Yooo twitter is ruthless on Maddie 😭😭 somebody compare her to Holland 😭😭yall are mean 😭😭😭
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Yooo twitter is ruthless on Maddie 😭😭 somebody compare her to Holland 😭😭yall are mean 😭😭😭
LIFE IS GOOOOOOOD
so you’re e telling me that the Michael Biopic just made $1 Billion, Brinity won love island, AND I GOT TO SEE TAME IMPALA IN CONCERT ALL IN THE SPAN OF ONE DAY????
yall see the goatee 👀👀👀👅👅
MIND YOU they said the biopic was trash and that it wouldn’t get that far but anyways 1 BILLION who cheered 😛
he finally came to see us in july ᢉ𐭩
You can dance?!
Summary : Michael Jackson spends years believing his girlfriend can’t dance because she secretly pretends to be terrible out of shyness. After Chris Tucker catches her dancing flawlessly at a club and gleefully tells Michael, Michael surprises her by bringing her onstage during his 30th Anniversary performance of The Way You Make Me Feel, where the two finally share the dance she’d been too nervous to have with him.
A/n : SORRY I’VE BEEN SO UM UNACTIVE i js had a really big exam so yeah but I passed it🤞🏻
Gen : fluff, comedy
Requested by : @miss-kuki-nz
Michael Jackson always believed two things about you:
One, that you were the love of his life.
And two, that you couldn’t dance to save your life.
The second one was entirely your fault.
“Baby, that’s not dancing. That’s a medical emergency.”
You gasped dramatically, placing a hand over your chest as Michael doubled over laughing in the middle of his rehearsal studio.
“I am dancing!”
“No, you’re fighting invisible bees.”
“I’m doing exactly what you’re doing!”
Michael looked at you, then at himself in the mirror.
“…No.”
You spun in a clumsy circle, nearly tripping over your own feet.
Michael immediately rushed forward.
“See! See what I mean?” he laughed, catching your arm before you fell. “You’re gonna hurt yourself.”
You pouted.
For years, this had become your thing.
Whenever Michael danced around you—and Michael danced everywhere—you suddenly became the most rhythmically challenged person on Earth.
Kitchen?
Bad dancing.
Living room?
Terrible dancing.
Backstage?
Absolutely tragic.
Michael genuinely believed you had no coordination whatsoever.
And every single time, you secretly wanted to crawl into a hole and die.
Because the truth?
You could dance.
Very well, actually.
You just couldn’t dance in front of Michael Jackson.
That felt like trying to sing in front of Whitney Houston.
Or paint in front of Picasso.
The man literally changed music videos forever.
How were you supposed to casually bust out choreography in front of him?
No thank you.
You preferred embarrassment.
So you committed to the lie.
Unfortunately…
The universe had other plans.
⸻
A few months before Michael’s 30th Anniversary Celebration.
You were at a club with your sister.
No Michael.
No cameras.
No pressure.
Just music, flashing lights, and freedom.
“Finally,” your sister laughed. “You can stop pretending you’re allergic to rhythm.”
You rolled your eyes.
“Don’t start.”
The DJ switched songs.
A familiar beat filled the room.
Your eyes lit up.
“Oh, this is my song.”
Your sister immediately grinned.
“Oh no.”
“Oh yes.”
The moment the music dropped, you were gone.
You melted into the crowd.
Moving effortlessly.
Spinning.
Laughing.
Actually dancing.
Not your usual fake-flailing nonsense.
And because you were finally relaxed…
You forgot one very important detail.
You weren’t alone.
Across the club, sitting in a VIP booth.
Watching with growing disbelief.
Was Chris Tucker.
Chris nearly spat out his drink.
“…WHAT.”
He stood up.
Looked again.
Then squinted.
“No. No way.”
Because there you were.
Michael’s supposedly dance-impaired girlfriend.
Moving like you’d been training with professionals.
Chris clutched his chest.
“I’ve been lied to.”
⸻
The next day.
Michael was relaxing in his Neverland living room when Chris practically kicked the door open.
“MIKE!”
Michael jumped.
“Jesus!”
“YOUR GIRLFRIEND.”
“What about her?”
Chris pointed dramatically.
“SHE’S A FRAUD.”
Michael blinked.
“What?”
“A LIAR.”
“What?”
“A DECEIVER.”
“Chris—”
“SHE CAN DANCE.”
Michael stared.
Then laughed.
“No she can’t.”
“YES SHE CAN.”
“No.”
“YES.”
“Chris.”
“I’m telling you!”
Michael shook his head.
“Have you seen her dance?”
“I HAVE NOW.”
“She almost fell into a piano last week.”
“THAT WAS AN ACT.”
Michael froze.
“…What?”
Chris leaned forward.
“I saw her at a club.”
Michael narrowed his eyes.
“What club?”
Chris ignored him.
“That girl was dancing like her rent was due.”
Michael immediately started laughing.
“No.”
“I’m serious!”
“No.”
“Michael Joseph Jackson.”
Michael’s smile slowly faded.
Because Chris looked genuinely offended.
Like a man who had witnessed a crime.
“You saw her?”
“I SAW HER.”
“Dancing?”
“Dancing.”
“Good?”
Chris stared.
“Mike.”
“What?”
“She was better than half the people in the club.”
Michael sat up.
For the first time.
Concerned.
⸻
The interrogation began that evening.
You walked into Michael’s room.
Immediately suspicious.
Because he was sitting on the couch.
Arms crossed.
Watching you.
“Oh no.”
Michael pointed.
“Sit.”
“What did I do?”
“Sit.”
You sat.
Slowly.
“Can you dance?”
Your soul left your body.
Chris.
That snitch.
That traitor.
That rat.
You immediately knew.
“Who told you?”
Michael gasped.
“YOU CAN DANCE!”
“WHO TOLD YOU?”
“CHRIS WAS RIGHT?”
You buried your face in your hands.
Michael stood.
Laughing hysterically.
“OH MY GOD.”
“No.”
“YOU LIED TO ME.”
“No.”
“FOR YEARS.”
“It wasn’t a lie.”
“YOU PRETENDED YOU COULDN’T DANCE.”
“I exaggerated.”
Michael looked offended.
“Exaggerated?”
“A little.”
“A LITTLE?”
You groaned.
Michael was practically crying from laughter.
“You are unbelievable.”
You pointed accusingly.
“I’m never speaking to Chris again.”
⸻
Months later.
The 30th Anniversary Celebration arrived.
Madison Square Garden.
Packed audience.
Celebrities everywhere.
The atmosphere electric.
You sat backstage watching Michael perform.
Proud as always.
He looked incredible.
The crowd adored him.
Everything was perfect.
Until Chris Tucker appeared.
Smiling.
And whenever Chris Tucker smiled like that…
Something bad was about to happen.
“No.”
Chris grabbed your wrist.
“Come on.”
“No.”
“Let’s go.”
“No.”
“Michael wants you.”
“He can have me after the show man! Leave me alone!”
Chris started dragging you.
“CHRIS.”
“Get up.”
“CHRIS, I’LL WHOP YOUR ASS.”
“Move.”
“I’M NOT SUPPOSED TO GO ON STAGE.”
“Too bad.”
You dug your heels into the floor.
Chris pulled harder.
You hissed.
“You’re literally the reason I’m in this situation.”
“And I’d do it again.”
“I hate you.”
“You love me.”
“I don’t.”
“You do.”
“I don’t.”
“You do.”
“Chris!”
The audience suddenly erupted.
Your stomach dropped.
Because you were getting closer to the stage.
Very close.
Far too close.
“Oh my God.”
Chris was laughing so hard he could barely breathe.
“You should see your face.”
“I’m going home.”
“No you’re not.”
“I’m serious.”
“Nope.”
“You are the worst person I’ve ever met.”
Chris grinned.
“And yet here we are.”
⸻
On stage.
“The Way You Make Me Feel” was nearing its final section.
Michael glanced toward the wings.
Smiling.
The crowd had no idea what was coming.
Then suddenly.
Michael pointed.
“Bring her out.”
The audience screamed.
You immediately tried backing away.
“No.”
Chris shoved you forward.
“YES.”
“CHRIS.”
“GO.”
“CHRIS!”
The crowd got louder.
And before you could escape.
You found yourself standing under the spotlight.
In front of thousands of people.
And Michael.
Who looked entirely too pleased with himself.
The audience roared.
Michael approached.
Microphone in hand.
Trying—and failing—to hide his smile.
“There she is.”
You narrowed your eyes.
“Oh, I hate all of you.”
The crowd laughed.
Michael chuckled.
“No you don’t.”
“Chris forced me.”
Chris appeared from the side.
“You’re welcome!”
“GET OFF THE STAGE.”
“NO.”
The audience loved every second.
Michael finally held out a hand.
“Dance with me.”
Your brain short-circuited.
“What?”
“Dance with me.”
“Michael.”
“Dance.”
“In front of everyone?”
“Yes.”
“No.”
The audience immediately booed playfully.
Michael smirked.
“C’mon.”
“No.”
“C’mon.”
“No.”
“I know you can dance.”
You glared toward Chris.
Who proudly pointed at himself.
“I TOLD HIM.”
“TRAITOR.”
“THANK YOU.”
“NOT A COMPLIMENT.”
Michael laughed.
Then gently squeezed your hand.
His voice soft enough that only you heard.
“Please?”
And suddenly…
The nerves disappeared.
Because it wasn’t Michael Jackson.
The superstar.
The icon.
The legend.
It was just Michael.
Your Michael.
Looking at you like you were the only person in the building.
Waiting.
Trusting you.
Wanting to share this moment.
You exhaled.
Then smiled.
“Okay.”
The crowd exploded.
⸻
The music continued. “P.Y.T.” Playing now.
Michael stepped back.
Giving you space.
You could practically feel the audience expecting another awkward disaster.
The same girl Michael always teased for having two left feet.
Instead—
You moved.
Actually moved.
The reaction was immediate.
Thousands of gasps.
Cheers.
Screams.
Michael’s jaw literally dropped.
Despite already knowing.
Because seeing it was different.
You spun effortlessly.
Matching the rhythm.
Matching him.
The smile on his face grew wider and wider.
Soon he joined you.
The two of you moving together.
Laughing.
Improvising.
Neither trying to outshine the other.
Just having fun.
For the first time ever.
You danced with him.
Not around him.
Not hiding.
Not pretending.
Just dancing.
And somehow.
It felt easier than breathing.
At one point Michael leaned closer.
Still dancing.
“I can’t believe you hid this from me.”
You laughed.
“I was shy.”
“Shy?”
“You’re Michael Jackson.”
“So?”
You stared.
“So?!”
He laughed.
The audience laughed.
You shook your head.
“You make people nervous.”
Michael pointed toward the crowd.
“I’m performing in front of twenty thousand people.”
“Exactly.”
He laughed so hard he nearly missed a step.
⸻
As the song ended, the audience rose to their feet.
A standing ovation.
For Michael.
For the performance.
And for the moment nobody had expected.
Michael wrapped an arm around your shoulders.
Pulling you close.
Still smiling.
“You know,” he said quietly.
“What?”
“Next time you pretend you can’t do something…”
“Oh no.”
“I’m asking Chris.”
You groaned.
The audience laughed again.
Chris appeared from backstage.
Looking ridiculously proud of himself.
Michael pointed.
“He’s my favorite person.”
“You both are awful.”
Chris threw an arm around each of you.
“We’re a team.”
“No.”
“We are.”
“No.”
“We are.”
The crowd cheered as the three of you continued arguing all the way offstage.
And for the rest of his life, Michael never let you forget that the greatest dance secret he’d ever discovered…
Was that his own girlfriend had been fooling him the entire time.
teen and young adult mj&pink ❤️🩷
the michael biopic reaching a billion dollars in the box office right before the day he would have performed his this is it tour 17 years ago feels very poetic to me. he promised us we would see him soon in july and in a way we gave back to him by seeing his nephew perform as his uncle. idk if i can take this anymore man he would have been so proud of jafaar if he was still alive omgggg
