Amelia was only supposed to document the BAD World Tour. Months on the road, unfamiliar cities, empty stadiums, and the everyday life hidden behind the scenes were meant to be nothing more than the next step in her career. She never expected that, with time, the hardest part would be keeping her distance from a man the whole world already knew. Michael Jackson had learned to be careful a long time ago. Every new glance could mean curiosity, admiration, or hidden expectations, which made it difficult to let anyone get too close. Yet somewhere between rehearsals, long journeys, and brief moments of silence, a connection begins to grow-one neither of them ever planned for. Because sometimes the most important things happen offstage.

he was my best friend before the world knew his name. savannah reed never forgot the boy who promised her he would become a star. before the screaming fans, before the sold out concerts, before the fame took him away, there was just michael and sav. years later, the victory tour brings him back into her life, forcing old memories, hidden feelings, and unfinished goodbyes to the surface. but when someone belongs to the world... can they ever belong to you again? childhood memories. fame. heartbreak. first love. this story is strictly fiction and is created for entertainment purposes only.

Camille Laurent grew up in a strict traditional family that taught her the world was divided into two kinds of people: black and white, and nothing in between. From her childhood, she remembers only discipline, silence and a pair of mysterious brown eyes that never left her mind. Now a famous celebrity makeup artist, Camille lives a life built on control and perfection, still shaped by her parents' expectations. Until she meets Michael Jackson...

Bad era [1988] afterglow /ˈɑːftəɡləʊ/ noun Light or radiance remaining in the sky after the sun has set. Michael Jackson's renowned Bad World Tour is underway, spanning the globe and mesmerising hundreds of thousands of fans. The crew occupy the 'before'. The warm-ups, the preparations, the rehearsals. The audience exist in the 'during'. The spectacle, the music, the energy. But when the electricity fizzles out and the stage lights fade, who holds him in the 'after'? Nobody ever cares for the comedown. For the excessive, palpable post-concert adrenaline he cannot contain. For his overthinking mind, overcome with insomnia. Nobody ever cares, until she does. She who stays when the spectacle becomes the ordinary. When the King of Pop dissolves into Michael. She who is there in the haze of the afterglow. Highest Rankings: #1 in icon #1 in 1988 #2 in wembley #2 in afterglow

⋆˚𖥔 ݁ ˖𓂃.☘︎ ݁˖ He promised he'd call every Sunday. Before the fame, before Thriller, before the world claimed him, Michael Jackson was just a shy little boy from Gary, Indiana. And you were the only person who ever spoke for him when he couldn't. His microphone. Fifteen years later, during the chaos of the Victory Tour, he remembers your voice instantly. And suddenly, the past neither of you truly buried begins finding its way back to the surface. __________ Michael Jackson x Reader

After a tragic stage accident, rising singer Seraphina Vale vanishes from the public eye and returns years later hidden behind veils and shadows. Rumors about her appearance spread endlessly, but nobody truly knows the woman behind the angelic voice that captivated the world. When Michael Jackson hears her sing one night in a recording studio, he becomes drawn not to the mystery of her face, but to the sadness in her voice. As music brings them closer together, Seraphina slowly learns what it means to be seen again.

In which Blythe Larkin and Michael Jackson find something quiet, soft, and entirely their own in a world that never lets them be still or, In which Blythe Larkin gives Michael Jackson the peace he has always needed, and that peace is evermore

1987. The world belongs to Michael Jackson. Sold-Out stadiums. Flashing cameras. Endless screaming and fainting fans. To everyone else, he's larger than life - untouchable, mysterious, magic in human form. But behind the fame.. behind the sequined jackets and gloves.. Michael is lonely. Desperately lonely. Late at night, when the city finally quiets down, he slips away from the spotlight searching for the one things money and fame cannot buy - a real connection, something authentic. Then he meets Rachel. She isn't dazzled by Mr. Jackson. She does not fall at his feet. In fact, she barely knows what to make of him at all. But for the first time in years, Michael feels seen - not as a global pop star icon, but as just Michael. What begins as a chance encounter under the New York City street lights quickly turns into something deeper: stolen nights, dangerous secrets, and a love neither of them ever expected. But falling for the most famous man in the world comes with a price, and the closer Rachel gets to Michael, the more impossible it becomes to separate fantasy from reality. After Midnight is a slow burning, emotional romance about fame, loneliness, freedom, and what happens when two people find each other in the quiet hours when the rest of the world is asleep.

Have you ever wondered what would Michael Jackson's life look like if some events didn't happen to him? If he had someone he trusted by his side through everything? Someone that had the power to save him from his tormented life? Hayley "Brit" Thames has the power to change Michael Jackson's future, and without knowing it, he has the power to make her love life again after something terrible happened to her. But nothing is that easy when fate is playing against you. *** "Here! I'm here," I exclaimed, as I found my way through the sea of people, ignoring the fact that my head was more and more aching as time passed by. "Ah, here she is," Carl smiled, and put his hand on my lower back. "Mr. Jackson, please meet Hayley Thames, one of the most passionate doctor I've ever met," he adressed the superstar who had Bethany on his lap. "Pleased to meet you," Michael Jackson smiled, standing up. He offered me his hand for me to shake it. "I've heard only great things about you so far." "I'm glad," I answered back, faking a smile, as the pain in my head was becoming unbearable. "N-Nice to meet you too, sir." At the second my hand made contact with his, my eyes couldn't see, my ears couldn't hear, my limbs couldn't move. It's like I was drowning in an ocean of images of him, of flashes I couldn't understand with people I didn't know. The only thing that seemed to be there, omnipresent, was him, Michael Jackson. It's like I could feel him invading my mind, like he was taking place in there without my approval. And then, nothing. Nothing but darkness.

The beeping of the machines I was linked to only increased my state of panic, as a nurse put an oxygen mask over my mouth and nose. It was hard for me to breathe at that point, as I didn't understand what was happening to me. I tried my best to identify the faces around me, but I didn't recognize any, and it only made me more nervous as seconds went by. I wasn't able to stay still, as my whole body was shaking with fear. Electricity was coursing through every single nerve of my body. "Page Dr. Moseley!" one of the nurse that injected me Lorazepam in my IV exclaimed. "Ma'am, you're at the hospital, we've got you," she told me, looking down at me. I felt the substance take effect within a minute, and soon it was easier for me to breathe. I looked at the three nurses around me, and they all looked at me as if I was some kind of ghost. The one on my right asked her colleague to call my relatives, and a rush of relief invaded me at the mention of my family. As she was about to leave the room, I grabbed her hand, not wanting to be alone anymore. I looked at her with tears filled eyes, unable to speak at that point. She gave me a small smile, and patted the back of my hand to give me comfort. "Alright, I'll stay with you," she reassured, as I breathed in and out the oxygen mask on my face. "Your family should be here soon, you won't be alone." I nodded slowly, as tears fell from my eyes. I wasn't able to speak a word, because I was too scared that if I did, I would compromise my return to the real world. I didn't know for sure that any of this was real, if I was actually back from this horrible world I was stuck in. When the door of the room opened, a doctor came in, looking down at what I understood was my chart. He looked from the paper to me, and a smile appeared on his face. "Welcome back," he greeted, as he approached my bed.