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“Love transcends international boundaries and it heals the wounds of hatred, racial prejudice, bigotry, and ignorance. It is the ultimate truth at the heart of all creation." - Michael Jackson
Childhood best friends, kissing, both are inexperienced, fluff, overthinking, first kiss for both, I think you get the point
Era: J5/TJ
1.2k words
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His room smelled like your perfume, and it was driving him insane.
You sat on his bed, your legs folded under you. Michael sat across from you, his knees against yours. He'd spent all night doing everything he could think of to make you laugh, and luckily, it was working. Though he didn't have to try very hard, you'd always thought he was hilarious. You guys had talked about everything under the sun, especially about what music he had been working on. You were the one person Michael could always count on to brighten his mood, regardless of the situation.
You absentmindedly placed your hand on his knee, tracing little patterns. It was something you always did when you were telling him a story. He was used to it, but for some reason, this time felt different. He froze for a split second before quickly trying to act natural. Luckily, you didn't notice, going on about something one of your friends said. "And get this!-" You continued, gently patting his knee excitedly. He couldn't help but grin at you and your excitement to tell him things. As you continued, he placed his hand on top of yours. You paused for a second, and he panicked. He pulled his hand away, and so did you. You both stared at each other before looking away, both of you embarrassed. "Sorry, I didn't mean to overstep-" he said with an anxious tone. You smiled softly."It's okay, Mikey," you said before placing your hand back on his knee hesitantly. In an attempt to ease the tension, you continued your story. You couldn't help but hope he'd place his hand back on top of yours. When he finally did, you smiled at him gently.
When you finished talking, he began to tell you about a new song he'd been working on. After silently working up the courage, he intertwined his fingers with yours, which you could tell made him nervous. He squeezed your hand gently when he got to talking about his favorite part of the song, which you adored. You admired him as he talked, and you admired his talent. You love listening to him talk about music because you know it means so much to him.
Eventually, you both had nothing else to share. A comfortable silence fell over you both. While in that silence, you suddenly became painfully aware that you guys weren't dating. He was just holding your hand, casually? You tried not to think too hard about it; he was your best friend. Likewise, Michael was just as confused as you. He sat and wondered if you were going to pull your hand away. What if you got weirded out by holding your 'best friends' hand? He felt like he was suffocating. The scent of your perfume, holding hands, your knees pressed together, it was all too much. "I'm gonna use the bathroom," he announced, leaving the room a little too fast.
In the short time he was gone, you were panicking. Did he get uncomfortable? Did you make it weird? You shifted on his bed, sitting up against the wall. When he walked back into his room, you tried to hide the panic on your face. Instead of sitting across from you, he sat beside you. His back was propped up against the wall, too, but your bodies were pressed against each other. The comfortable silence had shifted into something else. It was all the times you'd both chickened out of confessing how you felt, the stares that were definitely not "friendly", him getting an uneasy feeling anytime you paid too much attention to his brothers.
Michael turned his head, looking at you. You noticed him turn his head, and you did the same. Now, you were staring at each other. Michael's breathing suddenly changed, and he thought his heart was going to beat out of his chest. He noticed you glance at his lips, which made his heart beat faster. You shifted a little on the bed, facing him fully now as your eyes scanned his beautiful face. He raised his hand, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. Instead of pulling his hand away, he moved it to cup the side of your face. His thumb caressed your cheek, your faces getting closer.
Michael had always thought you were beautiful, but over the years, that simple thought shifted into something else. He started to get flustered around you, which he tried very hard to ignore. After denying the thought for so long, he realized he couldn't anymore. It happened one evening at Hayvenhurst. Michael had brought you outside while he visited all his animals. When you got to his llama, Louie, your smile widened. You pet him gently before kissing the llama's cheek. His eyes stayed glued to your face, admiring your features. When you turned your head to look at Michael, you had the biggest smile on your face. Right then, it hit Michael. He was in love with you. Your gentleness, the way you smiled all the time, and how kind you were to everyone. All the things Michael adored about you suddenly meant so much more to him. He smiled back at you, his heart swelling with affection.
Your lips met, neither of you knowing what you were doing. It was hesitant at first, both of you trying to find some sort of rhythm. After accidentally bumping noses a few times and whispering apologies through soft giggles, the kiss slowly became more passionate, almost desperate. Your hand found its way to the back of his neck. As the kiss continued, you felt him falling apart. He became more needy, almost like he was chasing your lips. When you guys broke apart, you were both breathing heavily. He didn't take his eyes off your lips, like he wanted, no, needed, more. He leaned back in, this time with more passion. It was almost like you could feel how badly he'd been wanting this. Without breaking the kiss, he turned his body to lie back on his pillows before wrapping his arms around you. He gently pulled you down with him, your body fully pressed against his.
When you pulled away, you couldn't help but laugh at him. Your lip gloss was smudged all over his lips. He gave you a shy smile, leaning up to give you a sweet peck. You smile back as he lays his head back down. You wipe the lip gloss off for him, still grinning at him. You carefully climbed off him, lying down beside him. Michael wasted no time turning over so he could face you, which made you laugh again. He wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you close again. You moved an arm to wrap around him, running your hand up and down his back. He smiled at the sensation, kissing you again. This time, the kiss was soft, like he was kissing something fragile.
Your eyelids grew heavy, but you fought against it. Michael noticed it, of course he did. He pulled you closer, letting you bury your face in his neck. Once you closed your eyes, sleep came quickly. Your hand that had been rubbing his back was now clutching a handful of his shirt. Michael kissed your temple gently, being careful not to wake you. He set a mental reminder to properly ask you on a date. But, for now, he was content to hold you in his arms.
I better see all of y’all still active in this fandom, in the two year interlude between Michael and pt 2
I do NOT want to go back to MJJcommunity forums to sleuth and find active fans or rely solely on wattpad or the dry ass tag on ao3 that was a waking nightmare
a/n: This is really short and rushed so I'm sorry if its awful
You had just arrived at the studio to see Michael on his break. He’d been working on stuff for Thriller all day, and you promised him that you'd come see him.
You walked into the room, and your eyes immediately found Michael. You smiled when you saw him. But the minute you saw his sweater, your smile widened.
He had on the most precious pink Mickey Mouse sweater. He had a flannel underneath it that matched perfectly. What topped it off was his little bow tie.
Michael hurried over to you, a big smile on his face. He wrapped his arms around your waist, your arms going around his neck. “Hi, pretty girl,” He said before he kissed your cheek.
When you pulled away, you couldn't help but admire his outfit up close. “Oh baby, look at your sweater!” You cooed. Michael ducked his head, smiling shyly at your affection. Your hands moved to his bow tie, gently touching it. “Your little bow tie.” You poked out your bottom lip in awe.
He looked adorable, and you couldn't get enough of it. He hid his face in your neck, but you still felt him smile against your neck. “Aw, baby, don’t be shy; you look so cute!” You smiled as you ran your hands through his curls. He lifted his face, looking at you with a sweet smile.
You cupped one side of his face in your hand and kissed him gently. He smiled against your lips before kissing you back.
contents: spiderman!michael x fem!reader, angst, you guys are exes, bruised/bloody michael, fluff, reader is a nurse, cocky michael, yearning, not proofread, happy ending (?), ect
w/a: wow this is A LOT longer than usual, just wanted to do something extra special for you guys since i love you. i’m writing this because i was so inspired by this edit i saw on tt by @madsyis, genuinely changed my life lol. i hope you guys like it!! (bro while writing this i lost my progress like 4 times, this was supposed to be published at 8, now it’s 11. so please don’t flop.)
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michael was your everything, and you were his. in one world, he was warm laughter at three in the morning, socks sliding across your kitchen floor while music played quietly from the tv. he was soft kisses pressed against your temple while you studied nursing notes, long fingers sneaking pieces of your takeout when he thought you weren’t looking. he was sleepy smiles, messy curls against your pillow, whispering “stay a little longer..” every time you had an early hospital shift.
in the other world, he was bruised knuckles. missed calls. his bloody suit hidden at the bottom of your laundry basket. at first, you thought you could handle it. you remembered the first time he showed up injured. you’d nearly fainted seeing blood dripping from beneath his jacket, but michael had laughed softly, holding your face in his hands. you thought this one going to be a one time thing, but it wasn’t. every time he came home, almost at the brink of death, your patience slowly dripped away from you. until one day you called it quits. you couldn’t bear to see him like that anymore, michael begged you to stay, giving you every ultimatum in the book. but you put your foot down, even though it broke you. he gave you a kiss and walked towards your window, looking back one last time then swinging out the window.
it’s been a year since you last seen michael. frankly, you were starting to get over him. his lingering scent disappearing on your clothes, you felt a sense of peace, but at the same time, sadness. unwanted memories of your time together will hit you like the plague when the apartment felt ‘empty’. rain hammered against the windows of your apartment while you sat curled on the couch still in your dingy thight scrubs, half-awake after a double shift at the hospital. the city outside glowed red and blue with distant sirens, familiar enough that you barely reacted anymore. you’d learned to stop worrying about every ambulance. because worrying was exhausting. the ambience of your apartment felt strangely comforting. so you grabbed a pillow and laid down, hoping for atleast and hour of sleep.
the knock at your door came sharp and uneven at nearly two in the morning. who could that possibly be? you grab the bat you stored underneath the couch for this exact situation. you crept towards the door, ready to knock out anyone who was behind it. three more knocks came, but something seemed so familiar about them. they werent aggressive or demanding, they were actually dragged out and soft. your stomach dropped instantly. only one person knocked like that. you reached out for the door knob, heart pounding as you unlocked the door.
michael nearly fell into you, a gasp ripped from your throat, bat dropping to the floor. “oh my god-” his suit was torn open across the ribs, the familiar red-and-blue fabric darkened with blood. one eye was swelling shut beneath the edge of his mask, curls soaked from rain and sweat sticking to his forehead. he was breathing hard, shaky, like staying upright took every ounce of strength he had left. “hey,” he whispered weakly. the sight of him hurt worse than the breakup ever had. “michael—” his knees spontaneously buckling. you caught him immediately, wrapping an arm around his waist. “jesus christ, come inside.” he tried joking, even now. “missed me?” “no,” you snapped, voice cracking. “shut up.” but your hands were gentle. always gentle with him.
you guided him to the bathroom, sitting him carefully on the closed toilet lid while you grabbed the first aid kit from beneath the sink. your nurse instincts kicked in automatically despite the panic climbing your throat. “how bad is it?” “i’ve had worse.” “then it’s pretty bad,” michael laughed softly before wincing in pain. you knelt in front of him, fingers trembling as you peeled the ruined suit away from his side. the second you saw the gash across his ribs, your chest tightened. “michael…” “i know.” “no, you don’t.” Your voice sharpened. “you never do.” for a moment, silence filled the tiny bathroom except for the storm outside. you cleaned the wound carefully, trying not to think about how many times you’d done this before. too many. that had been the problem. not the lying. not the masks. not even the disappearing for hours at a time. it was this. the blood. the bruises. the constant fear that one night he wouldn’t come back at all. you remembered the night you ended things. michael standing in your kitchen still wearing half his suit, staring at you like you’d ripped his heart out.
“i can’t keep doing this,” you’d whispered through tears. “you think I want you scared all the time?” “i think one day you’re gonna die out there.” “and what am I supposed to do? stop helping people?“that’s not what I’m saying!” but it had never mattered. because neither of you could change. michael hissed suddenly as a disinfectant hit the cut. “sorry.” “s’okay.” you grabbed gauze, carefully pressing it against his ribs. he watched you quietly, dark eyes exhausted. “you still keep medical supplies organized alphabetically,” he murmured. you glared at him. “you’re bleeding all over my floor and that’s what you notice?” his lips twitched. and god, there it was. that stupid smile. the one that ruined you every single time. you looked away first. “what happened?” “robbery downtown. guy had enhanced weapons.” he paused. “i stopped him.” “of course you did.” “you sound mad.” “i am mad.” michael lowered his eyes. “yeah.” the anger drained from you almost instantly at how small he sounded. you sighed shakily and reached up to remove the damaged mask completely. his curls fell messily into his face. bruises rising along his cheekbone. and suddenly he didn’t look like spider man anymore. just michael. just the boy you loved. your fingers brushed carefully beneath his eye. “this is gonna swell.” “i know.” “you probably have a concussion.” “i know.” “you’re impossible.” a faint smile. “you used to like that about me.”
your chest ached. “don’t.” “don’t what?” “talk like…” you swallowed hard. “like we’re still us.” michael looked at you for a long moment. then quietly, “i never stopped feeling like we were.” the room felt too small. you focused on wrapping the bandage tighter around his ribs instead of the way your heart threatened to crack open. “you scared me,” you whispered finally. his expression softened immediately. “i know,” he said again, gentler this time. “no, michael, you don’t understand.” your voice broke. “when i opened that door and saw all that blood, i thought-” you stopped yourself. but he already knew. his face crumpled slightly. “you thought I was dying.” tears burned your eyes. “every night you’re out there, i think that.” michael stared at the floor. for once, he had nothing clever to say. the storm outside rumbled softly. then suddenly, warm fingers curled around your wrist. you looked up. michaels eyes were glassy with exhaustion and something painfully vulnerable. “i tried staying away,” he admitted quietly. “after we broke up.” you said nothing. “but when things get bad…” he swallowed. “you’re still the first person I think about.” that shattered whatever spite you had left. your eyes filled immediately. “michael…” “i know i’m selfish.” his voice cracked now too. “i know i keep dragging you back into this, and i know you hate seeing me hurt, but i didn’t know where else to go.” you moved before thinking.
your arms wrapped around him carefully, mindful of injuries, and michael let out the softest shaky breath against your shoulder. then he held you like he was terrified you’d disappear. for a long time, neither of you spoke. you just sat there on the bathroom floor while rain filled the windows and the city whispered somewhere far away. michael buried his face against your neck. “i missed you,” he whispered. your throat tightened painfully. “i hate you.” a weak laugh follows from his mouth. “that’s fair.” “but I still love you.” the words slipped out quietly. michael went completely still. when he pulled back, his eyes were shining. “yeah?” you nodded once. his expression broke into something soft and disbelieving all at once. “you know,” he murmured, brushing his thumb carefully beneath your eye, “you’re really pretty when you’re stitching me up like this.” a watery laugh escaped you despite yourself. “idiot.” “there’s my girl.” your heart skipped. you should’ve corrected him. should’ve reminded him you weren’t together anymore. instead, you leaned forward and pressed your forehead against his. michael closed his eyes immediately like he’d been starving for the contact. “you need rest,” you whispered. “mhm.” “and food.” “mhm.” “and tomorrow I’m forcing you to go to the hospital.” one eye opened. “absolutely not.” “michael.” “i already have a nurse.” you rolled your eyes, but he smiled, soft and sleepy and achingly familiar. carefully, you helped him stand. his arm wrapped around your shoulders as you guided him toward your bedroom, limping slightly beside you. and for the first time in months, the apartment didn’t feel empty anymore.
Benoftheweek x reader (no gender specified, established relationship)
Warnings: None that I can think of
Fluff
Requested by @abbiedirectioner5
A/n: First fic in a while, pls be nice I lowk forgot how to do this
He unlocked your door and stepped inside, scanning the room to see if you were there. Soft music drifted from your bedroom, and he took a deep breath to calm himself before walking toward it.
“Baby?” he called softly, waiting for you to turn around and look at him.
When you did, your eyes widened. Not because you didn’t like it, but because it was different. You stared at him for a few seconds, and Ben immediately assumed you hated it.
“Do you like it?” he asked, his voice nervous.
You nodded slowly, taking in the new look. Then you walked toward him, smiling as you got closer. Gently, you ran your hands through his hair, making Ben smile with relief.
“I like it,” you said softly. “I like it a lot.”
That made Ben smile even harder, relieved that you liked his hair. After you stopped playing with it, he pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead. He was glad you liked the new hair, but then again, you’d probably like any hair he had.
