rigs

i am 100% oscar piastri

[whimsicallygaydemon]

btw if u write michael with huge age gaps and have reader like 18 years old and him at 50, and include weird daddy kinks, and make y/n deliberately really childish (doesn’t know how to kiss??) and make y/n call him “dada” and him call her “little girl” - then you’re a pedo

[meowcatticus]

Mj and Hachi!! I think Hachiware would be his favorite since they both like to sing and dance:)

[albonk]

alex on the silverstone race program!!

[mjs-bluegangsta]

so beautiful ✨

[rlm-11]

Guys we need more fanfics where the reader isn’t a complete bird and I’ve decided I’m gonna try writing em 😈😈

Bc Wdym Michael’s just done us dirty as hell and now we fucking him 😭😭😭😭we need to have more of a backbone PLEASE PLEQSE PLEASE (tho I still fuck the fics up like pls don’t play w me😩)

[bambijackson]

michael jackson

the zombie sing (fluff)

[whimsicallygaydemon]

btw if u write michael with huge age gaps and have reader like 18 years old and him at 50, and include weird daddy kinks, and make y/n deliberately really childish (doesn’t know how to kiss??) and make y/n call him “dada” and him call her “little girl” - then you’re a pedo

[luvingkiku]

couple you please write a fic where michael like forgets an anniversary cause of practice and we like give him the silent treatment for 2 days while he’s like yearning ?

7:00

synopsis — 𓍼ོ.☘︎ ݁˖༘⋆ : michael misses your third anniversary dinner and you wait alone at the restaurant. when he finds out, he’s overwhelmed with guilt and tries to fix what went wrong.

themes — 𓍼ོ.☘︎ ݁˖༘⋆ : fem reader, missed love, guilt, regret, angst, fluff

wc — 𓍼ོ.☘︎ ݁˖༘⋆ : 3,067

wanna see more? here’s my masterlist! ݁ ˖Ი𐑼ֶָ֢

request = open 𐔌՞ ܸ.ˬ.ܸ՞𐦯 𓍼ོ.☘︎ ݁˖༘⋆

the reservation sat at the edge of the table. the warm light spilled across the table, two untouched glasses of water, napkins folded too neatly. the restaurant carried that mix of garlic and melted wax, soft music played somewhere overhead, blending into the low hum of conversation and the occasional clink of cutlery. everything around you kept moving forward.

your table didn’t.

every time the front door opened, you looked up too fast, every single time.

your heart jumped before you could stop it, sharp and hopeful, and then it sank just as quickly when it wasn’t him. strangers came and went, laughing, brushing snow off their coats, shaking off the cold, and each time your body betrayed you the same way. shoulders tightening, breath catching. that small, stupid flicker of hope you told yourself you wouldn’t let happen again. but it kept happening anyway. you kept looking for michael.

the waiter came by with a careful kind of politeness, hands folded behind his back.

“do you need a little more time?”

you nodded before he finished the sentence.

“yeah. just… a bit longer.”

he left you with two menus you hadn’t opened and a bouquet of white lilies sitting across from you like a reminder you didn’t want to read. your phone was face-down beside your plate. you turned it over anyway.

nothing. no missed calls. no new messages. your reflection stared back from the black screen, eyes a little too wide, expression held together by habit. your thumb hovered over his name. didn’t press. hovered again. you knew what would happen if you called.

you could already hear it—his voice on the other end, warm, rushed, apologetic.

“baby, i’m sorry—rehearsal ran over.”

or worse—

“just give me twenty minutes.”

twenty minutes that would stretch into an hour. then two. then nothing you could count anymore.

your throat tightened as you locked the phone again.

if he remembered, he would come. you didn’t want to be the one who had to make him remember.

7:30 p.m.

couples around you were finishing dessert, chairs scraping softly against the floor as people left one by one, their laughter fading into the distance. the restaurant slowly emptied itself out, like the night was moving on without asking if you were ready. your table stayed the same.

you checked your phone again. then again.

your thumb lingered over his contact longer this time, almost pressing—then pulling away at the last second. your breath wavered.

just call him.

just once.

but even as the thought came, you already knew how it would sound. you already knew the apology before it arrived. you already knew how easily it would soften you, how quickly you’d fold it back into hope again.

so you didn’t.

you put the phone down like it weighed too much to hold.

8:15 p.m.

the candle had burned low enough now that the flame looked uncertain. the restaurant had gone quiet in a different way—less busy, more final. like the end of something that had already happened.

the waiter returned, slower this time.

he didn’t ask if you needed more time.

he just looked at the table, then at you, with something softer in his expression.

“would you like me to box up the dessert?”

you frowned slightly. “dessert?”

a pause.

“your reservation noted it was an anniversary.”

the words didn’t feel loud, but they hit hard anyway.

for a moment, you couldn’t quite process them. your hands tightened around the edge of the table as if it could steady you. the candle hissed softly. somewhere behind you, someone laughed, and it felt too normal for the way your chest had just gone tight.

“oh,” you said finally.

small. flat. empty.

you reached across the table and picked up the lilies. they were colder than you expected, petals brushing against your wrist as you pulled them into your lap.

“thank you,” you said quietly, forcing something close to a smile. “sorry about all this.”

the waiter shook his head.

“no need to apologize.”

he hesitated, like he wanted to say more, then didn’t.

“i hope your night gets better.”

you nodded like that was something you could agree with.

outside, the air hit you harder than you expected.

the warmth of the restaurant disappeared instantly behind you, replaced by wind that cut through your coat and pulled at your hair. the street were alive in the way cities are at night. someone crossed the street holding hands, leaning into each other like it was the most natural thing in the world. no hesitation. no waiting. you looked down at the lilies in your arms. after a moment, you set them down on a nearby bench.

carefully.

like if you were gentle enough, it wouldn’t feel like leaving.

it was your third anniversary.

and he didn’t show.

the house was silent when michael walked through the front door just after midnight. his rehearsal bag slipped from his shoulder with a dull thud against the floor. he barely noticed, and his muscles ached from hours of dancing, his calves tight, his voice hoarse from singing through the same songs again and again.

despite the exhaustion written across his face, he couldn’t help smiling to himself.

today had been productive. they’d finally nailed the routine he’d been struggling with all week, and his director had actually nodded in approval instead of asking for one more take. the relief of that had carried him through the last hour of rehearsal, even when the studio lights had turned hot and blinding, even when sweat had soaked through the back of his shirt and his shoes had started to stick to the floor. the music was still ringing in his ears, the beat still lodged in his chest. absentmindedly, he hummed the melody as he kicked off his shoes near the door.

“mama?”

his voice echoed through the house.

“you awake?”

nothing.

he frowned. usually you’d answer immediately. even if it was just a sleepy “in here.” even if you were half buried under blankets or curled up on the couch with a book you’d long since stopped reading. usually there was some sign of you—soft footsteps, the glow of a lamp, the sound of your voice drifting from another room.

instead, silence.

michael wandered farther inside.

“you asleep already mama?”

still nothing. his eyes drifted toward the kitchen. then, they landed on the calendar hanging beside the refrigerator.

november 2nd, circled carefully in red ink. a tiny heart drawn beside it, our anniversary.

everything inside him stopped. the smile vanished, his stomach dropped, cold and sudden. his mouth went dry.

“no.”

the word came out broken. the house, warm a second ago, now felt airless. the candle scent in the room turned sour in his throat. slowly his gaze lowered, the reservation card. still sitting exactly where you’d left it that morning.

7:00 p.m.

your favorite restaurant.

he remembered you smiling while placing it on the counter before he’d rushed out the door. you’d been dressed for the day already, hair done, eyes bright, looking at him with that hopeful expression he knew so well.

“don’t work too hard today.”

you’d laughed when you said it, light and teasing, like you were trying to make the warning sound casual even though you both knew what tonight meant.

he’d kissed your forehead without thinking.

“i won’t.”

his knees nearly gave out. the card blurred for a second, then sharpened again, each printed line suddenly cruel in its simplicity. his chest tightened so hard it hurt to breathe.

“oh god…”

his whisper cracked. his breathing turned uneven as realization crashed over him all at once. you’d waited, you’d gotten dressed, you’d gone. alone.

while he’d been under bright rehearsal lights, counting steps and harmonies and cues, while he’d been laughing with the cast and chasing perfection and telling himself he’d check his phone after just one more run-through, you’d been sitting in a restaurant with flowers and candles and a table meant for two.

he dragged both hands down his face, fingers trembling.

the house suddenly felt too small, too quiet. his chest tightened painfully as he stared at the reservation card, at the neat handwriting.

he stared at the reservation card, at the red circle around the date, and the truth hit him with the force of a slammed door.

he left you alone on our anniversary, and somewhere in that restaurant the candle at your table had burned down to a trembling little stump beside the untouched dessert, lighting the empty chair where i should have been.

he checked the bedroom first, empty. the bathroom, empty.

“mama?”

his voice scraped through the apartment and came back thin and wrong, swallowed by the hush.

he pulled his phone from his pocket and called you. it rang once, then dropped into voicemail. he tried again. voicemail.

“…please.”

his eyes snagged on the front door. the space where your overnight bag usually sat was bare. so were your slippers, tucked nowhere by the wall, no soft scuff of them on the tile, no sign you’d only stepped out for a minute.

his chest tightened hard enough to hurt. you hadn’t gone for a walk, you’d left.

he braced himself against the kitchen counter, fingers slipping on the cool laminate, one trembling hand covering his mouth as he stared at the floor and tried to breathe through the panic clawing up his throat.

the house felt wrong the next morning. your coffee mug was still in the cabinet. your side of the bed was smooth and cold, untouched, the sheets pulled tight where no body had warmed them.

he kept looking toward the bedroom, every few seconds jerking his head up at the smallest sound, expecting to hear your footsteps, the familiar creak of the floorboards, your voice calling back to him.

instead, nothing.

rehearsal blurred at the edges. he missed counts, came in late on cues, forgot choreography he’d drilled into his muscles for weeks. sweat cooled on the back of his neck. his hands felt clumsy and unfamiliar, his stomach knotted so tightly he could barely swallow.

when it finally ended, he drove home too fast, knuckles white around the wheel, hope and dread twisting together in his chest until he could hardly tell them apart. he unlocked the front door with shaking fingers.

“mama?” silence.

his shoulders sagged all at once. he stood there for a long moment, listening to the refrigerator hum and the blood rush in his ears, before quietly setting his keys on the counter.

“i’m sorry.” the words fell flat and vanished into the empty apartment.

late on the second night, the scrape of keys in the lock dragged him out of sleep. he shot upright on the couch, heart slamming so hard it made him dizzy.

the front door opened slowly. you stepped inside with your overnight bag resting against your shoulder. for a second, he could only stare, frozen in place, his breath caught painfully in his chest. then his eyes burned. tears came fast, blurring you at the edges.

“mama…” his voice cracked open on the word.

“you came home.”

you stood there quietly, your arms folded loosely across your chest as you watched him. his eyes never left yours. they were red, swollen, and wet with tears that kept spilling no matter how hard he tried to blink them back.

“say something.”

his voice cracked on the words, barely louder than a breath.

“please.”

you didn’t. not right away.

the silence between you was unbearable. it pressed down on him until his breathing turned ragged and uneven. he looked down, dragging in a shaky breath before slowly sinking to his knees in front of you. not because he thought it would fix anything, but because he was desperate enough to try anything at all.

his hands were trembling so badly he could barely hold them still.

“i’m sorry,” he whispered, and then the words broke apart into a sob. “i’m so so so so sorry.”

his fingers reached for yours, then stopped halfway, hovering there as if he was afraid he didn’t deserve to touch you.

“please,” he choked out. “please let me hold your hands. please.” you didn’t answer.

after a moment, he lowered his head and let out a broken, shaking breath before gently taking your hands into his own. his grip was careful, almost reverent, like he was terrified you’d pull away and leave him with nothing.

“i love you.” he said, and the tears came harder now, sliding down his cheeks in helpless streams. “i love you so much.”

his thumb brushed over your knuckles, trembling. “and i ruined it.”

his voice cracked completely.

“i ruined our anniversary.”

the words seemed to tear out of him. he bowed his head, pressing your hands against his forehead as his shoulders started to shake.

“i know,” he whispered through another sob. “i know i hurt you. i know i made you wait. i know i made you feel forgotten on the one night that was supposed to be about us.”

his breath hitched violently.

“i hate myself for that.” another tear dropped onto your fingers.

“i hate that i made you cry. i hate that i made you sit there and wonder if i even cared enough to remember.”

his voice broke again, raw and pleading.

“i did remember. i did. and that’s what makes this worse, because i still let everything else come first and i still made you feel like you didn’t matter.”

he shook his head, crying openly now, the sound of it thin and wrecked.

“please forgive me.”

the words came out desperate, almost frantic.

“please. i’m begging you.”he lifted his head just enough to look at you, his face wet and ruined with tears, his eyes searching yours like he could find mercy there if he looked hard enough.

“i’ll do anything,” he said, his voice trembling so badly it nearly fell apart. “i’ll cancel every meeting, leave rehearsals early, set alarms, write it on every wall in this house if i have to. i’ll never let another date slip past me again. i swear to you, i won’t.”

he let out a broken laugh that turned into another sob.

“i don’t care how pathetic i sound.”

his grip tightened around your hands, not enough to hurt, only enough to hold on.

“i just can’t stand knowing i made you feel like you came second on our anniversary.”

his face crumpled.

“you never do,” he whispered fiercely. “you never have. you never will.”

he bent forward again, pressing your hands to his forehead as his whole body shook with quiet, helpless sobs.

“please don’t shut me out,” he begged. “please don’t make me lose you over this. i can’t—” his voice broke, and he swallowed hard, trying again through tears. “i can’t bear the thought that i made you feel unloved on a day that was supposed to prove the opposite.”

he was crying openly now, shoulders trembling, breath stuttering between each broken apology.

“please.” he whispered again, smaller this time, like the word itself was all he had left. “please forgive me.”

you stared at him for what felt like forever. at the way his hands shook around yours, at the tears he wasn’t even trying to hide anymore, at the guilt carved into every line of his face.

slowly, you slipped one hand free. for a second, his expression shattered completely, and he looked like he might fall apart right there on the floor. his fingers loosened at once, convinced you were pulling away for good.

instead, your hand found his cheek. your thumb brushed away one of the tears sliding down his skin.

“look at me.”

he obeyed instantly, lifting his face with a shaky breath.

“i was hurt.” you said softly.

his eyes squeezed shut for a moment, and another tear slipped free.

“i know.” he whispered. “i know. i’m sorry. i’m so sorry.” your own eyes glistened. “not because you forgot a date.” his face twisted with fresh guilt.

“because for one night…”

you swallowed, then met his gaze again.

“i felt like i wasn’t the first person on your mind.”

his mouth trembled. he looked like he might cry harder at the sound of your voice alone.

“you were,” he said immediately, broken and frantic. “you are. you always are. i just—i failed you. i failed us. i failed our anniversary and i failed you.”

another sob tore through him.

“please believe me when i say i never meant to make you feel small.”

you held his gaze for a long moment, then you nodded once.

“i believe you’re sorry.”

he blinked, stunned, tears still clinging to his lashes. relief hit him so hard it looked almost painful. another tear slipped down his cheek, but this one carried something softer with it.

“but if this ever happens again…” the faintest hint of a smile touched your lips.

“i’m making you plan the entire anniversary alone.”

for a second, he just stared at you, still crying, still trying to catch his breath. then a shaky laugh escaped him through the tears.

“that’s fair.” he whispered, then he nodded quickly, almost frantically.

“that’s more than fair.”

you exhaled softly.

“come here.” he hesitated, eyes searching yours one last time.

“are you sure?”

instead of answering, you opened your arms. that was all it took. he moved into you immediately, wrapping his arms around you with heartbreaking care, holding you like he was afraid you might disappear if he breathed too hard. his face buried itself in the crook of your neck, and the tears he’d been holding back finally came all at once, hot and shaking against your skin.

“thank you,” he whispered, voice muffled and wrecked. “thank you for forgiving me. thank you for not giving up on me.”

you rested your hand against the back of his head, smoothing his hair gently.

“don’t waste it.”

he shook his head against you at once.

“i won’t.”

his arms tightened around you just a little more.

for the first time in two days, the house no longer felt unbearably quiet. it felt warm again, filled with the sound of his breathing against your shoulder and the steady beat of his heart beneath your palm, like the lights had finally come back on after a long lonely night.

taglist — @eggywritezstuff @arood98 @antisspiderguy @osugahunnyicedtea @cunty000 @mjlover0829 @animegamerfox @living-ghostgrl @dollyvuu @cherubae111 @closetedkiller @pupperonilover-blog @babygguk98 @mile3na @callmelyriic @queenofklonnie22 @sebbysbaby @helalokithor @unknwnbrii @ssexsellls @spiirituall @luvs4harrington @yennabow @saysaysaymjenthusiast @equityjinx @anothergoldenratio @ooooglymoooogly @artflooo @petitedollnina @pinkieghouls @michaelsgirlie @khxna @anglfac @erynnnn @ange1fce @smoothcriminalgf @watermielonnn @chocotragedy @saiyajvn @lauren7050 @tenderlyboundlessparagon @nunusmoll @swavydadon @marley1773 @strawberryswirlsworld @lustfairyy @appleheadannie @offthebrina @softformj + add yourself here

[fuckandreastella]

I already took Albon's man card away after that pathetic display post-Canada, but I think I've reached a point where my general indifference in him has turned to straight hate too tbh.

[fuckandreastella]

Anyway, between he and Lando, only one is ever going to have a home race win OR even podium. And I think that's beautiful. Eat shit, Albon.

[ohblimeygeorge]

Welcome back one direction ✌🏽🇬🇧

[bambijackson]

— the zombie song !

warnings: none!!

pairing: michael jackson x single!mom!fem!reader

summary: y/n takes her daughter, pepper, to meet michael and ends up with a little extra gift

pepper had been talking about meeting michael for two whole week straight.

not because he was famous, not because he was the michael jackson, no. it was because, in her words, ‘he sang the zombie song’.

y/n smiled as she adjusted the pink bow set neatly on top of pepper’s braid, her daughter’s favourite hairstyle that she’d woken up extra early to have done.

“you remember what we practised, peps?”

pepper nodded very seriously.

“hello michael,”

“and?”

“oh, and thank you,” she said, her sweet voice filled with determination to remember all her lines.

y/n smiled proudly, smoothing one of the creases on the front of pepper’s favourite little dress, and giving her bow one more fix before she leaned back, admiring her own handiwork.

“that’s my girl,” she nodded approvingly as pepper beamed up at her.

the line to meet michael was long, no doubt filled with hundreds of fans as pepper held her mother’s hand, rocking back and forth on the balls of her feet.

for once in her life, pepper was unusually quiet.

the room was packed full of people squeezed together, barely any room to breathe.

every now and then, pepper would step on her tip-toes as high as she could go, huffing in annoyance when she still couldn’t see past the people in front of them.

“mama?”

y/n looked down.

“is michael behind all those people?” she asked, her eyes full of wonder.

y/n smiled, looking up, a sea of people blocking her view of the small table at the back of the room.

“he is,” she whispered, lifting the girl into her arms, “and he’s waiting especially for you,”

“really?” pepper gasped, one of her little hands coming to her mouth, “just for me?”

“just for you,” y/n echoed her words as the girl turned her head, her eyes still wide, to look at the sea of people in front of them.

pepper was silent for a second, her head resting on her mother’s shoulder as she took a small stop forward whenever the queue moved on.

“i hope he likes me,” the girl spoke after a few minutes, fiddling with the friendship bracelet on her wrist.

y/n brushed a loose curl out of pepper’s face.

“how could he not?”

pepper shrugged, her little legs swinging as y/n took another step forwards.

“i’m going to use my best manners,”

“i know you are,”

the queue shuffled forwards again.

people were laughing, cameras flashed every few seconds, security guards quietly directing the line along until, finally-

there he was.

michael was dressed in black and gold, his long, black hair framing his face, smiling up at whoever stepped to the table next.

a few people, and finally, y/n set pepper down, letting her walk to the front shyly.

“hello,” michael leaned down, his voice softer than usual as pepper blinked, star struck for a second.

“it’s okay, peps,” y/n said, crouching so she was the same height, “remember what we practised,”

the little girl stared for another few seconds before remembering everything she'd practised all week.

"hello, michael,” her voice came our barely louder than a whisper.

“hello,” he leaned forwards over the table, “what’s your name?”

pepper froze again, looking up at y/n for help, her eyes wide.

“it’s okay, tell him your name,”

“it’s-it’s pepper,”

"pepper," he repeated, as though it were the prettiest name he'd ever heard, “that’s a beautiful name."

pepper hid back behind y/n’s leg.

“thank you,” she mumbled, fiddling with the material of y/n’s jeans as michael smiled.

“she’s shy,” he noted, his gaze meeting hers for a second.

"which is funny," y/n laughed softly, “because she hasn't stopped talking about meeting you for two weeks,”

"really?"

pepper gave the tiniest nod.

"that's very sweet,” he said, signing a photo laid out on the table, before his gaze returned to the little girl again.

"can i ask you something?" he lowered his voice playfully, like he was telling a secret.

pepper nodded again.

"what's your favourite song?"

“the zombie one,” she said, her voice still quiet, but y/n could tell she was becoming more comfortable.

“the zombie one?”

“thriller,” y/n explained, “she calls it that because she likes the dance bit with all the other zombies,”

“i like when you dance with all your friends,” pepper said, stepping out from behind y/n.

“my friends?”

”the zombies,” y/n said.

michael laughed, nodding as he leaned back down to pepper.

“have you told them about me?” she asked, her voice full of curiosity as y/n watched silently.

“not yet, but i will,” michael promised, watching the little girl’s face light up.

pepper looked completely satisfied with that answer, rocking back and forth on the balls of her feet.

“they can all come to my birthday party if they want,”

“that’s very kind of you,” michael said, pressing his lips together to stop himself from laughing at the thought of zombies at a little girl’s birthday party.

“but not the scary one who does the voice,”

“the scary one?” michael echoed.

“she loved thriller,” y/n stepped forwards to explain, “but she makes me stop it before the monologue at the end,” .

“don’t tell anyone,” pepper said seriously, dropping her voice to a whisper as michael played along, leaning forwards, “but i hide behind the sofa when it comes on,”

“do you?” michael whispered back, as pepper nodded seriously.

“you know, i get scared a lot too,” he sat back properly to sign the poster that pepper had laid out.

“actually?”

“all the time,” he spoke back, “but you know what i do?”

pepper leaned in closer.

“i make sure all the things hiding in the dark know that they should be scared of me too!” he said the last word a little louder as pepper squealed, jumping back in excitement.

y/n watched proudly, taking her lower lip between her teeth to hide the laugh as michael slid the poster back across the table.

“it was nice meeting you pepper,” michael smile as y/n took the poster into her hand, “i’ll tell my friends about you,”

“bye michael!”

pepper waved over y/n’s shoulder as they were ushered out by the security guards, another fan stepping up to meet michael.

michael signed the poster with well-practised ease, something he’d gotten used to doing as he beckoned another security guard over.

“hey,” michael said, leaning forwards to whisper, “that woman, the one with the little girl with the pink bow, could you find out a bit about her?”

the security guard nodded, whispering to his colleague.

❀❀❀❀

“mama where’s my socks?!” pepper called from upstairs as y/n sleepily picked up the milk from outside, her gaze pausing at the cream envelope on the step.

"in your drawer!" y/n called back automatically as she bent down to assess the envelope.

it felt expensive, stamped with an elaborate wax seal.

closing the front door with her foot, she turned the envelope over.

curiosity getting the better of her, she carefully opened it, a sleek black casette tape sliding out, with a white label stuck to the front.

THRILLER (PEPPER'S VERSION)

“no…” y/n gasped to herself, full of disbelief as she took out the folded piece of paper beneath the tape.

dear y/n, it was very nice meeting you and your little girl! i couldn’t help but think about pepper hiding behind the sofa whenever the monologue happened, so i dug this out the old tapes. now she can dance with all my zombie friends without worrying about the monster at the end please tell her they're still hoping for an invitation to that birthday party. and thank you for bringing someone who reminded me that the smallest conversations are often the most important ones, i hope this makes her smile as wide as she did that day. and perhaps you can forgive me for arranging an unofficial home delivery. with love, michael

at the bottom of the page, squeezed beneath his signature as though he'd thought of it at the last second, was one more line:

p.s i think pepper gets her lovely smile from her pretty mama :)

y/n stared at the final line for a few extra seconds, her cheeks beating up as she red it.

“…cheeky,”

“what?” pepper called from upstairs, still digging round for her socks as y/n folded the letter quickly, unable to stop smiling.

"nothing!”

❀❀❀❀

[fuckandreastella]

did something actually happen at McLaren or why are they so sensitive about fans criticizing them for unacceptable pitstops, strategies, car development, etc.?

like first the video, now they're putting zak on the radio to cry about it.

if valid criticism is impacting the team that bad, maybe they should've taken some of the mental health initiatives lando advocated for seriously instead of spending the past 4 years screaming the message, "real men have no emotions" to everyone they encountered because the team leadership sure seems to have a fuck ton of emotions right now

[norriszn]

lando modelling white special race suit for silvo gp!

[buckysgirlll]

— ☆ thriller era!michael jackson headcanons with his first ever gf

☙ WARNINGS: 18+ MINORS DNI — fem!reader, cutesy fluff, shy!michael, reader makes the first move, oral (m receiving), blow job, first kiss, michael is lowkey touch starved, no use of y/n

☙ NOTES: based on this request!

michael jackson masterlist ༺ navi

thriller!michael who first spotted you at his favourite book shop.

he remembers being nervous because he’s never seen anyone as beautiful as you. you were unaware of his presence, standing in one of the aisles, reading the summary of a random book. he was also nervous because with his sudden push of fame, he never actually got to experience normalcy since he was always recognised. even then, he couldn’t even come to his favourite bookshop that often, because of his fans. so he always came right before it closed, easily dipping in and out, wearing his signature shades and a baseball cap, hoping that no one recognises him.

so imagine his disbelief when he sees you casually standing a couple of feet away from him, not even sparing him a single glance.

from that day onwards, every time he would come to the bookshop with bill not too far behind him, he always spotted you out. he would catch you buying a book at the till or sometimes sitting on a plush couch, tucked away in a silent corner, reading a book.

michael didn’t think he’s ever been so enthralled by someone who he hasn’t even said two words too. he hasn’t even heard you voice, and yet he’s already planning his future with you in his head.

thriller!michael who gets flustered when you speak to him for the first time.

it’s been weeks since he first saw you, and he wasn’t exactly making it a secret that he finds you attractive. he would always glance at you every second that he got, looking away whenever you would meet his eye.

it was only on one late evening, when he was browsing through one of the isles that he caught a glimpse of a body in the corner of his eye.

it was you, right beside him. so close that he can smell your fruity perfume.

at first he tried to play it cool, pulling his cap further down his head and making sure his head is slightly downturned.

but it was only when he heard you speak. the sound of your voice, that made his head jerk up in surprise.

“i know who you are.” you whisper, just loud enough for him to hear. the sound of your smooth, velvety voice makes a chill run through his bones.

“huh.” michael swallows, his eyes wide with surprise behind his dark shades.

“i know who you are, and i find it pretty cute that you believe you’re in disguise.”

michael doesn’t think his heart has ever beat so fast in his life, it literally feels like it’s about to explode out of his chest and run away. not only did you speak to him but you recognise him and you called him cute.

he feels like he’s going to faint.

“um… i—” michael clears his throat, licking his lips that have suddenly turned a bit too dry. “thank you?” fuck, now he’s embarrassed. out of everything he couldn’t said to you, he turned into a stuttering mess and said ‘thank you?’ at this moment he just wants the floor to swallow him up whole.

you let out a soft laugh, making michael’s cheeks warm up. “you’re so cute, it’s sickening.” you look up at him, your mesmerising eyes taking in his whole face like you’re trying to paste it to your memory.

but there was something about your gaze that made warmth settle deep into his stomach. unlike his other fan girls, you’re not crying over his presence, passing out or begging for him to notice you. no it’s more like, you’re seeing him for more than he actually is.

you’re seeing him as just a regular person. he hasn’t had someone look at him like that in a very long time.

michael clears his throat again, shaking off his nerves and deciding to make casual conversation with you. he introduced himself, even though you already knew who he was. he found out your name, your favourite book and author. what your day job is, what kind of board games you like, and also how you love animals.

the way his eyes lit up when you told him that you love animals, and would love to own a ranch one day, made him even more obsessed with you. he doesn’t think he’s ever met anyone that perfect before.

it’s like you’re made for him.

you both didn’t even know how quick time went by until bill showed up, telling michael that the bookshop is closing.

being the gentleman, that he is, michael walked you out, still rambling about his pet bubbles.

you laugh, letting him know how cute bubble sounds and how you’ll love to meet him. you both stop walking right where bill’s car is parked and that’s when reality hits you both.

you sigh, your cheeks aching from laughing so much.

“it was nice talking to you michael.” you say, your eyes searching his.

“it was nice talkin to you too.” michael mumbles, his heart aching because he doesn’t want to stop speaking to you. apart from bill and his brothers, you’re the only person who never treated him like a worldwide star.

you made him feel normal, by just being in his company and he doesn’t want to leave you.

you sense the sadness coming from his body. the way his shoulder slightly slump, and how he drops his head an inch, completely ignoring bill who is standing by his car, with an amused expression on his face.

you giggle at his behaviour, making his head snap up in your direction. “y’know bill is waiting for you?” you question.

“i know.” he shrugs, his mouth still twisted into a frown.

“okay, how about…” you take out a piece of paper from your bag and a pen, writing down your number. “how about you call me sometime and we can go on a sort of date?” your cheeks warm up at your own words. but it doesn’t hurt to ask right?

you knew you made the right decision when you see his eyes absolutely light up. “i will.” he says, quickly taking the piece of paper from you.

bill waves him over, and michael slowly leans over pressing a small kiss on your cheek.

you giggle, watching him get in the car with bill before they both drive off.

thriller!michael kissing you for the first time

the date you both had was amazing. you remember him taking you to the movies, and he was such a gentleman the whole time. giving you your space but also close enough so the people surrounding you would know that you’re on a date.

he even took you out to dinner after, you both laughing and talking over your food.

when the night ended, he drove you home even though you now understand why bill drives him everywhere because michael is a questionable driver. but you’d never tell him that.

when you both did reach your place, you both spent a while talking outside your building, with michael having his hands pushed deep into his slack pockets, like he’s trying to restrain himself from touching you.

“i really enjoyed today,” you smile, shifting closer to him.

“so did i,” he answers, his eyes bouncing between your lips and your eyes.

you couldn’t help but laugh at his utter cuteness.

“mikey,” you grin, stepping another step closer, so you have no choice but to crane your neck up to look up at him.

he hums, chewing his bottom lip nervously.

“do you wanna kiss me?” michael’s eyes widen at your question. completely taken off guard, because how did you know?

was he that obvious?

“i— yes… well not if you don’t want too.” he stutters, making you step forward once again so your chests are touching. you lean up on your tiptoes, cupping his cheeks in your hands and pressing a long, sweet kiss on his lips. you close your eyes, moving your lips slowly against his full ones. he lets you take the lead, not rushing, but also kissing you back with the same amount of softness.

you break apart from the kiss, muffling a laugh at michael’s expression. he looks like he went to heaven and just touched back onto earth, looking dazed with his lips covered in your lip gloss.

you see that his hands are still stuffed into his pockets, like he doesn’t trust himself to remove them.

“goodnight mike, thank you so much for tonight and ill call you.” you say, grinning at the fact he still hasn’t said a word since you kissed him.

michael watches you turn, about to walk into your building but before he can stop himself he wraps his hand around your waist, spinning you around so your chest is pushed against his.

he kisses you again, this time more deeper than the last, like he can’t get enough of your taste. you melt into the kiss quickly, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling his head closer to yours. you feel both of his hands run up and down your waist, gripping your body closer.

the first kiss, was soft, gentle, just a regular goodbye kiss after the first date.

but this kiss it’s more hungrier, more touching, it’s as if you both just can’t get enough of each other.

you break away from the kiss, breathing heavy. “that was a surprise.” you pant, smiling.

“m,sorry.” michael mumbles, still not removing himself from your hold. “i couldn’t— i needed to do that again.”

“that’s okay.” you smile. “i wanted to kiss you again too.”

thriller!michael asking you to be his girl

after that night, you both went out for lunch the day after and even went roller skating near the end of the week. 

it was as if you couldn’t get enough of each other.

now he’s at your apartment, after you invited him over to watch a movie.

you honestly love how you both haven’t been out of each others site since that first date you had. holding hands, kissing, at this point you act like a couple without even declaring it.

“okay right hand on green.” you say, giggling when you have to lean over michael so you can put your hand on the green dot.

your hand slips, making you fall straight onto michael’s chest.

you both laugh as you fall on the ground, knowing that this is like your fifth round of twister tonight.

“i love this game.” you say sitting up, slightly so you’re looking into his eyes.

“so do i.” michael grins, not making any effort to move. his hands are settled on your waist, rubbing the bit of skin from where your top is riding up. “how… how do you feel about being my girl?”

you smile, already knowing the answer you’re going to give him. “do you really need to ask me that?” you grin.

he shrugs, molding your body closer to his. “im a gentleman, if i want you to be my girl i have to ask.”

you press a sweet kiss to his lips, pushing a stray curl away from his eyes. “yes, mike. ill be your girl.”

thriller!michael who is obsessed with the feeling of your mouth on his dick.

“baby…” michael groans, when your warm mouth opens wide to swallow his length.

you hum, the vibration making him feel the pleasure all the way down to his toes. you bob your head up and down, sucking in your cheeks and swirling your mouth around every vein and ridge of his member.

“fuckkk… mama that feels so good.”

you take him in as deep as you can, your hand twisting around the remaining length that you can’t get in your mouth.

“oh my god.” michael lets out a broken moan, when he feels the tip of his dick hit the back of your throat. you gag, raising your mouth off of him with a wet pop. you pump his length a couple times, your hand not able to wrap around the size of him fully.

“you’re so big, mikey.” you coo, using your thumb to swipe off some of the pre cum that is oozing out of his thick tip. you stick your thumb in your mouth, moaning at the slight salty taste of him.

michael stares at you, his eyes glossed over with lust and also amazement. who would’ve known that the sweet girl he spotted out in a bookshop was an undercover freak.

you lick his length, from the bottom to the top before you open up your mouth to take him whole again. this time you pay extra attention to his tip, swirling your tongue around it and even sucking it gently.

michael’s eyes roll to the back of his head, his fingers gripping the sheets below him.

“i—i think m’ gonna cum.” he groans. you hum again, bopping your head more faster and ignoring the few gags from the utter thickness of him.

“ahhh— shittttt.” michael lets out a deep, broken moan, pushing your head so far down that tears escape your eyes. you feel the burst of his cum shooting down your throat, you swallow every last drop, even when he lets go of your head.

“you taste good.” you hum, when you take your mouth off of his dick.

“you’re…” michael pants, his legs still slightly shaking from the earth shattering orgasm he just had. “you’re… so dirty.”

“hmm, but i bet your hand never made you cum that hard before?” you raise your brow.

michael laughs at your words, pulling you up so you’re sitting on his lap. he kisses you, humming at the taste of himself on your tongue.

he’s so glad that he met you, and he’s never letting you go. he can’t wait to buy a pretty rock to put on your finger so everyone can see that you’re officially his.

tags: @loveposiie @delictezz @crystal-love46 @bluegangstaaaa @alohaluz @raefoxiegirl @xoxogossipgirl02 @khxna @jxngwons-pinkyy @sofisidera @animegamerfox @its-jennarose @anglfac @michaeljacksonfan01 @a-motherfcking-fish @carmykisses @cal3xx @cinnaqm @mikeyspyt @sugacor3 @starstruckivory @michaelsgirlie @mililahchapter21 @galiixoxo @cannonindeez @griddypops @monoigirl @softchaosdiary505 @mjsfinestfish @catash @michaelslover @hello-its-lana16 @itztamar @imeatingheehee @milqyravena @smartyartchick47 @lily-lilith26 @nodisdino @niyahctrl @hornehlittleweeblet2 @kailovesmusicc @valentinaaaapple @cotercat @levelme @theladyinmikeyslife @xyahx @michaelsfavcup @pixieelixer-24 @thebabykashmere @sadieisagoodgirl @babyimhis-mj + add yourself here

[bambijackson]

im turning my anons off because none of you can be fucking respectful and it’s really hurtful to have constant floods of racism over a fanfiction i write purely because im a fan of someone.

michael was a proud black man, don’t ever forget that if you’re going to come onto my blog and read my work. my race does not mean you get the right to send me hate and insults.

i am a person too.

i don’t care what you think of me anymore, i have been nice, ive made pretty fics and i like interacting with you, i have not hurt anyone in this app.

i will not be hurt by people who cower behind anon, i deserve respect as the bare minimum. im genuinely in the worst state of fucking mind ive ever been in and racism is making it so much worse, fuck off.

love,

bambi

[studio03]

now why is there no edits of michael to angel by halle bailey…do i have to lock in???? no cause the song fits him so well and would be so lovely to see

[someone-worth-racing-for]

Why. Are. They. So. Loud.