i realize that i never made a proper introduction of myself. here goes nothing.
INTRODUCTION
NAME: dennea (but yâall can call me dee for short)
AGE: 26
RACE: black
ETHNICITY: black american (maternal side) and jamacian american (paternal side)
PLACE OF BIRTH: new york city (the bronx)
ZODIAC SIGN: virgo
BIRTHDAY: september 9th
HOBBIES: writing, listening to music, making edits, meditating every once in a while, working out, studying astrology from time to time, reading, watching documentaries, movies, tv shows, etc.
FAVORITE ARTISTS: michael jackson, aaliyah, janet jackson, selena, the weeknd, normani, phyllis hyman, and bruno mars. i also love the groups tlc, queen, and flo. i occasionally listen to beyoncĂŠ too.
Michael Jackson just hired you as one of his personal assistants. He's a few months away from starting his first solo tour, the Bad Tour. Your job is to make sure he has what he needs when he needs it, but what about what he wants?
WC: 3.1k
Tags: Bad!Michael, assistant!reader, fluff, sexual tension, smut at end (masterbation/edging), part 1
It's your first day on the job, and you feel like an absolute mess. Though you spent two hours getting ready, you couldn't help but repeatedly check your makeup in the car before going inside.
Finally, you can't stall any longer and grab your purse, walking through the doors of Westlake Recording Studios.
The first thing you notice is the amount of people that are already hustling around at 7am. Directors, producers, assistants, crew, background dancers. It was overwhelming to see how visibly busy every person was.
Your eyes catch Frank DiLeo, Michael's manager, who raises his eyebrows at you and waves you over. He's surrounded by other personel, but they quickly disperse as you make your way over.
"Y/N! Goodmorning, and happy first day." He says with a Hollywood smile. You force a smile back, but you're aware how weak and nervous it is.
"Michael hasn't arrived yet, so I'll first show you around the building, then I'll introduce you to the rest of the team." Frank says, not waiting for a response as he turns around and starts walking.
You follow him, listening closely as he shows you the recording studio, the stage, and the dance studio on the first floor. You take the stairs to the second floor, where the producing office is.
People sit at desks, paper stacked nearly as tall as them sitting down. Keyboards clack, sheets flip, printers buzz, fax machines sputter paperwork.
You barely have time to take it in before being led up another set of stairs.
"These are our individual offices, where the most important people are." Frank says, winking.
He shows his office first, by far the largest one with couches and tables, then points at each office and who's it is as you walk down the hall with him. Finally, you reach the last two rooms.
"The office on the right is Michael's. To the left is yours." He pulls a key from his pocket and unlocks your office, then hands the key to you.
Peering inside, you see an office with a desk, computer, phone, fax machine, printer, filing cabinet, a swivel chair on the inside of the desk, and two chairs on the other side.
"Home sweet home!" Frank says enthusiastically.
"Yup! Thank you so much for bringing me to Mr. Jackson's attention." You say, setting down your purse.
"No problem at all, you're more than qualified, Mike will love you. Let's go meet the rest of the team, we have a small meeting in my office in 10 minutes so we can wait in there for everyone to show up." He opens your office door, letting you step out first before following and closing the door.
You sit on a couch in Frank's office, sipping on the black coffee he offered you as you wait.
The first to arrive is Quincy Jones, who shakes your hand before taking off his coat and placing it on the coat rack next to the door. Next, his travel agent, Gretta Walsh, and lawyer, John Branca, walk in together with coffees, mid conversation. The last few of the team to trickle in are his other assistants, Norma Staikos, Miko Brando, and Karen Faye, who all introduce themselves to you and shares the couch with you.
Finally, right as the clock strikes 7:45, Michael Jackson walks in with his bodyguard, Bill Bray. He looks intimidating at first. His tall, thin frame towering over the room of sitting people, his sunglasses hiding his eyes, his face serious.
Then his gaze falls on you and his mysterious exterior cracks, his mouth curving into a large, but shy, grin, and after he removes his glasses, you can see it carries to his eyes.
"Hello, you must be Y/N. I'm Michael." He says, extending a hand to you.
You shake it, a nervous smile plastered on your face.
"Hello, Mr. Jackson. It's so nice to meet you." You reply, your voice wavering, but you somehow keep composure.
"Please, call me Michael." He says as his eyes scan your whole body. You know he's just taking you in but you can't ignore how it makes your whole being tingle.
He sits across from you, sliding his sunglasses back on. The meeting starts, Frank mostly catching you up on the plans for the upcoming tour, what Michael will need, deadlines, publicity stuff, yada yada.
You listen, you really do, but there's so much information at once that it's impossible for you to remember every detail of what is said. It's a good thing you can't see the way Michael was staring at you the whole time, up and down and up and down. It would have made it even harder.
The meeting is adjourned an hour later, but everyone is needed either on stage or in the audience to practice. The entire room stands unanimously and files out one by one, like each person has a place and they know it by heart. You can't help but feel a pang of anxiety knowing you don't yet have a place to claim.
Within 30 seconds, the only people left in the office are you, Michael, Bill, and Frank. Michael nods at Bill and Frank, silently telling them to leave. They oblige without a word.
You stand nervously, clearly waiting on some instruction or critique. Instead, Michael removes his glasses again, his eyes soft and understanding.
"It's your first day, Y/N. Don't stress. Nobody is going to be upset at you for not knowing every tiny thing." He says, offering a small smile.
You fluster. Was it that obvious that you were so nervous? You push the feeling away, nodding.
"Thank you Mr. Ja- Michael." You respond warmly, a smile creeping onto your face as well. His eyes give you another once over. This one was less friendly. It was slow, like every inch was important. You get jittery under his gaze.
He giggles, and you blush, embarrassed. He pushes his glasses back on and walks out of the door. When he notices you haven't moved, he turns and grins at you.
"Well? Come on, they're waiting on us." He says. You shake yourself out of your daze and follow him.
The rest of the day is surprisingly easier than you thought. You take notes on directions for the performances, refill Michael's water, get him orange juice from his office, make a KFC run for lunch, pick up his costumes from the dry cleaners.
Before you know it, it's 6pm and time to go home. Except you don't. Instead, you go up to your office and log onto your computer. You send emails that need to be sent, fax information over to producers and the travel agency, you even take out your calender from your purse and start marking events, color coding them by what they are.
Hours later, you suddenly realize its 10pm, and you're tired, and you know you need sleep. But there's still so much more you can do. You think back to your ex, yelling at you for being such a workaholic, saying you're never home. You rub your eyes, remembering he's not here anymore. He left months ago.
You stand up, deciding to take a quick snack break before you organize and rewrite messy notes. You step out of your office and notice that the light in Michael's office is still on. You hesitate, trying to decide if you should knock or leave it alone.
Before you can choose, the door opens and Michael steps out. He looks suprised to see you, but his entire demeanor is off. His shoulders are sagged, his eyes heavy and tired.
"Y/N, what are you doing here so late?" He asks. Your first thought is that he's upset, that you overstepped. Then you see the worry in his eyes.
"Um, working. I just had a few things I needed to do before I went home." You reply.
"A few things dont take 4 overtime hours." He says, a smartass twinkle in his eyes. You can't help but laugh.
"Well, what are you doing here?" You retort, using his matter-of-fact tone.
His face flickers, turning serious for a moment before he smiles again.
"I'm not much of a sleeper." He shrugs. You cock your head at him and raise an eyebrow.
"Insomnia." He says, shrugging again.
"Oh." You frown, your arms crossed.
"Its okay, I'm used to it. I was about to go get a bite from a nearby diner. Wanna join?" He offers.
Your stomach flutters. You know he's doesn't mean anything by it, but a tall, dark, and handsome man asking you to dinner in any circumstance is flustering, dammit.
"Yeah, of course," you reply after a moment. "Let me grab my wallet."
He laughs, grabbing your wrist before you can walk away.
"Don't you dare. Come on." He pulls you along with him, his large hand wrapped easily around your wrist. You giggle and stumble after him.
The diner is close enough to walk to, about 10 minutes by foot. You guys talk the whole way, mostly about work, but slowly it turns into more personal topics.
When you arrive at this so called "diner", you realize it's way fancier than you imagined, a very dim lit Mexican restaurant. Michael pulls his hood over his head and puts on his glasses, concealing his identity.
You guys walk in, requesting a table in the very back. Luckily, the restaurant is pretty empty, besides a few couples finishing up their dates. You can't ignore how intimate the setting was.
You slide into the booth, facing the door, Michael sitting opposite of you. Michael orders a Paloma to drink. You order just a water, which earns a look from over Michael's shades.
When the waitress walks away, he places his glasses on the table and takes off his hood.
"You could have gotten anything and you order water?" He teases. "Not much of a drinker?"
You laugh, pushing your hair back.
"I am, on some occasions. I guess I'm just worried about my brand new boss seeing me tipsy on my first day." You grin.
He rolls his eyes dramatically. "Oh please, you act like I'm some crazy strict lunatic."
The drinks arrive before you respond. You smirk sideways at him before looking at the waitress.
"Excuse me, I'm so sorry but could I also get a strawberry Margarita?" You ask. The waitress nods and makes her way back to the bar.
"There, happy?" You giggle.
"Very." He says, his voice low and playful. He sips his Paloma, holding eye contact. You look away, staring at the menu.
"They have great options here." You change the topic, scanning the food.
"Yes, its my favorite restaurant." He doesnt even glance at the menu.
"I thought your favorite restaurant was KFC?" You look at him, catching his shy laugh.
"Well... maybe. But this is my favorite non-fast food restaurant." He restates. You laugh, nodding.
"Mmm, right, right."
You both order, talking about trivial things like fashion and movies until the food comes, along with a second round of drinks. You can't lie, you're starting to feel the tequila, and the way Michael is talking, it seems he is too.
"You know, I really don't get the Michael Jackson hype." He says, cutting into his smokey red chili enchiladas with the side of his fork. You laugh loudly at that, looking at him.
"Said no one ever." You retort. He smiles, hiding it behind his hand.
"I mean, he's just a dude who happens to be able to sing." He glances at you. You play along, giving him a stern look.
"He doesn't just sing, hes a lyrical genius, a natural born dancer, and absolute sweetheart. Not to mention an international heartthrob." You ramble, picking at your nachos.
He doesn't say anything, just smiles and takes a bite of his food. The music playing around the restaurant switches to a very slow, romantic song. One you recognize. You groan.
"What's wrong?" Michael asks, dipping his head down to catch your eyes in his. You shake your head.
"This is a song my ex used to play for me a lot. He was horrible." You put a loaded chip into your mouth, keeping you from saying too much.
"Hm... I'm sorry, Y/N." He frowns. "Do you want me to ask them to change it?" He looks around for the waitress without waiting for you to answer.
"No, no! Its okay, I promise. It's just annoying. But thank you." You grab his hand without thinking, his head snapping back towards you. He looks down at your hand then back up at you. Embarrassed, you pull your hand back into your lap.
"Sorry, I'm a very-" you chew the words in your mouth for a second, "physically affectionate person. But I know it's unprofessional, I apologize."
Michael's face softens, laughing a bit. "Y/N, you don't need to apologize for everything. I want to connect with you on a personal level. I prefer my assistants to be close friends of mine." He smiles. "Plus, I'm a physical touch person too. I really don't mind."
You nod, your nerves calming. You grab your margarita, taking a large gulp, the sugary rim dusting your lips. At this point, you know you're more than tipsy, the warmth in your stomach heavy.
"Lightweight." He teases. You roll your eyes.
"Am not. I just haven't eaten much besides this today." You scowl playfully.
"Hey, don't be defensive. Its cute. You loosen up a lot." He cocks his head to the side, looking at you through heavy lidded eyes.
"Mmm, looks like I'm not the only one who's been affected." You raise an eyebrow.
"Maybe not. I do tend to be more bold when intoxicated." He swirls the last bit of his drink in his glass before throwing his head back and swallowing it.
The waitress comes with the check as you finish your margarita. You try to take a peak at how much you spent, but he tuts at you, laying 200 dollars cash on the table. Your eyes widen.
"Holy shit, we spent that much?" You look into his eye guiltily.
"No, girl, most of this is a tip. Calm down." He laughs. You relax, shaking your head.
He puts his shades on and stands up.
"Michael, wait." You stand and grab his hood, pulling it over his head carefully. He smiles gratefully at you.
You walk back to the office together, occasionally stumbling into one another or using each other as support. You both crack jokes and laugh. The restaurant clearly used a strong concentration of alcohol.
You guys walk inside, Michael nodding at security, who nods back in a greeting. He pushes his hood off and his sunglasses to the top of his head. You both stare at the stairs, then look at each other, then the elevator.
Without a word, you guys walk to the elevator, Michael's slender finger pressing the up button. He lets you inside first, slinking in behind you. It's a large elevator, yet Michael stands close enough that you can feel the warmth of his breath on your neck. It sends a shiver down your spine, one you hope he doesn't notice.
He does, but says nothing about it, ignoring the hardening length in his pants. He presses floor 3, the silence comfortable.
The doors open with a ring a few moments later, and you step out first. You turn and wait for Michael, standing by his side as you walk down the hallway.
When you arrive at your doors, you look up at him, your eyes heavy and brain filled with drunken thoughts.
"Thank you. Tonight was really fun." You say, your body only a few inches from his.
"I agree. We should do it more often." He says, grinning down at you, his cheeks a rosy pink.
The tension increases as nobody says anything, just you staring into his eyes and him staring back. Suddenly, the elevator dings again and a janitor walks into the hall, whistling some song.
Michael clears his throat, taking a step back. "You should head home soon, get some rest. Be safe, okay?" He says, genuinely meaning it.
You nod, blush creeping from your cheeks to your ears. You both step into your offices, closing the door. You both let out a sigh, eyes closed, head pressed against the door.
You pull up your hair, grabbing your purse and gathering your things. You leave your office, waving at the janitor. You take the elevator downstairs and go to your car. You sit there, too drunk to drive, staring out the windsheild at the city, smiling like an idiot.
3 stories above, Michael plops down on his chair, pinching the bridge of his nose. He thinks of your cute smile and big eyes and how you throw your head back when you laugh.
He doesn't know how long he sits there, thinking about you, fantasizing about you, before he releases his aching dick from his tight slacks and boxers.
He wraps his hand around the base of his length, muttering under his breath. "What are you doing to me, Y/N." It wasn't like him to be this affected by a woman he met less than 24 hours ago, especially not an employee.
He pumps his hand up and down, biting his lip to keep quiet, unsure if you've left yet or not. His head spins with alcohol and lust. He feels wrong, perverted. But he can't stop, especially not with the image of you across from him in the restaurant, tipsy and flirty.
He feels himself on the edge, his whole body stiffening. Then, there's a knock on his door. The janitor. He groans, stuffing himself back into his pants. He gathers his things, opening the door and letting the janitor come in before he steps out and makes his way to the elevator. He calls Bill to pick him up, apologizing for it being so late.
When Bill gets there, he just sits in the passenger seat, staring out of the window.
"What's wrong, kid? Talk to me." He says, pulling out of the parking lot.
"Just a lot on my mind. Things I need to get straightened out." Michael replies with a sigh.
"Okay, well if there's anything I can do to help, just say the word." He says, patting his shoulder. He just nods, chewing on his bottom lip.
A/N: this is actually the first MJ fanfic I ever wrote, I never posted it because I thought it was bad, but @asphrotic said it was good, so here you go!
Taglist: @tinydreamerpillar @4ppl3h34d @lovenote777 @thebaddestfish @impala04 (comment on here to be added)
hi guys, so I'm just boosting right now. Please don't ignore this. So I just got a dm from one of my amazing followers, and they just informed me that THIS RACIST! @writing5ever is the person behind all these racist remarks on anonymous. Please make sure yall block him. Cause yes, it is that serious when it comes to racism so make sure yall report that page too !!
Also, idk why yall constantly feel the need to be so hateful towards black people?, I truly think THOSE people tend to forget we are the blueprints always have been forever will be. I don't even wanna cuss his loser ass out because he know he deadass wrong and that's why his bitch ass went anon on every request. So go block that racist bitch I cannot stand THOSE people sometimes, and no offense to the people that don't attack the black community but please get yall people in check. It's beyond sickening and disgusting, and pathetic and I'm so tired of it. Now please REPORT that page. I truly think THOSE people forget that michael Joseph jackson was a BLACK man, so why wouldn't black people write about a black man?, yall don't want a toxic community but YALL make it toxic. Then wonder why the community is dying because we have people like @writing5ever attacking black authors with his pathetic stank oatmeal pie smellin ass, bitch so miserable and mad. But yall wanna talk about mj being a "predator" what about ELVIS presely?, oh okay cracka.
Have yall a wonderful blessed day, make sure yall report this WHITE MAN attacking my beautiful black authors, with our beautiful brown glorious sexy glamorous ethereal skin, with our beautiful assesđ. @writing5ever
with everything that has been going on lately in the fandom, including the racism and purity culture invading the spaces, i wanted to write out this post for you all.
i completely respect and understand why there are people who are taking breaks from social media. in fact, i encourage it because it can get annoying and toxic. breaks are very much needed, and even i take them.
however...
do not let these miserable people dim your joy being apart of this community. do not let them run you out of a fandom that you enjoy making edits for, writing fanfics about, creating desired realities (and roleplay, and yes i do that, mind your business đ), among other things that makes the fandom feel alive. it is literally called a fandom for a reason. hell, even back then, there were people writing fan fiction for their faves before we were even thought of!
we all have lives outside of tumblr and other social media spaces. many of us are even dealing with things outside of here. even though it's temporary joy, reading or writing fanfics, watching or creating edits, and other things can make someone feel happy. who are you to judge them for enjoying it?
i acknowledge that certain things aren't everyone's cup of tea. yet, to make shady remarks and posts on other platforms like tiktok (yes i am going there) or acting like a prude isn't going to cut it. just simply scroll away, it's really not that challenging.
as for the racism in this fandom, that is definitely not tolerated at all. and, for the people in my comments that had an issue with me talking about certain things in the fandom, you can definitely keep scrolling. you are not about to come on my page, and dictate what i should or shouldn't talk about. you can miss me with that bullshit.
i have already made a post about many people infantilizing michael, so i won't repeat what i said on there. i would like to add something else. that man sexualized himself, made freaky songs, made suggestive moves while he was dancing, looked at women's breasts and asses, had a long list of adult material in his house, etc. that man was GROWN.
to end this post, i want to say this. even though we don't know each other, i love you all. keep on being creative, freaky, hilarious people. as long as you are not writing smut about toilet play with siblings (and, yes. i am talking about that weirdo), you're alright with me!
Niggas is blowing up the spot for real like itâs mjtwt all over again when they dogpiling us for writing fanfics now THIS!
TUMBLR IS FOR THE FREAKS!!!
Like the infantilization of Michael is getting so big that it's infecting other platforms, can't even call Michael hot without people jumping down your throat now smh
idk wtf is going on, but the rise in racism and harassment towards black mjblr writers & creators is disgusting. Why are you so upset that black creators are writing about a black man? Thatâs what so many of you seem to forgetâthat Michael was a proud black man. The erasure of his eras before bad is disgraceful, especially since those were the most important times of his life.
Every single one of you bitches who are hiding behind anon are scary asfâwhy donât you want people to know who you are? oh because yk youâre wrong and disrespectful asf? we been knew. you all honestly need to get tf on somewhere.
đ¸đżđŽđť đ˛đ˝ series (modern au) headcanons | part 1
pairings: producer!michael (bad era) modern au x college!stripper!blackfemalereader
tropes: 18+ MINORS DNI â modern au (starting in 2023 to current day), angst!, smut, porn with plot, switchy!michael, switchy!reader, established relationship, secrets, strippercore, infidelity, messy breakups, abandonment, messy co-parenting, controlling behavior, j*e is a villian in every story, lovebombing, michael and reader are both toxic frrl, michael is 27, reader is 25, more tropes and warnings to come once we get into the tea
producer!michael... thinks itâs kinda funny that the âprodigalâ son of j*e jackson, head of bluejack records, wouldnât be caught dead at an industry party these days. there are times heâll entertain it for a few hours just to show face, support his artist friends, be nice, but they always end the same if j*e is involved. it irritates him to no end how j*e parades him and his brothers around the industry, specifically dangling him in front of new artists like a carrot in hopes to sign them.
producer!michael... inherited his love for music from his mother katherineâs songbird voice, light but powerful, shaped by decades of singing for the lord. some of his fondest memories as a kid was listening to her sing to him, sing while she cooked, cleaned, anything. no matter how many questions he had during her choir practices, sheâd always stop to answer. her solos at service brought the whole house down, and his siblings would always pick at him for running up to her first when she was done, burying his face in her robe to hide his tears. her parents were too religious to let her pursue the music industry, admonishing anything secular, so naturally their restrictions practically ran her into the arms of the rebellious man he knew to be his father. michael was the eighth child of ten, and all of his siblings ended up somewhere in the entertainment business much to his motherâs dismay. they grew up learning about the industry from witnessing j*eâs own lackluster music career-turned-success, and a lot of it sure fascinated him, aside from the politics behind the scenes that he could live without.Â
producer!michael... has production and writing placements with and for some of the greats, which has also resulted in grammyâs and multi-platinum plaques, but nepotism doesnât explain or eclipse his drive and passion to exceed everyoneâs mediocre expectations of someone in his position. j*e swears he made michael who he is today, always scheming to find ways to be paid what he feels owed, backing him into signing a production deal with bluejack as a favor. michael knows better now than to feed into any more of j*eâs whims of entitlement, especially as the companyâs breadwinner. because of that fact, he moves a little differently than all the other talent signed to the label, with the freedom to make his own decisions and say no where others would be scared of the consequences. j*e has no choice either, because deep down, he knows michael can make it with or without him. you canât deny god-given talent. and as for michael, itâs always been about the music. only.
producer!michael... saw you on tinder, taking a break from some late night mastering in the studio to passively scroll through the app. beautiful women were easy to come by, especially beautiful women who tended to be intrigued by his âmysteriousâ disposition. really, he was just ironically shy still after years of his family being in the limelight under major scrutiny. he learned to stay guarded at a young age and not expose the parts of himself he wanted to keep safe from judgment. so between that and his godforsaken shyness, he was generally closed off to anyone he didnât feel comfortable with, which, confusingly, made women more attracted to him⌠and led to them becoming temporary flings. in his opinion, they were fun to look at, touch, fuck, especially with his persona as a loverboy at heart⌠but vapid and boring. trophies that took absolutely nothing to win, ones that had no passion, only driven by the perks that came with being in proximity with someone like him. there was something about you that drew him in though, making his thumb pause dead in its tracks to stare at your beautiful smile before he accidentally swiped left and lost you in the sea of false sparks. he immediately recognized lyrics from a song he wrote, in your bio: how many days can I have with you, how many ways? something about that felt like fate.
producer!michael... sat up straight in his chair when he saw a message from you on the app as soon as you both matched. he really didnât expect to hear from you this late, but was excited at the chance to get to know you more.
heyy angelface, you busy tonight?
the nickname made him smile at first. then, he paused... fully digesting the question and the gravity of it. it rung in his mind with reverb, making him chew on his bottom lip and fidget in thought as his fingers tapped against the soundboard. his phone buzzed again.
you should come see me, x - 7350 coldwater canyon ave n, hollywood, ca, 91605
the address looked familiar but he couldnât put his finger on it. hmm, he wasnât far, either⌠deciding that he was up for some company, he grabbed his keys in search of you.
when he pulled up to valet, he realized why the address looked familiar: one of his label mates was filming a music video tonight and asked him to come a couple weeks back. he couldnât help but laugh at the coincidence of ending up there anyway after politely declining. the neon sign flickered above his head as security checked him at the front of the line, much to the irritation of everyone still waiting to get in.
between the hum of the sign and the muffled thump from the music coming from inside, he couldnât decipher if the sounds were a welcome or warning of what was to come, but either way, he was there with a mission: to find you. the hostess smiled seductively at him, welcoming him into the pink diamond gentlemanâs club.Â
producer!michael... found himself oddly fascinated by the ecosystem of the strip club. the club manager met him at the door, talking his head off about the amenities available while leading him to a private section. thanking him kindly, he shrugged out his letterman jacket and sat down as he was left alone to his own devices.Â
opening tinder, he sent a quick reply: i made it, they have me in a section upstairs
he could see why men lost time here⌠there were so many women, god, they were beautiful, sensual, confident, using their innate power to sell the fantasy of their attention, their proximity. his posture relaxed into the couch cushions, legs wide as his fingers tapped against his thigh to the music while he watched. one of the women in the club approached him, tipping her cowboy hat at him as she walked over topless, her hips and ass stuffed into a pair of barely-there daisy dukes.
âhowdy, cowboy⌠iâm sasha. itâs a little lonely over here in your stable⌠fancy a drink? you should let me save a horse and saddle you insteadâŚâ
michaelâs eyes met hers, smiling shyly, tipping his invisible hat as she licked her lips.
âiâm actually waiting on someone. but a double shot of crown apple would calm my nerves a bit before she finds me, thank you.â
sasha shifted her hips in her pleaser boots, playfully pouting. âhmph, lucky girl⌠iâll be over there if you end up needing that ride.â
producer!michael... sat there nursing his drink, passively watching the performers below on the main stage as time passed by, saying no thank you to every pretty woman that walked over offering him something. he was beginning to lose hope, thinking you stood him up until a soft voice took him out of his thoughts.
âhey angelfaceâŚâ
taglist: @justalocallesbian, @narratedillusions, @enhasdihsucker, @blcknebula, @somenichegirl, @heeheeow, @someonessoulrecord, @fortuncooki, @baldmonkmonks, @darkgreengrl, @heubstr, @96kittii, @cinnamoncunt, @lov3lylxvender, @thebaddestfish, @bl00d0nthedancefl00r, @dreamymjj, @nyctogeny (please let me know if you'd like to be added or if i missed you!)
out of all the fandoms i have been apart of growing up, this is the most nastiest, depressing, unhinged, dirty minded, wholesome, sweetest and beautiful one i have been in.
after breaking up with michael because of feeling disrespected by his âfriendshipâ with diana, your friends take you to a club to lift your spirits. there, you meet and dance with a up and coming actor. however michael watches with jealousy from the sidelines and causes a scene by having security pick you up from the dance floor and take you to his limo in a effort to make things right with you. ( part one)
this whole plot was requested by @asphrotic sorry this took me 4 years to write. part 2 will be out tmrw! đ
your relationship with michael had been going strong for quite some time now, and you couldn't have been happier. you cherished him more than anything in the world. but there were moments when his naivety and stubbornness would get on your nerves. especially when it came to certain people â like diana (derogatory). her presence was like a pesky gnat. always trying to be in michaels face, making little flirtatious jokes in front of you and making sure to touch him every chance she got. you couldn't stand her old ass, and you saw right through her little facade.
you tried to talk to michael about your concerns, but he would brush it off, saying "that's just how she is. she means no harm, you have nothing to worry about."
you wanted to believe him, you really did. but then one day, you decided to surprise michael at the studio where he was recording his album, and you walked in on him and diana kekeing together as she sat on his lap, her hands caressing his face. that was the final straw.
"what the fuck is this, michael? are you serious?" you screamed, completely losing your cool. diana's evil smirk on her face sent an influx of anger through you, making you itch to slap it off her face. "bitch, get the fuck off my man. what the fuck is going on here?" you seethed at her, while michael tapped her, silently telling her to get up so he could talk to you. "baby, it's not what you think, i swear-"
âthen what the fuck is it, michael? i feel like you're playing with me right now. why is that bitch sitting on your lap?" you interrupted, taking a step back.
"you know what, i think i should goâ," diana said, gathering her things and trying to tiptoe out.
"yeah, bitch, you should fucking go. i ought to slap that big ass wig off your head," you spat at her, michael holding you back from attacking her.
"baby please, just calm down. we were just goofing around, nothing more," he pleaded, grasping at your arms. you shook off his touch, pushing him back.
"michael, you know how i feel about that bitch. thinking i'd be okay with that shit is insane. i don't give a damn what you were doing, michael. can't you see how crazy this is for me to walk in and see?" he let out a heavy sigh, rubbing his forehead in frustration.
"baby, i know. but i swear, nothing was going on. i promise."
âmichael, honestly âŚitâs giving you clearly donât value our relationship enough to establish boundaries with her, even after i expressed my feelings. so- so maybe we shouldnât be together.â your voice wavered as you said the last few words, it tasting bitter on your tongue.
"wait so, what are you trying to say?" he paused, his eyes searching yours.
your eyes glossed over as you sighed. "i can't share you with her, michael. cant you see sheâs obviously trying to sabotage us? iâm saying, i canât do this with you anymore." you turned away, ready to leave, but michael's hand shot out and gripped your arm.
"wait, baby, don't- let's talk this through," he pleaded, his voice desperate. "i'm sorry, i'll make it right." but his words fell on deaf ears. you pulled your arm away and walked out, tears streaming down your face.
the following 2 months were pure torture. his constant calls and letters went unanswered, and you returned any gifts or flowers he sent (except for the diamonds, of course). you had no energy or desire to leave the comfort of your home, spending most days alternating between sleeping all day and crying. that is until your friends grew tired of you sulking around all miserable and sad. they dragged you out of bed, practically forcing you to get ready and leave the house.
against your will they took you to this prestigious nightclub in downtown la, determined to make you let loose and have some fun. "you need this night out, i don't care. you're gonna dance, you're gonna drink, and you're gonna enjoy yourself, damn it," your best friend playfully scolded as you walked into the club, the sound of music and the packed dance floor welcoming you.
"okay okay," you muttered under your breath, rolling your eyes. you weren't feeling it tonight at all, but for the sake of your friends, you were willing to give it a try. the first stop was the bar, where your friends wasted no time in getting rounds of drinks for all of you. as you were taking a shot, your friend tapped you on the shoulder. "girl... i spy with my little eye something tall and fine to your right. and he keeps looking over here," she whispered, nodding her head towards a handsome man with curly hair, standing tall with a nice muscular build.
he seemed familiar but you couldn't quite place him until your other friend exclaimed, "wait a minute, girl that's bruce leroy! i knew i recognized him from something he was in that movie last year, uhhhâŚthe last dragon!"
it finally clicked for you and your friends went into a frenzy. "ouuuwee, he is so fine. and girl, those biceps?" they burst into laughter as you shook your head. he noticed you looking at him and started to make his way over, sending your friends into an excited frenzy. as he got closer, their voices lowered to a hush, trying to play it cool while nonchalantly sipping their drinks.
âpardon me, ladies. i don't mean to interrupt, but i couldn't help but notice this beautiful lady," he said, his eyes fixed on you. "i just wanna know would do me the honor of sharing a dance?" before you could even respond, your friends were practically pushing you towards him. "she'd love to, right y/n?" they said, urging you on. you rolled your eyes and nodded, feeling slightly embarrassed. "yeah, we can dance." he flashed a dazzling smile and extended his hand towards you. "i'm taimak, by the way." you took his hand, following him to the dance floor, introducing yourself in return. as you both reached the dance floor "make it last forever" by keith sweat and jacci mcghee played right on que.
you smiled bashfully, feeling heat rise in your cheeks as you took his hand in yours. the groovy music flowed through your body, making your hips sway instinctively. his hand rested on your hips, and you reveled in the moment. however, amidst the carefree atmosphere, you couldn't shake off the intense gaze burning into your face. turning your head, you followed the piercing stare and saw michael sitting in a section with security guards surrounding him. his black raybans hid his eyes, but you could sense the mean mug on his face. it was unexpected to see him here, but since he was, why not give him a taste of his own medicine? you pulled tai closer, wrapping your arms around his neck and adding a little more hip action to your dance. your smile grew wider as you nibbled on your lip, knowing michael was watching.
you were lost in the music, grinding to the beat with taimak aka bruce leroy when suddenly you felt a firm grip on your waist, pulling you away from the dance floor. your heart raced as you turned to see a big, intimidating man, carrying you over his shoulder. panic set in as you kicked and cursed, demanding to be put down. as you were carried out of the club, you caught a glimpse of michael sitting in limo parked out front. you had an attitude immediately as you were sat in the car, arms crossed and fuming.
"michael, what the fuck? you had your fucking security carry me out of the club? do you know how embarrassing that is?" he let out a heavy sigh, his shoulders slumping in defeat. "you haven't been returning my calls. how else was i supposed to get to you?"
you shot him a glare, your eyes narrowing in frustration. "how dense are you?" you practically spat. "not having your security guard kidnap me would have been a good start. my friends are in there, along with countless other people."
he scoffed, a smirk playing at his lips. "and your little date," he added, his tone dripping with sarcasm. your face scrunched up in disgust. "why you worried about me and my date? how about you go talk to your old ass girlfriend, diana or something and leave me the fuck alone."
he lifted his hands in exhaustion, his patience clearly running thin. "y/n, for the last time, diana is not my girlfriend. "
you rolled your eyes, a sarcastic sneer forming on your lips. "right, and does she know that?"
"of course she knows that, because y/n, you're all i want and all i ever have wanted." his words were accompanied by a pleading look in his eyes, one that you had seen many times before. "i know i messed up by not considering your feelings and baby, i'm sorry. i'm also sorry for the scene i had my security cause in the club. but seeing another man with you, touching you, looking at you like that...i went crazy." he leaned closer to you, taking off his shades revealing those sparkling brown doe eyes, and grabbed your hand. "i can't lose you, and i don't want to."
you couldn't deny the pull that he still had on you, but you also couldn't ignore the hurt and betrayal you felt.
you looked at the limo floor in contemplation, letting out a heavy sigh. "well michael you better figure this shit out, especially with ms thing because im not sharing my man with nobody.â you raised a eyebrow pointing a stern finger at him.
a glimmer of hope returned to his face as he smiled, "i know, iâll handle everything i promise.â he brought your hand to his lips placing a kiss to it. he signaled the limo driver to start the journey to his residence in the city. the ride was quiet, both of you lost in your own thoughts.
as you arrived at the destination, he stepped out first and walked over to your door, opening it for you. he reached for your hand, offering it to help you out of the car. despite being angry with him, you reluctantly accepted his assistance. he thanked the driver and you followed him into his home. plopping down on the expensive sofa, you crossed your arms tightly over your chest. he settled into the opposite couch, nervously playing with his fingers as he searched for the right words to say.
the air was thick, pregnant with a tense silence. you both held your breaths, neither willing to break the silence then, with a heavy exhale, he finally spoke. "listen, y/n, what you saw at the studio that night wasn't what you thought it was. you know how touchy diana isâŚand she just happened to sit in my lap. it made me uncomfortable, but i didn't want to be rude and push her away. just as i was about to ask her to get up, you walked in and things escalated. but darling, i can assure you, there's nothing between me and that woman."
âbut michael, why didn't you listen to me?" you asked, your voice full of hurt and frustration. he could see the tears forming in your eyes, but he couldn't bring himself to meet your gaze. "she feels so comfortable disrespecting our relationship because you make her feel comfortable."
he let out another exhausted breath, his gaze wandering aimlessly as he slumped back on the couch. "okay, i'll admit, i should have listened to you. i know." he paused, trying to find the right words to explain himself. "but y/n, i don't know how many times i have to say it's nothing going on. she's just a friend, i promise."
you sat there, trying to regulate your emotions before you responded. there he was being his naive self again. "michael, i know i may seem paranoid, but i just don't trust her, i don't want to constantly feel on edge when she's around you."
he took a deep breath and replied with sincerity, "ok baby, i hear you. from now on, i won't talk to her, if that's what makes you happy." but then, his expression changed as he looked at you intently. âbut i have to ask, who was that guy at the club? do you know him? did he bring you there?"
you rolled your eyes and let out a small laugh at the sudden interrogation. "michael, i just met that guy tonight. my friends were the ones who brought me to the club, not him."
"and if you weren't dragged off the dance floor, would you have gone home with him?" he asked, his insecurity seeping through his words as he locked his gaze onto yours.
"i don't know, michael," you said, your tone turning slightly defensive. "if i hadn't walked in on you and diana, would you have slept with her?" you retorted back at his assumption.
"no, that's what i keep trying to tell you," he sighed, his fingers frantically raking through his hair. he walked over to the couch you were sitting on and sat beside you scooting closer. "look, baby, whatever i have to do to make it up to you, to make you see that you're all i need, i'll do it. you're mine, all mine, and i donât ever wanna risk losing you ever again.â
you met his gaze and felt yourself melting under his intense stare. "let me make it right, baby. please," he pleaded, moving closer to you. his lips were just inches away from yours, his words stirring up a mix of emotions within you. and before you knew it, his lips were on yours and you found yourself kissing him back, your hard exterior crumbling in his arms.
if you havenât read part one or two of the one shot, here are the links:
PART ONE
đŹ 16  đ 10  â¤ď¸ 125 ¡Â
Michael Jackson x black female reader. 18+.
Off The Wall era.
Synopsis: Itâs been a long time since you have spent
PART TWO
đŹ 12  đ 3  â¤ď¸ 64 ¡ DISCLAIMER: This will be the continuation of the first chapter. Like the last time, this chapter will also contain explic
if you havenât read âCapture,â hereâs the link as well:
đŹ 4  đ 1  â¤ď¸ 10 ¡ CAPTURE - Chapter One
June 4th, 1982
âHey, get back here!" I cried and attempted to chase the worn out colored Sudan
