๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐ ๐๐ ๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐๐
โคท๐๐ฏ ๐ข ๐ธ๐ฐ๐ณ๐ญ๐ฅ ๐ฐ๐ฃ๐ด๐ฆ๐ด๐ด๐ฆ๐ฅ ๐ธ๐ช๐ต๐ฉ ๐ฑ๐ฆ๐ณ๐ง๐ฆ๐ค๐ต๐ช๐ฐ๐ฏ, ๐ฐ๐ฏ๐ฆ ๐จ๐ช๐ณ๐ญ ๐ง๐ช๐ฏ๐ฅ๐ด ๐ฉ๐ฆ๐ณ๐ด๐ฆ๐ญ๐ง ๐ณ๐ฆ๐ข๐ค๐ฉ๐ช๐ฏ๐จ ๐ง๐ฐ๐ณ ๐ด๐ฐ๐ฎ๐ฆ๐ต๐ฉ๐ช๐ฏ๐จ ๐ณ๐ฆ๐ข๐ญ. ๐๐ฉ๐ข๐ต ๐ด๐ต๐ข๐ณ๐ต๐ด ๐ข๐ด ๐ข ๐ฒ๐ถ๐ช๐ฆ๐ต ๐ฉ๐ข๐ฃ๐ช๐ต ๐ฃ๐ฆ๐ค๐ฐ๐ฎ๐ฆ๐ด ๐ข ๐ญ๐ช๐ง๐ฆ๐ญ๐ช๐ฏ๐ฆ ๐ข๐ฏ๐ฅ ๐ข ๐ณ๐ฆ๐ฎ๐ช๐ฏ๐ฅ๐ฆ๐ณ ๐ต๐ฉ๐ข๐ต ๐ฃ๐ฆ๐ช๐ฏ๐จ ๐ด๐ฆ๐ฆ๐ฏ ๐ฅ๐ฐ๐ฆ๐ด๐ฏโ๐ต ๐ข๐ญ๐ธ๐ข๐บ๐ด ๐ญ๐ฐ๐ฐ๐ฌ ๐ต๐ฉ๐ฆ ๐ธ๐ข๐บ ๐บ๐ฐ๐ถ ๐ฆ๐น๐ฑ๐ฆ๐ค๐ต.
invincible! Michael x fem! reader ( and HIStory, if we want accuracy for times)
fyi: reader's name will be ๐ค in all my fics until I say otherwise :)
โโโโโโโโโโโโโโเผบโโโโโโโ
the room was noisy and frantic as multiple hands sort through piles and piles of mail
Michael Jackson's fan mail, to be exact
it's been eight years since the release of Thriller
eight years of fame, wealth, and tabloid exploitation
especially since it's been four months since Michael released his latest album, Dangerous .
Michael always had a popular fanbase among women.
i mean, come on.. look at him.
but now, as he was transitioning into a newer sound than his last albums, Bad, Thriller, and Off the Wall, his fanbase amongst the younger women was growing more and more each day.
and Michael just lovess all his female fans
so much that he decided to build a mail room on his Neverland Ranch for all his fan letters. He hired two hundred workers to sort through the mail sent to the ranch.
the letters would be arranged in categories that the workers labeled ย ย
ย ย โ desperate fan mailโ
ย ย ย โ press nonsenseโ
ย ย ย โ of importance/acknowledgementโ
hardly any of the fan mail made it to the category of importance/acknowledgement
but you were so surprised that yours did..
Here, curvy is out and skinny is in.
Supermodel culture is at its PEAK.
Cindy Crawford. Naomi Campbell. Christy Turlington.
Tall. Thin. Effortless. Untouchable.
Every magazine cover tells you the same thing:
Itโs hard not to feelโฆ ordinary.
The dating scene isnโt any kinder.
So maybe that's why every Friday night in the comfort of your baby pink bedroom.
the same record playing One in a Million by Aaliyah
you started to write the only man who wouldn't make you feel ordinary
sure, that sounds stupid. For what could a freshly twenty one year old have in common with a man that was twice your age?
but it didn't have anything to do with that, actually
it's because he was the first man to make you feel
prettier and... desirable
it started back in 1991 when you and your homegirls attended a public signing that Michael had set up right in your hometown. It was a couple of months after his release of Dangerous.
you were a biggg Michael fan
your parents loved his Jackson 5 era; it was all you grew up listening to, obviously his newer albums as well.
so when you heard about him showing up at your town's local mall, you couldn't wait to call up your three friends for moral support, and they were more than happy to come with you.
but as you stood in the line,gripping the worn-down โJackson 5โ vinyl, surrounded by the millions of people who also decided to make an appearance, you couldn't help but feel so out of place.
you werent as nearly deced out as most of the girls here
some girls wore full beats with little to no clothing
others decided to put on their best fit as if they were going to an award show
but you were just dressed in a pair of light wash bootcut jeans that were tied at the back with a shoestring
a white off the shoulder sweater with distressed frillies at the end of the sleeve and around the waist.
and matching white flip flops to match
fuck, I should've prepared myself better
you thought to yourself as you bit your lip and contemplated having your friends save your spot while you went home to change; even your friends made sure they were in their best outfits, and they aren't even fans for real.
but your thought was cut short when you heard a gruff voice go.
and you wished right there the ground swallowed you whole as you suddenly were next in line.
he was in a white long-sleeved shirt and black linen pants, his classic shades on, as well as a black fedora.
he was surrounded by multiple bodyguards on the platformed stage the mall had set up, and security down below the platform.
you were so nervous you could vomit.
ย โHow many in your party? maximum is threeโ
you looked back, anticipating your friends to come up with you, but they just gave a small smirk followed by a wave, before they stepped out of line to wait for you on the side.
ย ย leaving you all alone
goddamit, are we for real?
you glared at them real hard, fixing your mouth to say something before you heard a softer voice say
. ย โ its okay i dont biteโ
you snapped your head and realized Michael was looking at you,
hell, everyone up there was looking
ย ย โoh im sorry! Just meโ my party is myself.โ Cringe.
You grimaced as you made your way up to his platform, stopping halfway at the table when one of his bodyguards signaled you to stop.
and just like that, you forgot how to speak, so instead you shoved out the Jackson Five vinyl, trying to stop your arms from shaking as your gaze looked everywhere but at him
i'm probably sweating, and I look a mess; I hope I don't stink
why did I have to wear white
now you normally weren't such an insecure girl, but you couldn't help it; your anxiety was already high, feeling as if you didn't dress to the occasion, then your friends just left you to talk to your number one celebrity all alone
you couldn't help but feel a way
you didn't even realize the album was out of your hand until you heard him speak again
ย โCan I have your name, pretty girl?โ
yep. you definitely wanted to faint
โYou think I'm pretty? i feel like a messโ ย ย
the words came out before you even realized you said it.
but Michael noticed instantly what was going on
he would never admit it, but he noticed you out of the tons of fans who were grasping to get his attention, shouting his name, wearing noticeably short skirts and low tees
he watched as your eyes scanned the room, analyzing everything, analyzing yourself
Michael signs the vinyl without hesitation.
he hands it back, fingers grasping yours slightly as you notice large writing all over the cover of the vinyl
Your mouth slightly opens as your head whips up to meet his light smile. You knew all your 32s were showing.
Before you could get another word out, security signaled to Michael's bodyguards that your time was up and to make your way off stage.
You wished you would've said more.
You thought to yourself as you and your homegirls walked out of the mall, all of them buzzing. not believe that their friend got a handwritten note from micheal jackson.
Poor little Sixteen-year-old you, all you could replay was him calling you pretty.
and that's what led to the start of many, many letters being sent in 1994. (when the mailroom got built)
at first you were writing for shits and giggles, feeling a little parasocial and telling him how you adored him and how his music meant everything to you
but after the third letter, you stopped talking to him like he was a celebrity
and more like... a friend
through the years, every Friday night you would make it your business to write to Michael, then send the letter the following morning.
Some letters didn't make it out to see the light of day, though, due to your overthinking brain nitpicking everything you would write down.
Your letters consisted of daily ramblings of your week, your favorite color, brands, new music that youโve discovered
you didnt even care that he didnt write back, you never expected him to
so as youโre lying in your bed, feet up with your purple pen with a fuzzy tail at the end, writing your next letter
you hear a knock at your door. ย ย
ย ย ย โCome in!โ you said, a little confused, but your door opened to reveal your mom with a tired smile, meaning she had just gotten home from work. but she was holding something in her left hand
ย โtheres a letter for you here; it says it came from Neverland,โ she says, raising an eyebrow after revealing the letter's location.
Your mouth dropped before you rushed from your bed, pen and journal being forgotten about as you grabbed the envelope from your mom's hands.
fingers softly trembled as you looked to see the envelope.
It was a cream colored envelope. Thick. Heavy.
Your name was written across the front in looping, careful handwriting โ the kind that looked like someone took their time.
And in the top left corner, stamped in gold foil, was a tiny emblem:
The paper smelled faintly like vanilla and cedar.
Like how he smelled back when you were sixteen
with shaky hands, you carefully remove the seal to reveal a carefully folded peice of paper
and you swore you couldโve died on the spot
Because this wasnโt a fanโclub newsletter.
This wasnโt a generic thankโyou card.
I hope this reaches you in good spirits. Iโve been meaning to write back for a while now. Your letters have been arriving here at the ranch for some time..and Iโve read more of them than you probably think.
I didnโt see the first few. The mail room gets very busy, and sometimes things slip past me. But your seventh letterโฆ that one was handed to me directly. My staff said, โShe writes every week. Sheโs sincere.โ
And when I opened it, I recognized something.
I remembered you from that mall in โ91. You were holding a Jackson 5 vinyl with both hands like it was something fragile. You looked nervous, but not in the way most fans do. You looked like you were trying to disappear into yourself.
I remember you telling me you felt like a mess.
I remember thinking you werenโt.
I meet so many people, but every now and then someone stands out for reasons I canโt explain. You were one of them.
Your letters donโt feel like fan mail. They feel like someone talking honestly, without trying to impress me or ask for anything. I appreciate that more than you know.
You donโt need to be perfect to be seen.
You donโt need to compare yourself to anyone.
I hope you continue to write, if it brings you comfort.
Because reading your letters sure gave me it, iโll be looking forward to your next letters.
You let out a squeal, holding the letter tightly to your chest as you jump up and down; your mother, who was still lingering by your bedroom, was curious to see what had her daughter so ecstatic.
you look down at the letter again, re-reading to make sure you weren't dreaming.
But you noticed more writing further down after he signed his name.
p.s Youโre still my prettiest fan. โโโโโโโโโโโโโโเผบโโโโโโโ
theres probably a few grammar mistakes.. just ignore those lol
Second fic done! this ones shorter; won't be a P2, maybe
As always, feedback is appreciated! Hope you guys enjoyyy
