Reverie - Michael Jackson Imagines

Edge Of Seventeen ✨️

Triumph Era

"Push 'em up. Higher. Higher!"

You rolled your eyes, huffing as you pushed your bust up as high as they could go. You glance enviously at your buxom friend who is too busy applying a generous amount of strawberry pot 'o gloss on her plump lips.

"They won't go any higher, Sue," you sighed as you adjusted the tight-fitting t-shirt.

The beautiful brunette smacked her glossy lips together as she fluffed her Farrah Fawcett-styled hair and smiled at her reflection in the mirror.

Sue Ellen was a pro. She made it look so easy.

You glanced at your own reflection- the large hoop earrings, dark eye makeup, and glossy red lips made you look like the pictures of models you used to cut out of magazines and tape into your locker back home.

"So what do you think," You placed your hands on your hips. "You think Jackie Jackson would take me to bed?"

Sue Ellen grinned as she snatched her clutch off the bathroom counter.

"If you're lucky, all five of them will wanna take you to bed," she giggled. "What are we waiting for? They're probably leaving the venue right now,"

You both rushed out of the stadium bathroom as fast as you could in your Candies wedges, a rush of adrenaline pumping through your veins. The thrill of the chase was your favorite part.

Your whole life had become about chasing, preferably rich, handsome rock stars.

Since you could remember, you'd always been attracted to the glitz and glamour that fame bought. Like most girls your age, you enjoyed pop and rock music and the handsome men who played the tunes.

You'd lived in a small, sleepy town that offered little to do born to neglectful parents who saw you as nothing more than an afterthought. To pass the time and fill the void of attention, you played records and cut pictures of your favorite musicians out of Tiger Beat Magazine when you could scrape up a few pennies for a coveted copy.

While most celebrity crushes didn't go beyond collecting pictures and vinyl, your connection was deeper. You wanted to touch them, kiss them, know all the intimate details about their lives. When you heard their records, you felt the music deep in your soul. They sang to you and only you. You created elaborate daydreams of lives where they loved you, listened to you, and wanted you. You loved the way you felt in your dream world.

It was an obsession.

Your first real celebrity crush had been Bobby Sherman, then it was on to David Cassidy. There was a short love affair between Bobby and David with Donny Osmond and then Jackie Jackson had come into your life, changing it completely.

When you first saw him on the Ed Sullivan show at seven years old, you knew your life's purpose was to become Mrs. Jackie Jackson. You wanted nothing more in life. You'd heard of other young girls who'd left home to follow musicians in hopes of gaining their love and attention. They called them groupies. Your mother and father looked down on those girls but deep down inside you resonated with them. You understood the longing that they had.

With no life goals other than to marry Jackie Jackson, you took off from home at seventeen to find your dream man.

Being a groupie wasn't always as glamorous as Pamela Des Barres made it out to be. You had to find clever ways to travel and live with as little money as possible and you didn't have much real-life experience with men outside of your fangirl fantasies. You ran through your savings after two weeks. Hungry, homeless, and hopeless in your pursuit to find Jackie Jackson, you almost gave up and went back home until you met an older, more seasoned groupie named Sue Ellen.