summary ; in which, you're one of the executive producer's daughter who comes in to help with filming. jaafar becomes aware of your presence during filming and is seemingly interested in you. the two of you become friends throughout filming, lingering feelings coming close.
tags ; for my own personal sake, jaafar is not engaged... fluff heh, fem!reader, slight age gap not really huge, nepo babies nation, reader is a bold talkative kind of gal, prob ooc jaafar, coworkers to friends to lovers, and why is falling in love with a jackson is SO EASY!!!!!!
also pls keep in mind i literally have never been to a movie set or have experience being a professional cameraman💔💔 i just researched a lot (can u tell i love research and being correct😆😆😆😆) and used the best of my abilities to recreate the simulation!!! if anything is incorrect pls ignore it....
6.1k words ; not proofread
living in california with parents who were successful in the film industry was a perk.
at least it should've been.
your dad was a widely respected producer and your mother being an equally as famous actor as well.
so then as to why you basically had no job was a big question.
hollywood practically loved nepo babies, the industry was crawling with them. it seemed like every day a new one was coming out and landing a huge acting role.
however, you didn't really want to be an actor. it wasn't in your territory and the way you perceived it as a child of an actor only helped your case more.
growing up, you watched your mother live in the spotlight. so many award shows, photoshoots, red carpets. it all seemed so luxurious.
but it wasn't, it was the complete opposite.
you'd seen the way your mother would cry and breakdown at night. the media painting in her in a bad light, saying things about her that one could never even imagine.
hollywood was brutal. you'd be lucky if you managed to work with people who had the right intentions.
it was a miracle your parents met. a love story from a movie playing right in front of people's eyes.
the good side of having parents in the film industry was being able to go on set.
you sat in a chair in a far corner, watching how the lights flashed on, creating a beautiful story within just a few seconds.
your eyes always managed to get stuck on the camera though. how easily the person on it would glide the camera and pan to the people in the scene. the way their fingers moved with ease on the settings, zooming in on an actor's face.
it was basically your dream in a way. all you've ever wanted was to capture a story through a lens, see how it'd be perceived though other people's eyes.
as you grew up, your father connected you with some pretty amazing people, teaching you the ropes of the film industry.
you were lucky, many people didn't have this type of opportunity in life.
by the time you were 19, you'd become a professional videographer.
it started off small, working with a camera your father bought you for christmas. you made home movies with it, creating memories of events that made your life so special.
the home movies then turned into making film projects for school and then actually filming for people, like music videos or short films for aspiring directors.
you graduated college with a degree in film production, mostly wanting to work hands on in projects.
except now you were 24 and no one wanted a college graduate with only a few credits to her name as their videographer.
so, although it was probably a shitty thing, you begged your father to string you up with a job.
you knew he was working a movie at the time, a biopic or something about michael jackson?
"come on, you know i rarely ever ask you for anything dad." you complained, following him around the kitchen.
"you're asking me to help you work for a big project, they're serious (name), they won't just take anybody." he replied, shaking his head.
you could only groan, burying your face in your hands. "you're a big producer, dad! you could tell them how good my work is, y'know? boost me!"
he only closed the refrigerator door, sighing as he placed the carrot juice on the counter. thank goodness for you being his only daughter.
"fine. i'll have a talk with my team, see what i can do."
you could only gush with joy, immediately wrapping your arms around him. "you're the best dad in the world, i dunno what would happen without you!"
his hand pats your back before you give him a kiss on the cheek and excitedly scurry upstairs to your room.
most people would be ashamed to admit they're still living with their parents but you didn't care. how could you pass up an opportunity at living in a big house right in the palisades all for free?
as you laid up in bed, you researched a bit more about the film you'd (hopefully) be working on.
after a ton of news outlets and shitty film newsletters, here's what you summed up.
the movie is a biopic surrounding michael jackson. michael's nephew is playing him. it's a big film covering his life, same producer as bohemian rhapsody!
you stumbled across the nephew in question's, jaafar's instagram. it was blank, probably to create a clean slate before the movie came out.
you went digging and found more about him. through basically stalking his younger brother's page, you saw more of him and his personality. he seemed cool, upfront at least.
you decided to just turn your phone off, placing a pillow over your face as you screamed into it.
in the next week, you could possibly maybe be working with your dad and also jaafar and a ton of talented creative artists. with fingers crossed, you desperately wished that you got the job.
about 3 days later while running some errands, you got a call from your father saying you got the job. you had to pull into a target parking lot before basically screaming your head off.
after a drought of no work, the gods had finally blessed you with a new opportunity.
a wide smile stayed on your face for the rest of the day, giddy and excited to see how the next months of your life would turn out to be.
it was a cold morning. filming had started in late january, they'd hope to have finished filming by at least the summer.
you and your father drove to santa barbara to get to the studio lots. he told you that the director was planning on filming the concerts and performances first.
your thoughts were running wild, thinking about how cool it'd be to see an actual performance of michael jackson. you were born far too late to have ever even gone to an actual concert so you'd have to settle with this.
as you made it past the security gate and into the parking lot, it all kind of clicked for you.
you were once struggling to find anyone to work with and now you were here- working on a film about the michael jackson.
although most of your friends had argued that you were only working the film because your father was the lead director of the camera crew. even then, it was still a blessing that you were not going to take for granted.
the morning started off with a meeting, antoine fuqua, the director of the movie, stating how excited he was to begin production. your gaze lingered on everyone's faces, seeing how excited they were to be working on a project this big.
as you looked at everyone surrounding you, your eyes came across a guy standing beside antoine. he was about probably 5'10 and looked very quiet, only a small smidge of a smile on his face as antoine spoke.
you could only assume that he was jaafar, the guy playing michael. it'd only been a few days since you last saw what he looked like off his brother's instagram.
but he looked completely different than his normal self. or the version you saw first at least. he was dressed head to toe like michael jackson in the "bad" music video. it was kind of astonishing to see just how closely he resembled his uncle.
it looked like he was zoned out before he suddenly regained focus and his eyes locked onto yours. you'd become slightly startled by his sudden eye contact and quickly looked away.
jesus- he probably thought you were a weirdo for ogling at him. how long were you even looking at him for?
you shook your head, brushing whatever the hell that was off your mind immediately.
antoine soon ended the meeting, leaving you all to get to your workspaces and start setting up. you left with your dad, heading over to the first scene.
as you got there, you couldn't help but feel a pair of eyes staring at you. not knowing where they were coming from, you just shrugged it off, thinking it was probably in your head.
the next hour was spent with the camera crew, communicating on how you guys would film this. they had very set directions on how this shot was to be filmed. you were in charge of the camera that was to be locked onto jaafar's body the entire time.
it was a very great thing you were good at body shots, it was your specialty in a way.
they did a few run throughs before the cameras begun rolling, "bad" booming from the speakers as jaafar essentially got possessed by michael himself and performed it exactly as michael had done so long before.
you were in awe as you watched, your jaw hanging slightly.
the way he got everything correct to a t, even his facial expressions, was an absolute masterpiece.
you'd watched videos of old michael concerts and performances on youtube when you were younger. he had a great stage presence and jaafar captured that beautifully in his own way.
they decided after a few rehearsals to begin the actual takes, seeing how jaafar was now comfortable with the performances.
the cycle continued again, this time you actually had to record and let the camera follow him. you would zoom in on particular shots, the camera gliding seamlessly and it followed him as he danced across the stage.
your eyes stayed on the screen, making sure the lens was locked onto him as he almost teleported to either side of the stage every five seconds.
by the seventh take, your head and arms were basically on autopilot. you were far too focused on how jaafar looked like as he performed to focus on anything else. the way he moved was just so aesthetically pleasing to watch.
three hours of shooting and going over specific angles they wanted, the filming process of the "bad" music video was finally over.
you were sort of greatful but at the same time a little disappointed that it was all over. at least the "bad" performance, there was more to film later on.
everyone from the camera crew surrounded a small computer, showing off some of the footage they wanted to use.
somehow, yours was the one that caught lots of people's attention. it was locked onto jaafar's body, noting every move he made, even the smallest of details like the smirk he made when singing.
antoine and jaafar were there too, peering over your father's shoulder as they looked at the screen.
"i like how it doesn't look robotic, even though the gliding of the camera is really smooth." antoine pointed out, seemingly impressed.
jaafar nodded as well, really involved into the performance as he watched. though, you knew he probably didn't care about how you filmed it or what angles were shown. if anything, he was most interested in his own performance.
after a while, everyone seemed to get bored by watching film and left. by the end, it was only you and jaafar.
you only kept looking at your own footage, taking note of how everything was shot.
"you keep looking at the same video. i'm going to assume it's your own work?" he said out of nowhere, almost scaring you out of the chair you sat in.
you paused the video, looking behind you. before you knew it, there he was, the man of the hour.
instead of replying like a normal person, you could only mumble under your breath. "yeah, something like that."
he stood beside you, studying the shots, this time more closely than before. "they look good uhh...." he said, trying to get you to say your name.
the upper corner of your lip shifted upward, an almost timid smile appearing on your lips. "oh yeah, sorry. it's (name)."
you'd had many people compliment your work before but to have someone like him compliment it? it felt like an honor.
all you could do was say after stating your name was a simple thank you, if anything else were to come out, you'd probably spill your guts.
his arm went over the mouse of the computer, pausing mid video. he stared at the screen for a bit as his finger hovered over his leg. "can you see that?" he asked, looking directly at you now.
"what am i supposed to be looking at." you responded, your eyebrows furrowing, looking at where his finger hovered over.
he scrunched his nose, shifting his mouth to the side. "just kind of looks like my left leg isn't as visible as i'd like it to be."
"well i mean, good thing there's like a billion other shots and angles."
"i guess but i like your shots the best."
hm. i like your shots the best.
you could only quietly laugh, something you did when you were nervous.
"yeah but there's plenty of other really good shots. i'm sure the editors will cook something up." you replied back, leaning back into the chair you sat in.
"i hope so. didn't study all of michael's moves frame by frame for no reason." he laughed, positioning his body in a way where your face was visible to him.
with that, you finally came (kind of) face to him. there was no more "barrier", he could finally match a face to a voice.
you looked at him- only for a split second, you'd already stared at him for too long before filming. now that he was up close, you could really examine his face. or michael's face? whatever the case may be, you were no longer laying on your bed looking at him through a screen.
the silence soon came to a halt, his voice appearing. "you're lookin' at me like you have something to say. i know- i know, i look very cool. "
"no? i wasn't going to say anything."
"right."
your eyes rolled back, a scoff leaving your mouth. he sounded very cocky at the moment, maybe it was family thing.
his smirk shifted into a more subtle smile, trying to stiffle a laugh. "i'm just joking with you."
"sounded like a very egotistical joke."
his hand rose up to his chest, seeming almost offended by your words. you knew he was joking though, he never looked quite serious.
"are you assuming that i'm an egotistical man?" he asked, tilting his head to the side.
"wouldn't be suprised. you come from a family of generational talent and big influence." you state, an unimpressed expression on your face.
he scoffs quietly , his smile dropping slightly as he responds to your answer. "so you make an assumption based off what...? the things you've heard about my family or how the media portrays us?"
"nope. didn't say that."
"but it's what you're insinuating."
"if the shoe fits."
to be quite honest, you didn't think your first conversation with jaafar would turn into a heated conversation. you weren't trying to insult him or his family, you were simply just speaking your mind. but then again, speaking your mind never got you anywhere good.
he didn't say anything in return, just walked off immediately. if he were to say anything more, human resources would probably have gotten contacted.
a ball of guilt settled into your stomach, watching him walk away. you bit your cheek, his figure getting smaller as he walked farther.
you could only sigh, feeling tremendous embarrassment after that entire conversation.
this was an opportunity to grow your portfolio, expand your knowledge about the industry. instead you argued with the literal star of the movie or some stupid joke.
so instead of moping around and dawning over this tremendous cloud of guilt hovering over your mind, you set yourself to apologize to jaafar.
at least the next time you had a chance to speak to him. which would probably be a long time from now since you were most likely the last person he would want to speak to.
so you spent the following days, isolating yourself from almost everyone else. mostly because you didn't know anyone other than your father and because it seemed like no one was really here to make friends or even acquaintances.
you'd see jaafar on set sometimes, his very prominent bunny smile was an eye catcher.
sometimes he'd see you too. but you were always by yourself, looking at stuff on your computer or just standing off to the side awkwardly.
for some odd reason on one particular wednesday when they were shooting the victory tour performance, he finally broke his unspoken promise of silence from you.
you were fixing the lens settings on your camera when he appeared behind you. somehow he always managed to startle you.
he didn't greet you or even make his presence known, just begun speaking like it was an already continuous conversation. "antoine showed me some of the shots from earlier, everything is looking great so far."
like the first time, you were startled and basically almost dropped your camera. "jesus jaafar, do you just like to sneak up on people?" you asked, placing the camera back onto the stand, not trusting yourself to hold it around jaafar.
"i don't know, maybe." he shrugged, seemingly unfazed by you.
god this man was frustrating. it was like he was purposely trying to make you mad. but even if he was, you wouldn't blame him. you were a shitty person to him.
you sat more comfortably in your chair, pulling up footage from the human nature performance a few days ago. "yeah i've been trying to aim the camera to moves in performances that i think are like prominent. pretty sure i specifically made sure the camera was center on your chest during human nature at the end, when you're doing your shoulder rolls."
his eyes gaze your own before moving onto the screen on your lap. he stood over you, his figure overshadowing the light beaming from behind you.
you could see how intensely focus he was on the 30 second scene. his eyes never leaving the screen once.
after it played a couple more times, he stood up straight, nodding his head.
"that looks really good. think it might be my favorite shot so far."
"you're bluffing." you stated, shaking your head.
he insisted on complimenting you. "no no no- i'm serious. this is like god given talent."
you'd think after that whole situation, he'd probably heavily dislike you and your work but no. it was quite the opposite indeed.
"you're giving me to much credit." you awkwardly chuckled, scratching the back of your neck.
"i just think you deserve to hear it. this is amazing work, (name)."
he was boosting your ego far too much. any moment now, your head was gonna explode from how much he was filling it up with praise.
that feeling of guilt came back, only sitting heavy in your throat this time. you had to apologize. it was now or never.
you cleared your throat, sitting up straight. "hey, uh listen. i wanted to apologize. for the weird shit i said when we first met. it was uncalled for and just overall really unprofessional." the words glid seamlessly from your throat, coming out genuine instead of inauthentic.
his expression lightened up a bit, he already had a pretty neutral one but this almost made him kind of happy.
"didn't really expect that but thank you, i really appreciate it." he responded, his smile appearing across his lips.
you weren't too sure what to say after, but you also didn't want this conversation to end yet. it was actually really nice to talk to him.
he could tell you wanted to keep the conversation going but it didn't look like you were going to say anything so he just continued on.
"when you've been in the spotlight since birth, it's kind of hard to fight against the weird things people say about you. there's always these false narratives." his voice trailing on while he stared at the screen of the laptop.
"part of the nepo baby package." you state, seemingly trying to lighten the mood.
he tilts his head up to look at you and smiles almost immediately. his tongue sticks out on his cheek, hiding his laugh. "yeah, the nepo baby package."
you closed the laptop, spinning your chair to face him. in the presence of such personal events, you wanted to give him your unconditional attention.
"just kind of wish it was easy to navigate. i still don't understand how my dad or uncles did." he sighed, crossing his arms over his chest.
"once you get the hang of it, it kind of almost becomes muscle memory. never acknowledge it, therefore, it doesn't exist." the last part being something your mother told you once.
he snickers softly, his eyes squinting at you. "wow, you sound very wise right now. you must've been famous in your past life."
you laughed outloud, finding his words stupid. here you were trying to give him advice only to be met by his undeniable lack of seriousness.
"i'm trying to help you jaafar. give you like guidance, y'know." you scoffed, pressing your lips into a straight line.
"you can't give guidance on something you've never experienced (name)."
you were about to argue when you realized that he didn't know anything about you. all he knew was that you were a college graduate with a shitty portfolio who was really good at shooting dance scenes. not that your dad was the head director of the cinematography department or that your mother was a stupidly famous actor.
you should tell him that you do know what it feels like. instead of feeling isolated in his feelings, he'd have someone who's been in his shoes before.
you were once a child, holding your parents' hands at red carpet events, posing for pictures that would be sold off to shitty news articles.
you'd experience times where paparazzi would follow you and your mother around the city, trying to find anything bad about you.
your shoulders slumped as you dramatically sighed. "guess it's your lucky day because i actually have experienced what you've gone through."
he didn't believe you, thinking it was just you trying to relate to him so you could make him feel better. "yeah....for sure."
"you don't know anything about me jaafar, i never really got to introduce myself properly." you voiced, shrugging your shoulders.
"okay, go on then. i'm ready to listen to your awesome story." he chuckled, still not quite convinced.
you took a deep breath, knowing he was most likely going to ask questions about everything. "okay well to start off, my mom is (famous actor). the whole beginning of my childhood was spent on red carpets and movie sets."
his eyebrows furrowed, jaw opening slightly. the words coming from your mouth were the last thing he expected.
you continued on, recalling the most traumatic moments that occurred in your life that changed your entire brain chemistry. "let's not mention that i was basically harrased by tmz up until i was 12. my parents had to hide me from the public just so that stupid shit wasn't said about me."
jaafar seemed genuinely appalled, like he wasn't expecting any of that. you seemed so...normal. not like any of the other nepos he encountered in his time.
"how come you're like...normal? you're not a big name, no offense. but honestly, you'd think with how famous your mom is, you'd be more successful." he said, seemingly confused by all of the information you just dumped on him.
"oh i didn't want to become an actor or like a singer. cinematography has always been my passion."
wow. for once, a child of a famous person doesn't also want to be on the same level of fame as their parent. it was a rare sight to see nowadays.
"so you landed this job because of your mom i'm assuming?" he asked, now more interested in you than ever.
you chuckled awkwardly, biting your bottom lip. "actually no...."
if it wasn't for your mother, than what else? the only obvious choice could have been the influence of your mother's status.
instead of letting it drag out, you decided to rip off the bandaid, no warning. "my dad is actually the director of the department of cinematographer."
his face stayed neutral, he didn't react. you didn't expect him to be shocked or react extremely, he wasn't that type of guy.
instead, he kind of laughed it off and nodded his head. "explains."
"explains what?" you asked, furrowing your brow.
"saw you talking to him a lot. he was like the only person you talk to in this entire building." he explained, a small smirk on his lips, "i kind of figured something was going on."
"hope you didn't think anything gross." you laughed, hand covering your mouth.
your dad was the only person you actually spoke to. yeah you had like small talk here and there but you hadn't made any connections or acquainted with anyone.
the point of you coming here was to make connections and basically enter yourself into the industry. make a name for yourself essentially.
you shrugged, biting down on your tongue. a small wave of embarrassment washed over you when he stated that he'd only ever seen you with your dad.
"have you not made any friends yet?" he asked.
you looked around awkwardly, pressing your lips together. "no not really." you admitted truthfully.
jaafar seemed suprised, like he didn't expect you to admit that outloud. after all, you had a big personality and were outspoken.
at least- that's what he gathered from your last interaction.
"hm. weird. thought you would have become more familiar here." jaafar replied, seeming genuinely surprised by your response.
"i thought so too but here we are." you sighed, nodding your head in agreement.
"you still have time y'know. we still have at least 3/4 of the movie to shoot left." he replied, trying to encourage you.
you bit your bottom lip, thinking about it. he had a point, there was still time. and you definitely could branch yourself out there, it wasn't like you were shy or introverted.
but then again, loud voices always seemed to get shut down in places like this. the bare thought alone of being humiliated ran through your mind over and over.
"you don't have to do it alone either too." he said, his words cutting through your train of thought.
"i'm new to the industry too. it'd be cool to not go through all this alone." he smiled politely, looking at you.
you felt a certain emotion you couldn't quite grasp. was it honor? happiness? maybe pride?
whatever it was, it was a good feeling. one that made you feel a certain warmth inside.
"that sounds good." you replied. "two newbies navigating this place together."
with that, it was settled. you two would basically walk into this big world of bitchy actors and over the top directors with low expectations but it was okay because at least you were doing it together.
by the last few weeks of shooting, you and jaafar had created this inseparable kind of bond. you were always together, everything was a two person job basically.
you sat in a chair, eating a plate of fruit you snagged from craft services as you looked over film from the past day's shots.
all of a sudden you felt two large warm hands cover your shoulders. immediately you knew it was jaafar, he was the only one who greeted you like that anyways.
"i swear- every time i check up on you, all you do is watch your own film. this has got to be like a big ego thing." he laughed, resting his hand on your shoulder.
you'd grown to be accustomed to his very touchy body language over the last months. but alongside that came that one feeling that always lingered inside of you when he placed his hands on you.
sure you caught feelings for jaafar over time, it was basically impossible not to. it wasn't like you weren't already interested in him even before filming.
"it's not an ego thing. i just like to watch my own work." you huffed, rolling your eyes.
"ah ah ah, (name). that sounds like an egotistical thing to doooo." he taunted, waving his finger in your face. "it's not a bad thing either, if i had camera skills like yours, i'd be watching my work all the time."
you only shrugged him off. "yeah yeah, what do you want?" you asked "the only time you come over is when you need something from me."
"that's a lie."
"no it's not."
he sighed, his shoulders slumping as you caught him in his act. "i don't want anything from you necessarily- but i really want to hang out with you tonight!"
the infamous hangouts.
you and jaafar begun hanging out outside of work only 2 weeks into your friendship. it would be small things like coffee meetups or going out for lunch.
"today? i don't know, i already have plans of laying in bed with my cat and doomscrolling on instagram." you said simply.
"come on (name), you haven't hung out with me in like forever." he groaned, pouting out his bottom lip.
"we literally went out for coffee yesterday but jesus- fine fine."
he grinned widely, squeezing your shoulder. "okay great, it's a business dinner so i need you to dress nice."
"wait business dinner?" you asked but he quickly walked away saying goodbye. how weird.
you shrugged it off, thinking nothing of it. yeah it was odd considering you were only a friend and now he was bringing you to a business dinner.
after work, you took a long shower, making sure to use the expensive bodywash since it was a special occasion.
you ran your fingers over your legs, rubbing body butter over them so they could feel nice and soft. also moisturized since no one wanted to look ashy at a nice event.
soon, you sat at your vanity, blowdrying your hair and styling it into a blowout you saw on pinterest.
you found yourself on pinterest again, looking for a makeup look that would suit the dress you planned on wearing.
hanging beside you on your closet door was a cream colored dress, medium length that hung off the shoulder. it was a simple yet very elegant dress, something nice enough but didn't stand out too much.
you decided to just a simple beat with a light pink eye and some glitter. nothing too showy.
as you put on the last of your jewelry, your phone buzzed against your vanity desk.
jaafar: be there soon! don't take too long before i start charging for my time
you rolled your eyes, chuckling softly as you replied back.
you: ok uber im not tipping you just so you know but ill be ready soon anyways 🫰
just as you grabbed your purse and headed out the door of your house, jaafar's car pulled up. he honked, even though you were already outside because why wouldn't he.
you got it, placing your purse on the console. "you act like i take forever to get ready."
"cause' sometimes you do, glad you didn't today though." he winked, driving off.
throughout the car ride, you didn't question much. after all, why wouldn't jaafar possibly lie to you?
the car drove through a neighborhood, the houses around looking like they were owned by very rich white people. it wasn't until you got to a big house, somewhat similar to the hayvenhurst house.
the two of you got out of the car and that is when you realized it wasn't a business dinner after all. it was a family get together. to be specific, a jackson family get together. you could tell almost immediately because you saw his brother waiting outside for the two of you.
you entered the house, being greeted immediately by people you didn't know at all.
instead of explaining anything to you, he wrapped his arm around you and presented you as his guest, nothing else. but obviously, people were going to ask questions since it seemed like you were more than just a friend.
he would speak to family members about you and the way you met. it all sounded very...coupleish.
nonetheless, you spent the evening together, answering questions from his uncles and aunts about your relationship.
the amount of times you stated you were just a friend had to have been the same amount of times that michael said heehee in all of his songs combined.
it seemed like hours of introducing yourself before finally it was over. he politely excused the two of you before leaving out a door that led to a balcony outside.
jaafar was quiet, arm still clinging onto you. so were you, just staring at the sky above you.
you couldn't even process anything that just happened. never in a million years would you have imagined yourself in a position like this.
his voice cut through the awkward tension that was unspoken between you. "sorry i lied."
you couldn't even bother to let any words come out. there was still this state of confusion coursing through you.
"i'm just.....dude." you mumbled, still staring at the sky. if you looked at jaafar, you might've exploded.
"look, i know it looks and sounds bad but i had to. everyone's been bugging me about not bringing a date to these kind of events." he explained, trying to gauge your thoughts.
you shifted your head to look at him, truly trying to wrap your head around any of this.
"so what...? i'm just a placeholder?" you asked, not mad or upset, just trying to make sense of his situation.
"no no no- god no! it was never like that i swear." he quickly replied.
"i'm confused jaafar. why did you bring me here? why'd you parade me around like i was something more than a friend?" your voice shot out, making him feel small.
it was quiet. you could hear the laughter and music playing inside. alongside the crickets coming from below you.
for once, he didn't have anything to say.
"i'm trying to find the words y'know. this is all very new territory." he mumbled, his hand dropping from your waist to your hand.
"look, (name), you're an awesome person, an even better friend. but i can't keep going on like this. acting like i don't want you with me, to be in my arms all the time." his voice softened, along with his eyes. "these past few months have been so good to me. i've gotten to know you, on a deeper level. see what kind of person you are."
his feet shifted, inching towards you. you could feel his hand squeeze around your own, the warmth in it. "i don't want us to be just coworkers or friends anymore. i want more. i want you. all of you."
he didn't take a second chance before leaning in and kissing you.
it seemed like a scene straight from a movie. the moonlight shining across the two of you, his arms finding their way onto your waist.
he pulled away, still holding you in place. his lips had that smile, the one he always gave when he was truly proud of something.
you were dumbfounded to say the least but also happy. happy that these feelings you carried around were mutual and you didn't have to feel embarrassed about.
"i have to admit, you look very happy right now." he mumbled, wiping lipstick off the top corner of your lip.
"wow, you can tell basic human emotions, jaafar." you replied sarcastically, rolling your eyes.
"of course, i'm an actor after all. but i'm serious (name). i'd like to be your boyfriend, take you out and all that good stuff." he said, bringing up his arm to cup your cheek with his hand.
you couldn't be too mad at him before you were practically cheesing again. not only did he confess his underlying love for you but then asked to be your boyfriend. all the cards were playing right tonight.
"okay, you can be my boyfriend. just as long as you don't let the fame get to you once this movie comes out." you replied, smiling widely at him.
his eyes brightened by your words and soon he was cheesing just as much as you. he happily nodded, peppering kissed all along your face.
"won't regret it" he mumbled in between kisses "not at all"
your combined laughters echoed into the night, it ending with you being a new girlfriend and him being your stupid nepo boyfriend.
a/n - hello all....sorry for the long hiatus. i got stuck so many times on this fic but its done!! hope u guys like it, there'll be more jaafar fics in the future hopefully!!! also thank u so freaking much for 1.4K??? on the michael fic??? i love yall sm omg💔💔 anyways, ill be writing more this week so see u guys soon
rest in peace to this beautiful soul. the world didn’t deserve you. let’s all remind ourselves that despite this tragedy, he spent his last day doing what he loved most.
— SUMMARY: Michael felt rejected and decided to make you feel the same way. Little did he know, he was making it worse for himself.
— WARNINGS: sub!mike, bratty mike, sexual tension, lowkey angst with a hint of smut atp, lots of arguing, whole house petty, michael is genuinely sick and twisted i’m so sorry, fake (?) cheating, both trying to make each other jealous, they say mean things but they love each other guys, humiliation kink, insecurity, use of ma’am, use of traffic light system, handjob, free use kink, unprotected p in v, creampie, no aftercare, this is a long one. not proofread (yet!)
— WC: 8.5k (don’t say damn..)
— A/N: That third photo screams bratty mike and you can’t tell me otherwise idc. Also, I’m sure you can guess who exactly the model is. I refuse to say her full name, but ifykyk.
Yeah, this boy went and lost his damn mind.
Michael had been pushing your buttons that whole day. It’s not like you didn’t enjoy his presence or crave his affection, but seriously?
First, came him interrupting your sleep.
He woke you up at 5:42am on Saturday morning. His curly head was in between your legs and he was eating you like you were his long awaited breakfast. Any other day? Fine. Even exceptional, but you had a long week behind you, and a busy one ahead of you. He knew that. You wanted to sleep, and being awoken only two hours into it was not helping. You firmly, but gently, shoved his head away and gave him a stern “Enough.”
Then, came his sulking.
When you finally woke up at 9:08am, groggy and irritated, you decided to try and wind down by cooking for the two of you. He still hadn’t built up the courage to touch you again. He always came up and gave you soft kisses to your neck while you flipped pancakes. He was in his head though, after laying in your shared bed feeling rejected when you sharply ordered him to leave you alone. All he wanted to do was make his favorite girl feel happy and give you some kind of reward for working so hard this week. He didn’t mean to get so lost in the maze of your core that he’d wake you up.
So, because of his own embarrassment, he’d been sighing dramatically and setting things down on tables and counters just slightly too loud. To anyone else, it’d seem normal, but you knew Michael. He was begging for your attention. After he decided not to accompany you while you cooked like he usually did, though, you weren’t gonna cave in and give it him.
The last straw, though? The phone calls.
Long after eating together in suffocating silence – both of you too stubborn to break it – the two of you drifted off to your separate workspaces in your shared home. You were getting things in order for the upcoming Tuesday. Michael was being awarded the Guinness World Record for the best-selling album of all time for Thriller. That meant you needed to make sure you were caught up with work and that you had time to relax before accompanying your star-studded boyfriend to the highly publicized event.
Michael, on the other hand, was doing a whole bunch of nothing. Not because he didn’t need to, but because he couldn’t. He tried writing, he tried finishing up painted portraits for some of his industry peers, he even popped Peter Pan into the room’s tiny VCR, but even that couldn’t catch his attention.
Surely she’ll say somethin’ to me, right? He thought to himself after the movie was about halfway through.
But, you hadn’t. You didn’t even say anything to him for not joining you in the kitchen; something he stubbornly did just to get you to finally acknowledge him. So, he decided to a phone call. He didn’t have much to talk about, he just wanted to be petty.
“Hey, Q!” he said obnoxiously loud, loud enough for you to hear through your closed office door.
You were elbows deep into your work when you heard your boyfriend’s laughter drift through the vents of your office. You couldn’t tell what exactly what he was talking about, but you were sure it was his producer, Quincy Jones, on the other line. He would be joining the two of you to the ceremony, and he must’ve been ironing out details like you were.
Cute, you thought to yourself.
Then, it got ugly real, real fast. At some point, you finally had to walk down the hallway into his room and ask him to lower his voice.
“I’m makin’ some business calls. Could you just be a bit quieter please?” you’d asked him politely.
“Mmm, she speaks!” he joked, and you heard Quincy laugh over the phone’s receiver as well. Had he told him about your mood today? You shrugged it off as he covered the phone and responded, “Yeah, I’ll tone it down some,” and went back to his conversation like your interruption was as unimportant as an infomercial. The interaction left you a bit unnerved, but you’d check him about it later.
You were only able to make it to your second phone call when you heard the hooting and hollering from his office yet again. You tried to ignore it, you really did, but you were sleep deprived, annoyed, and embarrassed because you knew he’d been talking about you. You mumbled out a quick goodbye to your coworker and slammed your phone down, already halfway through your door. You started storming down the hallway once more.
“I thought I asked you to be quiet,” you said as his door flew open, hands on your hips. Michael ignored you and kept speaking on the phone.
“Yeah, and I was thinkin’ of changin’ some of our plans for that event…No- yeah, Tuesday’s,” he continued on.
“Hello?” you questioned him, waving your hands in his face. He covered the receiver and looked up to you briefly.
“One sec,” he responded shortly.
“Yeah. So, I was thinkin’ we invite Brooke. Yeah, she was my date-” he annoyingly emphasized this, “to the last event as well, before I went public with my girl.”
“Michael, hang up,” you spat out, any patience you had left long gone. He still ignored you.
“Yeah, not sure if she’ll like that. Brooke will be a good time, though. I’ll let her know…Mhm, yeah I’ll call you up later.” He finally hung up that stupid phone.
“What’s goin’ on?” he asked you innocently. You were heated.
“Are you actually serious? You can be a lil pissy about me not wanting you to eat me out, that’s fine. I’ll let it slide for the first couple of hours. It’s been damn near twelve, Michael. I have important shit to handle, for you and your important event. I asked you politely to be quiet and I even let it slide when you continued not to be.” You stared at him wildly, gasping for air after saying everything in one breath.
“I’m off the phone now. You can continue,” he said with a shrug of his shoulders and he started dialing another number.
“Not even an apology? Yeah, forget it. I’ll sleep in my office tonight, too,” you said in a fit of anger as you stormed back to your workspace.
Who the hell did this boy think he was? You spent at least 10 minutes pacing back and forth enough to wear a hole into your carpet. You couldn’t even concentrate on your work anymore, unspoken words settled on the tip of your tongue. You wanted to tell him to grow up, to kiss you, to fuck himself.
Without thinking, your legs started down that short but treacherous path of your hallway. You were about to knock when you realized he’d actually gotten quiet this time. Curious, you touched your hand to the doorknob before freezing. You heard him giggling at some feminine voice coming in through his phone.
“Yeah, and if anything, we can just say that you’re my date. Y’know, to soften the blow. ‘M sure she’ll be fine with-” You flew into the room once more, seething.
“Oh, so you’re fine with pretending to date another girl? All over some head, Michael? You done lost your damn mind. Hang up, now. Or I will.”
“Wai-” he started.
You yanked the phone from his grip by its cord and hung up his call.
“You gon’ explain yourself?” you asked him impatiently.
“You’re bein’ mean, Brooke’s a safe date. Nothin’ to it,” he said, too nonchalantly.
“I’m being mea- Michael. Do you know how fucking exhausted I am? I’m sitting here wrapping shit up for you, to show up for you, for an award you’re winning, and you can’t keep your needy ass hands off of me to sleep for more than two fucking hours. I’ve been patient and calm with you and you decided to start acting like a fucking neglected puppy by pouting and being annoyingly loud and calling up a random ass model to be your ‘backup date.’ What the fuck is your goal, here? Because I can promise you I wasn’t you to touch me even less than I did earlier,” you ranted.
“She’s not a random model, she’s my close friend,” he responded calmly.
You just about lost it.
“That’s all you fuckin’ took from that? You know what? She so close to you, gon’ head and have her come along! Let her take all the important pictures with you too! And leave me the fuck alone for the night.”
The rest of the night, neither of you spoke to each other, save for him coming into your office quietly to say goodnight and check to see if you were actually set on sleeping on the sofa in there. You were. He gave you a kiss to your forehead as you pretended to be asleep, and softly closed its door.
The next day was super tense. You accompanied him to his childhood home in Encino for a get together his family was having. The two of you tried to appear as though everything was fine, holding onto each other, choosing the other as your teammate for board games, and even sharing the core of washing dishes. At one point, though, La Toya, his older sister, pulled you to the side and questioned you.
“Why are the two of you actin’ so weird? Y’all have your first fight?” she asked in soft voice.
“We’re fine, Toya. He’s still just nervous with me around the family, I guess,” you lied. You’d been together for over three years by now, so the fib made no sense, but she believed you anyway.
The night at home was spent identically to the previous one. Your back was in pain from sleeping on the small office couch, though, so you slept in bed this time.
“I love you,” he whispered as you settled into bed next to him.
“I love you too,” you responded hastily.
“Can we cuddle?” he asked hesitantly.
“Do you think you deserve a cuddle?” you asked him back. He sat in silence as you got your answer and drifted off to sleep.
Monday morning rolled along, and you were sick of the tension. After you finished showering and getting dressed for work, you headed to the kitchen to make Michael and yourself some breakfast as an olive branch. You expected to see him lazing in his favorite chair at the kitchen island, reading the paper. What you weren’t expecting was the handwritten note sitting in his place.
At a fitting with Q. See you when you’re home. — Applehead
Your stomach sunk and you decided to miss the most important meal of the day.
Michael knew he was wrong. He knew he was wrong to be loud when you were working. He knew he was wrong to offer another girl to be his date while his girl was standing right front of him. He knew it was wrong to write a note and not end it with an I love you. But, he couldn’t stop something deep in him for loving the tension this was creating, and for that, he knew he was even more wrong.
His fitting went by in what seemed like a blur, due to his brain being preoccupied. He would start feeling guilty for his then immediately get butterflies in his stomach the thought you open up and angry with him. Every officer ring he heard in dressing room would send some into knots, hoping it was you, but it wasn’t, and then he’d be ashamed again.
Brooke, his model friend, had turned up near the end for her own dress fitting for tomorrow night, and her presence distracted him just enough to appear normal again. They chatted about nonsense, and he stayed outside her door until she finished her fitting, offering to grab lunch with her at yours and his favorite lunch spot near home afterwards.
What a stupid idea.
You’d gotten off of work early because your duties at work weren’t needed. Your employees picked up extra work to keep ahead while you were taking time off for your boyfriend, and although you were grateful, you were upset because you had next to nothing to do. You stayed longer than you should’ve, and once you realized you were just wasting time, you headed out and decided to comfort yourself with lunch from your favorite place.
As soon as you walked into the restaurant, though, your heart flipped. Because standing in line in front of you was one of Michael’s security guards, ordering two meals. One of them was your boyfriend’s usual, and the other was unknown.
“Hi, Maurice! Is he here?” you asked him almost cheerily, he referring to Michael. You figured it was for Michael and Bill, and considered riding home with them and having Maurice take your car for you so you could catch up with Michael.
“Yep, he’s in the car out back. I can place your order too, if you’d like?” he offered politely.
“Yes, thank you! I’ll take my usual as well. Can you drive my car home for me, too?” you asked him, handing him your keys.
“No worries, hun. I’ll see you later.”
You snuck around the building and walked over to the car’s usual hiding place with an extra bounce in your step. You were ready to put the petty distance behind you and cuddle with your boyfriend again.
You opened the door without warning, and were met with a sourness so potent, you nearly hurled over and puked. She was there. And your boyfriend was sitting a little too close to her looking a little too comfortable.
“The fuck?” was all you could say.
“H-hi, baby. She’s just-”
“Brooke. Maurice will be here in a few minutes with my car. Tell him I said he could drive you home. Have a lovely day,” you interrupted him calmly. There was a pause. You raised your brow ever so slightly, and she exited this car with a quick apology. You slid in and took her place–your place– next to him, without a word.
“It’s not what you think. She just had her fitting after mine a-and I offered her lunch-”
“At our favorite spot,” you interrupted again, still too calmly.
“…Yes, but it’s just cuz I was cravin’ it-”
“And you didn’t leave a message to let me know she’d be with you. Nor did you think to let me know you were getting it so you could get some for me for later. Interesting.”
You could hear him stop breathing.
“And what was the fitting for, Michael? So she could be your date for tomorrow?”
“Wait. No, no you said-”
“You’re clueless. Bill, drive us home, please,” you asked evenly as you rolled the SUV’s partition halfway down. The fact that it was even up in the first place…You didn’t want to get into this in front of Bill, the situation already leaving you embarrassed. Fuck the food.
Unfortunately for Michael, your demeanor only egged him on. Because, yes. He knew that taking Brooke to your place wasn’t okay, and he knew offering her a ride home in his private car was disrespectful. He hadn’t expected you to be there, but that made it worse. You were so close to snapping, and he was so close to begging for it.
The car hadn’t even been fully brought to a stop before you were opening the door and yelling out a quick, “Thanks, Bill!” You intentionally let the door close in Michael’s face.
Michael couldn’t fight the shit-eating smirk that plastered across his face as he bid Bill a goodbye, the older man looking at him in pure confusion.
When he slowly slugged through the front door and walked the timid path to the dining room, savoring the tension, his breath was nearly taken away at the sight of you. You were fuming, your posture was unforgiving, hands clasped on the table like you were preparing to reprimand him, and you were beautiful.
“Sit down.”
His feet reacted before his mind could, and he sat in the chair directly across from you, waiting.
“Do you think this is a game to me?” you asked him in a tone so cool, his bones chilled.
“I’m not playin’ any game. I just thought it would be alright with you.”
Lie.
“Why would I be okay with knowing you’re still gettin’ her fitted for dresses and takin’ her to our favorite spot. Or with seein’ her in our car?”
“She’s my friend. I didn’t wanna uninvite her last minute.”
Lie.
“But you can invite her last minute? M’kay. And what exactly is she gonna be there for? To make me look like some side piece? To stroke your ego?”
To make you jealous, he wanted to say.
“To keep up appearances. She’s always been my gate to these sorta things. I don’t wanna discard her,” he responded instead.
“You’re okay with discarding me in the process though? Do you see how fucked up that is? I’m your girlfriend. Or is this your way of getting rid of me?” you asked him, your anger cracking through your calm facade.
“She’s still coming. The press is expecting her. They’re expecting both of you. Q’s gonna be with us too, so it’ll look like a group thing,” he tried to amend.
“Then I guess I’ll be Q’s date, and you can prance around with the pretty white model all night,” you added with a shrug, pushing your chair out and walking away.
“You’re being a little excessive, don’t you think?” he asked with panic laced into each word. He hadn’t expected you to turn it onto him, and you could tell. If he’d be petty, so would you.
“I’m just doing what you’re doing. I’ll be in my office on the phone planning my date with Quincy. Make sure to give us some privacy,” you said with a wink.
He was livid.
If there was anything about Michael that he kept pretty well hidden, it was his jealousy. He was insecure, especially with all the eyes on him constantly, so jealousy was a given. He was constantly comparing himself to the greatest of the greats, trying his hardest to live up to or even surpass them. He had self-esteem issues that stemmed from his first moment of sentience. But this? You proudly announcing that you were going to take his producer, someone he considered a close friend as your date to his event? It wrecked him. And maybe he deserved it, but that didn’t mean he was taking this lying down.
So, he decided to take it up a notch.
The day of the event was hectic. The two of you had taken your flight from LA to New York ona red eye and were completely exhausted. You had only two hours to check in to your hotel and get some sleep before tending to your busy schedules . You were expected to meet at his stylists’ studio to get your hair and makeup done before they put you into your outfits for the evening.
Immediately upon arrival, Brooke was sitting in a chair getting her hair primped and curled, much to your own annoyance.
“Hey, you two! Me being Michael’s date won’t be awkward, right? He told me you were okay with it, but I promise I can back out if it makes things weird,” she asked with an anticipation that read that she wanted you to say it was all good.
“Well, he said I was okay with it!” you replied, trying to conceal the sarcasm. “Besides, I’m Quincy’s date tonight. It’s all good.”
She beamed a little too excitedly for your liking.
You didn’t really have the time nor energy to pay her mind, so you tried to allow the chaos of the dressing room to consume your attention. You tried.
Michael, on the other hand, took it upon himself to make you as jealous as he felt. He spent the entire time allowing the model to occupy his personal space. He laughed loudly at jokes that weren’t funny at all, brushed invisible hair out of her eyes, and drank iced coffee from her straw. He didn’t even like coffee. Yet, you still wouldn’t pay him any mind.
You were too busy actually reveling in seeing the bustling inner workings of the entertainment industry. You were successful, sure, but you would never in a million years get to this status on your own. You managed to even start enjoying yourself when Quincy came along and started giving you advice on show business. At one point, he took you to the side to give you a deeper talk not meant for all those ears.
“I understand he can be a lil’…stubborn. But you have to understand, he don’t know how to handle bein’ the most famous person in the world at only 25 years old. And imagine trying to navigate your first real relationship through it all. Now, I’m not sayin’ what he’s doin’ is okay, but give him some grace,” Quincy lectured.
“Q, I am. But it’s like he’s testin’ me. Like he’s testin’ my love, our relationship. He’s doin’ all this affectionate shi- stuff with her like i’m not sitting right there, I don’t understand why.” You almost sounded defeated.
“Listen, he’s used to everyone listenin’ to what he says. He’s around yes men more than he’s ever been around people who will tell it to him straight. You’re the one true person who doesn’t tiptoe around what you need to say to him. And he’s obviously sensitive. He didn’t tell me much, he really only wrote things out on notes for some lyrics, but being told no by you confused him. He was grateful for it, but a part of him felt rejected.” He sighed, realizing the conversation went a little too deep for the time.
“But that’s a conversation the two of you need to have. Now, I’m entertainin’ y’all’s game tonight, but don’t bring me in the middle of this type of stuff no more. Or Brooke. I’ma get on him about that too.”
You embraced his larger torso, your posture filled with gratitude for the words he offered you. The two of you returned to the busier area hand in hand, and you gave him a peck to his glistening forehead as you made your way to the snack table. You felt a few sets of eyes on you.
Michael and the model had seen the whole thing. His mood visibly shifted from playful, to full on anger, to unreadable within seconds. Those were his lips.
In that moment, he fought with himself to not use the ones attached to his own face disrespectfully as well.
Maybe she’d finally put me in my place, a voice in the very back of his mind croaked into his cranium.
The energy inside the black SUV the 7 of you — Michael, Quincy, Brooke, 3 security guards, and yourself — rode together was noticeably stiff.
Quincy and the model kept up most of the conversation, trying to get you and Michael to chime in here and there. You felt guilty for how awkward the two of you were making things seem, so you tried ribbing with your boyfriend. He basically iced you out.
The flashes upon arrival were enough to allow yourself to tune out the noise in your head. Your small group was ushered in quickly, accompanied by your security, and the secret backstage pathway gave you something to focus on.
Michael gave a heartfelt and beautiful speech to commemorate his record win, and he actually saved a piece in it to honor you. Your entirely being visibly relaxed and filled with unadulterated adoration.
As he finished up his message, he called for Quincy to join him on the stage as well. You gave Q a hug and tried to kiss him on the cheek— the quick and awkward action ended in the peck landing in between his jaw and neck— and applauded cheerfully. As Quincy hugged Michael, you could see his face flash with a fleeting expression of discomfort that he quickly covered up.
When you all converged backstage, floating on the high of seeing a loved one be honored with such a notable prize, the room buzzed with a glittery noise of excited chatter. You kept trying to break away from conversations so that you could be by your boyfriend’s side, but he was engrossed in conversations left and right.
People were asking you about why he’d brought Brooke as his date if you were there, why her outfit matched his more than your own did, why you were letting him take photos with her kissing him. The last question snapped you out of your dissociation, as you followed the questioner’s eyes and saw the scene a few feet away from you.
He was gripping her by the waist and kissing her a little too closely to her jaw, throwing you a smirk as he caught your eyes. You swore you turned physically green with jealousy.
There was something you used to do whenever Michael would cross lines early on in your relationship. He was new to dating seriously, and you were new to being taken seriously, so you had to explain to him what was or wasn’t right to do in them, especially since he was used to taking whatever affection came his way as a star.
After one of his more particularly excessive displays of insecurity and jealousy, you came up with a method to keep Michael and yourself…grounded. You’d hold fingers up on your hand— or hands—, depending on how many seconds of leeway you were giving him before your mood soured, and you would put one down every second, essentially counting down how much time he had left.
In the beginning, you’d give him ten, allowing him time to get used to the action. Your default after the familiarity was five. You hadn’t needed to go lower than that, ever. He’d usually get the hint at the mets sight of your hand raised.
Right now, discreetly to everyone else’s eyes, but very visibly to his, you raised three fingers. He smirked and hugged her closer to him. You put one down. He briefly parted from your gaze as your second finger went down, to make eye contact with a camera. He faced you again, pointed to his cheek, and she gave him a kiss there. You put your last finger down, and watched with burning fury as he laughed heartily.
You politely trudged through the group of onlookers and perched your lips to Michael’s ear.
“It’s time to go.” The decisiveness in your low whisper sent a shiver down his spine that he covered up with a fake cough.
“All right, guys! Thank you again so much for being apart of my success, but I must leave now. I have a long flight ahead of me tomorrow!” he announced with enthusiasm. True enthusiasm. And with a lie — your flight wasn’t until Thursday.
He gave out hugs and handshakes, told Brooke to hold onto Quincy’s arm, and the four of you, protected by security, left the venue. You rode in separate vehicles this time; you with Michael, Brooke with two security guards, and Q with his own personal driver.
You said not a word to Michael as your vehicle trekked through large crowds and traffic. His arm was caged between one of your hands with a tight grip, and he shifted uncomfortable in his seat 22 times thoughout the ride.
As the two of you made your way to your room— walking through the vacant hotel that his team made sure would be completely unoccupied for your stay— you could hear nothing but the aggressive clunk of your chunky heels against the pristine marble floor.
You entered your suite first, already having your keycard prepared for entry, and sat down on one of the lounge chairs. Michael approached you hesitantly, but still very much excited.
“Explain yourself.”
Your voice was so direct, it even scared you a bit.
“I have nothin’ to explain. Why’d you wanna go?” he asked, feigning confusion.
“I’m not asking. Explain yourself,” you repeated. Your patience was wearing thin, and your body was already getting hot. You decided to remove your shoes, jewelry, and dress, ignoring the way Michael’s eyes shamelessly trailed over the way your tight boyshorts and camisole hugged your body.
“I don’t need to explain myself to anyone.” He invaded your personal space, and the scent of his cologne made you dizzy.
“Who do you think you’re talkin’ to like that? And who the hell do you think you are? Kissin’ up on some girl for photos when I’m right there, neglected. Ignoring me when I give you my warning count. What, you don’t respect me no more?” you spewed at him, pushing your pointed, manicured finger into his chest with every word.
“She’s not some girl,” he replied with defiance laced into his tone.
You wanted him out.
“Oh, I forgot! Your date. Your real girlfriend. Go head ‘n call her up then! Go stay with her at her hotel! I’m done with the fucking games. Was this your goal? You wanted me to snap? Well, there you go. I’m DONE.” you yelled in a fit of anger.
“Me? You kissed Quincy! Multiple times! You were holdin’ his hand and you kissed him on the neck in front of everyone!” he yelled back.
“First of all, you were the one acting like a damn crybaby all weekend. You started the bullshit with the loud phone calls and asking a supermodel to be your date instead of me! Then you took her to our lunch place! On top of that, you had the girl nearly in your lap in our car, without even knowing I’d see, and then you continued to bring her as a date! I was giving Q a platonic kiss on the cheek, as I’d do to anyone I see as super close to me. And the ‘neck kiss’ was a fuckin’ accident! We moved too quick, and I missed his cheek! But thanks for letting me know you considered the ones you gave Brooke as more than platonic,” you said as you got more up in his face.
“Don’t start shit and not know how to finish it, Michael. It’s pathetic.”
He looked at you in a mix of bewilderment and lust. Pathetic, he echoed in his mind and clasped his hands in front of his groin very conspicuously.
“This is fuckin’ turnin’ you on? Seriously? ‘N you have nothin’ to say? I’m hurt and you’re tryna cover up a boner. Wow.” You pushed past him and picked your belongings off the floor.
His eyes followed your body as you retreated from him, and he licked his lips at the sight of you bent over.
Facing him once more, you crossed your arms against your chest, and his gaze eyed the way your breasts visibly at the contact.
“Go.” He blinked at you, his brain seemingly unable to comprehend the command.
“Michael. Leave. Now. Go be with your dream girl,” you said as you grabbed onto his slender arm, needing him to your suite’s door.
His feet followed yours until his brain caught up, and then he planted them harshly onto the floor. You yanked and he didn’t budge.
“No.” His voice came out with such intensity, you nearly doubled over.
“I’m not asking you. Get the fuck out, Michael. I don’t want you near me right now.” You were shoving him out now, having dropped his arm and stomping behind him before you could stop yourself. “You don’t respect me.” Push. “You don’t take me seriously.” Push. “You probably fucking hate me.” Push.
Michael started to feel guilty. Had he really made you feel like that? He just wanted to work you up a bit, but this wasn’t what he meant.
“No, what?” His voice shook with regret.
You stopped and leaned your forehead against his back, taking in a huge breath.
“Then fucking explain yourself!” you demanded, lifting your head up to look at him as he turned around to face you.
“I don’t- I…” He took a deep breath. “Everyone looks to me for answers. They see me as a leader, as their authority, as a deity of sorts. As flattering as it is, I don’t want that! I want to be led sometimes. I want someone to take control of me. ‘N I love when you do! But I want more. I’m selfish. I’m greedy. I want to push your buttons and test your control with me. I dream about you making me do things for your pleasure. I crave for you to put me in my place and make me beg for you because I want to feel like I don’t deserve you. I don’t deserve you.”
He grabbed onto your hands in an act of surrender and continued.
“Everything I did was wrong, I know that. That was the point. I felt rejected that mornin’ because you told me to stop. Then I wanted to make you feel bad because I felt bad. And I kept goin’ because-” He audibly gulped. “B-because…” He let go of your hands and slid them down your bare thighs, cupping the backs of them as he drooped down to his knees. His fingers left goosebumps on your legs in their wake.
“Punish me. Please. I deserve it. ‘N I’m so sorry. Please forgive me. I do respect you, and I do take you seriously.” He pressed a kiss to your left knee. “‘N I could never, ever hate you. You mean more to me than anything, by light years.” He was looking up at you from his position at your feet, eyes full of sorrow, sensuality, and pure love. You finally spoke.
“Get up.”
“N-no. Please, I don’t wanna go. *mwah*” He started kissing any skin he could reach; the tops of your feet, your shins, your thighs.
“I’m sorry. I don’t love her. I don’t love anyone that way but you!”
“I said get up.” Your voice was still surprisingly even, considering how many emotions were flooding through you in the moment.
“Baby-” You grabbed him by his sequined collar and yanked him with more strength than you meant to.
“Don’t make me say it again,” you nearly whispered.
He was on his feet in an instant, his head nearly colliding with yours at the swift movement. You let go of his collar and walked over to your suitcase, searching for something. You found the item and walked over to him with a leather belt in your hands.
Setting it down on the trunk at the end of one of the two beds in the room, you climbed onto the furniture, feeling the mattress sink beneath you. Your legs dangled over the side of the bed and you kicked them back and forth menacingly.
“You’re sorry? Show me, then. ‘Cause I don’t see it. All I see in front of me is a boy so selfish that he’d rather be a brat and hurt his own girlfriend’s feelings than say he wanted to be used.” Your tone was harsh, but you didn’t care. He wanted a punishment? He was getting it your way.
“Yes, I’m a selfish brat. H-how should I apologize? What do you want me to do?” he asked cautiously, eyeing the belt in front of you.
“Figure it out.” Your voice came out flat.
His face contorted into one of panic and need. He didn’t know what to do, but he needed this. He needed you. For the second time that night, he sunk to his knees, but this time, he started crawling towards you like a dehydrated man in the desert seeking water.
The absolute hunger in his eyes very slightly chipped at your resolve. You’d never felt more wanted in your life, and it was just by the unfiltered look in his eyes, which never left yours.
You could see him plan out his next move before he acted. He removed his shoes, socks, and stood up and took off his jeans, looking at you silently for permission before he even unzipped them. He then removed the sequined coat, and he was left in a plain t-shirt and boxers.
He met you back on his knees, and resumed kissing you from the feet up, like before. Every peck that met your hot skin was followed by an, “I’m sorry” or, “You’re perfect” or, “I adore you.”
His actions quickly became frantic. You weren’t responding at all, and he was getting nervous.
“Am I doing good?” he asked, basically begging you to say yes.
“Eh,” was your quick witted response. You were riding the high of the once cocky superstar now begging you to take control of him and accept his apology for being bad.
“‘M sorry. Please, can you spread your legs a bit? Wanna show you…”
You obliged, secretly craving for some sort of relief. You were pent up.
“Thank you.” He continued kissing up and between your thighs, licking them and whimpering like a wounded animal. He was getting closer and closer to your now pulsing heat, and an idea you had earlier sprinted to the direction of your mind as soon as his tongue darted to your clothed core.
“No. Take off your boxers ‘n get on the bed.”
Dazed, he followed your command and stripped himself of his undergarments, feeling slightly embarrassed by how visibly hard he was now.
“Get close to the top of it, take off your shirt, and put your arms up.”
He looked at you shocked, hesitating.
“Do I need to repeat myself?” you challenged with a raise of your brow.
“No, ma’am. ‘M sorry,” was his response as he obliged.
“That’s what I thought.”
You retrieved the belt from the trunk and slapped it intimidatingly against your palm as you paced in front of the bed. Michael’s arms were suspended above him on a myriad of pillows.
With steps as light as a ballerina’s, you walked up to the side of the bed he was on and leaned over his slender frame.
“Do you wanna touch me?” you asked lightly, a coyness drizzling from the question.
“Yes, of course. Th-that’s all I wanna do right now,” he responded immediately, like he wanted to give you the right answer. He did. You straddled his torso, making sure not to let your lower body touch his burning one at all, and began wrapping the belt around his wrists.
“Good. You can’t.” The disappointment that flooded his face was only more encouragement for you. You were on a power trip now.
“Please? Pretty please, I’ll do anythin’,” he pleaded.
“I know you will. You’re gonna do everything I say, understand? Then I’ll decide if you even deserve to touch me,” you quipped, tilting his face up to meet your eyes with your index finger. He was pouting.
“Okay.” His eyes trailed straight down to the inside of your tank top, and his eyes practically bulged out of their sockets.
“You look very pretty, by the way. Love this top on you,” he complimented in the most seductive tone you’d ever heard him use. You ignored how his voice made your heart skip two beats and mumbled out a “Hmm, thank you.”
You took your manicured nails and scratched down his chest just enough to welt them temporarily.
“A-ahh!” he yelped in pain— you felt his dick twitch —and pleasure.
“Aww, what’s the matter baby?” you fake coddled him.
“That…it hurt,” Michael responded in a way that sounded like he was trying to convince himself of the fact.
“But you liked it though.” You looked at him pretending to be dumbfounded.
“Yes,” he breathed out, as if you’d asked him a question.
Leaning towards his face, you tilted your head in a way that signaled you were going to kiss him. He tilted his own head and closed his eyes in anticipation, only to be met with a sharp nibble to his neck.
“P-please!” He had no idea what he was pleading for.
His wavering tone concerned you just a bit.
“What’s your color?” you asked him seriously.
“Green. Bright green. Really, really green..” He was having the time of his life, believe it or not.
“‘Kay. Lemme know if it’s too much. I care about you, even when I can’t fuckin’ stand you,” you reassured him.
Placing your hand on his neck, you began administering bites to his collarbones, feeling egged on every time he cried out.
“Mmm. I-i’m sorry. Please, I need you,” he began chanting over and over. You ignored him each time.
You noticed his eyes close in pleasure, and that just simply would not do for you. You choked him hard.
“Pay attention to me. I never gave you permission to look away,” you nearly yelled at him. You loosened your grip when his eyes started to unfocus.
Fighting down a fit of coughs, he apologized with a strained and weak, “I’m sorry, angel.”
As you started crawling down his body, you felt something wet and hard graze your ass cheek, and Michael genuinely screeched.
“Ahhh! M-my god…” Michael whined desperately.
You reached down and grabbed his neglected dick, and wiped the precum from the slit on his tip, bringing it up to your mouth and tasting it.
“Mmm, is that for me?” you teased.
“Y-es. All for you.” He was visibly trying his hardest to obey you and wait for your commands, but at the feeling of your warm finger in his flesh, and the sight of you tasting him just because you could, he wanted nothing more than for you to fuck him into oblivion.
“It better be.” You reached down to his erect shaft and gripped him very slightly, your palm almost ghosting over it. You decided on a tortuously slow stroke, from balls to tip, as you looked him deep in the eyes.
“Aww, you look so needy, baby. You want me to move faster, huh? Stroke you harder? Bet you can’t even form a coherent thought. Poor thing,” you said condescendingly.
“‘M not needy, a-and I can think- ahh,” he protested.
“Yes you are. Look how hard you’re trying to not move into my hand. I’m barely even touching you, baby. Why you sweatin’?”
You knew he pretended to hate it, but he grew attached to how it sounded coming from you in particular.
You groped harder and stroked just a bit faster.
“Unless you don’t like this? Which is it?” you demanded. You loved playing this mind game.
“U-um. I do li- ah!- like it..” he whined.
Stroking even faster, you demanded once again,
“So you’re needy. Say it.”
“I’m needy!” he wailed when you slowed down for his delayed response.
You squeezed his dick harshly.
“And don’t you fucking lie about it again,” you ordered.
You wanted to do more, you really did, but the sight of him completely naked and surrendered to your will while he looked at you as if your existence was the answer to his life… You needed him, bad. But he still hadn’t earned your forgiveness.
Letting go of his leaking boner and straddling his thigh, you quietly pleaded with yourself to not give off just how horny you were, as well.
“Sit up and watch me,” you instructed, grateful that your tone didn’t expose the desire growing between your legs.
He immediately obliged, and whined as soon as you began grinding.
“Y-yes, please use me. Oh, God!” he cried out, breathless. “You’re so pretty, oh my- I love you.”
“F-fuck, baby. You like when I use you this much, hmm? You look so good like this.” You could feel his thigh flex and its tendon hit your clit in just the right way. “A-aah! Fuuuuuck. Y-you’re so pathetic, just laying under me fully naked w-while I have clothes on. Just watching me and not even being able to t-touch me.”
“Yes. I’m so pathetic,” he mewled.
You gripped onto his neck to steady yourself better and rode his thigh faster and harder, the pent-up tension making your orgasm approach faster than you were ready for.
“And you’re f-fucking clueless. Can’t see when a supermodel is so openly hitting on you in front of your own girlfriend.” You choked him briefly at the memory.
“S-so clueless. Just stupid. I only exist for…I only exist for your pleasure.” He’s always wanted to say that, but feared it would’ve been too much of a turn off. You seemed to enjoy it though, since you started humping his leg so hard that he was sure you’d be bruised.
“The fuck you do,” was the last coherent thing you said for the next few moments.
You mumbled something that didn’t make sense, and crushed your lips to his. He nearly cried at the contact.
Your moans were spilling into his mouth much faster now, his sign that you were going to come undone on his thigh…after using him. He could cum with you at the thought.
“F-me…have to…” tumbled from your mouth. You were losing yourself.
“Baby? What do you need from me? I’ll do anything for you,” he responded, concerned.
“Wanna fuck, Mikey. F-fuck.” You showed yourself to a stop. Your thighs were trembling while you balanced yourself on the mattress on your knees as you took your top and boyshorts off.
“‘M so wet. Need you so bad,” you whined. You missed him. You wasted no time stalking him and sinking down into his shaft. He stretched you wide, even more so since it’d been a bit since you were intimate.
“Ohmygod ohmygod plea- Want you closer please!” Michael nearly sobbed. You laid flat against his chest, your breasts swished between your bodies.
“P-put your arms around me. Hug me close,” you instructed. The gangly man lowered his arms, still bound by the wrists, and squeezed you close like you were a piece of coal that could turn into a diamond. You guys would share skin in this moment, if you could. You looked up at him, your anger long subsided.
“I love you so much,” you declared passionately. He looked like he was going to cry.
“I love you, too. Can I please kiss you?” he inquired. You puckered your lips and he met them with fervor.
You began riding his dick at a controlled pace. Every grind brought him straight to your g-spot from this angle, and you wanted to last long enough to let him cum with you. You weren’t going to let him cum if he didn’t in time with you, but you wanted to forgive him.
Getting lost in the pleasure of the kiss and the friction to your cervix, he began meeting your grinds with gentle thrusts. Michael picked up the aggression once you’d dropped your head back onto his chest and ground him harder than before, a pool of drool sliding toward his nipple.
The room sounded like a porn studio. It was a mess of slapping skin and moans and cries out to higher powers. The bed was creaking beneath you so loudly, you both internally feared that it break. If the hotel was occupied by anybody one floor above or below you, they’d have heard it all.
“Michael. God. You’re s-so deep. Could ride your perfect dick forever… And you moan like a- song. Your voice is so pretty. You’re so pretty…” you cooed. You could feel that ball of tension build up inside of you again, and every push to your g-spot felt like it would be the one to unravel it.
“You’re pretty. Mmm, if you keep t-talking like that I’m gonna cum, angel,” he warned.
“I want you to, baby. You did so good for me. So good. F-fuck. I…My god, I can feel you everywhere. Wanna feel you cum in me. I’m yours, claim me. Please, I need it.” You’ve never said please like that to him a day in your life, but you were desperate. You wanted the proof of your mutual connection and relationship in any part of your body it could reach.
“I’ll give it to you. Gon-na cum inside because you’re mine. Please, cum with- ahh! I’m gonna…” he rambled.
Your hand was sandwiched between your bodies as you rubbed your clit and rocked your hips into his, chasing your high. Your vision was getting spotty, and you could hear his heart pounding hard enough to break his ribs through his chest. He was fully fucking up into you from below, but you didn’t even have half a mind to stop him.
“Baby, please…” he whined. The sheer yearning in his voice completely undid you. Squeezing his torso with all of your strength, you ground your clit against his pelvis and let his dick slide in and out of you as your orgasm suffocated you. You moaned and drooled and cried all over Michael’s chest, and you felt a warm, sticky substance paint the inside of your walls just moments after. He screamed out your name like it was a magical spell.
You maneuvered his sex out of you, and both of you watched as your shared cum mingled onto the hotel blanket below you. He bit his lip.
You were holding onto each other for dear life. The orgasms meant much more than just getting one off, they were shared apologies and washed away regrets. It took a moment for you to realize he was sniffling, too.
“I love you. I adore and cherish you. I’ll never do that again. You mean more than everything to me. Nothin’ I did was warranted, and I know now to be less selfish,” he apologized, his voice hoarse.
“I forgive you. I apologize for my part as well. Thank you for…taking all of that. Even though I was goin’ easy, still.”
“That was you goin’ easy? I’m terrified for your enemies,” he joked.
“Oh, yes. My cold shoulder is very threatening,” you ribbed. “Oh! Lift your arms up, baby. Lemme untie you.” You’d completely forgotten about his restraint. “And you didn’t complain once. Good job.”
“Thank you…” he replied shyly as you freed his wrists. “Honestly? I thought you were gonna hit me with it- the belt. That would be very…Can we try that one time?” he questioned.
Your body reacted almost immediately to the idea.
“Michael, don’t tempt me. I’ll make you go for a round two right now.”
“You can make me do whatever you want…You own me,” he challenged.
You never backed down from a challenge. Regaining your strength, you prepared yourselves to explore each others’ limits for the second time that night.
The harsh words, petty actions, and hurt feelings from the past weekend were all amended. You were each others’ only and true loves, just fighting to stay together in a world that was actively trying to turn everyone against him and tear you down. But, Michael never wanted anything more but for his entire being to be consumed by you.
To think this all started because Michael wanted to eat you like the last supper.
this is very unlike my normal posts but i am honestly so tired of people calling michael jackson things he wasn't when the man was unanimously acquitted in 2005, meaning all twelve jurors agreed he was not guilty on every single charge after a seventy three day trial with more than one hundred and forty witnesses and absolutely no physical evidence. the FBI spent more than a decade investigating him and found nothing at all, the accuser’s family had a proven history of lying and chasing money, multiple people who actually grew up around him testified that nothing inappropriate ever happened, and the later accusers had their lawsuits thrown out because their stories kept changing. it is genuinely exhausting watching people repeat the same lazy accusations when the legal record is right there showing he was investigated harder than almost any celebrity in history and no credible evidence of abuse was ever proven and he was found not guilty on all 10 criminal counts in the 2005 trial. this includes every allegation of m0l3station, intoxication of a min0r, and conspiracy... it takes two seconds to go look it up and here i am arguing with old, horrible men in posts about him 😒fucking sad !!! i don’t tolerate any michael slander. thank you.
he can never catch a break, such sad ass people in this world and when it comes to actual p3do's like donald trump WHO HAS EVIDENCE CLEAR AS DAY people are suddenly mute smhhh. oh and netflix thinking posting a whole documentary about him when he's innocent during the month of his death and coincidently after all the support and love he's gotten from the movie btch please you're not doing anything by releasing that, just gonna be full of lies you pulled out your asses 😤 they’re not investigating, the whole thing already looks like a cheap hit piece made by people who can’t stand that his legacy is still untouchable.
summary ; after almost years of convincing michael to cut off his relationship with diana, he can't help but see himself going back to her. that was the last straw for you, considering you had these hidden feelings for him for years. you finally make him open his eyes and see what's been standing there along.
warnings ; lot of angst..., otw!michael, oblivious!michael, yearning!reader, mention of grooming (fucking hate diana with all my heart), friends to lovers trope, love confession, and lots and lots of kisses and affection <3
3.9k words ; not proofread
oh michael. poor michael.
the boy was just so clearly lovestruck. it was too bad it wasn't real.
at least not for diana.
the woman was 34 years old for gods sake. she didn't have time to mess around with a 19 year old. she had a husband and a beautiful baby girl waiting for her at home.
but michael didn't understand that. he thought she loved him. she'd changed his whole perception of love. the sweet words she spoke to him during late nights on the phone. how she praised him for his appearance and vocal capabilities, exclaming that he would be one of the best artists of all time.
yet no matter how much you told him that it wasn't what he thought it was, he didn't listen.
"no, (name). she loves me. don't you see? she could be with any other man in the world! yet she chooses to stay with me." michael exclaimed, his voice somehow soft spoken even in this moment of frustration.
you could only shake your head at his words, his head must've been foggy or something. "she is with another man, michael! she has a husband for christ's sake."
"she don't love him. not the way she loves me." he mumbled, sitting on his bed. his head hung low, clearly feeling upset at your words.
you bit your tongue, hard. it was so frustrating- seeing him act a fool over a woman who was just stringing him along into her life.
michael served no purpose whatsoever for diana. she strung him along because he was going to make it big. although she herself was already a big star, being the only one from her former group to become a international sensation, it would be nice to have the latest most upcoming artist on her arm.
she'd keep him on her side, using him to look good. along with this, she'd tell him all those loving praises and words he so desperately wanted from her.
"michael, you did so great tonight. you've become such a talented young man."
"don't tell anyone i said this, but i think you're going to make it the farthest out of your brothers."
"you know i love you, right michael?"
god. it was all bullshit and you saw right through it.
diana was aware of your presence in michael's life. though, she paid no mind. you weren't a threat to her, not even in the slightest.
now, it's october. leaves are falling and the weather in encino seems to be getting cooler by the minute.
it's been two months since the release of "off the wall" and it's been a very good two months so far. it seems to be hitting every chart in the nation, hitting every milestone every other week.
you laid your head on michael's lap on the couch at hayvenhurst, watching whatever movie michael put on for the two of you.
it'd been a rocky past few weeks. he seemed to be distant.
not physically, he was always with you, every second of the day.
emotionally. more reserved and quiet than usual, which was odd considering this is michael we're talking about. the one always yelling for whatever apparent reason, singing at the most random moments possible.
you noticed. of course you did.
a few months before the release of "off the wall", michael had decided to cut off diana.
you weren't sure if it was definite or just a temporary hold. it was hard to decipher considering how much he loved her.
he brushed it off, using the excuse of "he needed to focus on the release of his new album".
that couldn't have been farther from the truth.
in reality, diana was the one who cut him off. said she needed time and space, needed to focus on her daughter and work. emphasis on daughter, considering she'd divorced with her husband two years before "off the wall".
"(name), would you be mad if i told you something?" he asked softly, his voice suddenly interrupting the movie you were so into.
you looked up from his lap, catching a glimpse of his face. he seemed troubled, almost as he was ashamed of what his next words were going to be.
"no, not all." you replied, offering a polite smile as you waited for him to respond.
he took a deep breath, getting all shy and nervous like he normally did when he had big news. his gaze lingered on your face for a moment before he finally spoke up.
"so....you know how i cut off diana before off the wall came out? well, we uhm- we recently began contacting each other again." his words sounding like a scrambled mess as they came out.
the smile you plastered on your face soon fell, now a more serious kind of annoyed expression.
at first, you didn't say anything. it wasn't like you had to anyways, your face basically said everything already.
you could feel the disappointment lingering in your throat, a pit forming in your stomach. it was a horrible feeling.
michael didn't even need to hear anything you had to say, he already knew what was going to come out of your mouth. you would lecture him, tell him that he was stupid for letting her back into his life, and then quietly judge him for the following week.
it was a cycle that repeated over and over and over again.
it began a long long time ago, when the jacksons had just signed with motown.
diana was signed with them as well, it was no suprise that their paths would be crossed at some point.
it started off friendly, michael still being a teen and all. small flirts, words that could be perceived in a different way than usual, deep conversations that led to long talks.
but michael was infatuated from the beginning.
his brothers telling him that it wasn't real, it was all in his mind. diana was a known flirt and most of her words meant nothing- not to him at least.
once he'd turned 18, he knew this was it. this was the moment she'd finally see him for who he was and fall in love with him.
that wasn't the case though. she'd fallen in love with another man. the man who managed her and her music soon became her husband and it wasn't too long before kids had arrived into the picture.
michael was devastated, heartbroken to be exact. it felt like his heart had been ripped up into pieces then set on fire and placed in a hole.
you'd seen all of this, every emotion she put him through. the days he'd be giddy with joy as he rambled on and on about the things she said to him to the days where she didn't speak to him and left him hanging.
he cleared his throat, shifting on the couch nervously. "you don't have to say anything. i can already tell what you're feeling."
you puff your cheeks out, a habit you did when you didn't know what to say. no words came to mind- no non negative words at least.
"how's it been goin?" you say, the back on your head laying on his lap as you look up at him. it was the first thing that came out of your mouth.
"it's been uh....it's been good. she congratulated me on the album- said she was real proud of me." he replied, his small smile appearing as he spoke.
real proud, huh.
yet you were the one who was there when the media was praising him for his performance and talent. the one who was there when epic awarded him a plaque for how many units the album had sold. the one who cherished him with so much love and appreciation when he felt like the album wasn't as good as everyone said it was.
instead of saying something stupid, you just nodded your head. even though you weren't happy over diana waltzing back into his life, you were a little glad he wasn't gloomy and solemn anymore.
"that's good, michael. really happy for you." you lied through your teeth, keeping that soft expression you made when you spoke to him.
he could only smile at you, not recognizing that you were lying straight to his face.
his slender fingers played with your hair, more indulged by his reconciliation with diana than anything else. "i'm thinking about meeting for dinner with her later this week, wanna catch up with her."
"what'd you reckon you'd talk about?" you shrug, trying to act like you are interested.
"oh i dunno...i guess maybe the next move? you know, next album...perhaps a tour maybe?" he explained, seemingly giddy about all the future possibilities he planned.
it was a nice sight to see, seeing how much the new plans he had in mind were already coming together.
he had a great ordeal for manifestion. it was one of the things you admired the most about mike. the countless days where he had only a wink of sleep and still managed to put so much effort into making something so beautiful.
you just let out a small noise of understandment. "well, whatever you guys talk about, i hope all goes smoothly."
"you promise you're not mad?" he asked, tilting his head slightly to meet your eyes.
"mike, do not ask me questions you already know the answer to."
all he could do was laugh before ruffling your hair, placing a big kiss on your forehead.
the following days were hell.
all michael could talk about were "diana this!" or "diana that!". it was possibly the worst days of your life, just having to lay there while he spoke so highly of her.
"a-and you know what? she laughed! she laughed at my joke! it wasn't even funny!" he squealed like a little girl, the toothiest grin on his face.
you just nodded, you body laying limp against his bedframe. every conversation you had somehow led to diana, no matter what.
after a bit, it'd gotten annoying so you excused yourself and headed downstairs.
your fingers slid against the railing on the stairs of hayvenhurst, walking down to the kitchen.
you found yourself raiding his freezer, strawberry ice cream being the first thing you pulled out. it wasn't anything unusual though, the jacksons had long gone welcomed you into their home.
latoya appeared from the doorway, peering in to see who in the kitchen. her eyes almost widened as she soon realized it was you, her lips slipping into a smile.
in her kitten heels, she basically ran into you, squeezing you into a big hug. "(name)! it feels like i haven't seen you in forever!"
you hugged her back, placing a kiss on her cheek as you greeted her back. "i know, i know. i've just been so busy with work lately."
the two of you caught up, talking about all the things you've done in the past week.
"sooo...michael tells me he's back to talkin' to diana again. any thoughts on that?" she asks, tilting her head as she takes on a spoonful of ice cream.
you could only scoff, your eyes rolling at the mere mention of diana.
the worst part of all of this was how everyone in the house could see how hopelessly infatuated you were with michael. it really was no secret, more so a widely known thing.
everyone knew, minus michael. for someone so smart and knowledgeable, he seemed the most oblivious.
you couldn't tell if he genuinely didn't know or if he actually did and was just ignoring it to protect your feelings.
whatever the case was- he didn't acknowledge the feelings of yours that lured around him everywhere.
"it's whatever." you say "don't matter to me."
latoya can catch the bullshit in your tone from a mile away. instead of calling you out on it, she just laughs it off.
just as you were about to really talk about you felt, michael came in through the doorway.
you had barely noticed he'd come in, his presence merely being the most unnoticeable thing about him.
you quickly shut up, looking over at him.
he noticed.
"you guys talking about me behind my back?" he asked jokingly, leaning his body over the kitchen island.
"no. girl stuff, mike." latoya replied to him, shrugging her shoulders.
he could only nod hesitantly with a smile, seeing how the two of you looked at each other. "mhm, ain't that right."
"i was getting real bored without you (name)" he stated, his voice sounding whiny, "you left me hanging all by myself!"
a weird feeling settled in your stomach as he spoke in that whiny soft voice. it almost had you folding over.
"i just wanted to catch up with toya, i'll be right up in a few." you said, putting the ice cream container back into the fridge.
"fine. but don't take forever." a small pout on his lips as the sound of his footsteps followed him out the kitchen door.
it seemed like you were holding your breath the whole time in the kitchen. after he left, you could only feel your heart racing against your chest.
latoya questioned you immediately after he left. "jeez, (name)! you alright? it looks like you just seen a ghost."
you could only hide your face in shame, laughter erupting from the both of you. "it's nothing- i should probably get going, he'll drag me upstairs if i take too long."
"alright, just don't do anything i wouldn't do."
you rolled your eyes, walking out of the kitchen. latoya's laughter could still be heard even as you went up the stairs.
the sound of the doorknob twisting sat michael right up, beaming with energy.
you closed the door behind you before making your way to his bed. there, you sat on the edge, right beside michael.
"i can't wait to tell you all about how it went with diana last night." he spoke, the giddyness in his voice pouring out.
you bit your inner cheek, not wanting to listen to all of this all over again.
in your mind, you told yourself to make yourself listen to him. it would be rude to not hear him out, you'd be ignoring good news for him.
but in your heart, you just couldn't. listening to him fawn over diana over and over again just didn't sit well with you. it's basically like letting her win.
michael went on and on about what they talked about, the stuff they ate, the small little things. you just sat there, zoned out as he talked.
eventually he noticed how you were barely reacting to him. you were a very outspoken person, always making it evident that you were engaged.
he poked the side of your torso, making you wake up from whatever trance was holding you.
it worked, you sat up almost immediately and blinked slowly.
"oh god, sorry michael. i was listening, i swear." you apologized, letting out a soft sigh.
"you're a terrible liar. something's on your mind, i can tell y'know." he said, his fingers trailing against your hands.
your gaze lingered down towards your hands, seeing how openly touchy he was with you. that weird feeling from the kitchen was coming back again.
you could lie to him. tell him nothing is wrong and just deny, deny, deny. but no, you loved him far too much to lie so you just admitted what was wrong.
sort of.
"i'll just feel really bad if i speak out on what's on my mind."
"oh come on, you know i won't judge." his fingers finally interlacing with yours as he sat close.
god, there was this pain aching inside of you. here lies a chance of michael getting upset at you. you couldn't even fathom if that happened, you'd beat yourself up over it.
"look, i don't know how to even get this out without hurting your feelings." you started, your gaze lingering in your lap. "but i'm really just...over talking about diana."
he didn't react, not immediately. he only stared at you, like a confused puppy.
"you're over talking about diana? i don't get it." he asked, not in a confrontational manner but in an genuinely confused one.
"i mean- ugh i don't know how to explain it. i don't want to talk about her or the dates you've been having." carefully admitting that you don't want to know about his relationship with her any longer.
his face didn't seem hurt. nor did his body language make it seem that way either.
"specific reason...why?"
now you were really stuck. do you have to admit that you've been secretly in love with him since you were 17 or just blame it on something else?
you can't admit it. not because it's not true but because you just physically can't.
it hurts too much to be true. you'd feel guilty because it was never supposed to happen in the first place.
you solemnly swore that you weren't going to fall in love. whatever attraction you felt towards him was only physical, nothing else.
but the more days you spent with him, it only became worse. laying in his arms as you watched a movie. your thighs pressed against each other as you played with the settings in his recording studio.
you stammered, words not even fully forming in your throat. "i uh- i don't think i-"
embarrassment filled your lungs, making you feel like you couldn't breathe.
michael became aware of how nervous you got, his confusion only developing.
you swallowed your words, taking them all in. this was it. becoming one with your feelings and finally admitting that you're hopelessly in love with him.
"the reason i don't wanna talk about diana anymore is uh....it's because i'm uhm- cus' i think i'm in love with you, michael."
the words settle.
it seems like time stops for the two of them. the cold air running through the ac suddenly becoming the loudest thing in the room.
he doesn't even have any words. the boy who always had a quick comeback up his sleeve was left speechless for once.
"(name)....you know how i feel about diana...." he said softly, like he was trying to slowly reject your feelings.
your heart ached, realizing what he was trying to do. "of course i do, michael. it's all you talk about." your voice was choking up slightly, your face getting hot. "i just don't understand you. i'm right here. i've been here all along."
"what's that supposed to mean?"
"what's that supposed to mean?" you repeat, looking at him as he was speaking a different language. "it means that i'm the one who's been here for you. i've stayed here for so long, seen you go through hell and back while she only came into your life when you were at your best."
then it dawned on him.
all the times you spent up late together, talking for hours or just laying in each other's presence. the now obvious flirts he misinterpreted as just friends joking around. presents you gave him under the pretense of, "just because."
you'd been the one to comfort him when his father yelled at him or when diana would leave his life again. you'd gone to all his shows with his brothers, been to every press conference he had.
you'd always been there.
"it's annoying, y'know. seeing you talk about how diana doesn't reciprocate with your feelings yet you do the same with me." sniffles came from your nose, a singular tear escaping from your eye.
he bit his cheek, looking at the sight of you in front of him. of all things, he hated when you cried in front of him the most. even over small things such as movies, the thought of you being upset was such an ache for him.
his thumb wiped the tear from your face, the warmth of his palm covering your cheek.
"i really am an idiot." he mumbled softly, looking at you- really looking at you.
in this moment now, he realized. realized the part he was missing all along.
he was so busy chasing diana for love, one that he would never be able to catch, that he missed the beauty right in front of him.
the thought of being in love with you crossed his mind many times. it wasn't really a doubt in his mind. however, he only brushed it off. the fear of you not reciprocating his feelings haunted him in his sleep.
"was i really that blind?"
"horribly. i thought i made it abundantly obvious."
a chuckle left his lips, his arms wrapping around you tightly. all he could do was just hold you tightly and kiss the top of your head.
even in a moment like this, you couldn't help but laugh a bit. there a slimmer of humor in this, one that he created because of his obliviousness.
your head laid against his chest as you spoke, "everyone in the house noticed before you. even marlon was trying to hint it at you."
a sigh escaped from his lips, feeling so ashamed. he was so blindsided by diana, he didn't notice the way she had him wrapped around her finger.
she really made him believe that she loved him. that she was the one that was going to stick around and be the one to take care of him. it was all a lie. a lie created to make him stuck with her.
"'m sorry, (name). terribly sorry." he apologized, holding you tighter in his arms, more than ever.
"you're right. you've been here since the beginning, you've been my number one cheerleader for years." his hand rubbing small circles onto your back.
after a bit of consolation, you lifted your head up. your eyes staring longingly into his.
michael had always thought you were beautiful but now more than ever, he knew you were beautiful.
instead of letting this moment go to waste any longer, he dove in and pressed his lips against yours.
a sweet honey taste coating his lips as he kissed you, his hands cupping your cheeks.
he pulled away after a few long moments, pressing his forehead against your own. he had the widest smile known to man, his brown doe eyes staring right into yours.
"you really did open my eyes. i mean, i've always wanted to be with you but i never never thought you'd actually want me back." he confessed shyly, hiding his face in the crook of your neck.
you smiled at the feeling of his breath hovering over your neck. it wasn't long until he practically tackled you onto his bed, landing right on top of you.
"i think i'm in love with you too angel." he says quietly, like it's a secret he only wants to share with you.
"good. i wouldn't have taken no for an answer anyways."
he erupted into laughter, pressing his head against the pillow behind you.
the two of you spent the rest of the day talking about each other. mostly about how you felt about the other and what made you realize your feelings were really set in place.
any thoughts about diana were long gone, he had a more prized woman to take care of now.
a/n - hello !! this is my michael fic....kinda of scared.... ive been reading so many michael fics this past month and ive gotten so much fomo just reading them so i wanted to write one! i hope u guys like it since i like actually put myself thru hell researching stuff but ok thank u guys for reading love u all
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