YALLLL, I had a ball🥹 Bi was super tired but was sooo nice, Naomi greeted me with a compliment and almost made me cryyyy. Jimmy is so sweet and funny (fine as hell too😵💫).
we're not kids anymore.

if i look back, i am lost
Today's Document

祝日 / Permanent Vacation
Alisa U Zemlji Chuda

Andulka
Jules of Nature

pixel skylines
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her

oozey mess
Cosmic Funnies
NASA

izzy's playlists!
I'd rather be in outer space 🛸
h
YOU ARE THE REASON
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open
almost home

roma★
sheepfilms
seen from Türkiye

seen from United States
seen from T1

seen from Germany

seen from Italy

seen from Argentina
seen from Netherlands

seen from Italy

seen from Malaysia

seen from Malaysia
seen from United Kingdom
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from South Korea
seen from United Kingdom
seen from South Korea

seen from Malaysia

seen from Türkiye

seen from Türkiye
seen from United States
@shantinextdoor
YALLLL, I had a ball🥹 Bi was super tired but was sooo nice, Naomi greeted me with a compliment and almost made me cryyyy. Jimmy is so sweet and funny (fine as hell too😵💫).
Michelle, Malia, and Sasha Obama
invincible!michael x single mother!reader
PART TWO! - read part one here
summary: michael and the cute little mother and son duo finally talk again, and heartbreak only seems to make their hearts grow fonder
i’ve been trying to write this but they deserve a happy ending as a cute little family𑣲⋆
a few days after the event in downtown new york, the high had finally left both you and zain, leading to the normal life you both lived.
the tuesday afternoon wore on you, a rough day at work but a short shift meaning you could pick zain up from kindergarten and make a lovely meal for the both of you.
zain was sat in the living room, thoroughly invested in the star wars movie playing on one of the channels whilst you collected the dirty laundry scattered around the house.
you reached under the couch, pulling out one of zain’s socks he had probably kicked under there along with a piece of paper.
“zain, honey.. please stop abandoning your socks under the couch”
“mhm, sorry mama” he replied, focused more on the tv than you, his hands dipping into the small popcorn bag beside him.
walking back into the kitchen to put the machine on, you unfolded the note, seeing the familiar words that had kept you up at night. the note the security guard had slipped into your half closed palm with michael’s number on it.
folding it quickly and putting it on the counter, only one thought crossed your mind. you most definitely were not calling him.
later that night, after you had washed up, given zain a bath and read him a story to get him to sleep, you had ventured back into the kitchen.
you turned towards the glass cabinet, gripping the handle tight and opening it to grab a glass of water. when you turned, your attention quickly drifted to the note you had left on the counter.
placing the glass down, both hands picked the paper up like it was a precious or fragile item but instead it was the key to your future, even though you didn’t know that yet.
you glanced between the note and the landline phone that was sat in the corner of the room, the green light blinking to show you it was plugged in. biting your lip, you walked over to the phone, your slippers sticking slightly to the floor as you moved until your hand took the phone out of its holster and pressed the numbers in.
the phone rang, your fingernail tapping against the countertop as you waited. it felt like it had rang forever, but just as you had finally made up your mind to hang up, the ringing stopped and breathing echoed down the speaker.
“hello, who is this”
you paused, eyes widening as you realised this was for real. michael jackson had actually given you his number and this wasn’t some sick joke somebody had played on you.
“hello? is anyone there?” he questioned, sounding more confused then he did when he answered it.
“oh-erm… hi michael, the security guard gave me your number the other day.. you know, zain’s mother”
“oh, hi!” he suddenly sounded much more awake, “how are you? how’s zain?”
you twisted around with the phone still in your hand, moving to sit atop the counter.
“yeah im great, thank you for asking. zain’s doing good as well, he’s just asleep at the moment.. how are you?”
“oh i’m so pleased to hear that! i’m okay now that i’ve heard that” he said, shocking you as you had only met him once before this phone call.
“may i ask why you gave me your number? i mean i could be like a psycho fan that you’ve just given it to… i’m not! but like i’ve just been wondering”
he chuckled, letting the question linger before replying,
“i don’t really know.. i think maybe it’s just ‘cause zain really warmed my heart that day, and you may have also left a lasting impression too, mama”, sounding more shy as he continued.
you giggled lightly, a warm flush spreading across your face
“well i really appreciate that, michael, thank you… zain hasn’t been able to stop talking about meeting you, he keeps asking when he can see you again”
“zain is a lovely little boy and i would be delighted to meet him again if it would make his day.”
“careful” you laughed, “if he hears that, he’ll be asking every day”
michael’s laugh crackled down the phone,
“i don’t think i’d mind”
the words settled between you both, and you found yourself smiling at the kitchen tiles.
“well, i’m sure he would be happy to hear that”
“maybe we could meet again, maybe at a zoo.. or neverland!”
“neverland?” you repeated.
“yeah,” he said, “i’m pretty sure i can survive a park”
you couldn’t help but laugh, the conversation continuing as if you were catching up with someone you had known forever.
two days after the original phone call, both you and zain were in the kitchen eating ice cream, his little legs swinging below him”
as you were nodding, asking little questions about his day, the phone rang beside you, zain suddenly quieting down in curiosity.
“who is it, mama?” he asked, his voice getting slightly higher as he lent forward.
you shrugged, picking up the phone and pressing answer before lifting it to your ear, “hello?”
“hi! it’s michael, how are you doing?”
you turned to zain, still speaking to michael, “i’m doing good, someone’s here wondering who i’m talking to”
you giggled, watching zain’s eyebrows furrow in confusion
“oh, past the phone to him, i would love to say hi”
you pulled the phone away from your ear, holding it out to zain, “it’s michael”
“MICHAEL!?” he grabbed the phone quickly, pulling it to his ear
“michael? is that really you?”
“hi zain! yes it is me, how have you been?”
zain looked as though he had a little mini heart attack, his eyes widening and smile growing across his face.
“i’m good! i didn’t think i would be able to talk to you for, like.. EVER”
michael laughed, your ears picking it up from across the kitchen,
“well i’m glad to hear you soundin’ so happy! your mama told me that you’ve been non stop talking about our meeting the other day”
“mama! why did you tell himmm” he whined, “i guess so… i just missed you”
“hey, me and your mama have been talking, and how about we have a fun day together, and maybe you can even come to neverland!”
“neverland.. what’s that?”
“that’s my home! it’s got a cinema, a zoo, lots of candy, slushies, slides, everything.”
“a zoo?!? what animals have you got in your zoo?”
“well how about when you come, we can go and look at all of the animals together. i’ll give you a little hint, i have a giraffe”
“a giraffe! oh my goodness..”
you laughed, his little mispronunciation of giraffe sounding more like a ‘gifaffe’.
“only if you stay on your best behaviour, okay?” you bargained, eyebrows slightly raised to show you were completely serious.
zain gave you a big cheeky grin, his teeth showing and his head tilting to the side, “i’m always a good boy, mama!”
the next day, you had picked zain up from kindergarten. his eyes were glued to the window as he stayed unusually quiet.
“zain, are you okay, baby?” you asked, looking at him through the rear view mirror.
“yeah, mama…” he let out a loud sigh, his lip beginning to pout.
“hey, hey.. what’s the matter?”
his head dropped, tears beginning to fall and his shoulders shaking,
“a boy in my class said i was lying”, he said quietly, “he said i didn’t talk to mikey”
your hands tightened on the steering wheel, watching him quietly sob in the backseat.
“baby, we both know you spoke to him. so if he doesn’t believe you, then that’s on him, not on you because you aren’t a liar”
that night, after you had given zain a shower, you tucked him in, sitting beside him on the bed, the phone in your hand.
“zain, i have a little surprise for you for being such an amazing boy” you said, smiling slightly at him.
his hands rested on top of the covers, head tilted towards you as the moons from his nightlight scattered across his face.
you pressed a button on the phone, a voicemail being read out.
“hi zain, your mama told me about the boy in your class. listen, you are so amazing, and so kind, and so thoughtful, and me and your mama both know that you aren’t a liar, okay? soon we will have the funnest day ever, sleep tight, i love you”
zain’s eyes brightened, flicking between the phone and you. once michael’s voice had finished coming from the phone, zain let out a quiet squeal.
“i can’t believe it, mama! i can’t wait to go and see him again!”
your hands smoothed over his hair before brushing down the side of his face, trying to soothe him and relax him to go to sleep.
“i know, baby. very soon we will see him again, okay. now it’s bedtime, i love you so much, baby”
he let out a yawn, your finger working its way down his nose and back up.
“love you too, mama. night night”
his eyes drooped before shutting completely, his breathing evening out.
you stood, walking towards the door and closing it slightly, still leaving it cracked open.
very soon you both would be seeing michael, and you could not wait to see zain’s reaction.
seems like this may need another few parts…
Just the tip
contains: sexual content, sub! Michael, black reader, 2nd pov, coercion, dry humping, hint of manipulation, creampie(wrap it up guys), lowkey baby trapping (?), mention of cross necklace(religion)
Not as short as my usual; trying to better my writing so I’m a bit proud of this one; writing def inspired by a mix of my favs
The rain pattered loudly against the window pane, drops sliding against the closed glass. The sky was a dim blue, and the weather seemed dull.
Your apartment was quiet other than the slick sounds of Michael’s stiff dick grinding against your bare pussy.
He panted near your head gripping your hips like you’ll disappear from him. His heart was beating so loud he thought that even you could hear it. You would’ve, if only your heart wasn’t beating just as fast.
He was on top of you, between your legs that were splayed out against his hips. You both were bare, skin to skin, bodies warming up at each other’s touch.
Chapter One: Back to School
Michael Jackson x Whitley! Reader
Word Count: 1,700
A/N: Very heavily inspired by season three, episode one. Probably the only chapter where I use dialogue from the show. I didn't post this when I wanted to lol. But I'm posting something else later today!
Taglist: @butt3rfleye @bakugotypecrashout @boredpretty @1andonlytashae @violet848 @chocotragedy @cinnamonsdoll @zealousgiantfreakathlete @proseandj @ghosteras @szalipcombo @rlm-11 @aimmias-blog @darkgreengrl @prettyprincess-thingz @alohaluz @prettyinpinkaaa @lover-of-games-horror-music17 @aureliareadsss @th3blackhottie @freaky1nterlude @poetsprey @berlinswifey @herweirdass @plan3tch1ld @niyahctrl @bvvhho @madamekaos @narratedillusions @unknwnbrii @miupods
Likes and Reblogs are appreciated!
donna summer’s makeup, 1979.
Just Me n’ You/Right On!
Jackie Jackson x reader
[@uzmacchiato on the dividers]
Synopsis: Reader is upset about recent magazine article, Jackie reassures her with his mouth—both literally and figuratively ;)
Warnings: nsfw 18+, jealousy, insecurity, reader hits jackie slightly and ridicules him (no abusive intent there), oral sex (female receiving)
Word Count: 1611
a/n: this is inspired by a brief interview Jackie had in Right on! (1973). Thought this would make for a good ol' angsty smut lol, no hate to Olympia she’s so beautiful i love her downnnn
The One Who Wanted Nothing ~ Chapter 1
First Meeting
₊ ⊹✮.*🪩:.𖥔 ݁₊ ⊹✮.*🪩:.𖥔 ݁₊ ⊹✮.*🪩:.𖥔 ݁₊ ⊹✮.*🪩:.𖥔 ݁₊ ⊹✮.*🪩:.𖥔 ݁₊ ⊹✮.*🪩:.𖥔 ݁
₊ ⊹✮.*🪩:.𖥔 ݁₊ ⊹✮.*🪩:.𖥔 ݁₊ ⊹✮.*🪩:.𖥔 ݁₊ ⊹✮.*🪩:.𖥔 ݁₊ ⊹✮.*🪩:.𖥔 ݁₊ ⊹✮.*🪩:.𖥔 ݁
December 1977
The flight from Los Angeles to New York had been chaotic from the moment it began.
Seated beside Eléa was Walter Yetnikoff, the President and CEO of CBS Records Group, while directly across from her sat Ron Alexenburg, Senior Vice President and General Manager of Epic Records. Both men had spent the better part of the flight buried in paperwork, exchanging frustrated looks and speaking in hushed tones that grew increasingly tense as the hours passed.
Eléa pretended not to listen.
She had learned long ago that people often spoke more freely when they believed no one was paying attention.
Instead, she sat quietly in her seat, reviewing schedules for what felt like the hundredth time that day. A yellow legal pad rested on her lap, filled with handwritten notes, reminders, and last-minute adjustments. While most people would have taken advantage of the flight to rest, Eléa was already planning for the week ahead. Every meeting, every phone call, and every potential problem was carefully organized in her notes.
Walter had once jokingly told her that she worked enough for three employees.
Eléa had simply taken it as a compliment.
The steady hum of the jet filled the cabin as she turned another page, occasionally glancing out the window before returning her attention to the task at hand.
"Three albums," Walter muttered, rubbing a hand over his face. "Three albums and we still don't have a release date."
Ron sighed heavily.
"Give them time."
"We've given them time."
Eléa lowered her eyes back to her notes, though her attention remained fixed on the conversation.
For the past year, everyone at Epic Records seemed to be talking about the same thing.
The Jacksons.
After years of success under Motown Records, the group had left the label following disputes regarding creative control and royalties. The move had been considered one of the biggest stories in the music industry. Unfortunately, leaving Motown also meant leaving behind the iconic Jackson 5 name, forcing the brothers to reinvent themselves as The Jacksons under Epic Records.
The problem was that reinvention took time.
And record executives hated waiting.
The brothers had spent months writing and recording new material, but progress had been slower than expected. Between scheduling conflicts, creative disagreements, and individual projects, very little had gone according to plan.
One individual project in particular.
Michael Jackson.
At only nineteen years old, Michael had already spent most of his life in the spotlight. While his brothers focused on the group's future, Michael had accepted a role in an upcoming film adaptation of The Wiz, a reimagining of the beloved Broadway musical.
The opportunity was massive.
It was also the reason everyone currently found themselves thousands of feet above the country.
Production for the film had begun in New York just over a month earlier, requiring Michael to relocate for filming. As one of Epic's most valuable artists, the label had decided to maintain a close relationship with the young performer during the project.
Which, somehow, had led to Eléa finding herself on a private jet headed straight for New York City.
She glanced down at the itinerary resting beside her.
Meetings.
Studio visits.
Production schedules.
Enough work to keep her occupied for weeks.
Exactly the way she liked it.
What she didn't know was that this trip was about to change the course of her life forever.
Michael stepped out of the elevator and onto the eighteenth floor of the CBS Records building in New York City.
He was running on fumes.
The past few weeks had been a blur of long days and even longer nights. The previous evening, he had managed barely two hours of sleep before dragging himself out of bed before sunrise. First came line rehearsals for The Wiz. Then dance rehearsals. Then hours spent sitting in a makeup chair before filming scenes that seemed to take forever to perfect.
And when filming ended?
The work didn't stop.
There were lyrics to write. Melodies to tweak. Ideas for The Jacksons' upcoming album scribbled onto scraps of paper that littered his apartment. Every spare moment seemed to be dedicated to music.
Music had always been the one thing worth losing sleep over.
Still, exhaustion was beginning to catch up with him.
As he walked down the hallway, he adjusted the collar of his jacket and suppressed a yawn.
Lately, it felt as though everyone wanted something from him.
Fans wanted photographs.
Reporters wanted interviews.
Directors wanted perfection.
Choreographers wanted another take.
Photographers wanted another smile.
And now record executives wanted meetings.
The list never seemed to end.
By the time he reached the conference room door, Michael paused for a moment and released a slow breath. Just one more meeting. Then maybe he'd have a chance to sit down for five minutes.
Maybe.
Plastering on the polite smile he had perfected years ago, Michael pushed open the door.
The conversation inside immediately stopped.
Every head in the room turned toward him.
Walter Yetnikoff, Ron Alexenburg, and several other executives rose from their seats almost instantly.
"Michael!" Walter exclaimed.
The older man crossed the room with surprising speed and extended his hand.
"Hey, Mikey. Long time no see. How's New York treating you?"
Michael accepted the handshake and offered a warm smile.
It was the same smile he had been giving interviewers, executives, reporters, and fans for years.
Effortless.
Polite.
Reliable.
Even when he was exhausted.
"It's been good," Michael replied. "Busy, but good."
Walter laughed.
"I'd be worried if you weren't busy."
A few of the executives chuckled.
Michael smiled again, though his attention briefly drifted around the room.
The conference table was covered with folders, schedules, and paperwork. Several executives were already returning to their seats.
Then his eyes landed on someone he didn't recognize.
A young woman sat quietly near the end of the table, a yellow legal pad resting in front of her.
Unlike everyone else, she hadn't rushed over to greet him.
She hadn't stared.
She hadn't asked for an autograph.
In fact, she seemed far more interested in the notes she was reviewing than in the fact that Michael Jackson had just entered the room.
For reasons he couldn't quite explain, he found himself looking at her a second longer than necessary.
Interesting.
Michael Jackson ♔ Thriller 40 (documentary film)
The Lady in my Life
Part 1 — It’s the fallin’ in love
Michael Jackson x fem!black!reader
You work as a waitress in a small diner in California. Despite working there for over a year, you’ve never liked the job. Dealing with rude customers, getting catcalls from random men, and not getting paid a lot of money makes you want to quit, but needing to get enough money to get into college, you basically can’t. But one day a famous singer comes to the diner, and he seems interested in you, it seems like your life might change forever. Will it?
Contents: Jacksons!era Michael, both reader and Michael are 18, Diana Ross doesn’t exist in this universe, Slow burn (sort of), Michael is a little bit shy and flirty, no smut (yet).
Authors note: Hello! This is my first Michael Jackson fanfic and my first time writing RPF, and I haven’t written a fic in over a year due to writers block, so I hope this isn’t too bad. I watched the Michael Movie a month ago and it was so good, I deadass cried. And yes, i do plan to make a part two with this sometime or make it into a series. This isn’t proofread so apologies for any grammar or spelling mistakes. But other than that, i had a lot of fun writing this so I hope you enjoy reading it!
San Fernando valley, California, 1976
The loud sound of your alarm clock startles you awake. You look at the time, 5:30. You groan and stretch, then after that you get out of bed. You brush your teeth, put your work cloths on, do your hair and put on a little bit of makeup, and after that you step out of the door. You walk down the hall of your apartment complex and go to the elevator and the first floor button. You walk out into the parking lot, the summer heat immediately making you feel sluggish. You step into your car and drive out of the parking lot, music playing quietly on the radio to keep you awake.
After about 30 minutes of driving through obnoxious traffic, you finally headed to your workplace, an old diner, that was founded sometime in the 1950s, you don’t know, and you don’t really care. You get out the car, walk into the restaurant, and clock in, officially starting your shift.
The diner isn’t usually busy in the mornings. Most people go here on their lunch breaks. You served about 4 customers the first few hours of your shift, and the customers were pretty nice and gave you a good tip, very in contrast to some of the customers you usually deal with.
At the bar area, you were talking to Brenda, one of your work buddies and close friends. Suddenly, her face lit up, as if she was remembering something she was dying to say.
“Oh! You know about The Jackson 5 right?”
You nod, “yeah.”
“Well I heard that they’re changing their name, instead of ‘The Jackson 5’, it’ll be just ‘The Jackson’s’.”
Your brows furrow in curiosity, “why?”
She shrugs her shoulders, “I don’t know, I heard it had something to do with them leaving Motown or whatever. Oh yeah! They have a new member too.”
“Who is it?”
“It’s the youngest brother…I think his name is…what? Randy? I don’t know. But he’s replacing the other brother that left, which was Jermaine.”
Before you two could say anything else, your manager walks up to the two of you.
“What’re y’all doin’? Y’all can’t just be sittin’ around here doin’ nothin’ all day. Get back to work!”
You both roll your eyes, with Brenda whispering “cranky old bastard” under her breath.
After what felt like forever, noon started to arrive, and the diner started getting packed. You had served at least 3 customers at one time, but by the second one, you were already exhausted. One customer was being rude, when you apologized for the long wait, she just rolled her eyes and said “mhm” in a snarky tone. She didn’t even give you a good tip. Never in your life have you wanted to cuss out one of your customers.
While you were in the back room trying to cool off, Brenda suddenly came in there, looking excited for some reason.
“Come outside! You need to see this!”
“What is it?” She didn’t answer your question, she just took your hand and took you out of the back room and into the dining area. There was a crowd of people, including some waiters and waitresses, near the entrance, and they were asking for…autographs? Who could they possibly be asking autographs to in a diner? You caught a glimpse of the people giving autographs to.
“Are those…the Jacksons?” You whispered to Brenda.
“Yes! Yes they are!” Brenda answered excitedly.
You looked at them, it wasn’t every member of the band though. There was Tito, Marlon, Michael, and one of their sisters, La Toya.
“Well, what should we do? Should we ask for their autograph?” You ask.
“We should! Let’s—“ but before Brenda could finish her sentence, your manager, having to ruin the fun again, goes up to the crowd.
“Alright alright everyone, let them be. They can get something to eat then go back to signing your autographs.”
This time you actually kind of understand him though. The singers need their personal space as well.
The Jackson go to sit down at the bar area. You mange to lock eyes with Michael for a split second, before he gives a small smile and looks down.
“When you get the chance, please ask them to give us autographs.” Brenda whispers to you.
“Don’t worry, I will.” You say before walking up to the bar.
“Hello Everyone!” You tell them your name and pull out your notepad. “I will be serving you guys today. Could everyone tell me what they’d like to drink?” You asked each of the members. You started with Marlon, La Toya, Tito, and then Michael.
“And how about you Michael?”
He looks up at you.
“Oh, uh… orange juice please.” He says with a soft smile. You felt a small flutter in your chest at the sight of it. He has a really nice smile.
You smile back, then you write the order down on your notepad.
“Alright! I’ll be right back with those.” You say before walking over to the kitchen.
A few minutes later, you come back with the drinks. You give each Jackson their drink, and when you were giving Michael his orange juice, your fingers brushed his as he took the cup from you. You feel that flutter in your chest again as he says a quiet thanks you and give you that soft smile that he gave you before.
You clear your throat and ask everyone what they would like to eat. When they told you what they wanted, you wrote it down on your notepad.
“Alright. I’ll give it to y’all when it’s ready.”
During the wait for their food, you went ahead and served other tables. One of the customers sat at a table near where the Jacksons were sitting at, it was a man about your age, he would compliment your jewelry, your hair, basically anything about you. You paid no mind to it though, as you were used ti men trying to flirt with you. Something you noticed though, out of the corner store of your eye, was that Michael would watch the interactions between you and the guy, and he would almost look…jealous. But how? You don’t even know him personally!
Later you give the Jacksons their food, and once again, when you were giving Michael his order, which was a bowl of Caesar salad, his fingers brushed yours again when he was taking the bowl. He definitely did it on purpose. After you gave the Jacksons their order, you walked off to serve another customer.
After Jackson’s finished their food, Tito was at the cash register paying for the food while the others were signing autographs. You sat on a nearby bar stool taking a small break. Michael, who was standing to the side, noticed you, and walked towards you.
“Hi, umm…you must be (name) right?”
You nod and smile. “Yeah, that’s me. I assume you’re… Michael? Michael Jackson?”
He nods and smiles back. “Mhm. I just wanted to say that you were really nice to us and thank you. The food was really good.”
Your face lights up at the compliment. “Well, thank you too!”
He nods. “No problem. I know it’s probably hard for women like you to work in this kind of place. Is it?”
“It is sometimes. But I’ve gotten used to it after a while. If I were to quit this job there wouldn’t be any other places for me to work at. I’m just doing what I can around here.”
“Really? I mean… you don’t seem like the type to have this kind of job in the first place.”
You chuckle, “well, who do you think I can would as?”
Michael studies you for a moment, “Hmm, maybe modeling?”
You felt your cheeks heat up at his words, “you think I could get into modeling?”
He nods, “yeah, or a singer. You have a really nice voice.”
You’re at a loss for words from what he just said. Nobody has ever said things like that to you before, and you’d never expect it to be from someone from one of the most famous bands in the world!
Michael looks back at the others, then he turns back to you.
“My brother’s almost done paying. Can I umm… give you my number?”
Your eyes widen at the question, “what? Your number? But I barely even know you!”
He smiles and chuckles, “exactly, that’s why I wanna give you my number, so I could get to know you more.”
You mutter a silent “okay” as you reach into your pocket and pull out your notepad and pen. You fumble with the pages, trying to turn to a clean page. When you do, you give the notepad and pen to Michael. He writes his number down on the paper and gives it back to you.
“Here, consider this my autograph.” You take the notepad and pen and put it back in your pocket. While doing so, his older brother, Marlon, calls out to him.
“Yo, Michael, let’s go!”
“I’ll see you later.” He says, before walking over to his siblings. Marlon looks over at you and then to Michael, a small smirk forming on his lips, “you like her, huh?” He asks while pointing his thumb at you. Michael hits Marlon’s upper arm the back of his hand, “Shut up, Marlon.” He says as the group walks out of the door. Leaving you there speechless. At least until your manager yelled at you to get back to work.
Your shift kind of returned back to normal after the Jacksons left. You waited more tables, earned more tips, and your coworkers were telling you about how lucky you are that you got to serve the Jackson family. But what you didn’t tell them was that Michael Jackson gave you his phone number, and it was right inside your pocket.
Your shift finally ended at 8:30. You said goodbye to your coworkers, clocked out, and left the diner. Once you entered your car, you took a deep breath and leaned your head against the steering wheel. Today has been a busy day, but it’s not just that. You reached into your pocket, pulled out your notepad, and turned the page to where Michaels number was written on it. You read the number more times than you could count. “What am I going to do with this?” You whisper to yourself.
You didn’t know if you should keep it, throw it away, or hide it away somewhere. This famous singer just gave you his phone number and left just like that. You remember listening to the Jackson 5 when you were younger and being very fascinated with Michael’s voice, but you’d never thought you’d end up here, reading his phone number on a piece of paper!
You shake your head, snapping yourself out of your thoughts.
“I’ll deal with this later.” You thought to yourself. You put the notepad back into your pocket and start the car, then you drive out of the parking lot and into the darkened road.
The drive home was peaceful, with music playing quietly on the radio and the setting sun casting a soft glow among the city. You hum along to the tune on the radio, trying to keep your mind occupied.
You pulled into the parking lot of your apartment complex and step out of the car. You walk into the lobby, then you walk to the elevator, and press the button to the floor where your room is at. The hallway is silent, the only sounds being the muffled talking of people inside the other rooms, and your footsteps on the carpet.
You finally enter your room. You take your notepad and pen out of your pocket and set in on your nightstand. You get out of your work clothes and change into your pajamas. You go to the bathroom, brush your teeth, wash the makeup off your face, and combed your hair and wrapped it.
Finally, you laid down on your bed, turned the lamp off, and closed your eyes. The events of the day slowly fading away in your mind as you fall into a deep sleep.
A Different World
Michael Jackson x Whitley! Reader
Summary: Is it finally time for you and Michael to stop being on-and-off flings? Something more than just friends? Are you really falling for a man who is totally different from what you usually date? All the while, you and Michael keep playing games about who's really running who.
"When is the last time you had a romantic adventure, Michael?
"Wouldn't you know?"
"What?"
Warning(s)/Tag(s): Fluff and Angst (the usual), Miscommunication trope, friends with benefits? Friends to Lovers, Michael runs a strict program and does not play with you (He's fighting for your love), Reader is bratty, she is spoiled, The reader is a black woman, College setting
Author Notes: This is based on Dwayne and Whitley's relationship in seasons three and four. I love this show a lot, and I honestly like this concept. I had a hard time choosing between OTW and Thriller, but I think OTW fits this better.
I literally listened to "Make It Last Forever” by Keith Sweat so many times; it might be the theme of this, for real.
Should I do a taglist for this?
🐆💋 — you’ve been in your dad’s shadow for a while now, whenever he goes to work, you’re there in the back listening to the next song he produces for an artist. you watch the way he interacts with everyone, especially his best friend quincy, his striking hazel eyes making you feel so nervous. you’re so sweet to everyone naturally, but with quincy, it’s almost as if you shot through his heart. he loves it whenever your dad brings you around, he has an excuse to show off his skills and sometimes, teach you things even your dad hasn’t taught you.
tonight was no different, you were in the studio with quincy, sitting on the couch as he sat at the studio desk, playing around with the controllers and sounds. his head moves back and forth as he feels the music, a cigarette always between his lips. your dad had stepped out for a while, having to meet some other producers and managers for the next hour. quincy turns his head to the right, he looks at you and tilts his head a little. “c’mere.” he mutters, the low bass in his voice driving you wild, you stand and come over to him. standing beside him while keeping a nice distance, you cross your arms as you watch him work. “think you can show me some?” he mumbles and pulls the cigarette out, blowing the smoke slowly. you scoff and look at him, “why is it every time i’m here you always want me to prove i’m a producer?”
quincy smirks and shrugs, “cause you’re a producer and i know your daddy taught you something, so.” he takes your hand, his index finger on top of yours and places it on one of the audio mixer faders. “produce.” he chuckles and pushes his seat back, while glancing at his lap. you bite your lip, trying to hold in your smile as you look at his lap, quincy doesn’t pat it, in fact he looks back at the table and waits for your next move.
sighing, you sit down on his lap, your nerves hitting harder as his cologne gets stronger. his left hand rests on your left thigh as he scoots towards the desk. “go ‘head, i’m right here.” he rasps, his back pressed against the chair while he takes another inhale from his cigarette. you begin working, focused as you think back to everything your dad has taught you. quincy, ever so teasingly, rests both of his hands on your thighs, gliding them up to your waist. he watches the way your body tenses, you try to keep your focus on the music, listening to different vocals appear, some stopping quicker than others. “q.” you whisper as you his his legs open slowly, making you almost drop your body on the chair. he hums and keeps rubbing your thigh, his left hand dragging up to your stomach.
“keep your focus.” his voice should be strict, but it’s far from it. he tries to hide the mischief in his actions, but you both know better. sliding the cigarette out of his mouth, his right hand rests on the counter, while his left hand still stays occupied on your stomach. before he can move his left hand between your thighs and caress your skin, the doorknob begins to jiggle. you stand and look at quincy who looks at you with a smirk, slowly putting his cigarette back in his mouth as he winks at you.
your dad steps inside the room again, a smile on his face, while being none the wiser at the fact that his best friend enjoys testing his daughter’s patience.
ִֶָ۶ৎ˖ִ ˚ lakers cheerleader | michael jackson ۶ৎ˖ִ ˚
pairing: !1983 m.jackson x !lakers cheerleader reader
synopsis: michael attends a lakers game and can’t stop watching one of the cheerleaders. after the game, bill forces him to introduce himself, and they immediately click.
cw: fluff
he’d arrive fully intending to watch. he’d clap when everyone else clapped, stand when everyone else stood, cheer when something exciting happened on the court. and by the time he got home, the entire thing had blurred together into noise and bright lights and the occasional memory of somebody scoring.
years later, if somebody asked him about a lakers game he attended in 1983, he wouldn’t remember the final score, but he would remember you.
it started sometime during the first quarter.
the cheerleaders ran onto the floor during a timeout, the crowd’s attention shifting away from the game for a few minutes. michael watched absentmindedly at first. there wasn’t any particular reason his eyes settled on you. there wasn’t some dramatic moment where the rest of the arena disappeared.
he just looked, and then looked again.
by halftime, bill had noticed. of course he had. bill noticed everything.
“you know they’re playing basketball down there, right?”
michael glanced away from the court immediately.
“i am watching.”
“mhm.” bill didn’t even sound convinced.
michael hated that, mostly because bill was right.
the second half wasn’t much better. every time the cheerleaders came back onto the floor, michael’s attention wandered. he found himself looking for you before he even realized he was doing it.
you always seemed to be smiling. that was what stayed with him more than anything else. the arena was loud, crowded, exhausting, and you looked like you were having the time of your life up there.
one time, while another cheerleader was talking to you during a break, you laughed so hard you nearly missed your cue.
michael smiled without meaning to, and bill caught that too.
the lakers won. the crowd exploded. people started heading toward the exits while reporters swarmed the players.
through all of it, michael caught one last glimpse of you disappearing into a hallway beneath the arena.
that should have been the end of the story, but instead, bill stood up.
michael already knew that look.
it was the same look bill got whenever he had decided something was happening regardless of anyone else’s opinion.
“don’t.”
“i haven’t said anything.” bill said, while he adjusted his jacket.
“you don’t have to.”
five minutes later, michael was following him through the lower level of the forum while questioning every decision that had brought him to this point.
the hallway was quieter than the arena above. voices echoed somewhere in the distance. staff members passed carrying equipment and boxes. every step made michael more certain this was a terrible idea.
then they turned a corner, and there you were.
you were sitting in a folding chair near one of the dressing rooms, one sneaker already untied while you searched through your gym bag.
for a second michael just stared. he’d spent the entire evening accidentally looking at you from across an arena filled with thousands of people, and somehow standing ten feet away felt worse.
you looked up and your expression changed almost immediately.
recognition, surprise, then a smile. a real one. the kind people gave when they were genuinely happy to see someone.
“hi.”
michael had spoken to world leaders, he’d performed in front of packed stadiums, he’d accepted awards on national television, but for some reason, that single word nearly got stuck in his throat.
“hi,” you said back.
there was a brief pause, but it wasn’t not awkward exactly. just two people trying to figure out the next sentence.
“did you enjoy the game?” you asked, looking at him in the eyes.
bill made a suspicious noise beside him, one that sounded like a giggle.
michael ignored him.
“yeah.”
“really?” you tilted your head slightly.
something in your voice made him suspicious.
“what’s that supposed to mean?”
“nothing.” your smile widened.
“you weren’t watching half the time.” you eventually said, smiling.
michael blinked, and you laughed immediately. the sound of your laughter bounced off the hallway walls.
“you should’ve seen your face.”
“my face?”
“every timeout.”
bill turned away, and that was all the confirmation michael needed. you looked far too pleased with yourself.
“i can’t believe you noticed.”
“i was on the floor.” you giggled
“there’s not much else to do besides notice the celebrity sitting courtside.”
the conversation somehow became easier after that, but not because either of you stopped being nervous, but because neither of you seemed to mind.
you asked him about touring, and he asked how long you’d been cheering for the lakers, then you told him about balancing rehearsals with classes, and he told you he’d spent most of his life in rehearsals too. every answer seemed to lead naturally into another question.
at some point michael stopped wondering what to say next, and eventually another cheerleader appeared down the hallway and called your name.
you glanced over your shoulder, then back at him.
“that’s my ride.”
for a second, neither of you moved. the conversation had lasted maybe fifteen minutes, but it felt much shorter.
“well,” you said, adjusting your bag onto your shoulder, “next time try watching the game.”
michael laughed.
“i’ll work on that.”
you smiled one last time before walking away, and michael watched until you disappeared around the corner. then kept looking for another second anyway. when he finally turned around, bill was waiting.
“did you get her number?” bill asked, raising his eyebrow.
the silence answered for him, and bill closed his eyes.
“michael.” bill sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.
“i forgot.”
“you forgot.”
“i was distracted.”
❣︎ Cherish The Day
Michael Jackson x Black! Fem Reader
Word Count: 1,612
A/N: This story is going to be a short series, like 4 or 5 chapters, at most four. But enjoy reading this chapter!
Taglist: @a-motherfcking-fish @blcknebula @sukunasstomachtongue
Likes and Reblogs are appreciated!
after not seeing michael for three long months, you meet him again, and his sister latoya for the first time.
۶۟ৎ genre: fluffy and comedy
previously
for michael, the living room was still a total mess even though he had been cleaning it since the morning. however, with the anxiety of you arriving very soon—mixed with latoya's high-pitched screams in his head—it seemed that the best he could do with the living room was that.
the shooting schedule for the wizard of oz was finally clear for the weekend, and luckily for him, you were totally free from any concerts.