hi alodie!!!💘💞💕 i love ur baby daddy mike fics it's genuinely the best thing I've ever read on this app noooo shade just tea, i just love it 🤭🤭
i wanted to ask how baby daddy mike is when he's mad or idk doesn't communicate?? like would he be the type to grab his things and be gone.. or the type that's like a bit immature and doesn't talk to u for like 30 minutes and then apologies? 🤭💕
have a nice day alodie i love you and ur works !!!!
also can i be the 💘 emoji?
HI CUTIE WELCOME TO #DADAMIKENATION 💘💘!!!
i honestly don't see Michael as the "grab my jacket and disappear for three days" type if anything, I think he'd be frustrating in a completely different way.... He strikes me as somebody who hates conflict but also hates being misunderstood. which is a terrible combination 😩😩
so imagine: you argue.... just one of those arguments where feelings get hurt, maybe he's exhausted, maybe he's been gone for weeks, maybe he's convinced himself you don't understand why he's doing something. and suddenly he goes quiet.
you ask: "Michael, say something." and he immediately hits you with: "i am thinkin'." brat...
😭 SIR.
then he spends the next twenty minutes sitting somewhere dramatically. the couch, the stairs, the edge of the bed... staring at absolutely nothing??? thinking himself in circles.
getting sad... getting a bit guilty.. remembering your face. *squints* getting more guilty.
because here's the thing: i think Michael's anger would turn into sadness ridiculously fast. like he starts off annoyed then fifteen minutes later he's wondering if he hurt your feelings. then another ten minutes later he's wondering if you still love him. then he's apologizing, not because he's always wrong.
because he genuinely hates distance between himself and the people he loves.
now add baby daddy Michael? 🪄🪄🎩🎩
OH IT'S WORSE. because now there's a tiny human involved. so he tries to stay mad. He really does. maybe you two argued before bed, maybe neither of you handled it well. he's sitting in the living room convincing himself he's not apologizing first this time.
then he hears the baby cry. and now both of you end up in the nursery at 2 a.m. baby doesn't care. baby is crying. Michael is holding the baby. You're standing there half asleep and suddenly he's looking at you over the baby's head. and all the anger feels stupid.
because that's his family. you're his family :/
sooooo the conversation becomes: "You still mad?"
"Maybe."
"Okay." Five minutes later: "You want me to make tea?"
😭😭😭😭 that man is apologizing through acts of service.
he brings you tea, brings you food. checks if you ate. asks if you're cold. acts like none of those things are an apology. meanwhile they're absolutely an apology.
the one thing I don't think he'd do?
Storm out.
not if he loves you. not if there's a child involved. If anything, he'd linger.
you'll think he's leaving and then he's suddenly in the kitchen. then the hallway. then checking on the baby. then asking if you need anything.
then somehow he's still in the house an hour later despite supposedly being mad. 😭
which is honestly way more irritating than somebody who just leaves.
because now you're trying to stay angry too and he's standing there like: "i made extra pancakes."
SIR WE WERE FIGHTING.
"I know."
💕 Baby daddy Michael is giving silent guilt, dramatic sulking, accidental apologies, and eventually crawling back because he misses you after thirty seven minutes. That's the vibe I get. ;)
"A star can never die. It just turns into a smile and melts back into the cosmic music, the dance of life"
Destiny has a cruel way of making us come to reality, and leaving us without you is that hurtful reality. It pains me, but I know you're at peace now, the one that you deserved for so long, the one that was taken away from you since you were a child. We try to make your legacy a beautiful thing, even when others try to take it down; your memory lives in our minds and hearts. You make the sky sparkle, and now I celebrate you. I love you, applehead.
bringing michael to the cookout (based on @prettyangeliczz’s post!)
the southern heat hit you the second you stepped off the plane, but it wasn't until you were pulling up the gravel driveway of your childhood home that your stomach really started to do flips. for the past two years, you’d been living a double life. in la, you were a corporate professional with a chic apartment and a solid routine. but you were also the girlfriend of the biggest star on the planet.
when you’d first told michael about your family’s annual juneteenth cookout, you hadn’t expected him to get so wide-eyed and excited. he’d never celebrated the holiday before, and the sheer genuine curiosity in his voice made it impossible not to invite him. but trying to warn your parents over the phone had been a disaster.
“girl, bring your lil boyfriend! nobody cares! you’re grown,” your mama had scoffed, completely brushing off your frantic hints. your daddy hadn't been any better, insisting that anyone was welcome at his table.
"i'm so sorry in advance," you murmured for the tenth time, turning in the passenger seat to look at michael. "my cousins have no boundaries, mikey. if uncle troy asks you for a loan, you tell him no."
michael just offered you that warm, soft smile, as he reached over to squeeze your hand. "it's okay, baby. i promise you i'll be fine."
taking a deep breath, you finally got out of the car. you led him through the front door, the screen door letting out that familiar creek. inside, the house smelled like vanilla and sweet tea. your grandma was parked in her usual spot in the living room, completely locked into her soap operas. she didn't even look up from the tv screen, just waved a hand vaguely in your direction saying her quick hi’s and hellos.
the real action was out back.
through the large windows, you could hear the muffled thumping of a bassline. your jaw nearly dropped when you realized the speakers were blasting "rock with you." out on the patio, your aunts and cousins were dancing, red solo cups in hand. michael’s eyes lit up, a soft chuckle vibrating in his chest at the sight.
bracing yourself, you pushed open the back door and stepped out onto the grass, still holding michael’s hand tightly.
"is that my baby?" your dad shouted over the music. he was standing by the massive black smoker grill, spatula in one hand, wearing a faded apron.
"hi daddy!" you called out, letting go of michael for just a second to wrap your arms around your dad's neck, breathing in the comforting scent of charcoal and hickory smoke.
as you pulled back, the rest of the family started wandering over, drinks in hand, ready to inspect the new boyfriend. "daddy, everyone... this is my boyfriend, michael," you said, stepping back to stand beside him.
"hi everybody, how's it going?" michael greeted, his voice soft and polite as he offered a gentle wave.
at first, the reaction was standard. your aunts swooped in for hugs, asking how the flight was, completely running on auto-pilot southern hospitality. aunt kaye didn't even look at his face, just patted his arm. "you look a little skinny, baby, make sure you get you something to eat before you leave here —"
she stopped. the gears started turning. the music seemed to fade into the background as silence dropped over the yard.
"wait!" your cousin marquise shouted, freezing mid-sip in his lawn chair by the edge of the pool. his eyes went completely wide, and he choked on his capri sun, coughing violently. "nigga is that michael jackson?" he said shaking your older brother awake.
every single head snapped back toward michael. a collective gasp echoed across the lawn. you let out an internal groan, burying your face slightly against michael's shoulder.
"no fuckin way," someone whispered.
"you're joking."
before anyone could even process it, your mama rushed past everyone, sprinting straight into the house. a minute later, she came flying back out the back door, clutching a vinyl copy of off the wall. she marched right up to michael, holding the album cover directly next to his actual face, her eyes wider than saucers.
she looked at the album. she looked at michael. she looked back at the album.
her mouth dropped completely open. she smacked a hand right onto your chest, glaring at you with pure shock. she shouted your full name, her voice booming over the yard. "and you didn't think to tell me?! i cleaned this house in a raggedy t-shirt and no wig, and you brought michael jackson into my house?!"
"i literally tried to!" you protested, throwing your hands up.
"you said he was in music! i thought you meant on the street or something!" she yelled, before immediately turning back to michael with a bright, overly sweet smile, completely changing her tone. "hello, michael, baby, welcome to our home."
michael couldn't contain his amusement. he threw his head back, laughing softly at the family dynamic, before naturally sliding his large hand around your waist, pulling you close to his side.
once the initial shock wore off, the southern hospitality kicked into overdrive. your mama completely took over, dragging michael toward the patio tables. she practically forced plate after plate onto him, insisting he try her homemade peach cobbler and the greens.
"now, michael, i know you're famous, but if you don't eat at least two plates, my feelings will be deeply hurt," she warned, loading up his plate with enough starch to feed a small village. michael, always polite, took small bites and practically melted, praising her cooking up to the heavens, which only made her beam with pride.
out on the grass, your little cousins—none of them more two apples tall—were practically vibrating with excitement. they kept tugging on michael’s shirt, begging him to show them how to moonwalk. despite his usual shyness, michael didn't mind one bit. he kicked off his loafers and spent a good half hour giggling, patiently breaking down the footsteps on the concrete patio while the kids stumbled around like newborn deer trying to copy him.
your dad eventually pulled michael over to the grill. while showing him the proper way to flip a slab of ribs, your dad launched into a massive, animated rant. "see, michael, the media won't tell you this, but the government puts chemicals in the tap water to keep us compliant. and don't get me started on the moon landing. you know about the industry, you see the truth."
michael just stood there holding a paper plate, nodding along with intense concentration, looking genuinely fascinated by your dad's wildest local conspiracy theories. you weren’t sure you’d ever seen michael eat a rib, like, ever…
across the yard, you were completely cornered. your aunts and younger cousins had bombarded you against the fence, whispering furiously.
"what is it like dating him?"
"how do you even handle that lifestyle?"
"is his hair soft? it looks soft."
you just looked across the yard, watching michael patiently listen to your dad while your little brother tried to high-five him. a soft, tender smile tugged at your lips. "when we're together, it's none of that flashy 'king of pop' mess," you told them softly. "he's just my michael."
by the time the sun went down, casting a deep orange and purple glow over the southern sky, it was time for michael to leave. you were staying for a few more days, but he had to get back to cali.
out by the driveway, the cicadas were buzzing loudly in the trees. bill was standing discreetly by the running car, waiting to take michael back to the airport. uncle troy was currently trying to pitch bill a pyramid scheme by the front fender.
"everyone loved you. thank you for coming, mikey," you said, wrapping your arms comfortably around his neck, looking up into his dark eyes.
"you don't have to thank me, baby. i had a wonderful time," he murmured, his hands finding your waist, drawing you into his space. a sweet smile broke across his face. "everyone's so funny."
"no, everyone's so embarrassing," you laughed, shaking your head.
"i love you, applehead. call me when you land," you whispered, leaning up on your tiptoes to press a warm kiss to his lips.
"bye, michael jackson!“ your little brother's voice suddenly shattered the quiet moment, echoing from the front window of the house. a split second later, you heard a muffled smack as your mama tapped the back of his head.
"boy, shut up!"
the two of you broke the kiss, turning your heads toward the house. sure enough, the entire family—including your grandma, who had finally abandoned her soaps—was bunched up against the living room window, their faces pressed so hard against the glass their noses were flattened, trying to spy on the goodbye.
the second they realized they'd been caught, there was a frantic scramble of shadows as they all tried to dive out of sight, someone knocking over a lamp in the process.
you couldn't help but giggle, hiding your face into michael's chest as his soft laughter rumbled against your cheek.
"give them my goodbyes, and thank your parents for me," michael murmured, leaning down to plant one last, lingering kiss on your lips before finally turning to get into the back of the car.
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