Michael Jackson x Black!Reader

Warnings: swearing, paparazzi harassment, age gap discourse, media pressure, chaotic behavior, protective reader, fluff/humor

Tags: michael jackson x reader, black reader, protective reader, chaotic reader, funny reader, media trained michael, public relationship, paparazzi, interview gone wrong, crack treated seriously, fluff, series potential, 90s michael jackson

Taglist: @simply-lovley44 @cocomilaa @blcknebula

Yandere!Paparazzi x Yandere!ModelReader

Yandere!Paparazzi completely believes he is the one in total control of the narrative, hiding in the chaotic sea of journalists behind the velvet ropes of the red carpet. With a heavy zoom lens obscuring his face and his finger hovering over the shutter, Yandere!Paparazzi tracks your every movement with a terrifying, manic precision, entirely convinced that his lens is the only one worthy of capturing your grace. He spends his nights sitting in a dark room editing the raw files, meticulously cataloging your schedule, and tracking your location, completely drunk on the delusion that he is the invisible ghost hovering on the fringes of your glamorous life.

You let Yandere!Paparazzi believe it because his absolute oblivion is the most entertaining part of your day. As a high-profile model, your own yandere fixation on him is the industry's best-kept secret. You have used your massive corporate wealth to quietly hire private investigators to uncover his real identity, his home address, and his daily routine, filling a hidden safe in your dressing room with candid photos of him standing in the press pits. Every single time you step out of a luxury town car into a blinding storm of camera flashes, you don't even glance at the world-renowned fashion photographers screaming your name; your eyes instantly lock onto the specific, faded jacket and heavy lens of your favorite stalker, posing exclusively for him while the rest of the media circuit descends into absolute madness.

The absolute comedy of your mutual obsession completely breaks the dynamic of every red carpet event you attend. To the rest of the public and the event organizers, it looks like a bizarre, unprecedented display of creative eccentricity, a top model who completely ignores the central media platform to face a random, crowded corner of the freelance press pit. You will hold a dramatic, high-fashion pose for a full thirty seconds straight, tilting your chin and looking dead into Yandere!Paparazzi's specific camera with an intense, burning gaze that makes his heart completely stop behind the viewfinder. Yandere!Paparazzi thinks he’s catching a raw, unfiltered glimpse into your soul, completely unaware that you are mentally mapping out his exact distance from your security detail so you can follow him home later.

Yandere!Paparazzi's stalking methods are a masterclass in desperate, hyper-fixated logistics. Yandere!Paparazzi will camp out in the freezing rain for twelve hours just to secure the exact perimeter angle that aligns with your walking path, aggressively shoving other paparazzi out of the way to ensure his frame remains completely unobstructed. He takes immense, unhinged pride in the fact that your official portfolio images, the ones that go viral on social media and break the internet, are always watermarked with his freelance handle. He sits in his apartment, looking at the pristine clarity of your glossy eyes in his photos, whispering breathless compliments to the screen. "They all think they can capture you, my love, but you only ever look at me. You know I’m the only one who truly sees you."

Your counter-stalking methods are infinitely more sophisticated and terrifyingly well-funded. While he’s busy analyzing the metadata of your press photos, you are casually sitting in the back of your tinted-window SUV outside his apartment building, using high-end thermal scopes to watch him paste your pictures onto his living room walls. You have memorized the exact rhythm of his footsteps, the brand of energy drinks Yandere!Paparazzi leaves in his trash, and the specific shutter-click sound of his camera model. Sometimes, just to mess with his fragile sanity, you will intentionally drop a specific, limited-edition promotional item like a signed keychain or a custom clothing tag right on the pavement near the press ropes where you know he’s standing, smiling internally as you watch him covertly stomp his boot over it to steal it for his collection.

The breaking point of your silent, competitive warfare occurs behind the scenes of the major fashion week galas. Yandere!Paparazzi will sneak into the venue’s restricted backstage area by stealing a catering uniform or forging a security pass, completely convinced he is executing a high-stakes espionage mission just to breathe the same air as you in your dressing room. You know the exact second he slips past the curtain, having tracked his phone’s Bluetooth signal on your personal monitor. Instead of calling security, you will deliberately dismiss your makeup artists and stylists, sitting entirely alone in front of the vanity mirror while casually unzipping the collar of your outfit, fully aware that his eye is glued to the crack in the door. You’ll catch his reflection in the glass, letting out a dark, knowing smile that sends a shiver straight down his spine, completely satisfied that you have him locked exactly where you want him.

Yandere!Paparazzi spends hours every night meticulously removing the reflections of other paparazzi from the pupils of your eyes in his high-definition raw files, completely furious that anyone else's silhouette dared to share a frame with you. He treats his digital photo archive like a sacred catalog of your secret relationship, assigning cryptic, romantic titles to files that the rest of the world just sees as standard fashion press. When he uploads his exclusive shots to his freelance blog, he deliberately delays the posting by exactly three minutes to create a false trail for any rival photographers, fully convinced he is a master criminal protecting his prized possession from a hostile world.

You actively manipulate your entire agency’s booking schedule just to ensure Yandere!Paparazzi's stalking routing remains perfectly uninterrupted. If your manager tries to schedule a private, closed-set shoot at an undisclosed indoor studio where the press isn't allowed, you will deliberately leak the exact address, gate codes, and security shift rotations to a public forum using an untraceable burner account, entirely to ensure he can find a way to camp out on the roof across the street. You take immense pleasure in looking out the window during your wardrobe changes, spotting the faint, familiar glint of his camera lens hidden behind a ventilation duct, and intentionally shifting your stance to give him the absolute perfect lighting.

Yandere!Paparazzi's territorial behavior in the media pits has made him a notorious legend among the local press corps, as he will physically weaponize his heavy monopod to guard his spot. If another photographer tries to nudge into his perimeter or blocks his direct line of sight to your arrival walkway, he will covertly dig the heel of his boot into their toes or use his elbow to knock their camera settings out of focus without ever taking his own eye away from the viewfinder. He justifies the absolute chaos he causes behind the velvet ropes as a holy crusade, whispering frantic curses under his breath while ensuring that his lens remains the absolute center of your universe.

Your private collection of Yandere!Paparazzi is infinitely more extensive than his collection of you, stored on an encrypted server disguised as a high-end fashion styling app. While he has to rely on the brief moments you walk the red carpet, you have hidden cameras installed in the coffee shop across from his apartment, a cloned copy of his phone’s location data running on your smartwatch, and a complete catalog of his financial records to track exactly how much he spends on upgrading his camera gear just to keep up with your beauty. You even know the exact layout of his room, down to the specific sequence in which he has pinned your magazine covers to his wall, and you frequently plan your public outfits to match the color scheme of his bedroom wallpaper just to see his face go completely pale with shock when you step out of the car.

Papa-paparazzi