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𔓘 thinking about Michael in his resting time in Bahrain.

Word count: 3K

Warning: Arab reader; angst; nanny; subtle flirting; maybe fear of abandon?

When Michael was finally cleared of the allegations, he decided to withdraw from the media spotlight, moving to Bahrain with his children.

It was a true sanctuary for him. He could work on his music in peace, walk with the children disguised in an abaya¹ and in an niqab², in addition to finally being able to organize your personal and financial life.

For a few months he stayed at one of the prince's residences. And despite not liking the idea of a nanny, the prince insisted on providing one of his daughter's nannies to Michael, seeing that he needed some rest.

This is where you come in.

Since Michael's children were always playing with the prince's daughter, it's clear you had already seen him and had taken a liking to the children. But since he was going to move to a luxury villa, you were moving too, that's when he noticed you.

With your small bag and your headscarf, you watch his figure walk towards you in the lobby.

"Mhm...marhaba³" He had a thick accent. "Mhm... Do you speak english?

You nod.

"Oh, great. Uh..." Thank God he was wearing sunglasses because he couldn't stop admiring your intense eyes. "Is that all?" Pointing at your small bag.

"Yes." You also had a thick accent, making him chuckle lightly.

He imagines you must have thought he laughed at the few things you had with yourself.

"Sorry, I-" He cleans his throat.

Suddenly you feel little people hugging your legs.

Looking down you see Prince, Paris and little Blanket with their backpack staring up at you.

"Are you coming with us, Jasmine?!" Prince yells.

It was impossible not to laugh.

He named you Jasmine cause at the first sight of you he thought you looked like the character from the cartoon Aladdin. Of course he had no idea that it was a sexualized, orientalist stereotype of Arab woman that you hated. For him it was just a cartoon and that's ok.

Despite the nickname, Paris and Blanket didn't think you looked anything like the character, so they just called you Nana, cause you're their nanny.

"Yes I am!" You mess up his hair, but then fix it right away. "I'll see you there alright?"

"You can go with us." Michael says without thinking. "There's plenty of space in the limousine."

You weren't sure if you should, I mean, there was nothing wrong with it, you worked for him.

"Thank you Mr. Jackson..."

"Just Michael, please."

Oh.

"Michael then..." His name sounds prettier in your voice.

You get into the car after Michael insists you put your bag in the trunk so you wouldn't need to carry it on your lap.

The children said that the prince's daughter had given them many presents and that they should give presents to her too. After much talking, they fell asleep, Blanket and Paris in his lap and Prince in Michael's lap.

During the quiet moment, Michael watched you from behind his sunglasses as you gazed at the city through the window.

Now the headscarf is laying on your shoulders. Your hair was tied up in a ponytail that rested on the black jumpsuit that covered your entire body, brown sneakers, a gold necklace and a ring on the left hand. He could tell help but wonder if you were married.

"What's your name again?" He whispered.

You look at him, telling him your name.

"Mhm... Did you work for the prince for a long time?"

"Since his daughter was two."

"Interesting...how many nannies does she have again?" He rubs his chin.

"Five."

"Five nannies?!" You nod. "Why would she need five nannies?" He chuckles.

"So that she is not alone."

...

"Putting nannies in place to replace the parents' role, how awful... No offense intended."

"It didn't offend me, don't worry..." Looking at the city. "Nannies don't replace parents. I feel sorry for her, she's still a very lonely girl."

...

"You speak english quite well... Did you learn it on your own?"

Nodding you say... "Movies."

"Oh really?" He chuckles. "You like movies then."

"Very much." You smile.

"Good to know. Movies create empathetic people."

...

"Sorry if I'm being intrusive, but, are you married?" He points to your ring.

You play with your ring."No, it's just that... It's easier."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean..." You sigh. "It's easier to walk on the street, it feels safer, in fact, it is."

"Oh... I'm sorry for that."

"Don't worry... It's not a big deal."

Yes it is. It is a big deal.

Despite this, he felt, for some reason, his heart lighten.

After a few days working for the Jackson family, you could already tell you didn't want to go back to the prince's family.

Michael made you feel like you were part of his family.

He was always with the children, so much so that you wondered if you were necessary, and he always emphasized that yes, your presence was needed, it was like filling a void in the children's lives.

Something you hold dear in your heart was when after a few days of working for him, you saw him without his sunglasses for the first time. You always thought he was serious and professional, but his eyes said otherwise, they were sweet, kind, and caring.

And you grew more and more attached to him each day. As soon as the children were asleep, he would invite you to have some tea. That was the time he found for you to talk to him about what the kids did during his time out, but often you both would set that aside to talk about unimportant things.

For example, the time he asked you to tell your life story, at first you shut down, but as soon as he opened up, telling you about his life in the US, you opened up too.

Your whole family is from the Levant, but as soon as they migrate to the UK, you couldn't stand the idea of leaving your grandmother alone, she was the only one who refused to leave her country. When she died, she told you to go to Bahrain and ask the royal family for a job; she worked there for years and they would recognize you, that was all she left. You took all the money you had working in a small shop and bought a one-way ticket.

Michael had a big heart; he couldn't help but cry. You laughed sadly, because you were no longer crying about it.

As the days passed by, you would open more. You shared your dreams; he wanted to have a big family, one that truly loved each other, and you wanted to travel the world.

Your favorite moment was when you first ate together, not just with him, but the children too, usually you would eat in a separate room with the other employees, and it felt like such an intimate thing.

You were grateful that he was so caring towards you. That's when you researched more about who he was; of course, you knew he was Michael Jackson, the famous singer, but didn't know about his life.

He was married twice, to beautiful women, dated beautiful women, and was surrounded by them. He was probably very experienced and you...ugh. Your heart saddened slightly; you knew you were not the most beautiful, you are an Arab woman without a penny to your name. He felt sorry for you, you got it into your head. His kindness was probably just the American way of being.

One day, you and the children went to the market to buy some fruit, and as soon as you got back they went straight to their room to play.

"Prince, can you please take my purse to the room while I wash some fruits for you?"

He nods quickly, holding your purse.

You take the bags to the kitchen and find the cook.

"Do you want me to wash the fruits?" He asks.

"No, don't worry!"

You separate the fruits that each asked for.

Orange for Prince, pineapple for Paris and cherries for Blanket.

While carrying it upstairs, you run into Michael, and bumping into him almost causes you to drop the fruits.

"Oh!" He helps you to hold it. "Sorry! I was looking for you." Chuckling.

You look around embarrassed with the sudden approach.

"Mhm..." You step back. "I have some fruit for the children."

"I see it honey" He chuckles looking at the tray. "They always pick the same fruits don't they?"

"Yeah..." You chuckle. Awfully quiet.

"Right... I see you're busy, so uh... I would like to talk to you when you're free, is that ok?"

God, no.

"Uh, sure!"

"Great, see you soon." He leaves. You couldn't take your eyes off of him walking down the stairs, his dark hair bouncing.

What did he want to talk about? You weren't crazy and he really did like you? Maybe he realized he doesn't need your services and will send you back to that big old palace, completely alone. Your heart is racing. God, stop.

You make your way to the children's room.

"Who wants some fruit?" They all raise their little hands. "Let's sit down, okay?"

They sit crossing their legs.

"Apples for Prince- I mean..." You chuckle nervously. "Applehead to-" You were trembling, you put the tray down, cleaning your throat. "Oranges! Yes, oranges to applehead!" You give it to him.

"Are you ok Nana?" Blanket looks at you, he could see right through your eyes.

Chuckling you pet his head. "Of course!" The overwhelming urge to cry after he realized your nervousness was hidden in the back of your heart. "Cherries to little Blanket..." You give him his cherries. "And pineapple to Paris!"

They start eating and you run and open your purse to grab your flip Samsung, you don't have money for a Blackberry.

On Fridays, your family usually calls, and it's already past the time. No calls. Weird. They must be busy. You miss them so much.

"I'm going downstairs to talk to your father, alright?" They nod.

Going down the stairs, Michael was sat typing on his phone. He looks up seeing you.

"Oh hey Honey, have a sit..." He finishes typing.

You hated that nickname, it was so...sweet.

"So, are the children eating?"

"Yeah..." You could feel your face turning white, your jaw clenching.

"Sweet." He sighs. "You've been a great friend to them....and for me too, of course." He rubs the back of his neck. "I feel like you're overqualified for this job." Chuckling.

"Michael, I'm sorry I just...I need to stop you there." His eyes widen slightly. "Don't do this please." Your voice trembles.

"Uh- Do what?" He's confused.

"Don't fire me please... I love this job! I swear that whatever made you take that decision I'll change!" Her eyes glistened with tears, her vision blurred.

He didn't know what to say.

"I know I'm not actually qualified or overqualified, so don't lie to me please! And even so, I swear I'll try a thousand times harder than I already do, please, please!" You begged, could have stayed on your knees right there, you were on the verge of a panic attack, your hands holding tightly your thighs.

"Wow, hey...hey!" He jumps to your side, rubbing your back. "I would never do that!"

Your eyes widened, tears falling down, I could feel his nose almost running, you looked at him.

"God, sweetheart, what made you think of that?" He looked so worried, his cold hands ran over your warm tears.

You opened your mouth but couldn't say a word.

"I'm sorry I made you feel that way." He fiddles with your bangs, holding your hand. "That wasn't it at all." He smiled sadly, seeing that you were slowly going through a rollercoaster of emotions. "I just wanted to say that I am very grateful for your work, and that it has filled my family's life with smiles. I went through a lot in the US, and yet I feel invigorated, and I believe you were the main reason." He smirks.

You could feel the air leaving your lungs as he continued to caress your hands.

"I would like that, even after my stay here in Bahrain, you continue to take good care of my family." He stared at you.

"Micha-"

"I'm not done sweetheart..." He whispers. "I've already talked to the prince, and he said that if that's your wish he doesn't see why not."

You couldn't stop staring at his big deer eyes.

"Of course I'll pay you instead of the prince... But you'll have to travel with us." He was studying your face.

You face softens and your eyes sparkle. Travel?

"What do you think? Will you be their nanny? And I mean, officially?"

You don't think twice. There's nothing holding you back here, you've spent too much time thinking about what others wanted, now you'll do what you want wherever your heart takes you.

"Yes." You say, you're still in shock.

He breaks into a wide smile before hugging you, holding your head and feeling your velvety hair, you close your eyes to the cuddle.

His scent was unlike anyone else's.

"Thank you honey."

Yeah, you've definitely come to love that nickname, but secretly.

"Should we talk to the children?" He breaks the hug.

"I guess?" You chuckle.

Going up the stairs, you hear a commotion.

"Kids?" You open the door with Michael.

They are all lined up with their hands behind their backs. The small table was knocked over.

"What happened?" Michael said, you've never heard his voice get so deep.

"Nothing..." Prince looked down.

Blanket runs and takes something from Prince's hand. At that same moment, Prince shouts and Blanket comes to you with something pink in his hands.

"I made it for you!"

At first you don't notice, but when you hold it you realize it was your father's Kufiya⁴. A sharp pain strikes your heart. You couldn't hide the expression on your face.

Your white and black kufiya, which was always kept in your purse, was given to you when your father travelled away, probably the only gift he ever gave you. He used it in protests in Lebanon during the civil war, he was always a big fan of Yasser Arafat⁵. Now, that kufiya is all stained with cherry juice and pink sharpie.

"It's a flower!" Blanket points to a draw that definitely doesn't look like a flower.

"Mhm..." Your voice falters.

Michael couldn't be angrier, but he calmed down.

"Blanket you can't take-"

You cut Michael. "Blanket, I know you wanted to do something nice for me, and I appreciate that you thought of me." You bend down. "But this kufiya was important to me and wasn't a place to draw. Next time, ask me first, okay?" Your voice was soft and sweet.

He nods, beginning to understand what he did.

"It was supposed to be a surprise..." He looks down.

"How about using paper? Then I can hang it up, put it in my bag so I remember you, what do you think?"

He nods, excited, he hugs you tightly.

Michael could feel a great affection for your maternal instincts. You remained calm, even though he could see your fingers trembling.

"I'm sorry Nana..."

"Don't worry darling, I know you wanted to do something nice for me... But you know what to do next time, right?"

"Draw on paper?"

"Yup..." You kiss his cheek. "Do you want more cherries?"

"Yes please..."

"Coming right up." You stand. "D'you want something too?" Looking at Prince and Paris, they shake their heads. "Alrighty then." She holds the Kufiya and leaves the room.

Michael stays inside and talks to them.

As you quickly descend the stairs and head towards the kitchen, your vision blurs, causing you to stumble and hurt your hand.

"Ouch!" You stand up, wiping away your tears and walking to the kitchen.

Thank God, there was no one.

You wash the kufiya crying silently.

"Hey, sorry for that, they're..." Michael finds you. You don't turn around and continue rubbing the Kufiya avidly.

He walks up to you and touches your shoulder.

"Are you alright?"

"Yeah..." You said almost without air, stopping the act.

He gently hugs you from behind. You've never been hugged like this before, it's a funny way to hug someone.

"It's not his fault, I left my bag there." You whisper.

He presses his lips against your covered shoulder, not actually kissing it, just touching it.

Your heart is beating fast. God, you didn't know what to do.

He says against your neck. "Either way, they have to understand the meaning of privacy."

"I guess you're right." You whisper, gulping.

All he could think about was that you would be a great mother. He inhales your scent deeply and let go of you, sighing.

He stays by your side, leaning against the sink, watching you scrub the kufiya. As soon as you're finished, he reaches out to hang it up for you.

"Thank you..."

While he hangs it up, you bend down to get the cherries from the refrigerator. Standing up and turning around, you see that Michael was leaning against the counter, watching you intently. Did he see you bend down? You blush looking away.

"Need help?"

He helps you wash the cherries; he even handed them to Blanket himself because he insisted you should rest.

And you did try to rest. But you would toss and turn at night, thinking about his intense eyes watching you, wondering what he must be thinking.

You managed to sleep for a few hours, but your biological clock always woke you up at 6 a.m. making you take a hot bath and get ready for the day.

As soon as you open the door, you see a bouquet of roses, wrapped in a kufiya. At first, you froze. Reaching for it, the first thing you do is to read the note:

"I know this piece doesn't replace the original or the affection you had for it, but I hope you'll accept this small gesture, along with my apologies and these roses."

Yours,

M.J.J."

Her cheeks turn pink quickly. Yours?

"Oh..." Your warm hands quickly rested on your lips.

You hear someone clearing their throat. Quickly turning your head.

Michael.

He was still in his pajamas, without makeup, hair slightly messy, holding the doorknob. It felt so intimate. He smirks at you gently and gets into his bedroom.

"Sho⁶?!" You whisper, gasping.

Endnotes:

abaya¹: It is a long, loose-fitting garment worn by many women.

niqab²: It is a veil worn by some women that covers the hair, neck, and face, leaving only the eyes visible.

marhaba³: It means "hello".

kufiya⁴: It is a traditional square scarf from the Middle East, used for centuries to protect the head and face from the sun, wind, and sand. Over time, it has also become a cultural symbol and, in some contexts, political.

yasser arafat⁵: fatah leader; he helped the Lebanese National Movement during the Lebanese Civil War.

sho⁶: means "what".

#michael jackson #mjjforever #michael jackson fanfic #mj fanfic #fanfic #fem reader #michael jackson x reader #levant #free palestine

Israeli claims to indigeneity and decolonization are predicated on the notion that modern Jews are the only living descendants of our ancestors, which is incorrect

Israelites were only one of the peoples of ancient Canaan, and our closest cousins mostly never left the land. We were, however, the only ones to preserve a religious and linguistic identity from pre-Christian times

There was never a time in which zero Jews lived in the Land of Israel, and some Jewish communities there endured continuously up until the creation of the modern state of israel.

Many Jews, however, like our fellow Canaanites, lost their religious and ethnic identity throughout the millennia, and their culture was influenced by that of the conquerors of the land. They also intermarried and were subject to broader historical migration patterns

But the Jews that stayed in Safed and Jerusalem were always distinct from their conquerors, even if they also spoke Arabic. And the same is true of their cousins in Bethlehem and Nablus, who converted to Christianity and Islam, and who became known as the Palestinians.

It is such a violent misconception to say that Palestinians are colonizers from Arabia. They have a DNA that is closer to that of our ancestors than we in the Diaspora do. And that doesn't mean they are Jews, but they surely are from the same land as we are.

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