at the door just in case someone was doing something they shouldn't in the walkable space. You ran out of his room and as soon as the door opened, he could hear your bedroom door slam. He walked over to your door and knocked on it.
"Hey um…I'm home. I'm gonna change so we can head out since it's way past twelve. Sorry I took so long." Michael spoke through the door.
"Don't worry, the festival lasts until eleven anyways. I know you got caught up at practice, you never know when to stop dancing, huh?" You teased as you opened the door.
Michael froze as soon as you opened the door. He slowly looked you up and down, confused on if he was dreaming or if this was reality. His mouth opened to say something, but nothing came out. To make matters worse, you turned your head to the side as you asked him a question his brain couldn't process in that moment. As his heart pumped out of his chest, he lifted his finger to point at his necklace around your neck and traveled down to point as something else.
"What's that..and that.." he questioned, his voice cracking.
"A necklace.. and a piercing..?" You sarcastically questioned back. "It's your necklace, silly. You know I don't have a lot of just basic gold necklaces, so I borrowed yours." You shrugged.
"Ok…? but when did you get that. I never..uh noticed it."
Michael liked learning new things about you, but not like this. It made him feel like he didn't pay attention enough. How did he not notice a piercing like that. He liked it, really liked it, but it threw him way off. You having that and wearing his initials at the same time was way too much on his brain in the moment.
"Ok before you self-explode, this is my first time showing it. I got it a few months back, so I was still wearing sweaters, and when the heat finally hit, I never wore anything that showed my piercing because I wanted it to fully heal before showing it. Don't worry, you didn't miss the big reveal." You softly said.
"Cool…How does it work?"
"Michael, are you serious?"
"Yeah.."
"What so you wanna get on your knees and analyze the piercing and design or something?" You questioned him, trying not to laugh.
Unfortunately—or fortunately— he took this as a permission and a question he could honestly answer. He lowered himself onto his knees and placed his hands on both sides of your waist to hold you in place as he "took a closer look" at your piercing while whispering to himself.
"Did it hurt, does it hurt with the extra things dangling?" he softly asked.
"No—no..um" You awkwardly laughed. "Michael, get up. It's not that serious, haven't you seen one before?" You tapped his shoulder.
He slowly got back up and shook his head to answer your question. You didn't believe that not one bit. But hey, little-ole- sheltered- until-college Mike, who truly knows.
"I'm.. going to go get changed now." He said as swiftly turned around and made his way to his room.
You shook your head at the boy.
"And hurry up!" you shouted last minute.
The two of you walked to the festival, it was a long walk, but you wanted to feel the sun on your skin, so you ignored Mike trying to convince you to take a cab so you wouldn't be tired at the festival. The closer you got to the festival the louder the music got. Hearing the music caused you to get excited and wrap your arm around Mike's. You tried to pull him with you so you could enter the festival faster.
He could only smile at your attempt to drag him before he followed suit. The two of you spent hours walking around, dancing, and getting snacks from food trucks. You were having more fun than you thought you were going too. As the sun began to set, the younger crowd died out and the older crowd poured in, causing the music and vibes to change.
"Excuse me." A voice called from behind you.
When you turned around you saw a man wearing a shirt with the city's name on it and a badge.
"Hi, sorry if you don't mind, I work for the host and I was wondering if i could take a photo of you guys for our page, and maybe the newspaper. You two are a beautiful couple." The man spoke.
"Oh we aren't—" Michael attempted to speak.
"Of course. Do you want us to pose a certain way?" You cut Michael off to speak to the man.
"Mhm, a hug or kiss on the cheek maybe?" The man suggested.
You gave him a thumbs up before turning to Mike, telling him to lean over so you could tell him something in his ear.
"Just pretend for the photo, I'm sure he's ready to go home. We might be his last photo." You whispered.
Mike nodded and stood up straight, wrapping his arm around your waist as the camera rose. "3…2…" You turned your head and placed a kiss on Michael's cheek. "1.." The camera flashed and you could feel Mike jump from the sudden connection.
"Thank you so much, would you like to see it?" The man smiled, holding up the camera.
You made your way to the man to look at the photo, Mike on the other hand was stuck in place. It's not like it was the first time you've kissed him; it was just the first time you did it outside of a drinking game or a dare. It's not a big deal; it's just a kiss on the cheek—right?
"Mike come look, you look so stupid." You laughed, trying to usher him over.
It took him a moment, but he came over to look, then asked the man if there was any way he could send it to him. You shook your head and laughed at him for asking the man to send it to him through email, or even fax if that's what it took. After a small chat and email trade, the man walked away. You continued to tease him about his face and desperate need for the photo.
"Are you having fun?" Michael sighed out.
You nodded your head as you wiped the tears caused by laughter. Seeing how happy you were Michael thought this was the best time to give you his gift, the one you seemed to have forgotten all about. The sun had set, the area being lit up by fairy lights in the trees, and the music playing was slower and softer. The mood was just right. The mood was made for a confession, yet he had nothing to confess. He reached into his bag and pulled out an envelope.
"Are you ready to have more fun?" he softly questioned, holding out the envelope in front of you.
"Should I be scared..?" You made a confused face at him before grabbing it.
You held it in your hands and looked back and forth between it and him. You took a deep breath and slowly opened it, turning your head to the side and closing one eye as if something would jump out of it. When you peaked inside you saw something paper-like so you quickly opened both eyes to look, slightly pulling it out of the envelope. As seeing what was inside a gasp came from your mouth that could be heard from a mile away before you pushed it back inside.
"Mike you're lying."
"Nope."
"Say you swear, like seriously."
"I swear."
You looked back down at what you held in your hand and tried to calm your breathing. You slowly pulled out what seemed to be tickets out of the envelope to properly read it. You couldn't believe what you held in your hands in that moment. Beyoncé tickets. Like THEE Beyoncé . Your favorite artist. You tried to conduct yourself at a normal manner, but you couldn't, shoving the tickets back into the envelope and shoved it in your bag.
"I thought they were sold out." you said in monotone, holding back tears trying to keep yourself together. "How the hell did you get these."
"I have my ways.. you deserved it and I knew you wanted it, it's the least I could do." He softly smiled at you. "I know you want to rea—"
Before he could finish telling you to react, you gave him a hug as tears of joy streamed down your face. You didn't want to cry and look crazy but getting to see someone you've followed since you were seven years old meant a lot to you even if it was simple to others. You grabbed his face and placed kisses on each side of his face and on his forehead, hard enough to leave a mark of gloss from your lips, before going back into a hug.
"I don't like you. You know that right? You could've did this at home now I look stupid with mascara running down my face in public." You talked against his shoulder.
His hand finally found its way to your back completing the hug instead of him just standing there awkwardly as you hugged and cried against him. He softly patted you back as you went on.
"You know you like me. You know that right?" he sarcastically mocked what you just said.
"I wouldn't wish you on my worst enemy." You joked back.
"Is this you saying thank you?" he questioned.
You broke out of the hug to look at him. That stupidly charming face of a boy that for some reason knew all your wants and needs even when you don't speak of it.
"Thank you Mikey."
—August 2013
You didn't know how Mikey did it, but you'd be lying if you said you weren't curious on how he got show tickets two months before the show. His sources weren't to be questioned at the moment, what was important was calming your nerves. Your heel was loudly knocking against the subways floor due to how bad your leg was shaking. You were nervous, not in a bad way, in a super-duper good way but you genuinely couldn't process what was happening.
Your thumbs nail found its way into your mouth, as you slowly began biting at them. People around you seemed annoyed by the constant clicking and knocking of your heel, earning you stares from others. Mike looked at your surroundings before he quickly lifted up your legs and put them over one of his, causing your body to slightly shift towards him. He took a hold of your hand and pulled it out of your mouth.
"You got your nails done pretty for the show..you don't want to ruin them, right?" He softly said.
You stared in his face trying to muster up something to say before turning your head away and just nodding. He knew exactly how you were, easily overwhelmed when it came to things you heavily liked or was excited for. You took everything seriously as if Beyoncé herself would jump off stage and question you about her discography or something of the sort.
When the two of you finally got into the venue your nerves turned down after talking to other fans that were in line to get into the seating. Many complimenting the outfits you and Michael were wearing to start or end a conversation. Michael had his own style—a very very desirable one—but for this he suggested you help him pick an outfit. You eventually ended up matching, basic, but matching. When you reached your seating, you took a deep breath before looking over at Michael who had be staring at you the whole time.
"I'm so fucking excited, it's not even funny." You blurted out.
Michael smiled trying to hold back his laugh but ultimately failing miserably.
"Mikey this is no laughing matter, I think I just might explode. It won't be funny when you have to pick up my chunks will it." You pointed at him.
"If you explode, I'll pick up every little piece of you without complaining. Stop being so silly, if you exploded, you'd miss the concert then this trip would've been pointless."
"Not necessarily, at least I had fun with you before exploding, not too pointless if you ask me. I liked last night when we got to the hotel and yo—"
Before you could finish a loud sound interrupted you, causing you to turn your head towards the stage. You didn't take into consideration how long you were in that line, only making it to your seat minutes prior to the opening act. You practically almost fell out then and there as soon as she started. She was so attractive, good god she was such eye candy on that stage it was insane. You didn't know if you wanted to be with her or be her, she was just like no other.
While you watched her on stage with your full attention, every now and then gripping onto Michael to stabilize yourself and bring you back to reality. Michael watched you, every smile, laugh, shake, dance, or anything you would do. He enjoyed seeing you like this, filled with pure joy. He especially liked to watch when one of your favorite songs would be performed and your hips would go on autopilot doing toned down versions of what you did at home.
During intermission he let you talk on and on about what you thought about her outfits and set list, letting you fangirl out at the fullest extent. You had the biggest crush on her and he ate up every compliment you said about her as if you were saying them about him. The closer the concert came to ending the songs began to mix between her more mature songs and slower music.
Everything was cool. Until you heard that familiar beat. Your favorite song by her you didn't even know was supposed to be performed during this tour.
EGO.
Your already fried vocal cords pushed out a excited scream before you turned to Michael who already knew what was coming. You covered your mouth to stop yourself from singing along with the intro. When you heard your part coming on you held onto Michael, grabbing a handful of his shirt.
"It won't fit (Fit)
It's too much (Much)"
You dramatically sung—technically yelled—along. When you let go of his shirt you ran your fingers down his arm, pouting as you did so. You were just playing, being way too dramatic about this song and using him as an outlet. Michael did not take this as a funny matter at all, standing there in a daze. You've sung this song around the apartment before, yet this was way different. The way your face looked threw him off.
He'd never seen you pout before. At least not in the way you did as you sung that lyric. The way you pouted caused his heart to race, you'd made his heart race before but not like this. Before it had been full of innocence, but now? Nothing was innocent about how he was feeling. That stupid lyric and your face got to his brain. All he could do was be thankful his flushed face could be excused by the heat from the effects and crowd.
The rest of the concert he found himself zoning out of whatever you had going on and just focusing on the music. Even when walking out of the venue he let you do all the talking, it's as if you were talking to a wall. You didn't notice his quietness until you got into a taxi and saw he was staring out the window instead of looking at you when you spoke.
"Are you ok?" You asked. When you got no reply, you tapped him on the shoulder. "Michael. Hello…?"
"Yeah—yeah..sorry I'm just letting all the energy soak in." He stuttered out.
You sided eyed him for a second before shrugging your shoulders.
"Well Mike. I'll let you soak it all in. Wake me up when we reach the hotel." You softly said as you laid your head on his shoulder.
He made a small sound in understanding before the backseat went silent. After five minutes passed you said something.
"I really like you Mikey. I'm glad I met you."
The car ride continued in silence. No one said anything else, the taxi driver occasionally looking back to see if his ears could pick up any reply to what you just said but nothing ever came. The air was filled with this softness, incomplete romantic advances, and a hint of fear.
There was a need for more, but both of you struggled with moving forward. The two of you held on for longer than you were supposed to, longer than you want to.
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Let's Talk About Some Issues Within the Michael Jackson Fandom
The Michael Jackson fandom has done incredible work carrying on Michael's legacy and defending him against misinformation over the years. But if we're being honest, there are habits within the fandom itself that deserve criticism of their own. Loving Michael doesn't mean we should be afraid to call out the unhealthy behavior within our own community.
1. The Infantilization of Michael
Let's talk about the infantilization of Michael in this fandom.
We're treating this man like he's a child.
Yes, Michael was a child at heart, and yes, he enjoyed childlike things. But he was also a grown man. He was capable of making his own decisions, making mistakes, learning from them, and living with the consequences of those decisions.
Sometimes people talk about Michael as if he had no agency at all, as if every single thing that happened in his life was because someone else made him do it. That's simply not true. You can acknowledge the trauma he went through without stripping him of his adulthood.
Treating him like he was permanently a child doesn't honor him. It erases part of who he was. Michael himself wanted to be respected as a man, an artist, and a businessman. We can recognize that he had an innocent spirit without pretending he wasn't capable of making his own choices.
2. Parasocial Relationships
Now, we're in a fandom where we write fanfiction about him. Yes, we imagine ourselves in a relationship with Michael at times. That's part of fandom.
But acting as if you personally knew him, and let me highlight this, speaking with certainty about what he would have wanted or what he would have thought, is where I draw the line.
The truth is, we did not know this man. We only saw so much of his life and his personality. We don't know him, and he isn't here to speak for himself. I think it's unfair to place our own opinions in his mouth and present them as facts.
It's like the whole Jermajesty situation all over again. People take fanfiction, where he's often written as toxic, and start acting as if that's his personality in real life, when it's literally been proven otherwise.
And I've noticed something else.
The pictures people use for those "toxic Jermajesty" fanfics are almost always the ones where he has the buzz cut.
So let me ask this:
How much of what we write and represent in this fandom is simply imagination, and how much of it comes from stereotypes that we're taking too seriously and using to represent real people?
3. Harassment Within the Fandom
This is probably going to be the longest section because I have a lot to say about this.
We all know the post I made where I said that Maddie Simpson supports Israel and Zionism, which has been proven, and that she supports the murder of civilians, especially children, in Gaza. She has shown no remorse for her actions or made a public statement denouncing Zionism like Paris Jackson has. Until she makes a public statement, I will continue to take that as her opinion.
I said I do not like that, and I do not agree with her opinion.
At the same time, I also defended her against the people attacking her looks and her body because I said that if you're attacking her appearance, it has nothing to do with her political opinion and more to do with the fact that she's engaged to Jaafar Jackson. I don't think that's fair. She's allowed to have her opinion, and I'm allowed to disagree with it. That doesn't mean I'm going to go out of my way to harass her.
Then there was another post where a fan sent her a message, and she responded harshly, even though the message itself was kind and wholesome. In my post, I said two things.
First, we don't know if that's the full story. We don't know if there were messages before that. We don't know if this person had messaged her before.
Second, I said this could have been an automatic response, and that alone doesn't automatically make her a bad person.
Based on the limited information we all had, I shared my opinion on the situation.
Now, weeks later, another account, who I'm not going to tag because I've already blocked her (her blog is f1stuffblog, if you want to look for it), came into my comments harassing both me and my mutuals. She called me a disgusting bitch and accused me of being parasocial for talking about the situation.
Meanwhile, she's the one in my comments calling me names over Maddie Simpson, a woman who doesn't even know she exists.
What the fuck is the problem?
If you disagree with someone's opinion, that's your right. But there is a difference between disagreement and harassment. Calling people names, insulting them, and repeatedly going after them over an opinion isn't healthy discussion. It's harassment.
4. Treating Fan Theories as Facts
As I talked about before with the Jermajesty fanfics, fanfiction is fanfiction. There's nothing wrong with enjoying fictional stories.
The problem starts when people take those fictional portrayals and begin treating them as if they're accurate representations of someone's real personality.
Jermajesty is often written as toxic in fanfiction. That's fine. It's fiction. But when people start presenting that version of him as if it's established fact, despite there being no evidence to support it, that's no longer fanfiction. That's stereotyping.
Presenting speculation as established history without evidence only spreads misinformation, and it creates unfair perceptions of real people who never asked to be fictionalized in the first place.
5. Gatekeeping
Let's talk about gatekeeping.
Saying newer or younger fans aren't "real fans" because they weren't around when Michael was alive, or because they discovered him through the Michael movie, is ridiculous.
Discovering Michael Jackson because of the movie is not a crime.
There are people who, twenty years from now, will have just been born. They'll discover Michael's music for the very first time, and they'll love him just as much as we do today.
You are not entitled to Michael Jackson simply because you've been listening to him since you were a child. There is room for everybody in this fandom.
Love and unity, above everything else, is what Michael stood for.
Now imagine knowing that people within his own fandom are arguing over who's a "real fan" and who's a "fake fan," when all Michael ever wanted was for people to enjoy the music.
I'm not saying there aren't newer fans who behave inappropriately. Every fandom has people like that.
But something I've noticed, especially with situations like the Bae Nation group chat, is that people are very quick to blame younger fans for everything.
And while I'm not presenting this as fact, I genuinely believe there have always been older fans who are genuine weirdos themselves, using newer fans as scapegoats to say and do the things they've wanted to say and do for a very long time.
I think that's unfair to newer fans, and it's one of the reasons so many of them end up leaving the fandom.
6. Fan Entitlement
I don't even know if I have to elaborate on this one.
The Jackson family does not owe you access to every detail of their private lives.
Just because they're public figures doesn't mean they're required to share every relationship, every conversation, every family gathering, or every personal moment with us. Some things are meant to stay private, and that's okay.
Being a fan does not entitle you to someone's personal life.
Let's Talk About Incest Fanfiction
This is probably one of the strangest things I've seen within this fandom.
First, there was fanfiction about Jaafar and Jermajesty, who are biological brothers.
Then there was fanfiction about Michael and Jaafar, who are uncle and nephew.
And this is one I find strange.
Nobody was writing fanfiction about Jaafar Jackson and Nia Long.
Then they did an interview together at the BET Awards where Nia herself said that she sees Jaafar as a son and that she's become like a second mother to him.
After that interview established their relationship publicly as a mother-and-son dynamic, suddenly people wanted to start writing fanfiction about them.
So... you never wanted to write fanfiction about them before.
But now that they've publicly described their relationship as mother and son, that's when y'all decide to start shipping them?
I genuinely don't understand that.
Disagree with me if you want, but I find it disturbing.
7. Obsession with Appearance & AI/Misinformation
Let's talk about the constant obsession with Michael's appearance.
Instead of focusing on his artistry, his humanitarian work, or the impact he had on music, people spend their time debating his face, his skin, and his body.
"Oh, his nose looked so perfect during the Bad era."
"I wish he had never touched his face."
"I wish he hadn't gotten this done."
"I wish he hadn't changed that."
Please... shut up.
And while we're on the topic, can we finally put the "Michael wanted to be white" narrative to rest?
If there was anybody on the face of this planet who was proud of being a Black man, it was Michael Jackson.
Ironically, the more his vitiligo progressed and the lighter his skin became, the more Black-centered and politically outspoken his music became.
People don't like talking about that, but it's true.
Now let's talk about AI-generated content and misinformation.
I hate it.
The AI-generated pictures where Michael suddenly has abs.
The edited clips.
The fake quotes.
The unverified stories.
It takes two seconds, or no more than five minutes, to verify your sources.
Why would you see something online, make absolutely no effort to fact-check it, and then share it as if it's true?
Aren't you scared of looking like an idiot if someone fact-checks you and proves you wrong?
Then again, a lot of people would rather double down than admit they were wrong, so I guess that answers my own question.
8. Talking Down on the Jackson Family
I've talked about this before.
Michael Jackson was Michael Jackson.
Nobody is disputing that.
Michael was elite. There will never be another Michael Jackson.
But what we're not going to do is pretend that the rest of his family are talentless, useless, or somehow irrelevant simply because Michael reached a level that no one else has.
The Jackson family is full of incredible singers, dancers, musicians, performers, writers, and entertainers.
Not just Michael's siblings, but the younger generation as well.
Appreciating Michael shouldn't require disrespecting the rest of his family.
9. Romanticizing Michael's Suffering
This is something that genuinely bothers me.
People romanticize Michael's trauma, his loneliness, and his pain as if they're poetic or aesthetic instead of recognizing them for what they really were.
Trauma.
Loneliness.
Pain.
None of those things are beautiful.
And if we're being honest, this is one of the same reasons people failed to take Michael's suffering seriously while he was alive.
People watched him struggle and turned that struggle into entertainment or mythology instead of recognizing that he was a human being who was hurting.
Now, decades later, some people are doing the exact same thing.
......
None of this is meant to attack the fandom.
I'm part of this fandom too.
But I think it's important that we're able to criticize unhealthy behavior within our own community instead of pretending it doesn't exist.
You can love Michael, defend his legacy, and still hold fellow fans accountable when they're spreading misinformation, harassing people, invading privacy, or treating real human beings like fictional characters.
Loving Michael Jackson should bring people together.
Not divide them.
And if we want to honor the values he spent his entire life talking about, then maybe it's time we start showing each other a little more respect.
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The world treated him so unfairly, they took a beautiful soul and took him granted. He was so beyond his time in so many ways, and 17 years ago we lost someone who was so willing to be there for others. I wish people had been there for him like he was for us. While today is hard for a lot of people, myself included, we should still celebrate all that he accomplished in his life. He was a successful black man, who broke through so many limitations that were set up to make him fail. He was an activist, who to this day holds the record for most charities supported by a popstar. It's important to keep spreading love the way he did, to keep working for the things we love, and to keep talking about the things that are important to us. We all miss you, Michael.
I am going to put out a fic today, part 8 of the retired life series. For me, it's a what I wish he had gotten. It's the kind of life he actually deserved. If you guys are having a hard day, know you're not alone, and please take care of yourselves.
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